“I couldn’t stop the bleeding in time.” Namra pulled the blanket away from the pale body, showing the swollen flesh around her leg. Khine had seen the worst a battlefield had to offer, but he still found himself recoiling from the sight of it. How could she look so frail? Even when she had fallen into the featherstone, she had been solid, the sort of woman who wouldn’t—couldn’t—go down without a fight. He had relied on it all this time, leeching off her strength because he knew his couldn’t be enough. He would have died back in Phurywa without her.
Now… now she looked like she belonged in a grave.
“I don’t know if it’s worth the trouble,” Namra said.
“She’s still breathing.”
“She’s gone through so much, Khine. Perhaps… perhaps we should just let her rest.”
“How could you say that? She’s still breathing.”
Namra placed a hand on Tali’s chest. “And she shouldn’t be. She rode a dragon, and we think it died when they sealed the rift. You saw it outside? The clear sky? The tainted glow is gone. It worked.”
“This is all nonsense to me.”
Namra’s face tightened. “She’s still breathing. No soul went into this body; by all rights, it should’ve died when she jumped into the dragon. It didn’t. But if she’s here, why hasn’t she woken?”
“Bullshit,” Khine gasped. He looked down into her face—another thing Tashi Hzi used to warn them against. You’re trying to save them, not crawl into their skins. You can’t start conceptualizing their pain. If you break before you can do anything, then you can’t help them at all.
But this was different. He loved this woman with a madness he couldn’t explain. If saving her meant reaching into his own chest to rip his heart out, he would do it without a second thought. “Tali,” he whispered, watching for a reaction, a sign that she could hear him.
“We tried that already,” Namra said.
“Tali, it’s me. Please. Wake up.”
“Lamang,” Rai broke in. “Enough of this. You’re upsetting the boy.”
Khine turned to Thanh, who had yet to say a word the whole time. He was trying very hard to keep still.
“Let’s deal with the wound first,” Khine said. He didn’t wait to see if they agreed. Rai didn’t try to stop him as he asked for a dagger to cut off the infected flesh. Namra hadn’t done a bad job of it at all—just not as thorough as a trained physician would’ve. And Khine wasn’t a physician, but he knew what he was doing. Most days he was convinced of it, anyway.
After he managed to recauterize and bandage the wound, he went to wash his hands in the lake, tears stinging his eyes.
He must’ve stayed there longer than he intended. The moon was starting to rise in the distance, a full brightness on the dark-blue sky, when he heard footsteps behind him. Rai cleared his throat. “Thanh explained everything.” He paused, taking a full breath. “I appreciate what you’ve done for my family. You didn’t have to.”
“I wanted to,” Khine said.
“So that part of it… that you were lovers…” Rai looked almost embarrassed to have brought it up.
Khine nodded, unsure of how else to respond. It didn’t even occur to him to deny it.
“I thought there was more truth than lie to that.” He looked pensive, not angry. Different from the man who had stomped off for the better part of a decade in his haste to correct what he thought was a grievous sin. Now he was standing here, his own hands as drenched in her blood, his face hollowed by what could have only been a sleepless last few days as he cared for her dying body. Khine wondered what she had told him. She would have found a way to make it hurt, because of course she would. But somehow, she had made him listen at last. He wished he knew exactly how.
“I’m…” Khine began. “I’m not sorry, if that’s what you’re asking.” Loving her was the easiest thing in the world. I am sorry you didn’t feel the same way, because it would have saved her a lot of pain. Maybe she would have been happier if Rai, from the very beginning, had fought for her the way she was willing to fight for him. But then again, if he had, Khine wouldn’t have the memory of her in his own arms. Sometimes love could be selfish.
“At least you’re not asking for a duel like the last one.”
“I think we’re well past such things.”
He nodded. “That’s fair. I… I didn’t know what… what I was throwing away. I thought once everything was over, I could… she would let me fix it. And I had every intention to fix it. But…”
Khine cracked a smile. “She told me you thought you were protecting them. I understand. She did, too.”
