“Gods,” I said, finding my voice at last. “The castle in Oka Shto… did he do this there, too? Did he kill children there?”
She looked at me. “Is that really a question you need an answer to, Queen Talyien? You can’t change the past. The future, on the other hand, is all yours.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
BLOOD OF THE BROTHER
This is beyond ridiculous,” Huan broke in, his face flushed. “I need to speak with my father.” He walked out of the chamber, slamming the door behind him.
I moved to follow. “Leave him be,” Iga said. “Royals and their pride. I’ll go find his guards. The ones that still have their heads attached.” She left me and Khine alone.
I turned my attention back to the well. One of the grates was larger than the other. I peered into it and saw an alcove, carved right into the walls. At the bottom was a stone disk, about the size of my palm, engraved with runes around the edges. It glowed when I drew near, so I placed my hand right on top.
A trapdoor floor appeared, the edges glowing blue. I drew close, tugging at the handle to open it. Another glow against the blackness revealed stairs, but not much else—the light wouldn’t reach all the way.
“Want to take bets on what’s waiting for me down there?” I asked.
“Not particularly,” Khine said. “Maybe… maybe you shouldn’t go.”
“Mmm,” I replied.
“Tali…”
“I want to see,” I said.
He placed his hand around my wrist, his eyes begging me not to.
“He would never hurt me,” I managed to mumble. Without waiting for Khine’s reply, I forged blindly into the darkness.
The shadows, I noticed, did strange things with every step I took. It was as if there was a bubble, an invisible shield that kept the light in, and everything else out. A strange, prickly sensation clung to my skin, and the damp air was getting thicker. I wiped my nose as I reached the middle of a chamber. I couldn’t see the walls, but I could guess at the immensity of it from the echoes my footsteps made.
A source of light illuminated the room with a greyish glow, like twilight during a storm. I looked up. I should have taken that wager, because I would’ve won. There was another mirror, just like the one in Oka Shto. It was gazing out at another tower, one I didn’t recognize. The surroundings, however, indicated it was deeper into the mountains. I could see the jagged rocks of the peaks, still covered in snow, and talus slopes streaming down into the ragged valleys.
“You’re killing me here, Tali,” Khine called. “Tell me you’re all right.”
“I’m alive,” I called back.
“What’s down there?”
“More questions.” I stared back at the mirror, wondering what I was missing. My father had planned everything. There had to be a reason for all of these. Go to the Yu-yan dragon-tower. No explanation, no apologies. He knew I would come.
I walked to the other end of the room, hoping to hit a dead end. Perhaps the fewer strands there were to puzzle over, the happier I was going to be. Instead, there was a door. I pulled it open and found myself in a study that was smaller than the one in Burbatan. But instead of shelves of books and other things, all I saw was a single desk with a letter on top.
“Is this a treasure hunt, Father?” I said out loud. “When do I get my present?” The darkness hummed from the sound of my voice.
I felt the prickling sensation travelling through my hands as I looked at runes on the door. I picked up the letter. Time had turned the paper frail, and I was almost afraid it would crumble as soon as I touched it. I unfolded it. It was too dark to read the words, but the ink glowed a little, even in the darkness. As soon as I touched them, my senses exploded and I crumpled to my knees.
I woke up in bed, my joints aching with every breath. Somehow, I felt like I should be panicking, but I wasn’t. I felt oddly at peace—confident, even. A warrior at her prime.
Too much at peace. I jolted up with a start, wondering where my guards were. They should’ve been there in the room, standing by the doorway. I beheld the crumpled bodies on the floor before turning to the lone figure sitting by the windowsill. The moonlight shone, revealing a woman’s face.
She looked… unremarkable. A woman whose face you could see in every market corner of the world, or on any random street you could cross. But she was familiar enough, and she gazed at me with the confidence of someone who knew she’d caught her prey at last. I stared at her and laughed.
