by Devin Madson
“Because right now, Defender, you and I both have the same enemy, and it’s not each other.”
“You could have left us to deal with him. Surely you would rather he break us than strengthen us.”
A smile twitched the secretary’s lips. “I enjoy the Levanti directness. You’re right. I wouldn’t care if him being a danger to you did not also make him a danger to us. Excuse my own directness when I say the Levanti empire is weak. The Kisian Empire is weak. And now thanks to you, we are weak. There has never been a better time for Leo to thrive.”
“Can I take from those words that you have no intention of attacking us despite our emperor’s refusal to sign a treaty with Chiltae?”
“The Nine are never unanimous about anything and often take actions that aren’t… agreed, even with a treaty. So as you can make no promises for your people, neither can I, but at this point enough of us feel it is Leo against whom we must fight.” He took a sip of his wine, followed by a larger mouthful. “You know he has command over a coalition of the Chiltaen army? Their commanders are intensely loyal to the church and followed his father, but we understand he has them now. They were last seen outside Koi. We had a commander in place who was not so keen on continued war, but… we have reason to believe he is no longer in command.”
His words chilled my blood. “Leo has an army?”
“It is not so much his as is led by a group of men more faithful to their god than to Chiltae. And it’s currently in Kisia somewhere. I wish I could tell you where.”
I wished I could believe he was being entirely honest, but between a natural scepticism and a visceral dislike of uniformed Chiltaen men, I couldn’t. It was all I could do to remind myself that the actions of one Chiltaen ought not condemn them all.
I eyed him across the carpeted space between us. “You didn’t expect us to agree to a treaty, did you?”
The secretary smiled, spreading his hands in a wry sort of acknowledgement. “If Dom Villius had let us make such an agreement, I would have wondered how he intended to turn it to his advantage. In truth, I’m surprised Emperor Gideon came to meet me at all. Or… was allowed to come meet me, perhaps I should say.”
“You know what he does.”
“I know enough.”
I twisted my fingers together and couldn’t meet his gaze. “We are only here because I and… others made great sacrifices to ensure we came. To not let Leo Villius destroy everything we have worked hard to build.”
The man’s pitying smile made me wish I had kept my mouth shut, made me wish I had not tried so hard to trust him, to think well of him, but he didn’t mock me.
“You are a credit to your herd, Defender Dishiva,” he said, the words sounding honest enough. “And I wish I could give you the assurance you came for, but all I can do is warn you of the dangers—”
“Which we already knew.”
“Which, for the most part, you already knew,” he admitted, not put out by my interruption. “And assure you that Chiltae wants him gone as much as you do and we will do all in our power to ensure it happens. Sadly, so little is in our power while he remains at a Levanti court deep within Kisia. Thus, I hand the problem over to you.”
“For which I cannot thank you.”
Secretary Aurus sat up. “I don’t expect your thanks. I can give you nothing but information. In that capacity, I intend to remain here at this camp some weeks should you require anything that could assist in the… speedy removal of our mutual problem.”
“Don’t attack us,” I said, standing to depart. “That is the only way you can help.”
He got to his feet as well, setting his wine glass down on a side table. “I can give my word on that for now, at least for all parts of our army we command. Most of which you destroyed.”
“I hope you don’t expect an apology after everything you did to us.”
I hadn’t meant to bring it up, but the anger always lived just beneath my skin, an ever-present heat I could not shake and didn’t want to. The rage gave me purpose, helped me feel alive and connected to my people.
“I do not,” he said, his sharpest tone so far. Satisfying to know we had left them their own anger to carry. “I do not feel there is anything left to say, so I will bid you goodnight, Defender, before anyone gets suspicious of our meeting.”
Stiffly courteous, we each thanked the other. A bow. A salute. And Nuru and I were back out in the chill night air. She bade me goodnight and I walked slowly in the direction of my tent. Although I had given Gideon’s a wide berth on the way over, it was late enough that Leo might well be asleep, so I risked the more direct route back. Keka was alone on duty outside, faint light dusting his feet.
