Maybe it was an intentional reference to their secretiveness.
Kris had met a fair number of Tsukiseni at inter-island tournaments—in fact, isolationism had, ironically, been a form of common ground between Tsukisen and Rumika. They had always found that charm worked as well on Tsukiseni as on anyone else. Kris wasn’t sure it would be enough to get them what they wanted in this case, but they hoped it would at least get them through the door. While they waited, pacing the courtyard, they flipped through their knowledge of Tsukisen culture: all the common jokes and puns, the latest stars of song and stage. Warder Hii probably wouldn’t react much to that sort of reference, but it might help with the younger diplomatic aides.
Get in the door, Kris told themself. You’re a warder. Get in to talk to him, and then take it from there.
It wasn’t a young Tsukiseni who finally came back out through the inner gate to meet them, but the same servant who had let them into the courtyard initially, an expression of regret on his face. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “The warder is unavailable now.”
Kris felt panic rising. “Can you tell me when I might come back to see him?”
The servant was already shaking his head, guiding Kris’s steps back to the main gate. “He will send word when he is ready to speak with you.”
Determined not to let anyone in the Tsukisen embassy see how disheartened they were, Kris set off at a brisk pace. No time to waste. They had other embassies to visit.
Kris had thought Tsukisen might be an easy win, because of the tenuous cultural ties. With that out of the way, though—their steps quickened as purpose buoyed their mood again—might as well move on to the most critical. Kris was almost sure Vania would not sit out the war; everyone said they could not resist battle, and everything they had seen since of Vanians on Twaa-Fei reinforced that.
Well, everything they had seen of Penelope. Kris could imagine Cassia happily missing out on a war, but she seemed to be somewhat atypical.
Assuming the Vanians joined the conflict, it was absolutely vital they joined on Rumika’s side. Even Mertika might hesitate to face the combined might of Quloo and Vania; it would spell certain doom for Rumika.
Cassia at least was willing to let Kris into the embassy, and even to listen to what they had to say. She received them in a small office draped with symbols of Vanian power: crossed battleswords on the wall above the desk, finely wrought ornamental gauntlets on the cabinet, a rug depicting the bloody victory at Poinkat, some three hundred years ago. Cassia, curled up on the chair in her pale robes, didn’t quite seem to fit the decor. Kris noticed that she was twisting her fingers as she listened to their plea, and tried to take strength from it. Even I’ve been a warder longer than she has, Kris thought. She’s still nervous.
But when Cassia spoke, her voice and syntax were both firm. “I can’t give you an answer now. I must speak to my government.”
“Even if you could just promise to not ally against us—” Kris began to argue, but she cut them off.
“I am not empowered to make such promises. Not yet. And if I were, I would still wish to wait for further evidence.”
Evidence! Kris couldn’t understand how anyone could believe Rumika might sabotage their own ships. “Maybe I could present my case to your government directly?”
“That is not how we do things,” Cassia said with finality, and rang for the servant to see them out.
Kris tried again to get their energy back up by pacing away with determination, but the effectiveness of the technique was fading. They were keeping up the long stride and straight back for appearance’s sake when their peripheral vision caught something coming out of the alley between the Vanian embassy and the florist shop next to it. Kris jumped sideways, pulling their blade as they did.
“Heeeey, easy there, friend,” Anton said, putting his hands up and stepping back a few paces. “Just wanted to say hi; I’m not trying to start an international incident or anything.”
“Good thing,” Kris muttered, sheathing their blade and resuming their walk of power. “We have enough of those going around already.”
“Indeed.” Anton matched Kris’s stride. “There does seem to be something in the Mists lately, doesn’t there?”
Kris snorted, annoyed with the facile and blameless framing of the situation. “You mean like unprovoked attacks, colonialist rhetoric, stronger powers ganging up on the weak? Yes, I’d say something is going around.”
