Vermilion Dreams (Book One of A Vampire Fantasy Epic)

by M. U. Riyadad

  I stuck my tongue out at her, then returned to my stew. With part of my throat and cavities already numb, I thought it might go down easier in a rematch.

  “This is why we need to join the Sisterhood,” Yephi declared. “So we can protect Chaya from things like this. Once Iris and I become assassins—”

  “You’re not becoming assassins, Yephi,” Mother said, not arguably but in a polite and only mildly discontent manner. You could only pull that tone off without sounding reproachful if you carried Rayanvir charm and the playful dominance that came with trying to raise three Anasahara daughters. Mother gave a blank half-smile, and then her eyes twitched a little. She had this look whenever she was considering strangling one of us to balance out the teams.

  “Taa was one,” Iris quipped. She searched Mother’s expression, then Taa’s.

  “Yes well, you’re not Taa,” Mother said. “And you still have many years to go before you’re allowed to study under the Sisterhood.”

  Iris sat up. “Dina’s of age.”

  “I don’t have magic.” My voice came out husky, dried in spice and heat.

  “Can’t you just fake it?” Yephi asked.

  Iris whispered something to Mother then slid off the bed to study the chutrang board. She rolled her lips together, trying to hide a smile.

  “The Sisterhood is not as easily fooled as the Church,” Mother said. “And they require much more than just alchemical blood to be allowed in.”

  “In this case, your mother is right,” Taa interjected. She looked at Iris and Yephi. “I’m sure the two of you would have no problem finding a place there, but there are better ways for you to serve the Sisterhood of Dusk than to be knives. You’re princesses. You have easy access to things most people in the Sisterhood would kill for a chance to glimpse. The inner machinations of kings and queens. The ear of one of the future queens herself. You would do better studying the Sisterhood’s other weapon. Their tools of tact and cunning. Their methods of acquiring knowledge and control. The way. If you ever did study there, they would insist that’s what you did.”

  “We’ll see,” Yephi said, with a tone of finality. For a brief moment, she sounded like Mother.

  Taa chuckled. “The High Priestess of Dusk can be more persuasive than you think, ayetha.” A pensive look. “She often gets her way, even if she needs to follow unscrupulous paths to get there.”

  Iris glanced up. “Unsculptured what?”

  “You don’t think we’d make good assassins,” Yephi said. Her eyes shrunk with wariness. With one finger, she absently scooped the spice and lentil from the sides of her bowl, but still watched Taa from the corner of an eye. You learned early on at the palace that the same tactics that could bend and influence Father did not work on Taa.

  “I don’t know if you would be,” Taa said plainly.

  Yephi’s upper lip quivered. Iris didn’t take her eyes off the chutrang board, but I was sure she was listening.

  “Really?” I asked, genuinely surprised. “They are talented in alchemy. That much is clear.”

  “Alchemy means little,” Mother said. “It’s like expecting a poet to be brilliant because they have eight hands.”

  “Aye,” Taa conferred, her voice sounding more grating than usual. “You could write more, you could write faster, but it grants you no more mastery over the form than it does having eight eyes.”

  “You don’t know because we’re young?” Iris asked, still not looking up.

  “I wouldn’t even if you were older.” Taa stood up, shuffling through something in her shawl.

  “Why? And don’t say we’re too young to understand now.” Iris traced something on the chutrang board. She looked intent, but her focus on the game was no more than an excuse to avoid Taa’s gaze. Her seriousness had lost its playful edge. Her eyes moved with a defiant focus.

  Taa took out another sheaf of tobacco. A different one. Sour tobacco. Her hands disappeared behind her shawl once more and next came out a long sleeve of tree paper. Her fingers worked with patience, folding the corners, the sides, the edges, the bends, and the ridges. They moved with practiced monotony. She’d wrap this into a toeu and then take it outside, or to a balcony. If Mother, Yephi, and Iris weren’t here then I would have told her she could continue in my room, but the odor in sour tobacco was too strong for my sisters. It stung your nose if you were sensitive. Wet leaves stained Taa’s fingers. She wiped them on her shawl, indifferent to the colors. She finished the toeu, then slipped it into her shawl before resuming her bowl. Mist and orange smoke meshed into an amber fog around her. Not a lot of it. A small amount, but enough to carry weight. It crawled around the rugs on the floor with soft spider legs and floated above Taa’s shawl with a cool summer buoyancy.

