The Dragon of Jin-Sayeng

by K. S. Villoso

  “No, my queen. Those are inert, and seem to have been crafted by a rather masterful—and agan -blind—artisan.”

  “Commissioned by my father, of course.” I glanced at the ceiling. “And it almost feels like we’re not in Oren-yaro anymore.”

  “That’s impossible. I didn’t detect a portal when I came through. We’re still very much in the palace, my queen.”

  “Then how do you explain that?”

  “My best guess is that it’s a mirror.”

  “It doesn’t look like any mirror I’ve seen.”

  “It’s an agan mirror. They’re common in Dageis. You can talk to people through them. This one looks like it functions as a window—we’re looking at a very real place, even though we’re not standing there.”

  I frowned. It sounded like something straight out of a book. I stared at the mountains again. The treetops—many leafless or touched with red and yellow overtones—swayed with the breeze. They looked familiar. I realized I’d been there before.

  “Those are the mountains around the Sougen,” I breathed. “To the north. We’re looking north. There was less snow when I was out there, but that was summer. We’re well into autumn now. Look at the leaves. This is—”

  I fell silent as a large shadow passed over us from behind the glass. A dragon appeared, circling the treetops before it made a swift landing on an empty field. The air around it sparked, and I heard Namra gasp just as a flash erupted around us, knocking me off my feet.

  I caught my fall and somehow managed to avoid hitting my head on anything. My ears were ringing as I crawled along the floor. I found a column and pulled myself up just as the flash disappeared. On the dome above, the dragon reared on its hind legs and roared. Saliva dripped down its fangs, followed by a short burst of flame. It flapped its wings and took flight. As it approached the sky, more sparks appeared beyond the clouds.

  “You don’t see it?” Namra called through the noise. She pointed at the sky over the mountains, not the dragon.

  I felt the breath catch in my throat as I beheld the gash on the purplish-grey sky, a long, ragged hole that blinked like an eyeless socket. I didn’t need her to tell me where the flash had come from. Something told me I was looking at the heart of Jin-Sayeng’s problems.

  “It’s spreading,” Namra continued.

  She was right. The diseased-looking sky stopped along an edge, where small tendrils touched the untainted blue, like drops of ink spreading in a basin of clear water. “This is what Kaggawa was warning me about. He said the mages from Dageis had thrown up spells to try to seal the fabric, but the spells were weakening and agan was spilling from the other side over here.”

  “It’s infected flesh,” Namra continued. “Rotting, putrid. You don’t just bandage a wound like that. You have to clean it first, cut out the parts that can’t heal.”

  “Lamang’s got a worthy apprentice in you. You should’ve been there to tell them. That rift… it wasn’t there the last time. The tear in the fabric has grown that big in a matter of weeks.”

  “This spells chaos. The larger this rift gets, the more unstable the land under it will be. It can only grow worse from here.”

  “Kaggawa tried to explain it all to me. Layers and fabrics and… Dageis is involved, somehow?”

  “It would be,” Namra said. “The Empire of Dageis is involved with just about anything to do with the agan on this continent. In this case, it looks like they were until they didn’t want to be.”

  “They don’t care about Jin-Sayeng. None of the empires or larger nations do. Most don’t even bother to learn the name of a feeble nation attempting to stand by itself.” Staring at the rift made my eyes water. “That’s the thing, isn’t it? That’s the thing creating mad dragons that burn our rice fields. Now it’s turning our people into mindless monsters, as mad as the dragons themselves, and if we don’t do anything it’s going to engulf us all. Jin-Sayeng will become a living hell.”

  Namra didn’t answer. She stared at the dome, unmoving, confusion dancing in her eyes.

  “You’re the trained mage,” I whispered. “Tell me what we’re supposed to do.”

  “My queen—”

  “There has to be a way to repair it. There has to, Namra. Would the gods be so cruel as to destroy our land and our people this way?”

