by Matt Larkin
She had lingered in the Igni shrine past the afternoon heat. Even beneath the water, the dome somehow captured the heat, so the sun baked the streets.
The palace guards welcomed her back with cordial nods. The surprising and unmistakable smell of rendang wafted through the palace. Solars never made it, as far as she knew. Roasted beef, coconut, turmeric. Fresh chilies. Chandi almost trembled. Images of growing up on Swarnadvipa filled her, until at last her smile faltered.
The last time she’d had it, Anusapati had made it for her. Just before Rahu sent him to Astral Shore. He’d never cook for her again.
Though wide windows cast light throughout the palace, the fourth floor halls that led to her room fell in shadow. Naresh stood before her door, arms folded and head cocked, the light from her room filtering through gaps in the bamboo door behind him. “Where have you been? We got back two phases ago.”
Chandi smirked and pushed past him to open her door, brushing close enough to feel the heat from his body. Naresh followed her into her chamber without so much as asking her leave, then cut her off before she could respond. “You left Ibu Ratna alone with her daughter, handmaid. She thought you’d be back here long before us.”
“Alone?” She put her hands on his chest and pushed him back towards the doorway. Of course the Arun Guard’s lifestyle would lead to hard muscles. “Weren’t you there?”
Naresh grabbed her wrists from his chest, but dropped them when she jerked her hands back. “You’re my responsibility, too.”
“I can take care of myself, Guardsman. And don’t enter a lady’s chamber without her permission.”
“I’m trying to assure your safety,” he said as he backed out of her doorway. “I cannot protect you if you wander off into the city alone. From what I gather, this wasn’t the first time.”
Damn. Was he watching her? That could make her work much more difficult … “Thank you for your concern. I need to help Ratna prepare for dinner.”
“Ibu Ratna is already downstairs. The servants’ meals will be served shortly.” He pulled the door closed before she could say anything else. His sandals echoed on the stone floor as he left. This wasn’t even the first time she’d nearly been caught by Naresh.
And now one of the men she was supposed to be investigating had almost caught her. Again. He’d walked right into her room.
Chandi fell back on her bed, hand to her head, and blew her breath out through pursed lips. Naresh was watching her. Did he know she was a spy? He must have heard about her from others, or noticed her activities before she even knew he was back. But if he knew her purpose, he’d have turned her in long ago. So what was his problem, anyway?
She jerked as the door swung open again. “That was interesting,” Malin said, as he slipped into her room.
Chandi bolted upright, one hand on her heart. “Malin. What in the name of the Moon are you doing here?” Malin had spent the last two years making regular trips to Bukit. He should have been gone another week, at least.
Malin stalked close and sniffed her face. “Nice to see you, too, Chandi. I was passing time in Ratna’s chamber, but yours has grown more interesting.”
Chandi glowered. “I’m kind of tired of large men letting themselves into my bedchamber.”
“Oh?” He tilted his head so he could look down at her even more. “I’d think you might grow to like it. You just don’t understand how comfortable a bedchamber can be.”
Chandi snorted and drew her Moon Blessing. She shoved Malin away. Wouldn’t do to admit how glad she was he’d returned. The Macan Gadungan didn’t even stumble, made falling back look like it was his idea. Surprising grace in so muscular a frame.
Malin paced a moment, before settling down beside her on the bed. He wore his baju open, exposing his sun-darkened chest. Male Macan Gadungan always wore their shirts unbuttoned to make them easier to discard when they shifted. Most of the females did too.
“You missed me,” he said. “I can smell it.”
“I hope you won’t get fleas in my bed.”
He chuckled. “Just be glad I don’t mark my territory.” His face soured and he rose, pacing around the room. Always so restless. “I saw Ketu. He forgets, sometimes, the Macan Gadungan are not pets.”
“How is my father?”
“What do you see, Chandi? Man or beast? You’re not the only ones Chandra blessed. We are more than human, just like you.” She opened her mouth but he continued. “We are. Just like you.”
Chandi studied his face. First and most revered of the Macan Gadungan, the greatest of the Lunars’ Jadian. She wanted to say she saw the man. But did she? Or did she marginalize Malin’s kind as Solars did the Ignis, and for less reason? After all, they were Lunars, too. Blessed to have Moon Spirits share their bodies. Blessed, or cursed, perhaps. Malin talked about it, sometimes, when they were alone. He spoke of the constant fight to hold onto his humanity when the spirit tried to drive him.
