“Yes, I see.”
“Throughout history, in the other nations, many queens have kept lovers on the—”
“Namra?”
“Yes?”
“You can stop now.”
“Gladly.”
I heard something click outside the window. I placed the jug of wine on the floor and went up to the single candle I’d left on the sill. I removed it and pushed the shutters open. Anya heaved herself in, clothes soaked in rain. She looked exhausted.
“Some signal you have there,” she grumbled.
”Something you’re not telling us, Anya?”
She placed my father’s sword in my hands. I felt a surge of relief, one that lasted all but a few moments. “The bandits know you’re here,” she said.
“They won’t attack a temple. These bandits rely on the goodwill of the common folk. The moment they start attacking temples, it’s their loss.”
She shook her head. “No. You don’t understand. They’re not even worried. When I tried to steal your sword back… Deng caught me. He let me have it. And then he said that you’re exactly where they needed you to be. He said it was time you met their leader, someone by the name of Peneira. That’s why they haven’t come for you. Not because they’re scared of holy disciples. They meant to take you here after all.”
“Never give the enemy what it wants,” Namra said, reaching under the bed for our shoes. “We have to leave now. Open up the window.”
I stared at the scabbard in my hand.
“Tali,” Namra began.
I turned to her. “Why would they want me here?”
“It doesn’t matter. It’s not—”
We heard footsteps outside. Anya melted into the shadows and I dropped a blanket over my father’s sword, though I kept my hand on the hilt. The door opened, revealing the head priest. He was holding a candle in one hand. “Liosa?” he called. He turned, startled at the sight of me. “Oh! For a moment there I thought… but never mind. I didn’t realize you were still awake. I’m just here to fetch Liosa.”
“It’s too early in the morning, Father.”
“She has a visitor,” he said. He drifted to the side of the woman’s bed and carefully shook her. “Liosa? Your mother’s here.”
“Her mother?” I asked.
“Yes,” the priest replied. “Ah, she’s awake! Come on, my dear.” He held out his hand. Liosa, eyes still barely open, took it. The old man gently led her out to the hall.
“You can go back to sleep,” he told me, turning back. “Old Peneira often stays for several hours. Liosa is her daughter, you know. The temple is the safest place for someone as fragile as the poor girl. And after what Warlord Yeshin did to them—”
“I’m sorry,” I broke in. “What about what Warlord Yeshin did?”
“They were both his wives. The mother first, and then the daughter. A great blasphemy. A tragedy.” He turned, the shadows dancing with the candlelight.
I stood there, ears ringing, fingers still grasping the sword handle, the etched sea serpent. A moment, stretched on forever.
Eventually I turned to Namra, whose face was completely white. I wondered what mine looked like. Everything was folding together in a sea of haze. The information was there, but I didn’t know what to do with it. Liosa, the woman I was just reading stories with. The woman who nearly ripped my son from my arms. Liosa, Warlord Yeshin’s wife. My mother.
No. No. My mother was dead. My mother, whose name I didn’t know, because her death upset Yeshin so much that—
No. That wasn’t it. He talked about my brothers more than her. It was my brothers’ death that brought him pain, my brothers that he loathed talking about. My mother was a blank page in my life. I never even knew her name. But he said it didn’t matter because she was dead. Was that really what he meant? You should have stopped being surprised by your father’s lies by now.
I felt Namra’s hand on my arm. “Breathe,” she said.
I took one breath, tears stinging my eyes. It felt like there were shards of glass running through my veins.
You and I, we are enough.
Gods, I thought. Gods. We should’ve been.
CHAPTER THREE
THE SWORD
In those five years Rayyel was gone from our lives, Thanh yearned for his father with a child’s fervour. He would sometimes wake up in the middle of the night and speak of a nightmare, of seeing the father he had no memory of dying somewhere cold and alone. “I want him home, Mother. He’ll be safe with us, won’t he?” His face wet with tears, he would curl up beside me, whispering, “I want my father. I want my father,” like a refrain. A prayer.
