Empire of Shadows

by Miriam Forster

  A woman about Mara’s height came to his side. She was wearing an amber-colored knee-length tunic and loose trousers and carried herself with such calm assurance that Mara instantly felt overdressed and silly. Her brown hair held hints of gleaming copper, her skin was the color of honey, and her eyes were pale gold-brown. Mara caught a glimpse of golden flecks in her eyes and remembered that Revathi had mentioned a Sune in Lord u’Gra’s household.

  “This is Aari,” Lord u’Gra said. “My companion.”

  Mara copied Revathi’s bow. “Pleased to meet you,” she murmured.

  The corner of Aari’s mouth curved up in a half smile. But don’t you remember, young one? she sent, her mind-voice a languid drawl. We’ve already met.

  EMIL LANDED HARD, rolling across yet another roof. His knee struck a rock, and sharp pain radiated through his leg. He rolled to a stop and lay still, catching his breath.

  Why would there even be a rock there? Emil rolled onto his side, pressing his face into the dirty sandstone roof. He took several deep breaths, waiting for the throbbing pain in his knee to lessen. There was no sound from the house beneath him.

  Abhra had been as good as his word, helping him sneak into the Flower Circle and even guiding him to an empty alley between two houses. Emil had used an iron hook and rope he’d purchased to scale the wall, and now he was searching all the unoccupied Flower Circle houses he could reach.

  He pushed himself up, favoring his sore knee, and looked around. The roof was spotted with pale bird droppings and dry plant clippings. An abandoned wooden tub and several coiled clothing lines lay nearby, along with the flat stone he’d bashed his knee into. Emil scowled at it.

  Probably used for washing. Stupid rock. Feeling grumpy and stiff, Emil limped for the stairs that led down to the inner courtyard of the house.

  This home was even more deserted than most of the ones he’d looked at. The inner walls were covered in mosaics of white and green, and delicate iron balconies ringed the second floor, but the glossy stone of the inner courtyard was covered in dust, and the only tracks were the skittering marks of rats. The stone had been removed in places, leaving room for dark earth and a few spiky green bushes, but they were overgrown with weeds. This wasn’t the careless decay of a house uninhabited for the summer. This was a house that no one had lived in for a very long time.

  Emil sat down on the stairs to think.

  He was searching empty houses because Abhra had pointed out that no noble family would share space with a group of Wind caste workers. Rajo hadn’t been dressed as a servant, so he and his crew might have been hired to refurnish an empty house or one that had been abandoned for the summer. It made sense to Emil, so he’d been going house to house, looking for signs of the mercenaries.

  He’d creep across a roof, peer around to make sure no one was looking, and then leap across the gap. Once inside, Emil would search the house. He’d found secret notes about trysts and packets of what he was pretty sure were dream root and poppy leaves. He’d found stolen jewelry hidden away in servants’ rooms and spoiled food in the pantries. He now knew more about the lives of the Flower caste nobles and their excesses than he ever wanted to.

  But he hadn’t found any sign of the mercenaries, or his brother.

  Emil’s legs ached and his hands were streaked with scrapes and dried blood. He couldn’t keep this up much longer. Besides, it was getting dark.

  One more, Emil told himself, rubbing his knee. One more and I’ll stop for the night.

  He pulled himself up and climbed the stairs again.

  Now that it was getting darker, Emil could see that he was reaching the end of this stretch of empty houses. Light flickered from occupied homes around him, the courtyards turning into glowing squares in the gloom. There was one house nearby without lights, though. The roof was the same level as the one he was on, and the gap didn’t seem to be too wide to jump across.

  Emil stepped up onto the narrow stone wall, feeling it crunch under his feet. Then, taking a deep breath, he launched himself into the air.

  As soon as his feet left the wall, Emil knew he had miscalculated. It might have been his weakened knee, or maybe the house was farther away than it looked. Instead of sailing over the next wall, he hit it with his leg. He felt the stone scrape and tear, and then he was spinning like a cart wheel, without a way to control the fall.

  His head hit the roof with a crack that jarred his teeth together. The taste of blood filled his mouth.