“None of that feels new or unusual to a Herroki,” Anton pointed out. The fact that it was probably true did not improve Kris’s mood. “But I wanted to talk to you about one specific international incident,” Anton went on, and hemmed with unusual hesitancy. “The loss of the Rumikan war fleet—”
“Trading fleet!” Kris yelled, stopping in the middle of the street. “Manak’s tooth, it was a trading fleet, not a war fleet! Whoever attacked them did so entirely unprovoked, in defiance of all the conventions. . . .”
“Yes, indeed,” Anton said. “And about that—”
“Was it you?” Kris asked, hand on their hilt again. “Did the Herroki make our ships disappear? Why?”
“No, of course not.” Anton laughed. “Six well-armed ships is not exactly our style.”
Kris wasn’t entirely convinced by that argument, but for the moment they had no reason to believe otherwise and they felt too exhausted to jump into another morass, so they contented themself with muttering, “Good thing.” Kris started walking again. What embassy to try next? Should they talk to Kakute and Ikaro, or go straight to the Mertikans?
“But about that attack—”
“Look, Anton.” Kris rounded on him again. “I’m happy to see you again, but I’m a little busy right now trying to prevent war from escalating.”
“Ah yes, I saw you just came out of the Vanian embassy.” Anton dropped his eyes for the first time in the conversation. “Did you, ah, happen to see that paragon of elegance and ferocity, my lovely Cassia? Is she well-rested, well-fed? She seemed worn and weary last time I—”
“I. Don’t. Have. Time. For. This,” Kris ground out. “If I can’t find allies soon—allies for war, not just friends to drink with—my homeland is doomed.” They walked away again, and this time Anton didn’t follow.
“Something else the Herroki are used to,” the pirate muttered, and then turned away.
Chapter 5
Bellona
Although both of them would have been surprised to know it, Bellona had taken to using the same calming sigil that Michiko did whenever Lavinia demanded her presence.
In this case, at least, Lavinia wasn’t angry at something Bellona had done, or not done. Bellona knew that as soon as she walked into the mauve study, because Lavinia continued with her paperwork instead of turning on Bellona with those ferocious eyes. That didn’t mean whatever was coming would be pleasant, though, and Bellona was glad of the magic keeping her stomach acid from roiling.
“Right,” Lavinia said finally, crossing off one final note and turning her gaze on Bellona. No, she didn’t look angry, but her stare gave the impression of deep disappointment, and Bellona steeled herself. “I’m leaving.”
That was not what Bellona was expecting, and she clenched her teeth to keep her jaw from falling open.
“You’ll be acting warder, inevitably,” Lavinia went on, “but you are under no circumstances to consider it a promotion. You will observe and report to me. You will consult me before making any decision, no matter how minor it may seem to you. Is that clear?”
Even Bellona’s well-practiced Yes, Warder Junius reaction was failing her. “But—the communication difficulties—”
“I doubt there will be anything so urgent that it cannot wait a day or two for you to get in touch with me. And if there is, stall.”
“Why are you leaving then?” Bellona blurted out. It was a breach of etiquette, but for once Lavinia didn’t seem to mind.
“Going where I’m needed, my dear,” she answered, lips curved in a smile
. “War will begin outright any day now, and the best commanders are all being recalled to lead the fight.”
Bellona’s face heated as though she had been slapped. True, she had never in any of her lives held a command position, but surely the valor and battlefield brilliance she had shown in her last incarnation merited an opportunity! Even returning to war as a common soldier would be acceptable, because it would offer her a chance to distinguish herself. But this?
Bellona wanted to say something cutting yet dignified and forceful enough to recall her wartime exploits, but the words she managed to choke out sounded plaintive. “If you don’t trust me enough to let me make decisions here while you’re away, why don’t you stay as warder and I’ll go to war?”
Lavinia’s smile widened. “What a ridiculous idea. Right now, you see, war is far more important than diplomacy.”
