by Devin Madson
A fierce slap sent me sideways, my Traitor’s Mark stinging. It wasn’t Jian before me anymore, but Father Kokoro’s scowl.
I should never have left him to Laroth. He might have been ruthless in everything else, but weak when faced with the truth. Just like his father.
‘You’re wrong,’ I said, a trembling hand caught to my still stinging cheek. ‘Darius is not weak.’
The slap came back the other way, hitting the opposite cheek. ‘Your precious brother is as much a freak as you are,’ Kokoro said. ‘And he will fail and die like his father.’
‘Come over here and say that to me,’ came Avarice’s voice from outside my frame of vision.
‘Kokoro,’ Jian warned, and the court priest straightened, uncurling his fingers from fists.
‘My apologies, Endymion, that was uncalled for,’ the man said, his features slipping back into a waxen, empty smile. ‘It is hard to remain calm when there is an army at the gates and we are running out of time.’ This is not over yet. He stepped back, ushering Jian into the foreground. ‘He’s all yours, brother. Lady Hana wants him functional, and perhaps if he can help save two hundred and forty-one lives he might manage to balance the scales.’
Who’s the whore going to bed to get us out of this mess, I wonder? Manshin would sell every shred of honour he has left for a chance at her, give him—
‘–Would sell every shred of honour he has left for a chance at her, give him a feisty little whore and he’ll nail her down hard. Damn little kasu! Get out of my head or I’ll make sure you lose yours.’
Kokoro did not move and did not speak, just glared at me from beyond arm’s reach.
‘I think you should leave, Kokoro,’ Jian said quietly. ‘Unless you want your “feisty little whore” to be disappointed in you.’
He grunted. ‘You take my words out of context. She is not my feisty little whore.’
‘Perhaps not, but Lady Hana has charged me with—’
‘Be careful, brother,’ Kokoro growled. ‘Much more of this and I will make sure you end up back in that cell.’
‘Out. Do not make me call Lady Hana back to kick you out herself.’
Father Kokoro did not say farewell or wish Jian luck, just went out in a cloud of fury. The door slid closed on hushed feet behind him.
‘He serves the gods in his own way,’ Jian said after Kokoro had gone. ‘Emperor Lan appointed him, but never let him do more than officiate at court functions. Emperor Kin was kind enough to keep him and give him more scope. But he didn’t like your father and he doesn’t like your brother. I’d hoped he would see that you aren’t like them, but I was wrong.’
How could I have been so naïve? All those years trying to stave off the Maturation and now this.
Amid the sea of thoughts that broke around me, his words stood out. ‘Maturation?’ I said. ‘You know about Maturation?’
‘I didn’t say that out loud.’
‘You don’t have to. I can hear everything. “As if the late lord wasn’t enough, the master had to fall in with a leech who would suck him dry if given half a chance”. I think that’s Avarice,’ I said. ‘And the guard outside the door is thinking about the maid who just walked past. There is one man in the next room, six on the landing. Two. Sixty-four. Two hundred and nine thousand, six hundred and fifty-five souls in the city. One million, three hundred and ten thousand and fifteen in Kisia. One million, three hundred and ten thousand and nine. Eight. Five. One. Two. One million—’
‘Stop, please!’
‘“I bet the general wouldn’t even notice if I wasn’t here for five minutes. I could be dead by tomorrow. Like the man who’s rutting the empress can complain about me taking a maid”.’
‘Endymion.’
‘“They can’t all be dead. You can’t burn a whole battalion. I wonder if it hurts. I’ve heard men scream when tied to the stake”.’
‘One million, three hundred and nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety-eight. One million, three hundred and nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety-eight. One million, three hundred and nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety-seven. One million, three hundred and nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety-eight. One million–’
‘Stop!’
Brother Jian’s shout filled the room, and when the word was done he stood before me breathing fast, tears streaking his cheeks. ‘Dear gods, Endymion, please don’t do this.’
He had a box in his hands.
‘That belongs to Master Darius,’ Avarice said. ‘His stash.’
