We Lie with Death

by Devin Madson

  “Rah!”

  The empress’s call dragged me from the sleepy morass of my thoughts and I gathered our mediocre supplies, hurried on by the snap of the driver’s voice. As I shoved the last blanket into the satchel, the driver gave a shout and wheels ground upon stone. The cart started forward.

  “Rah!” the empress shouted again, beckoning from the back of the cart, and hating everything that had become of my life, I lumbered after it. Shishi leapt up to join her mistress, and as the cart slowly picked up speed, I threw first the new sack and then the satchel up to her. The empress caught them before leaning out, urging me to jump. With one last burst of effort I leapt onto the back rail only to snatch at empty darkness. I would have fallen back but she gripped my hands and pulled me in, sending us both toppling onto lumpy sacks and a startled Shishi. The dog yelped and the empress laughed, bursting forth with a chattering wealth of Kisian disembodied by the darkness. I could feel the warmth of her body through the damp, clinging fabric of her robe and thought back to that evening in the hot pool beneath the inn. The way she had looked at me, and even more the way she had so purposefully not looked at me, had been enough to heat my skin to a fever.

  Now we had fallen together, and only as her chatter faded did she seem to realise, as I did, that neither of us had moved. My heart thumped. I could kiss her here in the darkness, could tell her how much I admired her spirit and her pride and her honour, but I could not let myself be distracted from my purpose. I drew back even as she sat up, gently moving out from beneath me.

  In silence, Empress Miko patted Shishi’s head and went to sit on the back rail, her legs dangling toward the road. Snatches of moonlight caught her dark hair, and while she stared out at the night, I stared at her, adding still more thoughts to the mess of my mind, no sleep to be found.

  The city of Mei’lian came into view the following morning, a mere smudge so like every other that we might have missed it had not the cart stopped with an abrupt jolt, almost sending me into the road. Holding on to the back of the rain cover, Empress Miko leaned out to see why we had stopped. The wind whipped at her robe, pulling it tight about her body, and determined not to think about the warmth of her lying naked beside me, I climbed up the other side to see the road ahead.

  The sight of the city filled me with an excited flurry. Mei’lian on the horizon meant that after all these days travelling, on foot and then in a succession of carts, with nothing to do but stare at the rain and fret, I was almost there. Beyond Mei’lian, Kogahaera waited.

  Shouting ahead, Empress Miko exchanged words with the cart driver, then pointing at the city, turned an aggrieved expression my way. I looked again at the distant smudge upon the plain. From our distorted perspective, the river we had been following seemed to run directly behind it, owning its own city-smudge, but the distance we still had to go hardly seemed worthy of such distress. Then I saw the third smudge to the south owning tiny banners and flags that waved in the wind.

  An approaching army.

  Kisians taking back their city? That seemed the only possibility, a possibility that at first sight was of little interest but soon spawned a dozen fearful thoughts. That the city being under attack would make it difficult for Empress Miko to reach her minister was the first and least worrying of them all, for it was soon followed by the fear that Sett and all my Swords were still in the city, maintaining its token defence. Would they fight to defend it? Would Gideon ask it of them? Expect it of them? Or was this a triumphant army camped beyond the walls and I had come too late?

  I could utter none of it. The language barrier we had slowly been eroding was back, more present than ever. Whatever friendship we had managed to grow between us out in the Kisian wilds meant nothing here. I was still a Levanti sworn to my people.

  Empress Miko leapt from the back of the cart and strode up to the driver, leaving Shishi to sit up and swish her tail. I crouched next to the dog, losing my hands in her fur as much for my own comfort as hers. “I’m worried,” I said, glad to be able to speak and know I would not be judged or questioned. “I think your mistress and I are going to disagree soon and we won’t even be able to explain why. In truth I should never have gotten on that boat.”

  I had thought so a hundred times. But I had and the gods themselves only knew what might have happened to the empress without me. She was capable and strong and probably she would have been all right, but I thought of her lying still in the cave and that probably became laced with enough fear to sicken my stomach and make me hate the wish I had never come. She deserved better than that. Better than me.

