Ashes of the Sun

by Django Wexler

  There was a soft knock at the door. “Yes?” Maya said.

  “It’s Beq.”

  “Beq!” She pushed her tray aside and scrambled across the room. She’d been ready to throw her arms around the arcanist, but Beq stood awkwardly between the two flanking Legionaries, and Maya paused. “Is it all right if she comes in?”

  One of the soldiers nodded. Maya gestured Beq inside and closed the door behind her. Then she hugged her, as Beq exhaled and relaxed.

  “You—” Beq said, as Maya pulled away. She paused, started again. “I heard what happened with the Council.”

  “You think I’m crazy,” Maya said.

  “No one challenges to get their cognomen, not anymore.” Beq shook her head. “I didn’t even know you still could.”

  “It’s in the rules,” Maya said. “Never been changed. That used to be the only way to become a centarch. Back then there were more candidates than haken, so—” She trailed off. “Sorry. I did a lot of reading in my cell.”

  “I gathered.” Beq smiled. “Usually it’s me getting excited about ancient history.”

  Maya laughed out loud. She offered Beq the chair and sat down on the bed, unable to stop herself from fidgeting with the covers.

  “Have you seen Varo?” Maya said. “They haven’t accused him of anything, have they?” She felt a stab of guilt for not asking earlier.

  “Not officially,” Beq said. “But the Council was quick to send him on another assignment. He’s somewhere in the south now, I think.”

  Maya nodded, then took a deep breath.

  “And have you… made any progress?” she said. “On what you… found.”

  “I think we should be safe to talk in here,” Beq said. “And, yes, a little. It turns out there are a few different codes, and I’ve found at least two in the master archive.”

  “And Nicomidi was working with Raskos,” Maya said, leaning forward eagerly.

  “Maybe. He writes carefully, even in code.” Beq frowned. “Why are you so sure?”

  Maya’s eyes flicked to the door, and she lowered her voice. “Nicomidi came to me in the cell. He wanted me to give evidence to the Council against Jaedia. Offered to get me off the hook. When I wouldn’t do it, he threatened you.”

  “Threatened me?” Beq squeaked. “Why?”

  “I don’t think he knows what you’re working on,” Maya said. “He just knows that we’re friends, and he thought it would motivate me.” She found her hands clenching into fists. “A member of the Council threatened to murder an Order arcanist. This is the fucking Republic, not some Splinter King’s court. We don’t assassinate people.”

  “Can you tell the rest of the Council?”

  “He’d just deny it,” Maya said. “But if you can prove he was part of Raskos’ corruption, they won’t be able to ignore that.”

  “Assuming he is part of it.”

  “He must be. Why else would he go this far? Sending us to Deepfire, and then trying to keep me from looking into what happened to Jaedia—”

  “Wait,” Beq said. “You think he was involved in that too?”

  “I don’t know.” Maya flopped back on the bed and closed her eyes. “It all has to be connected, but I don’t see quite how. But we can find out. We have to find out. And I’ll find Jaedia, and… and Marn, and…”

  She trailed off, and there was a long silence. Beq fiddled with her spectacles, lenses shifting and whirring.

  “You’re sure the Council will act?” she said. “Nicomidi’s a Kyriliarch. And the Dogmatics will say it’s a Pragmatic plot.”

  “They have to do something if we have proof,” Maya said. “If we give up on that, we might as well give up on the Order altogether.”

  “I’ll find the rest of the codes,” Beq said.

  “Thank you,” Maya said. She raised her head. “You’ll be careful?”

  Beq nodded. She lapsed into silence again, hands pressed together in her lap. Maya sat up, blood rushing to her head and making it spin. “What’s wrong?”

  “I…” Beq swallowed and took a deep breath. “You’ll beat him, won’t you?”

  “Tanax?” When Beq nodded, Maya put on her best grin. “Of course.”

  “Don’t just… laugh it off,” Beq said. “I don’t know how you centarchs measure one another, but I saw what he did in the tunnel. He’s…”

  “He’s dangerous,” Maya said gently. She got off the bed and knelt in front of Beq. “I know. But it’s a duel, not a fight to the death. We’ll wear panoply belts.”

