by Matt Larkin
CHAPTER TWELVE
If Empu Baradah was leaving Kasusthali, Chandi needed to know why and where he was going. The First had seldom left the city in the three years she had been here. This might be the first useful information she could provide to her people. But following him since the Festival feast had proved fruitless.
He had retired to a wing on the third floor reserved for visiting officials, though whom he met there she hadn’t been able to discover. For what seemed a whole phase she had stood in the shadows, not daring to draw too close to the doorway. From the sounds now coming from within, he had met a woman. Even if he might have let slip his destination, Chandi couldn’t bring herself to eavesdrop on that sort of thing.
As the door creaked open, Chandi backed around the corner. Footsteps echoing down the hall from the other direction caught her ear, sent her heart racing. A peek around the corner told her Empu Baradah was coming this way, the woman going the other, and some unknown Solar was coming toward her from around the other corner.
Focus. She drew her Moon Blessing and shifted her center of gravity to the wall and ran up it, until she could press her back against the ceiling. Her shoulder-length hair hung free, but the rest of her pressed against the arch above, as though she laid on it. She could try the Glamour, but if they looked up, they’d notice her no matter what color her clothes were.
Empu Baradah passed right under her, leaving her wondering how he could fail to hear the pounding of her heart. She had recognized the woman, too, though she couldn’t believe it. Aji Bidara. The Radiant Queen who could take no mortal man, for she was the bride of Surya. Her holy office forbade her from such human indulgences.
Empu Baradah stopped in the doorway, awaiting whomever approached. Chandi craned her neck, praying the other Solar was too focused on Empu Baradah to look up at her. Naresh.
“She was here, wasn’t she?” The Guardsman asked, scowling.
Chandi held her breath—and thanked Chandra Solars liked high arched ceilings—as both men stopped to converse right under her.
“So you know.” The First lingered in the doorway. “We used to be more careful.”
“You betray your wife and your god, and that’s all you can say?”
Empu Baradah sighed, shaking his head. “You’re over-dramatizing a bit.” He frowned, then shrugged. “At least the part about betraying Surya. A good husband would have seen to his wife’s needs.”
Naresh’s eyes widened. “If defiling the Sun God’s bride were not enough, why not mock him too?”
“You’re right about one thing. I do betray my wife. She returns the favor, I think.” Empu Baradah reached an arm towards Naresh, but the younger Guardsman shrugged it off. “Duty and honor are important, Naresh—”
“Important? They’re everything. Our actions reflect on those who have crafted us in their image. Yours reflect poorly on your family.”
Empu Baradah frowned, but nodded. “Perhaps they do. But Naresh, they’re not the only important things. So is happiness. If you waste your life, knowing your family would be proud will be small comfort in the end. We are trapped in a cycle, where each generation lives for what their parents want, and no one ever lives for themselves. And we return to the Wheel of Life no better than we left it.”
Chandi clenched her eyes shut. The First’s words stung, even though he didn’t direct them at her. Duty had led her to sacrifice a normal life. Duty had led Anusapati to Astral Shore.
“You can have happiness and honor, too,” Naresh said. “Living up to your duty ought to bring you happiness. Maybe then you would move up in the Wheel.” Naresh trembled like a volcano. “Think of what your father has done for you.”
“You can worry about what should be. Or you can accept what is. If you put honor before your heart, you may lose both in the end.”
Naresh’s sudden hook caught the First off guard, sending the older man to the floor. “I trusted you more than anyone. You disgraced my mother.”
“She’s been alone since your father died.” Empu Baradah used the wall to push himself up, Chandi afraid to breathe in case he should glance upwards. “Forced alone, since she became Radiant Queen.”
Naresh stormed off and Empu Baradah turned back around the corner, giving his student room. Chandi breathed again. Aji Bidara was Naresh’s mother?
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Chandi panted, circling Malin in the rooftop garden. Almost a full moon, and she needed to release the tension from her near encounter with Empu Baradah and Naresh. The tiger obliged without hesitation.
