The Dragon of Jin-Sayeng

by K. S. Villoso

  “I honestly don’t know.”

  “You’re lying again.”

  “For once, Princess, I’m not. I’m sure I’m dead to her. And she…” He swallowed.

  Ryia’s eyes flashed. “What did she do up there, Lamang?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “There was a massive storm the night before the battle broke out. People thought they heard dragons swallowing the sky.”

  Khine smiled. “You people hear dragons everywhere.”

  “She hasn’t returned, and yet you’re here.”

  He stood there, weighing out his options. If Tali was here, she would’ve certainly advocated running straight into Ryia in the hopes of breaking her nose. He didn’t always agree with her decisions, but there were times he had to grudgingly admit they worked. They sometimes worked, so she kept doing them. Her recklessness was oddly comforting.

  He wiped sweat off his jaw. He wasn’t as foolhardy, not even close. Everything in Khine’s mind had to be weighed perfectly, every possible outcome mapped out, every decision touched on at least three times, if not more. Remote possibilities birthing more possibilities, so that you always had a way out—always. You needed that, living the life he did. He was quick because he had to be. You needed to be either quick or lucky to survive the fringes of society, and luck was intractable.

  Of course, running straight into her messes is as foolhardy as they come. The fact that he was still alive either meant he had a bit of luck or that the gods were very sadistic. He’d never bet on anything he hadn’t rigged himself first, but if he was as much of a betting man as the people he tricked, he knew exactly where to hedge them.

  “Come and work for me,” Ryia said, breaking the uneasy silence. “My army is waiting to sweep away the winners of this battle. It’s been over thirty years of fighting—I’m ready to take this land for myself. You and your sister would make useful allies… fine generals, even. I’ve heard reports of her work, and you—I’m willing to guess you’re responsible for all of this.”

  “You’re mistaken,” he replied.

  “You’re lying again. I don’t think you’ve fully considered what I’m offering. A general in my army is no small thing. Take over a city for me and I may reward its governance to you. Destroy a warlord and his forces and I may even grant you a whole province.”

  “That sounds lovely.”

  “You don’t believe me. It is more plausible than whatever that prince offered you.”

  “I do believe you,” he said, straightening himself. “I believe you need the right people at your side if you’re to finally claim the throne for yourself, and of course you need to find ways to reward them if they, unfortunately, don’t die during your campaign. But indulge my curiosity. Why didn’t you succeed the last time? You had the blood for it. You’re certainly no fool nor lacking in the necessary viciousness. From my understanding, you had great advisers, too. Kaggawa’s aunt—”

  Her face tightened at the words.

  “—and Ichi rok Sagar, whose qualifications rivalled Queen Talyien’s Arro rok Ginta.”

  “Ghosts of the past,” Ryia said. “That I was my brother Rysaran’s rightful heir wasn’t enough in those days. We were following the Zarojo ways too much—the Empire of Ziri-nar-Orxiaro, where women couldn’t rule. If there was one thing Warlord Yeshin did right, it was to restore Jin-Sayeng to how it used to be, before we allowed the empire’s influence to taint us. My son’s wayward ways helped. They had no choice but to let the bitch rule alone all these years.”

  “Her rule tamed the fires. Because of her, now you can be queen without the rest of the land blinking an eye,” Khine agreed. “All that’s left is for you to subdue them.”

  “I’m impressed. If you can understand these things, then you can understand why accepting my offer is the best thing you can do for yourself. If you can convince your sister to abandon my son and become mine, she will get just as much.” Ryia sniffed. “I mean, what other options do the two of you have? You’re not what you seem, Lamang. I’m not convinced you’ll be content just sitting, watching the world go by. And I am not as cruel as they say I am. I do what I must as a harbinger of change.”

  “Heavy words,” he said.

  “They are.”

  “And exactly what they thought she was.”

  “That whelp?” She laughed. “I won’t deny that I sound like a bitter woman past her prime. But you’ve been by her side this whole time. Some say you’re even lovers. You would at least know the challenges she faced. So I will tell you why she failed and why I will succeed. I want this.” She held her hands out, showing him the dagger. “But maybe you’re as foolish as my son. Maybe you’d rather die.”

