The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms

by N. K. Jemisin

  No. There was sorrow in his voice. It never faded, for him. How terrible to be a god of change and endure grief unending.

  When I am free, he said, I will choose who shapes me.

  But I frowned. That isnt freedom.

  At the dawn of reality I was myself. There was nothing and no one else to influence meonly the Maelstrom that had given birth to me, and it did not care. I tore open my flesh and spilled out the substance of what became your realm: matter and energy and my own cold, black blood. I devoured my mind and reveled in the novelty of pain.

  Tears sprang to my eyes. I swallowed hard and tried to will them away, but abruptly the hands returned, lifting my chin. Fingers stroked my eyes shut, brushing the tears away.

  When I am free I will choose, he said again, whispering, very close. You must do the same.

  But I will never be

  He kissed me silent. There was longing in that kiss, tangy and bittersweet. Was that my own longing, or his? Then I understood, finally: it didnt matter.

  But oh gods, oh goddess, it was so good. He tasted like cool dew. He made me thirsty. Just before I began to want more, he pulled back. I fought not to feel disappointment, for fear of what it would do to us both.

  Go and rest, Yeine, he said. Leave your mothers schemes to play themselves out. You have your own trials to face.

  And then I was in my apartment, sitting on the floor in a square of moonlight. The walls were dark, but I could see easily because the moon, bright though just a sliver, was low in the sky. Well past midnight, probably only an hour or two before dawn. This was becoming a habit for me.

  Sieh sat in the big chair near my bed. Seeing me, he uncurled from it and moved onto the floor beside me. In the moonlight his pupils were huge and round, like those of an anxious cat.

  I said nothing, and after a moment he reached up and pulled me down so that my head rested in his lap. I closed my eyes, drawing comfort from the feel of his hand on my hair. After a time, he began to sing me a lullaby that I had heard in a dream. Relaxed and warm, I slept.

  23

  Selfishness

  TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT, the Nightlord had said.

  Something better for the world, I had replied.

  But also

  * * *

  In the morning I went to the Salon early, before the Consortium session began, hoping to find Ras Onchi. Before I could, I saw Wohi Ubm, the other High North noblewoman, arriving on the Salons wide, colonnaded steps.

  Oh, she said after an awkward introduction and my inquiry. I knew then, the instant I saw the pitying look in her eyes. You havent heard. Ras died in her sleep just these two nights past. She sighed. I still cant believe it. But, well; she was old.

  I went back to Sky.

  * * *

  I walked through the corridors awhile, thinking about death.

  Servants nodded as they passed me and I nodded back. Courtiersmy fellow highbloodseither ignored me or stared in open curiosity. Word must have spread that I was finished as an heir candidate, publicly defeated by Scimina. Not all of the stares were kind. I inclined my head to them anyhow. Their pettiness was not mine.

  On one of the lower levels I surprised Tvril on a shadowed balcony, dangling a clipboard from one finger and watching a passing cloud. When I touched him, he started guiltily (fortunately catching the clipboard), which I took to mean he had been thinking about me.

  The ball will begin at dusk tomorrow night, he said. I had moved to stand at the railing beside him, absorbing the view and the comfort of his presence in silence. It will continue until dawn the next morning. Thats tradition, before a succession ceremony. Tomorrow is a new moona night that was once sacred to the followers of Nahadoth. So they celebrate through it.

  Petty of them, I thought. Or petty of Itempas.

  Immediately after the ball, the Stone of Earth will be sent through the palaces central shaft to the ritual chamber, in the solarium spire.

  Ah. I heard you warning the servants about this last week.

  Tvril turned the clipboard in his fingers gently, not looking at me. Yes. A fleeting exposure supposedly does no harm, but He shrugged. Its a thing of the gods. Best to stay away.

  I could not help it; I laughed. Yes, I agree!

  Tvril looked at me oddly, a small uncertain smile on his lips. You seem comfortable.

  I shrugged. It isnt my nature to spend all my time fretting. Whats done is done. Nahadoths words.

  Tvril shifted uncomfortably, flicking a few stray windblown hairs out of his face. Im told that an army gathers along the pass that leads from Menchey into Darr.

  I steepled my fingers and gazed at them, stilling the voice that cried out within myself. Scimina had played her game well. If I did not choose her, I had no doubt she had left instructions for Gemd to begin the slaughter. Gemd might do it anyhow once I set the Enefadeh free, but I was counting on the world being preoccupied with survival amid the outbreak of another Gods War. Sieh had promised that Darr would be kept safe through the cataclysm. I wasnt sure I entirely trusted that promise, but it was better than nothing.

  For what felt like the hundredth time, I considered and discarded the idea of approaching Relad. Sciminas people were on the ground; her knife was at Darrs throat. If I chose Relad at the ceremony, could he act before that knife cut a fatal wound? I could not bet my peoples future on a man I didnt even respect.

  Only the gods could help me now.

  Relad has confined himself in his quarters, Tvril said, obviously thinking along the same lines as me. He receives no calls, lets no one in, not even the servants. The Father knows what hes eatingor drinking. There are bets among the highbloods that hell kill himself before the ball.

