by Grace Draven
Necos and Dendarah exchanged glances before Dendarah nodded. “I’ll go. If I don’t come back, don’t come looking,” she warned.
Kirgipa’s stomach tied itself into knots at her words. She glanced at Necos who watched Dendarah’s retreat. “Change the baby, Kirgipa. We need her peaceful as much as possible.” His voice was cool, calm, but she heard the tension, the unease as he split his attention between Dendarah and the galla across the water.
She fished a scrap of dry cloth out of her ragged pack, folded it and swaddled the queen’s bottom before tucking her back into the sling along with a small piece of tilqetil cake to gnaw on. The soiled cloth, rinsed clean in the river, was now pink from its washing.
Except for strands of his hair that had come loose from its leather tie, Necos was stiller than a monolith, listening. A piercing double whistle made Kirgipa almost leap out of her shoes, but Necos only exhaled, his shoulders slumping in obvious relief. He grasped one of Kirgipa’s hands. “Come,” he said, pulling her gently along beside him.
Her pleasure in his touch evaporated the moment they came upon Dendarah and the source of the sound. Dendarah’s features were drawn into harsh lines and hollow spaces as she stared at the riverbank across from them. The Absu narrowed here for a short run, thinned by a moraine of boulders that made boat navigation a challenge for even the best steersman.
There was no steersman on the listing barge that ran partially aground with her pounding herself into splinters on the boulders. Barrels, cut loose of their lashings, piled on top of each other in the low corner, threatening to fall into the river with each bump against the rocks. A few had cracked, spilling amaranthine into the water.
Kirgipa hugged the baby to her at the ominous sight of bones scattered across the pitched deck, as if thrown by the hand of a giant shaman reading fortunes. Some lay in dark, viscous pool, and she feared those crimson puddles weren’t amaranthine.
“Anyone?” Necos asked softly.
Dendarah shook her head. “None alive. Humans sailed this barge I think. Loaded with cargo from Saggara.” She pointed to the barrels. “The cargo is stamped with Saggara’s seal. I’m guessing they were Gauri.”
Kirgipa licked lips drier than dust. “How did the galla get to the crew? I thought they couldn’t cross water.” Please dear gods, let that still hold true.
The other woman shrugged. “If I were to guess, I’d say they docked for a short time. Maybe needed to make a repair. The last sailor to die probably lived long enough to release the barge’s mooring in a bid to escape.”
They each fell silent then. Kirgipa wondered if her companions thoughts were as filled with the grotesque imaginings of the humans’ deaths as her own were.
Necos worried his lower lip with his finger. “This isn’t good. If galla attacked a barge this far up river and away from the Kai, then they’re spreading beyond the Absu’s shores, hunting for more than the prey on the opposite shore.”
As much as Kirgipa didn’t want to go near the carnage littering the barge’s deck, she still hoped for some small blessing that would speed their journey to Saggara quicker and safer. “Can we sail it to Saggara?”
Necos sighed. “I wish we could, but no. See how she’s listing in the water? There’s damage to her hull somewhere below the waterline. She’s sinking too fast, and we’ve nothing to patch her.”
“And we’d need more than just the three of us to steer a vessel that size upstream,” Dendarah added. “Even if she was undamaged.”
Something flew through the air, glancing off Necos’s shoulder before clattering to the ground. A leg bone, broken at one end, with strips of flesh still hanging from it like tattered rags. Kirgipa screamed, startling the baby who wailed her fright. The sounds echoed back to them, ghastly, warped and unearthly, bellowed from the sullen things slinking and slithering across the barge’s bow where it lay beached on the shore.
Another bone sailed through the air, followed by a third and accompanied by mad laughter, as if a crowd of malevolent children taunted and teased by slinging their ghoulish toys at them.
“Move,” Necos snapped and shoved Kirgipa further away from the river toward the oxbow’s edge and the thin sanctuary of a cluster of trees.
The laughter changed to enraged howls as the galla lost sight of their prey, and Kirgipa bit back sobs at the sound of bones striking ground and tree trunks.
