“There’s a word for it?” Blaise said. “Whatever it is, it’s peculiar. No one likes to admit they’ve sinned in any lifetime, which means they don’t seek out treatment. They hide their illnesses.”
Karmic societies no longer existed in the Sea of Magdalen. Or anywhere else, Reyna had thought until this moment. There was no mention of it in her book. She must remember to write this down.
Blaise said, “I only saw her boil for a second yesterday. She covered it with her hair. I couldn’t stop thinking about it, so I went to look for her this morning. I had to convince her to let me help.”
“And she told you about karmic societies?” Reyna asked.
“Eventually.” Blaise smiled at Tori-si. “Anyway, I wasn’t being shifty, just discreet. That boil needs to go. It’s hurting her.”
Reyna thought fleetingly of Jian-so, who could not hide his disfigurement. Not unless he wore a mask. “We’re supposed to ride to the tombs.”
“No one will miss me. And if I stay here, I might be able to learn something useful. Someone must know something.” Blaise knelt beside her patient and picked up the needle. A whimper came from Tori-si. She covered her eyes with one hand.
Reyna stepped back involuntarily. There would be plenty of blood in a boil that large. And other oozing fluids. “I would offer to help, but . . .”
Blaise looked over and smiled. Reyna was fooling no one, least of all Blaise. “I’ll see you later. Be careful.”
* * *
To Reyna’s surprise, they were joined at the palace gates by fifty noblemen and noblewomen, along with their cortege. Crown Prince Ken-so and his cousin kept their distance from each other. On the palace steps, Jian-so spoke with a serving girl. Reyna recognized her from the night before. She was the efficient one who had handed Jian-so a new, unbroken knife. As Reyna watched, the girl, smiling, reached for his hand and kissed it, then hurried off.
Reyna had swung onto her horse when Levi came by.
“Where’s Blaise?” he asked, frowning up at her. There were shadows beneath his eyes. Seeing them made her feel a little better. Benjamin trailed behind, leading both their horses.
“Tending someone.” She explained briefly.
“I don’t like her staying here alone.”
“I’m not her keeper. Tell her so.” Reyna wished he would go away. She took up her reins. Levi caught them. When she looked down at him, stony-eyed, he said, “Forgive me.”
Her horse’s tail swished back and forth. A carriage rolled past them through the gates. The others were departing.
“For what?” she said.
His hand tightened on the reins. Exasperation tinged his words. “You know what. Yesterday. Lord Jaime is not my business.”
Reyna wanted to reach down and shake him. “That is a coward’s apology.” She had not meant to speak of it, ever again. But she was tired, and sad, and the words came pouring out. “You were upset last night for a reason. Why not say it? Why pretend?”
“I—” Levi’s hand fell away from her reins. “I have no right to say it.”
“Who says you don’t?”
“Your king,” he snapped. “My queen. You’re better off with that worthless Jaime—”
“Worthless! You don’t even know him!”
“What’s this? Troubles with the scribe?”
Several feet away, Jian-so and Ana-si watched from their horse. Jian-so was grinning. Ana-si sat behind him with her arms wrapped around his middle. The sight of them together made Reyna’s skin creep. That was not all. She cursed her carelessness. Hers and Levi’s. What were they doing, going on about different kings and queens? Even though they had spoken Lunesian, it had been reckless. She saw her thoughts reflected in Levi’s eyes before he smoothed his features and shrugged. He switched to Caffeesh.
“Sometimes she’s difficult,” Levi said to Jian-so, who laughed. Ana-si, her cheek resting against Jian-so’s back, looked off in the distance and said nothing.
“Have you brought your ink, scribe?” Jian-so said. “You’ll see much worth writing about today.”
Heart thudding, Reyna lifted the flap on her satchel so that he could see the writing box tucked within. “I have, Prince Jian-so.”
“Excellent. Come, Levi. My wretched cousin has already left. We can’t let him take the lead here.”
