6: Broken Fortress (10 page)

“I killed him. I cut his throat.”

Hirran broke into a wide, beautiful smile. Kahlil found it slightly sinister that she looked so happy about a murder.
 

“So, Nanvess Bousim was killed by an agent of the Bousim gaunsho? Then this entire conflict need not involve the Fai’daum at all,” Hirran pronounced.
 

“I wasn’t acting under the gaunsho’s orders,” Kahlil said.

“All the better.” Gin’yu looked around the table at the other members of the council. “I believe that we may now cast our votes. All in favor of returning Kyle’insira to the Bousim to stand trial for his crimes, show your hands.”

Kahlil’s stomach lurched at Gin’yu’s words.

“This is an inexcusable injustice!” Ji growled. Gin’yu shrugged in response. She glanced around the table, giving a hard little smile to the three other council members who, like herself, held up their hands. Only Wah’roa failed to cast his vote with theirs.

“Are you abstaining, Wah’roa, or did you fall asleep again?” Litivi asked.
 

“The kahlirash’im do not repay a man’s loyalty with betrayal,” Wah’roa replied. “I will not surrender him to the Bousim.”
 

“Your objection is noted,” Gin’yu said, “but four to one still passes the motion. Kyle’insira will be sent to the Bousim first thing in the morning.”

“No, he won’t.”
 

Kahlil jumped at the sound of Jath’ibaye’s voice. Clearly, he had just entered the room. His heavy coat was flecked with snow. His cheeks looked red from the cold outside. His gaze moved over the assembly of men and women. Immediately, the council members dropped their hands. Hirran lowered her head as if she were embarrassed. For a moment Jath’ibaye’s full attention rested on Kahlil. He straightened slightly and Jath’ibaye smiled. Then he glanced to Ji.
 

“Our people have arrived from Nurjima,” Jath’ibaye told her. “I had to flood the river to get them here ahead of the gaun’im, but their ship just cleared the locks.”

“Saimura?” Ji asked.

“He’s fine,” Jath’ibaye assured her. Then he turned his attention back to the gathered crowd. “As for Kyle’insira, he is under my protection. Any act against him is an offense to me.”

“Certainly, we meant no offense, Jath’ibaye.” Gin’yu kept her head bowed as she addressed him. “But if we can avert a war by sending this man back to his masters, then surely you must see the necessity of our decision.” Her voice changed as she spoke, softening and rising almost like a child’s.

“None of us want a war,” Jath’ibaye replied, “but an act of desperate appeasement will not secure peace. It will only tempt the Bousim house to make further demands.”

“A treaty might be drawn up to ensure…” Hirran’s voice was little more than a whisper. She went silent as she saw Jath’ibaye’s deepening scowl.

“None of you know what you would be sacrificing if you turned this man over to the Bousim house,” Jath’ibaye stated.

“Our honor and pride as a nation!” Wah’roa’s deep voice was far too loud for the perfect hush of the room. If the situation had not been so serious, Kahlil might have found Wah’roa’s sudden bellow amusing.

“Yes, on moral grounds it would certainly put us at an all time low.” Jath’ibaye glared at Gin’yu and Litivi with particular force. “But aside from that, there is a very real and powerful force that we would lose if we lost Kyle. Most of you are too young to know of the Kahlil. But you have seen the power of a man trained to claim that title. When Fikiri comes and slaughters our guards, when he steals our children, he is misusing the skills of a Kahlil. This man, Kyle, is also a Kahlil. And he, too, can move in the Gray Space.”

Instantly, the focus of every gaze in the room shifted from Jath’ibaye to Kahlil. The expressions were a mix of surprise, shock, and fear.

“Can you give them a demonstration?” Jath’ibaye spoke as if he were asking for the time.

“Certainly.” Kahlil had been preparing to give them a demonstration in any case. If they had attempted to seize him so that they could turn him over to the Bousim house, he would have slipped away. As it was, Kahlil flicked his fingers apart and stepped into the cold, gray silence. He moved through the wide-eyed crowd. Litivi’s mouth hung open. Gin’yu seemed terrified. Hirran clasped one hand to her chest and the other over her mouth. The assistants and secretaries stared in awe at the empty space where Kahlil had been standing.

