by Devin Madson
Shin shrugged. “I have debts.”
“Then by all means, Shin, go out there and look after him. You cannot think I am in any danger here.”
For a long moment, he met my stare, only to shake his head and look away without reply. Something in his silence made my stomach drop, but though I wanted to ask what he meant by it, I could not get the words to my lips. It was easier to watch the wounded arrive than to consider what debt he was referring to.
“How fares the battle?” I asked the next upright soldier to trail past us, supporting a comrade with a great gash in his side. “Here, Shin, no—Wen. Wen! Help this man to the physicians.”
Wen, who had been anxiously watching each new arrival, gladly took over, leaving the heavily breathing soldier to stretch now he was free of his burden. He looked to have a few cuts himself, but nothing that needed immediate attention.
“Well?” I said when his answer was nothing but a grimace. “How fares the battle? Did any of them surrender?”
“No, Your Grace.” He rubbed his forehead, smearing blood. “Well, rightly they weren’t given the chance to, but, well… no. The battle ought soon be over, I’d say. We had them well pushed back.”
“No chance to?” I could not recall any mention at the evening meetings that surrender would not be offered. These weren’t mountain folk or Chiltaens; they were Kisian soldiers. But for the luck of the draw, many of them could have been fighting on our side of the battlefield.
When the soldier vouchsafed no answer, I said, “Well, I am glad to hear it should be over soon; these are some heavy casualties.”
“The others have fared much worse, I can assure you.”
He seemed to think I was maligning our army’s skill, and surrounded by so many dead and dying men, I had not the heart to allay his wounded pride. Instead, I forced a smile. “Then I guess it will be a busy night for their healers.”
“Oh yes, Your Grace. The garrison sawbone will be a busy bee.”
Seeming to want to escape as much as I wanted him to go, the soldier bowed and thanked me and fell in with a group of camp labourers jogging out to pick up more wounded.
As soon as they were out of earshot, I turned on Shin. “Did he say, ‘sawbone,’ as in one physician?”
“Sometimes an outpost has two if a local boy wants to apprentice,” he rumbled in reply. “My old friend—”
He stopped himself. At any other time, I would have demanded he finish his anecdote in the hope of understanding him better, but all I could do was stare. “One? And maybe an apprentice if they’re lucky?”
“No garrison needs more in peacetime, Your Grace.”
“And when it’s very suddenly not peacetime?”
“If there’s no town nearby, then men die.”
“Kisian men.”
Shin scowled at me, yet I was sure he must see the problem. “Yes.”
“Kisian soldiers who have given their lives to their empire.”
“Yes.”
I drew myself up. “I need you to find out where they are taking their wounded, Shin. And get Wen. And the horses. We are going for a ride.”
We arrived at Hamaba in the late afternoon to find the town square packed with injured soldiers. The town was full, yet more were being carried in from the battle, and many would not even have made it this far.
Priests and physicians were making their way through the masses laid out beneath the searing sun, but there were not enough and men were suffering.
“Find somewhere to tie up our horses,” I commanded as I dismounted at the edge of the disarray.
“These aren’t our soldiers,” Shin said, eyeing the square from the saddle.
“I don’t care who they fight for, they’re Kisian. We ought to help where we can. Wen, come with me, let’s see what they need most.”
Leaving Shin with the horses, Wen and I skirted the edge of the town square, past soldiers propped against the outer walls of inns and teahouses, or just laid upon the stones. Some were still, others writhed and moaned and screamed, the scent of blood and spilled guts hanging over it all like a haze.
“Excuse me,” I said, approaching the first healer I saw. “In what way can we be of assistance?”
“I… I don’t know, I’m just… trying to do what I can.”
“Is no one organising the efforts here? No guard commander or mayor?”
“No, my lady, I’m afraid they were both out in the field and… we weren’t expecting so many. I… I’m sorry, I’m still a bit…” He passed a hand over his eyes.
