The Augur gathered her robes in one hand. Her green eyes glistened above the veil.
Believe in that which is beyond the reach of human perception.
Words from the Bloodprint—words stained by virtuous blood.
They rose in Arian’s mind without her calling them forth, the Augur once more speaking the words in the silence of Arian’s mind.
She descended from the dais.
A flick of the Augur’s hand subdued Daniyar’s sudden surge toward her. The same hand loosened the veil from her helmet, dropping it to the floor.
Arian gasped.
“You’ve been a long time coming.”
The face looking back at Arian was her own.
55
Lania.
The same green eyes, the same chiseled face older by a decade, with fine cracks at the eyes and mouth of the mask, a weariness of loss shrouded by a shimmering seduction.
It could not be.
Lania was laboring in the cotton fields or had been sent to the Plague Lands to die or had been broken in Marakand long ago.
When Turan had died at the Blood Shed, Arian had told herself to accept Lania as lost.
How could Lania be here, the Authoritan’s consort—the Khanum Illarion had warned her against?
Twice as dangerous as the Authoritan himself, the Ahdath captain had said.
She heard the echo of Turan’s voice in her mind.
Your sister would have been a Companion of Hira, First Oralist before you. Perhaps not so gifted as you.
A linguist like herself, trained as an Oralist of the Claim.
Why did she serve the Authoritan? How did she serve the Authoritan?
He called her his Augur, a seer who prophesied the future.
A dark art denied to the people of the Claim.
But surely the man who murdered scribes and calligraphers, who presided over arcane blood rites—who’d crippled the guardians of the Bloodprint—was no longer one of the people of the Claim.
Augury would seem as nothing to him.
And with the powers of an Oralist at his side—
First Oralist. Perhaps not so gifted as you.
“Lania,” she said.
Daniyar’s head came up.
“Lania, why?”
Her sister’s face was almost feline in its cruelty.
“You were not summoned here to question me, sister.” She hissed the last word at Arian.
Had she been summoned? Was the quest for the Bloodprint nothing more than a conspiracy, with the Black Khan and Ilea as participants in the deception?
The Claim surged forth in Arian’s throat.
Believe in that which is beyond the reach of human perception.
The words of the Bloodprint found their way to her thoughts again, a private communication between Lania and herself. She didn’t understand it.
If Lania was an Augur in the service of the Authoritan—
The Bloodless would have known.
Now she understood the First Blood’s despair.
To have guarded the Bloodprint so well and be powerless—
They had known.
And hadn’t been able to warn her.
Speak to me, sister.
Lania’s voice spoke inside her head, distracting her from the Bloodless, from the Authoritan who had maimed them.
“I thought you dead or lost to the Plague Lands.”
“And so you pursued your futile path, which seems to me a pity. There is much you could have achieved as an Augur of Black Aura. Much you could still achieve.”
“Lania.” Arian’s voice broke on her sister’s name. “I am an Oralist of the Claim. I cannot act as an Augur.”
“Then you’re of no use at my court,” said the Authoritan. “She is not what you promised me, Khanum. Return to my side at once.”
The Authoritan’s consort took up her throne on the dais.
“You venerate the written word, do you not, Companion?” he said. “You reek of its superiority.” The Authoritan gestured at the Bloodprint. “A lesson then, in disobeying my wishes. Nevus.”
The Ahdath captain moved swiftly. A soldier took hold of the Silver Mage, while Nevus sorted through Daniyar’s pack. Item by item, he extracted its contents.
“As the one commands,” he said.
“As the one commands,” Lania murmured from the dais.
Arian recoiled in horror.
There is no one but the One.
She held the thought fast in her mind.
The puzzle box, the ewer, the key, each was dropped to the floor and smashed.
The Candour was next.
The Verse of the Throne thrummed through Arian’s body. But with the knife at Daniyar’s throat, she was powerless.
