Children of Sun and Moon

by Matt Larkin

  “You need to take those scrolls to Rahu,” she said before his fingers could touch her hair.

  Yes, he did. Deployments and trade routes didn’t stay constant forever. If he wanted to win loyalty from the pirates, he needed to act soon. “I can’t leave you in danger.”

  Let someone come for his charges. Let them find the tiger waiting.

  “They won’t try anything so soon. I can protect Ratna and Revati. You must go, Malin.”

  She didn’t look up at him as he left.

  Malin forced himself not to linger. Better this way. Better to be gone and avoid the temptation. The roar of vengeance still vibrated through him.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The Igni midwife sat bound to the chair across from Naresh. The Minister of Law had allowed him a few moments alone with the prisoner, given he had brought her in. Or perhaps because she’d said nothing during her interrogation.

  “Why?” Naresh asked again.

  The woman glared at him.

  “Do you know they’re going to burn you alive for treason? If you name collaborators, maybe they’d reduce it to exile.” No, the woman who would slaughter an infant deserved no mercy.

  The murder of the child while under the care of the Arun Guard would have disgraced his order. Would have shattered the people’s faith in the emperor and his elite. Kakudmi needed that faith. The Solar emperor had brought a year of peace. Naresh wouldn’t fail him now.

  “If I leave here with any doubts, I’m going to have to visit the Igni district and assuage those doubts.” He leaned in very close to the girl, close enough to feel her trembling breath. She was probably younger than he was. “Do you understand me?”

  “Are you going to torture me, Guardsman? Show me the glory of your Empire, then.”

  Naresh rose, but his voice caught in his throat. “Our empire is glorious. It’s your empire, too. We’ve built something that’s endured for twelve centuries. Why destroy that?”

  The midwife laughed, although it seemed half a sob. “You want to know why? Because if the Lunars and Solars destroy each other, my people can at last be free.”

  “Is your priest Semar responsible for this?”

  The girl clenched her jaw.

  Naresh felt bile rise in his throat. Honor demanded he put an end to this. If Kakudmi could sacrifice for peace, he could too. And if he was going to make a point, he was only going to make it once.

  “Then Semar will join you on that pyre. All the fire priests, if need be. But those responsible for this treason will be found. Today.”

  The girl shook her head. “You wouldn’t.”

  He leaned close again, forced himself not to look away. Forced himself not to feel the sickness in his stomach. “I will do what I must to make sure this does not happen again.”

  Tears seeped from the midwife’s clenched eyes. “His name is Partigatiga.” She choked on her sobs. “It was his idea.”

  Naresh sighed and shut his eyes for a moment. Then he left.

  The sun through the dome washed over his face. The Civic District was the best district for thinking. He sat on a bench and stared at the building before him. The Ministry of Law, a three-story whitewashed complex surrounded by flowing fountains and hanging plants that belied its purpose, was the largest of six ministry buildings encircling the palace.

  He pulled his sketchbook from his satchel and drew an outline of the midwife. The woman he’d brought to tears. The woman who would soon burn for treason. Perhaps the lines of agony on her face were remorse. He hoped so. Perhaps she’d find redemption in her next life.

  A long time he sketched. He didn’t want to see the woman anymore. She only reminded him of what he had to do. He tried to draw the handmaid, Chandi, from memory. There was a girl with admirable devotion to her duty. Was that midwife just as devoted to hers?

  He rose and bowed when Empu Baradah approached. Perhaps the First had thought to question the woman himself.

  “You did well to capture her.”

  Naresh bowed again, though not as deeply. “The empress’s handmaid had already beaten her bloody before I arrived.” Rumors said she had barreled after the woman, heedless of her own safety in the crowded market. Chandi had spirit. Spirit worth watching.

  Empu Baradah ran a finger over his mustache. “So it seems even their servants train in Silat. Or at least are not afraid to fight if need be.”

  Naresh shrugged. The dynasties had diverged so far since the Pact broke that they now knew little of Lunar customs beyond the battlefield. Lunars seemed to like it that way.

