by Devin Madson
Kin made no reply, just glanced down at the folded robe. ‘You may dress now,’ he said, and waited in silence while I did so.
When I had finished, I sat back on my heels in imitation of his own restful state. But there was nothing restful about the mind that moved beyond those dark eyes. Trouble leached from the deep furrows of his brow, a whisper at the edge of hearing. Katashi had sent me to force Emperor Kin’s hand, to depose him from the throne, but that was not justice. This man had done more for Kisia than any other. He had earned Darius’s respect.
The whispers grew louder, their hum insistent. My fingers curled into claws, gripping linen.
‘I wish you would tell me a story, Takehiko,’ the emperor said, shifting his weight as though his foot had gone to sleep. ‘I wish you would tell me how you come to be here, and what you plan to do now that you are.’
‘I don’t want your throne.’
‘Even if it is your throne? There are papers–’
‘I’ve seen them.’
His brows lifted. ‘Have you indeed? So you are not the latest Otako assassin sent to end my life?’
‘No. I’m here because Katashi sent me. He wants to see what you’re going to do.’
‘I see.’
In the silence that followed, I caught the sound of voices outside. ‘Your Majesty?’ The same guard as before stepped in through the open slit.
‘Yes? What is it, Captain?’
‘There is a man here to see you, and a woman,’ the captain said. ‘The man says he is Lady Hana Otako’s protector, and the woman is her maid. They bring a message.’
Hana. Alive then. Kin’s expression told me nothing and I clenched my fists tighter still. Relief. Anger. Fear. One man inside the tent, two at the opening.
‘Tell them to wait,’ Kin said. ‘Don’t harm them. I’ll hear what they have to say when I am finished here.’
‘Yes, Your Majesty.’
The man retreated. ‘It seems I am to be inundated with Otakos tonight,’ he said, turning back to me. ‘Your sister.’
‘Half-sister,’ I corrected. ‘Though she doesn’t know I am alive and I would like to keep it that way.’
‘Why?’
‘Because it makes no difference. I am a Laroth, not an Otako.’
Emperor Kin sighed, seeming suddenly older. ‘What am I to do with you?’ he said. ‘I’ve made the mistake of trusting your half-brother and the mistake of trusting your half-sister. I have no reason to trust you now. You’re a Laroth, and yet your great cousin is right. I took an oath to protect you, as your father’s blood, an oath I am honour-bound to uphold.’
‘But I am not his blood.’
‘What do you want, Takehiko? You say you do not want my throne, but why then did Katashi put an arrow through you? Why, in fact, are you here at all? Where is your priest now?’
‘Recovering,’ I said. ‘He is fortunate not to be dead. You ask me what I want? I want justice. I want what is right. I want the gods to judge every man for what they are and what they have done.’
Justice.
‘And what is right? Sometimes the difference between right and wrong is merely a matter of opinion, entirely dependent upon whose side you are on.’
The silken tent flap rustled again. ‘Majesty?’
Kin closed his eyes as though drawing strength. ‘Yes, Captain?’
The captain’s eyes darted from his emperor to me and back again. ‘Sorry, Your Majesty. It’s this man with the message from Lady Hana Otako. He says it’s very important.’
Kin didn’t answer, just rose from his place, the folds of his simple robe settling about his feet. Only the crimson colour gave away his position, for the rest he might have been anyone.
‘Wait,’ I said, rising as he strode to the entrance. ‘Let me go.’
‘Let you go?’ He spun back, heavy lines returning to his brow. ‘And where would you go? It’s dark and you’re injured. This is a war.’
‘I have to go back. Darius needs me. I was a fool to leave him in the first place.’
‘I will not send you back to Katashi. Darius can fight his own battles.’
‘Your Majesty–’
‘No. I will see this messenger now and we will talk again when this business is concluded.’
He strode out, slapping the silk out of the way. Curiosity took me in his wake, and although Emperor Kin did not seem to notice, his guards gave me strange looks, every eye seeming to focus upon the cheek where my scabbing brand stood proud.
