by Devin Madson
Minister Manshin said nothing as we crossed the courtyard, my guards falling in behind us. I couldn’t decide if I was more glad he sought no explanation or bothered by the judgement in his silence. All the way up the long castle stairs without a word, only to break the silence as we entered the main hall.
“You need to be more careful,” he said then. “It does your image no good to be seen… fraternising with a barbarian. You are Kisia’s empress, not a common whore.”
Had he said just the first part I could have agreed. I had been too open, too caught up in seeing Rah again to consider what it would look like going alone into the stables with him, but the second part brought my hackles up. “I have done nothing to make anyone think I have sold myself.”
“I am merely representing to you that your behaviour was far from virtuous or circumspect. You cannot risk rumours of a Levanti lover if you wish to stand against a Levanti emperor.”
My cheeks heated, and I was glad he had at least waited until we were inside to speak.
“I must most strongly counsel you to keep away from Rah e’Torin,” he added. “Even the barest whisper could destroy everything you are trying to achieve, and all of us in the process.”
Keep away from him. I had only just found him again. Only just had the joy of seeing him alive, of having the courage to kiss him and feel the strong grip of his arm around me. To give it all up now, to not even allow myself the experience of wanting someone who wanted me, wherever it might lead, made me want to throw all care to the wind and tell Manshin I would do whatever I liked whenever I liked. But I was not so mad. Not yet, though history was full of people who had done foolish things for love or desire.
“Thank you for the warning,” I said instead, and as frustrated as I was, I knew I ought to be grateful. Another man might have just let me fall into a mess of my own making and taken power out from beneath me rather than warn of the impending cliff.
We had reached the top of the main stairs, and he paused there to bow. “I am ever here to serve, Your Majesty. Now you must be careful how you handle Governor Koali,” he added as he walked on. “He is not only popular but clever and good at his job.”
“And loyal to the Bahains.”
“And loyal to the Bahains.”
We walked a few steps in silence, though nothing about Kiyoshio was ever silent. If it wasn’t the waves or the wind it was the echo of footsteps, of guards walking behind me everywhere I went, of servants scurrying or the distant moans of the injured. All of them mixed together now, stirred by the wind.
“Shall I remain with you, Your Majesty?”
“In case I say something foolish?”
“Rather to bolster your appearance of importance,” he said. “I am not no one, I believe. It will do well for your consequence to have me at your side.”
I shook my head. “Were I a man it would. As a woman it just makes it look like you are my keeper and I your mouthpiece. I will see him alone. Is there anything else you know about him that could be of use?”
We had almost reached the Cavern, its open arch allowing a distant view through the great room and out to the balcony and the grey sky beyond. “I’m afraid not. Without access to the archives…” He trailed off, and for a few steps I could not but think of all that knowledge going up in flames. How recklessly the false Levanti emperor had destroyed so much. “With the Bahains out of favour at court, few of their allies—”
I lifted a hand. We were too close to the Cavern to risk being overheard. “Thank you, Minister. I will take it from here.”
Having no imperial regalia, I had donned clean armour and a long crimson surcoat, and as much imperial bearing as I could carry.
I straightened my back and rolled my shoulders as I approached the open doorway, where a waiting servant bowed deeply. “Her Imperial Majesty Empress Miko Ts’ai, first of her name, Lord Protector of the Kisian Empire.”
I swept past him on the last words, entering the room with the hope I looked more assured than I felt and wishing, not for the first time, I had paid more heed to my mother’s lessons.
Two men rose from the table where a myriad of dishes had been decoratively laid. One man was tall and slim, long of fingers and face with eyelids that seemed too heavy to open all the way, while the other was stocky in the way of a farmer or a soldier, though he wore his double silk robe with the confidence of one bred to money. For a horrible moment I had no idea which one was Governor Koali. They both wore the same degree of finery, they both bowed to the same depth with the same whisper of my title, they stood side by side like equals, and yet only one could be the governor of Syan.
“Your Majesty,” the stocky one said as he rose from his bow. “It is quite an honour to meet you at last. We have heard so very much about you these last few weeks. It is most gratifying that rumours of your death were… premature.”
The words were spoken with sincerity, but it could have been a threat. There was no time to do more than wonder as he went inexorably on, carrying us forward like a river determined to reach the sea. “I am Tianto Koali, the governor of Syan, and this, if you will allow me to introduce you, Your Majesty, is my brother, Lord Ichiro Koali of Irin Ya, an estate gifted to him for special services to your father, our late emperor.”
Lord Koali bowed. “Your Majesty.”
They had brought no guards, no scribes, no servants, and despite the fear they ought to have felt upon the arrival of a new ruler, both settled themselves upon their cushions with every sign of comfort. Here were two men sure they could not be touched.
I closed my fingers into fists upon my knees as I knelt, keeping my anger in my hands so it would not spread to my face. “Lord Koali,” I said, lifting my chin. “Governor. I have also heard much about you, and I admit I have been curious to see for myself what sort of man manages to serve both the emperor and an out-of-favour duke without earning the ire of either.”
“With great tact and skill, Your Majesty. It is not difficult when you hold both men in respect.”