“I understand,” I said. “And thank you for answering my questions. I have only one more. Is there a reason these men are being left to lie out in the sun rather than taken inside?”
The man gave a bitter laugh. “The townspeople fear the wrath of Emperor Katashi’s army if they harbour his enemies. I fear it myself, but it is my sworn duty to—”
“There is no need to fear that. My name is Lady Hana Otako, Her Grace of Koi, and I—”
“My lady,” Wen hissed behind me. “The captain said we ought not to say—”
“—I will take command of the relief organisation and assure you that no one, no one, will suffer such consequences for following my orders.”
The man bowed and muttered disjointed thanks, but when I turned to give Wen instructions, I found Shin had caught up to us. His glare could have cut flesh.
“We’re doing this, Shin,” I said. “Kisians are Kisians, whoever they fight for.”
He met me glare for glare, then finally bowed. “Your Grace,” he said, but the weight of his gaze followed me as I turned away, and I couldn’t repress the shiver it sent tingling through my skin.
Night was falling by the time we returned to camp, having done what little we could to organise more physicians and supplies for the wounded soldiers at Hamaba.
Our army’s first victory filled the camp with celebration, despite the number of wounded men spilling from the healing tents. Soldiers and labourers alike were drinking and singing in groups gathered around the fires, but no matter how infectious their joy, I didn’t feel like celebrating. I was tired and hungry and low in spirits, and had I not wanted to address Katashi’s council that night, I would have washed and rested rather than changing to join them in the meeting tent.
I’d had no reason to fear Katashi dead or injured, but it was still a relief to see him kneeling at the head of the table when I entered, his welcoming smile owning a tinge of question I could not yet answer. He did not have to rise for anyone, but every other member of his council got to their feet to greet me, some more resentfully than others.
Since our first day riding south from Koi, General Manshin had accepted my presence at meetings with nothing but a complacent smile and a watchful eye. The two commanders under him were civil enough, as was the quartermaster, but the three Pike captains, Tan, Roni, and Chalpo, barely hid their contempt. No doubt word had gotten around that I was Captain Regent, and they disliked me as much for the charade as for the Vices I had once led.
“Now that we are all present, I feel a toast is in order,” General Manshin said, sitting back down and lifting his wine bowl. “To our emperor and his great victory. Long live Emperor Katashi!”
“Long live Emperor Katashi!” they chorused, lifting their bowls.
It had been my habit to listen more than speak at these meetings, partly for fear Katashi’s advisors would ask him to stop me coming, and partly because I knew a lot less about military movements than I had hoped. But tonight, I could not keep my peace.
“Today was a victory for our army,” I said, lifting my wine bowl in salute but not drinking. “But it was a loss for the empire.”
Had I shouted it could not have grown more suddenly silent, every eye around the table turning on me with some variant between shock and fear. Only Katashi was unaffected, doing nothing more than setting his hands upon the table, a half smile hovering about his lips. “Bold words, Your Grace,” he said, maintaining the formality he
always used when we were in company. “Do tell us in what way Kisia has suffered this day.”
“Those men you fought against were Kisian soldiers, they—”
The Pike captain Chalpo leant forward. “Who did you think we were going to fight against in this war, Your Grace?”
“I would thank you not to interrupt before I can finish,” I said as little nods made their way around the table. “I did not intend to suggest we ought not to fight Kisians but rather that we ought to take care of Kisians.”
The men shared looks over their wine bowls. Katashi kept his gaze on me, but his smile was less sure. “Do elaborate,” he said.
“Well, Your Majesty, it was brought to my attention today that while we are well provisioned with physicians and supplies, it was not so for the outpost garrison. They lost many men today, but how many could have been saved if we had given aid to the wounded?”
“Are you suggesting,” General Manshin said with perfect gravity, though someone at the table had snorted, “that we ought to assist our enemies to get back into the field faster, Your Grace?”
