“Conceded, daughter of Radia, but she cannot stand forever, not without the help of the Empire.”
“Your point?”
“My point is to make you painfully aware of your position, because-trust in me-the Kamarisi is very aware.”
Atiana paused, choosing her words carefully. “The Kamarisi has been our ally since he came to power, as had his father and his father’s father before him. We aided Yrstanla when the hordes in the hills stood at the doorstep of Aleke s ir herself. We traded her stones and windwood when we had no need to do so. Power rises and falls, Bahett. Better to weather the storm with an ally than to brave it alone.”
“Your words are pure gold,” he said, bowing his head, “but I fear the Kamarisi will never listen to them.”
“Then your words smack of either betrayal or deception, both of which would lead to the gibbet were I to share this conversation with my father.”
For the first time since the conversation began, fire lit within Bahett’s eyes. “I do not lie, Atiana, and I am fiercely loyal to the Kamarisi.”
“Then explain yourself.”
“When I am done, you will be left with a choice, but whatever you decide, you cannot tell anyone. It would bring ruin on us all.” His eyes bore into her, and he paused to let the words sink in. “On us all, Atiana. Do I have your word?”
“If it does not leave me betraying my own family, I will keep our words between us.”
This seemed to appease him, for he nodded and continued. “A year ago a woman came into the Kamarisi’s harem. She was beautiful, as are they all, but she was of the Aramahn.”
Atiana could not help but think of Rehada, a woman she had loathed, but had somehow-through everything that had happened on Khalakovo-come to respect.
“There was power within her,” Bahett continued. “Everyone could see it. I think it’s why the Kamarisi agreed to keep her, even after she exhibited these qualities.”
“He doesn’t keep qiram?”
“He does not. In the past, it has led to… regrettable circumstances. But no matter. The Kamarisi kept her, and she rose in favor. She went to him often, and even began to accompany him on official functions. The Kamarisi made the decision to come to Galahesh this month, and the woman, Arvaneh, has joined him while the ilkadin remains in Aleke s ir.”
Atiana raised her brows. Traveling to a place where treaties of such import might be signed was the place of the ilkadin, the Kamarisi’s first wife, who was by all accounts an exacting mistress. Word had reached even the islands of the ruthless ways in which she defended her authority. Women of the harem had been whipped and scarred; some had even been found floating in the muddy waters of the Vunkal, their bodies ravaged, all for overstepping their bounds. Influence, indeed, if Arvaneh had begun to supplant her in even the smallest of ways.
“He has spoken to me of his intent. He will discuss the treaties your father and I and Siha s may draft in the coming days. He may even sign it. But then he will come, with all the power that can be spared, and he will take the islands back.”
“He will not win.”
Bahett was already shaking his head. “Remember how this conversation began, Atiana. He will win. Have no doubt about this.”
“Then again, I ask you, why would you reveal this to me?”
“Because the Kamarisi is not himself. He has been taken by this woman. As has the ilkadin. As have his generals.”
“And why not you?”
He raised his thin eyebrows. “Have you not noticed that the Kamarisi has sent his own man to the proceedings? He no longer trusts me. Or she doesn’t. Either way, I will soon be left out in the wind while the lion’s share of the negotiations are given to Siha s.”
“You still have considerable power, Bahett. You would not be here if you didn’t.”
He shrugged. “Perhaps I do. Perhaps I do not. What I do know is this: if the Kamarisi comes for the Grand Duchy, he will win, but in doing so we will give up his hold on the west. The Haelish have been massing again, and this time, with so much being diverted toward the taking of the islands, we will be overrun.”
“Is the Empire so fragile?”
“I would not put it so bluntly. Our resources are considerable, but they have also been drained for decades. We cannot sustain two wars along with our other, tenuous borders. Not now.”
“Then why would the Kamarisi do it?”
“Have you not been listening? It is Arvaneh. She has taken hold of him. His will, his mind. It is not his desires that drive him, but hers, and she has decided that she wants these islands-for what purpose I do not know. The point is that she does, and she doesn’t care what happens to Yrstanla as long as she gets it. And I tell you this as welclass="underline" it was Arvaneh, not the Kamarisi, who wanted the bridge built over the straits.”
“The Spar?” Atiana asked. “Why would she care that a bridge is built over the Straits of Galahesh?”
“She takes no council with me, Atiana.”
“Then what would you have of me?”
“Come to Galahesh. In Baressa you will be well watched, but there is a place… I have had a drowning chamber made there.” He paused. “For you.”
“You would have me spy on them for you?”
The hint of a smile came to his lips, quickly hidden. “Would you not have done so long ago had you had the power?”
He was speaking, of course, of her inability to tread close to, or beyond, the straits. She and all the Matri before her-for generations-had wished to watch over Galahesh, but it was simply not possible, not without risking one’s life in doing so. But if she were there, in Baressa, the distance she would need to travel in the aether would be greatly reduced. It might work. At the very least, it was worth the attempt.
“What do you wish to know? Specifically.”
“I wish to understand her nature.”
“Before you have her killed?”
He did not answer, but his eyes-the color of a rich bay stallion-were deadly serious.
Atiana was already shaking her head. “There are a dozen others you could find who would be better suited.”
“I wish it were so, Atiana, but it is not. The few who see things as I do are too afraid. The rest are either too loyal to the Kamarisi or they are powerless to oppose him.”
Atiana stared into his eyes, trying to weigh the truth in his words. There was no doubt that in time the Kamarisi could crush the Grand Duchy if he so chose. What did it matter to her, or Father, if Yrstanla was in turn done in by his ambitions?
“Did you not tell me,” Bahett continued, “that were Bahett ul Kirdhash to whisper in your ear, you would listen? Well, I’m whispering now, Atiana, none too softly.”
She considered for only a moment longer. “I will go with you to Baressa, and we will see what this Arvaneh is about.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
T en days later, Atiana watched from the deck of her Father’s windship as the city of Baressa came into view. She had been to the city a half-dozen times, but never from the air. She’d insisted over the kapitan’s protestations that it was too dangerous.
“I will soon live here, Kapitan,” she’d said. “I will see it from a ship before that happens.”
The kapitan had grudgingly agreed, but had told her that they could not come too near the straits, and if any sort of wind picked up, he’d take the ship back to the eyrie at the southern end of the island straight away.
Baressa was massive, much larger than Evochka, which was the largest city in not just Vostroma but the entire Grand Duchy. It wasn’t surprising. Baressa was three centuries older than Evochka. One could still see the mix of architecture that had developed over the years-squat stone manses near the Mount, the spiraling minarets of Kasir Yalidoz, the sprawl of the bazaar with her rows and rows of tents and ramshackle buildings. As large and as populous as the city was, there was still one section to the southwest that remained a gutted husk of what it once was-a reminder from the War of Seven Seas, the Grand Duchy’s twenty-year war of secession with Yrstanla. Why the line of the Kamarisi had never replaced it was anyone’s guess, though if Atiana had to guess she would say that it was an indicator of their penchant for draining their coffers for the wars they waged in the west.