Hollow Empire

by Sam Hawke

  Leaning forward again, I pushed the door a little more. I couldn’t rule out the possibility that the assassin was working with a gang; crime was crime, after all, even if I doubted the man with his months of patient observation and his exotic poison darts was in this grimy room talking about selling drugs on street corners. Still, I would get a glimpse of the trio inside and confirm the assassin wasn’t one of them before I cut my losses.

  The angle was wrong; they were sitting on the left-hand side of the room, below the yellowish light of the lantern. The angle had been to my advantage in concealing me but it worked against me now. I crouched there a moment, still and frustrated, then felt down the front of my clothes with a sudden burst of amusement. The necklace Sjease had forced on me, with its plump glass jewel, was nestled there, and it had a flat, reflective facet. I really need to raise Sjease’s salary. I slipped it carefully through the crack, angling it until I could see, like a tiny mirror, the wonky reflections of the three people sitting on cushions in the room.

  It was a poor image but it told me all I needed to know in an instant. None of the three resembled my assassin—the woman sat with her back to me, with matted black hair spilling all the way down to the ground; one man was hulking, enormous, with darkest brown skin and a bald or shaved head; and the other was thin and small with a lot of facial hair. I pulled the pendant back and thrust it into my pocket, frustration a furnace inside me.

  The light alerted me before the sound. The crack from the external door had painted a musty pale line of light a length or so from me, and for a moment it went dark; I was already turning when a tiny creak sounded. Someone was standing at the doorway, watching; someone small. I stood swiftly but my unthinking movement jolted the door I’d been hiding behind, and the voices in the next room broke off suddenly.

  Fear momentarily froze me in place. By the time I sprang toward the external door—perhaps the street kid had lured me into danger deliberately, but I’d take my chances with her over three adult criminals—the internal door burst open, and before I could get a hand into my pouches something struck me across the side of the head.

  Lights and pain exploded in my skull, blinding me, deafening me, and I hit the ground hard, too dazed to break my fall. The second blow was a sharp kick to the back of my ribs, and I barely had the breath to grunt with this renewed pain. I tried to get to my knees but only succeeded in a pitiful roll, not enough to avoid another kick. I just had time to register the sound of a childish gasp, and raised my chin to focus on the gap in the door.

  The terrified face there was not the street kid I’d inadvertently insulted. It was Dija.

  INCIDENT: Poisoning of Shelle Cha

  POISON: Gravalana (false goaberry)

  INCIDENT NOTES: Shelle (well-regarded portrait painter) reported blistering rash on hands, unable to paint for approx. 1 mth—causing cancelation of commissions including portrait of C. Devin. Likely culprit diluted goaberry serum mixed in hand-washing water in studio (painting assistant suffered similar reaction on hands). Suspect: rival artist Josip Nojak who took commission in Shelle’s stead. Update: Noting subsequent public scandal involving Josip emerging immediately after reveal of portrait, likely part of broader scheme to embarrass C. Devin by linking her to Josip. Suspect rival family, no further action at this time (continue to monitor).

  (from proofing notes of Credo Osi Oromani)

  4

  Kalina

  I left Jov to inspect the marquee and keep an eye on Dee, and made a line toward Prince Hiukipi. Nearby, as I’d hoped, was Minister Kokush, deep in conversation with several of the western visitors. He touched his clothing often, fidgeting with sleeves and dangling adornments, as if he feared he was overdressed. The Prince was speaking to the Perest-Avani High Priestess, but his gaze strayed hungrily to the woman beside her, whom I recognized as the same one who had smiled at me during the ribbon dancing. I guessed she must be the Priestess’s translator from the way the latter’s veiled head drew often down toward her as she spoke.

  I smoothed my paluma, willing my nerves away. I had listened in on Council meetings, hidden in unlikely spaces, and had once pretended to be an ignorant innocent in the face of the most dangerous woman I’d ever met. All I had planned for today was to ask questions and make observations. Strange dolls and mysterious injuries aside, there was nothing to be frightened of in that.

