Date: February 28, 1999
Place: Throne Room - Atesh-Gah - Haven
Cast: Cassius, Hepzibah, Khalid, Kiera, Rabi, Shahar, Zuhayr
Scene: Cassius presents himself to the God-King of the Varati to answer for his "war crimes," and past sins come back to haunt him while Khalid Atar decides his fate.

Throne Room - Atesh-Gah - Haven:
      This massive rectangular area seem to rise forever; white polished marble catching the light that enters through the spacious windows on either side of the room and reflecting it throughout to dispel all shadow or gloom. The walls themselves are a work of art; the top half being the aforementioned stone, broken at mid-point by a border lovingly carved into an intricate design. Housed within the near foot-wide space is a pattern of interwoven bands of gold. The bottom half of the wall is sky-blue marble shot through with graceful swirls of cloudy white, once again giving way to pale marble for the few inches nearest the floor. Sturdy seats of golden-varnished wood, covered in cushions and upholstery of shimmering royal blue, are placed in orderly fashion at the sides of the room. Those who await the God-King's attention may rest as he attends matters of state.
      Dwarfing all is the raised dais of solid marble, upon which looms the throne of the God-King. A testimony to the art and craft of the Varati people, it practically shimmers in the resplendent light of the chamber, the same satiny hues of the royal blue upholstery surrounded by a detailed filigree of gold. There are two doorways in the room; the first, at the furthest end of the hall from the throne, leads to the foyer. The second is to the left of the dais.

There is a stirring at the doorway, ripples in the pond of the court cast by the stone of Cassius' arrival. The kshatri in attendance turn, slightly, their attention captured first by the expanse of white wings. The Agni-Haidar do not move, but their own gazes harden, becoming flinty, watching the enemy enter the hallowed place where their master makes his throne.

The great double doors swing open to allow a lone figure. A winged one. Cassius Silvarius Augustin, patriarch of one of the Empyre's most eminent families and member of the Aegis, steps into the throne room of Atesh-Gah to meet the God-King. His presence is announced as his name is called thrice, and on the third, the Empyrean gives a subtle flinch, which he strives to conceal. He holds himself rigid upon entering the room. His pale blue eyes make a brief circuit over the occupants, but are finally drawn toward the figure on the throne. Drawn as if by a magnet. Swallowing back his fear and steeling himself, Cassius slowly lowers himself to one knee, and bows his head. He doesn't say a word.

Whereas the breeze that dusted Hepzibah was welcoming, pleasant, the one that now curls around Cassius is entirely the opposite. Like a snake-strike, a wind manifests directly in front of the Empyrean, slashes toward him and coils around him, threatening to lift up. Then it is gone, that wind, as soon as it happened. And Kiera's stare has evolved into a glare.

A couple of white feathers are snatched away by those winds, and they swirl around the patriarch, revealing his nervousness even if his impassive face won't. After all, Empyreans only 'shed' when they're afraid. The feathers settle onto the floor near him, and Cassius fixes his gaze there rather than on the God-King.

There is a beat, and then another, and then the herald steps forward. The staff is like the head of a serpent, whipping out with eager and cruel speed. It knocks against the back of the leg upon which Cassius rests his weight. The whisper is quiet and calm and cold. "You will prostrate yourself fully before the Divine Flame, as is proper."

"So noted." Khalid's words preempt the announcement of the herald. As the name 'Cassius Silvarius Augustin' is called out through the sacred halls of the throne room of Atesh-Gah, the God-King's own demeanor and outward appearance change notably. Black wings whip out from his body, extending fully like a bird of prey ready to take flight or pounce upon its intended victim. The entire throne is shrouded in shadow, with its solitary figure dimly outlined by the light shed from the nearby oil lamps. Fiery blue eyes stare at the Empyrean figure with obvious hate.

Kiera switches her glower then to the herald. She would have been only too delighted to help Cassius into a more prone position. With souvenirs of the lesson, as well. May fires blast this herald, that he thought of an excuse first, to whack Cassius.

Shahar remains near the throne, shrouded in silk, shrouded in shadow, shrouded in silence. The ambiance secludes her nearly as much as her position on the fringe of the oil lamps' range, and it seems to suit her fine.

Rabi stares at the figure of the Empyrean also. He seems so... mortal. His reputation had given her the impression he would be more evil in his appearance. Two heads, maybe. She shakes her head slightly and picks up a pen, dipping it in ink, and waits.

Zuhayr, in his position once more, spares the Empyrean one narrow-eyed glance, and then no more. His gaze fixes on some point, some time in space, but not on the molting man.

The herald steps back with a bow to the throne. He has done his duty: he has informed the candala of court propriety. It is now up to the Empyrean to obey, or die.

With his head bowed and his eyes locked on the ground, none can see the way Cassius' teeth clench or the stubborn gleam that enters his gaze as his balance is ruined by that striking staff. His wings unfurl to accommodate, and remain thus as the patriarch slowly lowers his forehead to the floor. Ever so slowly. His wings refuse to lie flat, and they somehow make the gesture less subservient, unfolded as they are to their full glory. With the obeisance made, Cassius lifts his head and directs his words toward the God-King, though he does not look at him. "I would prefer to face my death on my feet, if it is all the same. Amir-al."

Black lines curl along the surface of the paper, the letters tight and small and neat. Rabi listens, and the words pass through her before finding a new and static state.

The court attendants jump slightly at the suddenness of the herald's motion, unaccustomed to seeing any fast movements here in the presence of the God-King. They watch, fascinated, and a faint murmur ripples through them before it is quelled. They watch Cassius and his bow that is not entirely proper. Half of them then look to the monarch. The other half remain staring -- most openly -- at the Empyrean, as if expecting him to go up in flames at any moment.

