Anaise Kiymetl Hilal

 

“So you came to ask for yours, young wermage?” the First Bow mused, shaking her empty mug.

Anaise smiled and gestured to a nearby servant to refill the mug with one of her good wines. “I came to merely praise your skill as a commander. Nothing more.”

The Kosenya wermage scoffed. “You came here to tell me how to do my duty. How to discipline my soldiers. This isn’t Samat, kid. Do you know how many recruits thought they could simply wave the name of their Manor and get what they want?”

She tasted the wine and lay down in a more comfortable manner. “Go on. Tell me about the ‘might’ of Kiymetl, so that I can tell you which House keeps your tails dry. And whose shields your traders cover under when an enemy attacks.”

“Oh, I am certain that a true daughter of Kosenya will make her House proud.” Anaise gave her a brilliant smile. “I just wish to avoid any grudges between our Houses due to the… certain individuals being somewhat eager.”

Irje might have won the previous altercation with her superior but that in no way meant the First Bow wouldn’t retaliate at a later time. And there were plenty of things she could do to placate her wounded pride. And a sore ass. Additional drills and unsightly duties were one thing; unusual assignments that could see Irje easily wounded or killed were another.

They had enough friction with Kamshad and Samat. Souring relations with Kosenya just because one of their kin was too preoccupied with an inflated sense of self-worth? Anaise was certain that Roxanna Inayat, the Kosenya Matriarch, would be quick to set their grievances aside once she heard that Isra Haleh started to craft new armours at scale. The question was — would Erf accept her offer of peace? Irje was his first wife. He was willing to give up Anaise’s union if it meant divorcing her — what would he do if this First Bow sent Irje on a scouting mission deep into the Forest without any expectations of return?

And Mushaf dared to ask whether Anaise was pursuing Albin Chasya or not. She had her hands full with Erf alone! Anaise would walk into an early pyre from the headache of handling two goofballs that could turn all of Emanai upside down individually. At least the recent fight with Lita’af would undoubtedly make others think twice before they dared to act against the unassuming murk her husband liked to appear as and then beg and cry when Kiymetl moved behind her daimon.

“My, look at the important peacock in my tent,” the First Bow shook her head. “Let me tell you something, esteemed Lady of the House. You hail from the Pillar Manor, but so does almost every other commander in this arm. And you should pay proper respects to those that aren’t. They earned their rank with blood, tears, and sweat and they kept your kind safe inside your southern villas. Who is your mother exactly? A third daughter of the Matriarch? A fifth? Lower perhaps? You might be used to the rest of your Manor watching you eat, but here you are a runt of a runt.”

“My, you seem to be quite familiar with my heritage,” Anaise mused, unconcerned. Perhaps Erf was rubbing too much of his hair on her. “I wouldn’t expect you to know this much about a ‘mere runt’ by your own words. I wonder, where did you learn all of that?”

She leaned forward, her ears flat. “And who told you to be this ‘eager’ with a member of my sadaq?”

The other wermage took another sip, unperturbed in the slightest. “It would have sounded twice as ominous if your sadaq didn’t have a murk companion of all things. But would twice of nothing be-”

“Is he?”

The First Bow gave her a glare for interrupting. “You mean he is not even that? Just some murk that has to rely on the General to keep his possessions safe? A lousy healer that kills more than he cures?”

“The one who wounded a Thing in his first battle?” Anaise kept her assault; she would return to the healing later.

The wermage paused. “A stroke of luck…”

“The one who fought with Lita’af Hikmat in a wermage duel not once but twice? Who not only survived the power of a warformed Kamshad unscathed, but claimed victory in the second fight?” she pressed on. “You think that a mere stroke of luck is enough to best the first daughter of the Kamshad Matriarch?”

“If what you say is true. I heard of the fights taking place, but to judge him by mere training bouts.”

“Oh, I implore you — ask her yourself.” Anaise smiled. “Ask Lita’af Kamshad Hikmat what she thinks of his power and if she considers him a murk at all!”

