Empire of Shadows

by Miriam Forster

  “Emil, I can’t find your brother. There’s no sign of him near your tent, and no one has seen him this morning.”

  The taste of the pickled vegetables turned sour in Emil’s mouth. He swallowed. “What? What do you mean, you can’t find him?”

  The Master of Camp twisted his fingers together. “I’ve asked everyone, and checked every tent. No one knows where Stefan is. He’s . . . missing.”

  “Missing?” Emil’s voice rose. Fear as hard and rough as ice formed in the pit of his stomach. “No, he’s got to be around somewhere. Look, his things are still in the cart. . . .” He waved at the cart that he and Stefan had packed their belongings onto last night.

  But there was a gap. One of Stefan’s bags was missing.

  Emil stared at the cart, his own angry words echoing through his mind.

  . . . tear this camp apart . . .

  . . . you’re already doing it . . .

  “No,” Emil breathed. He was barely aware of Lel asking him a question, of Rona’s wide, worried eyes.

  Everything you touch turns to chaos.

  Emil ran for his father’s caravan.

  Pali and his father were bent over a map when Emil burst in. “Stefan’s gone,” Emil blurted. “I think . . . I think he’s run away.”

  I think I drove him away.

  The Kys looked up, his pale-brown eyes sharp. “Are you sure?”

  Emil nodded. “Some of his things are gone, and no one has seen him this morning.” He forced himself to breathe, to think. Stefan might have left in a fit of rage, but he wouldn’t still be missing unless he’d found somewhere else to go.

  “Could he have gone to one of the other Kildi camps?” Pali asked, echoing Emil’s thoughts.

  “If he has, then it’s soon mended,” his father said. “We can send messages to each camp to look for him.”

  “And bring him back?” Pali asked. The Kys shook his head.

  “It might do him good to travel with another family for a while.”

  “Father . . .” A horrible idea was growing in Emil’s mind. “What if he didn’t go to another camp? What if he joined the mercenaries?”

  The thought seemed to strike them all silent. Emil was almost ashamed for suggesting it. Kildi were Kildi. They joined other clans, they manned trading posts for the family, but they didn’t outright leave. They didn’t abandon their way of life entirely.

  “We can’t rule it out,” the Kys said. “Pali, send those messages to the other camps and then you and I will go to the mercenaries.”

  “I want to go with you,” Emil said.

  “Pali and I are perfectly capable of bringing your brother back if he’s there,” the Kys said. “And there might be violence. We can’t risk you. You’re our future leader, and a leader must learn how to delegate.”

  Emil felt as if the carved walls of the wagon were closing around him. Nothing had changed from yesterday. His father always chose the good of the Arvi over everything else, and now he was pushing Emil into the same kind of life.

  He left the wagon before his father could see him shaking. Once outside, he leaned against the side of the caravan and tried to calm himself.

  My father left my mother behind when she was sick, and I lost her. What if he leaves Stefan behind, too?

  The thought stayed with him while he packed. He thought of his mother as he tied his bedroll and knapsack together, as he helped gather up the dogs and tie down the last of the carts. His mother, getting sicker and sicker, slipping away from him, even as he begged her to stay. Both of them waiting for his father to return.

  But it had been too late. And it had been thirteen-year-old Emil, and not his father, who’d been there to watch Nadya Arvi draw her last breath.

  Take care of Stefan, she’d whispered to Emil. And be a good boy.

  And Emil had promised. So he ignored the heavy certainty in his limbs, the fear that grabbed him every time he looked in the direction his father and Pali had gone. He ignored it all, playing the good son, obeying his father as well as he could, and praying to the Horned God that Stefan would be found.

  Then the messengers from the other camps came back, with no word of Stefan. And when he saw his father and Pali emerge from the woods alone, Emil knew his prayers hadn’t been answered.

  He ran up to them. Pali shook his head in response to Emil’s unspoken question.

  “The camp was deserted. They must have moved out very early this morning. Signs say they’re going in the direction of the capital.”

  “Then we should follow them,” Emil said. “Follow them and get Stefan back.”

  Pali glanced at the Kys. “I’m going to check the trade goods,” he said, then he retreated.

