An Elegy of Heroes

by K. S. Villoso

  “In the meantime, you will have to tell me stories about Hafod. You’ve been there, of course?”

  “Of course, my lord. It is a wonderful country.”

  “Indeed. It is my dream to visit it one day. But ah! There is so much to do, so much bawling landowners to placate and wives giving birth.” He rubbed his beard and smiled. “Mayhaps before the next whelp arrives, eh, Ferral?”

  “Perhaps, my lord.”

  “My lord,” the slave said, bowing. “I feel nothing. The wine is clean.”

  Mhagaza nodded and Ylir poured him some. “Azchai!” Mhagaza barked, after one sip. “Come here and try this out with me, for old times’ sake.”

  “Don’t want to be alone if your food taster made a mistake?” Azchai said with a grin. He held his glass out. “This looks like excellent wine, Ylir. Mayhaps slightly better than the drink we shared at your master’s abode in Cael.”

  “Drinks of such quality are best enjoyed on occasions like these,” Ylir nodded. He finished his own glass, clapped his hands and bowed. “Thank you, my lords, for your hospitalities. I will leave you to your guests. My lady,” he added, brushing against Sume.

  Let me...

  She closed her eyes. It was going to be a long night. The last she needed was distractions.

  Chapter Three

  Ylir sat in his room, right by the door, and watched the candle melt on the table. It was almost halfway done. His palms were cold. I shouldn’t have waited so long, he thought. But the kind of spell he had left in Mhagaza’s room needed time to work properly; if he wasn’t careful, it could just as easily target her. It had been years since he’d made such a mistake, but he wasn’t so sure of himself anymore. He closed his eyes and saw Burg’s insufferable face frowning at him. If things go wrong, he could always blame the man.

  The scream came, high-pitched. Was it her? It had to be. He leaned against the door, even though every bone in his body told him to open it now and run to her. He waited a little longer before throwing his cloak around his shoulders and heading out into the hallway.

  As he expected, he was not the first person there. A dozen guards and some of the princes were crammed close to the ornate door that led to Mhagaza’s chambers.

  Ylir spotted Makin and ventured close. “What’s happening?”

  Makin’s eyes were big. “I don’t know.” He glanced inside the room. “They’ll tell us soon.” He drew himself up and asked a woman something in their tongue. She nodded, looking pale and frightened, and Ylir got the impression that it was her—not Sume—who screamed.

  But his thoughts didn’t get very far. An old man with a forked beard walked out of the room. He looked at the crowd and shook his head. Most were on their knees except the heir, Rajiat, who was pacing back and forth. He turned to Ylir. “You,” he said in a low voice. “You brought that girl here. You’ll pay.”

  Ylir barely paid attention to him. His eyes were on the still figure on the enormous bed. They had covered him with a white sheet, but he knew Mhagaza’s shape and size. He glanced at the girl. She was clad in a thin tunic and sat, almost calmly, in the corner. The guards were approaching her.

  “Did she stab him? Hurt him in any way?” he asked, turning to the court physician.

  The old man shook his head. “He died of a—how do you say in Kag? Heart condition.” He glanced at Rajiat, K’an of Al-ir, now. “If the girl is to blame, it was only because she must have—ah, excited him so.”

  Rajiat reddened. “We don’t know that. He was not poisoned?”

  The physician coughed. “I would know poisoned, my lord. He died peacefully, as if in sleep.”

  Rajiat drew a deep breath and entered the room. He pulled the sheet off and looked into his father’s face for a long time before he glanced up at Sume. “You did not hurt her, li’kon? Because so An-albaht help me, if you did, you will pay for it.” He called for the guards. “Take her to the dungeons until we can decide what to do with her.”

  Ylir stepped forward. “My lord, she is—was bound to your father. The creed demands you show her respect.”

  “Then bind her with velvet ribbons if that’s what it takes. She’s no mother of mine.” He snarled, saying this, and reached for her arm, as if to drag her to the ground. But Ylir stood between them. He felt eerily calm, now—a far cry from his state the past few hours. He didn’t do anything, didn’t raise his hand in return, but the look in his eyes gave Rajiat reason to pause.