"Your preferences mean nothing to me, candala. Always remember this. However, you may rise. I wish to gaze upon the mighty figure who has stirred nations to war and families to destruction." Khalid's words are ice, frigid and biting in their intensity. Within the folds of the shadows, the figure stirs as he continues to regard the Empyrean Deus. "I also wish to hear from your mouth those oh-so-wise words you spoke to my Pasha on that fateful day that war was decided. I am told you showed him great disrespect. Let us see what you will show me this day."

Kiera will kill him for you, boss. She will. Really. She's learned how to do that now, under your tutelage, and with the teachings of her other Teacher, who would not wish the skills of those lessons be used thusly. Or... maybe she doesn't like Cassius either. But Kiera darts a look at Khalid, almost pleading, almost the dog to the master, when awaiting the command to go fetch the fallen bird. Then she looks back to Cassius, her own expression feral. Hungry. And testament to those many lessons, that considerable practice this war has given her, Kiera's breezes remain steady, easy, but it's her wings that unconsciously unfurl, mantle -- in every line, speak aggression. Kiera will kill him for you, boss. Just say the word.

It is not until Hepzibah has reached Kiera's side that she pauses again, taking up a quiet stance beside the winged woman. The concubine remains silent as a sense of gravity falls upon her and she does not look up from the floor.

A breeze whispers about the room at Kiera's whim, and in answer Shahar unfreezes her focus on Khalid and the candala to regard the winged favorite of their god-king. And her peridot gaze narrows.

Given leave to rise, Cassius does so. Also slowly. He is an Empyrean, and unaccustomed to kneeling, and so his movements are not as spry as those used to a lifetime of subservience. The way he leans his weight heavily on one knee before rising, and the momentary unsteadiness also serve to emphasize his age. A man past his prime, with silver hair and telltale lines marring his face -- this is the one who inspired such patriotism in his people? Surely not. He looks far less impressive than the figure on the throne. Yet he draws in a breath and speaks, and in his words is some echo of the power he has; an entirely different kind from the God-King's. "I shall give you the respect you are due, Khalid Atar," he answers. "Just as I did your Pasha." He squares his shoulders. "At the time, I spoke as my conscience dictated. And my loyalty. For you see, it was my own cousin that was kidnapped by your people. I felt the need to right that wrong."

Zuhayr, solemn ebon eyes and garb of black, silver and gold, stands motionless, living proof of the rumors that the Varati are sculpture given life. The frontispiece of a sarcophagus in some ancient Earth-bound culture, he manages at once to convey steadfastness and unflinching duty. Make no mistake, though, Empyrean; if the Agni-Haidar is called upon to move or act, it will be with deadly efficiency.

Heat builds up within the crowd of noble watchers, and they shift back somewhat to distance themselves from the Atarvani among them whose anger gives birth to a distinct rise in temperature. Those mages watch Cassius with murderous intent just as intense as that of Kiera. They control themselves, however, and the air once again becomes comfortable.

Kiera senses: Cassius' eyes flash over to you, unseen by most, and there is an unconscious stiffening in his posture. He remembers you. Oh yes. That incident in the Rialto is not so easily forgotten. And there is more in his blue-eyed gaze... much more than one memory. The way he reacts -- that subtle tightening of his lips, and a flash of alarm across his gaze -- you sense that this man is disturbed by your presence on some base level.

Rabi writes Cassius' greeting, finishes up with Khalid's words, and begins with Cassius' explanation. The pace of her writing remains calm and unhurried, moving with a graceful rhythm.

"Did you? So the need to 'right a wrong,' as you would say, includes bypassing the normal political functions of diplomatic resolutions to problems between two nations? I received no letter of inquiry from you on the whereabouts of Eranthe Martina Acesian. I received no requests from the Emperor." Khalid's words are laced with his undisguised loathing for the Empyrean who stands before him. His tone has risen louder than often before in court. "Instead, my borders were invaded and my people were killed. We asked for compensation and your laugh was the loudest of laughs thrown in the face of my Pasha. Contentment could be the only word to describe your feelings on the declaration of war at that time, or so I am told. Content indeed, to use your people and my own, as tools for your vengeance and your desires of supremacy."

Between the elegance of her twin midnight-hued brows a furrow forms on Shahar's forehead in reaction to the categorized list of Cassius' crimes. And indignation swells, echoing and echoed by many within the revered confines of this throne room.

Cassius senses: Kiera's return regard twines the intense predatory nature of the Hawk with the evil that only 'human' is capable of. When your eyes meet, her narrow just slightly, promising mute reprisal for so many slights, so many wrongs that you -- Empyrean -- are representative of. Not just personal, but Kiera hates you for what an Empyrean did to her mother, and her mother's abandonment which led to her loss of sanity, and for what the Empyreans have done to the Varati, and the sorrow they have brought to Kiera's own God-King, that one being who has been as close to 'consistent' in his care of -- no for -- her, that she holds him in most loyal, highest esteem. But you, Empyrean, have wronged those two she holds dearest, and you, Cassius, have refused to acknowledge Kiera's own 'humanity,' something she clings to with a tenacity that belies her Graisha appearance.

Rabi shivers slightly as Khalid's words sink into her. But her arm is strong and sure and commits them to the paper in bold, tight, angry curls.

