by Ben Peek
And Jae’le . . .?
His eldest brother was not like the others. He had not rebuilt a kingdom. He had not begun to give animals voices again. He had left his previous life behind and he would come to Yeflam, Zaifyr was sure of that. Jae’le would not have to be asked. He would arrive out of loyalty, out of concern, and out of a sense of responsibility. He would come, also, because he knew what was taking place in Leera. He knew about the child. Zaifyr was not convinced that Jae’le had known that she was a god, but he had known that she was something different. If he had known she was a god, his brother would have surely killed her. For all the power that Zaifyr had, for all that Aelyn, Eidan and Tinh Tu had, they lived in Jae’le’s shadow.
When Kaqua arrived, Zaifyr had almost finished cleaning and repairing his charms.
The Pauper was one of the oldest beings in Yeflam. A tall, lean man with a serious face, he had midnight-black skin and appeared to be anywhere between the ages of forty and sixty. His black hair was cut short and touched with grey, because of which Zaifyr had always thought of him as an older man. Before Zaifyr’s arrival in Yeflam, Kaqua would have in fact been second to Aelyn in terms of age: he had been born in the centuries after the War of the Gods, in the period when Zaifyr and his family had been creating the Five Kingdoms. In those years, however, he had remained hidden; he had not challenged Zaifyr’s family as so many others had, or offered to join them, as had those whose power was weaker or less well formed than the family’s. He had simply lived on what would later become Illate until Aelyn found him.
He was a man who was preceded by a sense of humbleness. It was not uncommon for people to believe that he had only simple and honest advice to give, that he cared only for what was fair, and Zaifyr was not surprised that Aelyn had sent him. The Pauper had long spoken for her with his deep, sonorous voice, and he had used that voice to convince others that what they wanted was not for the best.
Zaifyr met him at the door.
‘Qian.’ Kaqua wore a faded multicoloured robe of brown and white and grey, the colours entwining in the folds around his shoulders and waist. He carried an old leather satchel. ‘I am here to discuss your trial.’
10.
‘It is a gift,’ Xrie said to her, after she had picked up the sword. ‘Nothing more.’
It was a short-bladed weapon, simple in its design, but well weighted. Seated across from the Soldier, Ayae turned the blade over in her hand, then returned it into its leather sheath. ‘You need to bring better gifts,’ she said, holding out the sword back to him. ‘I can make you a list of all that you could give me, if you would like. It only has names on it.’
‘You will find that I can do very little for the people of Wila beyond what I have just done,’ he said, not taking the sword. ‘I am but one voice in the Enclave.’
‘But you have a voice.’
‘So will you, if you wish. But, like mine, it will not be a voice of seniority.’ Outside the carriage, huge factories slid past. All but a handful were made from the same stone that the ground of Neela was made from, leaving them with an impression of being scars on a giant’s body.
‘You must understand that I am not very old, at least, not in the way our kin measures time. I have not yet seen a century, and only four decades of my life have been spent here,’ the Captain of the Yeflam Guard said. ‘Before that, I lived in the Saan, where, like here, youth is a condition that you must grow out of before you have authority. It is a point that will be very clear to you when you sit in the Enclave with the other Keepers.’
‘Why would I go, then?’ Ayae laid the sword on the floor of the carriage. ‘That’s twice now that you’ve made it clear to me that I would have no voice.’
‘Because if you do not, the only person arguing for the Mireean people will be me,’ he said evenly. ‘I support their release from Wila. It is unnecessary to keep them there. Much is said about their safety, about the safety of the Yeflam people, and about how Leera will react, but the truth is, locking them on Wila makes neither them nor us safe. It is not something that I am saying to you because I think you need to hear it. It is something I am saying because I am the Captain of the Yeflam Guard. And before I came to Yeflam I was the Blade Prince of the Saan. In duels alone, I have killed one hundred and fourteen men and women. In combat, more. I have led small forces to victory over large ones. If I thought that there was a real military threat to Yeflam from the Mireean people, I would not dismiss it. But Aned Heast and Muriel Wagan are not a risk to us. There is no danger to us here but the one Qian brings.’
