Blood of the Gods

by David Mealing

  “Four hours since the Divide opened,” Mei replied. “They’re past due, though if Isaru has new recruits, who can say how long he will take, to ensure they make it through.”

  “Four hours?” he repeated. “And you were the first to see it? Have you slept at all?”

  “I miss my husband,” she said. “Not all of us have the pleasure of your diversions.”

  A Jun girl might have blushed at the aspersion; Yuli only looked to him with a subtle smile, a slight crack in an otherwise stoic exterior. But it was an odd thing for Mei to say. He was sure no few of the better-looking Yanjin serving men could attest to Mei’s need for diversions, as she put it, and to Dao’s, too, for that matter. An open secret on their estate, but not often touched on directly, especially in the company of outsiders.

  “It will be good to have him back,” Tigai said cautiously.

  “It will,” Mei said. “Dao has become essential to Isaru’s plans. He’ll secure a place for you, before the campaign begins in earnest.”

  Tigai looked askance at Yuli, and at the heavyset lieutenant tending the other fire on the opposite side of the tent, before leaning in close.

  “Mei, I’m not here for your war. I want to find where Remarin is being held and find a way to get him back. Whatever else Dao has us committed to, it’s well and good for him, but it’s no part of why I followed you here.”

  “It isn’t my war, Yanjin Tigai,” she said. “Any more than it’s yours or your Natarii friend’s. Do you think I’ve stayed here because I yearn for bloodshed and violence? The magi backing the Emperor have their fingers in the dealings of every house in the hundred cities, or do you believe it was an accident for the Shinsuke Bank to have amassed such leverage over your father? They meant to conscript Dao’s company to pay off the debts. Opposing them is the only way we remain free to control our destinies, instead of being dragged into the wrong side of their war.”

  “War with whom?” Tigai said. “Yes, there is corruption throughout the Empire—who would believe otherwise? But I’ve seen nothing that would suggest—”

  “Neither had we!” Mei said. “Until Isaru showed us the proof. They’ve been manipulating the accounts of any house not stolidly in support of the Great and Noble Houses. Ours were only one of many. The magi mean to seize power, and purge any faction they suspect of disloyalty. The why of it doesn’t matter, only the when. And we are past the time of needing to swear our resources to Isaru Mattai’s cause. We can’t fight magi without magi of our own.”

  “It’s true,” Yuli said in a quiet voice, a stark contrast to Mei’s heat. “The magi came to us, threatening our homes, demanding we relinquish our children. When Isaru Mattai came, my father offered me up to him instead.”

  “Ask around the camp,” Mei continued. “You will hear half a hundred stories, the same as hers.”

  “It isn’t my fight,” Tigai said. “Not when Remarin is still being held.”

  “Then fight for Remarin, if Dao can’t convince you to see reason. The Yanjin have to come forward against the Great and Noble Houses. Doing it to rescue our master-at-arms from our enemies’ keeping is as good a reason as any.”

  A thud sounded outside the tent, forestalling his reply and bringing Mei to her feet.

  A figure emerged through the entrance flaps, one he recognized if only from a distance. A man dressed in white, head to toe. Last Tigai had seen him, his left hand had been uncovered, a desiccated ruin surrounded by a purple glow. Now the hand was covered by a glove, but it wasn’t so easy to forget the man had choked him, and would have killed him if not for the starfield and the strands.

  Mei ran to the man in white, throwing arms around his neck and stopping just shy of kissing him. Tigai almost recoiled, seeing it. If mentioning her and Dao’s diversions was taboo, he’d never known Mei to show any affection at all where others could see. Yet she embraced this man without a care for him, Yuli, or the guards.

  Isaru Mattai’s laugh was soft, but deep, a resonant voice that filled the space without trying. He seemed to heft Mei off the ground, though it was more likely her springing up to wrap him in her embrace, before he set her back down, looking past her, surveying the rest of the tent.

  “You’re back,” Mei said. “And whole, from the look of you.”

  “Whole in the ways that matter,” Isaru said.

