Chapter 4 #3
Then Eliyas rakes his fingers through the stubbly strands of his hair. ‘I must find the emperor—’ He pales, looking behind me, and for the first time, I hear him curse. ‘What in the Eight Gates of Hells?’
I turn. Three figures approach the monastery across the dirt paths.
‘Peace, Chief Dream-Interpreter,’ a voice calls out at the bottom of the steps, and I rush down for a better look.
‘Warlord Akashun?’ I recognise him. Again, a small dove perches on his shoulder, neck coiled against his head. Two warriors linger behind him. A tall, graceful woman, in a tawny qaftan, with a headdress decorated in white jasmine flowers, and a boy who looks to be around sixteen years old.
My gaze snags on the seal stitched over their outer garments. Eight crane wings. These are allied warlords in the Council of the Eight Cranes, from other prefectures.
Suddenly, Eliyas is in front of me, half obscuring them from view. He bows, his stare somewhere between contempt and worry. ‘Warlord of Khajak. Warlord of Izur. And Warlordess of Yaqus.’ His fingers wrap around my wrist, and I stiffen.
The young warlord of Izur catches my gaze; a boy admired in court whispers.
The emperor spoke of him as a boy who, at fifteen years, ruthlessly conquered the northern mountains.
Izur is a natural fortress against the raids of steppe-tribes in the Camel Road.
This boy betrayed his own kin by allying with the emperor before executing his father, and calling himself warlord and khagan, to rule both steppe-peoples in the region and the sedentary townships.
The boyish warlord’s light eyes study me, but with a cruel smile that does not match his youth.
Warlord Akashun returns Eliyas’s greeting. ‘We were summoned for the war council. We’ll be taking our leave soon.’ He looks up at the towering monastery. ‘I trust the possessed woman is well?’
‘She’s been subdued.’ Eliyas’s grip digs into my wrist. ‘And I trust you to leave the affairs of the Unseen to the monastery. Including the woman.’
‘Of course, but you remember why this woman is known to me,’ Warlord Akashun responds ominously.
His eyes turn to me, running from my face to my feet.
‘A blessing to see you, nameless little bird. That is what your clansmen call you.’ Eliyas tightens his fingers into my arm in warning.
I stifle a wince. Akashun strokes the neck of his dove but watches Eliyas.
‘I bid my peace. And I await your letters.’
What letters? I notice Akashun’s calculated look. Has he mentioned them in front of me intentionally?
Eliyas releases my wrist and wipes his damp hand against his robes, tilting his head slightly.
After Akashun leaves, the warlordess of Yaqus lingers. ‘So this is the one who’s taken to mastering poisons? A young steppe-girl? A nameless daughter?’
This time I do not let Eliyas stop me. ‘Nameless though I am, I am a warrior for the Zahr clan.’
‘Be silent,’ Eliyas orders.
The warlordess flashes her teeth in a version of a smile. ‘Which fighting style?’
My chin raises. ‘A Zahr system. With techniques adopted from the Seven Gentle Paths of Dawjad, to find the pathways of Brother-Nature.’
The warlordess turns to address the boy warlord. ‘This martial art originates from your lands, the historic clans in Izur. Perhaps you can help train her.’
‘Even that the Zahrs steal from us,’ he mutters.
I ignore him. ‘I will serve the emperor. By poison or blade.’
‘Ambitious,’ the warlordess answers smoothly. ‘But your ivory blade is such a small thing. Like your will.’
My hand goes to the khanjar on my left arm. A symbol of Zahr. As Uma said, I no longer have to shove a blade down my trousers. I have a different blade as my entrustment.
‘If she possessed any of the strength of the ancient clans, she wouldn’t be her father’s dog,’ the warlord boy laughs.
‘I’m not a dog.’
‘And all she has are empty words.’ For all his youth, he is equally blunt.
The warlordess bows her head. ‘Eliyas, I trust this child won’t be misled under your care.’ Her brown eyes spark at me. ‘Think sensibly. What clan is there to serve when it’s clinging to its last dregs of power? And there is no point in power when you have nothing left to rule.’
That night, in a private study, the emperor questions Eliyas and me about the ordeal. Hyat Uncle sits behind him.
Eliyas speaks for me, but oddly, in his recounting, he does not inform the emperor about the treasonous exchange of words with the warlords.
‘Did Akashun see the possessed woman? Or the corpses?’ Hyat prods.
‘Hardly,’ Eliyas lies smoothly, and I blanch.
‘Good.’ The emperor notices my questioning look and says, ‘Warlord Akashun is the Wolf of Khajak. If you encounter Akashun again, go to the inner palaces. You must stay away from him.’
‘Is he remaining in the capital much longer?’ I ask.
Eliyas juts in. ‘Akashun negotiated a prisoner exchange between us and our enemies in the Sajamistan Empire.’
