The Reaping Season

by Sarah Stirling

  “Tell me what I’m walking into,” she said to distract herself. A man in an elegant kobi of a deep crimson that swept down to his feet stared at her as she passed, mouth twisting in distaste. The further they went, the nicer the streets became, cleaner than she had ever seen. The buildings were connected in circles around huge trees with twisting black trunks, leaves a resplendent red. In narrower streets they folded into one another across wire structures, creating a colourful leafy canopy that shaded them from the hot sun. A network of canals wound all through the city, the dank smell the only thing to sour such beauty.

  “Sandson is a fair man but he’s no fool. He enjoys conversations and he’ll happily walk you in circles.”

  That was only to be expected, for a man in a position like he was. “Did he say anything about Viktor when he told you to pursue him?”

  Janus seemed to consider, eyes on a carriage as it trundled across the road ahead of them. “He just told me of signs to look for. Didn’t say much else. Not really the way these jobs work.”

  “What about the man himself? You speak as if you know him.”

  He pursed his lips. “Done a few odd jobs for him. Nothing too involved. He’s a man who likes to know what is going on in the world. Hard to get a proper read on him because he says one thing and means another.”

  The familiar shade of indigo caught Kilai’s eye and she felt her muscles lock in response. She had to force herself not to freeze on the spot, keeping her head high and walking on. That dreadful night back at the rift flashed before her eyes. Glowing, swirling hordes of spirits. Viktor’s vengeful snarl and a wreath of unnatural flame. Blood running through the streets. Her eyes flickered ahead, feeling like if they saw her face they would somehow know. It was a ridiculous notion but one hard to shake all the same.

  “Will they recognise you when we get there?”

  Janus glanced at the soldiers as they marched past, apparently indifferent. “Think he’s waiting for me. Should get through just fine.”

  “How are you so calm?” she huffed, glancing behind her. None of the soldiers looked back. “Doesn’t any of this affect you?”

  His lips quirked. “Been a soldier for a while. Becomes habit if you let it.”

  Something about the distance in his eyes made her quiet, unable to find the words to shift the conversation. Instead she followed him through the widening streets, the scent of brine carried on the breeze. The heat of the morning sun warmed her skin but the wind had more bite to it than before; a sign of the shifting season. The reaping season was a time for change. It would not be long before the first encroaching steps of the low season, now that the Night of the Phoenix had passed in an explosion.

  Everywhere they turned, canals shimmered under the sun, filled with the traffic from various boats. Many bore colourful canopies that fluttered on the cool breeze, keeping the passengers inside cool as the sun rose high into the sky. More affluent families had coachmen steer their way at the rear of their boats, large paddles swooping down into the water and propelling them along. Some were even pulled by lykki, distant cousins to laisok that bore webbed flippers for swimming through the water. Their muscles rippled beneath shining coats, made of very fine green-blue feathers.

  Everywhere she looked the city vibrated with energy, saturated with colours and smells. Market stalls gifted them with the tantalising smells of baked goods and spices, teasing her empty stomach. After the meeting she would have to see about food and clothes. Maybe she would even take the time to explore the city since she had last briefly visited, a mere stopover to offload one type of good and then load up on another.

  “Is there some way we could still get the money out of him, do you think?” She spotted one vendor selling dates, ripened under the sun, and bit her lip. “Maybe we should have brought Viktor after all.”

  Janus glanced at her. “Can always ask,” he said in a way that meant, no, not at all.

  Eventually the street along one of the various canals opened up into a massive circle that spanned so far the buildings on the other side were distant and hazy. Multiple canals fed into a ring of water around a tremendous tree – red and black like the others in the city – with a canopy so wide it cast a long shadow upon the grey tiles of the ground. Stone bridges arched high enough into the air to allow boats to pass beneath, giving the feel of a city in motion with the rippling reflections beneath. It was beautiful enough that she took a moment to stop and stare, feeling like she had walked into a painting.

