An Elegy of Heroes

by K. S. Villoso

  “I’m not arguing, Sume,” he said.

  “But—”

  The baby cried. Kefier paused in the middle of the street, scratched his head again, and returned so he could take her. Kirosha responded better to him than her own mother and went back to sleep as soon as he rocked her. The expression on Sume’s face changed, but whatever it was on her mind this time, she didn’t say it out loud. She touched his arm before going ahead. Their new lodging was only a few steps away.

  He turned away, humming.

  One evening, in bed,

  I heard the whistle of a blue sparrow

  I had a feeling, it was a dream…

  Midday in Shirrokaru was as hot as it had been in Gaspar. Sang Narani’s idea of staying in with Dai to nap with the window open was starting to sound like the wiser choice with every passing second. But Sume was already at the third inn in the neighbourhood, waiting for the innkeeper’s son to return to her with news of a man who may or may not be Ichi rok Sagar, and so she bore the brunt of the weather, occasionally touching Kirosha’s face to ensure she wasn’t overheating from her bundles.

  Sweat dotted her back. A kindly patron, noticing the baby, offered her a seat. She smiled, declining; she had decided days ago that even though her thighs and back felt like they had gone under a hundred horses, she needed to move. Having the baby inside of her had sapped so much of her strength, and it embarrassed her to see people almost tripping over themselves so they could offer her aid. Their landlord had lent her the carry-sling she had used for her own daughter. It was cut from a length of cloth that was the same red and white leaf-pattern as the blankets and curtains, but it did the trick.

  Kirosha’s eyes fluttered. She pressed her hands under the infant’s bottom, holding her closer to her breast. “Don’t cry now, love,” she murmured, and she rocked her the way she’d seen Kefier do. “Papa’s gone to find work, but we’ll be home soon, and he’ll be there.”

  The baby settled, returning to her blissful sleep, but Sume’s arms felt leaden. Hearing her own words unsettled her. Was she still thinking of Enosh? Of course I am. It’s not even two weeks since I’ve had his baby. I wonder…

  She tried to shut her thoughts, but they slid through like water between her fingers. Was Enosh alive? Why hadn’t he written back after all this time? Why did the Aina’s Breath sail away days after she’d arrived in Aret-ni, even after she’d made her presence known to the captain? What woman was he sleeping with now? A touch of irritation crept up her forehead at that last thought. Yes, of course he would be sleeping with other women. He was that kind of man, even before she’d met him. They were together for such a short amount of time; he probably didn’t consider her anything more than a passing fancy.

  But even with those thoughts, a part of her couldn’t quite believe it. Instead, it made her think back to the way Enosh’s brows shot up when he laughed or the way he would unexpectedly take her hand, his fingers weaving through hers, and touch it to his lips. They had spent a little over a month in Kalthekar, and in those nights, he had done nothing to make her think that she meant less to him than a roadside whore.

  Maybe he was dead. A sick feeling overcame her. If he was, it made no difference. She saw that Kirosha had awakened again, but wasn’t crying. She rubbed her thumb over the baby’s forehead. She looked like her father.

  “I’m sorry, little one,” she murmured. “I’ve not been kind to you these long months, haven’t I?”

  She blinked, tiny fists curled up from under the blanket.

  “I thought I’d heard that name before,” the innkeeper’s son said, returning. He peered down to grin at the baby. “My friend’s father knew him from way back. Ichi rok Sagar—not a common name around these parts. That’s a Xiaro name right there.”

  “I thought as much,” she said. “Where is he now?”

  The young man shrugged. “He lived here a while, but that was a long time ago. My friend’s father told me he took the boat to the other side of the lake and never returned.”

  Her face fell. “He’s dead, you mean?”

  “What? Oh, no! Heavens, that’s not what I meant at all. You know little about Shirrokaru, do you?”

  “I’ve not been here a week.”