I strode over, always more aware of the fabric over my face whenever I caught Levanti grimacing. Keka grimaced now, unable to meet my gaze.
“I’m going in to see Gideon,” I said, not a request or a question but a statement of fact. He could refuse, but I thought of the man who had knelt with me while I knelt, his palms open in silent apology, and it was that man who stepped aside for me now.
Inside, a single lantern burned on the table, throwing its light over Gideon sprawled upon the faded carpet. Foam spilled from his slack mouth, and in a heartbeat I was back in Kogahaera watching Matsimelar and Jass struggle to breathe. To live.
“Gideon!” I dropped beside him, heart in my throat. “Gideon!”
His eyes flickered and his back rose and fell so little beneath my hand I wouldn’t have felt it had I not been seeking a sign of life. Relief flared, only for every part of me to tense as Keka entered in a flurry of canvas. He stood a moment on the threshold, staring at Gideon, and the fear that he had done this faded at his blatant shock.
“He’s still breathing,” I said, getting a hand under his shoulder and levering him onto one side. “I’ll steady him here. Get your fingers down his throat. Now!”
Keka didn’t need telling twice. It was not a technique we learned as part of our training, but it needed little finesse, and as I had jammed desperate fingers down Jass’s throat, he thrust his into Gideon’s slack mouth, keeping his head tilted. Thankfully he did, for Gideon retched, spilling partly digested food and wine, bile, and foam out onto the carpet, narrowly missing our knees.
We held him steady until he had finished purging and his shoulders began to shake, his every indrawn breath a rattle that sent vibrations through his chest. And while he breathed, Keka and I breathed with him. I had been too shocked upon entering to consider the implications of finding Gideon in such a state, to even consider how long he might have been lying here slowly dying. That he’d been given a low dose of redcap was clear, as clear as the warning that next time he would not be so fortunate. That I was fast running out of warnings.
In silence, Keka and I cleaned Gideon up and got him to his sleeping mat, a rag doll of a man where our strong, proud leader had once been. I tried to tell myself it wasn’t my fault, that it was Leo’s doing, but losing Gideon wasn’t just gambling with one life, but with our whole future.
We left Gideon to sleep, stepping back through the canvas and into a cool, calm night that made a mockery of my hot skin and panicking thoughts. “No one can know,” I hissed, gripping Keka’s sleeve as he went back to his post. “That’s what Leo wants. To spread fear. To destabilise us and destroy our faith in our leaders.” I tightened my hold. “We can’t let him destroy us, Keka. We can’t. This isn’t for me. It’s for all of us. For the whole future of the Levanti people.”
14. CASSANDRA
I sat with my back to the side of the cart, rocking with it as it rolled along the rough track. Soldiers marched alongside, their footsteps barely audible above the storm of many. Drizzle fell on their helmets and dusted their shoulders, and it had dampened my clothes and my hair but had not dampened the unsettling warmth I felt watching Leo riding with them.
No one had ever needed me before. Not in the way of one needing care and protection like a child. But Leo did. He had broken again this morn
ing, the occasions he escaped their hold coming closer together, though he struggled to hold them off longer than a few minutes at a time. Minutes he sometimes used to talk. To explain. Or to sob like the broken creature he was. Before he was gone again. Back behind the faintly smiling mask.
He wore it now though no fabric covered his face. The faint, confident smile, knowing everything. Seeing everything. I longed to peel it away to let free the smothered man underneath so I could fix him. Could help.
Cassandra would have jeered at the very thought, never inclined to help anyone, to love or care or protect. I’d sometimes wondered if we were opposite forces somehow, her whole purpose to destroy, mine to protect and nurture. How different things might have been if I’d been stronger. If I’d understood what we were sooner.
