by Devin Madson
I didn’t immediately crack the seal on the letter, but stood holding it alone in the centre of my tent, unsure what I most wanted and feared it to say. Was it a reply from Emperor Gideon? The same Emperor Gideon Rah had gone to save? It seemed unlikely, but then who? Sichi? Edo? I had no idea who was in Kogahaera with the false emperor’s court, and able to put it off no longer, I broke the seal. Red wax flaked onto the floor as I unrolled the letter.
Dearest Koko, it began, and heart constricting, I looked to the bottom to see Sichi’s name signed in flowing black ink.
Dearest Koko, I read again. You must forgive the presumption of our former friendship, for I write to you in desperation and wish you to remember what we once were to each other. I feel neither of us was entirely honest that last morning in the bathhouse, but I know you and I have always shared a will to survive and prosper, and I beg that you will not hold my choices against me.
Emperor Gideon is lost to us. I believe he has been for some time, but the situation is precarious and no one dares challenge the power Dom Villius has acquired here. I fear to say more, and can only beg your help. Were you to march to our gates in peace, there is not one Kisian or Levanti present within these walls who would fight you, but the Chiltaens could well make an end of us first. We have lost so much as an empire, lost so much as individuals, as families, and the Levanti here doubly so. And thus I write to beg you to stand with us. To fight with us. To stand side by side, Kisian with Kisian, Levanti with Levanti (for I know you march with many) against the enemy that has most harmed us both.
I pray. Your ever-affectionate friend, Sichi.
I stared at the page, the words seeming to reverberate on and on in my head like the ringing of a dozen gongs, drawing forth memories. Of Tanaka. Of Edo. Of Sichi. Of a simple time when we had only dreamed of a future, not had to fight for it. Much easier to dream, to claim ideals, to believe I could do it better without ever being tested, but to be the one standing up and making decisions was not an enviable position. Sometimes there was no right decision, sometimes we made the wrong call, or could only see the wise path in the painful glare of hindsight and would have to carry our wrongs with us forever. Already I carried the souls of so many, and I had only to close my eyes to see the slaughtered people of Syan lying dead in the road beneath my horse’s hooves because I hadn’t had the right words, because I had been the wrong leader, because I had let my righteousness overtake my judgement.
And now Sichi begged for my help. Not only for herself, but for all the people who had, for one reason or another, ended up at the Levanti court in Kogahaera. My righteous self might say they deserved it for their poor choice, for allying themselves with a false leader, but how could I blame them? I had failed my people at Risian, but long before that Emperor Kin had failed the north of his empire by giving in to hate and anger and hurt. In truth, their defection, even Grace Bahain’s plans, had nothing to do with me and everything to do with the legacy two people had left the empire with their pain.
I began to pace, the scroll clutched in my hand. Rah would do what was right, even if he hated it. He did not grumble or complain, did not even seem to weigh his options, just saw the right path and took it no matter how dangerous. I had not Rah’s sight, but one path before me could protect innocent Kisians, could save Kogahaera and Sichi, while the other was the surer path to conquest. To success. To the reclaiming of the empire no matter how many of its people lay dead in payment.
I didn’t need Rah’s sight to know which was the right way.
I stuck my head out through the tent flap, shocking the guards. “Your Majesty! My apologies, we—”
“No time. I need the council recalled. Now.”
None of them needed to be dragged from their mats, but fatigue was present in every face and we had to wait while General Mihri dressed. Though I had not specifically requested her, Whisperer Ezma was present once again and was, without Rah, the sole Levanti representative.
“What is this about?” Minister Manshin demanded in a low voice, bending down beside me instead of taking his place at the table.
The question had been on everyone’s lips, but he was the only one to demand the answer before deigning to join us. A man expecting to have to talk me out of a poor plan. After Syan, I could hardly blame him, but so public a display of his failing trust was too much.
“I shall inform the council of my purpose as soon as everyone is ready,” I said, more bite in the words than I’d intended.
