The Skyfall Era Trilogy: Books 1-3

by Matt Larkin

  “Yes. It will throw the Solars into total chaos.”

  With a struggle Chandi kept her seat, then folded her hands in her lap. “I suspect it would galvanize them against us. And I’m not an assassin.”

  “Anusapati might disagree.” His brows drew together, his eyes growing wide. “Do not question me, child. I want this done immediately.” For a moment he glared at her, then leaned back and sipped his tea. “You’re dismissed.”

  Chandi sat, unable to draw a breath. How could he, he who all but forced her to kill Anusapati, mention that name? And to call her an assassin. She rose and left the chamber without bowing.

  So he’d arranged the return of her freedom just so she could assassinate the Radiant Queen. Even if she could, even if she would, did he think the Solars wouldn’t know Lunars were responsible? If Naresh’s mother died the day Chandi regained her freedom, the conclusion was obvious.

  Chandi did not make good time through the city. The sun, what little peeked through the clouds, would not set for a phase, and she had no desire to reach Aji Bidara’s estate before full dark.

  Even under the sea, the city smelled different during the rainy season. Perhaps the damp smell drifted in from the Harbor District, or maybe it was all in her mind.

  By the time true twilight came the city was veiled in deep shadows and she could pass unnoticed through the High District.

  For a time, she wandered its streets. A few children played in the yards between houses, laughing and kicking a Sepak Takraw ball. A patrol of Solar soldiers walked the street, so she slipped into an alley and watched them pass. The soldiers paused to watch the children play, shouting their encouragement. Here, in impenetrable Kasusthali, they likely never had to enforce peace. Would they even know what to do if they realized a murderer watched them from the shadows?

  When they had gone, Chandi moved on, pausing outside Aji Bidara’s home. If the Radiant Queen caught her this time, nothing Naresh could say or do would save her.

  She drew her Moon Blessing and ran up the wall to an open window. Crouched on the ledge she could see the upper balcony and down into the atrium. For a long time Chandi sat silent, watching the birds, until Aji Bidara entered the house. The Radiant Queen lit candles around the atrium, then sat on a mat.

  Chandi watched the woman sip tea and read a scroll. She watched the Radiant Queen let down her hair and relax after a day of court and religious rites. If she looked past the crimson clothing, the regal presence, and the awe the woman inspired, Chandi could see the resemblance to Naresh. She was not just an asset of the Solar faith, but a real person, with a real family.

  Whatever Rahu’s reasons, whatever his plan, Chandi could not kill the Radiant Queen. She was finished with all of it. She was done being a spy, done being a pawn for her people. She was in love and Naresh needed to know how she felt. Jaka Tarub had never given up on his bidadari, and neither would Chandi.

  When she rose, her muscles ached from crouching so long. She dropped from the balcony and landed in the yard outside. Slipping from one shadow to the next, she made her way out of the High District.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  Ratna sat on her windowsill, watching the ships in the harbor through the crystal pane, while twirling her hair around a finger. Maybe one of those ships could take her away from this. If she could just take Revati and flee, escape all this … But even though Kakudmi had finally released her from house arrest in her chambers, she couldn’t go anywhere without Naresh or one of the other Arun Guard on her heels. They might let her down to the harbor, but no ship could escape the Guard.

  And what could she do for herself? Through all the books she’d imported from Swarnadvipa—and she had paid a king’s ransom to smuggle those in—she’d still found no way to actually mimic her mother’s sorcerous ability. From what she’d read, you could evoke a spirit if you knew its name and a unique sigil for it called a Glyph. Since she had no information on either, she was powerless.

  She might not have been confined to her chambers in fact, but she may as well have been in practice. Perhaps the only hope for her truly lay in the Lunar envoy. She sat in on most of the peace talks, enough that it had been readily apparent that while Rahu denied having ordered Lunars to seize the Astral Temple, now that it was under Lunar control he had no intention of returning it to the Solars. Kakudmi was no fool, and yet, still he continued these talks.

