by Devin Madson
‘I would not have thought His Excellency competent with a weapon other than his tongue.’
‘He prefers his tongue,’ I said, unable to keep the smile of memory from my lips. ‘Why waste the effort to fight when you can outsmart your enemies.’
‘Because we are not all as clever as Minister Laroth.’
His expression looked mulish in profile and he did not turn his attention from the approaching army.
‘Clever, yes,’ I said. ‘But I don’t think that’s the same thing as sensible.’
A symphony of slamming shutters erupted down in the city. Panicked citizens were taking to the street with their belongings and I watched them between the obscuring buildings. A family, small children herded ahead like lambs, one bounding around as though this was a new game. An old woman joined them. Then the family disappeared to be replaced by two young men with neatly cropped hair carrying a chest between them. On any other day these people might still have been asleep, or at breakfast, not running through the streets in fear of their lives.
The Otakos had once been their gods. Now we were their curse.
‘He’s carrying a white flag!’
My attention snapped back to the advancing army
‘A white flag?’
‘A white flag!’
I leaned forward, elbows on the parapet. It really was a white flag, held aloft. Katashi had tied it around Hatsukoi’s upper limb.
A few steps away along the wall, General Vareen chuckled. ‘He wants to surrender?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘There is no way he wants to surrender, not after what happened in Shimai. It has to be a trick.’
‘Maybe he wants to talk,’ Ryoji said.
The hum of speculation buzzed back and forth along the wall and down into the city. Soldiers who had previously stood statue still now shifted uneasily. This was not how approaching armies usually behaved.
‘He’s almost in range,’ Ryoji said. ‘Does he want us to take his men down?’
‘Maybe he has misjudged the distance,’ General Vareen replied.
‘Katashi Otako is the greatest archer of the age,’ I said. ‘He hasn’t misjudged the distance.’
Minister Bahain shot me a challenging look. ‘We have archers enough who could take that shot. Shoot him.’
General Vareen snorted. ‘And face his full fury when our archers miss?’
‘They won’t miss.’
‘At this distance they will miss. We ought to hear what he has to say first.’
‘There is little dignity shouting to a traitor on the field, General.’
‘Then by all means, Minister,’ came the general’s reply. ‘Go out to meet him. Take a pavilion and some tea.’
Katashi stopped and behind him the Pikes gathered. For a moment no one moved, then a quick burst of flame flared from his hands, there and gone in a breath. Our soldiers flinched back.
‘Damn theatrical bastard,’ General Vareen muttered. He cleared his throat and shouted: ‘You already have our attention. What do you want?’
A Pike stepped forward. I squinted, trying to make out face or form, but they were all varying sizes of ants from the top of the walls. Only Katashi stood out, his crimson robe glorious.
‘Before you stands the victorious army of His Imperial Majesty Emperor Katashi Otako, third of his name, the true emperor of Kisia,’ the Pike yelled up to us. ‘I, Captain Yorah, bear His Majesty’s message. Katashi Otako does not want to burn the capital of his empire. But he will.’
Katashi stood proud, unmoving while the captain relayed his message.
‘Emperor Katashi Otako does not want to kill loyal Kisians, but he will. Emperor Katashi Otako does not want to have to fight for his birth right, but if you make him do so, he will. Surrender Mei’lian. Surrender the Crimson Throne. Surrender the traitor, Kin Ts’ai and Mei’lian and all its people will go unharmed. Look to the horizon and see the fate of Shimai. Look to your emperor and see that he is lost. If you wish to save your city and your lives, then surrender. If not, take these hours to bolster your defence and tomorrow we will see whose side the gods are on. You have one day.’
A hiss ran along the walls, mingled disbelief and relief rolling off every tongue. It was all too clever a play. Our soldiers would have fought today. But getting their courage up again tomorrow was something else entirely.
‘We do not bow to threats,’ General Vareen called back. ‘And we do not bow to traitors.’
Captain Yorah leaned close to Katashi, and then returned to his proud pose. ‘Emperor Katashi is no traitor. Emperor Katashi Otako is the rightful emperor of Kisia.’
The words rang out, but before General Vareen could reply Captain Yorah leaned toward Katashi once again. Every soldier waited in silence, our whole army his captive audience.
‘Emperor Katashi Otako also demands the return of his empress and cousin, Lady Hana Otako,’ the captain shouted. ‘Send her with your surrender and your city and your families will be safe.’
Every soldier on the battlements stood a little more stiffly to attention. I could imagine every eye turning toward me.
General Vareen cleared his throat. ‘Lady Hana Otako is the empress of Emperor Kin Ts’ai and will not be given up any more than this city.’
More whispering down on the plain, then: ‘Emperor Katashi Otako is loath to have to correct you, General,’ Captain Yorah shouted. ‘But under traditional rights of ownership, Lady Hana belongs to him. Not only is the marriage between Lady Hana and Emperor Kin unconsummated, but Lady Hana has already lain with Emperor Katashi Otako and so belongs to him by law.’
My cheeks burned hotter even than Katashi’s fire.
‘Whatever your lies we will not surrender this city,’ the general shouted back.