  He swallowed. “I’d rather not, actually.”

  “Then be wise, Lamang. Consider the possibilities.”

  For one moment, and maybe longer, he did.

  Khine saw his dreams being handed to him on a silver plate, saw a twist in the narrative he had hated for so very long. A general could move armies, save lives. He remembered telling Tali something like that once. If he had that power, he could bring peace to the land of the only two women he had ever loved. He could make the lives of those he’d lost matter. He could make his own failures count. It was a dizzying thought. A tempting thought.

  But for someone who had scrapped for every little thing his whole life, admitting defeat wasn’t easy. He didn’t like that Ryia knew she could dangle this over him like a piece of meat, that she knew he was liable to snatch at it like any starving dog. Royals had their pride. He didn’t know what someone like him had—not pride, certainly, if he could lie and steal just to get by. But it made him angry. It made him angry to know another person had that power over him.

  It also made him angry to understand how much he wanted this.

  “You’re loyal to the bitch,” she said. The anger faded. She had that right, too. It was a truth that made him feel at peace.

  Knowing it was probably going to end in his death, he shrugged and waited for the inevitable.

  Khine thought he heard them loose the arrows and tried to think of what he would tell his mother about how he got himself killed. He couldn’t remember half the wisdom she had imparted on him over the years. He had been, at a time, more insufferable than his brother Cho. It was part of the reason he had kept himself in Anzhao City and refused to even so much as visit his mother, even when he knew she was waiting for him. He had wanted his homecoming to be a time of celebration and joy—that he would come home with everything he once said he was capable of, power and wealth enough to take his family away from that sordid life.

  Instead, Mei had seen him at his lowest point. He had yelled at his own mother that night in Phurywa, when she had learned he was no longer going to be a doctor. He had told her she could do better than believe in him. “You have other children!” he cried. “Why don’t you look to them? Thao is working hard, Inzali’s even smarter than I am, and Cho—that boy! Cho doesn’t even try! He needs a guiding hand!” He was the one who had walked out on her, fuming, thinking he would apologize once he had calmed down. His last image of Mei was of her looking through the shutters, her eyes red. He should’ve gone back to wipe the tears from her face. He had many regrets in his life, but that was the greatest of them all. One moment. One moment he could never take back.

  Her sacrifice had confused him, made him ill. Now I’ve gone and made it all insignificant. And for what? he imagined he would say. I’ve already hurt her. It’s not like she was there to see. I could’ve denounced her and no one would have to know. A trick, like all the others. That’s who I am. A liar. A cheat.

  Only he was starting to realize he didn’t have the stomach for such things as he once thought. That last betrayal, seeing how she looked when he had uttered those words in front of the mad prince and his court—he had been having nightmares about it the past few days. He couldn’t do it again. Even if you did nothing right, you could remain true to yourself. She’d taught him that
much.

  He heard the wind blowing and looked up to empty rooftops. Ryia had sheathed her dagger.

  “You’d be dead if you had said yes,” she said. “I can’t abide disloyalty. Go. Find her, if that’s what you’d rather do. It’ll be for nothing. She’s done for, and so is that son of hers. You’ll be back. I may still reconsider.” Ryia turned around and stepped away, leaving Khine to feel like he could start breathing again.

  Legs shaking, he found the street he had been looking for and came around the back alley. There were two doors. He kicked one down. It led to a storeroom. He turned to the other one, expecting it to be locked. It wasn’t.

  He walked in. Lo Bahn and Jiro were alone, sitting around a table wedged tight in the corner of the room.

  “Gentlemen,” he greeted, trying not to show how shaken he still was.

  “I told you he was a rat,” Lo Bahn sniffed. He didn’t even try to get up. Instead, he poured himself a cup of wine and downed it in one go.

  “No hard feelings, Lo Bahn,” Khine said. “You know me.”

  “I do know you,” Lo Bahn snorted. “I never once fucking believed you’d bail on the bitch. You? Pah. But I didn’t give a damn. This was doomed from the start. It’s all the same to me. Kaz, now. He really thought you had a change of heart.”