  Chandi slipped into the room, then paused to examine a jasmine bouquet Ratna had brought up from the Market District. Their heady scent reminded her of the gardens in Bukit, a place that now seemed just out of her reach. Chandi raised an eyebrow at Ratna and she realized she had tangled her own hair toying with it.

  Ratna nodded at her mother’s brush on the dresser.

  Chandi picked it up, then tossed it on the bed. “I’m not your maid, and things have gone too far.”

  Ratna frowned and rose. What was that about? She stared at Chandi, hands on hips. “Too far for you? Were you married off to a Solar? Did you give him a child then watch him discard you?” What was Chandi thought she had truly lost?

  “Your father sent me to kill the Radiant Queen last night. I didn’t. I watched, waited. But I didn’t. I won’t.”

  The silence hung between them, before Ratna spoke at last. “You must have misunderstood his order.” That was utter madness. The last Radiant Queen had been assassinated by a fellow Solar, some petty criminal, but it had triggered a bloody purge against the underworld elements of Kasusthali. If a Lunar killed Aji Bidara, not only would peace fail, it was unlikely a single Lunar would make it out of this city alive. “The Solars would have killed us all if you’d done that,” Ratna said, shaking her head. “Father needs my counsel. If only mother was here. She could reach him.”

  Chandi said nothing, but her face spoke volumes. Both of their fathers had changed after the death of their wives. After Empu Baradah had murdered Chandi and Ratna’s mother for her witchcraft. Yet another crime Solars had no tolerance for.

  Ratna drew a deep breath. “If there’s going to be war, father will need my help. We have to plan carefully.” Clearly, her father had no intention of carrying forward the peace. If he planned to betray the Solars, then they needed to do so with utmost care to ensure they were able to escape Kasusthali. She needed to show him how dangerous his current course was.

  “You plan to destroy your daughter’s future empire?”

  Ratna glared. “Revati can rule the Lunars just as well. We need to leave this cursed city. There’s no place for me here. The courtiers still mock me behind my back, I know they do.”

  “And your husband—”

  “Barely notices me in the bedroom, and not at all elsewhere.” Ratna turned away, furious at herself for the sudden dampness in her eyes. She did not care about Kakudmi. Sweet Chandra, she could not, would not allow herself to care about that heartless wretch.

  “Maybe if you gave him a chance to—”

  “Neither of us chose the other. Duty bound us. I don’t doubt he loves Revati. But there will never be warmth between Solars and Lunars.”

  When Chandi said nothing, Ratna glanced back at her. A look of grim determination had settled over her cousin’s face, like Chandi somehow thought she of all people could stand against the rapidly approaching tide of war. No, this was more than a tide, it was an Emong, a tidal wave, said to be cast forth from the fury of Nyai Loro Kidul, the Queen of the South Sea. Some said she threw such wrath upon mortals when Chandra spurned her. Ratna wasn’t certain whether to be vindicated or desolate that even a goddess found herself cast aside by the man who should have been hers.

  Chandi turned to leave when Malin entered. “Ratna, your father wishes to see you before he meets with Kakudmi this morning.”

  Ratna nodded. Finally. Maybe she could show him the danger that lay ahead. Whatever plan they made, it had to account for getting them all, especially Revati, away from the Solars in the chaos.

  She slipped from her chambers to the room that now
belonged to her father. He sat on the floor, as if in meditation, though his eyes were open, fixed on her from the moment she entered.

  “Daughter. Come, sit.” He motioned to a spot before him.

  Ratna settled down in it, running over in her mind how to broach the subject of Aji Bidara. The wrong approach could earn Chandi a great deal of her father’s ire. The man had a temper, for certain, and Ratna didn’t want to see him do anything rash—like leave Chandi behind when they fled to Bukit.

  “Are you familiar with Chandi’s dealings with the Ignis?”

  The question caught her off-guard and Ratna frowned. “Somewhat. I know she’s spent a great deal of time with their high priest, Semar, trying to win sympathy for our people. It seems to me, though, that the reverse has been happening. Chandi often speaks of her own empathy toward the Ignis.”