The open space before Kin’s tent was full of soldiers, each adding to the weight of souls. They watched, spectators in the darkness, two shrouded lanterns filling the circle with shadows. And in the centre, Kin’s two guests stood alone. They bowed low, respectfully, but the taste of something else hung on the air. The woman’s face was red and swollen from tears, her hands shaking. All eyes were upon her, the man just one of Katashi’s soldiers, a Pike by the look of his clothing.
‘Your name is Tili,’ Emperor Kin said, speaking to the woman. ‘You are Lady Hana Otako’s maid.’
‘Yes, Your Majesty.’ The woman bowed again.
‘You were once in my service and I will trust your word. You look distressed. Has something happened to Lady Hana? Is she… unwell?’
The woman shook her head. ‘No, Your Majesty.’ She glanced at her companion and added: ‘When we left her she was in good health.’
‘Give him the message,’ the man growled in a low voice.
The young woman held out the bundle she had been twisting between her hands, and let the cover fall. A dusky pink sash sat cupped in her palm and she held it out, trembling.
Kin took a step forward, his hands balled into fists. Whispers spat from the night.
Ungrateful. She sent them? Gods pity such a stupid old fool.
The words hung in my head and I could not unhear them, could not stop the feeling that I was leaking from a thousand holes.
‘And the message?’ Kin demanded.
Again Lady Hana’s maid looked toward her companion. He nodded, his scarred visage grim.
‘Lady Hana Otako would like to return this generous gift,’ she said, swallowing hard, unable to meet Kin’s gaze. ‘No lady should ever accept a gift from a man she doesn’t intend to marry.’
Even the wind quietened to nothing, the insects hushing their nightly call. Every eye was on Kin, waiting for a reaction on that stony face.
Patience. A different whisper now. You’ve waited sixteen years. A dead tiger strikes too soon.
My gaze slipped to the Pike at her side. He stood with perfect predatory stillness, his wiry arms hanging at his sides, taut, ready. No one had eyes for him, yet from his broken face a familiar man stared back.
My Empathy soared. The world returned in splendid colour, every smell and sound alive, even the texture of the air like velvet. Emotions clogged each breath: tension, fear, anger, heartache; and this man with the lidless eye flicked his gaze my way.
His soul flared, the whispers scrabbling over one another to be heard. Sixteen years. I couldn’t do it. But his blood will be sweet. I’ll take her his head. I’ll tell her the story. Even if she hates me for it, she has to hear it now.
That voice, that face. Old memories reared, slipping into my mind as though they had never left. A man standing over me. This man. Blood splattered his torso and stained his hands, like a dye maker who had dipped too deep into his vat. But the face had been younger, unscarred, nothing like the terrifying mask the years had given him. Blood had dripped onto the floor. Hana had cried, the call of a helpless baby breaking the silence. And all the man did was stare.
‘I’ve seen you before,’ I said as the memory faded into the warm night air. ‘You were there.’
Every eye found me, the scarred
man’s red-rimmed and lidless. His fingers quivered. Shock. Fear. And I knew we were in that moment together — man and child with the smell of blood thickening between us.
He leapt, pulling a knife as he lunged toward Kin. Kin was unarmed, and I was not ready to see either man die yet. I needed the truth.
Justice.
The blast hit the Pike mid air. Shocked into a tangle of loose limbs, he plunged into Kin, knocking both men to the ground. Like predators at a kill, Kin’s guards were on him. For a moment the world became a mess of shapes and moving figures in the shadows, a scuffle of limbs and grunts as fatigue blurred my vision and I swayed. I shook my head, blinking rapidly as the scarred man was yanked to his feet.
Kin held out his hand for a lantern, his fingers beckoning impatiently. One was offered and he snatched at the handle, ripping off the shroud and swinging the bright light into his assailant’s face. The man did not fight, just calmly gave Kin back glare for glare, two of the emperor’s guards holding him pinioned.