  “The assassins may try again. I request assignment as Ibu Ratna’s personal protector.” He’d earned the right to ask that much. Naresh had brought a traitor to the Ministry. It was a start, and his mother should be proud. He’d like to think his father would have been, too.

  Empu Baradah shook his head and motioned for Naresh to follow. The First led him back toward the palace. “Landorundun will be her protector. It’s unlikely anyone will try that again soon.”

  Landorundun. Competent, for certain. But Naresh had won more honor today than that. He clenched and unclenched his fists as they walked, but kept his face expressionless.

  “I have something else in mind for you, Naresh.”

  The First said nothing else until they sat in the Arun Guard mess hall, away from prying ears.

  “You’ll return to the Astral Temple to take over as guardian. Take Lembu Ampal with you. A year of training has made him ready to undergo the trial for the Sun Brand.”

  Naresh rocked back on the bench. “I thought,” he began. “That is, I only just returned.” After a year of training. A year of mastering the Sun Brand. Maybe Landorundun could Sun Stride faster. She was better with the Kebatinan, was all. But he had proved himself there. And today. He’d earned the right to stay in the city, not be shuffled back off to the isolated temple.

  “I know what you’re thinking. And I know what everyone says. That you’re the best with the sword we’ve seen in a long time. All the more reason for you to handle the training of our newest member. We grieved for Wanebaka. We will still perform the final Selamatan for him when the time comes. But his replacement needs to be ready.” Empu Baradah hesitated. “You have things to learn, Naresh. The time away will do you good.”

  And Landorundun would solidify her position here. Naresh had not even seen his mother since he returned. Had seen nothing of Kasusthali. Hardly had time to even enjoy the food. The last guardian had served for three years, with few if any visits home. But Naresh could never refuse such an honor.

  Still, he had one more thing he had to do here. Kakudmi’s peace would last. Partigatiga would not threaten the imperial heir again.

  (1194 AP)

  CHAPTER NINE

  Chandi watched Revati splashing in the palace fountain while Ratna prepared herself for their outing. Ratna had promised to take her daughter to the Armistice Festival. With the dry season ending, the days of sunshine would soon pass, and though the city’s nature kept rain out of all but the Harbor District, dark skies subdued most activity.

  The gathered Solars watched with bemused expressions as the imperial heir drenched the great hall. Like her mother and Rahu, Revati had fairer skin than typical for a Skyfall native. Milky next to Chandi’s golden tan. Seeing Revati at play, Chandi could almost forget the girl’s half-Solar lineage.

  The reactions of the passersby drove the giggling child to jump and splash more. Chandi smiled despite herself. Despite today signaling three years living in this underwater madness. Three years of sneaking, lying, stealing, and never a hint of Solar treachery.

  “The fountain is not for swimming, handmaid.”

  Chandi jumped at the voice so close behind her. She turned to put the pompous courtier in his place, then paused. It must have been two years since she’d seen Naresh. He still wore the cerulean baju uniform of the Arun Guard, and seemed as fit as ever, his hair still hanging unkempt about his face.

  She folded her
arms over her chest. “You want to tell the emperor’s daughter where she can and can’t play?”

  “She’s two. Best not to leave her in charge of her own wellbeing.”

  Chandi scowled. Rangda take the man. She reached into the fountain. “Come here, Revati.” The girl frowned, but obeyed, dripping water over Chandi’s new kemban.

  Chandi sighed. Ratna had given her the bodice wrap for the Festival. Once, among the Lunars, she might have had any clothes she wanted, not waited on her cousin’s charity. But a handmaid took what she was given, and acted grateful for it. Most probably were grateful. So she’d donned the wrap, tucked a jasmine flower by her ear for contrast against her black hair, and collected her mistress’s daughter.

  “She’s in my charge, Guardsman. And now she’ll need to change clothes before we head to the Academy.”

  Naresh nodded. “I’ll be your escort. I’m replacing Ibu Landorundun as your guardian for the immediate future.”

  Chandi glowered without looking back at the Guardsman, though she could hear him following. When had he gotten back? Already they had him assigned to them. He must be good at something—fording the currents of Solar bureaucracy if nothing else.

