by Choi, Bryan
She kicked the spittoon over and took Taki by the hips to whirl around in a clumsy, parodic waltz. Tears formed in Taki’s eyes, and a thought crossed his mind: It’d have been better to starve.
“It’s decided,” Lotte said. She shook her head. “Accompany the Principality to Athenaeum.”
Hecaton grinned and pirouetted while Taki scurried away. “Yes, come with me, my loyal onions, minions, or whatever you are! Company, to arms! And let us bask in obscene incandescence!” she said as she skipped airily out the door and left her choking subordinates in a cloud of ash.
“Wait, Captain,” Hadassah said. “If we don’t go with her, maybe she’ll get lost and die in a ditch. After all, she’s gone raving mad. We shouldn’t squander this opportunity to be rid of her!”
Lotte cuffed the redhead gently across the cheek. “Idiot, this is a lucid moment for our tyrant. Now get your damned guns and off to the capital with you.”
Taki chanced a breath through his nostrils and immediately wished he hadn’t. Effluvium coursed slowly down channels on either side of the boulevard he walked down and sent up an indescribable odor that cut his senses like a rusty shiv. Greenish-brown, the oily shit backed up everywhere and simply pooled on the cobblestones, making him step gingerly to avoid splashing it on his leggings.
The Argead Dominion, to which all Polaris of the Temple pledged their lives, was now a country only in name. A month earlier, the Osterbrand Imperium had overrun the borders in a sudden, brutal conquest. The surviving peerage of the Dominion now numbered less than a dozen, having been slaughtered in battle or hanged in front of their keeps. The assassination of the childless Basileus Niketas Palailogos had further destabilized the faltering nation, and his successor had been forced to offer terms despite an improbable Dominion victory at the capital’s doorstep.
Because of that narrow win, Athenaeum had been spared a siege and thus was exactly the same as Taki remembered it: the smell of human waste intermingled with roasting harspud. Hecaton traipsed gaily ahead, still clad in her sweaty prayer robes, which dragged on the cobbles and smeared dust and filth in her wake. Taki shook his head at the sight and glanced at Hadassah, who was busy playacting as a tourist and seemed indifferent to the smell.
“What?” she asked.
“Nothing,” Taki said. He scrunched his nose up. “Well, what do you think of it? The jewel in the Dominion crown?”
“Disappointing. I expected more rubble and bodies falling from the rooftops. Or at least more fires. There hasn’t been a single screaming woman or roasting child. There’s nothing to loot, either.”
“Why are you so preoccupied with looting? And with death and carnage?”
“Because I love shiny things and I’m not afraid to kill for them. Aren’t I too perfect?”
“You’re a criminal.”
“We both are. Except I didn’t, you know, kill the last of the Palaiologoi or nothin’.” Hadassah slid a finger across her throat and let out a gruesome rattle.
“I didn’t…” Taki began, but his words died in his throat. I didn’t what? Mean to do it?
“Did you drown him in the tub? Or shank him on the shitter?”
“Nothing of the sort! Just…just shut up! Please!”
She wrapped an arm around his and squeezed. “Don’t get me wrong, Natalis. There are lots of people out there who had it in for the old basil. And maybe some who’d call you a hero or a savior. So don’t be glum. The rest of us don’t think ill of you, and even though you won’t fess up to it, we know.”
Taki blinked and unclenched his jaw. He let out a breath and murmured his thanks. “I appreciate it. I really do. I just need time to figure out some things.”
Hadassah smiled. “Did you put something up his bung?”
Taki frowned and wormed his way out of her grasp. “Forget it! If you’re just going to jape at me, then I have no further words for you.”
“Your problem is that you’re too damned uptight. You’re so focused on your own stupid virtue that you end up being an ass most of the time.” She took a too-large bite of a harspud ball impaled on a stick and started to pant.
“I hope you get the shits from that.”
“Speaking of which,” Hadassah said, “where’s old Mezeta gone to?”