“I feel that is hardly the outcome we would get, General, especially given how long recovery can take. What I am suggesting is that allowing Kisian men to die when we could help them harms our cause. People don’t only fight for those who are strong but also for those who give them succour and aid. Assuming I am fighting the same war you are, the aim is for Kisia to be one united empire when this is done, and that empire will be poorer for the loss of soldiers we could have saved.”
Captain Chalpo looked around the table, his brows lifted in disbelief. “These are our enemies you are talking about. Men who, out on the field of battle, have killed and injured many of ours—commanders, comrades, friends. You would have us take resources from the caring of our own and give them to the care of their murderers?”
“They need not have fought for the enemy,” said one of General Manshin’s usually so quiet commanders.
“Were they given a chance to surrender?” I asked, recalling what the soldier had said earlier. My heart was pounding and I dared not look at Katashi seated at the other end of the table, sure his anger would lock up my tongue.
General Manshin smiled like a kindly grandfather. “Your Grace, there are times for such things and times when such things must be avoided. Today was this army’s first engagement, and as such, the decisions made during it have important ramifications, not only for our soldiers and our enemy but in the eyes of the gods. These are considerations every leader must take into account. If you wish to have them all explained in greater detail, I will be only too happy to instruct you in the finer points at another time.”
“But—” I met Katashi’s gaze along the table. I had expected a scowl, but the infinitesimal shake of his head deflated me more surely than anything else could have. Fatigue washed over my anger and frustration, and with a stiff attempt at pride, I thanked the general and sat back.
I said nothing more for the rest of the meeting, but when the others filed out through the tent entrance, I lingered long enough to find myself facing Katashi alone. He had not risen from the table and, resting his chin on his hand, regarded me steadily. I mimicked him, sitting my own elbow on the table. “You are looking very grave, Your Majesty,” I said. “Perhaps you regret allowing me to join these meetings.”
“No. Your opinions reflect only upon you, not me.”
My cheeks reddened in a flush of anger. “Are you saying you genuinely see no merit in my arguments? That all Kisians who are not with us are to be considered wholly as enemies?”
“How can I allow things to be otherwise? If it became common knowledge I was taking care of Kin’s injured soldiers, they will be less likely to give in without a fight.”
“Perhaps. But imagine how people would laugh at an emperor whose soldiers needed to be cared for by his enemy.”
Katashi’s temper gave way to a sudden laugh. “How very cruel you are to hatch such a plan, my dear. I feel Kin is to be congratulated for his escape. Had he married you, he would have found his ego shrivelled within a week. Come here.”
I had meant to remain angry, to keep arguing, but the invitation in that smile was impossible to resist. Rising, I went to him, and no sooner had I drawn close than he took my hand and kissed my palm. “I will send some of our physicians to the town tonight. Does that satisfy you, love?”
I wasn’t sure what sent the greater thrill through me, the press of his lips to my hand or to be called love. Even better to have won my point. “It does this time, yes, though perhaps if this happens again, we could send help sooner.”
“A discussion for another time, I feel,” he said, kissing each of my fingertips in turn now. “It has been a long day and I still have a letter to write before I can join you. Will you wait up for me, Your Grace?”
He let my hand go and kissed my stomach, sliding his hands around my thighs. I wriggled in pleasure and when he looked up, he was no longer the emperor I had faced down the length of the table. He was Katashi again, all messy hair and lopsided smile.
“Of course, Your Majesty. But don’t keep me waiting too long or I might fall asleep.”
“Minx. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
The next morning, I woke within the circle of Katashi’s arm and enjoyed the slow recollection of all that had passed in the night, glad he had stayed this once though the faint glow of predawn light was already creeping in across the carpet.
For a time, I lay watching him sleep as the growing light etched his handsome features from the gloom, before I kissed his cheek and then his lips. Keeping his eyes closed, he said in a sleepy murmur, “Good morning, Your Grace.”
“Good morning, Your Majesty.”
