The Redwood Palace

by M K Hutchins

  Just like Dami had almost destroyed my family. Why couldn’t Fir see what a tragedy it would be if Rowak fell?

  Oddly, Fir smiled. “See? You should gloat about defeating me. I made myself into someone of consequence.”

  In Napil, I was given my own room in the governor’s house, one with a soft mattress in a curtained alcove. I slept.

  The morning light displayed the handsomeness of the room—gleaming redwood window lattices with cut-outs of leaping trout and thick rugs depicting pink foxgloves. But the inside air felt too dusty, too close.

  As soon as I stepped from the alcove, a servant girl appeared. She asked me if I’d like breakfast or a bath. I opted for the later. My stomach didn’t feel ready for food.

  Afterwards, clean and dry in a soft, straw-colored dress with appropriately yellow-ranked sleeves, I asked for directions to the gardens, then for solitude. She bowed and obliged.

  The dirt path felt oddly quiet under my feet, but I found the garden easily. I sat on a stone bench by a small pond, near a plum tree. A few old petals still scattered the ground, and broad green leaves spread above me. I tossed a rock into the water and watched the concentric ripples. Somehow, that was soothing.

  Bane strolled up and sat next to me, mixing his juniper scent with the cool smells of morning dew and awakening flowers. At first, he said nothing. Then the ripples faded and the pond returned to its glassy smoothness, reflecting the sky.

  “Last night, riding Fulsaan into the army camp... I prayed to my Ancestors for you. I thought the sun might rise on a world where you and Rowak were both things of the past. And here you sit, drenched in sunlight.”

  The day might be clear, but I felt like I’d left half of myself at the ambush in the woods. “How fares Rowak?”

  Bane smiled. “Last night, General Yuin took half of Napil’s forces and all the soldiers sent from Askan-Wod onto the Old North Path. They flanked and ambushed the Shoreed. We took the victory.”

  He still said we, even though he was a messenger now, not one of the combatants. I tried to cling to that bit of solidarity instead of imagining the dead littering the forest floor.

  “The survivors scattered,” Bane continued. “Some must have made it to the Shoreed’s pretend siege camp, because they’re all retreating now. They’ll sit in the forts they’ve already taken from us and lick their wounds. The rest of Rowak will be safe for a while. Now we’ll retake the capital from the traitors.”

  “More deaths.” I didn’t want to see the palace gardens strewn with bodies instead of flowers.

  “Not many. General Yuin believes most of the military remains loyal. I doubt the small Palace Guard will give our army any trouble.”

  Because they’d surrender, or because the soldiers would squash them? I tossed another rock in the pond. “There are probably guards who didn’t know what was happening.”

  Bane nodded. “They’ll all have their trials.”

  And how many of them would live through that? Or even live until their trials started? I shivered.

  “The coup leaders will be executed, but any innocent Palace Guard will simply be sent to reinforce the front lines. The king will need a new Palace Guard—one he can trust.”

  So neat. So thought out. “You’re well informed.”

  “Ah.” His cheeks heated with modest pride. “I got to report to General Yuin in person this morning. About what happened last night. You were sleeping. He asked me to invite you to eat lunch with him. You’ve saved his wife twice and his country once. You’re a national hero.”

  Bane beamed at me.

  I was grateful to have someone real and trustworthy and alive sitting next to me after the horrors of last night. But his joy caused no pride to burn in me. I turned my hands over in my lap, staring at them. Despite my trip to the bathhouse, my nose still picked up a tang of blood on my skin.

  Bane’s postured softened. “You’ve never seen a dead man before, have you? It’s normal to be unsettled. Perfectly normal.”

  I exhaled, but my throat remained tight. “I’ve seen people die, Bane. I’ve seen them die of fever and accidents and childbirth and old age. I’ve never seen anyone killed before.”

  “I’m sorry. If we could have taken them out without you seeing...”

  I squeezed my eyes shut. That’s not what I meant. I didn’t want to be so engrossed in cooking that I never noticed this war or what it cost our country. I didn’t want to be blissful because other people suffered and left me clean from the hard, dirty tasks. I wanted my life to be peaceful because the world was actually at peace.

