THe Grave at Storm's End

by Devin Madson

  ‘Put me down,’ I said.

  Avarice stopped walking, his last step scraping on stone. ‘Master—’

  ‘Put me down. I can walk.’

  Still the man hesitated, and from the darkness Malice laughed. ‘You’re like a stone that bleeds, Avarice,’ he said. ‘If your puppy stumbles, just pick him up again, yes?’

  The old Vice stiffened, and slowly, carefully, lowered me to the floor. Malice kept walking though we lingered, letting my legs get used to their old weight. Hope hovered. Behind him the darkness was deeper than any night. Shimai was long gone.

  Avarice leant in close. ‘Tell me what you need me to do, Master,’ he said in a low growl. ‘He wouldn’t see my sickle coming.’

  ‘No.’

  The word shot out without thought. There were good reasons to keep him alive, but every one of them was an afterthought.

  ‘Any sign of Hana?’ I whispered.

  ‘No, Master.’

  Malice stopped and turned, his outline aglow with the haze of an approaching light well. ‘Well? Are you coming?’

  More tired than I had ever been, I forced one foot to follow the other. Avarice became my shadow, a wary mother hen waiting to catch me if I fell.

  We walked, my legs weak and my hand shaking. The azure glow brightened until I could see Malice ahead. His robe was dirty. His hair was a mess. And the smell that wafted back to me was wrong. No pungently sweet opium lingering about his breath. How long had it been since his last pipe? To my Empathy he tasted manic. And there was something else, out of reach. Something… familiar.

  ‘Malice,’ I said, raising my voice so it would carry. ‘You’re dry, aren’t you?’

  He stopped again and turned, pressing a finger to his lips. ‘Not so loud, yes? Who knows who might hear us.’

  ‘Like Hana?’ I all but shouted the words. ‘Are you worried Hana might hear us?’

  ‘Darius.’

  ‘Yes, brother?’

  ‘Shut up.’

  ‘No,’ I said, as loudly as I could. ‘I don’t think I will.’

  Silence. Malice cocked his head down the tunnel.

  ‘Who’s there?’ The voice was distant. Male. Familiar. Never had I thought I’d be glad to hear General Ryoji’s self-important tone.

  Malice scowled. ‘Well? You wanted attention and now you have it, yes? Go on, answer the man.’

  I cleared my throat. ‘My name is Lord Darius Laroth,’ I called back. ‘Minister of the Left in the court of Emperor Kin Ts’ai.’

  There was no immediate reply, nothing but the beat of my heart echoing back to me. Then: ‘Lord Darius Laroth?’

  ‘Don’t make me repeat myself, General.’

  A bark of humourless laughter came next. ‘That’s him.’

  ‘Well,’ Malice said. ‘Let’s go say hello, yes?’ He nodded to his Vices, and both Conceit and Hope unhooked their sickles.

  As we approached, three figures came slowly into relief, bathed in the same blueish light.

  ‘Darius?’

  Hana this time. Malice shot me a warning glance.

  ‘Darius?’

  ‘Yes, my dear?’

  ‘Who’s with you?’

  ‘If you are worried about Katashi, we left him behind.’

  ‘Is Malice with you?’

  A pause, then Malice said: ‘I’m here, little lamb.’

  ‘Good,’ she returned, hardly needing to shout now we were getting close. ‘I don’t like loose ends.’

  Malice halted some ten paces from the dimly lit trio. The light well rose above them, its moss-coloured stones forming something like a chimney narrowing toward a distant circle of blue sky. Hana stood in the brightest spot, but it was General Ryoji’s drawn sword that glinted with the promise of trouble.

  ‘All we want to do is pass through, lamb,’ Malice said. ‘Much better for your general not to end up dead, yes? Let us pass and we’ll disappear from your life without bloodshed.’

  Hana’s maid stood behind her, not averting her gaze but staring at each of us in turn. I was reminded of another woman dressed in simple clothes, her demure expression belying ferocity and courage. If Malice got his way, I would never see Kimiko again. Perhaps that was for the best.

  There was another glint of metal as Hana strode forward, a long curved blade in her hand. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I have no quarrel with you, but Darius isn’t going anywhere. He’s a traitor.’