He straightened. “Your Majesty.”
His place was on my left, and while he knelt, Minister Oyamada shifted his weight to my right. He had done a good job getting the majority of my army here and setting up camp, in keeping an eye on the Chiltaens as well as the Levanti court, but with Manshin’s arrival he had been relegated back to a position of little importance. At a traditional court in Mei’lian, he would have had hundreds of secretaries and administrators answering to him as he oversaw everything from supplies to trade to laws, but here he was just in Minister Manshin’s way. The army had been his sole domain too long.
“We cannot wait until the Chiltaens have attacked Kogahaera,” I said, taking courage in blurting my stance as General Moto was wont to do. “Information from within the city says Gideon e’Torin is no longer emperor and the Kisians who were once his allies will surrender to us. So long as they aren’t all slaughtered by Chiltaens first. If we wait, far too many Kisians will die, and that I cannot allow.”
In the moment of silent consideration that met this I knew they were all thinking of the disaster at Syan.
“Might we ask where this information has come from?” General Mihri said, not with disbelief but not totally without it either.
“It came in a letter. From Lady Sichi Manshin.”
Eyes flicked my minister’s way, but it was Mihri again who said, “Who has reason to be on the Levanti’s side given her marriage to their emperor. With all due respect to His Excellency, I would not trust her word on so risky a change of plan. To attack the Chiltaens before they move on Kogahaera would be a dangerous move.”
“Then let us attack them while they are attacking Kogahaera,” I said.
“And risk facing the full Chiltaen force on our own if those in Kogahaera sit back and leave us to it,” General Moto grumbled.
“Is it true that Captain e’Torin has left us?” General Mihri interrupted abruptly.
Of course the news had gotten around. He could hardly have departed without being seen by the soldiers on watch. I could tell them what I understood of his purpose, allay their fears, but to do so would be a betrayal of trust.
“He has,” Minister Manshin replied, and I wondered who had told him and what he knew. He might well be glad of it, of the removal—temporary though it might be—of a man he saw as a danger to the empire’s future. To me.
“Well, the desertion of Rah e’Torin, on the eve of battle against Gideon e’Torin, only strengthens my dismay that we are trusting the Levanti”—he looked at Ezma—“to leave in search of more of their own people. I do not trust their intentions any more than I trust Lady Sichi’s account of the false emperor. My apologies to you, Minister, but if ever there was a time for honest speaking it is now.”
“An apology to the minister, but not to the Levanti leader whose honour you just impugned?” General Yass said, his voice deceptively cool. “I see now how it took Kisia so long to accept us as anything more than barbarians to be rid of.”
General Alon murmured agreement beside him, and a prickly discomfort spread through the tent that had nothing to do with the proposed change of plan. Our history with the various mountain tribes was bloody and unpleasant, I knew, but I was less familiar with that of their inclusion in the ranks of our army. All too well could I imagine these same men speaking such worries about allying themselves with warriors from the mountains. As an empire, we seemed to identify ourselves by who was most hated, who was least like us, even if the answer was sometimes other Kisians. Damn northerner
s. Petty southerners. I’d long wanted to heal our internal divisions, but it was Kisia’s relationship with the people around us as much as with each other that needed to be restored.
“I hardly feel it is of value to discuss such things at present, General Yass,” Mihri said. “Whatever our past, it is the Levanti we are speaking of now.”
“The Levanti with whom I have much sympathy. It seems every great nation has a use for the blood of our warriors, but request respect and fairness in return and we are told we ought to have been grateful we were allowed to die for you in the first place.” He looked at me, a deep, old anger hot in his eyes. “As General Mihri wished to make it known he is against our alliance with the Levanti, I wish it to be known that I am for maintaining this alliance, Your Majesty. And that I honour you for respecting them and their autonomy in the face of such opposition.”
He settled his hands in front of him and looked in turn at each of the others around the table. He had finished speaking but had not finished fighting, his challenge asked of every one of us. Ezma showed no sign she had been listening, but General Yass had not spoken for her as much as for his own people.