  She had heard the rumors from Semar. Partigatiga, a rogue Igni rebel. Some said Partigatiga had organized the assassination attempt on Revati two years ago. And Semar said Naresh had tracked Partigatiga down, killed a half dozen of his men, and brought as many more in for a quiet trial and execution.

  She hadn’t seen Naresh since the day they had caught the assassin.

  At first, when no more threats came, it seemed too quiet, set her on edge. As time passed, still nothing. Had her many conversations with Semar earned her the trust of the Ignis? Or had Naresh ensured no one remained to threaten her family?

  “Revati.”

  Chandi sighed. Of course the emperor would choose now to come to the great hall, when his daughter was soaked. At least he didn’t sound angry. Yet.

  “Father!” Revati wiggled in Chandi’s arms, until she had to set the girl down. Revati ran to her father, who swept her up.

  “You’re all wet, sunshine,” Kakudmi said, swinging the his daughter around. He wore a small golden crown, disdaining the more ornate costumes his forefathers had worn. His crimson baju, embroidered with Lunar songket, had been a gift from Ratna. She had probably meant it as a barb, but Kakudmi wore it often, though sleeved bajus had fallen out of favor in Solar fashion.

  “I’m a swimmer!” Revati said.

  The emperor cradled Revati in his arm. “You are? Well aren’t you talented?”

  Naresh drifted to the side of the room, drawing Chandi’s eye to Ratna. Her cousin paused in the archway, watching her husband and daughter, her face unreadable.

  Hands on hips, she turned as Chandi approached. “Why is my daughter soaking wet?” she asked.

  “She wanted to play in the fountain. I was just going to get her a change of clothes.”

  Ratna shook her head, and drifted over to Kakudmi. “Pak Kakudmi, we leave for the Wayang show soon. Will you join us, husband?”

  Chandi wouldn’t bother with the ridiculous Solar titles they afforded their equals or superiors, but Ratna always did.

  The emperor grunted, held his daughter a moment longer, before setting her down. Even then, his eyes remained on Revati. “I cannot this morning. I have too many things to oversee.”

  “Chandi,” Ratna said, her voice soft, “take Revati to change.”

  As soon as Chandi and Revati returned Ratna headed out of the palace, Naresh in tow. They followed the northern crystal tube out of the Civic District. Women carrying baskets laden with fruit on their heads clogged the way. The footfalls of so many people created a constant din of echoes.

  Revati pulled away from her mother and pressed her face against the crystal, gasping at a manta ray as it swam by. Ratna sighed and started for her daughter, but Chandi swept Revati up in her arms before Ratna could chide the girl. Who would have thought that a half-breed could be so beautiful?

  “I attended the Academy,” Naresh said.

  Chandi glanced at him. Why did he bother with these pleasantries? Landorundun rarely had.

  “Drawing, literature, history, tactics, even painting. I didn’t focus, but my mother had never intended for me to become a scholar.”

  Painting was a foolish Solar pursuit. She could see the point in a sculpture that might last for ages and remind one of history, but not painting. She followed as Ratna started off down the tube again.

  It would be a long day if she refused to speak to him. “How old were you?”

  “Twenty-one, when I left. About a year before you came here. I spent much of that time training as a potential. My mother’s plan all along.”

  A man destined to join the finest murderers in history. Elite group.

  Drumbeats filtered down through the tube long before they reached the next district, and even Ratna’s step lightened. The light intensified as they stepped from the tube to the Academy District, the crystal dome casting the white-gold buildings in radiant splendor. Revati climbed from Chandi’s arms and scurried forward, but Naresh pulled ahead as though to interpose himself between them and danger. Chandi shook her head. She’d wanted to bring her toyaks, but couldn’t disguise them well against her kemban.

  They passed through the city park, Revati rushing from one street musician to the next, once stopping to beat on a young woman’s leather drum. Musicians filled the district, plying their trade for donations or the sheer joy of it. Chandi tried not to gape at the throng, reminding herself every year was like this. Though the Market District probably stood in more chaos, vendors had set up shops throughout the park. In a way, the Academy District was like home—trees and openness melded right into the city. Of course, the dancing light above reminded her they still lived under the sea.

