Her vision swam.
The world exploded.
Taigan saw what was going to happen the moment Lilia stepped out onto the parapet, gasping like a drowning swimmer. A massive bubble of misty red breath suffused Lilia’s form. It whirled madly around her, licking and twisting like some hungry ghost.
“Release it!” Taigan yelled. She bolted forward–
–and saw the wave of Oma’s breath hurling toward them from the sea.
She had to choose – cut Lilia off from her source, or save every person on the wall, including herself, from the Tai Mora assault.
It was an easy decision. Taigan had been making it her entire life.
Taigan called the Song of Davaar, and drew deep and fiercely, so much so quickly that the ends of her fingers ached. She twisted her strings into an intricate netted trap and pushed the woven snare of Oma’s breath over the parapet. Released it.
Taigan ran toward Lilia, muttering the song that would cut her from Oma’s grip. Arrogant, foolish, mad – all that and–
–a rush of hot air took her off her feet. She heard a heavy whumping, as if a forest of trees fell in unison. The air shuddered and contracted.
Taigan spun through air heavy as spoilt milk. She pulled Oma to break her fall. Oma eluded her. How could one trust a god so impermanent, so intemperate?
Taigan hit the parapet hard. Her left shoulder bore the brunt of her fall. The bone snapped in two and thrust up through the flesh of her arm, opening her cheek. Her fingers crunched.
She hissed. Heard another great wallop as the tangled palisade defense she had built collided with the offense the Tai Mora had thrown. The air juddered. The whole gate trembled. She bit through her pain and pushed herself over. She saw a great snarled light just over the parapet – her concoction warring with theirs.
Her fingers were unresponsive. As she tried to stand, she felt a sharp pain in her back, and crumpled again. She had broken something vital.
She reached for Oma and caught a breath. She began to reknit herself. Flesh hissed. Burned. She pieced her spine back together first, then pushed up again and limped toward Lilia while spinning the intricate whorls of Oma’s breath to yank back and reknit her bones and flesh.
Lilia lay at the center of a massive charred ruin. The explosion had taken off the rear half of the parapet and half the parajistas on the wall. The edges of the splintered wood were still smoking.
Taigan found Lilia blistered, her clothes blackened tatters, most of her hair gone.
She edged closer, rubbing at her own burning arm as the bone restored itself.
“Lilia?”
No response.
Taigan knew what she would find, but tried anyway.
She pulled on Oma, and began to compose a song for a constricting mist that would kill the girl.
The ward on her back did not burn. Nothing compelled Taigan not to kill this girl.
There was nothing to say Lilia was uncommon at all.
Taigan dropped her hold on Oma. Sighed. She hoped Lilia was dead, or perhaps would die. It wasn’t too late for that.
A boom behind her shattered her reverie. She ducked. The battling songs that bound Oma’s breath had burst apart, their fight exhausted. Taigan saw the blooming mist of another Tai Mora attack engulfing the skies over the boats.
She gazed once more at Lilia.
Broken little girl, worse than nothing, now. Worse than what she had been even when Taigan found her. Because when Taigan first found Lilia, there was still the potential she could be powerful.
Now she was a burn out. She would never draw on Oma again.
Taigan stepped away.
“Sanisi?” the leader of the parajistas called to her. He limped over, clutching at a wound from a fragment of broken wood. “Where are you going? What’s happened to Lilia?”
Taigan shrugged. “That’s none of my concern.” In truth, Taigan was going down to find a doctor, though she could hardly admit that even to herself.
Then her knees buckled. She cried out, and fell.
A searing pain set her spine on fire. She arched her back. The pain was worse than falling, worse than knitting herself together again.
Maralah’s ward.
Maralah calling her home.
The pain receded, but only just. The compulsion held. The ward only burned softly now, like a fingertip pressed to a hot teacup. Taigan shuffled to her feet. Sweat poured down her face. She should have gone a long time ago, yes. These people were foolish. This battle was lost long before it started. Now she had no omajistas at all, nothing to show for over a year of hacking across this blighted place.
