by Jade Mere
“Can I ask you something?” Rye said.
Tahki focused his eyes on the bread. “Nothing’s stopped you so far.”
Rye glanced up at him. “Yesterday, on the way to the castle, you said ‘gods.’”
Tahki shrugged. “So?”
Rye was silent. When he opened his mouth again, he spoke carefully. “As in multiple gods. As in southern religion.”
It took a moment to register what Rye implied. Most countries around the world believed in what they called the Mother Goddess. A single female deity who created and watched over the world. The only country who still believed in the old gods was Dhaulen’aii.
Panic swept over him. Rye watched the bread. In his mind, Tahki listed all the countries he could remember and tried to think if any still followed the older religions.
“Pa’kakin,” Tahki said.
“What?”
“My father was an orphan. He grew up in a Pa’kakin household.” They believed two gods created all life. It was a smaller religion, and very cruel, full of sin and punishment, but oftentimes the people of Pa’kakin would take in orphans and raise them to spread the word of their gods. “Wealth was from my mother’s side,” Tahki went on. “When my father married her, he stopped practicing, but he still said ‘gods’ all the time. Habit. Guess I picked it up.”
Rye flipped the bread onto a plate and handed it to Tahki. It smelled delicious and looked perfectly golden.
“I see,” Rye said. He walked to the cabinets and took out a jar of what looked like mashed leaves in gravy and handed it to Tahki. “For your burn.” And then he walked out of the room before Tahki could say thank you.
He ate alone, scrutinizing the story he’d just told Rye, hoping it hadn’t contradicted something he’d already said. It was getting difficult to keep his story straight.
TAHKI FOUND Rye at the bottom of the wide steps as Dyraien made his way toward them from upstairs.
“You clean up nicely,” Dyraien said, looking as princely as he had the night before. It was amazing to think he took care of himself, of the entire country, all without servants to dress him or cook for him.
“Thank you again for the bath,” Tahki said.
“Did you sleep well?”
Tahki thought of the dark thing in his room. “Perfectly. And I’m very eager to learn more about this castle.”
Dyraien raised an arm and threw it over his shoulder, like they’d known each other a long time. “Of course you are. We’re all terribly excited to have you join our team.” Tahki should have felt flattered, but there was something about Dyraien’s doting that felt purposeful.
Tahki had met a merchant once who’d convinced him to buy a dress for a girlfriend he didn’t have. He had no idea how he’d gotten talked into it, and all he remembered was a man who spoke very fast and fluently, and the next thing Tahki knew, he was handing the man a silver coin in exchange for a hideous dress. His father had found it quite amusing and explained to Tahki about manipulation. That’s what it felt like with Dyraien. Like Tahki was being pushed toward something, though he didn’t know what.
“I’d like to personally show you around the castle,” Dyraien said. “And then we’ll talk about the project.”
Tahki found himself being swept away up the stairs. Rye followed.
“Rye doesn’t seem to think you’re a good fit here,” Dyraien said. “I think it will be fun proving him wrong, don’t you?”
Tahki glanced at Rye. Rye had made it clear he didn’t think Tahki was right for the job but never said why. He couldn’t just hold a grudge against him for what he’d said about the lower cities. How was he supposed to know Rye had grown up in the slums?
Tahki pulled away from Dyraien. “Actually, I’d like to know why he doesn’t think I’m any good.”
“I told you before,” Rye said, his eyes never wavering. “Your designs aren’t practical. They’re more like something you’d read about in a Juliani Vornask novel. Interesting in concept, but not functional for the real world.”
“What gives you authority to judge my work? You only saw a few concept sketches at the fair. You have no idea what I’m capable of,” Tahki said. He knew he was being rude, but Rye wasn’t a prince. He wasn’t sure what Rye was.
“Careful, Rye,” Dyraien said. “When a cat gets its back in the air, claws are soon to follow.”