  She shook her head. “This is beyond my comprehension. If we make a petition to Dageis, maybe they can send another team of mages down here to investigate. I’ll have to go to my old school, beg my professors for an audience with a Dageian official, which would take months, if not years, if it happens at all. They’ve done it before. I don’t see them wasting resources for yet another failed attempt.” She didn’t look overly thrilled with the idea.

  “That will mean sending you away, too. I need you here.”

  “I’m glad you think so, my queen. At any rate, it’s a reach. I don’t have those sorts of connections. I studied, as best as a poor Jinsein immigrant could, and was sent on my way. I know no one of power in Dageis, and even if I did, as you yourself said—they won’t care.”

  “Even if this will eventually spread to their lands, too?”

  “They will watch it consume Jin-Sayeng before they lift a finger.”

  I swore under my breath before I turned back to the dome. “A mirror into the Sougen, right in the path of dragons,” I murmured. “This view…” I suddenly recognized exactly what I was looking at. It was as if I was at the very top of the Anyus’ dragon-tower, overlooking the ridge. If I squinted hard enough, I could make out the faint outline of the road below. “This room somehow connects Oren-yaro to Yu-yan. The Anyus have a new dragon-tower there.”

  Namra rubbed her chin. “For this to work at all would require another connection from the source, spells created on purpose to link that area to the mirror. Your father must have wanted a way to see out there. Why, though? I wasn’t aware he was that interested in the west.”

  “He wasn’t,” I breathed. “If anything, he went on as if the west didn’t matter. The Anyus lit their own funeral pyres during the War of the Wolves when they seized the Sougen for themselves. Let them deal with the angry landowners used to centuries of self-rule! Their concerns were nothing to him. But this—we’re looking straight from their tower.” I turned back to her. “Look at it, clear as the wretched day. Can you only see it from behind this glass? Is my son out there right now, sitting under this very tear, waiting to die with the rotting flesh of this land?”

  “Do you need to sit down, my queen? You’re shaking.”

  “He must have known everything. He wouldn’t have built this chamber if he didn’t. But why didn’t he say anything? Why did he keep this all to himself, the knowledge of what is happening to our land? He could have brought the other warlords here to see… he could have told them to stop fighting and look. Look, gods be damned! How can you see that and not drop everything? How could you let your own home burn?”

  “With all due respect, my queen… both Kaggawa and Anyu live next to this, and yet they still wage war on each other.”

  “They cannot agree on how to fix it, and so they fight. If those who live with the consequences can’t find a way, what chance do the rest of us have?” I looked down at my shivering fingers. “Find us a way out of this place, priestess.”

  Namra walked away, and I slumped down on the floor near the edge of the throne, trying to work my mind around yet another of my father’s untruths. I tried to tell myself it didn’t matter. His plans died with him. I needed to focus on mopping up the mess, not getting to the root of it. My father had ambitions grander than I could’ve imagined—what more did I need to know?

  The sky on the other side of the dome flashed again, filling the room with another burst of white light. I stared until the corners of my eyes watered, trying to make the vague shapes in the distance yield more than what I could see.

  “Thanh is out there,” I said as the light receded. “Gods forbid that he is frightened and alone. Let him be car
ed for, at least. Let him be alive.”

  “My queen.” Namra didn’t look up from examining the runes running along the base of the wall. It was almost as if she was ashamed she had no answers. Ashamed, or afraid.

  “Kaggawa would have taken him straight to the Sougen. The region is the heart of his rebellion, after all, and he wants to use my son to legitimize whatever governance he means to start himself.” I pressed my fingers over my forehead and stifled a groan. “Has your Dragonlord allowed you to tell me the council’s thoughts? If they catch my boy, will they kill him?”

  “Belfang is trying to find a way to compare your son’s blood with that of one of Agos’s trueborn sons. The runes that protect this room—Belfang knows of a similar technique to craft a spell using Prince Thanh as a base. If it responds to Agos’s son, then it means they share the same blood.”

