“There is still the matter of Muqallad.”
“Nikandr may worry of Muqallad, but I do not, not when there are so many threats that stand before us.”
“ Be not a fool, you say. Well, be not dismissive. Nikandr spoke the truth when he warned you of Muqallad. He could destroy us all. You need only look at Nasim to see the sort of destruction the Al-Aqim might cause. He was but a boy, Mileva, an echo of the man he once was, and he nearly destroyed Khalakovo.”
“Muqallad is still a man, and he will be found, little thanks to Sariya or the Kamarisi. Yrstanla must be neutered and driven beyond the shores of Oramka. Then and only then will we have hope of defeating Muqallad’s plans.”
“You’re playing with fire.”
“Something you’re all too familiar with. It’s time to return home, sister. It’s time to recover and gather our strength and begin the rebuilding. We have plenty to worry about.”
Atiana had known it would be difficult to convince Mileva, but now she knew it was impossible. “You’re right.” Atiana collapsed back into the chair, allowing the exhaustion she felt to show through on her face. “You’re right.”
The rook hopped and flapped its wings. “Just like that, Tiana?”
“I’m not happy, Mileva. I’m worried more than I can say, but what can I do?”
The rook stared, its eyes boring into her. In the end, it hopped down to the floor and flapped up to the windowsill. Using its beak it pushed the window open, which Atiana had left unlatched. “When you see the devastation on Kiravashya, you’ll not be so quick to speak lightly of Sariya.”
Atiana remained silent as the bird leapt out and into the night. She waited until she could no longer feel Mileva’s presence in her soulstone, and then she stood and returned to Ishkyna’s side. She took her sister’s hand in hers, hoping, however irrationally, that Ishkyna would wake with this one insignificant gesture, but her eyes remained shut, her hand cold, and Atiana was somehow sure that Ishkyna would never wake, would never find herself.
She had always thought-foolishly, she knew-that she would be able to say goodbye when the time came. But there had been no time at all, and now it seemed there would never be.
She slipped her soulstone from around her neck, held it in the palm of her hand. The stone itself and the stout chain felt incredibly light. She couldn’t keep it, not if she were to leave the kasir and have any hope of remaining hidden in the streets of Baressa or the hills of Galahesh.
She had to leave, for there was no other choice. She would find no allies to the south of Baressa, so she would look to Siha s, and perhaps the Aramahn if she dared to return to them.
She leaned forward and slipped the necklace around Ishkyna’s neck, hoping it would comfort her.
She kissed Ishkyna on the forehead and whispered into her ear, “Go well, sister.”
And then, through her tears, she left Ishkyna’s room.
Atiana watched the sleet fall against the stones of the courtyard. It was the worst storm since the spires had fallen. Warm wind blew in from the southwest, from the deserts of Yrstanla, which brought with it some warmth, but only enough at this time of year to alter the snow into something equally unpleasant.
She had been watching for nearly an hour and she feared that something had happened to Irkadiy. She waited for minutes more, eyeing the ramparts of the kasir’s inner keep for any signs of being watched. There were none, however; with so little to fear from within, every available man had been sent to the outer defensive wall.
Just as she was about to give up hope, a form resolved from the darkness. It moved quickly, threateningly. She opened the eye of her lantern and shined it ahead of her. She breathed a sigh of relief when she recognized Irkadiy’s face.
“Quickly,” he said, holding one hand up to block the light from her lantern. “The Kamarisi has stepped up the watch.”
“Then how will we escape?”
He held up an oiled canvas coat. “I told them I’d be bringing another, to help with the watch.”
As she slipped her arms into the heavy coat and pulled the hood over her hair, Irkadiy continued. “Don’t speak, even if spoken to. I told them you’re my countryman, a good man, though you lost your voice to a sliver of wood when the Maharraht attacked your ship years ago.”
“A pity.”
“Be quiet,” Irkadiy said.
He led her through an open sally port. As the sleet pattered against her canvas hood, they crossed a larger courtyard between the stables and something that smelled like an abattoir. She slipped in a pile of manure before they made it to the stairs leading up to the top of the rampart.
As they neared the last of the steps, Atiana felt something deep within her. She felt dizzy, and she was barely able to hold herself up against the wall.
Irkadiy came rushing back down the stairs. “What is it?” he whispered.
The feeling-not unlike the first few moments in the aether-was still present, but she was growing used to it. “I don’t know.”
“Can you go on?”
A spike of fear drove through her as the effect intensified. She stared out over the edge of the stairs, somehow feeling the wall itself and beyond it the steeply sloped hill that dropped down from Kasir Yalidoz to the city proper.
“My Lady,” Irkadiy whispered.
Her awareness began to expand even more, spreading beyond the borders of the Mount and into the city.
And then it struck her. She was slipping into the aether.
By the ancients, what was happening?
She didn’t understand, but she was no child dipping her toes into the icy waters of the dark for the first time; she was a Matra, and she had tamed worse than this.
She halted the outward progression and drew herself inward. She focused on the sound of sleet, on the way it crackled against the stones of the stairs, the way it splattered in the mud of the courtyard below. And slowly, she regained herself.
Irkadiy had just started leading her back down the stairs when she waved for him to stop. “It’s all right,” she said, holding his cold hand to ground herself even further. “Let’s go on.”
“My Lady, we can try another night.”
“ Nyet. It must be tonight.”
A sudden flapping of wings frightened her. She felt more than saw a large bird land on the crenelations near the top of the stairs. When she swung the lantern toward it, she found what she thought was a massive rook, the largest she’d ever seen, but then she noticed the bright white cowl that ran down its breast. When it flapped its wings, more white feathers were revealed.
It cawed once, the sound low and foreign to her ears. It stared at her, one eye blinking under the light of the lantern.
“Dim the light,” Irkadiy whispered harshly.
“One moment,” Atiana said.
She stepped forward. The feelings within her intensified, making it clear that this bird-or the one who controlled it-was the reason she’d been drawn into the aether.
“Who are you?” Atiana asked.
She took another step forward. The rook bobbed its head up and down. It twisted its neck, its beak opening and clacking shut several times. Atiana could tell it was trying to speak, but nothing came out.
Suddenly an alarm bell came from the inner keep. It rang insistently, over and over again, and the call was picked up by others.
The bird flapped its wings, and then it leaned out beyond the battlements and dove out of sight. The beating of its wings was the last thing she heard before several men came running along the wall. The first of them called out to Irkadiy, telling him to halt in Yrstanlan.
“It’s only me, Irkadiy.” He motioned to Atiana. “I’ve brought the help I promised.”
The Galaheshi soldier used a dim lantern to look Atiana up and down. He was about to say something when more men entered the courtyard below. “Wait here,” he said, motioning five of his men to remain. He nodded to the sixth, and together they went down to the courtyard.