“Hira,” Sume murmured under her breath. “We’re trying not to get killed, remember?”
“They’re raving mad, all of them,” Hira said. She raised her voice. “To think you can topple Hoen’s grip on the land with random assassinations in the night? How many retainers do you think Hoen has? Enough, I would say, that they could outright defy the Ikessars. They would defy the Orenars if given half the chance. Only they’re not idiots.” She glanced at Mihad. “You and your men, you’re like children playing dress-up, pretending you’re doing something when you’re not. Stirring the pot isn’t how it’s done.”
“You would know something about that, I assume?” Mihad said impassively.
“Sakku be damned, you’re going to do one of two things right now. Either you let us go on our way and try to save your skins while you still have time, or you take us to your leader. Yes, Ashari alon gar Ashor. Of course I know he’s behind all of this.”
Mihad’s face flickered.
“Sang…” one of her men said.
“Release them,” Mihad said. She tapped her sword and strode towards the rest of her group. “Pack up and get ready. We’re leaving.”
“What just happened?” Sume asked, as her ropes were cut.
Hira flexed her wrists. “I got us a free escort into the mountains. This was what you wanted, right?”
She glanced at the rebels. “But…”
“It’s one way to get there.”
“I suppose. But Ashari? Ashari is the leader of this rebellion?”
“I must’ve guessed right. We’ll find out more when we get there.” She strode over to Arn. “Ah, he’s fine. He looks fine to you, doesn’t he? I suppose it’s too much to ask them to give us time to get our horses. You weren’t that attached to them, I hope.”
“The farmer will take good care of them,” Sume said.
“I like your positive attitude, Kaggawa. Keep it up.”
It occurred to Sume, as she followed Mihad and a smaller group along the streets, that dressed in the same, dark cloak as the other rebels made it likely that a guard would mistake her as one. It didn’t occur to her to be frightened. Arn was there, which meant that the griffon was watching over somewhere. As much as she detested the creature, she had to admit that there were perks to being on the same side.
But it was a new moon, and no guards saw them sneak out into the countryside. They met up with another group on a nondescript dirt road before heading north, following an unmarked path towards the mountains. Sume couldn’t tell where they were or how the rebels knew which way they were going.
It was almost morning when Mihad felt like they had put enough distance between them and the guards and they stopped to rest. Mihad pulled back her cloak, and Sume saw, for the first time, the face of a woman not that much older than her. There were lines on her sun-tanned skin, but not too many, and her short-cropped hair was as dark as Sume’s own.
The similarities ended there. Mihad walked with the air of a woman used to command. She moved without hesitation and the men listened to her without protest. When she told them to stop and rest, they dropped their packs where they stood and made themselves comfortable on the spot.
“Kaggawa,” Mihad said. Sume looked up, wondering if she had been staring. After a moment, she approached the other woman.
“How long are we going to walk for?” Sume asked, trying to keep her voice casual. She hoped her apprehension wasn’t too obvious.
Mihad’s eyes darted up to the silhouette of the mountains in the distance. “Another two nights outdoors and we’ll be there. It’s not an easy walk, I should tell you that now.”
“It’s fine,” Sume said, wondering if that was a note of concern in Mihad’s tone. “I’m used to walking.”
“That’s plain to see. It’s the old woman who’s out of practice.” She cleared her throat. “Your father. Where is he?”
“The relic?” Sume asked, cracking a smile.
Mihad’s face remained emotionless. “I was told he returned to Akki to find his fortune. Bought his own ship.”
“He did,” she said.
Mihad looked at her expectantly.
“Business was bad. He lost the ship when I was six years old. His wife, a year later.” She swallowed. “Goran Kaggawa himself passed away almost ten years ago. Something to do with his heart.”
“Sorry to hear that,” Mihad said, though the wooden way she said it sounded rehearsed. “I was told he had a son.”
“He died doing work up in Kago. I’m his only living child, now.”
