Yashamin curled her lip in distaste. The former courtesan rubbed her hands down her arms, as if wiping something away. “I remember too well those perverted leeches! All the gold in Īa, without a copper’s worth of class. The things asked for…”
“Pacifying the Rōmarq to recoup our costs won’t be any easier if the Asrahn orders us to disband the army.” Belamandris poured his sister a bowl of watered wine. “Mari, did Vashne mention anything else about his plans?”
“No.”
Corajidin scowled at the hesitation in his daughter’s voice. He had noted more conflict in her of late. More hesitation to comply with his will.
“The Asrahn’s going to disband the armies soon, given Ariskander’s established a tenuous peace. The only conflict we’re hearing of is from the Avānese factions in the city,” Mariam continued.
“It hardly matters.” Yashamin gazed at her husband, her kohl-rimmed eyes dark, heavy-lidded. “Though it’s all well and good for prophecies and oracles to fill our heads with hopes, I urged you that sometimes we need to make our own dreams a reality. You can be the supreme monarch of your people without Wolfram’s oracles whispering their poison in your ears.”
“Or you could go home before you’re discovered, where you can work on getting well again,” Mariam murmured.
“Kasra thinks some of what he’s found is a Torque Spindle,” Belamandris said over steepled fingers. “If he can get that working, we can make any army we need. Look how well the Iphyri have served us. Imagine the kind of new warriors we could make and train!”
“And if anybody opposes you”—Yashamin’s expression was self-satisfied—“well, Far-ad-din isn’t the only monarch who can fall by the wayside. Jahirojin is a time-honored tradition. We don’t need a Torque Spindle, or the armies it can produce, to rise to power.”
“Should you order it, sire,” the scar-faced Farouk offered, “I’d shed the blood of anybody you wanted.”
“Of that I have no doubt, Nephew.” Corajidin held up his hands to placate the others. He winced as pain spiked through his shoulders and back. Wolfram’s potions were not as effective as they once were. “But we’re getting ahead of ourselves. Vashne has governed for his maximum three terms, and after fifteen years, Shrīan will know a new master. We do not need to preempt what will happen naturally.”
“And Ariskander?” Thufan cleared his throat loudly, wheezing in the heat.
“He was meant to die at Amber Lake,” Corajidin snarled. “I intend to redress that lapse as soon as is feasible. I need more Imperialists in seats of power among the Great Houses. Kadarin fe Narseh is on our side. Vashne is neutral. But Ariskander, Nazarafine of the Great House of Sûn, and Far-ad-din are all Federationists. We will place so much pressure on Vashne to announce a replacement for Far-ad-din, he will have no choice. Even if he delays, his tenure as Asrahn is almost over. The decision will be made by his replacement, which will be me.”
“Two for. Two against. One neutral. One seat vacant,” Thufan rattled off. “You may do it after all.”
“Take Ariskander off the list.” Farouk smiled. “Nehrun, the little snake, has already confessed to being an Imperialist.”
“And with the balance of power in agreement,” Corajidin said, “the Avān people will reform under a Second Awakened Empire! The world can be ours again.”
It had been almost six hundred years since the schism of the Avān people. When Humanity had waged war on the Awakened Empire, the Great Houses and the Families had rallied to defend it. For almost thirty years, the Iron League of the Humans and the empire had fought incessantly. The Humans were greater in number, but the Avān had the advantages of their flying ships, greater prowess, and the ranks of the scholars, more reliable than the witches who fought for both sides. Generations of Avān and Humans were lost to war. One by one the countries within the empire fell under Human control, until only Tanis, Ygran, Shrīan, and Pashrea remained.
Näsarat fe Malde-ran, Mahj of the Awakened Empire, had feared her people would fall. Using her vast powers, she summoned the Avān dead from the Well of Souls and turned many of the people of Pashrea into Nomads. It was Malde-ran herself who unwittingly toppled the Awakened Empire. By robbing the people sworn to her service of the eternal peace of the Well of Souls, she had betrayed their hopes of an afterlife among beloved family and friends. From that day forth she had been known as the Empress-in-Shadows. Even now she governed her undying nation from the ghost city of Mediin, beyond the Mar Siliin—the Mountains of the Moon—in the south.