  “That’s the mayor’s office there,” murmured Janus, pointing across the plaza to a white three-tiered structure with pillars that stretched up to the first tier. Instead of a blue dome it possessed a red-tiled roof, ridged at the top and pointed with horns. Gargoyles spied their every movement from above, ugly faces adorned in sneers. Kilai couldn’t help but feel they were a mere forewarning for the reaction she would receive within as she gazed past striped pillars to the massive oak doors beyond.

  “After you,” she said, trying not to reveal her apprehension.

  Janus strode forward, black coat flapping out around him. Dirty, clothing tattered, pale and sleep-deprived, somehow he moved in a way that told her mind he belonged. She was impressed at how convincing he was. Lingering at the entrance, Kilai allowed herself a few heartbeats of tension before she forced calm into her body, posture straightening. Let them see a lady walk in. Her name bore power. Regardless of what had happened, she would show them the weight of the Shaikuro name.

  Beyond the heavy doors lay a long corridor, stretching out towards another set of doors far off. More pillars lined the floor, marking a path across pale marble flecked with red. Her boots clicked beneath it as Kilai marched along its length with Janus at her side, the lack of people putting her on edge. Large windows on either side of the room covered the floor in a sunlit chessboard, streaming across her face and disorientating her a little when she walked.

  “Is it always like this?”

  Just as Janus opened his mouth to speak the doors on the other side creaked open, voices spilling from within. They both froze as two soldiers in their indigo coats passed through, so wrapped up in conversation they didn’t notice either of them at first. When they did finally pause in recognition of them standing there, two pairs of eyes scanned them up and down with moderate disdain. The taller of the two nodded at Janus, mouth twisting into something of a grimace. His flame red beard burned in the warm light of the room.

  “Lakazar, have you been running errands again?” said the shorter man with dark hair and a hooked nose. “What does he have you doing now? Something he doesn’t want us to know about, huh?” he elbowed his partner in the ribs and grinned up at Janus but there was something hostile about the glint in his eyes.

  “Just delivering some messages. The mayor is a busy man.”

  “Oh, I’ll bet. I’ll bet. If you want to be a man of the people you’ve got to be doing all sorts.” The man’s grin sharpened. “Well, I’m sure we’ll see you around, Lakazar.” With a clap on Janus’ shoulder, he traipsed off across the corridor.

  The copper haired man hesitated. “I thought you were leaving for good.”

  “No.”

  “You should have.” And with that he departed to join his companion, leaving Kilai bewildered.

  Long after they had left, she said, “What was that all about?”

  “Nothing.”

  “I think we both know that isn’t going to cut it.”

  With a sigh, Janus pulled open the door in front of them, wood grumbling beneath his touch. “Tensions are high between Sandson and the Sonlin contingent here. They know me as Sandson’s man. Puts my allegiances in a clear line, you know?”

  “Sandson’s man? How many jobs have you done for him?”

  “A few.”

  She huffed, crossing her arms as she followed him into a wide hall. Immediately in front of them was a semi-circular desk made out of a dark cherry wood, a woman sitting at the front with a bored expression on her face.
Her grey hair was piled high atop her head, pinching her face into severe lines.

  “Can I help you?”

  Kilai stepped forward. “We’re here to see Lord Sandson.”

  The look she received was not particularly impressed. “You don’t have an appointment.”

  Janus appeared over her shoulder. “He’s expecting us. Tell him the package has been delivered.”

  She pursed red lips and looked him over before heaving a sigh. Her shoes clip-clopped on the floor as she disappeared behind a door, leaving them with the incessant tick-tick-tick of the clock overhead filling up the silence. Kilai tapped her toe on the ground as she waited. The rest of the room was decorated with the same marble, arcing away from them, the whole space semi-circular in shape. Curved windows looked out into the city beyond, red leaves fluttering on the breeze.

  The click of a door dragged her head back to the desk. “The mayor will see you now,” said the receptionist before she sat down and proceeded to ignore them.

