Initializing

by E. M. Hardy

  “Plus it’s better than the alternative,” whispered Martin quietly to himself. He then went quiet, the silence stretching out into uncomfortable minutes.

  “What alternative?” It was Uhi who spoke up, keeping her eyes focused on Martin’s walker.

  “The alternative,” Martin said, his voice strained and slow to come, “is that I go to war with the League of Merchants.”

  Suhaib shook his head and clapped the walker on the shoulder. “That’s likely going to happen. Like I said, the cartels will stab you in the back when you give them the chance.”

  “That’s not what he’s worried about,” interrupted Uhi. “It’s their souls, isn’t it?”

  Martin hesitated for a second, then nodded. “When Shen Feng attacked, he threw a lot of people at the pyramid. True, I was fighting conservatively and did my best to limit casualties, but I was able to consume about a hundred souls all the same. One of those souls I absorbed came from a martial artist. And let me tell you this, Suhaib: it was damned hard to hold myself back after that hit.” The walker in front of Uhi and Suhaib flexed its fingers and closed them into a fist, which ground together as the ceramic material pressed into itself. Martin then released the fist his walker formed, revealing a small ball of force that whipped air around into a sphere. “It took everything in me to stop myself from slaughtering all of Shen Feng’s remaining troops and just sucking up their souls like the desert does with water. The regular men and women would have fueled the raw power of my walkers, while the martial artists would have given me new insights into the nature of Chi.”

  Martin then released his ball of force and let the arm of his walker fall to his side. “It disturbed me when the custodian of the desert ruins called me an invader, choosing death rather than allowing himself to be ‘captured’ by me. No, it goes further than that. I still remember your disgust when you first learned I could absorb souls and call the shayateen, Uhi.” Martin shifted his walker and turned his attention further away, to the twin moons shining high in the night sky. “I think you might have a point.”

  The chill returned to Suhaib’s neck. Martin wasn’t worried about the coalition army. He didn’t see it as a threat. No, he viewed the thousands of men and women as if they were a smorgasbord of souls, and he was worried he couldn’t stop himself from eating his fill once he got started.

  Right then, a loud cheer sounded off from inside the emir’s court. Suhaib turned his attention away from Martin, leaving him to brood on his own while he peered inside to check what was going on.

  It was the martial artists from the Renese delegation. They had formed up and were performing what appeared to be an intricate training regimen. They flung their fists each and every way, flowing like sand one moment and lashing out like a viper the next. They performed dazzling kicks that reached as high as a man’s head, spinning like a top before creating shockwaves as they snapped their legs out in a Chi-enhanced strike. One of the martial artists brought out a sickle attached to a chain, set the tip on fire with Chi, and proceeded to whip the sickle around in a blur of steel and fire. Other artists stepped up to proudly display their proficiencies, from dizzying tufted spears to massive war hammers to strange knives that resembled animal horns. Chi infused every step they slammed to the ground, every strike they aimed, with the resulting display leaving their audience agape with delight and awe. When the performance ended, even the usually stoic armsmasters couldn’t help but cheer and applaud. They quickly approached the artists and began peppering them with questions, while the artists just soaked in the praise and proceeded to give a more detailed breakdown of their techniques.

  Prince Suhaib’s father was not to be outdone, though. He sported a mischievous glint in his eyes as he clapped his hands and summoned the court performers. Suhaib had seen these performers in action before, but they were just as amazing to witness now as the first day he saw them dance with their jinn. Solid, bare-breasted men paired up with lithe, veiled women, and they began their slow dance as their jinns floated all around them, creating a mesmerizing display all on their own. They hummed, spun, and tapped their legs to the accompaniment of oboes, small double drums, and three-stringed violins. The jinn floated above them all, manipulating light and shadow as they wove in and around one another. Soon enough, they switched partners—the men reaching out for the female jinni that danced intimately with them, the women clapping as the male jinni spun around them. The display ended with the two groups vibrantly humming and clapping, tendrils of light and shadow weaving a tapestry in between their bodies.