  “You all right, Lini?” Tain appeared at my side and took my arm in his. His page, Erel, trailed behind, scribbling some notes in his ever-present notebook, a little frown line between his eyes.

  “Just thinking.” About Hiukipi, and what kind of man he might be. About Brother Lu and his apparent misfortune. Jov had showed me a poison that made bones brittle, and another that could have subtly swollen Lu’s throat to make him more susceptible to choking. Whether an accident or an attack, there was no need for me to dwell so on the poppet under the bench that had carried such an ominous air. I shook my head. “I’m fine.” I glanced at his page and smiled. “Erel, he’s not making you work through this, is he? You can just watch the race.”

  Erel’s eyes went wide. “Oh, the Chancellor isn’t making me,” he began, and Tain laughed.

  “She’s right. I can remember who’s who on my own today. Go have some fun with your friends.” As Erel hesitated, Tain made a shooing motion and the lad tucked the notebook away and ducked away, grinning, into the crowded marquee.

  My smile slipped off as I turned back to my friend, scrutinizing his thin face. Honor-down, I couldn’t help the little pang of sadness at the physical change in him since the siege. “Are you all right? Since when did you need help remembering names?”

  But his dark eyes still crinkled up with his smile, warm as it had ever been. “The kid just likes feeling useful.” He tilted his head at the Talafan group. “Not sure the Prince is all that well disposed toward us, but you’ll make sure I don’t make an idiot of myself, eh?” I was so used to the false cheer in his tone that it almost fooled me. Almost, but not quite. I’d been faking health far longer than him, after all. Karodee on this scale had taken most of the year to plan, and no one had been under more pressure than Tain.

  I squeezed his arm. “Stop you making an idiot of yourself? That’s what I’m best at,” I said, and he laughed.

  As we drew closer to the group, the Marutian who had been speaking stopped abruptly. All of the men looked at Tain; only Kokush looked at me, and inclined his head. “Chancellor Tain!” the Marutian boomed. A broad smile split his heavy black beard but his eyes did not change. “A pleasure to see you again.”

  “Duke Lago,” Tain replied, returning the man’s short bow, then introduced me to the others in turn: Kokush of course I knew, but I had not met his Costkati counterpart, who was good-looking, fat, and impeccably dressed, nor the Tocatican Prince, Hanichii, who was handsome too but unappealingly aware of it, holding his head like a man who had practiced the most flattering angle in a looking glass for hours. “I hope you are all enjoying the entertainment,” Tain said. “The race should start soon.”

  “Yes, yes. This is what we were doing just now. We were having a small wager,” Lago lied baldly. Whatever they’d been talking about, it hadn’t been sports. Clearly we weren’t the only ones using the karodee for diplomacy, though I wondered what all the western representatives, famously unable to maintain peace for more than a few years at a time, were doing together looking so chummy. Trying to show Kokush that they could work cooperatively to offer an alternative trade route? I looked the men over thoughtfully. Together, they had a lot to gain from Sjon instability. As if she’d heard my thought, the Perest-Avani translator glanced over at me and caught my eye, and flashed another dazzling smile.

  “And who is your money on, your Grace?” Tain asked, smiling pleasantly.

  “The Talafan team was the fastest in the heats,” Lago said, tipping his head toward Kokush. “But my people know waterways. Your little pond here is very tranquil, of course, but Marutians learn to handle boats
on the mighty rivers of the west.”

  “Such a beautiful patchwork of waterways,” I agreed. “Well suited for sports. Our river is far better suited for trade and transport, of course.”

  Lago’s eyes narrowed, but it was Prince Hanichii who answered. Our languages shared many similarities and I could almost understand him, but not well enough to gauge tone or intent. “You would be surprised at the speed we can move cargo on river.” Hanichii’s translator conveyed the Prince’s words, and though he had ostensibly answered me, his eyes were on Kokush. “There is swift passage for heavy goods from Ja Baii in the north through to Branasque on the Doran border. Weight is no obstacle. Why, the Minister could ride on his mighty koule all the way onboard if he so chose.”