“Wait, sanisi. Who will help us?”
“I suspect you’ll save yourselves,” Taigan said. “Or perish. It doesn’t concern me.”
Taigan turned away. Her spine still ached. Home, home, but what was that anymore, but a burning brand and a woman with a leash? She began the long climb down the wall.
She would miss the scullery girl.
22
Ahkio called in the clan leaders for aid the moment Hofsha left the temple. Endurance was the only way he could think of the war. Enduring a siege. Enduring an incursion. Enduring, not fighting. Not strangling his own sister with his own two hands.
Who would he be, then?
Just eight hours after Hofsha fled with her birds, Ahkio sat with Clan Leader Isailia, Tir’s replacement as leader of Clan Garika. She had responded swiftly to his summons, the first of the clan leaders to make time for a meeting since he brought them together in Raona.
Ahkio was not a strong reader, but he excelled at numbers, and he could not make the numbers she brought with her work.
“Rice,” Ahkio said. Isailia sat in the chair opposite him in the Kai study, hands clasped firmly in her lap.
“We have paid our tithe to the community stores in full,” Isailia said. “I’m sure you know that we would help more if we could, but we are not the rice producers they are in, perhaps, Clan Adama or Alia. We have less to spare.”
“Ghrasia has given me figures for the number of militia we’ve had to call up – a twenty percent increase from all clans. Someone must feed them.”
“That’s what the community stores are for.”
“This is an unprecedented time–”
“Kai, each clan must look after its own borders first. I can’t spare what we simply do not have. I thought I explained this fully in my letters. We cannot–”
“And I’ve summoned you here because though you can pen a letter, you obviously haven’t been reading mine,” he said, and his tone was sharper than he intended. She stiffened. He had some concern about putting her on the defensive. He worried his own fear filled his voice.
“Kai,” she said, gazing at the portraits above him. “We’ve had at least a dozen families flee Garika for the woodlands in the last week. One of our bakers simply closed up her storefront and left with all dozen members of her family. That is not an insignificant number. We’ve all heard about the harbor. There is… concern about the ability of the Dhai state to combat this threat.”
“There is no Dhai state,” Ahkio said. “There’s all of us working together, or dying together.”
“We may die regardless. I’ve spoken to several clan leaders, and they agree it’s best if we retreat into the temples.”
“Which clan leaders?”
“I… some leaders.”
“Who? Badu? Adama? I didn’t spend a year uniting us with a single purpose just to see us break apart at the first sign of trouble.”
“I’m sorry, with Ora Nasaka telling us one thing, and you another–”
Ahkio leaned forward. “And what is Nasaka telling you?”
“She says to prepare to welcome these people to Dhai as kin. But you’re telling us to prepare to fight them. It’s all very… confusing, Kai.”
“I can tell you now that the Tai Mora emissary has been escorted from Dhai, and we have turned down their offer of a politic welcome.”
/> “But… why? That goes against everything–”
“I sought a peaceful solution,” Ahkio said. “They are not here to be peaceful, whatever Nasaka is telling the clan leaders.”
“You’ll pardon, Kai, but when the Kai and his religious and political advisor cannot even agree–”
“Nasaka does not speak for me. She speaks for herself. I’ll be ensuring that is communicated more effectively in the future. In the meantime, we need those rice stores.”
“I cannot–”
“I replaced your predecessor,” Ahkio said. “I can replace you just as easily. What’s your decision, Isailia?”
“Threats are hardly–”
“Promises.” He stood. She shrank back, just a little, which startled him. He had never thought of himself as an imposing person. “Every word I speak now is no longer a request. It is a directive meant to ensure our survival.”
“We aren’t a tyranny.”
“No, we’re a cooperative. And you’re being less than cooperative.”
Isailia smoothed her tunic. “I resign my position,” she said. “I am not suited for war.”
“None of us are,” Ahkio said. “We must make ourselves so.”
“No,” she said. “I reject that.”
