The Black Wolves

by Kate Elliott

  She said nothing, taken aback by the fierceness of his speech.

  “That’s why Seras’s sons had to be punished. It made a statement to everyone who had secretly supported Seras: Move against the king and you’ll get your balls cut off.”

  Tarnit’s eyes had gotten very wide, though she knew better than to voice an opinion. Dannarah found herself grudgingly impressed by Vanas’s defense of the man he served. Yet she could not keep the skepticism from her tone.

  “How large do you imagine this conspiracy to have been? My investigations after the fact led me to believe that Seras was acting alone with fifty loyal retainers and thirty-odd hired killers. It was generally agreed he was acting under the command of a demon, who appeared briefly at the scene and vanished again after ascertaining that both Atani and Seras were dead. The Black Wolves weren’t able to kill the demon.”

  He glanced sidelong at her. “If you ask me, Captain Kellas got off easy.”

  A thrill of disquiet thrummed in her bones to hear that name after all these years. “Kellas would never have betrayed Atani.”

  “So everyone kept saying.”

  She yanked him to a halt. “Do you know something I don’t?”

  He looked ready to shake off her arm, so she tightened her fingers. Old she might be, but forty years as a reeve had kept her tough.

  He looked down at her hand, then back up. Anger wrinkled his eyes, but his tone remained cool. “We could never prove the captain was demon-ridden and involved in the plot even though half the army witnessed him speaking to a demon.”

  “So they claimed at the time.”

  “Claimed? Jehosh was the one who chased the demon off. Captain Kellas should have been executed for his part in the plot.”

  “I was in charge of my brother’s security just as much as Captain Kellas was. Do you think I was in on the plot?”

  “It is my opinion that all those who did not sufficiently protect King Atani had a hand in his death, even those who did not intend it.”

  “Is that meant to chastise me, Lord Vanas?”

  “I believe King Jehosh recommended you retire.”

  Tarnit’s cough caused Dannarah to glance down. Without realizing, she had clenched her right hand to a fist. The hells! She knew better than to let this pup goad her into losing her temper.

  “Yes, well, I believe you will find I rarely listen to people who know nothing about how reeves and eagles actually function. But since I did not have Jehosh’s confidence, I stepped down as chief marshal. I don’t like to be a person who stays in high office just because of my connections.”

  He leaned just a little too far into her space. “I don’t like to be such a person, either, Lady Dannarah. That is why the king’s treasury is far richer today than it was twenty years ago. You don’t know as much as you think you do. My brother Seras’s children haven’t stayed so very innocent as they have grown up, have they? Supreme Captain Ulyar recently discovered that the whole scheming household has negotiated a marriage alliance with Silvers. Seras’s children are gaining a fortune in exchange for placing a Ri Amarah daughter at court. Do you not find that odd?”

  “The hells.” She realized she had been told of the marriage at the Ri Amarah estate in Elsharat and let it pass without question. “But I don’t understand what the Ri Amarah have to do with Seras’s ambitions. They were never implicated in Atani’s death…” She got that prickling feeling on her neck, her instincts telling her to stop and look at what she had overlooked. “Except that one of their women was found with the wagon drivers who were part of the ambush.”

  “The king will speak to you after you have refreshed yourself,” Vanas said in the tone of a man who has decided he has said too much. “This way, Lady Dannarah.”

  The corridor opened onto a colonnade that overlooked a lovely garden. The whitewashed height of the old Assizes Tower loomed above the far wall of the garden. At one end rose a round pavilion with trellis walls that had been constructed in the tentlike manner of the Qin, nomads who lived far away on the vast plains of the interior herding horses and sheep and conquering their neighbors. Her father had often spoken of how much he had treasured the simplicity and purity of that life, which he had been forced by dynastic politics to leave far behind.

