Great Chief

by Lindsay Buroker

  “I imagine you can create a soundproof bubble around us to ensure that doesn’t happen, regardless,” Zirabo said when they were alone.

  Yanko didn’t know if he’d ever tried to do that, but in theory… He created something similar to one of his shields and thickened the air enough that sound would have trouble penetrating it. The soundproofing was a good idea, since several people remained close. In addition to Jhali, Dak and Tynlee were having their discussion, and the three generals hadn’t dispersed yet.

  “Yes,” Yanko said when it was complete. “You can speak freely.”

  It occurred to him that he could have simply suggested telepathy, but he didn’t mind the challenge of doing something new.

  “Or you can.” Zirabo tilted his head. “You have questions, I presume. The only thing I’m curious to learn from you is how a mage hunter became your bodyguard. That’s unusual if not unprecedented. It’s part of their training to be more or less brainwashed to detest all things magical—and all those who cast it.”

  “Well…” Yanko had what he considered more important questions and didn’t want to spend a lot of time explaining Jhali. “We met when she was sent to assassinate me.”

  “So it was a natural meshing of kindred spirits.”

  “Not exactly. Sun Dragon—Jaikon Sun Dragon—paid her sect to do the job, but then Jaikon was killed, as I explained, and she was left stranded. And her sect was destroyed. And I saved her life at one point. So our relationship has grown complicated.” Yanko kept himself from thinking of the kiss at the shrine. He didn’t want to talk about that with Zirabo. “But she’s promised that she no longer intends to kill me. And she’s been watching my back since the prisoner rescue. She saved my life there.”

  “Ah.” Zirabo scratched his clean-shaven jaw. “Can you read her mind?”

  “No.” Yanko hadn’t tried that hard, but he’d tried a few times with Dak and had always assumed that a true mage hunter would have had even more practice at creating mental walls.

  “So you don’t truly know if you can trust her.”

  “Only through her deeds, which have been impressive. She’s impressive.”

  Zirabo’s eyebrows twitched. “Just be careful. If her sect was hired to kill you—is that because I sent you that letter and put you on that mission?—well, the Sun Dragons are still around, as we discussed. Just because Jaikon’s gone doesn’t mean nobody else in his family will think to remind the mage hunters that they were paid.”

  “She’s warned me that others of her sect might feel compelled to try to kill me.” Yanko didn’t like hearing that the Sun Dragons occupied a portion of the city they meant to march on, but he’d always known it was possible that assassins were still out there. “I’ll keep an eye out.”

  “Good.” Zirabo tapped his fingertips on the flute case. “You have questions?”

  “One question and something I have to tell you before it comes out elsewhere.” Yanko grimaced. “Who are we marching to the capital to support? I know Dak will also want the answer to that question.” Yanko was surprised Dak hadn’t asked right away since he’d said earlier that Turgonia would only back Zirabo if they agreed with his choice. “Did you find a candidate to support? Someone who will be meeting us there? Or did you decide to try to take the dais yourself? I know, or Dak said, Turgonia would support that. And I would, of course. Partially selfishly,” he added, feeling compelled to admit to his hopes. “So you’ll assign me a position on the new continent, so I can oversee it being turned into an agricultural mecca for Nuria and also fulfill the promises I made.”

  Zirabo gazed at him thoughtfully.

  “Can you read my thoughts?” he asked curiously after a moment of silence. “I generally know enough to protect them from fellow mages, but I fully admit my passion is music and my gift is crafting Made objects related to that passion.” He tapped the flute case again before folding his hands on the desk.

  “I’ve gotten better at mind magic, but I don’t try to poke into people’s minds unless I feel they’re a threat to me or my friends. It seems… well, Tynlee does it easily enough, I suppose, but she’s a diplomat and diplomats always crave information, right? I’m just…” He shrugged. “Yanko.”

  “Just Yanko.” Zirabo smiled, then shook his head. “I do have a candidate in mind, yes. I will speak to Dak shortly. I believe he’s still standing outside.”

  “With Tynlee, yes. Did you know—I mean, she said she’s a relative to the Great Chief.”