“Reject it or not, it is coming.”
“Ghrasia Madah speaks well of you in the clans,” she said. “Ghrasia says you won’t try and make us into what we are not. But this fight… calling up more militia, murdering people at our gates… It is defensive, yes, but it will change us. I don’t want to be the people our ancestors were.”
“Isailia–”
“That is all,” she said. She turned abruptly and hurried from the room.
Ahkio rested his hands on the desk. Somewhere in the conversation, or perhaps in her appointment, he had misstepped. She would go home and speak of this meeting, and her family would flee with all the rest.
“Kai?” A plump novice entered. She had a scrunched little face, as if she had sucked all day on a lemon. “I’m Pasinu Hasva Sorai, Ora Nasaka’s new apprentice.”
“Where’s Elaiko?”
“She’s been put on an errand, some time ago.”
“Is that… so?”
“Ora Nasaka has asked that you dine with her in her rooms this evening, as she is, of course, confined to quarters. Can I relay your response?”
“How are you related to the Catori?” Ahkio asked.
Pasinu did not even stumble. “I am her near-cousin, on her third mother’s side.”
“Of course,” Ahkio said. “Tell Nasaka I will meet her.”
“Pardon, Kai, isn’t it very rude not to use Ora Nasaka’s title?”
“It is,” Ahkio said.
“I see,” Pasinu said. She pressed thumb to forehead. “I’ll tell Ora Nasaka you accepted. Good day.”
Ahkio mulled over this new piece of information. He had just started to get used to Elaiko. What new game was Nasaka playing? Game upon game. All information and none. What had she sent Elaiko to do? He had her confined, now he just needed legal precedent to exile her. But from where? Who had the information he needed to do that?
Assemble your allies and go to battle – with affection and politics or swords and ships – what was the difference? It occurred to him that Nasaka had been playing the Tai Mora’s game for a good long while, and, though he was running to catch up, he was not going to be fast enough.
He sat alone in the Kai quarters, going over correspondence. A novice entered, popping only her head in, ducking back a little when he looked up.
“You can come in,” he said.
“Farosi is in the study. He has some news about the errand you sent him on.”
“Ask him in.”
She ducked out, and Farosi came in. He was a lean man, beardless, with short dark hair and a perpetual squint.
“Would you like tea?”
Farosi shook his head. “I had some news about Yisaoh.”
“You found her?”
“Just news of her. There are reports putting her in the woodland. The same as her two missing brothers, Rhin and Hadaoh, their wife Meyna, and the child. You should know, Kai, that Ora Nasaka had people looking for Yisaoh as well.”
“I could have guessed as much,” Ahkio said. “The woodland is bigger than Dhai. Do you have any idea where?”
“I’ve sent two of my people out there to scout,” he said. “Ora Naldri was kind enough to lend us a parajista, before he went to the harbor.”
“You didn’t tell Ora Naldri who you were looking for?”
“No. Only the two militia know. No disrespect meant, Kai, but I don’t trust Oras. Not after all the blood that’s been spilled here. She’ll know you intend to meet her personally, at a time and place of her choosing,” he said. “But Kai, with the blood between you–”
“I need to get to her before someone else does,” he said. “She may not trust that, but if she waits long enough, she’ll find out the truth of it. Anything else?”
“That’s all, Kai.”
Ahkio stifled his annoyance. The man could have sent that in a letter. “Thank you.”
It wasn’t until Farosi closed the door that Ahkio realized he might have been lingering in the hopes of sitting down to dinner with him. But Ahkio was too exhausted for social niceties. He hardly understood what they looked like anymore.
Ahkio lay in bed, wide awake, while Liaro snored. He imagined the harbor on fire, and Tai Mora flooding up the coast. Twelve hours ago, he had sent word to Para’s temple to send every parajista they had to the wall, and started the Kuallina militia marching there. But they had had no word back from either, and nothing from the harbor. Every time he thought he could remove Nasaka from the temple, there was some new crisis. He was starting to suspect they were her doing.