  I could see her hesitate to speak. A rare thing.

  Mother noticed too, and looked away. She leaned over to Iris. Whispered something in her ear.

  “To the better assassin, death is an ally, ayetha.” Taa paused. Pulled. Breathed. Her fingers twitched. “Someone you see on the battlefield with you. She wears the same colors as you. She slays the same opponents as you. If you look across the field, sometimes, you’ll see her. Fighting alongside your causes. Carrying your cries and your banners. Bringing fear to your enemies. If ever you get a chance to pick your allies, make death one of them.”

  She brushed loose tobacco off her shawl. The glow of her eyes dulled into a soft pine green. A dreariness. Not sad, but wistful. She spoke without her usual undercurrent of cynicism.

  “To the best assassins, death is an old friend. You can’t always know what she thinks, but she does sometimes share her thoughts. She is there for you when you need her. You may call upon her, but she may also call upon you. You see her regularly. She may disappear for a number of years, but her memory is always in the back of your mind. And when she finally visits you again, when you see her after all those years have passed between the two of you, it’s just like it always has been. It feels like no time has passed at all.”

  Taa paused. She straightened her hood, revealing more of her face. The cracks in her skull looked more pronounced under the candlelight. When the light wavered, so did the cracks.

  “Now, ayetha, to the true assassin—death is neither an ally nor an old friend, but a lover. You know her thoughts, her jealousies, her likes, her wants, her desires. You know her anger. You know her sadness. You know her lies. You know her with the intimacy that comes with falling in love when you are young. Before you know what it means to be in love, and you can only describe it by sounding out its sensations.” She turned to Yephi, then Iris. “You understand, ayetha? She follows you everywhere, and you follow her everywhere. Neither of you have a choice in the matter. That might be pleasant in some cases of love, but not this one. Death does not like to share her lovers. They learn to know nothing but her throughout their whole lives. Her love is an obsessive kind. It follows. It leads. It calls. It beckons, always. Always. And it is not the kind that lets you get away without promising yourself to her. You understand?”

  Yephi nodded.

  Iris nodded.

  A conflict played out on Mother’s face. This was not what she wanted for her daughters, though I think deep down, she knew that she never had much of a say in the matter. That was what bothered her most.

  Mother stepped down from the bed and placed an arm around Iris. She pointed to the board, grabbing the sunlamp that was set on the other end. She cupped its side, smoldering the glare. Yellow light turned into a bright orange circle around her palm. She pointed again in another direction, then smiled. She began to undo Iris’s braid.

  It was said that desert people were the most capable of admiring the world for what it is. When something as crucial as water could be as precious as any treasure, it became harder to take life’s simple pleasures for granted. The Silsipia Desert had four suns, each one a different color. An ancient curse set upon it by the old gods when Enek slayed Yuweh’s older brother, Gala. No one ever wrote about the deser
t’s beauty. The light was too blinding to see it. The sand roared in the wind. If you walked without shoes, you didn’t feel the ground scorching your feet. Your tendons melted into the dunes while the heat boiled the ends of your nerves.

  “Castle takes farm,” Iris said. She glanced up at Mother as she moved her castle. “Two steps north, four east, then one north again. I’ll have to skip next turn.” She didn’t let go of the piece until a full minute passed. She tapped her chin, reconsidering the move.

  Yephi jumped down from the table to survey the board.

  I threw down my spoon in triumph once the stew was done.

  “Your castle crosses Mother’s temple to take my farm?” I asked. I tried to hide my panting underneath my breath. My question came out sounding desperate.

  “Ooohhh, they’ve got you,” Yephi said in a low whisper. Part disbelief, part reluctant. “Wait.” She knelt down to study the move more closely. Iris watched her with concern, trying to follow her eyes.