  “It must have been inconvenient, having to travel by carriage to Sjona instead of koule,” Lago said to Kokush. His beard made it difficult to say for sure, but I thought from the sudden sparkle in his eyes that he was genuinely smiling for the first time. “Because of the unfortunate bogs and swamps?” The preferred mode of transport in the Empire, koule were massive horned animals as big as a house, and far too heavy for the northern barges.

  “Yes, the marshes are a wonderful defense,” I mused before Kokush could respond. “Did you know that until our engineers worked out how to channel the marshes, no one could safely cross them? The tides are so treacherous that you could go out in a boat one afternoon and never make it home again. Imagine those overconfident fishermen, thinking they could easily handle the situation, not knowing they would drown out there. Very sad.”

  “Sjona’s engineers are world renowned,” Kokush agreed, and I read amusement in his hands, which had stilled their fidgeting.

  Hanichii smiled broader still. “Your engineers are among the finest in the world,” he said. “With such discord and crime in your country, many have fled west and found new lives in our cities.” The smile never slipped as the translator, impassive, relayed his words. Tain shot me a glance, but I was already responding.

  “Competition is fierce in this city,” I said. “It’s no surprise some lower-tier Guild members may feel they have greater opportunities for renown in a less challenging environment.” I leaned closer to the Prince. “Give them a chance, Your Highness. After all, what is the saying from your poet, Hanir?” I smiled. “Even the sourest happi is sweeter than a faya?”

  There was definite laughter in Kokush’s tone. “Lucky for me, today will test our nations’ arms, not our wits,” he said. “My money, Honored Chancellor, is safe in Imperial hands.”

  Tain, seemingly grateful for the interruption to our little game, gave Kokush a jovial grin. “I don’t think I’d take that bet, Minister. Your countrymen were very impressive in the heats.”

  “In fact I heard that the Crown Prince himself is a sailor of some renown?” I added, and Kokush, bless him, took my hint.

  “Indeed. I must introduce you to His Highness,” he said, though with a tension that hadn’t been there a moment before. He turned to the group beside us and bowed. “Your Highness, may I interrupt?”

  The Prince’s large frame was bedecked with jewels, his pale, thick neck was circled with gold, and his face, broad-jawed and handsome with elaborately painted whorls of color around his eyes and cheeks, wore a faintly bored expression. “What is it, Kokush?” He shifted his gaze to Tain. “Ah! Chancellor. A fine day for a race.” He strode over to shake Tain’s hand, the older man dwarfing the younger in breadth. Though well into his sixties, the Prince had the build of an athlete or a laborer rather than a wealthy nobleman. His arms from wrist to massive shoulder were thick with muscle. Astor had spoken of his skills as a sailor and a hunter and his deep enthusiasm for competition.

  The Prince’s translator, an elderly man with a tea-colored complexion and ink on his fingers, repeated the words in Sjon as Tain accepted Hiukipi’s hand.

  “A pleasure to see you again, Your Highness,” Tain said in passable Talafan. Prince Hiukipi released his hand and turned to me with a heavy, assessing gaze that trailed my entire body, and would have been extremely rude in any ordinary Silastian gathering. A tightening of Tain’s jaw told me he had not missed it, but I silently urged him to hold his temper. “Your Highness,” Tain said loudly. “May I introduce our proposed Ambassador, Credola Kalina Oro—”

  “Oromani, yes,” Hiukipi drawled, in a tone that matched his eyes. “I’ve heard of her. Your … I don’t know what you would call it in your language.” He gestured a slow hand to indicate my whole frame and his lips curled in an unpleasant smile. “Mistress? You do not have wives here, I understand. My wife is with her women.” He gestured carelessly out onto the grass, where a separate silken marquee had been set up nearby. “In Talafar we do not bring our women where they do not belong.”

  Kokush cleared his throat and interrupted the interpreter before he could finish translating, the Minister’s hands fluttering wildly in embarrassment as he avoided looking at me. “Honored Chancellor,” he said in rapid Sjon. “There must have been a miscommunication. His Highness does not understand, or I did not adequately explain, the Credola Kalina’s role in your Guild business. I thought—” In the background, the interpreter was murmuring a translation to Hiukipi, who looked amused. “—I thought I had made clear the proposed position.” He bowed his head to the Prince and switched to Talafan. “Credola Kalina is from the Sjon government, Your Highness,” he said, his tone beseeching. “She is not anyone’s wife or mistress.”

