The Garden of Stones - By Mark T. Barnes Page 0,147
its pack. It had become more precious now that it contained Ariskander’s soul.
Indris rubbed his eyes. His uncle’s soul must be released. His spirit given a few moments to tell its story before it Awakened the new Rahn-Näsarat, then traveled to the Well of Souls. There was no doubt Ariskander would have things to say, last wishes to be enacted. Indris doubted, given Vashne’s revelation of a change of heir, whether Nehrun was the most appropriate person to give the Spirit Casque to. Without a better understanding of what Ariskander would have wanted after his death, Indris was faced with the task of asking the spirit itself. Only an ahmsah adept would be able to release Ariskander from his prison. Not here though. Some places were better than others for such an undertaking, and almost all were better than the disentropy-whorled ruins of a Rōm city, infested by Fenlings who would no doubt seek vengeance for the deaths of their own.
He looked up as more of the Tau-se gathered. Most were spattered with blood, both their own and that of their enemies. Shar was perched, hawklike, on the edge of a clogged fountain. Her gale-sculpted features were sharp, and her skin shone with the vestiges of battle rage. Her pupils were little more than black pinheads on yellow gems. Her fair quills, fine as hair and streaked with the colors of the dawn, were damp from where she had rinsed away blood and brains. A net of fine twine, chips of polished ceramic, and feathers took shape in her hands as she chanted in her breathy voice.
“You well?” He crouched before her.
“As can be expected.” She held up her Sorrow Net, into which she would sing the anguish of battle. Indris had seen her do it more times than he cared to recount. Each strand represented the death of a comrade, their losses woven together as one connected whole as they had been in life. She pointed with her chin to where a handful of Tau-se stood guard around kneeling prisoners. “Brought you a present.”
Indris caught sight of Mauntro. The lion-man sat on a black stone bench as two of his squad helped cut the thick shafts of crossbow bolts from his armored chest.
“You are supposed to cut them out of the air, Mauntro, not catch them with your body,” Ekko observed.
“I will remember that for next time,” Mauntro replied blithely, the only sign of his pain the hiss of breath from between clenched teeth. “I see you managed to escape without a scratch once again. One day you will actually need to get involved in a fight, you know.” The Tau-se narrowed their eyes in good humor.
“Where did you find the prisoners?” Ekko asked. Shar unfolded herself from her perch to join them.
“Here and there.” She hung the Sorrow Net in the sun, where it began to spin and sway in the wind. “Some were wounded Anlūki, others are soldiers employed by the Erebus, and more are nahdi freebooters. There were quite a few trying to load their plunder onto a privateer at the dock.”
Indris gestured for the others to follow to where the prisoners knelt. The men and women had been stripped to their tunics, hands bound. All of them had been wounded in battle, though the Tau-se had given them rudimentary care.
“Who’s the senior officer among you?” Indris said flatly. His left eye felt as if it burned in its socket. The prisoners averted their gazes. Those closest to him shied away as best they could. “Cooperate and none of you will be harmed.”
One of the soldiers, a woman of middle years with a narrow, pinched face and wide brown eyes under a high brow, knelt as upright as she could. “I am Knight-Lieutenant Parvin of the Anlūki.” She had the gravelly voice of a woman who had been smoking and drinking since her early years.
“I want to know what you’ve already taken from this place. I also want to know the fate of Sassomon-Omen, the Wraith Knight who was in possession of the Spirit Casque.”
Parvin sat back on her knees. Indris could see she wrestled with some inner conflict. He hoped she chose wisdom over pride. “We’ve done nothing illegal—”
“Far-ad-din passed laws against the trade of relics from the Rōmarq.” Ekko folded his arms across his broad chest. “You are all criminals.”
“We don’t recognize the authority of any Seethe,” she sneered. “Nor does an Avān bow to a Tau-se.”