Onto the early morning main road of Tokolas, already filling with carts and workers, as well as scribes heading to the palace. Basil and Sandun were just two men, travel stained, weary, nondescript, lost in a rising sea of humanity in one of the largest cities in Serica.
“In eight days we have traveled almost eight hundred miles,” Sandun said to Basil. “That’s like traveling from Fiodroch to Issedon in week.”
“Sho’Ash willing, that is a journey I hope never to repeat,” Basil said.
They passed Doctor Haz’s office, and it was shuttered. They passed the south gate of the palace and turned onto the street of the embassy. Leaving their horses with the soldiers at the door, they rushed in and were met by Scribe Vellen.
“Good news! Most of the afflicted look to recover. Only a few succumbed to the poison before the medicine arrived.”
Basil went immediately to the large hall. Sandun asked Vellen, “Who died?”
“A man from the Tea Hills and the woman from Gipu. And Valo Peli’s wife is still in considerable danger.” Vellen, seeing Sandun’s reaction, tried to reassure him. “Your Kelten companions will all recover. Opmi Ako was able to walk about for a few minutes yesterday.”
Sandun was a numb, dumb block of wood. “Where is she? Where is Ashala?” His voice sounded weirdly rough in his ears.
Realizing he had missed the connection between Sandun and the Gipu woman, Vellen stammered, “I apologize, Opmi Sandun. I did not know…”
In a moment, Doctor Haz appeared. With a look of professional concern, he gently asked Sandun to follow him. Sandun followed the physician down the stairs to one of the basement store rooms. The room had been cleared except for two bodies wrapped in white sheets. A bowl with burnt incense sticks had filled the air with scent; one stick was still fitfully smoking. Outside the room, a man dressed in the robe of a priest of Eston was muttering the words of a chant, a low drone of sound.
Doctor Haz entered the room first and uncovered Ashala’s face. She looked peaceful but gaunt; the week of the sleeping poison had not been kind to her.
“She died shortly before the medicine arrived, as did Valo Peli’s cousin. For a time, I feared all the sleepers would pass away. The medicine from the Great Sage Temple was greeted with joy on my part. Everyone here owes you an unpayable debt of gratitude.”
Sandun knelt down and touched Ashala’s face. She was as cold as the bricks he knelt on. His heart was twisted inside, but there was nothing to say.
Haz attempted to fill the painful silence. “I suspect that the child placed a greater strain on her body. Doctor Evgeny disagrees and thinks it was a higher dosage of the poison.”
Sandun said slowly, “She was with child?”
“You did not know? I am sorry; I assumed she had told you. She would have known. She was two months in, perhaps a bit more. Some women are irregular in their bleeding but…I’ll leave you now. I am very, very sorry for your loss.”
An hour passed. Sandun’s thoughts were a mass of confusion and formless, shifting waves of memory and sorrow. His knees ached, but he felt paralyzed, unable to do anything more than breathe. Basil came in and put his hand on Sandun’s shoulder.
“I heard. Olef is alive, awake. Niksol is well. And your woman is dead. As the priests tell us, Sho’Ash and Naktam struggle. The battle continues till the final day.” He paused, and then he spoke to Ashala’s body.
“I liked you, Ashala. You had a good heart. You never said a word against anyone. I don’t understand your people of Gipu, but I liked you, and I will miss you. May Sho’Ash guide your spirit.”
Basil turned and walked out the door. From outside the room, he said, “Sir Ako and Valo Peli are awake and would like to see you. There is food upstairs. Come and join us.”
Sandun replied in a carefully controlled voice, “I will, shortly. Thank you, Basil.” There was only an empty room. A small lamp flickered near the ceiling, but the room was empty.
Chapter Three
News from the Eight Roads
Russu Ti Tuomi woke up and looked up at ceiling. Her body ached, and she felt as weak as a newborn kitten, but all in all, this was an improvement over the previous days since the poisoning. It was going to be a warm day, just like the weather back home in the summer. She considered venturing downstairs and getting something to drink, like tea or perhaps boiled water with some crushed lemons, a drink that was unknown in Rakeved.
