by Rj Barker
“No, oh no, just the talk. That His Majesty is seeking a treaty with Chiltae, and they want the succession confirmed before they talk terms.”
It was more than I had heard, but I nodded rather than let her know it.
“I leave for my yearly visit to my family today,” she went on when I didn’t answer. “I want— I need to know if there’s been any hint, anything at all.”
“Nothing,” I said, that single word encompassing so many years of uncertainty and frustration, so many years of fear, of knowing Tana and I were watched everywhere we went, that the power our mother held at court was all that kept us safe. “Nothing at all.”
Sichi sank back, letting the water rise above her shoulders as though it could shield her from her own uncertain position. “Nothing?” Her sigh rippled the surface of the water. “I thought maybe you’d heard something, but that he just wasn’t telling me because he . . .” The words trailed off. She knew that I knew, that it wasn’t only this caged life we shared but also the feeling we were both invisible.
I shook my head and forced a smile. “Say all that is proper to your family from us, won’t you?” I said, heartache impelling me to change the subject. “It must be hard on your mother having both you and your father always at court.”
Her lips parted and for a moment I thought she would ask more questions, but after a long silence, she just nodded and forced her own smile. “Yes,” she said. “Mama says she lives for my letters because Father’s are always full of military movements and notes to himself about new orders and pay calculations.”
Her father was minister of the left, in command of the empire’s military, and I’d often wondered if Sichi lived at court as much to ensure the loyalty of the emperor’s most powerful minister as because she was to be my brother’s wife.
Lady Sichi chattered on as though a stream of inconsequential talk could make me forget her first whispered entreaty. I could have reassured her that we had plans, that we were close, so close, to ensuring Tanaka got the throne, but I could not trust even Sichi. She was the closest I had ever come to a female friend, though if all went to plan, she would never be my sister.
Fearing to be drawn into saying more than was safe, I hurriedly washed and excused myself, climbing out of the water with none of Sichi’s assurance. A lifetime of being told I was too tall and too shapeless, that my wrists were too thick and my shoulders too square, had me grab the towel with more speed than grace and wrap it around as much of my body as it would cover. Sichi watched me, something of a sad smile pressed between her lips.
Out in the courtyard the inn showed signs of waking. The clang of pots and pans spilled from the kitchens, and a gaggle of servants hung around the central well, holding a variety of bowls and jugs. They all stopped to bow as I passed, watched as ever by the imperial guards dotted around the compound. Normally I would not have lowered my caution even in their presence, but the farther I walked from the bathhouse, the more my thoughts slipped back to what Sichi had said. She had not just wanted to know, she had needed to know, and the ghost of her desperate grip still clung to my shoulder.
Back in my room, I found that Yin had laid out a travelling robe and was waiting for me with a comb and a stern reproof that I had gone to the bathhouse without her.
“I am quite capable of bathing without assistance,” I said, kneeling on the matting before her.
“Yes, Your Highness, but your dignity and honour require attendance.” She began to ply her comb to my wet hair and immediately tugged on tangles. “And I could have done a better job washing your hair.”
A scuff sounded outside the door and I tensed. Yin did not seem to notice anything amiss and went on combing, but my attention had been caught, and while she imparted gossip gleaned from the inn’s servants, I listened for the shuffle of another step or the rustle of cloth.
No further sounds disturbed us until other members of the court began to wake, filling the inn with footsteps. His Majesty never liked to linger in the mornings, so there was only a short time during which everyone had to eat and dress and prepare for another long day on the road.
While I picked at my breakfast, a shout for carriers rang through the courtyard, and I moved to the window in time to see Lady Sichi emerge from the inn’s main doors. She had donned a fine robe for the occasion, its silk a shimmering weave that defied being labelled a single colour in the morning light. Within a few moments, she had climbed into the waiting palanquin with easy grace, leaving me prey to ever more niggling doubts. Now I would have to wait until the end of the summer to discover what had troubled her so much.
Before I could do more than consider running down into the yard to ask, her carriers moved off, making space for more palanquins and the emperor’s horse, which meant it wouldn’t be long until we were called to step into our carriage for another interminable day on the road. Tanaka would grumble. Edo would try to entertain him. And I would get so bored of them both I counted every mile.
Tanaka had not yet left his room, so when the gong sounded, I went to tap on his door. No answer came through the taut paper panes and I leant in closer. “Tana?”
My heart sped at the silence.
“Tana?”
I slid the door. In the centre of the shadowy room, Tanaka and Edo lay sprawled upon their mats, their covers twisted and their hands reaching across the channel toward one another. But they were not alone. A grey-clad figure crouched at my brother’s head. A blade hovered. Small. Sharp. Easy to conceal. Air punched from my lungs in a silent cry as I realised I had come too late. I could have been carrying fifty daggers and it would have made no difference.
But the blade did not move. Didn’t even tremble. The assassin looked right at me and from the hoarse depths of my first fear my cry rose to an audible scream. Yet still he just sat there, as all along the passage doors slid and footsteps came running. Tanaka woke with a start, and only then did the assassin lunge for the window. I darted forward, but my foot caught on Tanaka’s leg as he tried to rise. Shutters clattered. Sunlight streamed in. Voices followed; every servant in the building suddenly seemed to be crammed into the doorway, along with half a dozen imperial guards shoving their way through.
“Your Highnesses, is everything all right?” the first demanded.
Sharp eyes hunted the room. One sneered as he looked me up and down. Another rolled his eyes. None of them had seen the man, or none of them had wanted to. Edo pushed himself into a sitting position with his arms wrapped around his legs, while Tanaka was still blinking blearily.
“Yes, we’re fine,” I said, drawing myself up and trying for disdain. “I stepped on a sharp reed in the matting is all. Go back about your work. We cannot leave His Majesty waiting.”
By RJ Barker
THE TIDE CHILD TRILOGY
The Bone Ships
Call of the Bone Ships
THE WOUNDED KINGDOM
Age of Assassins
Blood of Assassins
King of Assassins
Praise for
The Bone Ships
“A vividly realized high-seas epic that pulls you deep into its world and keeps you tangled there until the very last word.”
—Evan Winter, author of The Rage of Dragons
“The Bone Ships is excellent. Aside from the standout writing, it’s one of the most interesting and original fantasy worlds I’ve seen in years.”
—Adrian Tchaikovsky, Arthur C. Clarke Award–winning author
“The novel feels like one of Patrick O’Brian’s richly detailed sagas of seamanship.. . . A very promising beginning.”
—Publishers Weekly
“The first in The Tide Child Trilogy presents a unique and memorable world—harsh and brutal and full of sharply realized, powerful female characters. Barker has managed to craft a story inspired by Moby Dick, Game of Thrones, and pirate lore, and readers will be drawn in and fascinated.”
—Booklist (starred review)
“I absolutely loved it. A whole
lot of swashbuckling awesomeness by RJ Barker. He has crafted a fascinating world and a twisty plot, both rooted in characters I came to care about. A definite winner for me.”
—John Gwynne, author of Malice
“Simultaneously gritty and full of a sense of wonder, The Bone Ships is the perfect adventure for anyone who’s ever had dreams of the sea—or of dragons.. . . An excellent book for any reader in search of a fantastical journey.”
—BookPage
“A viciously exciting adventure. I loved every second of it.”
—Tasha Suri, author of Empire of Sand
“An epic tale of duty and obligation and honor, and what bravery really means. I can’t recommend it enough.”
—Peter McLean, author of Priest of Bones