“But it wasn’t enough to keep her.” Rai looked down, eyes red. “I lost her.”
“We have no say on what people feel about the things we do, even if we think we’re in the right.” Khine swallowed. “Look at us. She’d laugh if she saw us crying over her.”
“She already did that. Laughed at me.”
“She enjoys pulling your leg, Rai. Hell, she’ll run off with it if you let her.” He paused, his chest tightening around the words. Was that a mistake? Did it all belong in the past, now? She didn’t give up easily; he couldn’t, either. Tashi Reng was the most intelligent man he had ever met, but there was one thing he didn’t quite understand. Hope might be a bitter drink, but we’d all drain the bottle given half the chance.
He turned his gaze to the tower and noticed the top of it was glowing blue.
Oh, Tali, he thought. Not yet, my love.
He started running, a confused Rai at his heels.
“Namra,” he said, startling her. “Something’s keeping her here.”
“What are you saying?”
“Dead dragon-towers don’t glow. They didn’t in the cities. But outside, just now… have you noticed? It wasn’t clear in the daylight, but it looks like a torch up there.”
Namra rushed out to look while Khine checked Tali’s pulse. A glint in her hair caught his attention, and he placed his fingers on her head. He felt a bump on her scalp. Gently, he parted the roots of her hair.
“She’s got something tattooed on her scalp,” he said when Namra returned. Cradling Tali’s neck, he motioned for her to see.
Namra’s face flickered at the sight of the black ink, embedded on her scalp between her ears and above the nape of her neck. It glowed slightly. “That’s a spell rune,” she said.
“Did you know about this?” he asked, turning to Rai.
“I’ve never seen it in my life,” Rai said. “But then again, we weren’t… as intimate as…”
“I don’t think she was aware of it, either,” Khine said, to save him from further embarrassment. “But it’s clear who put it there. I found it hard to believe from the beginning that a father would so willingly sacrifice his child.”
Shame flooded Rai’s face. “It… happens.”
“It does,” Khine agreed. “But a man as controlling as Yeshin wouldn’t have just stopped with her death. He found a way to keep her safe. The dragon-tower. I think she’s in the dragon-tower.”
“A connection,” Namra breathed. “If her soul was torn out of the dragon after the rift was closed, then this dragon-tower could’ve captured it. It’s not connected to the others, so that would protect her from the rush of energy coming out of Yuebek. That’s—that’s why Yeshin wanted me to find this place. That spell rune is tying her body to the dragon-tower, to offer a clear path for her soul to return. But… why doesn’t she?”
“I’ll find out. Send me to her,” Khine said.
“What?” Namra asked.
“My soul. You can send me to where she is.”
“That’s like asking me to chop your head off and then put it back on.”
Khine shook his head. “If this dragon-tower is keeping her, then if you send me along the same channel, maybe—”
“You can send me instead,” Rai said.
“No,” Khine replied. “You’re needed here, Rai. I’m not. We don’t even know if it’ll work. If it
kills me, I don’t mind.”
“I… need your blood,” Namra said.
Khine bared his arm.
A bright light surrounded him. Khine found himself walking on all fours. There was a pond on the road, and he paused to look down on it. A dog was staring back at him—a mangy-looking one with ears that flopped both ways and whiskers that made it look like he had been sniffing through the gutters of Shang Azi.
Things are not very stable once you’re out of your body. I think the tower cuts a small hole through the fabric, which means you’ll find yourself in a closed chamber on the other side. Your body’s not attuned to your soul having a strong connection to the agan, so you might not look like yourself. Neither will she.
But a dog?
He decided not to let it worry him and began to run up the road. He found himself darting through a dirty alley, past sewage canals large enough to swim in. Everything faded around him after a while; he didn’t know exactly where he was going, but something was drawing him in a certain direction, calling him like a master whistling to her hound.