  Past the pavilion stood a humble portico in a building she recognized from her youth, little changed from those days. Vanas escorted her past the guarded doors into a chamber empty but for a neat pile of cushions in the center of a plank floor. This sparsely furnished chamber had rice-paper-screened walls on two sides. One screen was open and through the gap Dannarah saw a room floored with mats in the Hundred style, its storage cupboards closed, and not a single scrap of furnishing or decoration. The third wall was solid and inset with a foreign door, the kind with hinges so that instead of sliding like a proper door it swung open.

  The hinged door let onto a spacious chamber furnished with gold brocade couches, a room meant for conversation. The walls were painted with vines and flowers surrounding figures dressed in long wrapped kilts who might be male or female. The gold filigree surrounding the painted figures made her wonder if they were meant to be holy acolytes, but they looked nothing like Beltak priests or even the holy men and women who served the seven gods of the Hundred.

  On one side the chamber opened onto a balcony whose railing ran along the cliff face. She walked out onto the balcony, enamored of its view south across the river overlooking the lowland rice fields and orchards of the province of Istria. The cliff face plunged straight down from the railing to the mighty river below. With its solid walls and solidly hinged door, the room was as good as a prison.

  “Stewards will bring wash-water and refreshments,” said Lord Vanas. He left.

  With a whistle of astonishment, Tarnit walked onto the balcony and leaned right over the railing to examine the cliff face below. “There are rooms carved into the rock beneath us!”

  Dannarah joined her. “While you were propositioning Reyad did you glean any information about his time at Argent Hall? Or Auri’s possible relationship to Reyad’s wife?”

  Tarnit pulled a hand through her short hair, spiking it up. “No. Should I have? Do you think Reyad’s wife was abused in some manner at Argent Hall?”

  “In River’s Bend I witnessed a brief but ugly exchange between Reyad and Auri. For a pleasant and charming young man Reyad looked cursedly happy when Auri died.”

  “I hope for her sake nothing awful happened to her. Reyad is hells happy to be out of there, though. Now what, Marshal?”

  “Now we shall see if I still have any influence with Jehosh. When he was a youth he liked me because of the shocking things I said out loud.”

  Voices rumbled in the outer chamber. Stewards processed in bearing basins, towels, numerous pitchers of water, and folded garments. They set down platters of food and departed, closing the door behind them. Everything looked so inviting, and the food smelled delicious: spicy lamb in coconut milk, a slip-fry of bitter melon and bean curd, and a clear soup swimming with onion and noodle.

  Before either reeve could wash a click resounded from the wall, and one of the painted figures slid sideways and back to reveal a narrow opening. A tall beardless man wearing striped trousers, a braided sash, and a harness of knives stepped out of the secret door. Tarnit drew her long knife but Dannarah stayed her with a hand.

  “Why does Jehosh hide a eunuch from the Sirniakan Empire in his suite?” she demanded, but the mysterious eunuch did not answer as he stationed himself at the outer door.

  “My servant does not belong to Jehosh.” A woman appeared in the opening. She wore flowing robes and a shawl over her hair, its trailing edge pulled up to conceal all but her eyes. “Well, Dannarah, you have grown old, have you not? You look like a Hundred woman now, except you will always have Father’s nose, more’s the pity for you. Then on top of all else you dress like a man.”

  The voice was harsh as if raddled by too much smoke. Dannarah did not recognize it; nor did the
woman’s dark eyes look familiar. “Who are you?”

  “I suppose I should not have expected you to remember me. Not like Atani. He always had time for us little girls. And now he is dead. Jehosh tells me he was killed by traitors in thrall to a demon. His own Black Wolves failed him. Such a thing would never have happened under our father’s rule. Atani was too kind.”

  Dannarah’s thoughts fell into spinning confusion. “Three of my sisters were sent south to marry men in the empire,” she murmured. “Sukiyah. Gedassah. And…” Her second-youngest sister had been five when Dannarah had been chosen by an eagle and left the women’s wing without once looking back.

  The woman nodded although she still did not reveal her face. “Yes. I am Sadah.”

  Sadah! Dannarah fished back through her memories although it was brutally difficult to recall anything about the sisters who had been sent south to a fate she had herself rejected.

