kohl and the Näsarat phoenix painted in blue-and-gold ink on his brow. His armor was an immaculate construction of polished gold and enameled blue plates, so perfect Indris doubted it had seen dust, let alone blood. Nehrun lifted his chin in an imperious gesture.
By his side was a taller man. Older and leaner. Less polished, his panoply of war showing the minimalism of a veteran. Ariskander’s face was gaunt, his salt-and-pepper hair tied back in a high ponytail, his beard neatly trimmed. His eyes were large, so dark they were almost black. Ariskander gave Indris one of his hesitant smiles. They were the only kind he had.
Two of the Lion Guard crossed the room to Indris, taking him by the arms and dragging him to his feet. The Iphyri stamped in consternation, though Corajidin shouted at them for silence.
“You’ve overreached your authority this time, Corajidin,” Ariskander snapped as he gestured for the Lion Guard to take Indris from the room.
“Ariskander!” Corajidin snarled with venom. Spittle flecked his lips. “You have no jurisdiction here.”
“I’m the Arbiter of the Change.” Ariskander smiled coldly. “And my jurisdiction comes from the Teshri—who sanctioned this inane war—and both the Asrahn and Speaker for the People we elected into power. On top of that the Scholar Marshal is very interested to know why one of her scholars—”
“He left the Sēq Order,” Kasraman pointed out reasonably.
“Nobody ever truly leaves the Sēq,” Indris tried to joke through the pain. “They always want their tithe of blood…”
Ariskander held Indris’s eyes open with his thumbs. He frowned at what he saw, then raked his gaze across Corajidin. “You can raise your objections with the Scholar Marshal in person, if you like. Though I’d not recommend it. Femensetri isn’t known for either her patience or indulgence.”
“You’ll regret interfering with me, Ariskander!” Corajidin ground out.
“The rest of your captives are being released also,” Ariskander informed the red-faced Corajidin. “We’ll see whether there are any formal charges laid against you for what you’ve done here.”
“Try it,” Corajidin said through gritted teeth. “See how far you get.”
Ariskander gestured at the Lion Guard, who helped Indris out of the cell. Nehrun led them through the villa and into the large courtyard beyond. The air was thick with the smell of shed blood. Indris was placed in a carriage with Ariskander and Nehrun; the door locked behind them. Both men wrinkled their noses at Indris’s smell, though nobody spoke. Nehrun glowered at Indris as if he was an inconvenience. Ariskander’s eyes remained half-closed, deep in thought.
The carriage rattled along, the Lion Guard racing on foot beside it, from streets sided by sandstone and dome-topped marble buildings to the tiered hills where the Seethe had made their crystal eyries. Jagged crystal mansions shimmered yellow, white, blue, and rose in the evening shadows, shards of light on the ripples of a darkening blanket. The entourage passed beneath an ancient stone archway, the carvings all but worn smooth by centuries of wind and rain. Then through the Zephyr Gardens, where the winds hummed to themselves through stands of pale, blue-flowered reeds. Indris was taken from the carriage then along the sweeping stairs of the Kestrel Glide, which curved around the side of Cloud Hill like the feathers of some great wing.
Perched on the summit, the interwoven slivers of sapphire and rose-colored quartz of the Hai-Ardin, Far-ad-din’s sanctuary, rose skyward. From there Indris could see Amnon’s city sprawling across the bent fingers of low hills and stream-filled valleys below. A cool breeze swept in from the Marble Sea, its caress a welcome respite from the heat. It carried on its breath the salt tang of the sea, as well as the scents of gardenia, lavender, and pine needles from Amnon’s beachside parks. Over the din of conversation, Indris could hear the mournful cry of gulls.
In Seethe fashion there were no exterior walls in the Hai-Ardin. No doors. Crystalsingers had coaxed the growing formations into seemingly random steps, chambers, and tilted columns. In some areas the high, semivaulted ceilings of the Hai-Ardin were open to the sky. Translucent beetle-shell hangings adorned the walls. Ilhen crystals shone like jagged candle flames frozen in time.
“Take him to the baths,” Ariskander ordered two of the Lion Guard. “I’ll arrange for clean clothes. Leave the collar and wristbands on. Don’t let anybody talk to him until I return.” The two Lion Guard bowed their heads to their rahn, then half carried, half walked Indris to the baths.
Alabaster tubs dotted the mosaic-floored baths. Steam swirled sluggishly