Empire of Shadows

by Miriam Forster

  “It would serve you right,” Stefan muttered, but his voice lacked its usual edge. “Well you’re here now. Just . . . please don’t make trouble. These men would kill you as soon as look at you, and I don’t want to see you die. Please.”

  Emil stopped, mid-answer. Stefan never said please.

  “All right,” he said after a moment. “I’ll cooperate.” He clapped his hands together and pasted an eager look on his face. “What are we doing, anyway?”

  “Should we tell him?” Karoti said from the doorway. He was looking at Stefan.

  “Might as well,” Stefan answered. “Since he’s involved now.” He gestured at the door, and Emil saw one of the men who had been guarding him leaning against the hallway wall outside it. “Besides, who is he going to tell?”

  “There is that,” Karoti said. He turned to Emil.

  “We’ve been hired by an interested party to . . . assist in a regime change. He wishes to sit on the throne, and we’ve agreed to help him do it.”

  Emil stared at him. “A coup. You’re going to try and overthrow the Emperor. Are you mad?”

  “Probably,” Karoti said. “But we’re well-organized madmen and our plan is sound. We’re going to start a riot in the Outer City, provide a distraction. Once the city guards are occupied, we’ll attack the palace.”

  “A riot?” Emil thought of Heema, of the children under her care, of the unrest already growing in the Wind Circle. “Do you have any idea what that could do?” he said. “How many people it could hurt?”

  Stefan shifted uncomfortably, but Karoti only nodded.

  “There are plans in place,” he said. “We’re going to try to do this as quickly as possible.”

  “Plans?” Emil said. “What plans?”

  “You don’t need to know that,” Karoti said firmly. “Now, is anyone going to be looking for you? Anyone we should be watching out for?”

  “No,” Emil said. They could threaten him all they wanted, but he wasn’t giving them any information about Esmer. An idea came to him. A brilliant, stupid, horribly risky idea.

  “Actually, there is someone,” he said, keeping his face relaxed. If there was ever a time to lie, and lie well, it was now. “Someone who might be looking for me, I mean. I hired a tea seller to smuggle me into the Flower Circle. I promised him more money after I got out. If he thinks I left the city without paying him, I don’t know what he’ll do.”

  “That could be a problem,” Karoti said. “If he feels cheated, he’ll start talking. Those tea sellers gossip like a flock of marsh geese, and I wouldn’t be surprised if they sell information to the highest bidder.” He thought for a moment. “Tell me his name. I’ll send him the money.”

  “I don’t know his name,” Emil said. “He wouldn’t tell it to me. He was afraid I’d tell the guards if I got caught. But I know his face.”

  “Nice try,” Karoti said with a smirk. “But I can’t let you go wandering around looking for some tea seller who may or may not exist.”

  “I don’t have to go far,” Emil said quickly. “He said I could leave the money with an associate of his in the Jade Circle. A cook he knows.”

  Karoti studied him for a long moment. Emil kept his expression bland.

  “All right,” Karoti said. “We’ll go today. Stefan, as long as Emil is in the crypts, you’re responsible for him. Understood?”

  “Yes, sir,” Stefan said.

  “If you try to escape,” Karoti said to Emil, “or do anything to threaten our plans, the blame will fall on Stefan. Do you understand me?”

  “Yes.” Emil’s face felt stiff and stretched from trying to look harmless. “I understand.”

  “Good,” Karoti said. He looked like he was about to say more, but Emil’s stomach chose that moment to make a loud, angry growl. Stefan grinned.

  “No breakfast, brother?”

  “I’ve been a little busy,” Emil said. “Being kidnapped and threatened and all.”

  A smile twisted Stefan’s mouth. “Come on then,” he said. “Let’s get you some food.”

  “OUCH!” REVATHI BARELY ducked the bamboo staff that grazed her shoulder. Across from her, Prince Paithal grinned and twirled his weapon. “Come on, Revathi,” he said. “You’re not supposed to go easy on me.”

  Revathi rubbed her shoulder and looked over at Mara, who grinned. “He has a point,” she said. “You do look like you’re holding back.”

