by Matt Larkin
She found the key buried in the footlocker. Chandi kicked aside the junk she had strewn about the floor, then cracked open the chest. A foreign naval uniform, wrinkled and unkempt. Serendibian, probably. The island nation lay far to the west, near El-Hind, and had little contact with the Skyfall Isles. What had brought the foreigner into the Solars’ service? His uniform bore a medal, a golden tiger.
Chandi pushed the uniform aside. Beneath it, a sketch of a woman, another foreigner by her clothes. Books in Serendibian. Ratna could read the language, but Chandi had thought it a waste of time. Didn’t care much for Maitian, either. Funny how tutors always seemed more useful years after they were gone.
The Solars planned to betray this alliance. They’d never go through with it. Maybe they just didn’t tell the Serendibian about them. A shudder ran through her and she had to steady herself on the chart table. If she didn’t find something, she’d never go home. If Ratna married the Solar emperor, they’d buy peace. For a time. It wouldn’t last. Couldn’t. They’d driven Anusapati lunatic. They’d taken her wedding from her, killed her future. How could such peace last?
She climbed back out the window, muttering curses about the Solars and their Sun God, but lacked the energy to come up with anything creative.
As she crawled along the hull, the waves splashed up at her. Ratna would not be happy if Chandi ruined her clothes. As best she could, she pressed herself higher. Why should she care if the Solar ceremony was spoiled? But Ratna she couldn’t disappoint. Her cousin was all she had. House Soma ruled the Lunar Empire, at the moment, but was one of the smallest houses. Really, it was just the two brothers, Rahu and Ketu, and their two daughters.
When no one was looking, she vaulted back over the rail, then walked the length of the ship to perch at the bow.
She recognized Ratna from the scent of jasmine in her hair, but didn’t turn as her cousin approached. When their fathers summoned them to the Solar city, when word came that Ratna would marry the emperor, Chandi’s cousin said nothing for a long time. And then—then she had looked pleased. Not happy, but proud. Peace, they said, if only their daughters would come and do their duties. Peace for the Lunars, if only Chandi and Ratna would sacrifice their futures. Chandi stopped herself from reaching for the rhino statuette in her sarong.
“I have something for you,” her cousin said.
Chandi forced a smile before she turned to face Ratna. Her cousin had already donned the golden headdress she would wear for the ceremony, her long black hair tied in a bun beneath it. The captain had given it to her when they boarded. Sprigs of jasmine stuck out from the top—a conceit to Lunar tradition in a Solar wedding. Her cousin had finer, more delicate features and fairer skin than Chandi, traits that had turned heads since Ratna was a girl. Perhaps word of her beauty had even reached Kakudmi. Or perhaps the Solar emperor only cared that she was his enemy’s daughter.
Ratna pressed a sandalwood jewelry box into Chandi’s hands. As Chandi ran her fingers over the intricate gold trim, her cousin glanced over her shoulder and leaned in. “Don’t worry about me. Watch yourself. My marriage will end the wars. You play at lies that could get you killed.”
Chandi watched her cousin’s face, struggling to keep emotion from her own. To say she didn’t believe in the peace would only undermine Ratna’s sacrifice. For centuries the Solars and Lunars had fought, their wars punctuated by brief periods of peace. Ratna’s own father had shattered the most recent period, and now he claimed to offer to restore the truce through his daughter’s hand. And which side would break it first this time?
“The box has a false bottom to conceal your reports,” Ratna said. “I know they told you to make reports.” She hesitated. “But don’t do anything to jeopardize this, Chandi. This our best chance—”
Ratna cut short as the foreign captain scurried toward them. Had he learned someone was in his cabin? Chandi jerked the jewelry box behind her back, but Bendurana paid it no mind, pressing on toward the rail. “Watch, my ladies, and we’ll see it soon,” he said.
“Did your people really build Kasusthali under the sea?” Chandi asked.
“Ah,” Bendurana said, “they’re not my people. But yes. The Harbor District is the only part completely above sea level. A marvel, even I admit. Built from crystal that captures the light and refracts it throughout the city. An unassailable city without need of fortifications.”
