An Elegy of Heroes

by K. S. Villoso

  “Oh,” Sume said. It dawned on her. She dropped her head. “I apologize. I didn’t—Ichi never said…”

  “It was a common misconception, and a necessary one, in those days. The Ikessars have tried to uplift the old ways, but…” She scratched her cheek. “We Jinseins love our tradition. Women must be blushing ladies behind their fans and at least have the courtesy to bear strong sons. I wore my hair short and dressed as a man, and nobody asked. Ichi chose to ignore it. Never knew anyone more stubborn.”

  “And your name…”

  “Of course. Hira alon gar Sethi, at your service. I took my dead brother’s name in the years I ran with the Seven Shadows. You said you are Goro’s daughter.”

  Sume nodded.

  The woman’s wrinkled face twitched into a smile. “I see it now, the resemblance.”

  “To my father, you mean?”

  “No. Your mother. Oneira.”

  “I’ve been told I look like my father more.”

  Hira shook her head. “Not quite. The eyes—your mother had such beautiful eyes. When I first saw her...ah, but never mind that, either. I heard of her death. It must have been terrible for you to lose her at such a young age.”

  “I lived through it,” Sume said. “As best as one can.” The practiced words slid easily out of her now. They didn’t used to.

  “She wrote to me in the years before that. She loved your father, dear, but she could never quite get over the shame she brought her family. The scandal of their elopement caused a lot of grief for her aunt. I told her not to worry about it—that Jin-Sayeng is headed for something better and they would soon forget about it, but she would not listen.”

  Sume must’ve known that, at some point in her life. She had not thought about it in years. She took a deep breath. Hira, catching her silence, made a dismissive wave. “It is old news. History.” She smiled the sort of smile that deepened her well-placed wrinkles. She was not as old as her father, certainly not ancient like Sagar…she must have been very young when she ran with them. “In any case, I believe you didn’t come here to ask about your parents.”

  “No,” Sume replied. “I wasn’t exactly looking for information about the Seven Shadows, either. I learned that your family once used to trade with the villages in the northeast mountains, back in the days of the dragons. I need to travel there, but I don’t know the way. I’ve found no maps for those routes. I was told your family kept them a closely guarded secret. I was hoping you could share that information with me.”

  “Now that it isn’t of any value anymore, you mean?” Hira broke into a wide grin. “The dragons might come back. You never know. Wasn’t there one in Shirrokaru, a few years ago?”

  Sume breathed. “That was no dragon.”

  “Well, whatever it was, it did quite the damage. I suppose there is no harm...it’s not like I ever had the head for numbers. Ironic, isn’t it? I fought so hard to open trade and see the merchant caste become a reality in Jin-Sayeng, but as to actually becoming a merchant myself...pah! My father would roll in the grave to hear me speak like this.”

  “Thank you.”

  Hira shrugged as she got up. “Anything for Oneira’s daughter. Sume, was it? I remember. She used to write about you.” She walked up to some shelves along the wall and rifled through the stacks of books and scrolls while humming to herself. A while later, she gave a sound of satisfaction and pulled out a small scroll, no bigger than a pencil. She returned to Sume.

  Sume took the scroll from her and unrolled it. A faint map was drawn across it, with strange handwriting she couldn’t decipher. It took her a moment to realize that she couldn’t make sense of any of it—she could see where Fuyyu was, but the scales and the routes she knew of seemed off. She looked up and saw Hira break into a grin.

  “A closely guarded secret, like you said,” Hira said. “There was no such thing as a merchant in those days. You either sold your own goods—like the Shoho family, with their rice—or the warlords asked you to procure goods for their domain. We could work for the Orenar, Yare, Baraji, or Onni clans, among others, transporting goods like dragon leather and amber from the local villagers, many of whom never left the mountains. We were not the only ones to do this, of course. To maintain competitiveness, we all made our own routes and marked it in different ways.”

  “Would you be able to show me how to read this?”

  “Not quickly,” Hira replied. “It took my father forever to teach me.” She seemed to think about this for a few moments. Eventually, she took a deep breath. “It would be faster if I showed you the way.”