  “That’s right! You were Mama’s greatest triumph. The other girls were married to highly placed lords. But you she managed to marry to her own nephew, Emperor Faruchalihosh.”

  “I was the emperor’s fourth wife but never his senior or his favored queen. Mama did not make that alliance for my sake. Before I went she reminded me over and over I was to be her eyes and ears in the royal household to make sure there was no trouble for Atani.”

  “Trouble for Atani?”

  “Do not be stupid, Dannarah! Atani had a claim to the Sirniakan throne through both Father and Mother. Mother sent me to be an ambassador into the imperial household to assure them Atani would never make such a claim. Keeping him safe as king in the Hundred was all she cared about.”

  “That’s true,” agreed Dannarah. “So why are you here?”

  “Emperor Faruchalihosh has died.”

  “The hells he has! I’ve heard nothing of this!” She looked at Tarnit, who shook her head.

  “Faruchalihosh died unexpectedly. I have outraced rumor in my haste to reach our nephew. I am come to beg Jehosh to support my son’s bid to become emperor.”

  18

  “Impossible!” cried Dannarah as the shock of the words hit home.

  “Of course it is not impossible,” said Sadah. “Do you think my son unworthy or incompetent?”

  She saw her mistake at once. “I meant it is impossible for me to absorb such stunning news until after I have washed off the dirt of travel and eaten. You may of course join us.”

  Sadah reclined on one of the couches as the two reeves cleaned up and then sat down to eat together at the table the stewards had laid. “Is this woman not your servant, to wait upon you?” she exclaimed with exaggerated astonishment.

  “Tarnit is a reeve, as I am. Reeves wash and eat together, sharing what we have and never holding extra for ourselves. We only survive and flourish in the reeve halls if all are cared for.”

  “How frightful for you to have fallen so low, Dannarah.” Her tone dripped disdain.

  “What in the hells is she saying to you, Marshal?” Tarnit whispered in the Hundred-speech.

  “Nothing important, Tar. I’ll fill you in later.”

  “Can I speak freely before the woman, Dannarah?”

  “I trust her with my life. And she doesn’t speak Sirni.”

  “Very well.” Sadah lowered the shawl. She had the pallid complexion of a woman who rarely feels the force of the sun. Her imperial court diction made her sound like a condescending teacher imparting knowledge to a recalcitrant pupil. “May Emperor Faruchalihosh stand in both mercy and justice before the throne of the Shining One. He left behind six sons, four adult and two underage. Only one man can sit on the imperial throne.”

  “Even I know that!”

  “That is a relief. Perhaps I need not explain how factions arise as a war for succession begins.”

  Dannarah was so surprised the little girl she only vaguely recalled could release such needling words that she waved away the scathing comment. “It would help me to understand the situation.”

  “Emperor Faruchalihosh took four wives. His senior queen is Janassah. Her son Ovadihosh was the eldest of the princes, and she also has a much younger son who is still underage. Ounah is the second queen, a woman of great cunning and brutality. Her son Ahituhosh is beloved by the army. The third queen, Kessiah, is dead but her son Edesihosh is a competent man who has support from kin in the northern districts.”

  “I’ll never remember all these names,” muttered Dannarah to Tarnit.

  “I myself bore the emperor three sons, more than any of the others! But because I was his fourth and least wife, my boys never gained support from the powerful barons, the palace officials, the army, or the priesthood.” Her gaze drilled into Dannarah, bleak and angry. “My two younger sons are already dead, murdered in the palace school by Queen Ounah’s servants.”

  A bath of cold water thrown over her head could not have shocked her more. She winced. “You have my sympathies—”

  “Your sympathies! What do you know of what it means to lose a beloved child? I am given to understand you never had children.”

  “I do not regret my childless condition if that’s of any matter to you. Our mother’s heartfelt speeches about how her children were her sole fortune fell on deaf ears when it came to me. But how can you know anything about my life here in the Hundred, trapped as you were in the women’s palace in the empire?”

  “How ignorant you are! In the women’s palace, we live and die by what we know. Have you the slightest inkling what happened to our other sisters?”