Minister Manshin broke the tension. “No matter how we feel about a Levanti alliance,” he said, the way he said the word Levanti making it clear how he felt, “it is folly to even consider going into battle against two armies when neither is focussed on us at present.”
Folly. I turned and Manshin met my stare without a blink. “I made the wrong choice in Syan, and it led to too many innocent deaths,” I said. “I will not make that mistake again. And yes, even Kisians who chose to ally themselves with a false Levanti emperor are still Kisians. We cannot let more of our people die at the hands of Chiltaens. We cannot let yet another city fall. They will not be expecting us to attack. They will be expecting us to sit back and wait. That is in our favour.”
“Speaking of the happenings at Syan, you must also consider what it will look like to anyone wishing to discredit you, Your Majesty,” he said. “The story of what happened is already getting around. Were people to see Empress Miko going from slaughtering innocent people to attacking one of her own cities, it would be difficult to ensure such a tale was not misconstrued.”
Stung, I demanded, “How could anyone mistake my purpose when it is the Chiltaens we are attacking, not the city?”
“Anything someone wants to use against you can be used against you, Your Majesty.”
I wished I could believe there was no threat in the words, but however calmly spoken, however much someone else might miss it, I had too often been the subject of his critical gaze of late to be hopeful.
Murmured agreement made its way around the table, and I could not shake the feeling they were closing ranks. I’d had the same sense of being trapped back in Mei’lian while Grace Bachita made his play for the throne, so easily did the men who held power on the council accept one of their own over someone who would actually fight for the empire, not only themselves. It was maddening to feel like the only one who could see how dark Kisia’s future looked if we did not change.
They had moved on to discussing when would be a good time to join the battle and how best to keep watch on its progress as though there was nothing more to say about my intention now Manshin had dismissed it. In that moment I realised I had not taken power. I had been granted it. Minister Manshin and Minister Gadokoi had looked me over, had considered how well I fit their plans and their vision, and whatever they had done in service of it had not been done for me. Even Manshin’s sacrifice at Mei’lian, however noble it had been, had not been without calculation.
The power they had granted me. The power these men had granted me at Achoi. Willing to let this little girl play her games while they got on with the real work. Except I hadn’t been pliable enough. Not meek enough.
I stood up, surprising the generals into silence. From her place at the far end of the table, Ezma smiled. Perhaps she knew how I felt.
“I thank my council for their advice,” I said. “But as empress of Kisia it is my decision that we march out to meet the Chiltaen force tomorrow rather than leave Kogahaera to fight alone. There will be no further discussion about this. Kisia’s army exists to protect Kisians, whatever the difficulty and whatever the cost. No—” I held up my hand. “I meant no further discussion when I said it, General Mihri. A more detailed plan will be forthcoming in the morning. In the meantime, I suggest you inform your soldiers and get some rest. You are all dismissed.”
Hesitation slowed their movements, eyes turning to Minister Manshin as though expecting him to contradict me, to speak over me, but whatever he might have wished to do, he was my minister, not my regent, and could only rise with the others and bow. General Mihri was the first to stalk out, while the two generals from the mountain tribes bowed with the greatest respect—such things must always be watched, Mama had said, for whatever words people might hold back behind their teeth, rare is the man who can lie with his whole body.
I had expected Minister Manshin to linger, to stay and argue the point until we were both equally tired of the other, but he departed along with the rest, leaving only General Ryoji and Whisperer Ezma in the tent. The whisperer had her hands caught behind her back in the way of one intent on remaining. “Whisperer? There is something you wish to say?”
“There is,” Ezma said. “But I will say it in private.” She glanced at General Ryoji and, when he didn’t immediately move, added, “If you fear designs on the empress’s life you’re looking in the wrong place.”
Her words made me as uneasy as Manshin’s capitulation, but I nodded dismissal to him. With a grimace and a bow he departed, leaving Ezma and me facing each other across the empty table.