  The lieutenant who had tended the fire delivered a bow met by a nod of acknowledgment, then Isaru turned his attention to Tigai and Yuli.

  “Yuli Twin Fangs Clan Hoskar,” Isaru said, this time offering a deeper nod, almost a bow. “I hope the camp has treated you with all the honor your father’s daughter deserves.”

  “The new moon’s blessing on you, son of Dasui Clanless,” Yuli said.

  “And you,” Isaru said, turning to Tigai. “Our latest prize.”

  “Where is my brother?” Tigai asked.

  “Regrettably, Lord Dao has been delayed in his return,” Isaru said. “The Yanjin retainers were needed in the field; your brother insisted I return with his deepest regrets. But he wouldn’t leave his men in command of any of our lieutenants.”

  Mei’s look soured for a fraction before recovering. “In the field?” she asked. “Then …?”

  “Yes,” Isaru said. “War has begun in earnest. We lay siege to the cities of Buzhou, Sidai, and Kye-Min.”

  “I’ll rally the camp,” Mei said. “You need to rest. You shouldn’t have come back; they will need you. We’re three weeks from Buzhou, at the fastest we can march. If the Great and Noble Houses respond, we’ll be too slow by a week or more.”

  “You forget,” Isaru said. “We have a true Dragon now.”

  Mei seemed to take a moment before she remembered Tigai.

  “We can leave today then,” Mei said.

  “And be fighting by nightfall,” Isaru finished for her. “Has he joined our cause?”

  “He isn’t sure what to make of you,” Tigai replied for himself. “He doesn’t appreciate being spoken of as if he isn’t present. And the lack of his brother here has done nothing to help persuade him.”

  Isaru showed him a patient smile, the sort his father had used in the moments before a whipping. “Allow me to rectify that,” Isaru said. “No man’s destiny is certain, but for someone in your position, it’s only logical to have doubts.”

  “I don’t know you,” Tigai said. “If I help you, it won’t be because of anything you’ve said.”

  Mei glared at him. He turned to face her.

  “Give me the tent alone with my sister-in-law, if you please.”

  Isaru looked him over for a moment before offering him a bow, and gesturing for Yuli and the lieutenant to join him in leaving the tent.

  “You bloody fool,” Mei said when they were alone. “Do you have any idea how serious this is? Dao and I have worked for months to secure our place with him, and you jeopardize our standing with rudeness.”

  “Mei,” he said, “I meant what I said: Words aren’t going to convince me. If I fight, it will be for my family.”

  “And what am I, if not for that? What is Dao?”

  “Do you remember how my father died?”

  She looked at him coldly, but suddenly curious. “Of course.”

  “Do you remember the pledge we made to each other?” he said. “You mixed the poison. I put it into his wine. Dao served him, and watched him choke, with Remarin at his side. All of us complicit, and any could betray the others. We’re bound tighter than blood. Our fates in each others’ hands.”

  “Your father had to die,” Mei said. “Why relive this now?”

  “I need to know you remember what we owe each other,” Tigai said. “They have Remarin. Whatever we do, I have to believe you mean to get him back. The rest doesn’t matter.”

  “I haven’t forgotten,” Mei said. “And I do. I promise.”

  He did his best to look relieved. “Then that’s enough for me. Tell your Lord Isaru or whatever he calls himself that he has my assistance.”

/>   She stepped toward him, cupping his cheek in her hand. It was all he could do not to flinch away.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “Anything, for my family.”

  She lingered for another moment before showing him a wistful smile, turning and going in pursuit of her lord.

  Agony tore through him as soon as she was gone. His and Dao’s father had been many things, but poisoned to death wasn’t one of them. The old Lord Yanjin had died in his sleep after a week’s worth of coughing, shitting, and vomiting anything they’d tried to make him eat. Mei had held the bedpans, and commiserated with him and Dao when the old fuck had finally died. Whoever had just claimed to have poisoned him, it wasn’t Mei. Which meant the real Mei was elsewhere, probably a prisoner, the same as Remarin. He was being used again, and no closer to finding any of them.