Jian turned his attention on the old Vice. Is he one of them? I can’t do it. Maybe he can. Maybe he can. ‘Do you know how it works?’
‘Yes. You’ll have to untie me.’
Can I trust him? I don’t want to do this. Please Endymion, just listen to me, you need to calm down. Focus on everything I taught you.
‘You taught me that I was fragile,’ I said. ‘But you’re the fragile ones. You’re just numbers. I’m a god. One million, three hundred and nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety-five. One million, three hundred and nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety—’
Jian dropped the box at Avarice’s feet. It cracked upon the stones and an opium pipe rolled free of its blue silk cage. Lamp. Spare bowls. Another box.
‘Help me.’
For a price. Avarice nodded. ‘Only if I can keep what’s left.’
‘It is not mine to give away.’
‘Neither is it Lady Hana’s.’
Their words were like flashes of light through the mire of numbers. One. Sixteen. Four. One million, three hundred and nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety-two.
‘Do it,’ Jian said. ‘I need my boy back.’
Chapter 27
It was dark inside the palanquin, only shreds of light creeping in from the street, from lanterns and torches and the windows of passing buildings. It fell upon Endymion’s side, illuminating the Traitor’s Mark on his cheek. I stared at it, at the raised ridges and the red skin, some edges puckered, others stretched. It might be healing, might eventually fade to a flat pale scar, but there had been so little skill, so little care expended in its creation, that it would always be ugly.
He hadn’t spoken since joining me, had barely moved. Brother Jian had done his job well. The boy was dressed in layers of crisp silk and a pair of fresh sandals, his hair brushed and pinned and his face cleaner than I had ever seen it. Even the smell of the opium had been all but washed away, discernable only to the nose that knew it was there. He looked like the prince he ought to have been. Like the prince I needed him to be.
The carriers slowed to a stop, and one of Ryoji’s guards drew back the side curtain. Rain dripped down his face. It drenched the black headscarf he wore as a member of a yijis entourage, sticking it to his forehead. ‘We’re here, my lady,’ he said. ‘There’s no sign of anyone.’
The man touched the hilt of a knife concealed in his tunic. It was not discreet, but it was not unusual for a yiji’s companions to be armed with more than just a modest dagger.
‘No one at all?’ I said. ‘Lady Kimiko?’
‘I’m here.’
She stepped through the door, the latch appearing from her gut. The soldier stared.
‘Good,’ I said, and stepped out of palanquin. Tili was immediately at my side, putting back a hood wet with rain. Her skilled hands worked quickly to straighten my voluminous yiji robe, black from its tight collar to its wide shapeless hem. With broad bell-shaped sleeves it was as hideous as it was distinctive, the whole thing little more than a black silk tent, easily able to hide a sword. Common whores might need to show off their wares to get business, but a yiji showed hers to no one who could not pay. It was an exclusive business, entertaining Mei’lian’s nobility.
Tili did not speak while she worked. I had warned her we could be walking into a trap, but yijis always travelled with an en
tourage, with a maid, a guard, and an assistant to broker each contract and deal with the money. Only a cheap whore dealt with such things herself.
‘Wait here,’ I said to Endymion once Tili had finished. ‘If you hear nothing within ten minutes the carriers will take you back to the palace. If the captain returns then I’m ready for you.’
He nodded, but whether he understood I could not tell.
‘Don’t trust me, cousin?’ Kimiko’s smile was broad and amused, her eyes sparkling in the torchlight. ‘I wonder why not.’
‘Because trust is for commoners.’
Rain fell on my hood as I strode between the mounting block and the door. Next to the house the wall of Mei’lian rose imposing. ‘It belongs to the sister of one of Manshin’s most trusted officers,’ Kimiko said. ‘Apparently she married a physician, so they live on the edge of what Manshin called “society”.’
She held out her hand. ‘Shall we?’
‘I think I would rather ring if it’s all the same to you.’ I gestured to Tili to pull the bell. She did so, gripping the elaborate chain to send a pair of bells jingling on the other side of the door.