“We wait here until they tire of their game,” Dendarah said. “Then we’ll walk again. You might as well get some sleep while we wait.”
“How can any of us sleep after that?” Kirgipa hoped she wouldn’t be sick.
Necos tucked her next to him, his body slowly warming hers. “We can because we must. You’re safe, Kirgipa. Dendarah and I will keep watch.”
Another time, she might have pulled away, conscious of propriety and their roles in the Kai court. But this wasn’t court, and the rules no longer applied. She settled against him, the now quiet baby a comforting weight in her arms. She looked to Dendarah who sat opposite her, her proud features highlighted in profile by the pale winter light. “How much farther to Saggara?”
The guard flicked a quick gaze at her before returning her attention to where the angry galla writhed and screeched. “An eternity.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Ildiko paused outside of Brishen’s bedchamber—hers now also since the Elsod and her masods guested at Saggara—and leaned her head against the door for a moment. The echoes of a conversation she’d overheard in the kitchens earlier plagued her mind, validating the fear she carried with her the moment she left the library with its scrolls and revelations.
A servant standing at one of the hearths stirred the contents of a large kettle and chatted with another who cut vegetables. “Do you think the old king is dead?”
The other raised a shoulder, her cleaver hacking away at the heap of produce in front of her. “Who can say? The rumor is no one in the palace survived. That makes the herceges king now.” Firelight from the hearth winked off the blade. “This isn’t bad. Brishen Khaskem will make a good king.”
“That may be, but who will come after him once he dies? The hercegesé can’t bear him children.”
They both went silent when the cook, wearing a thunderous scowl, suddenly appeared in the doorway that led to the kitchen gardens. “Stop gossiping and get back to work,” she ordered.
Though the servants didn’t say anything Ildiko had not already told herself, her gut still churned. She blinked away the gathering of tears in her eyes and knocked softly on the door before opening it to peek inside.
Brishen stared back at her from his place by the hearth, puzzlement flitting across his features. “You don’t have to knock, Ildiko. You’re always welcomed in here. Besides, it’s your chamber too.”
“I didn’t want to wake you if you were sleeping.” He gave a disbelieving snort. Ildiko doubted he’d slept for more than an hour at a time since the messenger arrived from Haradis. She closed the door behind her and took up a perch on the edge of the bed. “The Elsod is resting, and the masods are keeping watch over her. They have food and drink as well.”
He reached for the fireplace poker and stirred the burning coals to brighter life. The last time kapu kezets ventured forth from Emlek was for my father’s coronation.”
“I’d think they’d attend his wedding to your mother.”
“Too dangerous. I imagine my mother never forgave them for it. Not only did she miss the opportunity to take one of them captive, their refusal to attend was a humiliating insult. An unspoken message that Emlek disapproved of the union and would officially record it in the Elsod’s memory.”
Gaur had no equivalent to memory wardens. Humans didn’t know how to capture the mortem lights of their dead. The Kai’s ability to do so was unique, and Ildiko remembered the awe and esteem in which the Saggaran court held the Elsod. She was an important dignitary. Her absence at the wedding of Brishen’s parents would have been noted and discussed to death. Secmis must hav
e seethed. “Many others witnessed the ceremony. Their mortem lights hold the memory.”
Brishen left his spot by the hearth to stand in front of her. “But they weren’t kezets. Besides, with the galla razing Haradis, I suspect only a few are left alive who remember that day.”
She sighed. “Part of me wishes the wardens had never come here. They’re like ravens, harbingers of bad news and death.”
He caressed her hair, loosening a pin or two with his claws. “The Elsod didn’t tell us anything we didn’t already know, Ildiko.”
“We didn’t know about this horrible ritual. Surely, there’s another way.”
“Maybe, but it would take time to find it, and we don’t have time. If the Elsod is right—and what she said makes sense—then galla will continue to pour out of the rupture between worlds. They will empty their prison and fill our lands until there is nothing left alive. Even if I were only interrex or regent without my mother’s power, this task would still fall to me.”
