by Matt Larkin
He stalked back through the harbor and, rather than returning to Bukit, headed for House Indu on the beach. Indu oversaw the harbor and, as such, was the only House that had chosen to build its palace down here, close to the sea. In another lifetime, Malin had been a sailor and might have called this place a paradise. Now there was only the Macan Gadungan’s mission. Protect and avenge. It was the mantra that let him hold onto some tiny bit of his humanity. A ward against the entity Rahu had called out of Kahyangan and bonded with Malin’s soul. And Malin, too much the fool, had not asked the price beforehand. After more than twenty years, it was hard to remember ever being just human.
Little Mahesa sat up in a tree, giving no acknowledgment to Malin’s passing. Poor boy had been following Ratna around since before he was old enough to know what a man should do with a woman. Now he’d have to find another girl. Malin wasn’t here for him, anyway.
Palace Indu stood on stilts, raising it a good fifteen feet into the air, keeping it clear of flooding. And mosquitoes. Humans always feared those. Not without reason. Chandi had almost died of malaria as a child. Malin had found her in the rainforest, burning with fever, delirious. Ratna wailing at her cousin for her to get up.
As he neared the palace, a shadow overhead jumped the railing and landed in front of him. The young Macan Gadungan, Sunten, was part of the first generation born to this. Quite likely he was one of Malin’s own bastards, though it was hard to tell. Tigers did not live by human sexual inhibitions. Malin had slept with almost every female weretiger of the original Macan Gadungan. But then, those women probably mated with other weretigers when Malin was away. He hadn’t loved any of them. Well … one. Maybe. He was never quite sure if he’d be capable of love again, not after the death of his wife so long ago. But Sunten’s mother had been special, whether or not Malin was the father.
“Malin,” Sunten said, and dropped into a bow.
Other males feared him, Malin knew. They rarely approached him unless he came to them first. It was the tiger way. And still, despite their fear, they looked to him. In a sense, both Jadian bloodlines did. Malin was the first of them all, and his was the most powerful spirit Rahu or Calon had ever bonded to a human. They might have called it a gift. But the Jadian were traded among the Moon Scions like slaves. It had taken Malin years to see it, though a few other Jadian had recognized it sooner. Many of the original lot had been slaves to start with, and, thinking they were trading up in life, volunteered. So they had gone from serving their masters tea or in the bed to serving them in battle. Maybe that would have been fine, had they been accorded the respect of the warrior caste. They were not.
And Malin had promised them he would change it. Somehow. However long it took, the Jadian would find their place, no longer outcasts to be feared and used.
“Has the news reached here?” Malin asked.
Sunten nodded, clearly knowing Malin referred to the marriage of Ratna. The young weretiger had been assigned to House Indu since completing his training on Bangdvipa and was thus privy to most secrets of the House. “The little Scion has been bemoaning it since last night.”
“I have to go to Kasusthali. I want you to watch over things for me here.”
Sunten lowered his eyes in silent acknowledgment.
“Do not act,” Malin said. “I just want to know everything that goes on in my absence. We have to find the right moment to prove to them we are their equals. Reveal our play too soon and we lose everything.”
“How much longer do we have to pretend to serve these Scions?”
Malin grabbed the boy by the scruff of his neck and pulled his face close, speaking in a terse whisper. “We pretend nothing. They are children of the Moon God, the lord of the very spirits that give us our power. And our rightful place is by their side, not living on the outskirts.”
“It’s been ten years since mother died. What have you accomplished on that front?”
Malin grabbed the boy’s open baju and shoved him. Sunten collided with a stilt and fell the ground, clearly staggered by the impact. The tiger roared in Malin’s ears to further punish the boy for his temerity. Malin grit his teeth against the sound of it.
“We will work within our society and earn respect!” he snapped. “And you will do as you are told, whelp.”
Sunten ducked his head, at least pretending to be cowed. Malin shook his head. No. Probably not pretending. They knew they needed him. The Jadian would do this his way. He would not betray the Moon Scions who had made them what they were.
Not if he had any other choice.
He stalked back toward Bukit, feeling more uneasy than when he’d arrived. Sunten would do as he was bid. They all would. Still, Malin hated to leave the capital now, when he might have finally been making progress. And yet, neither could he leave Ratna and Chandi alone in the Solar nightmare city. He had promised their mothers he would protect them. Nothing came before that.