  Sume blinked. “I don’t think I could impose on you like that.”

  “Some of those trails will be overgrown with trees and bushes by now. You must rely on finding the proper markers and then cut your way through. Then there’s villages of Kibouri rebels living off the land there. Difficult to talk to them if you don’t have connections or can’t roll your r’s the right way. You’d think they would’ve stopped their wretched crusades, what with the Ikessars in power and all.”

  She glanced at Arn. “And if the boy is to be your only companion...no, I can’t let you go off alone.” Although she said this with conviction, it sounded like it was for herself, not Sume. “You won’t make it back alive.”

  “You haven’t asked what this is all for.”

  Hira rubbed the back of her neck. “An old woman like me…” she started. She looked at Sume. “I knew Ichi rok Sagar was released from prison several years ago and that he was assisting Prince Rysaran before his death. I was waiting for him to send word. He never did.”

  “He didn’t know where you were.”

  “He could’ve found me if he had wanted to.” She folded her hands on her lap. “Unlike your father, or Shuge, with his bow and arrow and perfect shot, or the others...I was only a trader’s daughter, trying to preserve her family name. Sagar knew this. I gave them contacts. Resources. Family secrets. Not long before we disbanded, he made it clear my contributions were not as necessary as I thought they were. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  “I think I do.”

  “There is nothing worse than being made to feel useless. I was only a girl back then. When Reshiro Ikessar finally secured his throne, we returned to our lives. Sagar would call on the others, on occasion, all except me. For the longest time, it coloured my view of the world.” She got up. “Whatever your cause is, Goro and Oneira’s daughter, I will assist you.” She pressed her fists together.

  “Don’t bow. I’m not an Ikessar,” Sume said. “Come with me as someone who knew my parents. As a friend.”

  “A fine offer,” Hira said. “I’ll take it. But a friendly reminder? Don’t compare yourself to those bastards. Maybe because I’m not a royal, or a fawning dog like Sagar, but they’re not better than us. They never did anything right, those Ikessars. Life right now, it’s worse than it ever was.”

  The addition of a third person did not sit well with Arn. He did not show it outright—something about Hira made him cautious, at least—but Sume could tell from the way his eyebrows knotted together that he was not pleased with the news. It came as a surprise that he said nothing at all; Enosh would’ve flown off the handle, questioning her decision, her sanity, and wondering how in the world she would explain to a self-proclaimed Ikessar-hater that they were trying to track down a prince she suspected was still alive. The prince, the Ikessar heir? She wasn’t pretty enough to pull off being an idiot.

  It soon became clear that the mere prospect of a journey excited Hira. She had not, she claimed, left Fuyyu in over a decade. Well—there was an old friend she occasionally visited out in the Sougen countryside, but she had not gone into royal territory for a long, long time.

  They bought horses instead of renting a cart. Hira claimed it was a faster way of travelling, and they needed them anyway, once they left the paved network of roads that ended in Darusu. Also, she had a low opinion of eastern horses, which she called slow, dimwitted, prancing show-ponies.
“Give me a Sougen horse anytime,” she said, tapping the shaggy coat of the beast underneath her. “They can’t run quite as fast, but they can go on for much, much longer, which is all we need.”

  It was a breath of fresh air to have a friendly face to chat with. Sume had not realized it, but it had been weeks since she left Sutan, where Sapphire had set up her base of operations. She had taken the opportunity to use Sapphire and Enosh’s absence to follow her own leads. They would have never allowed her otherwise.

  They covered plenty of ground the next day, reaching a sea-side village near Natu by evening. Hira took a deep breath, her nostrils flaring. “That’s better, isn’t it?” she exclaimed. “Not the rancid scent of rotting fish in Fuyyu. I could never abide the sea there. Let me find lodging for us.” She glanced at Arn, who muttered something under his breath before throwing her a bag of coin. She caught it mid-air and left her horse in their care.

  Arn watched her walk up the path to the village. “Why do you trust her?” he asked, when it seemed she was out of earshot.