Sitting in the dark, he found that he missed Ghrasia. Sina take him, he still missed Meyna. Liaro’s snoring intensified. He babbled something in his sleep. Ahkio nudged him with his foot.
“Sina take you,” Liaro muttered, and shifted positions, pulling the comforter with him.
Ahkio lay exposed in the cool air, staring out the big windows at the plateau and sweeping woodland beyond, all of it lit by the pearly white glow of the triple moons. It was mesmerizing to sit up and watch them move across the sky.
“Nasaka has done enough terrible things that someone must be willing to speak up about it,” Ahkio said.
Liaro snuffled. “Keeps people up at night. Exile her for it myself.”
“Should we–”
“I’m asleep.”
“What should we do about–”
“Sleep,” Liaro said.
Ahkio got out of bed and began to dress. He knew who had the information he wanted. She had walked out on him because of it. “I need to run an errand.”
Liaro mumbled an acknowledgement. Ahkio walked two flights down to the guest rooms and opened Masura’s door.
“Elder Ora Masura?” he said. “It’s Ahkio. Are you awake?”
“Hm?”
“Ahkio. I’m sorry it’s late. I have a question.”
“Come in, come in,” Masura said.
The room was dim, so Ahkio took up the paper lantern on the bedside table and shook it. The flame flies stirred, giving off a warm light.
Masura sat up in bed, rubbing her eyes. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, parting her robe; she was naked beneath, and her sex dangled free. She looked gaunt and terribly frail in the bad light. “Don’t tell me you’re having bad dreams,” she said wryly.
“I want to know about the day Nasaka had her child,” Ahkio said.
“That’s old dead business.”
“Who was the midwife?”
“Why come to me about this?”
“Because you’re old enough to have known about it, and you don’t care for Nasaka.” And you loved my mother, he wanted to add, but did not. There were few people he’d trust enough to ask.
She sighed. “It was nearly twe
nty years ago. What does it matter?”
“Humor a foolish boy?”
She reached for a bottle at her bedside, uncorked it. He smelled bourbon. She poured herself a drink, took a long swallow. “She was from Nasaka’s clan, of course. Woman named… Orsala? Unissa? Something. I don’t know. She was well known in the clan, though, in Saiz. Try there.”
“And who attended my mother, that same week?”
“Ah, well.” Masura took another drink. Narrowed her eyes. “Why is this important?”
“Do you remember, or not?”
“Of course I remember. I’m not that old.” He didn’t protest. “Javia went to childbed early, right after Nasaka. They were both in the temple at the same time, so that Unissa… Unalina woman, she attended both. Yes, I remember that now. I remember thinking she looked quite young to have attended Nasaka’s birth. Why did you want to know this?”
“I just needed a few questions answered. Thank you.” He got up to leave.
Masura set her drink aside. “Ahkio, some advice.”
“Of course.”
“Let this lie. I suspect you know what you’ll find if you dig.”
“I already know who I am,” he said. “Nasaka is a danger to me, and this country. She’s betrayed us a hundred times. I don’t know how to fight her, Masura. How does a man fight his own mother? A Dhai man? A peaceful man? How can I retain who I am while keeping this country safe?
“Ahkio, if you go after Ora Nasaka on this, trying to find some way to exile her, it will all come out. The whole country will know who birthed you. Do you understand? If you destroy Ora Nasaka, you destroy yourself.”
“I don’t know what else to do.”
“I advise finding another route,” Masura said. “Listen, Ahkio. Your mother exiled her sister Etena based on madness. The things Ora Nasaka has done in her life… are they not mad?
“They are.”
“Then perhaps that is where the answer lies.”
Madness. Was it that easy? It had been for Etena.
“Will you back me?” he asked. “I need you to back me, Ora Masura.”
“Ahkio–”
“If she’s exiled she can’t hurt you.”
Masura barked out a laugh. “Oh, I have heard that before. It’s a lie.”
The Worldbreaker Saga Omnibus Page 74
