The Skyfall Era Trilogy: Books 1-3

by Matt Larkin

  “I can’t meet with you anymore.” The Guardswoman’s voice almost broke. “My parents arranged a marriage for me.”

  “What?” The captain, for once, seemed at a loss for words.

  “To Naresh. I should have told you before, I just couldn’t. But I have to face this.”

  Chandi’s face burned. Frustration surged through her. Landorundun didn’t even want to marry Naresh. What was wrong with these people? What kind of moron married someone they didn’t love?

  “I thought everything was over between you two a long time ago? How can you consider him, after what he put you through? Where’s his precious honor now, forcing you into this?”

  “Neither of us has a choice. He’s not forcing it. Our parents arranged it.”

  They were quiet for a moment, but Chandi didn’t dare peek again. She’d have a damn hard time explaining it if either of them saw her.

  “Break the arrangement,” Bendurana said. “You want to live your whole life by other peoples’ rules? The rules are guidelines for those who need them. And they’re not all good rules. Look at how the Ignis are treated—like slaves. Don’t Solars claim only Lunars keep slaves? And now you’ll enslave yourself to the rules that say do what you’re told. Break the rules, we’re worth it. Naresh can’t give you what I can, Landi.”

  “It’s done, Ben.”

  She heard one of them stand, then Landorundun drifted past, her face a mask. The Guardswoman didn’t look down at Chandi. Neither did Bendurana when he passed a moment later.

  Chandi sat for a long time, not touching her satay. She ran her thumb over Anusapati’s pearl rhino.

  Finally, she left the teahouse, leaving the rhino on the table. She had held onto that for too long. Anu was gone and she would never get him back. She would not, not lose Naresh.

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  Naresh swore under his breath, then looked back from the dhow to the Minister of Commerce. Though the rain had lessened to a drizzle, the two men were still soaking wet. “This one would be perfect, Minister,” Naresh said.

  The Minister shook his head. “The Jin Laut brings in regular trade from Tianxia, Naresh. It’s just too valuable to be converted to military use. It would represent a significant loss of revenue, not to mention we’d lose the chance to procure a Tianxian Fire-Lance.”

  Damn Landi for making him deal with this. The Minister was a squat man, grown fat from too many scallops and easy living. Kakudmi had appointed him while Naresh was stationed at the Astral Temple. Naresh had never bothered to learn his name.

  “Minister,” Naresh said, trying to keep his temper, “you’ve said something similar about almost every seaworthy vessel in the harbor. Some of which were military vessels before we began cutting back our forces two years ago. Now they’re needed again. Do you understand we may be at war with the Lunars in days or weeks?”

  “The talks do not go well?”

  Naresh shrugged. “I couldn’t talk about that even if I were in on them. And I’m not. This,” he pointed at the dhow, “this I can talk about. I don’t want to have to involve the Minister of War.” Indeed, Naresh dreaded the thought. The rivalries between some of the Ministries made facilitating dealings between them tedious at best. Landi could have just handed the problem over to the Ministry of War, it was their job. But she thought Naresh could do it without as much hostility. He had his doubts.

  The Minister hesitated. “Not the Jin Laut.”

  “Fine. But we will find ships and captains for this, Minister.” Naresh stormed off toward the next pier. He almost bypassed it. The only dhow that might serve in battle here was the Queen of the South Sea, and he’d be damned if he’d let Bendurana into the military. Then he saw Malin, hanging around the dhow, pacing in short circles.

  Naresh hesitated only a moment. The Minister called after him as he ran down the pier, but he didn’t slow. Malin turned toward him as he neared, looking surprised. Naresh crashed into the weretiger and they both sprawled onto the pier. Once, twice, and a third time Naresh pounded Malin’s face, then flared the Sun Brand, landing innumerable body blows before the Lunar caught a grip on his shoulders. With a roar, Malin heaved, hurling Naresh back through the air.

  Naresh crashed into a crate, crushing it and sending splinters flying. A crowd had already gathered and begun cheering him on. He launched himself to his feet and drew his keris. “Murdering bastard.”

  Malin drew his keris knife and bared his teeth. “Come to your death, Guardsman.”