“Why should I? Hmm? Why should I run around the camp like a headless chicken just to seek proof of your claims?”

Anaise rolled her eyes. Her words meant nothing if the other wermage refused to hear them. She rummaged in her sash and pulled out something a little bit more substantial. “Here. Read this.”

The First Bow glanced at the scroll Anaise put on the table with a frown. “Why do you have an opened missive with the seal of our House?”

“Because it was addressed to me. The runt of a runt. From your Matriarch.”

“The crime of forging seals of Pillar Manors is quite severe, even for the Lady of the House.”

“It wouldn’t stand close to the direct interference with your Matriarch’s plans, whether due to your personal desires or worse — at the request of someone else.” Anaise reasoned back. “I am here as a warning, First Bow, nothing more. Things are brewing between the Matriarchs of Emanai, not just yours and mine. And if you think that Kiannika is too far into the Forest to worry about ‘southern’ politics, remember who our General is. If you do not wish to end up headless like that chicken — I urge you to be careful of what you know and whom you trust.”

“This is your ‘threatening missive’?” The First Bow shook the scroll. “A request for suits of armour, paid appropriately? That’s it!?”

“Read the intent of the message, not the words. Do I look like a smith? Do I carry a forge around? No. Then why did she ask me when I am not able even if I was willing? She wishes for me to mediate the purchase, not craft them myself. Because the forge and the smith that makes those armours are in Samat, within the walls of my Manor, beholden to my mother Domina. While my sadaq is, for the duration of this campaign, beholden to the Houses of War through Kiannika itself.

“If that doesn’t sway you — take your eyes to the sky above. And then seek the Kausar twins and ask them which Manor built them the skyship. Do you think your Matriarch would be interested in acquiring one of those as well? What about the looking glass that my ‘mere murk’ husband presented to the General? Remember all this before you do anything, First Bow of the first maniple. Because your entire House will be affected by your deeds.”

 

Mushaf Kishava Davlat

“It would have been quicker if I spoke to her myself.”

Anaise twirled her oar. “This is my battle to fight. My sadaq to protect. They are my responsibility just as much as they are to my benefit. I am sure that you will learn of this once you form your own.”

She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and glanced at her. “I am also sure that your willingness to help is not without its cost, Mushaf Davlat. You helped to make this meeting happen so I will hear what you wanted to say, but I am not giving favours away that easily. Not when I have a daimon as my husband.”

Mushaf glanced around and pulled Anaise to the side. “Come here! I wish to discuss this in private.”

She dragged her behind a large tent, checked for any passers-by, and started to draw a rune of silence. One of the big ones, just in case, but not the largest so Anaise wouldn't get any ideas.

“When did you learn that Azhar Mesud is not who he makes himself to be?”

Anaise fixed her kaftan and flicked the dust from her tail. “Right after I met him on our way to Uureg.”

“You knew all this time!? And you kept acting like normal in front of him? Why didn’t you say more when I was asking!?” Mushaf hissed at her.

“What did you expect me to do?” Anaise hissed back. “Walk around with my tail dragging on the ground like it is made from lead? I was told to keep it secret! And I told you as much as I could — don’t try to blame your eagerness on me.”

“You didn’t tell me enough!” Mushaf fumed. “How far ahead is your daimon with the fruit?”

“Fruit? Oh, the ‘date’.” Anaise waved her tail noncommittally. “I do not know. Erf said that the current bet is placed on a game of chatrang, but they have been playing and restarting the game for days. He did tell you that trying to force him would only make it worse.”

Mushaf bit her thumb as different thoughts fought a battle in her heart.

“Did you drag me here to tell me that you are getting your tail wet and I should tell Erf to stop?”

“What? No!” She hated herself for how indecisive she was but this might be the only opportunity she would get in her entire life. “What should I do?”

“What?”

“I am not going to repeat myself a second time! Your daimon is similar to him, is he not? What did you do to claim his heart?”