  “Ah, that explains your accent. Well, where we’re standing right now, we’re in the south side—the residential side of the city, the commoner’s grounds. Take the boats up north and you’ll be heading for the palace, the old dragon-halls, the royals’ mansions, temples, and all of the Ikessar clan’s holdings. The soldiers’ garrison is up there, too. And the dungeons.” His lips tightened as soon as he said the last part.

  She caught his expression. “He’s locked up?”

  “He was caught conversing with spirits. They won’t let you visit him, not even if you were his long-lost daughter. Crimes like that—” He made a sign, to avert danger.

  Sume swore. The young man looked at her, amused. “You should stay, have some melon tea. It’s hot out there.”

  “I have to cross the lake,” she mumbled.

  “With the baby? I don’t think that’s a wise idea.”

  “I’m not going to swim across it.”

  “It’s hard enough to visit someone up there if he so much as stole a loaf of bread from the market. Maybe write to the garrison. That’s if he’s still alive. Sometimes they die up there, and they tell no one.”

  “Thank you for your help, anyway.” She tightened the cloth around her hips and stepped out onto the street. Heat drummed across her eyelids and she swore a second time, regretting her decision not to accept the offer to stay for tea. Almost as if the gods considered her plea, lightning flashed across the sky and it began to rain.

  Chapter Eight

  Sume’s sandals stirred whorls in the mud as she walked through the empty streets. The smell of wet earth steamed from crevices in the ground as small streams ran through the ditches. The dry heat was gone, replaced by a thick, damp air that made it hard to breathe.

  The baby did not seem to mind. Sume had made a nest around her inside the sling, and she seemed relieved that the heat was gone. Sume hoped that her cloths held, because she wasn’t sure how she would change her in weather like this. She glanced up, one arm draped protectively over the infant’s head, and saw a single boat drifting to shore.

  Up until then, she hadn’t been sure what she was going to do. The small pools of wet soil around her feet and the sight of the boatman throwing a rope around the piers decided for her.

  “An aekich to get across,” the boatman told her.

  She fiddled around for her purse and placed the coin in the middle of his palm.

  He squinted at her, water dripping from the fringes of his hair and the triangle of beard over his chin. “Where to?”

  “The garrison.”

  The man looked amused, but he said nothing, and offered his arm to steady her as she boarded the boat. A piece of canvas strung across the boat protected them from the worst of the rain. They waited several minutes, and when it looked like no one else wanted a passage, he tugged at the oars and rowed them back across.

  The small boat felt like it was floating in a blanket of mist. Sume could still make out the silhouette of the surrounding towers. They were so tall that they stuck out above the white haze, appearing as if they were floating above clouds.

  “You’re new to the city then?” the boatman asked, noticing her gaze.

  “I feel like that information is tattooed on my forehead.”

  They reached one of the northern docks. The man helped her off the boat, and then, still looking strangely at her, said, “I should tell you. The soldiers aren’t very charitable lately.”

  Her face reddened. “That’s not what I’m here for!”

  “That’s not what I meant. I’m just saying—they’re on the edge. What with the needless attacks from Gaspar on the borders…”

  “Those are still happening?”

  “Just be careful. Don’t want to run across your body
floating around here one of these days.” He glanced around before pushing one oar against the dock to return to the lake.

  She adjusted the sling and walked to the nearest building. The worst of the rain was gone, but the uphill slope, the mud, and the heavy bundle required more effort than she was prepared for. By the time she entered the guard-house, her legs were burning. A soldier noticed her arrival and ushered her to a bench.

  An official—not a soldier, if his tunic and long hair was anything to go by—approached her. “I’m looking for a prisoner,” she told him.

  The official stroked his beard. They favoured long beards in Shirrokaru. “Is this a civilian prisoner? I can make the proper inquiries for you.”

  “I don’t know. Ichi rok Sagar. That’s his name.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.” Nobody else bothered her, and she took the time to remove Kirosha from the sling, change her cloths, and feed her. Spending time with the soldiers at Oren-yaro had made her impervious to feeding the infant around men, and she learned that they tended to be more embarrassed about it than she was.

