THe Grave at Storm's End

by Devin Madson

  They say the god Dokei can read a man’s true name in his heart, that he knows where we all belong.

  One day I would have to ask him.

  Chapter 33

  Emerging onto the highest landing, I left peace behind. It looked like half the court were gathered outside the throne room, a sea of glittering silk robes and jewels interspersed with clumps of servants. Captain Terran was waiting for me. ‘Lady Hana!’ he said, causing dozens of heads to turn my way. ‘They’ve breached the outer gate.’

  ‘What are we going to do?’ a lady with elaborate curls wailed.

  ‘We are all doomed! He will burn us alive!’

  Another boom shook the palace. In the weak storm-light the gathered mass huddled together, silenced by the sound of screams rising from below.

  ‘Where is General Ryoji?’ I asked.

  Captain Terran pointed in the direction of the stairs. ‘Down at the garden gate,’ he said. ‘Losing men by the dozens.’

  ‘Take me to him.’

  ‘My lady, I don’t think that is wise.’

  ‘I will not hide in a corner and wait for death,’ I said. ‘I am the only one Katashi will listen to. Take me to him or I will go without you.’

  He went ahead, pushing his way through the press of people, of scented courtiers and their maids, of ambassadors clutching papers, of lords and ladies and even children awaiting what would come with the air of martyrs. They bowed when they saw me, the effect like reeds bending in the wind. Many backed away, dared not risk touching their empress any more than they would their emperor.

  Shouts came from the third round. ‘It is the gods’ vengeance!’

  ‘They gave the empire to the Otakos. Who were we to cast them aside?’

  More shouting. The sound of a scuffle. ‘The Otakos deserved what they got!’

  ‘That happened years ago. Why now?’

  Here the crowd remained prostrate, silent, but how many of them were thinking the same?

  I halted at the top of the stairs, in view of both landings. Below some two dozen frightened men argued, shoving and snapping and snarling at one another like dogs rather than the civilised secretaries, servants, advisors and lords that their clothing proclaimed them to be.

  ‘Stop!’ I shouted, but the roar of opinion only rose as they sought someone to blame for their fear.

  ‘But the Otakos are our gods!’

  My shrill whistle made them all stop and turn, immediately prostrating themselves as the others had done. ‘I am an Otako!’ I said, removing my fingers from between my lips. ‘And I am your empress. Lord Katashi does not burn you for any vengeance save his own. The gods have smiled upon His Imperial Majesty taking the oath in their presence for sixteen years and today is not the day to doubt him.’

  The silence went unbroken.

  ‘I know you are afraid,’ I said, no longer needing to shout in the reverential hush. ‘But we are Kisians. Today we fight to whatever end the gods make for us, loyal always to the oaths we spoke in their names.’

  For anyone else they might have cheered. But I was an Otako. A god. Not a single one lifted their foreheads from the floor.

  ‘Get these people out of here,’ I said to Captain Terran, still at my side. ‘I don’t care where you put them. Find unused rooms, servants’ stairs, anywhere but here, and tell them to wait quietly and pray.’

  ‘That is a job for someone else. My orders are to protect you. I will not—’

  ‘Disobey my general,’ I finished for him. ‘You are frustratingly persistent, Captain, but I can respect your loyalty.’

  Together we went down the stairs into the noise, into the smell of smoke and singed hair and blood. It was more than the smell of death now – it was the smell of Katashi.

  The entrance floor was a large round space edged in columns and screens, in lanterns and silk-covered divans and doors that led to passages and distant rooms I had never seen. Wounded soldiers propped the walls while others were bringing furniture from those distant rooms to throw against the tall lacquered doors – tables, sideboards, great sheets of decorative fretwork, anything that would thicken the wood and make it harder to burn.

  General Ryoji was there, blood dripping down his arm. ‘Lady Hana,’ he said. ‘They blew the main gate. I’ve lost over half my men and there is no sign of General Manshin.’

  ‘Katashi won’t stop until he sits on the throne.’

  Ryoji dropped his voice to a growl. ‘Hana, we cannot just stand aside and let him take it.’

