“You would question your Asrahn?” Nehrun gasped. “Remember your place—”
“Somebody has to.” Indris bowed his head to Vashne. “Can’t we give Ariskander more time? My uncle and Far-ad-din have been two of your most loyal supporters for years. They deserve to be trusted.”
Vashne gazed speculatively at Indris. “Ariskander, Nehrun…would you please excuse Indris and me?”
Ariskander rested his hand on Indris’s shoulder for moment, then strode from the room. Nehrun’s expression was dumbfounded. He drew in a breath to speak. Held it for a moment before exhaling slowly. Mari watched as Nehrun moistened his lips, then swallowed nervously. Nehrun gave Indris a murderous glare before he made a deep obeisance to the Asrahn. Turning on his heel in a swirl of silk, Nehrun walked stiff-backed from the chamber.
“You and your cousin still do not get along?” Vashne asked once Nehrun’s footsteps had faded to nothing.
“Our relationship is…challenging,” Indris said thoughtfully. “But though our opinions differ, we each respect the other.”
“Truly?” The Asrahn gestured for Indris to follow him outside to the Fire Garden. The Feyassin took position around Vashne and his children. Mari walked behind Indris, almost close enough to touch him.
Indris nodded and said, “No,” his tone dry. “He can’t forgive my mother for abandoning her Great House to be a Sēq Scholar or that I married Far-ad-din’s daughter. I can’t tolerate his racism, his pettiness, or his shallowness. I doubt our feelings will change. Ever since he read Corajidin’s book, Our Destiny Made Manifest, he’s not been the same.”
Vashne leaned back on a crystal bench, his face uplifted toward the sun. Mari noted the deep lines in the man’s face, carved by years of responsibility. Vashne and her father were so alike in many ways, yet so profoundly different when it came to the exercise of power. Her father saw his Awakening as his ancestral right. In the months she had served Vashne, it seemed the Asrahn was as much in awe of his power as he was frightened by it.
“I have to make a decision,” Vashne continued. “Amnon needs a governor before I disband the armies and send them home. It must be somebody I trust, as well as somebody who can keep Amnon under control. I have already had interminable meetings with foreign emissaries, assuring them that an Avān army camped on the shores of the Marble Sea is not a prelude to war.”
“I understand.” Indris sounded frustrated. “I’m asking you to consider other options. Corajidin is an intelligent man, a capable man, though not necessarily a virtuous one. But please give Ariskander the time he needs. Far-ad-din’s out there, somewhere.”
“How long? Another week? A month?” Vashne asked frankly. “To what end? Far-ad-din is gone. We need to move forward. Ariskander cannot remain here forever.”
“Then appoint somebody else governor. Almost anybody else, save Corajidin or Nehrun.”
“You know Ariskander does not intend Nehrun to be his heir?”
“What?” Indris said sharply. Mari froze in place. Her father had dealt with Nehrun in the belief the man was to be the next Rahn-Näsarat. Otherwise, Corajidin would never have given Nehrun the time of day. “Nehrun doesn’t know, does he?” Indris breathed.
“Ariskander had not made his decision until a few days before the battle.” Vashne looked at Indris shrewdly. “He confided in a few people, told us his new choice for heir, and we approved it wholeheartedly.”
“Roshana will make a fine rahn,” Indris said, distracted. “As would her younger brother, Tajaddin.”
“I suppose.” Vashne smiled. “None of this brings Far-ad-din back. You were right about his success in keeping the monsters in the Rōmarq contained. Far-ad-din had alliances with a few Seethe troupes, who lent their aid. More importantly, Far-ad-din was the only person we had who could help us in our various diplomatic dealings with the Seethe Sky Realms. His absence causes more problems than many realize.”
“Then why agree to go to war against him?” Indris asked incredulously.
“It was a calculated risk,” Vashne admitted, “which will cost us dearly. You know we never intended to go to war! Why do you think Ariskander was chosen as Arbiter of the Change? It was the only way we could satisfy the upper-caste outrage at Far-ad-din’s supposed treason while still keeping control of the outcome. All we needed was the time to show the Teshri Far-ad-din was innocent. I should have known Corajidin would change the rules to suit himself.”