Footsteps. I pulled myself up to my full height and let out a slow breath, my heart seeming to race in time with the rain dancing at my feet. The door opened. A lantern was lifted into my eyes, and there in the light was a familiar face. I had last seen it drenched and pale, lying on the riverbank at Shimai.
‘You!’ I said.
Captain Terran was taken aback. ‘Me?’
I put back my hood, heedless of the rain, and his jaw went slack. ‘Lady Hana!’ A hurried bow and a hiss proved his injury had not entirely healed. But the bow was a good sign.
‘The general—a?’
Captain Terran pressed a finger to his lips. ‘Come inside.’
I stepped past him, Tili and Captain Dendzi right behind me. The house was dark but for a pair of night lanterns, their thick fretwork covers cutting the light into intricate shapes. They flickered on my sleeve as I strode the length of the passage to a reception room at the end, its closed screens lit gold from inside.
Once again, Tili bustled around me, this time untying the strings of the yiji robe with quick practiced tugs. I had spent hours preparing for this moment, standing still while Tili and two other maids constructed the imperial face around me – full armour, longsword, my white wedding sash, and Kin’s Imperial Sash, tied in a complex nest of luck twists worn only by the emperor himself.
The black silk yiji robe fell away. Tili straightened the pin in my hair and the fall of my sash, before pronouncing me ready with a nod. She slid the doors and stepped aside, leaving me to stand upon the threshold, head raised, channelling every shred of Otako arrogance I could muster.
A little chuckle was the first response. General Manshin sat alone at a low table, one elbow resting on the wood and his eyes alive with amusement.
I lifted my chin. Calm was the only response worthy of an empress. His smile did not fade, but he got to his feet with all the awkwardness of a portly man getting on in years.
‘Lady Hana,’ he said. ‘I am honoured, but I fear we have not been formally introduced.’
‘General Manshin,’ I said. ‘We met at Koi some months ago, but by all means let us forgo the formality of another introduction. Last time I bowed and you stared at my breasts.’
His eyebrows shot up and again he chuckled. ‘Then let us call them very nice breasts.’ He indicated the place opposite him at the table. ‘I hope they will consent to join me for refreshment.’
I ignored his attempt to put me out of countenance. ‘If you will remain standing for a moment longer, General,’ I said. ‘I have someone I would like to formally introduce to you.’ I nodded to Captain Dendzi and he went back along the passage.
‘I am all curiosity, my lady.’
Back along the passage, Captain Terran held open the street door. Rain darted in, golden needles in the lantern light. Then Endymion came, a hollow shell of a man dressed in the finest silk.
‘You might already have met him with another name,’ I said, as Endymion came slowly along the passage. ‘But allow me to introduce my brother, Lord Takehiko Otako.’
I entered the room so Endymion could follow, but he too stopped in the doorway. This time General Manshin did not laugh, not at this boy with his crimson sash standing out like a bloody gash, with his Traitor’s Mark and his midnight blue robe shining with dozens of tiny silver stars. It was impossible to hide how ill he looked, how emaciated, but he neither blinked nor turned his gaze under the general’s sudden scrutiny.
‘Takehiko Otako?’ General Manshin said. ‘That is not possible.’
‘It is possible because when faced with two young children, the man who assassinated my mother, my father and the rest of my brothers found he had a conscience after all,’ I said.
Tili had taken her place kneeling inside the door and I felt her there as keenly as if she had been staring at the back of my head. All this time she had known.
‘You’ll excuse my confusion, my lady, I’m sure,’ the general said. ‘But I have seen this young man before. He is the illegitimate son of Nyraek Laroth.’
‘Yes,’ I agreed. ‘He is. But whatever his blood, my father acknowledged him as an Otako and as his true born heir. To argue that is treason.’
No longer amused, General Manshin once again indicated the place opposite him at the table. ‘I am already called the traitor general, I believe. Treason is my forte.’
I knelt, Endymion beside me, silent and staring. General Manshin nodded to the serving girl. ‘I think tea would be a good place to start,’ he said. ‘And while I drink, you can tell me what it is that you want, my lady.’