  The guards overtook them. Sume didn’t struggle and allowed them to lead her out of the room without another word. He tried to catch her eyes, but she wasn’t even looking at him. “I’ll see her executed yet,” he heard Rajiat murmur.

  He resisted the desire to kill the young man then and there. “You do that, my lord,” he said, “and war from Jin-Sayeng will rain down on your people. After all that has happened, it will be ample enough reason.”

  Rajiat’s eyes were red. “Let them come,” he replied. “We’ll slaughter the whole lot of them. My father was a fool.” He returned to the foot of the bed and knelt with his head to the floor.

  In the end, how could a woman who was raised to know the difference between right and wrong, and honour and duty, justify being happy that her husband of seven hours was dead?

  The answer of course was you couldn’t, not under those circumstances. Mhagaza had not been unkind to her in the short time she had known him. His offer had been made out of a desire, almost, to elevate the position of the daughter of a boyhood hero. He was a lord, she was a peasant. Even in those last moments, he had been gentle. She had heard stories, of course, of young girls and older men—terrible stories not worth thinking of at a time when she was one step away from hurling herself over the terrace. Instead, he’d had wine laid out for her, and he spoke to her of nothing—of taking a trip to Jin-Sayeng with him, of having children, of her family back home. When the time came, he carried her to bed like she was a doll, and he placed his hand on her breast, and he tenderly kissed her collarbone.

  And then he collapsed and died a few minutes later.

  She still couldn’t wrap her head around that. They blamed her, of course, and she wasn’t entirely sure that they were wrong either even though she didn’t know what she’d done. He died with her arms around him. The thought of having to bed him for the rest of her life repulsed her, but no man deserved his fate. She wasn’t happy at all. She could breathe easier now, could now look at her own fingers without seeing red, but she mourned him. For the two days they kept her locked up behind her chambers, she prayed for the sake of his soul, prayed that he would find his way home.

  On the third morning, the door opened. She didn’t look up at first, so she was surprised to hear Ylir’s voice. After what she’d seen in Mhagaza’s bedchamber, she had expected him to be long gone. She almost said so, looking up, but then she stopped when she saw his face. One of his eyes was puckered shut, black and dripping with blood.

  He laughed, seeing her reaction. It was disconcerting. “This?” he said. “Rajiat’s price for your freedom. He was going to have you killed. Now he’s decided to release you, under the condition that he stick a knife in my eye.”

  She gaped at him in horror.

  “Well, it didn’t kill me. That surprised him.” He spat. “We should go soon. I won’t be able to hold them off for very long.”

  She followed him, one life folding into another. She would have laughed if she wasn’t so afraid.

  Chapter Four

  Leaving Al-ir was not like Sume thought it would be, but then nothing ever was, in her life.

  Azchai of Barun had arranged horses for them. When he saw Ylir’s face, he hesitated. “You’ll die out there, suachar,” he said, hissing out the Gasparian word for fool. “Give me another hour and I’ll get men to drive you. In the meantime, have that looked at.”

  “There’s no time,” Ylir growled, grabbing the reins. He handed a set to Sume. “In any case, we don’t have an hour.”

  “The son’s temper
is like the father’s, without the restraint. Was this really necessary?” Sume noticed that he was trying not to look at her.

  “They would’ve had her killed. Word will get to Jin-Sayeng. A war with them is the last thing I want for our operations. It would not be profitable.”

  Azchai licked his lips. “Perhaps. Perhaps not.”

  Ylir whirled towards him. “My brain’s leaking through my hands, Azchai. Stop the cryptic talk. What are you trying to say?”

  Azchai glanced at the silhouette of the palace behind them. “It’s well-known that Al-ir, being so close to the Jin-Sayeng border, occasionally receives attacks from the commonfolk. Peasants, you know. Bandits. Clans south of the border that have nothing better to do.” He rubbed his beard. “Mhagaza disposed of them as he saw fit, and neither the Jin-Sayeng royals nor His Holy K’an ono K’an ever really said much about it. The Jins now claim that several months ago, a group of armed Gasparians attacked the border guard and two of the border villages. I believe you saw the outcome of that.”