  Shishi tilted her head back to lick my face.

  “You only do that because you don’t know what I said.”

  My hand stilled in Shishi’s fur as the carter raised his voice, his tone clear. He was disagreeing with his empress, if only he knew it.

  Within a few minutes, the empress returned, her face flushed and triumphant. She began speaking only to stop the moment she met my gaze. Unlike back in the hot pool she did not look away, did not flush, just lifted her chin, and I wondered if in that moment she had all the same thoughts I had and it was Empress Miko standing before me in a way it had never been before.

  Only the carter’s warning call broke the challenge of her gaze, and she climbed into the back of the cart without another word. Wheels grinding on stone, the cart started forward, once again travelling toward Mei’lian. At least whatever her plans were, we were still heading in the right direction.

  Despite the presence of Shishi between us, tension remained and I could not look at the empress. Instead I watched the road pull away behind us, its wildflower border hammered flat by the rain. It had stopped with the dawn, but still the worn stones gleamed and a myriad of small puddles dotted its breadth like the pockmarked surface of an almond shell.

  “I’m going to have to leave soon,” I said. “I’m sorry.”

  She didn’t answer. The cart rocked gently on.

  Hours passed, and I was trapped with my own thoughts. I had peered out time and time again to see how far we were from the city, fretting at a pace that seemed to be drawing us no nearer, yet in the middle of the afternoon the cart once more began to slow. There was no obvious reason for it, and suffering from the same impatience as I, the empress stuck her head out to see why. I gripped her arm, but even as she spun a scowl on me, understanding widened her eyes. For as the rumble of wheels on stone quietened so the thud of hoofbeats rose to overwhelm it.

  With a hand to her dagger, Empress Miko dropped into a crouch, hissing angry words between her teeth. Her other hand closed around Shishi’s collar, and very carefully, she peered around the side of the cart. Wind tugged at her hair, leaving it stuck to her damp forehead when she turned back, her eyes wide with a fear that chilled my veins. The hoofbeats grew louder, yet still the empress stared at me, seemingly frozen by indecision.

  “Levanti?” I asked in a low voice.

  She shook her head. “Kisian.”

  I wasn’t sure if that was better or worse. Levanti I could at least speak to. Kisians were complicated and after the events at Syan seemed more likely to be enemies than friends.

  The cart jerked to a halt, snapping her into action. Gripping Shishi’s collar, the empress crawled deeper into the cart, dragging the dog with her. With a frantic gesture, she bade me follow, crawling to her side over lumpy sacks that made a dry, grating sound beneath my shifting weight. Their smell was odd and musty, managing to overwhelm even the stink of wet dog.

  The hoofbeats slowed and voices pierced the air. Empress Miko’s whole body tensed as she pressed her ear to the canvas, her lips parted and her eyes glazed. Shishi scuffed around, trying to get comfortable, causing the empress to tighten her grip on her collar until Shishi’s paws scrabbled, her eyes popping from her head.

  The driver was speaking with the newcomers—at least four riders, going by the clink of bridles and the clop of hooves. Whatever was under discussion the driver’s responses were meek. Fawning
. Empress Miko’s name was spoken and she squeezed my arm—that all the warning she was able to give.

  Outside someone slid from their saddle, landing on the road with a thud. Footsteps approached. My hand crept to my sword hilt, but before I could draw it, the empress passed Shishi’s collar into my hand. Our fingers met in the tangle of wet fur as we both clutched the leather band, and she looked up to meet my gaze.

  “Stay,” she said, pointing at a sack beside Shishi. “Goodbye, Rah.”

  Before I could gather words or even thoughts to argue, she let go and shuffled toward the cart entrance. Even as I parted my lips to hiss a warning, she turned back, little more than a dark shape against the brightness outside as she held up a staying hand. No words, just a gesture and a wry smile before she crawled to the backboard and stood, her skirt fluttering as she proclaimed her presence.

  A shout of surprise rent the air and the empress responded—stiff, icy, imperial, more empress now than I had ever seen her. And while she faced her enemies, I crouched in the darkness and waited.