  ‘No.’ Malice signalled to Hope and Conceit and his last two Vices stepped forward, sickles drawn. ‘He belongs to me.’

  ‘Arrest them, General.’

  Malice didn’t move. ‘I don’t think you want to do that,’ he said.

  ‘Why not? Are you going to kill me?’

  ‘No, lamb,’ Malice said. ‘I could never do that, yes? Conceit, clear a path.’

  The man stepped forward, flashing a grin. ‘Yes, Master.’

  ‘Killing us would be pointless,’ Hana said. ‘The tavern above is full of loyal soldiers, not one of whom will let you pass.’

  Malice laughed gently. ‘Three dozen survivors, most too injured to make the journey. You are outnumbered and you know it, yes? Step aside.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘A pity.’

  Conceit skipped forward gleefully, but before Hope could move Avarice gripped his arm. The boy tried to pull free, but Avarice’s fingers had turned from flesh to stone, even the long scar on the back of his hand hardening. The reins of a bolting horse had burned his skin. Horses had never liked me, but Avarice had worked hard to change that.

  Another stony hand clasped Malice’s ponytail.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Malice demanded, letting out a squawk of pain. ‘Let go!’

  ‘Got another hand for me too, traitor?’ Conceit said. ‘Or are you going to hold me back with a glare?’

  He danced toward Hana, but it was General Ryoji who met his blade. He stepped in front of her as the Vice swung, his maniacal grin a slice across his features. The sound of meeting steel reverberated through the passage.

  A punch of arrogance, and Conceit’s twin stepped out of the shadows. He made no sound, but Ryoji must have known for he turned, shunting the first Conceit off balance as he spun to catch the sickle of the second. A foot slammed into his gut, sending him sprawling.

  ‘You think you’re clever,’ Hana said. ‘But you’ve just given away your secret. Now we know which one of you is the real one.’ She levelled the tip of her sword at the first Conceit.

  ‘You think so?’ it said. ‘Surely I know how to use my power better than that. How can you be so sure?’ They both spread their arms wide. ‘We can both talk,’ they said in unison. ‘We can both walk. And we can both stab generals through the throat.’

  They both lunged toward Ryoji, but Hana was there, that quick jab something we had perfected before she had been old enough to hold even half such a sword. Her carers had not approved, but being simple farmers had dared do no more than mutter about unladylike behaviour.

  ‘You’re the ones who let her climb trees,’ I had said. ‘She needs to work on her bow.’

  ‘She is Lady Hana,’ her foster father had pointed out. ‘Who is there for her to bow to?’

  ‘She’s still terrible at it,’ I murmured, resisting the tug of lassitude. Beside me Malice snarled, trying to rip his ponytail out of Avarice’s hand. ‘Let go you stupid beast, or I’ll peel that stone off your flesh.’

  ‘I don’t take orders from you,’ Avarice said.

  There was a terrible crack as General Ryoji’s head hit the stones.

  ‘Hade!’

  Hana couldn’t get to him. The two identical Vices were pressing her toward the end of the passage, one slashing, one stabbing, both giggling as she danced. Hana was good, but she was outnumbered and outclassed. Conceit had already walked over General R
yoji, his sword left useless upon the stones. I took a step toward it, but my knees buckled.

  A hand gripped the sword. A fine, slim hand with long nails, a hand that shook as its fingers wrapped around the hilt. Hana’s maid lifted the weapon with two hands, holding it with neither the correct grip nor the right stance, but with all the assurance of anger.

  ‘Conceit!’ Malice shouted. ‘Watch–’

  Avarice yanked Malice’s ponytail. One Conceit turned, but Hana’s maid did not look at him. She levelled the blade at the second Conceit, stepped in, and with a bestial roar she thrust it deep into his back. There was no disappearing trick, no vanishing limbs, just the fleshy sound of death. The first Conceit faltered, his gleeful expression slipping into shock. Then Hana stuck her sword into the second’s throat.

  Malice howled. Conceit wavered like a heat haze as blood bubbled in gouts from his doppelganger’s mouth. Hana kicked him, yanking her sword free, and he fell through the fading ghost of his double.