As she struggled for words, he stepped closer, his flash of anger gone. “You won’t be stuck here forever, Chandi. You’ll see your home again, one day.”
Chandi looked away. It was what she wanted. To go home.
Malin sighed. “Rahu is not pleased with your progress. In the last two years you’ve brought him nothing but Solar customs and the status of the Igni class. The War King wants something we can use to gain an edge. What’s next, a report on the Festival?”
Chandi shrugged. “Probably. You told me to pursue alliance with the Ignis. I’m doing that.” Malin’s look accused her of drawing that out, too, but he said nothing, so she continued. “Look, I’ve tried. I’ve snuck into the rooms of Guardsmen and read their logs. I’ve followed them around the palace and the city. No one ever had a book labeled How to defeat the Arun Guard, Malin. What on Chandra’s dark side do you want from me?”
Malin snorted. “Home is as far away as you make it.” He backed out of the room, never taking his eyes from hers, his smirk never lessening.
Well, damn him for looking at her like that. The man could come and go as he pleased, while she was trapped here. He couldn’t understand the pressure she faced. Damn it. And she was probably unfair to Malin. He was, after all, one of the only people she could even talk to about all this.
After the door swung shut, she took a deep breath. Her stomach growled. She hadn’t eaten since the nagasari this morning, and though Naresh had said the servants’ meal would be served soon, she couldn’t see joining their conversations tonight. They understood her even less than Malin did. The irritation of dealing with their petty gossip and snide comments outweighed the benefits of their intimate knowledge of their masters—though she had certainly tried there. And who did Naresh think he was, watching her anyway?
If he wanted to watch her, maybe she could return the favor. Who knew what she might find in his shadow? Maybe, finally, she’d be able to figure the Guard out. It was a risk. He already seemed suspicious of her. She’d need to win his trust completely. But what if he could lead her to what she’d been seeking the past three years? Could she really go home?
After fixing her hair, she took the stairs to the first floor. A small ruckus came from the guards’ mess hall. She paused in the open archway. Several hundred soldiers sat together. The men outnumbered the women, but they all seemed to cavort as one. She bit her lip a moment before entering. A few of the guards shouted invitations to her—some quite presumptuous—but otherwise seemed little interested in her. An open archway in the back of the room led to a more private table, though sound from the main room still leaked in.
Ten or so men and women in cerulean uniforms sat around this table, the most Arun Guard she could remember seeing together since the wedding. The conversation stopped when she entered, every pair of eyes turning to her.
Empu Baradah, head of the Arun Guard, watched her with what she hoped was disinterest. She had tried to learn about the Arun Guard from him and found him less than forthcoming, and far too astute about what she was doing. Since he ha
dn’t arrested her, he may have thought it simple curiosity. If so, best to keep him thinking that.
Naresh sat beside Empu Baradah, his glower shifting between Chandi and Landorundun, who sat on his other side. Chandi had wanted to know more about the day in the harbor, when she commanded the birds, but Landorundun had only said it was a show.
“This is the private hall of the Arun Guard, handmaid,” Naresh said.
“Oh good, I was afraid I was lost. The Guard hall did seem the best place to find you.”
A few of the Guardsmen laughed and resumed conversations. Maybe they weren’t all so bad. Landorundun stood and pulled out the chair. “Perhaps you’ll find his company more pleasant, Lunar.”
Her heart was beating too fast. She should have thought this through better. Why was she never able to come up with a plan? Why in Rangda’s underworld did Rahu send her for this, anyway? She was no spy. Chandi preferred to solve her problems with a pair of toyaks. But she took the offered seat, and the Guardswoman found another on the other side of the table.
Most of them were staring at her. Her face felt hot. Empu Baradah spoke to Landorundun in a low voice. Just like that, the Guardsmen followed his lead and all struck up private conversations with their neighbors. All but Naresh.
“I believe you found me, then.”
This had been easier in her head. He hadn’t had so many Guardsmen around him then. “You,” she began. He was smiling, like he had this morning. She had to get him on her side. “You were right. I should have been more careful. I know you’re looking out for us.”