  “But, why?” I asked. It was a rhetorical question. I could guess what they were planning, but I was thinking out loud.

  “Don’t make excuses now, Dina,” Mother said. “You didn’t want to see the board and now you’ve lost an important piece fair and square. This is what you get for underestimating your sisters.” She pointed to the piece. “I don’t think you can even get a trade for it. You’re better off scavenging the next piece in line.”

  “You’re in dangerous waters, Mother,” Iris said. “Let’s not poke Dina.”

  I bit the corner of my thumb, trying to keep myself from grinning.

  “Dina, you really didn’t see it?” Iris gestured to the row where my farm was. “We took so long planning it, thinking you might have had something up your sleeve.”

  “We get it, you’re brilliant,” Mother said, moving her head in an exaggerated curve through the air. “Now come see the board before you make another careless mistake.”

  I walked to the window and began pacing. I wouldn’t have any trouble with the move they’d made—I just wanted to know if there was any way they could have won. I re-played through the game from the beginning. If they had played around Yephi’s pieces, they would have done better. If they had played more defensively, they would have done better. Their mistakes came from moving too quickly, and from keeping to a consistent style of play the entire game.

  “It was over a while ago,” I said. “Since before Yephi lost her academy.”

  “Heh… heh… heh.” From the corner of the room.

  Mother sat up on her knees. She played idly with some of the pieces, turning and spinning them as though that might change their positions. She pushed the top of her nose, a habit that came from years of wearing spectacles. Her face was marked with confusion. She leaned into the board. Her eyes were fierce with a need to understand, but she was looking at the game from the wrong side.

  “You were in forced surrender already, Mother,” I explained. “Sixteen moves.”

  I walked over and touched the board in the center. Chutrang was played on a marble board with metal or stone pieces. Unless you played next to a fire, the pieces and the board were always cold. You could feel the game in your fingertips if you touched any of its components.

  I tried to guide Mother’s eyes. “What you just did, it speeds it up to nine. I was just a bit confused by the move. Iris was in forced surrender in nineteen moves. Sped up to seven now. If the three of you were going for first, second, and third amongst yourselves, then I suppose your move makes sense.”

  “It’s the castles,” Yephi said. “I think. She can sacrifice them for your flank.” She gestured to three empty rows on my side of the board.

  Mother cringed. She pointed to each piece one at a time as she played out the steps in her head. She started over once, twice—she began to see it the third time.

  “Ahjur, you knew?” Mother asked. She lifted a knuckle over her mouth, trying to keep herself from smiling. Her mouth shaped into an oh when she finally saw the end of the play. She went through the moves once more.

  A few minutes later, she returned to unbraiding Iris’s hair, a shade more red.

  “I had a feeling,” Taa said. “Couldn’t tell how she was going to do it, but you could tell by the way the board was set up. How she was playing. It’s why she was going after Yephi. Stopped moving on your side once it was already over.”

  I nodded. “Yephi was the only person not in forced surrender. I was trying to squeeze her into it.”

  “Hah!” Yephi shouted. “Technically I am first then.”

  “Yes, congratulations, you’re first among losers,” Iris said.

  “Be more jealous,” Yephi retorted.

  Iris turned to Mother. “Told you. We should have been more careful, but you didn’t listen.” She pointed to the board. “Now we lose.” She shrugged then pulled her hair away. She jumped up on the bed, crawling under the covers with her hair half tied, half splayed.

  “Don’t be a sore loser.” Yephi scowled.

  Iris drew the blankets over her, planting her head comfortably on the side of a pillow.

  Yephi turned to me with a bright expression. “You could do that, and you’re complaining about not knowing alchemy?”

  “Because that’s a reasonable trade,” I said with a snort. “Being able to play chutrang well for the ability to command fire, lightning, speed, strength, health, and a whole myriad of—”

  “Your sister is right, Dina,” Mother interjected. Her voice was softer after having failed to impart its last lesson. “I can’t even begin to—”

  “You’ll be called Yephi, Lightning Bringer. I’ll be Dina, Pawn Keeper.”