She stared up at him, into the firefly eyes with their swirls and flickering shades of yellow. “Are you afraid?”
He didn’t hesitate to answer. “Yes. You?”
“Terrified. And angry.” Helpless and frustrated. She could extend the list far beyond those words, but Brishen carried a heavy burden. She refused to add her complaints to the weight.
He sat next to her. “You’re not alone in that. If I’m not careful, I’ll choke on my own rage.” He exhaled and fell back on the mattress. “Was it not only months ago that I was of no value? I’d give much to have those days back.” His fingers toyed with the laces of her gown, tickling her back. “You will make a worthy queen.”
She bolted off the bed. “Brishen—” A knock at the door interrupted her, and she was torn between the need to screech her frustration and the temptation to faint in relief.
Brishen was less forbearing. He came off the bed in one fluid motion, eyes narrowed and mouth thinned. “This is relentless. Are we not to have even a moment’s peace? Enter!” he snapped.
The door eased open, and a servant peeked cautiously around its edge. “Forgive the intrusion, Your Highness. Three more families have arrived at Saggara. Houses Amenirdis, Duaenre and Senemset. They seek your counsel.”
Ildiko closed her eyes for a moment. The Senemset matriarch must have packed her family and departed only minutes after sending her messenger to Saggara. Thin as their ties were to the Kai royal house, they, like Ildiko, obviously understood their change in status if it was confirmed that Brishen was the sole surviving Khaskem.
Brishen muttered something under his breath before straightening his tunic. “Tell them I’ll be there.” He held out a hand for Ildiko to accompany him. “Madam.”
She shook her head. “I’ll catch up. I want to check on the kezets once more to make sure they have what they need. The Elsod seems frail.”
He didn’t argue, only caught her fingers to brush them with a quick kiss. “Then I’ll see you when you’re done.” He bowed and left to follow the servant. Ildiko stared at the door, seeing not the wood grain and strap hinges, but lines of Kai succession sketched in ink on old parchment. She rubbed her eyes.
The Elsod greeted her as if expecting her visit. She reclined in Ildiko’s bed, propped up by a backrest of pillows. Blankets and furs were piled across her legs, nearly swallowing her thin frame. One masod stood sentry by the bed, ready to serve any of the food and drink laid out on a nearby table. The other masod waited by the door.
“You’ve come with questions, Your Majesty.” The memory warden motioned for her to sit in the chair closest to the bed.
Ildiko ignored the gesture. She was far too agitated to sit peacefully and chat. She was here with a purpose. “What is this ‘more’ you spoke of earlier?”
“The king should be here.”
While Ildiko appreciated the other woman’s prudence in relaying information, they didn’t have the luxury of keeping Brishen tied down to glean more facts. “He’ll return soon. He’s busy trying to hold together a kingdom on the verge of collapse.”
The Elsod inclined her head, surrendering to Ildiko’s insistence. “What do you know of the Kai?”
An odd question, but she answered readily. “I studied a little about you before I married. Mostly the language so I could communicate and understand without relying on the Common tongue. Learning about Kai culture and history is an ongoing task. Your politics though are similar enough to Gaur’s to be familiar.”
“You know about the mortem lights?”
The sublime memory of a gathering of Kai who blessed their fallen and took up their memories danced in her mind’s eye. “Yes. I witnessed a mortem ceremony. Brishen carried the light of a young Kai soldier named Talumey back to Talumey’s mother so she could take it to Emlek.”
The masod standing sentry by the door spoke. “I remember his mother Tarawin. Talumey’s light rests safely in a place of honor in our halls.”
Ildiko smiled briefly. “Thank you for telling me. The king will be glad to know it.”
The Elsod plucked at her blankets with claws grayed with age. “You’ve seen the spirits of our dead rise and leave their bodies. However, they don’t leave this realm completely at first. For a short span of years, usually no more than one or two, they linger, tethered by their loved ones’ grief or the sense of business unfinished.”