Heat, again. As if the collective soul of those here rise up beside that of their God in judgment against the candala who has been the cause of their pain. They may be accustomed to subservience, perhaps, but there is a hot white fire of passion and pride within them, unbowed and powerful and pure.

There is a flash of uncertainty across Cassius' expression -- he is not quite as adept at concealing his emotions here in the presence of the God-King, and the God-King's malicious-minded halfbreed with the hawk's eyes. But he rallies, and manages to resume his blank, expressionless mask. "I was led to believe that our rescue attempt was sanctioned. The Princeps himself led the party. But that aside..." he lets his gaze rise squarely to meet Khalid's. While Khalid's eyes resemble the heart of a flame, Cassius' are the cold of deepest winter. "What guarantees would we have had that my cousin would be returned safely, had we gone through the 'proper channels,' as you say? Inquiries were made, and her presence among your people was denied. Which leaves only two conclusions. Your government was lying, or they did not know of her presence within your boundaries. And so, had we waited, she might still be held prisoner within your camps." His wings give a brief shudder. "Or else suffered a far worse fate."

Lying? The arm of the ornamental sarcophagus shifts, bronzed hand curling with silent grace around the lion-headed pommel of his falcare. Lying? The Kaimakam's squared jaw sets with the telltale twitch of muscle at either side.

Another murmur rips through the crowd, an angry swell of wave that crests and fades.

Rabi writes down the words faithfully, her expression serene and distant.

Allowing all the court to hear Cassius' words, no immediate response is returned from the shrouded dais. Then a chuckle escapes the shadows and it grows into a laugh. A dark, furious, and hateful laugh. Khalid is known to be generous and kind to some, but those who are his enemies receive his full and unmitigated wrath. On this day, it appears Cassius is the victim of such fury. The laugh pours from the God-King's lips as he speaks quietly, "I have watched the Empyre and its people before mortal men knew how to record the passing of time and the events of history. And of all the creatures of this universe, I have always marveled at how reality seems to twist and unfold, to be molded and changed like clay in the hands of those such as yourself." The Lord of the Varati smiles down upon Cassius and that smile is cruel and unforgiving. "You embody all I hate and despise in the Empyre. You are a weak, old man, with dark and twisted convictions. It has poisoned your soul and corrupted your mind. You speak to me lies, lies that in your heart, you know and recognize as lies. Do you think I will not see them for what they are? Do you believe the Varati government which I rule absolutely would lie on the well-being and whereabouts of this Eranthe Martina Acesian whom I have given my ring and my protection to? Do you really expect me to believe that this is why you cajoled the Aegis into war with the Varati? Look inward, Cassius Augustin and take measure of your soul, for I have already done so and found you wanting. Climb the dais and kneel before my throne."

Focus on the words. Focus only on the words, and on making them alive on paper. That is the only mission. The rage is not aimed at you, Rabi -- do not let that tremble corrupt the forms created under the tip of your pen!

The court, it seems, collectively holds its breath.

Near Khalid but not precisely close in her attentive pose, Shahar nevertheless takes a single step backwards as the God-King's ire flashes through the chamber. Then, like a reed determined to keep its roots grounded in even in heavy gales, she reattains that motionless presence and, like all others, waits.

And now the malicious-minded halfbreed smiles. Yes, Cassius. Go. Climb the throne and bow before the God-King. See how well your beliefs serve you there, at the foot of Death, with the odor of smoke in your nostrils from the flesh the burned in the courtyard for five days. Kiera watched; she wouldn't leave her post for such an affair, and she scented the roasting meat of traitors. Soon, again... Kiera leans forward so that she shifts, so that she realizes her wings are mantled, and she draws them in, and so she notices Hepzibah beside her. Once more that brief caress of a breeze touches the Khalid's concubine, and then it is gone, and Kiera's hawk-like gaze rides the Empyrean male.

Cassius' mouth thins at these words, and the nervous working of his throat is plain to see. Who would not be frightened, to hear such a 'decree' from the God-King, the destroyer of cities? And yet... if he is to die, at least he will do so with as much dignity as he can muster. While he approaches the throne, Cassius speaks. Quietly. These are no powerful orator's tones, but a speech free of inflections meant to rouse or sway. "You seek to place the blame for centuries of enmity between my people and yours on my shoulders. But I am one man, Amir-al, and a mortal one, at that. I have not seen the things you have. I have only read our histories -- colored by the feelings of each scribe who penned them. I have been shaped by the traditions and beliefs of my culture, as we all are. And my voice was not the only one which cried out for war. Yet I do not see any other members of the Aegis present this night. I must wonder then, Amir-al... what I have done to earn your personal wrath." He has reached the dais and now he kneels, with greater ease than he did before, his wings lying flat this time. His tone, at the end, had softened so that few besides the God-King could hear.

Rabi leans forward slightly as she writes, trying hard to hear the words, so that nothing is missed in her faithful report.

Hepzibah's presence beside Kiera and in the room is like a pool of serenity in the ripples of chaos. The concubine keeps her head bowed, but she is aware of the importance of what transpires for all of her silence and lack of movement. Perhaps she chose to stand beside Kiera in hopes her quiet presence might lend the fidgety manipulator of winds a bit of peace.

Nothing. No sound from the courtiers. No movement, either, as the men and women in their rich kshatri and Atarvani clothing watch raptly.

Only the most astutely observant can see the tension that ripples through the shoulders of the God-King's nearest Agni-Haidar warriors as Cassius approaches.