She put on a simple pale-green dress over white pants and then slowly made her way down the stairs to the dining room. Valo Peli’s clansmen served her some tea. They looked rather like the people from Murkathaz, which was a bit scary, but they smiled often, and they spoke Serice quite well when they weren’t talking to themselves in their strange native tongue.
She took a small white-flour dumpling to nibble on and went to the courtyard. Her lover, Ako, came over to her with his blunted training sword in hand and kissed her. She liked that; it felt so very naughty and thrilling at the same time. He was sweating already from his morning exercises. She knew that he was pushing himself, though he had recovered faster than anyone from the poison. To her eyes, he looked a bit unsteady, and his sword swings lacked finesse.
After she’d eaten about half of the dumpling, her stomach went into revolt, and she had to go back upstairs to her room and lie down.
She concentrated on breathing deeply and evenly, as she had been taught several years ago by the royal physician when she had become ill from eating some spoiled shellfish.
She heard what sounded like her auntie’s voice coming from outside. She smiled, thinking it was just a fancy or some trick of her memory. But there it was again, and louder.
“Where is my niece, Princess Tuomi?” That was unquestionably a Rakeved accent, and then, like a dream turned shockingly real, Aunt Vonmi was standing at her door, wearing a beautiful embroidered rose dress and holding a parasol in her right hand.
“Auntie!” Russu felt a flood of emotions and, expectedly, she started to cry. Aunt Vonmi was her mother’s younger sister and the real star of the family. Like a miniature whirlwind, she was doing or plotting twenty things a day. With no children of her own from her mouselike husband, she lavished a good deal of attention on Tuomi and her other nieces, educating them on the finer points of life in the court. “You came all the way from Velochaken? But why?”
“Let me look at you, Sister-Daughter.” Vonmi examined Tuomi’s face and eyes and bent down to listen to her heart.
“For a girl who is supposed to be at death’s door, you look like you are ready for a day at the oceanside. You don’t know how worried I was when I heard the news in Hutinin that you had been poisoned. Not that I mind visiting Serica, but with the bandits and the washed-out roads, it really would have been quite the embarrassment to have come all the way from the capital just to find you dead and buried.” Then Vonmi said matter-of-factly, “I’m here to take you home, Russu. You have been away far too long, and we all miss you, especially your mother.”
Russu had half-expected Aunt Vonmi to say this, but even so, hearing it was different from just imagining the words. To leave Tokolas, to leave Ako? She felt her heart twisting inside her like a piece of onion frying in oil.
She burst into tears again and said, “But I can’t leave.”
“Well, not right now—obviously. When you are quite recovered, we will go. I have no desire to go back before I have rested here at least a month. Unless another army from Vasvar or Dombovar or Daka attacks this city, as I am not staying here for a siege. Serica’s food isn’t that good.”
“But I don’t want to go back to Velochaken. I mean, I do, but not now.” Russu’s mind was filled with thoughts and schemes and half-formed arguments. There had been no hint, no warning that anyone from the palace, much less her favorite aunt, would come to get her. Life had been wonderful these last two months—except for being poisoned, of course. But t
he assassination attempts—two!—and the battle for the city. It was all so very exciting. And sharing a bed with the bravest and most handsome warrior in the land, a real opmi from Kelten, it was just like…well, it was like the best story she had ever read.
Auntie Vonmi looked at her with a faint smile. A rather knowing smile, Russu thought.
“Darling Russu. Your uncle Atos is Rakeved’s unofficial agent here in Tokolas. He has been sending reports back to Velochaken ever since the trails through Nakata’an became passable once the winter rains subsided. Most of the messengers knew me by sight or by reputation, and so I was able to read the reports as I came north.” She paused and said, “I know what’s been going on. Here. With you and that rather imposing warrior I saw outside.”
Russu flushed; she felt exposed, as though all her secrets were laid out before her imperious auntie. She pulled the blanket up to her chin. She could think of nothing to say.