  “Dami... it gets better. I promise. I was like this after my first skirmish, too.”

  I didn’t want it to get better—to pretend I’d been blind since I left Clamsriver. I wanted to hate killings in ten years as much as I did right now. What had that commander left undone? Surely he had a list as long as my own.

  I tossed another rock in the pond. I stared at the ripples, back tense, neck aching. “My name isn’t Dami.”

  Bane blinked at me.

  I was tired of hearing my sister’s name. Tired of so many things. “It’s Plum.”

  The silence stretched, eerie between us. Riding on Ghost-Fulsaan, with the wind whipping away my words, it had been easy to say more. Here, in the calm of morning, I didn’t feel like I could manage anything besides than that six-word confession.

  But Bane didn’t ask me to explain. He tossed a rock into the pond, too. “Plum. That suits you.”

  General Yuin held lunch in the gardens around a circular redwood table. Servants delivered elegant fare: roast trout smothered in a scallion sauce, white bean cakes with hazelnuts, and a kale salad garnished with sun-colored nasturtium flowers. The governor must have a greenhouse—nasturtiums weren’t quite in season, yet. From the aroma alone, I knew this was well-seasoned. A pair of soldiers flanked the general, their faces as unreadable as furniture.

  But the General himself smiled, warm crinkles in the corners of his eyes. “Please, sit.”

  “Thank you.”

  He sat after I did. I nibbled around the trout, hoping the bean cakes would settle my stomach before I tried the richer fare. They didn’t have quite enough hotradish, though the salt level was perfect.

  “So you are the girl who undermined the coup. And saved my wife and son.” He managed to watch me and eat heartily at the same time. Maybe that was a soldier’s habit?

  “I... suppose so.”

  “Tell me what happened.”

  I fidgeted with my spoon. Was General Yuin an ally of Lady Sulat’s? I hadn’t heard her say, directly. He seemed trustworthy and that made me cautious. Especially after my blunder with Archivists Kochan and Linaan.

  I tried the salad. Over spiced, with those nasturtium petals. I mixed it in with the bean cakes to balance the flavors.

  “If you don’t wish to talk about yourself, will you tell me about my son? I’ve yet to see him, you know.”

  My insides melted at that. Yes, I could speak of the infant. I told him about too-tiny hands and feet and how he spent his days wrapped to Lady Sulat or the nurse to keep him warm.

  General Yuin nodded, pleased. “Bane told me about his birth and his birthgift.”

  My words dammed up again, embarrassment heating my cheeks.

  “You must have worked hard, for such skill.”

  I bowed my head. Dami always said I was lucky or gifted—but the General gave the compliment I was proud to hear. “Thank you.”

  “I spoke with King Alder.” His crinkle-cornered eyes turned serious. “He informed me that you’re condemned to die and he expects me to keep you safely imprisoned.”

  The warmth in my face sank into icy dread. Why had I thought my sentence would disappear? The king had a simple way to dispose of me—of course he’d use it.

  “Dami, I didn’t mean to alarm you. Do you think Lady Sulat would let someone like you perish? You have the heart of a soldier, do you know that?”

  I did. Bane taught me that.
But it seemed flippant to say as much to Rowak’s general. “I’m a chef, not a soldier. I wouldn’t know.”

  General Yuin smiled. “Perhaps I should have said I’m grateful for all the soldiers who have the heart of a chef, then. Eat up. We march for the Redwood Palace in an hour.”

  We marched halfway to Askan-Wod, camped for the night, then marched the rest of the way by midday. Retaking the capital went nearly as well as Bane predicted. Lieutenant-General Behon put up a brief skirmish trying to escape, but General Yuin surrounded him. Sixteen men died.

  Half the Palace Guard stood outside the palace gates, tearing off their office armbands in shame and surrender. The guards remaining inside the palace resisted, but General Yuin quickly overwhelmed them. Another three deaths.

  I heard all of this from the back ranks, surrounded by my four guards. I think General Yuin selected them personally; they treated me respectfully and left my wrists unbound. My guards grinned at the reports as they came by. “Only nineteen dead; General Yuin works so smoothly!”

