We Lie with Death

by Devin Madson

  “Either way it is unlikely they will mount an attack until the snows melt,” Breeches said, still resting his hand upon his sword. “Battles are hard in such weather, and they are safe south of the Tzitzi.”

  “A child,” Taga scoffed, and Oshar wisely decided not to translate. The Kisians scowled at her all the same.

  “A child who stays on the other side of the river need not trouble us for now,” Gideon said. “The Chiltaens, on the other hand, are on this side of the river.”

  At mention of the Chiltaens every Levanti captain shifted their weight, preparing to fight, Lashak going as far as to grip one of her sword hilts. “They must suffer for what was done to us.”

  Grace Bahain stepped forward again, closing the circle a little tighter. “We have destroyed every one of the Chiltaen support camps,” he said, his words continuing to emerge through Matsimelar’s lips. The young man’s eyes glazed as he went on: “They have no presence in Kisia south of the city of Koi, which they continue to hold and which it would be… unwise to attack.”

  “Then we attack their cities.”

  A few rumbles of agreement met Lashak’s words, but nothing seemed capable of dampening Grace Bahain’s sense of superiority. “Attack their cities? You will happily leave a contender for the throne south of the river but wish to cross the border to attack another country?”

  “This boy across the river has not wronged us.” Lashak drew herself up as tall as Grace Bahain had. “The Chiltaens have.”

  “Is not a whole city choked with dead Chiltaen soldiers enough revenge?” he said with a little laugh, looking to his fellow Kisians to join his amusement.

  But even if they would have laughed, Lashak had already mimicked his move and stepped into the circle. “We know how city states work. It is not the soldiers who make decisions and give orders, it is the rich men sitting at home in their fancy clothes.” She jabbed a finger at Bahain and went on: “They are the ones I want to be revenged upon, the ones who witnessed us arrive on these shores and saw nothing but a resource to be exploited.”

  Barely flinching, Grace Bahain said calmly, “That’s as may be, but the snow season is far worse for waging battles, and now is hardly the best time to be starting a further war with the Chiltaens.”

  “Aren’t we already fighting a war?” Captain Menesor e’Qara said, entering the conversation for the first time.

  Grace Bahain replied, but the translation was lost amid a flurry of angry agreement, Oshar failing to keep up with which captain was speaking. The Kisians looked from one scowling face to another and, getting nothing useful from Oshar, eyed their emperor. A little of the hope I had been carrying since arriving died within me. We needed the Kisians, more than they needed us it seemed, and yet how could we ever build here, have power here, when language was such a barrier to understanding? There were only four Levanti in the whole of Kogahaera who could speak Kisian. If something happened to any of them the struggle would become insurmountable.

  It was a daunting prospect, but there was little time to consider its full implications as the volume in the room increased.

  “Yes, but a long war, Levanti, not a quick skirmish,” Matsimelar translated for a frustrated Grace Bahain.

  “We suffered at the hands of the Chiltaens while you sat this out and left us to it,” Taga snapped.

  “Exactly! Our people died for your ambitions,” Lashak threw at Bahain.

  “As did our own!” he spat back.

  “But that was by choice.”

  Oshar and Matsimelar were having to shout to be heard over the growing noise.

  “Waiting while we grow strong will only allow them to grow stronger too.”

  “The rains are nothing to the snow that is coming!”

  “Do you really want to wait for them to attack us first?”

  Through it all Gideon stood watching, turning from speaker to speaker. In someone else it might have looked like disinterest, or a love of chaos, but the intense way he watched, his heavy brows drawn close, was the look of a hunter waiting for the right time to strike.

  Yiss was the only other person who had said nothing, and I was doubly glad to be standing on the sidelines when Lashak turned on the older woman. “You have been silent, Yiss. You cannot tell me you are content to leave our enemies unchallenged.”

  “I am content to put my faith in the decisions of our emperor. He has been here the longest and gotten us this far.”

  Lashak reddened, her hands tightening to fists as eyes all turned to Gideon.