Her aunt smiled and patted her hand. “Your auntie may seem old and staid, but I know a thing or two about young women and dangerous soldiers in a time of war.” She sighed and looked away, out the window. “I was even younger than you are now. The Kitran were raiding, again, and the capital was under threat. There was a captain of a city tower; he was so brave and handsome. I came to see him every day. One thing led to another.”
She turned her gaze on Russu. “He did not survive the battle outside Velochaken, though our army won the day.” She added softly, “I have never forgotten him.” Aunt Vonmi folded up that memory and put it aside. “But I am a princess, as are you, and who does a princess marry?”
Russu said, quietly, the words she had heard every week growing up. “A princess marries the man the king chooses for her.”
“That’s right, my sweetling. You cannot stay here, though Eston sees we have troubles enough back home. The Murkathaz have been raiding across the border, and the Kagaya have been attacking our coast. Just before I left, my husband’s cousin was killed in a battle with a boatload of Kagaya sea thieves not fifty miles from Velochaken.” Aunt Vonmi shook her head. “This is a time of troubles, no denying it.”
Finally, Russu mastered her emotions and raised an argument. “Auntie, I’m not needed in the capital. There are 160 women at my rank. I can just stay here, ignored, like I have been since Father died.”
Vonmi looked away. “I…it may have looked that way to you, but there were many people in the court who knew you were here. But there were…complications. Your father, may Eston hold his spirit, was not acting on anyone’s orders. Since he left, there have been changes, and now the court has—unofficially—sided with the Iron King in Dombovar. Not that we are sending an army north to fight for him, but our allies in the court view Naduva as the future capital of Serica.”
Vonmi took Russu’s hand in hers and looked her in the eye. “If the Lord of Tokolas took you into his circle of flowers, this would be very bad for our side of the family. You have no idea how nasty the infighting has become these days. We would be hurt; we would lose influence.”
“But, Auntie, they tried to kill me! That’s why I’m here with the Keltens.” Russu sat up straight and ran her fingers through her hair. “Opmi Ako saved my life, when my own people tried to murder me on the streets like I was a common thief. Now you want me to forget all that and go home?”
“I know, dear Russu. I came here with my most loyal retainers. Once you are out of Kunhalvar, you will no longer be a threat to anyone. Back in Velochaken, you should be safe, and we—I mean, King Galmari—will find you a nice, distant relative to marry, and this whole affair will be just a pleasant memory for you to reminisce upon in future years.”
Russu again felt her heart knot up inside her. Everything her aunt said made sense, but she said, “No, I’m not going, and you can’t make me.”
Aunt Vonmi laughed sardonically. “I didn’t come three thousand tik with mere words, young lady. I have an official demand from Galmari to the lord of Tokolas to place you under my care. You think a Serice governor is going to risk a diplomatic breach with the kingdom of Rakeved just so you can continue acting like a slut for some barbarian warrior? Don’t make me use the letter, or you will be married to a man from the very bottom of the rice pot. Trust me, that is not a pleasant life. No, you will be coming back to Velochaken: quietly, meekly, and without complaint.”
Russu had never seen her aunt so angry, though she barely raised her voice even as she was pouring out the venom.
“If you want to cast yourself off the walls like one of the Altovo sisters, you have my permission to do that instead. I will miss you but, as you say, there are 160 princesses in Rakeved. But you cannot remain here in Tokolas.”
Aunt Vonmi stood and walked to the door. Then she turned and allowed a hint of concern to crease her eyes. “Russu, I’m going to leave you here till you recover. I don’t entirely trust the men of Atos Vepsailin’s household staff, and Eston knows these Keltens have gone to some trouble to keep you alive. We will leave in a month. Count the days…and nights.” She said this last with a bit of a smile.
After Aunt Vonmi left, Opmi Ako came up to see her. He stood filling the door, his straw-colored hair lank with perspiration. “A relative? She looked a bit like you, only older.”