  Rahu grunted. “Yes. Sadly, your cousin is more quick to think with her heart or fists than her brain. Regardless, she is now consumed with other affairs.” Like trying to murder Aji Bidara and ensure every Lunar in the city burned at the stake. “So I need you to continue what she started. You know what’s going to happen here, I trust.”

  “The Fifth War.”

  “We have never been able to launch an attack against this city. It’s unassailable. At least from the outside. But the Ignis are already here.”

  At least this resembled a plan. “You want me to engender a rebellion? I’d have to use intermediaries. It would seem too suspicious for the empress to be meeting with Ignis directly, and I can’t go anywhere without Naresh or another of the Guard with me.”

  Her father waved away her concerns. “I trust you to do whatever it takes.”

  Ratna almost smiled. That was certainly refreshing, having someone actually believe in her. Fine. If her father wanted to incite the Ignis, she could do that. Chandi had, after all, been running secret messages from them through that Serendibian captain for quite some time. She could use the man to do the same and he need be none the wiser for it.

  She rose and offered her father a slight bow, but paused, a new question forming in her mind. “Where did Mother get her powers?”

  “She was a Moon Scion of House Arang, you know that.”

  “I’m not a fool, Father. I know she was a witch. Where did she get the knowledge of such arts?”

  Her father’s eyes grew wide a moment, then so very cold Ratna actually shivered under his gaze. “Her arts cost her more than you can imagine, child. I don’t want you pursuing such things. They reek of desperation.”

  “I am very desperate.”

  Rahu scowled. “The Solars stole her book when they killed her, most of her secrets were lost. There were other witches, too, but they are gone. I know only a few of Calon’s …” He suddenly looked away like he’d said too much.

  Or said just enough. Her father must have learned some of her mother’s witchcraft himself. Of course. Malin said her father had created the Macan Gadungan, not her mother. They must have worked together. She knelt in front of her father, forcing every bit of steel into her gaze she could muster. “I am my mother’s daughter and I would know who she was. I came here because you commanded it. I let that Solar plant his seed in me, bore him a child. I have done everything you have ever asked of me, Father. I am no longer a child, and I want to know the things you know. Am I not your heir?”

  Her father’s eyes searched her face, though whether because of his own pain or because he wanted to be certain of her resolve, Ratna could not say. At last, he reached a hand to her cheek. “You are my heir. And when we return to Bukit, I will tell you all I know. I swear it, Daughter.”

  Finally, Ratna smiled.

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  Malin waited for Ratna to leave before turning to Chandi. He stalked closer to her, put his hand on her shoulder. Even after days in the city, he smelled of the rainforest, the scent of clean dirt and vitalized life.

  “Rahu’s right about one thing. War is coming.”

  Chandi shrugged free from his hand. She moved to the window, biting her lip as she watched the jukungs.

  “We’ve been increasing the ranks of the Jadian, both bloodlines.”

  “In a fight with a Warak Ngendog, I’d bet on the dragon beast,” Chandi said.

  Malin bared his teeth in what she couldn’t quite call a grin. “But thanks to you, we know it’s the Sun Brand that lets Solars control them. Far less effective than those of us who have the actual spirit of an animal within. The Sun Brand eventually runs out of stored sunlight. If we can push a Guardsman to the extreme, he’ll lose control of the beast.”

  She sat back on Ratna’s windowsill. “You’d still get stepped on like a spider. Whatever you have within would be plastered across the ground.”

  Malin growled as he approached, shoulders hunched like he might attack her. “You should show more respect for those who protect you.” He pressed too close, forced her up on the windowsill.

  “Back away. Now.”

  He edged closer still, until she could feel his hot breath on her face, and put one leg up on the sill with her. “You Moon Scions think yourselves so high, but it’s my kind who holds the Lunar Empire together. We are more than human, and yet you treat us as slaves. As pets.”

  “And we’re children of the Moon God. Back off.”

  “So you say.” He put his hand on her jaw, rubbed it with his thumb. “But Chandra made us all, and Chandra gave us our gift.”

  She slapped away his hand. “I thought Rahu did that.”

