All he wanted in this moment, as the next wall of fire came down on the camp, burning away the tents above ground and swirling into the underground tunnels, was to have a little farm in Aaldia like the one where he had found Anavha. The little farm that had almost certainly been destroyed behind them, the way he was destroying this settlement.
I made a stupid mistake, he thought. He hadn’t been able to see any other life but this one, his fighting arm directed by the most powerful person around him.
Dhai began pouring up from the ground.
Natanial held his fist high, cautioning his troops to stay still. As if they needed encouragement to do nothing! But if one of them dove into the fray now for easy killing, they would only put themselves in danger of getting pummeled by their own sinajistas.
The smell of burning flesh and hair, green wood, and the tangy bleed of bonsa sap filled the air. Cries, shouts, yes, some of those too, but mostly he heard the crackle of the flames and the hiss and pop of heat-expanded water and sap exploding from the vegetation.
The bodies kept coming up. They had likely found Otolyn’s troops at the rear exit. Those who were not trampled would be suffocated by the smoke. Natanial observed the bodies coolly. Singed hair. Raw, blistered skin. Tattered, still flaming clothing. One child ran screaming, naked, across the fallen bodies of three adults before a lashing vine caught it up and crushed it.
The tirajista was doing precise, surgical work. Natanial watched her, curious to see signs of distress or distaste, but she worked with furious concentration, deeply focused. Whirling vines tangled up the defensive units in the trees as well, and they began to drop like mashed insects to the forest floor.
After about a quarter of an hour, the bodies heaving up from the ground grew fewer and fewer, and the waves of fire and skewering vines came further apart.
“That’s it!” Monshara called, and raised her fist.
Time to clean up.
Natanial sighed and got off his mount. He began to pull the children’s bodies away from the others, making neat, long lines of them. It was grotesque, filthy work, and he began to question, for the first time, what the fuck he was doing here. Working for Saradyn had involved much distasteful work, but that work always felt purposeful. The death was leading somewhere. This was… wasteful.
Otolyn and three of her company arrived, herding a long line of young girls ahead of them. The girls were roped around the neck, six or seven of them. Otolyn slid off her bear and gave them a tug. The girls shrieked and sobbed at the sight of the bodies, all but two of them, who appeared struck dumb by the horror some time before.
Natanial went over to meet her and Monshara. “You know what she looks like?” Natanial asked Monshara.
“I do,” Monshara said. “I’m looking for a little girl called Tasia,” Monshara said to the girls. They huddled together, shaking and snuffling. Monshara peered into each face in turn. Lingered on one, a narrow-faced girl with big eyes and half her hair burnt off. One ear was slightly charred. “Tell me your name, child.”
The child said nothing.
Monshara took off her helmet and knelt beside the girl. “What is your name, child?” she said, more softly.
Nothing.
“Child,” Monshara said, “I can’t take you back to your mother if I don’t know your name.”
Another moment of hesitation. Then, “Tasia,” the girl whispered. “I’m Tasia Sona.”
“All right,” Monshara said, and straightened. She released her from the rope and put a hand behind her shoulder, leading her back away from the field of dead and toward the open wink with Madah, who was getting an update from Monshara’s second.
“What do we do with the rest?” Otolyn said.
“I bet I can guess,” Natanial said. He gazed into each grubby face. He was going to get very drunk tonight.
“I liked it better when we were killing evil fucking Dorinah,” Otolyn said. “These are just a bunch of fucking roaches.”
“Greater rewards,” Natanial said. “The fighting is almost done.”
Otolyn spit. “That wasn’t a fight.”
Natanial couldn’t argue.
“Some of them got away,” Otolyn said. “None of them were kids, though. I sent a couple of people after them, but no doubt these roaches know the woods better.”
“She only wanted the child,” Natanial said. “I don’t think she’ll begrudge us a few extra lives.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not counting on that.”
He didn’t want to stay and see what she did with the children, so he walked back over to Monshara. She had already handed the girl over to Madah. Natanial saw no sign of her.
