Seeing the Sougen plains unfold in front of me did make me aware of how much I had taken Rayyel’s endless trove of knowledge for granted. It was a strange region, one that didn’t fit the Jin-Sayeng I knew. The vast grasslands rolled out like a sea of green, with long stretches unmarked by forest or hills. I’ve heard stories of people getting lost in the plains—without a landmark to guide them, they end up wandering in circles. The lucky ones stumble on a rice field or a road; the unlucky ones starve to death, their bodies lost in the midst of the bright, seemingly innocuous greenery.
According to many legends, we were all descended from tribes that used to roam the Sougen. That we first made contact with dragons in the mountains northwest of the plains, and that we learned to tame them in order to navigate the vast lands. They also say that the plains were as flat and unmarked as they were because of dragonfire, which burned down the trees and most of the shrubbery and made it so that only the tough, hardy grass could grow in its stead. It was a strange sort of grass, too—left on its own, it could grow tall enough to obscure a man standing on tip-toe, with sharp leaves that could cut skin.
The grass was one of the many challenges that plagued the region. A builder had explained it to me once: here, they grew almost everywhere, and could grow fast and strong enough to uproot building foundations. You had to be careful about where you wanted to settle. That meant that the Sougen was sparsely populated, despite what appeared to be vast amounts of flat and arable land. It had one city, Yu-yan, built on the eastern shore of the largest river that ran through the plains.
Well—perhaps all the years of following Rayyel around had its purpose after all. I didn’t even have to struggle to remember these facts, and they sort of rolled around my head in his voice. Perhaps I was forcing myself to miss him. I did once; I thought, perhaps, that I could do it again.
“Did Lord Rayyel travel all the way out here just to meet with you?” I asked Dai, pushing my horse forward so I could ride abreast with him.
The mere mention of my husband’s name made Dai grimace. “He did, though he came by river-boat.”
I gaped at him. “We could have come by boat?”
“The letter I had sent to him asked him to go on horseback, that my men would meet him in Fuyyu and escort him the rest of the way. He didn’t think the request was worth his time.”
“We could have come by boat,” I repeated, turning to Lahei.
She gave me a rueful smile. “We could’ve come on the Aina’s Breath, actually, but…” She shrugged and pointed at her father.
“Would you have believed me about the beasts if you didn’t see them with your own eyes?” Dai asked. “If I had welcomed you straight into my home and told you everything you have learned the past few days, you would have laughed in my face.”
“I find it hard to believe that Rayyel laughed at you.”
“You would have,” Dai said, shaking his head. “Your husband has decorum, I give him that. Polite. A true Ikessar. I didn’t expect less. He asked me how I found him—I told him the truth, that there is nothing the Shadows cannot find. Nothing.” He gave me the sort of look that could’ve meant anything, but I found myself fidgeting in discomfort. Eventually, he turned away. “He made a request, one we carried out with much discretion. Afterwards, we did discuss the state of Jin-Sayeng’s castes, but he was tight-lipped about the situation with the Dragonthrone and with you.”
“It is rather complicated,” I said.
“Not to me. I am familiar with Ikessar pride and the thousands of ways such a thing can cause a problem. Your husband is an intelligent man, Queen Talyien, the likes of which hasn’t been seen on the Dragonthrone for years. Not that he’s ever actually sat on the damn thing, has he? Compared to the Ikessars before him, he has shown himself to be the most credible, the most learned. He had a good track record as Minister of Agriculture, and I’m sure anything he says would at least be considered by the warlords. I had high hopes for our meeting.
“And yet…even as an illegitimate son of Reshiro Ikessar’s youngest daughter, he retained all the close-minded stubbornness of his people. I couldn’t very well drag him to the villages—”
“Like you did with me?”
“—but I tried to broach the subject of the agan to him,” he continued, without blinking an eye. “He refused to speak further as soon as I brought that up. It was nothing short of infuriating.”
“You realize the talk of the agan in the east can get you killed,” I said.
He pointed. “It doesn’t seem to bother you.”