The red tail swished to the side and covered the equally red face. “They are nothing alike! They might act in a similar manner or share common interests but their characters are like the night and day.”

She knew that Anaise was hiding much but her honour stopped her from prying further. “Is that the reason they are so drawn toward each other?”

Anaise sighed in relief. “That is likely. Do you remember what Erf told you during the last meeting — Azhar is drawn by the unknown. What is more unknown than a daimon?”

Mushaf grimaced. Back then, she didn’t pay as much attention to his words, believing that she had plenty to offer. Her House was rich and influential enough to make even other Pillars turn and look, but what did she have to sway the eye of a Heurisk?

It was at least understandable why the daimon had piqued his interest. If Erf wasn’t his child or his kin to begin with.

“You said that they are playing the game of chatrang. Should I play a game or two against your daimon in case ‘Azhar Mesud’ wishes to play with me?” There were no codices for her here to resharpen her skills. Apart from Sophia Chasya whom Mushaf could potentially ask for a few pointers. From what she heard, the General was unbeatable across Kiannika. A worthy skill of the one who was leading their arms.

Anaise put her fists on her hips. “This is yet another request for my daimon, Mushaf Davlat. We both know that you aren’t just seeking a mere game but his further assistance in your quest.”

Mushaf huffed. “Go on. Say your piece.”

“The First Bow shared a concerning rumour about Erf being a charlatan healer, something that I personally know is quite untrue.” Anaise put her tail in her hands and started to comb it. “As a member of a fellow trading House, I know that there is no other House here as connected as the House of Kishava. The Kamshad lead and the Kosenya fight, but it is your House that feeds all of us, wermage and murk alike, and makes sure that our quivers are full before the battle. You have a much wider reach than I do here, and if anyone could find the real culprit behind those rumours, it would be you. Help my daimon in this manner and I am certain that he will assist you just as generously in kind. Erf is an honourable man and knows the character of ‘Azhar Mesud’ better than you and I do.”

She felt herself nodding. “It is good that you are aware of the real power of my House.”

“How could I forget? I was reminded about this time and time again over the years, by you. So? Can my daimon rely on your benevolence in this matter?”

“I will send my word.” Mushaf nodded imperiously. “Just make sure that your daimon’s gratitude is more than a handful of noncommittal promises and vague hints this time around.”

“While not someone to laud his deeds, he is still a daimon, Mushaf Davlat. His words might sound meek but his actions stir Houses across Emanai and beyond the South Sea. To that regard I wish to warn you — I will be heading to his tent immediately after to warn him of this brewing plot. As a daimon, he won’t wait patiently to hear the news from you. He will act and he will act swiftly. Remember that time when Erf had to stand alone in front of the General, only to insert Kirana and Huare Kausar into her command group less than a handful of days later? That kind of swiftly.”

The comb of Arksite glass swished across the red of the Kiymetl tail. “I am not telling you to hurry, but… Be not surprised if Erf resolves this problem by himself, given enough time. You have the opportunity of knowing it first; whether you use it or not is up to you.”

 

 

Sophia Emanai Aethil

“Why did you do that for!?” Sophia felt her face tentacles itch through her magical visage. “Do you understand that they will learn of our presence here in no time?”

Albin paused his meal and glanced at her. “You think they don’t know? A twin-arm detachment marching through the Forest toward a siege that hadn’t even started yet? Bragge knows that there is at least one of us here just by the movement of our supply ships alone. Do not perceive your enemies as stupid just because they have the horns to face our family.”

“Who is the one thinking that their enemies are stupid?” she hissed. “You were supposed to be hidden! While I was supposed to be obvious! Now he will know that there are two of us. And for what? So that you can spook the Kishava girl? All you had to do was win the cursed game and you could keep your charade!”

“That is the funny part. Erf plays chatrang like me, better than me.”

“What?”

“He plays chatrang like me, better than me.”