“Set it at my feet,” the Authoritan commanded, his hair a glowing nimbus about his head.
“No!” Arian cried. “Please! It is the Candour!”
The letters on its cover gleamed silver in the light.
The Authoritan snaked out a hand toward it. A ripple of fear whispered through the gathering.
“Burn,” he said.
The single word set the Candour aflame.
“No!” Daniyar shouted.
The Ahdath’s knife grazed his cheek.
“Kill him so she can watch. Then kill the Oralist next.”
Before the Ahdath could obey, another voice spoke.
“A moment, my friend.”
The voice was smooth and darkly familiar. A voice that vanquished the hope in Arian’s heart. It made her believe that everything she’d endured up to this moment—her family lost, the Talisman ascendant, a decade of fighting the slave-chains—all of it was for nothing.
The Ahdath made room for the speaker to approach.
“I cannot delay for these trifles. Matters in Ashfall require my attention.”
The Black Khan.
Here in Black Aura Scaresafe.
At his ease before the Authoritan.
The Ahdath followed his progress up the hall, waiting to see what the Authoritan would do. The soldier with the knife to Daniyar’s throat paused for confirmation.
A smile passed over the Authoritan’s bloodless lips. He signaled a moment of respite, dipping his head at Rukh.
“Excellency,” he said. “What would you have of me?”
The Claim trembled in Arian’s throat. She needed something, anything.
You shall not know fear. Her eyes communicated with Daniyar. Neither shall you grieve.
But the words were not enough.
Events were moving out of time.
The Black Khan was here, in the Authoritan’s stronghold. He stood between Arian and Daniyar, bowing before the dais.
“Khagan,” he said. “Khanum.”
“Rukh—”
The Black Khan’s name was a plea on Arian’s lips.
His answer was cold. “You will address me as Excellency or not at all.”
She flinched from him.
How had he so utterly deceived her?
She tried to reason through it. In the chamber of the Council of Hira, he had taken the Sacred Cloak upon his shoulders, swearing to the truth of the Bloodprint. He’d promised his help, and in the labyrinth of Marakand, Larisa and Elena had made good that promise.
And then she remembered. Before he’d told her the Bloodprint belonged with her, he’d removed the Cloak from his shoulders.
Call me Rukh, he’d said. Your presence would enhance my court.
Even that had been a lie.
Now he spoke to the Authoritan, responding to his question.
“I would have what was agreed upon between us. I delivered the Companion in exchange for the Bloodprint. Give me the manuscript and I’ll be on my way.”
He didn’t need to add that out of all the men gathered in the Ark, he would be the most dangerous to cross.
His betrayal of Arian was complete.
How foolish she had been, how blind.
She’d never had any hope of holding on to
the Bloodprint, but why? Why had the Black Khan needed her, when he’d held the Bloodprint in his hands?
The Authoritan waved a hand at the plinth. His cruel eyes were vigilant.
His velvet cape swinging behind him, the Black Khan reached the plinth in three strides.
An icy smile on his lips, he mocked Arian. “You alone held the key, First Oralist. The Cast Iron was impregnable. I do not know how you solved its mystery, but the High Companion assured me that you would.”
A yawning white chasm opened in Arian’s mind. Canyons of snow. Fields of white cotton. An all-encompassing nothingness.
She had long suspected the Black Khan’s motives. But she hadn’t guessed him capable of this treachery.
He had used her.
With the Cast Iron in his hands, he’d never laid eyes on the Bloodprint. He’d needed her skill to unlock its secrets, each step leading to the next, each a trial of her worth and sincerity.
And like a fool, she had yielded to the enemy his prize.
The Claim was a roiling nightmare in her mind.
“The Cast Iron wasn’t part of the bargain.”
The Black Khan nodded. “I do not seek the Cast Iron, Khagan,” he said. “It doesn’t matter to the men who wage war upon my capital. The Bloodprint alone will hold them back.”
