by Ryan Kirk
Daiki spoke, his voice strong. “Ayano, please.”
Ayano looked at her husband with hate and fear in her eyes. “How could you?”
Tears fell down Daiki’s face. “I don’t want you to have to see me die.”
Hate turned to compassion in a moment on Ayano’s face. “Daiki.” Her voice was full of love, the love that Asa had observed hidden beneath the bickering that happened every day.
Gently, Asa pushed down Ayano’s head. For the first time since she had met the strong woman, Ayano was submissive, providing no resistance. Asa stood between the couple so that Daiki couldn’t see what was about to happen.
Asa’s cut was clean.
She turned to Daiki. Words seemed like dry leaves, too brittle to matter, but she had to say something. “I am sorry. I hope that someday, a long time from now, you meet your son again.”
Daiki’s teardrops froze in the snow. He bowed before her, exposing his neck. “Thank you, Asa.”
Her cut was clean.
Chapter 9
Leaving camp had taken a fair amount of effort, but Mari thought the price was worth paying. For one, she was away from the daily life she found so taxing. She recognized that her power came through her network of shadows and her wealth, but all the same, she found those parts of her life the least interesting. Those were her duties, not her pleasures.
There were days when she longed for the simplicity of the life of a common woman. The cares of raising a child and maintaining a household, while no doubt difficult, often seemed preferable to the matters of state she involved herself in.
Regardless, she enjoyed the chance for fresh air. She had been cooped up in the inn they had secured as a command post for almost a moon, and the breeze, biting as it was, was still far preferable to the stuffy air of her room. Out here, the reports from her shadows couldn’t reach her as they had in the inn, but the small sacrifice was necessary. Much better to be out here riding than analyzing the same news over and over.
Beside her rode Takahiro, who alternated between the joy of being out in the world and depression over his ward traveling with so little protection.
For Mari, the logistics of the journey had been easy to decide. Her palanquin, the method of travel Takahiro would have preferred her to take, would have drawn far too much attention. Her shadows had been clear in their messages: the Kingdom was ripping apart at the seams. If she displayed her wealth for all to see, she would be targeted instantly.
Riding a horse was still a clear indicator of resources, but it was a sight better than the palanquin. It was also much faster. Mari had argued that they should walk, and the horse had been their compromise.
As they left Haven and moved out along the roads to Starfall, Mari began to realize just how dire the situation in the Kingdom was. Each of the lords, her brother included, was so focused on conflict, they ignored the plight of the common people. With the impending war, more and more demands were made, and winter showed every sign of being one of the most difficult in memory. Prices for basic staples were several times higher than they had any right to be. Fields full of rice were dying in the freezing nights. The evidence was everywhere that thousands were at risk of dying during a harsh season.
Small, local militias with limited training and weapons were doing everything they could to keep the peace, but their efforts were insignificant.
In one village a farmer’s cart had been overturned, citizens stealing their neighbor’s food. Mari was tempted to judge them, but there was little point. If she was hungry and had a family to feed, she’d probably do the same. Regardless, if the lords didn’t attempt to restore normal order soon, the task would be almost impossible.
The longer they rode, the more troubling scenes they encountered. A small group of bandits was scared away by Takahiro’s sword and confidence. Families huddled along the side of the road, not sure where to go, begged for aid. At first, Mari wanted to stop, but soon the enormity of the mission dawned on her. If she wanted to save the greatest number of people, she needed to complete her task. As much as the act pained her, she passed by the people on the road, focusing instead on reaching Starfall as soon as possible.
Eventually Mari and Takahiro seemed to pass the worst of the troubles. The number of people on the side of the road diminished, and the fields became emptier. Mari understood. They were getting closer to Starfall, a city no one wanted to go near anymore.
She wondered how the blades would be reacting to this sudden change in their status. They certainly hadn’t been without blame in the conflict among the lords. One of them had killed her brother, something she wasn’t likely to forget anytime soon. But they had kept the order in the land for generations. Their absence from their usual duties was as much to blame for the chaos in the land as the lords’ infighting.
Mari tried to remember the last time she had met Hajimi, the head of the Council of the Blades; it had to have been several cycles ago at the least. She hadn’t spent much time with him, forced to rely instead on her impressions, which hadn’t been positive. He had seemed to be a conniving man, a man she wouldn’t want to trust.
Even though she wanted to keep pushing forward, Takahiro made her stop at an inn about a half-day’s ride from Starfall. They were so close, but the night fell rapidly, and Takahiro didn’t trust his ability to protect her in the dark. They had argued, but her guard had been adamant, and eventually Mari acquiesced. The idea of a bed was tempting, even if she didn’t want to admit it.
The inn was almost empty. The brown wooden building was large, three floors tall, with plenty of rooms on every floor. Inside, the simple furnishings were well maintained, the tables wiped clean, the tatami floors spotless. Mari imagined that in other times, the inn would be bustling. The keeper tried to charge them an exorbitant amount, but Takahiro, using a combination of threats and more threats, managed to negotiate the price down to one that was almost reasonable.