  Called upon, he finally stepped into the middle of the circle, spreading his arms. “I appreciate the passion with which you speak your minds,” he said, speaking more to us than the Kisians. “We suffered many losses to get to where we are now. If we want to hold this land, if we want to take revenge on those who used us, then we have to regroup. Rebuild. Grow strong. I share your desire to see the people responsible for our suffering destroyed, but we must do it when we are ready, when the weather is what we are used to fighting in, when we have time to make a plan that will result in their complete defeat. Whatever our pain and our suffering, caution has ever been our way, because we are not only thinking about ourselves but our herds. We are the herd masters now, we are the matriarchs and the patriarchs and we must survive above all other considerations.”

  By the time he finished speaking even the Kisians had turned to him like wildflowers to the sun, the measured, moving way he spoke inspiring everyone to make him proud. I had seen the effect on Levanti before, but had not expected to see the same look worn by men with such different experiences of life, with a different language and a different culture.

  “I will address everyone in the morning so there can be no doubt over our plans,” he went on after a brief pause, Oshar continuing a little behind him. “So all can hear from me and understand the reason for my decision.”

  He let out the smallest of sighs. “Anyone wishful to discuss this particular decision further, I feel it will be more useful to do so in private. And I hope next time we will be able to keep things a little more organised, for the sake of our translators if nothing else.”

  It was a dismissal, and despite their respect for him, I was surprised how easily the Kisians allowed themselves to be so dismissed. Perhaps because they had, for the most part, gotten what they wanted, while some of the Levanti captains still looked unsure. But Gideon had already stepped back from the circle and there was nothing to do but salute and file out along with the bowing Kisians.

  In my capacity as imperial guard, I remained while everyone else departed, leaving the hall an empty, echoing space. Gideon did not move.

  “Well?” he said when we were alone, not turning but staring at the floor where the joint council had stood. “Did I disgrace us all, Dishiva?”

  “No, Your Majesty.”

  He turned, the quirk of an amused smile on his lips. “That title sounds so strange from you.”

  “It feels strange to say too, but you carry it well. Even the Kisians seem to like you. But I worry.”

  When I closed my lips upon the words he lifted his brows. “You worry? I may be an emperor now, but I still value the opinions of my people.”

  “I worry you…we are putting too much trust in them. Especially in… Grace Bahain.”

  “We need him. You wince and I hate to admit it as much as you hate to hear it, but we need him. Herds have little need or understanding of money. We trade goods and services, not coin unless we are dealing with merchants from the city states. Here everything is done with coin and influence. I could wear as much crimson cloth as I liked and sit upon a dozen thrones, and it would do no good without a man like him bowing at my feet. Once we build wealth and influence in our own right, we will not need him.”

  “He knows we need him.”

  “Of course he knows.” Gideon’s smile was strained. “That is why I agreed to marry his daughter, and haven’t sought to challenge him. Let him think me an easy puppet, I don’t care so long a
s it gets us what we need.”

  The pragmatic words were both the most honourable and the least honourable thing I had ever heard anyone utter. They were demeaning of his pride and yet he had chosen to put himself beneath the needs of his herd, and that was worth every shred of my respect.

  “You understand me,” he said, perhaps seeing something of my thoughts in my expression. “If only Rah had possessed your comprehension, perhaps…” He trailed off with a sigh and I wondered if I was the only one he spoke to about Rah, the only one he knew had struggled with Rah’s defection as he had.

  “I do not think Rah lacked… understanding,” I said, unable to look at him as I attempted to voice my thoughts. “Have you considered that… Dom Villius is…” Gideon frowned, but I had come too far to stop now and hurried on. “That he is the reason Rah turned from us? He was dead, Gideon. He cannot now be walking and talking in that same body like nothing happened.”

  Gideon’s frown hardened. “I don’t know what he is, but he is the only bargaining tool I have that is entirely out of Grace Bahain’s hands. That alone makes him valuable enough that the rest is unimportant.”