  Empress Miko stepped from the end of the cart, but her voice was soon raised in argument nearby, the response that of a man amused by a tantrumming child. I picked at the knot on one of the carter’s sacks until the rope came loose, and slid it between Shishi’s collar and her fur. “Sorry,” I whispered as I tied her to one of the cart poles. “But we can’t have anyone seeing you.”

  I nuzzled her fur as I tugged the knot tight. Then, lifting my hand to her as the empress always did, I crept away across the sacks toward the light. Hunkered down at the end of the cart, I peered carefully out to see what was happening.

  The snap glance I allowed myself revealed a dozen soldiers, half on horseback, half on foot, two of them holding the empress’s arms like a prisoner as she shouted at their apparent leader. I leaned against the side of the cart and listened to them moving around. Knowing nothing of Kisian politics, I could only guess who they were and what they wanted, and I gripped my hands into tight fists, hating my own indecision. There were too many to fight them all. Even had I not been exhausted and been in possession of both my swords, even had Jinso been with me, there were still too many. And yet the call of what was right and good and honourable sang to me, and I knew I ought to do something. Ought to try.

  That’s the sort of thinking that gets you killed for nothing, Eska would have drawled. How very you.

  The cart driver’s voice cut through my thoughts, indignant, but orders were snapped and footsteps approached the cart. It looked like the choice was about to be taken out of my hands. I gripped my sword hilt and watched the bright aperture, waiting for a figure to appear.

  Someone cried out. Grunted. Footsteps scuffled. I kept my eyes on the open end of the cart, but my heart raced as running steps sped past. The cart driver shouted. Shishi whined. I glanced back at her just as a sharp slap of horseflesh cracked like lightning and the cart lurched. Not having been holding on, I slid toward the opening, scrabbling to grip something, anything to keep from falling. Even as my fingers found purchase on the cover’s metal pole, I hit the back of the cart, breaking the wooden lip and sending sacks tumbling into the road amid shouts and clattering wheels. But for all the cries and lost cargo, the cart plunged on. Shishi whined again, but it didn’t matter, the Kisian soldiers were shrinking away behind us. They were wrestling with the proud figure of the empress, and I realised then that she must have broken free to scare the horses, whether to save me or Shishi it didn’t seem to matter.

  I watched from safety as they chained her hands and marched her toward another cart waiting at a distance. Their leader pointed here and there, giving orders as he shrank to the size of a child and then an ant.

  I crawled toward Shishi over the jolting, bounding sacks as finally the driver got the horses under control and the cart began to slow. I glanced back along the road, and the sound of labouring horses able to go no farther was not the comfort it had been a moment before.

  “Shit,” I said, eyeing the three Kisians on horseback approaching fast. I had no bow, no javelins, nothing I could throw but lumpy sacks, but if I could take one down before they caught up then maybe, just maybe I could take the other two in a fight.

  Scrambling to Shishi, I pulled open the sack I had untied earlier, spilling red-skinned fruits around my knees. They were about the size of my palm and evenly weighted, and while Shishi licked my cheek in search of reassurance, I chose the two biggest before shuffling back down the cart.

  The driver had slowed his struggling horses to a walk, but the soldiers were still coming. I hefted one of the fruits. At this distance, Gideon would have been able to put a javelin through each of their throats within seconds, but I had nothing like his skill, and licked my lips, heart racing.

  They began to slow a dozen or so lengths back, fanning out to overtake the cart. I threw the first fruit at the closest rider’s head and, sure it would miss, followed it with the second. One hit him in the chest, shocking him enough to duck—only for the other to hit his head. Whatever the fruit, it was hard enough to send him reeling, and he tumbled sideways out of the saddle.

  His companions shouted. The cart halted with a rough jerk. And once again, I gripped the hilt of my sword and blew out a hard breath, waiting for them to come to me. Behind me the driver called out and the soldiers shouted back. Feet hit the road. Wary footsteps approached. A figure appeared in the bright aperture, and I launched myself feet first at his head.

