Blood of Fate

by Dan Sugralinov

  “I see...”

  Ma Ju Ro thought for a moment. He could beat his cousin’s offer, but how was he supposed to communicate that? The emperor made a decision.

  “Rokkan, I’m going to find something to offer the Brotherhood,” he said. “Can you convince them to meet me? Just a meeting, I’m not asking for more.”

  “Also unlikely, your majesty,” Rokkan shook his head. “The pirates are a hard people, they’ll suspect a trap.”

  “You know me. There won’t be a trap.”

  “I do, your majesty. But Rezsinius has a hold on their minds. And... well, why skirt around it, the recent years of your rule have given you a very bad reputation even among those that pay little attention to it.”

  “I value your council, Rokkan,” Ma Ju Ro said. “But I’m still asking you to try. How about this... Go to see them yourself. Go by sea, it won’t take long. Tell them that the emperor offers the following...”

  Two weeks later, a pirate ship bearing a black flag dropped anchor just outside the port bay, so as not to alarm the citizens. The rumors of the Coastal Brotherhood were so frightening and contradictory that the very appearance of such a ship within sight could have caused trouble in the capital.

  The city continued to live its life, day by day finding more meaning in it. More order, less chaos. That’s roughly how any citizen would have characterized the changes of recent months. The pirates’ visit from the South Islands would have changed that, so Ma Ju Ro was pleased to see that the vessel was out of sight.

  The emperor’s vision had been become very sharp: on the Arena’s sands, he’d easily been able to pick out the face of anyone in the stands, and right now he could see the ship. It also helped that the highest point above sea level was the terrace in his palace chambers. That was where he was after he’d met with the ambassador of the North and then spent four hours in the imperial clinic before returning to the palace. Going out for a breath of fresh air, he saw on the horizon a pirate ship with its sails furled.

  That was quick, Ma Ju Ro thought. He’d hoped that they would agree to meet and would come, but he hadn’t expected it to be so soon. It was a good thing that he could solve this problem before he left to see the northern barons.

  Soon, Rokkan came to the palace. He was dressed as a real aristocrat specially for the occasion. Even so, the guards knew what to do, and he came to the emperor escorted by Hector and his people.

  Rokkan bowed and nodded ever so slightly. The emperor made a practiced motion with his brow and his chambers emptied of all those who didn’t need to be there. Even Hector left at his nod, and Ma Ju Ro and his guest went out onto the terrace.

  He hospitably offered some Tuaf wine, and Rokkan didn’t refuse. Drinking his glass to the bottom and enjoying the taste, the bandit got down to business.

  “Your majesty, the Nine await you at dawn.”

  “All nine captains came?” the emperor said in surprise.

  “Nobody wanted to come at first. Then Blackbeard came to me and said he wanted to hear you out. Gimp and Flea noticed that, started talking about it. They don’t trust each other, they suspect betrayal, but at the same time their greed drives them. Rumor spread through the Coastal Brotherhood that you’re ready to offer heaps of gold.” Rokkan grinned. “A few incautiously thrown words in a tavern and the crews began to demand that their captains hear you out. So yes, all the Nine have come. They have a condition; you must come alone.”

  “Completely alone?” Ma Ju Ro said, surprised. “I’m supposed to row myself to them on my own?”

  “The Coastal Brotherhood’s people will await you in Frog Bay. They’ll take you to the ship. Unfortunately, they don’t wish to see me, they fear a leak...” He hesitated. “Anyway, they consider me your man now, your majesty. A traitor of a sort.”

  Rokkan wasn’t prevaricating, he was telling the truth. The emperor had injected him with substances that would have sent blood to the captain’s face if he tried to lie about anything.

  “I’ll do it,” Ma Ju Ro nodded.

  The rest of the day flew by as he gave his final orders to his advisors before his departure. Lodyger reported on the progress of construction and production, Hector and Hustig argued, Herdinia mediated between them, Lentz bragged of the clinic’s success and the sharply decreased rate of deadly cases from infectious disease. Lee Vensiro expressively recited new poems in honor of the Empire, and Cross dropped his venomous comments. All was as usual.

  The sun was beginning to sink into the foamy waters of the ocean when the emperor, dressed as simply as possible, walked his beaten path through the window in Hector’s office to the carriage awaiting him. He sat behind the driver and clapped him on the shoulder.

  “Rokkan’s friends are already here, Kane. Head to Frog Bay.”

  Without answering, Weasel sharply whipped the horses into motion. Ma Ju Ro judged by his silence that the man was unhappy. The reason was the emperor’s refusal to take him with him to the North.

  For some unknown reason, the young bandit had gotten seriously attached to the emperor, considering it his duty to protect him and help him as much as he could. It was no wonder that he organized such secret trips to the city, knowing it as he did better than anyone else.

  Moreover, being close to the emperor meant being close to Kora. That was all the explanation necessary. There was a reason that Weasel was testing the waters; with roundabout, as he thought, but simplistic questions, he was trying to find out the emperor’s relationship with his new young favorite. When he realized through directly questioning Ma Ju Ro that the latter had no intentions toward her, he exulted and didn’t hide his joy.