  I suppose theres little else interesting here to bet on.

  Tvril glanced at me, perhaps deciding whether to say more. There are also bets that you will kill yourself.

  I laughed into the breeze. What are the odds? Do you think theyd let me bet, too?

  Tvril turned to face me, his eyes suddenly intent. Yeineif, if you He faltered silent and looked away; his voice had choked on the last word.

  I took his hand and held it while he bowed his head and trembled and fought to keep control of himself. He led and protected the servants here; tears would have made him feel weak. Men have always been fragile that way.

  After a few moments he took a deep breath. His voice was higher than usual as he said, Shall I escort you to the ball tomorrow night?

  When Viraine had offered the same thing, I had hated him. With Tvril, the offer made me love him a little more. No, Tvril. I want no escort.

  It could help. To have a friend there.

  It could. But I will not ask such a thing of my few friends.

  You arent asking. Im offering

  I stepped closer, leaning against his arm. Ill be fine, Tvril.

  He regarded me for a long while, then shook his head slowly. You will, wont you? Ah, Yeine. Ill miss you.

  You should leave this place, Tvril. Find yourself a good woman to take care of you and keep you in silks and jewelry.

  Tvril stared at me, then burst out laughing, not strained at all this time. A Darre woman?

  No, are you mad? Youve seen what were like. Find some Ken girl. Maybe those pretty spots of yours will breed true.

  Prettyfreckles, you barbarian! Theyre called freckles.

  Whatever. I lifted his hand, kissed the back of it, and let him go. Good-bye, my friend.

  I left him there, still laughing, as I walked away.

  * * *

  But?

  But that was not all I wanted.

  * * *

  That conversation helped me decide on my next move. I went looking for Viraine.

  I had been of two minds about confronting him ever since the previous nights conversation with Nahadoth. I believed now that Viraine, not Dekarta, had killed my mother. I still did not understand it; if he had loved her, why kill her? And why now, twenty years after shed broken his heart? Part of me cra
ved understanding.

  The other part of me did not care why hed done it. This part of me wanted blood, and I knew that if I listened to it I might do something foolish. There would be blood aplenty when I got my vengeance on the Arameri; all the horror and death of a second Gods War unleashed. That much blood should have been enough for me but I would not be alive to see it. We are selfish that way, we mortals.

  So I went to see Viraine.

  He did not answer when I knocked at the door to his workshop, and for a moment I wavered, debating whether to pursue the matter further. Then I heard a faint, muffled sound from within.

  Doors in Sky do not lock. For highbloods, rank and politics provide more than enough security, as only those who are immune to retaliation dare invade anothers privacy. I, condemned to die in slightly more than a day, was thus immune, and so I slid the door open, just a bit.

  I did not see Viraine at first. There was the workbench where I had been marked, its surface empty this time. All of the benches were empty, in fact, which seemed strange to me. So were the animal cages at the back of the room, which was stranger yet. Only then did I spot Virainein part because he stood so still and in part because with his white hair and garments, he matched his pristine, sterile workplace so thoroughly.

  He was near the large crystal globe at the back of the chamber. I thought at first that he leaned against it in order to peer into its translucent depths. Perhaps this was how he had spied on me, in my lone, abortive communication with my assigned nations. But then I noticed that he stood slumped, one hand braced against the globes polished surface, head hanging. I could not see his free hand through the white curtain of his hair, but there was something about its furtive movements that rang an instant note of recognition within me. He sniffed, and that confirmed it: alone in his workshop, on the eve of his gods once-in-a-lifetime reaffirmation of triumph, Viraine was crying.

  It was weakness unbecoming of a Darre woman that this quieted my anger. I had no idea why he was crying. Perhaps all his evils had revived the tatters of his conscience for one moment. Perhaps he had stubbed his toe. But in the moment that I stood there, watching him weep as Tvril had managed not to, I could not help wondering: what if even one of those tears was for my mother? So few people had mourned her besides me.

  I slid the door shut and left.

  * * *

  Foolish of me.

  Yes. Even then, you resisted the truth.

  Do I know it?

  Now, yes. Then, you did not.

  Why

  Youre dying. Your soul is at war. And another memory preoccupies you.

  Tell me what you want, the Nightlord had said.

  * * *

  Scimina was in her quarters, being fitted for her ball gown. It was whitea color that did not suit her well. There was not enough contrast between the material and her pale skin, and the overall result made her look faded. Still, the gown was lovely, made of some shining material that had been further enhanced by tiny diamonds studding the bodice and the lines of the skirt. They caught the light as she turned on her dais for the tailors.

  I waited patiently while she issued instructions to them. On the far side of the room, the human version of Nahadoth sat on a windowsill, gazing out at the early-afternoon sun. If he heard me enter, he did not look up to acknowledge it.

  I confess Im curious, Scimina said, turning to me at last. I felt a fleeting, petty sense of pleasure at the sight of a large bruise on her jaw. Was there no magic to quickly heal such small wounds? A shame. What could bring you here to visit me? Do you plan to plead for your nation?

  I shook my head. There would be no point.

  She smiled, almost kindly. True. Well, then. What do you want?