  Naresh Sun Strode beside Malin and swung. The weretiger was fast, but not fast enough to keep pace with Naresh as he flared sunlight to increase his speed, flaring so much his eyes would glow with it. Malin parried again and again, falling back, then Naresh sliced a gash into the Lunar’s arm. As Malin reeled, Naresh caught him across the jaw with a left cross.

  Malin staggered backward, then kicked a piece of the splintered crate into his hand. He flung the wood at Naresh, but Naresh Sun Strode behind Malin and shoved him down. He raised his keris to finish the murderer, then felt a hand on his shoulder and the world spun.

  He stood on the roof of a teahouse, some distance from the Queen of the South Sea. Glaring, he rounded on Landi.

  She spoke before he could open his mouth. “What in Surya’s name were you thinking, Naresh? You can’t attack the War King’s bodyguard without sanction from the emperor. Do you want to sabotage any hope of peace?”

  Naresh glanced back at the pier. He didn’t have enough sunlight to Sun Stride back there. Malin had murdered Empu Baradah, Naresh knew it. But Semar was right about the cycle. Kakudmi wanted to break it, and Naresh had to do so, as well.

  “Naresh,” she said, her voice breaking. When he looked back, he noticed her eyes were red. “We all loved him, but we don’t know Malin did it, and we couldn’t prove it even if we did. This is beyond us.”

  Though he couldn’t say why, Naresh put his arms around her for the first time in years and held her to his chest. “What are you even doing here? I thought you were too busy to come today.”

  Landi sighed and pushed him away. “I just came for the lingsir kulon meal. The peanut satay is very good.” She glanced down at the teahouse.

  “Is that why you brought me here? To tempt me with satay?”

  “Naresh …”

  A small crowd watched them on the roof, so he used the last of his sunlight for a short Stride to the back alley behind the teahouse. Landi followed. “I won’t sabotage anything.”

  With no Selamatan, perhaps his mentor’s ghost watched him even now. Naresh didn’t pray to Surya often. But he prayed Empu Baradah would understand.

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  “Ah, Malin, what are you doing here?” Bendurana said.

  Malin had shrugged off the hands of Solars who tried to help him to his feet, but he let the Serendibian captain help him up.

  He wiped the blood from his lip with the back of his hand. “Permission to board the Queen of the South Sea?”

  Bendurana’s eyes searched his face, his expression dark. “Very well, Malin, you may board. But I have little patience for any more threats.”

  Malin followed the captain up the gangway. Ben looked more haggard than he had when they fought in the rain a few days earlier. The Serendibian’s steps fell heavy and his shoulders were taut. Even the crew seemed to pick up on it and turned their eyes. The crew that had moments ago cheered as Naresh beat Malin against the pier. He forced himself to keep his eyes on Bendurana’s back.

  The captain stalked into his cabin. It still stank of curry, but otherwise looked little like Malin had remembered. Mess covered the cabin, from the open footlocker to the paper-strewn chart table. Bendurana knocked everything from his table and sat on top of it.

  “Well, Malin, speak what you came to say.”

  Malin had never seen Bendurana so dark, even after the captain had lost his home and his betrothed.

  “I’m sorry for using you, Ben.” The words tasted foul. He was not the kind to apologiz
e, especially when he believed in everything he had done. But the truth was, he hadn’t wanted to hurt the captain. Despite the man’s betrayal, he couldn’t hold on to hatred for him, not for long.

  Bendurana shook his head. “Ah, Malin, it’s too late for that.” The desk creaked as Bendurana rose. The captain knelt by a chest against the bulkhead and took out a sketch of his former betrothed. Malin had never seen the woman, but Bendurana had shared the sketch with him on several occasions. It brought him nothing but pain. Malin couldn’t say why Bendurana kept it.

  “You heard about Naresh and Landorundun?”

  “I heard.” Malin cringed, remembering the way he had taunted Chandi with it. She needed to let Naresh go, to see Malin would be better for her. But mocking her feelings would get him nowhere.