  Emil lay still, letting the shock pass. Everything hurt, especially his leg and his head. He’d just lie here a little while, then go downstairs and find a bed. He didn’t care if it was dusty, or if there were bugs. He just wanted a soft mattress and some sleep. Then he could restart his search in the morning. . . .

  Suddenly, from the darkened courtyard beneath him, he heard the last thing he was expecting. Footsteps.

  “Who’s up there?” a rough voice demanded. There was a spark, then a light flamed somewhere below. “Hello? Who’s there?”

  Emil shoved himself up, ignoring the pain that shot through his leg. A wave of dizziness made him stagger, but he lurched forward anyway. If he got caught . . . He didn’t even want to think about that.

  The footsteps were coming up the stairs.

  Emil’s head ached as he hobbled toward the edge of the roof. The house next door was a little shorter than this one and close enough that he wouldn’t have to leap to it. Emil put his hands on the rough wall and braced himself.

  Drop softly. Don’t cry out. Don’t get caught.

  The light was almost to the top of the stairs. “Identify yourself!” the voice said. “Who’s there?”

  Emil flung himself over the edge, landing on the lower roof with only a quiet thud. Ignoring the scream of pain through his leg, he rolled toward the darker shadows of the roof, moving away from his landing point as fast as he could. He stopped when he felt the cool of a sandstone wall on his back.

  A hand holding a flickering candle appeared over the wall of the house he’d come from. Emil held his breath.

  He heard another set of footsteps, and a second dark shadow loomed behind the candlelight. A voice spoke into the dark. A voice that Emil knew.

  Rajo the Black’s voice.

  “What’s going on, Marir?” The mercenary spoke quietly, his words barely audible to Emil.

  “I thought I heard a crash and someone moving around up here,” the man with the candle replied. “But I don’t see anyone.”

  Emil imagined Rajo peering into the gloom with narrowed eyes. The image made him want to jump up. He forced himself not to move.

  “Set another guard at the top of the stairs,” Rajo said, his voice still low. “But keep him out of sight. And put out that candle.”

  “Yes, sir,” the man said. The light disappeared. The footsteps retreated.

  Emil let his head fall back against the wall. Despite the pain in his leg, a fierce triumph filled him, and he could feel the smile growing on his stiff and aching face.

  He’d found the mercenaries. Stefan couldn’t be far away.

  Now he just had to figure out a way to slip out of the Flower Circle and back to the Jade Circle without getting caught. Maybe he could swim the canal. . . .

  Emil’s jubilant thoughts trailed off, replaced by a growing sense of something wrong. It wasn’t as dark up here as it should be, for one. Now that the sparks from the candlelight had faded from his eyes, he could see that. And under his cheek, he could hear the sound of low voices and the clinks of cups and dishes.

  He’d landed on an occupied house.

  Emil cursed himself. He’d been too dizzy from his fall and too worried about escaping to even check this house for people. But there were people here, and from the sound of it, they were having some sort of party.

  He rose to a crouch and scanned the roof. Like all noble houses, this one was square, and built around an open courtyard. It was surprisingly bare for an occupied house, no roof gardens or wash lines. B
ut that was good; it meant he didn’t have to worry about tripping over anything. In the faint light from the courtyard below, he could see that his trousers were torn. A dark, sticky stain spread across the fabric, and his knee felt like it wouldn’t hold his weight much longer. He couldn’t afford another fall.

  Emil reached into his tunic. The rope and hook were still there, though the hook had scored a mark across his chest when he had fallen. Only the red scarf wrapped around the tip had saved Emil from stabbing himself with it.

  Stupid. What were you thinking?

  Moving as quietly as he could, Emil started to make his way around the roof, looking for an alley or a quiet street. If he managed to climb down the wall without being seen, he could sneak away. He was still searching for a good spot, when a burst of polite laughter from inside the house made him pause.

  There was something familiar about those voices.

  Leaving the rope and hook next to the outer wall, Emil crept back to the low wall that ringed the opening above the courtyard. Raising his head, he peered down into the lighted courtyard.

  It was a dinner party. Rich fabrics glittered in the candlelight, and the smell of spiced meat and curry wafted up, making Emil’s stomach growl. Two noblemen were talking to an older woman in silver-embroidered white, while a girl dressed in gray and green spoke softly to her companion, a girl with a soft dark cap of hair and a pink asar. Then the girl in pink smiled, and Emil’s breath caught.