  “Why do you care enough to keep your disdain from her?”

  “I don’t. I simply don’t like creating trouble where I don’t need to.” He caught her expression and sneered. “I know what you’re saying. I’m trying to show you I can also cooperate, so as long as I see things progressing the way I want them to. Don’t forget why we’re here and who you’re working for.”

  “I haven’t forgotten, Arn. But could you not let it go? Take a deep breath and look around you.” Sume saw his eyes flicker and realized he had just resisted the urge to do what she said. “I think you are trying to find reasons to remain angry.”

  “My only concern is to find my master’s creature, as should it be yours, if you know what’s good for your daughter.”

  “Now you threaten her. You told me yourself your master spoils her.” She looked out at the quiet sea. “Jarche wouldn’t let anything happen to her. Kefier—Kefier would die first.”

  “How convenient for you to have other people taking care of your responsibility,” Arn snorted. “Kefier isn’t even her father. How long did you have to spread your legs for him to get him to agree to your little arrangement?”

  “You’re trying to bait me,” she said. “I won’t fall for it.”

  Arn tightened his grip on the horse and looked up. His expression changed, and Sume noticed the dark shadow streaking through the clouds past them. “I get it, Arn,” Sume continued. “If you’re happy, your pet will stay away. Just remember that I didn’t promise you anything. For all you know, Enosh and Sapphire have already found Naijwa’s beast and we’re simply chasing shadows.”

  “They haven’t,” Arn said. “Enosh, in any case, hasn’t. Else we would’ve heard about it by now.”

  “Enosh promised to destroy it. If he…” Sume stopped, realizing she may have said too much. Arn’s eyes widened before he broke into laughter.

  “Destroy it? Enosh? Is that the garbage he fed you?” He slapped his knee. “Is that why you’ve been at his side all these years? Because he promised he would...that may just be the most hilarious thing I’ve heard all week. Listen—” he added, snarling. “I don’t know how to break this to you. Enosh has maintained his contacts all these years. My guess is that if he reaches the creature first, he plans to sell it to the highest bidder.”

  “He wouldn’t do that,” she said. “He knows the beast is out for his daughter’s blood. It’s been following her in her dreams, chasing her through the agan fields for the longest time.”

  Arn smiled. “A daughter he’s never met. Right. You think so highly of this man. Remember, my master raised him. Jarche raised him. Yet he betrayed them all as easy as that.” He snapped his fingers.

  Sume didn’t reply and dismounted from her horse to meet Hira, who was coming down the path. She looked disappointed. “It’s almost winter. The two inns in the village are full. A farmer offered his stable. We could try for the next village, but it’s another hour away.”

  “Let’s take the stable,” Sume said. “It’s too cold to camp out and the horses will have company, at least.”

  “Leave it to you to worry about the horses having company. Your mother was like that.” Hira breathed into her hands. “One of the inns have food, at least. Warm fish stew with onions and tomatoes, soured with tamarind, and coconut wine from Akki. Should remind you of home.”

  “I haven’t been home in a long time.” Sume tugged at her horse’s reins and followed Hira along the path. “The weather would be a lot tolerable there right now. We never get winter in Akki, do you know? I was thinking I would take my daughter, sometime.”

  Hira looked up in surprise. “You have a daughter?”

  “Yes. She’s with her father in Cael. She’s studying there.” The lie was easier to utter knowing Arn couldn’t understand their conversation.

  “Oneira would’ve liked being a grandmother. She loved being a mother, you now? Told me the day she had you, her daughter, that it felt like coming home. Whatever that meant. Your mother would say things like that. We didn’t really understand her that often—it would drive Goro crazy, trying to—but…” Hira paused, a wistful look in her eyes. “Tell me about your child.”

  They spent the entire walk back talking about Rosha. The inn was crowded when they arrived, which was not an uncommon sight on evenings for a roadside village. A sleepy-eyed server shuffled them to a corner in the bar and it took the better part of an hour before they were given their meals. But Sume couldn’t complain—the heat from the woodstove and the surrounding bodies was a welcome respite from the cold outside.

