by Devin Madson
He looked up so sharply he banged his elbow on the edge of the table, shock and pain mingling in his face. “You want me to…?”
I hadn’t realised how much anger I had been carrying toward him until its knots loosened in my gut. “Yes,” I said. “Despite what happened at Koi, I wish you to command my Imperial Guard. Unless you wish to keep searching for my mother.”
He breathed a bitter laugh. “I fear continuing to throw myself at the impossible would be to allow grief to consume me.”
I wasn’t sure what to say. He had never spoken about his relationship with my mother, the secret everyone at court knew but only whispered.
“Don’t worry, I don’t mean to get sentimental on you,” he added. “There was always a level of mutual ambition in what we had, but you don’t spend that much time with someone without developing more love than you ever planned to allow them.” He let go the elbow he’d been rubbing and met my gaze. “If you will have me back I will do all I can to serve you, Your Majesty. Your mother made a promise her child would sit on the throne and we cannot let her down now, can we?”
I ran my gaze along the table of generals, each quieting as they took their places, gazes flitting Minister Manshin’s way as they waited. General Moto in particular I watched, wary.
Once they had all stilled, I cleared my throat and began. “Welcome to our first council meeting,” I said. “I believe I have met you all, so we can get straight to the most important business.”
In the pause before I went on, a few murmurs sounded as they quietly questioned this woman who would sit at the head of their table and dare to lead them when Minister Manshin was far more qualified and sat right there.
“The Levanti are consolidating their hold on the northern half of our empire,” I went on, determined to be taken seriously. “There is a chance Chiltae may regroup and attack them, but it seems more likely after losing much of their army they will hold their borders and stay out of this. It would be an easy enough battle to get these barbarians”—I winced at the word, but there could be no space for nuance, no accepting they were no such thing when I needed to rally an army against them—“out of our lands were they not allied to a number of northern lords. Some may have joined out of a pragmatic wish to not be trampled, but others appear to have eschewed loyalty to the empire for power and personal gain. Chief amongst these being Grace Bahain.”
No muttering followed. They had all heard, but for a moment I was sitting across from Edo at Kiyoshio Castle as he wrote this treason for me to see. The realisation of having no allies left, of being wholly alone, had hollowed me with a fear I had not yet shaken.
“We cannot strike at them head-on with such support,” I said. “But we may be able to if we can peel Bahain away from his new emperor.”
“Attacking Kogahaera would be suicidal,” General Rushin said.
“Not Kogahaera. Not yet.” I shook my head. “Syan.”
A moment of utter stillness held them in its grip, before they looked to Manshin to see if he’d heard my mad utterance. When he gave no sign of surprise or derision, the complaints began.
“I’m sure you must realise Syan is one of the most fortified cities in Kisia, Your Majesty,” General Moto said.
“The castle is behind at least three layers of walls.”
“It has never been conquered!”
“Yes, even though pirates have raided the city for decades, the castle has never fallen.”
I weathered their exclamations, much like Kiyoshio weathered the furious sea, and waited for them to die away. Eventually they did, perhaps because they had uttered every complaint there was, or because one by one they noticed I was sitting, untroubled, waiting patiently for them to finish.
“We are going to take Kiyoshio,” I said when they fell silent.
“May we ask how, Your Majesty?” General Mihri said. “You have a plan, perhaps.”
“Yes. I do.”
Now they were all listening.
2. DISHIVA
Don’t go back,” Jass had said, yet here I was. “There is nothing you can do.” I could only hope to live long enough for him to say he’d told me so.
I knelt on the floor, breathing slowly in and out. My knees ached and my stomach was on fire, but I could barely keep my eyes open.
“Captain Lashak and her Namalaka will have to stay behind,” Gideon said over the crackling fire. I yearned for its warmth, but dared not edge closer. “They have only just returned and someone must remain. More refugees from Mei’lian arrive every day. The city is getting full.”