  “Yes,” Ylir snapped. “I know all this. Now get to the point.”

  “It seems as if His Majesty is now paying attention to local events. We received word from him a week or so ago that if violence from Jin-Sayeng escalates, we are to think about beginning an invasion. Jin-Sayeng’s king—if they even have one—has been gone for years. If we make it look like Jin-Sayeng started the attacks, it would be easier to ask for support from the surrounding kingdoms, and make Xiaro think twice about helping them. Those two are like quarreling brothers—on their own, they’d easily strangle each other to death, but threaten one and the other will take up arms against you.”

  Sume tightened her grip on the reins, making the horse spook from her a little. She couldn’t believe how this man could so casually speak of waging war on her people as if—as if they were nothing, as if they hadn’t suffered enough already! She struggled to keep her mouth shut.

  Azchai, oblivious of her growing distress, continued. “That was why Mhagaza wanted to marry her. He didn’t agree with the thing. Thought his land couldn’t handle war for now. Maybe someday, he said, but—I don’t know. He wasn’t fond of the peasants, but it’s a different story with the royals. You could almost say he worshipped them. I don’t think he fancied the idea of barging through Shirrokaru as anything but a tourist.

  “But you have to see my point here, Ferral. War with Jin-Sayeng could benefit us all. We’ll protect your refinery. The iron you gather will be even more valuable in a time of war. We’ll be rich, Ferral! Don’t you understand that? And now—”

  “Now, you’re letting us escape.” Ylir took a deep breath. “Why not kill her now? Then you’ll have your war.”

  Azchai stepped back. “Come now, Ferral,” he said. “I don’t want to make you angry. Our partnership is crucial in this.”

  “Partnership? You could have told me all this when it was still relevant. Now Mhagaza’s dead.”

  “Yes. Now he is dead and war is easier to ignite with the son in charge.” He glanced at Sume. “Take the girl, Ferral. Think of it as a gift from me. She’s not important. I’ll take care of Rajiat. You go ahead and get better. Write me a letter in a few days’ time and we’ll sort this out.” He squinted as a dry wind bore down on them, then walked away.

  Kalthekar was an hour’s ride from the Al-ir estates. Ylir had all but stopped talking by the time they arrived. Sume saw him riding at an angle, his head drooped over his horse’s mane. She forced her own mount to a stop and approached his side. “Ylir,” she started. She touched his shoulder. When he didn’t stir, she touched his face. His skin was hot. A trail of dried blood snaked over the horse’s bronzed skin and down its leg.

  She pushed him deeper into the saddle before leading both horses down the street. They walked until she saw a building with a sign and a hitching rail for horses. Once she had tied the horses, she tugged at Ylir’s arm. She caught the upper half of his body as he crashed to the ground. He was heavier than he looked—heavier than her father had been—but she managed to wrap his arm around her shoulder and drag him to the door.

  An old lady barked something in Gasparian and rushed to help her. Together, they managed to get him up the stairs and on a narrow bed. She pushed his head back onto a pillow. The old woman gasped, seeing the caked blood, and ran out. His eye had stopped bleeding, but a thin, clear fluid was running along the corner.

  “Oh Ylir,” she asked, draping one hand over his face. “What have you done, you idiot?” She propped her elbows on the edge of the bed and glanced at the window. A trinket left on the shelf caught her eye. She left Ylir’s side to take it. It was a Jinsein charm—a square piece of an ebony-coloured wood, hung on a thread—given to little children to ward against drowning and getting snatched by fairy hags. Dai had one. That it was in a Gasparian inn surprised her, but then, they were close enough to the border for raids, so it must be close enough for visitors. She wrapped it around Ylir’s wrist.

  The old woman returned with towels and a bucket of warm water that smelled like it had been steeped in herbs. Sume thanked her and started cleaning Ylir’s face. He didn’t awaken, though his face flickered a few times.