  It was Mara.

  MARA SAT AT the low table in the middle of Lord u’Gra’s courtyard, feeling uncomfortable. The cushion she was sitting on was plump and silky, and she’d been provided with a small basin and towel to wash her hands. The table was loaded with food: lamb and chicken curry, savory vegetables, piles of soft, steaming flatbread, and bowls of fine-grained rice. A bouquet of bloodred hibiscus flowers sat by each plate. There were tiny decorative lamps scattered between the guests, and they cast a warm, bright light over the faces at the table.

  But Mara couldn’t enjoy the meal. Not with Aari’s pale brown-gold eyes fixed on her.

  Stop that, Mara sent finally. I don’t like being stared at.

  I can’t help it, Aari sent back. I’ve never seen a Sune look so . . . human. How long has it been since you’ve changed?

  Mara ignored the question and turned to Revathi next to her. “Your cup is getting low,” she said, picking up the delicate ceramic pitcher. “Let me fill it.”

  “Thank you, Mara,” Revathi said.

  Lord u’Gra had provided a cold drink that tasted of lemon, honey, and dates, and Mara studied the faces around her as she poured it. Lady Ekisa was to the right of Lord u’Gra and Aari was on his left. Tamas was seated across from Revathi, both of them talking quietly.

  Still not looking at Aari, Mara set the pitcher down and started in on the food on her plate.

  I know who you are! Aari’s mind-voice rang with triumph, as if she’d just figured out a particularly difficult puzzle. You’re Shar!

  Mara jerked, sending a piece of bitter melon spinning into her lap. The sauce made an ugly stain on her asar, and she kept her head down, trying to wipe it off.

  How do you know that name?

  Oh please, Aari sent. You were the first tiger in years to be cast out of her Tribe. Everyone’s heard of you.

  Mara dabbed at her asar with a towel, but the stain wouldn’t come off. Her face felt hot.

  Shar is gone. She died with her family.

  That’s a pity. Aari took a piece of lamb and popped it into her mouth. You’re famous, you know. I mean, the dark tigers of the north are legendary anyway, but you . . . She licked her fingers. How many hunters did you kill? Five? Ten?

  Mara closed her eyes, remembering the red wash of fury, the mindless need to rend, and under it all, pain. So much pain. Too many, she sent. Her head was starting to ache.

  They deserved it, Aari sent. Trying to hunt Sune like that.

  Mara took a helping of one of the spicier chicken dishes. It tasted of garlic, tomatoes, and saffron and gave her tongue a pleasant burn. She added some green chili curry, pretending that it was the peppers that were making her eyes water.

  At the end of the table, Lady Ekisa and Lord u’Gra were baiting each other.

  “But surely,” Lord u’Gra was saying, “you would agree that the sa’Hoi family is vastly overworked. Especially with your son and his wife away, as well as your grandson.”

  “They will return in time,” Lady Ekisa said, her serene face showing nothing. “All three will be home by the end of the summer.”

  “It will be a happy day,” Lord u’Gra said. “But still, I worry—”

  “What a coincidence,” Lady Ekisa interrupted, reaching for the yogurt. “I worry about you as well. With no wife to help you and your oldest son commanding the cavalry in Aranya—which is quite an honor, by the way, you’re to be congratulated—plus all your court duties and spending so much time with the Emperor. I simply don’t know how you manage.”

  “Visiting the Emperor is no hardship,” Lord u’Gra said, his teeth bared in a smile. “We have a shared sorrow. And my service to the court is really very little. But I do look forward to having Revathi in my household. Is there no way the wedding date could be moved up? The start of Earthsleep is so far away.”

  Mara stole a glance at Revathi. The girl seemed totally focused on wrapping rice and lamb in a piece of flatbread. But when she lifted it to her mouth, Mara saw that her fingers were trembling.

  Lady Ekisa laughed. It was a surprisingly young sound, bright and pealing like a copper bell. “Oh, Sathvik, would you take my right hand from me before my left returns? Besides, Tamas is still serving his two years of service with the Imperial Guard. You know the law. No nobleman can wed until he finishes his duty to the Empire.”