  Kilai looked at Janus who took the lead, pushing open a set of finely carved doors with iron handles shaped like snarling dragon heads. Inside Sandson’s office was bright with morning sunlight streaming in from a large window behind a desk similar in style to the one out in the hall, rich cherry wood aglow in the window’s breadth. An ornate rug woven in dizzying patterns softened their steps upon the floor, plush underfoot. At his desk sat a man with jet black hair and olive skin, a set of round spectacles perched on his nose as he perused a thick stack of papers.

  Upon their arrival he glanced up, a small smile curving his lips as he leaned back in his seat and steepled his fingers. “Good morning, Wei. I don’t believe we’ve been acquainted.” He stood, revealing the sharp corners of a well-pressed shirt more akin to the Sonlin style than the Myrlik style, a double-breasted waistcoat in a deep maroon beneath his jacket. Over this he had draped a more traditional koba in a similar shade, hanging open in a way considered disrespectful to older schools of Myrish.

  “No, we haven’t,” was all she said, if only to see how he would react.

  His smile widened, revealing a flash of white teeth. “A pleasure, all the same, Shaikuro-wei. I am Lord Sandson, the Mayor of Tsellyr. But I’m sure you knew that already.”

  It was difficult, not to show the discomfort at him knowing who she was. She bit her lip and swept any residue emotions from her face, staring him down. For a long moment, they stared one another out like two snipers on opposite sides of a war. Then his eyes flickered to Janus, releasing her from that strange, breathless tension. “I had thought something had happened when I didn’t hear from you.”

  “Business took longer than I thought.”

  “Indeed.” Sandson turned to the window, arms crossed behind his back. “I’d quite like to hear the story, if your companion can spare the time. I’ve heard some interesting stories about Sathkuro in recent days. It would appear you’ve been busy.”

  Kilai had to wonder whether he didn’t immediately ask about Viktor for her benefit, or whether it was simply his style to take his time circling his prey until he finally took a bite. He enjoys conversations and he’ll happily walk you in circles. More than likely this was simply Sandson; the man who had campaigned for and implemented the first elections in the Myrlik Isles. Implemented and then won the first, to catapult a man relatively unknown in the political field to one of the most prominent men on the islands. Even before all this mayhem with the rifts had happened, she had found him infinitely curious.

  “Sonlin’s forces are tightening their hold. Ran into some trouble with their men while I was in Nirket.”

  “Nirket,” murmured Sandson, his face reflected faintly in the glass of the window, “the lady’s hometown I believe?” He turned so that half of his face was cast half in blinding light, half in shadow. One eye burned a brilliant honey gold, the other a stark black. Both stared right at her. “Tell me about it. I wish to know an insider’s perspective.”

  “It is a city like any other, Sandson-shai.” If he wanted to put her on wrong footing, she would refuse to use his foreign titles. “There is not much to be said of it, I am afraid.”

  “I am sorry to hear of your father’s passing,” he said, pausing.

  Kilai felt like the breath had been knocked out of her. It was all she could do to remain calm, fingers twitching as she reached for the turtle pin nestled in her pocket. Dead. Her father was dead and she didn’t even know when he had died. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, throat constricting, and she could only gaze back at Sandson with her teeth digging into her lip. Suddenly the room around her closed in around her, her breath coming in shallow gasps. Had he read her letter? Did he get the chance before he passed? The pain of not knowing was excruciating.

  “I found the man you were looking for,” interrupted Janus and a wave of gratitude swept over her.

  Like a frozen river thawing out, Sandson was all motion again, pacing the length of his desk to look at Janus. “Yes, I was surprised at the mess you made of that one. Tell me true, how did the boy end up public enemy number one for the Sonlin Empire?”

  “Couldn’t be sure he was the one until it happened. By then it was too late.”

  “And where is the boy now? You have him to hand, yes?”

  “We’re not telling you anything until you explain what you want with him,” she said. There were things about Viktor she had long suspected but never quite believed to be true. Things she did not understand how Sandson could know. But it appeared he knew a lot of things he shouldn’t. An uneasy feeling burrowed deep in her gut, the ground beneath her feet as unsteady as quicksand.