A maid poured tea while my hands clenched all the tighter. I could not decide whether the emphasis on men or respect most enraged me, but after one minute in the governor’s company I disliked him and needed him gone. Governor Koali turned his gaze to eye the maid as she worked, but his brother stared across the table at me, his heavy-lidded eyes meeting mine for a moment before slowly lowering down my body in a display of disrespect.
My fingernails dug into my palms, but I did not let my gaze shy away, forcing all embarrassment into anger as I waited for the maid to depart. With no door to close, her footsteps faded away along the passage. The stocky governor turned his gaze to me as his brother had. “Now what were we saying, Your Majesty?”
A disconcerting tactic I had seen Emperor Kin use too many times to be shaken, but his stare was enough to make me want to squirm away.
“Ah yes,” he said, seeming to remember. “We wanted to be sure you had heard the news. Grace Bahain is marching this way, and since that means you will not long be with us, we wished to see for ourselves this woman who calls herself an empress.”
It was not news, but the carefree, callous way he spoke filled me with renewed dread. I had not grown up fearing constant assassination attempts for nothing, however, and managed to say with quiet calm, “Need I remind you, that although you have taken no oaths, I am still your empress and you must show me the appropriate respect.”
“Oaths?” Governor Koali laughed. “This is all very amusing, but we have no intention of doing more than humouring you out of curiosity. Your mother was quite the beauty and ah… well known for spreading her favours. A wise course of action to take yourself if you wish to court the assistance and support of the powerful.”
They were untouchable and they knew it. They wanted to be sure I knew it too. Wanted to be sure I knew I was in their power, that they could turn the city of Syan against me the moment Bahain arrived outside the gate with his army if I did not play their game. If I did not let them
demean and embarrass me into my proper place as nothing but an upstart woman. No wonder my mother had chosen to rule from behind the screen rather than in front of it.
“You intend to bow and give your oath to a Levanti emperor?” I said, trying to keep my voice even despite the anger boiling through my body.
“Grace Bahain is our lord,” Lord Koali said. “We go where he leads. But surely you are not so averse to Levanti. We saw quite a number of them in the grounds on our way here.”
I wondered then if they knew about Grace Bahain’s plan to get rid of the Levanti and take the throne for himself. Would they have been so disrespectful if they knew he intended to marry me to further that end? Probably.
The tea was barely cool and I was already out of moves. I did not want to argue or plead, or even bribe them, I just wanted them gone. But like with Rah, I was not allowed to be an individual. I had to be an empress.
“What,” I said, drawing on my mother’s imperial demeanour, “do you want?”
Governor Koali’s brows went up. “In return for our loyalty? Nothing would make me throw my lot in with the losing side.”
“We will bow to you,” his brother added, tapping the slice of pear in his hand absently on the plate. “If and when Grace Bahain does so and not before. After all, he may be marching here with his army to bow to you for having been brave enough to take his castle when his back was turned.”
I could have found more sincerity in a common street swindler. I could have them arrested. Could have them executed. But it would only turn the whole city against me and make it all the easier for Bahain to win.
Governor Koali’s smile broadened. “Thinking of killing us like you killed Grace Bachita Ts’ai? Oh yes, we heard all about that. Go ahead if you think there are no others who would take our places. Others who would fight to ensure Grace Bahain’s castle does not long remain in… enemy hands.”
The emphasis on enemy ought to have angered me, but it gave me pause. Were they trying to rile me? Trying to make me lose my temper and lash out, giving them the moral high ground over an unstable woman? Perhaps they were even more dangerous than we had thought.
“We are done here,” I said, taking refuge in pride to keep my voice steady. “May you have no cause to regret today’s decision.”
Their smiles were foul. “Oh, I don’t think we will. Thank you for your hospitality, Highness. I do hope we will have cause to see each other again soon.”
There was nothing I could say, nothing I could do but sit like a statue and wait for them to leave while my thoughts swirled and my skin prickled hot. How dare they? How dare they? As though somehow having breasts made me worthy of dismissal and derision.
When General Moto walked in some time later, it was to find me scowling at the table, all the tea and food having long since gone cold and the guards become restless. He waved them out and they departed with grateful bows and low murmurs of “General.”
“Well?” he said when they were gone. “How did it go, Your Majesty?”
“Poorly. Governor Koali and his brother refused to bow to me unless Grace Bahain does so, and that was after telling me they only came to see me out of curiosity because the duke is marching here with every intent of absolutely not doing that and they would soon lose their opportunity of staring at my breasts.”
Moto’s eyes widened, and I had to laugh. “I seem to have been spending rather too much time with soldiers of late. Mother would be horrified. Except she’s probably dead.”
The anger and frustration I had been holding in burned up my throat and emerged on a sob, half rage, half misery, but there was no time to feel anything when hasty steps were approaching along the passage. Minister Manshin swept in looking grim. “Not a success, I understand. I will gather something of a council so we can discuss further plans.”
“Do,” I said. “But not yet. First I think it’s time to find out if we can count on the Levanti to fight for us.”