  “He has a staff,” Revathi pointed out. “I’ve only got a knife.”

  “So?” Mara said, folding her arms.

  Revathi scowled at her. Her face was flushed and her eyes were bright. “Aren’t you supposed to be guarding me?” she complained.

  “I’m making sure you can defend yourself,” Mara said. “It’s part of the job.”

  “A job you’ve only had since yesterday.”

  Mara’s grin widened. Revathi sighed and turned back to the prince.

  Paithal swung at her again, and this time Revathi blocked him. She brought her knife down and whirled out of the way of the staff, her movements as smooth as a shadow across the wall. Mara resisted the urge to cheer. Revathi had a natural talent for blade fighting. She could be a master if she kept practicing.

  Revathi prowled around the prince, looking for an opening. The door creaked open, and Suni came in, Sudev following behind him.

  Paithal looked over at them, and Revathi pounced, grabbing his staff and twisting it out of his hand. The padded edge of the knife tapped him sharply on the chest.

  “You’re dead,” she said. “I got you.”

  “Not fair!” Paithal protested, rubbing his chest. “Suni distracted me.”

  “People who are trying to kill you don’t play fair,” Mara pointed out, smiling proudly at Revathi.

  Suni nodded. “She is right, Paithal,” he said. “You should never take your attention off your opponent. Still, you have done well today. After your balance exercises, you may go play.”

  Paithal put one hand on his chest and bowed to Revathi. “Thank you for the match,” he said. Revathi bowed back.

  “The pleasure was mine,” she said. “Shall we go cool down?”

  Paithal nodded and took Sudev’s hand. “Come on, Sudev,” he said. “You can show me your new tumbling trick, too.”

  They headed for an outside door. Mara watched through the window as they found an empty spot in the yard and started the meditation and balance exercises. Sudev’s round face was furrowed in concentration as he followed his brother and Revathi through the forms.

  Suni came to stand beside Mara at the window. “They are strong children. Paithal will make a good Emperor someday.”

  “They’re good boys,” Mara agreed. “Sudev takes himself a little too seriously, but I think he’ll grow out of it.” She turned to look at Suni. “You know, when Garen told me the boys took lessons here, I was surprised. Samara always talked about how secretive Jade warriors were. Said they were like little marsh birds, always just out of sight and never where you thought they should be.”

  “That sounds like Samara,” Suni said, chuckling. “She and I had many differences of philosophy when we knew each other. Once those differences ended in a bout that left both of us bruised and exhausted. We never did figure out who won.”

  He smiled at Mara’s look of disbelief.

  “But what Samara considers secrecy, we consider merely . . . discretion. Especially when it comes to our fighting skills. Few people believe we are as good as we are.” His smile widened. “After all, we haven’t left our walls in over a hundred years.”

  “That does confuse me,” Mara confessed. “Why would you learn fighting skills and never use them?”

  “Partly to be ready should the Empire need us,” Suni said. “Only the Empower can call us out, and then only in times of dire need. But also because these fighting forms require absolute control over both emotions and body. Battle is the ultimate moving meditation.”

  Mara nodded. She’d hated sitting still for meditation in
the Order. Moving meditation did sound more appealing.

  “There are many different aspects to the Jade caste,” Suni continued, his voice taking on a lecturing tone that reminded Mara of her teachers. “But all of them have the idea of meditation and self-control at their heart. Scholars use their mental discipline to preserve the past. Healers use it to help people in the present, and the warriors . . .” He frowned. “We use our discipline to safeguard the future. Someday the Barrier may come down, and who knows what will be on the other side?”

  Mara shivered at the thought. “My Tribe used to say that there were monsters in the mountains. My father even had a scar he said he got from a giant serpent. Do you think it’s true?”

  Suni considered this. “As long as they stay in the mountains, it doesn’t matter, does it?” he said. “And if they don’t . . . well, that’s what we’re here for.” He bowed to Mara. “You and your friend are welcome to visit anytime.”