  “A distant one, yes. We met in passing once long ago. I believe we share great, great, great grandmothers.”

  “I wondered if she might make sense as a leader, if you didn’t want the position for yourself.”

  Zirabo’s eyebrows flew up. “Did she mention an interest?”

  “No.” Yanko shrugged. “But she’s smart and well-liked, and she has a connection to Turgonia that might be useful for a future ruler.”

  “I think it would be difficult to get our people to accept someone they have no previous knowledge of,” Zirabo said, “and the fact that she’s lived abroad may make them skeptical of her. I wouldn’t rule her out if she was interested.” Zirabo placed a hand on his chest. “But she’s not who I have in mind.”

  “Who do you have in mind?” Yanko still hadn’t gotten his answer. “I know Pey Lu has said… I’m afraid she bluntly said she wasn’t interested in supporting you.”

  “I’m not surprised. But you talked her into coming anyway? That’s impressive. Or is there something that she wants?”

  Er. Yes, there was.

  “I’m not sure why,” Yanko said slowly, dreading Zirabo’s response, “but she thinks I am somehow angling for the dais for myself. I think she wants to believe it because it would be a way for her to snub Nuria or those who snubbed her. I’m not sure exactly. She’s a complicated woman.”

  “Yes,” Zirabo said neutrally.

  “The reason she’s here with her fleet is that she thinks she’s supporting my big push. I did try to disabuse her of the notion, but she didn’t believe me. She doesn’t even know me, so I don’t know what’s making her think—” He shrugged and shook his head. “Regardless, if she helps you by thinking she’s helping me, I will deal with the consequences of her wrath later. I don’t think she’ll kill me. She hasn’t yet.”

  “You genuinely have no interest in the position?” Zirabo asked.

  Yanko was shaking his head before the sentence ended. “I honestly don’t see why she thinks it’s a plausible option. The family is disgraced, thanks to her deeds, and I couldn’t even get into Stargrind. And I’m eighteen. There’s no way.”

  “Are you only eighteen?” Zirabo asked in amusement. “I told my officers you were twenty. I was guessing.”

  Yanko spread his hands. “Maybe I’ll have more chin hair by twenty.”

  “We all must aspire to lofty dreams, or humanity will never progress.”

  Yanko snorted, recognizing the quote, though he couldn’t remember who’d said it. His tutors would have been disappointed.

  Zirabo stood and walked Yanko to the tent flap, pausing to pat him on the shoulder. “Thank you for talking your mother into joining us, however dubious her intentions. We’ll win the city and make sure that continent is taken care of. I’m positive the average Nurian will be interested in it now that we know there’s gold.” His brows drew together. “I have my flute again, and it’s specifically designed to sway individuals in a gathering, especially if they don’t know I’m doing it. Though I understand you have a knack for swaying people yourself.” Zirabo smiled and lowered his hand.

  Yanko, thinking of the pirates who’d looted and killed so many before he’d convinced them to stop, wasn’t impressed by his abilities to sway anyone.

  He only bowed and walked out into the crisp dark night. Dak and Tynlee were holding hands and chatting quietly with their heads bowed. Yanko waved that he was done and they could go in.

  Only after Dak and Tynlee disappeared into the tent di
d he realize that he still didn’t know who Zirabo’s candidate was. It had to be Zirabo. Maybe he hadn’t wanted to say it bluntly out of fear that Yanko would judge him ambitious or power hungry. As if Yanko had the right to judge any of his elders. Not only that, he would happily help put someone he knew to be a good man on the dais.

  Yanko nodded to himself as Jhali appeared out of the darkness, and they walked back toward Yellow Delta together. He would do his best to secure the dais for Zirabo.

  17

  Their army walked ten abreast and stretched for a mile down the highway behind their leaders. Yanko didn’t truly consider himself one of those, but he was up front with Zirabo, Dak, Tynlee, Jhali, and the generals. Tynlee’s yacht had stayed back in Yellow Delta, with instructions to the captain to avoid the fighting. Yanko had suggested Lakeo stay on the yacht, since she hadn’t wanted to march, but she’d worn a conflicted expression when he left, and had mentioned something about joining Arayevo on Pey Lu’s ship in case Yanko needed help later.