  Even Rah? I almost asked and stopped myself, so fierce was his expression now.

  “Still, ensure you have plenty of guards on watch tomorrow,” he said at last, shaking some of the scowl away. “We need everything to run smoothly.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  He made to depart, but stopped as he drew level with me and set his hand on my shoulder. “Have faith in me, Dishiva. We need a future. A place where we can exist. And if it’s not here, then where? If not now, then when?”

  As though the gods themselves had parted the clouds for him, Gideon stepped out into a hazy dawn free of pelting rain. He stood on the manor steps looking every bit an emperor while the Levanti gathered in the damp, cloaking mist. My Swords stood at either end of the steps, inside the door, and at strategic places around the yard. Not all were Jaroven, which was taking some getting used to. Swords from all different herds had chosen to join Gideon’s guards, but most were Oht who, like Yiss, followed Gideon with the same fervour the Chiltaens had shown Dom Villius.

  Having positioned myself out of the way behind Gideon, I had a good view of the gathered crowd, shaking out its morning restlessness as it settled.

  “Swords of the glorious Levanti Empire,” Gideon said, raising his voice over the rustling. They fell silent, all attention caught to the man upon the steps. “We were too long in Kisia as slaves, but today marks seven days since we threw off our masters and rose free. Not just as warriors and healers and hunters from the plains, but as leaders of a new empire, a new world, one in which we will not be hunted down and slaughtered, in which we are an inextricable piece of a new whole.”

  A barrage of rhythmic clapping broke the morning’s peace, before fading as Gideon lifted his hands.

  “Seven days of freedom is worth celebrating,” he went on. “But there is still a long way to go before our children can safely call this land home. We won the battle, we routed our slavers, but there are enemies all around us, and we must strive to show our new Kisian brethren that they are safe under Levanti rule. We are not cruel masters like the Tempachi and the Korune. We do not live in decadence while others starve. We take care of our herd as we have always done, only now that herd is much larger. So do not look on your Kisian fellows and see an enemy; look upon them and see your brothers and your sisters—your blood.”

  Murmuring began to grow, the restless shuffle returning. My eyes darted about the crowd, watching for pockets of dissent as I had once watched my own Swords. No leader stands atop the cliff without keeping an eye on the roiling sea below.

  “We are all angry at what the Chiltaens did to us, but now is not the time for revenge upon their people, not the time to honour our wounds with their blood. Now is the time to build, to heal, to strengthen ourselves for the fight we will take to them before long. For now let us build our temples anew. Build our lives anew. Let us welcome new blood and share our ways with the world and be all the stronger for it.”

  There were no claps now, but his words seemed to swell the gathered Levanti as every breath he drew swelled his chest. He was promising them blood and vengeance, but first he was promising life. Whether or not they had heard every word or understood all he wanted for them, the sight of Gideon standing proud before them could not but be heartening.

  “I cannot build this great future without you,” he said, appealing to them with outstretched arms. “I need you. All of you. We must fight together for this future, and for Levanti greatness.”

  He lifted both hands and cheers were followed by the rising beat of his name chanted over and over, fists punching into the misty morning air. “Gideon! Gideon! Gideon!” In that moment he was as much a god to us as Leo was to his people, and we could achieve anything.

  Until the arrow struck Gideon in the shoulder. He staggered back under the force, and fearing a second, I shouted gods only know what as I tried to push him out of the way. My boots slid on the slick step and I fell into him as a second arrow hit the stone.

  Cries swirled from the crowd as my Swords sped to surround their injured emperor.

  “Find out where that arrow came from!” I shouted at no one in particular. Upon the top step Gideon sucked in breaths, trying to slow them even as he struggled to his feet. “We must get you inside,” I said. “Get—” I snapped my jaw shut, not sure which healers we could trust when only a moment ago the Levanti had felt united at last. “You can’t go out there!” I darted in front of Gideon as he tried to push through my Swords. “Someone just tried to kill you.”

