by Karen Miller
“We have to make peace with Tzhung-tzhungchai!” Rudi declared. “We don't stand a chance without them. You have to give them Zandakar, Your Majesty. You don't have a choice. He betrayed us, and you know it!”
“He did nothing of the sort, Rudi,” Rhian said. She felt small, and distant. “He did what any one of us would do. He tried to save his family.”
“And he's killed mine instead!” Rudi shouted, heedless of protocol. “I'll not have a bar of him, Rhian. If you won't take him to Han, I will !”
She was finding it hard to see. Hard to breathe. Hard to believe this was happening.
“Helfred?” she whispered. “What do you say?”
Like Dexterity, Helfred was weeping. “I don't know. I don't know what to say. I was convinced Marlan came to me at God's behest, that trusting Zandakar was the divine will, but now…”
“You weren't mistaken, Helfred.” She stood and looked at her council. “Wait here. Any man who touches Zandakar while I'm gone will be counted a traitor, and die a traitor's death.”
Alasdair smiled. He looked savage. “ Any man?”
“I won't be long,” she said, and turned for the door.
“Where are you going, Majesty?” Dexterity called after her.
“Where do you think? To see Emperor Han.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
A servant answered the ringing bell at the closed gates of Ambassador Lai's residence. It was so late now – so early – that the sound woke hollow echoes up and down and around the deserted streets of the ambassadors' district. Her stallion danced on the cobbles, startled by the noise, threatening to tug the reins from her hands.
“You know who I am?” Rhian asked the Tzhung servant, who peered at her through the gates' wrought-iron bars as though he'd never seen a woman before.
He nodded. “Majesty.”
“Then admit me,” she said. “And have someone see to my horse.”
The servant stared at her for several moments, speechless, then opened the gates wide and stood back. “Majesty.”
Another servant appeared. He took her stallion, and she followed the gatekeeper into the residence.
Ambassador Lai stood in the elegant, wood-panelled foyer. If he was surprised to see her, his ruthlessly polite self-control hid his emotions to perfection. “Your Majesty.”
“I want Han,” she said baldly. “Don't tell me he's not here.”
Lai held out his hand. “Your knife, Queen Rhian.”
Without hesitation she handed it over.
“Come,” he said, and turned on his heel.
She followed his jonquil-yellow silk back from the foyer, along a series of corridors and through a set of woven bamboo doors, into a small bamboo-enclosed garden. Torches burned, shedding warm light. Hidden water splashed rhythmically, tinkling like a music box. Jasmine scented the cool, windchimed air.
Then Lai withdrew, silent and noncommittal, and she was alone with Tzhung's emperor.
Han stood in a shifting pool of torchlight, a tall, slender figure clad completely in black. His back was to her. His unbound hair reached his waist.
“I know you're angry,” she said, hands clasped behind her so tightly, they hurt. “I know you're grieving. I know—”
“ You know nothing ,” said Han.
His voice held an edge so sharp, she thought if she looked down she'd see herself bleeding.
She took the smallest step towards him. Her booted feet crushed flowers in the grass, and their voluptuous fragrance mingled with the jasmine's sweet perfume.
“I know that without Tzhung-tzhungchai and its witch-men, Ethrea stands alone against Mijak.”
Han turned. Warm light spilled over him, revealing his unsympathetic face. His eyes were disdainful. He looked ageless, like stone, and just as malleable.
“So you have come to Tzhung-tzhungchai for help?”
Was she afraid? Her mouth was dry, her palms damp with sweat. She must be afraid. Windchimes caressed the scented silence.
“Yes,” she said at last.
“Why?”
“Because I've nowhere else to turn.”
The windchimes swayed in a swift gust of air, jangling and discordant as though her words had offended. Han stared at her, dark eyes half-closed. In their depths, a hint of crimson.
“Kneel, girl-queen of Ethrea.”
She dropped to the flowered grass, hands by her sides.
“Beg.”
She tilted her chin at him. “Please. Please help me.”
He answered by taking hold of her, his fingers bruising in their strength. Before she could cry out she heard an angry roaring, felt the terrifying strength of an ice-cold raging wind.
