by Devin Madson
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if you enjoyed
WE LIE WITH DEATH
look out for
WE CRY FOR BLOOD
The Reborn Empire: Book Three
by
Devin Madson
The empire has fallen and another rises in its place, in the action-packed continuation of Devin Madson’s epic fantasy quartet.
Chapter 1
Miko
I loosed the arrow, my heart thrumming in time with the bow’s string. It hit the target with a satisfying thud, and while its fletching vibrated, I took another arrow from the barrel. At the other end of the courtyard, soldiers were busy breaking camp, while like two stiff statues, Minister Manshin and newly promoted Minister Oyamada stood watching me. Neither had addressed me since they’d arrived, but they kept up a stiff flow of conversation.
“And wine?” Manshin asked.
“Some,” came Oyamada’s reply. “We will have to be careful in its distribution, especially as we head into winter. Rice, too. Millet we have in greater abundance, also beans and dried meats, and we can make use of any river we pass for fresh fish.”
Manshin grumbled as I loosed another arrow into the rapidly filling target.
“Steel?”
“Of course. And… arrows. Wood for defences, too. We are good for wood and metal in the south, you know.”
“Too bad we can’t eat them.”
“We are not so poorly off for food,” Oyamada said stiffly. “Wine will just need to be rationed. Wise when you want soldiers to be able to stand upright in a fight.”
Minister Manshin shifted his feet and I could well imagine his scowl. “And never could you more clearly prove you know little about how armies work, Excellency.”
“I have commanded—”
“Troops of guards hired for trade caravans do not count. You focus on maintaining our supply lines; I’ll decide how to make use of them.”
I loosed another arrow and turned before it hit the target, catching Minister Oyamada in the act of opening his mouth to retort, his features dark with colour. “Your caution is very wise, Minister Oyamada,” I said, glancing a brief look of censure at Manshin. Of the two, I trusted him more, had been with him longer and needed his skills, but without Oyamada I would have no soldiers to command at all. We had seen Jie’s body off only that morning, back to his mother to be laid to rest with all the imperial honours a country house could achieve. Under other circumstances he would have been buried in the imperial gardens, but smoke still rose from the burning ruins of Mei’lian.
Both men bowed, Oyamada with something of ironic thanks, Manshin in stiff apology, but neither spoke until I turned back to take another arrow. Lying at my feet, Shishi stirred, her tail twitching. “Majesty,” both ministers said, their first sign of unity. “The meeting.”
“It will not be wise, I feel,” Oyamada added, “to keep the generals waiting. They may take it as a sign of disrespect.”
“I am keeping no one waiting.” I nocked the arrow. “We are having the meeting here.”
“Here?”
I drew and loosed, the arrow hitting a free space upon the target. “Yes,” I said, taking up another arrow. “Here. I do not wish to sit in a stuffy room and have men talk down to me. They are my generals and they will come to me where I am most comfortable. I am sure you can make them understand, Minister Oyamada.”
He received my confiding smile without returning one of his own, but taking it for the order it was, he bowed, shot Manshin a look, and departed in the direction of the house.
“You need to give him time,” Manshin said as soon as he was out of earshot, the clack of his wooden sandals loud on the stones. “You killed his grandson only two days ago.”
“And you need to not belittle the skills he is bringing to our cause.”
A humourless smile turned his lips, deepening the dark rings beneath his eyes. “You mean the money he is bringing to our cause.”
“His cause now too.”
Manshin gave a little bow of acknowledgement and I took another arrow from the barrel. A gust of wind whipped through the narrow yard, flapping my surcoat about my feet and ruffling Shishi’s fur. I nocked, compensated for the wind with barely a thought, and loosed—the whole process second nature, as meeting with his generals had been second nature to Emperor Kin. He had spoken and they had listened, his ability to hold the whole throne room still without a word impossible to replicate.
Despite the wind, the arrow hit more or less where I had intended—more than could ever have been said of my plans.
“You cannot rely on your prowess with a bow to impress them, Your Majesty,” Manshin said as I reached for another arrow. “At best they will see it as intimidation, at worst as a reminder of your father.”
“Of Emperor Kin? I do not see an issue with that.”
“Not what I meant.”
“No,” I agreed. “But here and now I have only one father and he was Emperor Kin Ts’ai. Only one brother and he was Emperor Jie Ts’ai. My mother was a traitor. My twin a fool. These are the truths I have to live if I want Kisia to survive. But I also need generals who will listen to me, who know they cannot walk all over me as I am sure they plan to.”
He nodded. “They will push to see how much power they have. Just remember it’s a balance. They will hate you if you give them none and hate you if you give them too much.”
“And hate me if I hit this target and hate me if I don’t. Hate me if I act like a woman and hate me if I don’t.” I nocked the arrow. “I am under no misconception this is going to be easy, Minister. But the knowledge they will hate me no matter what is more freeing than you might imagine. I will do this my way. At least then I will look confident.”
I drew and loosed, enjoying the thud of the arrowhead digging into the hemp coil. Minister Manshin observed me with pursed lips, his brow furrowed.