* * *
The road followed an ancient aqueduct that wound past the city to the river. Levi and Jian-so rode together at the front. Jian-so’s mood had improved greatly once leaving his father’s company. He joked and laughed, pointing out sights along the way: the aqueduct; the amphitheater; the spice market, six hundred years old. He was knowledgeable and well-spoken, a man who clearly loved his kingdom and knew its history. Reyna could almost see why Levi had taken to him back on Lunes.
Reyna and Benjamin rode in the middle of the cortege, largely ignored by the Miranese. The conversation around them was subdued and occasionally punctuated by odd stretches of silence. Jian-so seemed to be the only one in good spirits. Crown Prince Ken-so did not look bothered at having his cousin in the lead. He rode near Reyna, content with his young son in front of him. A boy, about five years old. Reyna had learned his name was Ippen-so.
Despite her best efforts, her eyes strayed frequently to Levi. To the curve of his ear; to the way he sat on his horse, self-assured, easy.
Benjamin nudged his horse close to Reyna’s and whispered, “Why does everyone look so sad?”
Even though they spoke Lunesian, Reyna kept her voice low. “Do you remember how the Miranese kings are buried with their councilors and soldiers?”
Benjamin nodded.
“I think these are the councilors and soldiers.”
Benjamin’s eyes widened. A carriage rolled by, filled with women. He said, “But those are ladies!”
“They go too, sometimes.”
Another voice broke in, speaking Caffeesh. “Is something the matter?”
Crown Prince Ken-so had ridden up on her left. His son looked over at her and smiled. The boy was a miniature of his father, with tidy, knotted hair and a dagger hanging from his belt.
Reyna returned the smile, then said, “Nothing is the matter, Prince Ken-so.”
Clearly, he did not believe her, eyes resting on Benjamin before turning back to her. “What were you speaking of?”
There was only curiosity in his words. He did not give her the same bad feelings as Jian-so. She decided to tell him. “Benjamin was asking about the tombs. About tutto mortise.”
“I see. This is not the custom on Lunes?”
Reyna shook her head. “Or anywhere else that I know of.”
An eyebrow rose. “Not even Coronado?”
“Not for centuries.” Uneasy, she wondered why he bothered to speak with her. She was just the scribe.
Ippen-so was peeking over at Benjamin, twice his age, with unabashed interest.
“You must think it an archaic custom,” Ken-so said to Reyna. “Cruel.”
“It’s not my place to think these things.”
“No? Who better than someone who has lived beyond here? Seen how others live?”
Levi looked over his shoulder at them. His brow creased before he turned back, responding to something Jian-so said.
Reyna answered Ken-so’s question with another. “Do you think it’s archaic and cruel?”
The answer was yes. She saw it in his eyes. Ken-so looked around, realized that others had begun to take an interest in them. Including his cousin. She did not miss the cold look Jian-so threw in their direction, or the way Ken-so set his shoulders and met his cousin’s gaze unflinchingly.
“What a question, scribe,” Ken-so answered lightly. “Certainly I don’t. In life and death we serve.” He nudged his horse forward and left her.
At Benjamin’s questioning look, Reyna lifted a shoulder. She could not begin to guess what that exchange had been about.
They rode past the harbor, clean and tidy. Reyna saw the Truthsayer bobbing peacefully in t
he water and wondered how the men were doing, stuck aboard the ship. Benjamin had not had a moment to spare for messenger duty.
They followed the river. Mountains sprang up to the left, and on the right. The royal tombs had been built into these mountains, their facades carved into the stone. Each tomb the size of a cathedral. One tomb for every ruling family. Centuries of evolving architecture. Even knowing the urgency of their mission, Reyna was tempted to grab her parchment and charcoal and spend the day by the river, sketching away.
They dismounted in front of the last tomb. Hundreds of wide, shallow steps led up to the entrance.
Ana-si came up to her. She inclined her head toward the steps and spoke to Reyna for the first time that day. “We walk?” she asked.
Reyna watched Levi climb the stairs with a royal cousin on each side. She nodded grimly. “We walk.”
* * *
Once they climbed the endless steps and walked past massive, iron-spoked doors, Reyna found they immediately had to descend another staircase. This one steeper than before, leading them into a dark abyss broken only by the torchlight carried by servants. The doors closed behind them with a thud, and a muffled scream emerged from the rear. The air turned chilly. Reyna sniffed; she smelled not dirt exactly, but something similar.
