Initializing

by E. M. Hardy

  When the riders delivered their report, Martin witnessed Isin throwing a mighty tantrum far, far away from the main camp where the emirs were having supper. She stomped her feet a few good times for good measure before forcing herself to settle down and relax. Isin soon remembered where she was, peered up at the sky, and saw the eyeballs hovering not-so-innocently high up in the sky. She collected herself, smoothed over the wrinkles on her dress, and returned to the camp where the emirs and their League overseers had gathered after an early dinner.

  Isin went straight for Martin’s walker, holding up the report that she had received from the raiders. “While I have my suspicions, I have to ask: how do I know for sure that you are not responsible for this?”

  Martin just gave her a noncommittal shrug. “If it were me, I would have shut up about my attack and let your people starve here in the sands while I cut off all other supply convoys. Also, if I were responsible for the attack, I’m pretty sure your riders would have noticed the corpses walking around and trying to rip them to pieces.”

  A servant accidentally dropped a platter of drinks, a guard stumbled and dropped his spear, while Emir Haafil choked on a bone. Isin gave the choking emir a sideways glance and frowned as she turned her attention to him. He harrumphed a bit, dislodging whatever was stuck in his throat, and nodded in reply to cover up his embarrassment.

  Yes, the people surrounding Martin’s walker were just as sensitive about the shayateen as the people of Ma’an. Isin, however, was just as determined to try and win over Martin to her side.

  “So this betrayal is not of your making. Then why not join us and help us do something about it?”

  That gave Martin pause. “What do you mean?”

  He saw Isin fighting off a smirk, to Martin’s bemusement. “From our earlier conversations, I can guess that you are loyal. A little bit naïve and idealistic, but that’s not an entirely bad thing. What matters the most is that you have absolute control over your constructs. You need not fear betrayal among their ranks, like what has happened to our own people. You and your walkers, they could provide the backbone for the League of Merchants. You have ideas for change, and we here can find some way to translate your ideas into concrete action.”

  Isin inhaled deeply, her eyes twinkling with hope. “All we need you to do is help us take Ma’an. It is just one small emirate, but its existence undermines the authority of the League of Merchants. Its defiance bolsters the defiance of the other smaller emirates around the Bashri.” She paused mid-offer and took a moment to consider her next words. “As compromise, you can rule Ma’an as you see fit. You can care for its people in whatever way you want, create a model template for the rest of the Bashri to follow. Truth be told, it is only the House of Ma’an that needs to fall. The emirate itself, you can have it—as long as you support us in all our endeavors.”

  Isin’s words wormed their way deep into Martin’s mind. She made a very tempting offer, all things considered. His primary objective was to stop the invaders, and the extended reach of the League of Merchants would help him better achieve that goal.

  And then he remembered Shen Feng’s betrayal, along with the circumstances surrounding that betrayal.

  If a man as honest and loyal as Shen Feng could screw Martin over, how much more would these masters of deceit? These were people who had managed to get four emirs under their thumbs through coercion and treachery. Why would they keep up their end of the bargain if all they really needed was to pulverize Ma’an? Or better yet, why would Martin give up a solid ally that he had come to learn more about in exchange for a shifty new one that was rife with disloyalty and infighting?

  “No,” said Martin. “That arrangement will not work.”

  Isin’s hopeful eyes dropped to the ground. When she looked back up, they were replaced by a predatory stare. “Is that it, then? Despite all my generous offers, you will stand against the League of Merchants?” Isin purred, her eyes glinting dangerously as she fingered the hilt of the sword strapped to her waist. “Is there no other compromise we can come to?”

  Martin gave it some thought, and swept the gaze of his faceless walker upon the four emirs before him. The two emirs supported by the League of Merchants, Safaa and Zubair, were openly hostile now. Emira Safaa had called her guards to her side, while Emir Zubair had already drawn his sword with its point aimed at the ground. The other two emirs being coerced by the League, however, looked at him quite differently. Emir Haafil’s eyes narrowed as he leaned back on his chair, stroking his beard, while Emira Lubna lounged with a small smile on her lips.