Sophia cleared her ear. “Did I just hear you say that he can beat you in a mere game? Or are you intent on playing against him with your hand tied until the very end?”

Albin swallowed his food and grinned at her. “Well, I don’t know that. We haven’t gotten there yet. He might. He might not. Anything is possible. Isn’t that fun?”

“Why don’t you stop your games for a season and make it un-fun then, brother. Because I will saddle you under that Kishava girl just so they stop begging our mother for a daimon of their own. Every time you cause a stir, I have to rethink my battle plans, again and again.”

“What do you do when your opponent plays like you, better than you?”

“Not reveal who I am to the onlookers! What a ridiculous question. You simply fight as if you are fighting yourself.” Sophia squinted her eyes at him. “Is that what you were doing all this time? Practising?”

A jar of wine opened itself and the liquid poured into Albin’s cup. “If he does not know that there are two of us here by now — he will know in two days after his scouts clash with our column. You should’ve felt his claws around our arms by now, feeling… probing… Hidden. The fake stillness of the Flow around us. There is a Sphere of Negation nearby that isn’t one of ours. Or another artefact with a similar effect.”

“I was hoping that you would uncover this hidden source as we marched. My hopes were in vain.”

“What matters is not finding them but doing so in a way that doesn’t reveal our cards either. In direct contrast to the moving forces, he does not know whether we are aware of his hidden trickery or not. The youngest Archomilea didn’t unite the tribes of Barsashahr with his boldness and ruthlessness alone. Those sharp fangs and vicious muzzle hide a shrewd tongue within.” Albin pulled his deck of divination cards and spread them through the air. The wine cup kept hanging nearby. “This is more than a yearly raid to test our defences, dear sister. He is watching this very closely. They are watching this very closely. This is a prelude for things to come. Telling them exactly how much we know so early into the play would be… unwise.”

“So you plot for him to see you do nothing but goof around with the daimon?”

He emptied the cup with one gulp. The grin was back. “Precisely! He might have his tricks to murk the River of Fate but I have a murk to trick him back! To untangle that knot all by himself.”

“You don’t actually expect him to win the battle? You know the powers of the Archomilea family — the daimon is as good as dead once he gets close to him!” Sophia felt something crunch in her hand and glanced down at the crumpled cup. She threw it aside. “I am not going to let you waste him on that beast!”

“Oh? Does my sister feel protective of my daimon?”

Her tail smashed the ground. “He has a string of promises to me, left unfulfilled. He knows enough about shapes and numbers to understand a surprising amount of our magic, despite the lack of Spark and the Divine sight! His place is either in our palace or in one of the Pillars back in Samat at the very least, not caving helmets of the barbarians that can’t count past their claws.”

Albin chuckled. “Rest assured, sister. I do not plan for him to defeat this horde.”

“You still made him into a challenger while being aware of my plans for the battle. Messenger or not, he will fight.”

“He has to fight. He needs to see and learn. But he won’t be there as a mere fighter. His presence is like an artefact. Not a Sphere of Negation but a Sphere of Frustration. A walking upset to any plans already set in motion. A murk obscured to the Flow, yet with enough impact to affect it greatly. Fortunately for us, the upsets tend to favour our side since his sadaq is in our arm.” He paused in thought. “I wonder why he isn’t a sphere. The man knows how to eat.”

“Yes, the balloon will make their movements stiffer just with its presence alone,” she conceded. “Hard to hide their forces in the dust when there are eyes in the sky. It won’t affect Bragge himself, however, or other Archomilea if they are present. Balloon or not, they know that we know.”

“Knowing isn’t enough. We, the Emanai, know this better than any other family. Just as you revise your plans as you approach-”

“As you meddle.”

He waved it off. “Just as you do that — so does he. He needs to keep his chatrang pieces open to move freely or his forces will stumble over themselves when the battlefield shifts. He needs them ready to ride once he orders them to. Where he orders them to. Those orders take time to relay and execute. And they will take more time if they entertain themselves by gawking at that balloon instead.”