I never longed for my mother the same way. Hard to believe, perhaps. I thought about her often enough, had questioned her existence the way one wondered why the sky was blue. “Because the god spilled his tears across the sky,” Yeshin said. “And you don’t need a mother, child. You have me.”
The rain poured like the world was ending the night I learned she was alive after all. Alive, and unaware. I almost envied her. I sat on the edge of the bed, turning this new knowledge in my mind until all the emotion had been drained from my body. As the pleasant numbness began, I got up, my father’s sword in hand.
“Tali…” Namra said. “Nothing has changed.”
“We can leave now and pretend this never happened,” Anya added. “My mother was the kind of whore you could buy with a rean and a packet of pipeweed, and look how I turned out.”
“I don’t think—”
“Yes, I heard it, too.” Anya sighed and rubbed her forehead. “Let’s start again. It doesn’t matter. Didn’t you hear the priest? Peneira. That’s the name of their leader. The bandit leader and Liosa’s mother are the same person.”
“Tali,” Namra repeated. “They could be lying. She’s right. This is a distraction. You have other worries.”
I understood what she was saying, but I walked out of the door without a word. What other choice did I have? The bandits knew I was there. Likely this Peneira had ordered her men to surround the hill. Escape down a watched path would be pointless. And anyway, I wanted to see my mother.
I walked down the shadows of the narrow staircase and entered the main hall of the temple. It was still dark outside, and the only light came from the alcove, where a few candles had been lit. Liosa was on the steps, her head on an old woman’s lap.
She looked nothing like me. Beautiful was the first word that came to my mind. Maybe it had something to do with the shadows and how they softened her madness. Her dark hair framed her face with curls, and I saw a woman who could turn heads even as she was, who could render men speechless in their tracks. In contrast, the old woman stroked her hair gently, smoothing it over her cheeks like she was still a child. I felt like an intruder coming across a memory, one that had nothing to do with me. I had grown up thinking both had long ceased to exist in my world; but in truth, I was the ghost. I was the outsider. I was the one who didn’t belong.
The sound of my footsteps broke the image.
“There she is,” Peneira said without turning towards me. “The demonspawn herself, that vile waste of air. Won’t you pay your respects, child?”
I drew closer, my hand on the hilt of my father’s sword.
She knew the movement, even if she wasn’t looking directly at it. “You would threaten your own grandmother. I shouldn’t be surprised.”
“Grandmother,” I repeated. “You’ve been alive all this time.” Why have you never come for me? But I didn’t say it out loud. Ryia didn’t come for her own grandson, either. In our world, pride meant more than love.
“I have little choice on the matter,” Peneira replied. “Given the chance, I would’ve drowned you in a barrel the moment you were born.”
I tightened my grip around the sword handle and took another step. I didn’t know if I was really going to attack her. I couldn’t take my eyes off Liosa, over how serene she looked. If moonlight broke through the windows, I was sure it w
ould shine only on her.
I heard a sound beside me and I managed to draw the sword in time to meet Deng’s swinging blade. I didn’t know when he’d walked in. “Not here!” he called. “Not in the temple. Your whole family has blasphemed enough.”
“I’ve blasphemed?” I asked. “You’re the one who sent me my own son’s finger. Where is he? Is he still alive?”
“That would be a sight to see,” Peneira called from the altar. “An apt revenge.”
“I’ve done nothing to you, old woman!” I snapped. “Where is my son?”
“He’s not here,” Deng said. “I told you. Cooperate, and we’ll tell you.”
“See, something now tells me you’re lying.” I met the blows, even with the weight of my father’s sword dragging me down like a ball and chain. From the corner of my eyes, I saw the rest of their men closing in from every entrance. They approached, shadows dancing in the darkness.
“Stop fighting, Queen Talyien.” He smiled. “I know it’s too much to ask from Yeshin’s child.”
“It is,” I agreed. I turned and lunged for Liosa.