“So,” I heard my voice say. It wasn’t a woman’s voice, but a man’s, croaking and in need of a glass of hot ginger tea. “You win, after all. They told me not to underestimate Ryia, but it was always you I needed to fear, wasn’t it? You were always the wily one. So unassuming, so harmless… until you’re not.”
I slowly got out of bed, my knees shaking. She could kill me with a poison dart at any moment, the way I could tell she did with the guards, but she wasn’t going to do that. This was the sort of woman who needed to look her enemy in the eyes before she killed him. Years ago, I could’ve used that. Years ago, when I was a young man and the world still made sense.
I slowly began to pull myself away from my—no, from my father’s—thoughts. It frightened me that it took me so long to realize that. Was it that easy for me to slip into his skin? Even as I struggled to jump out of the body, the thoughts were too familiar, and all too quickly, I found myself lost in the current once more.
I turned back to the woman and drew a long sigh. I wasn’t going to kill her. I decided that a long time ago, when I first met her through the haze of my grief for my sons’ death. She’d been a nobody then, one of the sycophants at Rysaran Ikessar’s heels, the way her father had been with his father before him. That connection glorified her in Ryia Ikessar’s eyes and she quickly became her right hand, even with the famed Magister Ichi rok Sagar at her side.
She smiled. Don’t lick your lips, woman, I thought. If I reach my sword, I may not be able to help myself. Except I didn’t sleep with my sword anymore—it brought me bad dreams, and good sleep, for a man my age, was about all I wanted these days. “I heard you got married again,” she said. “Congratulations. I should’ve sent a gift. Where is your wife?”
“In the room across the hall,” I said easily, knowing it didn’t matter. If she wanted to hurt Liosa, she would’ve done it already, and this woman—from what I knew of her—wouldn’t have it in her to kill an innocent. “My snoring bothers her, and her frequent visits to the chamber pot bother me.”
“Then a double congratulations is in order.”
“Don’t play coy with me, Kaggawa.”
“I am not, my lord. She must be pregnant.”
“With a man my age?” I laughed. “Let’s not bandy words about. You detest me, Kaggawa—I can see it in your eyes. You’d kill me if you could. Since I’m not dead yet, I’m assuming you need me alive. Spit it out, then. What does Ryia want?”
“I don’t work for Ryia Ikessar anymore,” Kaggawa replied.
“I always thought your family was loyal to the Ikessars. What’s the matter, girl? They didn’t pay enough?”
She turned away from the question. “You were in the Sougen a few months ago,” she said instead. “I believe you spoke with my nephew Dai.”
“He wants me to remove Ojika Anyu from Yu-yan,” I said. “He was rude and demanding. I think I’ll do the exact opposite. I think I’ll grant Yu-yan to the usurpers when I’m done.”
“This isn’t a joke, Warlord Yeshin. You know what’s happening out there. You’ve seen it yourself, so I’ve heard.”
I crossed the room, towards the chair where my sword lay. My gaze lingered on it for a moment before I chose to grab the blanket draped behind it instead. Wrapping it around my shoulders, I turned back to the woman. “Not Ryia, then,” I said in a low voice. “What do you want, Mistress Kaggawa?”
“What we all do,” she replied. “Peace in Jin-Sayeng. We’ve been at war too long, with no end in sight.”
“You win battles, Warlord Yeshin,” Kaggawa said. “But you won’t win the war. Every victory of yours costs you an ally. The more reasons you give them to fear you, the more the others will defect to Ryia’s side. This will all be for nothing, after all.”
“If you’re convinced she’ll win, then let her win,” I said, dismissing her with a wave. “Let her win, Kaggawa! What are you disturbing an old man’s rest for?” I leered at her, though I knew I wouldn’t be able to frighten her with my yelling. She was one of the few people I knew who could face me like that. I respected her for it.
“Because you owe Jin-Sayeng,” she replied in an even voice. “We called it Rysaran’s dragon, but really, we should’ve christened it Yeshin’s dragon instead. You were the one who seized it from the Ikessars because you wanted that power for yourself. To be the first Jinsein royal dragonrider, after so many years…”
“I know full well what I did,” I said. “What will you do next? Throw my dead children at me?”