Something cold and damp.
Clay.
She smelled clay.
Ana-si remained by Reyna’s side. As they neared the bottom—Reyna could see a brighter light—Jian-so spoke from the front of the crowd, loud enough to be heard by all.
“For centuries,” he began. “The rulers of Miramar have been buried beneath these mountains. Accompanied by those they loved best, men and women who chose to follow their sovereigns into the afterlife. In life and death they served.”
Only the smallest hesitation before the Miranese said, in unison, “In life and death we serve.”
The words echoed around them. Reyna rubbed her chilled arms.
“But these are different times, my lords and ladies,” Jian-so said. “Illness has decimated our numbers. Isolation has left us friendless.” Reyna saw him look toward Levi. “Nearly. I believe there is a way to honor our past and protect our future. Therefore, when my father takes his final journey, he will be guarded by the most powerful army ever created.” They reached the bottom and walked into the main part of the tomb. A great cavernous space. Over the gasps, Jian-so finished: “Carved by our most gifted sculptors.”
Reyna stood at the edge of an immense sunken pit and looked down. Rising from the pit was a replica of the palace, the steepest roof only twenty feet high. At the entrance to the palace, where elaborate doors had been left open, she could see the pedestal that would hold King Botan-so’s coffin. A reflective pool surrounded the replica; beyond it were the most lifelike statues Reyna had ever seen.
Clay soldiers filled the pit. Hundreds of them. They stood in orderly rows, dressed in full battle gear: some with visors and helmets, others bareheaded. The men were armed with shields on their backs and lances in their grips. There were swords, axes, and clubs; every possible weapon was represented here. And not only men. A boy, no more than eight, held a strawlike object to his lips, preparing to shoot a poisoned dart directly up into the crowd. The craftsmanship was an extraordinary thing.
A nobleman stepped forward and looked into the pit. A woman clutched his arm, her expression both frightened and full of hope. The man asked Jian-so, “There will be no living sacrifices?” His voice shook.
“None,” Jian-so confirmed. “This is my gift to you. To your wives, your children. Do not forget my generosity when the time comes.” Jian-so looked over at his cousin, smiling faintly.
Ken-so, his son by his side, wore an unreadable expression. “Your father knows of this?”
“I told him before we left. I’ve never seen him so pleased.”
The look on Ken-so’s face shifted; it went beyond skepticism. “Where did these statues come from?”
Jian-so extended a hand toward Levi, who was also looking upon the soldiers with astonishment. “The clay came to us from our dear friends on Lunes,” Jian-so said. “Their first shipment. The craftsmanship you see is from Miramar’s finest sculptors.”
“What sculptors?” Ken-so demanded. “Most of them are dead. How were these carved so quickly?”
Jian-so’s expression hardened. “You think too little of our craftsmen, Ken-so. And bore our guests with your questions.” He raised his voice, smiled once again. “You will want to look closer. Come!”
They followed him down the steps into the pit and spread about exploring. The mood was lively now that the Miranese realized they would not be suffocating and starving in the upcoming days. There were tears, and many crowded around Jian-so, kissing his hand and looking eternally grateful. A few dropped to their knees and kissed his feet. Jian-so was gracious. He played the part of the beloved prince well.
Only Ken-so looked displeased. And mystified.
Reyna wandered off on her own, intrigued despite herself. Studying the detail, as fine as the statue she and Jaime had discovered in the storage vaults back home. The Miranese sculptors had been open-minded with their art, for the statues bore the stamp of other kingdoms and races. The men without helmets looked like Caffeesh and Bushidos and more than a few Pyrenees. No two were alike. The artists must have studied paintings in great detail. Unless, of course, they had been given special permission to leave the kingdom. These were the thoughts running through her mind as she turned down one aisle. And that was when she saw, among the clay soldiers, a familiar, beloved face. In the eighth row, four soldiers in, wearing no helmet.
Lord Elias.
