The Wolf of Oren-yaro (Annals of the Bitch Queen Book 1)

by K. S. Villoso

  My mind raced along my options. I wanted to save Rayyel. I couldn’t if I was dead. I could see the assassin struggling at the window. The chair must’ve hit him harder than I anticipated. I needed to take advantage of that, but I had no weapons, my guards were missing, and the only thing I could do was run.

  So I ran.

  Rain washed away the blood from my cut, which was still fresh enough not to cause me any more than throbbing pain. I decided that the best course of action was to go straight for the city watch. As my boots pounded on the road, I suddenly remembered my missing guard from that morning.

  Was it only that morning? I had only been in Ziri-nar-Orxiaro a little over a day and they were already trying to kill me.

  I tried to focus my thoughts. My missing guard couldn’t have been a coincidence. I remembered, too, the chaos out by the canal, during the t’che execution. Someone had started it, and then someone had told me in Jinan to go to the alley where I met the first assassin. Also, Rayyel’s party had adamantly denied that they requested the change in venue. Had someone else sent that letter? But it was penned in his hand, with his penchant for neat scripts, the way his brush strokes ended slightly downward.

  I remembered Biala Chaen’s knowing smile.

  I couldn’t go to the city watch. Whoever was after me could have infiltrated that far. Likely the restaurant was in on it, too—I couldn’t see why else they would have conveniently barred the doors with a commotion happening upstairs.

  I realized that I didn’t know who to trust. Nor? But I didn’t know where she was—if she was fighting for me or had been paid by the enemy to step aside. The only other people I had been sure of had been in that meeting room with me: one was being strung along as a puppet by an unseen hand and the other lay dead on the floor.

  I ran until my heart threatened to burst from my chest. Only then did I stop, drenched from head to toe, my leg now starting to feel like a lead weight. I drew my dagger, resigning myself to having to fight after all, and turned to face an empty street. My shivering hands clenched the leather hilt like a lifeline. I waited, half-expecting, half-dreading the sight of the assassin stepping out from behind the fog, but no one came.