  There was a moment of silence. Emil’s father had his arms folded, and his eyes were unreadable.

  “Father . . . ,” Emil said.

  “It’s too risky, Emil,” he said, not ungently. “If Rajo does have a job in the capital, then that means there will be violence. Soldiers are already patrolling the roads because of the riot yesterday. The farther away we get, the safer we are. I have to protect the Arvi.”

  “Then what are we going to do?” Emil said. Because surely his father had a plan. They weren’t just going to abandon Stefan. He was family.

  Sorrow and anger pinched his father’s face. “Your brother is a grown man, and he has chosen his path. I’m sorry, Emil.”

  Emil stared at him. “You know Stefan has a broken wrist,” he said. “There’s no way he can fight. Those mercenaries are going to get him killed. We don’t have to take the whole camp to Kamal. You can just send me. I’ll find him.”

  “Emil, we’ve been over this.” His father ran a hand through his gray hair. “The Arvi need you.”

  “Stefan needs me more,” Emil said. “And I won’t throw him away. I’m going.”

  “I know it’s hard, Emil,” his father said. “But a good leader puts the good of the many over the needs of one person.”

  Emil felt a cold calm wash over him. Everything seemed to recede, the noise of the camp, the faces in front of him. He felt numb and light and . . . curiously free.

  “Well,” he said quietly, “I suppose this proves I’m not a leader. Doesn’t it?”

  His father flinched, as if Emil had struck him. Then his face closed off. “Go then. I will not stop you.” Without looking back, he walked toward the waiting wagons.

  Emil swallowed, then walked to where his bedroll and knapsack were waiting. He slung them on his back, tightening the fastenings. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Pali and Lel whispering together, sneaking glances in his direction. Other voices murmured and hissed around him, but he couldn’t tell if they were approving or disappointed. It didn’t matter anyway.

  The only thing that mattered was finding his brother and keeping him alive.

  “EMIL!”

  Emil didn’t look around as he slung his pack over his shoulder. “You can’t talk me out of this, Lel,” he said.

  “I know.” Lel moved into Emil’s line of sight. He was fidgeting with a scrap of paper. “Here,” he said, in a low voice. “The city . . . it’s a bad place for people to be alone. Take this.” He shoved the paper into Emil’s hands, then turned and walked quickly away.

  Emil opened the folded piece of rice paper. It bore a single name. Heema. He looked over at Lel, but the man was once more deep in conversation with Pali. Emil caught Pali’s eye. He was too far away to be sure, but he thought his uncle nodded to him.

  Emil tucked the paper into his tunic and started walking. Lel’s words rang in his ears. The man was right. Finding Stefan in a city that size would be hard, and going there alone would only make it worse. Emil needed help.

  He needed Esmer.

  Emil waited until he was out of sight of the camp before setting down his pack and putting the wooden call-whistle to his lips. After a few minutes of silence, he blew again. Still there was no response. Emil picked up his things. Esmer’s Tribe scattered in the summer heat,
roaming for food, sometimes miles apart from one another. But Esmer preferred to stay in the area, sleeping in trees or underneath the small wood huts that served the cats as shelter during Earthsleep.

  If Esmer wouldn’t come to him, he’d go to her.

  After checking several of her favorite spots, Emil found Esmer dozing in a tree. The gray spotted cat was stretched out on a branch, one paw dangling down. There was another cat-Sune with her, a tawny gold male with ink-dark spots. His sleek head rested on her hindquarters, and he was batting lazily at Esmer’s twitching tail.

  “Esmer,” Emil said.

  Esmer’s eyes opened into thin slits. Then she closed them again and turned her head, a gesture Emil knew meant Go away. Not today.

  “Please, Esmer. I need to talk to you.”

  The male cat chirped at Esmer. She purred back and pushed herself up, arching her back in a luxurious stretch. Then she leaped down, changing to human before her feet hit the ground.

  “What’s going on?” she said, covering her mouth as she yawned.

  “I need your help,” Emil said. “It’s about Stefan.”

  “Again?” Esmer looked up at the male cat. “Sorry, Ashin. Looks like our afternoon’s been canceled.”