I ran my hand over his bare chest and down his stomach, eliciting a sleepy groan as I kept going all the way down. “You may have to wait for me to wake up for that.”
“You seem quite awake to me.”
“That would happen whether you were here or not, I’m afraid. Always happens in the mornings.”
“Why?”
He shrugged, his shoulder shifting beneath me. “Honestly no idea.”
“And men think women are strange creatures.”
Katashi rolled a little and cracked open an eye. “Aren’t you?”
“No more than you are!”
Footsteps sounded outside, and Tili backed in through the tent flap, jug in hand. “Good morning, my lady, I have your—Oh! Oh, I am so sorry, my lady, I… I… Your Majesty, I—I beg your pardon—”
“It’s all right, Tili,” I said, caught between annoyance and amusement. “Is that my washing water? Do set it down.”
“Pretend I’m not here,” Katashi said, having closed his eyes again. “If I lie perfectly still, you’ll soon forget my presence and be comfortable again.”
Tili, still frozen on the threshold, gaped at him. I imagined it was not the sort of thing an emperor usually said, but then Katashi had spent more time as a common outlaw than he ever had as a lord.
I beckoned Tili in, but as she recovered from the shock, the reproof in her gaze melted the smile from my face. Did she want me to be ashamed and embarrassed to be discovered so with a man who was not my husband? Convention said I ought to be, but I had refused to comply with every other piece of conduct expected of a lady and I would refuse this one too.
“Thank you,” I said as she set down the water jug. “As I’m not alone, please have His Majesty’s breakfast brought in with mine.”
Tili’s look of reproof deepened. “Yes, my lady. But I believe His Majesty’s was served early, some half an hour ago.”
Katashi propped himself up on an elbow, a hint of one of his scowls beginning to darken his expression. “Why?”
“I do not know the particulars, Your Majesty,” Tili said, bowing twice in quick succession, her silent rebuke vanishing in fear. “I… I only heard it was so from the cooks at the—”
“Why?” he repeated, and I could not blame her f
or quailing beneath his gathering annoyance.
“They said you had a guest,” she blurted. “From Lin’ya.”
Throwing the covers aside, Katashi stood, snatching his under-robe from where he had discarded it the night before. Tili looked away, her cheeks reddening, and dared not turn back even once he had shrugged himself into it. He could have demanded her help with his voluminous imperial robe, but despite the awkwardness of dressing in so narrow a space, he did it himself and was picking up his sash before my tongue unfroze. “Are you still planning to ally yourself with the pirate enclave?”
He let out a breath as he tugged tight a simple knot in his sash. “You will have to excuse me, my love,” he said as though I had not asked. “Duty calls.”
Dressed once more in full imperial garb, he bent and pressed a kiss to my lips before he was gone, gathering his loose hair into a topknot as he stalked from the tent.
Silence reigned in his wake. I gathered the covers tightly around me, and Tili did not look up from the floor.
“I’m… I’m sorry, my lady,” she said at last, still not looking at me. “I must apologise for anything I might have said in disparagement of—”
“Tili, you are my friend, you can say whatever you like about him without incurring my wrath. I know he can be imperious and overbearing and he has a shocking temper, but—” I longed to share with her some tiny piece of the joy his mere existence gave me, to explain how gentle he could be, how considerate and honest and charming, but every word died unspoken. I could not speak, could not explain after all he had done, and as some inklings of shame eked in, it hardened into anger. No man would have felt so for spending the night with a woman, no matter who she was.
Still looking at the floor, Tili cleared her throat. “I’m sorry, Your Grace. There is more fighting expected today, I understand. Would you like me to ready your armour?”
“No.” I shook off my annoyance, intent not to let it get in the way of my plans. “Find my plainest robe. If there is to be more bloodshed, then there is no time to waste in finding more physicians. I will need all the messengers and scouts who aren’t out and both Shin and Wen. There is much work to do.”