“We need you to move north,” Madah said as he approached. “We’ve discovered a larger camp there.”
“Any more kids we need to kill?” Natanial asked.
“Possibly,” Madah said, without hesitation. “We need the ground cleared here, though. You can take prisoners if you like, and interrogate them. Remember we’re still looking for Yisaoh Alais Garika.”
“Spoils of victory,” Natanial said. “There was nothing worth taking here but human flesh. What am I supposed to do to keep my troops’ morale up?”
“They are your soldiers, not mine,” Madah said. “I’m sure you can think of something.”
“It’s going to take at least two days to clear this area,” Monshara said.
“Yes,” Madah said.
The wink closed.
“She’s delightful,” Natanial said.
“Like her mother,” Monshara said. Natanial had no idea who Madah’s mother was, but Monshara appeared wistful. Another dead woman? “The Empress will be pleased with this, though.” She patted Natanial’s arm. “It will be worth it.”
She sounded very confident. She had been doing this a long time.
26
Kirana was in the baths when Madah brought the child down. Kirana heard the shrieking. The slap of flesh. More shrieking, raised voices. She knew who it was, and pulled herself out of the water and began to towel off.
Madah had the girl by one arm, and yanked her forward. “Is this her, Empress?” Madah asked.
Kirana wrapped the towel around her waist and took the girl by the chin. It was always remarkable, how much they all looked alike despite their circumstances, as if there remained some tenuous connection between them, despite the distance of their worlds. Kirana had not borne children, herself. And only Corina had been born of Yisaoh. Tasia and Moira had been born to Yisaoh’s long-dead cousin, and Kirana and Yisaoh had fostered them since they were infants.
“Your name is Tasia?” Kirana asked.
The girl nodded.
Kirana released her. That was likely enough, but she wanted to be absolutely certain. No mistakes, this time, no lookalikes. “And who was your mother?”
“Lilia is my mother,” Tasia said.
“Lilia?” That did not sit right. Then she remembered the Dhai habit of calling any older woman who shared the household a mother. “I mean, who is the woman who birthed you? Could you tell me about her?”
Tasia shook her head. The girl’s eyes filled. “Please, I want to go home!”
“You can go home,” Kirana said, crouching before her. “But I need to know your mother’s name. The woman who birthed you. You remember?”
“Please let me go home. I have a bird at home. A poppet called Jahin.”
She was too frightened. And Kirana could not stomach any more of it. She recognized her well enough. “I have something for you. Turn around for me,” Kirana said.
Tasia turned.
“I can do it,” Madah said softly.
“No, no,” Kirana said. “This was my promise. My family.” She held out her hand.
Madah handed her a knife over the girl’s head.
Kirana was quick. The blade flashed before the girl understood what had happened. A quick strike to the jugular. Kirana had not wanted to see her face. She held the small body against her as the blood pumped o
ut over her arm and pooled on the floor, slipping across the tiles and making long crimson runnels that drained into the pool, swirling and dissipating in the water. The great living water spiders ballooned up from the bottom of the pool and came to investigate.
Kirana waited until the girl was still, the body drained, then rolled her toward Madah. “Have someone else come for that,” she said.
Madah bowed and left her. Kirana took off her towel and waded back into the pool. She floated out onto her back, gazing at the intricate details of the ceiling: happy, peaceful carvings and mosaics of birds and cats, sea creatures and snapping lilies, walking trees and great puffy seeds that navigated the air like something alive. A peaceful people, a peaceful country. Everything she wanted to build. But was it possible to come back from all this darkness? To establish a nation on war and genocide and then wean them off it, promoting peace and cooperation, understanding? She closed her eyes and thought of how she could work with Gian’s people. More jistas to help with crops. More mouths to feed, yes, but Gian’s people had brought stores with them on the ark. They could trade goods and favors with Aaldia, perhaps. Maybe the killing would be over.