  A part of Yanko wished he could have convinced more of his friends to stay out of the march and what might turn into an ugly confrontation between armies. He and Zirabo had to go, but Dak? Tynlee? Yanko had no idea why she’d come, unless she hoped to use her diplomacy—and mind-manipulation skills—to help convince the enemy to surrender before things got ugly.

  Yanko only assumed things would get ugly. So far, they hadn’t encountered anyone. The first day of marching had passed without incident, and they were halfway through the second, with a hazy rain falling onto their heads. Kei had abandoned his perch on Yanko’s shoulder to stay dry inside one of the two carriages that most of the leadership rode in. Yanko could have joined them, but he walked outside, uncomfortable with the idea of lounging in sheltered comfort while their force of volunteers trudged through the rain.

  Dak strode along at his side—it was probably against Turgonian ethics to ride on a padded seat when one could walk—and Jhali alternated between walking on Yanko’s other side and trotting ahead to peer into the misty fields alongside the highway. Fields, Yanko noted, that should have long since been planted and displaying the green rows of broccoli and cabbage that the area was known for. A few vineyards rose on hills in the distance, but they appeared as neglected as the fields. Now and then, the troops passed fresh graves with prayer charms or a hastily carved wooden statuette of one of the gods in animal form.

  “I assume there are scouts out there?” Dak looked at Yanko. “We’re less than ten miles from the walls of your Great City.”

  “Have I mentioned how charming it is that you know Nurian geography better than I do?” Yanko asked.

  “Charming isn’t the word you used.”

  “No? Odd.” Yanko nodded to the question. “I’ve sensed people in the foothills beyond the fields. Our scouts and some who are not our scouts.”

  “With an army this large, there’s no way to hide that we’re coming.” Dak lowered his voice. “I’ll slip away before dusk comes and find a way into the city where I can set my charges. I’m assuming the gates will be heavily guarded. Are they planning to attack tonight? Or before dawn?”

  Yanko looked toward the closest carriage window. Zirabo and General Dom Joo sat inside, facing the other two generals. Earlier, they hadn’t been speaking, but now, they leaned forward in earnest discussion. Yanko wasn’t surprised that neither he nor Dak had been invited to join in—he was still surprised Zirabo had bothered to introduce him to the officers.

  Since they were discussing the same thing as Dak, Yanko didn’t have any trouble plucking information from their surface thoughts.

  “Tonight, if we’re unopposed,” Yanko said. “But they want to stay flexible. It’s possible an army is waiting outside the main gate to force the issue before dark. We should arrive around the time you’re slithering away.”

  “I said I would slip away, not slither.”

  “Does it matter? Both verbs are unlikely for a six-and-a-half-foot Turgonian.”

  “You’ve seen me be stealthy.”

  “I’ve more often seen you pound fists into Nurian faces.”

  “Yes.” Dak smiled at some contented memory. “I may be disappointed if you succeed in making your nation less prone to start wars with mine.”

  “All I’m looking to do is grow food and fatten my people up.”

  “Mm,” Dak said neutrally.

  Two of Zirabo’s scouts came into view on the road ahead, both riding stout blue-gray lizards that covered ground faster than their squat bodies suggested they would. The sturdy eight-foot-long lizards were bred for pulling carts, though, and had massively powerful chests and legs.

  “That’s Falcon.” Yanko quickened his pace. “And a woman I don’t know.”

  As he jogged ahead of the carriages, Yanko hoped the officers wouldn’t be irked with him for running up to one of their “scouts” for information first. Yanko hadn’t seen his brother since the pirate ships let everyone off, so he wanted to talk to him and get an update on their family.

  Falcon slowed his lizard and waved for his companion to do the same. They guided the creatures around to walk in the same direction as the army, at a pace that would keep them a little ways ahead. At least, that was their intent. The lizards balked several times and tried to turn off into the fields.

  Yanko sensed alarm from the creatures, that they feared some predator they had left behind and had no interest in going back in that direction. What predator would scare lizards that weighed almost a thousand pounds?