Watching Cassius' approach with fiery, eager blue eyes, Khalid's wings extend higher over the throne, like twin black axes ready to descend upon the guilty. "You are a symbol, Cassius Silvarius Augustin, of those men who would rewrite history and fuel the flames of hate. You are their herald, you are their voice. You spoke for those evil men when 'peace' was to be negotiated with my Pasha. You sowed the seeds of discord on their behalf, so it is only fitting that you reap the benefits of your work, so that all may see." Studying the Empyrean's face with slitted blue eyes, the God-King murmurs, "You paint a picture of self-ignorance. Yet, you are a Deus of a powerful House and have had much success with certain factions within the Empyre. I do not believe in your ignorance; the truth was always available for you to find if you so cared to look. But before I pass sentence on you, you will answer me a question. Speak truthfully -- it is your only chance to escape my wrath alive. If I detect even the slightest of falsehoods, your death will last a month and longer." The question is spoken so very quietly, "Tell me of the entire truth of the trial of Lucian Deiepetes. And your part in it, for the tale spun to me is that you were his chief accuser."

Khalid adds after a moment, "I do not wish to know of his death. I know already a stray arrow took his life. What I wish to know is why he was on trial."

Many pairs of eyes shift to the pale face of the Empyrean nobleman, his natural pastiness making him seem, to them, all the more frightened. The court attendants listen with avid attention to the history being made here.

Still kneeling, Cassius lifts his head, and he cannot quite conceal his surprise. He had not been expecting such a question. He takes a moment to gather his thoughts before answering. "He was on trial because we... certain members of the Aegis... felt that he was too young and inexperienced to handle the duties placed upon him." He frowns. "He was chosen at a time when there were no other candidates known to us. This changed. We believed that someone more... experienced might serve as a better leader for our Empyre. Lucian Deiepetes was a boy. An idealist. He was not grounded in reality. And..." he clears his throat. "As it turns out, there was evidence which suggested..." He does not know how these words will be received, and so he pauses before plunging on, "that suggested that he played some part in the assassination of our former Emperor. Evidence passed on to us from Delphi."

Rabi pauses in her writing to look up, her amber eyes seeking out the face of the Empyrean. She studies him.

Listening to Cassius' words for awhile, Khalid finally leans forward in his throne so that his own form is barely a foot away from the Empyrean Deus. His hand extends from his side, to snap out towards Cassius' head. With surprising speed, he captures the other man's chin in his grip and forces him to gaze into his own furious blue eyes. "I have met your deceased Emperor. He was a boy. A decent boy. A boy trapped in the threads of webs spun by you and Lysander and all your foul ilk. But an assassin? Or a co-conspirator to such a plot? No, I would more readily believe you would do such a thing to the Emperor Justinius to halt his peace talks than Lucian would." His lips curve into a dark and deadly smile that never once touches his blue eyes, "And did you honestly believe this evidence? Or did you use it for your own advantage, to remove him from power?"

So intent is Kiera on the scene that her body reacts to Khalid's hand's capturing Cassius' chin into immobility; her body shudders in a started recoil that is almost as quickly halted. A few feathers peel off her wings, to join those white ones that now dance in forgotten eddies in the far reaches of the room.

Reaping the benefits of her physical position (a consequence of her political one), Shahar gives Cassius a very direct, searingly searching study. In her eyes are reflected the scales of justice upon which she balances his statements, the facts known, and the retribution due. At Khalid's most recent outburst, she stares at the Empyrean and the hand grasping his chin, but no reaction is immediately evidenced. She is paid to keep a level head.

Rabi's gaze drops and she returns to her work, careful and thorough.

The eyes of the Agni-Haidar flicker over at the motion and they, too, study the man whose countenance is captured within the divine hand. Two of them watch this; the other two return to the regular and deliberate scanning of the room and its inhabitants.

Cassius has been touched by a god, and does not find the experience pleasurable. He resists pulling away, and meets Khalid's gaze steadily. It could not be said that he gazes back at the God-King without fear. By now, his wings are trembling, and their susurration infuses the throne room with a subtle, whispering undertone. "I cannot claim..." his voice comes out in a dry rasp before he wets his lips, "...to be as well-acquainted with our boy Emperor as you were. I do not know what he was capable of. I will admit that I wanted him off the throne. He did not have the experience or ability to rule. But dead?" Cassius would shake his head, if he could escape the grip of Khalid. "No. Never."

"You evade, Cassius, and you do so artfully. You did not answer my question, for you knew its answer would be displeasing to me and a sign of your treason to your very Empyre." Shaking his head, Khalid refuses to release his hold on Cassius' chin. However, he does indeed raise his own gaze to the court. "My people, I ask of you this -- what should the fate of this Empyrean be? He who has brought us blood and hate. He who lies with his every breath. Tell me, Kiera and Shahar, tell me Rabi, tell me my court, what is his fate to be? I would hear your council. I would also hear any questions you may have for this twisted parody of humanity that fouls my skin with his very touch." Sparing the briefest of looks at the captured Empyrean, "You will answer their questions, truthfully. My hand is upon your head; I feel your blood under my fingers. Lie and I will know it. Lie and I will boil your bodily fluids until you cook like some stew prepared for the slaves."

Shahar keeps her council and, with a solitary forward step to return her to the spot from whence she started this court, tosses a glance at Kiera, then at Rabi. Ever the watchful, ever the patient, ever the cautious, she will wait to see if the others care to voice opinion.

Rabi finishes off the current sentence and sets aside the pen, straightening to think carefully, to consider the God-King's order thoughtfully. Then she carefully selects a fresh sheet of paper and begins to write in her own delicate and dancing hand.