  40

  ERRIS

  First Prelate’s Study

  The Exarch’s Basilica, Gardens District

  I would hope, High Commander, that you know you can always count on the priesthood.”

  First Prelate Casanne said it with a crisp, almost bored tone, the sort used by academy lecturers, no few of whom were priests themselves. Never mind the long hours spent arranging this meeting, and never mind the pitfalls still ahead of her if it went poorly.

  “It’s settled, then?” Erris said. “You can deliver a majority in the Assembly?”

  Casanne smiled. Enough powder had been caked over the First Prelate’s weathered skin to give the expression a foreign look on her face, as though two sets of wrinkles fought for control. The rest of her was immaculate, dressed in pure white, with the same motif carried through the décor of her study. White-painted wood for the furniture, white tapestries on the walls, with only a single stained-glass relief of the Exarch in blue-painted steel for color.

  “I prefer you, I think, to Voren,” Casanne said. “Your directness is refreshing. You know neither I nor any of my priests have been elected to the Assembly, yet still you assume I can deliver you support.”

  “Isn’t that what we’ve been discussing?” she said. “I’ve already promised you control of the Thellan monasteries, when the conquest is done.”

  “So you have,” Casanne said. “As is our rightful purview, as the true expression of the faith here in the New World.”

  She waited for Casanne to continue, yet the woman said nothing. The silence served to heat her blood—which was almost certainly the point. Tactics for a battlefield for which she was not prepared. This sort of meeting had been Voren’s purview, before his exposure, and she could curse him twice over for leaving her to face it alone. Yet this was the battle in front of her, and she wasn’t about to surrender for lack of knowledge of the ground.

  “Look,” Erris said. “I know you have some leverage with Assemblywoman Caille’s former block. No fewer than three of them suggested I arrange this meeting. But if I’ve wasted my time, so be it.”

  “Stay seated, High Commander,” Casanne said before Erris could rise.

  Another moment passed, a silence too long for comfort, before Casanne spoke again.

  “You have Voren imprisoned, in the Citadel,” Casanne said. “Or rather, the creature that was our former colleague.”

  “Yes.” She’d seen to it at once, and stopped short of executing him only for the shock of his betrayal. Though, so far, none of her interrogators had managed to pry loose his secrets.

  “I wonder, perhaps, whether a kind word from the priesthood would—”

  “Out of the question.”

  Casanne showed no reaction, only maintained the knowing smile the Prelate had worn from the start of the meeting, as though she intended to have her way, no matter the means it took to reach the end. But Voren knew too much about her—her plans, her tendencies, and, loath as she was to admit it, her weaknesses. She might lack knowledge of political strategy, but she knew enough to keep him to herself, at least until the mystery of who—and what—he was had been settled.

  This time she stood.

  “Thank you for your time, First Prelate,” she said.

  “Very well, then,” Casanne said, rising along with her.

  Erris gave a stiff bow. A failure, then, with no time for anything shy of success. She’d have to go back to Tuyard and plan to chase a different thread. Perhaps a meeting with—

  “You’ll have your votes, High Commander,” Casanne said.

  She almost missed a step.

  “You’ll have your votes,” Casanne repeated, “but I will require your support for my gaining purview and control over the Thellan priesthood, and expanded influence in the Gand colonies. If it’s directness you require, then I’ll be direct: I intend to see the New Sarresant church in control of the spiritual life of every soul on this side of the ocean. So long as our goals are compatible, then we will be allies.”

  “Agreed,” she said. It was as though she’d ordered a cavalry charge into a line that folded and broke before her soldiers fired their first shot. No, she understood this battlefield not at all. Damn Voren. Damn him into the Nameless’s arms.

  Casanne came around her desk, offering kisses on either cheek.

  “A word, then, from one ally to another,” Casanne said. “I respect your desire to keep Voren’s secrets close, for now. But we have reports from the incident in the Assembly, reports of what he could do. A binding to change one’s face would be a powerful tool indeed. See to it I don’t find any agents using this binding to infiltrate my orders. And remember me, when the time comes to share knowledge of the gift. It would be unfortunate, if some accident were to befall him before we had time to extract his secrets.”