  Once the riders had the creatures under control, Falcon said, “Greetings, Yanko. And Yanko’s scary-looking entourage.” He made a vague salute toward Dak and Jhali, who’d kept pace with him and stayed close. “In the stories of old, mages always looked more intimidating than their bodyguards,” Falcon added.

  Neither Jhali nor Dak responded beyond a slight narrowing of the eyes.

  “Would it help if I puffed out my chest and made a fireball?” Yanko asked.

  “Probably not.” Falcon tilted his head. “Are you better at them now? I saw you used earth magic on the soul construct.” He shrugged, as if to say it didn’t matter to him, but it might to some.

  “I’m decent. Pey Lu helped me improve during some brief time training with her.”

  Falcon’s eyebrows flew up. “Really? Is she… Was it…”

  “Uncomfortable? Yes. I was her prisoner at the time.” Yanko flicked a hand, wishing he hadn’t brought it up. He doubted his brother would be envious that Yanko had spent time with Pey Lu, since they both had more reasons to resent her than care for her, but he didn’t want to imply he had some greater relationship with her, just in case it would bother him.

  “Sounds about right,” Falcon said. “Oh, this is Veya, my partner. Scouting partner.”

  The woman—a beauty of perhaps twenty-five—smiled at Falcon, and Yanko wouldn’t be surprised if they’d done more than scouting together. But he wouldn’t begrudge Falcon his luck with women, not when he now had the warm regard of…

  Yanko glanced over at Jhali, who had a beauty of her own, even if she was glowering stonily at the scouts, the rain, and the route ahead.

  “We got close to the city and have some news to report.” Falcon pointed at the two lead carriages. “Is Prince Zirabo in one of those?”

  Yanko nodded and was about to point Falcon toward the right one when Zirabo spoke into his mind.

  Get his report and relay it, please, Yanko.

  “Ah,” Yanko said. “You can tell me, and they’ll know.” Yanko touched his temple.

  “You? I didn’t realize you were important enough to be—”

  “The message relay service? Yes, my status has risen immeasurably of late.”

  Falcon laughed. “You did slay that soul construct. That story has taken off, you know.”

  “I’ve heard.” Even though Yanko had volunteered to walk outside the carriages, he wondered if Zirabo and the others liked it that he was in plain sight for the enemy scouts
to see. Perhaps they would report on him and fail to notice the high-ranking officers.

  “The good news,” Falcon said, “is that there aren’t many people guarding the main gate to the city.”

  Yanko considered the big lizards, their movements atypically nervous. “What is guarding it?”

  Falcon seemed surprised by the prescient question but recovered quickly. “That’s the bad news.”

  Yanko raised his eyebrows.

  “A dragon,” Falcon said.

  “A dragon?”

  Falcon spread his hands as his friend Veya nodded a confirmation. “It’s at least forty feet tall with a huge head, long fangs, yellow-green scales, and four legs. Oh, and wings. They were folded to its side when we were there, so I don’t know if it can fly or not. They didn’t seem big enough to lift something so large, but I’m not an expert on dragons.”

  “That’s because they don’t exist,” Yanko said. “There’s no trace of dragon bones in any of the museums. They’re a myth, nothing more.”

  “That’s what I thought, but the myth in front of the gates has very long fangs.”

  “It has to be an illusion.” Even as Yanko spoke, he looked at the lizards again and sensed their fear. That they had seen and smelled a mighty predator.

  Was this dragon what had alarmed them so much? Would an illusion fool lizards? Yanko had only ever made auditory and visual ones. Was it possible to add a convincing scent?

  “Any chance that Turgonian explosives work on dragons, Dak?” Yanko asked.

  Dak and Jhali were listening, but neither had spoken.

  “Turgonian explosives work on anything that’s real,” Dak said.

  “I don’t suppose you got close enough to touch it?” Yanko asked Falcon.

  “Uh, no. In the event that it’s real, running up and poking it seemed unwise.”

  “It has to be magical,” Yanko said. “Though that doesn’t necessarily make it unreal.”

  “That was my thought,” Falcon said. “I’m hoping it’s not a soul construct.”