Cassius withstands these threats while striving not to reveal the terror they bring. Sweat beads on his brow, and a droplet courses down his cheek to moisten the fingertips of the God-King. Is he so afraid because he is lying, and he knows Khalid will discover it? Or is he merely remembering the fate of Lycenae, and the countless thousands over the centuries who have met a similar fate at the hands of the God-King. Unable to turn to face his 'jury,' he can only wait in mute silence for the verdict.

As she awaits Rabi's beautifully calligraphed statements and whatever Kiera may choose as her own reaction -- expected to be neither calligraphed nor beautiful -- Shahar simply stares at Cassius with the serenity of someone not on trial regarding someone who is.

Yes, Kiera has a question. Ever since she realized the fate of Aurora, that that noble woman had her wings taken from her, Kiera has wondered at the sorts of persons who could do such a thing. And this man, Cassius, seems that sort of person. So when Khalid opens up the court for questions, Kiera steps forward. She even steps forward before she remembers that the roof lurks, only to fall upon her and only belatedly does Kiera cast a harrowing gaze upwards -- stay, roof. Then her regard is upon the Empyrean, or rather, the back of his head, and she approaches. Kiera's voice is soft, airy, an indistinct alto, but her breezes almost completely mute, to let her speak: "I would ask a question of the Empyrean, Khalid-Atar. I have heard of Empyreans who would have the wings of their own people taken. Cut off. I know of one like this. I have wondered what sort of creatures would steal the joy of flight, knowingly, from these persons, and what the crimes would be, that these persons would have that stolen from them." There's probably more questions, but that one looms largest: "I would know if this Cassius Augustin has ever had wings taken from one of his fellows. And why."

Kiera only stops when she is quite near the throne and the man before it.

Perhaps there is some anger within the slight scribe, some rage carefully hidden, for the woman takes just the little extra time to make sure that what she writes is properly beautiful, in its austere way, for the God-King's eyes. To draw out the moments of waiting for the Aegian just a little bit longer. Or perhaps it is only professional dedication to her art. At any rate, Rabi tilts her head as she moves the pen over the paper, silks rippling with the motion. She listens to Kiera, and pays attention to his words while working to complete her own question.

That airy alto draws another shudder from Cassius' wings, and perhaps he is glad that the hawk-winged halfbreed cannot see his face. He is silent for a long, agonizing moment. Agonizing to him, at least. Another droplet of perspiration slides down his temple. And finally, in a voice so dry and rasping that he has to clear his throat before he can speak, Cassius answers, "Yes. I have." No further explanation is forthcoming. He seems to realize that he could never justify his crime before the halfbreed, and so he does not try.

But that was part of the question: "Why?" comes Kiera's voice again.

Shahar reacts not at all to Cassius' answer and busies herself -- so it would seem -- in tracking that droplet of Empyrean perspiration down an equally Empyrean visage. A chess match could be the object of her regard, for all she betrays in her just-narrowed gaze.

Rabi sets aside her paper and returns to the original document, catching up the transcript with deliberate care.

Swallowing down the lump of fear that clogs his throat, Cassius speaks again. "Because my other options were to... kill her... or allow the House from which she hailed from fall into disgrace and ruin. Dark Empyreans are not accepted among my people."

As if just itching for the aged Aegian to misspeak or say some deception, Khalid's fingers tighten on Cassius' chin. In fact, the air around the Empyrean grows warmer, as if externalizing the hate held within the heart of the black-winged god and king.

But Kiera has seen them there. At least a few dark-winged Empyreans, who were not spitted at the end of spears. So... this Empyrean lies. Yes? Her gaze removes itself from the back of Cassius' head to look up at the God-King, to see if he detects this as a lie, as well, or if there is some nuance -- technicality -- that defies Kiera's intellect. And to pass the time, she asks another question, quieter still, "I have met you before, once. And you hated me then. I believe you hate me now, and now you have reason, for I have killed many Empyreans. But then... I do not know that you had reason to hate me, Cassius Augustin. My other question is this: why did you hate me, when you first saw me?" It's an academic question, really; few folks' opinions concern the graisha halfbreed.

Cassius' voice is a hoarse, grating rasp, barely audible as the words slide past his lips. "Because you... reminded me of someone." There is more there. Khalid, at least, would sense as much by noting the way Cassius' eyes lower, and the increased trembling in his wings. But the patriarch dares not speak the rest.

Timin would appreciate Cassius' position right now. Kiera, once set upon a path, does not willingly waver from it, nor is she easily distracted. She perhaps simply assumes that others are too stupid to follow the full line of logic, so that she must spell out each question, sequentially for them. And the next logical question: "Of whom?" Oh. Better add the rest, for this confused dove, "Of whom, do I remind you?"

Another soft murmur passes through the kshatri and Atarvani onlookers as comments at this latest wrinkle are traded. They fall silent again as Kiera speaks.

Shahar's eyes squint slightly as the course of the court ventures into heretofore unseen realms, but she holds her tongue and her regard of Cassius with equal ease.

Rabi glances up at Cassius again, looking at his expression as Kiera addresses him. Her pen hesitates, then continues as she looks back down.

Cassius' wings give a violent shudder at Kiera's softly-voiced question. He swallows convulsively, and more perspiration trickles down from his brow -- due to the increased heat around him, as well as the intense discomfort he's suffering at this line of questioning. But one look up at the God-King's gaze confirms that the punishment will be far more dire if he refuses to answer, or lies. And perhaps he half-believes the notion that Khalid is a god, and could pluck his very thoughts from the air. For, after wetting his lips yet again, Cassius says two words that will reveal a secret he has kept hidden for twenty-two years. "Your mother."