“Yes, it is a testament to your people’s faith in you, Your Majesty,” Leo Villius replied. Only days ago his mouth had slackened in death. Days? More like a lifetime of kneeling in shame. “But with all deference to Captain Lashak, do you think she and her Swords can be useful here? They can raise tents, but they are not skilled builders and cannot speak Kisian.” Here the assiduous speech paused, and not for the first or even the hundredth time I imagined ripping out that golden tongue. “I can assure you, Your Majesty, my people do not mind doing the work. In fact, at such times I feel God’s servants are more useful than soldiers.”
Say no. Say no. He’s either going to kill the people or turn them against you.
“There is wisdom in what you say,” Gideon said. “And if Captain Lashak goes that will be two Swordherds as well as half my guard.”
You shouldn’t send any of your guards!
“I would be more confident in the success of three contingents of Swords,” Leo said, my existence continuing to be ignored. “But if there are no others nearby…”
“Captain Taga’s last message had her and Menesor e’Qara near Suway.”
Stop telling him where they are!
“I have not heard from Atum e’Jaroven—” A pause proved my presence had not been forgotten. “I could recall the Injit, but despite the destruction of Mei’lian, I cannot be comfortable with the rumours that Empress Miko has been hailed ruler in the south.”
“It is troubling,” Leo agreed, and I could almost have believed he meant it.
For a time there was nothing but the slosh and clink of wine bowls and the slow chewing of two men hardly paying attention to their meals while the room filled with the scent of sweet and spicy meat and ginger soup. My stomach rumbled.
At length a maid scratched at the door and came in, the old reeds crackling beneath her careful steps. Cups and plates clinked as she gathered them, and over their symphony Leo spoke again. “It would be well, I think, for you to be seen out amongst the refugees this morning, Your Majesty.”
The words were a suggestion but did not sound like one.
“Yes,” Gideon said, his thoughts sounding distant. This was the man who had come so far for his people, to better our place in the world and give us power over our own future. Yet here I was kneeling in shame while Leo Villius sat in a place of power.
If you can hear me, Leo, I am going to kill you again. And again if I have to, however many times it takes before your god gives up on you.
Leather creaked as Gideon rose from the table, letting go a long breath. “I will meet with the refugees who arrived overnight.”
“As you wish, Your Majesty.”
Fabric rustled. Footsteps crossed the floor only for one set to halt before me. I did not look up. Was not allowed to look up. But all too well could I imagine his mocking smile. Not so long ago I had punched that face until it broke, until it could not smile anymore. Little good it had done.
“Tired of kneeling yet, Dishiva?” spoke that hateful voice, all tender sweetness.
I did not answer.
“When I first returned I wanted to watch you die,” he went on. “Until Gideon condemned you to kneel. Never had I thought to find a Levanti custom I liked more than your head chopping, but here it is—kneeling in shame. How long, I wonder, will you survive so? How long until fatigue and thirst and hunger drive you mad and destroy you as you let them destroy me? How long until you thr
ow away your precious honour and stand up to defend your life?”
Still I did not answer, but my blood boiled with hatred for this man who would not die. I could leap up and strangle him, but would achieve only ruin.
“I hope I am here to see you break. To sink yourself in the eyes of your heathen gods like poor Rah. There could be no greater justice.”
Only the mantras I had learned for my Making kept me kneeling as he loomed over me. “Well done, Dishiva. I’ll ask someone to watch you while His Majesty is not here. Wouldn’t want you able to move.”
He walked away, pausing to speak to whoever was on duty outside. They ought to be my Swords, but Moshe had planted a seed of doubt even about Keka, and I didn’t know who I could trust anymore.
As Leo’s footsteps faded away along the passage, someone entered. I tensed aching muscles and refused to look up, not even when boots stopped before me, the red bands around their ankles very familiar.
Keka. Ever silent now, though I could still remember the sound of his laugh barking into the wind as we rode out on hunts. It felt like a lifetime ago.