“You killed them.”
“I killed them,” I agreed.
There was a flicker of surprise in her face.
“I’m old,” I conceded. “And I believe my time is up. Sometimes a man has to admit a few things before he dies. I watched the creature I set loose upon the world rip my sons apart. All my hopes and dreams, gone in an instant. Taraji. Senjo. Lang. Shoen. I say their names with my prayers every night, hoping the gods granted them rest, at least. Hoping that their father’s sins didn’t doom them for eternity.” I slowly sat at the edge of the bed, staring at my hands.
She approached me, arms crossed, that look of defiance on her face. She didn’t just hate me—she was disgusted by me. It meant something that she would even step so close. “It may not be too late, my lord.”
“What?” I asked with a laugh. “Because you think my wife may be with child? It may not even be mine.”
“You can fix this,” she said.
“Me?”
“Your fascination with the agan didn’t sprout overnight. I should’ve known when you alone survived the razing of Oren-yaro with nothing but a little bit of madness to show for it. You’re a mage, Warlord Yeshin.”
I stared at her before I began laughing. “Now you’ve moved to conspiracy.” But even as I said this, I felt my fingers tingle, and I saw the water-like glow lifting from her body. I shook my head, forcing my eyes to focus. It used to be easier to ignore.
“My daughter is a mage, too, my lord. I know the signs. I denied them for a long time.” Her face tightened. “You hold a faint connection to the agan, and perhaps more than just faint. This is enough.”
“For what?”
“For you to fix the rift yourself.”
“Kaggawa, I’ve always liked you more than I did your mistress, but now I’m starting to think that was a mistake. If you’re so daft you think I can do what dozens of trained Dageian mages have been unable to, then this conversation is over. I can’t stand idiots.” I moved to grab my sword, willing the agan stream to wrap around the hilt. It flew from the chair straight into my waiting hand.
She wasn’t lying about her daughter; there wasn’t a flicker of surprise on her face. She accepted the reality of mages as one who lived with them. “Party tricks,” she said easily.
“I am capable of nothing more,” I replied.
“The mages cannot fix the rift all the way from the ground, and airships cannot fly through those skies,” Kaggawa said. “You can.”
“How?”
“Rysaran’s sacrifice has done one good thing for us. They might be mad, but the dragons have returned,” she said. “Tame one. Ride it to the sky. Close the rift. Then maybe the gods will forgive you.”
A shiver ran through my withered body. For one long, painful moment, I imagined it exactly as she said it. For an Oren-yaro to close those rifts and save Jin-Sayeng on the back of a dragon… the words alone had the makings of a legend.
But then I tried to lift my sword, and my arm shook so much I had to put it down again. I flashed Kaggawa a regretful smile. “Even if I had the skills necessary for such an endeavour—even if I knew how to tame the damn things without losing my head—you forget that I am an old man. I can barely fight anymore.”
“That’s unfortunate,” she said in a voice that said she didn’t believe me. “So you would rather sit here and rot, then. Very well. When the Ikessars are dragging you to your execution, remember you had the chance to win the throne and you refused it.”
“What the hell do you mean?”
“What I am offering, Warlord Yeshin, is a truce. You may have a child in your wife’s belly. It could be a daughter. If you don’t, find another—a niece, a great-niece, we don’t care, so long as this girl is your heir. Ryia has a son. Together, they can rule Jin-Sayeng, and this war will be over at last. You and Ryia both win. Promise to lay down your arms in exchange for a betrothal, and I promise you, I can get Ryia to do the same. She wants peace as much as anyone else.”
“Not I,” I told her.
“You,” she agreed, “can secure the throne for your bloodline with this arrangement. You can play the hero while you’re at it. Remember, you’ve tainted the Oren-yaro name more than your predecessors ever did. This will undo the damage and assure the history books will forever speak favourably of your people. What more can you ask for, Warlord Yeshin?”
“You’d entrust me with that?” I asked. “I, a man you despise with your every breath?”