  Hira was telling her a story about the old days, one about Sagar being hounded by an amorous older woman, when they were interrupted by someone jumping on top of a table. Sume drew back, holding a cup of beer against her belly. The man was drunk, but he fended off the hands reaching out to grab him back down.

  “All of you, listen,” he growled, his beer sloshing into an arc in front of him. “L-listen to me…”

  “Go home!” somebody called out. “Herd your chickens!”

  “And your wife’s fucking another man!” Raucous laughter followed.

  The man swore. “All of you!” he hissed. “I’ve been sitting here all night, trying to work up the courage to talk…” He took a swig from his cup. “Last night, I walked into a hooded man, who told me—whispered to me—that the Ikessars will rise again.”

  The crowd fell silent.

  “Y-yes,” the man said, shaking. “The true Ikessars, not the rabble you see around the throne.”

  “Prince Rysaran died with no heir,” a man snapped. “His cousin Ryabei is not of the direct Ikessar line and his council consists of representatives from all over Jin-Sayeng. Who else would claim to be of the Ikessar clan now?”

  “His sisters,” the man on the table said.

  “Bullshit,” the other replied. “Weren’t they sent away for Rysaran’s health?”

  “No one knows where they are,” someone else quipped.

  “It doesn’t matter!” the man cried, stomping his foot on the table. “The figure, he hinted to me that the Ikessar clan is demanding that all of Jin-Sayeng bend its knee again. You know what this means? The dark times will return. The dark times…” He slumped down. A crowd gathered around him, covering him from view.

  Hira glanced at Sume. “That,” she murmured, “is an interesting turn of events.”

  “What in Agartes’ name is happening?” Arn snapped.

  “The man thinks that the chaos that gave birth to the merchant caste is returning,” Sume said in a low voice. “I was not yet born then, but I’ll try to paint you a quick picture. If you didn’t support a certain clan, you could find your family ransomed or your livelihood ruined—livestock killed, crops burned. Peace only returned because the Ikessars’ assassins killed more people and out-manipulated everyone else.”

  “Assassins,” Hira repeated. She snorted.

  Sume shrugged. “The terminology get
s muddled, depending on who you talk to. Others called them heroes. But it doesn’t change how difficult the people’s lives were in those years. Thanks to the Seven Shadows, the Ikessars were able to subdue the other clans, but the conflict took so many of its clan leaders that by the end of it all, Reshiro, Prince Rysaran’s father, was the only direct male descendant left standing. And of course, he didn’t last very long, either.”

  Arn folded his arms and leaned back, an irritated look on his face. But whatever it was on his mind, he didn’t say.

  Hira wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “This makes no sense.”

  “No,” Sume agreed. “I know for a fact that Magister Sagar has been protecting Ryabei as regent all these years. The poor man is the only thing standing between this normal life and civil war. Sagar doesn’t want any of Rysaran’s sisters to rule. He doesn’t want the other warlords to think the Dragonthrone is collapsing and start riding off to war against each other to claim it.”

  “It may be too late. Without a proper Dragonlord, it’s only a matter of time. Jin-Sayeng and its warlords,” Hira murmured. “We’ll all burn if those bastards had their way.”

  The innkeeper, a middle-aged woman with a scar along her neck, drew close to refill their cups. “I wouldn’t take that one too seriously,” she said with a smile. “He’s a well-known village idiot. Don’t think he could’ve told an Ikessar agent apart from a mangy hound.”

  “Have things been quiet here?” Hira asked.

  The innkeeper shrugged. “As quiet as it could get. A wagon carrying twenty people—twice more than they should—toppled over the roadside a few weeks ago. Lost two children and a pregnant woman. We had to hold the driver here until the guards came for him. One of the families had a spare chicken coop.”

  “Shirrokaru is stretched thin,” Sume said.

  “Isn’t it? We reported to the guards in Fuyyu as soon as it happened, but they told us they didn’t have enough men and had to wait for the Shirrokaru’s response. Well, they didn’t have anyone to spare, what with all the construction going on there right now. They made Oren-yaro send their personal soldiers.”