‘There is nothing to—’
‘—fear from him?’ Outside the carriage, the factories of Neela began to fall away. ‘Ayae,’ Xrie said, his voice still even and measured. ‘Qian is responsible for the fall of the Five Kingdoms. He is responsible for centuries of war, for kingdoms breaking and empires failing. The history of that time is incomplete, at best, but there are a few who lived it. There are even some here who saw what was done when those kingdoms were made. He is as close to a god as this world has. One day you and I will follow in his steps in that regard, but it does not mean that we must remain blind about what he has done.’
‘I am not here to apologize for Zaifyr.’ A breeze picked up off the black ocean, but Ayae did not feel its chill. ‘But what happened after the destruction of Asila took place while he was imprisoned.’
‘It began in Asila.’
Outside, the bridge to Mesi appeared. It was made from thick stone and lined with lamps and long poles that ended in a simple sky-blue flag.
‘Fo and Bau,’ Ayae said, after a moment. ‘They tried to kill him. They tried to kill everyone in Mireea.’
‘I know what they planned. They had not been given orders to do what they did. The Enclave sent them there to watch. That was all.’
‘To watch as a nation was sacrificed.’ She heard the anger in her voice and was not surprised by it. ‘If you focus on Zaifyr, as you seem intent on doing, you can be as sympathetic as you want about Mireea, but you’ll do just the same thing.’
‘They were my brothers, but do not make the mistake of thinking that I am made from their follies.’
‘It’s their words I am hearing.’
‘Then you are not listening properly,’ he said, a hint of frustration breaking through the even measure of his tone. ‘There will be war and Qian will be its catalyst. That is what I am telling you. His every action brings disruption and volatility. It is not just to Yeflam that he does this, but to the world. All of us need to recognize that. We also need to see that it is highlighting our own faults. For Yeflam to be neutral now is folly. The Leeran threat is a real one that is aimed squarely at the people of Yeflam. It is following Qian and he allows it to do so. He wants us to stand beside him and in this regard he is right to seek our support.’
‘You don’t support a trial, then?’
‘I mourn Fo and Bau. They were my kin. But I am also well aware of the fact that Fo, on any day, would have broken the law to kill Qian. He was born in Asila, after all.’ Xrie nodded out of the window to her left. ‘This is Mesi. Nearly five thousand people live here.’
A sprawl of close-knit buildings had begun to appear around them. Most were residential, and built next to each other, with the buildings sharing walls and fences. Some of the houses were made from stone and others brick and still others wood. Some were painted red and orange and brown; occasionally, there was one of green, or one of blue.
‘I’ve been to Mesi before,’ Ayae said, the anger in her voice not quite gone; but neither was it threatening, as it had been before. ‘I know the people who live here.’
‘You know two,’ Xrie said, his frustration either gone, or well masked. ‘Two who are part of Muriel Wagan’s plan to gain leverage to get her people off Wila.’
The carriage came to a stop outside a stone house painted red. It had a sun-faded black roof and a door to match it. A small garden of potted plants reached down to a wrought-iron fence.
‘Faise and Zineer
Kanar,’ Xrie went on. ‘They are both involved in the plan to purchase Yeflam factories, businesses and farmlands for Lady Wagan. So far, the two are mostly planning to target businesses and lands owned by the Traders’ Union. Benan Le’ta is not yet aware of that and will probably not be for a while. But eventually, he will know. By then, Muriel Wagan may have purchased enough capital to gain access to the Traders’ Union. Maybe not. Either way, once the plan is well known, Le’ta’s response will not be friendly. Not that this will bother Muriel Wagan. The Lady of the Spine did not run Mireea on kindness and sympathy, after all. For our part – for the Enclave’s part, that is – we think it will keep the Traders’ Union busy while we deal with Qian. Aelyn hopes that she will be able to convince him to leave, but few agree with her. Still, both she and I are well aware that once Benan Le’ta realizes who is behind his losses, he will let Bnid Gaerl deal with them.’
Xrie reached over and opened the carriage door.
‘As I said, I do not fear Mireea,’ he said. ‘But more importantly, neither does Aelyn Meah. In the Enclave, she will be very open to your advocacy for your people, just as she will listen to what you say about Qian. She asked me to tell you that, when I brought you here today.’
‘Is the sword a gift from her as well?’ she asked.
‘No, that gift is from me. You will need it when Benan Le’ta learns the truth.’
When Ayae stepped from the carriage, she did so with the sheathed sword he had given her.