He reached the gates of what he recognized as Oka Shto. The sound of battle was rising in the air. He managed to dash past fighting soldiers without anyone noticing him, but closer to the doors leading to the great hall, in the courtyard, he found himself stopping. There was a man in the midst of it all, an old man, a blood-drenched warrior.
Not far from him was a woman cradling a child.
“What did you think this little rebellion would do, woman?” the old man hissed. “There’s nowhere to go! Would you kill her to get to me?”
“Papa!” the child called. She couldn’t have been more than three years old, maybe four—Khine hadn’t been around enough children to know for sure.
The old man ignored her, his eyes focused on the woman. “You belong in the fires of hell, Yeshin,” she replied, cold fury to his rage. Her arms were keeping the child from dashing towards him.
Yeshin approached, sword in hand.
The woman picked the child up and began to run.
“There’s nowhere to go!” Yeshin repeated, laughing. He stalked after them.
Khine found himself dashing after all three, down the dusty halls of Oka Shto. With all feet on the ground, the shadows of the alcoves looked even more imposing. Somehow, he found himself overtaking Yeshin; he was now at the woman’s heels as she led the child up the stairs, up onto a familiar floor. Yeshin was right—the woman didn’t know where else to run. She was looking around in terror.
Halfway down the hall, she seemed to come to a decision. Khine followed them all the way into Yeshin’s study. The woman placed the child on the ground and made her touch the wall, unlocking the hidden chamber. Spells disabled, she picked her up again and went down the steps, two at a time.
They reached the throne room.
“This is completely pointless, Mara,” Yeshin’s voice thundered behind them. “Lord General Ozo is taking care of that mess outside as we speak. Didn’t imagine the old woman still had fire in her, but that’s Peneira for you. Did she promise she would take care of the child? You realize that was all a lie, don’t you?”
“When my husband finds out about everything—”
“Ah, so you haven’t told him yet,” Yeshin said.
“You’re a fool if you think he won’t discover what you have planned for the child. You are a cruel man, Yeshin. Arro will see you for what you are.”
“Maybe he will, maybe he won’t,” Yeshin replied easily. “By the time he’s back from the empire this will all have been swept under the rug. And you? He’ll think you left him for a rich Kag merchant. He’ll never want to speak your name again.”
“You—”
He stepped forward, sliding his sword into the woman’s belly. She opened her mouth, gasping, and turned as if to shield the child one last time. But Yeshin plucked the girl from her arms and pushed her body away. She fell towards the throne, her blood pooling around the base.
“There,” Yeshin said, patting the girl’s head. “Did she scare you?” He turned to the staircase. A man and a woman were climbing down the steps.
“Is it over?” one asked in a heavy Zarojo accent.
“The bitch actually thought she would succeed,” Yeshin snorted. “Nothing to it. Come. Let’s finish what we started.” He turned to the child. “Close your eyes, my dear. Be brave for me. This will be over soon.”
She did. The others advanced, hands glowing blue.
The fog drifted in, covering everything. When it receded, Khine was no longer in the throne room. He was back outside, at the top of a hill. There was an estate in the distance—a giant mansion that seemed even larger now that he was closer to the ground. He trotted up the stairs, and then found himself in front of doors. Giant doors for a giant mansion, with knobs that seemed hopelessly out of reach.
He scratched at the surface and barked.
The doors opened, swinging inward.
He walked in. The doors closed as soon as he was out of the way.
He found himself in a rectangular great hall, one with several doors on each side. In the middle were several sofas facing each other. Behind that was a foreign-looking table, one that Khine had never seen before. He went up to it, sniffing at the polished edges. There was a single stool in front of it. He placed his paws on the table and then jumped back when he heard a loud noise, almost—but nowhere near—like melodious cymbals.
The white things on the table made the noise every time he pressed them. It was a musical instrument of some sort.
