A Crown for Cold Silver

by Alex Marshall

  After his initial cringing at her volume, Fennec finally faced her, smiling sheepishly. “If I’d known you were still around, Cobalt, I would have played it differently. Much differently. I’m glad you’re alive.”

  “Hey now, don’t fall apart on me,” said Zosia, clapping the man in a tight hug. He’d put on some pounds, his sharply dashing features smoothed out by the years, but otherwise he’d aged a sight better than Hoartrap, Kang-ho, or even Singh. Or herself, for that matter. Slapping his back a bit harder than he probably liked, she released him. “Now beat it, me and Ji-hyeon here have lots to talk about, I don’t doubt.”

  “Ji-hyeon, if I could stay, too, and—” Keun-ju began, but Ji-hyeon stiffly rose from her bow and laid what looked like a neck-breaking kiss on the Virtue Guard. Fennec coughed softly and, patting Zosia’s shoulder, exited as well. Breaking off from her lover, Ji-hyeon pushed his chest with two fingers.

  “Don’t think you get to dance back in here without an explanation,” she said, her voice betraying only the slightest quaver. “I’d start working on a damn good lie, if I were you. Now scat.”

  Keun-ju offered Zosia a weak smile as he left, the boy practically floating out of the tent. She was finally alone with the princess. Might as well start things off on the right boot.

  “Looks like you’ve got a tidy setup here, Ji-hyeon. You can dress a pig in armor and lead him to the front, but that doesn’t mean he’ll be anything but bacon when the war starts.”

  “Auntie,” said the girl, all trace of humility gone now that they were alone. “I must have misheard you. It sounded like you just called me a sow.”

  Zosia shrugged. “You’re winning battles, it sounds like. Picking up plenty of volunteers, as well as the mercenaries you’ve bought from sacking all those Imperial cities. So you tell me, girl—is this, ahem, Cobalt Company of yours doing so well on account of its brilliant general, or are a bunch of dusty old men whispering in a piglet’s floppy ear?”

  “Now that’s just not very friendly,” sniffed the girl, turning her back on Zosia and squatting down in front of the tent’s low table. She was mucking about with a mortar and pestle, as though she were some witch preparing a philter… but then Zosia heard the kaldi beans crunch and smelled their soft bouquet, and a powerful thirst tickled her throat. It had been way too damn long since she’d had a decent cup of kaldi, the Raniputri preferring a hundred different teas. Without looking up from her preparation, Ji-hyeon said, “Grab a cushion, Auntie, I’ve got just the thing to sweeten that tart tongue of yours.”

  “Much obliged,” said Zosia, but just as she was about to plant herself on the biggest, least saddlelike pillow in the tent, she saw something that stopped her short. Choplicker was sitting perfectly still on his butt, his front legs straight, his eyes fixed on the small owlbat that perched on the tip of his snout, staring back at him. “Is that… that’s Fellwing, isn’t it?”

  “Oh yes, you know her, don’t you?” said Ji-hyeon, looking up as she dumped the grounds into a silver press. There were already three dirty ones on the table. This girl put away some kaldi, to be sure. “He is… Mouthlicker?”

  “Close enough,” said Zosia, sitting. Watching devils commune was as creepy as camping in front of a Gate. “Your bad dad gave him to you, huh? Wasn’t expecting that.”

  “No?” said Ji-hyeon, filling a kettle from a small cask and resting it atop the brass stove that was heating the tent. “I wonder what you were expecting, Auntie. Other than a pig in armor, of course.”

  “Look, let’s just level here,” said Zosia, all the months catching up to her now that she was sitting in a tent with Princess Ji-hyeon Bong. She’d logged over a thousand miles, and racked up quite a few more dead bodies, all to end up in a disturbingly familiar rebel camp a few hundred leagues south of Kypck. A whole year of bouncing around the Star, and she was right back where she’d started. “I don’t give a shit what either of your fathers want. I don’t give half a shit what you want. But I think that right here, right now, we can both help each other out. And to do that we have to be more honest than we’d ever be with Hoartrap, Fennec, or any of the others. Yeah?”

  “Maybe,” said Ji-hyeon, smiling for the first time as she settled in across from Zosia. “I guess that remains to be determined, doesn’t it? You see, Blue Zosia, I know everything there is to know about you, but you don’t know the first thing about me. So how can you so be so sure you have anything to offer me, or my army?”