11.
The Pauper did not shake Zaifyr’s hand. Instead, he entered the quiet house and looked around the room. His gaze finally settled on the long table, on the boots in the centre and charms spread across it. Without a word, he took a seat opposite Zaifyr’s chair. Wordlessly, he picked up one of the boots and turned it over. He revealed a burnt, black sole. ‘You will need a new pair,’ he said finally. ‘It would be unseemly to hold a trial while you wore such boots.’
‘I’m happy to see you, as well, Kaqua.’ Zaifyr returned to his seat and let the chain he had been holding slide to the table. ‘Did my sister send you?’
‘The Enclave thought that I would be the best choice.’ He returned the boot to where it had stood. ‘Aelyn is in a difficult position, thanks to you. She does not want a trial. She has been very public about it – and that is undermining her authority on the situation.’
‘Do you want a trial?’
‘No,’ Kaqua admitted. ‘But I understand why others do.’
‘She is a child of the gods.’ Zaifyr reached for a long piece of copper, a haut-ai. His mother had said that it was for luck. ‘If that helps.’
‘It is for that reason that I do not want a trial.’ A sigh, a long-suffering, parental sigh escaped the Pauper’s lips. ‘For the other Keepers, for my kin, Qian, a trial is about the law you broke. It is about the two men you murdered. It is about justice – but how can justice be brought to one such as you?’ He shook his head. ‘You do not even care that Fo and Bau are dead.’
He was not wrong, Zaifyr admitted. The two men had been nothing to him. After their deaths, during their deaths, even, he had thought only of what he would say to his sister, of how he would force her to listen to him. ‘I know what happens to people when they die,’ he said. ‘I know what happens to someone when they die. I know with more intimacy than you do. I long ago made peace with the responsibility I bear when I kill another person. Both of us are too old to sit here and pretend otherwise.’
‘I have killed very few people,’ Kaqua said, not yet finished with his parental tone. ‘Murder is very rarely a selfless act.’
‘That won’t work.’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘That push in your voice.’ Zaifyr tapped the copper charm against his left index finger. ‘It was clumsy.’
‘I am not here to influence you, Qian.’ He spoke without the tone now. He reached for the satchel that lay beside him. ‘I am here merely as an arbitrator for the trial.’
‘If you insist.’ He had felt the rough edge of Kaqua’s suggestion, of his power, poorly hidden behind the tone he had used. It felt rushed, either because it had been a decision made at the last moment, or because he faltered before Zaifyr. Either way, Zaifyr had not missed it. ‘You should know,’ he said, laying the charm on the table, ‘that my name is not Qian, not any more.’
The Pauper unbuckled the satchel. ‘If we could focus on your trial,’ he said, his voice cold. From the satchel, he withdrew a single book and a pencil. ‘There are three kinds of trial: combat, ordeal, or by jury. I am sure that you agree that the third option is the only one available to us.’
Zaifyr did. Trials of combat and ordeal were trials by divinity. It was not uncommon to see them taking place, even now; while the gods lay dead in the world, there was still an acceptance that fate predetermined the outcome. In the days when all seventy-eight gods strode the earth, it had not been hard to imagine that your fate did lie in the hands of a god. After all, your life was in the strands of fate that the gods saw, the strands that they themselves could reach out and touch. It was easy to believe that a man’s speed with the blade in a trial of combat was the gift of a god. Failure was also seen as an admission of guilt. In his youth, Zaifyr had been told countless stories of a god’s fury at being called to defend a man or woman who was guilty. Even though the gods themselves were no longer part of such trials, it was still believed by many that surviving or failing such trials signified guilt or innocence.
‘I would expect a jury,’ he said. ‘Indeed, I would demand nothing less for a public trial.’
‘A public trial?’ Kaqua repeated, clearly shocked. ‘Qian, we cannot – such a trial would do nothing but frighten the people of Yeflam. They would think – rightly – that a tragedy similar to Asila was within them, waiting to hatch. There would be hysteria. Already we have struggled to keep the full knowledge of what happened in Mireea out of the papers. If they knew that you were responsible for the ghosts in the Mountains of Ger, I hesitate to think what would be the response.’
‘I will speak to the public.’ He smiled half a smile. ‘I will not negotiate on that.’