  The injury was not as bad as she’d imagined, though it was enough to stir her stomach. Rajiat’s knife had caught the edge of his eye, closer to the bone where there was now a pool of crusted black blood. The swelling made it difficult to see if he had enough injury in the eye to lose it. It didn’t matter, in any case. There was nothing else she could do for it for now. “You sold me,” she said in Jinsein. “And then you almost kill yourself trying to get me back.” She started to say something else, and instead found herself laughing at the complexities of men, the absurdity of it all.

  The fever lasted four days. The doctor said the fever would be the worst part, and that to help him out she needed to keep cleaning the wound with herb wash while burning incense over the window to keep the evil spirits at bay. He would keep the eye, but there was a tear in the corner that might, in time, blind him.

  Ylir woke on the fifth day. After a few moments of looking around the room, his gaze fell on Sume. “So,” he cracked, pointing at the thin fabric wrapped around his eye. “Is this going to stay?”

  She didn’t answer him immediately. She went out, found the landlady’s husband, and returned with a plate of lentil soup and flatbread. “Eat first,” she told him. “You’ve lost too much weight.”

  He sat up, making room for the tray. “This tastes like cardboard,” he said after a while.

  Sume frowned. “You’re making too many jokes. The doctor will probably say that you’re fine.”

  “How did I afford a doctor?”

  “There was enough money in your purse,” she said. She paused. “I ah—I also had to sell the horses. I wasn’t sure if you were going to sleep longer or if I needed it to pay for your funeral.”

  “Gasparians burn their dead.”

  “I’m sorry, it was the nicer way to say ‘dispose of your corpse’. I don’t think you can afford a cremation.” She pulled a chair closer to him, trying hard to contain what she was feeling at the moment. She had thought he was going to die. “I wrote to Azchai like he said you should. I thought it was better that way. We’re still in Al-ir and we weren’t going anywhere. He said he’d convinced Rajiat to call off the pursuit an hour after we left. We’re safe.”

  “For now.” He leaned back against the wall and laughed. “I should thank you now, shouldn’t I? You didn’t leave. You could have taken the money and left. They’ve got wagons here, crossing to Jin-Sayeng. Provided tensions haven’t escalated so far.”

  “I know. Can’t say the temptation didn’t cross my mind.” She glanced up at him. “You shouldn’t talk so much. You’re tired and you need rest.”

  He grimaced. “I’ve rested long enough. Can you get some parchment and ink? I need to pen a letter to my man at the site. No, my fingers...better you do it.”

  “Am I addressing it to Burg?”

>   “Burg.” He smirked. “No, not him. He’s gone.”

  She held her breath. “Dead?”

  “Nothing like that. He quit on me. Address the letter to Gaven, please. He’s heading the operations now. Tell him I’ll be back within a week, to rally up the men and be prepared for hostilities. If Rajiat’s men arrive, wait for me and don’t hurt them. Don’t hurt anyone. Ab’s balls, my thoughts are all over the place! Just—just write what sounds good.”

  Sume finished writing the letter, and returned to his side. He had managed to eat most of the soup and bread, but he was breathing very hard. She removed the tray and helped him back onto the pillows. His gaze didn’t leave her all through that time, and only then did she realize that his eyes—at least the one she could see—were brown. She could not recall what she used to think they were before, but brown now, for certain—nearly copper. She traced the confusion back to his enchantments and tried not to get angry at him this time. “This is real now, isn’t it?” she asked. “What you look like, I mean.”

  “It was always real,” he murmured.

  “Don’t play with me. I know you’ve been enchanting the men you do business with. Mhagaza described you older. That time in the palace, in my room, it was an enchantment too, wasn’t it?”

  “What? No, it wasn’t. Sume—I’ve been too sick all this time. Do you really think if I’d done that, you would have stayed? The minute I lost strength, you would have left me for the wolves. Even killed me yourself.” He smiled and placed his hand over hers. “Let me start from the beginning. My name—”

  “I know,” she said. “It’s Enosh.” She watched the reaction on his face and suddenly regretted speaking so soon. Was he about to lie to her? It was probably a good thing if she had let him, because then she would have a reason to walk out. But maybe she wanted to give him all the chances she could.