  To take you up on an offer, I said. I hope that it still stands?

  Another small satisfaction: the blank look on her face. What offer would that be, Cousin?

  I nodded past her, at the still figure in the window. He was clothed, I saw, in a simple black shirt and pants, and a plain iron collar for once. That was good. I found him more distasteful nude. You said that I was welcome to borrow your pet sometime.

  Beyond Scimina, Naha turned to stare at me, his brown eyes wide. Scimina did, too, for a moment, and then she burst out laughing.

  I see! She shifted her weight to one side and put a hand on her hip, much to the consternation of the tailors. I cant argue with your choice, Cousin. Hes much more fun than Tvril. Butforgive meyou seem such a small creature. And my Naha is so very strong. Are you certain?

  Her insults wafted past me like air; I barely noticed. I am.

  Scimina shook her head, bemused. Very well. I have no use for him at the moment anyhow; hes weak today. Probably just right for you, though She paused then, glancing at the windows. Checking the position of the sun. Of course you know to beware sunset.

  Of course. I smiled, drawing a momentary frown from her. I have no wish to die earlier than necessary.

  Something like suspicion flickered in Sciminas eyes for a moment, and I felt tension in the pit of my belly. But she finally shrugged.

  Go with her, she said, and Nahadoth rose.

  For how long? he asked, his voice neutral.

  Until shes dead. Scimina smiled and opened her arms in a magnanimous gesture. Who am I to deny a last request? But while youre at it, Naha, see to it that she does nothing too strenuousnothing that would incapacitate her, at least. We need her fit, two mornings from now.

  The iron chain had been connected to a nearby wall. It fell away with Sciminas words. Naha picked up the loose end, then stood watching me, his expression unreadable.

  I inclined my head to Scimina. She ignored me, returning her attention to the tailors work with a snarl of irritation; one of them had pinned the hem badly. I left, not caring whether Nahadoth followed now or later.

  * * *

  What would I want, if I could be free?

  Safety for Darr.

  My mothers death given meaning.

  Change, for the world.

  And for myself

  I understand now. I have chosen who will shape me.

  * * *

  Shes right, Naha said, when we stood together in my apartment. Im not much use at the moment. He said it blandly, with no emotional inflection, but I guessed his bitterness.

  Fine, I said. Im not interested anyhow. I went to stand at the window.

  Silence behind me for a long moment, and then he came over. Somethings changed. The light was wrong to see his reflection, but I could imagine his suspicious expression. Youre different.

  A lot has happened since you and I last met.

  He touched my shoulder. When I did not throw off his hand, he took hold of the other, then turned me gently to face him. I let him. He stared at me, trying to read my eyes, perhaps trying to intimidate me.

  Except, up close, he was anything but intimidating. Deep lines of weariness marked paths from his sunken eyes; the eyes themselves were bloodshot, even more ordinary looking than before. His posture was slouched and strange. Belatedly I understood: he could barely stand. Nahadoths torture had taken its toll on him as well.

  My face must have shown my pity, because abruptly he scowled and straightened. Why did you bring me here?

  Sit down, I said, gesturing to the bed. I tried to turn back to the window, but his fingers tightened on my shoulders. If he had been at his best, he would have hurt me. I understood that now. He was a slave, a whore, not even allowed part-time control of his own body. The only power he had was what little he could exert over his lovers, his users. That wasnt much.

  Are you waiting for him? he asked. The way he said him held a treasures worth of resentment. Is that it?

  I reached up and detached his hands from my shoulders, pushing them away firmly. Sit down. Now.

  The now forced him to let go of me, walk the few steps to the bed, and sit down. He did it glaring the whole way. I turned back to the window and let his hate splash uselessly against my back.

  Yes
, I said. Im waiting for him.

  A stunned pause. Youre in love with him. You werent before, but you are now. Arent you?

  * * *

  You resist the truth.

  * * *

  I considered the question.

  In love with him? I said it slowly. The phrase felt strange when I thought about it, like a poem that has been read too often. In love with him.

  * * *

  Another memory preoccupies you.

  * * *

  I was surprised to hear real fear in Nahas voice. Dont be a fool. You dont know how often Ive woken up beside a corpse. If youre strong, you can resist him.

  I know. Ive said no to him before.

  Then Confusion.

  I had a sudden epiphany as to what his life had been like: this other, unwanted Nahadoth. Every day a plaything of the Arameri. Every nightnot sleep but oblivion, as close to death as any mortal can come short of the event itself. No peace, no true rest. Every morning a chilling surprise: mysterious injuries. Dead lovers. And the soul-grinding knowledge that it would never, ever end.

  Do you dream? I asked.

  What?

  Dream. At night, while youre within him. Do you?

  Nahadoth frowned for a long moment, as if he was trying to figure out the trick in my question. Finally he said, No.

  Not at all?

  I have flashes, sometimes. He gestured vaguely, looking away from me. Memories, maybe. I dont know what they are.

  I smiled, feeling sudden warmth toward him. He was like me. Two souls, or at least two selves, in a single body. Perhaps that was where the Enefadeh had gotten the idea.

  You look tired, I said. You should get some sleep.