‘Then you have until tomorrow.’
Upon the plain neither Katashi nor Captain Yorah moved again. The white flag fluttered in the wind and the Pikes shifted restlessly, but there was no sign they meant to attack.
General Vareen gave orders. Half the men to stay, half to rest, eyes on Katashi at all times and frequent messengers to run to the palace with news. Governor Ohi walked past, not even nodding in respect let alone bowing. Minister Bahain followed, the depth of his bow belied by the satirical gleam in his eyes.
Unable to bear the weight of so many eyes, I turned, head held high, and strode toward the stairs.
Katashi was playing with me.
*****
In the bright light of morning Darius was a different man, no longer the god-like image of perfection that had long lived in my memory. It had once been my girlish dream to marry him and his enormous fortune, but like so many others it was a dream long gone.
Darius sat in the middle of the floor. His robe was filthy, his face was cut and his hair was a mess, yet he wore the blood and dirt with the same elegance that had amazed me as an awkward girl. It was infuriating. As infuriating as how he kept on shifting pieces around the Errant board instead of acknowledging my presence, just as though I was seven years old again.
‘I wish I could say you were looking well, Darius,’ I said. ‘But decidedly you are not.’
‘I would reply in kind, lamb,’ he said without looking up. ‘But it would be a lie. You are glowing. War suits you.’
It was a slap in the face, gently spoken. And he kept playing, slowly moving one piece and then another in their purposeless dance across the board.
When I did not reply he looked up. ‘Is the Otako motto not: “We conquer, you bleed”?’
‘It is certainly Katashi’s, thanks to you.’
I had not moved from the door, and there he pinned me with his sharp gaze. ‘Thanks to me? I marked your cousin out of self-defence. Malice has some skill with twisting people’s emotions so they develop gifts of use to him, but I have no such talent. Katashi is Vengeance because the need to a
venge his father saturated his soul. And that, my dear, had nothing at all to do with me.’
‘Are you trying to justify your actions?’
‘No. I don’t need to justify anything to you. It would be a pointless waste of breath even if I did.’
He looked back down at his game, leaping some pieces a little awkwardly with his left hand. Despite the strength of his voice it was a hollow man who sat before me, dark rings beneath his eyes. Endymion might call it justice. Here a man who had caused so much suffering, tormented at last.
‘How is His Majesty?’ he said.
I clenched my teeth. ‘Alive.’
He did not look up again. ‘And how are you?’
‘You have no right to ask that question.’
‘Why not? I’m not the one who put a knife to your parents.’
There were so many things I wanted to say, wanted to shout, to scream, but all the words clumped in my mouth. It was too late. He had played his part for better or worse, a truth known only to the gods themselves.
‘Kin is my problem now,’ I said, kneeling the other side of the Errant board. ‘But I did not come here to discuss him with you.’
‘Then why did you come, lamb?’ he said, the mocking light in his eyes unmistakable as he went on shifting piece after piece across the board with little pause.
‘To make a deal with you.’
Click. Click. Click. He didn’t look up.
‘Darius?’
‘What sort of deal?’
No mocking now, no sneering use of my old nickname. The pieces continued their halting dance across the board.
‘Your help in return for your freedom.’
He set a piece down hard, knocking over a second. There he froze, the wooden soldier pinched between the whitening tips of his fingers. ‘I don’t want my freedom.’
‘Then what do you want?’
During the long silence that followed he kept the Errant piece caught to the board. I waited, fascinated. Even his once so captivating violet eyes were rimmed with shadows.
Without answering, he started to play again.
I grabbed the board and yanked it toward me. Pieces toppled. Darius snarled, the sound bestial, raw. ‘Leave me alone,’ he said, and made a lunge for the board.
The wooden soldiers scattered as I tucked it behind my back. ‘I came to talk to you, not to watch you play,’ I said. ‘Where did you get this damn thing, anyway?’
Darius returned to his graceful pose like he was curling himself back inside a shell. ‘Someone took pity on me,’ he said.
‘You do look pitiful.’
That smile, a shadow of its former self. ‘And to Hana goes the round.’
‘Is everything a game to you?’
‘Call it a simpler way of looking at the world. And simply put, my dear, I don’t want to play anymore. So why don’t you take your deal, and offer it to someone else.’
He held out his left hand for the board. His fingers were dirty and crusted with blood, his once manicured nails torn.
‘I am minded to take the board with me,’ I said. ‘If we fail to keep Katashi out by force I might have to play him for the throne.’
Darius withdrew his hand. ‘What do you want, Hana?’
I got to my feet, and keeping hold of the board, strode to the window. Its shutters were locked, light only allowed to enter through their fretwork holes. But it was a bright light, the sun having burned away the morning drizzle.
‘No doubt you are aware that we lost Shimai,’ I said, watching a gardener slowly make his way around the edge of an ornamental lake in the garden below. ‘Katashi has set up camp on the plain. He has given us a day to surrender the city and the throne.’
‘The Great Fish is no longer under my control. He, too, is your problem now.’
‘You are very kind, but—’ I caught a flash of crimson striding along the colonnade and craned my neck to see who was coming, but the tangle of vines had already swallowed them.