Staying in an inn where it was just them and one other traveler got underneath Mari’s skin. She was used to crowded places, the loud laughter of men who had too much to drink. Instead, she and Takahiro sat at one table in one corner, and the lone traveler, a man, took a table in the corner farthest from them. Mari and Takahiro spoke in whispers, as though afraid to disturb the silence that shrouded the building.
When Takahiro offered to pay the innkeeper for a drink, the man sat down and shared the news of the area with them. Unfortunately, it was no more than they expected. No one traveled to Starfall anymore. The expectation, unspoken unless one had too much to drink, was that the Kingdom would be invading the city soon.
The only people who had passed by were blades, and they tended to shun the inn. They preferred to stay out in the cold, where their sense would warn them of potential attack.
The two spoke with the innkeeper for a while longer before retiring to their rooms. The next day they would reach Starfall, and their real work would begin.
Mari had only been to the city once before, when she had been a young girl. Their father had taken the entire family on a trip there. Juro was at the age where he was obsessed with the stories of nightblades, and their father had thought it best for the future head of the house to observe reality instead of just relying on the legends. At the thought, Mari almost gave a sad laugh. Juro, more than any of them, had learned the bitter truths underlining the existence of the blades.
Starfall was a walled city, one of the few in the Kingdom. Mari studied the smooth stone walls carefully, admiring the handiwork involved in their creation. She had always been fascinated by masonry and the ability to fit stones together in such a way that they stood even when under attack. What most amazed Mari was that nothing held the rocks together. The big ones formed most of the wall, with smaller stones inserted between the larger ones to keep everything in place. The walls were sturdy, but not nearly so thick or tall as the walls that had surrounded Haven.
For what good that did the city, she reminded herself. Walls were a tool for blockin
g invaders. They did nothing when your world was crumbling from the inside out.
Their first challenge was gaining admittance to the city. Mari was no lord and, in truth, had no real standing or power. The older sister of a lord counted for next to nothing in the world. But she was rich. The mines in the mountains of her house’s land provided most of the gold for the Kingdom, and not all the precious metal went into circulation.
Mari wished they lived in a world where money didn’t matter as much as it did. But the blades had stopped receiving their payments from all three houses, and even a fraction of her wealth could go a long way toward convincing the blades to help. That, at least, was the best offer she had for Hajimi.
They came to the main gate, which was closed to traffic. When Mari and Takahiro rode up, they were the only two on the road. For the entire morning, Mari had felt like the Kingdom had already ended and everybody had perished. They hadn’t seen a single person since leaving the inn.
The two nightblades who stood guard at the gate had a relaxed posture. Mari and Takahiro pulled up their horses a safe distance away and dismounted, walking until they were a few paces away. Mari studied the sentries.
For a moment, she was surprised. Both were women. Mari’s experience with the blades was limited, and she’d forgotten how much power women were granted in the culture of the blades. She reminded herself that they all lived in the same Kingdom, but the blades moved in a very different world than her own.
“Who are you, and what do you want?” the woman on Mari’s right asked. Although the two guards were of similar stature, the one on the right kept her hair cut very short, and the one on the left kept hers long, hanging down almost to her waist.
“My name is Mari. I’m a representative of House Kita.” The lie was subtle. Her trip certainly hadn’t been sanctioned by her house, but that was a problem for another day. “I’ve come to see Hajimi and the Council of the Blades, if I may.”
The two women studied her, clearly dubious. They might live in a world that accepted them almost as equals, but they had traveled in the Kingdom enough to know that a female representative of a house was no true representative at all.
The short-haired nightblade replied, “Starfall is closed to guests at the moment. Please turn around and leave.”
Mari had hoped entry would be easier, but she wasn’t surprised. She turned to her horse and grabbed one of the bags from her saddle. She did her best not to struggle with the weight of the bag, not in front of these two warriors.
She opened the flap, showing the pile of gold inside. “I come bearing substantial gifts.”
The two blades glanced at each other, uncertainty dancing across their faces. Mari wondered just how much authority the guards at the gate were given.
The short-haired warrior came to a decision. “Very well. News of your arrival will be brought to Hajimi. The council has been busy as of late, so it may take a few days to reply, but you may stay in Starfall until such time as a decision is reached.”
Starfall operated differently than most cities, with no free trade in the area. Merchants were paid directly by the Council of the Blades, and goods were exchanged without gold inside the city walls. Mari didn’t understand the entire system, but she knew that the city was structured around the blades being able to practice their skills to the exclusion of almost all else. They didn’t need to worry about shelter, food, or any of the other necessities that made daily living a constant challenge.
For Mari and Takahiro, it meant they didn’t have to pay for an inn. One was provided for them, the same inn Mari had stayed at so many cycles ago. She was fairly certain it was the only one for outsiders in Starfall.
Mari and Takahiro were escorted through the streets by the longer-haired nightblade. The other sentry had remained at the gate with a replacement. Mari’s eyes wandered around the city, taking in the home of the blades with adult eyes for the first time.
