But the tale makes me think how our own empire is fracturing apart, no longer powerful.
Secession from the warlords is leading to the emperor’s slipping influence, Eliyas explained once, as if he played no role in it.
‘Little bird?’ Eliyas breaks my reverie. ‘I thought I’d distracted you. Yesterday, I’ve never seen you cry like that. You don’t speak of your uma’s tribe.’
I stiffen. ‘Why speak of those I cannot remember.’
He leans forward. ‘You don’t remember many things, I’ve noticed.’ My brows knit but he waves his hand.
‘Who were those Sajamistani delegates in the emperor’s court?’ I muster the courage to ask.
‘Eajiz.’
My mouth hangs open. ‘Those were Eajiz? Like... ?’Me.
A darker question rises in me. Warlord Akashun and Eliyas met with the Sajamistani delegation before the official prisoner exchange. What does this mean?
My brother’s eyes flit to Azra and Yun before he nods subtly. ‘The highest-ranked Eajiz from Sajamistan, bred in martial arts schools. Their leader led the prisoner exchange: the Sepahbad-vizier, a general of generals.’
‘And a monster,’ Yun interjects without glancing away from the poets. ‘Death-worshippers. Masochists. The Sepahbad trains her army to have an obsession with death. We’ve tried to send informants to spy in their armies and even their courts. The Sepahbad sent their organs back with a messenger for us to use in a mockery of a burial.’
‘The Sepahbad was the woman with the marking on her forehead,’ I say, piecing things together. If I am to be the emperor’s left-hand vizier, that means the Sepahbad would be my direct rival.
‘I hear she won’t be the Sepahbad for much longer.’
‘How does Sajamistan have an Eajiz army, but we don’t?’
Eliyas’s eyes fall past me. ‘Our empire is not unified. When the Heavenly Birds sighted land for Nuh’s ark, the birds chose a city that became the birthplace of magick. Today, that is Sajamistan’s capital Za’skar. It is the reason why many Eajiz are born in Sajamistan; it’s the resting place of the Heavenly Birds, and who knows how many prophets. Eajiz power is closely tied to land. For that, Sajamistan has all and every text on Eajizi.’
I study Eliyas wearily. He sounds almost wistful, and I think back to his conversation with Warlord Akashun.
‘Sajamistanis cannot be human, but animals. I’ve seen how their clans massacre our own.’ I am careful that my voice does not break.
He pokes his tongue between his teeth in quiet thought. ‘They are strange,’ he agrees. ‘Their customs, language, even the way they eat, very strange. We follow the Heavenly Crane, and they mimic the values of the Heavenly Three-Headed Raven. They call us heretics, and blame us for the deaths of the Heavenly Birds. But in truth, I think we all are more similar than we lead ourselves to believe. Are we all not descendants of Adam?’
Suddenly his betrayal, and the distance between us, comes screaming back into my mind and my manner turns cold. ‘You answer like a monk. Have you tired of your preaching, Older Brother?’
‘You look pale,’ he notes instead.
‘I am unwell,’ I agree.
He presses a hand against my temple. ‘It must be the jinn-poisons,’ he murmurs.
An anger loosens my lips. ‘Strange, this bond between us. You care for me, yet you are my poisoner.’
Eliyas pauses. ‘Against my will.’
‘Which part?’ I smile bitterly.
The poets begin a new performance, about the Great Emperor. It takes me a moment to see that it’s a mocking ode about his rule. Some onlookers laugh, and others shout in favour of the emperor.
Yun shoots to his feet. ‘Such blasphemy against our own clan. They dare speak ill of—’
Azra stamps on his foot. ‘Don’t start a scene.’
‘We’ve stayed past our time.’ Yun hastens us away. But I notice Eliyaslingering. He raises his head to the dimming sky, the Simorgh constellation a white inferno against the dark vista, while around us the crowd demand another performance about ancient warriors.
‘Perhaps it’s a new era. Sometimes, I think we are still in need of heroes,’ Eliyas says grimly.