‘We should refuse his help.’ Hyat Uncle shakes his head.
The emperor must be swallowing his own venom from the way he grimaces.
‘Sometimes men do one good act, with the hope to get in exchange another. Long ago, Akashun was an ally of Sajamistan’s western garrison clans before aligning to me.
Now he has used that influence to negotiate a prisoner exchange to buy goodwill in my court.
And I am in no position to refuse it, though I wish I could.
Of the prisoners, one is a powerful daughter of the eight great clans, caught as a spy when she infiltrated Sajamistan’s armies—’
I remember from my lessons that the eight clans are the oldest, most influential in Azadniabad’s courts, including the Zahrs.
‘– if I refuse Akashun’s help, we risk losing that clan’s good favour.’ The emperor clenches his jaw. ‘But by conceding to his help, he has also gained their good favour.’
A chill cleaves down my spine.
‘And I also suspect it was one of Akashun’s allies in the monastery who freed the possessed woman, to attack you.’
I sit up. ‘Why would he do that?’
‘To provoke you. He has suspicions about your true nature.’ The emperor pauses. ‘There was also the warlord from Izur. What did you make of him?’
‘The boy is cruel,’ I put simply.
The emperor glances down at his parchments. ‘I proposed marrying him to you, to secure an alliance.’
Eliyas stiffens beside me. I brace my hand against the spruce desk, blinking once, twice.
‘Marriage?’
‘It’s a diplomatic strategy I used for my eldest daughter Bavsag.
I married her to the prefect of Arsduq, in the south-east. Over four years, she poisoned her husband slowly, until he was bedridden, so she became governess.
With the warlords coming under Akashun’s influence, they are all attempting to defy me.
Bavsag is not strong enough yet to turn against seven other prefectures for my sake.
For that, we need Izur to consolidate our eastern prefectures – the bulk of trade routes out of Azadniabad. ’
I draw forward on the cushion. It’s not a terrible strategy. Still, my chest thumps like a restless steed. I ask carefully, ‘Does he have another wife?’
‘We will set the condition that he dismisses his other wives. I know you; you would be able to do away with him and take over Izur’s affairs.’
‘What about my affinity? He is not a fool. He is young. Hungry. He is a snake who murdered his father for power. He called me your dog. We . . .’ I falter at the emperor’s darkening expression.
The ominous warning isn’t missed, snapping me into place.
Behind him stirs the blackness of the room’s corners, and there, like always, a shadow stares at me. As it smiles, I spot jagged teeth.
Hyat Uncle simply sighs from behind my father before reaching across the desk and grabbing my elbow.
‘Reconsider, my Emperor.’ He rattles my arm. ‘She is the first Eajīz from amongst your children; an unprecedented opportunity to infiltrate Sajamistan’s military institute through a kinsman you can trust. That is better for us than a marriage alliance.’
My head snaps to my uncle. ‘Me? Spy in Sajamistan?’
The emperor glares at him and their words lull to a back and forth too low for my ears.
With a firm shake of his head, the emperor affirms, ‘No,’ without looking at me.
‘I’ve decided to wed her, in due time. For now, we need her resistant.
To this.’ The emperor withdraws a white nephrite pot from beneath the low-table, a finger-span wide.
He faces me again. ‘Eliyas will use this in your poison training.’
‘What is that?’
‘Jinn-poison. These are substances from the Unseen world, different from human poisons.’ The emperor lifts the lid of the pot, a greyish, pungent powder appearing like little more than rot inside.
‘There are thousands of jinn-poisons harvested from Sajamistani monks in the jinn city of Za’skar.
This particular poison, when injected, allows the youngest of jinn to possess your throat.
They control your tongue, slur your speech and command your thoughts.
If the monks do not exorcise it with an antidote, eventually it causes you to rip out your own throat. ’
Eliyas pales. Beneath the low-table, he reaches for my hand, squeezing it tight. I do not understand his concern.
‘My poison testers have been unable to master jinn-poisons as fast as I’d like. But you are young; you’ve grown resistant to human poisons. As an Eajīz, your soul has a relationship with the Unseen world, so you can master jinn-poisons. You will train slowly. Will you do this for me, child?’
‘Of course, my Emperor,’ I say eagerly.
He looks to my brother. ‘Eliyas, you will train her, secretly, as you have trained her mind and body. Harder than ever before. And you must bring drops of her blood in the monastery, to measure her resistance. I will await your reports.’
After we are dismissed, the emperor stops me by replacing Hyat’s grip on my elbow. Leaning down, his voice is harsh in my ear. ‘Do not defy my decision again.’
‘Yes.’ I hurriedly bow, my shawl sagging against my shoulders as if broken down, too, under his glare. But an ache plumbs through my chest; it’s like his long cold fingers clutch my heart instead of my arm.