6: Broken Fortress (9 page)

Dozens of glass terrariums filled shelf after shelf as if displaying an inventory of summer’s verdancy. Beyond the gawking group of men and women gathered around Jath’ibaye’s table, Kahlil noted several large Wardian cases reaching nearly to the ceiling. Dwarf apple trees, scarlet-mouthed blossoms, and huge delicate ferns filled them. Kahlil thought he caught the flash of a butterfly’s wings.

He didn’t know why, but he half expected to see Jath’ibaye standing there beside all that contained wilderness. But Jath’ibaye didn’t appear to be in his rooms at all.

Kahlil’s attention snapped back to the representatives who had summoned him. Aside from Ji, they were the only people actually seated. The rest—their secretaries, pages and runners stood in clusters beside and behind their chairs.
  

Kahlil was glad for Besh’anya’s descriptions of them as it allowed him to identify each of them in an instant.
 

The aged but still surprisingly powerfully built woman seated on the far right was Gin’yu, representative of the Silverlake District. The bland, brown-haired thirty-something with his mouth hanging half open was obviously her son, Litivi, whose filial obedience apparently granted Gin’yu power over the humble shepherds of the Westcliff District as well as her own island populations.

Looking past Litivi, Kahlil’s gaze fell upon an older man with graying red hair, dark eyes and a nose as hooked as an eagle’s beak. This had to be Tai’yu, the Fai’daum war hero who represented the vast taye-producing northlands, called the Greenhills. Besh’anya had claimed that he possessed a charming sense of humor, but the expression he wore as he regarded Kahlil seemed far from amused.
 

In sharp contrast to Tai’yu was his daughter, Hirran. She was young and startlingly beautiful. Kahlil could only assume that she’d inherited her graceful figure, long black hair and pixie nose from her mother. She represented the Iron Heights where the vast seams of iron that so many gaun’im craved were located. Hirran was also Besh’anya’s favorite cousin, apparently.
 

Last among them was Wah’roa, the commander of the kahlirash’im as well as the representative of the entire city of Vundomu. His slim build and slight stature could have been a boy’s, but the deep wrinkles lining his gaunt face bore testament to the tumultuous seventy-three years he’d lived through. Thin war braids held his fine white hair back against his skull. The red Prayerscar that Kahlil remembered blazing like a brand upon his brow had now faded to a dull garnet. He alone of the representatives gazed at Kahlil with an expression of open welcome.

And Kahlil realized that Jath’ibaye and Ji weren’t the only ones who wanted Ravishan to have been brought back to them. He had to look away from the old man’s warm regard.
   

Two toned young women dressed in uniforms of the kahlirash’im stood behind Wah’roa’s chair. Both sported black tattoos of wedding bands across their fingers. Neither wore marriage chains. Kahlil had yet to see a woman in the Fai’daum northlands who did.
 

 
Beside Wah’roa, Ji crouched on a red, overstuffed chair. Against the full velvety curves of the chair, she looked faded and scruffy, like a hunting trophy that had been badly stuffed. Besh’anya’s brother Chyemon stood behind her.

 
“Members of the council,” Ji addressed the room in a low soft voice, “this is Kyle’insira.”

Wah’roa stood, with surprising grace for a man of his age. He held up his red, knotted fingers in the Payshmura sign of blessing. Instinctively, Kahlil returned the gesture. Their exchange caused an unnatural, sudden hush. Wah’roa slumped back down into his seat.

“Kyle’insira was responsible for stopping the assassination attempt,” Ji continued.

“Our thanks go out to you,” Gin’yu told him.

Kahlil inclined his head to her. She smiled, and the expression seemed to lighten her otherwise dour countenance, if only for a moment.

“Ji advises the council,” Besh’anya whispered to Kahlil. “We’re with her.”

She led him to Ji’s chair, beside Wah’roa’s. Everyone in the room watched his movement. All the while, Kahlil scanned the gathering for Jath’ibaye as if he could have somehow overlooked his blond, towering figure between two of the mousy secretaries or behind the cluster of scrawny, yawning runners. It seemed wrong that he shouldn’t be in his own chambers when so many other people were.