The garden disappeared and she was somewhere else entirely. Somewhere freezing and scorching, blinding bright and black as pitch. It reeked of old blood. New death. She heard screaming in the wind.
“Han!” she shouted. “Han, where are you? Where am I? Han !”
And there he was, beside her, fingers anchored to her wrist. His lips were pressed against her ear, and their soft touch was freezing.
“You know where you are, Rhian. You've been here before. This is the twilight. This is the world where witch-men truly live!”
The twilight? No, no, that wasn't right. It wasn't like this when Han witched her to Harbisland.
“It can't be! I don't believe you!”
“You beg for my help, then call me a liar? Believe me , Rhian.” Han pulled her against him. “This is the twilight of Mijak's making. This is because Zandakar stopped Sun-dao.”
Without his hold on her wrist, or the shelter of his body, she thought the twilight's windstorm would blow her down. Blow her away. Shred her to pieces and hurl those shreds into oblivion.
“I hear screaming,” she said, refusing to let her-self look away from Han's terrible eyes. “Who's screaming?”
“My witch-men,” he told her, weeping. Who would think cold stone could weep? “My brothers.”
She wrenched free of him, burned by her own tears. “I'm sorry! I'm sorry! God's mercy, do you think I wanted this? Do you think I'm not angry? I'm angry, Han. I'm furious . You're right. If Zandakar hadn't stopped Sun-dao there'd have been no need for an armada and all those people would still be alive. Mijak would be dead, and your witch-men wouldn't be suffering like this.”
All around them, the wounded twilight writhed and howled. In the wind, Han's witch-men screamed their torment.
“Then give him to me,” Han demanded. “Give Zandakar to me and my witch-men will help Ethrea.”
She shook her head. Stepped back. “I can't .”
“You would protect him?” Han said, incredulous.
“I have to.”
“Why?”
She was shaking so hard. She wasn't sure she could remain standing for much longer. “ Because I said I would, Han . And because he's all I have left to throw against Mijak.”
“I could take him,” Han said. He was smiling like Alasdair, brutal and cruel.
She nodded. “Yes, you could. But you won't.”
On a wordless cry he seized her again. Cupped a hand to the back of her neck, fingers digging into her flesh, and dragged her to him.
A breath more pressure, and he'd break her.
And then Han howled, like the voices in the wind. The ruined twilight thrashed. It spun around her head. He pushed her away from him, hurled her to the ground…
… where she sprawled, ungainly. Stunned, she sat up. She was home again, in her castle privy garden.
Part of her was surprised to find that the council had obeyed her, and waited in the war room for her return. They stared at her, sullenly silent, as she entered the ballroom. Only Dexterity stood to greet her. And not even he could smile.
“Gentlemen,” she said, considering the rest of them. Letting her gaze skim across Alasdair. “No, really, don't get up.”
“Did you see Emperor Han, Majesty?” Dexterity asked.
He looked so miserable. Consumed by g
uilt. And none of this was his fault, not even Jatharuj. He was a toymaker. He never could have stopped Sun-dao from raising that storm, or Zandakar from using his scorpion knife. So did it matter, truly, that he'd not wanted the storm? That he'd agreed with Zandakar about saving Jatharuj?
He's a dear, sweet and gentle man. He always has been. How could I expect him to stand by and watch a slaughter?
“Sit down, Mister Jones,” she said. “Yes. I saw the emperor.”
“And are you going to surrender Zandakar to him?” said Dexterity, slowly taking his seat.
She shook her head. “No.”
“But he asked?” said Rudi. Like them all he was exhausted, but the dregs of belligerence remained. “He declared it the price for Tzhung-tzhungchai's help?”
God help, God help me …“No, Rudi. He didn't.”
“Didn't?” said Edward, and glanced at Alasdair, puzzled. “I thought—”
“The emperor is grieving the loss of so many witch-men,” she replied. “The armada's failure is as devastating to him as it is to us, Edward. But he knows how important Tzhung-tzhungchai is in the battle to save Ethrea. To save the world. When we need him, he will be there.” Please God, let him be there .
