by Devin Madson
On the northern horizon Shimai glowed like a tenacious ember, and from the walls and towers and high houses of Mei’lian people had gathered to watch. To wait.
Katashi was coming.
‘And His Majesty’s War Council?’ enquired General Vareen of Mei’lian’s defensive battalion. ‘No one else survived?’
‘No. Only myself and General Ryoji, who was with His Majesty.’ I gestured along the table to where the general knelt. I could trust him, but the rest did not like me. They avoided my gaze, frightened by this woman in their hall of men, by this woman wearing the Imperial Sash and sitting proudly at their table. ‘After he was injured, His Majesty left me in charge.’
More silence. Then: ‘And how is His Majesty?’
I looked at the stocky little man who had spoken. His finicky moustache was twenty years out of fashion, but he was the only one not touching his wine bowl. Darius would have drawn conclusions from such things.
‘He is not out of danger,’ I said. ‘His injuries are severe and Master Kenji fears fever may prove dangerous. He will remain with His Majesty at all times, and is more confident now he has access to the palace stores and can provide the best possible care.’
Another councillor took up the questioning. ‘And what does Master Kenji say His Majesty’s chance of survival is?’
‘The answer to that changes hourly. All we can do is pray.’
‘And if he dies? He has no heir.’ All at the table turned their eyes to the moustached man, whose grey hair was thinning at his temples. A worrier? Ambitious? How did Darius see what other people could not?
‘I am his empress,’ I said, interrupting a low-voiced debate before it could take root. ‘I am his heir. As of this moment the defence of the empire is under my command.’
Their murmurs faded and every man turned to me. It was Minister Bahain who spoke first. ‘With all due respect, my lady,’ he said. ‘If His Majesty dies before the seven days are up, if he dies before your marriage vows can be consummated, then you are neither his empress nor his heir.’
I took a deep breath ready to spill my fury over them, but General Ryoji interjected: ‘This is not a debate to be had while His Majesty lives and breathes, especially not when we have just lost Shimai and are facing further attack.’
‘We are prepared for siege,’ said one of the other councillors whose name was unknown to me. ‘We—’
‘Siege, maybe,’ Ryoji said. ‘For Katashi Otako, no.’
‘You say he brings fire. We have dealt with fire before, General.’
‘Yes, but you have not seen an entire army burned in a single blast. You may think we are mad, but we are not. Take what you imagine and multiply it a hundred times and then you may have some inkling of the power we are dealing with. The man is merciless.’
The flicker of fear in their eyes was there and gone. Again it was Minister Bahain that answered, quietly this time, the hand that gripped his wine bowl not entirely steady. ‘We saw the smoke,’ he said. ‘We saw the flames. We can douse the gates in water. We can—’
‘We did that in Shimai,’ I said. ‘But the fire Katashi channels is unnatural. He is the embodiment of vengeance.’
‘You speak as though he has some magic,’ the minister scoffed.
‘There is nothing else to call it but magic.’
The councillors shifted uncomfortably on their knees, many reaching for their wine bowls. I wanted to scream at them, to get up and shake them all one by one.
‘Magic, Lady Hana, is not real.’
‘Then explain to me how Katashi could burn the gates of Shimai with nothing but his hand. Explain to me how he could cross a burning bridge unscathed and unleash its fire upon our army.’
‘There are many ways to create fire. Oil, pitch—’
I threw up my hands, stopping him mid-sentence. ‘This problem will not go away just because you pretend it does not exist,’ I said. ‘You can shout from the rooftops that it is not real, that it cannot be so, but Katashi Otako will still bring unearthly fire to your gates.’
General Vareen leaned forward, resting his chin on steepled fingers. ‘Then what do you suggest, my lady?’
‘We cannot fight him,’ I said, making a direct plea to the council at large. ‘At the first hint of resistance he will burn all who stand in his way regardless of their name and rank. If we stand and fight then Mei’lian will be reduced to a smoking ruin and he will stride to the Crimson Throne over the charred corpse of every man here.’