Taki swore and frantically looked around. The old woman was nowhere to be seen. He sprinted up to the edge of the square but realized quickly that finding her would be impossible in the crowd. He jogged back over to Hadassah, who hadn’t moved an inch and was still chowing down like a yokel. “Damn you! She was just here! If you hadn’t distracted me…”
He squatted and ran his fingers through his hair. Now he’d done it. The old hag had gone insane, slipped away, and would kill the new basileus for fun. He’d be a double-regicide now. Cries and gunshots erupted in the distance. The two Polaris looked at each other and took off running.
It wasn’t long until they came up to the wrought-iron gates of the Mitripoli, only to be confronted by a line of bayonets and muzzles. Nearby, Hecaton stood with her hands on her hips, seething. A battle line of praetorians with rifles barred the way to the palace. From behind marched up a platoon of city garrison with brightly painted shields and spears, backed by crossbowmen. Taki raised his hands in surrender. There was no escaping now.
“Milord Principality,” Taki said. “What happened?”
“One of them spat on my robes,” Hecaton said. “I took offense and made them pay. Now the others will learn some proper respect. Because fuck turning the other cheek.”
“Why didn’t you wait for us?”
“You two were having fun. I didn’t want to be a burden.”
Taki rolled his eyes. “No, you wanted to ditch us and start a meaningless fight.”
“Maybe?”
“What’s the meaning of this?” Amilia Gillette said. She stood on the opposite side of the iron fence with her arms crossed and her brow furrowed. The ivory robes of the basileus contrasted with the brown of her hands and face and the silver of her hair. When she saw Hecaton, she sighed.
“Your Grace!” a praetorian shouted. “You must get to safety!”
Amilia shook her head. “Lower your weapons, open the gate, and resume your posts. I’ve been expecting this one and her entourage. I’ll see you inside, Hecaton Mezeta. Be a dear and wipe your feet.”
The praetorians slowly withdrew, disbelief written on their faces. One of them grudgingly unbarred the entry and pulled the gilded doors open. Hecaton strode nonchalantly inside without a word to her subordinates.
Taki slowly let his arms fall to his sides. They burned from being held up for so long, and he rubbed at his shoulders. He glanced at Hadassah. “Far be it from me to question the captain, but was it actually smart to bring Mezeta here? She’s gone batshit!”
“It doesn’t matter,” Hadassah murmured. “She’s going to do what she wants, with or without us. We’re just her peons along for the journey. Now here, have some balls.” She offered her snack to Taki, who finally, glumly, took a bite.
When they trudged into the throne room, the exchange had already begun.
Amilia, slumped on the brass eagle throne, regarded Hecaton with a bemused expression. “And for what purpose did you assault my men?”
“I want to escape the cycle of death and rebirth,” Hecaton said. “Material attachments prevent me from doing so. Make them go away.”
Amilia sighed. “I’m the basileus, not the Buddha, and definitely not God. Did you really waste your time coming here to hear that? Drop the bullshit religious act. It’s self-indulgent.”
“You’ve offended me, and I’ve lost my appetite,” Hecaton said.
“Good. I wasn’t going to throw you a feast, anyway.”
“Then I ask you this. Why did you make me heir to the Temple without my consent?
“You make me sound like a rapist, and I resent that,” Amilia said. “Exarch Niketas was a fair defender of the land in his prime. However, now that we are under Imperial control,
it is time for new leadership. The old man’s way of doing things nearly cost us our lives, though I don’t aim to punish him for it. But I need fresh blood to replace stagnant.”
“Then why don’t you make one of the Triada take his place?” Hecaton asked, pacing all the while. “Or hell, just make lil’ Karma do the job? He’s your unlovable spawn.”
“The Triada are idiots and blowhards. I’d execute them if I weren’t concerned about rebellion. And Karma may be my son, but he is eminently unqualified for any position of power and prone to treasonous leanings. I often entertain the thought of having him killed. Prophylactically, you understand.”
Hecaton grinned. “You are one of the few barbarians who understand good parenting!”
“Stop trying to flatter me and change the subject. I want you to run the Temple and appoint a new command. I want you to make us strong again.”