  There was a flicker, and a man with dark-gold hair and an annoyed expression sat on the branch, swinging his feet. “Pity,” he said. He looked down at Emil. “Hello, human.”

  “Hello, cat,” Emil responded. Ashin was one of the wilder members of Esmer’s Tribe. Over the years, he and Emil had settled into a kind of thorny respect.

  “Come to drag Esmer off to deal with more human problems?” Ashin continued.

  Emil bit back his retort. Because that was exactly what he’d come to do.

  “I just wanted to tell her I’m leaving,” he said instead. He shifted his gaze to Esmer. “Stefan’s run away to Kamal, and I’m going after him.”

  “What?” Esmer’s head whipped around. “Ashin, I’ll see you later.”

  The man groaned. “Really, Esmer? You’re really going to follow him into who knows what?”

  “Am I wearing a collar?” Esmer snapped. Her voice was a low growl. “Is there anyone’s name around my neck? No. I do what I want, Ashin.”

  “I know, striikaaraka, I know.” Ashin jumped down and ran a hand over Esmer’s cheek. “Please be careful.”

  Esmer leaned into his touch. “I will.”

  Ashin touched his forehead to hers, then shifted back into cat form. He leaped back into the tree and away.

  “He doesn’t like me much,” Emil said.

  “He doesn’t like being disturbed after a hunt,” Esmer said. “And he worries.” She hummed softly, a lazy smile crossing her face. “But he does have his good qualities. Now tell me what happened with Stefan.”

  Emil told her the whole story, including the fight with Stefan.

  “I told him he was a disaster, Esmer, that he was tearing the camp apart.” Saying the words again made them sound even worse. Guilt twisted inside Emil like sharp wire. “I told him Father was right about him. And now he’s gone. If he gets killed . . .”

  Esmer put a hand on his arm. “Stefan’s too stubborn to get killed. Besides, we’ll find him first.”

  “We?” Emil said.

  “Of course,” Esmer said. “Like I’d let you go alone.” Her words were brisk, but her gold-flecked eyes were wide, the pupils dilated.

  Esmer, Emil realized with a start, was frightened.

  He set down his things and took her by the shoulders. She was so small, and her head barely reached Emil’s collarbone. Her black hair was coming out of its loose braid, the gray streak plainly visible.

  “Esmer, I’m going to the capital,” he said. “That means walls and chaos and people everywhere. I admit, I was going to ask you to come with me. But Ashin’s right: this isn’t your problem. It’s mine.”

  Esmer looked up at him. “Emil, when we met, I asked you for a promise. Do you remember?”

  Emil remembered. Esmer in human form, crouching on a tree branch, her thin legs pulled up and her eyes round and frightened like they were now, Emil looking up at her.

  Come down and play with me.

  How do I know you aren’t dangerous?

  I’m not. I won’t hurt you.

  Humans lie.

  I don’t.

  Swear you won’t lie to me, ever. I’ll smell it if you do.

  It was the first pact he and Esmer had ever made, back when their friendship was an awkward thing, full of sharp edges and fears.

  The Sune possessed the ability to speak mind-to-mind among each other, and Esmer had been nervous about playing with a human, someone whose thoughts were murky and dark to her. So Emil had promised.

  I’ll never lie to you. I swear.

  “Look me in the eye and tell me you can do this alone,” Esmer said. Her hands came up, grabbing his wrists with surprising strength. “Look at me and tell me you don’t need help finding Stefan.”

  Emil let go of her. “What about Ashin?”

  “He’ll keep,” Esmer said. “Stefan may not, though. Now do you want my help or not?”

  Emil opened his mouth, then shut it again. “Damn it, Esmer,” he said after a moment.

  Esmer picked up his bedroll, slinging it over her shoulder. She flashed him a feral, triumphant smile.

  “That’s what I thought,” she said.

  MARA WOKE TO a soft scratching noise. For a moment, she couldn’t remember where she was; then it came back: the fair, Emil, Revathi, Kamal, the palace. She was still holding the wooden tiger, cradled in her palm. Mara tucked it under her pillow and sat up, squinting in the light that came through the broad, arched windows. She must have been more tired than she thought.