Darius had not moved. ‘But?’ he prompted. ‘You were about to stun me with your eminent wisdom.’
‘I was about to say that while you may no longer have any power over him, there must be something you know that can help. You made him. How can I defeat him?’
‘You should get out of the city as fast as you can,’ he said.
‘The Council has voted to stay and fight.’
‘Then you are going to burn.’
‘I could have you executed, Darius.’
‘Be my guest. You would save me no little pain.’
I ground my teeth. It was childish, but he never failed to rile me. ‘I don’t want to do you a favour, Darius, I want you to help me. If you don’t then Kisia is lost. Katashi will—’
‘Katashi is dying.’
I almost dropped the board. ‘What?’
‘I said that your great cousin is dying, my dear, I hope you don’t mind.’
‘Mind?’
‘You rather fancied yourself in love with him once.’
‘Before he was a monster. Rather like you, Darius. There was a time I would have been your wife.’
‘No, Hana, you would never have been my wife, because I would never have asked you. But don’t worry, I am going to the hells as fast as your cousin, so let us just say you have terrible taste in men and leave it at that.’
My cheeks burned and I looked away. ‘How are you so heartless?’
‘Heartless?’ he said, seeming to sneer at himself. ‘I used to think I was.’
The words hung awkwardly. I knew a truth he did not, but a child he knew nothing about was a poor bargaining tool.
‘Kimiko is alive,’ I said, trying to more direct approach. ‘If you help me, I’ll let you see her.’
Darius looked up at me, scowling through his lashes. ‘You can’t even begin to understand what you are saying.’
‘I am offering you a chance to see her again instead of calling for your immediate execution.’
‘The execution would be better.’
‘Then decline my offer and I will send her your head!’
I wished the words unsaid as they left my lips, but his eyes flashed and I bit down on an apology. The first rule of being an emperor was to act like one.
‘“We conquer, you bleed”,’ he said, baring his teeth. ‘You’ll make a fine empress.’
‘Is that a no? Shall I send Kimiko a message as well? Or just my congratulations?’
With care, Darius got to his feet, brushing his only hand down the skirt of his dirty robe to ensure it settled correctly, creases and all.
‘You think you play hard, little girl?’ he said. ‘You think you are the only one that suffers? I never asked to be your guardian. I never asked to be your god. I looked after you. I fought for you. I lost everything and still you see only what you made me inside that head of yours. And now you want me to make reparation?’
I flinched as he thrust out his right arm, sticking his bandaged stump into my face. ‘Everything Kin said about your family was right. And I thought my name was poison.’
The neat linen wrappings smelt faintly of liquorice root and scorched hair. I had begged him to help and he had stuck his arm into Katashi’s fire.
Darius stepped back. ‘I’ll tell you what I know,’ he said. ‘But it is not Kimiko I want.’
‘Then what do you want?’ I asked, managing to force the words out through my constricting throat.
‘You to let Malice go.’
‘Let him go?’
‘That’s what I said.’
‘And when he attacks us?’
He shook his head. ‘He won’t. I’m the only thing he wants now, but he can’t stay. He’s in danger here. Endymion too.’
‘We are all in danger.’
‘From Katashi, yes, but I’m not
talking about Katashi.’
‘Then who?’
‘Father Kokoro.’
I ought not to have laughed, but I couldn’t help myself so comical was the scene I imagined. Father Kokoro wielding a sword. The man was too old. ‘He’s a priest.’
Darius scowled at me. ‘Priest is just a word. But regardless of your opinion, my demand still stands. If you want information then you let Malice go.’
‘Fine. He is free to go. If he can manage to walk.’
His brows rose into elegant arches that made the filth on his face look so wrong.
‘Withdrawal,’ I said. ‘Right now I doubt he cares if the city burns to the ground around him.’
No reply, but he made his way toward a collection of large wooden chests against one wall. He opened one, not at random but knowing what each would contain, because this was where he had lived after he abandoned me.
How pathetic that sounded.
‘Give this to him,’ Darius said, returning with a narrow box, something like the size of a brush and ink set. He held it out. ‘Or to his toy if he cannot manage himself.’
I tucked the confiscated Errant board into my sash and took the box. ‘What is it?’
‘What he needs.’
It was heavy, formed of smooth cedar and delicately painted with hundreds of tiny blossoms and a pendulous bough of wisteria.
‘And Endymion,’ he said. ‘I know you will not let him go, but the man who looked after him is here, Brother Jian. Let him see the boy. He wants to help.’
‘Done,’ I said. ‘And Katashi?’
Darius returned to the table. ‘You need to give him what he wants.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Katashi is Vengeance, yes?’
‘Yes.’
‘And where does vengeance end? When is it sated?’
I stared at him for a long time, turning his words over in my mind as I turned the box in my hands. ‘When he wins,’ I said at last, not liking those words.
‘How fortunate that you picked up some of my intelligence along the way,’ he said. ‘Yes, when he wins. The closer he gets to his goal the faster and harder he will burn. Give him the Crimson Throne, make him believe he’s won, and the fire will die and take him with it.’