Starfall had a certain stark beauty, but Mari imagined not everyone would agree. The blades, as a whole, gave little thought to aesthetics in construction. Most of the buildings the three passed were plain wooden structures, designed as temporary resting places for visiting blades. A few homes were for the permanent residents of Starfall, but even they were plain by the standards of the rest of the Kingdom.
Everyone could agree on the cleanliness of the city. As unadorned as the buildings were, they all sported paint that had been applied in the past cycle or two. Not a single piece of refuse could be found on the streets, and no injured or lame begged for money on the corners. Walking through Starfall was like walking through a plain but idyllic mirror image of a normal city.
Their escort seemed friendlier than the blade they had spoken to at the gate, so Mari used the opportunity to get more information. “How are things in Starfall? The streets are busy.”
Mari was surprised by the number of blades in the city. On her last visit, the streets had been almost empty, but they now contained many people in both black and white robes. If the land surrounding Starfall was empty, it seemed as though that was because the city had sucked everyone nearby inside its walls. Like most people, Mari had only occasional glimpses of blades in her daily life. To see so many in one place was disconcerting. One forgot that even though the blades made up only a small fraction of the number of people in the Kingdom, thousands of them still existed. Their strength, if directed to any particular end, would be tremendous.
Their guide replied, “Yes. With all the uncertainty from Shin’s proclamation and subsequent events, most blades have returned to Starfall. There’s safety in numbers here. Also, if the council ever makes any decisions, most want to be present to help carry out those decisions.”
Mari wasn’t surprised so many blades would seek to return to Starfall. That was natural. She was interested to learn that the Council of the Blades hadn’t come to any decision yet about what actions they would take in response to events in the Kingdom. Perhaps there was still hope for her mission.
“If you don’t mind me asking, how are the blades reacting to everything happening in the Kingdom?” Mari saw that her question raised the woman’s suspicions, and she immediately tried to defuse them. “Our lords are always focused so much on their own houses, no one ever stops to ask about how the blades feel.”
The nightblade seemed uncertain, but eventually she answered. “It’s tough to say. Many times, civilians like you think of the blades as one group that thinks the same way. But we’re as different as you and just as divided. Many of us are depressed by recent events. We were happy to serve the Kingdom and did the best we could with our gifts. Most of us would be delighted if things could return to the way they were.
“There are plenty of others, though, who feel differently. Maintaining a warrior’s mind-set can be difficult if you are born with the gift. It is easy to think you are somehow better than civilians. Even I fall into that trap on occasion.” The woman’s voice carried off as she was lost in thought.
Mari turned the woman’s information over in her mind. Everything she was hearing confirmed what her shadows had relayed. She wondered if she was taking the right approach. The woman clearly believed in serving the Kingdom, so Mari pressed her a little harder.
“I am here to see if there is a way for us to work together toward peace. Do you think the council will hear me?”
The blade gave her a quick cynical smile. “With the amount of gold you flashed at the gate? Yes, the council will hear you. Whether they cooperate is another matter entirely.”
“If I can convince the council to work together for peace, how will the blades respond?”
The question was one the nightblade hadn’t considered before. They walked in silence for two blocks before she responded. “I would like to think that most would back the council. If I am being hopelessly optimistic, I would tell you that we’d all throw our strength behind you, but I’m not sure that’s true. Just as the Kingdom is on the brink of civil war, the blades are as well. If
we’re going to survive, I fear we must purge our ranks.”
The answer was far bolder and more insightful than Mari had expected.
They arrived at the inn. Mari bowed deeply to the guard. “Thank you, both for your escort and your thoughts. I will meditate deeply on what you have said.”
As predicted, Mari received her invitation to the council, but it took several days. The time between her arrival and her invitation was filled with frustration and angst. Every day she and Takahiro waited, the situation in the Kingdom got worse. Every day, Mari knew that people were suffering and dying. She didn’t know what could be more important for the council, and in her darker moments, she imagined them sitting and doing nothing, making her wait for the sheer joy of lording their authority.
When she wasn’t in her room, pacing in frustration, she was going over her arguments again and again. She anticipated objections and rehearsed answers. If the council could be swayed by logic, she’d succeed. She had to be sure of that.
Eventually the summons came, and Mari went immediately to the council, forcing her nerves down. The way that Takahiro looked at her sometimes, as though she was a willfully foolish child he was exasperated with, made her feel like she was wrong in coming here. She felt like she should have returned to the palace and let the world go the way it would. But he believed in her enough not to voice his objections. He followed her to the chambers, giving his ward one last nod of encouragement before they went in.
When Mari was announced in the council chambers, her courage and commitment almost left her. She blamed the cycles of learning of the greatness of the blades. Their culture was filled with stories of heroism and sacrifice and amazing deeds. Even she struggled not to look at a blade and think of being in the presence of a living legend. Now she was here, in front of seven of their strongest and wisest. She had no place here.