Seth rubbed his nose, trying to rid himself of the stench of burning flesh, but it was to no avail. The smell of crusting blood stuck to his palate, making him afraid of swallowing because he’d suspected the taste of blood would follow. So, he didn’t. He just stood there, a few feet from a howling man, listening to his agony and trying to figure out what was unfolding in front of his eyes.
It wasn’t easy, considering his vision was mostly blocked by the sharp light cutting away at the Hanit warrior’s flesh. Their presence didn’t stop the priests from continuing their generations-long work, nor the chair from granting the wish of aging men coming here. Not that he expected them to stop; it had been a few months since their arrival and no sensible scholar would leave his work for that long to please a foreign guest.
Needles pierced the black skin of the warrior lying in the chair, bringing an end to the constant wailing, replaced by a shallow wheezing. He was trying to overcome his fear as much as Sethar was, standing this close to one of these devious machines, only Seth wasn’t foolish enough to surrender his freedom again.
Unlike Chai, approaching them from a corridor with uneven footsteps.
“What does your brother want?” she asked.
“Anything to help him unite Seiran,” Seth replied, keeping his eyes on the beam of light cutting into the Hanit warrior. If they could reproduce that, Rani would have been pleased with such a weapon, but they couldn’t even pick the chair apart, much less copy it.
As Chai grew more confident with her replaced leg, the frustration of failing to decipher the Forebearer texts became more prominent. The priests weren’t much use either, their expertise only covered operating the many tools left behind, not translating the science behind them. Seth and Chai figured a few things out, like that this Room was indeed much older than the one in Shardiz, but it wasn’t nearly as exciting even considering its massive size. They had activated the chief attraction on their first day, and they had made no breakthrough since.
Their only notable discovery was a pile of those black, tubular weapons Seth had seen in his vision, like the one Rani had used to save him from Aneesa’s chair. He learned to pick them apart and put them back together, but the conical pieces of metal they used as arrows weren’t abundant enough to suit a small group, let alone an entire army.
“And how much time do you want to waste here, hoping to find something?” Chai asked.
“That’s an overly complicated way to state your boredom.”
“I’m not bored, I just think this is foolish. There’s nothing here.”
“I wouldn’t say nothing,” Seth said, folding his arms. “Perhaps the Hanits don’t understand the hovering tablets or the lights, but they have generations of experience. Their help could prove invaluable.”
“Yes, those lights are interesting, and you could spend a lifetime studying them. I’d rather move on, though. To the place in the vision.”
“If you figured out where it is, please, tell me and we shall leave immediately,” Seth replied. In the past few weeks, he was more and more irritated by Chai’s adolescent hissy-fits. His constant anxiety about parenthood started fading, along with the determination to endure her constant sulking.
“Well, it’s not here,” she said. “Probably another dot on the Globe. Qajar, perhaps, since that was the second largest.”
Before they could get into another argument, they were interrupted by a priest leading a Seir man through the corridors. Considering how holy this place was, it must’ve been urgent.
“Keeper Sethar,” the man said, tearing himself from the priest’s grasp. “I brought a message from the majestic prince.”
Seth’s heart rate sped up twofold, although he tried his best not to show it. “My brother sent you? What’s your name?”
“Does it matter, my lord? I’m just a messenger,” the man said, holding a leather scroll case towards Sethar. As he unfolded the scroll, he saw that the message had the signet of House Osirei in purple-stained wax, something Rani kept only for hand-written letters.
Seth read through the lines, shutting out everything else. The colors faded, sound became muffled. Only the precise letters remained—and their cruel meaning.
“What is it?” Chai asked. “Calling us home?”
Sethar rubbed his eyes, trying to collect his swirling thoughts. “Sort of. We’re not going to Qajar, Chai. At least not for a while. Shardiz, Qajar, and Shiraga officially declared war on Kahlaran and their allies.”
It had begun.
The gods-forsaken war that plagued his mind for more than a year, the one the whole desert had been preparing for since Prince Charta’s murder, had finally found its spark and exploded.
“I see,” Chai replied stoically, but her voice carried a touch of dissatisfaction. “So where are we going?”
The oasis of Diraw was unrecognizable. The proud palms lay atop each other, their leaves drenched in blood or burned into charcoal. The tents collapsed, military helmets and stray arrows swam around in the lake, from one bloodied shore to the other. Seth rode between soldiers measuring the wreckage or trying to rest before the front moved on, most not even recognizing him.