“It would have in the past. You caught me at a good time. I’m open to a lot of things these days, apparently.”
“That, and you actually saw the creatures,” Lahei added.
“Was Rai alone when he came here?” I asked.
Dai nodded.
“And that request of his…did it have something to do with an innkeeper’s family in a small town outside of Shirrokaru?”
Dai smiled. “You are Yeshin’s daughter.”
I bristled. “You lured Lord Rayyel out here with that information.”
“Was it supposed to be a secret, Queen Talyien? That a certain innkeeper—dead after a fateful visit to Oren-yaro—would have family who have been spreading rumours about you in their small town? Well. We took care of it easy enough. Consider it a token of goodwill to show our loyalty to preserving Jin-Sayeng’s peace. I told your husband as much.”
“Why didn’t you send word to me?”
“Why should I have?” Dai asked with a huff. “You already see what I have to deal with—the last thing I wanted was you knocking on my door demanding I turn your husband over.”
I felt my face turning red. “What happened with the Baraji…”
“Like I said,” Dai grumbled. “It’s all nothing to me.” And he forced his horse to run ahead of me, leaving the conversation at that.
It was unnerving to learn that I was actually his second option. That instead of trying to send word to me after his talk with Rayyel failed, he chose to wait for the right opportunity—one that involved having my back against the wall. I knew this was the sort of reputation I had tried to cultivate over the years, but to hear it with my own ears was disconcerting. To be told that despite years of absence, Rayyel’s words carried more weight, that his stubbornness was vastly preferable to my own…
I did start missing Rayyel now, but for entirely different reasons.
~~~
The Kaggawa estate was set right up along the Sougen River, which we crossed from a timber-hewn bridge built along a narrow section of it. I could see the silhouette of the city of Yu-yan upriver, nestled perfectly between the visible chunk of mountain on the horizon and the shoreline. There were boats on the river, some of which were lazily towing logs downstream to sawmills along the banks. Because I couldn’t spot any forests in the distance, I figured they came all the way from up the mountains up north. Red-crested herons and spotted ducks milled around the water’s edge in search for fish. As soon as our horses came within sight, they scattered to the sky.
We rode up to the gates, where about half a dozen servants ran out to take our horses. I tried to keep an eye out for any signs of Kaggawa’s infamous sellswords and couldn’t spot any. He didn’t even have guards—all his servants looked ordinary, slightly stooped and with the dark, sun-tanned skin common with farmers. The only weapons on them were the broad, single-edged glass-cutter blades that they carried unsheathed on their belts. I gazed past them across the road, where Kaggawa’s rice fields lay. Narrow paths weaved through the paddies, snaking around the aggressive patches of Sougen grass. I could imagine them going on forever.
More servants arrived to greet us. A portly old woman came out to take Lahei into her arms, half-lifting her. Lahei laughed, a sound which caused a flicker of amusement on Dai’s face. And then the old woman turned to me, taking my elbow with a gentleness that reminded me of Mei. “Is this the queen?” she asked, like I was a stray dog that had wander
ed into the yard.
“You’re supposed to bow to her, sang,” Lahei said.
“I’m supposed to feed her,” the woman replied. She dabbed her jowls with a towel and gazed at the rest of my group. “I’ve set up a nice meal, if you’d all just wash your shoes by the pump before you head into my kitchen. Don’t want to dirty it up.”
A servant came to whisper something in Dai’s ear. He frowned. “Let your men go ahead. I need to show you something, Beloved Queen.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Huan and Eikaro Anyu have caught wind of your arrival and are on their way. I was hoping to have more time, but the bastards would just love to get their claws on you before I’ve had the chance to show you the rest of this story.” He gestured. Biting back my inclination to argue, I followed him into his study.
It was larger than the one in Ni’in, with an entire wall of bookcases and several padded chairs. He leaned over the side of his desk to pull out a piece of paper from his drawer, which he then handed over to me. My eyes skipped over a list of names, followed by a description of what appeared to be fatal injuries: torn limbs, ripped throats, crushed hip bones, blood loss.