  I didn’t know how he could call nineteen deaths a smooth affair.

  With the Redwood Palace secured, the soldiers escorted me to my old room in the Royal Bear House. Stuffy opulence surrounded me once more—redwood reeking of polish, the heavy curtain of embroidered hawks and salmon hiding the bed in the alcove.

  A single bowl of plain buckwheat porridge waited for me, the condemned, on the carved table. No visitors followed. Just hollow silence, muffled by the too-thick, ornate rug.

  The sun set, red as a roasted beet through the window. I curled up on the soft bed in the alcove. Could Lady Sulat save me?

  I’d left so many things undone. I wanted to know if anyone had found Osem. I wanted to talk to Hawak about exorcisms—did he know the steps didn’t have to go in order or occur on the same day? I wanted to see Dami return safely home.

  At least, on the other side of the Royal Bear House, Fulsaan’s room lay empty. That wasn’t left undone. And whatever happened to me and my family here, he’d take care of my nana.

  I slept uneasily, thoughts of what my life could be rattling in my skull.

  Two days passed. More porridge was delivered. Plain. It never so much had a pinch of salt or a drizzle of blackberry molasses. I paced my beautiful room. Why should I feel restless? Shouldn’t I be grateful for extra days to live—even days alone?

  When I couldn’t pace any more, I crept into my alcove and asked my Ancestors to watch over Dami.

  Night fell again. Maybe I’d live in this room forever, locked up and half-forgotten like Fulsaan.

  The next morning, three soldiers stepped into my room.

  One of them was Moss.

  “You’re here!” I ran and stopped short of throwing my arms around him. “I’m so glad to see you.”

  “Good to see you too. I wish I could say I’m here to free you.” He gave me a crooked smile. “But I’m under orders to escort you to the Hall of Moral Law. Lady Sulat’s made a very good argument that you need a second hearing, since there was a traitor on the last one. The Purple-Blue Council is waiting for you.”

  Morning light poured through the high windows of the Hall of Moral Law, backlighting the elegant wolves cut into the screen. The blood-red floor and white pillars gleamed. This place smelled of old wood and oil.

  The same ten people sat between the whole log pillars as last time, except Lady Sulat replaced Lieutenant-General Behon. Her hair and skin radiated a healthy glow, and her infant slept soundly, strapped to her chest. A knot in the back of my neck loosened. My patient had recovered.

  Unfortunately, the other nine councilmembers here had already marked me for death.

  King Alder sat on his throne before me. The carved bears decorating the back and arms seemed to stare at me, amber eyes filled with as much hatred as their master’s. I could almost taste the snarl in King Alder’s too-tight face.

  This man wanted me dead. I’d saved his life, his country, and set his father free. But I was a liability.

  I glanced to Lady Sulat, but she stood without looking at me. Apparently the opening formalities had already occurred, because King Alder gestured for her to speak.

  Her regal voice echoed against the pillars. “I lament the circumstances that prevented me from being present at the previous trial and I thank you all, members of the Purple-Blue Council, for allowing this hearing today. Here, we will decide the fate of a patriot of Rowak.”

  From the curiosity on the councilor’s faces and the frustration on the king’s, the Council chose to see me against King Alder’s wishes.

  “You have all heard how this woman before you was instrumental in saving our nation from the Shoreed. She rescued Purple King Alder and Purple Lord Heir Valerian. Alas that the kidnappers murdered my frail father—may he rest in peace with our Ancestors.”

  Lady Sulat spoke with measured calm, her face placid, but when she finished that sentence, she stared up at Alder. Did she know the truth, then? Maybe Osem had escaped and delivered my message after all. I hoped so.

  I paused. Bane knew about Fulsaan, too. He could have told her just as easily.

  “Yet she lied to the king,” Lady Sulat continued. “Why? Why would one capable of noble deeds stoop to such a base act as lying to the Royal House?”

  The councilors shifted forward, studying at me. That’s exactly why they’d agreed to this hearing—they wanted to know. Lady Sulat let the question hang in the air. Had she spread the story of what I’d done, or had the councilors heard it on their own?