  Tain looked at me, confused by the various exchanges and the stunted translation, and I shook my head fractionally. If this was how it was going to be, I would handle it; we didn’t need his sense of honor and manners getting in the way. Besides, I suspected this display was more for my benefit than Tain’s. I squared my shoulders. “An honor to meet you, Your Highness,” I said, in Talafan, as if he had greeted me politely. I offered my hand.

  Hiukipi didn’t look surprised to hear me speak Talafan, and certainly not embarrassed, which made it clear the rudeness had been meant to land directly on me. His hesitation in taking my hand was obvious enough that I detected a flicker of anger or frustration from Kokush. But the Prince shook firmly enough. His palm was hot and unpleasant. I gave my best impression of a demure smile. “Are you enjoying the karodee, Your Highness? Ambassador Astor mentioned your prowess as a sailor.”

  “All men should sail,” he asserted. “There is nothing like it. I learned as a boy, from the finest sailor in the world. Rowing a flat lake is not the same as battling the waves of the ocean. These you call athletes, they would not so lightly cope with the Copper Sea.”

  “Perhaps you should have entered the Games, Your Highness. You could have shown those we call athletes how it is done.”

  Even under thick cosmetics the color in his face deepened and his gaze intensified, but it wasn’t clear if he had taken it as flattery or insult. “Perhaps I will show you some things, Kalina, Hero of Silasta,” he said, in a low voice that, despite the lack of translation, made Tain bristle at my side.

  “I’m afraid I see some of our southern guests looking for us, Your Highness,” he said, taking my arm again and making eye contact with a group of Doranite Chieftains. “Please enjoy the race, and the hospitality.” I only had time to bow my head to the Talafan before Tain had steered me firmly away.

  I pulled my arm loose, cross. “I can’t learn anything from people if you leave the second they start showing us who they are, Tain.”

  “I think we learned plenty,” he said. “What did he say to you at the end there?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” I sighed. “Look, the Chieftains are expecting you now. I’ll catch up with you later.” I spotted Jov patrolling a short distance away but before I could head in his direction, someone touched my shoulder.

  “Credola Kalina?” A Talafan servant bowed low. “Her Highness has extended an invitation to her marquee, if you would be so good?”

  Taken aback, I glanced at Tain, but he was already having his back thoroug
hly clapped by several enormous Doranites. Jov, several treads away, was talking to Dee and seemed to be proofing something from a passing servant. What did a Talafan Princess want with me? “Of course,” I said. “I would be honored.”

  Feeling a little like a schoolchild being led impatiently by a long-suffering teacher, I followed the servant’s quick steps out of the front of the big central marquee and into the small violet silk one to its right. Two young Imperial soldiers guarded its entrance, which was shielded by a fluttery gauze fabric like the sides of a closed litter, and through which there carried muffled voices and tinkling high music. It stopped abruptly as the servant parted the curtain and gestured me through.

  It was a pleasant space, easily as luxurious as the Council marquee, shady and furnished with beautifully patterned cushions. In a dizzying array of beauty, four ladies were arranged on the cushions like a necklace of finest jewels, all gleaming sumptuous fabrics and beaded headdresses in bright colors. While their pale skin ranged from pink to light golden brown, and their long hair various warm yellow and woody shades, their still faces were styled so similarly with heavy cosmetics that they looked like sisters. One stood by an upright string instrument, the evident source of the music, and another sewed an elaborate shawl or scarf with several different kinds of needles. Princess Zhafi, the Crown Prince’s younger sister, sat in the middle, a book open on her lap.

  “The Credola Kalina Oromani,” the servant introduced me, then immediately withdrew.

  “Good day,” I said, trying to sound as if this had been a planned visit. I was at a sudden social loss, painfully aware of the gaps in my knowledge.