Rabi's eyes widen and her head jerks up, staring. She rips her attention from Cassius to Kiera.

Shahar shows no reaction. Again, that's her job. She does, however, find ample cause to look toward Kiera.

Blue eyes widen into huge fiery orbs as Khalid just stares at Cassius. Blinking for a moment, his eyes slit again as thick, black lashes veil those too expressive blue twin flames. While the God-King's right hand is held tightly around the Empyrean's jaw, his left lifts off of its perch on the armrest of the throne and is suddenly engulfed in a burst of flames. Like a living torch, fires of blue, red and orange radiate outwards from his hand and it seems for a moment as if he were about to smite the Deus with those fires.

The pen cannot be held in such proximity to a god's wrath. Rabi manages to set it down and shrinks as if to hide herself from Khalid's notice and anger. Her heart hammers in her chest and she finds herself without breath. Her lungs, scoured by the sea's saltwater as well as by the ashes of the men of Abassid, burn with pain that seems to echo the flames of the God-King's calling.

A gasp leaps up from some, and then a murmur courses through the court attendance, news racing like a brush fire from person to person.

As if life has been stolen from Kiera, she only stands for a moment, as if she still awaited the Empyrean's answer. Then eyes widening, her gaze slides back to this most hated Empyrean, and Kiera stares. One more second, and Khalid's fire seems to erupt in her veins -- the halfbreed recoils, wings flaring with an audible snap. A low hiss pulls back Kiera's lips, to show her teeth. She would say, 'You lie!' to the Empyrean, but the Khalid would determine that. And Kiera won't even look up at the God-King now. Furious, is she, and shamed. She cannot deny it, for she is a bastard. She cannot kill this man, for he is not her prisoner. So she only lowers her wings in again. And maybe it's a mercy that Kiera finally notices the God-King's flames, and fear rattles around in her brain for a moment, distracting herself from the luxury of shame to the necessity of survival. She takes several steps backwards, instinctively. Feathers burn.

Cassius' eyes squeeze shut at the flare of light to his right, and his wings draw in close to his back, desperately trying to stay clear of those flames. He manages to utter, "I didn't know... I never knew. About... her." He must mean Kiera.

Shahar has nothing to fear from Khalid and therefore holds her place unblinkingly, but below her veil, which reflects the light from Khalid's fire, her lips thin in a noticeable manner.

Hepzibah shrinks, perhaps, the tiniest bit. Even with her amethyst gaze locked firmly to a spot upon the floor a few inches before her toes, she is aware of the Amir-al's subtle shifts in mood. Unsubtle shifts in mood are even more easily discerned and her serenity is shaken with a hint of palpable fear.

"He speaks truthfully." As much as Khalid might wish to deliver that death blow upon Cassius, he does not. The flames die out as smoke winds upwards in grey trails from his fingertips. "He speaks the truth," repeats the God-King as if furious to agree with this hated foe. Black wings flap, in sheer agitation as the Varati lord maintains his grip on the Empyrean Deus.

The truth brings so much shame. To Kiera, and to her father. Cassius. Traditionally one of the most outspoken Empyreans about their superiority over the other races, he has now admitted the unthinkable. At some point in the past, Cassius coupled with a Sylvan and sired Kiera. And at long last, that shameful act has come back to haunt him. The patriarch barely registers relief when Khalid's flames are snuffed -- he's too caught up in his own self-loathing.

And so the death blow falls not upon the Empyrean, but -- Kiera feels -- onto herself. At Khalid's words, Kiera looks up at him and after another blank second, only just manages to rid herself of her expression. Nothing more. The halfbreed -- rattled to her core -- does not look again upon the Empyrean, Cassius, but instead drops her gaze and turns to head out, swift as she may without fleeing. She meets the eyes of none -- this proud woman who with her stoic unblinking stare has challenged the purebloods their superiority -- and for the first time in her life, Kiera's primaries drag the ground, trailing after her in the dust.

"You hurt all those around you. With everything you do." Those are the only words Khalid can say on this matter and they barely rise above a whisper. The court is hushed for seconds, carrying onto minutes, until finally the God-King speaks, "Whoever is next may question Cassius or state what punishment they desire of him." He lifts his head to watch Kiera's departure with sorrowful blue eyes.

Rabi's deftly penned query is passed to the herald, who gives voice to the voiceless by reading: "When you asked the Pasha whether he knew of the Empyrean woman's capture and received the reply that he did not know of such things, why did you not then explain what you knew to him and ask his assistance in bringing the culprits to justice? Or at least tell him what a warlord had done without his knowledge? Or even send an ambassador to explain that you were sending a force to retrieve her? Your warriors are fleet; the likelihood of the Pasha being able to warn the warlord of what was coming after him -- should he have been so inclined to do -- was little. And yet you said and did nothing but to ask that one question, and made no further attempts to talk. Why?"

The halfbreed does not pause in her escape, and far more chases her this time, than her claustrophobia.

Shahar listens, bides her time, composes her thoughts, even as she follows Kiera's fleetfooted retreat.

Distracted with his private shame broadcast for all to see, Cassius is slow to answer the question put forth by the herald and, indirectly, Rabi. He opens his mouth to speak, then closes it, then gives a short shake of his head, restricted by Khalid's fingers still gripping his chin. "It happened... quickly," he answers. "The Princeps had already taken steps to organize a rescue party when our response arrived. Had I the opportunity to replay my actions, I might have cautioned the Guard against such hasty action." In an undertone, he adds, "Especially considering the repercussions." Raising his voice again, he finishes, "But I was caught up with indignation and revenge. As were we all. I value family. If you want to condemn me for that, so be it. But she was my cousin." His words show a false bravado, though, for his hypocrisy is plain. He values family, and yet his own halfbreed daughter never knew him? He never made any attempt to contact her or reconcile with her upon discovering her existence?