“And Zandakar?” said Ludo as Edward and Adric and Rudi looked at each other, and Helfred continued to ponder his prayer beads, and Dexterity tugged at his untrimmed beard.
“Zandakar is my concern,” she replied, staring at Alasdair. “You needn't fret about him.”
“But you still intend to—”
“Of course I do, Ludo!” she snapped. “Nothing that's happened diminishes his value to us. Indeed, he's now more valuable than ever. And he will continue to serve me, and serve Ethrea, however I see fit. Is that clear?”
“Majesty…” Helfred looked up. “You are our sovereign. And as your loyal subjects, we must obey you. But I beg you to consider this: Zandakar has chosen his family over Ethrea once. And what can be done once, can be done twice.”
Only Dexterity wasn't afraid of that. But she couldn't help it. She couldn't help them. She couldn't tell them Zandakar wasn't protecting Hekat and Dmitrak, but his father. This Vortka . The priest who'd promised to fight against Mijak, not for it.
“It can,” she agreed. “But in this case, it won't be.”
“You don't know that!” said Adric. “Not for sure!”
“It's called having faith, Adric,” she told him. “Ask Helfred, if you've forgotten.”
“By God,” said Edward slowly. “You're prodigious casual with our lives, Rhian.”
I know. I know. I'm sorry, Edward . “Zandakar won't fail us, gentlemen,” she said. “And neither will Han.”
They were too tired, or too dispirited, to argue any more. She was grateful for that, even as it pricked her with guilt.
“It's been a long day, my friends,” she added, gentling her voice. “You're tired. I'm tired. Our hearts are sore with grief. Let's withdraw, and seek our well-earned beds. We'll meet in the council chamber at nine of the clock, and together make final plans for our stand against Mijak.”
“Majesty,” said Helfred, nodding. “That seems the wisest course.”
As he and the dukes departed, Dexterity hesitated. “Majesty…Rhian…” His voice broke. “Can you forgive me?”
“Oh, Dexterity,” she said, and held him close. “You were following your conscience. If that's all God asks of us, how can I ask for more?”
“But what if Edward's right? What if Hettie's gone because I did the wrong thing?”
She tightened her arms around him. “I'll never believe that. Hettie told you to trust Zandakar, and that's what you did.”
“Then where is she? Where is she ?”
“I don't know, Dexterity,” she said, and released him. “But wherever she is, she won't want you blaming yourself. Now get some rest. I'll see you in the Dexterity nodded, and trailed out. She was alone with Alasdair.
“You lied,” he said, still slouched in his seat.
She folded her arms. “I had to.”
The cold look in his eyes admitted no such thing. “And when Mijak comes, and Han doesn't, what will you say then?”
“He'll come.” He will. He will . “Alasdair, why did you do this? Why did you tell the council about Jatharuj when we agreed —”
“Because I had to!” he shouted, leaping to his feet. “Because I was there , Rhian, I saw the armada die ! I saw the blood price everyone else paid for Zandakar's choice! I saw the ships on fire and sinking, I heard the sailors screaming, I saw them drown, saw them torn apart, saw them – have you any idea the sound a man makes when he's burning alive? Do you know what he smells like? Do you know—”
“Yes, I do!” she shouted back. “Have you forgotten Marlan? Alasdair, I'm sorry you were there and saw all those terrible things. But no matter how terrible they were, you shouldn't have told the council about Jatharuj! Look at all the trouble it's caused!”
He shook his head slowly, wondering. “You'll defend Zandakar no matter what, won't you?”
“It's not about defending him , it's about defending Ethrea . You know we need him. With Mijak coming—”
“How can you be so blind , Rhian?” said Alasdair. “How can you honestly think he won't betray you again?”
“And how can you be so sure he will ?”
“Well,” he said softly, after a moment. “At least that's a start. At least you admit he's betrayed you once.”
She didn't know how to answer that. Oh, Alasdair. Alasdair. How has this happened ?
“I have to go,” she said abruptly. “I have to—”
His eyebrows lifted. “See Zandakar?”
“We'll talk later,” she said. She could barely see him for tears. “All right? We'll talk later. We will. We'll…talk.”
And she walked away then, before he broke her completely.