His hand on the hilt of a sword and his expression trapped in a ferocious scowl.
Twenty-Three
WHO WAS TO SAY what Reyna would have done, with every drop of blood rushing to her head and her entire body trembling? Cried out? Or flung herself at the statue, trying desperately to understand what she was seeing? She might have done both these things, had not a hand clamped hard around her wrist and Ana-si hissed in her ear, “Do not look so, Reyna-si! He will see you. And you will join your friend here.”
There were others nearby. Ana-si took her arm and forced her to move on. Somehow, Reyna pretended to be calm. She marveled with the rest of the cortege. She oohed and aahed and pointed, even as they passed men from the Simona, the Amaris, sprinkled among strangers. They walked by Ken-so, who stood with his arms folded, studying a Coronad warrior.
The others gradually drifted off. When they were far enough away, Reyna rounded on Ana-si. “What is this?”
“Do not stop.” Ana-si drifted down another row, forcing Reyna to follow. “They are alive,” Ana-si told her. “All of them.”
“How is that possible?”
“They are stunned only,” Ana-si explained. “Their hearts still beat. The clay preserves them. It makes them look like statues. What Jian-so said is not true. He says it only to gain favor with his people. He knows his father requires living sacrifices. Anything less will not do.”
Horror seeped through the shock. “Stunned only.” Reyna wondered how she could have been so stupid. She had never set eyes upon Ana-si before coming to Miramar. But she had heard her. That voice. That strange, beautiful voice aboard the Simona. “You are the one who stunned them.”
Ana-si looked at her, wary. “Yes.”
“With your voice.” It had turned men to mindless sheep. But not Reyna, not Gunnel. Ana-si had no power over women.
“Yes.”
Reyna stayed where she was, though every part of her wanted to run away. “What are you?”
“Don’t you know, Reyna-si?” she said softly.
The stories from her childhood came back to her. Sirens who lured sailors to their death with music. Or the other. When a man vanishes so completely, it’s said he’s been carried off by the harpies.
Reyna said, “A siren?”
A shoulder lifted. The answer could have been a yes or a no.
<
br /> “A harpy?”
“These are the names you give us,” Ana-si dismissed. “Foolish names. We are the same as you.”
“We’re nothing alike.”
“No?” Delicate brows rose in a pale, tired face. “I am someone far from home, who wishes only to return. What are you?”
Reyna no longer heard her. Because she had found Jaime. He too wore Miranese armor and clutched a plumed helmet beneath one arm. He stared directly ahead, his expression somber. Reyna stood on her tiptoes and looked into his eyes. Searching for some sign that what Ana-si said was true. That somewhere, deep inside, these men still lived. These men still breathed. She saw nothing. Only a statue, with the face of her friend.
“Jaime,” she whispered.
“Do not look so!” This time the warning came with a vicious pinch on Reyna’s arm.
Reyna flinched; she came back to herself in time to see Jian-so and Levi looking down at them from above. Immediately Reyna smiled, turned to Ana-si, and exclaimed, “Truly?” She pointed at Jaime’s muscled arm and tittered behind her hand. Jian-so turned away, disinterested, but Levi watched her for a moment longer. His eyes skimmed over Jaime without recognition, before he followed his host.
“I will help-you, Reyna-si,” her strange companion said. “But you must help me first.”
* * *
Outside the tombs, Reyna readied her horse for the ride back to the palace. Levi stopped beside her.
“What’s wrong?” His voice was pitched low. Unnecessary, for no one would have heard him even if he had spoken in a normal tone. The conversation around them was loud and lively. The Miranese might have just come from visiting the spring carnival rather than a sacred tomb. Their lives had been spared. Their prayers answered. Reyna could not help thinking what an unflattering display this was for the king. “Besides me, I mean,” Levi added. “Did something happen?”
“Levi.” Reyna was staggered by the immensity of the task before her. The clay soldiers far outnumbered the men she knew to be missing. Not the officers and crew of four missing ships, but ten ships, or more. Where had these other men come from? How were she and Levi supposed to save them all? “Will you come to my chamber tonight? When everyone is asleep?”
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