Protect and avenge.
It was his reason.
CHAPTER FIVE
When morning came, Chandi would lose her cousin. Her gravity shifted against the dhow’s hull, Chandi ignored the sea spray tickling her legs. Her ribs still ached from the beating Anusapati had given her a week ago. Her heart ached from the response she’d given him. Chandra’s smile would soon be hidden by Surya’s glare, and she didn’t have much time.
She peered into the cabin’s window. The captain, Bendurana, stood over a chart table, jotting notes in a log. Though dressed like a Skyfall native in baju and sarong, he hailed from beyond the archipelago. Serendib, probably, with his hair in dozens of small twisted locks.
The sapphire sea spread out before her, close enough to touch it. What would it be like to run on water like the greatest Moon Scions? Would she run away now? No. She’d never leave Ratna behind. Rahu had given her a mission, and, if she did it, maybe she and Ratna could both go home.
It had taken days to reach Yawadvipa, the main Solar island, and to sail along its coast. Soon they’d reach the capital. And with it the dawn, and the end of their freedom. She hadn’t asked to be a spy. Rahu thought they could shatter the Solars from the inside, but Chandi didn’t even know where to begin. The Buaya Jadian, the werecrocodiles, they were trained as spies. What did she know of it?
The door opened and then closed. The sun-worshippers loved to leave their windows open in the dry season, even on their ships. Chandi glanced inside to make sure the captain had gone, then pulled herself up through the window and dropped into the cabin.
The place smelled of curry, coriander, and other delicacies from the Spice Islands. Trinkets from around the Skyfall Isles decorated the room: a straight-bladed Solar keris sword, an undulating Lunar keris knife, and an Igni-carved chest. The foreigner might serve the Solars, but he didn’t discriminate in his collection.
His log recorded having picked up Chandi and her cousin in Bukit several days ago. Before that, months of hunting sugar pirates. Killing her people just like the Solars did. Back and forth she flipped through the pages. Nothing. No sign of treachery. No proof of duplicity that might stop Ratna from marrying the new Solar emperor. And certainly nothing about the Arun Guard, other than occasional mention of them paying him for slain pirates.
With a wail of frustration Chandi slapped everything on the chart table onto the floor. The crash froze her in place. If the captain heard her in his cabin, things would not go well for her. Her arms trembled as she raised her hands before her, fingers curled in a fighting stance. Maybe best if it all ended here. But no one came, and slowly her muscles unfurled.
Dammit, she couldn’t afford this. There had to be something here. Anything. What was she looking for? A letter from a traitor? Secret orders? Anything about the damn Arun Guard would be a start. They had sent him, hadn’t they?
She knelt beside the Igni chest—locked, of course. She drew her Potency Blessing, giving herself the strength to smash it open. For a breath, and another, she hovered over the chest. But she couldn’t do this without givin
g herself away. Who knew spying would be so damn frustrating? Instead she ransacked the cabin, scattering the captain’s books and possessions. Let him think the sea had tossed them about. Releasing the Blessing only reminded her of the pain across her side and face.
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 must plan to betray this alliance. They’d never go through with it. Maybe they just didn’t tell the Serendibian about such plans. They were lying, deceiving murderers. This had to be a trick. 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? The Arun Guard had done it. It had to be them that had pushed Anu over the edge. And they must have some weakness.
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 she couldn’t disappoint Ratna. Her cousin was all she had. House Soma ruled the Lunar Empire, at the moment, but they were 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. Ratna had accepted her mission with too much grace. Not happy, but proud. Peace, their fathers 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 concession 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.”
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 must have told you to make reports.” She hesitated. “But don’t do anything to jeopardize this, Chandi. This is 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.
Chandi looked out over the rail. “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 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.”
The Guard. The whole damn reason they were trapped in this arrangement. She was trying to formulate a question when Bendurana pointed beneath them. Chandi’s 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 rose 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 in 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 as it drew alongside the ship, 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 stepp
ed 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.”
Chandi glared at him, but he didn’t seem to notice.
As Bendurana’s crew docked the dhow, Naresh leapt onto the pier to join a man in a cerulean baju and a long-haired woman of such stunning grace Chandi instantly felt jealous. 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.
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.