Chai tried to mask her dismay, but the signs of battle made her obviously uneasy. She rode with a straight back, almost ready to spring, carrying her gaze from one dead soldier to the next. Seth knew that feeling. Back in his youth, in the only mandatory battle he partook in, he could barely come to terms with how twisted reality was after such a clash. Things weren’t… right. The world was somehow thrown off its correct course. And the fact that Idranil unleashed all this chaos on Diraw solely as a symbol to herald the end of councils and provinces didn’t help.
The princely tent was set on the northern tip of the oasis, closest to the enemy territory, surrounded by a swarm of officers’ and common soldiers’ residences. The battle couldn’t have been more than a few days ago, and Rani wasn’t in a hurry to push on.
Luckily, nobody dared to halt Sethar, not even questioning Chai or Temitope still following them. The soldiers just pulled the curtains aside, leading them to the prince. There was quite a gathering waiting for them inside, from nobles to common-born generals, even a few mejais from the Secret Circle.
Most people fell onto one knee seeing Idranil - Seth didn’t. He only bowed deep, mostly to appease the noblemen watching him like hawks waiting for a meal.
“Prince Idranil. I have returned, answering your summons.”
Rani just leaned back on the chair.
“Sethar. I hope your journey was fruitful and that Hanat welcomed our Keeper of Secrets as he deserves.”
Rani was always better at juggling formality with family intimacy, calling him by his first name yet still weaving his title into the address. He shifted from one position to another, trying to mask his growing discontent about these formalities. They had both grown up, he commanded armies and ordered nobles now, but in his heart, Rani was still finding it hard to rein in his enthusiasm about his little brother and the adventures he missed out on.
Seth made it easier for him.
“The Hanits proved their cordiality in kind,” he said before glancing around in the room. “Although many details about my trip are only for your ears, Your Majesty. I have to plead for forgiveness from the esteemed lords gathered here.”
Idranil sprung up from his ‘throne’, waving his arms at his generals to leave the tent. Chai shot a discontented look towards Seth, but this time the order didn’t exempt her. There was a line even she couldn’t cross with the prince, although Seth could only hope she knew it.
“Just keep it short,” she said, turning around and limping out. Although her gait was still far from natural, she was perfectly suited to draw attention away from Seth, bringing every nosy noble after her. Seth just hoped she wouldn’t do something stupid.
“Destroying Diraw is a drastic message, Rani,” he said, after the last officer had left the tent.
“That’s what messages are for,” Idranil replied, walking towards a small table, and pouring wine into two goblets. “How was your journey really? Apart from the official frippery.”
“Long. Too long, and after the fourth near-death encounter I stopped counting.”
“Had I known it’s this dangerous, I’d have never let you go.”
“You know it wasn’t up to either of us,” Seth said with a sour smile. “It wasn’t me who wanted to travel there. And you couldn’t have stopped her anyway.”
“You could have. But you didn’t.”
For all Idranil cared, Chai was just a mejai. A strong mejai, but not stronger than Seth, so disciplining her shouldn’t have proved any difficulty.
But Rani was missing an important detail.
“You think too highly of me. Besides… which father could stop his own daughter when she makes up her mind?”
Idranil spat the wine back into the goblet. Seth was expecting it, but an uneasy feeling still trickled down near his spine. It wasn’t a good omen.
“His… what?”
“Remember our search in Kahlaran, looking for the Gate?”
Idranil nodded, taking a seat again. Maybe it was for the best.
“I do. What of it?”
“You must remember Lea, right?”
“The courtesan breaking your heart by not sending a single letter even though she promised? Don’t tell me she’s…”
Seth let the jab fly past him. At least Rani joking at Seth’s expense was usual, apart from every other thing about this conversation.
“Chai is Lea’s daughter. And mine.”
Idranil rubbed his temple, taking a few sips from the wine. It was unusual for him to keep quiet this long, but when he spoke, he sounded much calmer than Seth had expected.
“Shardeen refused to give me and my wife a child after years of trying and praying, yet you fathered a mejai after a one-night stand,” he said, sounding both angry and self-cynical. “The gods don’t plan on letting House Osirei wither after all. But you know she can’t follow me on the throne, don’t you? This changes nothing about the plan, especially since she introduced herself by murdering two of my men without regret. She’s not fit to wear the crown of Sheezan.”
The plan. The plan to save the entire kingdom, popping into Idranil’s mind on a vigilant night like a message from the gods. He was probably sure it was exactly that.