  Sandson tilted his head, back to amused once more. His eyes flickered up and down her form and he nodded, as if drawing some conclusion about her. “All right. That seems fair enough, I suppose, given that I can guarantee your silence on the matter.”

  “Why should I do that? I do not know you. You have given me no reason to trust you.”

  “No, you have no reason to trust me until I prove to you my honesty, hurt as I am that our mutual friend has not found it in himself to vouch for me. Here I was, thinking we were friends.”

  Janus remained silent, face blank.

  “I wish to know what you desire to do with Viktor before I decide to do anything,” Kilai snapped.

  Pushing his glasses up the ridge of his nose, Sandson smiled. “Viktor, is it? How very fitting.” Perching on the end of his desk, he crossed his arms and sighed. “You must have put some of the pieces together, no? Green fire isn’t exactly subtle to anyone with a basic understanding of our history.”

  Green flame had been a symbol of the Siklo family, back when they still ruled over the Myrliks. Tyrants, oppressors, cruel masters, they had been feared as much as they had been venerated, if not more. Kilai had seen the phoenix that night in her vision from the paper crane-shaped riftspawn. Had known that it was a powerful symbol, once the crest of the former royals, but she hadn’t really known what it meant. Even now she still did not understand the rifts, or the mysterious creatures from beyond.

  “So what, he’s descended from them? I thought the last of the Siklo family had been executed two hundred years ago.”

  “Mm. Not quite.” Sandson rubbed his chin, shadowed with black stubble. “You see, ‘Viktor’ as you know him is not really Viktor. He’s not some no-name orphan with secret royal blood. The boy you know will have been born a nobody, but the chain, so to speak, still connects.”

  Kilai shot him a look. “Stop meandering around the point. What is it you mean to say?”

  “What is the phoenix? Yes, she is a bird of flame. But what does the legend state? She is a creature of rebirth and renewal. The phoenix flame was never meant to be destructive. It was supposed to be healing.”

  “He was reborn,” murmured Janus, catching both of their attention.

  Sandson pointed at him. “Exactly. Viktor isn’t a descendent of the Siklo twins. He is one. To be exact, he bears the consciousness of Vallnor
Siklo within him, via his connection to the great firebird, one of the guardians beyond the veil. She possesses enough power to keep that consciousness – his thoughts, memories, his desires – and pull them into a new human body. By the time of their supposed death, both of the twins had lived so many lives they were as much spirit as they were human. They are not killable, in the same sense as you or I.”

  Kilai reeled from the information, flotsam memories dragged to the surface. Viktor, surrounded by flame, expression merciless. A brand new warship destroyed in minutes, green fire shimmering atop an emerald sea. Reading the name Vallnor Siklo, former prince, former ruler, considered traitor as far as the Sonlin narrative described. The events of his death remained a mystery. His sister Fyera had been executed by a Sonlin General back when they had first conquered the Myrliks, but Vallnor’s death had, as far as she remembered, never been confirmed. His last sighting had been onboard a ship sailing for Sathkuro, according to unreliable witnesses. Historians had never been certain.

  “But… what does that mean for Viktor?” was the first question of many to come to her lips. “What happens to his own being, if he exists separately from Vallnor?”

  For the first time Sandson’s expression sobered. “As his connection to the phoenix grows, Viktor will fade into Vallnor until he is nothing more than a vessel for the Siklo prince.”

  Kilai shook her head, stepping back. “No. No way. That’s not –”

  “Not what? Possible? I assure you it is.”

  “How – how do you know? How can you know?”

  “I know a lot of things,” he said, resting his chin on his hands.

  Kilai looked at Janus. “Did you know this?” She’d had her suspicions about the phoenix she had seen in her vision but the stark reality of the truth was much bleaker than she had imagined.

  Janus’ mouth twisted. “Had some idea, yes.”