The Winds of Khalakovo - Bradley P. Beaulieu [89]
“Consider it generous that I haven’t tossed the lot of you from these halls for coming here daily. Consider it generous that Ashan hasn’t been summarily hung based on the evidence we already have. Consider it generous that we grant you gems for communion.” Father stood, his face turning red. “But do not enter these halls and tell me that you have been generous with me.”
Fahroz bowed her head again.“Generous, indeed, and so we will grant you time to reconsider. But take care, Duke. If too many suns rise without clear evidence against Ashan or Nasim, we will ask that all Aramahn refuse your generous gifts of gems, your generous offer of travel aboard your windships, your generous acceptance of our presence on these islands.”
Father leaned down and slammed the gavel fiercely against the block as the din of the crowd rose to new heights. “Do not presume to threaten.”
“That was no threat.”
And with that Fahroz turned and strode from the room, the crowd parting for her as she passed. As one, the Aramahn began leaving through the far door. It was more than rude to leave without a request from the officer in residence—a final exclamation on the seriousness of Fahroz’s words.
Father marched past Ranos and Nikandr to reach a door at the rear of the platform. He stepped inside and left the door open behind him. The other officers of state all stood and followed him. Ranos and Nikandr did as well, but the moment Nikandr stepped inside the room, Father was there, holding him back.
“Your presence is not required here, Nikandr.” What he was saying, of course, was that Nikandr’s place was in the bowels of the palotza, speaking with Ashan and Nasim. “You have two more days.” And with that he closed the door.
Nikandr felt a chill course down his frame.
The sun had long since set over Radiskoye. Darkness lay heavy over the northern courtyard, but the moon gave enough light that Nikandr could see the outlines of the buildings, the shape of the wall that circled the palotza. It was cold, and he had nothing to do but wait, but he couldn’t find it in himself to return indoors. He paced along the stone walkway, looking every few moments toward the arch that led to the palotza’s main entrance.
He heard the clop of hooves well before the crunch of wheels on gravel. An enclosed coach with a single horse approached. The driver pulled up when he reached him, taking down the bulls-eye lantern and moving to the door. He opened it and Nikandr stepped forward to help the lone occupant of the coach to navigate the steps.
She wore a heavy cloak, and the cowl was pulled up over her head, hiding her face well. The driver had been given only the location of her home and a note. He might know her—enough in the palotza did—but he was a trustworthy man. He nodded to Nikandr and returned to the driver’s bench, pulling the neck of his cherkesska higher against the cold, as Nikandr led the woman inside.
“Don’t you think it’s time,” Rehada said as the door closed shut, “that you share the reason for your summons?” She pulled her arm away as if she were insulted that he’d had the presumption to take it.
“I need your help.”
She pulled the cowl back, allowing it to fall around her shoulders. She stared at him with a curious expression. Disappointment?
“Nasim?” she asked.
Nikandr nodded. “Things have become serious. Fahroz has threatened to withhold the services of the Aramahn. It will start in a matter of days, a week at the most. Father has given me two days to reach Nasim. Somehow.”
“And you want me to help?”
He nodded.
“I know nothing of him.”
“You know enough. And you are observant. Another viewpoint would be of great service to me. And there is the matter of your alignment.”
Rehada considered his words.“He may indeedbe alignedwith fire. If you wish, I will commune with my hezhan and see what comes of it.”
Rehada acted strangely on the way to Nasim’s room. She was quiet, unreadable, as if she were guarding against emotion. As they approached, there was a clear note of expectation in her stance, in the way she looked