Careful not to betray his feeling for the manuscript, he parted it from its binding. At a signal, two of his men came forward to secure the Bloodprint in folds of cloth before bearing it away. His gaze fell upon Wafa, bound and gagged by the Ahdath. “And if I might have the boy. My enemies despise his kind—he may prove to be useful.”
His bow to the Authoritan was unhurried. He stroked the onyx rook at his collar.
“You may do as you please with your captives, of course.” The Prince of West Khorasan shrugged. “But as I learned at Hira, the First Oralist is the most gifted of the Companions—I would not squander her gifts. As to the Silver Mage—” He shrugged again. “Were it my decision, I would make his execution a public display to my enemies. I believe you have a tower.”
Lania lent support to the words.
“Kill him, bleed him, my love, I do not care.” Her tone was cavalier but her eyes dwelt on Daniyar’s face at length, a fact the Authoritan noted. “Just know my sister will be useful, should you grant me time to reclaim her.” Lania’s voice became sulky. Arian wondered if she alone sensed the undertone of the Claim. “You gave up the Bloodprint to lure her. The Black Khan should not gain the better part of the bargain.”
The Authoritan reflected upon this.
“The Claim is powerful within her,” he told his consort. “Perhaps her knowledge is greater than yours.”
The Khanum raised a painted black eyebrow.
“She is foreordained to submit. For the sake of the Silver Mage, she will serve as a slave at your court.” A thin smile settled on her lips. “And if not, you will find the blood of the Silver Mage potent.”
Arian broke free of her captor. She spat at the Black Khan’s feet.
“How unworthy you are of the Bloodprint.”
His answer was cool, his dark eyes enigmatic.
“You mistake me, First Oralist. I am unworthy of anything less.”
Then he was gone, taking Wafa with him, giving Arian no opportunity to touch the boy, to offer a word of comfort. But what comfort could she give him? Wafa might survive in Ashfall, whereas death awaited them all at the Ark. He had already cheated the blood rites once.
The guard reached for Arian again.
She feinted past his grip, pressing her lips to Daniyar’s, her tears searing his skin.
“Forgive me, beloved. I should have let you take me to the Damson Vale. Instead I brought you to this.”
Daniyar kissed her fiercely. There would be no other chance to tell her.
“You are everything, Arian. You have always been everything.”
Lania’s smile froze on her face as the Authoritan crushed her hand. He snapped his fingers at Nevus.
“You will have your wish, Khanum. Your sister will serve as an object at my court. And the Silver Mage will be taken to the tower.”
Nevus proffered the six-tailed whip. The Authoritan stroked it with loving fingers. “But first a demonstration is required. Strength is justice. Rasti, rusti.”
Daniyar was stripped to the waist. Two guards chained him to the wall by the dais.
The Authoritan raised the whip.
The Claim fell silent in Arian’s throat.
The Bloodprint had gone beyond the Wall.
But she had not gone with it.
Here ends Book One of the Khorasan Archives
Acknowledgments
How blessed and grateful I am to be able to tell a story like The Bloodprint, inspired by history and legends I was taught from earliest childhood. To my mother, with gratitude for the wonderful stories she told me, and my father, who never let an occasion pass without giving me a book. To my siblings with whom I have shared everything worth sharing: endless hours of Star Trek, hundreds of SFF novels, far too many conversations about which realities are possible and which are only imaginary, and umpteen trips to the comic books store, each for our own nefarious reasons.
To my friends and family who haven’t seen me much in two years, but who still supply copious amounts of love and reassurance, my grateful love in return—especially to Hema (Bobo) Nagar for arguing your way through each successive draft. Thank you for believing so much in this book, and for being willing to read the roughest of rough drafts.
Thank you to Nader, as always, for listening to my doubts and soothing them away.
My deepest gratitude to David Pomerico and Natasha Bardon at Harper Voyager for your invaluable guidance in shaping this book into what it is and for seeing a place for its history and future. Thank you especially for raising the voices of women. And thank you to Priyanka Krishnan and everyone at Harper Voyager who works on my books.