Toyaks in hand, they danced about each other. He swung low with one stick, then twisted away from her counterstrike. Chandi had to draw her Moon Blessings to keep up with Malin’s speed and strength, even in his human form.
Left and right, back and forth they danced at a tempo most mortals couldn’t follow, much less match. The crack of rattan sticks hitting with so much force echoed like thunder. Malin had drilled toyak fighting into her since she was ten.
“Why did you want this so much, Chandi? You’ve only wanted to spar three times since you came here.”
Chandi ran at him, and launched a series of tight swings, forcing him backwards. “Were you counting?” She could see Malin struggling to keep ahead. With her Blessing of speed she could move faster than him, at least before he shifted.
“Did you spar like this with Anusapati?” Malin backed away in a low crouch.
Chandi fell into a crouch herself, not rising to his bait. Let him come to her. “Anusapati used the keris.”
“I prefer teeth.” He swung high, and Chandi dove under it. Malin anticipated it, and caught her in the stomach with his knee.
The force of the blow threw her on her back. Chandi gasped, trying to get her wind back.
“Why are we here in the middle of the night, Chandi?” Malin stood over her. He never mocked her for losing, even though he always won.
“The Solars don’t come here at night.” She rose. If Malin had had enough, he’d had enough. Deep breaths. Chandi closed her eyes a moment. She could probably sleep now, though maybe a swim first, to cool off. The warm night would be perfect for swimming.
She walked the garden, taking it in while trying not to look at Malin. Lorises had come out and cluttered the trees, watching them. How had the big-eyed monkeys even gotten out across the sea? Perhaps the Solars bred them for the garden. They had a strange fascination with animals.
Malin’s eyes seemed to bore into her back. Made it itch.
She turned to face him. “Empu Baradah almost caught me spying on him tonight.”
Malin’s eyes locked hers, but he said nothing. Weretigers didn’t have any special powers in their gaze. At least none she knew of. But she felt it holding her, demanding something from her.
“He’s leaving soon. I learned it today. I followed him to see if I could learn why.”
“Where?” Malin’s voice had fallen, hardened.
Chandi rose and walked to the edge of the garden. “I don’t know, Malin.”
He followed her to the edge, but she doubted he would leap into the sea after her.
“You shouldn’t rely so much on the Moon Blessings.” He tried to put a hand on her shoulder.
She pushed him away from her. “Don’t tell me how to use my own gifts, Macan Gadungan.”
“Anusapati said something similar, before Astral Shore. Before he went lunatic.”
Chandi spun back on him, fist clenched. How dare he? She sucked in air through her teeth but could find no words worthy of her rage, hissing instead. Malin spoke as though he could understand her loss, but he never could. What was a lunatic to a weretiger but a threat to be eliminated, or perhaps vindication against their Moon Scion masters. But to the Moon Scions themselves, it was their worst fear, the haunt on the edge of your mind every time you used your gifts, the reminder that everything had a price. With a dismissive wave of her hand, she turned back to the sea and leapt in.
Malin spoke truth, though. It wa
s foolish to draw on her Blessings in training. Wield the power of the Moon God, pay with your mind. They all knew the price, and they all drew the Blessings anyway.
Even at night, the water remained warm. The taste of sea salt filled her mouth as the water soothed her nerves. To wash away the tension she dove beneath the surface and swam underwater, holding her breath until her lungs seemed ready to burst.
She’d done what she had to about Anusapati. But even when she broke the surface, she couldn’t catch her breath.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
On a clear day, Chandi could see the harbor from the window in Ratna’s chamber. Fishing boats had long since left for the morning. Other Solars scurried about the piers, though they looked like indistinct blurs.
“Where’s Revati?” she asked as she brushed Ratna’s hair. The brush, Ratna’s mother’s brush, was all her cousin had brought from home. Her cousin’s long silky hair stretched halfway down her back. Once Chandi had thought to grow hers like that. Well, maybe more than once. But hair that long was better for winning hearts than winning battles.