  The smell of baked goods filled the air and Revati dashed off to a nagasari stall.

  “Might be nice,” Chandi said when her cousin glanced at her. Ratna just shrugged, so Chandi handed the vendor two silver coins and picked out several of the banana cakes. Revati giggled and stuffed too much in her mouth at once. Ratna picked at hers. Naresh was smiling. Had she seen him smile before? When she offered him a piece, he took it, his mouth hanging open. “You’re half way there. The nagasari goes in your mouth.”

  The vendor thanked her, so she turned to answer, but broke off at his joyless expression. The man was an Igni. A fortunate one, to be running a business as respectable as this, here, in this district. A Solar passed, his Igni porter struggling to keep pace with a loaded basket balanced on his head. How much time had she spent in this city that she should start to ignore the Ignis as much as the Solars did? She had often walked in the Igni District, seeking allies. But when she didn’t need them, she didn’t see them any more than the Solars did.

  Naresh cast a way eye at the Igni. “What’s wrong?”

  Ratna glanced over, but Chandi just shook her head and took Revati by the hand, pulled her along toward the Academy.

  Naresh trotted after her. “Chandi?” She glanced at him, only because he remembered her name after all. “Something you fear?” His hand had drifted to his keris, though he didn’t draw the sword as he pushed past them, scanning the crowd.

  “There are a lot of slaves for this area of the city.” She waved her hand at other groups, many marked by the sacred flame sewn onto their clothing. They pushed carts, worked to repair damaged buildings, one swept the streets. All the labor beneath Solars themselves.

  Naresh’s hand released his sword but closed into a fist. “Solars don’t keep slaves. Lunars do.”

  Her arms ached from carrying Revati so much today, but she picked the girl up again, putting the child between herself and the Guardsman. “No. We just call it what it is.”

  “Our so-called slaves are paid for their labor,” Naresh said. His gaze flitted back between Chandi and Ratna, who had begun to outdistance them. “And they can leave an
y time they wish.”

  “Assuming they haven’t signed a contract, and for pay far less than any of you would take.” She hurried to catch up to Ratna, her breath starting to come short. She should have put the child down. She drew her Moon Blessing, flooding strength into her limbs until Revati became no weight at all. She allowed herself to breathe, and lowered her voice before she spoke again. “And can they leave? You took their land, where would they go?”

  Eyes cold, he brushed past her without further comment and resumed his position at Ratna’s side. No one spoke the rest of the way to the Academy. A white stone fence ringed the Academy grounds, its gate open to the flow of Solars on their way to hear the coming concert. Music poured from open windows, a grouping of three towers connected by a series of aerial walkways, all arranged around a central lobby.

  In front of the lobby, the students had constructed a stage where they prepared for the Wayang. Chandi had seen the Solar shadow puppetry last year. Impressive in its mastery of light, but still just a tedious Solar religious reenactment.

  Chandi set Revati down and bade her go to her mother. The girl ran about, ogling the students. Naresh trotted off a short distance behind her.

  “Ratna,” Chandi said to her cousin, “if you don’t need my services here, I beg leave to visit a friend in the city.”

  Naresh turned, looked like he might object, but Ratna cut him off. “It’s fine, Chandi. I’ll see you back at the palace.”

  Chandi bowed and slipped out of the Academy before the Guardsman could speak.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Chandi knew every street of the Igni district. Some of the vendors recognized her and waved, showing warmth she doubted the Solars ever received, even at Igni shops in the Market District. The Ignis here did much the same menial work they did in the rest of the city, but here they did it for themselves, maintaining their own homes, cleaning their own streets. A trio of Igni children ran past her, giggling, tossing a small basket back and forth between them. One laughed and tossed it to her. The children giggled as she fumbled with the basket, so with a grin, she ran off with it, the children chasing after her. Chandi kept her pace slow enough for them to keep up, and stopped running after a block. She held the basket over her head as two boys jumped for it, then she tossed it to a third.