He pulled one of the cards and smiled to himself. “While our arms are renowned for their training and already accustomed to the new ‘ship’. His cavalry might be fast but our chariots will be more agile.”

“So you say, brother.” Sophia started pacing through the tent. “I still don’t like it. What is making him so confident? Did he bring the rest of his family to crush our maniples or does he intend to reveal his entire might to our arms? No, other families won’t tolerate such brazenness and our mother would descend with the sky scythes by her side. A new artefact, perhaps?”

Albin glanced at his palm and flexed it into a fist. “Our arms are still here, even if he negates our sight. They are trained to fight and the upcoming battle favours us. All we have to do is reach the walls of Bayan Gol. While Bragge’s sheydayan are swift and devastating, their tactics aren’t fit for a defensive battle. If he is relying on artefacts, they better be plentiful enough to equip all of his troops.”

“Plentiful?” Erf’s surprising alacrity at copying simple trinkets suddenly surfaced in her memory. “Did Erf mention any other daimonas of his kind?”

Albin gave her a very suspicious smile. “He was quite adamant that he is the only one on Tana. Well, there is that wife of his or he wouldn’t have left Samat. Not at his height yet, but she is getting there. Are you telling me that you wouldn’t have noticed another Erf acting nearby after being so close to this one? He might be hard to predict, but to detect? He is like a lamp in the night.”

Sophia grimaced. “Not important, then.”

XXX

“What do you mean, ‘kills’?” I put my ‘wood carving’ aside. The artefact housing could wait. “Who died?”

Anaise shook her head. “Our palm knows very little if anything at all. It is not like any archers or war mages relied on your healing and I can’t just roam around the camp and interrogate finger commanders of other maniples, especially of the other arm.”

I glanced at Hajar Kishava nearby but the First Spear just shrugged her shoulders. “None of mine are dead, I kept an eye on them. There were some murmurs from Ulastai, but not every sick murk survives, even after treatment. Did you forget to bleed them? You were suspiciously quick at closing wounds. While some healers say that swiftness is more important-”

“This isn’t about bleeding them or not.” I raised my hand to catch Chirp swooping in. “I healed them. Period. Their wounds were cleaned and fused. I even fixed a few improperly healed fractures and old wounds for some of them. I didn’t leave them to recover — I left them healthy. Many were left in better shape than they were before they got hurt.”

I twisted my wrist away from my commander and connected Chirp to me. The time of leisurely trips to Samat and back was over — I needed surveillance and oversight. The proper kind, not the general sweep it did when it returned. I needed to know who was still alive, what the word was across the camp, if wermages started to hear about this already, and whether someone was trailing my movements with the intent to cause more harm.

“If one of them died — I can see that as an accident. We already had a few of those as far as I am aware.” Some infections, a couple of diseases. That kind of stupid stuff was unfortunately normal in marching arms away from home. While food had a decent amount of calories, it didn’t offer a lot of variety and quickly spoiled in the rainy, damp Forest. Add the low-quality food to the stress of daily marches and sickness was quick to follow. Obviously, no one bothered to inform me when one of them got too sick, or even heard that I was offering my services in the first place. For many of them, what I called a sub-par ration was seen as a rather good reason to stay in the arm. “Two? A coincidence. Three or more? That is the action of an enemy.”

I glanced at Hajar. “I need to find out how many have perished. If it is not just a mere rumour, it is possible that someone is killing them intentionally.”

“And here I thought that my headaches were gone.” She sighed. “Bayan Gol is days away.”

I grimaced. “No time to waste, then.”

“No one will blame you in my fingers, I will make sure of that. You are the Alchemist of Kiymetl and I saw your cures working with my own eyes. You can defend your name and title once we secure the city.”

“The General spoke of barbarians near the city. How many deaths do you expect before we drive them off? On our side?”

“You expect me to discuss deaths in advance? As if we would clash with them at all — they might turn tail and flee once they see our maniples emerge from the Forest.”