  “Pull back your forces, leave Ma’an be, and get your affairs in order before we talk again.” Martin inhaled deeply, not sure if he would regret his decision. “In exchange, my constructs will build all the infrastructure you’ll need to connect the emirates together.”

  That got Isin’s attention, who raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “What?”

  “Look, you believe that Ma’an is a threat to the authority of the League of Merchants. You’re looking to break it apart because it’s a symbol of defiance that prevents the other emirates from flocking to your banner. One way to solve that is by crushing Ma’an. There is, however, another way: why not transform the League of Merchants into something more than a collection of squabbling crime lords?”

  “Crime lords? You dare compare us to petty crooks!” blurted Isin. “Do you think mere outlaws have the ability to hold the most powerful emirs under their influence!?” Isin seethed, gesturing to the four leaders who scowled at the abuses hurled their way.

  “You’re not getting what I’m trying to say,” interrupted Martin, trying to steer the conversation back on track. “You claim that the emirates are resisting you because Ma’an is in your way, that Ma’an inspires them to stand up against you. But have you ever thought of why they would ever want to willingly join with the League of Merchants? Have you tried exploring other ways to coax the emirs and emiras over to your side without having to strongarm them?” He pointed to Haafil, who was listening keenly to Martin’s proposition. “What if you offered something so great, so beneficial to Haafil and his emirate, that he would actually respect what the League accomplishes? Imagine him willingly helping you out instead of resisting you at every turn because he knows that something good will come out from the relationship.

  “This is why I am offering to build roads across the blazing sun and the endless sand to connect all the emirates together. Ask your akinji how far my roads extend into the dead sands of the Bashri. Go to al-Taheri with a peace delegation, and ask Prince Suhaib how many days it took for his people to travel a thousand miles beyond the mountains to the north and then back again. While you’re in the city, speak to the representatives from Ren and ask them what their lands are like, what kind of riches they will trade with you.”

  Martin now had the attention of everyone in their camp. The emirs, their generals, their overseers, even the guards around them glued their eyes upon Martin’s walker. “As another added bonus in exchange for leaving Ma’an alone, I am offering to guard those roads for you. My constructs don’t need food or water or rest. My walkers, like this one that stands before you, can stand vigilant over those routes—guaranteeing safe passage for those that want to travel the roads. My eyeballs floating high in the sky will see any bandits or raiders coming from miles away. My cow-boxes can haul tons of goods and materials all day and night without pause. As a vassal of Empress Zi Li, I can help you make connections across the Ren Empire.

  “Now I ask you once more to imagine what all that can do for the authority of the League of Merchants. Offer the emirates more than poisoned wine and needles to the neck. Show them that you can work together, that the League can develop the land and bring the emirates together into one great alliance. Show them the liquors, silks, fireworks, and Chi practitioners of the Ren. The best part is that you can do all this without having to spend a single coin from your coffers. All I ask is that you leave Ma’an a
lone, and that you build the Bashri into a mighty power that can actually survive when the invaders come to wipe us all out.”

  Martin lowered the head of his walker as he thought deeply. Making up his mind, he decided to push through and sweeten the deal.

  “And then there are the powers I learn, the powers I discover. You will need them to give yourselves, your emirs, and your people a fighting chance for when the invaders arrive.”

  While Martin said this, he channeled Chi into the body of his walker. He took a tiny bit from the ambient Chi that the people around him exuded. A small sip of Chi from more than 50,000 people, all focused into one walker, created the effect he desired: a small vortex of air swirling around Martin’s walker, kicking up sand in a tightly-controlled display. The guards drew their weapons and lowered their spears, but Isin and her other overseers waved them away—their eyes stuck on Martin’s display of Chi-infused power that was fundamentally different from the sahar practiced by the Bashri and their jinn.