‘Are you suggesting we stand aside and give him the throne?’
‘What other choice is there, General? There is time to flee, to hide, time to protect the Ts’ai dynasty to fight another day.’
‘Flee?’ the general repeated. ‘Flee to where? His Majesty is injured and the enemy is all but at our gates.’
There was only one choice. ‘Back through the tunnel to Shimai,’ I said. ‘He won’t leave more than a skeleton force to hold the city. From there we go south.’
‘While Katashi Otako takes the throne.’ Minister Bahain cleared his throat. ‘To speak the words many others here will not, you will accept my apology, my lady, I am sure, but such advice coming from an Otako is not easy to accept as impartial. Katashi Otako is your cousin and the head of your family after all.’
‘Are you calling me a traitor, Minister?’
‘No! Your loyalty is not in doubt, my lady, but with so tender a heart as yours it would be impossible to consider the situation with the merciless pragmatism required.’
Anger bit at my throat. ‘A tender heart? Minister, you are not only calling me a traitor, but a fool as well,’ I said. ‘I am not a little girl. Your emperor gave me his sash and charged me with the defence of this empire. He trusted me. Who are you to refute the choice of a god?’
‘There is no refutation intended,’ Minister Bahain said, all soothing, singsong brightness. ‘You are His Majesty’s chosen representative, but so are we, you must remember. We are his council. We exist to make decisions he cannot and to offer guidance and wisdom. You might have been born to this position, my lady, but you are still new to our ways and our world.’
‘And we have the right to be more forthright in this chamber than elsewhere,’ said one of the councillors whose name I did not know. ‘That, too, is part of our job. We tell the emperor what no one else dares tell him.’
Minister Bahain cleared his throat. ‘Because all men need advice,’ he said, so mildly and with such a fatherly smile that I wanted to rip his lips from his face. ‘And His Majesty is, after all, just a man.’
I had argued the same myself. I had thrown Kin’s mortality in General Ryoji’s face before the battle in Shimai, but here and now I needed Kin to be more than a man so I could be more than a woman.
‘Emperor Kin sits upon the Crimson Throne,’ I said. ‘That makes him a god.’
‘No, it makes him a very powerful man with a very nice chair.’
And with those simple words the still smiling minister robbed me of all authority. My hands worked, clenching and unclenching upon the tail of the Imperial Sash. I wanted to scream. I wanted to stomp like a child and smash their wine bowls, but it would achieve nothing. Darius wouldn’t. Darius was smarter than that. I had to be smarter than that.
‘A very nice chair that will be burned to a cinder if we try to fight Katashi,’ I said, trying to keep my voice steady.
General Vareen shook his head. ‘You are forgetting, my lady, that if Otako wants to sit upon the throne and rule this empire, he will not burn Mei’lian to the ground whatever he might say. And that gives us an advantage you did not have in Shimai.’
There was a smattering of agreement.
‘You want to call his bluff?’
‘Can we hold the city?’ Minister Bahain asked General Vareen, ignoring my question.
‘We have been working on a plan,
and pulling in every member of the city guard and those citizens who wish to fight, and I think we can.’
General Ryoji shook his head. ‘That is exactly what General Rini said before they hit Shimai.’
‘That’s as may be, but we cannot stand aside and let an exile take the throne.’
‘But we do have a duty to the empire,’ spoke Governor Ohi. ‘If there is danger to the emperor he must be evacuated while there is still time. Lady Hana should also be removed from the capital.’
‘Removed?’ I repeated. ‘Do not speak of me as though I am a thing.’
‘With all respect, my lady, you are. As is His Majesty. As you have been at pains to point out, you belong to the empire now and as such you must be protected to ensure the survival of the Ts’ai dynasty.’
My hands shook like butterflies struggling against the storm.
‘I am the only one Katashi may yet listen to,’ I said slowly, carefully. ‘I am the only remaining member of his family. I will not run when I am most needed.’