And a testament to Solar arrogance.
Ratna released her hand and moved away. Chandi ignored Bendurana. Once he got started, he’d never stop talking.
If he noticed her disinterest, he didn’t show it. “The Arun Guard will meet you in the Harbor District and escort you to the Temple District for the wedding.”
Bendurana pointed beneath them. Her breath caught as she looked down. Though the waters were darker at night, she could still make out the city stretching beneath them. Like legs of a strange sea creature, crystal tubes connected a series of domes arranged in a rough circle. At the center of this circle, the greatest dome rose almost out of the water, and from that dome peeked the palace roof. The dhow would never crash into it, though. A series of crystal spires rose from the sea floor around the central dome, preventing any ship from drawing near.
Ratna’s startled gasp drew Chandi’s vision to a dragon gliding on the surface of the water.
No, not a dragon, though it had a dragon-like head, wings, and tail. But its long neck seemed less flexible and its wings non-functional. A man rode the creature.
“Is that what I think it is?” Ratna asked.
“Warak Ngendog,” Bendurana confirmed.
Ratna might not have believed, but Chandi didn’t doubt the Solars used monsters. Thirty-foot long monsters that could smash Lunars to pulp or bite them in half.
“Ah, looks like they assigned Naresh as your escort. Shame,” Bendurana said.
“What about him?” Chandi asked before remembering not to encourage the captain.
“Well, he’s quite competent, I suppose. It’s just that he’s rather enjoyed being the star pupil of the First of the Arun Guard. Everyone’s certain he’ll get the next spot on the Guard. More than a bit arrogant for it. I’d watch myself if I were you. I watch myself around him, and I’m me.”
“How nice for you.”
Beyond the monster, she could see the harbor. It didn’t seem that different from the one she had left at Bukit. As they drew closer she saw a few people starting their day, though dawn was still almost a phase away. The damning dawn that would seal their fates.
The Warak Ngendog bellowed, sending her staggering backward, reaching for her toyaks before she remembered they were in her cabin. The Solar climbed from its neck onto the bow of the ship.
Beneath his sleeveless baju, the man had the build of a warrior. His clothes were wet and his wild hair hung down past his eyes. Like a ghost of the sea.
“Ah, Pak Naresh,” Bendurana said. “Why, we were just thinking of you, my friend.”
“I’m sure.” The Solar’s eyes scanned Chandi, his hand resting on the edge of his keris, though he made no threatening move. Unlike the Lunar keris knives she was familiar with, the Solars used straight swords almost two feet in length. “You’re late, captain.”
“Well, it seems I was the only one you could get to dock at Bukit, so perhaps you should be grateful. Or maybe the Lunars just don’t trust you military types. Can’t imagine why.”
Naresh turned from the captain to look over Chandi’s head at her cousin. “Ibu Ratna?” The Guardsman bowed. “We must hurry to make it to the temple before dawn.” He stepped toward Ratna.
“And we’re supposed to trust you to protect us?” Chandi said, repositioning herself between her cousin and the Solar.
“Forgive my handmaid,” Ratna said. “She’s nervous about her role.”
Naresh’s posture relaxed a bit and he made no further move toward Ratna. “I knew Lunars liked their food spicy. I didn’t realize they liked their servants the same way.”
As Bendurana’s crew docked the dhow, Naresh leapt onto the pier to join a man in a cerulean baju and a beautiful woman with long hair. Bendurana waved to the pair, and tossed a mango to the woman. The woman looked back and forth between it and Bendurana with suspicion.
“Pak Empu Baradah,” Bendurana called to the man. “An honor to have you here.”
“We cannot linger, Captain,” the Arun Guardsman said. “Ibu Ratna, please follow Naresh to the Temple of the Sun.”
Ratna preceded Chandi down the plank, then fell in behind Naresh as he led the way. Chandi glared at the back of Naresh’s head, hiking up her sarong as she followed. Who did he think he was? If anyone was going to protect Ratna, it would be her. After centuries of slaughtering Lunars, the Arun Guard was now on their side? And yet, Ratna stuck close behind him as though she thought he would keep her safe.