The older man leaned back. Ran his hands across his face. Blinked in the bright sunlight for a moment or two. When he spoke, he was addressing empty air as much as Indris. “None of this changes my need to consider disbanding Far-ad-din’s Great House in favor of having the Sēq Masters Awaken a new rahn. I need somebody with armies to maintain the peace. Far-ad-din left me nothing.”
“With respect, you gave him little choice,” Indris pointed out. “You had options.”
“Not with the Teshri baying for blood. Corajidin wants to keep the armies marshaled here.” Vashne scowled. “Why do—”
Mari noted the sorrow on Indris’s face as he shook his head. “I’m not here to advise you. I can only assume you had me brought here because you hoped I’d help you. I’ve not changed my mind. Amnon is a place I truly don’t want to be.”
“I understand there are bitter memories for you here. But you were once of great service to the crown, my friend,” Vashne mused.
A chill went down Mari’s spine. In her entire time with Vashne he had heard the man call people friend on only a score of occasions. The Asrahn used the word sparingly, with meaning. For him to count Indris among such an august number meant the daimahjin had stronger ties than even her father suspected.
“It was my pleasure to serve Shrīan, for so long as it was my path to do so.” Indris stressed the word was. “I was released from public service by the Sēq.”
“One of a handful ever.” Vashne’s tone was light. “Being a daimahjin must be a different life compared to being a Sēq Knight.”
“There’s little to be missed about my old life, and my debt to the Order has been paid many times over.” Indris locked Vashne’s gaze with his own. Mari felt for Indris. In her father she knew how it felt to be in thrall to a master she wanted to escape. The only difference was that Indris had achieved what she had not. Mari was captivated by the movements of his hands. Powerful, tanned, almost hairless, the skin raised by lengths of ropy vein. The pale mottle of calluses. She wanted to hold them, to kiss his palms, to guide them over her body as he explored her, a newly discovered country. When he spoke again, his voice was introspective, almost detached.
“Nobody really ever stops being a scholar, though now I can choose what causes to fight for rather than ones chosen for me. The Sēq taught me about survival. How to face the darkness, even though I could never see in it. They taught me terror, how to deal with it, to use it. They taught me that love is as much a strength as it can be a weakness. About the equilibrium between unconditional love for the masses and the unfettered, biased, wholly absorbing love for the individual. That neither yesterday nor tomorrow exist, for everything happens in the now, and that all things share the one moment. Mostly they taught me how the world, in all its wonder, is based upon laws which must be obeyed, though can be bent. That nothing, anywhere, is really impossible if one simply has the will, learning, and the intellect to achieve it.”
“Yet after they taught you everything, you still feel as if you owe them, and your people, nothing?” The expression on Vashne’s face was etched with disappointment.
“Everything?” Indris mused. “In all the years I was with the Sēq, they never taught me how to live. I’m still learning that one myself. What they did teach was to observe and assess. To decide and act. Nehrun’s up to something. I think I’ll have my people follow him to find out exactly what that something is.”
The Seethe healer smiled at Mari, her eyes the deep indigo-gray of a clear evening, her fine quills the red and gold and yellow of morning. Her nimble fingers plaited the
fortune coins back into Ekko’s mane, now washed of the blood that had matted it. The Tau-se’s cavernous chest rose and fell slowly.
Flower and herb beds dotted the sandy ground around the healing arbors. The scents of lavender, rosemary, and jasmine cleansed the brine from the sea breeze. Brightly colored birds warbled on perches, free to come and go as they pleased, while cicadas droned in the distance, far enough away to be almost hypnotic. Water trickled brightly down a cascading fall of crystal slivers into a small pond filled with fat blue-and-green fish. The wind hissing through pine needles sounded like the ocean. Small golden frogs, eyes like shiny jetbeads, sat on plump lily pads. A large river cat, lynx-like and clouded chocolate and gray, lay curled up at the foot of Ekko’s bed. Its eyes opened wide as Mari and Indris approached. The animal lifted its nose to sniff Indris’s hand, rubbed its face against his palm contentedly.
“Ah…the Feyassin lady who found me and Dragon-Eyed Indris,” Ekko rumbled. Mari saw Indris wince at the name. The pupils of the Tau-se’s large hazel-gold eyes slid to narrow slits against the brightness of the afternoon. Ekko looked at Mari. “I have yet to thank you for your timely intervention earlier today, dear lady. I might have been further delayed had you not happened by.”