At some point a few of her people came to take the body. She knew she should get out and go to her own Yisaoh, her own Tasia immediately and bring Tasia over. But she lingered. She had always known what saving her people meant. Some days, though, were easier than others.
A gaggle of new bathers arrived, loud and laughing until they saw her. They quieted, but the spell was broken.
Kirana got out of the great pool and dressed. Servants moved out of her way in the changing rooms; one old Dhai woman worked at replenishing the flame fly lanterns. All of the Dhai in the temples were warded; they could not commit physical harm against Kirana or one of her people, but those wards could be removed. Worse, she felt it made her people complacent, knowing the Dhai slaves could not physically harm them. They saw them as ghost people, hardly human, and though Kirana understood that was sometimes easier, she had learned to see every potential adversary clearly, especially those she kept under a fearful thumb. She knew love was a better way to rule than fear, but fear worked much more quickly than love, and she had not had time to woo any of them. It wasn’t exactly a good time to start, either, with their food situation still precarious. They might end up eating Dhai bodies for dinner yet.
As she left the baths, a little runner arrived, gaze lowered. “Sai Hofsha has arrived,” the boy said.
“She still in the foyer?”
“Just now, yes.”
“I’ll meet her there. Go.”
The runner went ahead. Kirana took her time, and arrived just as Hofsha strode in, followed by two attendants. She had taken on a great number of slaves after the invasion.
“Empress,” Hofsha said. She removed her hat and gave an overly dramatic bow. Hofsha was always one for drama and spectacle.
“You have news from Gian?” Kirana asked.
“I do. She has sent a gift.”
Kirana eyed the girls.
“No, no,” Hofsha laughed. “Nothing so droll. I told her the one thing we have in abundance is people.”
“Come,” Kirana said, “the Sanctuary.”
Hofsha left her girls in the foyer and followed after Kirana into the Sanctuary. It was blessedly empty this time of day, used mainly as a gathering and teaching space.
Kirana closed the door and look around quickly to ensure they had privacy. She sat on one of the great green clothed benches. Hofsha did not sit, but gazed up at the great dome, beaming.
“It was not so long ago I first entered here,” Hofsha said. “What a soft people, they were.”
“Some other people may think us soft,” Kirana said. “I hope not to meet them.”
“That is not Gian,” Hofsha said quickly. “She turned over storage goods, as you hoped. Enough rice to get us out of this hungry stretch.”
“All of us?”
“Remarkably, yes, possibly. That is, I’m not the agricultural steward, but if we absolutely must, we can always stop feeding the slaves.”
“I’d prefer to keep the labor.”
“Oh, certainly, but–” Hofsha raised her gaze to the ceiling again, made a moue.
“Speak plainly,” Kirana spat. She hated Hofsha’s posturing.
“Gian has a request.”
“Of course she does.”
“She doesn’t want to coexist. She’d prefer to take Dhai, and leave us with the rest of the country, after.”
“And in control of these great engines that can break worlds? No, that would be mad.”
Hofsha shrugged. “Well, we get to keep the rice, anyway.”
“Is that a deal breaker? Surely she didn’t think I’d agree to that.”
“It will be difficult to approach her again without a counteroffer.”
“Did you insinuate that I could burn up her entire ark at any time I’d like?”
“I did. And she insinuated that it was very well protected.”
Kirana huffed. “Why did it have to be Gian? Why not someone with less of a backbone? Aradan? Sovonia? They would have been kissing my feet on our first meeting.”
“We may hear from them yet.”
“Will she meet me here?” Kirana asked. “If she won’t listen to reason, perhaps she will be swayed by seeing it. I want to show her the chambers. And the key passages of the book on how to use these machines are nearly translated.”
“I can ask,” Hofsha said.
“I don’t need you to ask. I need you to persuade.”
“Come now,” Hofsha said, grinning, “I got a woman to betray her own son. This will be easy.”
“Best hope so. Go on.”