And finally to Danielle Burby—I’ve loved discussing every aspect of this series with you. Thank you for everything you do for me, but especially for believing in my stories even more than I do. For answering every text, every email, every call, and every question. That’s how we ended up here.
Cast of Characters
The Council of Hira
Ilea: the High Companion Other titles: the Golden Mage, the Exalted, the Qari, Ilea the Friend, Ilea the Seal of the Companions
Arian: First Oralist, a Companion of Hira
Sinnia: a Companion from the lands of the Negus
Ash: the Jurist
Psalm: the General of the Citadel
Other Companions of Hira, the Affluent: Half-Seen, Mask, Moon, Rain, Saw, Ware, Zeb
The Citadel Guard: Captain Azmaray, others
Candour
Daniyar: the Guardian of Candour Other titles: the Silver Mage, the Authenticate, the Keeper of the Candour
The Akhundzada: the Guardian of the Sacred Cloak
Wafa: a Hazara boy of Candour
The Talisman
The One-Eyed Preacher
The Immolans
The Talisman Tribes: the Shin War, the Zai Guild
Commandhan Hask
Commandhan Sartor
Captain Turan
Ashfall
The Black Khan: Rukhzad, Rukh Other titles: Commander of the Faithful, Prince of West Khorasan, Khan of Khorasan, Sovereign of the House of Ashfall, the Black Rook, the Dark Mage
Firuzkoh, the Turquoise City
The Hazara
The Alamdar: Mir of the Hazara
The Wandering Cloud Door
Tochtor: the Yeke Khatun Other titles: Great Empress, Mother of the Aybek of the Cloud Door
Zerafshan: Aybek of the Wandering Cloud Door Other titles: Lord of the Wandering Cloud Door, Lord of the Buzkashi, Aybek of the Army of the Left
The Buzkashi: Army of the Right, Army of the Left
The Mangudah: Buzkashi Death Squad
Zelgai: Aybek of the Army of the Righ
t, andas (blood brother) to Zerafshan
Altan: Otchigen, Prince of the Hearth, brother to Zerafshan
Storay, Annar: sisters to Zerafshan, daughters of the Yeke Khatun
The Wall
The Authoritan Other titles: Khagan, Khan of Khans
The Khanum Other titles: Consort of the Authoritan, the Augur
The Ahdath: Suicide Warriors, Guardians of the Wall
Araxcin: Commander of the Wall
Captain Illarion: second in command at the Wall
Semyon, Alik: soldiers at the Wall in Marakand
Captain Nevus: commander in Black Aura Scaresafe
The Usul Jade
Salikh: founder of the Usul Jade
The Basmachi Resistance
Larisa Salikh: leader of the Basmachi Resistance
Elena Salikh/Anya: second in command
Ruslan: Basmachi captain
The Bloodless
Guardians of the Bloodprint
First Blood
Other
Alisher: a poet of Black Aura Scaresafe
Glossary
ab-e-rawan. A type of silk known as running water.
Adhraa. The most highly venerated woman mentioned by name in the Claim.
Affluent. Those who are fluent in the Claim.
Ahdath. Suicide warriors who guard the Wall.
Akhundzada. A member of the family of the Ancient Dead, guardians of the Sacred Cloak.
alam. A flag.
All Ways. The fountains of the Citadel of Hira, imbued with special powers, and a foundation of the rites of the Council of Hira.
Amdar. A river of North Khorasan that flows on both sides of the Wall.
andas. Blood brother.
Ark. The stronghold of the Authoritan in Black Aura Scaresafe.
Aryaward. A territory of South Khorasan.
Ashfall. The capital of West Khorasan, seat of the Black Khan.
asmaan. Sky.
asmani. Sky-blue lapis lazuli.
The Bloodprint Page 35