“I wanted to make sure I’ve seen everyone,” I said. “Doctor Lamang is very specific about patient care, and I don’t want to have to walk all the way back here.”
“It’s good exercise,” the guard quipped.
I frowned.
“We’ll send them over to you later.”
I suddenly looked up. “Is that coughing?”
“I didn’t—”
“No. From inside. Look, there’s a window open. If someone’s coughing up there, I should check on them. The last thing you want is an epidemic wrecking the whole camp. Have you heard of Rat Pox? One day it’s coughing, the next your whole body’s covered in boils.” I said it with such gravity that the guards glanced at each other with worry.
“We really can’t let you,” the guard said with some reluctance.
“You know we’re attacking Yu-yan soon, don’t you? Sickness is the last thing you want.”
“Let her in,” his companion grumbled. “It’s a damn woman. How much harm can she do?”
“Mistress Kaggawa’s inside,” the first guard replied. “We’ll get in trouble.”
“Lahei!” I said brightly. “I’ll explain everything to her.”
The guards stared at each other for a heartbeat. “Be quick,” one finally said, leading me up the steps. “If you’re caught stealing anything, camp rules state we’re to cut off your hands. General Dai’s pretty adamant about that one.”
There was a giant table right in the middle of the main hall, atop which were woven baskets filled with boiled sweet potatoes, apples, and wrapped loaves of bread. I could also smell baking bread coming from the kitchens. I turned to the stairwell, where I could see shadows dancing along the wall. I heard voices and lowered my head as three men walked by.
They barely looked at me. I couldn’t understand what they were discussing—all three were Kag—and they left the way I came from. I swallowed, waiting. When no one else appeared, I strode up the stairs, heart pounding. It felt like a lifetime had come between me and my son, and nothing was going to stop me from seeing him. I would sooner die.
I reached another open space, where stools were stacked along the southern wall. Kaggawa’s war room had a stark simplicity that would put most warlords to shame. There was a large table of sand in the middle, marked with figures and a model of a city. Based on the layout of the clay soldiers on the sand, Dai’s strategy for overtaking Yu-yan was based on brute force. He didn’t need much more. He had cut off Yu-yan’s supplies the whole winter through, and with no help from the Dragonthrone, Yu-yan was doomed. All he needed was to break the gates down and then walk in.
Whispers began inside my head. I tore my attention from it, trying to remind myself what I was here for, and turned for the chambers. At the nearest door, I paused, thinking I could hear a child’s voice inside. Laughter.
All caution disappeared. I placed my hand on the knob.
Someone came up to push my hand away. I turned and my eyes met Khine’s. For a moment, I simply stood there, unsure if I was just imagining everything. Something in him had changed. He had grown a beard, a patchy thing that covered his chin and the sides of his face, but it wasn’t just that. There was a note of self-assurance on him, as if the months had chipped away the unassuming man I had last seen.
My astonishment faded. To see him alive, to see him safe after so many months…
Even now, I still can’t put it into words. Poetry confuses me. We could try to capture our feelings on paper and it could still ring empty, bells tolling in an abyss. I could say I loved someone and you would tell me it wouldn’t be sufficient, that the only way you would listen is if I found ways to describe the feeling with subtlety and eloquence, maybe compare it to the contents of a leather-bound book or an azure sky. Love, you want me to say, is like the sound of trumpets heralding the arrival of some benevolent god-king of old, or the pearlescent cabochons on the breasts of the bronzed goddess in the temples. Big words, pretty words that pretend they mean something, as if throwing a bottle of perfume into a puddle would give it enough depth to drown in.
Maybe you would rather I don’t talk about it at all. There are more important things, and plenty of people—my own parents included—survive without it. Poetry may have us believe otherwise, but we don’t need love to breathe.
I pushed my feelings back, reminding myself where they needed to be. I was no longer that young girl who would hang on to Rayyel’s every word in the hopes that he would offer me a sliver of affection. I tried not to feel the spasm of disappointment when Khine said nothing by way of greeting. Instead, he placed a finger on his lips and motioned for me to step around the corner. When I was safely behind the wall, he opened the door.