He turned away from it. There was a fish tank near the wall, with a sleepy-looking bonytongue inside. It was surrounded by the bobbing bodies of smaller fish. He wondered why it was still alive, considering the toxic water, and then remembered that technically he wasn’t, either. Namra said that across the agan fabric, nothing was. Everything functioned as they had in life, but it wasn’t quite the same.
He sniffed, recognizing a scent coming from the room behind the tank.
Tali.
Scratching at the door of this one did nothing, but the knob was at just the right height for his mouth. After a few tries, he managed to turn it.
The room was empty except for a little girl sitting on the floor next to the bed with her arms wrapped around her knees. He recognized her immediately.
Tali, he said, going up to her. He nudged her arm with his nose. It’s me, Tali. It’s Khine. I promised I wouldn’t leave you, didn’t I? I’m sorry if you thought I did. I’m sorry about the things I said. It was the best I could do. We had nothing else, and he was burning in hate. On his own, against you, he never had a chance. I knew you could take care of him yourself and you did. You did it, Tali. Now it’s time to come home.
She didn’t respond.
I’m sorry, Tali. I was wrong to say those things. I was wrong to put it all on you.
Whining, he flipped her arm out of the way so he could wedge the front half of his body onto her lap.
Her eyes opened, and her fingers slid through the shock of fur around his neck, as if out of habit. He realized why he had taken this form. A common mongrel, a stray dog. It was one she still trusted, among everything else.
“Khine,” she finally said, looking into his eyes. Her voice was very soft, as child-like as her appearance.
Her recognition of him, even in this form, made him so happy his tail began to wag. You can get up. Old Iga all but screamed at me to bring you back, and your son’s waiting, even Rai… Rai never left your side, Tali. Everyone’s waiting. Come back to us.
“I’m…” She swallowed. “I don’t think I want to.”
Why not?
“I don’t think I can do it anymore.”
He whined. That’s not true. You’re strong, Tali. You’ve always been strong.
“And he used it, didn’t he? My father. The rest of them. They made me strong so they didn’t have to be.”
Tali…
She pressed her face against his. Tears leaked into
his fur like rivulets of rain. He kissed them away.
We’ll stay here, he said, if that’s what you want.
“No, Khine. You can’t do that. Your family…”
Don’t worry about them. I’m where I belong. Here, with you.
She pulled him closer to her, wrapping him in her arms.
He could’ve stayed there forever if she had wanted him to, and for a time it felt that way. But eventually, she lifted her head. “Did Namra tell you why this place exists?”
We saw the dragon-tower glowing and guessed the truth. Your father made arrangements for your safety.
“More than that. I think my father made this all himself.”
He sensed the weight behind her words and kept silent, though he had the urge to pant a little. She was silent for a few moments, too, combing through his ears, pinching the fur between her fingers before smoothing it flat.
“I should’ve known from the start,” she said at last, her voice barely a whisper. “This is the same chamber I told you about, the one I found myself in when I was in Yuebek’s dungeon. I’ve been here several times since. I believe I get dragged in every time I’m around a strong current of agan.”
This isn’t Yuebek’s doing?
“No. That bonytongue in the tank—that was my father’s. The piano… I saw that thing in Burbatan, in my father’s old home. My brother used to play it, they said. I never made the association until now.” She absently stroked the side of his cheeks. “Yuebek, I think, tried to drug me back then, and then tried to get his mages to do something to me. Something to make me more… pliable to his desires. It didn’t work. I must’ve fallen unconscious.”
But your story… the assassin who stalked you… you killed her, you said. And Yuebek had used her to make you believe Rai sent her.
“I think all of that was true,” she said. “I think Yuebek did take me somewhere so that all of that could happen once I woke up. I was seeing this place and that other place. Half in and half out. I’ll show you.”
She scratched his chin, bidding him to follow her. He trotted beside her as she walked to the next room.
The Dragon of Jin-Sayeng Page 69