  ‘Then the only thing we can do is keep fighting until we are all dead, His Majesty included.’

  He ought not to have stared directly at me, challenge in his stance and the set of his jaw, but appearances meant nothing so close to death. ‘If we let him in, we will still all die,’ he said, ruffling ash-darkened hair. ‘His Majesty included.’

  I held his stare. I could have given him a direct order to open the doors, to surrender, to let Katashi stalk uncontested up three flights of stairs and take the throne, but how sure was I? Darius had been sure, but Darius had been wrong before.

  ‘I will speak with him.’

  ‘What?’ he said. ‘With Katashi?’

  But I was already striding toward the door. The soldiers stopped piling up furniture. ‘Let me through,’ I said.

  ‘But, my lady, we cannot open the doors.’ Respect, but no reverence, not like the courtiers on the fourth round. Soldiers had a far more pragmatic approach to gods.

  ‘Are they out there? Bang on the door with the butt of your spear and get their attention for me.’

  Bewildered, he looked to General Ryoji, who said: ‘Do it.’

  The soldier did so as I climbed into the tangle of table legs and divan cushions, hunting a place where I could put my cheek to the wood. I motioned for the soldier to bang again.

  ‘Are there Pikes swarming outside my door,’ I called.

  ‘Is this Captain Regent in a pretty robe?’ someone shouted back, his voice muffled by the door.

  ‘This is Lady Hana Otako and I want to speak to my cousin.’

  There was a growl and some hissed words, but even pressing my ear to the lacquer I could not make out their meaning. Someone laughed. Then, against my ear the wood grew warm. ‘Katashi?’

  ‘Hana.’

  Katashi had often stopped outside my tent and spoken through the canvas, the secret of my identity something he guarded closely. It had amused him to let me fight, to give me a place amongst his men, but in truth all he had wanted was to keep me close. Controlled. The moment he had lost that control I had become a threat safer destroyed.

  Now seconds passed into minutes. I was alone here in my nest of broken furniture, yet I could not form the words I needed. Beneath my hand the wood stayed warm.

  ‘Hana?’

  Was that concern?

  ‘Katashi, I—’ Words clogged my throat like so much wool. Katashi is dying, my dear, Darius had said. I hope you don’t mind. It was a rotten time to realise that I did.

  ‘Katashi, I’m—’

  Shouting started beyond the door.

  ‘What?’ Katashi’s voice grew distant and the door cooled. ‘What did you say?’

  I knocked. ‘Katashi?’

  More shouting. Then the crimson lacquer glowed with sudden heat. ‘Congratulations,’ Katashi said, his voice close again. ‘It seems you learned more from me than I thought. General Manshin? A masterstroke to be sure. Did you bed him?’

  ‘I didn’t need to stoop so low,’ I returned, trying to keep relief out of my voice. ‘He didn’t want to fight for you anymore.’

  ‘Well too bad for you that he’s out in the city and I’m in here. Did you know the people greeted me with cheers?’

  ‘The commoners are smart,’ I said. ‘They would rather pretend than die.’

  He laughed. �
�Not nearly as smart as you. You’ve put yourself in a fine place, my lady. No matter what the outcome of this battle you’ll sit on the throne as an empress. Are you still wearing that white sash?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Good. Now get away from the door.’

  The heat rose sharply and I scrambled up and out of the jumble of furniture shouting: ‘Brace the door!’

  ‘Did that go as well as you hoped?’ General Ryoji said as I rejoined him.

  ‘General Manshin has turned.’

  Ryoji’s brows went up. ‘A win. I look forward to hearing how you achieved that at a more appropriate time. If we survive that long. You should get out of here.’

  I drew my sword. ‘No, General, you need me,’ I said as smoke curled out through gaps in the barricade. ‘He won’t blow the door while I’m here. The risk of hurting me is too great.’

  ‘That gives us more time. Not a lot, but if we can hold them off long enough General Manshin might have time to get through.’ Ryoji turned, shouting to his men. ‘Get those buckets and the wet sheets on the door. Everyone else ready your arrows.’