“Well?”
She lifted her chin. “I have cause to call in the debt you owe me.”
I tensed, wishing I had still been kneeling so I could reach for my wine bowl. “Your request?”
“I want Gideon.”
“In what way do you mean?”
A tiny frown flitted across her face. “I mean that when he is captured tomorrow, his fate is given into my hands. As a horse whisperer, I am the only one who can decide upon justice when it affects multiple herds.”
I was glad I had not told the council where Rah had gone, but I wondered now, looking up into the stern lines of her face, if she already knew. If that was the reason for her request.
They’ve been friends a long time, Tor had said. Rah is always very honourable. He does what is right even if he hates it.
If only I knew what right here was. Her reasoning made sense, and if Gideon had harmed the Levanti then surely it would be good for all of them to have closure, to have the relief of seeing justice done. But Rah and Whisperer Ezma did not get along. Tor had explained as best he could, yet I wasn’t sure what to make of it, whether she was truly the danger he seemed to think her, or whether some objected to her as an unapologetic woman in a position of power.
“I am not sure that’s something I’m able to grant you,” I said. “I do not have Gideon e’Torin in my hands and may never have.”
“But if you did?” When I didn’t immediately answer, her eyes narrowed. “I hope I need not remind you that you stand in my debt. In Levanti debt. And if you wish us on the field with your army tomorrow that debt will increase. I do not take my people into battle for my own amusement. I do not let them die for the glory of others. If you want to keep Levanti allies, you must accept our ways and pay the requested price.”
“Is there not something else—?”
“Gideon e’Torin, or we will not fight for you again.” She drew herself up, towering over me. “Think about it carefully before you consider betraying me, Your Majesty. Your position means nothing to my people, but mine means everything.”
She awaited no reply, but turned and went out, leaving nothing but the flutter of the tent flap in her wake and a sick swirl in the pit of my stomach.
General Ryoji waited outside my tent, his lips a co
mpressed line of concern. “Your Majesty,” he said, a wary look at the guards on duty. “All is well?”
His way of asking what Whisperer Ezma had wanted, perhaps, but I wasn’t sure I could discuss her request even with him. Could there have been a worse time to examine the complications that came with my feelings for Rah?
“Indeed, General,” I said. “But there is something I wish to discuss with you, if you’ll step inside a moment.”
He bowed and followed me into the warm tent, its floor old matting, while its table and divan were well-crafted things from a fine residence. There were a number of comfortable cushions, but I could not sit. Could not rest. I paced back and forth, trying to gather my thoughts.
“General,” I said at last. “I know you were as much advisor to my mother as you were the head of her guard, so please, advise me now. You cannot have failed to see I am losing support. Not of the soldiers or even the Kisian people, though I will have to work hard to undo the damage I did at Syan, but—”
“You’re worried about General Moto?”
“Yes. And… and Minister Manshin, though I fear to say so. His dislike of the Levanti has set us at cross purposes.”
General Ryoji gestured to the divan. “May I?”
“Of course.”
He sat with a tired little groan of effort and said, “You may like to stalk up and down the floor while you think, but I have been on my feet all day and think better without a cramp in my calf.”
“That’s just because you’re old.”
Ryoji grinned. “Lucky for you that I am since I’d likely be significantly less wise if I wasn’t. Now, your council. Emperor Kin had many councillors over the years who did not agree with him or did not even like him and often said that inviting dissenting opinions was the best way to ensure good advice.”
“You think I’m overreacting?”
“No, because you aren’t Emperor Kin. Your mother once observed that what is true for men in our society is rarely true for women. People respect a man until he proves himself unworthy. Yet people won’t respect a woman until she proves herself worthy. You have the respect of General Yass and General Alon because as outsiders they suffer from the same prejudgement. They are barbarians, big, stupid men who need not be considered until they prove themselves otherwise. Same with the Levanti.”