  “I know enough, Princess,” said Zosia, and as much to wipe the simper off the brat’s face as anything else she launched right into it. One advantage of months upon months of stormy seas and windy mountains was you had plenty of time to think. “Your daddy Kang-ho’s been a part of this scheme since the beginning, not that the fucker told me so. He gave me the same sob story he gave your other dad, about your being carried off by big, bad Fennec. I don’t think Jun-hwan buys it any more than I did, for what it’s worth.”

  “Oh,” said Ji-hyeon. Then, not surprisingly, given her age, she asked, “Is he all right? My first father? And sisters? Nobody’s too upset, are they? They don’t have any right to be, shabbily as they treated me… Hey, don’t light that up in here. I don’t want my tent stinking like tubāq.”

  “Eh?” Zosia glanced down at the pipe she’d pulled out without even thinking about it. “Really?”

  “Really,” said Ji-hyeon.

  “You sure you’re Kang-ho’s kid?” asked Zosia, but she put the piece away. Ji-hyeon rose and picked a camel hair blanket up off the floor, wrapping it around her shoulders as the kettle began its keening. Once the kaldi was steeping, she settled back down, legs and arms crossed as she watched Zosia. Her air was of a difficult child demanding a proper bedtime story.

  “You got anything to put in the kaldi?” asked Zosia.

  “I can send for some ghee, or—”

  “No, no, soju or potato wine or something?”

  “Ah, sure,” said Ji-hyeon, waving at a jug on the table. Ryefire, thank the devils who love us. It was almost empty, but better than nothing. “You were telling me about my family?”

  “Oh yeah. They’re full of shit, all of them, but you probably know that. Kang-ho helped you and Fennec run off, along with, um, what’s her name, the weirdborn?”

  “Choi prefers the term wildborn,” said Ji-hyeon, not arguing the point about her dad.

  “Right, Choi’s your Martial Guard. Where is she, anyway? I heard she never left your side.”

  “She’s with another of your Villains, Maroto. They’re on a reconnaissance mission, but should be back soon. Should’ve been back already, in fact.”

  “Maroto!” Improbably, Zosia found herself delighted to hear that he was slinking around somewhere, working for Ji-hyeon. From the way Kang-ho and Singh had talked about him, she’d assumed he had stung himself to death, or was close enough to it as made no difference. Good for him, getting honest work again! “But I was saying—Keun-ju was supposed to come with you, Fennec, and Choi, all the princess’s guards defecting along with their mistress. But even though Keun-ju didn’t know your dad was helping facilitate the escape, your dad definitely knew you were banging the Virtue Guard.”

  “I say!” said Ji-hyeon, her cheeks turning as red as Samothan wine.

  “Sure you do. So, Fennec helped Kang-ho pull the rug out from under Keun-ju at the last moment, stopped him from splitting with you. Then he went one further and tried to have your lover executed.” Zosia watched Ji-hyeon carefully as she tried this gambit. It wouldn’t hold up once Keun-ju and Ji-hyeon had a proper sit-down and he gave her his account, but right here and now Zosia needed to slide as big a wedge as possible between the princess and her second father. To cover her tail for later she shrugged, and amended herself: “Or exiled or something. The point is, your dad did him dirty—must not have approved of his little girl shacking up with a slave.”

  “He’s not a slave,” said Ji-hyeon with all the sickeningly sweet naïveté of the young and spoi
led.

  “Sure, sure. Anyway, your other dad must’ve believed that Keun-ju was innocent, or maybe just more valuable kept alive and close at hand. Since Jun-hwan obviously wears the hat on Hwabun, your boy toy stayed on in the house, twiddling his thumbs till I came along. Like I said, Kang-ho tried to play dumb with me, but Jun-hwan’s more devious than his husband gives him credit. So your first father sent me off to bring you back, with Keun-ju along for the ride. Of course your second dad tried to have us bumped off along the way, but I don’t bump so easy. That’s me, following you, up to this magical evening.”

  Ji-hyeon poured the kaldi, clearly considering some new kernel of information Zosia had dropped. Good. You have to feed a chicken if you expect to take her eggs. Huffing her bowl, Zosia said, “On your word as a noble girl and a fellow warrior, there’s no harpy juice in here, is there?”