Russu nodded. She didn’t trust herself to speak just yet.
“Trouble at home? Something I need look at?”
Russu smiled; the way Ako spoke Serice made her laugh sometimes. It was so very different from the flaws Rakeved people made when they spoke Serice. He was different. He would never understand her situation, and so it was best if he did not know. She decided she would just put a brave face on and pretend as though nothing had changed. One day she would just say good-bye and walk out the door and never return.
She wasn’t going to kill herself. That would be silly. She was just going to have to live with a broken heart for the rest of her life. These next few weeks were going to be very poignant, very emotional.
Russu said, “Why don’t you close the door, and you can feed me some of the apples there beside the window.”
Ako looked at her and smiled. “I suppose the princess would like something to drink also?”
“Yes, very much.”
Ako closed the door, and within a few minutes all their clothing was on the floor.
The next day, while he was leading the men in exercises, Sir Ako heard a familiar voice taking to the gate guards outside the embassy.
Their gate warden responded, saying, “Go on with you. The Opmi of Kelten don’t need the junk you are selling.”
“And I’m telling you that the Keltens do wish to speak with me. Tell them Rogge the merchant wishes a few words, nothing more. You will then see there is no lie here, only iron.”
It was Rogge, all right; Sir Ako held up his hand and stopped the combat practice. The Keltens put their weapons in the rack and went to drink the warm tea sitting in the sun. Sir Ako opened the gate to find Rogge standing beside his mule, looking fit and hale—a far cry from what he’d looked like after the battle of Wheat Town, half a year ago. A younger man who Sir Ako did not recognize was standing beside him; they looked related.
Sir Ako invited the merchants inside. Rogge introduced the young man as his sister’s son. “Already a merchant of worth, a leader of two successful caravans to Fantu’veri.” The young man nodded briefly and bowed; he introduced himself as Evet. Despite his youth, he looked very serious and alert, looking all around with quick glances.
The other Keltens came over to greet Rogge, but after a quarter of an hour it was just Sir Ako and Rogge and Evet in the hall, sipping tea.
“I saw the heads of the poisoners hanging beside the western gate, and that is how I learned somewhat of your recent troubles in Tokolas,” Rogge said with admiration on his face. “That was a sizable conspiracy intending your deaths, and such a poison as well! Your deeds have become the subject of
many stories throughout Kunhalvar and beyond, but you have sufficient enemies that I thought it imprudent to discuss our association, lest weapons aimed at you should strike me. Again.”
“You are looking none the worse, Merchant Rogge,” said Sir Ako. “A few pounds lost doubtless makes the animals you ride happier. But, yes, we have made enemies. The conspirators confessed that they were hired by Nilin Ulim, which makes this his second attempt to kill us. Altogether we have been attacked three times by the Kitran Empire; it appears they like us not. But we will have our turn at play—make no mistake about that!”
“Lord Ulim is a dangerous enemy, no doubt,” Rogge mused. “But I question if you Keltens were truly the targets of both his attacks. Why would the empire spend many thousands of silver just to wreak havoc on you? If you were the scouts for an army coming out of Kelten, such an effort might be worthwhile, but that notion defies all sense. Squandering a cartload of silver to remove you foreigners from the chess board of Serica is like trading corn for tea by weight alone! All the merchants I talk to say that Nilin Ulim is a strong leader who spends his silver only on war. What are you to Lord Ulim, I wonder? If anyone would pay to see you dead, Two-Swords Tuno would seem a more likely buyer.”
Rogge paused and lowered his voice. “I say this to you in confidence: news of your exploits has traveled across western Serica and into Lakava. Although Two-Swords Tuno was defeated in his attack on Tokolas, he remains powerful. The leaders of Hazeny were considering submitting to the authority of King Tuno when I left. It would not surprise me if they choose to swallow their pride and accept his soldiers, though they may not. Being openly associated with the Keltens who defeated Tuno’s fleet could prove unhealthy throughout all of Vasvar’s lands.”
The Fire Sword Page 10