“…and in the hour of darkness, the Kahlil shall return, and in his wake, divine wrath shall fall upon our enemy and he will be no more…” Wah’roa quoted the scripture so softly that Kahlil doubted even he was meant to hear it. Certainly, none of the other representatives seemed to take notice.

“Now that Kyle’insira has arrived, we should continue.” Gin’yu rose from her seat and gave Kahlil a severe glare. “There are questions that the council would like to put to you, Kyle’insira. We hope that you will be forthcoming and honest in your answers.”

“I will do my best,” Kahlil responded.

“Ji will sense it if you are not,” Litivi informed him with what he probably felt was a menacing glower. If the circumstances had been different, Kahlil might have taken the time to knock that sneer off Litivi’s face before answering. But instead he chose to behave civilly.
 

“I understand,” Kahlil replied. “Ask what you will.”
  

“Tell us how you came to know of the assassination planned against Jath’ibaye,” Gin’yu commanded.

“A Bousim spy in the Lisam gaunsho’s house reported it to my commander.” Kahlil could see that the council members were not pleased with his answer.

“And what happened after your commander was informed of this plot?” Gin’yu asked.

“He sent me out to stop it.” Kahlil shrugged.

“And why didn’t you or your commander simply inform Jath’ibaye of the danger he was in?” Gin’yu asked.

Kahlil almost laughed at the suggestion. What self-respecting gaun commander did she imagine would go running to the leader of the Fai’daum at the first sign of trouble?
    

“It was hoped that the problem could be handled within the gaun’im.”

“The Bousim family wanted to protect Jath’ibaye?” Tai’yu asked. His tone was soft, but his expression was concerned. Hirran, too, seemed intent upon this specific question. At least the pair of pretty girls gathered around her were taking rapid notes.

“Yes,” Kahlil replied. “Their holdings border your lands. Of all the gaun’im, the Bousim family would be most likely to suffer the worst losses if there were another war.” Kahlil couldn’t help but think of Alidas. He had wanted so deeply to avoid another war.

“And yet Nanvess Bousim was one of the conspirators in the assassination plot?” Tai’yu asked.

“Yes.” Kahlil nodded.

“If the Bousim gaun’im are as anxious to maintain the peace as you claim, then why would the heir to their household do such a thing?” Gin’yu demanded.

“I don’t know,” Kahlil replied. He didn’t like where these questions seemed to be leading.

“You couldn’t guess?” Gin’yu asked. “You couldn’t offer even one reason why we should believe that the first heir to the Bousim house would risk so much?”

“He might have been promised lands.” Kahlil did not want to mention Nayeshi without first consulting Jath’ibaye.

“Which lands?” Gin’yu demanded before Kahlil could gather his thoughts.

“I don’t know,” Kahlil replied.
 

“Did they discuss the Iron Heights?” Litivi suggested. “Or control of the Samsira River?”

“I don’t know,” Kahlil repeated. The memory was clear in his mind. He could see Fikiri, weathered and scarred, smiling as he spoke of feeding the yasi’halaun on Jath’ibaye’s blood. The blade would become powerful enough to tear open the space between the worlds. That was where they had hoped to find their new kingdom. Fikiri and his Lady had promised them Nayeshi.
 

The impossibility of such a conquest still stunned Kahlil. Nayeshi was vast, more than twice Basawar’s landmass. The militaries there possessed weapons that none of the gaun’im could have even imagined. Jets, tanks, napalm, hydrogen bombs. And that was assuming an invasion force could even survive the passage through a Great Gate. He was the Kahlil, but even he had nearly died in his last passage.

“Are they after Vundomu itself?” Litivi’s voice cut into Kahlil’s thoughts. Kahlil scowled at the man, unsure of how many more times he would have to state ignorance before Litivi moved on with the questioning.

“I don’t know,” Kahlil told him. “But maybe if you ask another five or six times I’ll have made something up—”

“Certainly you can hazard a guess—”

“If he doesn’t know, he doesn’t know.” Ji barred her yellowed teeth as she spoke.
 

“This is not an interrogation!” Wah’roa called out. “Rav—Kyle’insira has come to us as an ally and we must remember that!”