“We all have to make sacrifices.” She returned to the window and pointed at my men. “Your guards will be awake soon, and you can pretend this never happened. But if you change your mind, send word. You know where to find me.” She started to climb back down the rooftop below.
“Sume,” I said.
She paused.
“Do you truly think my wife is with child?”
“Perhaps you should ask her yourself, my lord.”
“I can’t do this again,” I said. “I can’t.” I thought about my dead sons and knew I would hate the next infant I held in my arms.
“I cannot even begin to imagine your sorrow, Lord Yeshin,” Sume replied, looking for all the world like she meant it. “But regret alone won’t absolve you.” With that, she disappeared into the night. I laughed at her foolishness just before my thoughts dissolved and became my own again.
When I woke up, I found myself staring at the mirror, at the shadow of a dragon passing by. It dropped to the tower, its snout right where the window was. It roared—a sound I couldn’t hear but see, flames licking over its mouth. It gazed out at something in the distance.
It felt odd to be looking at a dragon that wasn’t aware of me. This was smaller, a female from the shape of her head and the long frills along the side of her neck. Her scales were dull, pale, the colour of dirty snow, with dots of blue on her forehead. Scars marked most of her breast, and part of her face looked as if it had once been ripped apart by another dragon. I couldn’t decide if she was ugly or beautiful. Both, I think. Gracefully, she spread her wings and roared a second time.
Another dragon arrived to answer her call. This one was black and long-limbed, with red splashes on the scales of its pointed muzzle. I was expecting it to attack the first dragon, but instead it butted its head against the female. The black-and-red dragon dwarfed the white as they pressed their necks together in a gesture that was oddly tender. They must’ve been a mating pair, which seemed odd considering what I had seen from the creatures so far.
Something about the image tightened the grief around my heart. I sat up, staring at the letter in my hands as I tried to shake myself loose from the memory I had just witnessed. There were runes along the edges of the paper, which I hadn’t seen before. Did my father get a mage to put a spell on it? Did he do it himself? I wafted between my feelings, over the disbelief that my father had an affinity for the agan and that he would want me to find out this way—with the
revelation that I really was nothing but a tool for him. He didn’t want to raise another child. His life was over when I came into the picture.
And yet in the scant light of that room, I caught a glimpse of the first few words in his letter. My Dearest Daughter…
The ground began to shake.
I regained my composure and dashed up the stairs. “There must be a dragon on the platform above us,” Khine said as I re-entered the chamber. “Are you all right? What took you so long?”
I flashed the letter at him before stuffing it inside my shirt. The roar above started a second time. It was beyond deafening.
We strode out of the basement. At the base, right outside the steps, I saw a dark shadow. I shielded my eyes from the sun as I stared up. A familiar black wing grazed the sky. I blinked, recognizing Eikaro.
In the distance, I heard horns.
“It’s Eikaro,” I said. “Do you see the shape of the crest? He must have travelled back to familiar surroundings after Kyo-orashi.”
“Are you sure?” he asked. He looked nervous.
“What do you mean?”
“I suspected as much, but I didn’t know how to break it to him,” he said. “That’s the same dragon they’ve been chasing for months. Huan wants vengeance. Those horns—they’re going after him again. He’s eluded them so far, but—”
“We can’t let them kill him. We need to get to the platform.”
“There’s a lift for taking construction supplies up the ridge.”
We started for the path towards the cliffs.
Another roar split the horizon. Heart pounding, we found the lift at the bottom—a rickety wooden structure held up by ropes as thick as my arms. Khine slammed his wrist into the winch, which immediately began to unwind, taking us up to the ridge.
“Watch yourself,” he warned as the lift began to sway.
I grabbed the railing to support myself and spotted the dragon’s tail just as it made a sweep at the top of the tower. “Eikaro!” I tried to call out, but I was too far away. The rush of the wind swallowed my voice. I spotted soldiers advancing with spears and poleaxes.
The Dragon of Jin-Sayeng Page 43