“I acquired that from the Yu-yan office,” Dai said. “Those are people who died in these parts from the past month alone.”
“Just the past month?” I flipped the page over. It was a very long list.
“The city officials conduct an investigation whenever a body is brought to the Yu-yan mortuary.”
“I know,” I said. “They’re supposed to send these lists over to the council at the Dragon Palace. I get a copy sent to me to Oka Shto later on.”
“You ever read them?”
My cheeks coloured. “I’ve never seen the need before.”
Dai gave a dismissive wave. “No matter. You wouldn’t have seen these, anyway. Warlord Ojika had them confiscated and sent false reports on. You don’t seem surprised.”
“It’s common for the warlords to send false reports,” I said, arms crossed. “Usually, it involves their crops, their treasury, or their army. The Dragon Palace has ways to spot them—they’ll follow up with a line of inquiry and then alert me once they’ve started taking steps. Falsifying mortuary reports, though…I don’t think I’ve ever seen that before.”
“Are you reading those injuries?”
“Yes.”
“What do you think?”
I realized he was indicating that I missed something. I read through them again. Torn limbs, crushed bones… “These are animal attack injuries,” I murmured. “Dragons?” I ventured.
“Perfect,” Dai said. “I should’ve asked for wine to celebrate dealing with an official who’s not a complete idiot. Yes, they’re dragons. I seem to recall warning you in the past.”
“When I was a child, yes. I remember.”
“They’re all over this region. Lately, we’ve been able to rid the southern plains of them at least, but it won’t last.”
“I don’t understand why Warlord Ojika hid this from us. Did he want to downplay the extents of your problem here?”
Dai snorted. “Worked, didn’t it? I don’t believe you’ve ever had an investigation on the situation here in all these years, and that’s even after I warned you about it.”
“You gave me a veiled warning about shadows and thoughts and Akaterru knows what else,” I grumbled. “How much did you think an eleven-year-old could’ve made out of that?”
“If I had stopped to explain to you, would you have listened? I thought nearly getting eaten by a dragon had been enough. Getting close to you to speak to you in private isn’t easy, either.”
“The Dragon Palace sends an envoy to each province once a year to ensure that everything is running as it should. Everything we’ve received from Yu-yan has been positive.” Looking at the names and injuries suddenly made me ill, and I pushed the piece of paper away. “I still don’t see what Warlord Ojika has to gain from this. If this has been happening for years, we would’ve sent the army to deal with it.”
“The Anyus want the dragons,” Dai said.
I closed my mouth. “The mad dragons.”
“Sound familiar?”
Too much. The story of Rysaran’s mad dragon was one I had heard straight from my father over and over again throughout the years. Having seen the destruction it wrought upon Old Oren-yaro with his own eyes, he was adamant that I understood the dangers of dabbling with the agan, as well as the price of misplaced ambition. It was also a tale of a father’s grief, of lost sons and broken dreams. I had never imagined anyone would want to recreate such a catastrophe.
“The Anyus have been attempting to tame the creatures for years,” Dai continued, noting my silence. “They are nowhere near the size or power of Rysaran’s, of course. And the intent is entirely different. Rysaran had wanted a symbol, a way to hold on to his dying clan’s claim. The Anyus want power. They believe if they can revive the dragonriders of old, they can eventually work their way up to the Dragonthrone.”
“And yet these dragons, as Lahei said, are infested with these corrupted souls, just like the people we’ve seen.”
“Indeed.”
“So anyone who tries to ride them will be ripped apart, anyway.”
Dai made a sound. “If that was my only concern, I’d be happy to just sit back and watch the show. To see fat Warlord Ojika heave his gouty self onto a dragon mad for his blood…I’d pay for such a sight. But he’s gone and hired mages to help them out. Mages who don’t seem to see the damage they can cause to this region, and this entire nation even, and who are more than happy to help Ojika Anyu’s bloated ego so that he continues to be the wall of thorns that stops me from doing anything to save this nation. I cannot bring in mages without causing you royals to want to put my head on a chopping block, but somehow the Anyus get away with it.”