The Shrīanese Federation had been created by the six surviving Great Houses and their supporters. It took almost a decade for the Teshri to be formed, then another four years for the first Asrahn to be crowned. The Iron League of the Humans, reeling from their own losses, had been content to leave the Avān be so long as they turned their backs on hopes of empire.
Corajidin chewed on his knuckle as he looked out across the garden courtyard. When the time came, he would register a Jahirojin against Ariskander with the Arbiter Marshal. He had already written it. He only needed a scholar to witness it before it was submitted. Sadly, scholars were not easy to come by, and the Sēq had a long-standing enmity with the Great House of Erebus after so many scholars had died in their service.
“Regarding Ariskander?” Mariam asked. “Is it wise to deprive Shrīan of another one of its rahns? Particularly now?”
“Is your blood thinning on us, Mari?” Belamandris asked.
“I never said it was wise.” Corajidin quaffed his wine, then refilled his bowl. The wine helped settle the slight anxiety he felt after drinking Wolfram’s brew.
Mariam came across to sit beside him. “I wonder whether you’d be so quick to end him if he wasn’t a Näsarat.”
“True enough,” he admitted. Corajidin could feel the coiled serpents of his bowels begin to loosen slightly. Another sign of illness. “The oracles have blessed me with their visions of success, Mariam. If it was not my place to be here, now, doing what I am doing, they would not have confirmed my road. If Ariskander is supposed to survive, then no doubt his own fate will protect him.”
“Don’t hide your interests behind some call to destiny. The armies are here because of you, not for the good of our people as you’d have us believe.”
“If you opened your eyes, you’d see they’re one and the same,” Yashamin said quietly. “When your father finds what he’s after, then the price will have been worth it. I’m worried at your attitude, Mariam. Perhaps you should leave the service of the Asrahn sooner rather than later? You could start a military company of your own, like Belamandris’s Anlūki.”
“There would be hundreds of high-caste warriors knocking on your door for the chance to serve with you, Mari,” Belamandris agreed.
“I’d serve,” Armal offered with a smile.
“No doubt,” Farouk muttered. “Though the service you—”
“Mariam is useful to me where she is. For now.” Corajidin patted Mari’s hand. He was about to continue when Wolfram limped in. The witch smelled of rotting mulch and carrion. The hems of his robe, as well as his old cracked boots, were caked with filth. “Wolfram? Where in Erebus’s name have you been?”
Wolfram turned the shaggy silhouette of his head toward Corajidin. “Elsewhere, doing what was necessary. I’m here now, great rahn.”
They congregated around a wide round table. Maps were unrolled along with scrolls inked with neat rows of names. Numbers and dates, promises and threats.
The sayfs—the leaders—of the Hundred Families were ambitious. Most were neither wealthy enough nor influential enough to rise in rank without the support of their fellows or the patronage of a Great House. Those who could see the lay of the land had been bribed. However, there were still those Families who remained loyal to the Great Houses that sponsored them. As far as Yashamin could calculate, there would not be enough of them to be a threat. Corajidin felt a small thrill when he looked at the long list of names that had been lured to s
upport his bid for ascendency.
Corajidin refilled his wine bowl. He had drunk more wine than was good for him. A slight breeze stirred the air, a tiny spoon in a too-large pot of soup. He stood beneath the fan, the silk panel painted with peacocks and colorful flowers. It was a relief to feel the air move. If only the storm would come.
Of them all it was Yashamin who had surprised him the most. Corajidin knew the House of Pearl trained their nemhoureh well. Their companions were skilled in history, music, art, philosophy, and literature, and many other skills beyond seduction and the lover’s arts. Yet Yashamin had shown a keen insight, a gift, for strategy. Indeed, Corajidin sometimes needed to remind himself where her ideas ended and his began.
Corajidin had given Yashamin the duties of house chamberlain and seneschal when she had become his contracted concubine. She had demonstrated insightful skills of organization, more so than his wives. As a result, the Erebus treasuries had grown prodigiously under her care. Yashamin had also invested wisely in buying the favor of a goodly number of the Families, as well as many senior officials of the Mercantile Guild and several veteran nahdi companies. All of them would be turned to fruitful purposes.