  “Thank you,” Mara said, reaching up to touch her earring, still heavy and unfamiliar. “I think we will.”

  In the courtyard, Revathi was doing a ridiculous balancing act, standing on one foot while making faces and jumping up and down, while the two boys were laughing. Mara and Revathi hadn’t seen Tamas since the incident at his house, but he’d been sending flowers and notes of apology. Mara hoped he was doing some serious thinking.

  Either way, Revathi was safe now, and she seemed . . . happier. Freer.

  The door to the practice area creaked open. Mara tensed, then relaxed as Garen’s voice touched her mind.

  All safe, cousin?

  All safe, she sent back.

  “Suni!” Garen said, stepping inside. “How are you?”

  “Ah, my old bones are not what they used to be,” the man said, with a mournful look. “But still I hobble about. Such is the price of living to a great age.”

  Garen laughed. “Well, straighten your step, teacher. Saro is here to visit with the boys. Are they done with lessons?”

  “Just finished,” Suni said. “They’ll be happy to see him. It was good of you to suggest that he come and spend time with them here.”

  Garen smiled at Mara. “Someone told me the boys missed him,” he said. “I thought behind the walls of Jade caste, there would be fewer painful memories of the Empress.”

  “Well thought,” Suni said. “I will go and show him the way to the courtyard.” He bowed and walked out.

  Mara turned back to the window, and Garen came to stand with her, warm and solid at her back.

  The door on the far side of the courtyard opened and the Emperor came in, wearing a simple dark-blue tunic. Revathi knelt, and the boys shrieked with joy, throwing themselves into their father’s arms.

  Emperor Saro smiled and held them close. Mara thought she saw the glimmer of tears in his eyes, but then Sudev said something and the Emperor laughed. Paithal started showing him some of his new fighting moves, and soon all three were wrestling like tiger cubs.

  Mara’s smile slipped at the thought. Behind her, Garen put one heavy hand on her shoulder.

  “I miss my family too,” he said.

  Mara turned her face up to his. “Where are they?”

  “Far away. In the Eastern Forests, somewhere.”

  “Are you ever going to see them again?”

  “Probably not,” Garen said. “I am bound to Saro and his family by vows no less strong than the ones that bind you to Revathi.” His mind touched hers again, his voice soft inside her head. Choosing one life doesn’t mean you don’t regret the one you had to leave behind.

  Then he sent her a memory: a thick stand of trees, heavy with afternoon heat, the chirp of birds, the chatter of monkeys. Everything soothing and familiar.

  Mara closed her eyes and leaned her head against Garen’s upper arm, sinking deeper into the memory. She added her own details to his until they stood in a wild forest instead of a building. A warm, safe place with the gray sky of the Barrier above them and the forms of sleeping tigers and bears around them.

  Home.

  And for the first time, Mara’s sorrow was mixed with joy, and the ache of losing her family eased. Not entirely, but a little. It was enough.

  Mara!

  The voice jerked Mara out of her memory-trance. Garen stiffened. “Someone’s here,” he said. “Someone who shouldn’t be.”

  Mara, help me!

  Three Jade novices burst through the door, chasing something slim and gray that darted here and there. Mara caught a glimpse of a black-tipped tail.

  “Esmer?”

  “CEASE!” Garen roared. The novices skidded to a stop, their faces identical masks of surprise and nervousness. Esmer dashed between Mara and Garen, hiding herself behind their feet.

  Those Jade fellows are fast, she sent, panting. They almost caught me a couple of times, and no one catches me.

  Garen spoke with gravity, though Mara saw a twitch at the corner of his mouth.

  “The situation is under control,” he said to the novices, drawing himself up to his full, intimidating size. “You may go.”

  The novices practically fell over one another trying to get out of the room. Garen and Mara turned to Esmer, who was licking her fur back into place.

  “It would make me happy, small one, if you would change to human form,” Garen said.

  There was a shiver of magic over Mara’s skin, and then the spotted cat flickered out of existence. Esmer ran her hand through her dark hair, patting it back into place.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, addressing Garen. “If I had realized the Emperor was going to be here, I would have waited. But I need to talk to Mara.”