  Suhaib almost whined in disappointment when their dance ended, and he applauded with as much gusto as he could politely manage while the performers bowed and accepted the good graces of their audience. It was the turn of the Renese to move up and congratulate the performers, all the while asking both dancer and jinn about their bonds. Suhaib even spotted one of the male jinn flirting with Yao Xiu, who smiled stoically while batting away his wandering hands. He chuckled at the sight, while Uhi frowned and flew off to chastise her acquaintance who was trying to grope the foreign diplomat.

  “This… this is the first step to fighting the invaders.” Those grave words were spoken by Martin, who stepped inside the court from his spot in the balcony. “It’s not about pulling away, not about hiding from the world, not about being too proud to work together.” He paused for a beat before continuing. “Neither is it about reaping souls for my own personal strength, just like what the invaders would do.”

  Martin’s walker turned to Suhaib and put a hand on his shoulder, mimicking the gesture that the young prince gave Martin earlier in the night. “Standing together, learning from one another, drawing from each other’s strengths and covering each other’s weaknesses... this is why I struck a deal with the League of Merchants. They might stab me in the back, and they are likely to do just that, but I want to give them a chance. I want to one day see something like this happen in the other emirates. And besides, all it’ll take is a couple of roads and a bunch of walkers just standing around.” A bit of cheer returned to Martin’s words, which gave Suhaib some heart.

  In the end, the young prince of Ma’an couldn’t help but share Martin’s hopes and dreams. Maybe, just maybe, things would work out for the better.

  Chapter 30

  Yao Xiu came to with a stupid smile on her face that quickly morphed into a frown. Something soft and squishy licked her elbows, while something else poked at the base of her spine. She opened her eyes, felt her eyelids crack open with nothing but inky blackness surrounding her. That didn’t bother her too much, as a pounding ache in her head consumed her entire awareness. She shifted a little, and the object she cradled in her hands dropped slightly. She startled and caught it before it fell down to the floor.

  Then she remembered. The celebration, the cheers about the retreating cartel army, the raki, the grilled eggplant salad, the stuffed mussels, the raucous laughter, the clapping, the spinning, the dancing, the nighttime explorations of the palace at al-Taheri, the drunken bet of hide-and-seek with the princes and princesses…

  “Oh ancestors,” she groaned to herself as she realized that she got really, completely, absolutely wasted the previous night. Mumbling those two words sent up a fresh shot of pain in the back of her head, and she couldn’t help but groan as she closed her eyes to let it all float away.

  When she came to a second time, she could feel sweat slicking down her forehead and matting her hair. Her lips were chapped, though her mind was much clearer than when she last woke up. It was probably daytime already, and she was groggily shaking off the effects of the alcohol in the closet she hid herself in. It was at that moment that she swore to herself that she would never, ever drink another drop of sweetened spirits in her life.

  “And your benefactor, he wants our cooperation to root out these clay devils from our lands?”

  “Indeed. We almost bested Martin’s clay toys, but complications on our end prevented us from completely
routing him.”

  Yao Xiu started, then sat very still. She was still slightly hung over, mighty thirsty, and had a bladder that was screaming for release, but the conversation she was overhearing turned all those bodily needs aside—especially since she recognized one of those voices.

  “You come seeking us, making us offers, and then back those offers up with excuses? I do not know how you do things in this empire of yours, but to me and the people I represent, you are painting yourself as weak and unreliable.”

  “You misunderstand. I am explaining to you the circumstances that my benefactor faces. I am laying out those circumstances to you, showing the realities of what will happen if you allow this Martin to gain a foothold in your lands.”

  A few clicking sounds, followed by the tap of something hitting a wooden surface.