“I see.” She looked at Sume. “You should get some rest. We march again in four hours.” She sniffed the air, as if there was something in it that she didn’t like, before walking away without another word.
Mist swallowed them up in the next two days, making it difficult to tell how much progress they’ve made. Sume could barely see beyond the person in front of her and became preoccupied with moving as much as possible to keep warm. After the third morning, they hit small patches of wet snow, which made the trail even more slippery than it already was.
Just as Sume did not think she could stand another hour with half-frozen fingers, she saw a spire reaching out into the sky from the corner of her eyes. She blinked, afraid, for a moment, that it was just an illusion. When the spire took form, showing a clear dragon-platform and a bridge leading to the next cliff, she quickened her pace to catch up to Mihad.
Mihad grunted, seeing her. “We’re here,” she said. She pointed at Hira and Arn. “Keep close together. Do not forget, for a moment, who’s in charge here.”
As if I could, Sume thought. She could now see a square temple wrapped up around the dragon spire, surrounded by an enormous fence made of tree-trunks. The roof tiles and stone walls were dilapidated, with parts either half-crumbled or covered with moss. She knew there were villages like these throughout the mountains, but she didn’t think she would ever actually get to see one.
They entered a gate just as another spray of cold mist hit them. Sume stopped feeling her fingers and her toes. She heard Hira sneeze. When she turned back to look at her, she realized that most of their party had dispersed. Only Mihad and her right-hand man remained with them.
Mihad strode up to the main building. Two guards bowed before pulling the doors open. They were ushered through a long hallway. The rush of warm air was a relief. A woman came, offering them fresh cloaks, which Sume gratefully wrapped around her.
“Welcome,” two voices said, in unison. Two female voices. Sume wiped the water from her eyes and saw them standing in the middle of the room, above a spherical sky-light. They were tall and thin, with complexions a touch lighter than Sume’s honey-coloured skin. Both looked familiar, although Sume could not guess where she had seen them before. They were garbed in clothing that marked them as priestesses of the Prophet.
Mihad stepped towards them and dropped to one knee with a bow. A moment later, she stood up. “I bring to you Hira alon gar Sethi, known to the land once as Hirong Sethi, and Sume alon gar Kaggawa, Goran alon gar Kaggawa’s daughter.” There was no talk of relics, now.
One of the priestesses’ face flickered in an expression of surprise. “They were in Darusu?”
“They were, Your Worship.”
“What an interesting find,” the other said. Her face twinkled.
“Sang Sethi requested to see the leader of the resistance.” The use of an honorific, after days of cold treatment, was another surprise. Sume had to look at Mihad closely to make sure she hadn’t been replaced before entering the compound. Mihad ignored her. “She incorrectly named my father, Ashari.”
“Oh, you bitch,” Hira muttered under her breath.
One of the priestesses lifted her chin. “If it is Ashari you want to see, that can be arranged.”
“He’s been in bed since the start of winter,” the other said. “A cold. To be expected, for a man of his age.”
“You are not entirely wrong,” the first priestess added. “He
was instrumental in the founding of this organization in the first place. Not a thing we tell most people, mind, but we thought you deserved the courtesy, being who you are.”
“Who you both are,” the other finished, glancing at Sume with a smile.
“But time catches up to all of us, even a man as dashing as Ashari alon gar Ashor.”
“An unfortunate reality some refuse to face.” The priestess cocked her head to the side. “I am talking, of course, of Ichi rok Sagar, who calls himself magister.”
“Detestable,” the first priestess said.
“My sister means that she finds it unfortunate that a man of such renown would choose to support usurpers.”
“Ryabei aron dar Ikessar is not of pure blood.” The priestess’ face twisted into a frown. “He has done a commendable job in protecting the Dragonthrone in our brother’s absence, but he should not have put in a petition to claim it for his own. It cannot be allowed.”
“The prophet would not have approved.”
“I’m sorry,” Sume broke in. “Did I hear you say that your brother was the prince?”
The two priestesses glanced at each other before nodding. “We thought,” the friendlier one said, “that it was obvious.”