Naresh led them through the crowded harbor to a crystal tube that descended beneath the waves. Chandi hesitated a moment at the threshold. A city under the sea. Madness.
After a steep ramp the tube leveled off at an intersection. Naresh continued north without slowing. Empu Baradah and the woman followed behind Chandi, but neither paid her any mind when she looked at them.
“This is the way to the Sun Temple?” Ratna asked.
Naresh glanced back at her. “The Temple District is the eastern-most part of the city. This tube leads to the Civic District. We’ll have to go around the palace, but it’s still faster than using the Circuit around the city.”
He led them from the tube into a great crystal dome filled with buildings carved from golden-yellow stone. At the center stood a palace tall enough that the top reached beyond the dome. Before the palace, she paused at a fountain. Of all the absurd ideas. An underwater fountain. She stood at the bottom of the sea, dry and breathing, feeling a chill though the dome was warm. The water above might be crystal clear, but in the darkness just before dawn, little light passed through to the dome. Lanterns hanging from poles lining the streets provided the only real light.
A throng had begun to gather around the palace, awaiting the food gifts the emperor would bestow to celebrate his wedding. Servants had prepared large tables filled with rice and fish, but guards kept the people from sampling the dishes before the ceremony. So much fish in one place filled the dome with a noxious stench no amount of spices could cover.
She rushed after Ratna, unwilling to be left alone in such a place. Or to leave Ratna alone in it. Finding proof of a Solar plot on the ship had been her last chance to avoid this fate.
By the time she caught them, Naresh had already led Ratna into another crystal tube. The tube caught the echoes of a song. Perhaps it would reverberate throughout the whole city. How had they managed such perfect acoustics? The haunting hymn left her lightheaded, as though wandering in a dream, unsure whether to flee or delve deeper.
“How can you live in such a place?” she asked.
“There’s an arboretum in the Igni District for food, and, of course, fishermen in the harbor. We use crystal pipes to purify water and draw in air.”
“But how can you stand to live so confined?”
“I was born here.” He seemed to think that answered the question. Maybe it did. The man’s hand still rested on his keris. If he wanted to attack them, one of these empty tubes would give him the perfect chance. Even his own man, Bendurana, didn’t trust him.
“How did you warrant this duty?”
Ratna continued down the tube, but Naresh held back, watching Chandi a moment before answering. “I was awarded the honor as a potential for the Arun Guard.”
Potential? She tried to keep scorn from her face. He couldn’t have been much older than her own twenty years. So they thought the safety of the War King’s daughter should be left in the hands of a man who hadn’t even been accepted into the Arun Guard? Worse, he didn’t seem to realize the insult to Ratna.
The tube led into another great dome. Much of this dome was taken up by circular walls of white and gold stone, forming the Temple of the Sun. Even more people had gathered here, and many turned to stare at Ratna. Chandi could see other tubes leading from the district, most clogged with people, but Naresh waved them to a large archway leading inside. The rising sun lit the dome like fire. Here, the hymn intensified to a soul-twisting aria.
Chandi followed Ratna in. The dome itself formed the roof and layers of angled mirrors lined the walls, reflecting light everywhere. Even the inside of the temple was arranged in a circle, with the altar on a dais at the center, and the audience standing in a ring around that platform. The scent of flowers filled the air, wafting up from the bouquets arranged around the entrance. Ratna drifted toward the man at the altar, who could only be Kakudmi, the Solar emperor. Older than Ratna, but still in his prime, he wore a long-sleeved green baju with woven gold threadwork that looked like Lunar songket. Did the emperor think to honor his bride by wearing Lunar clothing? His warm smile almost seemed genuine.
Behind the emperor a woman in her early forties stood alone, garbed in a crimson baju, a diamond-encrusted stagen across her chest. The Radiant Queen, Aji Bidara, leader of the Solar faith and supposed bride of their god, Surya. The woman who would bind Ratna forever to her fate in this charade of a ceremony. Chandi shifted her feet and flushed as she realized Aji Bidara watched her, eyes cold, hands folded behind her back.