Rye shook his head. “He doesn’t have claws. He has entitlement issues and no idea what’s expected of him here.” Rye scuffed his feet and walked back down the stairway, leaving Tahki and Dyraien alone.
“I’ve never seen anyone get under Rye’s skin like that,” Dyraien said. “Well done.” He clapped Tahki on the back.
Tahki composed himself. “I was out of line.”
“Please, I found it entertaining.” Dyraien continued up the stairs. “Rye said more words to you in the last few minutes than he said to me in the first few months we met.”
Tahki rubbed his left wrist. He hadn’t meant to get under anyone’s skin. “I just don’t understand where he gets off telling me I’m no good.”
Dyraien ran a hand through his hair. “Tahki, I typically take Rye’s word on everything. Though I’m happy to have you here, and I know you’ll make us all proud, I am cautious about you.”
Tahki frowned. “Is Rye your advisor or something?” Noble advisors were old women or men who knew how the system worked. But maybe, in this modern world, Dyraien wanted someone younger. He still had no idea what Dyraien and Rye’s relationship was, or how someone from the lower cities managed to land a position in a prince’s court.
“No,” Dyraien said, amused. “He’s nothing like that, but don’t dismiss his skepticism. He’s the one who built this castle, so he has some credibility when it comes to architecture. That’s why I asked him to attend the fair with Gale.”
Tahki gaped.
“He didn’t build the castle by himself, mind,” Dyraien said. “And not from scratch, but he’s made all the modifications. This castle looked quite different just a few years ago. He oversaw the renovations and worked as lead constructor. He has a real gift. He can build anything and build it well.”
Tahki’s stomach tightened. Rye knew what he was talking about after all. It would take someone with great skill and vision to build a castle like this, even if he hadn’t designed it himself.
“Don’t think too hard on it.” Dyraien winked. “I’m sure you’ll be impressing us all in no time. From what Gale told me earlier this morning, you have a very unique eye. Now, I’d like you to pay very close attention. You’ll need to know the castle’s structure as well as you know your favorite pencil.”
Dyraien led him from room to room. Most of the rooms were empty, save for a scattering of loose obsidian or pile of marble dust. There wasn’t anything of great interest about how it had been built, but the way Dyraien spoke captivated him. Dyraien talked about the castle like it was a person. Not just a person, a loved one. It touched Tahki to think someone else had such a deep respect for architecture. Or maybe it wasn’t even architecture. Maybe the castle held some sentimental meaning to him.
He asked about why most of the rooms were empty, and Dyraien replied that there was no need for furniture. He asked why they used obsidian as a foundation. Dyraien hesitated and then said because it looked nice. The answer didn’t satisfy Tahki, but he didn’t press.
Seeming to sense Tahki’s eagerness, Dyraien talked about his life before the castle. He said he and his mother lived in the capital city, that they moved to the castle because of its seclusion. Now, Dyraien traveled back to the capital on his mother’s behalf to attend to political business. The city was run by a council of six women, who seemed happy with the queen’s absence. But lately, people had started to ask questions. Suspicion was, Dyraien said, the most dangerous weapon in a kingdom.
Tahki tried to remember the layout of the castle as they moved along. It wasn’t large, but everything looked the same: black walls, white floors, empty rooms.
Tahki froze just inside the door. Every inch of wall was covered with animal heads or animal parts. Antlers, horns, feathers, teeth, claws—all he could think about was how much Sornjia would hate it here. How disgusted he would be that all these animals were killed for no other purpose than to decorate a room.
Even Tahki felt a little unnerved by all the dead eyes staring at him, but it also amazed him. He’d never seen so many unique species. The predators had been displayed on pedestals or wooden boxes around the room. Some had been posed walking, others in a fierce fighting position. He recognized striped bear-wolves and tusked gators, red-clawed eagles and horned stoats. In the very center, a large black wildcat sat. Her specular coat shined in the pale light from a northern window, a hint of red woven into her fur. She was as big as a horse. He’d never seen an animal quite like her. The only predators back home were emaciated wild dogs. Sornjia had rescued a young pup with a broken leg one summer. He raised the dog for a few years, until it got run over by a cart. Sornjia had cried for days. Tahki had bought him another dog as a replacement, a proper, well-bred dog, but Sornjia had said it wasn’t the same. To this day, Tahki didn’t understand why.
