family garden and sells them,” Ehran said. “Like she needs coin when everyone knows she’ll never want for anything in her whole life.”
He laughed along. “Why’s that then?”
“The Yazdans look after their own.”
A sip of wine lodged in his throat. Niko spluttered, wheezed, and earned himself several painful slaps on the back before he croaked out, “Yazdan?”
“Forgot you’re not from around here,” Ehran laughed. “You know the type, bred into coin. They own half the houses around these docks, all the old Seran town. The name is as old as dirt but glitters like gold.”
The conversation drifted onto other topics, but Niko’s mind spiraled around the discovery. There had to be more than one branch of Yazdans? Perhaps it was a common Seranian name. Besides, Niko took his father’s name, and Pah had nothing to do with the south. Hated it, in fact.
Unless, because he was a bastard—as Amir had revealed—he’d taken Mah’s name.
Yazdan.
As old as dirt but glitters like gold.
“You all right, Lycus?”
He needed to know. “Yeah, I… just… need to find something.” He left the group and searched the bustling dockside for the flower-seller. Amala Yazdan. He caught sight of her dark, braided hair strewn with flowers among the crowd and fought the flow of people to catch up with her.
“Oh, hello again,” she beamed. “Back for more?”
“Amala Yazdan?” he asked breathlessly.
“Yes?” She tilted her head. Dark blue eyes, so unusual with bronze skin. So like Niko’s.
“Have you heard of Leila Yazdan? She would have lived here maybe thirty years ago? She would have been young then… Around nineteen?” He winced. Amala was likely no older than nineteen herself.
“Leila?” She frowned. “I don’t think so. I can ask the family if you like?”
“Would you?”
“Of course. Who shall I say is asking?”
“Lycus. And I’ll find you in a few days? Will that be enough time?”
“Of course.” She grinned again and drifted off, her steps light as she smiled at the people bidding her a good evening.
Yazdans in Seran seemed like something Yasir should have mentioned as soon as he’d heard Niko’s real name. He liked to talk, so why the silence?
He wandered the docks and found the groaning mass of ship, the Walla’s Heart, docked against the harbor wall.
Dockworkers bustled about her deck, busy loading her with goods. Niko asked after her captain and was invited on. He climbed the gangway and spotted Yasir’s distinctive hat among the workers. He approached, finding the captain counting crates and marking them off.
“Hello, Lycus.” His grin faltered. “Everything all right? Is Varian well?”
“Fine.” A deckhand muscled Niko aside. The deck wasn’t the place for this. “Is there somewhere we can talk?”
Yasir waved him to the back of the ship, the stern, he explained, and opened the door into a low-ceiling cabin.
Yasir was already pouring wine at his heavy dark wood desk when Niko asked, “Yazdan? Have you heard that name before, Yasir?”
He smiled, but this time it fell flat. “Yes.” No tales, no offering of information. Usually, he was difficult to shut up.
“You didn’t think to mention it in all the time we were on the road?”
“It’s a small world.” He handed over the wine. “Lots of Yazdans about.”
Niko frowned at the man, a man he’d come to trust, who was obviously hiding something. “Where do they fit within your story of the griffin and the dark flame?”
He clasped his glass in both hands and sat in the chair behind his desk. “They’re one of the old families, like the Cavilles, charged with keeping the dark flame controlled.”
“And you didn’t think to say, ‘Hey, Niko, your family name features in these tales too’ in all the time we were togther? With all the information you threw out, you didn’t once say the Yazdans are tied up with the Cavilles in all this ancient bullshit we’re dealing with now?”
“Well, I did mention it… to Vasili,” He took a drink, wetting his lips. “He said not to speak of it again, so—”
Niko spread his hands on the desktop, leaning in. “You told Vasili.”
“He already knew, Niko. And I didn’t tell you because… well, he cut the throats of the last people who pissed him off.”
Of course Vasili knew. Like he knew exactly who Niko was when he tried to buy him with a bag of coin and threw him in the palace dungeons instead, keeping up the Caville tradition of screwing the old families for control of the flame, no doubt. Cavilles and Yazdans, charged with protecting the flame, only the Cavilles got greedy