  Revathi was sitting at the low desk, her legs folded under her as she wrote. She still wore her long-sleeved sleeping robe, and her hair fell loose around her shoulders.

  “You’re up,” Revathi said. “Good.” She set down her reed pen and sprinkled sand on the ink to dry it. “I keep asking Grandmother if we can move to charcoal writing sticks instead of ink, but she doesn’t like them. Says a lady should never have smudged hands.” She lifted the document to her lips and blew. “I’d rather have charcoal smudges than all this grit.”

  Mara padded over to the desk, enjoying the coolness of the carpet on her bare feet. “What are you writing?”

  “Nothing special.” The noble girl waved the rice paper gently to finish drying it and then rolled it up and tied it with a small piece of twine. She placed it onto a small pyramid of similar messages nearby. “Orders for the kitchens, a few notes for the head servants, approvals of hiring requests, and suggestions for some new ideas for the gardens. Grandmother and I are splitting my parents’ duties for the summer. She’s handling the delicate political problems, which leaves me with the day-to-day management.”

  Scattered clumps of inky sand covered the surface of the desk. Mara rubbed one between her fingers.

  “Sounds like a lot,” she said.

  “It is,” Revathi said. “At least when I marry Tamas, I’ll have a smaller household to run.” She smiled as she said it, but her voice was wistful, and her hand touched the scrolls lightly as she rose. “There’s some fresh chai in that pot if you want any. I’m not with the princes today, so I thought I’d give you a tour of the palace. You can watch me do all my most boring noble duties. Also, we still need to talk to Garen and get you permission to stay here.”

  “If you think it’s necessary,” Mara said. Despite what Revathi had said earlier, she was wary of drawing too much attention to herself.

  “It is.” Revathi knelt by the clothes chest at the foot of the mattress and pulled out a dusky purple asar with silver embroidery. “Like I said, access behind the Lotus Wall is forbidden to anyone not directly serving the Imperial family. According to the rules, I shouldn’t even have let you stay here last night, so the quicker we fix things, the better.” Revathi turned her back on Mara, stepped out of her sleeping
robe, and pulled a long-sleeved undershirt over her head. Mara could see the movement of her ribs under the skin.

  Mara poured herself some tea. It was hot and creamy and spicy, and even breathing in the steam made her feel more alert. The warmth of the cup was comforting, too, and Mara held it close. She’d have to ask Revathi about free time, at some point. She wouldn’t be able to find a charge if she was spending every minute in the palace.

  “Should be easy to find Garen,” Revathi continued. “Lately he’s been spending most of his time with the princes.”

  “I thought you said he was the Emperor’s bodyguard?”

  The noble girl wrapped the asar around herself with a quick, practiced ease. “Usually, yes. But the Empress died this spring, and Saro is still in mourning. He mostly stays in his private quarters. If you do meet him by chance, don’t take it personally if he doesn’t notice you. Just bow and then wait until he passes by.”

  Revathi pulled the curtains open, then took some seeds from a small glazed jar. She scattered them on the windowsill, whistling as she did so. A crowd of songbirds fluttered to the sill, their feathers flashing red and black and green.

  Mara held out her hand and imitated one of the birdcalls, a liquid fall of notes that brought a scarlet-and-brown bird to her hand. Revathi let out a delighted squeal.

  “Oh, that’s wonderful!” she said, clasping her hands together. For a moment, all her reserve was gone and her face glowed. “How did you do that?”

  “I grew up in the woods,” Mara said. “I heard more birdcalls than I did human speech.” The bird decided her empty hand wasn’t going to yield any food and flew back to the others.

  “Could you teach me?” Revathi asked, eagerness in every line of her body. “Please? I taught them to come to my whistle, but I’d love to know the calls.”

  “They’re pretty easy once you get the trick,” Mara said. She and her siblings had learned the birdcalls as youngsters. Originally, it had been just something to help them hunt, but it turned into a game, a way to spend the sleepy summer afternoons. The memory sent a spasm of pain through her chest, and she turned away. “So the Emperor’s in mourning?” she asked, changing the subject. “And half the court is in the west for the summer. Not to be rude, Revathi, but who’s running the Empire?”