Empire's Legacy- The Complete Trilogy

by Marian L Thorpe

  “My cousin, Pel. But don't concern yourself with it.”

  “I could ask. But, Lena, in a few days I will be riding to Casilla, to supervise the unloading and distribution of some of the food brought from the East. It is not just the cadets at Casilla: many of the women who escaped the Marai are there. Tirvan is very far north, and so it is more likely they would have tried to reach the Wall, but perhaps there will be someone at Casilla. You could come with me, and see who you could find.”

  “The Marai did not enter the city?”

  “No.”

  Maya would still be safe, then. And Valle. “Could I go?”

  “I will speak to your captain. Your cohort-leader is more than competent; they should be able to do without you for a day.”

  “One last question, Finn, and then I will tell you a little about the East. Do you have any word of a ship called Skua?”

  “Skua. Dern's ship?” I nodded. “They went north, early in the fighting. I have heard nothing since, but there is little reason I would. Communication between the Wall and here is difficult. The generals should know, though. Do you still have Casyn's confidence?”

  “To some extent, I suppose. I will ask him, if I can. Thank you, Finn. Now, what would you like to know about the East?”

  I told him about Casil, about its buildings and statues and libraries, and its wide streets and markets. I described the Empress, and the house we had stayed in, and the baths. He didn't ask about the support they had granted, or what we had given in return. Only the dregs of the beer remained in our mugs when he asked one more question.

  “And this man who is the Emperor's son? What's he like?”

  Inwardly I sighed. The questions would be inevitable. Would our relationship become an open secret among the officers? “Cillian,” I answered. “Very much like the Emperor at the same age, Turlo says, and not just in appearance. Educated beyond anything I know of in the Empire, trained in diplomacy, analytic. Very disciplined.” I added.

  “He must have been an asset, then, in whatever negotiations had to be made?”

  I shrugged. “You know I can't talk about that, Finn.”

  “I know,” he said. “Didn't hurt to ask. Shall we eat?”

  I made my way back to our room, wondering as I did how long it would be before my comings and goings from the senior officer's quarters were noticed. Birel, of course, would say nothing, and order his staff to stay quiet, but rumours would begin, regardless. I wondered if I really cared.

  Cillian had not yet returned. I made a few notes about the next day's training before I readied myself for bed, taking advantage of the privacy to look at my breasts. I couldn't see any changes, except that I thought they were slightly larger. Would he notice? If so, I'd have to think of something to explain it. I left the oil lamp burning, very low.

  I had fallen asleep almost immediately. Cillian woke me, coming in. It didn't feel late. He bent to kiss me, his lips soft, a greeting, not a question. “Did you find your friends?” he asked, as he undressed.

  “One. Others are posted elsewhere, or dead.”

  “I'm sorry.”

  “I expected it. Cillian, will you tell me what the Emperor is allowing the senior officers to know, about the agreement, and the East? I am asked, and I need to know what I can say. In the morning, or another time.”

  “In the morning. They were only told tonight, so no one else will know until tomorrow.” He slipped into bed beside me, pulling me close. He kissed my hair. “Callan and I talked, over wine, tonight. He asked me to forgive him, Lena. He said he should have realized a child was a possibility, and asked more questions, but his grief at my mother's death overwhelmed him.”

  “Did you forgive him?”

  “Yes. I had some time ago. I told him I understood how he had felt, the blankness, the surface actions taking over from a deadened mind, when he knew she was gone. That I had experienced the same, and you were still alive, just lost to me by my own actions, I thought.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He asked me to explain. I told him, clarifying that it was my last move in a game going badly, a sacrifice to ensure victory. But that even so, had I not thought it was my best chance under the circumstances to keep you safe, I would not have done it. And that he needed to understand that, if he was to judge my advice to him in the next days and weeks.”

  “I had guessed you were trying to protect me,” I murmured. “Sorley asked me how you could leave me. It was what I told him. How did Callan react?”