With a bow to Khalid that, in a solitary gesture, speaks amply of her respect and adoration of her God-King, Shahar at last enunciates her words with meticulous care, couching her opinion in the comfortable upholstery of her tutored mezzo-soprano. "Blessed and beloved Amir-al, I council that we grant him his life so his knowledge will evermore be that Varati mercy allows him to draw each breath and see each sunrise. An ally shall he be, a sapling to foster this newly-forged amity between our people and, like our future queen, perhaps he should be planted with the Varati people, as an advisor on Empyrean matters. As a companion to his daughter, if, as he claims, he values family. He should breed alliance between the races as he has helped breed progeny between them and thereby serve more in his life than ever he would in his death."

The words of the Shakir do not exactly comfort Cassius, even though she advises Khalid against taking his life. A life in Atesh-Gah, subject to their God and King, was never something he had expected or desired. But... it is still a life. Cautiously, he lifts his gaze to witness what effect Shahar's words might have on his 'judge,' Khalid Atar.

"I heard your words, Shakir." Whether they have any impact on Khalid whatsoever is entirely debatable. Turning his gaze finally upon Cassius, the God-King murmurs. "You are a monster in mortal form. Your touch is just as destructive as many, but in such a subtle way." Drawing his left hand over to grab the Aegian's shoulder, his right claws through the material of his prey's toga, bearing his chest to the Varati king. Pressing his hand upon the Empyrean's breast, and digging his nails firmly into his flesh, he says softly, "On this day, I thought to hear some words that would cause me to think of you in better light. Instead, my hate for you only grows. I would tear through your skin and bone and rend your dark heart from your breast, so as to feast upon with a bloodied smile." Such venom fill the Amir-al's voice, such absolute loathing.

Hepzibah very slowly curls down to her knees and lifts her hands to her face as she shudders upon hearing the words of Khalid Atar. The sable curtain of her hair trembles as it slithers forward over her shoulders.

Cassius' breath leaves him in a hiss as his chest is bared and the God-King's nails bite into his flesh. There is so much more damage that touch could do. The patriarch is utterly rigid, awaiting it -- awaiting his punishment, for he never did expect to leave Atesh-Gah alive. He musters what little bravado he has left and says in a shaking voice, "Do it. I have spoken truthfully to you, Khalid Atar. If you wish to lay the blame for our nations' enmity toward one another at my feet, then there is nothing I can do to sway you. Once, I would have tried. I would have told you placating lies, or thrust the blame onto someone else. Lysander, or Lucian, or any number of other Aegians. It was not my decision, alone, to start this war. Yet you seek to blame me for it. Then do so. If one more scapegoat must die to end this feud, then I will go with honor. But you know the truth. You alone. Only you can know how this hatred between our kind started. I do not have immortal eyes with which to see, but you do. You wish to point the finger at us, and I admit that we are partially responsible. But it takes two sides to start a war, Khalid Atar. And more than one man or one voice."

Shahar interjects softly but with boldness not often shown, "And two sides to end one."

"You speak truthfully in this. This eternal hatred between our people are the cause of both our people. And it must end. And so I must lead my people into a new age. This new age has no place for creatures like you, for I do not believe you can ever change. You will be a note of discord in all of our efforts until the music of peace becomes the cry of war yet again." Khalid spares a brief glance at Shahar as she speaks, then nods once, before returning his attention to his victim. Tearing his fingernails deeper into Cassius' skin, until blood is shed, he says finally, "Yet, there are many who petition for your life. And your Empyre asks me to be lenient. So this is my verdict. You will become slave to those who you owe most and to those you will learn the most from. To Faisal, who embodies the living sword of the Varati. To Arslan, who owes you vengeance for insult to his honor. And to Kiera, my daughter and your own, whose debt you can never, ever, fully repay. You will be their slave. Their naraki. Until I say otherwise. You will be shared by them and do anything and everything they ask. And they may do whatever they desire to you, save kill you. Unless they gain my permission first, which I will consider. And you will remain their slave, oh-mighty-Aegian, until all three believe you have earned the right to be free again." He waits for Cassius and the court to fully comprehend all of his words, before finishing his sentence and decree.

Shahar raises her chin and inhales deeply, as though this were the first breath drawn in countless minutes, and continues watching with that rarely shaken inscrutability.

Ice-blue eyes half-close in a wince as his blood is shed, and it trickles down his chest to stain his pristine chiton. Cassius' pale wings, the exact opposite of Khalid's mighty dark ones, flutter against his back in agitation at the God-King's decree. For now, he has no words. He only bows his head to await the rest, and to hide his expression from prying eyes.

"I am still waiting for the Empyre to comply on certain matters. I am also concerned about the Empyreal officers involved in the coup against the Aegis. I do not wish their fate to be the same as that of Lucian's; they did what they thought was best in the interest of peace. So, two more provisions I add. First, if the Empyre ever desires to see you again, they will be exceedingly merciful on the officers of the Praetorian Guard involved in the coup. Second, if your government ever desires to see you again, they will hand over the members of that same Guard which attacked my Agni-Haidar and Atarvani but a week ago outside the Palladium. Those Praetorians will be handed over to either Delphi or the Varati government." Khalid draws his right hand off of Cassius' chest and raises it so that the Aegian may see his own blood on the hand of the God-King. "If either of these matters are not handled in a satisfactory manner, you will die. Slowly. You will be tortured to death in the courtyard and your screams will be heard throughout all of Haven. However, if both matters are resolved quickly, I will be inclined to shorten your sentence as a slave, considerably. This is my judgment."