I took a moment to digest his words. But my mind skipped back from the gravity of what he was saying to a small detail. “Mages,” I finally said. “The ones working with the Anyus. Dageis keeps a close watch on their own—I find it hard to believe the Anyus would’ve been resourceful enough to find a Dageian mage willing to work for them.”
Dai smiled.
“Are they Zarojo?” I asked.
He nodded. My blood ran cold.
~~~
I suppose I had assumed that the nightmare would be over once I stepped back on Jin-Sayeng soil. I would be greeted by my council and doting servants, return to my throne, and order my army to find and end Yuebek’s life once and for all. And then I could sit and wait for Rayyel to arrive and deal with that whole situation as best as I could. We will forget that accursed meeting in Anzhao and I will resume my duties then, with you by my side.
I had been so deep in my own thoughts that I didn’t even notice Dai get up to look through the window. I blinked as I heard the sound of hooves outside. “What is it?” I asked.
“Let us not speak ill of the dead lest they rise and hurt you,” Dai said with a wistful grin.
“That’s a defilement of Kibouri. Shouldn’t it be ‘Lest the words turn and hurt you?’”
Dai shook his head. “One of my father’s sayings. He had a strange sense of humour. I never did get it. Thankfully, I never met him. He was named Oji, as it happened. After the same figure in history Ojika Anyu was named for. As if the gods weren’t cruel enough.” He nodded towards the window. “The Anyus have arrived. They are probably, as we speak—”
Three knocks sounded on the door. Dai grimaced. “Come in,” he said with a sigh.
A woman poked her head through the crack. “Lord Eikaro and Lord Huan are at our gates. They seek audience with the Beloved Queen.”
“Let me meet them,” I said. “Seems to me like it’s pointless to hide.” All I had to do was think of going somewhere and people would be waiting for me. I didn’t like it. I had never liked it.
“Keep in mind the things I have told you. If you should decide the Anyus are harmless…”
“I have known them since I was a girl, Master Dai.”
“I’m aware. More than that—they’re your friends, though I’ve seen how you’ve done your best not to claim so in front of me. I don’t know if it’s courtesy or deceit.” He sniffed. “The brothers are not their father, but they do not move without the father’s shadow hovering over them at every turn. This is not a drinking party, Queen Talyien. You will do well to remember that.”
We made our way back to the gate. I got the impression that the Anyus were frequent visitors, and unwelcome ones at that. The servants had barred the gates, and stood watching as the Anyu brothers’ horses paced along the road.
“Let them in,” Dai said as we arrived.
The servants pulled the gates open, but the brothers remained outside. Eikaro and Huan’s beaming, sun-tanned faces broke into a grin at the sight of me. They were common visitors to court. Friends, Dai had called them, but I didn’t know if I would extend the word that far. It was true that they never missed a festival or tournament, and I always sat by them because they were the closest in age to me. I spoke with them more than with many of my other officials, as a result, but I didn’t know all that much about them—not half of what a friend ought to.
“Queen Talyien,” Huan called out to me. I could tell him apart from his twin by the extravagant silver staghead around his neck, which he had worn since he was a boy. It marked him as his father’s heir. “Your absence has driven the entire nation mad. We didn’t think we’d ever grace your beautiful presence again.”
“Spare me the flattery, Lord Huan,” I said as I approached them. “You’ve hurt my feelings. I’ve been trapped in the Zarojo Empire for months and yet you didn’t send men after me. The honour of that belongs to Anong Kaggawa alone.”
“And well may the Dragonthrone reward him for that,” Huan said, glancing at Dai with a look of mock gratitude.
“We wanted to, Beloved Queen, believe us,” Eikaro said. “But our father said we couldn’t. There were orders. We couldn’t even send word to inquire about your health—we were told we could be putting your life in danger if we did.”
The Ikessar Falcon Page 30
