Ashan nodded-not innocently, but as a matter of fact-and Nikandr found himself wanting to believe him even though there was another, altogether real possibility. “You are wondering, perhaps, whether I’m in league with Soroush.” “Of course I am.” “It is a difficult position to be in.”
“Me or you?”
Ashan smiled, showing his crooked, yellow teeth. “Both. I wonder, son of Iaros, if you might humor me with a question or two. It may help you in your decision on whether or not to believe me.”
Nikandr waved his hand, bidding Ashan to continue.
“I wonder if you know what happened when you and Nasim met on the eyrie. A bond was created, was it not?”
Seeing no reason to deny it, Nikandr nodded.
“Will you share with me your suspicions as to how it was formed?”
Nikandr paused. There were two possibilities, and one he was not ready to discuss with Ashan. He had discussed his cracked soulstone with several, Jahalan and Udra included, but so far they had come to no real conclusions, so he pulled it out from beneath his shirt and showed it to Ashan, hoping if nothing else Ashan might be able to find the answer to this riddle. He told Ashan of the attack, of the havahezhan and the way it had honed in on him. “The moment my soulstone cracked, it was gone.”
“May I see it?”
Nikandr slipped the chain over his neck and handed it over.
“In the past”-Ashan examined the stone closely, running his thumb over its surface-“Nasim has become interested in certain people, certain places, though it has never been for long. I wonder if his connection to you is stronger, more permanent.”
He looked up, his eyes piercing, as he handed the soulstone back. “Nasim was raised by the Maharraht, primarily by a man named Soroush. You saw him on the mountain, the one with the scarred ear. He and his followers had great difficulty communicating with Nasim. They tried for years, and may have gained some small insights into his nature, but not his mind. They could no more relate to him than they could a dog or a horse. But they understood that in Nasim lay a treasure the likes of which this world has not seen in centuries.”
“What do you mean?”
“I believe that Nasim walks between worlds. He touches Adhiya and Erahm, both, but because he was raised with no knowledge of this, he cannot tell the two apart. It is beyond confusing for him. It tears at his soul. He doesn’t understand the nature of this world, though he wants more than anything to do so. When the two of you met on the eyrie, he found something in you-perhaps your stone, perhaps your very soul-but it grounded him. It gave him a way to tell the two worlds apart, and in turn gave him some small amount of solace.”
“Nasim came to the site of the havahezhan’s crossing two nights before the attack.” Nikandr told him of how they had met after Atiana returned to the palotza, of the pain and euphoria he had felt. “Jahalan said something similar. He said that I was sharing what Nasim was feeling.”
Ashan nodded. “Jahalan has long been a wise man.”
“When I first saw him on the eyrie,” Nikandr continued, remembering the city with the tall towers, “I saw a vision of a city, an empty, abandoned place. And then on the cliff it happened again. I was walking among the streets with a man named Muqallad. We came to a tower, where a woman waited for us.”
Ashan blinked and his head jerked back. “What name did you say?”
“Muqallad, and I was sure, in that moment just before I came to my senses, that they had somehow betrayed me.”
Nikandr waited for him to reply, but Ashan only stared.
“Do you know them?”
Ashan shook his head. “Muqallad is a name that holds great weight among the Aramahn.” He turned to Nikandr soberly. “He lived on an island named Ghayavand, an island lost, taken by the winds of Adhiya.”
“Taken how?”
“The arqesh became too bold. They pushed too hard, played with arts that were better left alone for the end of days.” Ashan frowned. “But it cannot be him.”
“Nasim couldn’t have met him?”
“Muqallad died three hundred years ago, along with the island itself.”
Nikandr moved on, hoping to keep Ashan in a talkative mood. “How could you have heard of Nasim if he were so important to the Maharraht?”
“They were careful, but something so powerful and mysterious as Nasim cannot be hidden forever. Word of him came to me, and I thought it something worth investigating.”
“So you simply made your way to their doorstep and begged permission to see him?”
Ashan’s smile was pleasant, but grating all the same. “Nothing so simple as that. It was a delicate negotiation, to be sure, but eventually they allowed me near him.”
“Why?”
“If you’re wondering if I agreed to aid them in their cause”-Ashan shifted in the bed, wincing from the pain-“I did not.”
“Then why would they have allowed you near him?”
“My refusal to aid them does not mean that they could not benefit from my presence.” “Then you were helping them.” “I was helping Nasim.”
“Who is a tool of the Maharraht.”
Ashan’s face grew cross for the first time. “He is a child who is lost. A child who needed my help. I answered that call, and I would do so again.”
“No matter what might happen to the Grand Duchy.”
Ashan stopped, his eyes serious.“I care for the lives of the Grand Duchy, son of Iaros. Have no fear of that.”
“As you care for the lives of the Maharraht?”
“As I care for all in this world.”
“If that were so, you wouldn’t have forged a weapon for them to use against us.”
“ Nyet? You would rather I had left Nasim where I’d found him? Let them find what they may?”
Nikandr’s nostrils flared. “This sits not well with me.”
“That is because I am no tool of Khalakovo.”
“It is because you seem to be a tool of the Maharraht, willingly or not.”
Ashan shook his head calmly. “Both mean little, son of Iaros.” He placed both hands over his heart. “What matters is what lies within, what we give to the next life, not that which comes and goes in the blink of an eye.”
Nikandr’s gut began to churn, the feelings of nausea from earlier returning. “Did Nasim summon the hezhan?” he asked, more hastily than he’d meant to.
“Nasim is no qiram. He has no ability to bond with spirits.”
“Did he summon the hezhan?”
“It would have been impossible. Nasim can affect the ability of qiram to lure and bond with a hezhan-he may even make crossings more likely by his mere presence-but he cannot summon them himself.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“How do I know the sun will rise tomorrow? I simply know.”
Ashan’s voice was calm, which was all the more infuriating. But there was no doubting that he seemed sincere.
“Where was Soroush taking him?”
“They did not consult with me, son of Iaros.”
“Do not jest, son of Ahrumea. They are murderers.”
“They do not kill indiscriminately.”
Nikandr laughed. “Tell that to those who lie in their graves from their discriminating tastes.”
“No matter what you may think, they treasure life. They believe the world has been set off course. They are merely trying to correct it.”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you wished you could join them.”
Ashan appeared saddened by these words. “I neither hope for their success nor wish for their defeat.”
