The Winds of Khalakovo - Bradley P. Beaulieu [138]
“Come,” Jahalan said, making space for Nikandr to sit.
“I saw the city again,” Nikandr said as he sat on the blanket. “I can feel it. We’re coming closer.” He studied the stars for a time as a chill wind blew abeam the ship. “Khamal died in my dream. He was murdered by the others—Muqallad and Sariya.”
Jahalan was already shaking his head. “They were arqesh.”
“Meaning what? That they could not have found it in themselves to commit murder?”
“Just so.”
“The Maharraht murder.”
“The Maharraht are not arqesh. They are selfish, thinking only of themselves.”
“They claim they are doing it for you. For all of us.”
“Da, they claim this. But what they’re really doing is alleviating their own fears, their built-up hostility toward the Landed. Were they really doing it for the Aramahn, they would help. They would preach forgiveness. They would teach through kindness.”
“You don’t teach.”
Jahalan turned his head to regard Nikandr. “I abandoned the path to vashaqiram long ago.”
“And yet you feel angry over the Maharraht.”
“They are an affront to our history.”
“But not your future?”
“The fates lead us where they will. We are no longer the people we once were. Neither are you. Why hold on to such things? What does it gain us?”
“It gains us our legacy.”
“Da, your legacy. Where would the Landed be without that?”
“Be careful, Jahalan.”
Jahalan paused. “I am sorry, Nikandr. I know you put your faith in your ancestors, but even you will admit that they have helped you little these last many years.”
“They see well beyond what we can see.”
They were interrupted by Viggen’s calls for reports from the crewmen manning the rigging.
When they were done, Jahalan continued, “I have been thinking of this chase we’re on, of your dreams as well.”
“And?”
“I think we should turn back while we have the chance.”
“There’s little enough to fear now. Ashan is leading us.”
“All the more reason to abandon the chase. He’s taking us for his purposes. Or perhaps the boy’s. Either way, it’s foolish for us to go on. Ghayavand is a place the living should no longer be. Nasim—if your dreams are right—may have a place there, and Ashan may be able to keep himself alive, but the rest of us will not be so lucky. It’s a place where the worlds are torn, and believe me when I say that Adhiya will not welcome us with open arms.”
“We all go to Adhiya, do we not?”
“In our own time, and in our own ways, but we go now to a place that should be left alone until the world sees fit to heal it, not before.”
“Perhaps it has already healed.”
“If you believe that you are a fool.”
Nikandr laughed softly. “Perhaps I am. But I cannot abandon him now.”
“You don’t owe him anything.”
“It’s not him, though I do feel as though I owe him something. You must have felt it. Nasim is entangled with the future of Anuskaya, perhaps the future of the world. I cannot abandon him, not now. We are linked too closely.”
“Your father needs you, as does your Duchy. If you value them, you should return home, where you can do some good.”
Nikandr stood. “I have always valued your advice, Jahalan, but in this you are wrong. We will go to the island, and we will bring Nasim back if we are able.”
“You do so not just at your peril, Nikandr, but mine as well. And Viggen’s. And the rest of the crew.”
“Then so be it.”
CHAPTER 41
Atiana floats along the wind, her awareness encompassing the sea, the air, the islands hundreds of leagues away. She is no longer of her body. She is of the world, no different than the clouds or the currents of the sea.
But there is something, a scent that reminds her of who she used to be. Who she is. But how can this be? How can Nikandr be among them in the aether?
It doesn’t matter. He is present, and that is