Hecaton threw her head back and laughed. “No.”
“I expected you’d say that. I’m prepared to offer you almost anything within reason in return for your acceptance. How much?”
“A million bullets and a pony.”
“Will you take installments? The animal can be delivered immediately.”
Hecaton glowered. “You don’t do sarcasm, do you? I want nothing, and I won’t accept.”
“Then I order you to, on pain of death.”
“Good! Just when I think you’re getting boring, you prove me wrong again. If someone like you had been in charge a long time ago in my homeland, things would have turned out differently for Shastirch and I.”
“All I hear from you is gibberish,” Amilia said.
Hecaton inhaled deeply, exhaled, and smirked. “I know what you’re trying to accomplish. Sadly, it’s impossible. I am a ‘twice born.’ Do you know what that means?”
Amilia shook her head.
“Unlike most of you peons, I’ve been a human once before. This is my second birth, and because I’ve been such a good little arhant, I get to shoot lightning out of my cooter. Choniates and the Triada are barely twice born, and they’ll just return as vermin when they die. Only the twice born among my people can manage this much power. I haven’t seen it anywhere else, and I’ve traveled much further than you think I have. So I can’t turn your Polaris into a bunch of little knockoff Mezetas. Not that I’d ever want to, anyway.”
Amilia snorted. “Although I respect your power, you also display shocking levels of ignorance.”
“Oh? Do explain.”
“My order has nothing to do with your ability to control the elements or act like an arrogant ass. It has everything to do with preserving the people of this nation. And to do that, we will need to resist Imperial whims. We need to preserve our way of life.”
“You’re the one who offered the country on a platter,” Hecaton said. “Besides, I’ve traveled their lands, and compared to the Dominion way of life, they’re practically enlightened. No Imperial will accuse you of being a witch just so they can stone you and steal your house.”
Amilia chuckled. “You act as if I haven’t been accused of witchcraft before and haven’t gotten my accusers boiled for slander. I offered a conditional surrender because my choices were to either sign a surrender treaty or reduce my own country to ash with the God Hand.”
“That might have been preferable.”
“I should have pressed the button then, but only for you.”
Hecaton stamped a foot. “Why don’t you nuke me right now?”
“Because it’d be a waste of a good relic. You’re not that important.”
“Clearly I must be, if I’m your only guard against the Imperium overtaking this shitty culture.”
Amilia made a fist. “Mezeta, I despise many things about my own kingdom, and that’s why I wished to change it. But the way the padishah sees it, each and every one of us is mere fodder for the machine of conquest. The man blathers on about parity between sexes and the primacy of merit through deed, but the reality is a shit pile. Men and women and queers all carry the same spear and turn into the same mincemeat to take some unimportant hill. Even you will meet that fate in his world.”
“So be it. There’s always someone stronger.”
“And I aim to be smarter. So, will you accept?”
Hecaton rolled her eyes. “I’ll think about it, if it gets you off my tit for a sodding second. Now, I need to piss.”
She sauntered out of the chamber unbidden.
Amilia shook her head, rose from her throne, and dusted her robes off. She glanced at Taki and Hadassah. “I doubt the principality will return. In the meantime, I’d like a word with you, Cornet Natalis.”
“Your Grace.” Taki bowed deeply and tried to stifle his own trembling. She wants to eliminate the evidence. Now is as good a time as any. For once, he was glad that Hadassah was with him. At least she’ll get axed too.
“There’ve been rumors of late,” Amilia said. “Idle slander that I seduced a young Polaris of the Temple and that, in a foolish attempt to gain my favor, the young man killed our former liege.”
“I know very little of these matters, Your Grace,” Taki said. He swallowed. Sweat droplets formed on his brow.
“As basileus, it is my sacred duty to uphold the law and bring justice to the murderer. If it so happened that an ambitious but misguided young man raised his hand against Niketas Palaiologos, then he should be hanged, drawn, and quartered, and his parts sent to all corners of the Dominion to serve as an example for traitors.”
Taki clenched his jaw. “Yes, Your Grace.” This is the end.