  I had detested the hard Kisian sandals, but they smacked into the man’s face with a satisfying crack. He fell back, smothering a cry as I landed on the road, tearing my sword from its scabbard. That first upswing sliced the length of a second man’s sword arm. He dropped the blade, hissing, and I slammed into him shoulder first, knocking him off his feet.

  Footsteps thudded behind me and I spun, catching the first soldier a deep slash across his face just as a jab came at my torso. It caught the fabric of my robe as I dodged, but the man fell, his blade clattering onto the stones. Before there was even time to consider if it was necessary, I had slit his throat, sending blood pouring onto the road. The other soldier had smacked his head and was dead or unconscious, it hardly seemed to matter which in the sudden stillness, the day silent but for my ragged breathing.

  A step scuffed behind me and I spun, sword raised, to find the driver with his hands held before him in surrender. He trembled and his gaze kept shying to the man bleeding out on the road.

  I lowered my blade. “Get out of here,” I said, shooing him. “No, wait. Let me get my dog first.” I pointed at the back of the cart and held up my own hands to show I meant no harm, bloodstained as they were, before climbing in to free Shishi. I could have just taken a horse and ridden hard for Kogahaera, have thought of nothing but my own goals and my own plans, but the empress had done everything she could to save me and I could not abandon her now. In the palace in Mei’lian was a man who had worn her armour and sat in her place when enemies came for her throne, a man unflinching in his loyalty. All I could do was trust he was still there. And that Gideon would be all right for just a few extra hours.

  19. DISHIVA

  I paced the five strides from one wall to the other and back, cracking reeds with my heel as I spun. One, two, three, four, five, and turn with a sound like beetles being crushed beneath the sole of my boot. One, two, three, four, five, back the other way, staring at each of the walls as though my troubles were carved upon them.

  Three days. Three days out of the seven required for the emperor’s marriage ceremony and the best I could say was that Gideon and his not-yet-wife were still alive. Matsimelar was dead. We’d lost more deserters. And everywhere I went Leo was there before me. He visited Lady Sichi. He walked about the stables. Whenever I went to see Gideon he was there. In fact every time I left my room I was sure to see him and had taken to leaving it less and less, unable to face his mild smile, his little nod, and his blessings.

  Five strides and turn. Five strides and turn. I
paced it fast and I paced it slow, but it never ceased being five strides. No more. No less. This five-by-five square had become my world, a world full of fretful memories and self-recrimination.

  And fear.

  At any moment Matsimelar’s killer could return for me. And there was no one to stop them.

  Someone cleared their throat outside my door. “Di?”

  I had tensed, but it was only Lashak. I called for her to come in and she slid the door, an apologetic smile turning up one corner of her lips. “Well, hello there, stranger,” she said, leaning on the door frame. “I was wondering if I’d not been seeing you because of that sweet, young bit of meat that had been giving you the eye, but I see you’re all alone. What was his name again?”

  I made to shape his name, but as I glanced up at Lashak the word faltered, falling from my lips. Her expression was all concern and friendliness, yet the overwhelming feeling that I could not trust her, could not trust anyone, had grown steadily. “Jass,” I said, forcing it out rather than letting the fear rule me. “But he’s gone.”

  “Deserted?”

  “Probably. I don’t know.”

  Lashak stepped into the room, closing the door behind her. “Are you all right, Dishiva? You don’t look well.”

  Whenever I ate, I examined every tiny bit of food, smelling it and squashing it between my fingers, just in case, but I was increasingly sure I could smell that awful sticky smell on everything, even my hands.

  “I’m fine.”

  I paced back, counting my strides through the weak sunlight. The rain had been patchy today, deep blue storm clouds alternating with bouts of drizzle.

  One, two, three, four, five, and turn. Lashak just watched me from inside the door. One, two, three—Out at the gate the gong bellowed, halting my steps. No warning followed and through the window I watched the closest soldiers run to open the gate. More pilgrims, no doubt, their number increasing every day to the point where more than one of the little residences had to be made over to their use while most of the Levanti went on camping in the mud.