“How long?” I said, quiet enough not to be heard from the door. “How long have you hated me? Since I chose to follow Gideon? Since I could not stop the Chiltaens cutting out your tongue? Since we were exiled? Or from the moment I was named captain instead of you?”
The question hung in the musty air.
“You could have challenged me. You can’t have been afraid you wouldn’t win.”
Still no reply, not even a grunt, and I could not look up—would not.
“I’m sorry I failed you, my friend.” I could not keep the catch from my voice, for whatever he might have incited, whatever had happened in that clearing near the deserter camp, I had loved him like a brother.
Keka moved and I tensed already tense muscles as he bent one knee after the other, settling on the matting before me just out of reach. And there he stayed kneeling with me, palms up in a silent gesture of apology. Words that had come so easily before failed me, and I blinked back tears.
Neither of us made a sound for what felt like hours to my long-suffering knees but could only have been one at most. The guards did not change, and from outside came no sound but the ever-present hubbub of activity in the yard, none of it as loud or present as every inhale and exhale of Keka’s breath. I could have wished to remain so forever, but time doesn’t work like that. The longer away you wish something the faster it comes, and all too soon footsteps thundered along the hallway, all quick, purposeful strides heralding trouble.
“Go,” I said, and looked up, the urge so great I could not fight it. “Don’t be found like this.”
I had seen those dark eyes laugh, had seen them scowl and smile and wince and widen in fear, but never had I seen tears pouring from them, never had I seen his shoulders shake or his mouth open slack in silent distress. As the footsteps drew closer, he held out both hands, palms up, and uttered the first attempt at speech he had made since the Chiltaens had taken his tongue. The words were not clearly enunciated, and yet their meaning was as clear as that of his gesture.
“Sorry? What have you done, Keka?” I said, voice trembling. All this time I had thought he was apologising for turning some of my Swords against me, not for something I had not yet seen. “What have you done?”
He repeated the mangled apology and got to his feet as a torrent of footsteps entered the room, carried on a tide of strange voices. A Kisian soldier gripped my upper arm, digging in his fingers as I fought to remain kneeling.
“I have not been released and cannot move,” I said as another took the other arm. “Let me go! Where is Emperor Gideon?”
“Waiting for you outside, of course,” came a voice from the door. “You are needed at once.”
“Why?” I demanded, not meeting Leo’s gaze as I was hauled up lest he read the fear in my mind.
“For the ceremony.” Leo smiled and gestured to the dim sunlight seeping in through the nearest window. “The weather is fine, Levanti and Kisians alike have gathered, and we cannot keep His Majesty waiting, now, can we.”
Having been set unceremoniously on my feet by grasping hands, my gaze slid to the back of Keka’s turned head. I bit his name from my tongue. A plea would achieve nothing beyond my own embarrassment. If execution was to be my reward, I would die proud and unbreaking. I had retained enough Levanti for that, pride and honour etched upon my bones.
Leo’s smile stretched, though to call it a smile was unfair to sickening sneers. “Ah, there we go, the great Levanti martyrdom. It truly is impressive that you’ve made a culture out of suffering.” He laughed at his own wit, and when I made no reply, spoke in Kisian and gestured to the soldiers. The grips upon my arms loosened. One spoke a question, and with his travesty of a smile not leaving his face, Leo nodded. The soldiers let go and stepped back.
“Better,” he said in Levanti. “Now we walk. You will walk on your own, won’t you, Dishiva?”
For the barest second our eyes met and I tore my gaze away with a jolt of panic. Don’t think about her. Don’t think about her. Don’t think about her.
“Yes,” I said, rolling my shoulders and straightening my back. “I will not be dragged like an animal.”
Like an honour guard, a few soldiers went before me while others remained, their confused looks flicking Leo’s way. He waited for me to move with enough patience to shame a drying riverbed.
