At the hill’s base, nine formations-nine ranks deep, nine men wide-stood tall and proud in silver mail, with glowing silver helmets. The sunlight reflected from their weapons-and Nirati knew that each ship could carry just such a unit. They reminded her of the ranks of the Naleni army and the Keru, save these men had a blue cast to their flesh, jet-black hair, and-if the two nearest them were models for their race-amber eyes like those of a cat.
The two men approaching them differed from the others in that their armor and helmets had been washed with gold. At twenty feet each dropped to a knee and pounded his right fist to his left shoulder in a salute. They bowed their heads and held those bows for longer than she had ever seen before.
Beyond the time required for a Prince. Then it occurred to her that she had seen such a bow held before. In a temple, when one sought the favor of the gods.
Their heads came up and they both rose as Nelesquin beckoned them forward. They still stopped a respectful distance-just out of reach-yet they had an arrogance that she found both attractive and frightening.
Nelesquin waved a hand toward the one with a snarling ram crest on his helmet. “This is Gachin. He is Dost of the Durrani host. Keerana is his second-in-command.”
Gachin’s eyes narrowed, and the sharpened tips of his ears were visible through hair as he doffed his helmet. Still, he gave her a respectful smile. “The goddess honors us by visiting as we embark. The invasion of the Empire has already begun, but we shall consolidate it, as you desire, goddess.”
Invasion? As I desire? She vaguely recalled Nelesquin mentioning a need to position himself to defend against Cyrsa, but invasion had not been part of it. And yet while she tried to remember what exactly had been said, a part of her knew that invasion was the only way his goals could be accomplished.
Keerana watched her closely. “The goddess is not pleased?”
She shook her head quickly. “It is only the thought of your departure so quickly after our meeting that displeases me. I am certain you will be successful with your endeavor.”
“We shall, goddess, then you shall come with our Lord Nelesquin and reside in Kelewan. We shall raze Quun’s home and build you the most beautiful temple.” Gachin bowed his head confidently.
“Though no temple,” offered his subordinate, “could ever approach your beauty, goddess.”
Nelesquin laughed, then dismissed the two of them with a wave. “Go to your ships. You will take Kelewan and secure all of Erumvirine. From there we shall march north.”
Gachin bowed again, but Keerana raised an eyebrow. “My lord, I would ask your consent on a matter.”
Nelesquin folded arms over his chest. “Speak.”
Though Nelesquin’s tone had not been inviting, Keerana did not quail. “Lord Nelesquin, once we have had the glory of returning Kelewan to your possession, I ask permission to take a third of our force and range south. I have studied all you have made available, and I believe that the Five Princes, in their jealousy and envy, will rise. I wish to punish them swiftly so my lord’s further plans shall not be hampered.”
Nelesquin contemplated the request, then he nodded. “Very well, you have my leave, provided those troops are not needed to consolidate our holding.”
“As you command, lord.” Keerana bowed deeply, then withdrew with Gachin.
Nelesquin smiled down at Nirati. “They are perfect, are they not? Clever, respectful, ambitious, resourceful. They will do well.”
She frowned. “But will not an invasion unleash the same destruction as happened during the Cataclysm?”
“No, not at all. This is the brilliance of Anturasixan.” He opened his arms to take it all in. “I was schooled in the ways of magic, and as your grandfather created this place, we altered reality. We have placed magic both in the land and in those who people the land. None of the Durrani will ever be Mystics, but they do not need to be. Here, in this valley, we bred generation after generation of them, pitting them against each other. You saw it, with Keerana and Gachin. Keerana would replace him in an instant, save Gachin’s clan was ascendant in their last war. The Durrani are brilliant at war, and those who do not fight are gifted as healers, helping keep their companions alive.”
Nirati shivered. “You have re-created the vanyesh?”
He stepped to her and enfolded her in his arms. “Do not believe the tales of the vanyesh. We did not seek magic for power, but merely so we could undo that which wild magic unleashed. We were always mistrusted, but this is because such vast power can be difficult to control. Not here. You yourself control it. Look how you make the day and night pass as you will. You are not evil, nor is the power.”
“Lord Nelesquin has it correctly, granddaughter.”
Upon hearing Qiro’s voice, she turned and managed to keep a smile on her face despite the horror running through her. Her grandfather had been eternal and unchanging. Tall, slender, proud beyond arrogance, with thick white hair, a white goatee and moustaches, Qiro Anturasi had always been an image of power. He ruled Anturasikun as would an emperor, and was treated by many as something more.
But now he had become something less. Deep bags, dark and heavy, hung beneath his eyes. His hair had become matted and his beard had grown unkempt. He still held his head high, but his shoulders were slumped. As he walked toward her, his left leg moved stiffly, as if that hip refused to work. And his eyes, his icy blue eyes, which had always been keen, now somehow focused past her.
She tore herself from Nelesquin’s grasp and ran to her grandfather. She hugged him tightly and could feel him quake within her grasp. He returned the hug, weakly, and leaned heavily upon her.
“It has been far too long, Grandfather.”
“No, girl, no time at all. Much has been done.” A palsied hand stroked her hair. “My Lord Nelesquin has given me many tasks, but when I am done he has told me I am free to indulge myself. Soon I shall.”
Nirati looked at Nelesquin. “I think he needs a rest, a long rest. I will take him back to Kunjiqui and tend to him. Will you permit that, my lord?”
Nelesquin laughed. “That is an excellent idea. You have done wonderful work, Grandmaster Anturasi. I knew I was right to choose you. You have repaid my faith many times over.”
Choose him? Nirati frowned, then got under her grandfather’s right arm and looped it over her shoulder. “Come, Grandfather, I shall tell you stories. I shall tell you of Keles and his adventures.”
“Keles?” The old man’s voice softened and became almost wistful. “He was a handful, just like your father.”
“No, you’re thinking of Jorim, Grandfather.” She put her left arm around his waist and was shocked to find him so thin. She could have easily lifted him and borne him to her sanctuary like a child. “I dreamed of Keles, and he said he was in Felarati. Can you imagine?”
“A grandson of mine in the Dark City? No, this will not be permitted. I will stop it.”
Nirati tightened her grip. “Later, Grandfather, when you have rested. You always said you did your best work after rest.”
“Yes, yes, and this will take my best work.” Qiro kissed Nirati’s head. “I will always do my best for you.”
“And I for you, Grandfather.” She smiled, genuinely this time, and led him off.
And, after he admired his fleet sailing northwest, Nelesquin joined her.
Chapter Nineteen
3rd day, Month of the Dragon, Year of the Rat
9th Year of Imperial Prince Cyron’s Court
163rd Year of the Komyr Dynasty
737th year since the Cataclysm
Nemehyan, Caxyan
Jorim Anturasi had progressed so quickly in his studies that the maicana took it as a sure sign he was Tetcomchoa-reborn-and even he began to wonder if it was not true. He kept telling himself it wasn’t, but the sheer joy he felt in learning magic made him question many of the convictions he’d held his entire life. He still accepted that magic was a bad thing, but perhaps only out-of-control magic was bad-the same way anything done without respect for tradition, and without discipline, was bad.