  A loud crack sounded as Ben slammed shut the chest. “It’s too late, Malin,” Bendurana said, rising. “An apology isn’t enough to excuse murder.” Malin started to speak, but Ben continued. “No, you should leave my ship now. You cannot make up for what you have done. You can only live with it.”

  Malin took a step toward the door at Bendurana’s outburst, but stopped. “Your own people called you coward and traitor. They thought what you had done was unforgivable. But I took you in, offered you the chance to find redemption.”

  “Ah, Malin, you still don’t understand. For my people, it was unforgivable. I had to abandon my whole life because of what I had done. Others could learn of my crimes and accept them, but not the people I had hurt with those crimes. We here are no longer your friends, but your victims. You are the architect of your own fate.” Ben stared at the sketch for a moment more, then opened the lantern on his chart table and set it aflame.

  Malin stared, uncertain what to say. Why now, after so many years? Why could Ben finally let go? And why couldn’t Malin? He staggered from the cabin without further word. He almost fell as he trudged down the gangway. Naresh must have hit him harder than he’d thought. The crew whispered behind his back, yet he didn’t turn on them.

  He tried to block the captain’s words, but they ran through his mind over and over. Malin had blamed his mother, blamed Rahu, blamed Empu Baradah for all the ways his life had gone wrong. But those things had happened because of his decisions.

  As a boy, he’d gone to save that merchant dhow from pirates over his mother’s objections. When its captain took him on, he left his mother without a thought. And when he returned, wed to a Maitian princess, wealthy beyond his dreams, he’d rejected his mother, denied her. How could he let his wife see such a humble fisherman’s widow had raised him?

  So he’d pretended not to hear as she called to him while he sailed away. Pretended not to hear as she cursed him. Maybe her curse hadn’t brought the storm that smashed his precious ship against the rocks of far Serendib. But his heart had always told him otherwise.

  His entrancing wife and all the people he cared for were lost beneath the waves. A boy on a jukung, searching for his lost father, had saved Malin, and Malin had promised to return the favor if Bendurana ever needed it.

  That was almost twenty-five years ago. His travels then brought him to the Skyfall Isles, to Puradvipa. To Rahu and Ketu. And when Rahu had offered him the chance for greatness, Malin didn’t bother to ask what that meant.

  Bitter and broken, he’d made his choice and become the first of the Macan Gadungan.

  And he’d thought he’d never love again. But these past three years with Chandi had been …

  There was no reason to care what Ben thought. He’d offered his hand, and had it slapped away not once, but twice. After what seemed a phase of walking, he sat. He knew why he had stood there, waiting for the captain. It wasn’t because helping the captain was one of the few selfless things he had ever done. Bendurana had given him a chance. One of the few people who had ever trusted him, ever called him friend. And now, now there was only Chandi. She was Malin’s last chance at redemption.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  After leaving the teahouse, Chandi had wandered the city for a phase. She had gone there so often with Semar she’d come to think of it as their place, but perhaps he had shared it with Ben as well. And if Ben was friends with Semar, maybe the fire priest could offer her some insight on what to do about this whole tangled mess. Because, Chandra as her witness, Chandi was going to see herself with Naresh, even if she had to help Landorundun and Ben get over their own turmoil.

  Chandi watched Ignis wash buildings as she strolled through their district. She took her time, wandering, lingering. She stopped to buy nagasari from a street vendor. The Ignis did the work their fathers and grandfathers had done. They were born to it, and they’d do it until the day they died. Probably even if they allied with the Lunars.

  A foreigner exited the shrine and Chandi’s banana cake slipped from her hand as she turned back to the temple. A macaque snatched it up and ran off with it. With his sun-colored hair and green eyes, this man could only be the emperor’s new advisor, the one everyone called the Stranger. Her father had asked her to find information on the man, and she’d asked a few questions here and there. So far no one seemed to know anything. Even mentioning the topic to Naresh had set him off.

  But if the foreigner was here, meeting with the Ignis, did that mean the Solars sought a new alliance? If they wanted to change the arrangement, they could have called Semar to the palace. Maybe they knew about the Lunar attempts to sway the Ignis. Letting the emperor learn of that wouldn’t help her efforts to hold the peace together.

