Phoenix Unbound
Page 46

Gilene shook her head. “No, just looked at me as if he wished me dead or thought me a pile of sheep dung. But then I’ve seen him look at many people that way, including his wife.”
He had no intention of sharing with Gilene the details of his conversation with Karsas. It served no purpose. He still wanted to rip out his cousin’s guts, but again suppressed the anger, letting it cool and feed his desire for vengeance.
Gilene handed him a flask of the tea. “May I ask you something?” He nodded. “If Karsas were a good ataman, if the clan thrived under his leadership, would you still challenge him?”
Her question made him pause. It was something he never had to consider. Karsas as ataman put Clan Kestrel in danger. Once a stronger, bigger clan when Iruadis ruled it, it was diminished now. Azarion didn’t need to hear the mutterings and discontent of his fellow clansmen over Karsas’s governance to see how much the clan had fallen in wealth, status, and influence. It was obvious to him since the first day he returned. But while those things justified his reasons for wanting to oust Karsas as ataman, they weren’t the only ones that drove Azarion toward his goals. “What good is there in a man who is a coward and sells his relative into slavery?”
She shook her head. “I didn’t say he was a good man. A person can lead well and still be awful.”
That was true. Brutal men had raised up powerful kingdoms in the past. A brutal woman co-ruled one now. “I don’t know,” he said. “I want back what was stolen from me, and Karsas makes it easy for me to justify my challenge. If he were as you say, a good leader with the clan’s welfare his first concern, I might give it up. It would be a hard choice to make.” He gave her a wry smile. “You ask difficult questions.”
She smiled back, and Azarion forgot to breathe. “You give good answers.” She paused, then continued her interrogation. “If you become ataman . . .” At his scowl, she amended her statement. “When you become ataman, what will you do for your clan? What will raise their status in the confederation?”
It was unfortunate no one on the Ataman Council had subjected Karsas to such questions years earlier, or if they had, he’d done a fine job of deceiving them into believing he would be a good leader for the clan.
This time Azarion had a ready answer for her, though one he knew would shock her. “I plan to take the entire Savatar nation to war against the Empire.”
Gilene dropped the flask she held, only to snatch it up before all the tea spilled onto the blanket. The smile was gone, replaced by disappointed dismay. “You would drag your people into a war they can’t win?”
That made him bristle. “The Savatar have grown too dependent on the Veil to protect them,” he said. “They think only the Nunari are their enemy because they’re the Empire’s vassals closest to the Veil. We can actually see them through the flames when they test the Veil for weaknesses. The clans have forgotten about the east and its vulnerability.
“The Empire is invading there, not with a charge but with a slow creep. They’re building more and more garrisons along the Golden Serpent, clawing their way into Goban territory one road, one garrison at a time. If they get through the Gamir Mountains and put a garrison there, there will be no stopping them. The Goban will fall first and then the Savatar. The Empire won’t have to breach the Veil or even go near it to conquer us.”
Her consternation faded as he spoke, replaced by an arrested expression that told him she considered his explanation. “The Empire is vast,” she said. “There aren’t enough of you to defeat her armies. How could you possibly succeed in such a plan? How could you convince the clans it would work?”
Azarion hadn’t been idle while he waited for Gilene’s magic to strengthen. Karsas had barred him from attending his council meetings with the clan’s subchiefs, a petty move that earned him more than a few speculative looks and side-glances. It didn’t stop Azarion from gathering information about the status of the clan, of the confederation, of the Savatar nation, and the worries of their Goban neighbors to the east. A plan had formed in his mind, ambitious, risky, and dangerous, and the only way he could begin implementing it was to take back the chieftainship.
“You’re right. It isn’t possible to attack all of the Empire, but we can stab it in the heart, and its heart is Kraelag.”
“Attack the capital?” Gilene tapped her chin, contemplating. “The Savatar would have a distance to travel to reach her gates, and every general would call up his units to defend her.”
Azarion smirked. “I’m counting on it.”
She was quiet after that, her mind working through all he had said, though she kept her thoughts to herself. He stretched out on his side to face her and propped his head on one hand. “My turn for questions. Why did you look surprised when I asked if you wanted to come with me to this drive?”
Over the past weeks, he’d caught her several times watching him with a thoughtful expression, as if she tried to puzzle him out. That same look settled on her features now.
“Because I think it’s the first time since I met you that you haven’t ordered me, threatened me, or bargained with me to do something.”
Azarion’s mouth dropped open, then snapped shut at Gilene’s silent amusement. He tried to recall all of their interactions since they met, and scowled when he realized she didn’t exaggerate. He’d never considered himself a tyrannical person. It was hard to be so when you were a slave who served many masters, but maybe he’d adopted their habits during his servitude even as he despised them for their ways.
His relationship with Gilene had been contentious from the start, not unexpected considering their circumstances. Still, they were no longer on the run from Kraelian trackers, Nunari clansmen, or Midrigarian demons. There was no reason to command instead of ask.
“You’re right,” he said. “I will ask more often.”
A spark of something flickered in her eyes before disappearing. “I’m glad.” She gave him another of those engaging smiles.
Her fingers danced restlessly across the pattern woven into the horse blanket on which she sat, and her forehead creased as she glanced at him and then away, only to do it again.
“Go ahead,” he coaxed her. “Ask another one. I can see you want to.”
“Why haven’t you told anyone you can see through illusions?”
“I don’t see any reason to do so. Maybe I was born with some slim thread of my mother’s magic that’s somehow knotted.” He shrugged one shoulder. “Even if someone knew why I could see through illusions, it doesn’t change the fact that I can. Saruke’s magics are small. Warding circles, charms for health and protection against evil spirits. They’re useful, as you saw with that thing in Midrigar, but she and other shamans like her don’t wield the powers the agacins do, and the agacins don’t wield illusion. I doubt they’d have any more idea than I do as to why I possess this talent. For all I know, half the clan might be able to see through your spells. They just aren’t aware of it yet.” He watched the wind seduce a lock of her hair into a dance. “And as you well know, sometimes a thing kept secret has power.”
She acknowledged that with a quick tilt of her chin. She had given up much to help him, even when that help had been extorted at first. It was small repayment to let her keep this one secret of her magic until she chose to reveal it.