“Her father’s taking her to a Sepak Takraw game. The team from Suladvipa came to Yawadvipa for the Festival.”
“Why didn’t you go?”
Ratna shrugged, disrupting Chandi’s attempt to arrange her cousin’s hair. “Pak Kakudmi didn’t invite me.”
Chandi suppressed a sigh. So instead Ratna sat here alone. Even Chandi had to go—she’d talked Naresh into meeting her for breakfast. Couldn’t get information from him without staying close to him, after all.
“I’m sure the emperor didn’t think he needed to invite his wife.”
“Of course he didn’t. Why should his wife matter?”
Damn. “That’s not what I meant. I meant that he assumed you would go.” Unlikely, knowing Kakudmi. The man had given Ratna a luxurious suite to herself. But since Revati was born, he rarely invited Ratna to his own suite on the opposite side of the fourth floor.
“If he thinks I’ll follow like a faithful Macan Gadungan, he’s mistaken.” Ratna rose from the windowsill and drifted around her chambers without apparent purpose.
What difference did it make what Kakudmi thought? The man agreed to an arranged marriage and lived with it. Had Ratna expected more? Had she forgotten who the Solars were?
The creak of the door drew her gaze before she could think of anything more to say. Malin stood there, his usual smirk missing. “I shouldn’t have mentioned Anusapati last night.”
Ratna hissed. “Callous tiger. Never consider our feelings, do you?”
“You were quick enough to beg my presence when Revati was in danger.”
“I beg nothing, Macan Gadungan. I order and you serve.”
Malin glared at Ratna.
“I have to go,” Chandi said. If this continued, she’d lose her appetite.
Malin followed her down the hall. “You could have waited for me, back then. You didn’t have to face him yourself.”
“Yes I did.”
Around the next bend she almost ran into Empu Baradah. She nodded at the First as he passed, and started to resume her search for Naresh, when she realized Malin no longer followed. He and Empu Baradah stood feet apart, gazes locked, both twitching as their hands inched toward weapons.
“Welcome back to the palace, Pak Malin,” Empu Baradah said.
“An honor, First.” Malin spoke through clenched teeth, his feigned civility even less convincing than Empu Baradah’s. “I do look forward to getting to know it better.”
Empu Baradah didn’t flinch. “I have special accommodations for you, should you wish to extend your stay.”
“When I’ve come to stay, you’ll know.”
Empu Baradah edged past Malin, his eyes never leaving the tiger’s. “Sun warm your face.”
Malin turned with Empu Baradah, neither barring the way nor stepping aside. Chandi tugged on his arm, but he ignored her until Empu Baradah had turned the corner.
“What is wrong with you?” She snatched his wrist and yanked him down the hall. “We’re guests here.”
“Nothing,” he snapped.
“You’ll start the Fifth War over nothing, then?” Idiot tiger. She held firm under his gaze. “Well?”
Malin cracked his neck before answering. “Come.”
He led her through the Arun Guard lounge where Landorundun sat playing a flute. The Guardswoman watched them with more interest than usual, though she didn’t stop playing.
Chandi nodded at her, then followed the Macan Gadungan up the stairs into the garden. A handful of Solars already clustered around the pond, so she sat in a secluded spot beneath a palm tree.
“Well?” she repeated.
Malin’s gaze drifted from one rainbow-colored bird to the next, though he didn’t seem to take any joy in them. Then he watched her, fury and interest warring on his face.
“He was there. The glorious, venerated Empu Baradah, First of the Arun Guard. Butcher of Astral Shore. They say he killed more Macan Gadungan than any other. Moon Scions, too.”
Chandi had almost let herself like the First. He’d welcomed her to his table. He’d seemed more human because of Aji Bidara, whatever Naresh thought about the affair. But he was still a monster with the Sun Brand.
Malin watched her from the corner of his eye, his jaw twitching. He was holding something back.