“So you basically used him, and now you’re gonna turn him into wieners?” Hadassah said. “That’s pretty shitty of you.”
Amilia cracked her knuckles. “Were we not alone here, you’d be flogged to death for your insolence, girl.”
Hadassah seemed unfazed. “I just speak plainly, Your Grace.”
“Just consider yourself lucky to be beneath my notice. As for you, Cornet Natalis, perhaps I’ll speak plainly too. You’re becoming a liability. But, as your wench pointed out, it would be untoward of me to simply have you killed.”
“I’m definitely not his wench,” Hadassah said.
Taki coughed and sputtered. “What will happen to me, Your Grace?”
“The safest thing for both of us would be to cut out your tongue, have you branded on both cheeks, and sever your thumbs before depositing you on the Ursalan border. You’d avoid execution, in any case.”
Taki went pale. “P-please, Your Grace…”
“Luckily for you, another option has presented itself. For now, you’ll simply need to wait…and to not do anything stupid.”
Taki dug his nails into his palms. His knees wobbled, and he found it impossible to stand.
“I hope you understand my situation. I’m not a monster.” With that, Amilia rose from her seat and pointed to the door.
Taki lowered his head and stared at the tiles on the floor. They formed a mosaic of Orestes tormented by the Furies: punishment for the murder of his betters. And yet because the deed had been instigated by a god, Orestes had been unable to even take shelter in any temple. Until he’d made impossible amends, his fate was always to suffer. Rendered in exacting detail with tiny precious stones, the ancient hero’s face was caught in an eternal scream.
Hecaton stood at the highest point of the Mitripoli, letting the wind whip her hair into disarray. Her prayer robes had been dumped on to a beggar in a side alley, and now she sported a gold-accented tunic that she’d swiped from Amilia’s chambers. Wearing it was treason, but edicts were meaningless atop the fort’s steeple. Athenaeum also smelled slightly better where she was.
“Udaan uulzsangui shuu, Sirin,” Chronicler said. He perched on a buttress nearby, just out of arm’s reach.
Hecaton tensed for a moment to hear her sworn nemesis speak her truest of names. Had anyone else addressed her with such familiarity—such intimacy—she’d have struck him down where he stood. Chronicler, however, was no stranger.
She let out a sigh of resignation and continued to stare out over the city. Of the two of them, Chronicler was always the more physical, and trying to run from him would only result in more taunting. It was always better to cut the man down with words, anyway.
”I’ve made precious few mistakes in my life, Shastirch,” Hecaton said, using the name deepest-graven on Chronicler’s heart. “But marrying you was the worst by far.”
“Have a care for my health, Sirin. Setting my heart aflutter like that is bad for my qi.”
“Aren’t you a little old to be scrambling on the rooftops like some idiotic basang?”
“The same could be said for you. That gray hair of yours is far too dignified. A head of shocking pink might fit better.”
“You looked better wearing it, Shastirch. Now, are you done wasting my time, or have you come for some sort of useful purpose?”
Chronicler blinked. “Actually, I just wanted to talk you again. In person. Without the inconvenient need to slaughter each other on sight.”
“I can’t imagine why,” Hecaton said. “Aren’t you sick of my face?”
“Do you know how many years I searched for you? How many years of humiliation I had to endure for mere fleeting glimpses and missed chances?”
“You brought that on yourself. I never wanted you to come after me. Our romance was over a long time ago.”
Chronicler laughed. “It wasn’t out of sentimentality, I assure you. I wanted to take you back to the Ring for judgment. But now, I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.”
“I had my reasons. And I find it hard to believe the Sarang would allow you to abscond simply to look for me.”
“Perhaps I wished to escape my service as well.”
“Then we’re both traitors without any right to return.”
“So, what do you plan to do from now on, Sirin? Continue being a sellsword?”
“I’m thinking about carving out a swath of land for my own. You know, crown upon a troubled brow and all that. If you wish, you can be my consort. But no sex. I’m too dried out for that.”
Chronicler laughed. “The offer sounds tempting, though I know you are merely mocking me.”