  And a few days ago, when he saw Kane talking to Kora, Luca spoke to his sister and learned that she had feelings for the boy too. Although not strong enough to refuse the trip to the North, the homeland of their father. The senior Dezisimu had often told the children of the wonderful forests there, of the full and boundless rivers and tall trees stretching their long masts into the calm blue skies. So once she heard that her brother was headed there, Kora nagged him until Luca reluctantly agreed to take her with him.

  “What did Rokkan say?” Kane asked, breaking the silence.

  He drove the horses along lively streets, the people moving out of the way when they recognized him. In his short career, the thief and bandit Weasel had earned enough of a reputation among the street vagrants that they knew him by sight.

  “Nothing, apart from the fact that the Coastal Brotherhood is ready to hear my offer.”

  “So we’re headed into the frying pan again,” the guy muttered. “I get it, the Sacred Mother’s blessing and all that, but you need a safety net. In our business, nobody goes into anything without a good partner. Those that go it alone end up in a bad way. Usually either hanging from a scaffold or with a dagger in their neck.”

  “You think that’s a threat to me?” Ma Ju Ro asked cheerfully.

  “Not at all, sire. But you should keep me close! I’ll watch your back...”

  “No. I have to be alone, that’s their condition.”

  Weasel scowled and whipped the horses in silence for a time, toward the northern gates leading to Frog Bay.

  “And the North?” he broke the silence. “Why don’t you want to take me with you?”

  Kane’s reply derailed Ma Ju Ro’s train of thought as he went through his plan with the pirates for the thousandth time. He answered with annoyance.

  “If I promise to take you with me, will you shut up?”

  “Consider my tongue swallowed!” Weasel laughed.

  They arrived in the dusk. Their path then led along rocks and through undergrowth. They could go no further in the carriage. Ma Ju Ro climbed out.

  “Wait here,” the emperor ordered.

  By habit, he touched the surface of the cliff, picked up some stones and pebbles to resupply his store of required elements for his combat form. That had become a regular practice since the day his metamorphosis reached level four.


  Climbing down from a hillock to a narrow stretch of sand, he saw three silhouettes standing out against the cliffs.

  “Name yourself,” a hoarse male voice said.

  “Emperor Ma Ju Ro.”

  One of the figures ran up to the hillock and froze, looking around. A girl, Luca realized.

  “He’s alone,” the stranger said.

  “Get into the boat, emperor,” that same hoarse voice ordered.

  Ma Ju Ro walked into the water up to his knees, following behind one of the pirates. In the meantime, the others pulled a boat out of the bushes.

  The sun had already disappeared completely behind the horizon. Only a reddish blaze showed where it had been an hour ago. Holding his gaze on it, Ma Ju Ro missed the moment when someone hit him in the back of the head with something heavy and hard. Screaming from the sudden pain, the emperor fell down, but the sailors picked him up and dragged him to the boat, swearing. There they bound his hands and feet, and thrust a stinking rag into his mouth. He played his part and decided to wait and figure out what the pirates wanted.

  “Damn, he’s heavy!” the hoarse one said. “Why’d ya knock him out, Wasp? Could’a let him climb in himself and hit him then...”

  “Stop whining, Donno,” the girl shot back. “I decided this was better. It would have been harder to sneak up on him in the boat.”

  So that’s it, is it? Luca thought. Alright, I’ll get onto the ship and then figure out how things stand. He sent himself into apparent unconsciousness; slowed his pulse and breath, weakened his muscles. Then he listened to the conversation.

  It was clear that these three all belonged to different captains and had no trust between them. They fell silent after exchanging a few words, nimbly matching each other’s pace on the oars. An hour and changed passed without his kidnappers exchanging a word.

  If Luca thought that stunning him was just a way to get him onto the ship and that there would still be a conversation there, he was mistaken. Ma Ju Ro was lifted aboard, and from the words accompanying a detailed examination, he realized that nobody here planned to talk.

  “He ain’t as fat as I thought,” someone noted. “Heavy, sure, near five hundred pounds even!”

  “Big-boned, for sure,” someone answered sarcastically.

  He was undressed, and they saw his golden tattooed bracelets. They were inscribed by the high priest of the Sacred Mother as a special sign of the emperor, and couldn’t be faked. The runic pattern shined in the darkness and shimmered in sunlight.

  The pirates delighted once they confirmed his identity. Someone couldn’t resist spitting in his face, another kicked him in the stomach, and the crew’s laughter turned into jubilant shouting.

  “What a haul! After this we’ll deliver the throne to Rezsinius on a platter!” said a repugnant, mocking voice.

  “Five million gold! Damn, I can’t believe it was that easy, Flea!” someone else shouted in a deep rumbling voice.

  “Shove an anchor up my arse if it ain’t so, Beard!” Flea agreed. “It was a great idea to talk to Rezsinius!”

  “Two-horns, this emperor is even dumber than I thought! He just went and turned up on his own without any guards! Abyss, if I’d known that, I’d have come here on my own too!” Beard howled.

  The pirates burst into laughter again.