Hofsha bowed, sweeping her hat forward again, annoyingly, and stepped jauntily from the room.
Kirana went up the long slog of the stairs and knocked on Suari’s door. He opened it, still bleary-eyed. She had kept him up the night before going over the translated diagrams from the Worldbreaker book.
“Upstairs,” she said. “I need a wink to Yisaoh.”
“Oravan is up there.”
“I didn’t ask for Oravan. I asked for you. Ten minutes.”
She left him and went up to her office to prepare. Her secretary was already there, going through piles of missives, many of them sent by sparrows, others hand-delivered by those traveling by wink. The Dhai system of lifts had been largely destroyed by fire – hers and theirs, as she tried to cut them off from fleeing. But with Oma in the sky, travel and communication were very easy. That would not last, Kirana knew, and she already had surveyors out exploring various infrastructure projects that could connect her more quickly from here to the coast, as far north as Caisau and as far east as Janifa, in Dorinah.
Suari took almost half an hour to arrive. He strode up the steps just as she was considering whether to send her secretary down or one of the little Dhai bringing up tea. Oravan and one of her stargazers worked at one side of the table, going over their calculations for the billionth time. Para’s rise was imminent, they said; every day they were better able to predict its reappearance, and last she heard, they were days away.
“Did you have other obligations?” Kirana quipped as Suari came through the archway.
“Shall we begin?” Suari said. He raised his hands.
“Do it,” Kirana said. She would deal with him again later. If he’d been anything but an omajista, she would have had him strung up above the gates as a warning.
The air shimmered and thickened. Kirana rolled her neck and shoulders, preparing to meet with Yisaoh for the first time in several days. The wink rent the air in front of her, a little too close for her liking, and she narrowed her eyes at Suari.
She waited a beat for the jista on the other side to acknowledge the wink, but there was a long stretch of nothing instead. She gazed long at the dark wall.
Kirana approached the wink and bent to see further into the room. It was empty.
“Piss,” Kirana m
uttered. Someone had left their station.
She called over a guard from the entry to the Assembly Chamber and sent her in to find their contact. The woman went quickly, pressing thumb to forehead and jumping through.
Kirana waited, pointedly ignoring Suari.
The guard reappeared, out of breath. “Something’s happened to the consort.”
“Fuck!” Kirana went to step in, but the guard held up her hands.
“Empress, caution! Someone has been here. Not one of ours.”
“There’s no one left alive on that fucking world,” Kirana said.
“I don’t think… I don’t think they’re from our world.”
“Get back in here. You!” she yelled at one of the Dhai servants. “Go and get me Madah. Tell her I need a scouting party. Oravan!”
“Empress?”
“Relieve Suari. I want you on this wink. Suari, get me a sinajista for this side in case anything comes through.”
This time, Suari picked up his pace as he hurried from the room.
Kirana went to her room and buckled on her armor. She held out her right hand, and let the blooming willowthorn weapon unfurl from it. It had been some time since she had needed it. Her heart thrummed. Sweat beaded her lip. Now was not the time to lose the woman she had done all of this to save.
Madah arrived with a force of thirteen, including three jistas. Suari brought a haggard sinajista up, one of the ones Kirana had working below.
“Madah, you have the floor here,” Kirana said.
“You aren’t… Empress, you aren’t going in?” Madah asked.
“Keep the wink open. That’s my family,” Kirana said, and stepped through.
She unfurled her weapon the moment she was clear of the wink, and waited for the others to make it through. “I need three of you up here,” she said. “We go through this room by room.”
A tangled ruin of a body lay just outside the wink room; it looked as if it had been savaged by a wild animal, and had been dead at least a day. No, Kirana thought, I am not going to lose them. Not now.
She had told them to go room by room, but she found herself running down the hall, past slippery orange mold that oozed from the seams between the hold’s stones. The vines they had used to shore up the place from the tremors and block out the charred air were shriveled and brown.
The Broken Heavens Page 27