  “He just nodded, and then he started to tell me about my mother. Just a little: what she looked like, how tall she was. I have no memories, of course, and what I was told by my grandparents has been lost, if they told me anything.”

  “Generous of him.”

  “Yes. Käresta, I would like just to feel you beside me tonight, before I sleep.”

  I turned, nestling beside him, my back against his chest. His encircling arm dropped lower than usual, remembering to avoid my breasts, I realized. His hand rested on my belly. Can you feel your father's hand, little one? I asked silently, knowing it was a fancy. But the thought made me smile, nonetheless.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  True to his word, Finn arranged for me to accompany him to Casilla. The supply ship had moved along to coast to the city's harbour the day before; Finn's job, and nominally mine, was to supervise the unloading.

  Four soldiers rode with us, to supplement the older men resident in Casilla. Fields stretched out on either side of the road, planted to grain or vegetables, or grazed. The Marai had not come this far east, so these lands, mostly belonging to retirement villas but some to Casilla, still produced food. Elsewhere in the Empire, Finn told me, land lay barren, last year's crops rotting, animals slaughtered by the Marai.

  A cool breeze blew off the sea, but the day would be hot. I had left Casilla on a day much like this one, two years ago, after Maya had told me she no longer wanted me to live with them. The city itself would be hotter than the countryside, the stone of its buildings and streets capturing the heat, trapping it. Knowing this, I had worn only a light tunic and breeches, my secca belted to my waist, and my lieutenant's insignia pinned to my shoulder. I also carried a bow, one of the new design, and a quiver. That had been Talyn's idea. “You'll be in the saddle for quite a while,” she'd said. “It will give you an idea of what they are like, to carry.”

  We had left very early, just after sunrise, so it was not yet mid-morning when we reached the eastern gate of the city. “Do you know Casilla?” Finn had asked, as we approached.

  “Yes. I lived here for half a year, or a bit more, before I rode to the Wall.”

  “Then I don't need to give you directions. We'll be at the harbour until mid-afternoon, at least. Join us when you are ready, but you shouldn't ride back alone. If you need to leave the horse, use the army's stables on the men's side; otherwise, there will be difficulty about payment, you understand?”

  “I'll go there first,” I said. “I'll be better on foot; some of the streets are narrow, as you must know.”

  At the gate, Finn spoke to the guards for a minute before we passed through. “It's quiet,” he told me. “The supply ship is waiting for us. The patrols that ride west and north have seen no Marai, on land or sea, and the scouts report movement northward. They'll have seen the Eastern ships arrive, no doubt.”

  We rode through the streets, busier than I remembered. But Finn had said that many women had sought refuge here, behind Casilla's walls. I had thought it such a fine city, but the gate inscription was right: this was not Casil. Who had had the words chiselled onto the city wall? Casil e imitaran ne, they said: it had been Cillian, I remembered, the first night I had met him at the Ti'ach, who had confirmed their true meaning. I hadn't liked him at all, then.

  I had told him, last night, where I was going today, and why. We had been drifting into sleep, when I realized I hadn't let him know my plans: we saw each other only briefly, as little as we had in the las
t weeks in Casil, early mornings and very late. There were advantages, I had reflected: he wasn't around to notice I wasn't making anash tea, and in the dim light of the room he was unlikely to notice any changes in my body. Touching me as gently as I had requested, his hands and lips had also not discerned a difference, or nothing he had mentioned.

  I smiled at the juxtaposition of the two thoughts: the memory of last night's lovemaking, and how I had disliked him, at the Ti'ach. Choice is better than chance, the Karstian proverb said, but it was chance that had brought us together. Or had it been? Was it not a result of choices we had made? And why was I thinking of this, today?

  Because I was going to find Maya, whom I had loved once, and lost, as a consequence of choice. Cillian had listened to my plans, without comment. Only when I had finished explaining did he speak. “I will not stay to talk to Callan privately, tomorrow night,” he'd said. “Unless you would prefer to be with your friends?”

  “I will need to let Grainne know what I find,” I said, “but that can wait. We were never close friends. But Cillian, don't give up that time for me. I'll be all right.”