Chapter 6
Kris
Kris decided to continue with the Ikarans, not because they had any real hope of help from that quarter, but because at the moment they couldn’t bring themself to face Lavinia or even Michiko. Going to see Takeshi, somehow, wasn’t as painful a thought. Maybe it was because Kris had gotten to know him a little better during their practice sessions. Takeshi was always reserved, but in the sweaty aftermath of a rigorous training he was more likely to laugh at a joke, or even crack one himself. And he always seemed pleased to see Kris.
He seemed pleased now, even though he had to know that the visit promised some level of uncomfortable conversation. He invited Kris in immediately, and ordered tea for them both in his odd turret room. None of his experiments were actually bubbling at that moment, but Kris peered at some of the tubes and strangely shaped glass bowls holding mysterious substances.
“Any progress?” they asked.
Takeshi answered with his usual half smile. “Hard to say. Sometimes in this work, you don’t know. What seems useless may be helpful later.”
Kris opened their mouth to answer but was distracted by the idea that Takeshi’s statement might hold true for diplomacy as well. They were already feeling guilty about being so rude to Anton. “I know you’re very busy, so I’ll get to the point. I’m hoping to rally support for my country. We are under attack, unjustly, and so far no one seems to be willing to stand with us against our attackers!” Kris had told themself to be calm, to not get their hopes up, but they couldn’t help becoming agitated when they talked about it. “Without help . . . I just don’t know how long we can hold out. I am hoping that Ikaro could provide us at least some kind of support, if not troops than perhaps logistical or financial . . .”
Takeshi stood, head turned away, and began fiddling with the dials on one of his magnet contraptions. Finally he lifted his eyes to meet Kris’s gaze. “I’m sorry. I have to wait to see what Mertika will do. I wish I could say something different, but this is the reality for my people at this time.”
Kris felt despair rising in their chest. “Don’t be sorry,” they choked out. “It’s not your fault.”
“If it helps,” Takeshi said, “I believe Mertika will support you.”
Kris remembered Lavinia’s boot crashing into their injured arm. “Really?”
Takeshi looked mildly amused. “Of course. Do you think they will side with Quloo?”
Kris shrugged. “I guess I imagined they’d find a way to humiliate both of us.”
Takeshi laughed. “I’m sure Lavinia will try. But you have to remember, Lavinia is not all of Mertika. Most of them care more about the practicalities of maintaining power than enjoying it in such sadistic ways.”
Kris let themself sag into a chair. “I’m not sure that being in debt to Mertika counts as being saved.”
“You are not wrong,” Takeshi replied. “But it is still better than outright destruction.”
They sat in grim but companionable silence for a few minutes, sipping their tea. Kris was reluctant to bring up the other matter on their mind, but they felt they needed to. “I heard about your altercation with Adechike.”
The Ikaran warder’s eyes grew dark. “What of it?”
“Takeshi, you nearly choked the life from him.”
“I did no such thing,” he scoffed. “I merely made sure I had his attention.”
Kris frowned. “Still. I know you liked him. I did too.” They chose their next words carefully. “Adechike wronged all of us. But I know that you acted out of loyalty to me, and I don’t take that lightly.“
Takeshi lowered his eyes abruptly. “I . . . ,” he began, then breathed out, and started over. “As you said, he wronged all of us.”
Kris smiled and rose. “I’ll leave you to your work. But please know your friendship means everything to me.”
Takeshi stood and answered with a slight bow. “I hope you will still have time for training this week.”
“Count on it,” Kris said, grasping his hand.
•••
Kris had only gone a few blocks from the Ikaran embassy when they heard their name called, and turned to see Alyx hurrying toward them. As Alyx got closer, Kris saw that he had undergone the change, and was now masculine. Kris was immediately annoyed with themself for forgetting; they should be aware of their colleagues’ schedules.
It was clear that Alyx had more substantive issues on his mind. “There’s something you need to see,” he said, and guided Kris along the fastest route to the lifts.