Rani’s only wife, Nalini, couldn’t bear a child; a secret only her husband and brother-in-law knew for sure. Others suspected this, of course, but Idranil denied every whisper. He loved Nalini, however unusual that was for a royal, and refused to take another wife. Yet, without the ability to provide an heir, she was forever threatened by the rage of nobles and politicians not seeing past titles.
It was a cruel thing, something that made Rani realize something: inheriting the throne was a curse, something they should weed out from the country. Not just Shardiz, but the whole of Seiran.
As Seth understood, Idranil was only this devoted in his war efforts because he saw no one more capable. Not only did this plan need the strength to unite Seiran, the determination to strike down whoever threatened the unity, but also the humility to grab Seiran’s crown and pass it on to someone else. Someone who didn’t inherit it from his father, but could wear it for the betterment of their kingdom.
Seth always found this vision comforting, something that could rid him of the many unnecessary expectations as a mejai and as the Keeper of Secrets.
“I know, Rani. Chai knows, too, and she doesn’t wish to rule. I don’t know what motivates her, but… What should I do?”
Seth looked at his brother just as desperately as when they were only boys, running away from a forced formality. Every burden he had carried for long months now poured out, too heavy to carry it alone any longer.
“I’ve no more experience in raising children than you do,” Rani said with a sigh. “But I’d start with figuring out her motives. If she’s not interested in the throne, she can’t ask for anything we’re unwilling to provide, especially since you’ve just acknowledged her as your own. Nobody should say Prince Idranil is tight-fisted with his niece.”
“I wasn’t thinking straight,” Seth started, trying to make up excuses as he spoke. “The whole thing just fell into my lap, and every question anyone asked concerned her. I had to decide, and this was the less confusing option–at least back then. I’m sorry.”
“For what? That she was conceived, or that you weren’t prepared to handle her?” Idranil put an arm on Seth’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, brother. I’m happy for you and only worry that you’ve got more trouble than happiness,” he said, taking a moment’s pause. “However, I hate to detour from your personal problems, but I must ask: Have you unearthed something useful during your journey?”
Seth let out a breath, sighing his ‘personal problems’ into the middle distance. “That depends on your definition of useful. I’ve brought back a couple of weapons like your Prerogative, but the Hanit Room is mostly for healing. I’m guessing you’ve spotted Chai’s leg, but that’s just the surface. That place can heal the most grievous wounds in mere minutes, using some strange beams of light unlike anything I’ve seen.”
“I guess the Hanit king wasn’t generous enough to let you pack those machines up and carry them here.”
“I didn’t dare to ask. It’s like asking the Shardizians to pick apart the Temple of Shardeen brick by brick, throwing the pieces into a lake. That place is holy to them, Rani. The most I could secure was a chance for our most discreet alchemists and mathematicians to visit.”
The disappointment on Idranil’s face stung at Seth’s heart. He had offered virtually anything, arguing for days, even drifting close to making threats, but the Southerners had been unwavering.
“Well, that’s better than naught,” Idranil said. “The war will end eventually, and a place that can replace limbs will prove valuable in the aftermath. How did you gain entrance to such a holy place?”
“I killed an unshackled marid,” Seth said. “Or, to be more precise, Chai killed it.”
Idranil cocked an eyebrow. “And if I hadn’t asked, you wouldn’t have mentioned this?”
“I didn’t think it was important.”
“Shardeen save us, Seth! Of course it’s important. Especially after the events in Kahlaran. Funny enough, ‘Marid’ is what my informant there calls himself.”
“Sounds like a jolly fellow. How do you know he’s not speaking literally?”
The question seemingly caught Idranil off guard. “To be honest, I don’t. But he’s not how I’d imagine a djinn. That man is a snake, without a hint of sublimity.”
“You should ask Chai. She claims to have encountered more than one djinn before, although marid is admittedly the only kind she missed.”
“She’s your daughter, ask her yourself.”
Seth rubbed his forehead. Their conversation was nearing its end, and he had to return to a world where he was supposed to take care of someone. Rani couldn’t hold his hand forever.
“Can I ask you a favor or two?” he asked. “If your hands aren’t too full with this war.”
“Nothing makes my hands full enough to leave no place for you.”
Seth just smiled. “Good to know. I’ve learned of another Secret Room in Qajar. Not quite as large as the Hanit, but still larger than ours, and Chai’s determined to visit. I’m beyond curious, too, so I thought you could persuade Prince Sanju into granting us entry.”