  Hana’s maid hadn’t moved. She was shaking, gripping the sword in blood-stained hands. Hana stared at her. ‘How did you know?’

  ‘His… his sash,’ the maid said, breathless. ‘The other had his tied backwards. Like he was in a mirror.’

  I had never noticed.

  In the dream of fatigue I watched as General Ryoji was helped unsteadily to his feet, his shame spikey. He spoke. Hana spoke. The maid handed back his sword and moved toward the hatchway. More soldiers came. And still holding Malice and Hope, Avarice said: ‘Give me orders, Master.’

  He would have fought every soldier Hana threw at him had I asked, but there was only one person I needed to escape now.

  ‘Don’t fight,’ I said. ‘Let them take us.’

  Malice snarled and growled and swore, but he could not break free of Avarice’s grip.

  It was Hana who came for me. ‘What game are you playing, Darius?’ she said as she knelt before me.

  ‘No game, lamb,’ I said, holding out my hand and my useless stump. ‘I’m sick of playing.’

  She eyed me, all scowling suspicion. Then she shook her head. ‘Damn you’re a good liar, Darius.’

  Chapter 21

  Darius looked half dead when they brought him up from the passage. Head sagging, legs weak. His stiff, disdainful pride was gone, his beauty soiled inside and out.

  The landlord sent for chains and clucked around the cellar muttering about the world going mad.

  ‘Lady Hana,’ he said, bowing half a dozen times as Hana climbed out of the hole, all damp armour and ash-smudged cheeks. General Ryoji followed, his gaze caught to her back. The touch of her lips. The smell of her hair. Eyes. Hands. Every bit of her young and supple and sweet.

  I barely heard their whispered conversation amid the swirl of thoughts.

  All I ever wanted was to fight for my empire.

  You think you’re so clever, Darius, yes?

  I will have him.

  I will kill him.

  ‘Endymion?’

  Behind Hana a soldier looked bemusedly from the chains in his hands to Darius’s stump. Hope was already on the stairs, being led away ahead of Avarice.

  He needs me. I should have killed the shivat years ago.

  There must be an end. There must be.

  Hana clicked her fingers in front of my face. ‘Endymion? Are you in there?’

  ‘Sorry, did you say something to me?’

  ‘Did I say something to you?’ she repeated. ‘By the gods I have more than half a mind to lock you up with your brothers.’

  ‘Maybe you should.’

  He’s too useful. He has more claim to the throne than I, and I’ve seen what he can do. If only I could be sure he won’t turn against me...

  ‘I have no claim to the throne,’ I said. ‘I gave it up in favour of Emperor Kin. He is the man Kisia needs.’

  Hana’s hands tightened into angry balls. ‘If you knew what he did—’

  ‘I know what he did and why he did it.’

  ‘He killed my mother,’ she hissed. ‘Our mother. Our brothers.’

  ‘And our stranglehold upon an empire of whose needs we were careless.’

  Only the landlord remained at the foot of the stairs now, shifting his weight from foot to foot. His ill-ease was sharp. Hana turned.

  No. No one can know. I have to get rid of him. Kin would do what needed to be done.

  ‘General!’

  ‘My lady, I did not mean to—’

  An upraised hand silenced him as General Ryoji appeared at the top of the steps. ‘My lady?’

  ‘Arrest this man,’ she said, indicating the now quivering landlord. ‘He sees no one. Talks to no one. Take care of it.’

  ‘This man?’ the general pointed at the landlord. His gaze flicked to me. Distrust. Bright. Hot. Mingled with confusion.

  ‘Yes, General,’ Hana said. ‘He is in the possession of... undesirable information.’

  ‘I promise and swear on my oath that I’ll never speak a word of it to a living soul,’ the landlord begged. ‘Even a dead soul. I heard nothing, nothing at all.’

  Hana shook her head. ‘It cannot be risked. Take him away with the minimal amount of fuss and replace him.’

  ‘No! Please, my lady. I have a wife and children. They need me. I have always been a loyal servant of Emperor Kin, and—’

  ‘Lady Hana,’ General Ryoji interrupted. ‘This is Lord Tarli. He held the post of Minister of the Left before Lord Laroth.’