  For a while she stood there, torn between Semar and the Stranger. The fire priest was always here, but the foreigner posed an immediate problem.

  She ran after the Stranger, caught him as he exited the Igni District. “Wait,” Chandi called after him. “Wait.”

  He paused at the tube, but didn’t turn to face her at first. When he did turn, he wore a sad smile. His eyes searched her face, then met and held her gaze. The man’s intensity left her speechless for a moment. He must have stood six foot tall, at least as tall as Semar.

  “You’re the Stranger,” she said when he turned and began walking into the tube. He might have nodded, but perhaps she imagined it. “Do you have a name?”

  “Of course I have a name,” he said, his voice soft.

  “But you won’t tell it to me?”

  He glanced down at her, but didn’t answer until they’d entered the Circuit. “My name wouldn’t mean anything to you.”

  “You could tell me anyway, then it’ll mean something. It’ll mean you trusted us enough to share at least that much about yourself.”

  The Stranger said nothing, but his gait slowed, which Chandi took as an invitation. The hint of a wistful smile still threatened at the corners of his mouth, but his voice remained soft and distant when he spoke after a long pause. “You can call me Kala, then.”

  “I’m Chandi, Kala.”

  Perhaps it was her imagination, but it looked like the man closed his eyes for a moment. “I know who you are.”

  That stopped her. Kala kept walking, and Chandi had to rush to catch up as he entered the Civic District. How could he know her?

  “Why are you here, Kala?” she asked as they drew near the palace.

  “Kakudmi gave me a guest room on the third floor.”

  Difficult man. “And why are you in Kasusthali?”

  He paused and gave her a long look before continuing on past the palace guards. “I’m here to see someone.”

  “Semar? What do you want with the fire priest? Are you an ally of the Ignis? Or something else?”

  “That,” he said, beginning to lose his fight with the smile creeping over his face, “is a lot of questions.”

  She grabbed his arm and pulled him to a stop. Through his shirt she felt his hard muscles go taut. “And I want answers to those questions.”

  The man peeled her fingers from his arm with his free hand. His fingers were rough like Naresh’s, which meant he must have done physical labor, or more likely been a war
rior. “I wanted advice. And yes, I suppose I am something else.”

  His hand lingered on hers longer than she might have liked. When he dropped it, he turned and headed up the stairs. As she caught him on the second floor landing, Rahu and Chandi’s father exited the room where Kakudmi held talks each day.

  Both Rahu and the Stranger stopped cold, their gazes locked. She couldn’t see Kala’s face, but her uncle’s jaw trembled and his eyes widened. Rahu’s fingers curled and his hands started to rise. Kala’s shoulders set as he took a half step back, falling into a slight crouch. A fighting stance.

  “Uncle?”

  Her uncle didn’t look at her, but the Stranger did. For a moment, his intense eyes watched her, his jaw clenched every bit as tight as her uncle’s. After a glance back at Rahu, Kala pushed past Chandi and stalked off the way he’d come.

  Rahu trembled and spun on his heel, shoving Ketu out of the way. Chandi and her father exchanged looks before he set off up the stairs after Rahu.

  When she reached her own chamber, Chandi leaned against the wall. The Stranger had come from some distant, foreign land. Could Rahu have known a man from beyond the Skyfall Isles?

  She had heard the rumors all her life. Rahu and Ketu, the last Scions of House Soma—except no one knew their parents. And though Rahu claimed to be the elder brother, Ketu far looked it. Not that they truly looked like brothers; Rahu’s skin was too fair. Not so fair as the Stranger’s, but too fair just the same.

  They called Rahu the Voice of Chandra. Said he created the Macan Gadungan for the Moon Scions. Malin had watched her since the day she was born, and seemed not to have aged. Could the War King too be far older than he appeared?

  And if Rahu had known Kala from some land beyond Tianxia, beyond far Serendib at the bounds of the known world, what secrets might he have found there?

  For a long time after witnessing the encounter between Rahu and Kala, Chandi wandered the palace. After three years here, she had found her place, such as it was, and a kind of routine. But since Naresh returned a month ago, it had all twisted until she couldn’t be sure of anything.