“I am Princess Roa aren dar Ikessar,” her sister said. “Eldest daughter of Reshiro aren dar Ikessar, the last true Dragonlord of Jin-Sayeng.”
“And I am Princess Ran, the second-born,” the other said.
Sume bowed. Hira hesitated before her manners got the better of her and she did the same. “It is amazing,” Ran murmured, “what difference a name could make.”
“We did not mean to be disrespectful,” Sume said. “In fact, our journey was undertaken because I was hoping to run into you.”
Hira looked at her. “You wanted to find the Ikessars? That’s what all of this was for?”
“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “We can talk about it later.”
“My damn fault, I suppose,” Hira grunted. “I did say I wouldn’t ask.”
“If we could talk in private,” Sume said, a little louder. “That would be much appreciated.” She saw Arn stiffen, understanding some of her words. Inside this temple, he was powerless—even if the griffon wanted to attack them, it would first have to find a way in.
Ran smiled, nodding. “It would be terrible for our hospitality if we denied you such a simple request. But for now, you all should get dry clothes, eat, and rest.”
Roa, the unsmiling one, gestured. “They are under your care for now, Mihad.”
“As Your Worship requires,” Mihad said with another bow. She clicked her tongue. Two men standing guard over a hallway stepped aside, and she led them deeper into the compound.
A robed priestess with a shaved head accompanied them to the kitchen and fed them a simple meal of stewed rice with garlic, bits of dried oyster, and black, preserved duck eggs. The hot food felt good after hours of stomping around in the mist. There was also warm rice wine, though Sume only sipped at it, to keep her wits ready. Her tolerance to wine was apparently questionable.
“It’s got nothing to do with what you think, Hira,” Sume said, realizing that Hira’s eyes were darting across the table to her. “I didn’t know about this rebellion, and nothing about the Ikessars.”
Hira sighed. “I suppose I expected too much. You...no one really knows the extent of what happened in those days. Your father wouldn’t have told you, either.”
“That’s not—” She glanced at Arn and then sat back. “I appreciate all you did for us.”
Hira read something in her hesitation. “I see,” she said, fingering the edge of her empty bowl. She swallowed. “How much are you allowed to tell me?”
“I’ll need to speak with the prince’s sisters first,” Sume said.
The robed priestess cleared her throat. “They’re waiting in the library, if you want to go there now.”
Sume nodded and got up from the table.
“Be careful,” Hira said. “They may look harmless, but…”
“I will,” Sume replied.
The priestess nodded, patting her hand and drawing her away from them. Halfway down the hall, she turned to Sume, a thoughtful expression on her face. “So you’re Sume,” she said.
Sume turned to her. “I am,” she replied.
“I’m Ryia,” the priestess said. Her voice came out as a squeak.
“The third sister,” Sume guessed.
She smiled, bowing. “My sisters don’t allow me to sit with them. They think I’m too young. I’m a year older than Rysaran, but I guess it comes with being born next to last. They plan wars and invasions while I’m supposed to lock up in my room and memorize texts.” She gave a soft sigh. “My brother wrote about you.”
“I’m not important.”
“But you were one of my brother’s few friends in court.” There was a flicker of pain in her smile. “And he needed them. That was all he ever wanted, you know? To have friends. A boy like Rysaran should have never been born to this life.”
“I’m sorry for what happened. We didn’t...none of us expected it.”
“Who could’ve?” She gave a soft sigh. “The idea of finding a dragon consumed him. He was by all rights the Dragonlord, yet you know that he never went through the ceremony? He wanted people to call him prince instead of king and refused to wear the crown, thinking less of himself for not being able to secure a dragon of his own. As if it was his fault!”
“It upset him that he was the first Dragonlord without a dragon.”