Only a second later Kahlil stepped out of the Gray Space, just beside Hirran’s seat. She screamed as he appeared beside her. Other women and men in the room cried out and shouted in surprise. Several assistants dropped their papers. Wah’roa let out a raucous laugh.
 

Kahlil glanced to Jath’ibaye. There was just the slightest hint of a smug smile at the corners of his mouth. He said, “I think that it’s no exaggeration to say that we will need Kyle’s help if we ever hope to stop Fikiri.”

“How…how did you do that?” Hirran was still breathing a little raggedly.

“Years of training,” Kahlil replied.

“Are there other ushiri’im in the Bousim house?” Tai’yu asked. Now that he had left the colorless Gray Space, Kahlil could see how the blood had drained from Tai’yu’s features. He looked like he was carved from chalk. Kahlil didn’t miss his use of the Payshmura title. Tai’yu was old enough to have fought ushiri’im before.

“No,” Kahlil assured him, “only Fikiri and I are left of the ushiri’im. The rest died when Rathal’pesha fell.”

“That was nearly thirty years ago,” Gin’yu said.

“I’m older than I look,” Kahlil replied. He wasn’t about to offer her any further information.

“This still doesn’t solve the problem of the gaun’im,” Litivi announced. “What are we going to do about them?”

“Right now,” Jath’ibaye said, “there is nothing we can do but wait. It will be another week before the river is traversable. That should give them a little more time to cool down before they can reach us.”

“It doesn’t need to come to actual battle, though, does it?” Litivi asked. “Jath’ibaye could just destroy the lands or overflow the river.”

Jath’ibaye looked pained by the suggestion. “If I had to, yes. But either action would destroy the river villages as well the cities of Shaye’hahlir and Mahn’illev.”

“We have trading partners in those cities,” Hirran objected.

“And families!” Tai’yu glared at Hirran. “We can’t destroy Mahn’illev.”

“I’m not planning to,” Jath’ibaye said.
 

“Then what are we going to do?” Litivi demanded.

“Right now?” Jath’ibaye said. “We’re going to dismiss this meeting and go welcome our people back from Nurjima.”

“But—” Litivi didn’t seem to know when to give up.

“Jath’ibaye is right,” Gin’yu cut him off. “We’ve all been at this table arguing too long.” She asked for another show of hands regarding the fate of Kyle’insira. This time the vote was unanimous. He could stay.

Gin’yu nodded. “With that decided, let us dismiss this council.” She looked to Jath’ibaye and inclined her head. “Thank you for your patience and efforts on the council’s behalf.”

“Thank you for considering my opinions,” Jath’ibaye replied.

 
As the council members and their assistants quickly departed, Kahlil drifted back toward Ji. He noted that Wah’roa had risen from his seat only to linger.

“Thank you both for speaking for me,” Kahlil said.

“I’m just glad to have seen you again,” Wah’roa said. “The last time it was hardly a meeting at all.”

Kahlil couldn’t really remember the old man but he felt certain that Ravishan would have. As with Ji, an instinctive feeling of trust came to him when he regarded Wah’roa.

“You should come to the training field later. You could show my young kahlirash’im a trick or two.” Wah’roa grinned. Kahlil was surprised that even at his advanced age he retained so many of his teeth and that the filed points were still so sharp. He smiled back at Wah’roa and promised to visit soon.
 

Wah’roa started for the door and Ji jumped down from her seat. She glanced to where Jath’ibaye stood, holding the door for Wah’roa, and cocked her head to look up at Kahlil.

“He hasn’t slept in days,” Ji whispered. “Make him go to bed.”

“Make him?” Kahlil raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think anyone makes him do anything.”

Ji fixed Kahlil with a meaningful stare. “Don’t underestimate your influence over him.”

“It’s not what you think. He and I, we aren’t—”

“Forget about what you aren’t,” Ji replied. “Just remember what you are—his friend, his guardian. Make him rest.”