The emperor moved the lantern closer still.
‘Shin Metai,’ he said. ‘Time has not been kind to you.’
The man spat. ‘Nor you, Usurper.’
‘You were right to say you know this man,’ Kin said, turning to me as he lifted his voice for all to hear. ‘His name is General Shin Metai. Make sure you all get a good look at him, because there won’t be anything left of him come sunrise. This is the man who killed Emperor Lan. This is the man who murdered Empress Li and butchered all her sons.’ He lowered the lantern. ‘You have escaped justice too long. Tonight you die.’
A whistle, a high whine on the edge of hearing. General Metai smiled, his expression demonic in the half-light. ‘No. Tonight you die.’
Lady Hana’s maid began to scream. She covered her head with her hands, her cry rising like the call of a harbinger owl. I looked up. The night sky was dotted with dozens of pale flecks, like raining stars. Someone shouted, the call taken up by others until it ran through the camp like fire, rousing men from their tents.
And then the arrows fell.
Chapter 21
Everyone froze, glared into immobility. Kimiko pressed the blade hard against her dear brother’s skin — the brother who had sold her to Malice; the brother she had turned to, desperate to save me. The brother who had betrayed her trust for the last time.
Tell them to let us go, I ordered, the thrill of commanding her supreme. She was mine, body and soul, her heart held in the palm of my hand.
Her love for me had betrayed her. ‘Let them go,’ she said.
‘Kimiko!’ Katashi growled, moving as little as possible. ‘Are you mad? They’re dangerous.’
‘Let them go,’ she repeated. ‘Let them leave unharmed. They aren’t to be followed.’
Malice chuckled, his mind receding into a state of delirium. We had persuaded our captors to bind his wound, but he had already lost too much blood. He was verging on fever, but I would not let him die.
‘You can have Lord Laroth,’ Katashi said, speaking through gritted teeth. ‘You can take him and get out of Kisia and never return, but the other is mine.’
No. I won’t lose him again.
‘Not good enough,’ Kimiko said. ‘Both of them.’
She pressed the knife harder into Katashi's throat and he winced. ‘You wouldn’t.’
‘Oh, wouldn’t I? After you sold me to your obsession?’ Unprompted, her fingers tightened in his hair. ‘Our father went to the headsman to protect us, remember that? He died, Katashi, died to keep us from harm. What do you think he would have to say about the day he had to watch from the heavens as you sold me for a chance, a chance, at the Crimson Throne?’
The silence hung heavy. This was her fury now, and with a little push she would slit his throat of her own volition. But it was not time. He had to give the order first or we would never make it out alive.
Kimiko spat words. ‘The day you sold me you lost the right to call yourself an Otako.’
Fear. I could see it beading on his brow, this emperor, this Monarch, aware now what letting us go would mean. It was beautiful to see the realisation of brevity all men ought to experience, to know that the world would go on without them. But while trees would die, rivers change course, and cities fall, the Sight would go on, never ending, linking generations of Larothian blood to the very heart of the earth, its rulers in truth if not in name.
‘You will regret this,’ Katashi said, speaking to Kimiko though his eyes never left mine. ‘We will all regret this. Think on that when it comes time to bury the world.’
His eyes flicked toward Hana, but she stood, immobile, at the edge of the scene, mouth agape in horror. No help there. He looked to his guards, but there was no way out. He might have nodded then, but for the position of the knife. ‘Let them go,’ he said, the words an angry growl. ‘Get them out of here.’
Our captors advanced.
Kimiko held the knife steady.
‘Take them to the edge of the camp before you untie them,’ Katashi said.
No, untie us now.
‘Untie them now,’ she ordered after a moment’s hesitation, the words slow to her tongue. She was fighting, struggling against my hold over her, but she was mine.
Katashi’s fists clenched upon his knees. ‘Kimiko.’