“A stupid sentiment. It’s been generations since we ever really had dragons in Jin-Sayeng. The last few Dragonlords never even rode theirs—they were wild beasts, caught here or in Gaspar, brought in cages and kept there long enough for the coronation ceremonies to proceed. Then they had to let them go because we can’t keep wild dragons like that anymore. Our father’s dragon was…” She laughed. “I remember her. She was the size of a dog and she died choking on a chicken-bone.”
“Did Rysaran know her?”
“No. He was two years old when it happened. But no matter how many times I told him what Fira looked like, what she was, he wouldn’t believe me. He thinks that Jin-Sayeng’s troubles are his fault. If he had a dragon, he’ll say, then the gods would bless us.” She gave an exasperated sigh. “My brother is a fool, Sang Kaggawa. A kind boy, the kindest I’ve known, but a fool, nonetheless.”
They were standing in front of a carved wooden door. She bowed. “I’ll speak with you later, perhaps. My sisters, as I said, don’t like me getting involved in their politics.” She knocked once at the door before drawing away.
Ran ushered Sume into a room, directing her to a cushion on the rug-covered floor. Roa was already sitting cross-legged on the other side. “A pleasure again, Kaggawa,” Roa said, greeting Sume with a half-bow, hardy no more than a nod. “Our sister Ryia must have told you how we appreciate your support of our dear departed brother, Rysaran.”
“The friendship was freely given, Your Highnesses. The prince was a compassionate man.”
“A true devotee of Kibouri,” Roa said, getting up to open the window, “with none of the sharp edges.” A draft entered the room. The Ikessar princess did not seem to mind.
“His interpretation of the prophet’s texts was interesting,” Sume conceded.
“He was hard on himself,” Roa murmured. “Even though the prophet’s texts speak of personal responsibility, he believed that one, being made aware, needed to give more, to show how it must be done.”
“He added an extra week to the fast, if you can believe it,” Ran laughed.
Sume nodded. “I could.”
“In another time and place, he would’ve been a great king,” Roa said. There was a faraway look in her eyes. “It would need to have been in a world where he did not have to prove himself from the moment he was born. A land of prosperity and peace, with no warlords to appease. Where he could have both a mother and a father, and people who cared for him. Simple things,
Sang Kaggawa, but something that even a king deserves, don’t you think?”
“A land of prosperity and peace would be good for all,” Sume agreed.
Ran settled on the cushion beside her. “My sister meanders about when she needs to learn to get to the point.”
“One finds it difficult to see the point when one does not know the details,” Roa said, a shadow of a snarl in her voice, though she was too cultured to let it show easily. “All these warlords and their clans, all these little squabbles...has not Jin-Sayeng seen enough of them? It is why the Ikessars rose up when we did. It was not for power. Trying to seize control of the Dragonthrone proved disastrous for our men. Why else has the Orenar clan been content to sit in the sidelines? They could have done the same thing, only their men are cowards.”
“Focus, sister,” Ran said.
Roa gave Sume a look. “Your father supported ours. You, in turn, supported our brother. Do we have it in good faith that you will side with our endeavour?”
“With all due respect, Beloved Princess, I do not see what I can offer you. I do not have the connections Sang Sethi has, nor the leadership of a skilled warrior such as Sang Ashor.”
“It is no matter. When I assume the throne, I need loyal subjects around me.” Roa turned around to face her. “Is that surprising, hearing me say it? That I intend to take the title of Dragonlord?”
“No, Your Worship,” Sume said. “I remember saying it myself once, to Sagar. He did not...agree with me.”
“Of course he would not,” Roa said. “Else why would he support an aron dar?”
“His decision must be killing him inside,” Ran commented.
“I disagree. A rok, a half-breed, would not know the importance of Jin-Sayeng bloodlines. Admirable as his loyalties may be, they are misguided. In any case, I’ve heard more of your story than you think, Kaggawa, and I know you are not as powerless as you pretend to be. Concubine to a Gasparian Lord, consort to a Kag merchant?”
Sume’s cheeks coloured. “That’s not—”
“But is that not why you are here? To commit yourself to our cause?”
An Elegy of Heroes Page 92