The girl poured tea and Manshin’s eyes swung to appreciate the curve of her hips and the fullness of her breasts. There was nothing the girl could do but keeping serving, feigning innocence though her cheeks burned.
‘I don’t think Kisia would take to an emperor with the Traitor’s Mark branded on his cheek,’ he said abruptly, not shifting his gaze from the girl.
‘They won’t be called upon to do so,’ Endymion said. It was the first time he had spoken since arriving and I was glad he didn’t slur. ‘There is only one man who can rule Kisia, and he is already on the throne.’
‘Which throne?’
‘The only one that matters.’
This was not the conversation I had planned. It had been a risk to bring him, but Endymion had something I did not, something that made him more worthy of being listened to. A cock.
‘So you are a supporter of Emperor Kin, Lord Takehiko,’ the general said. ‘I can understand your sister taking such a stance when Emperor Katashi failed to give her what she wanted, but you I do not understand. You’re a bastard-born freak with more power in your signature than any man alive, why not take it?’
‘Because I don’t want power. I want freedom. Hope.’
General Manshin chuckled, finally turning his eyes from the poor girl. ‘He’s a pretty boy, Lady Hana, a pretty stunt, but I am not so easily impressed. I did not join your cousin for ideology.’
‘Neither did you join him to watch Kisia burn to the ground.’
The general reached for his tea. ‘No,’ he said. ‘But in that regard I appear to have picked the winning team.’
My tea remained untouched. ‘And when he dies?’ I asked. ‘What then? Who will he leave the throne to then?’
‘His son, one might assume, once he marries and produces heirs.’
‘If his chosen bride survives beyond the sevenday. And he had better find one quickly. He’s already dying.’
It was a hit. General Manshin froze, his features caught in a half smile.
‘He didn’t tell you?’ I said. ‘How careless of him. I suppose he feared you might abandon him if you knew you were fighting for nothing.’
‘Lord Laroth. And since he made him what he is, I rather think he should know.’
Silence fell over us like a cloak. General Manshin’s fingers tightened about his tea bowl. They were long fingers with neatly kept nails and if he’d ever owned battle calluses they had long since succumbed to the prevailing aristocratic fashion for washing in wine and goats milk. But he would have to fight if Katashi died – if Kin died. Without heirs there was no strong candidate for the throne and the generals would scrap amongst themselves for power and tear the empire apart.
‘I do not come here to ask you to fight for Emperor Kin, General,’ I said after sufficient time had passed. ‘I come to ask you to fight for me.’
‘For you?’
The room was hot and still and I was sweating. Again I let a beat of silence pass before I answered. ‘I am the legitimate daughter of Emperor Lan Otako. I am to be the empress of Emperor Kin Ts’ai. And perhaps most importantly I am the cousin of Emperor Katashi Otako, and the mother of the only child he will ever have.’
General Manshin put his bowl back on the table with a snap. ‘Child?’ he said.
‘Yes, General. You’ve heard the whispers. Do you doubt them?’
As though invited he ran his gaze down my body, halted only by the presence of the table between us. ‘No,’ he said, eyes lingering. ‘No, but I can’t see it. One does not change allegiance on an assurance.’
‘Lord Takehiko is an Empath, ask him if you don’t believe me.’
This brought his gaze from my body. ‘More sorcery. Even if I accept that there are many things I do not understand, he is your brother. He is on your side. He would lie to me.’
‘I don’t lie.’
The words were quiet, but as hard as stone.
‘No?’ General Manshin leaned his elbows on the table. ‘Tell me then, my lord, where have you been these past sixteen years?’
‘Lord Nyraek Laroth placed me with a priest called Brother Jian and we travelled. When I came of age he wanted me to take the oath and renounce my family, but I wanted to know who they were first. He took me to Father Kokoro, his brother, hoping I might meet Lord Darius Laroth. Father Kokoro refused. I was imprisoned. I was branded–’ he pointed to the ugly branding on his cheek ‘–and sent into exile. The Vices came for me. I helped Katashi take Koi. Then Katashi sent me to Kin as a test of his honour. Now I am here.’