  “Our world is changing. You cannot save anything here. But you can join me. Help my people. Together we can create a new, greater Lunar Empire.”

  “I’m not interested in the Lunar Empire, not as it is or whatever you imagine you’ll create.” She rose from the windowsill and shoved him away. She needed to see Naresh. Now. She’d tell him about Rahu’s treachery. “I don’t have time for this, Malin.”

  Malin grabbed her shoulders with a speed she hadn’t expected, held her near his face as he growled. Her heart raced loud enough he must hear it.

  “Release me.” She kept her voice level. He might hear her heart, but he would see no outward sign.

  The weretiger did let her go, backed away from her, his shoulders stiff. “I heard about your friend’s engagement. You must want to congratulate him.”

  “What?”

  “Imagine the two highest ranking members of the Arun Guard, married. I wonder if they can breed a little Sun Brander, too.”

  “Naresh?”

  “And Landorundun, of course. We couldn’t be happier for them. Really, the whole Lunar court will have to send its best wishes. Don’t you agree?”

  “You lie.” Her voice cracked. She had to hold together.

  “Not often, Chandi.”

  Something had opened inside her, sucked out everything. She couldn’t feel her heartbeat anymore. Would Malin hear if it had stopped beating?

  “Get out.” He’d hear even the whisper.

  Something flashed over his face. Not victory. Sympathy? Never. “Chandi—”

  “Get out!”

  As the door swung shut behind him, Chandi slumped against the wall. She bit her lip until it bled.

  It was a lie. It had to be a lie. Naresh wasn’t going to marry Landorundun. He didn’t even like the bitch. Chandi was not going to let this shit happen. Not this, Rangda damn it all. She slipped from her room and stalked the palace until she spotted Landorundun. Tempting as it might be to walk up and slap her, that would probably only land Chandi back in the Ministry of Law. Besides, despite it all, she almost, almost liked the Solar. At least, Landorundun had seemed to understand Chandi’s feelings for Naresh.

  Of course she did. She was marrying him!

  Chandi Glamoured herself to look like a Solar servant and stalked Landorundun through the palace until, just before the lingsir kulon meal, the Guardswoman left, following the Circuit all the way to the Harbor District. The Arun Guardswoman wasn’t wearing her cerulean uniform,
just a plain white baju like an Academy musician might favor.

  The pouring rain didn’t bother Chandi as she wound her way after the First. Her hair hung plastered to her face and her wet clothing hugged her body, but none of the workers in the district stopped their work, so neither would she.

  Chandi couldn’t say what she intended, not really. But she certainly wasn’t going to let the woman marry Naresh.

  The Guardswoman glanced around before entering the Rangda Teahouse, but didn’t see Chandi. After a moment, Chandi followed her inside. With the windows bolted against the rain, the light came only from paper-shaded oil lamps hanging from poles around the building. Chandi slipped in behind Landorundun and took a table beside her. Landorundun didn’t turn or notice her.

  Trembling after holding the Glamour so long, Chandi let it drop, but immediately missed the overwhelming power that had filled her.

  The proprietor brought her tea. “Usual, my lady?”

  Chandi nodded. Since Semar brought her here years before, she’d come often for the peanut satay. Solars and Ignis made up most of the crowd, but a few might have been Lunars. One table seemed to be Maitians like Malin. The Mait archipelago did frequent trade with the Outer Islands and Puradvipa, but the foreigners didn’t come to Kasusthali often, generally stopping only at Kutai.

  Just as the owner brought her satay, Chandi heard Landorundun rise. When she saw Bendurana enter through the front door, Chandi suppressed her shock and forced herself into the corner of her alcove, turned her head away. After she’d run so many messages to him for the Ignis, he’d know her at a glance. She needed to Glamour herself again, but now that the proprietor had recognized her, doing so was too risky. But Ben didn’t even look at her as he slipped into the alcove with Landorundun.

  Chandi peeked around the corner to see the two of them in an embrace. Bendurana was her beau? Chandi leaned against the bamboo wall and turned her ear to it. The planks provided little barrier to sound, so she heard without difficulty when Landorundun spoke.