  It took all her discipline to keep from nodding, or revealing more than she intended. Enough that Casanne had promised support for her preemptive war against Thellan. The threat against Voren, and against her, if she understood Casanne’s meaning correctly, would go unanswered, for now.

  Jiri followed the turns toward the council hall almost without prompting, and Erris let her horse guide the way, relaxing in the saddle and keeping the reins slack as they rode.

  De Tourvalle’s 2nd Corps would be crossing the Ansfield river junctions today, and thank the Gods Casanne had agreed to lend her support with the Assembly. It meant an official declaration of war, with the supplies and taxes to fund it, and not a day too soon if they passed it within the hour. Another week and de Tourvalle would cross over into Thellan territory, and then the dance would begin in truth. She’d have ridden south already if not for Voren, and the political mess his exposure had left behind.

  Essily waited for her at the entrance to the stableyard, taking Jiri and leading her away without asking for more details than Erris ventured to give.

  Casanne’s warning about Voren was no idle threat. A skin-shifter, or whatever the fuck Voren was, carried real danger to her, to Casanne, to anyone with pretentions of power anywhere in the colonies. What was to stop such a creature from posing as her, delivering an order that would lead her army to its doom? She’d scarcely formed an outline of the problem in her mind when she opened the doors to her receiving room, and found Foot-Captain Marquand already seated at one of the chairs across from her desk.

  He snapped to his feet when she entered, offering as clumsy a salute as she’d ever seen.

  “Foot-Captain?” she said. “A bit early for you, isn’t it?”

  “Sir, I made an appointment with Aide-Captain Essily.”

  “You made an appointment?” She almost swallowed the words. “You?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  She’d made it only halfway across the room, but came to a slow halt, staring at him. “What’s going on, Marquand?”

  “Sir,” he said with an air of starting over. “High Commander, sir. I’m here to formally request a promotion. I’ve been foot-captain for two wars now, and we’re about to start a third. I’ve led troops in battle. I’ve helped you plan this campaign. I’ve earned it.”

  She almost laughed out loud.
“Gods damn it, Marquand, I was sure you were about to tell me the city had broken out in riots, or there were signs of plague, or food rot in our stocks. Instead … you want a promotion.”

  “Sir.” He saluted again. “Yes, sir.”

  “At ease, Foot-Captain.” It seemed wrong to have to tell him of all people to relax, though he still hadn’t moved by the time she took her seat behind her desk. “I said at ease. Sit down.”

  He did, though not without averting his eyes enough to make her think there was some prize hidden in the corners of her office. She might have confused it for him wanting to be anywhere but here, save that he’d been the one to arrange this audience to begin with.

  “Tell me where this is coming from,” she said. “Are you wanting to be in the field, with the army on the march?”

  “No, sir,” Marquand said. “I’m no coward, if you want to put me on the front, but I’ll serve wherever I’m needed.”

  “You want to try your hand leading a company? A regiment?”

  “No,” he said. “Or, I mean, I would, if you thought it best.”

  This time she did laugh. Marquand’s cheeks went red, as flushed as they’d ever been when he was drunk.

  “Tell me what you want, Foot-Captain,” she said.

  “I want … rank,” Marquand said. “You don’t see how these assholes at high command are. When you’re there they bow and salute and say your name like it’s a bloody fucking prayer. They see my collar and think I’m a fucking aide, there to fetch your tea and groom your horse while you’re sleeping. I planned half the action if there’s a battle in the Vulmannes. I know the use of binders’ companies better than any damned officer in this army, including you, sir, if you don’t mind my saying it. I want the half pricks here to salute and bloody listen when I talk, instead of needing to route every idea in my head through you.”

  “You’ve been a captain for four years,” she said, and he nodded. “Has a double bar on your coatsleeve made a lick of difference, when it came to men listening to you in a fight?”

  “We’re not in a fight here,” he said. “We’re in a bloody debate chamber.”