The Garden of Stones - By Mark T. Barnes Page 0,68
sprawled across the river valley below. At this distance, the people were little more than currents of bright dots. It was the way the Sēq were supposed to view the world: look at the larger canvas, which is intended to last. The tiny colored dots of people, anonymous in their volume, were replaced all the time. Once cared little for the drops of water if the river itself still flowed. Such was the way the world was.
Indris recounted all he had seen in the city to his gathered friends.
“No place is safe.” Ziaire’s voice was melancholy. “Not really, not anymore. Do you think these reprisals are Corajidin’s idea?”
“Does it matter?” Femensetri scratched at her scalp.
“Indris, you’re the pah of a Great House, as well as a hero to many.” Ziaire raised a slender hand to shade her eyes. “We need men such as you, more so now than ever.”
“I’m not the man you think I am, Your Excellency. My pedigree is…questionable.” Indris laughed ruefully. “I count among my ancestors the first Avān Awakened Emperor, who sank the Seethe high court beneath the Marble Sea. As if that’s not enough, I’m also descended from the Empress-in-Shadows.”
“Asrahn-Vashne asked for your help before he was murdered,” Ekko rumbled. “Rahn-Ariskander trusted you. Much they hoped to avoid has seemingly come to pass. The rest does not need to.”
“How do you propose we stop Corajidin, Ekko? Even if this isn’t his will, it’s certainly what those who follow him have interpreted as his wishes.” Indris leaned on the balcony railing. The marble was warm against his skin. “Nehrun won’t act against Corajidin while he sees a chance for his own benefit. Do you suggest assassination, perhaps? It’s not as if we don’t have enough of that in our history. Or do we flee, to muster an army elsewhere?”
“Why not?” Hayden narrowed his eyes as he looked out over Amnon and the Marble Sea. “The Immortal Companions did just that—”
“There were two hundred of us then, Hayden.”
“Find Ariskander.” Femensetri leaned on her crook. “Find Far-ad-din. Bring them back.”
“Will Ariskander be able to stop the madness?” Indris sat back against a balcony post. “Honestly? It would be like dropping a pebble to stop the tide. As for Far-ad-din, I don’t imagine he would trust any offer the Teshri might make.”
“You know where he is, don’t you?” Ziaire asked, her gaze piercing.
“It’s the Teshri who need to be convinced,” Indris replied. “They need to act to prevent even worse from happening.”
“How many lies must they tell themselves, or hear told, before good people take action?” Ziaire mused. “How many times will we sit back and say, ‘It will be for the best’ before truth becomes a casualty once too often?”
Indris looked at Shar, Hayden, and Omen. “I can’t commit you to this. You should take your fortunes and get as far away as you can—”
“Them’s the words of a man set on getting rowdy,” Hayden said.
“You’re going to fight,” Shar stated, her gaze hawklike in its intensity.
“It certainly appears to be so,” Omen added.
“I will join you, if you will have me.” Ekko bowed to Indris. “There are many of my own people who have not returned from the Rōmarq. I would have answers.”
Indris smiled his thanks. “If you’re all set on coming, let’s bring Ariskander and Far-ad-din home. I’ve a mind to ruin Corajidin’s day.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“There is as much freedom as there is bondage in resolve.”—Kelumba, Zienni Scholar at the Inauguration Ceremony of Queen Neferi VII (461st Year of the Shrīanese Federation)
Day 317 of the 495th Year of the Shrīanese Federation
Mari wandered quietly through the near-monastic stillness of the Feyassin’s sanctuary, her Feyassin’s armor and weapons packed in their white enameled cases. Voices carried, always quiet, always in another room. No matter where she went, she was alone. No doubt her former comrades knew she was there. They would present themselves to her when they were ready.
She came to stand barefoot in the training arena under lengthening afternoon shadows. The white sand had been freshly raked. It was warm beneath her feet. Soft, welcome after two days of being locked in her rooms with a guard outside the door to ensure she went nowhere without her father’s knowledge. The warren of hidden corridors that riddled the walls of the villa had come in handy for her escape. For all her family knew, she was locked fuming in her room.
She clenched her toes in the sand. The sensation of the sun on her face, the sound of the