  “But if you lose, you’ll be sent away,” Beq said. “That’s what the master arcanist told me. If you challenge the centarchate and lose, you forfeit any chance of ever becoming a centarch, and the Order will bury you away in the middle of nowhere. For the rest of your life.”

  “Probably,” Maya said. “It’s up to the Council, and there’s not a lot of recent precedent. But they can’t have people who can access deiat running around loose.”

  “I don’t care about the reasons,” Beq said abruptly. She took a deep breath and swallowed hard. “I would never see you again.”

  “I…” Maya found her own throat thick. She managed a quick nod.

  “That would make me… very unhappy,” Beq said. “I was sitting in my room thinking about it, and I realized just how unhappy. I think I would… I don’t know.”

  “Beq…”

  “Ever since we got back, I just…” Beq shook her head. “I kept thinking about… that. And other things. And then it felt like I was going around in circles and I didn’t know how to stop and I couldn’t sleep and can I please kiss you?”

  “I… um.” Maya felt her cheeks start to burn as her brain caught up with her ears, and her own voice sounded distant. “Uh. Yes?”

  Beq leaned forward, and Maya rose to meet her. Their lips met, and for a moment Maya was frozen, not sure what to do next. She could feel every tiny movement of Beq’s tongue, the hot tickle of the other girl’s breath against her face, the press of Beq’s golden spectacles against the bridge of her nose. One of Beq’s hands had landed on Maya’s shoulder, and that slight contact sent a crackle through her like deiat.

  “I don’t. Um.” Beq pulled back, slightly. “Know what I’m doing. I’ve never kissed anyone before.” Her throat worked as she swallowed. “I never thought I would want to.”

  “I wanted to kiss you the day we met,” Maya said.

  “Oh.” Beq seemed genuinely nonplussed. “Really?”

  “Really.” Maya shook her head. “I don’t know what I’m doing either.”

  “We could. Um. Try again.”

  They tried again. And again, and again. Maya felt a deep, sweet ache rising inside her, and more than anything she wanted to feel Beq’s fingers against her bare skin. Beq’s hand was still on her shoulder, and Maya let her own hand land on the other girl’s knee, fingers brushing her trousers as she leaned into the kiss—

  Beq pulled back abruptly and got to her feet so fast that Maya had to scramble out of the way.

  “Sorry,” Maya said. “Did I—”

  “Sorry,” Beq said at the same moment. “I’m sorry, I just—”

  They lapsed into a deeply embarrassed silence.

  “I didn’t mean to… startle you,” Maya said. “If I did anything—”

  “No, it’s not that. I mean. It’s not…” Beq swallowed again. “I just need to… think.”

  “That’s fine.” Maya drew in a long breath, blew it out, trying for calm. Seeing the expression on Beq’s face, she got to her feet. “It’s fine, Beq.”

  “I’m sorry for making things… complicated.” Beq shook her head, and tears glittered in her eyes. “I should go.”

  Maya wanted badly to grab her hand but guessed that would make things worse. “Beq. Look at me.” When the other girl met her gaze, eyes huge through her spectacles, Maya spoke carefully. “Thank you. For the kiss. It was something I wanted… pretty badly. And you have nothing to apologize for.”

  “Okay,” B
eq said in a small voice.

  “I’m going to beat him,” Maya said. “When I do, I’ll be a centarch, with a centarch’s authority. The Council doesn’t have enough evidence to lock up a full centarch, and I’ll be able to choose my own assignments. I’m going to follow Jaedia and find out what happened. I hope you’ll come with me.”

  “Of course,” Beq said. She pushed up her spectacles and wiped her eyes.

  “In which case,” Maya said, “we’ll have plenty of time to… talk about this. After you’ve thought about it.”

  “Okay.” Beq’s voice sounded stronger. “Thank you.”

  “Go get some rest.”

  “You too,” Beq said.

  She paused, awkwardly, as the Legionaries opened the door. Then, catching Maya’s eye one last time, she shuffled out. The guards closed the door behind her, and Maya was again alone.