  “Cut the shit, boys! We’ll celebrate later!” Flea interrupted the merrymaking and started giving commands. “We’re setting sail! Weigh anchor! Tie that pig up good and put him in the brig! We’ll be counting our gold in a couple of days, boys!

  Everyone leapt into action. Some shouted “Gold!”, others started babbling about buying a house in the capital. Beard suggested that they celebrate anyway, and the other captains agreed with him.

  “Let’s whet our whistles!” they cried. “To the Coastal Brotherhood! To Rezsinius! To the death of Ma Ju Ro!”

  The emperor spat out the partially swallowed rag and started dealing with his bonds. The ropes fell from his hands and feet.

  “I don’t think so!” the emperor boomed, cutting through their cries.

  The four pirates that had been planning to drag him to the hold jumped back, stunned by the shout. The merriment ceased, and Blackbeard froze, pouring rum onto his feet without realizing it.

  Ma Ju Ro rose, shook himself, stretched, forced blood into his numb limbs, then turned to the Nine. They were watching with mouths agape. Nobody reached for a blade, nobody got scared. Yes, what was happening was odd, but the emperor was alone on a ship filled to the brim with pirates armed to the teeth. He was far from the shore and his guards.

  “Do I understand correctly that you do not wish to listen to my proposal?” Ma Ju Ro asked the most richly and ornately dressed group. “Yes, you, Nine, I don’t know which of you is which, but I don’t even plan to ask your names! I’ll find out later when the ones that are left make their choice.”

  “What crap is he talkin’?” Flea asked Blackbeard with faux concern. “We got a talkin’ pig aboard!”

  The strained atmosphere caused by this strangely brave prisoner relaxed. The pirates shouted over each other to shower the emperor in epithets very distant from ‘your majesty.’ Some ganged up on the three that bound him, accusing them of bungling the job and not knowing how to tie a decent knot.

  Ma Ju Ro raised his hand. The gaiety ended. In the resulting silence, all heard the loud and confident voice of the emperor.

  “I wanted to offer you far more than Rezsinius promised you. As is the case with the autonomous subjects of the Empire, I planned to give you — officially! — all the Southern Isles, including Diamondtooth Isle! You could have become barons, and your descendants would be aristocrats! You would have had more than just gold — you’d have had land! You could have lived a fine and peaceful life, ruling over your own domain! But you have chosen otherwise...” Ma Ju Ro paused, and whispers spread among the pirates.

  “How ‘bout you tell these tales to Rezsinius? Maybe he’ll be merciful!” Flea shouted. “We are the Coastal Brotherhood! We don’t want peace. You can’t trick us with your empty promises!”

  “Must have shit hisself!” Blackbeard shouted, causing a burst of laughter. “And now he’s talkin’ shit! Sure as the sea, by morning he’ll be promising half the Empire and his wife to boot, bury me with the fish!”

  “He’s married..?” one of the captains asked in surprise. “I heard he prefers men...”

  “If not, he’ll find some other way to pay us! Ha-ha!”

  Luca waited for the laughter to fade. Under the folds of his cloak, his hands had already moved into battle form. His clothes hid that a durable metal net was now beginning to cover his body, stretching across it, piercing his skin, weaving into monomolecular strands like the kind he used to suppress General Hustig’s rebellion...

  “I will ask you for the last time,” Ma Ju Ro hissed, barely restraining the adrenaline rushing through his veins. “Are you with me, or against me? Choose!”

  “Go to hell...” Flea muttered, reaching for his sword.

  Whatever else he wanted to say remained a mystery. None understood why the leader of the Nine suddenly fell silent, grabbed his throat and croaked, gurgling blood. At the same moment, the heads of the other captains fell off as if by magic.

  Someone in the crew realized that the emperor was the cause. “Kill the bastard!” a sailor shouted, and men attacked Ma Ju Ro from all sides with sabers and daggers shining in the moonlight...

  Toward midnight, Kane heard a rustling in the bushes. The emperor climbed out of them, soaked wet through. He silently sat in the carriage and spoke in a strained voice.

  “Let’s go.”

  “What happened with the Nine?” Weasel asked.

  “The Nine are no more,” Ma Ju Ro replied dryly.

  He’d sent his balance of Tsoui points into the minus this night.

  Chapter 44. The Offer of Anthony Cross

  THE CROSS FAMILY inhabited a part of the palace closed to all, even to the emperor. They tr
ied not to stand out outside of that area, so as to fit in with the courtiers, but in their home, nobody could prevent them from living to the full and enjoying the benefits of civilization.

  A huge video panel stretched across one wall, showing not only the various parts of the Cross family’s lands, meaning the Empire, but also the television channels from the wider world. And there, comfortably sat in a massage chair, the youthful and handsome man by the name of Anthony Cross read the news from his communicator and drank real aromatic coffee.

  His wife Herdinia was getting ready for, as she put it, a business trip. She was putting her makeup on at the dressing table. Few in the Empire realized it, but intentionally or not, this woman dictated the fashions of makeup and eyeshadow. For her part, she carefully followed the trends of the greater world.