  The official returned just as Kirosha was drifted back to sleep. He was holding several pieces of paper. “We have a problem.”

  He looked at her, then at the documents, then back at her again. “There is no prisoner here by that name.”

  “I was told—”

  “The sky is clearing. Better head on home before it rains again.”

  “Our lodging is very far from here, Anong. Is there nothing you can do for us?”

  The official didn’t look at her as he opened the door. “This is the best I can do for you. Additional requests need to be directed to a superior, and—”

  He looked at the child in her arms. “Go home,” he added, almost kindly.

  He was so polite that before she could protest, she found herself being escorted back to the street. The rain was nearly gone now, and she wondered about the sudden shower that had led her here. A woman passed by, carrying two baskets strung between a pole. “Dumplings?” she asked, glancing in Sume’s direction.

  “Oh, no, thank you,” Sume murmured. She needed her last coin to get back across. Thinking about that made her realize that she couldn’t turn back now, not when they had gone so far.

  The woman shrugged, shouldered her bundles, and started to walk.

  Sume ran after her. “Sang, you work here often, don’t you?”

  “The soldiers like my dumplings. Fermented beans, pork, and duck, seasoned with garlic. I also got fried pastries, and fried boiled eggs, dipped in coloured flour.”

  “Those sound lovely. Tell me, do you know where they keep the prisoners?”

  “The dungeon block? Why, I’m headed there right now. You could come with me if you want. Are you visiting someone? Your baby’s father, I’m guessing?”

  “No. We just arrived in the city two days ago, and this one’s father is looking for work somewhere in the southern district.” The lie came easier now after weeks of saying it. “I’m here for a friend. The man in the guardhouse said he wasn’t here.”

  “Sometimes they say that. They don’t always allow visitors in. But you can ask the soldiers when we get there. Just don’t make trouble for me—I have to come back here tomorrow.”

  “I understand completely.” To show she meant it, she fell back before they reached sight of the guard-towers marking the dungeons, so that the soldiers wouldn’t see them together. The woman disappeared around the corner. She glanced back for a moment, wistfully missing the scent of the dumplings, and then approached a guard with her request.

  The guard didn’t say a word. He held out his hand, ordering her to stay where she was, and disappeared behind the gate. She stood there a long time, and at some point, she realized that they must’ve just been waiting for her to give up and go away. She sighed, leaning against the wall for support, and decided she wasn’t going anywhere.

  Kirosha didn’t have such convictions. Sume’s standing still had robbed her of the comfortable sway inside the swing that helped her nap so deeply and she awakened with a vengeance. A guard stepped out once to inform Sume that she needed to silence her squalling infant, but she merely repeated her request, and that she’d been told to wait. The guard scratched his head before going back in, but that didn’t stop Kirosha. She began to wail. More guards appeared, but no one had the gall to remove her or the infant.

  Time seemed to stop for Sume. She was genuinely trying to calm the infant down, but she wasn’t sure anymore what she wanted—she’d been fed, she was dry, and she just had a nap. A voice in the back of her head wondered at this life she had chosen for herself, and she was just about to retort back that she hadn’t, not at all…she just wasn’t thinking at the time…when she realized that someone was coming up behind her.

  She whirled around, preparing to defend her daughter if need be…she’s inconvenient, but she’s mine, and saw a young man standing there, his hands held high. He was not a soldier, if his blue silk tunic was anything to go by. There were silver dragons embroidered around the collar of his jacket.

  “I see my men need to be better trained in propriety,” he said, glancing at the guardsmen and the soldiers who had gathered around the gates. “I heard the commotion from all the way in my office and just had to see. Have you all nothing better to do on a fine afternoon such as this? Do I not give you enough work? Please get back to your stations.”

  They scattered like a flock of pigeons. Only one guard remained, and he approached the young man with a leather-bound book in his hand.

  “She wanted to see a prisoner,” he explained, a little nervously. He glanced at Sume before offering the book to the young man. “If you would look here.”

