The Azimar Archives Book One- The Book of Death

Hasani

"Hasani, I have heard this drivel countless times. Why continue to pester me with this nonsense?" Mothlenor's gaze was hard, his hawkish eyes focused on Hasani. Across the narrow table, Hasani could hear Ferrand let out a small snort, as if he too agreed that their continued council meetings were a waste of time.

"I'm sorry, my Lord, but these issues persist, and with no effective way to address them found yet—"

"The issues will continue to persist," Mothlenor said, steepling his hands together and leaning back in his chair. "And that is fine."

Hasani hesitated, for a moment unable to speak. Finally, he managed a numb mutter. "You can't be serious."

"I am."

"But there are hundreds of people out in the city, starving and growing sick." Hasani could hear his voice growing louder and insistent, and he struggled to keep his frustration from coloring his words. "The farmers have all abandoned their fields, choosing to go south or west rather than stay here. There is almost no food to be found, and what little does come through your closed gates is immediately hoarded within the castle walls." Hasani stood, pressing the palms of both hands against the smooth wood of the table. He stared at his splayed fingers, struggling to keep his hands from balling into fists. Ajax showed his fists, and look where he is now.

Hasani took a steadying breath. "You refuse to help your own people, my Lord, and then demand money from them to finance an army they will die before seeing, in order to fight a war your brother swore was not coming. It is not justified. They are your people. End this madness."

Mothlenor's face was unreadable. Hasani found himself once more annoyed at Mothlenor's ability to simply hide his thoughts and emotions behind a blank mask. Mothlenor's gaze rolled from Hasani to Ferrand, who continued to sit motionless and silent, before settling once more on Hasani. "An impassioned plea. I'm impressed, Hasani. Rarely do you do more than sit and squirm when given unpleasant news." He hesitated, and Hasani hoped for half a heartbeat that Mothlenor might change his mind about keeping the gates closed.

"But you cannot sway me, Hasani." His fingers drummed together, the only movement he made. "The gates will remain closed. We will continue tax collection."

"My Lord!" Hasani shouted.

"Have you or your wife gone hungry?" Mothlenor asked, a hint of anger in his voice.

After a moment's hesitation, Hasani answered quietly, "No."

"What about your foolish brother? Is he starving? Is he destitute?"

"No."

"Then calm yourself by knowing that those of us within the castle will not bear the same hardships as those in the city. We will stay strong, Hasani. For the rest of Etritia." Mothlenor's voice grew stern again. "Now sit down."

Hasani did as he was told, falling silently back into his chair. Another effort wasted. He thought briefly of Ajax, and of the task they had spent the last two weeks preparing for. I hope you are doing better than I am, brother.

"Now," Mothlenor began again, directing his attention to Ferrand, "you have news on the Coven's whereabouts?"

Hasani straightened in his chair. "The Coven?"

"Yes, my Lord," Ferrand answered, ignoring Hasani. "Thanks to your assistance, my men were able to track the witch Nevara and her maid to an abandoned cabin on the edge of the Felgar woods, to the northwest." Ferrand leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "They watched the house for a few days, but after seeing no sign of the Coven women, they broke into the home, where they found a hidden passageway beneath an old rug. They followed it for some time before turning back." Ferrand's eyes flicked to Hasani's, and Hasani tried his hardest to hide the panic that had gripped him. "The direction the passageway leads seems to indicate that the Coven is hidden somewhere in the Northern Mountains. Or perhaps even beyond them."

"When did we decide to hunt down out the Coven? I don't recall such a decision," Hasani asked, managing to keep his voice steady.

"Do you disagree with the decision, Hasani?" Mothlenor's voice was quiet, but Hasani could hear the anger simmering just beneath his level tone.

"N-no, of course not, my Lord," Hasani stammered. "I only wondered when the decision had been made, and why I was not informed sooner."

Mothlenor sighed, drumming his fingers together again. "The decision was a quick one, Hasani. We did not have time for your whimpering and silly questions. I gave the order for Nevara and the girl with her to be followed, and Commander Ferrand saw to it that my wishes were carried out."

"And now that the Coven has been found..." Hasani began, his throat working, "...what will become of them?"

Mothlenor nodded to Ferrand, who sneered across the table at Hasani and answered quietly, "The same that happens to all who have wronged the throne." Ferrand's eyes glinted. "They will be brought to the castle and hung. Or perhaps burned. Or have an axe taken to their necks."

"And you, Hasani," Mothlenor said, drawing Hasani's gaze away from the smirking Ferrand, "will go with the commander to see their capture completed."

"My Lord?" Hasani choked out. "Why?"

Because it will be easier to kill me, that's why, Hasani thought. That can be the only reason to send a troublesome adviser out into the wilderness.

"Because your king demands it."