  “The fact of the matter is that our early actions failed. We had an opportunity to dig the infestation out early, but our hesitation and failure to follow through cost us that chance. Now we face an enemy that is well entrenched. Worse still is that this enemy can replace its casualties in a matter of weeks—not years. We had managed to deflect blame away from ourselves, therefore averting retribution from the pest, but the opportunity has been lost. And so this pest dug in even deeper. We can no longer dislodge it on our own, not without risking ourselves to our own enemies that have come swarming out of the shadows. Now… now this pest is looking to expand its roots into your land, under the guise of peace and friendship. And if you let it grow uncontested in your lands, then you will face the same infestation that we do. It will grow in numbers, in strength, and it will reach the point where you will be powerless should it turn its mindless constructs against your people. This is why I come to you with an offer from my benefactor: we want to establish ties with your organization to help us quietly undermine this new enemy that threatens both of us. We ask for no commitments, no risks. Just an exchange of information, an open channel of communication, that we might be able to better aid each other should the time arise.”

  “Trust me,” the familiar voice said, and Yao Xiu could almost see the sneer forming on those lips. “My benefactor has resources far exceeding that of a simple lordling with a few plots of barren land and a dozen huts of groveling peasants. You will want access to those resources when this Martin turns the wrong kind of attention toward you. And when that day comes, would you rather stand alone or with an ally that has your back?”

  “I… see.”

  The conversation halted. Yao Xiu covered her mouth, forcing herself to slow her breathing and remain deathly quiet even as thick drops of sweat rolled down into her eyes. Her swollen bladder pushed against the walls of her abdomen, and it took every ounce of self-control she could muster to hold it in.

  “Very well. I will pass on your message to my handlers. At the very least, we will get to learn more about what this benefactor of yours has to offer.”

  There were no pleasantries spoken after that. The conspirators got all they needed, and they quickly left the room as soon as their talks concluded.

  A few minutes of silence, and Yao Xiu dared to straighten up and peek out of her closet. Every part of her body was sore, especially those that were poked and prodded by various objects within the closet. She found herself in a room lined with other closets similar to hers, with cleaning implements all around. Baskets filled with soiled rags, mops cloistered around buckets filled with disgusting water, and rows of brooms lined the walls of the room. Yao Xiu knew she needed to get out of there, to get as far away from the room as possible. She stumbled once, cussing quietly as a mop that leaned on her back fell and clattered to the ground. She froze for a moment, then willed herself to get up and get a move on—to hurry, before someone else returned.

  She emerged into a corridor where throngs of servants rushed about, carrying dishes from last night’s revelries and bringing more toward the banquet halls. Many of them gave her suspicious glances, wondering what one of the foreign dignitaries was doing in the kitchens. This was no time for propriety though, as Yao Xiu’s bladder rang all the alarms they could within her traitorous body. She asked a few milling servants where the toilets where, and they pointed her to a hallway with a staircase leading up and away from the kitchens. She thanked them profusely and began running, her thighs squeezed together to the amusement of the servants she left behind.

  One of those servants, however, only pretended to be amused. He waited for his companions to finish their posturing and lewd commentary and excused himself. He picked up a heavy bundle of bread baskets, slipping a well-buttered knife into his palm, and hurried off after the foreigner.

  Yao Xiu thanked her ancestors when she finally reached her destination, breathing a deep, deep sigh of relief as she conducted her business. Now that the lower half of her body was not on fire anymore, she could finally get down to other, more serious business. She got up, poured scented water into the squat toilet she had used, and went searching around for a glass of water to soothe her parched throat. Then she remembered what she had overheard, and was torn about what to do next. Should she warn Martin about the actions being taken against him? Should she go to Prince Suhaib and inform him about traitors in his palace? Should she just ignore it all, since these problems did not concern her?

  No, she could not afford to just sit back and play dumb. The hidden archives contained enough notes pointing to the invaders as a real threat. She had to diffuse this tension somehow, the only question was how.