“Think nothing of it.” Mari smiled. “Seems only fair, after you went to all the effort to come.”
Ekko’s laugh sounded like a cross between thunder and an avalanche of suede boulders. His eyes narrowed with pain as he tried to sit up. The Seethe healer tutted, helping the lion-man get comfortable.
“You’ve news of Far-ad-din?” Indris asked politely as he took his seat on a narrow couch by Ekko’s bed.
“Sadly, no.” Ekko shook his great shaggy head. “Though it does not mean I have no tale to tell. Listen, if you would…”
Mari leaned with her back to the wall as Ekko began his tale. She had hoped her commanding officer would ask her to accompany Indris, not the least because she wanted to hear this story. Ekko might know something that could undermine her father’s plans. If so, it would be up to Mari to decide whether she was loyal enough to her father’s ambition to kill the Tau-se hero. She sincerely hoped it would not come to such a decision, for she did not know whether she had the courage to stay her hand against the risk of her father’s retribution.
Ariskander had asked Nehrun to command the search, but the young nobleman had begged off. The Tau-se had been happy enough to oblige, and it had been deep night by the time the Lion Guard had forded the Anqorat and raced into the Rōmarq. The tracks left by Far-ad-din’s forces had been easy to follow. Yet with each kilometer, those tracks had divided. Then divided again. And again. Until Far-ad-din’s two companies had split into dozens of groups. Far-ad-din could be with any of them.
“Which one did you follow?” Indris interrupted.
“The track with the largest number of feet,” Ekko replied as if it was entirely obvious. “Far-ad-din would not be without his White Hawks. His personal guard are nigh on fifty in number. He would not split them up, nor would they be willingly separated from their rahn. We suspect he also had a squad or more of the Seethe Shadow Mimes, so we needed to be wary of assassins’ trickery.”
Ekko and his forces had tracked Far-ad-din throughout the night. Sunset came quickly to the marshes. Moonrise was hours away, but the brightness of the night had been enough for the Tau-se. Ekko had sent a squad of five Tau-se to guard the rear, for he had sensed a small number of others following them. Three other squads had ranged about them at point and flanks.
The marshes had remained silent except for the sounds of the pursuers. Hours passed at punishing speed, the Tau-se moving on foot and the Sēq Scholar mounted on her armored war hart. From time to time marsh lights had drifted between the reeds. It was almost three hours after moonrise, some six hours after they had crossed the Anqorat, when they found the first sign of a new battlefield.
Ten Seethe troupers, the skin of their faces pierced with cruel-looking darts, lay dead and half-sunken in bloody water. They were draped in the soiled hauberks of Far-ad-din’s personal guard. More than four times that many Fenling bodies, armored in moldy leather and ransacked steel plating, lay nearby. The rat-men still had their rough spears and ill-kept swords or axes clutched in their hands.
Ekko drew silent. Mari noted the indrawn look in his eyes, though the rest of his face was cast with typical Tau-se impassivity.
“Have you fought the Fenling, Amonindris?”
“Please, Ekko…just Indris. And yes.” Mari thought she detected a shudder run through the man. “I’ve fought the Fenling.”
“They are vile. Worse than cannibals, for they eat anything and anybody. You know they eat their enemies? While they are alive? The night is their province. They eat, drink, breathe, and rut with it. Their nests have hundreds of the Fenling, each male, female, and child willing to fight, for such is the way of the rat-folk. Why, the Seethe—”
“Far-ad-din?” Indris prompted.
Ekko nodded. “Far-ad-din was running fast. We Tau-se knew the Seethe’s scent, yet something else stirred in the shadows. It made my fur rise.
“The sun rose. The day lengthened. Eventually we ran into the half-drowned ruins of an ancient city. It had sunk into a pit in the marsh. Years had covered it over with grass. Dirt. The colossal trunks of withered trees, which I am certain, had they the chance, would have lifted their roots and run. Pillars and columns of faceted black stone. Shattered stairs climbing to portals that led to nowhere. Unwholesome flowers grew from one building: black petaled, razor edged, with a purple fruit that looked like a grape, yet smelled of poison. At the center of all a plaza, a garden long gone to seed, and a construction of beaten black metal in which stars fell like raindrops. It still cast a shadow, blacker than black, as if lit by a different sun than the one we stood under. We felt the wrongness of it. Yet the damage had been done.”