  “Of course I know! Sukiyah and Gedassah and you were married into the empire. Little Anah shocked everyone by marrying an actor, of all things, a traveling player. At the time I thought Mama would take to her bed and die but Atani coaxed her through the shock. I’m glad to say Mother lived long enough to see Atani become king and fortunately died before his murder. As for Meenah, she was too frail to marry so Atani kept her in his household, and indeed she and Atani’s queen became good friends.”

  “What of Atani’s queen, Yevah? Where did she go after Atani’s death?”

  Dannarah puzzled through this question. “I’m not sure.”

  Sadah went on. “Did you ever bother to ask what happened to the three of us who were married into the empire?”

  Her sister’s grief bled so raw that an unfamiliar pain nudged Dannarah up under the ribs: shame that she had never bothered to ask about, much less keep track of them. She had left all that to Atani while he was alive, and after he died she had buried herself in reeve business. She stayed active on patrol when other older marshals ran their halls from their desks and let younger reeves take policing duties, but flying was her solace and her delight.

  “I did not ask,” she admitted, accepting the blame.

  “Let me tell you of your sisters, for it is proper you should know what befell them when they took on the responsibility you refused. Sukiyah lived far to the south in a disease-ridden province. Her husband spent most of his time at court, away from her. She and I corresponded faithfully. She died fifteen years ago of a wasting illness. Her daughter I was able to bring to me to raise with my own girls but her sons I lost track of after their father married again. Gedassah was married to the noble Lord of the Five Chambers and Courtesy Master of the Fourth Portico, a humble man who treated her well. I hope she has gone into hiding for otherwise my son’s rivals will kill her just because of her connection to me.”

  Dannarah glanced at Tarnit, who sat with brow furrowed as she desperately tried to pick out words in the conversation. “Sadah, do you honestly believe your son could become emperor?”

  “Yes, I do. The field is open. Janassah grabbed hold of the reins at court as Faruchalihosh was dying. Some say she poisoned him herself. She coerced the priests to anoint her elder son Ovadihosh as emperor. To put it plainly, Emperor Farovadihosh, as he is now called, is feeble in the head and given to seizures. His position is so weak he can never leave the imperial city and must cower where his mother’s robes can sh
elter him.”

  “How can she possibly hope to keep him in power, if he is not a full man?”

  “Because she intends to keep him in power only until her younger son comes of age.”

  “She can’t act as regent for the younger boy?”

  “By imperial law an underage boy cannot rule, and by holy law no woman may sit upon the throne even as regent.” Sadah leaned forward to pluck at Dannarah’s hand like a vulture sensing the final throes. “Don’t you see? No one is going to wait ten years for a child to grow up. In three months the empire will be in complete turmoil.”

  “Lady Sadah.” The eunuch spoke from the door in warning.

  Sadah rose and retreated to the balcony.

  The door opened. Jehosh swept in and slammed the door shut in the faces of the men attending him so none could follow him in. He surveyed the armed eunuch, the empty platters, and the woman on the balcony.

  “I see you and Aunt Sadah have made what I hope is a happy reunion,” he said to Dannarah with a sarcastic quirk of the lips.

  “What in the hells are you up to, Jehosh? First you go running off to the north to put down a rebellion in Ithik Eldim that any one of your generals could have quelled without your help. Now you are hiding the mother of one of the rivals for the Sirniakan imperial throne in your private chambers.”

  “I want your reeve out, Aunt Dannarah.”

  She nodded, and Tarnit left, although the eunuch stayed. Jehosh moved to the balcony, looked to either side, then up and down the cliff exactly like a man looking for spies clinging to the rock wall.

  When he returned inside, Sadah knelt at his feet and pressed her forehead to his hands. “Nephew, I beg you, do not reject my plea. The dreaded red hounds already race on the trail of my son Irsamahosh. They will murder him and carry his severed head to the imperial palace.”

  “Where is he?” asked Jehosh too quickly.

  She sat back on her heels. “When I have your assurances, and the coin and army we need, then we can talk further.”