“Doctor, you’re back.” I recognized Lahei’s voice.
“Khine!” My son’s. I closed my eyes, my heart hammering against my chest.
“It’s broad daylight,” Khine said. “You’re both hiding here like baby rats and your skin isn’t looking much better. Lahei—you won’t get around much if you don’t practice with those crutches. Do you want your other leg to fall off?”
“It hurts, Lamang.”
“It’s supposed to.”
“Not the physical pain. But to know that I’ll never run again, or fight…”
Khine made a sound in the back of his throat. “Well, and what do you want me to do about it? I can’t make your leg grow back.”
“I can still feel it,” Lahei grumbled. “That’s the worst part.”
“The sooner you accept the loss, the better.”
“General Dai says he means to kill the dragon responsible for this,” Thanh said. His voice filled me with ache, the kind that springs from absence. I mistakenly thought I would be numb to it by now. “He told me he’ll make sure to clean Jin-Sayeng of all its ills. He says Mother was distracted all these years, but he’ll do his best to support her.”
I closed my eyes. Is this what you’re doing, Dai? Painting yourself as the saviour, telling my boy these lies. He never wanted Thanh dead—it stands to reason he would try to mold a king after his own desires instead.
Khine made a dismissive noise. “Worries for another day. Someone said you’ve been coughing. Let me look at your tongue.”
There was a moment of silence.
“Hmm. I may have to come back later. At least you’ve still got both legs. What’s your excuse for not going outside? Forget baby rats. You’re as pale as the moon’s behind.”
“Someone has to keep Lahei company.”
“I won’t argue with you, but for your health you need to do more than just hide indoors. Let’s change those bandages, Lahei.” A pause. “Looks like the salve’s doing its work. It’s—”
There was a loud scream, followed by a flurry of apologies from Khine.
“My clumsy fingers—just keep your eyes closed, Lahei. It’s just bitterbark and mint. The sting will go away soon.” He reappeared around the corner and beckoned for me to step forward.
I entered the room. Lahei had her hands on her head, eyes screwed shut. Khine was holding Thanh close, whispering something in his ear.
Subdued, Thanh barrelled into my arms in silence. I held him there, as if the hollow between the shadows of my body could protect him from the chaos I had made of our lives. Once, that cocoon was all it took. Would that I could turn back time to such simplicity. We exchanged no words, not a single sound—I couldn’t even weep freely. All too soon, Khine placed a hand on my arm, and I pulled away from my boy, the second time in a year that I had parted from him after only a few heartbeats. If you don’t understand how painful that moment was, then I won’t waste your time trying to explain. We don’t need love to breathe, but without it we would wither soon enough, like trees bereft of sunlight.
If I cannot write poetry, I can at least tell the truth.
I kept one step behind Khine on the way to the infirmary tents. Months apart made him feel like a stranger. Months apart, after saying goodbye the way I did.
&nbs
p; “Khine…” I began.
“Not here,” he whispered in Zirano.
We entered the tent in silence. Karia looked up and then turned away just as quickly. Close. We were too close. I should’ve never come here. I forced my feelings down and watched as Khine approached Karia, asking her to stabilize one of the soldiers, a man who looked like he had run straight into the wrong end of a spear. He reached over for a pot of salve.
“Doctor,” I said. “Let me do it.”
He still wouldn’t meet my eyes, but I saw him nod towards the patient. I opened the lid and smeared a handful on the wound. It resembled a black crater that oozed yellow liquid along the edges, the sort of wound that Khine would leave unbandaged for a few days to give it space to breathe. The man screamed when I dabbed the salve over his skin, straining as Karia held him tight.
“Well, that’s good,” Khine told him once he was done howling long enough to catch his breath.
“What the hell do you mean?” the man gasped, tears in his eyes.
“Means your nerves still work and you’ve got a healthy set of lungs.” He prodded the leg. “Does it sting?”