Leo’s gaze was on me, and I turned away, fearing what they might read in my mind. Safer to look ahead at the soldiers. They stretched far ahead of me, a long dark trail across the landscape, broken up by carts and siege weapons, horses and banners and commanders in green and blue cloaks. I hadn’t asked where they were going. It didn’t matter.
I had a purpose now.
The jolting carried on into wakefulness as though I dragged the dream with me. I wondered muzzily if I was still asleep and tried to blink to check, finding my eyes crusted and sore. Only the sun-warmed wall against which I leant provided any comfort.
Hoofbeats grew louder, clacking on stone, only to soften again into the muted thuds of a horse upon grass, and I tried to open my aching eyes. Wind whipped into them, and the sun was too bright. I closed them again with a sharp gasp.
“You awake?”
The voice rumbled through my back. Captain Aeneas was behind me, and I realised he was the warmth against which I leaned.
“Yes,” I said, or tried to say. It came out a dried rasp like one of the empress’s failing corpse-skins. “Where are we?”
“I’m not sure yet. We’re heading east.”
East. I tried to recall where we had been that we were travelling east, and it took a few long minutes for the memories to return like a sluggish stream in high summer. The house. Leo. Septum screaming. I’d almost lost Empress Hana inside his skin.
“How are you feeling?”
A groan was all the answer I could give. The empress’s body was slowly waking, each part registering voluble complaints as it roused. There appeared to be stinging cuts upon one of our arms and another on our forehead, but most of the pain was deep inside our bones. It was the leaden weight of fatigue, like this damned disease was slowly eating us from the inside. Her beautiful, proud outer shell would be the last thing to go.
“Here.” Captain Aeneas pressed a water skin to my stomach and I managed to take it, realising he’d had his arms around me. Jolting. Reins. The captain behind me. We were riding. Foolish it had taken me so long to realise.
I tried to pull the stopper out of the water skin, but it was stuck too tightly.
“Here,” he said again, and lifted it to his mouth, yanking the stopper loose with his teeth before handing it back. “Drink your fill. I don’t need any and we’ll soon find more, I’m sure.”
The deep rumble of his voice seemed to surround me, comforting like a warm blanket I sorely needed. Despite the sunlight the air felt chilly, although the captain stank of sweat.
I lifted the water skin to my parched lips, but it took all the energy I possessed to keep it there, letting the water dribble into my mouth. It was hot and tasted unpleasant, like over-steeped tea. I was too thirsty to care and drank greedily, even the empress making no complaint when some spilled down my chin and neck and onto my clothes. She hadn’t spoken, but I could feel her there, hunkered down in the back of my mind like a wounded animal.
Are you all right? I said.
I had the feeling she nodded, as much as one can nod without a head to move. The images that had come back with her from Septum had been mangled and strange, loud things, his inner voice perpetually shouting, thoughts rendered in thick, scrawled strokes in his head. Not single lines, but every line of thought coloured over again and again in a mad rush to be heard.
Was it just loud?
She laughed, but it owned no humour. You have no idea what that word means.
I had thought that inside Kocho’s head too. Able to hear all the thoughts in the room as though everyone had been speaking. No wonder he’d spent his whole life trying not to hear them.
That’s exactly what it was like, but… worse. Oh, so much worse. I can’t even…
Her memories of it were there if I wanted to see them, too raw and fresh a wound for her to hide away, but… I shied from their brightness, their heat. Even my curiosity would take me no closer.
Wise woman.
I rested the half-empty water skin in my lap and let my head fall back against Captain Aeneas’s shoulder. Bright sunshine seared through my eyelids and I kept them closed, content for now to trust in where he was taking us. East. The Witchdoctor’s house had been as far west in Kisia as I had ever been, making east everywhere else in the empire.
I think I could have controlled the body eventually, Empress Hana said after a time jolting on with the gait of the horse. It was starting to feel more… natural. He fought back, but the shred of him in there is so weak.
Why did you scream?