“You look disturbed,” Dyraien said. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those bleeding hearts who thinks it’s cruel to hunt. They’re only animals.” Dyraien flicked the nose of the black cat. “This one here? She reminds me of you.”
“I remind you of a dead cat?”
“You remind me of one of those eastern jungle cats. The big ones like this. You slink when you walk, eyes wide, skittish when you come across something unexpected. They’re clever, these cats. Hard to hunt. But their pelts make beautiful rugs.”
“So you think I’d make a good rug?”
Dyraien gave him another handsome smile. “I think you’d look nice draped across my bed.”
Tahki fought to keep his cheeks from reddening. No one had ever spoken to him like this. People of Vatolokít weren’t as reserved as people from Dhaulen’aii, and a small part of him liked the attention.
Tahki coughed and tried to change the subject. “The castle is so empty, it makes this room seem a little… extravagant.”
Dyraien nodded. “Before my mother fell ill, she was a great hunter. She often traveled overseas on safari and brought back magnificent animals from her hunts. When I moved her here ten years ago, I brought her animals with us. It comforts her to be around them. For a long time she loved to sit in this room and stroke their fur and talk to them. But now… now I don’t think she recognizes them.”
Tahki bowed his head. “I’m sorry. It must be very hard on you to see her that way.” Not only did Dyraien take care of himself, but he tended to his mentally ill mother. Tahki couldn’t even make bread.
Dyraien shrugged. “We’re all dealt a different hand in life. We choose either to play that hand or to fold.”
“Still, it’s sad what happened to your mother.”
Dyraien plucked a feather from the eagle on a pedestal. “She knew what she was doing.”
Tahki frowned. “What do you mean?”
Dyraien smiled, but it was cold. “I only meant, had she taken better care of herself, maybe she wouldn’t have fallen ill.”
A tense moment passed between them, and Tahki hated himself for asking so many questions. Dyraien was the only person who had shown him any kind of good faith.
“Gale says she’s never seen anything like your work,” Dyraien said.
Tahki swallowed. He had never felt both pride and fear at the same time when someone talked about his work.
“I would love to say I’m the right man for your project,” Tahki said. “But I don’t know anything about it.”
“Then it’s only fair I tell you, isn’t it?” Dyraien nodded, more to himself than to Tahki. “My mother and I lived in the capital city. I moved her here when she fell ill. It’s been a struggle, to say the least, keeping something like this a secret. If it weren’t for Rye, I think I would have gone quite mad myself.” He brushed a stray blond hair from his face. His eyes filled with something—bitterness or hatred or resentment. “In normal situations, if my mother were to pass away or become unfit, I would take over as ruler of Vatolokít. But our country, bless my dear country, is changing. Did you know the queen no longer acts as prosecutor if a woman or man is guilty of a crime? No, the council chooses five citizens and presents them with facts. The citizens then vote on if the accused is guilty. Fascinating, isn’t it? Such power in the hands of the people. What a remarkable time we live in.”
“It is remarkable,” Tahki said. “I think it’s the reason so many foreigners try to find work here.”
Dyraien licked his lips. “But it’s not perfect. No country is, I suppose. See, I received a rather nasty shock just before my mother fell ill. It seems the people like the idea of having a say in their country’s law. So much, they feel they should also have a say in who rules their country. I was warned by the council that when the queen leaves the throne, be it for failing health or death, there will be a vote to decide who rules next.”
Tahki stepped forward. “But your bloodline has ruled for centuries.”
Dyraien smiled. “It was my mother’s idea.”