  Khine turned to Jiro. “Don’t tell me you’re holding it against me?”

  “The bitch got my wife killed,” Jiro said in a low voice.

  “Come on, Kaz. You and your wife got Anya killed. No one said you had to come here.”

  “The prince’s shiny gold said they had to,” Lo Bahn interjected. “Not like you got blackmailed into it like I did. Bah! Greed’ll do you in. It always does. Don’t I know it.” He drank again. His nose was so swollen, it looked like a plum.

  “She tried to save Anya, for what it’s worth,” Khine said. “But if it makes you feel better, you can fight me in her memory.”

  Jiro laughed. “Fuck, Lamang, were you washed in holy water after birth? I’m not going to kill another thief just for Anya.”

  “Don’t be too quick to judge him. He’s probably seen how much wine you’ve drunk. Look at him. Damn boy’s confident he can beat you.”

  “You’re over-praising me, Lo Bahn,” Khine said.

  “I know you too well,” Lo Bahn snorted. “You’re the smuggest son of a bitch ever to crawl out of Shang Azi’s loins, and hanging around the bitch has turned your head inside out. You’re playing general now, too, aren’t you? I heard what they were saying out in the streets. You took off with some of Kaggawa’s mercenaries and then led them back here. And now maybe you’ll actually win the city back.”

  “Maybe,” Khine said. “I won’t lie. It’s an uphill climb. Yuebek’s soldiers are good fighters, and they’ll be even better when they get their heads together. The element of surprise doesn’t last very long.”

  “I really don’t care,” Lo Bahn grumbled. He glanced at Jiro, irritated. “And you won’t either, Kaz, if you know what’s good for you. Sit your ass down. With any luck they’ll forget about us and we can go home.”

  Jiro slumped back into his seat with a frown.

  Khine shuffled forward, taking an empty chair. He gestured at the wine. Grumbling, Lo Bahn pushed it over to him. “Seeing as you gentlemen have already given up on life,” Khine said, pouring half a cup, “I’ve got a proposition.”

  “That’s touching,” Lo Bahn sniffed. “You haven’t forgotten about us, after all.”

  “Why did you think I would forget my best friends?”

  “Around the time you started playing Jinsein hero to impress the bitch,” Lo Bahn said. He lifted an eyebrow. “Tell me it was worth it, at least.”

  “What was?”

  “You’re useless.”

  “Not always,” Khine said, taking a sip. “Look. From where you’re both standing, Jin-Sayeng considers you enemies. And our bond of friendship doesn’t mean a damn thing to these people just because I say it exists. On the other hand, if you work with me, I can convince them you’ve just been unwilling victims in this whole charade.”

  “You want us to betray Yuebek,” Jiro replied. “Forget about it. Have you seen that man?”

  “Have you?” Khine asked. “I meant, lately. It’s been a few days, now.”

  “Three,” Jiro said, holding his fingers up. “Not enough to convince me he’s not coming back.”

  “If this rebellion fails, you’re still Jin-Sayeng enemies in Jinsein soil,” Khine said. “This invasion is not as easy as it looks. There’s at least another army camped in the western wilderness, waiting. Who knows what they’ll do once they realize what’s happening out here?”

  “I’ll bite,” Lo Bahn said. “I’m tired of playing servant to a man-child. What do you want us to do?”

  “Convince Yuebek’s officers to lay down arms.”

  “They’ll murder us,” Jiro said.

  “Well, some might want to,” Khine conceded. “But surely you know which ones are more amenable to reason. We just need to give the Jinseins an edge. They’ll be grateful for it.”

  Lo Bahn took another drink. “You’re not seriously considering this?” Jiro asked.

  “In case it isn’t obvious, we’re fucked, the both of us,” Lo Bahn said. “And we didn’t even have half the fun Lamang here had.”

  “I’m really not telling you anything, Lo Bahn.”

  “Which is telling enough. Fuck off, Lamang.”

  “So yes? You’ll do it?”

  Jiro sighed. “I suppose it can’t be any worse than sitting here waiting for our deaths.”