  Water came, but slowly, a single bucket at a time carried from the kitchens below. Steam hissed as each was thrown on the heap, but like in Shimai the water barely slowed the flames.

  The burning lacquer stank.

  All too soon the door was completely aflame, the wood burning as red as its lacquer had once been. Steam and foul smoke filled the air, causing our soldiers to fall back, their buckets discarded upon the floor. And then the hammering began, as though dozens of spear butts were slamming against the outside, slow and steady at first, then picking up speed until it roared like heavy rain.

  ‘Archers, ready!’ General Ryoji shouted above the artificial storm.

  Chunks of the door burst inward.

  ‘Everyone back!’

  Soldiers scrambled back, drawing their swords. Beyond the door the Pikes were shouting now, chanting to their leader. ‘Burn them all! Burn them all!’

  The mass of furniture lit as one piece, filling the hall with blinding light. Chunks of charred wood scattered.

  The chanting stopped. The hammering died leaving nothing but the collective pant of our breath in the smoky haze.

  And in the smouldering remains of the door Katashi stood and smiled.

  Chapter 34

  My lifeless eyes stared up at me from the matting. Brown, their sockets crinkled like old paper and edged in grey lashes. My eyes? I shook my head but the fog didn’t clear. My throat was raw.

  ‘Jian!’

  Father Kokoro knelt on the matting beside me and touched my lifeless face. Me. I shook my head again. He had never shown such care when I had been alive, but now I was dead I could see his hands shaking.

  No. Not me. It was Brother Jian lying there. I knew his face and his voice, and the smell of old incense that hung about his robe – not even the stink of wet ox could drown it out completely. For all those years we had travelled around Kisia and Chiltae with no greater goal than to help the people we met and bring the gods to where they were needed. But while I could remember him as though he sat right beside me, I could also remember sitting beside myself, remember the furrow between my brows and the messy brown curls I had run my fingers through while Endymion slept.

  ‘He’s dead.’

  The words fell leaden from Father Kokoro’s lips and he turned to glare at me. From elsewhere in the room came the sound of Malice laughing. There was strength in the sound now as the opium brought him back to life.

  ‘You judged him unworthy?’ Kokoro roared.

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘I just… I just wasn’t quick enough.’

  ‘You mean you killed my brother accidentally?’

  ‘Yes. No.’

  He gripped the front of my robe. ‘Don’t you dare tell me my brother wanted to die you little shivat.’

  ‘No. Yes.’ My head was so thick and stupid. ‘I don’t think anyone ever truly wants to die,’ I said, my tongue feeling fat and slow. ‘But there are good times and right ways and this was his. For a long time Endymion was all I lived for, brother.’

  He threw me back against the wall. ‘Don’t call me brother, freak,’ he said, the wrinkles of his face making deep, harsh frown lines.

  ‘But Kokoro,’ I said. ‘I am your brother.’

  His scowl didn’t shift. Malice laughed again, harder now. ‘I don’t think your brother is dead, so much as… consumed, yes? You never disappoint, Endymion.’

  Hope stood between Avarice and the Vice Master, his eyes darting. The guard in the doorway looked– no, felt familiar. The screen door had cracked under his weight. He had been worthy.

  I blinked. ‘I can’t… can’t feel as much... The world is not so loud anymore. And the numbers… I can’t quite reach them.’

  Kokoro’s hate was familiar. I’d seen that expression the day he crept up on the kitchen cat, a smirking boy stalking through the grass toward the animal that had stolen his last rice ball. My attempt to protect it had left a scar. Endymion had once asked how I got it, and I’d prayed forgiveness for the lie.

  ‘Kill the others,’ Kokoro said. ‘This one is mine.’

  The guard didn’t need a second order. He strode into the room of unarmed freaks with nowhere to run. Confident. Too confident. Malice might only have just picked himself up off the floor, but he was still dangerous. Memories flashed before my eyes. Not so long ago I had stood beside another door and watched soldiers stride in. My poor Endymion had tried to fight but there had been nothing I could do.