“That’s not a big favor,” Idranil said, gulping down the rest of his wine. “Sanju hates Kahlaran with a passion, and his son, Nouzar was wise enough to see the nobility in our cause. They’re our strongest and most devoted allies. They’ll welcome you with open arms. But you mentioned a favor or two, and I guess the other’s far more difficult, isn’t it?”
Seth flushed. “You know me too well, Rani. I was wondering if you could find out a few things about someone from only a name. Through spies or diplomats, or I don’t know. Court magic.”
“I can certainly try, although a name isn’t much. What would you need?”
“There’s someone clinging to Chai’s soul, like an eerie spirit. She doesn’t show it, only in moments where she’s lost control, but I know. Ezair. Sounds familiar?”
Idranil leaned back, studying the patterns of the tent for a while. Seth couldn’t decide if he was biding his time before a disappointing answer, or just searching his memory, but after a few seconds, a strange grimace ran across Idranil’s face.
“Strangely, yes. I suppose you’ve heard about the assassination of Prince Charta by the hands of his own brother?”
That was a strange thing to mention now, but Seth just nodded.
“That was a busy day for Kahlaran,” Idranil continued. “For one thing, that was the last time I heard from the spy I just mentioned. From my other informants, I’ve heard someone outed him. On the exact day of Charta’s death, an execution was scheduled, although now it’s widely believed it was merely a ruse to deter attention. The man to be executed was Rashad Hazra, an inspector of the city guard. He had a nephew called Ezair, although more people know of him as Aspis of the Two-Headed Viper.”
Idranil paused for a moment, and even Seth understood why. That name was familiar. The Vipers were an interesting bunch of sellswords, somehow capable of branching out from Kahlaran to other provinces. They even had a burrow in Shardiz, led by a troublemaker called Naya. Seth had heard that name frequently spoken by his brother and other noblemen, almost always followed by angry grunts.
“As you’d suspect from those ruffians, this Aspis was headstrong and bold enough to cause a scandal at the execution, eventually taking his uncle’s place under the axe. And to top all that trouble, soon after his death Kahlaran was struck by a sandstorm not seen in decades. The more gullible claim it was the revenge of a furious yann, trying to sink the city. I’ll admit, it would have saved me quite a lot of trouble.”
Seth scratched his chin, trying to take in all these new things. It was a jumble of conspiracies, unlikely events happening simultaneously, and something screamed ominous about it.
“That doesn’t explain Chai’s part in all this. Although after what I saw, I wouldn’t blame anyone for mistaking her for a yann.”
“Could she do that?”
“I honestly don’t know what she’s capable of. She pulls trinkets out of her stash like others pull handkerchiefs. I can imagine her twirling a pearl in her hair to unleash a cyclone.”
That was a heavy thought Seth wasn’t ready to believe. His daughter couldn’t be that malicious. It was impossible.
“Well, I’m glad she’s on our side,” Idranil said. “Although I have to warn you. If you suspect Chai’s grieving over this boy, Shardeen forbid they were lovers, and she bottled all those feelings up until now, you should take care. Cultivating bitterness could scar anyone, let alone a young girl. Are you following?”
“Not in the least.”
“I’m saying you might be unable to help her. You have to decide if you’re a father or a mejai. If the latter, let her visit Qajar, squeeze every advantage of her wit, and grant her anything she wishes as payment. But otherwise… If she was my daughter, I’d take her trinkets and leave her with the idari.”
“You can’t possibly say I’d give up my own daughter…” Seth replied, his voice breaking from the sudden surge of anger. “Chai’s not insane, Rani. She’s grieving. She’s consuming herself because there wasn’t anyone to help her overcome her loss.”
“You think you could help her? After so much time?”
Seth froze. He had never tried to be a parent before, not even in thought, nor did he grieve for anyone. His father had been more ruler than parent, so when he was murdered, he had grieved no more than any other Shardizian subject. Her mother was still alive, although forcing herself into isolation along with his nursemaid. He hadn’t lost anyone like Chai.
“I’m… not sure. But I’m not surrendering her to anyone. Not again.”
“Fine. I’m trusting you, as I have always. But please, don’t forget that your daughter is Seiran’s second strongest mejai. If she fails to overcome her problems, if her sorrows drag her deeper into darkness, it won’t be only her end. It threatens you, threatens me, threatens all of Seiran.”
“I know. If it comes to that, I’ll stop her personally.”