‘You will not negotiate at all.’ The sense of shock was still in his voice. ‘It is you who has committed a crime here. You who is on trial. This is not being held for you so that you can have a public platform. There must be reparation – and it must be to the people you have damaged through your act.’
‘Your kin? They’re free to judge me.’ He picked up another charm, this one a brass disc, with two holes in it. Karami: a wish for strength. ‘Like everyone else, they can judge me after they have heard everyone speak.’
‘And who will speak for you? Your brothers, your sisters?’ Kaqua shook his head. ‘You will need more to convince people that you were in danger. That you struck against Fo and Bau because of fear.’
‘I was not afraid,’ he said. ‘I killed them because they threatened someone else. But I did not come here because of that. I came here to convince people that the gods’ child must be killed. That you join me and march against her.’
‘No one will speak for you on that.’
‘The dead will.’
This time, the Pauper had no response.
‘The dead have always spoken true.’ Zaifyr let the coin settle into the palm of his hand. ‘In Asila, that is how all murders were judged. I would call upon the dead, and I would allow them to have a voice. Now I will do the same. I will give the dead a voice to name their tormentor. I will let them name this new god for us. I will let them tell everyone about how they have been kept in a grey life for thousands and thousands of years. I will let them tell how their essence is pulled apart. How it is used by this child god as power. I will let the dead speak as they have never spoken before.’ He closed his hand around the coin and met Kaqua’s gaze. ‘Then we will go to war.’
The White Trees of Leviathan’s End
She makes her choice because we are obsessed with youth. We see in youth a life unmarked by
failure, tragedy, and debt.
The first priests to emerge from Leera were young, like their god. There was colour in their hair and their skin was unlined. They spoke strongly. They spoke well. They would buy you food if you asked, as I did, and sit across from you and share a meal, as one did with me. Miseu was her name. She was slim, red haired and pale. Beside her she kept a book entitled The Eternal Kingdom. It was newly printed, but she knew every word, because each word was her god’s word. She would not allow me to read it, but she would quote it to me, and when I asked her a question, just one or two, she knew the answers it told her.
I am glad I have left my youth long behind. It was unmarked by failure, tragedy, and debt. It was, in a word, shallow.
—Tinh Tu, Private Diary
1.
When the priests appeared in Yeflam, Heast had moved to Zanan, to a small room above a modest bar inappropriately called The Engorged Whale.
He saw the first priest on the night Benan Le’ta visited. The merchant was not happy that Heast had moved again – the fourth time in two months – and he was not pleased that it had taken members of the Empty Sky a week to find him. He was frustrated by Heast’s ability to drop the watchers Bnid Gaerl had set on him and the conversation the two would soon have, where the merchant delivered a series of thinly veiled threats, was partly fuelled by that. But before Heast pushed open the door to The Engorged Whale, before he sat across from Le’ta, he saw the Leeran priest.
He was handsome, darkly bearded, tanned, and no older than twenty. He wore a brown robe and stood in the street before the bar on a wooden crate, calling out to people, and reading from a book in his hand. Zanan had a healthy crowd for him to work: it was a small city in the arc that circled Nale on the south-eastern side and was defined by blocks of bars, brothels, bedsits, cheap halls, and trade shops worked by men and women who sweated long days. It was one of three cities in Yeflam where gambling was legal, and the purses of mercenaries, merchants and other travellers there became slimmer each day. Because of that, Heast was surprised that he had not seen the priest before. Surely, among the transients who had lost their wealth, ‘open’ minds would be found, but no, just as the priests in Mesi, Ghaam, Fiys and Maala had failed to find an audience, so was the priest in Zanan struggling. The young man could not convince a single person to stop and listen. It did not matter if he spoke of healing the body or the soul; it did not matter if he lifted his hands to the sky and claimed that the remains of the afternoon’s sun could be fixed as well. No one stopped. No one but Heast, who stood at the corner of the inn, out of the priest’s sight. One woman, upon passing him, said drily, ‘Get enough of that shit from Keepers,’ before she walked up the stairs of The Engorged Whale. Heast had seen her running card games and roulette. Once the door closed behind her, a pair of bouncers crossed the road and moved the priest on. His reaction to the two surprised Heast more than anything else did: the young man smiled and thanked the guards for their time. Then he picked up his small wooden stool and left calmly.