  My insides felt like an over-boiling hotpot. Silence ached in the air.

  “There is a simple answer,” Lady Sulat said at last. “I asked her to.”

  I bit down on my lip and kept my eyes on the floor, trying to hide my surprise. She’d done no such thing. The councilors muttered to themselves.

  Why would Lady Sulat risk herself like this? Rowak needed her more than it needed me.

  “I am the Head of Military Affairs. I gathered intelligence that the Shoreed might attempt to place a poisoner inside the Redwood Palace to tip the balance of the war. To protect King Alder, I needed to place my own, trusted person in the kitchens to watch for such a spy. Yellow-ranked Dami of Clamsriver, a young woman strong-of-arm, was next on the list to join the rank of palace servants. But Dami had an older sister. An accomplished chef who could trade places and watch for poison.”

  I didn’t dare look up from that condemningly red floor. How could she know that? Had she somehow gotten it from Fir?

  Lady Sulat sounded all-too calm for a woman incriminating herself.

  “Yellow-ranked Dami graciously stepped down and allowed her sister to secretly replace her. The name of the woman before you is Plum. While the enemy proved more ambitious than I anticipated, my faithful agent still managed to quell the coup.”

  I glanced up. Awe and fear tinged the faces of the councilors as they gazed at me and Lady Sulat. And why shouldn’t they stare? She had such knowledge, such foresight. I tried not to choke on my own tongue. She’d nearly lost her life and her country, but she could spin all of that into a story where she’d never been in the dark about anything.

  But I don’t think King Alder believed a word of it. Either that, or he didn’t care. His eyes tightened. His back stiffened, painfully straight.

  Lady Sulat bowed gracefully, her wide sleeves sweeping to her sides. “This Council has already condemned Yellow-Ranked Plum, but that trial was held in error. I am her superior. She obeyed her orders with exactness. Any crimes she may have committed rests solely on my own head. My fellow Council members, I submissively await your judgment.”

  She stood, folding her arms calmly in front of her infant. I wanted to shout at her—she couldn’t let herself be executed!—but perhaps that was the kind of risk Lady Sulat took for her people.

  Gratitude and awe showed in the councilor’s faces. No, there was no risk here. King Alder scowled, but with a defeated slump. He wouldn’t—or couldn’t—kill his sister.
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  “We vote,” King Alder said, voice hard.

  The official made his rounds once more. White token after white token dropped onto the tray. He presented this to the King.

  “The vote is unanimous. A full acquittal,” King Alder announced.

  Acquittal. Such a beautiful word.

  Lady Sulat bowed deeply, one hand supporting her child’s back. “Thank you, Purple-Blue Council, for your wise judgment. Plum is a hero. In accordance with her exceptional service to Rowak, I nominate her for the Green rank.”

  King Alder glowered at Sulat, but a murmur of approval rose from the council. An official collected the vote. King Alder could do nothing to protest the all-white tokens presented on the tray. He tried to look pleased—I doubted he wanted to display his true feelings when the councilors so obviously approved—but he still looked like he’d swallowed vinegar.

  Moss walked forward from somewhere behind the pillars, carrying a gray servant’s dress wide enough to cover my elbows. The clothing of a green-ranked woman. He laid it gently in my arms, grinning.

  “Congratulations,” he whispered.

  Green-ranked Plum of Clamsriver. How odd.

  Lady Sulat swept out of the hall. Moss nabbed my elbow and pulled me after. I nearly tripped over my feet, but he kept me steady.

  Shortly, we came to Lady Sulat’s sitting room. Osem sat in one of the chairs—Osem! I ran and hugged her, then stepped back and frowned at the bruise across her jaw. “Oh, Osem.”

  “My interrogator had more important things to worry about than getting information for a king he was dethroning. That’s my only injury, and it’s healing well.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “You didn’t do this to me,” she said stubbornly. “Let’s figure out a sign language so we’re never in that kind of a tight spot again.”

  “Good idea.”

  “You should change, Plum,” Lady Sulat said, a hint of a smile around her serene mouth. She relaxed into one of the sitting room chairs. “Feel free to use my room.”