“Of course it does!”
“We’ll see how it is tonight. Maybe I don’t have to get my saw out.”
“You’ve got a poor sense of humour, Doctor.”
“I like motivating my patients to prove me wrong.” He patted the man’s leg, eliciting another howl. “I think we can bandage it now,” he told me, eyes not meeting mine. “Loosely.”
“I hear we may have a case of Rat Pox in camp,” the man said as I worked on his leg. “Tell me you have it under control, Doctor.”
“I’ve been back for an hour,” Khine replied. “Give me more time.”
“I don’t think we have time. One of the guards was telling everyone about it. They said it started in the officers’ area and now it’s spreading.”
“An hour, spirits help me,” Khine repeated, glancing back at me. I wasn’t sure if he was amused or irritated.
The camp saved the serious cases for Khine, and we spent the next few hours stitching raw flesh, cutting off rotten bits, flushing out grime and pus and grit. Hours of mending what I could break in mere seconds with a sword—an irony I tried not to sit with. Healing is harder than causing harm. I mostly took orders from Karia—Khine was clearly avoiding me. Perhaps he, too, had thought he would never see me again. Perhaps the lies we tell ourselves are so flimsy they make the fates laugh.
It was late evening by the time we were done. All but a handful of soldiers had returned to their tents—the ones that remained were drunk on herbs in the far corner. I wiped my forehead, realized I was mixing my own sweat with someone else’s blood. I found a towel and cleaned my hands as best as I could. Even with that, I could still smell the iron inside my nose. I gazed at the sleeping soldiers. They were Kag, not my own people, but I wondered if the scene here was mirrored somewhere inside Yu-yan’s gates. So many dead, and dying, while I was distracted. Dai was right.
Khine took a moment to slump onto a stool. “You look like you need a good meal,” Karia said, passing by with an armful of linens.
“We still have this false plague to deal with,” he grumbled. “The last thing I want is the general scrutinizing our work.”
She gave a small smile. “Lahei says they’re well aware you’re only here for the prince.”
He gave a lopsided grin.
“It doesn’t concern you? They said they’re watching you closely.”
Khine ran his hands over his face. “Dai needs a surgeon, and his options out here are few and far between,” he said, at length. “We’ve spoken about this. He’s confident in his guards, and he doesn’t take me seriously. Once he’s conquered Yu-yan, then perhaps I will no longer be useful.”
“We have to move before then,” Karia whispered. “It will be harder to get Thanh out once he’s inside the city.”
Khine got up, motioning to me. “It’s time to make our rounds. Pox victims need prompt treatment.”
“I’m glad to see you safe,” I whispered as we left the tent. “I wasn’t sure what happened after Onni.”
“I promised I would find him, with or without you.”
His words made my insides knot.
He took a deep breath. “I’m afraid to ask what you did to get in here,” he continued.
“I only killed two soldiers.”
“Ah. Only.”
“I’m here now,” I said. “You don’t have to stay any longer. If Dai knows you’ve betrayed him—”
“Weren’t you listening? He already knows. He doesn’t care.”
“Only because he doesn’t know I’m here.”
“Of all the times you’ve told me to let you do things alone,” he pointed out, “when has it ever succeeded?”
“Khine…”
“Let me do this for you first,” he said. “We can talk about other things later.”
We fell silent as we presented ourselves to the gate guards. “Better take care of that Rat Pox, Doctor,” one said. “Everyone’s panicking.” They directed us to the lodge, where the guards let us walk through without even a second glance.
On the second floor, Khine went to peek into Lahei’s room. “Sleeping,” he whispered. He closed the door and pulled a stool in front of it. Then, drawing me aside, he led me to the far end of the corridor, where he knocked twice.
“Is that you, Khine?” Thanh whispered. He opened the door a crack. “Mother,” he croaked.
I took his left hand without saying anything. The flesh where his ring finger had been was raw and pink, though the scar looked cleaner than I expected. I closed the rest of his fingers over the stump and pressed his fist against my heart.