“No one is saying otherwise, Wah’roa,” Gin’yu replied coolly, soothingly. “But you know as well as I do that these events have put us on the brink of another war with the gaun’im. Right now the Bousim’s demand for justice for the murder of their heir is the driving force behind the aggression. If we are to answer their demands, then we must know exactly what happened and why.”

“Jath’ibaye has already told you what happened,” Ji answered.

“He has.” Gin’yu bowed her head slightly at the mention of Jath’ibaye’s name, but then she pressed on, “But he cannot know why these things occurred. A confessed agent of the Bousim house might be expected to possess a little more insight.”

“Don’t forget, Ji,” Litivi took up the instant Gin’yu paused, “if your son or anyone else was harmed in the riot against the glass palace in Nurjima, it will have been because of Nanvess Bousim’s death.”

“Nanvess’ death was due to his own treachery,” Ji growled.
 

“Yes, Nanvess obviously deserved his death.” It was the first time that Hirran spoke since her introduction. “We all know that. But, if we are to keep peace with the gaun’im, we must convince them of that. Right now we have little to support our claim that Jath’ibaye was defending himself against assassins. And it appears that Ourath Lisam has led the rest of the gaun’im to believe that Jath’ibaye killed Nanvess in a brawl. So we need Kyle’insira to provide us with as much information as possible.” She offered Kahlil a warm smile. If he’d been a different man, he suspected he would have been very flattered, but as was, he couldn’t help but notice the calculation in her gaze.

“As I said, I’ll answer as well as I can,” Kahlil replied.

“Let us leave the question of Nanvess’ motive aside for the moment then,” Gin’yu decided. “Tell us exactly what your instructions were concerning the assassination.”

“Originally, I was ordered to stop it—”

“Originally?” Gin’yu cut into Kahlil’s answer. “Were your orders changed?”

“Yes.” Kahlil frowned. “After I reported back that Nanvess was one of the conspirators, I was told not to interfere with the assassination.”

“Why?” This time the question came from Tai’yu. The deep furrow of his red brows over his sharp nose gave him a predatory appearance, but his tone was polite.

“Nanvess was the heir. If a Bousim agent were discovered to have sabotaged him, then it would have destabilized the family. So I was ordered to cease my work.”
 

“But you didn’t?” Tai’yu asked.

“No,” Kahlil replied.

“Why not?” Tai’yu cocked his head slightly. The gesture did nothing to dispel his resemblance to a large bird of prey.

“Because it would have been wrong,” Kahlil replied.

“That’s quite morally upstanding for a gaun’s agent, isn’t it?” Litivi asked.

Kahlil narrowed his gaze at the thickset man. “You make it sound as if I should have allowed them to kill Jath’ibaye.”

Litivi’s face flushed furious red. “How dare you—” he began, but Hirran cut him off.
 

“Let’s not get off track in our questions. We are all glad that Jath’ibaye is well and protecting us.” She gazed sweetly at Litivi for a moment, then glanced to Kahlil. “Kyle’insira could not have known that Jath’ibaye did not need his aid.”

But Jath’ibaye had needed his protection that night. Nanvess had wielded the yasi’halaun, the blade created to destroy the Rifter. Kahlil refused to reveal that information to these people, though. The fewer people who knew of the yasi’halaun, the fewer there would be who would think to use it. He really needed to ask Jath’ibaye what his council knew and what they did not.

“Speaking of Jath’ibaye, shouldn’t he be here?” Kahlil addressed his question to Ji, but Hirran answered.

“Jath’ibaye is securing the safe return of our people from Nurjima. He asked that we proceed without him.” There was the slightest flicker of her thick lashes, but it made Kahlil suspect that she was not being entirely honest about Jath’ibaye’s request. Kahlil had lied enough in his life to recognize the signs in others.

“Let me speak frankly, Kyle’insira.” Tai’yu leaned forward. “The only thing we really need to know about the assassination is who actually killed Nanvess.”
 

It went against Kahlil’s better judgment to answer the question honestly. But these people had already spoken to Jath’ibaye. They likely knew the answer.