A hand touched her shoulder and Chandi jerked, then spun to see Naresh pointing toward the Lunar delegation. Her father nodded at her, but any more would reveal her as more than a handmaid. Her uncle, Rahu, didn’t even spare her a glance. He had sent for her, demanded she watch over his daughter, told her to risk her life spying on the Solars, finding their weaknesses, and still he did not bother to meet her gaze. As always, his face remained unreadable.
The hairs on the back of her neck rose when someone leaned in close to whisper in her ear. “Are you well, Chandi?” The tension in her shoulders eased. Malin. The Macan Gadungan’s breath was hot, his voice throaty. Of course he was here. Always a step behind her.
She nodded, once, without looking back at Malin. This should have been her wedding. Not like this, of course, and not to a Solar. A simple, true Lunar wedding. For Lunars to marry, they need only proclaim their love and kiss before witnesses.
On the plateau, beneath the full moon, she’d have kissed Anusapati. Held him close. Even Rahu would have smiled to see them. They’d have danced until dawn. Instead the Solars took him from her. And now they were taking Ratna, too.
The Solar hymn rose with the sun, hundreds of voices cascading together like a waterfall. The entire city would hear their song, would know that the war ended today. Ratna and Kakudmi joined their voices to the hymn. Her cousin had practiced all through the journey, trying to imitate the Solars under the ever-present tutelage of Bendurana. The captain delighted in teaching Ratna the Solar hymns, but then he seemed to delight in everything.
Singing should be for the celebration after, not the wedding. And yet they had agreed to do this the Solar way. Everything here spoke of Solar religion. Where were the Lunar values in this alliance?
At last the hymn broke. For a moment, stillness filled the temple. After the echoing song, Chandi’s heart clinched at the silence. Then she heard footsteps on the gilded floor. An initiate—or maybe a curate—carried a bowl of water to the Radiant Queen. He would take three steps, stop, take three more, stop. Chandi clenched her hand around the statuette, its tiny horn digging into her palm.
When the man at last reached the Radiant Queen, she dipped her fingers into the water and praised the Sun God. “Be blessed,” she said, wiping the water on both Ratna and Kakudmi’s brows. “May the lord of heaven watch over you and your union.”
“I pledge my love until the dying of the sun,” Kakudmi said.
Ratna did not hesitate in her role, not even for a moment. “I pledge my love until the dying of the sun.”
Cha
ndi bit her lip as Kakudmi kissed Ratna. As Ratna kissed him back and ended the war.
CHAPTER THREE
A dozen or more people had gathered in the gardens atop the palace, watching Naresh and the other potential in the morning sunshine. The gardens should have been closed off for this, but maybe Empu Baradah thought they needed to learn to work under pressure. Naresh didn’t care. Let them watch.
They could all sense something was happening today. The way Landorundun stood swaying back and forth, the way Lembu Ampal kicked at the cobblestone path. They all knew.
“Lunars living in the palace,” Wanebaka said. “Never thought I’d see that.”
“Pak Kakudmi knows what he’s doing,” Naresh said. At least, Naresh prayed he did. To forgive after all they’d done—the war had lasted almost his entire life—Naresh couldn’t imagine it.
Empu Baradah stood beneath a palm tree, eyes closed, seeming to drink in the morning sunshine. Naresh had no doubt he noticed his students’ unease, but the First did nothing. Everyone knew why they were here. Arun Guardsmen had died at Astral Shore. Someone had to fill their places and take up the honor of protecting the imperial family.
The First had always liked him, so he’d be chosen. No, that wasn’t why—he was good. Empu Baradah had to choose Landi, too. Landorundun had worked harder than most to get here. Of course, Lembu Ampal was the strongest, so he’d be a good choice. Tohjaya was a bully, but he had skill.
At last the First pushed off the palm tree and paced in front of the potentials. “Eleven Arun Guard receive the Sun Brand,” he said with an air of ritual. “Eleven men and women guard the emperor against the night.”
Naresh struggled to remain still.
“Three died at Astral Shore. You were the finest of the potentials. The fastest, most skilled, most worthy. But there are only three places, and six of you.”
Empu Baradah smiled and clapped his hands together. “We will decide who will receive the honor by combat.”