  At the sound of his former title, the man’s face settled into dignified lines and he straightened. Grief poured off him but he hid it well, only his agitated whispers betraying him.

  Kin killed the Otakos? That cannot be. No, but those meetings. I’d almost forgotten. It was so long ago.

  Once again Hana was staring at me. She must have spoken words I had not heard, but this time the request was loud in her thoughts. ‘You want to know if you can trust him,’ I said.

  ‘Yes.’

  Whispers streamed in from everywhere, from upstairs and out in the street, from the city and the walls and the plains and the empire, all funnelling toward me.

  There was too much noise, his thoughts too restrained. I needed to be closer. The man flinched as I stepped toward him, but I reached out my hand and found him an inch from his skin.

  I am loyal to Kin. I am loyal to Kin.

  He did not blink, his onyx eyes seeming to cut into my skin.

  I am loyal. I am loyal.

  My fingers closed around a forearm slick with sweat. Grief and confusion hit me harder than I had braced for and I tightened my hold. Images of General Kin marched before my eyes, proud, capable, the leader who had given his all for the empire. The leader who had killed for his throne.

  Tell me it’s not true. Not Kin. No. Not Kin.

  I dug, hunting for loyalty, but all that came back was pain. Pain he did not deserve. Pain I could take away from him.

  The man tried to pull away, but it was too late. My fingers tingled. I barely recognised myself, but there we were, Hana and I, as every word of our hissed exchange was sucked from his mind like poison from blood. Then it was gone.

  I stepped back, doubling over as fuzzy darkness threatened to floor me. Lord Tarli groaned. ‘My head,’ he said. ‘It feels like someone hit me with a broken bottle. General? What are you doing here? Did I... no, you came through the passage, didn’t you, and... and Lady Hana. Prisoners—’

  He stopped talking, confused. ‘Excuse the mind of an old man. Is everything all right, my lady? Is there something I can do for you?’

  There was a long drawn out silence. My head stopped spinning, but the memory played on.

  ‘No, Minister, I do not think there is,’ Hana said at last.

  ‘Minister?’ The man chuckled. ‘I haven’t been a minister for a good number of yea
rs now, my lady.’

  ‘But you are proud of your service?’

  ‘Yes, my lady, no better emperor than Emperor Kin could be found, my lady, Otako god or no, begging your pardon.’

  There was a spike of embarrassment, but Hana only smiled. ‘Your opinion is most welcome. Thank you, you may go.’

  The man bowed, and nodding to General Ryoji, went up the stairs in good spirits. With him gone I found two pairs of eyes staring. General Ryoji took the last few steps to the ground. ‘What did you do to him?’

  ‘I took the memory,’ I said. ‘Of the conversation and of Kin’s betrayal. It caused him grief he did not deserve.’

  ‘Do you mean that he has no memory of it?’

  ‘None.’

  ‘You just stole the last few minutes of his life?’

  ‘If you wish to think of it like that, yes.’

  The general seemed to have nothing more to say, but Hana shook her head. ‘Dear gods but you scare me, Endymion,’ she said. ‘Don’t you dare do that to me. Swear it or I will lock you up now and throw away the key.’

  There is a man called Wen you no longer remember. He was your friend. But now he is mine.

  ‘My lady,’ General Ryoji said. ‘We must go.’

  ‘Yes, but bring him,’ she said. ‘He’s too dangerous to leave behind.’

  Chapter 22

  The councillors looked like waxen statues in the lamplight. Each owned a troubled face and sleepless eyes, and threw back their wine as though it were water. A serving girl circled the table filling their bowls.

  ‘Only a score of survivors?’ Minister Bahain repeated.

  ‘That is what I said, Minister.’ The words dropped leaden from my lips. ‘Many are badly wounded.’

  ‘So from His Majesty’s battalions we have – and let me get this right – eight able men, two injured but able to serve, and the rest either dead or almost dead.’

  ‘Yes.’

  Every wine bowl was lifted in the silence.

  ‘Those are heavy causalities.’

  ‘Yes, Minister,’ I said. ‘They are. We had enough men to hold the city against an army, but not against Katashi Otako.’