Minister Bahain gave a little grunt. ‘What you are most needed for is to ensure Kisia has an heir.’
I drew myself up. ‘I am Lady Hana Otako, daughter of Emperor Lan Otako, I am not a broodmare.’
‘Neither are you a military commander!’
‘Minister Bahain,’ I said, getting to my feet to stand over the Minister of the Right. ‘It may be your job to be forthright, but it is not your job to insult and dismiss me. You would not dare to do so if Emperor Kin was here.’
You think he’s going to die, I thought, looking down at a man whose expression screamed false contrition. You think he’s going to die and I will lose all power.
The realisation stole through me, chilling like spreading ice.
‘You must accept my humble apology, my lady,’ he said, bowing. ‘These are difficult times.’
Again he had ripped legitimacy from beneath my feet.
There was a smothered murmur of agreement from the other end of the table. ‘Very difficult times,’ spoke another nameless councillor. ‘And Governor Ohi is right. We should prepare for His Majesty’s evacuation through the passage. Master Kenji could travel with him.’
‘Agreed.’ Minister Bahain nodded. ‘It is our duty to protect him first and foremost.’
Your duty to get him out of the way so he can die quietly while you make a play for power. I sat slowly, eyes on Minister Bahain. I wished I knew more about him and his family, knew what power he had. Even if we survived Katashi there were other ways the Crimson Throne could fall. A commoner had taken it once.
‘Master Kenji will not move him again,’ I said. ‘That could well kill him before fever or burns get the chance.’
‘Was escaping not your own plan, my lady?’
I was starting to hate the sound of Minister Bahain’s voice. It had been my plan. It was smart. But I couldn’t shake this new fear, not of Katashi, but of the men Kin most trusted.
General Ryoji set an elbow on the table and leaned forward. ‘Moving him might kill him. The man who gives that order bears a heavy responsibility.’
Silence.
‘But if we all evacuate and he dies,’ Ryoji went on. ‘Then it is no one’s fault.’
More silence. Calculation happened behind every pair of eyes. If one of them gave the order and Kin died then the others would remember. Lesser mistakes could end careers. Could end lives.
‘We have to yield the city,’ I said, sure there was a change around the table, that maybe, just maybe they would now listen to reason.
‘The Imperial Army has never yielded the capital and never will,’ General Vareen snapped. ‘We do not run and we do not hide.’
They were rousing words, but they filled me with horror. ‘That is a very honourable sentiment, General,’ I said, ‘But you will die. If we must fight, our only chance of success lies with the traitor generals. Their men make up at least half of Katashi’s army, the better trained and organised half. If we can turn them we could pinch Katashi between two forces and may be able to crush him at the gates.’
‘They are called the traitor generals for a reason, Lady Hana,’ General Vareen pointed out stiffly.
‘So I am aware,’ I said. ‘I was there the day they bowed at my cousin’s feet. I saw them take the oath, an oath they also took at Emperor Kin’s feet. Loyalty once changed can be changed again. One of General Manshin’s own captains told me that his general is angered by Katashi’s methods. None of them took their oath expecting their new emperor to burn Kisia to the ground.’
‘It is a risk we cannot take.’ Minister Bahain shook his head. ‘Even if we could get someone safely outside the walls, even if we could get someone into their midst without alerting Otako’s Pikes, I would not trust the future of this empire on a chance. No, we must stand and fight with what we have. We are better prepared.’
The council were his captive audience. It was a power, once tasted, that he would not easily surrender.
‘Have we had any news from the wall?’ he asked.
‘Only that Shimai is still burning and Katashi Otako is not yet upon the plain, Your Excellency,’ spoke another man, dressed somewhere between a general and a court official.
‘Then there is still time to prepare,’ Bahain said, turning his head to glance at the darkness beyond the window. ‘It must be nearly midnight.’
‘Already past, Your Excellency.’
‘Would he attack in the night?’
Another voice grumbled from along the table. ‘He’s a rebel. He might do anything.’
‘General Vareen, are our men ready?’