“You knew,” Khine said.
“They gave me the finger back in Onni,” I whispered. “I thought they had him in the north.”
“That’s why you left me.” His voice had a thoughtful note to it now.
“I didn’t want to say why. I couldn’t. What right did I have to ask for more, with this life and what it demands for the people in it?” I showed him Thanh’s hand. “He will never grow it back. He can never hold a sword as effectively, or—”
“It’s fine, Mother,” Thanh broke in. “I don’t even remember it hurting that much. And I don’t care about fighting.”
“Are they treating you well?” I asked, struggling to contain myself.
“They’re kind,” Thanh said. He furrowed his brow. “But I’m bored.”
“Bored but alive,” I agreed. I cupped his face with my hands. “You’ve lost weight.”
“You have, too, Mother. You look different.” His face suddenly grew serious, and he pulled away from me, his hands dropping to his sides. “They said that Father means to kill me. Is it true?”
I shook my head. “No.” Not anymore.
“But—”
“The nation is in chaos. Everyone is waging war against everyone and nothing will be as it was, but… we love you, child. That has never changed.”
I don’t know if he believed me, or if he understood exactly what I was trying to say. He looked different, too. Older. His skin had browned under the sun, and even his shoulders were a touch wider than I remembered. And there was a spark in his eyes, one that went beyond his years. I glanced at the mat, where he had placed a book he had been reading. Memoirs from the Beginning of the Wolves’ War. My heart dropped.
My son was too young for this, too young to know the shadows that danced around us. I tried to place the image of him against the memory of his birth. How could this be the same infant that once fit so easily in my arms? I wouldn’t even know where to begin to explain to him the tangled webs I had discovered in Burbatan. Do I follow my father’s footsteps and keep them from him? Or do I tell him now and erase the last traces of his childhood?
I chose the coward’s way out. “We’re going to get you out of here soon. They’re holding your father prisoner in the east. I’m going to our allies to get help fo
r him. But you—you have to leave the kingdom.”
The disappointment in his eyes was suddenly palpable.
“What do you mean leave?” Thanh asked. “You want me to abandon Jin-Sayeng?”
I studied his face. Why did my boy sound like he considered it a betrayal?
“To keep you safe.”
“But this is our home,” he said, incredulously.
I took a deep breath.
“Mother,” he continued, “I can’t just leave everyone behind. You’re queen. I’m the crown prince. There was war when Grandfather was alive and now there’s war out there again. People are suffering. They need us.”
“I know, Thanh. I know. But you don’t have to be here.” I glanced at Khine. “He’ll take care of you.”
“But he—” he started. “He’s just the camp surgeon. Mother, I’m needed here, because Jin-Sayeng is still in chaos. Dai says—”
It was as I feared. “Kaggawa has been feeding you nonsense.”
He looked flustered. “It’s not nonsense. He says that those of us who care about the nation should do something about it. And he’s right. He…”
“My love,” I said. “Don’t you think it was Rysaran the Uncrowned’s cares for the nation that set a mad dragon loose through our cities? Or that it was these same cares that drove his sister Ryia, or your grandfather Yeshin, to assassinations and blackmail and mass murder? I’m aware of Kaggawa’s ideologies. He’s masked them well, but deep down, it’s the same. We start out believing we are chosen, but that isn’t right at all. We choose ourselves, and in the process it inflates us, twists our minds, makes us think we are exalted above the rest and thus beyond reproach. We—”
“Tali,” Khine warned. My voice was starting to rise, and Thanh’s face had turned sheet white. There was terror in his eyes.
I took a deep breath. “I am queen and you are crown prince,” I whispered. “It doesn’t make us gods.”
Thanh glanced down, his eyes skipping past the book on the floor.
“We can’t stay here the whole night,” Khine broke in, taking Thanh’s wrist. “I believe your mother may have told them you have Rat Pox. I need to pretend you’re under treatment. Cough.”
The Dragon of Jin-Sayeng Page 38