“What happened?” Indris asked softly.
“Hundreds of the Fenling. A seething nest of mottled fur. They attacked without mercy.”
Ekko looked away. His whiskers twitched in agitation, though his face remained impassive. “Sorely pressed, we fought our way to more defensible ground. I became separated from my companions in the melee.” The lion-man fell silent, terror in his eyes. “I survived, but could find no sign of my company, so returned to report what I could.”
“Report what?”
The Tau-se clasped his hands together, then used them to smooth the white blanket across his lap. He smiled, an impressive display of fangs.
“I think I know who is at work in the Rōmarq.”
Mari closed her eyes. Her father’s secret would be revealed after all.
CHAPTER SIX
“Our weaknesses are the levers of our failures.”—Miandharmin, Nilvedic Scholar to the Ivory Court of Tanis, Fourth Siandarthan Dynasty
Day 314 of the 495th Year of the Shrīanese Federation
Corajidin relaxed into the plump cushions of the couch. The languor of Wolfram’s potion seeped through his body to take away the pain. Within the hour many of his symptoms would subside, though it was merely a treatment rather than a cure. When Wolfram arrived, he would need to speak to the witch about making the potion stronger.
The voices of his Ancestors, once as clear as voices in the same room, were a discordant rattle and hum in his ears. He rubbed at his temples to offset the pain.
Thunder growled as dark clouds, swollen and fat, toiled across the afternoon sky. Sheets of water sluiced from the firmament, flattening the waters of the Marble Sea. The air clung sullen and sodden in the confines of the villa he had commandeered on the prestigious Huq am’a Zharsi—the Street of the Golden. Screen doors of yellowed alabaster were open to the garden courtyard beyond. There was no breeze, though the silk panels of fans swung back and forth to bring some relief from the wet-mortar claustrophobia of the air. The silk of his knee-length jacket and kilt clung, though his feet were cool in their gold-chased sandals.
He felt t
ired watching Belamandris, with all his energy, stalk from one end of the room to the other. His son’s movements were economical, controlled, so much so he seemed to glide across the mosaic floor. Mariam let her head roll on her neck and studied her brother from under lowered brows. She sat slumped in a short scarlet tunic, bare-legged and bare-footed. Thufan wilted on a cushion, while his giant tattooed son, Armal, looked on Mariam with melancholy eyes. Corajidin scowled at the sweat trickling from the glistening stubble on the giant’s head down his rough-hewn features. Only Farouk seemed untroubled by the heat, precise in his uniform with its scarlet braid and commendations.
“I thought you’d see the advantage in letting Ariskander bear the burden of governing Amnon.” Yashamin’s tone was placating. She wore a diaphanous robe, the sleek lines of her body accentuated rather than hidden by the sheer fabric. “It leaves you to focus on what you want: the treasures from the Rōmarq.”
“I also wanted Far-ad-din’s damn treasury!”
“There’s nothing in it,” Mariam said, voice soft and eyes closed. His daughter seemed to wilt in the damp heat. “Far-ad-din managed to smuggle almost everything of value out of the city. The coffers are empty.”
“Meanwhile”—Belamandris stopped his pacing for a moment—“our army is costing us a fortune while it remains camped on the edge of the Rōmarq. We lose soldiers every day. It seems we can’t send a patrol more than a bow-shot away from our camps without it being attacked. Sitting around is doing us no good at all.”
“We cannot leave,” Corajidin said. “I need more money to persuade some of the other Teshri members, and our only hope is to sell some of what we find in the marshlands. Sweet Erebus, it seems the price goes up with each new person I have to buy.”
“Haven’t you bribed enough people to assure you’ll be Asrahn?” Mariam asked caustically. “You should cut your losses and go home, before your tomb robbing is exposed.”
“We’re safe for now. As for the bribes, it never hurts to be sure.” Corajidin scowled. “I have spent too much already to leave anything to chance. Between the bribes to bring the war here, the costs of the army, plus the votes I’m buying, I have had to borrow from the moneylenders of the Mercantile Guild.”
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