“I can do this,” I said. “You took my armour that day in Mei’lian so I might live to fight another day; surely you did that because you believe in me.”
“You, yes. Them, no.” The distant murmur of voices sounded from inside the main house. “I fear they will not put aside old wounds, whatever the feelings of the common soldiers. Whatever the needs of Kisia. These are southern men whose homes and families have not been threatened.” He lowered his voice. “Remember: To them the loss of Koi is something to cheer. Emperor Kin stoked the division in his ongoing war against your mother.”
I glanced over his shoulder as the first of the southern generals stepped into the weak morning light. Wind pulled at his surcoat as it did mine, and he surveyed the yard with disgust. Oyamada followed with the rest, most making dramatic shows of clasping their surcoats and huddling against the inclement weather.
I sighed. “I will not forget, but if I am going to rule Kisia that means all of it, not just north of the river. Please say nothing during this meeting unless you’re directly spoken to,” I added, and his brows lifted, no doubt as much at the polite words as at the request. “And refer as many questions to me as you can. They need to know they can’t just deal with you. I am not your figurehead.”
The whisper of my last words died as the generals approached across the damp stones. They formed something of a scowling semicircle as I took another arrow from the barrel, my heart thudding so hard I feared it might trouble my aim. But the arrow I loosed hit the target, its thud the only sound in the suddenly silent courtyard. Without looking at them, I took another arrow.
“Welcome to our first council meeting, Generals,” I said, hoping they would mistake the tremble in my voice for effort as I drew and loosed again. “You all know me, but I am as yet unable to put faces to names. We will begin with you giving me your oaths, then your names.”
Silence hung for several long seconds, until the man at the target end of the curved line cleared his throat. “Your Majesty, would it not
be more proper to do this inside where the ground is not so wet?”
I had nocked another arrow, and with it held to the bowstring, I turned to look at him. “You are afraid of a little water, General?”
“Not afraid, Your Majesty, no, but—”
“You send soldiers to fight and die for you but you will not kneel on damp stone for your empress?”
His gaze slid to the arrow in my hands, before my face. He swallowed and drew himself up. “If my empress requests it of me, I will.”
“I have requested it.”
With a proud nod, he took a step forward and knelt on the stones, making no sign of discomfort though it would be like kneeling on ice. He lowered his head to the ground. “I swear on the bones of my forebears. On my name and my honour. I will mind not pain. I will mind not suffering. I will give every last ounce of my strength. I will give every last ounce of my intellect. I will die in service to you if the gods so will it. I will renounce every honour. I will give every coin. I will be as nothing and no one in service to you.”
“You may rise and give me your name.”
He got to his feet, more gracefully than one would expect of an old soldier, and he looked like an old soldier, worn and wary. Water had seeped into the cloth at his knees and his linen sleeves. “My name is General Senn Mihri, Your Majesty.”
I turned back to the target and loosed the arrow. “General Senn Mihri, youngest son of the great General Mihri,” I said as I took another. “As famed for his prowess upon horseback as for the quality of the horses bred on his estate west of Anxi. You were promoted to general after an engagement against the mountain tribes in 1370 and have been stationed there since, defending our western border.”
Having loosed the second arrow, I gripped the bow in both my hands and bowed to him, low enough to be meaningful, not so low as to demean myself. “You served my father, the great Emperor Kin Ts’ai, with strength and honour, and I welcome your continued service to the empire.”
The hardened soldier could not keep his eyebrows from lifting and, in a gruff voice said, “Many thanks, Your Majesty.”
I took another arrow from the fast emptying barrel, but the next man seemed to need no such encouragement to play along. He stepped forward and knelt as General Mihri had, speaking the Imperial Oath in a monotonous voice. Head to the damp stones, he waited until I bade him rise.
“My name is General Moto, Your Majesty,” he said. “Commander of the forces stationed at Ts’ai since the last border skirmish with Chiltae in 1385.”
If he had given such details in the hope of leaving me nothing to say, he reckoned without the wealth of information Minister Manshin knew about each general long under his command. I mentally noted Moto was shrewd, adding to Jie’s belief that he was one of the two southern generals most likely to take control of the empire in his place.
“General Tai Moto,” I said, loosing the arrow I had been holding to take another. “First of his family to achieve the rank despite the second sons of the Count of Tatan having entered the Rising Army since the family first took the title in 1236.” I owed too many hours of forced study and repetition of family names and honours to that one. “When you were a captain in Mei’lian’s standing battalion, you defended my father against a pair of assassins who attacked while he was inspecting the plans for rebuilding the city’s defences.”
I loosed the second arrow, and as I had with General Mihri, I gripped the bow and bowed to him. “You served my father, the great Emperor Kin Ts’ai, with strength and honour, and I welcome your continued service to the empire.”
No surprise this time, he had known it was coming, but with a shrewd little nod of a move well played, he said, “Many thanks, Your Majesty,” before stepping back into line.