  The guard went straight for Hope. Avarice shouted. A shadow flickered in the doorway and, hovering there with her curls loose and wild, Kimiko swore. She hesitated while every occupant of the room stopped to stare at her.

  ‘You,’ Malice said. ‘I’ve been hoping I might see you again, yes? You’ve got something I would like to take away from you.’ He gestured to his own stomach, his lips leering cruelly.

  ‘I was hoping never to see you again,’ she said. ‘But Darius wants you dead, and what Darius wants, I will give him.’

  ‘Liar!’ Malice took a step toward her, but the guard blocked his way.

  ‘Liar?’ Kimiko advanced into the room. ‘He hates you. Why do you think you’ve never been able to keep him? Grab him,’ she said to the guard. ‘Hold him while I gut him like the animal he is.’

  Whether recognising the voice of authority or the face of an Otako, the guard went for Malice.

  ‘Hope!’ It was an order through gritted teeth and the young Vice did not hesitate. Could not. Before the guard could stop him, Hope had yanked the man’s own dagger from his belt and stuck it into his side.

  Pain filled my body, enough pain to kill. Kokoro kept his dagger levelled at me, but Kimiko’s arrival had caught his attention. Time and time again he offered me the opportunity to touch his hand, his face, his neck, but I could not find the power to judge. In his own way, Jian had chained me.

  He hurt you too.

  I know, but that doesn’t change anything.

  In the middle of the room, Kimiko spread her arms wide like a player upon a stage. Even Avarice watched soundlessly from the shadows, waiting, watching lest Kimiko fail at the job he wanted to see done.

  ‘Want to fight me, Malice?’ Kimiko said. ‘Winner gets Darius? Oh no wait, he doesn’t want you.’

  Malice snarled. ‘I will make sure you die as you lived, on your back and begging for it, yes?’ He advanced as though in acceptance of her challenge, the expression on his haggard face like nothing I had ever seen. ‘You will keep your filthy hands off him.’

  ‘Says the man covered in his own puke.’

  ‘Poor work,’ Malice said. He held out his hand toward Hope. The boy had armed himself with the dead guard’s sword. ‘Hope. Kill her.’

  The boy’s chin jutted. ‘No.’


  Kokoro started laughing.

  ‘What did you say?’ Malice demanded.

  ‘I said “no”.’

  Hope stood trembling between them, over the body of the dead guard bleeding out at his feet. ‘Do it yourself.’ The disobedience hurt more than the dagger in the guard’s side, but still he did not move.

  The building shook. Shouts echoed beyond the doorway.

  ‘That is the sound of us running out of time, my lady,’ Kokoro said. ‘You had better finish him off before your brother sets us all alight.’

  Numbers would once have sprung to my tongue but now my mind was silent.

  Are you really in here, Jian?

  There was no answer. His body lay lifeless at my feet, its eyes staring. I knelt, touched his face and his hair, and closed his wide dark eyes. The only person who had ever truly cared for me was dead by my hand.

  A hot tingle shot through my shoulder, its blooming pain sharp and paralysing. I gulped air. A hilt protruded from my shoulder, a hilt connected to a hand, connected to the white sleeve of a priest’s robe that ran all the way to an old face, its many lines seeming to smile. ‘Please don’t do this, brother,’ I said. ‘Endymion is no threat to you anymore.’

  ‘He is a threat to everything and everyone in this empire.’

  ‘Kokoro—’

  ‘No, don’t even think about trying to talk me around, Jian,’ Kokoro said, spittle flying. ‘I should have done this years ago. My mercy has only made things worse. Your boy dies now.’

  He yanked the blade out.

  Chapter 35

  Muffled shouts. A grunt. A cry. I slid the door as Kokoro yanked a knife from someone’s shoulder – a shoulder clad in midnight blue silk. Messy brown hair was thrown back and it was Endymion who howled.

  Kimiko. Malice. Hope. Iwa. They were all there, but it was Endymion’s head that was pulled back to expose the jagged line of his throat.