  I swallowed. The silence, I found, was worse than the attack itself. Hand-in-hand with the darkness, it was a stark reminder that nothing my father had done had prepared me for this. Wolves ran in packs. Here, I was alone.

  ~~~

  It is amazing how fast the cold and the damp can diminish the dignity of a queen.

  One moment I stood there, ready to fight to the death, down to tooth and claw if I must. The man who would claim the title of being the slayer of the first Queen of Jin-Sayeng would not be free to walk away unscathed.

  The next moment, I was slinking through the alleys, knocking on doors in an effort to find someone kind enough to offer me shelter. My earlier experiences out in the street of Anzhao City stilled my expectations, but I had to try. I tried even when I saw them peer through the windows and then close both shutters and curtains, and I tried even when one opened his door only long enough to throw a rotten egg at me. He missed; I didn’t bother to waste my breath. Turning me away at least meant that nobody was paying them to betray me. Small comfort to someone freezing half to death; I think my mind was starting to wear out.

  I don’t remember how long I wandered those streets, begging people for shelter. I think I’ve washed most of it away, those memories that filled me with a deep sense of helplessness and disgrace. What I do recall was that at some point, I was sitting in the corner of an alley, cloaked in darkness and grey rain. The tingling in my leg had turned into blessed numbness. I felt a hand on my arm and looked up into the kindly face of a plump woman.

  “You’ll die out here,” she said, holding an umbrella over me. I blinked, staring at the first rays of sunlight seeping through the oiled, yellow fabric. I wanted to tell her I had no money, but my tongue had forgotten how to work.

  She tugged at my sleeve, urging me to stand up. My body obeyed. She led me into the street and down a walkway that ran under a mossy bridge, past a narrow section of the canal. I couldn’t tell if it was still connected to the same waterway near The Silver Goose or if it was an entirely different one altogether. The water seemed dirtier here, murky. Instead of fish, I saw a dead cat bobbing amongst the rest of the refuse, its tail sticking out like a flag.

  I had no time to think things through. I continued to stumble after the woman, heaving myself up a flight of slippery stairs. We crossed the street. My leg was starting to protest again. Before I could give voice to it, the woman stopped in front of a gate and inserted a large, iron key into the lock. The gate creaked, opening inwards. She urged me past the threshold and into a damp courtyard, surrounded by tall stone walls. She closed the gate behind her and led me into the closest door.

  The feeling of warmth, after hours in the rain, was indescribable. The woman brought me to a small room, where I was relieved of my wet clothes and given a soft robe to wrap myself with. I stumbled onto a hard, narrow bed that smelled of mint and smoke, and for a while, it was all I knew.

  I slept for a very long time. I had wild dreams of being chased by phantom assassins down the street, except this time I was down on all fours, paws instead of feet, tongue slavering down my open mouth. In most of the dreams, I was able to escape into the shadows, only to hear them calling me—soothingly, at first, like hunters crooning to their dogs. And then their voices would rise, the soft tones souring as they begin to threaten and call me names. Come out, bitch, they’d say, whistling, laughing. We’ve got a nice boarhound for your thirsty cunt, and we’ll even let you finish before we mount your head to the wall.

  Each and every time, their voices sounded like Rayyel’s.

  Sometimes, I didn’t escape them. I would feel a spear end sinking into my chest, pinning me to a tree. I would reach out, snarling as the assassins-turned-hunters crowded around me. They would laugh, and I would try to snap at their long, curved nails and their faces, shaped oddly like the warlords’ back home, and then I would die.

  At some point, the dreams stopped, and I slept soundly. I woke to the sound of a rooster crowing. For a time, I stared at the patched ceiling, where a pink-skinned house lizard with beady grey eyes ran in circles chasing after flies. When it disappeared behind a beam, I sat up to notice that the swelling pain on my leg was gone. The gaping wound had been stitched shut with black thread and covered with a thick, yellow salve.

  My first, real thought was that Arro was dead.

  Arro, who had been by my side for so long that I couldn’t even remember when he first came to court. My father had handpicked him, I was told, to oversee my education, but in the years that followed his arrival at Oka Shto he had become something more, easily rising to the ranks of Magister because of his work ethic and sound counsel. He had done his best not to become overly familiar with me, but he had been a fixture in my world, one of the few faces that had remained constant in a sea of changes.

  The loss gnawed a hole in my stomach, and it bothered me that I could feel that way yet not muster a single tear. I am not heartless, you understand; I have bawled over dead dogs and horses like a little child. And I was sad about Arro. But there was something else there, an echo from my layered dreams that seemed to set my veins on fire. And it carried with it the weight of yet another failure, to add to that long list: the day I had left Oren-yaro, I had promised Thanh I would bring his father back.