Next came General Joshi and General Taranada, both newly promoted from common families as had often been Kin’s way, and both eager to please. One after the other they knelt and took their oaths, before rising and stepping back into their places. Halfway along the line, I was beginning to think maybe I had overestimated their dislike of me, when I turned my attention to the first of the two southern generals with roots in the mountain tribes. General Bax stared back and didn’t bow. All eyes were on me. I lifted my brows. “This is where you kneel and take the oath as your fellow generals have done.”
“No, it is not,” he said standing proud, his clenched fists white at the knuckles. “I give no oaths to conquerors who have done nothing to earn my allegiance. I will fight for Kisia, but I will not fight for you.”
No fear in the words. No bitterness. Just honesty and honour no matter the cost. I ought to put an arrow through him, ought to defend my position with anger, but he had not threatened me, had not disrespected me, and I had not planned to meet such quiet defiance.
“I am Kisia, General,” I said, confronting his calm with my own. “I did not conquer my brother nor my father; I succeeded them. But I will conquer the false Levanti emperor and retake what is ours.”
“And I wish you all the best, my lady, but I cannot fight for you. I cannot order my men to fight for you. I gave my oath to Emperor Kin because he earned it, and I will give it to no other. As I told young Jie when he sought the same of me.”
They all seemed to be holding their breaths, waiting, and though I wanted guidance I dared not look to either of my ministers. This had to be a decision I made on my own.
Never had a nocked arrow felt so heavy between my fingers, never had a man stood so fearlessly before me, awaiting judgement without making any move to defend himself. He ought to die; that was what I had decided would be the fate of any who refused, and yet…
“General Bax, you served my father, the great Emperor Kin Ts’ai, with strength and honour,” I said, bowing the same to him as I had to the others. “Uphold your oath to him by making no war upon me. Go in peace.”
The silence grew all the more tense, every man holding in an outcry he dared not let go. But General Bax bowed, the first sign of respect he had shown me, and taking his dismissal as immediate, turned to walk away. No one watched him go. No one spoke. No one moved at all. And still holding the same arrow, I stepped in front of the next man in line.
He was somewhere between the young General Joshi and the old General Mihri in age, with eyes heavily lined as though constantly narrowed in scrutiny. A moment of hesitation held him still. Followed by another and a third and as the seconds mounted up the rest of the generals once more held their breaths. Until he stepped forward and knelt. “I swear on the bones of my forebears,” he began, and I was able to breathe again.
“My name is General Rushin, Your Majesty,” he said at the end, his indulgent smile that of one preparing to put up with dull entertainment put on by children.
I tightened my grip on the bow, mindful to loosen it again before sending the arrow to be reunited with its fellows. “General Rushin,” I said as I drew another, nocked it, and imagined the target was his face. “Another veteran of the ongoing battles with the mountain tribes. Named Hero of Giana after you and some twenty men held off an attack at the pass until the arrival of reinforcements and—”
“Twenty surviving men, Your Majesty,” he said, still smiling. I wanted to split his lip with my fist. “There were two hundred of us at the beginning of the day.”
“Indeed,” I said, and bowing as I had to the others, added, “You served my father, the great Emperor Kin Ts’ai, with strength and honour, and I welcome your continued service to the empire.”
“Why thank you, Your Majesty. The honour is all mine.”
He stepped back and I turned my attention to the second to last general in the line, a heavy-browed young man, the most neatly dressed of them all and bearing his tribal crest as proudly as the Ts’ai dragon. “You must be General Yass,” I said, taking a different opening with the southern army’s other barbarian general. “Are you of the same mind as General Bax?”
The young man did not answer but stepped forward to kneel upon the wet stones and speak
his oath. Once he had finished and I bade him rise, he said, “My name is General Yass and I am no different from any other Kisian. I would not have you treat me so, Your Majesty.”
“That’s a no, then,” I said, turning to loose my arrow into the almost full target. “General Yass, the second member of your family to serve but the first to be named a general, after the battle of Chisit Pass in 1382, a position granted you by your men during battle and later ratified by my father. You also have the honour to be amongst the youngest generals ever named, along with General Ryoji and General Kin.”
I bowed to him as I had to the others. “You served my father, the great Emperor Kin Ts’ai, with strength and honour, and I welcome your continued service to the empire.”
“Your Majesty.”
The last man in the line stood with his hands clasped behind his back and the look of a man who is nobly putting up with a great stench under his nose. By process of elimination this had to be General Onru, but he neither said so nor knelt. He glanced along the line with that same sneer and said, “How pathetic. Is this what we’ve come to? We will stand here being bullied by a girl? Not even a woman. Not even a true child of Emperor Kin, because no matter how many times she invokes his name, it was Katashi Otako’s traitorous seed that made her, with not one ounce of southern blood. Who are you to demand our allegiance? Your mother was a witch. Your grandmother consorted with demons. Is that how you have Manshin and Oyamada under your spell? Well, none of your magic will work on me, girl.”
I lifted my bow, heart pounding. “How dare you let such foul lies pass your lips. I am your empress and you will bow and take your oath or you will die.”