  Chosen fucking defend. She fell back on the bed, head still spinning. She kissed me. For a moment, all her other problems seemed far away. She really kissed me.

  Now all I have to do is win.

  The Forge’s dueling ground, like the rest of the fortress, had been built to a titanic scale to accommodate a golden age that had never come. The arena was an oval ring several hundred meters across, floored with sand. Dozens of huge rough-cut stone pillars were strewn around it, leaving a clear space in the very center. Given the rarity of formal duels between centarchs, the place saw more use as a training field, and the stones were scorched, chipped, and twisted in a mute testament to the eager agathia who’d sparred here.

  A ring of seats surrounded the arena, protected from any stray energy by a wall of unmetal-laced glass. They were already filling up when Maya and her guards arrived, centarchs in their colored cloaks claiming the best view in the center, with the drabber figures of scouts, arcanists, quartermasters, and servants settling in around them. It looks like the whole Order turned out. Maya hadn’t imagined there were so many people in the Forge.

  Beq would be down there, somewhere. The thought of her sent a thrill through Maya, which she tried hard to banish. Win first. Sort out your love life later.

  They’d arrived on the highest level, a spectator’s balcony that overhung the seats. The two Legionaries waited patiently by the stairs as Maya looked over the arena, trying to fix in her mind the positions of all the stone pillars. When the height started making her a little dizzy, she returned to them, and they took her back to the stairs. They switchbacked through several more landings, past the tunnels that led to the seats, and finally reached an archway guarded by another pair of soldiers. Maya guessed they were now level with the floor of the arena.

  The guards motioned for her to stop. After a moment, Evinda Stonecutter emerged from the doorway, recognizable only by the colored fringe on her cloak. She was fully armored, haken on her hip, face concealed behind an unmetal helmet.

  “Centarch.” Maya bowed.

  “Agathios-Challenger Maya,” Evinda said, painfully correct as ever. “In the name of the Council, I offer you this final opportunity to retract your challenge, without prejudice.”

  Not much chance of that. While the Council as a whole might prefer to avoid this, if she backed down she’d be entirely in Nicomidi’s power. As an agathios without a master, she had few formal rights. If she became a centarch, his ability to move against her would be much reduced.

  “Thank you, Centarch. But I maintain my challenge.”

  Evinda grunted, then paused. “I cannot approve of your action,” she said eventually. “It goes against tradition. But I must admire your courage.”

  “Thank you, Centarch.”

  “Your haken and panoply belt are waiting in the preparation area. Understand that they are being returned to you only for the duel, and no other purpose. If you are so lost to honor as to try to escape, I will be waiting.” Her hand brushed her haken.

  “I understand, Centarch. I don’t plan to run away.”

  The older woman nodded, then stepped out of Maya’s path. “You may proceed.”

  The guards stayed behind as Maya walked into the tunnel. It entered a broader space, half changing room and half armory. There were benches and a small table, and racks full of equipment of all sorts—swords, axes, pole-arms, armor. Another door let out into the arena itself.

  Tanax—Centarch Tanax Brokenedge now—sat on one of the benches, legs crossed, eyes closed as though lost in thought. He already wore his haken at his side, and the silvery length of a panoply belt was wound around his midsection over loose, informal fighting clothes. Maya’s own haken lay on the table, with her panoply belt beside it.

  “Hello,” Maya said. Then paused, cleared her throat, and started again. “Greetings, Centarch.”

  Tanax opened his eyes and inclined his head. “Agathios-Challenger.”

  “Congratulations on your cognomen.”

  “Thank you.”

  Maya’s mouth was suddenly dry. She felt a stab of sympathy for Tanax, who hadn’t asked for his role in this drama. While the stakes were not as high for him, losing the duel on behalf of the centarchate would still shame him greatly, and no doubt cost him Nicomidi’s good opinion.

  “I wanted to say—” she began, but Tanax cut her off.

  “You don’t have to do this,” he said.

  She blinked. “What?”

  “I know we have… had our differences. I hope you understand I was obeying orders when I brought you in. And while you deserve some punishment for your insubordination, I think…” He took a deep breath. “It’s possible my master has acted too harshly.”