  “Because I don’t remember what he looks like,” Thanh had told me, standing tall and straight and looking older than his seven years. Thanh, with those soft, brown eyes that could break me with one look. “I would very much like to.”

  “Isn’t there anything else you’d like?” I remember responding, in return. “A book, or a falcon? I’ve heard they breed such beautiful falcons in Anzhao City. A white one, perhaps. And they have these little dogs…”

  “I want to see my father,” Thanh said, with such intensity that I drew hi
m into my arms almost at once. If he had asked for the world, I would’ve found a way to give it to him.

  “Oh! You’re awake!” a voice called from the doorway, breaking my thoughts. A small, sprightly woman with a thin, freckled face and a button nose came towards me, holding a bowl. I smelled hot, herbed rice porridge. My stomach tightened, my thoughts replaced by the hollow pain of hunger.

  “The mistress thought I should check up on you, see if you’re up, and she’s right,” the woman said, speaking lot more quickly than I was used to. Flabbergasted, I couldn’t think of a reply fast enough. She propped me up on a pillow, dragged a small table to the side of the bed, and placed the bowl there. She began to stir the porridge with a spoon. “Tashi Jhao thought you were going to sleep another day, because he gave you a sleeping draught to last that long, and Manshi Ziori—that’s the mistress—said she’s willing to bet you’d be up long before, what with your constitution and all. She’s never met anyone who could be in that rain as long as you’ve been, injured leg besides, and still walk all the way here. They argued about it, actually.”

  She eventually seemed to pause to catch her breath, but it was only to blow at a spoonful of rice porridge. “I can feed myself,” I said, before she could push it towards me.

  She paused. Was it my tone of voice again? I didn’t know anymore. I reached for the bowl, which she willingly gave up. I placed a spoonful into my mouth. It was still hot, but I wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction of being right and swallowed before my tongue could protest. The porridge was in need of salt and was laced with too much ginger. I resisted the urge to comment.

  “So,” she said, which was the least I’ve heard her say since she first walked into the room.

  I ate a few more bites before turning back to her. “I appreciate you giving me shelter and bringing me food. Thank you.” I bowed. My father had not raised an ingrate.

  She looked shocked. “You don’t have to—I mean, it’s the mistress who brought you in. I’m just doing what she asked. You’ve got a strange manner of speaking. Are you not from around here?”

  There was no sense in denying it. I shook my head.

  She clapped her hands in delight. “A foreigner! How exciting! I’ve never met a foreigner before. Well, the herb store owner’s wife comes from the east of the empire, from the big city where the Esteemed Emperor lives so she claims, but that’s not even close. I’ve always meant to travel away from Anzhao City when I’ve paid my debts, maybe down south, to the Ruby Grove lands—the trees there, you know, all the leaves, red, and An Mozhi City perched above the cliffs like a dream, all those bridges…and here I’ve forgotten my manners. I’m Tati, and I’ve been working here close to a year. How did you end up on the street like that? Someone must’ve thrown you out. Was it your husband?”

  “Miss Tati,” I said carefully. “I would speak with your mistress now, if she has time.”

  “Oh, I understand if you want to keep it a secret. Everyone here has a secret. It’s why we’re here, after all. This isn’t exactly a first choice, first-class place if you know what I mean.”

  I think it was clear from my expression that I didn’t. She closed her mouth. “I think she’s with the cook, overseeing today’s meals. I’ll go call her now, tell her you’re looking for her.”

  “Thank you.” I bowed a second time. Tati pulled away. She seemed perplexed, like she wasn’t exactly sure how to respond to me, even though I was pretty sure I hadn’t said anything offending at all. I heard her shuffle through the door and turned my gaze towards the window. The sunbeams hurt my eyes, but after the seemingly endless dark dreams, I more than welcomed the pain.

  “Seems like the good doctor owes me fifty rean,” a shrill voice said. I glanced at the woman by the door, the same one who had found me in the street it seemed. I didn’t really recognize her. Back in the rain, she had been nothing more than a spectre leading me to the shores of the dead for all I knew; now she was substantial, a woman whose painted face barely covered her wrinkles and her frown. Her lips were so red that it looked like she had been drinking blood. Had I only imagined the sympathy in her expression from the morning before?

  She was wearing a heavy fragrance. The scent of it, mixed with her body odour, engulfed the room as soon as she stepped in. It made me feel ill. “I’m Ziori Ashi,” she said. No bow, I noted—she chattered matter-of-factly. She strode to the window and pushed them all the way open. I cringed at the flood of sunlight.

  She turned back to me. “How are you feeling?” she demanded. I don’t think I’ve ever heard those words used in that tone of voice before.