  “Like father like daughter? No,” said Ji-hyeon, “I hate that stuff, wouldn’t wish it on an enemy. My second father gave me this seaweed you can take to keep you from getting the full effect of that shit. Let’s you keep your secrets, but even still it’s always a rough ride.”

  “I’ve had worse,” said Zosia, taking a sip of the delightful black draught. “This is nice. Earth Ripper?”

  “Only the best Usban beans go into my press,” Ji-hyeon said in the snobby tone you only ever hear when someone’s talking about kaldi, art, or tubāq. She rolled her eyes when Zosia smirked at this, and put her bowl back on the table. “So let’s see, now that you’ve sung your verses you’d like me to tell you my side of this, yes? Answer all your questions?”

  “Oh, don’t trouble yourself,” said Zosia, enjoying the girl’s obvious annoyance. “I put most of it together on the boat, and the rest I added up riding over here from the Dominions. You’re a pretty easy case, Princess, not much to you at all.”

  “And this is the part in the ballad when I spill my guts, right?” asked Ji-hyeon. “You’ve cunningly baited me into telling you everything, Auntie Zosia, let me sing, sing, sing!”

  “You think I’m bluffing?” Damn but this kaldi was good.

  “Yup,” said Ji-hyeon.

  “Fine, Princess,” said Zosia, settling in. She’d been bullshitting a little, sure, since most of the pieces hadn’t actually slid into place until she’d entered this tent, but a few details notwithstanding, she had enough to impress the impostor. She hoped. “Let’s start with your second dad’s angle in all this. I came to Hwabun looking to get his help resolving some personal affairs of mine. Without boring you with the details, my business involves Queen Indsorith of Samoth; specifically, her ass on a platter. So when I got down to the Dominions and Singh told me good old Kang-ho wanted me dead before I could find you, it threw me. I mean, if you’re trying to take on the whole Crimson Empire, and he’s backing you up on that play, why not enlist me to help you out, the way he did with Fennec and the rest?”

  A pleased smile from the girl told Zosia she’d fudged something here, and she thought she could imagine what.

  “Or maybe Hoartrap and Maroto just showed up unannounced and have stuck around for their own reasons.” From the sinking of the brat’s smile, Zosia had nailed it. “Doesn’t matter. Point is, your first father wants you back because he set you up with some local royalty, and your other dad helped you run away because he’s got larger ambitions… but not so large as taking on the whole Crimson Empire, even if they are softened up from infighting.”

  There we go—General Ji-hyeon definitely pouted like a princess, but she was still trying to play it cool, sipping on her kaldi.

  “Now, obviously the whole Star’s abuzz about how I’ve returned from the dead and my Cobalt Company is bigger and badder than ever, sticking it to the Empire with both spurs. Fennec and your dad probably convinced you to go that route to lend you an instant reputation, though I appreciate you not using my name anymore—your people calling you General Ji-hyeon is more than I expected. I guess a blue-haired badass leading an army stocked up with my Villains turned out to be enough, eh?”

  “If I’d known you were alive I wouldn’t…” The girl seemed embarrassed. “I mean, I’ve always loved your songs. But I never would have done more than the hair, if not for… And I never used your name, not once, much as Fennec insisted. And the hair, helm, and armor were only because I thought it looked damn fleet, really.”

  “Armor?” Zosia glanced down at her dusty hauberk and kneepads. “I’ve worn a lot of different kits in my day, so what… Oh hells, don’t tell me you wear that!”

  Zosia had followed Ji-hyeon’s eyes and landed on the chainmail brassiere and panties that were laid out on another table. The pieces were so small she’d overlooked them before, assuming they were scrap metal or maybe some new style of steel doilies. Looking back at the girl, she shook her head in amazement.

  “I didn’t think it possible, but I actually feel bad for you, half pint,” she said. “Fennec talked you into using that? In battle?”

  “Obviously it doesn’t provide as much protection as some gear,” Ji-hyeon said defensively, ignoring Zosia’s snort. “But the mobility it allows for—”

  Zosia snorted louder. “Wearing that you’d be dead in five minutes, you didn’t have your daddy’s devil watching out for you.”

  “But I do,” said Ji-hyeon. “Fellwing’s better than a suit of steel plate, and not being weighed down I fight faster and fiercer than any chevaleresse.”

