by Matt Larkin
The children soon ran off. Even after they had run around the corner, Chandi stood there. Had she once played such games? In the mountains of Swarnadvipa, she remembered running, laughing.
She distributed a few pearls she had swiped in the palace to children outside the Shrine of Sacred Flame. Though well kept, the windowless shrine might have passed for any other building, but for the burning brazier out front.
Solars needed their ostentatious temples to commune with their god. Ignis hid in dark shrines where their fires took on ephemeral life. But Lunars worshiped in the open air, absorbing the world around them. A shrine to Chandra would stand on a mountain side, attracting rows of devotees during the full moon, though a few would come almost every night. She had no such shrine anymore, but during full moons she tried to find herself in the rooftop gardens of the palace.
As she entered the landing she blinked in the sudden shadows after the bright streets outside. The only light came from the open doorway behind her and a central fire pit further in. A strong scent of incense filled the air. A couple of priests tended the flames, tossing offerings to the fire god that never seemed to answer their prayers. Once the Ignis and Solars had been allies, perhaps, but when the fire-worshippers refused to convert to follow Surya the Sun God, they became mere servants in the Solar paradise.
“Do you think how they treat us is worse than what your people do?” the priest asked from the back of the temple.
How did Semar always know what she was thinking? He knelt on a pillow, hands pressed before him in prayer. The flickering firelight obscured his face. As always, the priest wore a simple sarong, and a white baju adorned only with the Igni’s sacred flame.
Chandi edged around the fire pit and knelt beside the priest on the pillow he laid out for her. The man liked to huddle in the shadows, dispensing one bit of wisdom for every two mysteries he created. Though she’d never admit it to Semar, she liked that about him.
“At least you have some choice in your lives. What’s more important than choice?”
“Perhaps having your choices matter. That’s why you chose to become a spy, isn’t it? To feel like you matter, to prove your worth to your people?”
Had she chosen it? Rahu ordered and she obeyed. But she hadn’t hesitated. Ratna needed her.
“You can join us. If there is another war, stand with us against the Solars. Your refusal to act in your defense brought you here, in a run-down district of a glorious empire.”
“Trade one master for another? Lay down our lives to overthrow the Solars, only to become outcasts in Lunar society instead. Very tempting. Are you so eager for another war, child? In the twelve hundred years since the breaking of the Pact you’ve fought four wars with the Solars. And what have you gained?”
What indeed? Lunar lands had shrunk with each Solar victory. Anusapati had died in a hopeless battle. She shouldn’t care who broke the old Pact, who controlled the Astral Temple, or who ruled the most islands. But she had to care about her family. “You have the chance to change your future.”
Semar rose. Did he smile, or was it just a trick of the shadows? She followed him to the fire pit where he tossed in an offering of rice. The fire crackled as the smell of burnt grain filled the temple. “Change the future?”
“Together we can build a new world. A chance to make the Isles a better place for both of our peoples. We can show the Solars we are united, force them to give us better terms. If the Fifth War comes and you don’t join us, you will be no better off.”
The priest put his hand on her shoulder. Standing, he towered over her. “And if war comes, you think we will be better off?”
Maybe not. They would no more measure up to Lunar society than they did to Solar. The Ignis meditated as though seeking the Solar Kebatinan. But unlike the Solars who quested for inner peace, the Ignis did not fight. Whatever else might be said of the Solars, they had mastered warfare. The Ignis had never been strong enough, and so the strong ruled them.
She sighed. “I see what’s become of your people. I’m trying to help you change that. But I need to know you will help us if it comes to it. You may not have sent that assassin, but your people did.”
Semar turned from her to the fire. “You remember the Serendibian captain?”
How could she forget the strange foreigner? “Bendurana. A Solar servant. Hunts Lunar pirates.”
“The captain empathizes with the Igni plight. I trust him more than many, less than some. He will go to some lengths to fight for what he believes in, even if he doesn’t know it yet. Men of strong passions make valuable allies and dangerous enemies.”
So the Serendibian paid loyalty to no one. In a way that made him worse than a Solar servant. And her? The deeper she delved into this, the fouler it tasted. Three years of peace. It no longer seemed so impossible to hold it together. No longer so monstrous to try.
“You want to help the Ignis? Ferry messages to the captain. For the Ignis to do so would draw attention. But a servant of the empress? You can go where you wish. Who would question if you were to visit a man dealing in exotic wares?”
Chandi shrugged. These people certainly needed help, and who was she to turn away? The way the Solars always turned their backs on their supposed allies.
Semar read the look on her face. “You would have the Ignis follow your people? If the Solars learn of it, we both risk the Fifth War. Or perhaps the Ignis do nothing, and lose the war if it does come?”
Chandi bit her lip. “I have to prepare.” She owed her family that much.
“Then Bendurana is the ally we both need. You take messages to him, and he can get those messages anywhere in the Skyfall Isles. Beyond even. Of course, such things have some risk. Solars do not treat spies well.”
No. They burned them at the stake.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Chandi hummed as she strolled through the tube under the sea. Maybe Semar was right, maybe war wouldn’t come again. If peace endured, all she’d done here meant nothing. Could she live her life here, as a handmaid? Maybe. Maybe she wouldn’t have to. If peace held, maybe she could go home at last.