Chapter 7
Michiko
Sitting in the office that she could not help but think of as Kensuke’s, Michiko crumpled another failed attempt at composing the conscription notice. Part of her wanted to present Lavinia’s order in its cold, condescending entirety, for the anger it would bring. But people would suffer enough through the conscription; if she could soften that by composing a better order, one closer to Kakute concerns and values . . . But of course that was what Lavinia wanted her for, to make this seem like a local initiative rather than one forced by Mertika.
Michiko sighed and set aside the order. She was not going to get any further with it in this mood. Wishing only to stop this horrible slide into war, her thoughts turned to the disappearance of the Rumikan fleet. If only that had never happened, the situation would be so different now. Or perhaps if she had managed to find out who was responsible. So far, however, all her investigations had led to nothing: no indication of guilt. There had to be something she was missing.
Michiko stood, and reached for her wrap. She would go see Ojo. Maybe at this point he would be willing to tell her more.
Besides, she thought as she trod the familiar path to the Quloi embassy, she was worried about him. Every time she saw Ojo, he looked more haggard and sorrowful. And, come to think of it, she had only seen him recently at official warder business. She hadn’t seen him at the Leaf in ages.
Michiko was ushered into the warder’s office in the Quloi embassy almost immediately. Ojo’s desk was piled with paperwork, but he stood quickly to greet her.
“Michiko!” he said, hands out. “How are you? Everything all right?”
For a moment she caught a glimpse of the solicitous, warm man she had met, and distrusted, when she’d first arrived in Twaa-Fei. Odd that now, when Ojo had so much more reason to deceive her, she was much more ready to believe him. “I’m fine,” she answered as lightly as she could. “Discovering all the joys of being a warder.” She nodded at the mounds of paperwork with what she hoped was a wry smile. “More important, how are you?”
Ojo grimaced, the weight falling back onto his shoulders. “I’ve been better.”
“Warder Kante,” Michiko said hesitantly, “I’ve been thinking about how quickly these problems have worsened, and how much of it comes back to the disappearance of the Rumikan trade fleet. Is there anything more you can tell me about what happened or where I might look to understand it better?”
Ojo stared at her silently for so long, Michiko began to worry she had offended him, but when he finally spoke, it was not to demand an apology but to offer one. “I’m s
orry. At this point I’m surprised that anyone is willing to take my opinion on the matter seriously.”
Michiko flushed, feeling that she had done something wrong or, worse, stupid. “I never thought you were in favor of this conflict,” she blurted. “But the true story of the ambush could justify action as well. Somebody harmed you. Wouldn’t it be better—”
Ojo waved his hands to stop her. “You don’t need to convince me.” He thought for a moment. “I suppose you have looked for suspicious circumstances among the most obvious suspects?”
“I haven’t been able to find anything,” Michiko said. “Which doesn’t mean there isn’t anything to be found, but . . .”
“And . . . I’m sorry to bring this up, but when you took over from Warder Heike, you didn’t find anything . . . unusual?”
It was Michiko’s turn to hesitate. “Nothing that I can be sure has any bearing on this subject.” Even as she said it, she knew she was giving away too much of her uncertainty, but Ojo did not show any undue interest.
“Of course,” he said. “I have my theory. Perhaps the best way to explain my thinking is to ask: Who has the capability of covering their tracks so thoroughly?” He waited for her to think it through, then went on. “If I had the resources and freedom to investigate the ambush, I would try to imagine where the evidence might be if it were Mertika that had perpetrated the act, and I would look there.”
Michiko hadn’t expected him to be so blunt, and she didn’t know how to respond. Then she remembered Lavinia’s request. Suddenly she was angry. On impulse she decided to match Ojo’s bluntness, a tiny rebellion Lavinia would never know about. “Warder Kante, where has the dreadnought gone? What is it doing?”
She hadn’t thought Ojo’s face could get grimmer. “You’ll find out soon enough.”
Chapter 8
Kris
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