  “Devils can’t be everywhere at once,” said Zosia. “You think me, your dad, and every other asshole with a devil got the scars we wear before binding those fiends? As soon as you go up against someone else with a devil you’re naked as a babe, or maybe that owlbat just gets distracted by a tasty morsel and you catch an arrow to the gut. You don’t listen to anything else I say, save that shit for your private meetings with Keun-ju or that Flintlander kid and invest in something sensible for the field.”

  “Why, Auntie, do I sense some jealousy that you can’t pull off that ensemble anymore?” Ji-hyeon sneered.

  “Oh, I bet I could, if I felt like snagging my pubes in chainmail on a regular basis,” said Zosia, pouring herself some more kaldi.

  “Did you have something to say on matters other than my wardrobe, or are we done here?”

  “Hmph,” said Zosia. “Yes, actually. Most of your army thinks you’re after the Crimson Empire, and with good reason, the way you’ve been carrying on. But if that were true, Kang-ho would’ve tried to get me on board before double-crossing me—after all, I want revenge against the Empire, so why not see if I’ll help his brat take the throne? That’s the smart play, and the safer one, and Kang-ho likes smart and safe more than he likes Azmir tubāq in a templewarden.”

  Ji-hyeon was smiling again, but Zosia couldn’t tell if the girl was impressed or contemptuous.

  “So it’s obvious you’re not really doing what everyone thinks you are. What, then, are you up to?”

  “You tell me.”

  “Sure. Linkensterne,” said Zosia, savoring the girl’s petulant expression even more than the kaldi. She waited, and sure enough Ji-hyeon cracked.

  “Who told you? Fennec?” It was kind of cute, watching the girl try to figure it out. “No… Dad and Fennec tried to bring Singh in on it, but she decided to put her lance with you instead, yes? She told you everything?”

  “Nope. A chevaleresse’s honor is such she never gave me more than a few hints, even if she knew everything. Don’t know, and don’t care. Figured it all out myself, as I said. See, when I came up to Hwabun I passed through Linkensterne, and my escort told me how pissed off the merchants are that it’s been incorporated into the Isles. Back when the Crimson Empire held it, if you could even call it that, it was a smuggler’s paradise, Lawless Linkensterne. Now, not so much, not so much at all. Even if I couldn’t guess Kang-ho was running all sorts of shady business through there prior to the handover, some of your family’s sailors told me exactly that in plain terms. Ever since, Kang-ho’s had a bad time of it—must be
a shame to wake up a househusband, when you’ve grown accustomed to a certain lifestyle.”

  “Not bad,” admitted Ji-hyeon.

  “Not bad!” Zosia cocked her kaldi bowl at the princess. “Brilliant is I think the term you’re looking for. The only thing I can’t figure out is how you used the Immaculate Gate to whisk yourselves down to the Dominions. I figured your old man set his devil free for the ability, but seeing as Fellwing’s still around, that can’t be it. Fennec’s devil?”

  “He’s not had a devil as long as I’ve known him,” said Ji-hyeon. “But you’re half right. Fennec’s the one who knows how to use the Gates. I couldn’t do it on my own, and won’t do it again at all, if I can help it.”

  “See, you’re a smarter girl than I gave you credit for,” said Zosia, the idea of walking into a Gate still giving her the shivers. “Far as your plot goes, I’ve got to admit: whip up the populace, put the fear into Samoth, and then offer a truce—look the other way when we take Linkensterne back from the Immaculates, and bam! A free city for the princess to rule, business is back on for your dad, and better than ever since he engineered the reclamation of Linkensterne. All his merchant buddies will be awfully indebted to the family that gave them their city back.”

  “Close,” said Ji-hyeon. “Close enough, anyway. The plan isn’t just to get the Imperials to step back, it’s to enlist them. Losing Linkensterne’s got to be a sore spot for the queen, and in exchange for restoring free trade to the Crimson Empire she’ll be all too happy to lend us a few regiments. That wall they’re building is still incomplete on the eastern coast, so we’ll ride up and around and capture it from behind. Once we have the wall, we’ll complete the construction ourselves, including a northern loop to shield Linkensterne from the Isles. Easy as that, we have a solid wall, and Linkensterne’s insulated from both the Immaculates and the Empire.”

  “You call erecting leagues and leagues of substantial defenses before the full weight of the Immaculate Isles comes slamming down on your heads ‘easy’? Assuming you can even take the wall, of course. Easy, she says.”