I wouldn’t really have hurt her or the old woman, but Peneira had no way of knowing that. She threw herself at me, hoping she could shield Liosa from my assault. But instead of striking her, I simply ducked out of the way and grabbed Liosa by the arm. Even in her panic, she recognized me and allowed me to lead her from the altar. I picked out Namra’s voice calling for me from the adjoining hall. She held her staff across her body. She was in the middle of casting a spell; a blue glow hovered over her fingertips.
Liosa and I made it past her just before Deng could reach us. Namra slammed the door shut, striking the wood with both her palms. The glow left her body, streaming down into the door cracks. “That should hold them for the time being,” Namra said. From the other side, Deng struck the door with his sword, screaming for his men to do the same.
“Maybe she knows how to get out of here?” Anya asked. She nodded towards Liosa, who was staring at us. The fear was growing in her eyes.
“Anya’s right,” Namra said. “She knows this temple. Could you please… ask her to help us?”
My mouth turned dry. “Why me?” I retorted. I didn’t think I was ready to talk to her.
“I have to hold the seal. As soon as I stop, they’ll break through.”
I swore under my breath.
“Beloved Queen, please…”
“All right, all right,” I mumbled. Pushing away my misgivings, I turned to the woman who had birthed me and tried not to think about it that way. She was just a person. Only a woman I needed to ask for help. “Liosa,” I managed to croak out, “is there another way out of this temple?”
She pressed her back against the wall, lower jaw quivering. I took another hesitant step, close enough that I could look her in the eyes. “Liosa,” I repeated, trying to ignore how much effort it took just to speak calmly. “There must be a back exit.”
Liosa glanced down. She was looking at my father’s sword. I caught a glimmer of recognition on her face. I was afraid it would enrage her.
Instead, she pulled away with a brief gesture. “Come,” she said. We followed her into the darkness.
Liosa brought us to the stairs at the far end, which spiralled down into a dusty hallway fringed with cobwebs. At the very bottom, a ratty wooden door hung askew on rusty hinges. It creaked as Liosa tugged at the handle with the haphazardness of a child.
We found ourselves in a tunnel. Namra turned around to cast another spell. “It’s too dark,” Anya said, tugging at her shirt collar. “And hot. Does she know what she’s doing?”
Namra appeared beside us, her hand glowing. A soft blue light surrounded her. “That’s convenient,” I remarked.
“There’s a don’t-look spell on that door right now,” Namra said. “With any luck, we’ll have more time while they search for us.”
We continued down the tunnel, Liosa ambling awkwardly ahead. “She remembers my father’s sword,” I whispered to Namra. “I saw it in her eyes. She… she must still be inside that body somewhere. Her true self.”
“Perhaps. But there’s nothing we can do about it.”
“I know. It’s just…” I swallowed. My mother, I thought, testing the words again. They wouldn’t stick. I was Yeshin’s child. I had no mother.
The mouth of the tunnel was half-covered with a curtain of vines. It opened up to a bubbling swamp, covered in a layer of dead brush and black mud. We crossed branches and debris to get to hard ground, which sloped down to a series of stepped cliffs. Liosa remained undaunted; she started to make the climb down, seemingly knowing every root she could grasp, every ledge she could sink her feet into. I hesitated at the edge, watching her.
She reached the bottom, paused, and then turned around to look back at me. “Come,” she said again.
“She knows exactly where she’s going,” Namra said.
“We don’t have to follow her,” Anya commented. “If we go around that side…”
“The hag would’ve sent her men around the temple to look for us,” Namra replied.
“Where are you taking us?” I asked.
“Come,” Liosa repeated. “Talyien.”
My insides knotted.
We walked a long way from the bottom of the cliff and reached another temple. This one was older, smaller, half crumbling. No towers—just a building no larger than a hut, with a tiled roof overgrown with moss. Behind the fence, an old man chopped wood with a rusty cleaver. He looked up as we approached.
“Liosa…” he began.
She came running towards him, pointing at the temple up the hill. A shadow crossed the man’s face. “What happened at the temple?” he asked, turning to us.
“Deng Kedlati’s bandits,” I replied.
He spat in distaste. “Those scoundrels. And you? Who are you?”
“We’re… travellers. We were seeking shelter in the temple from the bandits, but they followed us and attacked.”