Zandakar sat in his castle chamber and waited. No soldiers guarded him, but still he was a prisoner. He was imprisoned by Rhian, whose lightest word was his law. He waited for her to come and tell him of the armada, even though he knew already the news was not good.
Those ships of wood will not stand against Dmitrak. Cities of stone cannot stand against the god's hammer, it smites cities, it smites—
No. The gauntlet was a hammer, it did not smite for the god. The god did not want cities destroyed, it did not desire streets running with blood. It did not want Alasdair king dead in the ocean.
If he is dead, Rhian will blame me. If he is dead, I am to blame.
The pain he had lived with since Jatharuj clawed him. Every night in his sleep he saw the faces of the dead, he heard the dead screaming. There was no Lilit to hold him, no Lilit to soothe his tears. And so he was tasked for the dead at his feet.
If Yuma is dead, if Dimmi is dead, if Vortka, my father, if he is dead too…
In the silence his harsh breathing, the pain clawing at his throat.
I want Mijak to be stopped. I do not want them dead.
He did not like to think it, he was angry with Vortka for sending him away. He wanted to know why those cities were dead, he wanted to know who had told him to kill them. If the god did not want it, who spoke to the godspeakers? Who spoke to Yuma? Who did she hear when she swam in the godpool?
Does she listen to demons? Are there demons in Mijak? Have I killed for demons instead of the god?
He felt his heart thudding as though he danced his hotas . He felt a hot sweat dampen his skin.
Demons.
The more he thought of it, the more he thought it was true. He thought Vortka knew it. He thought Dexterity had told Vortka that in Jatharuj, when they burned and did not die.
And Vortka said he would tell this truth to Yuma. She will never believe him, demons have whispered in her heart for too long. They whisper to Yuma, they whisper to Dimmi. Yuma and Dimmi are deaf to the god.
Aieee, the god see them. This was not their fault. They did not understand, they were tricked by demons. All of Mijak was tricked by de
mons.
Yuma…Yuma…please, listen to Vortka. Listen to Vortka before your godspark is devoured.
His chamber door opened. Rhian walked in, she was pale, she was exhausted. Her beautiful eyes blazed bright blue with anger.
“The armada was defeated,” she said, and kicked the door shut. “Six hundred and thirty-seven ships sailed out of my harbour. Only two hundred and ten sailed back. Ebrich of Arbenia is dead. Dalsyn of Harbisland is dead. Rollin's mercy, the only leader of a trading nation not to perish is Han.”
Slowly, he stood. “Alasdair king?”
“He survived,” she said. “So did Ludo. But all the trading nations have deserted us. Our alliance is dead, too.”
“Tzhung-tzhungchai?” he whispered. “Emperor Han?”
“Emperor Han wants your head on a pikestaff! He wants to spit your heart on a fork and roast it! Hundreds of his witch-men perished. Tzhung-tzhungchai is brought to its knees .”
Rhian was so angry, she was weeping. Did she know it? He thought she did not. “Will Emperor Han help Ethrea against Mijak?”
She roamed about the chamber. “He says he will – if I give him what he wants.”
He sighed. “Does Alasdair king say for you to give me to Han?”
She flicked a hot glance at him, still pacing. “What do you think? Practically the whole council says it, Zandakar. They know everything about Jatharuj, now. Alasdair told them. Believe me, you are not a popular man. But what happens to you isn't up to the dukes. It's not up to Alasdair. I decide what happens to you. And what I decide decides the fate of this kingdom.”
His heart was hurting, it hurt to breathe. Alasdair king had told the dukes of Jatharuj? Aieee, the god see him. He was not in Jatharuj alone. “Dexterity. Do the dukes blame him for the armada?”
“Not as much as they blame you,” she said. Then she pulled a face, her angry eyes gentled. “He blames himself. He's wondering now if he was right, in Jatharuj. Are you wondering, Zandakar? Do you blame yourself?”
He pressed his fist to his chest. “I am sorry so many armada ships died. Yatzhay . Yatzhay .”
She stared, the gentleness gone from her eyes. “There can be no repeat of Jatharuj, Zandakar. You serve me. You serve Ethrea. You serve no-one else. Zho ?”