“You think it’s wise to trust them?” It was a simple question, but owned all too much unspoken censure.
“You did at Otobaru,” I said.
“I had little choice.”
“We have even less now.”
He conceded this with a grim nod.
“Have the refreshments replaced, then inform the Levanti horse whisperer I wish to see her.”
“Just the horse whisperer?” This time Minister Manshin did glance at General Moto, and I hoped he hadn’t told anyone what he’d witnessed in the stable.
“Yes, Minister. Just the horse whisperer. She is the closest thing they have to a leader right now.”
She kept me waiting, and when she finally appeared, she remained standing in the doorway, eyebrows lifted.
“Whisperer,” I said. “Come and have tea with me.”
Two maids knelt at the table, replacing the cold pot of tea and preparing to serve. I gestured for the whisperer to kneel, but she merely tilted her head.
“Do you understand my language?”
She tilted her head farther, a little smile creeping onto her lips.
Tightening my grip on my sleeves, I looked to one of the maids. “Fetch Tor e’Torin, the Levanti who speaks our language.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“As fast as you can. Quickly!”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
She bowed and hurried out amid a storm of clinking crockery, leaving the horse whisperer smiling in the doorway. Annoyance boiled inside me and I squeezed my hands to fists, forcing a smile as I gestured to the opposite cushion. The invitation was obvious, and the horse whisperer approached and knelt with a degree of composed strength that would have made my mother weep. Having settled and straightened her crown, she set her hands upon her knees and fixed me with a curious stare.
I maintained my smile though it felt like a rictus. She must have known we would need Tor yet had come without him. It was a bad sign. This tall, capable leader of a woman had no interest in talking to me, and I needed her.
While steam curled from the teapot between us, we smiled in silence. Until, slowly rising from the endless beating of the waves outside, came the rushed snap of sandals. The maid hurried in, all red cheeks and stray hairs. “Tor e’Torin, Your Majesty,” she said, the words a breathless gust as she bowed. Tor followed, slowing from his fast walk to a hesitant approach, his eyes darting from me to his horse whisperer and back.
“You sent for me, Your Majesty?”
“I did,” I said, gesturing to the end of the table. The second maid had been hovering and hurried forward with a third tea bowl and plate, her cheeks flushed with mortification as she poured for him, her hand trembling. My only consolation was that the Levanti had no idea how smoothly it ought to have transpired.
Once tea sat steaming before a wide-eyed Tor, the maids both retreated. I took up my bowl and breathed in the fragrant steam, letting it relax the tension in my shoulders before I once more faced the horse whisperer over the prettily set table. She had touched nothing. Had not moved.
“I’m not sure what the correct form of address for your horse whisperer is,” I said to Tor. “But please begin by thanking her for attending on me to discuss what is to happen.”
Tor nodded and translated into the throaty language they managed to make both compelling and poetic. She listened without shifting her gaze from my face, and I breathed another lungful of steam and tried to appear unconcerned.
Once he had finished, she spoke at last. I watched her face. To someone less used to life at court she might have looked impassive, but she had not been trained by a lifetime under watchful eyes. Her nose crinkled in the briefest flash of disdain, before her eyes widened a fraction and her nostrils flared. All tiny signs, but to me they meant a lot. Especially when Tor translated, “This conflict is not of our making.”
“Not of your making?” I tensed, tea bowl lifted. “You come to our lands and kill my people, you burn our cities and you tell me this is not of your making?”
Tor m
ay not have repeated my words with the same vehemence, but just as I had not failed to see her disdain, she cannot have failed to see my anger. I had never been as good as Mama at wearing the mask.
“We did not make war on you, the Chiltaens did,” he said when at length she answered, and while he spoke, a hard smile set on her lips. “Did we attack your city? No. I have been here ten years and have I, or any Levanti to have come and gone in that time, given you trouble? No.”
“Gideon—”
The horse whisperer leaned forward. “Gideon is not one of us,” she said in a snarl of Kisian. “He is herdless and unseen by God, as befits a traitor.”
“Not one of—?”
“Are you to be held responsible for every Kisian who does wrong? No. Are you expected to atone for their wrongs? No. Gideon was born one of us and has since chosen his own path. It ought not be required that all Levanti suffer for his mistakes.”
I set my tea bowl down, taking care with it so I might calm my annoyance. A deep breath made little difference. “I appreciate neither being interrupted nor lied to, Whisperer. My soldiers protected you at great risk. I have taken you into my castle at great risk. I ask to meet with you privately to avoid pressure being put upon you to bow before an empress you do not follow, and yet all I get is contempt and a deliberately provocative charade that has extended embarrassment even to one of your own.” I gestured at Tor, who had been staring at his whisperer with his mouth open since she spoke her first words in Kisian. “Unless you intend to disown him too.”
She did not flinch, but her smile became something more pugnacious. “You deserve no respect—”
“Men tell me that every day, because I am a woman. That you say so because I was not born of the same people as you is infinitely more sad.”
I could almost believe the wind and the waves fell silent, so completely did the room chill. No one moved. In their braziers, coals crackled and hissed.
Eventually the whisperer drew a breath. “What do you want?”
