The Garden of Stones - By Mark T. Barnes Page 0,118
Kasraman? If you ever want to ascend to be the Rahn-Erebus, you will not fail me! I have other choices for my heir!”
“As you command, Father.” Kasraman bowed with a tinny hiss. “If I may continue? I did say there was some good news. I’ve finished excavating some of the deeper chambers. They led to a warren of smaller vaults, which we’ve only now managed to unlock. Not without significant cost in life—”
“The cost is immaterial, if it brings me closer to my goals.” Corajidin heard the flatness in his tone. Was this what he was becoming?
Kasraman paused for a moment, a light-kissed doll of chrome filaments. “As you say, Father. In short, I believe I’ve found a Destiny Engine. It’s in pieces, but—”
“Have it shipped here immediately,” Corajidin snapped. The hunger turned his voice into something part growl, part purr. The illness made it rough. “I want to see it. I want to touch it…”
“As you command, Father.” Kasraman’s effigy bowed, metal filings ringing with the motion. “I do have one other thing you will be interested in. I searched through the old records I brought with me. There were journals of the Sēq who had served as our rajirs in…different times.”
“And?” Corajidin did not like the rebuke in his son’s tone. It had been generations since the Great House of Erebus had employed a rajir from the Sēq. Too many of them had died in service, under suspicious circumstances, and the Order had forbidden any Sēq from taking service with the Erebus ever again.
“And one of them made mention of a…condition…similar to yours.”
“This is the first I’ve heard of it.” Wolfram studied Kasraman’s simulacrum though narrowed eyes. He did not sound pleased. Was it because Kasraman had possibly succeeded where Wolfram had so spectacularly failed to help Corajidin with his problem?
“What does this mean?” Corajidin asked.
“I think I can help you regain your mastery of Awakening without Sedefke, Ariskander, or the Destiny Engine.”
“What do you think, Wolfram?” Corajidin asked the witch when they were alone. Wolfram stood in the darkness by the window in Corajidin’s office, the moonlight edging him in muted blue-green. “Can my son succeed in helping me?”
The witch was silent for a moment, little more than a grim shade given Human form. “I’ve trained Pah-Kasraman well. He’s already a fine witch and will make a great rahn. Even so, I doubt—”
“He will be a rahn when I am ready for him to be rahn and not a moment earlier!” Corajidin felt a small panic burst in him. “Are you saying the answer is no? Is Kasraman lying to me?”
“I’m saying whatever he’s found isn’t something I’d pin my hopes on.” Wolfram stirred, features obscured by the gloom. “Stay the course. Ariskander has answers for us both.”
“His knowledge of how to unlock the Hall of Reflection? After your years of study, you still believe there is an answer to fixing your damaged body in some mythological Sēq treasure trove?”
“I know it!” the ancient witch snapped. “Don’t mock me, you who are currently less than half a rahn. The Dion am Moud exists, and it will benefit us both if we find it. For me, a new body rather than this travesty! For you, all the great treasures collected by the dynasties of three empires. Riches beyond imagining, all of it for the taking. Imagine how strong your Second Awakened Empire will be.”
There was a limit to how often Corajidin could chase the promises of tomorrow. How many times had Wolfram failed to make real the imaginings of his pipe dreams? Ariskander was a prize Corajidin had in his hands. He would not give it up until he had wrung everything he could from it. He might not need to kill Ariskander…it did not change the fact he wanted to.
“You mentioned to me earlier that the witches had grown strong over the years of their exile?” Corajidin murmured. If he could not have an army, perhaps he needed to seek alternative options.
“I did.”
“You suggested once they could help with my…dilemma.”
“They can.”
“Then bring them to me.”
“As you wish.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“Folly begins with rash action and ends with prolonged regret.”—from the Nilvedic Maxims
Day 322 of the 495th Year of the Shrīanese Federation
Indris and the others crouched in the shadows by the river. Thufan had been waiting by the door for several minutes when the band of Fenlings appeared. There was a score of the wild rat creatures, female and male, black and brown furred, garbed in the ill-fitting remnants of