  “This is the power of Chi, something I learned how to use from my time with the people from beyond the mountains.” He didn’t mention that he needed to absorb the soul of a fallen martial artist to unlock the secrets of Chi; he figured that wouldn’t help his case at the moment. “The Ma’an are already learning its basics, thanks to the delegation of Renese martial artists visiting them. I can help you utilize this energy, tap into it. If things go well with Ma’an, I could even introduce you to the martial artists who really know how to work with Chi. I offer this not because I want you to gain some sort of advantage over your peers, but because you will need every advantage you can get once we face our true enemy.”

  Martin stopped channeling Chi and released it back into the air, dissipating the vortex and letting the swirling sands fall back to the ground. “This? This is just a cheap trick compared to what the invaders can do. This level of power will only amuse them before they blow you, me, and everyone here away with a wave of their hands.”

  The greed and avarice in Isin’s eyes melted away, replaced by just a hint of fear and worry. “You exaggerate.”

  Martin shook the head of his walker. “No, I do not. I am so committed to this cause because I have seen the memories of those who fought them. And let me tell you something: as we are right now, we are but just helpless children in the face of what they can do. They will just walk all over us, see us as livestock to be culled, and then reap the souls of every living thing they get their hands on. This is why we need to work together to ensure that we do have a way of beating them off. The people of the Bashri, emir and merchant alike, will only be able to do that if you stop fighting amongst yourselves and actually start building up to face this threat.”

  He reached out an open hand, beckoning Isin to take it. “So what do you say? Will you take my help—which I am willingly offering for free—in exchange for ignoring Ma’an and strengthening the emirates?”

  Isin looked at the hand and shook her head. “You do realize that there’s something wrong with your offer, don’t you?”

  Puzzled and disappointed, Martin simply held his hand up in the air and shook the head of his walker, fully expecting that talks had collapsed once again. Before he could lower his hand though, Isin took it and gave it a firm shake. “You’re not really giving away anything for free, you idiot. I’m going to have to do a lot of legwork to convince the other merchants that this plan of yours is feasible, smooth over those that need some buttering up… but I think it’s a good start.”

  Surprised, Martin could only pump his hand with as much vigor as Isin put into the handshake.

  “Bah. All this effort to pull people out, and we’re not even going to start a proper war!?” It was Emir Haafil who spoke up, voice booming out from his stout frame. When Martin’s walker turned to look at the man though, he wore a broad smile that reached all the way up to his broad cheekbones. He walked up and casually placed a hand on Isin’s shoulder, who glanced at him sideways with narrowed eyes. “The pothead has a point, you know. I mean, I would still hack off your head right now if I could get away with it. Then again, I wouldn’t mind putting in a good word with the emirs if you people can actually solve a few problems instead of just sticking a knife at everyone’s throats.”

  Emira Lubna laughed a full-throated laugh as she watched the scene unfold. “I would agree with my boorish counterpart on this matter. The clay man does make a few interesting points as well, which is why I heartily support such a proposition.”

  Emira Safaa snorted and waved a dismissive hand at Lubna’s direction. “Of course you would. Your sorry emirate has the worst roads this side of the Bashri. The potholes are so huge it would be faster to simply walk on the sands instead of riding wagons on those roads.”

  And just like that, the emirs got back to their bickering. This time, however, their banter was far more lighthearted than before. Even the overseers decided to join in, ribbing their charges and releasing the occasional good natured chuckle. The emirs then consulted with their overseers from the League of Merchants, and their respective armies began marching back towards their homes within the hour.

  All this, because Martin had managed to plant a seed of hope into their bleak, tired, and cynical hearts.

  Chapter 29

  “You WHAT!?” Suhaib shouted, bringing the eyes of the entire court of Ma’an upon him and Martin. His father cocked a brow while Mother Leyla shot him a stern stare. He bowed his head in apology and turned his back to them all, pulling Martin’s walker further out on the balcony.