I didn’t.
She had been winning. It must have frightened Leo. Frightened him enough to elicit the flickers of rage I could see as she turned the memories over in her mind. In our mind. It was beginning to feel more like one room owning two occupants than two rooms, and it ought to have frightened me more.
Don’t worry, Miss Marius, it’s a far greater loss for me than you, I feel. You are at least going up in the world.
I didn’t deign a reply.
“The man must kneel at the setting of the sun as he kneels at its rising, setting his knees and his feet and his hands upon the ground, along with his head and his heart.”
Leo held the book easily, its cracked spine upon one hand. We had stopped for the day, and outside the tent the soldiers were busy with soldiery things, but here, out of the wind and the drizzle, he sat on a pile of cushions and leaned toward the lantern.
“And with head and heart connected through the ground and the air and the flesh, through the breath of God in—”
It had felt like I was sinking into a hot bath, but at the sudden cessation a chill shivered from head to toe, and I woke from my pleasant stupor. With a gasp, Leo pressed his hand to his head, leaving the book to fall open upon the ground.
Outside, the sounds of the camp continued unabated while he breathed full, deep, shuddering breaths and let the air go in a burst, only to suck more in. It wasn’t the even rhythm of a man in pain, yet he kept his hand pressed to his head and hissed.
“Leo?”
“Read,” he said through gritted teeth.
“What?”
“Read! Please.” It was a desperate gasp, and he kicked the book toward me. He caught the corner, spinning it around, but it was all he had. Hands gripping his hair, he lay across the cushions and did not move again, the rise and fall of his chest all that proved life.
Seconds dragged by. Outside, the world went on.
“Please,” he said, little more than a whisper.
I reached for the book, half expecting him to lunge and snatch it from my hands the moment I touched it, but he let me pull it toward me.
It was a nice copy, its leather cover indented with gold leaf, but its corners were scuffed and some of the gold had flaked away, its spine rubbed smooth with the touch of many hands. I opened it to the devotional lessons he had been reading, still expecting him to lash out at any moment.
“The man must kneel at the setting of the sun as he kneels at its rising,” I read, hesitant though the words were well known to me. “Setting his knees and his feet and his hands upon the ground, along with his head and his heart.”
I read on, and he lay and listened and his breathing ea
sed.
“And with head and heart connected through the ground and the air and the flesh, through the breath of God…”
Grass tickled my face, and this time I felt more awake as I rose out of the dark sea of sleep. The droning voice remained. More distant. Not mine anymore, but the tone was the same and I rolled my head. Captain Aeneas knelt nearby, chanting his prayers. The sun was setting, lighting the sky in pink and orange.
“Do Kisians pray at specific times of the day?” I asked, to think of anything but the dream that wasn’t a dream, not because the answer interested me.
If you don’t care about the answer, we could talk about something else.
“Like how you came to marry Emperor Kin, despite the whole hidden upbringing on a farm thing?”
We pray whenever it is… seemly or convenient to pray.
“That’s a terrible answer.”
It’s honest. We have long assured our people their emperor is their god, which meant diminishing the importance of all the other gods to be beneath the emperor. People uphold old traditions out of habit now, but rarely have the faith that once went with it.
“But that means you worship a man. Men are not worth worshipping, you know.”
I know. Oh, trust me, I know.
“What about Katashi Otako? What was he like?”
Silence filled the joint space we shared in her head, but I could see flickers of a handsome man, his smile lopsided and a single dimple peeping mischievously beside it. Him sitting. Him riding. Him holding an enormous bow and hitting a target with three arrows, each one splitting the one before it. Oh, how he had laughed. How he had looked at me. How he had loved me.
My heart ached with a love I had never known. Never felt.
I made him a promise, that our son would sit on the throne when he was gone. And I failed. Tanaka was so like him. Whenever I was with him, I could almost believe my beloved Katashi walked again.
“You still have your daughter.”