Once Corajidin was Asrahn, Yashamin explained, they would have greater freedom to convince the Teshri and the people of the wisdom of reformation. The weapons and wisdom they expected to claim from the Rōmarq, as well as the possibility of a Torque Spindle army, would give the Erebus an advantage no other House had enjoyed since the early years of the Awakened Empire. Corajidin would unite the leadership of Shrīan in declaring a Second Awakened Empire on the five hundredth anniversary of the Shrīanese Federation. Shrīan needed to be seen as too hard a target for the Humans’ Iron League, or the neutral nations, to aim at. It would be the beginning of the long reign of a new imperial Erebus Dynasty.
“Tanis is governed by Avān nobles, though they’re not Awakened,” Belamandris said. “They could use our help in the Conflicted Cities. That would buy their support as the first kingdom to be added to the new empire.”
“In due time.” Corajidin nodded. “They seem to be holding their own with the support of various companies of nahdi. If their situation changes, we will step in to help. Until then, we need to get our own nation in order. We’ll need to subjugate Pashrea and remove the Empress-in-Shadows from power before we look farther afield.”
“Easier said than done,” Belamandris muttered.
Corajidin saw movement from the corner of his eye. The flash of white robes. A glimpse of purple and gold. Soldiers scrambled out of the way of the Feyassin and the Asrahn as they approached the sitting room via the courtyard garden. Corajidin snapped a warning to the others. They hurriedly gathered up parchments and books to be unceremoniously thrown into a nearby chest. Mari swept up her sheathed sword. Hooked the scabbard to the rings on her belt. Corajidin eyed his daughter as she slipped away, wondered at whatever guilt she felt that made her reluctant to be seen in the company of her family when the Asrahn came calling.
Moments after Vashne arrived, he asked Corajidin to dismiss the others so they might talk in private. The others took to the gardens without comment.
Corajidin offered Vashne a bowl of wine, which was politely accepted. “What brings you to my door, Vashne?”
“May I?” Vashne gestured at one of the chairs. Corajidin nodded his assent, then sat opposite the Asrahn. Vashne’s gaze remained fixed on the wine in his hand. His lips were pressed to a thin line against his teeth.
“Ariskander came to me an hour or so ago.” Vashne looked up, his eyes wide and large and dark. “He says he has evidence concerning the source of the allegations raised against Far-ad-din. Knight-Colonel Ekko, who led the search for Far-ad-din, has revealed to Ariskander information regarding the identity of those who are trafficking in proscribed relics from the Rōmarq. He wants to contact the Arbiter Marshal in Avānweh to start a formal investigation. We are going to discuss it at an emergency Teshri session tonight.”
Corajidin marshaled his features to stillness. Tonight? Curse Ariskander! May his mewling Ancestors turn their backs on his immortal soul forever. If Corajidin’s efforts in the Rōmarq had been discovered, then he would be forced to execute Wolfram’s exit strategy. The witch had warned Corajidin this might come to pass, and his solution was as simple as it was ruthless. No survivors, no witnesses. It would be expensive in people and matériel, though better than Corajidin and his fellow conspirators being hauled before an Arbiter’s Tribunal, found guilty, and then either incarcerated for life in Maladûr gaol or ritually executed. He imagined he could already feel the length of yellow silk being wrapped around his throat. Constricting. Crushing. Squeezing the life from him as he was denied sweet breath. Wolfram and Brede would remove every trace of evidence that the Great House of Erebus had ever set foot in the Rōmarq…
“Femensetri has also heard from her peers in the Magistratum,” Vashne continued. “Observations have been made regarding Far-ad-din’s sudden disappearance, the lack of proof of wrongdoing, and that there has been too drastic a change to the power base of the Greater Houses and the Hundred Families of late. We lost a lot of lives at Amber Lake, some of the leaders of the Hundred Families among them.”
“So, the panicked rustlings of dusty bureaucrats brings you here, Vashne?” The Asrahn’s returned smile was rueful. He shifted in his chair. Refilled his wine bowl to give himself time to marshal his comments. “I would not worry overly much about what they have to say. You cannot be reelected. Enjoy the respite due you and let these troubles line another’s brow.”