“What else?”
Malin shook his head.
“Tell me.”
Malin looked down at the grass a moment. “I failed to protect Calon and Simhika all those years ago. I won’t let anything happen to their daughters.”
Chandi recoiled at the sudden mention of her and Ratna’s mothers. They had died thirteen years ago in the war, while their husbands were away.
Malin cracked his neck. “Empu Baradah came for Calon. We think that’s why Ken Arok promoted him to First after the Battle of Bangdvipa, though he never fought in the battle.”
The First had come to kill Ratna’s mother. And Chandi’s mother had gotten in the way. And for thirteen years, the man had been praised for the murders.
Chandi had eaten at his table. Had felt sorry for him for his loveless marriage. But scratch the surface of a Solar, and you found more than you expected. She wouldn’t forget that again.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Naresh couldn’t forget that flute song. The rhapsody drifted through the fourth floor of the palace.
Chandi wasn’t in her room. Last night she said she wanted to meet with him this morning, but he hadn’t been able to find her. He closed his eyes, letting the song wash over him, indulging for a moment in memories he knew were best left buried. Naresh sighed and followed the song to the Arun Guard’s lounge.
A warm breeze blew through the window to the landing. Soon the palace staff would close it with crystal panes, but during the dry season the Arun Guard spent a lot of time here. Landorundun sat on the landing with her long black hair pulled back in a ponytail, basking in the sun, playing the song she had been perfecting since her days at the Academy. A song that should have made her career. She would have made a finer musician than a soldier.
She glanced at him, then increased the tempo of her song. And then it ended. She laid the flute down beside her and watched him, as if waiting to hear how impressed he was.
“Well done.”
With a light snort she settled back on her arms. “Come to hear me play? I have others if Empu Baradah’s protégé isn’t too busy this morning.”
Naresh shrugged and stepped out of the window to stand by the sea. In the morning sunlight he could see the edge of the Civic District’s crystal dome beneath the water. It always seemed odd to see it from above. “He thinks just as much of you,” he said at last.
“I’m sure he does.”
“Why do you have to make it so hard?” he asked with a glance over his shoulder.
“I’m used to hard.” She rose and stood looking up at him. “I’ve worked for what I have. I wasn’t given it by my pa
rents.”
Naresh pushed past her to step back inside. “Neither was I.”
“Are you certain?”
Damn her smug smile. His mother may have planned his future, but he had worked as hard as anyone. Harder. Since the day he was wedded to the keris he had fought to become the best. He was damn near the best already, and she knew it. “Have you seen Chandi?”
She laughed. “Oh, Naresh, it’s so sweet you have a new friend. And a handmaid! She must be so much better conversation than that macaque you used to keep.”
He had loved that monkey. Actually, he’d had some deep conversations with it, if one-sided ones.
“You shouldn’t have allowed her to dine with us.”
Naresh turned his back on her. “The prejudices of the Children of the Sun are beneath us. We cannot expect peace if we see the other dynasties as too inferior to warrant respect.”
“Ironic, coming from the son of the Radiant Queen. Or blasphemy. What would she say?”
Naresh didn’t want to know what his mother would say. But he could guarantee Landi wouldn’t go anywhere near enough to her to ask. “I see you’re eager for some sparring. Perhaps another day.”
“I look forward to putting you in your place. You just missed your playmate. She went up into the garden with the empress’s Lunar bodyguard.”
Naresh took the stairs to the garden two at a time. The palace let in enough sunlight for small plants, but only the roof had the room for palm trees and a full garden. Kakudmi himself had designed the gardens, before he took the throne. Before Ken Arok’s murder.
A flock of birds of paradise had alighted in the trees near the stairs. Many Solars kept them, but the Arun Guard had no time for pets, birds or monkeys.
Chandi sat on the edge of the roof, under a palm tree, staring at the sea. Malin sat close to her, almost like he intended to put his arm around her, but hadn’t gotten there yet.