  One of the many servants walked briskly past her as she emerged from the toilet, carrying a large pile of dinner baskets as he slammed his body into hers. She got knocked out of her reverie, gasping as the collision drove the air out of her lungs. She turned around in an attempt to apologize to the hurrying servant. She didn’t get a chance though, as the servant simply rushed away with his stacks upon stacks of wicker baskets. He was obviously having a busy day and she had been staring out in the middle of a bustling hallway, so she decided to get going before she got in the way of other people running to and fro.

  The only problem was that her legs wouldn’t obey her.

  She felt a strange weakness spread out from her abdomen and towards the different parts of her body. A woman shrieked, dropping the plates she was carrying and kicking off a fuss in the corridor. Yao Xiu wore a puzzled expression as she buckled to the ground, slipping on legs that suddenly felt rubbery while people ran away from her. For some strange reason, the words they were screaming just didn’t register. That in itself puzzled Yao Xiu; she was sure she had a solid grasp of Bashri, especially after getting so much practice ever since they had come to al-Taheri.

  So weird, she thought to herself as she noticed a familiar woman rush up to her aid. Yes, Lead Historian Cui Dai. Or rather Historian Cui Dai, since Yao Xiu’s sudden promotion of sorts. She could never get over the fact that they were peers now. The older woman’s eyes widened in dread, before they tightened into angry little slits as she ordered the people now crowding around her to get back. Yao Xiu’s vision swam as she saw the usually aloof woman concentrate before pulling a ball of Chi into her palms. It spun faster and faster before emitting hot, blue light, then it plunged straight into Yao Xiu’s abdomen.

  A muted scream tore from her lips while searing white pain flared through her body, and then she felt nothing more as blackness swallowed her.

  ***

  Yao Xiu came to for the third time that day, lying down on something soft and luxurious while a cool breeze caressed her skin. She cracked one tired eye open, then another, and found herself in a rather well-decorated room. Tile mosaics set in intricate, colorful patterns, plants tall as a man with long blades that drooped down the floor, exquisite vases with glazed surfaces.

  And among it all sat Cui Dai, holding a book with Bashri characters on its cover. That surprised Yao Xiu, since she was still learning how to read the flowing script with its alphabet of letters. It was a far cry from the Renese writing system, whic
h used individual characters that each held their own meaning.

  She looked up from her book and gave Yao Xiu a wan smile. “Ah. You are finally awake.”

  Yao Xiu quietly studied every part of the woman’s face. There were deep bags under her bloodshot eyes, and her body posture was slumped down in deep fatigue. The fact that Yao Xiu still lived was a good sign… for the moment, at least.

  Yao Xiu tried to get up, but she then felt a deep, dull pain within her gut. She looked down, and saw that she was bare from the waist down, with bandages wrapped across her abdomen. She reddened as she reached for the thin blanket and pulled it up to cover herself.

  “Um, what happened?”

  “You were stabbed,” said Cui Dai, setting aside her book to stand up and check on Yao Xiu’s condition. She touched the injured woman’s belly with a bit of Chi, and it flowed out—helping accelerate the healing.

  “Please, do not give more than you need to. You’ve already passed on so much of your life force.” The woman shrugged and withdrew her hand, along with the healing it provided. “Suit yourself.” Yao Xiu immediately missed the warm, reassuring touch, but she was confident that the worst had come to pass.

  And besides, she wanted to put as much distance as she could between her and Cui Dai before she proceeded.

  “Historian… can I make a request?”

  “Sure. Go right ahead.”

  “Please… please convince the Empress that Martin is not an enemy of the empire.”

  “Hmm. Is that so?” Cui Dai simply looked at Yao Xiu and tapped her chin as she stared intently into her face.

  Yao Xiu expected shock, anger, evasiveness, maybe even disappointment. What she did not expect, however, was the curious façade staring back at her. She set her nervous gaze all over the woman’s body, but she showed no outward sign that she would attack… at least none that Yao Xiu could spot.