  “What is it?” Mara asked.

  Worry creased Esmer’s face. “Mara, Emil’s missing.”

  THE FOOD WAS a lukewarm bowl of stringy meat, lentils, and rice. Stefan didn’t explain how they were able to cook in the crypts, and Emil didn’t ask. He was too busy eating. Stefan sat on top of a stone coffin, making notes on a small parchment map with a charcoal writing stick.

  “Not that way,” he muttered to himself. “There’s a dead end there. Maybe if the archers can cover a retreat here . . .”

  One of the mercenaries, a solid-looking man carrying a mace, stuck his head in. “Stefan, when you’re finished babysitting your little brother here, we need you in the planning room.”

  “Of course, Biren,” Stefan said. “I’ll be there in a moment.” He was grinning, whether because of the “little brother” comment or some other reason, Emil couldn’t tell. He set down the writing stick and rolled up the parchment, stuffing it into his shirt.

  Then he looked at Emil, who was scooping the last of the rice out of his bowl with his fingers. “You should wash up,” he said. “I can’t offer you a bath, but there should be a washing basin and towel around here somewhere.”

  Emil set the bowl down, right in front of the writing stick. “Who’s that?” he said, nodding toward the mercenary in the doorway.

  Stefan looked at the man, and Emil put his hand down on the charcoal, sliding it up his sleeve.

  “Someone who doesn’t like you,” the man said, frowning at Emil. “That’s all you need to know.”

  Emil folded his arms, feeling the writing stick press against his wrist. “Fine, no one trusts me. I get that. Can I at least get cleaned up now?”

  Stefan opened his mouth, then shut it again. “Let me show you where the washing area is,” he said. “And . . . it might be better if you don’t talk to anyone unless you have to.”

  “Trust me,” Emil said, picking up his bowl. “The last thing I want is conversation.”

  The washing area turned out to be a tiny room lined with urns.

  “Remnants of valued servants,” Stefan said. He indicated a clay pot half full of water. “There you go. It’s not the palace, but at least you’ll be cleaner.” Emil ignored the curiosity in Stefan’s voice when he mentioned the palace. He wasn’t ready to talk about Mara.

  After a moment of silence, Stefan c
leared his throat. “I have to go. Someone will come and bring you a set of clothes.” Then he left.

  As soon as Stefan was gone, Emil pulled the work permit Abhra had given him out of his tunic, along with the charcoal stick he’d picked up. Unfolding the creased, soft paper, he scribbled a hasty note on the back.

  Riots coming, be warned . . .

  He was going to write more, but footsteps echoing outside the room stopped him. Hastily Emil shoved the writing stick behind an urn and tucked the paper back into his tunic.

  A woman with bored eyes and an unstrung bow in her hand entered the washroom. She tossed Emil a bundle of fabric, then turned and walked out without a word.

  Emil didn’t move for a moment. The paper felt hot against his chest, and his skin was tight with tension.

  When no one came back, Emil pulled the paper out again. He folded it over and over again until it was a hard, circular disk the size of a copper coin. Then he slipped out of his bloody clothes and washed the worst of the dirt off with the tattered towel. He rubbed and rubbed until the water in the pot turned black. The scrape on his leg was less inflamed, but it still hurt. Emil ignored the pain and unwrapped the new clothes. It looked like they’d given him some of Stefan’s things. They were too short, leaving his ankles and wrists exposed, but at least the cashmere felt familiar against his skin.

  Emil had just slipped the paper coin into his pocket when he heard another set of footsteps. Grabbing his red scarf off the floor where he’d discarded it, Emil tied it around his neck.

  This time his visitor was Karoti, holding a small bagful of coins.

  “Here’s the price you named,” he said. “I’ll come with you to make sure you don’t get . . . distracted.”

  “Suit yourself,” Emil said, with his best careless shrug. “I just want to get this over with.”

  “We all do,” Karoti said, and Emil thought he sounded tired. “We all do.”