Whatever response he’d had died on his lips. “Thank you, Chandi.”
Her stomach rumbled again.
Naresh motioned to a servant. “Another plate, please. And some tea.” He turned back to her as the servant ran off. A Solar servant, since they didn’t allow Ignis in their mess halls. Naresh pulled the dish of pineapple slices over and waved at it. For the first time she noticed the Festival feast arrayed before her. Fresh fruit, vegetables, nagasari, chicken satay, and best of all, rendang—the smell that had wafted through the palace earlier. The sweet and spicy aromas intoxicated her.
The infamous Arun Guard feasted and laughed while she plotted treachery. But they offered her hospitality, and she was starving. And if they thought her a servant, then she shouldn’t stand on ceremony. She grabbed a handful of pineapple, popping the pieces into her mouth one after another.
“It’s not so different than what we eat, you know,” she said between bites.
“Besides all the seafood.”
“Mmm, besides that.” It had taken her a month to even try the damn scallops. As much time as Solars spent on or in the water, it shouldn’t surprise her they wanted to eat out of it, too. Not that Lunars didn’t have fishing villages, but Solars loved the stuff.
The moment the servant put a plate before her she scooped up a spoonful of rendang. But she couldn’t bring herself to eat it. Her lip trembled, her mouth watering. She’d waited so long for this.
“Is something wrong? We had Bendurana bring the recipe for the empress. Pak Empu Baradah thought we should try it today, as well. Is it not made properly?”
Chandi forced herself to take a bite. The tender meat practically fell apart in her mouth. Not as good as true Lunar rendang, but almost. She savored each bite, trying not to think about Anu, trying to ignore Naresh watching her eat.
“It’s excellent. Are you going to be permanently in charge of our security now that you’re back?”
“For a while, unless Ibu Ratna requests someone else. Ibu Landorundun is receiving other training.”
Landorundun snickered at the mention of her name. Naresh ignored her, and instead ladled a bit of gudeg into a bowl for Chandi, and then for himself. The sweet stew was probably the single greatest invention of Solar cuisine, so Chandi didn’t need much prodding to taste it.
“Naresh has returned to many new responsibilities,” Empu Baradah said. She hadn’t realized he was listening. Stupid to let the man slip her attention, even for a moment. All the Arun Guard now watched their First. “I think his time at the Astral Temple has suited him well, has it not? We can all see he’s come a little closer to Kebatinan.”
Everyone else laughed while Naresh nodded, his face wary.
“But he has more to learn. I’m leaving him in charge in my absence.”
Landorundun coughed, sputtering her tea. Chandi watched Naresh, but he seemed as surprised as the Arun Guardswoman. The First was leaving? And moreover, he was setting Naresh up in his stead while he was away. Why? Sure, she’d heard Naresh’s reputation for swordsmanship, but the Guard were all master warriors. If Empu Baradah was grooming Naresh for command, that meant he’d be even more useful to her mission than she first suspected.
One of the Guard asked about where Empu Baradah was headed, but he refused to divulge that information—at least in front of Chandi—and so the conversation shifted back to other things. Chandi made an effort to join in, to blend in. She was going to have to ingratiate herself with Naresh before he’d give up any useful information. Besides, if he trusted her, he’d be less likely to watch her every move.
When Empu Baradah left, Chandi excused herself, claiming she needed to check on her mistress. Instead, she followed the First, keeping a discrete distance behind. If he 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. If he was going to some secret meeting, maybe it would give her a clue as to the source of the Guard’s power. Anything he didn’t want others knowing was probably something she needed to know.
He soon retired to a wing on the third floor reserved for visiting officials, though whom he met there she didn’t know. 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 their liaison.
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 Gliding 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 into her arms, 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? You were my hero, and you commit this blasphemy!”
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 a
n 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 Anu to Astral Shore. It kept her here, spying on these people. And, in a way, Empu Baradah’s desire made him seem less monstrous. What did Chandi care about ridiculous Solar religious traditions? The man was following his heart, and she had to appreciate that.
“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 young protégé room. Chandi breathed again. Aji Bidara was Naresh’s mother?
Chandi had no idea how to use that information, but at least she finally had something to give Malin.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
