The Garden of Stones - By Mark T. Barnes Page 0,14

telling. Nehrun seemed to have fewer scruples.

“Wolfram was wrong.” Thufan drew on his pipe. He peered at Corajidin through a cloud of acrid yellow smoke. “His oracles said you’d rule Amnon if you went to war.”

“He said I would rule the Avān people!” Corajidin growled.

“In time, the oracles said you could be the ruler of Shrīan,” Wolfram reminded them, eyes glittering. “You were the one who interpreted my words as you becoming the first Awakened Emperor in six hundred years. All things in their time. It will be as I’ve foretold, provided we stay the course.”

“At what cost, though?” Armal interjected. The others glared at Armal, though Mari was unsurprised at his words. “While I applaud what we’ve achieved, surely—”

“‘We’? When last I checked, Armal”—Farouk’s voice was like a razor—“the Family Charamin was not the Great House of Erebus.”

“Reminding me of my place again, Farouk?” The muscles in Armal’s shoulders and arms writhed as he slid his thumbs though the sash at his waist. “The same could be said of you. His Majesty’s adjutant? A glorified servant from a poor—”

“Silence,” Corajidin snapped. Both men drew themselves to attention. “You need to remember who you are and at whose table you are welcome…for so long as you are welcome. Farouk, I extended your mother the courtesy of accepting your service that you may make something of yourself other than as a bandit or a vagabond. Do not make me regret it.”

“You both serve one of the most powerful Houses of the Avān. Have the grace to act like it,” Yashamin chided from where she reclined on the couch, sheathed in silk.

It took a great effort of will for Mari to not roll her eyes. Yashamin had been one of Shrīan’s most respected and successful nemhoureh—the Exalted Companions—of the House of Pearl before Corajidin had purchased her contract and married her. She was Corajidin’s third wife. Kasra’s mother had died before Belam and Mari were born. Their mother had passed almost a decade ago. Yasha looked Mari up and down with a look of motherly despair, which was rich coming from a woman who could have been her sister. “What have you done to your hair? And what do you call…that?” Yasha gestured at Mari’s clothing.

Mari ran fingers through her shaggy cropped hair to make it even messier. She looked down at her tunic, armored with small hexagonal plates, her loose-legged suede trousers and boots with their upturned toes and scores of tiny steel rivets. “Leather and metal are more useful to a warrior-poet than silk or satin. Though silks and satins are no doubt handy for doing…whatever it is you do.”

“Sweet Erebus! Can none of you keep a civil tongue in your mouths?” Corajidin mock scolded. He came to embrace his daughter, kissing her on the forehead. His skin felt clammy, and Mari caught the stale taint of fever sweat beneath the goat-milk soap on his skin. She leaned back to look at her father, but he turned away. “Within weeks the Teshri will meet to elect the new Asrahn for the next five years. When I am elected Asrahn, it will be the beginning of greater things for us.”

“But you still need to overcome the Federationist faction that controls the Upper House of the Teshri,” Wolfram said. “And the sayfs who govern the Hundred Families need encouragement to support your Imperialist agendas.”

“Far-ad-din’s no longer a threat, so that’s one Federationist taken care of.” Belam sat up straight in his hauberk of ruby-crystal scales. His eyes were darkened with kohl, like those of any fashionable Avān man. “After Amber Lake, the Great House of Erebus’s position is stronger than ever. Surely that will help tip the balance?”

Corajidin nodded. “Thanks in great part to you, Belamandris, and you, Mariam. One child a war hero, while the other saved the Asrahn’s life.” He shook his head in mock disappointment at this last. “It would have been convenient for Vashne to fall in battle, a beloved and well-remembered monarch. Do not let your time with the Feyassin cloud your judgment, Mariam. You are my agent in Vashne’s inner circle, nothing more.”

“Good work, Mari,” Belam teased. She pounded him in the chest, so hard he grunted, and gently pushed her brother to one side of the couch he dominated. Belam grumbled good-naturedly, and he finally moved when Mari shoved him with her hip.

“I take it you intend on continuing with your plan?” Mari probed. She heard the disapproval in her voice and cursed herself for