  “That is… exactly why… I—”

  Running steps pounded toward us and I shoved Gideon back as a Levanti leapt up the stairs, crashing over the defensive line of guards. Blade out, eyes crazed, he lashed at me with a snarl, landing hard enough to throw me against the door frame. My head struck wood and pale patches burst across my vision. In that stunned moment he had all the time he needed to kill me, and I knew myself lost. Yet a choking hack broke through the noise, followed by a gulping death rattle. The Levanti stood before me, blood oozing down his chin as life leached from wide, glassy eyes.

  Gideon withdrew his sword from the man’s gut, leaving the body to fall dead at his feet. No one spoke. No one moved. Then Gideon waved my Swords aside causing the arrow in his shoulder to wobble. White lipped with pain and rage, he turned once more to face his people.

  “This,” he said, pointing down at the dead man, “is not who we are. Wherever we live. Wherever we die. Whatever our purpose, this is not who we are. We do not kill in the dark. We do not stab in the back. I am your leader until someone challenges me for the responsibility of all this.” He lifted both arms and gestured around, once more making the arrow in his shoulder shake. The only sign of pain was the tension in his jaw as he held out his hand to me. “Your knife, Captain.”

  I handed it over and all eyes watched Gideon take it. Without ceremony he knelt upon the step and pressed the tip of the blade into his attacker’s neck, sending blood dripping onto his knees.

  “We are better than this,” he said as he began severing the man’s head. Every movement cost him his own blood, yet he did not stop. “We are stronger than this. We are Levanti.”

  7. MIKO

  Kitado barely kept up. I had sewn the wounds upon his arm and his leg, but the gash splitting his side was too big. It needed time we didn’t have and rest we couldn’t take. All we could do was clean it with the warm salt water the Levanti recommended and bind it well. The young Levanti, Tor, had done that part, wrapping the makeshift bandages around the general’s chest with more gentleness and skill than I had expected.

  We had ridden east from the woodcutter’s hut, and under the cover of clouds and darkness had crossed the Willow Road, no one there to see us but night birds and frogs. Open land met us on the other side and we were able to pick up speed, the rush of air against my face making up for
the endless bite of the rain. And the heightened fear that tainted all.

  I was being hunted in my own land. If I didn’t find allies soon, I would not only die but worse—fail at everything I had set out to do.

  Syan was the only option.

  Kitado had agreed, yet I watched him and I worried. Every now and then his head would sag upon his chest, and though he did not speak our language it was always the shorn Levanti, Rah, who swept his horse up beside Kitado’s to see how he was.

  I had feared to leave the Levanti behind knowing all they did, but not for a moment did I think they would come with us unless threatened. Yet they did. A dozen times I had been on the verge of asking Tor why, but every time I swallowed the words, at first because I feared to scare away valuable hostages I could trade if Grace Bahain was no longer loyal to my cause, and then because I feared to be alone. Levanti they might be, yet here they were, riding front and back of our strange little cavalcade like guards, helping make camp of a night and caring for Kitado. And with each passing day a resentful gratitude grew within me I wished I could dash.

  But why had they come? Did they think me their prisoner? Did their honour code require return service? Neither seemed likely from their behaviour. In fact the only sensible answer was that they were following my horse—Rah’s horse. The horse Tor hadn’t wanted me to ride.

  “You cannot have Levanti horses,” he had said when I entered the woodcutter’s barn laden with heavy saddlebags.

  I had dropped them, meeting his scowl with a hand upon my sword. “No?”

  “Even if you kill me you still cannot have Levanti horses,” he had said, sounding self-satisfied. “They do not let any but a Levanti upon their backs.”

  Rah had spoken then, and while their exchange turned into a series of snapped and hissed words, I examined the great animal he had been tending. It looked the same as any other horse, only larger and stronger. Even the saddle and bridle were the same, only a few of the knots and decorations odd to my gaze. Did he think no one else could ride such a grand animal?