  “It won’t be,” Khine said. “I promise. Warlord Huan is a decent fellow, and I’m not just saying that.”

  “The last time you convinced me someone was a decent fellow was—oh, right. I ended up losing my entire fortune,” Lo Bahn grumbled.

  “Correction. It was a woman. Women are always more complicated.”

  “I hate you.”

  “I want you both to get back home,” Khine said. “Alive. We’ve lost too many already.”

  “I know.” Lo Bahn tried to pour more wine, and then threw the bottle when he realized it was empty. It didn’t even shatter—it just bounced off the wall. “Well, that’s that. Let’s go get our heads chopped off, Kaz. Better than sitting around here staring into each other’s eyes without a damn thing to drink between us.” He got to his feet, swaying slightly, and started for the door.

  Jiro got up to follow him.

  “Tell me, Lamang,” Lo Bahn said at the door. “Did you kill Reng Hzi?”

  “No,” Khine replied. “He’s safe with one of the rice lords.”

  “I figured Yuebek had his arm twisted, too—I just couldn’t guess how until you mentioned a child. So your brat survived after all?”

  Khine paused for a moment. It was not a conversation he liked having, and it had become habit to check himself for that old pain, the one he had tried to drown in a rush of bad decisions for so many years. “A lie,” he said at last. “Yuebek believed it because… well. He had mentioned a child. Tashi Reng Hzi’s grandson, Jia’s child. She married Tashi Reng’s son.”

  “That fuzzy-lipped worm practicing in Kyan Jang?” Lo Bahn asked. “She married that one?”

  “Not a bad vengeance, considering what you did to her father,” Jiro considered.

  “Ah, the baker,” Lo Bahn said. “Khine had nothing to do with that. It was one of my captains. Fucking idiot took advantage after he heard of Khine’s troubles. Had him executed for it, but I didn’t think… ah, fuck. I guess we did that. I’m sorry, kid.”

  “Not a kid anymore,” Khine said with a smile. “Good tidings, Lo Bahn, and until we meet again.”

  “I’m not really looking forward to that, but the gods seem intent at throwing you at me like some cruel joke.”

  “I hope this makes us even. My debts…”

  Lo Bahn laughed. “Not a chance in hell.”

  They left him alone to finish his wine.

>   The effects of Lo Bahn and Jiro’s undertaking became clearer once Khine found himself at the bridge leading away from the dragon-tower. “That’s a good third of them fighting for instead of against us,” Huan said as he handed the horse’s reins to Khine.

  “You don’t look very happy.”

  “More bad news,” Huan said. “The Ikessars have moved.”

  “We’ve expected that,” Khine replied, thinking of Ryia. He didn’t know if he should warn Huan. Better to keep quiet and have them focus on the battle at hand for now. Khine wasn’t convinced Huan had the temperament to deal with a problem two steps ahead of him, and he could always send a message later.

  “And Bara, and Kyo-orashi, and Kai…” Grana added, shaking her head.

  “They’re all fighting for them, too?”

  “No,” Grana replied. “We don’t know. No one’s made proclamations or anything. Tori thinks they’re all fighting… against everyone, including the Ikessars. This has been too much. Nearly every province except Meiokara and Sutan is joining in. She thinks they’re taking advantage of the fact that both Oren-yaro’s army and the Ikessars’ influence have been severely weakened, and I’m inclined to agree with her. It looks like there’s going to be more bloodshed by the time this is over.”

  “You need to leave, then,” Khine said. “Take your family and run.”

  “I can’t do that,” Huan replied. “My brother’s still out there and I won’t leave him again. There’s no room for dragons in Meiokara.”

  “The children, Warlord Huan—”

  “I know.” Huan glanced at his wife. “I was hoping to strike a deal with Kaggawa. He’s still got connections, and he cares for the Sougen as much as we do. I am not my father, and he knows that.”

  “Will you consider giving him the seat if he asks for it?”

  Huan bristled. “Warlord Dai? Doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue. I don’t know, Khine.”

  “A steep price, but you may have to pay it if you don’t have a choice. Whatever you decide, don’t show him all your cards at once.”