  The young man rubbed his chin. He was smooth-shaven, and if not for his height would’ve looked like he didn’t need to shave at all. There were only two faint lines of stubble on his upper lip, shaped a little like cat’s whiskers.

  “I see,” he said after a few moments. He dismissed the guard and turned to Sume. “This man, Ichi rok Sagar, is a friend of yours?”

  “No,” she said. “But his mother is. She hasn’t seen him in a long time.”

  “Understandable. The crimes he’s committed—”

  “Is it not possible to see him? It’s very important.”

  The young man looked thoughtful for a moment before shrugging. “I guess I can abuse my position once in a while. Please open the gates for us,” he added, addressing the guards.

  They didn’t even hesitate—they tugged at the ropes and the gates swung inwards. As they walked, the guards assembled in two lines, and bowed as the young man passed. A soldier with a more elaborate helmet approached them, his hands pressed together in front of him as he bowed. “Where would you like to go, Your Highness?”

  Sume resisted the urge to turn to the young man in shock.

  “The lower dungeons. But maybe a glass of water first for the young lady here. And some fresh sandals.”

  The soldier bowed again before scampering off.

  “May I have the honour of knowing your name?” the young man asked.

  She dropped her head once. “Sume alon gar Kaggawa.”

  “A merchant’s name? Jin-Sayeng’s prosperity lies with people like you. And the little one?”

  “Her name is Kirosha.”

  “A lovely name. Pleased to meet you, Sume. I am Rysaran aren dar Ikessar.”

  Head of the Ikessar clan, Lord of Shirrokaru and all of Jin-Sayeng. The Dragonlord. He didn’t say those words, but it was difficult not to think them. She bowed again and tried to pretend it was not strange at all to see the long-lost prince in the middle of her excursion, nor watch as he offered her a cup of water, freshly drawn from the well, for her benefit.

  As Rysaran led her through the dimly lit halls of the dungeons, Sume wracked her brains to recall what little she knew of the prince. He was not much older than her—twenty or twenty-one this year, if she wasn’t mistaken. His father had died a year after
Jin-Sayeng opened trade with the Kag. He was a young boy when the Dragonthrone was passed to him.

  But though the commoners began calling him King Rysaran, he was never officially crowned. He disappeared less than a year later, though this was never confirmed. Shirrokaru maintained that the prince remained in the palace. But it was the regent, the prince’s cousin Ryabei, who showed up in public events, and it was Ryabei who attended meetings and kissed babies and blessed horse races and cockfights. Rumors spread of plots to steal the Dragonthrone by the warlords, and that Prince Rysaran, poor boy, was long dead.

  Sume could remember news of an uprising once, several years ago (she remembered because it was the first time in a long time that her father expressed interest in anything since he’d began drinking). There had been a spring festival, and the prince was supposed to be there to light the bonfire that ended the night’s celebrations. But when it was Ryabei who appeared, the crowd began to argue and press against the soldiers. At some point, someone (a soldier or a citizen—nobody could agree who) drew a knife. Several hundred dead bodies lay in Shirrokaru’s streets before dawn arrived.

  Rysaran showed up, then. But not immediately. He handed out money to the families of the deceased and headed a prayer for them over the summer and winter festivals. And then he disappeared again, but by that point people had other problems to worry about, like the Kags demanding lower prices for their paper, and the sudden outcrop of wasting disease on the rice fields to the east. Real problems, or so the people liked to say, shaking their heads at the thought of that senseless, bloody day.

  As for Rysaran, he was seen more often, though the pattern would be that you could never tell if it was him or Ryabei standing behind that guarded, screened platform. The boy himself was said to be a little eccentric—a cheerful, unassuming lad, tall for his age but not impressive otherwise. He resembled his sisters, all of whom had been sent to serve the temples in the mountains east of Shirrokaru. Also, he limped slightly: the aftereffects of a disease he had acquired as a toddler.