‘Yes, Your Excellency.’
I watched, silent now, as they fell into a natural rhythm of agreeing with Minister Bahain. My fists were tightly balled beneath the table, but to engage Bahain in open battle would only end poorly. They had dismissed and ignored me at every turn, and every patronising smile and humouring nod was a slight I would never forget. But there were other ways to get revenge. Other ways to hold the empire.
‘General Ryoji.’
The name snapped me out of my thoughts.
‘Yes, Your Excellency?’
‘You and your men are entrusted with the safety of His Majesty and Lady Hana Otako at all times,’ he said, all plans for evacuation apparently forgotten. ‘General Vareen will take command of the siege.’
I smiled upon the company. ‘And I will sit on the throne and look pretty, and think about children so hard one might magically pop into my belly.’
The little man with the out-of-fashion moustache looked as though his eyes would pop. General Vareen reddened like a little boy and Minister Bahain smiled that same fatherly smile. ‘My Lady is pleased to jest. I suggest you rest and let us worry about the details. If there is no further business, the council is dismissed.’
I kept my peace. Whatever further business I had, I would not bring before the council.
*****
Tili was waiting in my apartments. My apartments. This grand suite of rooms all bright silk screens and thick carpets, full of vases of dry cherry blossoms, of hanging lanterns and ornately carved furniture. Rain was falling upon a narrow balcony overlooking the gardens, the smell of damp mixing with the scent of incense.
My mother had been the last empress to inhabit these rooms, and as I stood in the doorway I told myself I felt her presence, that I could see her moving from the table to the balcony to the enormous wooden bed with its white pillows and crimson silk quilt. Every step she took with grace and decision and a faint smile as though she found something amusing.
‘I have laid out a clean night robe, my lady,’ Tili said, bowing deeply.
Empress Li faded.
‘Thank you.’
Falling back into our habitual silence, I let Tili fuss around removing my stained armour. There had been no time to do more than
throw a clean surcoat over it before the council meeting, and now, as each piece was removed I could smell blood and singed leather and damp river stink.
‘See what you can do with it,’ I said as she piled the armour up with a distasteful wrinkle in her nose. ‘I’m going to need it again.’
‘Yes, my lady.’
Once she had untied the last tie and unclipped the last clip, I went to the washbowl and, taking the cloth, scrubbed my skin until it was red and raw. I stared into the water, stars of lamplight dancing on its surface. Katashi would not wait long before marching on Mei’lian, might even be already on his way. We needed the traitor generals. But even if I could reach them, it would make no difference if I had nothing to offer.
Think, Hana, think, I urged. You cannot let Katashi win. You cannot let Bahain win.
‘My lady?’
I dropped the cloth, shattering the pool of stars. Tili stood in the centre of the room with her eyes downcast.
‘Yes? What is it?’
‘I’m so sorry about His Majesty, my lady.’
‘Sorry for his injuries or because he killed my family?’ She had been there. She had heard it all. ‘Neither is your fault.’
‘No.’ Eyes still downcast. ‘But…’
When no more words came my heartbeat sped. ‘But?’ I prompted. ‘But what?’
I took a step toward her, but she didn’t look up. ‘I could have warned you, my lady,’ she said, not just looking down now, but away as though she couldn’t bear to look at me. ‘I could have warned you and then you wouldn’t have found out in that awful way. But I didn’t know that would happen. And I swore never to tell a soul. I gave my word. I pledged my honour, not a word, he said, not a word, not to you or anyone.’
Tili gasped as I gripped her wrists and shook her roughly. ‘Who said? Emperor Kin? What did he tell you? How long have you known?’
‘No, no, no,’ she moaned. ‘Not His Majesty, no. He would not. Not to your maid.’
‘Then who?’
She looked up then, the look in her eyes a mess of fear and hope and anguish. ‘Shin. That night in The Valley. On the way to Emperor Kin’s camp. He told me what had happened to your father and your brothers, he told me about the orders and who gave them – who paid for all that blood on his hands.’