She had lingered in the Igni shrine past the afternoon heat; even beneath the water, the dome somehow captured the heat, so the sun baked the streets.
The palace guards welcomed her back with cordial nods. The surprising and unmistakable smell of rendang wafted through the palace. Solars never made it, as far as she knew. Roasted beef, coconut, turmeric. Fresh chilies. Chandi almost trembled. Images of growing up on Swarnadvipa filled her, until at last her smile faltered.
The last time she’d had it, Anusapati had made it for her. Just before Rahu sent him to Astral Shore. He’d never cook for her again.
Though wide windows cast light throughout the palace, the fourth floor halls that led to her room fell in shadow. Naresh stood before her door, arms folded and head cocked, the light from her room filtering through gaps in the bamboo door behind him. “Where have you been? We got back two phases ago.”
Chandi smirked and pushed past him to open her door, brushing close enough to feel the heat from his body. Naresh followed her into her chamber without so much as asking her leave, then cut her off before she could respond. “You left Ibu Ratna alone with her daughter, handmaid. She thought you’d be back here long before us.”
“Alone?” She put her hands on his chest and pushed him back towards the doorway. Of course the Arun Guard’s lifestyle would lead to hard muscles. “Weren’t you there?”
Naresh grabbed her wrists from his chest, but dropped them when she jerked her hands back. “You’re my responsibility, too.”
“I can take care of myself, Guardsman. And don’t enter a lady’s chamber without her permission.”
“I’m trying to assure your safety,” he said as he backed out of her doorway. “I cannot protect you if you wander off into the city alone. From what I gather, this wasn’t the first time.”
Damn. Was he watching her? That could make her work much more dif
ficult… “Thank you for your concern. I need to help Ratna prepare for dinner.”
“Ibu Ratna is already downstairs. The servants’ meals will be served shortly.” He pulled the door closed before she could say anything else. His sandals echoed on the stone floor as he left.
Chandi fell back on her bed, hand to her head, and blew her breath out through pursed lips. Naresh was watching her. Did he know she was a spy? He must have heard about her from others, or noticed her activities before she even knew he was back.
She jerked as the door swung open again. “That was interesting,” Malin said, as he slipped into her room.
Chandi sat bolt upright, one hand on her heart. “Malin. What in the name of the Moon are you doing here?” Malin had spent the last two years making regular trips to Bukit. He looked the same now as he had when she was a child. He should have been gone another week, at least.
Malin stalked close and sniffed her face. “Nice to see you, too, Chandi. I was passing time in Ratna’s chamber, but yours has grown more interesting.”
Chandi glowered. “I’m growing tired of large men letting themselves into my bedchamber.”
“Oh?” He tilted his head so he could look down at her even more. “I’d think you might grow to like it. You just don’t understand how comfortable a bedchamber can be.”
Chandi snorted and drew her Moon Blessings. She shoved Malin away. Wouldn’t do to admit she was glad he’d returned. The Macan Gadungan didn’t even stumble, made falling back look like it was his idea. Surprising grace in so muscular a frame.
Malin paced a moment, before settling down beside her on the bed. He wore his baju open, exposing his sun-darkened chest. Male Macan Gadungan always wore their shirts unbuttoned to make them easier to discard when they shifted. Sometimes the females did too.
“You missed me,” he said. “I can smell it.”
“I hope you won’t get fleas in my bed.”
He chuckled. “Just be glad I don’t mark my territory.” His face soured. “I saw Ketu. He forgets, sometimes, the Macan Gadungan are not pets.”
“How is my father?”
“What do you see, Chandi? Man or beast? You’re not the only ones Chandra blessed. We are more than human, just like you.” She opened her mouth but he continued. “We are. Just like you.”
Chandi studied his face. First and most revered of the Macan Gadungan, the greatest of the Lunars’ Jadian. She wanted to say she saw the man. But did she? Or did she marginalize the werebeasts as Solars did the Ignis, and for less reason? After all, they were Lunars, too. Whether their gift was a blessing from Chandra or not, they were still her people.
As she struggled for words, he stepped closer, his flash of anger gone. “You won’t be stuck here forever, Chandi. You’ll see your home again, one day.”
Chandi looked away. It was what she wanted. To go home.
“Rahu is not pleased with your progress. In the last two years you’ve brought him nothing but Solar customs and the status of the Igni class. The War King wants something we can use to gain an edge. What’s next, a report on the Festival?”
Chandi shrugged. “Probably. You told me to pursue alliance with the Ignis. I’m doing that.” Malin’s look accused her of drawing that out, too, but he said nothing, so she continued. “Maybe there’s not that much to find.”
Malin snorted. “Home is as far away as you make it.” He backed out of the room, never taking his eyes from hers, his smirk never lessening.
Well damn him for looking at her like that. The man could come and go as he pleased, while she was trapped here. He couldn’t understand the pressure she faced.