“Wraiths?” Ildiko shuddered at the thought. The wandering dead. Restless, lost, frightening.
“Not quite,” the other woman assured her. “They don’t haunt or plague the living. They simply wait until the last thread of an earthly life breaks, and they pass beyond this world forever.”
“These are the dead Brishen must lead to defeat the galla.” What a terrible fate for those who simply bided time before moving beyond the reach of the world’s sorrows.
“Yes, but they aren’t enough. There are more galla than there are wraiths. Were we at war or suffering from plague, this wouldn’t be a problem. The king will also have to raise the human dead, and those won’t follow a Kai leader.”
Ildiko scowled. “Why is it that ‘there is more’ always heralds something worse instead of something better?”
The memory warden shrugged. “You insisted I tell you. The king will have to reach out to the human kingdoms and find those willing to help him in this endeavor.”
She made it sound easy, as if Brishen were only planning to send out missives requesting horse tack for his favorite steed. “That means whoever aids him will also die violently only to be resurrected and battle demons?”
“Yes.”
She rolled her eyes, taking some small delight as the others gasped. “I’m sure we’ll have a line of volunteers stretching from the great hall to the gates.”
Obviously not hearing the snide tone in Ildiko’s voice, the Elsod’s eyes widened. “Truly?”
“No.” All three Kai frowned at Ildiko. Her face heated. “Forgive my facetiousness, Elsod. I’m just...dismayed by the news.”
The Elsod scrutinized her more closely now, as if realizing there was more to Brishen’s human hercegesé than she first assumed. “You will tell the king what we’ve discussed?”
How she would love to, but she recognized her weakness—the safety of her husband. “I believe it best if you did. I’m afraid my first instinct is to try and talk Brishen out of this madness altogether. I understand what’s required. I hate it. And fear it.”
The lines carved into the Elsod’s face softened. “You love him very much.”
“He is everything to me.” And in the end, I must give him up. She inwardly recoiled from the thought.
She excused herself from the Elsod’s presence to join Brishen in the great hall. A small crowd of people surrounded him. Ildiko noted each person, especially the women, and tried to guess which were the Senemset family. She didn’t have long to ponder.
A stately woman settled a haughty gaze on Ildiko as she approached. Behind her stood a cadre of younger Kai—a man, an
d four women. Ildiko would have wagered half her dowry that this was House Senemset and its widowed matriarch, Vesetshen.
They all bowed when Brishen introduced her. “Welcome to Saggara,” she said in clear bast-Kai, noting a few starts of surprise and wary looks. She suppressed a smirk. They had assumed she wasn’t learned in the native tongue. They’d have to watch what they said now. Ildiko might have laughed if the air wasn’t so thick with tension. Human she might be, but this household was as loyal to her as they were to Brishen. Even if she hadn’t known a word of bast-Kai, the servants would be quick to relay everything to her in the Common tongue—in detail.
The arrival of a messenger from High Salure saved them from the excruciating small talk. Ildiko was spared watching the political maneuvering that came with matchmaking the members of influential houses. That Brishen was already married didn’t matter. Even if he kept his human wife, the role of concubine held its own considerable power.
Brishen begged their leave and sent them off with Mesumenes who showed them to chambers located on the manor’s first floor, rooms that had once been for storage and were converted for guests.
The messenger, dressed in Serovek’s coat of arms, handed Brishen a letter and waited silently as he broke the seal and read.
Ildiko held her tongue until curiosity got the best of her. “What does it say?”
He stared at the missive. “Galla have been spotted in Beladine territory, and Serovek requests an audience.” He nodded to the messenger. “Tell his lordship his presence is always welcomed at Saggara, and I look forward to meeting with him at the first opportunity.”
The Beladine courier bowed and left, not lingering to take food or drink before returning to High Salure.
Brishen massaged the back of his neck with one hand and passed the note to Ildiko. “We’ll be fair to bursting with people in a few days and the Haradis Kai aren’t even here yet.”