The Asrahn laughed, a bitter sound. He rubbed his face with his hands. “I was also accosted by the emissaries from the Iron League. The ambassadors from Atrea, Imre, Jiom, Manté, Angoth, and what remains of Orē are concerned about the army we have here. Corajidin, they will go to war against us if we provoke them. Now is not the time to bear our fangs: the Humans will not scare as easily as you think.”
Let them come! he thought. Let them feel our teeth in their throats! “We have what, some thirty thousand soldiers, including the nahdi companies we hired? It is hardly an army for the combined strength of six Human nations to be concerned about.”
“This has been the first time in almost five hundred years we have marshaled such an army. Our Ancestors toppled the Petal Empire with less, Corajidin, and the leaders of the Iron League know it. They also know the army here is a fraction of our strength.”
“As I said, these troubles will weigh on another’s head soon enough. If the Humans do not like what is happening here, or anywhere else on Īa, then let them return to the stars from where they came.”
“The Humans—the Starborn—almost defeated the Seethe and ended the Petal Empire before we were ever created. You would do well to remember that.” Vashne’s smile disappeared. “My friend, the Magistratum has informed the Speaker for the People that they have submitted an amendment to the Constitution of the Shrīanese Federation.”
“An amendment?” Corajidin asked. “I had not heard anything about it.”
“The amendment will allow, in times of crisis, an Asrahn to be elected for more than three consecutive terms.”
Corajidin laughed. He finished his wine in one gulp. His hand shook as he poured another bowl, dark red splashing across the table like watery blood. “Good news for me. It is common enough knowledge I will be elected as the next Asrahn.”
“Ariskander is popular and influential,” Vashne countered, gaze keen. “The Federationists hold the balance of power in the Teshri. My friend, there have been rumors of your tomb robbing and smuggling in the Rōmarq. Your designs are not as opaque as you may think. You need to tread carefully.”
Corajidin masked his expression behind a sip of his wine. How much did Vashne, or Ariskander, really know? “There is no more logical, more realistic, choice than me for Asrahn.”
“‘Such confidence, as born of overweening pride, gives us wings to soar higher and fall the further,’” Vashne quoted. He
reached into the folds of his robe to withdraw a long, curved bundle wrapped in tapestry fabric. The Asrahn’s fingertips rested on the object, as if there was part of him unwilling to let it go. “I have a gift for you. It is something that once belonged to your Great House. I give it to you now in the spirit of friendship, cooperation, and patriotism I know you feel keenly.”
Bemused, Corajidin reached out to touch Vashne’s gift. Vashne sighed as he stood. He loomed over Corajidin, a silhouette against the hammered pewter of the overcast beyond.
Vashne had started to speak again, his voice as soft, compelling, studied as always. Corajidin felt the weight of each word as it dropped on him, boulders on a cairn for his hopes.
He looked at his own reflection in the mirror. His face was florid, and the white hair at his temples shone against the red of his skin. There was a dense pressure behind his eyes, as if too much blood coursed in his brain. The veins in his neck protruded like worms in ruddy earth. He watched his mouth move as it spewed forth a stream of invective.
Only Yashamin dared approach. She caressed, soothed, gentled him as a wrangler would calm a maddened stallion.
“What happened?” Mariam leaned in to ask Belamandris as she returned. Her brother only shrugged slightly in response.
Thufan hurried forward with a bowl of wine. “Get away from me!” Corajidin snarled. He knocked the bowl from Thufan’s hand. It smashed against the man’s nose with such force it drew blood. Reflexively Armal dropped one massive hand to the long curved dagger at his waist.
Farouk leaped forward, his own knife drawn in a whisper of steel on silk. The stiletto was long, the blade blackened. Armal chopped at Farouk’s wrist with one broad hand. The fist that followed connected with Farouk’s jaw. Farouk reeled backward. Stumbled to his knees. He leveled a murderous look at Armal, skin dark against scars and the white of exposed teeth and sharpened canines.
The Garden of Stones Page 10