  “This is ridiculous. Why bring his children into this? Couldn’t you use Rai?”

  “He has managed to convince the council to openly allow the use of agan in this instance, my queen, but the Ikessars will not risk Dragonlord Rayyel.”

  “Yet they think it’s all right to risk a young boy.”

  Namra got up. “My queen, this is not my will,” she said.

  “I know,” I said. “I know it’s not.” I curled my hands into fists. “I need to learn to stop doing this. Blaming Rayyel. Blaming my father. It’s all we do.”

  She pressed her lips together. “Ridiculous as you may find this charade to be, my queen, please see the bright side in all of this. If Thanh is proven to be Dragonlord Rayyel’s son, then you may call on your warlords to rescue him from Dai Kaggawa. If he isn’t—he will be safe from the warlords’ fury. You said Kaggawa is interested in him because of your blood, not his father’s. He remains a valuable hostage to the man regardless what happens here.”

  “Your idea of a bright side only deepens the pit inside my stomach.” I took a deep breath. “And Princess Ryia… who knows if she’ll even let it get that far? We know nothing plays out like we want it to and now she’s here, breathing down my neck. She’s got something up her sleeve—I just know it. Her discovery of this room alone will be enough for her to convince every other warlord to stick a spear through me. Any luck with that exit?”

  Namra pointed at the throne. “The crown, my queen. Set it back the way you found it. I believe it’s a key of some sort.”

  I frowned. The crown was already sitting there. But I suddenly remembered it was facing me when I first walked into the hall. I angled it forward. As soon as it was in the right spot, I felt my fingers tingle, followed by the sound of metal clicking together. Light—real light, not the artificial blue glow around us—touched the far end of the hall, chasing away the dream-like haze of our surroundings.

  We returned to my father’s study. I noticed my hands beginning that tired old trembling again and moved to tug the curtains half-open to distract myself. The sun was barely peeking past the hills in the distance, christening the rice terraces with a crown of gold. “Perhaps you should make your way back to your chambers,” Namra suggested. “The rest of the castle will be up soon, if they aren’t already.”

  “The guards don’t even make their rounds through my hall,” I said.

  “Dragonlord Rayyel does,” Namra replied. “He’ll be worried if you’re not there.”

  I didn’t know how to respond to that information and turned to counting each of my steps along the chilly corridor. We met no servants along the way. At the door to my room, I turned to her. “You’ve been good to me, Namra,” I said. “Even when I haven’t been to you.”

  She bowed. “I will continue with my investigations, Beloved Queen, if that is your wish.”

  “We need to learn what else we can before Princess Ryia does. But if I can be honest with you, Namra… it’s what we will learn that frightens me the most.” I smiled. “I hate to disappoint you.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Intentions mean nothing without competence. If you believe I am the rightful queen of this land, then surely you must have some confidence in my abilities. I am sorry to tell you that I am not my reputation.” I showed her my hands. They were still shaking. For me to bare my neck to a woman I once considered an enemy… my father would have considered it the last straw, an insolence that dwarfed the rest. But the people who would serve me needed to know what I was—and what I wasn’t. It was the first step to carving my own path.

  She pressed my hands together and touched the back of them to her lips. Without another word, she turned and left me with my thoughts.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  THE TRIAL

  I entered the room, wrinkling my nose at the draft. The air felt like the full embrace of winter, the sharp cold deepened even more by what I had just seen in my father’s study. As I closed the door behind me, I noticed the windows were gone. Not open—gone, ripped out from the hinges. Khine sat on the edge of the sill, a tired expression on his face.

  “You locked it,” he said as soon as I appeared. He wrinkled his brow.

  I glowered at him. “Did you by any chance miss our latest arrival?”

  “One more princess to keep track of. I don’t see—”

  I came up to clamp a hand on his mouth. “You’re too loud.”