  “How could you… how could you make a deal with the cartels!? They’re the cartels, you naïve, starry-eyed idiot! Shake their hands, and you’ll walk away losing your purse and your undergarments! Give them your finger and they’ll chop off the entire arm! Show them your back, and you’ll need someone to dig a knife out of it! But wait a minute… we had an agreement, didn’t we? We support you in this war against these invaders of yours, and you help us beat back the cartels. How is this beating back the cartels!?”

  Uhi laid a placating hand on the shoulder of her bondmate. “Calm down, Suhaib. You’re letting your imagination get the better of you again.”

  “Are you serious, Uhi? Martin just made a deal with our worst enemies, and you want me to calm down!? I’ll bet they’re just waiting for your constructs to leave, then they’ll immediately turn around and waltz right up to our walls!”

  Martin sighed and suppressed a groan. “No, they’re not. I’m watching them march back right now, all fifty thousand of them.”

  That number snapped Suhaib out of his panic. “Did you just say… fifty thousand?”

  “Yes. That’s not counting the support staff, like the servants, the squires… the slaves.” Martin’s last words dripped with distaste, as if he couldn’t spit it out fast enough.

  A chill ran up the young prince’s neck, and his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed a nervous gulp. “I see what you mean,” said Suhaib after a few moments. “Fifty thousand troops… the cartels must really want us down if they’re willing to expose themselves by pulling out so many men and women. And these fifty thousand soldiers? You said they were on their way here, to al-Taheri?”

  Martin couldn’t help but chuckle. “They were marching here, a couple hundred miles north of the city. If I recall correctly it was… no, wait. I forgot their names. One second…” Martin’s walker tapped its foot, and stared out in the empty night for a few moments. Suhaib and Uhi looked at each other, and Suhaib just shrugged. “Got it. Let’s see… the ones leading the armies are Emir Safaa Mourad of De’em, Emir Zubair el-Sattar of Sulba, Emir Haafil Ramal of Ramal and… Emira Lubna Far’eh of Far’eh. Ah, Haafil wants me to say hi. He is asking whether you want your mangala board back.”

  That message left Suhaib slack-jawed. Even Uhi couldn’t help but stare, her sparkling red eyes wide and focused on the walker’s empty face.

  “That was… that was years ago, back before the carte
ls came out in the open. Our families were still friendly back then, visiting one another’s palaces and the like. That big bully stole it right from under my nose; said that young princes should play with swords, not pebbles and wooden boards.”

  Martin’s walker nodded, cradling the tip of its chin with a few fingers. “Yes. Yes, I can imagine him doing that kind of thing. I think he was the only one disappointed with the results of our talks, having to march back without getting a fight or something.”

  Suhaib huffed and leaned his back on the balcony, resting his elbows on the smooth marble handrails. “Roads running across the vast sands of the Bashri, eh? With constructs that guard them day and night, all for the sake of connecting the emirates together. This was the price you paid for the cartels to call off their attack?”

  Martin joined the prince beside the handrails, both of them craning their necks to look up at the starry night sky. “I would have had to do it eventually whether the cartels agreed to it or not. I still need to set up roads and obelisks so my walkers can reach these lands in case the invaders come a-warping in from wherever they come from. This way though, I at least hope to win some goodwill with the League of Merchants, maybe even get them to stop being all back-stabby with one another.”

  “Hah. That’ll never happen. It’s in their blood,” Suhaib said, dismissing Martin’s hopes. “The League of Merchants? That’s what they call themselves, now? Bah. Greedy, manipulative, self-serving criminals, the lot of them. They’ll continue stabbing each other in the back, even when the boat they’re on is sinking.”

  “You may be right about that,” Martin said, shrugging the shoulders of his walker. “The supply convoy trailing behind the coalition army was attacked, and the League of Merchants with the army immediately suspected it’s one of their own. I was ready to spend so much more time convincing them I wasn’t lying, but I barely started talking when their own people began supplying the explanations. Still, it’s worth a shot getting them to back out of attacking al-Taheri. That’s progress, and I hope it gets better from this point on.”