  “But surely your family is so close to Emperor Saro that you could get a special . . . dispensation.”

  “Be patient, Sathvik dear.” Lady Ekisa wiped her mouth. “To want things before their proper time is nothing but greed. And as the wise ones say, greed is the root cause of sorrow.”

  “I was thinking of Revathi, of course,” Lord u’Gra said smoothly. “You know the longer she waits to marry, the worse it looks. People talk, you know.”

  Revathi’s lips tightened and her fan fluttered in her hands.

  Lord u’Gra continued, “If you had accepted my original offer for her to marry my oldest son, Revathi could be wed by now and the happy mother of children.”

  Tamas shoved aside his cup with a clatter, splashing his drink on the table. “You there,” he said, motioning to one of the gray-clad servants. “Bring me strong palm wine.”

  “People will always talk,” Lady Ekisa said, fiddling with her own fan. “And Revathi is a sa’Hoi. Our family stays near the Emperor and the palace. Always. You knew that when the betrothal was agreed to.”

  “Betrothals can be broken.” Sathvik u’Gra took a bite of his salad, bits of onion and cucumber falling from his fingers. His tone was perfectly pleasant, but Mara knew a threat when she heard it.

  “Oh, I’m fully aware that betrothals can be broken,” Lady Ekisa said, taking another sip of her drink. “I find the idea quite comforting.”

  Lord u’Gra choked on his salad, and Lady Ekisa smiled at him. “But then, I’m a selfish old lady who just wants to keep her granddaughter around a little longer. And wealth does not appeal to me the way it appeals to Revathi’s parents. If you truly find our conditions so onerous, perhaps I should speak to her father.”

  “I was speaking hypothetically, of course,” Lord u’Gra said, swallowing. “I wouldn’t dream of letting such a wonderful alliance go. And Revathi’s certainly improved my feckless younger son. He’s quite taken with her.”

  Tamas drank his wine down and gestured for more.

  Lady Ekisa picked up the bouquet of hibiscus flowers and took a deep whiff. “I’m glad we understand each other, Sathvik,” she said, face half-hidden by the blossoms. “Now please, no more
talk of moving up the wedding. It’s getting tiresome.”

  Lord u’Gra’s hands clenched, and his uneven smile faltered. “Of course, Ekisa. My apologies.”

  His eyes landed on Tamas, who was draining his second cup of wine and beckoning the servant for another refill. “Tamas! Don’t be rude. This is not a drinking party, this is a family meal.” He turned to one of the silent servants. “Take my son’s wine away from him and give him only water from now on.”

  Tamas’s scowl deepened.

  Inside Mara’s head, Aari snickered.

  Look at them all, with their petty human maneuvering. Even the best of them can’t see beyond their long noses. But they can be useful. She smiled at Lord u’Gra and put a hand over his clenched fist. The man relaxed a little, his face smoothing out.

  Take Sathvik here. He treats me with the respect I deserve and allows me to do what I like without interference. It’s more than I got in my own Tribe.

  Mara felt her stomach turn, the food sour in her gut. And what do you do here?

  I do the work of Kapih. The voice in her head was a self-satisfied purr.

  The Trickster. Mara’s mouth was dry, and she took another drink of water. The human lord of chaos. You’ve chosen to serve him over Nishvana?

  What has the Silent-Pawed ever done for us? Aari sent. Nothing. I prefer Kapih. He at least took action against his enemies.

  You mean humans, Mara sent. You think humans are our enemies. That’s why you hunt them.

  Why not? Aari sent back. They hunt us, don’t they? Take our forests for their farmland and drive us away. She lifted her cup to her lips, and Mara could see the black X on the back of her hand. They mark us as if they own us, as if they could. But we are stronger then they are. And one day . . .

  What? Mara tamped down her rising anger. Another war? Is that what you want? More Sune to die?

  Who says it has to be Sune who die? Aari sent. She gave Mara a wide, slow grin, then leaned over to speak to Revathi. “Have you quite recovered from your shock at the Clothing Fair, my dear?” she said out loud. “It must have been horrid being in the middle of that riot. What could the Kildi have been thinking?”