After the door swung shut, she took a deep breath. Her stomach growled. She hadn’t eaten since the nagasari this morning, and though Naresh had said the servants’ meal would be served soon, she couldn’t see joining their conversations tonight. They understood her even less than Malin did. The irritation of dealing with their petty gossip and snide comments outweighed the benefits of their intimate knowledge of their masters. And who did Naresh think he was, watching her anyway?
Well, he had risen quickly through the ranks of the Arun Guard, and the Guard did more than just protect the imperial family. They had the Sun Brand, which made them the greatest assets the Solars had. If he wanted to watch her, maybe she could return the favor. Who knew what she might find in his shadow?
After fixing her hair, she took the stairs to the first floor. A small ruckus came from the guards’ mess hall. She paused in the open archway. Several hundred soldiers sat together. The men outnumbered the women, but they all seemed to cavort as one. She bit her lip a moment before entering. A few of the guards shouted invitations to her—some quite presumptuous—but otherwise seemed little interested in her. An open archway in the back of the room led to a more private table, though sound from the main room still leaked in.
Ten or so men and women in cerulean uniforms sat around this table, the most Arun Guard she could remember seeing together since the wedding. The conversation stopped when she entered, every pair of eyes turned to her.
Empu Baradah, head of the Arun Guard, watched her with what she hoped was disinterest. She had tried to learn about the Arun Guard from him and found him less than forthcoming, and far too astute about what she was doing. Since he hadn’t arrested her, he may have thought it simple curiosity; if so, best to keep him thinking that.
Naresh sat beside Empu Baradah, his glower shifting between Chandi and Landorundun, who sat on his other side. The beautiful Solar had served as Ratna’s guardian for two years, but had almost never spoken to Chandi. Chandi had wanted to know more about the day in the harbor, when she commanded the birds, but Landorundun had only said it was a show.
“This is the private hall of the Arun Guard, handmaid,” Naresh said.
“Oh good, I was afraid I was lost. The Guard hall did seem the best place to find you.”
A few of the Guardsmen laughed and resumed conversations. Maybe they weren’t all so bad. Landorundun stood and pulled out the chair. “Perhaps you’ll find his company more pleasant, Lunar.”
Her heart was beating too fast. She should have thought this through better. But she took the offered seat, and the Guardswoman found another on the other side of the table.
Most of them were staring at her. Her face felt hot. Empu Baradah spoke to Landorundun in a low voice. Just like that, the Guardsmen followed his lead and all struck up private conversations with their neighbors. All but Naresh.
“I believe you found me, then.”
This had been easier in her head. In her head, he hadn’t had so many Guardsmen around him. “You,” she began. He was smiling, like he had this morning. “You were right. I should have been more careful. I know you’re looking out for us.”
Whatever response he’d had died on his lips. “Thank you, Chandi.”
Her stomach rumbled again.
Naresh motioned to a servant. “Another plate, please. And some tea.” He turned back to her as the servant ran off. He pulled the dish of pineapple slices over and waved at it. For the first time she noticed the Festival feast arrayed before her. Fresh fruit, vegetables, nagasari, chicken satay, and best of all, rendang—the smell that had wafted through the palace earlier. The sweet and spicy aromas intoxicated her.
The infamous Arun Guard feasted and laughed while she plotted treachery. But they offered her hospitality, and she was starving. And if they thought her a servant, then she shouldn’t stand on ceremony. She grabbed a handful of pineapple, popping the pieces into her mouth one after another.
“It’s not so different than what we eat, you know,” she said between bites.
“Besides all the seafood.”
“Mmm, besides that.” It had taken her a month to even try the damn scallops. As much time as Solars spent on or in the water, it shouldn’t surprise her they wanted to eat out of it, too.
The moment the servant put a plate before her she scooped up a spoonful of rendang. But she couldn’
t bring herself to eat it. Her lip trembled, her mouth watering. She’d waited so long for this.
“Is something wrong? We had Bendurana bring the recipe for the empress. Pak Empu Baradah thought we should try it today, as well. Is it not made properly?”
Chandi forced herself to take a bite. The tender meat practically fell apart in her mouth. Not as good as true Lunar rendang, but almost. She savored each bite, trying not to think about Anusapati, trying to ignore Naresh watching her eat.
“It’s excellent. Are you going to be permanently in charge of our security now that you’re back?”
“For a while, unless Ibu Ratna requests someone else. Ibu Landorundun is receiving other training.”
Landorundun snickered at the mention of her name. Naresh ignored her, and instead ladled a bit of gudeg into a bowl for Chandi, and then for himself. The sweet stew was probably the single greatest invention of Solar cuisine, so Chandi didn’t need much prodding to taste it.
“Naresh has returned to many new responsibilities,” Empu Baradah said. She hadn’t realized he was listening. Stupid to let the man slip her attention, even for a moment. All the Arun Guard now watched their First. “I think his time at the Astral Temple has suited him well, has it not? We can all see he’s come a little closer to Kebatinan.”
Everyone else laughed while Naresh nodded, his face wary.
“But he has more to learn. I’m leaving him in charge in my absence.”
Landorundun coughed, sputtering her tea. Chandi watched Naresh, but he seemed as surprised as the Arun Guardswoman.