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Mother said, her pitch reaching a taunt. “You could do better than that. Dina Anasahara—the Diagonal Devil.”

  “Ooohhh that’s a good one!” Yephi clapped her hands together. “The Castler.”

  Mother laughed, then she turned to me. Her eyes grew suddenly serious. “But really, Dina. Nicknames? That’s what you’re worried about? I could give you a hundred more important things to prioritize.”

  “Those are important,” Yephi exclaimed. “You’re too old to understand.” The snap of rubber in her voice. She raised her chin, feeling inordinately proud of her quip. “You could be Dina, Little Piece Maker. Get it?” She grinned. “Piece. Peace.”

  “Why little?” I asked.

  “The way you play,” Iris said, lifting her head from the pillow. “Always—”

  “Using the little pieces,” Yephi continued. “It’s like—”

  “We can’t even get past those, so—”

  “What could you do with the stronger ones? Would—”

  “We even have a chance? What things are you—”

  “Keeping hidden?” Yephi asked. “It makes it harder for us to play.”

  “Yes, I’m sure that will strike fear in the hearts of the enemies of Chaya.” I tapped the edge of my bowl with the spoon. “Taa, the more I understand alchemy and the more I see it around me, the more I feel handicapped. Not only that, but I feel like I’m beginning to realize what I could have been with magic. The possibilities of that life.”

  “Stay away from those thoughts,” Mother said, more sternly than I expected. “Those are the things that will really hold you back. And honestly, as if being born princess of Chaya isn’t enough for you. Do you know how many people—”

  “That’s exactly why I feel the need for alchemy,” I replied. “You don’t get it, Mother, because you have magic, and you can take it for granted just as I can take royalty for granted. I am no fool. In fact, I’m rather confident that I am further from it than anyone else in Mirradalia. I know I am lucky to be where I am, and I know I am lucky to have the things I have, but quite often the things that are outside in the world can’t make up for what we feel is lacking inside. When people compliment me for knowing languages, being clever, being well read, I cringe. People expect me to have alchemical blood. It’s in my lineage.
It’s why certain families have shaped dynasties while others did not. Alchemy. It is the root of it all.”

  “What did that boy do today?” Iris asked. “Was that alchemy? In the forest. That was not a kind of magic they’ve shown us in the Cathedral.” Her mood returned as the chutrang game left her thoughts.

  “Ahhh.” Taa stretched out the sound with smoke. Her tobacco was almost finished. The mist began to take over the orange, and the amber color of the fog that had crept inside faded to a pale yellow.

  Mother tsked then threw her knight down in surrender. Yephi began to gather the pieces around the board, uninterested in playing after losing her allies. She hesitated before moving the ones I was using the most, trying to figure out what I was thinking.

  “I don’t like that boy here,” Mother said. “Ahjur, I don’t think it’s safe for him to stay in the castle. Not just for his sake, but for ours too. Narkissa will eventually hear about him. She will want him. I know we’re fighting this war against her, but I don’t like the idea of us being a priority.” Mother began removing her earrings. She could do it with one hand, catching the clasps at the back of her lobes with just a thumb. A modest kind of expertise. You wouldn’t appreciate it unless you tried it yourself.

  “He won’t be here for long,” Taa said. “I’m going to take him on my travels. He’ll only be here occasionally. He’ll be under my protection, ayetha. You need not worry about him, and no one will know when he is here.”

  “Your travels?” I asked. “Taa, you don’t even let us go.” I didn’t try to hide my jealousy.

  “Because your place is here,” Mother said.

  Taa hummed in agreement. “Believe me, child, I would rather leave him here and teach him when I visit, but your mother is right. It is not safe for him to be here. It should tell you a lot, if it is safer to bring him to the places I go than to leave him in the palace under the protection of the King’s Guard.”

  Mother exhaled loudly through her nose. “It is not alchemy that humans can do, Iris.”

  “It’s why the vampire queen might take an interest in him.” Taa made a gruff sound as she spoke, something between a cough and clearing her throat. It was almost identical to a sound Father sometimes made.