“But I don’t think he wants me—”

Ji yawned, cutting off Kahlil’s objection. “I need to go see my son. So, like it or not, I’m leaving Jath’ibaye in your care.”
 

She flashed him a toothy smile, then padded out behind Wah’roa. The door fell closed behind her and he was alone with Jath’ibaye.

Chapter Fifty-Eight

Kahlil was suddenly very aware of the subtle green fragrance that hung in the air of Jath’ibaye’s rooms. The richness of the atmosphere reminded him of Nayeshi. It made him think of the Sunday mornings in the summer when he had woken up to the smell of fresh-cut grass. John had always been out in the yard, pushing his old manual mower.
 

Kahlil remembered watching the muscles of John’s bare back and listening to the sound of the whirling steel blades as they sheared through the grass. The grass was always too long, always an effort to mow. It was John’s presence that stimulated its growth, but John couldn’t have known that. He had simply labored under the bright Nayeshi sun, his muscles flexing and shining with sweat. Often, he would pause, studying some weed or passing insect with a gentle appreciation.
 

Recalling that, Kahlil could now see how Jath’ibaye’s face had changed since they had lived in Nayeshi. He bore neither wrinkles nor scars as testaments to the hardship of his decades in Basawar; physically, he remained handsome and young. It was not a matter of what Jath’ibaye had gained, but what he had lost.

In Nayeshi, Kahlil had loved to watch John smiling, lost in some daydream. There had been something beautiful and touching in John’s unconcerned expression, in the way he would lie under the open sky, his eyes almost closed. Both languid and exposed, he had seemed so at ease, utterly assured of the world around him.

All of that was gone now. The tension in Jath’ibaye’s body remained even as he leaned back against the edge of the table. He held his shoulders too straight. His hand always rested close to his holstered pistol. Even as his gaze moved through the empty space of his room, it was focused, searching. Jath’ibaye seemed always to be looking at something just out of sight, always watching as if he were calculating the speed and distance of some impending attack. As far as Kahlil could tell, Jath’ibaye’s gaze never softened or drifted into carelessness anymore.

How long had been it since Jath’ibaye had indulged in a pointless daydream? Years, probably. He couldn’t command Jath’ibaye to relax, but he might be able to make him go to bed. Maybe. If he used just the right approach.

“You look like hell,” Kahlil commented. Jath’ibaye shot him an exasperated look, but he went on undeterred, “I think you need to get some sleep.”
 

“I will later.” Jath’ibaye waved the idea aside.

“Really?” Kahlil asked. Jath’ibaye had made no move to remove even his heavy coat. “Because you don’t seem like you’re planning to go to bed anytime soon.”

“I don’t need to sleep,” Jath’ibaye replied. “I can go weeks without it.”

“Sure you can, but that’s no reason to avoid it,” Kahlil said. “I could survive in the Gray Space for days at a time. It doesn’t mean that I should.”

“That’s hardly the same thing. The Gray Space would grind you apart,” Jath’ibaye said.

“And what’s happening to you?” Kahlil asked. “I know you could keep going. Physically, you could survive without ever sleeping or eating or even breathing. So long as you are in this world, you will live. But that’s just your body. It’s not your mind. Certainly not your spirit.”

“Did Ji put you up to this?” Jath’ibaye asked.

“She told me you hadn’t slept in days, but frankly anyone looking at you could see that.” Kahlil frowned at him. “When was the last time you even had a bath?”

“I have been a little busy,” Jath’ibaye responded tersely. “I did just evacuate my people out of Nurjima, after riding all the way from the northern chasm, and before that, I was occupied with saving
your
ass.”

“My ass could have taken care of itself.” Kahlil couldn’t quite keep a straight face at his own words. He caught the flicker of a smile on Jath’ibaye’s lips as well, so he continued, “My ass is highly trained.”

“Your ass—” Jath’ibaye began and then cut himself off, face flushed. “I’m sorry. I’m obviously too tired to do my best talking.”