“I can’t believe they attacked the temple. The old woman must’ve gone senile at last.” The man wiped his face with a towel, setting his cleaver to the side. His eyes skipped towards the women behind me and then back again. “Who are you?” he repeated.
“Talyien,” Liosa said, laughing. “Talyien. Talyien!” But she didn’t look at me. The word was empty, meaningless to her. She skipped past the man, squeezing his arm as she went, before disappearing into the temple.
The man’s eyes were wide. “Gods,” he stammered. “I would say it can’t be, but that’s his sword you’re holding. Queen Talyien. Yes. It has to be. You have his eyes.” Before I could reply, he stepped towards me, hands folded on top of each other. He bowed. It was a Zarojo-style bow, one knee on the ground.
“I should be asking who you are.”
“No one of consequence,” the man said. “They call me Parrtha. I served Warlord Yeshin. I still do.”
“Is he—” I began, before correcting myself. No. I wasn’t going to go down that road again. The man was dead.
Parrtha saw my confusion and cleared his throat. “His memory, my queen. His last order to me was that I go to this place to watch over her and to await… the inevitable. To await the day you come at last.”
“You mean the day I came looking for her,” I said.
“So it seems.” He gestured to us, welcoming us deeper into the ruins.
I suspected it hadn’t been in use for over a century. The inside was in bad shape, as if someone had taken last-century architecture, allowed it to rot under rain and sun for several decades, and then regurgitated it onto a grassy patch. Somehow, Parrtha had made a home out of it—I spotted a cooking fire at one end and a curtained-off bedroom at the other. Liosa ventured to where the altar would’ve been, her attention drawn to the broken stained glass.
Parrtha bade us to make use of the mats near the fire, under which a small pit had been dug. A pot of stew simmered, filling the air with the scent of boiled roots and marsh cabbage. “W
ould you like some tea?” Parrtha asked.
“Anya, Namra—keep watch outside,” I said.
They bowed and drew away, leaving us alone.
“Let’s not mince words,” I continued, turning to Parrtha. “My father knew that she wasn’t dead. He knew she was like this.”
Parrtha gave a soft sigh. “A most unfortunate circumstance.”
“Unfortunate,” I repeated. “You make it sound like she went for a walk and got hit by a wagon.”
“It was an accident.”
“You’re doing it again, Parrtha. How does one accidentally grow mad?”
He hesitated, his eyes glancing briefly on my father’s sword. “It was a difficult pregnancy. Liosa was very young and didn’t always follow the midwife’s instructions.”
“Do you think I was born yesterday? Childbirth doesn’t cause madness.” When he turned his head away, I grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. “This is an agan ailment. There was another madwoman yesterday at the temple—that can’t be a coincidence. Now that I know what to look for, everywhere I look I see signs of what we once adamantly insisted could not exist in Jin-Sayeng. My father had mages in Oka Shto. Did one of them cause this?”
Parrtha was sweating. “Beloved Queen…”
“Did you?”
He swallowed.
“You’re Zarojo. I’ve been around enough Zarojo to know your accents, even if you try to hide it. You’re one of them. No—it has to be you. My father wouldn’t have inflicted this sort of punishment on just anyone. You were responsible for this.”
“That… that is correct, Queen Talyien.”
I pushed him away in disgust. “I thought so. You all treat me like an idiot. All of you who once worked for my father. I don’t understand. If you were all truly loyal to him, then why lie to me? Am I not his heir? Isn’t it your duty to tell me these things?”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Then explain. Start with what happened to Liosa.”
“Oka Shto Castle was partly built by mage-builders. We used the agan to strengthen the foundations. Warlord Yeshin wanted it to go up fast, to give the impression of power; he had no desire to rebuild the old keep, where his children died.” He nodded towards Liosa. “She married your father and lived in Oka Shto while construction was still going on. Most of the castle was already up, but there were rooms we were working on that needed… more time. I was working on one—your father’s study. I was there two days after you were born, incorporating last-minute changes to the runes…”
The Dragon of Jin-Sayeng Page 27