‘Do it!’
The men did not wait for Katashi’s repetition of the order, just took out their knives and slit our bonds. Still kneeling upon the floor, Malice rolled onto his back like a hopeful puppy, looking up at me through the coating of my blood.
I touched my face. A swollen, clotted gash interrupted my left brow and my cheek stung with cuts. They were remnants of another time, of another life, another man. He had been a fool, that man, denying who he was, what he was, carrying around such weight, such aged guilt, instead of living.
‘Get them out of here,’ Katashi ordered. ‘Send out word that they are to be killed on sight if ever seen in Kisia again.’
‘No,’ I said. ‘We are Kisia.’
At my feet Malice began to laugh again. All eyes were on me, even Kimiko's.
‘What?’ Katashi said.
‘We are Kisia,’ I repeated. ‘We are gods, and you will bow to us.’
‘Darius, are you mad?’ Hana demanded.
‘Not mad, little lamb, finally sane.’
Kimiko stared, such disappointment staining her gaze that she seemed to shrink. Her arm dropped.
Katashi’s hand whipped up, gripping her wrist. A pained cry and the knife fell, light glinting on the blade as it hit the floor. The man with the silver line through his sash stepped forward. He swung his sword and I threw myself back, slamming into the tent’s centre pole. The whole canopy shook. ‘I’ve been waiting to stick you, freak,’ he said, his face contorted. ‘Now stop dancing around like a girl and stand still.’
He sidestepped, short jabs baiting me to move. ‘Still dancing, eh? Dance with me, then, freak.’
He lunged. Instinct took over; stepping, twisting, hunting skin. A slash came close and I ducked, hands to the floor. His bare feet scuffed in reed sandals.
Skin.
My hand closed around his toes. The man tried to pull away, yanking his foot back with a shocked cry as I forced the connection.
A scream tore the air. His knife hit the matting. Kicking madly, he caught me in the chest, slamming me back against the pole. The tattered sandal ripped from my fingers, but although the connection broke, the scream went on. Gripping his head between his hands, he ran, shoving comrades out of the way as he turned in tight circles, his legs working without reference to his broken mind. Soldiers had been pouring into the tent, but they halted at the opening now, faces filled with horror.
I rose, fascinated by the broken man. There was something beautiful about him, abou
t the disconnection, the freedom of a body no longer slave to the mind.
From the doorway one man shouldered his way forward. Drawing his sword, he caught the mad soldier’s arm, thrusting the blade through his stomach and up into his heart. The screaming stopped. The man tried to breathe, tried to swallow, the mindless body determined to keep living though blood leaked from its skin. But the merciful soldier clutched the dying man close, and waited until the convulsions stilled before letting the body fall.
In the doorway the soldiers did not move.
I held my hand down and helped Malice to his feet. He was stiff, unsteady, but unlike my victim, in full possession of his sanity. His hand lingered in mine. That was its place, and when he let go I could still feel him there, his palm imprinted upon my skin.
Katashi strode forward. ‘What are you kasus waiting for?’ he snarled. ‘Kill them!’
‘Do you want to die?’ I asked, looking at each man in turn. ‘Do you want to lose your minds to a lifetime of agony?’
Through the press of armoured bodies I could feel Kimiko, her mark aglow.
Stand up, I ordered. Follow Katashi.
Soldiers gathered behind him as he approached, his fearlessness renewing their confidence. And in his wake, Kimiko followed, a little ghost at shoulder height.
‘You think you can scare us?’ Katashi said. ‘You think we don’t know how you work? Cut off their hands. And I will give the Laroth fortune to the man who brings me both their heads.’
The merciful soldier swung first, forcing us back, the bloody tip of his sword sweeping past my face.
‘You’ll have to do better than that,’ I said.
‘Oh, I’m just playing with you. How big is this fortune?’
‘Big enough, but you’ll never touch it.’
Malice growled. ‘We’ll take you all to the hells with us.’