  “Possible,” Maya deadpanned.

  “You know I have always tried to behave correctly. If you are willing to call off this foolish challenge, I swear I will petition my master and the Council on your behalf.”

  “You’re too late,” Maya said. “Centarch Evinda already gave me my last chance outside.”

  “Maya—”

  “Besides,” she went on, “in your ‘correct behavior,’ have you ever considered the possibility that I was right? First about Raskos’ corruption, and now about Jaedia.”

  “My master says—”

  “Your master is up to his neck in it,” Maya snapped. “Right next to Raskos.”

  “That’s enough.” Tanax shot to his feet. “It’s one thing to defend yourself. To suggest that a Kyriliarch of the Council could be involved in base corruption is absurd. Do you seriously think that someone like Nicomidi would betray the Order for coin?”

  In her own mind, Maya had to admit it seemed unlikely. But her anger was at a rolling boil, and she wasn’t about to tamp it down.

  “You can try to ignore it for now,” Maya said. “But once we’re finished here, I’ll drag the Council’s noses through the shit myself, if I have to. They’ll smell it eventually.”

  Tanax quivered, teeth clenched, and took a deep breath as he mastered himself. When he spoke, his voice was calm.

  “You would make a good centarch someday, Maya. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “Really?” Maya snatched up her haken and belt. “I’m not sure I can return the sentiment.”

  They walked out together, through the forest of battered pillars, to the very center of the arena.

  Maya tugged at her panoply belt, which still felt a bit off. In truth it didn’t matter whether it fit or not, but she was nervous, and trying hard not to touch the Thing for reassurance with half the Order watching. From the floor of the arena, she couldn’t make out individual faces, but the colored robes of the Council were clearly visible.

  A small unmetal circle, set into the sand, marked the exact center of the dueling ground. Maya took her place on one side of it, and Tanax walked to the other side, turning to face her. For the moment, he kept his hand away from his haken, and she did likewise. She searched his face—dark-skinned, features hawk-like and aristocratic, lips pressed together and tight with suppressed anger.

  She wished she’d insisted on sparring with him, sometime during the
mission. She’d seen his power at work, the strange twisting of space that rent matter apart, but that wasn’t the same as going up against it. At a deep level, the power all centarchs wielded was the same, and duels were trials of deiat against deiat, blade to blade and mind to mind, regardless of how that power manifested. At the same time, though, each centarch materialized that power in a different form, and that inclined their fighting style in certain directions. Jaedia, for example, had always been far more mobile than Maya, her body as slippery and nimble as one of her breezes, preferring to evade an attack rather than meet it head-on.

  Maya guessed that this would not be Tanax’s technique. What she’d seen of his power was brutally straightforward, though his sheer strength was impressive. We’ll see.

  “Agathios-Challenger Maya.” Prodominus’ voice echoed down to them, boosted by some arcana device until it rang through the arena. “Centarch Tanax Brokenedge. The Council has voted me authority to oversee this duel. Raise your arm if you have any objections.”

  Maya didn’t move. Neither did Tanax.

  “On my command ‘draw,’ you will draw and ignite your weapons,” the old Kyriliarch went on. “On my command ‘fight,’ the duel will commence. It will continue until one of you surrenders or is unable to continue. On my command ‘stop,’ you will cease fighting immediately.”

  Sweat prickled across Maya’s forehead. Tanax’s hand clenched into a fist, then loosened.

  “Very well,” Prodominus boomed. “Draw.”

  Maya took hold of her haken, opening herself to deiat. The power ran through her, first in pinpricks of energy throughout her body, then as a steady flow. It felt like a mug of water after a week of thirst. In the years since Jaedia had given her her haken, Maya had never gone without touching its power for this long, and as it flooded into her she realized how hollow she’d felt without it.

  She pushed a thread of the burgeoning energy into her panoply belt and felt its field activate, tinting her vision with the usual hint of blue. Raising her haken, she let deiat flow into it, and its flaming blade materialized with a whoomph. Across the circle, Tanax lifted his own blade, and a narrow line of space twisted and writhed, distorting everything behind it. It emitted a faint drone, like a swarm of bees.