  We reached the army stables. I unsaddled the gelding I rode, and led him into a stall. A cadet, perhaps ten or eleven, appeared. “I'll take care of him, Lieutenant,” he said, “water, and a bit of hay, and a rubdown.”

  “Where can I put my bow?” He told me. “Do not let anyone touch it,” I warned.

  Out in the street, I stood a moment, getting my bearings. I was on the army's part of the city, divided by the Partition agreement into the woman's town, the army's harbour, and the market, common to both. How long will it take, I wondered, for those barriers to fall, once the new laws are known?

  I began to walk, through the market and along a wide street, and then into narrower ones. I had walked this route every day, to and from the fishing harbour, the months I had spent in Casil. I could do it without thought. Everyone looked so thin, I noted; not starving, but the privations of the last year had left their mark. How far would the food we brought go?

  I turned a corner. I had arrived at the Street of Weavers. I walked along the narrow, cobbled street, stopping at a green door. There had been pots of flowers, outside the door, the summer I left. Not now. I knocked.

  Maya stood in the doorway, her face slowly changing to shock. She's thin, I thought. “Lena,” she whispered. Her eyes flicked to the insignia on my shoulder. “Still a soldier, I see.”

  “Yes. I am in Casilla to help oversee a shipment of grain being unloaded at the harbour. I came to see if you were all right.”

  “We are,” she said. “Grain, you said? For us, or for the men?”

  “Both. Grain and oil. The distribution will begin tomorrow. Is Valle here?”

  “No. Ianthe takes him out, in the mornings when it is still cool. They are probably at the harbour. He is fine; he is growing. Lena, what is going to happen? Will the Marai come?”

  “Not if we can help it,” I said. “I can't tell you more, but there is hope.”

  “Hope? And what will there be, even if the Marai are defeated? Everything is gone, Lena. You do know that?” Her voice wavered. “No one kept us safe.”

  “No,” I said. “No one did; no one could. The enemy was larger than we knew. What there will be, if we prevail, will be something different, something new. Different choices, for you and Valle.”

  “I don't want something new,” she said. She never had.

  “I know. But we cannot go back. I only came to see how you were, Maya. I am needed at the harbour. Give Ianthe and Valle my greetings.”

  “Wait,” she said. “Lena, I am—glad—to know you are alive. I wonder, sometimes. Do you know where Garth is?”

  I shook my head. “No. His boat went north, months ago. If I learn, I will send word, if I can. You know Pel is here, in Casilla?”

  “Yes. I went to enquire, once. He is fine, they said, but they wouldn't let me see him. It would disrupt him, the officer told me. I suppose he was right.”

  “Probably.”

  “Your sister is here, too.”

  “What? Kira? Where?” Hope leapt. “Anyone else?”

  She shook her head. “I don't know. I didn't speak to Kira; I didn't want to know about Tirvan. I just saw her, on the street, a couple of months ago.”

  “Where?” I asked again.

  “Try the Street of Healers.”

  “Maya, thank you.” I turned to go, then turned back. “Maya, everything will change. We can't stop it. I wish I had time to tell you where I have been, and the things I have seen and learned.”

  “It's all still an adventure to you, isn't it?” she asked, her voice tired. “I hope you find Kira. Goodbye, Lena.” She shut the door.

  I tried not to run on my way to the Street of Healers. I turned into the lane, my eyes scanning the people I saw: it was busy here, women, some with children, come for consultations. I stopped a woman. “Kira, from Tirvan,” I said. “Do you know where I can find her?”

  She pointed. “There.” A tall building, the door propped open.

  “Thank you,” I called. I went in. My eyes took a minute to adjust to the darker interior. Several women sat with others, talking. They looked up as I came in. “Kira?” I asked.

  “In the stillroom,” one said. “Back there.”

  I pushed through a curtain. My sister's back was to me: she stood at a table preparing herbs. “Kira,” I said.