"And..." Cassius' voice catches and he forces his faint words to echo more loudly. "How do you expect me to ensure any of these provisions, while I fulfill my new... role within Atesh-Gah?" He cannot make himself say the word 'slave,' just yet. His mind is still trying to absorb that fact.

"Did any of your guards come to escort you here? Did any of your family bother to see off your worthless hide?" queries Khalid. His face has become a mask of utter dispassion.

The question draws a spark of anger from Cassius, enough to make him lift his head abruptly to meet the God-King's dispassionate gaze. "My wife," he answers after a moment's hesitation in which he reins in his short-lived show of temper. "And she is still waiting. I would not... allow any others to accompany me." His mouth works before he makes one brief request. "I trust that one of your people will convey this news to my wife at the gates? I would not want her to... wait too long."

"It will be my great honor, Most High, to discuss these occurrences with the Domina Elidi," murmurs Shahar with a deep bow to her God-King, "and present your gracious and generous conditions for the clemency of this man to the Empyrean people."

Meeting Cassius' gaze with his own unyielding one, Khalid says quietly, "Indeed. I will even be generous enough to allow you a few spare moments to convey this message to her, yourself. And make your peace with her, before you undergo my sentence. Attempt to escape, however, and I will have both you and her slain. She will enter the courtyard of Atesh-Gah. You will speak to her on embassy ground in the presence of both the Atarvani and the Agni-Haidar. This little gift, I give you." Flicking a sidelong glance at Shahar, he speaks, "You will be with him, as well, Shakir."

Another deep bow, another sign of unquestionable obedience, then another session of pensive silence from the Shakir.

Cassius refuses to thank Khalid Atar -- he has just issued a sentence in which he is to act as a slave for an unspecified length of time, to the very ones he has hated most all his life. Yet he does at least bow his head in acknowledgment of this small concession. "Your generosity is... great," he remarks quietly. It is difficult to tell whether any sarcasm lurks in his tone or not. Surely Cassius would not wish to push his luck.

Shahar softly prompts Cassius, the naraki, "...Amir-al."

There is a subtle flinch from Cassius at Shahar's reminder, then he quietly adds, "Amir-al." His expression is still hidden.

Hepzibah sits back upon her heels, slowly, but it another moment before her dusky fingers lower from her face. Hesitantly, the dark, thick fringe of her lashes lifts so that she might glance upon the Atesh-Gah's newest slave for the first time.

"Good naraki. You will have much training to undergo. Shahar, I will also entrust his training to you. The ten surahs. The proper behavior of a naraki and so on. Be free with the whip. He is naraki, after all, and any may beat him if they feel the need." Khalid edges his right foot forward to Cassius and states, "You may now kiss the toe of my boot to show your gratitude for my kindness, naraki." The way this is phrased makes it blatantly obvious that this is not a request.

Shahar's fingertips touch breast, lips, forehead as she bows to Khalid, her whispered assurance following, "As you command, Amir-al, thus shall it be. A proper naraki shall this loathsome creature become."

Cassius stares down at the toe of Khalid's boot. For what seems an interminable moment, he does not move. Not even his wings, which had so often given away his fear or frustration when his face would not. Will he submit, or is his pride too strong? He has always been stubborn, this patriarch. Stern, arrogant, and implacable... will he truly be reduced to performing the tasks of the lowest of mongrel servants?

One can easily imagine these thoughts racing through the Empyrean's mind. Which will prevail, pride, or survival? Cassius' glorious white wings are the first to stir into motion. They flutter and unfold marginally as he slowly lowers his head, and, after brushing his hand against Khalid's boot to wipe away any dust or dirt, Cassius presses his lips there, briefly.

Survival has won.

Clucking his tongue in faint amusement, Khalid watches Cassius through narrowed blue eyes for a moment as the Empyrean's lips touch his boot. Then suddenly, without warning, he kicks forth with that black boot at the head of this man he so hates. No, it is not a killing blow, but it is enough to knock the poor Aegian off the dais entirely and certainly stun him.

The blow was unexpected, and Cassius is duly stunned, getting knocked off the dais to land with an unceremonious *thump* on his backside. His wings are awkwardly sprawled outward to compensate, and he shakes his head dazedly, soon to sport a nice goose-egg where Khalid kicked him. This is his first taste of the treatment he is about to receive, and it infuriates and humiliates the patriarch, but he cannot strike back.

As -- without much surprise to her at least -- Cassius comes to a halt off of the dais, Shahar queries mildly of the God-King, "Shall I have him removed and, once he has fully regained his faculties, escort him to the courtyard, then to the Pasha? It was he, after all, who was first insulted."

"Yes. Take this filthy kafir from my sight." Khalid claps his hands, but once, signifying the end of the session of court. "Though take him to Kiera first, after he is done with his wife. Oh, and make sure his wings are completely restrained before he goes anywhere. This is all. You may leave my presence, now."

With the clapping of the Amir-al's hands, Hepzibah's head bows again and she glides more than climbs to her feet. A few steps are taken toward the exit to the living quarters, but her steps are unhurried and she pauses before leaving to turn back toward the room again.

Shahar does not leave before prostrating herself, then, once she again stands, departs with a pair of guards bracing and hefting Cassius outside. Like a sack of soiled clothing.

FIN  

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