It seemed cruel for a mother to deny her only child a chance at the throne. “But your family has done so much for this country by introducing modernism into their lives. I’m sure they’ll want you to rule them.”
Dyraien rested a hand on Tahki’s shoulder. “You’re very kind. Unfortunately, I’ve not been around the capital much. All my time has been spent tending to mother and running the country in secret. I’m not a familiar face among my people. Even you didn’t recognize me.”
Tahki bowed his head.
“It’s all right,” Dyraien said. “I’ve come to terms with it. I only care about my country’s future. So long as it’s safe and in good hands, I can rest easy. Which is where you and this castle come into play.”
Tahki looked up at him, into his blue eyes. The drumming of his heart quickened.
“Tahki, this castle is a gift to my country. I need you to change it.”
“Change it?”
Dyraien drew him close. “I need you to turn this castle into a weapon.”
Tahki waited for further explanation. When none came, he said, “Do you mean I should order and install cannons or something?”
Dyraien shook his head. “I don’t want you to buy weapons and equip them. I want this castle to be a weapon. Not like a warship, not like an armory. A complete weapon.”
Tahki tried to understand. “The entire castle. A weapon.”
“I need you to think of this castle as a living, breathing thing. A great and powerful force. Something the world has never seen. A machine that could destroy an army in a single assault.”
A machine. Tahki had read about a surge of mechanical inventions. Newspapers were calling this an age of enlightenment. From machines that spun cotton to engines that pumped water from mines. But he’d never heard of anyone turning an entire castle into a machine. It didn’t seem possible. He said, “What kind of energy could power something this large?”
Dyraien let his hand fall away. “There is a river below this castle that produces tremendous energy. Use the water, and turn my castle into a war machine. I want this to be a prototype. When my family is relieved from its duty, I’d like to give this castle to the council as a gift.”
Too many thoughts weaved through Tahki’s mind. He couldn’t wrap his head around what was expected of him. He’d never drawn a complete blank before when it came to architecture. Was this even architecture? Or was it invention? But wasn’t all architecture invention? Hadn’t his mother always pushed the functions of existing objects to make something new and exciting? Something surprising and innovative?
“I want to help. I really do. But I’m no weapons expert,” Tahki said. He didn’t want
to lose this job, his first job. But getting in over his head wouldn’t benefit him, either.
“I’ve already tried a weapons expert. He proved inadequate. But it made me realize that I need a creative mind for this special project.”
Tahki scratched his left wrist. “Why can’t you just return to the capital city and gain the people’s favor? I’m sure there’s someone who will watch over your mother.” It seemed like an easier solution.
Dyraien’s face darkened. “I didn’t bring you here to give me advice on how to rule my country.”
Tahki’s hands dropped to his side. “Of course not. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to….”
“I like people to owe me things. I like control. This castle is to assure I still have some standing in the eyes of the council. I need them to need me, and I need you to do this for me, Tahki. Everyone else has been a disappointment, to say the least. You are my last chance to leave behind a legacy. Please, tell me you’ll try?”
His eyes looked so intense, so pleading.
“All right,” Tahki said. “If the castle can be made into a machine, I’ll find a way.”
Dyraien broke into a handsome grin. “If you do this for me, I promise you’ll be the most famous architect ever known. Every country around the world will know your name.”
They were the words he’d always wanted to hear, yet excitement eluded him. Not only did he feel unqualified for this, but something about Dyraien’s explanation didn’t add up. Dyraien didn’t strike him as the kind of person to simply give up his rule without a fight. Also, if the castle was to be a gift, why build it out in the middle of nowhere? Maybe Dyraien planned on threatening the council, but that didn’t explain why he built it all the way out here.
Still, Tahki had been hired to do a job, and he planned to do it well. He couldn’t pass up the opportunity to become the most famous architect. Everything he’d ever wanted had just been handed to him. He’d be a fool to abandon it.