  She turned. “Lena!” She stood still for a moment, then rushed forward. “Oh, Lena,” she cried, throwing her arms around me. Her sobs racked her body. I held her as closely as I could. She was, I estimated, at least six months pregnant.

  When we had both stopped crying, she led me to a bench. “Sit,” she said. “I'll make tea.” While she did, I watched her. Too thin, behind the pregnancy. She was so like our mother, economical with her movements, finding the practical thing to do. She handed me the mug, and sat across from me.

  “I thought you were exiled,” she said. “I thought I would never see you again.”

  “I was pardoned,” I told her. “How are you here, Kira?”

  “The Marai man who took me came south,” she said. “I escaped. Casilla was the closest safe place.”

  “Kira—”

  She shrugged. “I was lucky, I suppose. One man, not many, as some had to—serve.” Horror washed through me. What was my experience, to theirs? Or Kira's? Once, and I had killed him. I shuddered.

  “The child is his?”

  “Of course. I will do my best to love it. There are many of us, in the same situation.”

  I groped for something to say. “Kira,” I said. “I was forced too. But only once. I can only begin to imagine what you have experienced.”

  “You were lucky, then.” She shook her head. “No. I shouldn't have said that. Once is still too many times, Lena. Lucky is not the right word. I'm sorry.”

  I gestured wordlessly. She looked at me, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Three months ago, Lena?”

  She was a midwife. “No,” I said. “In the spring.”

  “But you are pregnant.”

  “Yes. Almost three months, as you deduced.” I tried to smile. “Mother trained you well.”

  I saw the pain on her face at my mention of our mother. “Then—?”

  I put the palm of my hand on my belly. “I am lucky,” I said. “She was conceived in love, Kira.”

  Her face changed. “So soon after you were raped?” I nodded. She studied me. “You are so strong, Lena. You always were. Did he know what happened to you?”

  “Yes. He helped me heal, and he helps keep the darkness, the dreams, at bay. As I said, I am lucky.”

  She smiled. “You are still together, then? Does he know about the child?”

  “Yes, and not yet. Mother always said not to tell, until three months had passed. Just after the next full moon.”

  She nodded. “My advice too.”

  “Kira, a question?” I told her about diluting the anash. She shru
gged.

  “Most likely,” she said. “But you said you made it in batches, and kept it? It may lose its potency. We were always told to brew it fresh. Does it matter?”

  “Not really. Although I should explain to Cillian why it didn't work.”

  “Cillian. That's a northern name.” She furrowed her brow. “Why is it familiar?”

  “He's Linrathan. Or was.”

  “The Linrathan man who was exiled with you?”

  “Yes. How did you know?”

  “A messenger came. Your father, Galen. He told us. Mother said she was glad he was with you. He'd saved your life once, she said. She thought you would take care of each other, in exile.”

  “We did. I wish Mother could have known,” I said, acknowledging the truth neither of us had touched on. I blinked at tears.

  “It was truly terrible, Lena,” she said. “They came at dawn. We had almost no warning. Everything we had learned about fighting...we tried, but there were too many. They killed all the older women, and the littlest children. They took the older children to a ship, and then the rest of us...” She took a deep breath. “Some of us were claimed by one man, as I said. Others were...shared. Even girls of eleven and twelve.”

  “I wish I had been there,” I said, trying to push away the pictures in my mind. But I shouldn't, I thought. This is what happened to Kira, to Tirvan. I should not shut it out.

  “No!” she said fiercely. “I am so glad you were not. You could have done nothing to change what happened. At least one of us is untouched by that violence.”

  “Grainne, too,” I said. “She is safe, and at the Eastern Fort. And Maya is here, in Casilla.”

  She nodded. “I knew Maya was here. I am glad to hear about Grainne. She is a soldier, then?”

  “Yes. Under my command, it turns out. I lead a horseguard cohort.” I hesitated. I should not speak, but this was my sister. “You can tell no one this, and especially not the details,” I told her. “We brought reinforcements, Kira, from a distant land. A thousand men, and ten ships. The Emperor is planning their deployment as we speak. We can take our land back, and we will, soon.”