  “Alive,” I said, still trying to find my thoughts amidst her noxious scent. “I wanted to thank you. I would have died out there if you hadn’t found me.”

  “Yes,” she said, nodding. “You would have. And yours wouldn’t have been the first corpse in the streets of Anzhao City that morning. You are far from home, I think. Your clothes were not Zarojo-made, and that Tati said you admitted you were a foreigner.”

  I nodded.

  Ziori narrowed her eyes. “A foreigner would be something new. Try to stand up.”

  I blinked. “I’m sorry?”

  “Tashi Jhao thought you shouldn’t bear weight on that leg for the next few days, but he was wrong about how long you were going to sleep and I dare say he’s wrong about that, too. Circulation is good for your legs.” She crossed her arms. I realized she was waiting.

  In my court, her attitude was the sort of thing that would soon result in a head rolling across the floor. I don’t even believe anyone had been so brazen to my face in recent years. But I was far from home, and the longer I stayed away, the harder it seemed for me to remember who I was. I wanted rest, and the faster I could get her to leave me alone, the sooner I could get it. I braced myself on the bed and placed my feet on the cold floor. My legs shook and the sharp pain told me my wound was more serious than I had anticipated, but I was able to stand.

  Just as quickly, I sat down again. Ziori cleared her throat. “Not ideal, but I suppose it will do. You can sleep off the rest of the morning, but you have to start work tonight.”

  “Work,” I repeated.

  “Yes,” she said, as if speaking to an idiot. “Work.”

  “I think you’re mistaken,” I said. “I’m not here to work.”

  “You are, if you know what’s good for you,” Ziori said. “You think I call on Tashi Jhao for his company? The man isn’t cheap, and what he did for that leg of yours set me back a few thousand rean. Unless you can pay me back right now?”

  I almost choked at her words. “I didn’t ask you to call him.”

  “If I had known your leg was torn up that badly, I would’ve left you to rot on the street,” she said in a low voice. “But you were already here when we saw it. I couldn’t very well let you die under my roof. Do you know how expensive funerals get? It’s not like I can just dump your body on the street either. I had no choice but to call Tashi Jhao.”

  “If you’ll help me return to my…people, we can pay you back in full.” If I could find an official to trust, a swift letter back to Oren-yaro was sure to make all my problems go away. “And more, besides, for your help.”

  Ziori gave a weak grin, yellow teeth flashing through luscious red lips. “I found you penniless and alone,” she said. “What makes you think I believe you have people to return to?”

  I closed my mouth. Did I have people to return to? Did Rayyel make it out of that assassination attempt alive? I clutched at the sheets as my mind started running through the possibilities.

  “So you’ll work it off,” Ziori continued, oblivious of my distress. She was going through her words with the practiced ease of one who had done this speech too many times. “I can arrange a client for you tonight, to start with. I’ve a man in mind who I think would appreciate…”

  I turned to her, realization dawning on me. “What sort of work is this supposed to be?”

  “Didn’t know you were daft
as well,” Ziori huffed. “Isn’t it obvious, girl? You’re in a brothel. Although girl doesn’t seem appropriate for your age. From the shape of your hips, you’ve already given birth, haven’t you? Never you mind. The men don’t…”

  It took all my self-control not to hit her on the mouth, which was an easy, red target from where I sat. “Whatever you think I owe,” I said in a low voice. “I am not going to play whore for you, mistress. I will take this to the city watch if I must.”

  “The city watch?” She laughed. “I’ll have Tati call you to give you time to get ready. Lo Bahn prefers—”

  I pulled myself up and headed for the door.

  She screamed after me, her bony fingers reaching out to grab me by the arm. I tore her off of me easily enough and dragged myself out into the hall. I didn’t recognize from where she had brought me in, but I remembered the courtyard and started for the most promising-looking door.

  Ziori continued screaming. Two large men appeared from around the corner. “Out of the way,” I hissed. They ignored me, grabbing my arms and lifting me as easily as if I was a child. I couldn’t even swing out at them.

  They dragged me back to the room, all but pushing me onto the bed. “Careful, now!” I heard Ziori exclaim. I could feel my wounded leg begin to throb.

  “You’re not leaving until your debt is paid.” Her voice was wooden.

  I turned to her. “This is extortion. Robbery. Your doctor’s fees probably wouldn’t even amount to half of what you’re asking from me.”

  “There’s also lodging fees, your meal, and the service I offered you in saving your life…”

  “You run your whole establishment like this?” I retorted. “I can have this place collapse over your head. You can’t have bribed the entire city watch. It hardly seems worth it for one night’s profit.”

  “One night? Oh, no. To pay me back, you’re going to be here for many, many nights, and mornings, besides.” She gave a grim nod before stepping back. One of the men slid the door shut. I heard them barring it from the other side.