“I expect you to know the averages if you wish to succeed your rank,” I cut her off. “Death is inevitable on a battlefield, even for the victorious. And any general worth her salt should know how much she would end up losing, so she can plan further ahead. A victory is useless if you are unable to secure it afterwards.”

“One in twenty, if we are talking about a successful large battle or a series of small clashes over the span of a few days.” she spat out. “Satisfied? Or do you want me to predict the name of your new master on the chance of you getting captured?”

I ignored her jab — I knew my questioning wasn’t sufficiently polite to begin with. “Hmm, a low estimate despite the magic spells and enormous werbows. Undoubtedly due to the skill of the commanders and the level of protection that each soldier of Emanai enjoys. But then again — wer and wermages are quite sturdy by themselves. This means that most of those casualties will be murks. How many of those deaths happen after the battle?”

“Where are you heading with this?”

“I am leading to the fact that I have the means to save the wounded before they die. If their commanders trust me to heal them, that is. We have two arms marching. Twelve thousand warriors. A single battle is six hundred casualties on average at the very least. Most of them — spears. If we exclude the ones that are immediately slain or bleed out before the battle ends, we are still talking three to four hundred men. That is almost two maniples worth of warriors that could fight another day. Imagine the morale of the fingers if they see handfuls rather than scores of dead. Their eagerness to fight in the next skirmish if they know that a stab to the guts isn’t a death sentence with the Kiymetl Alchemist nearby?”

The First Spear glanced at Anaise. “Do you speak the truth?”

“How long before we leave the Forest?”

While I knew that we were heading to relieve a siege, I wasn’t sure if the ‘barbarians’ would let us get close to the walls before coming over for a ‘greeting’. I knew that they were steppe warriors so it was quite unlikely that they would clash with us in the Forest. Unless they were expecting us to expect that kind of thinking. Well, we had a balloon for surveillance and Sophia was quite sure that they wouldn’t attack us here. Used her ‘wind’ magic, no doubt. But I wasn’t permitted to discuss that part with Hajar. Or even Anaise. OPSEC and all that.

“A bit less than a tenday if we keep marching as we are. Do you really think the barbarians would clash with us and do it so close to the Forest?”

“No, I am simply not sure about what would happen afterwards. So I plan with the worst in mind.”

That damn Creature knew when to squish my grub. It would hatch from its pupa somewhere around then but that would leave me with little to no time to replenish my stocks. But I should have enough to keep a few hundred casualties from dying for a few days with my current supply. If worse came to worst — I would send Chirp to bring more from Yeva. She already had a ‘hospital’ set up.

“They won’t. Our maniples would simply step back into the Forest and slaughter them if they follow.”

I nodded. “Since I will be dealing with cuts, blunt trauma, and burns, I can swear on the name of Kiymetl that my words carry the truth.”

“Erf.”

I gave her a quick bow. “My wife can be my witness.”

Anaise gave me a side glare but nodded to Hajar nevertheless. Good. I wasn’t planning to betray her trust or smear the name of her House, but it appeared that I could no longer rely on my name alone. If rumours were true, I would find who was behind the killings no matter how long it would take. I would use my lashes if necessary to learn the truth because this was more than personal.

I heard Chirp rustle its wings above my head. I could not bring back those that were dead, but others were watched from now on as I would double down on my healing. As I would dare for my adversary to strike again. I would be very happy to greet them in person if they did so — the current situation wasn’t optimal by any means. There were no bodies for me to inspect since the dead were swiftly cremated, and, while I had a hunch or two on who might be the culprit, I couldn’t act on that without some undeniable proof. In fact I had to be very careful to act even with undeniable proof if my adversary just happened to be some well-connected wermage. I wanted justice, not revenge, and getting slapped down for trying to bark above my status was not in my plans.

“I need to visit my chatrang partner. Ask him about his Ulastai maniple. Offer my healing skills to his spears… Win a game or two. Kick him in the butt in case he needs the kicking.”

“Erf!”