  “I am?” he asked, voice muffled.

  I pulled away with a sigh. “My mother-in-law, Princess Ryia. She has a reputation of her own, too, one that matched my father’s. I wasn’t sure I believed them until I saw her yesterday.”

  “That doesn’t explain the windows. I thought the worst. You said you’d keep them unlocked in case you ever had to escape. I thought someone had gotten in, and—”

  I stared at him. “Khine…”

  Khine’s face darkened. “Your burdens aren’t all yours to bear, you know.”

  “That’s not what I’m worried about,” I said. I took a deep breath. “Her men killed Agos. I cannot lose you, too.”

  “You won’t lose me.”

  “You cocky bastard. Agos could break a door down with one kick and look what they did to him.”

  “Agos died because he didn’t realize what he was getting himself into,” he said, his voice growing serious. “I told you that I don’t blame him for his sentiments, but he was ill-prepared for the repercussions. What did he expect? He was in the process of hacking the king to pieces!”

  “Rai’s not really—”

  “Details,” he told me. “You get lost in the details too much. Dragonlord. Warlord. Uncrowned king. I’ve been here seven days and haven’t gone a single step without hearing an argument about something irrelevant. You’ve got other things to worry about, yet here you’re all but ready to butcher each other over trivialities. Tali, look at me.”

  I faced him reluctantly.

  “I’m the last person you should worry about. You need to keep your head afloat first.”

  “That’s not going to happen if she uses you to hurt me.”

  He took a deep breath, eyes ablaze. I felt my skin prickle, as good a sign as any that he had overstayed his welcome.

  “Please leave.” I turned my head away. “I don’t want her to catch you here.”

  “Is that what you really want?”

  “Please, Khine.”

  He hung back another moment before he finally stepped away.

  I felt my insides tighten. “Wait,” I said, before he could disappear.

  He glanced at me, the wind ruffling his hair.

  I scrabbled for something to say. “You said something about arguments. What did you hear?”

  “The officials are having a meeting in the great hall,” Khine said. “At least, I assumed it was a meeting. They looked like Shang Azi thugs at the cusp of a brawl.”

  “And of course the bastards didn’t even invite me. Typical. Let’s go there.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “A live show is better than reading Rai’s boring transcripts.”

  He conceded, and we made our way to
a ledge built directly adjacent to stained-glass windows overlooking the great hall. The glass itself was cracked, which allowed me to peer through and see what was happening below. The great hall was bursting with dozens of officials, all lined up in two rows along the walls. I recognized some, but there were also fresh faces, each bearing robes marked by the banner of their ruling lords and ladies. In the middle of the hall sat members of the council from the wider province of Oren-yaro, the capital city of Shirrokaru, and the Citadel, the mountain city where Ryia reigned.

  The balance of power was always tipped in favour of the Oren-yaro and the Ikessar-influenced lands to the north, which made this the largest gathering of the highest-ranking bureaucrats in the land since my coronation. Larger, had the other warlords and their council representatives bothered to pay a visit—but only Warlord Ozo was in attendance, and he didn’t look particularly thrilled to be there in the first place. He refused the tea a servant came to pour for him and sat with his legs crossed, his hands on his knees, glowering at Princess Ryia.

  Her position in the circle was interesting. Because the Ikessars had sat on the Dragonthrone for so long, they didn’t have a warlord in those lands. There was no need. Yet every official there accorded her the respect that would rightfully belong to someone of that stature, perhaps even more. She was a living legend, a tiger from the mists.

  “I wonder how Lo Bahn is doing,” I said. “If he’s still alive.”

  Khine’s expression grew pensive. “We’re a whole sea away. Don’t tell me you actually miss him.”

  “You call him Lord Han. He’s not even truly a lord, if I understand Zarojo politics correctly. And yet he would look better down there than I ever could.”

  “You’ve lost me. Lo Bahn isn’t half as pretty as you are.”

  “Khine…”