There was nothing to do but follow the guards with what pride I could gather, my stomach empty and my heart heavy. Massama stood guard outside, and in the moment I passed she sucked in a breath to speak, her hand twitching, only to leave me walking alone.
I had lost track of time while kneeling. Night had come and been chased away by morning. Now, thick cloud obscured most of the sunlight.
“There is, I’m afraid, no time for you to bathe,” Leo said, walking alongside me down the narrow passage ribbed with thick beams. “But fresh clothes are waiting.”
I wanted to ask who needed fresh clothes to die, but would give him no such satisfaction. Not for the first time I hoped I was right and he needed eye contact to read my thoughts.
Don’t think about her. Don’t think about her. Don’t think about her.
“You will have to change quickly, however. We have kept His Majesty waiting.”
I bit my lip, the pain making it easier to keep my tongue behind my teeth. He smiled anyway, radiant smugness louder than words.
The guards marched ahead along the passage and down the stairs, turning into a small room off the main hall, across from the open doors where an impatient hubbub of voices wafted in on damp air. “It looks like your fresh clothes are still on their way, so you get a moment to wash after all. Fortunate, really, given how… pungent you smell.”
The little room was empty of all but a pair of candles and a basin of steaming water. There had been no time to wash since I had returned to Kogahaera, and the blood and mud and filth of all that had happened since Jass and I had carried Leo broken and bound through the caves was still stuck to me, each a memory I wished I could wash away. Yet I hesitated.
Beside the open door, Leo went on smiling. At my back the Kisian soldiers stood shoulder to shoulder. There was no escape.
“You don’t have to wash, of course,” Leo said. “But you will have to change clothes. I assume you would rather take care of that yourself than have many helping hands.”
I gritted my teeth. “If you, or any of them, touch me, I will take as many of you with me as I can.”
“So dramatic,” he crooned. “You almost make me want to try it just for the sport. Unlike you, however, I am capable of delaying satisfaction for much greater gratification later. So do, please, wash and change before we are summoned by His Majesty.”
I distrusted his we. I distrusted everything about him, but it was stupid to stand there and risk his mood turning.
With my head high, I stepped inside, firmly closing the door behind me. As fast as I could, I st
ripped off my filthy, blood-crusted armour and my stained underclothes, all of it stinking of sweat and mud and horse. Underneath it my body was surprisingly clean, but I was glad to whisk a damp cloth over my skin to wake myself up.
The door opened as I wiped my feet, and I spun ready to punch the intruder only to draw up short at a maid’s squeal. She dropped a pile of clothes and dashed back out, leaving nothing but a small gust of wind making the candle flames dance.
As clean as I could hope to get without exposing myself more, I picked up the clothes. A fresh under-tunic and some tight Chiltaen leg coverings, plain armour, and… A white sash and mask fell softly to the floor and lay turning gold in the candlelight. I stared, sure I could feel Leo’s smile radiating through the closed door. He was out there waiting for me to object, to refuse, to give him the satisfaction of forcing them upon me. All to humiliate me before death like a cat playing with a mouse.
In silence I dressed, disliking the strange fabric and the unfamiliar cut of clothes made for someone smaller and thinner than I. At least it would soon be over. A deep part of my mind rebelled, shouting this could not be the end, I would not die like this, not here, not now, not ever on the whim of an evil so insidious it refused to die. I tried to calm the rage with mantras as I dressed, time stretching thin between the flickering candles.
The tap came as gentle as the beat of bird wings, but his voice was hard with malicious humour. “Time’s up, Dishiva.”
The door swung in, sending dim daylight pouring into what had become my little sanctuary. It fell upon the mask and the sash on the floor, and Leo showed his teeth. “Ah, of course, you don’t know how to wear them properly; foolish of me to forget you were not born one of us. No matter, we will soon fix that.”
I had expected a very different reply, and looked up. I met his gaze only for a moment, a moment that jolted me back against the wall. The candle fell, hissing into darkness and leaving Leo lit from behind, godlike.
