by Devin Madson
“There is a man,” I said, each word slow as though they wished not to be spoken. “The servant from last night.” I swallowed hard. “Gadjo, is his name. He is going to try to take you from me. You must not let him.”
“No, Mama. I won’t.”
Again the clicking stopped and a small smile mirrored my own. “You are not so afraid now. That makes me happy.”
“Takehiko...” I looked down at my hands clasped upon my knees, pale stones upon a bed of scintillating silk. “How did you do it?”
“I gave him your fear.”
“Gave him my...” I met those wide eyes then. “What do you mean you gave him my fear?”
“You were very scared, Mama. You wanted him dead. So I killed him.”
The simplicity of his words made it all the more chilling and I suppressed a shudder. But he would feel my disquiet though I did not recoil, would hear the race of my heart though I appeared calm. Nyraek had warned me of that, but not of this. Dead because I had wanted it so.
“Takehiko?”
“Yes, Mama?”
“Could you... do it for anyone else?”
His brow crinkled. “But you are my Mama.”
“Yes, my darling, I am.”
“There is only one Mama.”
My relief sparked another of his fleeting smiles. “And only one Takehiko.”
“We have no choice now,” Koto said, keeping his voice to a low growl as he paced the matting. “Cheng will not like it. But we are the last bastion of defence Kisia has left. Whatever the people believe, soldiers always know the truth. We were losing the last war and we will lose this one, doubly so when our new allies turn on us.”
“I agree,” I said, though my thoughts were back in the nursery with Takehiko. Killed with a touch. No mark left upon the skin. Nothing. And there he sat with his sandy hair and the round innocent face of a child little older than an infant.
Koto cleared his throat. “Your Majesty?”
“Yes, Koto?”
“I said it will have to be you who speaks to them.”
“Speaks to who?”
His frown snapped into place. “The ministers, Your Majesty. Our next step.”
“Yes, of course.” The ministers. Both were old allies of the Otakos. It would be dangerous, risking it all on the belief they knew nothing of the secret alliance, that they would not want this war. But the emperor was the emperor. In order to stop this he would have to be... replaced. Once a difficult task, but now...
“There will have to be a coup,” I said, more to myself than to Koto. “With Tianto in Koi the timing is good. He cannot take part in what he does not know.”
“Yes, Your Majesty, and if you had been listening I said that one of your sons...” Koto left the words hanging.
“One of my sons.” I fiddled with the lid of the teapot while Koto went on pacing. “And if Yarri refuses? If Tanaka refuses? If even Rikk sides with his father?”
A pause. “Then there is always Takehiko.”
“Yes, there is always Takehiko. But to make enemies of my sons...” It was my turn to leave the words hanging, not wanting to finish the sentence though its conclusion filled my mind. To make enemies of my sons would end with their deaths or mine. But it didn’t have to be that way. If there was no emperor to side with.
Koto stopped pacing. “To be a leader is to make hard decisions, Your Majesty. If Prince Yarri would ally himself with pirates and barbarians and start a war that could destroy Kisia, would you let him?”
The man had a piercing stare when he chose and I found I could not meet it. My mind said no, but my heart cowered from what that meant. To rid Kisia of an emperor grown too arrogant, too cruel, who truly believed himself a god – that would have satisfaction to walk with the bittersweet. But my children. Yarri was barely yet a man.
“Would you?”
“I don’t know.”
Koto grunted. “The truth at least. You had better hope the question doesn’t arise then, for if you won’t kill, I will. I have come too far to step back now.”
“I understand. I will talk to him.”
“Too risky. He might warn the emperor. No. To the ministers first. Without them there can be no coup. Even with so many of the Imperial Guard still loyal to Lord Laroth, it’s the ministers who hold the power.”
I nodded, his words adding to the brewing plan clouding my thoughts. There was only one way to protect Kisia, to protect myself and all of my children. The emperor had to die. But he had to die secretly. There and gone as though removed from history without becoming a martyr or a hero. Just a corpse. But it was one thing for my hand to strike, another to give the job to a child.
“Give me a day’s grace, Koto,” I said. “To let things cool. Then I will send Zuzue to Minister Tarli. Best to see the Minister of the Left first in the circumstances, I think.”
“I agree. But take care. The court is rife with gossip about Lord Epontus.”
“What do they say?” Zuzue had already given me an account, but it was worth hearing it from his lips.
Koto shrugged. “The usual speculation. As he was not here as an official ambassador people seem keen on the idea that he fell foul of a common whore, or some other dark dealing, but the Chiltaen ambassador is demanding answers.”
“Of course. Had there been another way I would—”
Scowling, Koto lifted his hand, an ear pricked toward the door. “Majesty, I think—”
The door shot open, bouncing in its track. General Kin stood in the aperture, afternoon light shining upon his customary scowl.
“General,” I said, drawing myself up to full haughty empress though I wished to sink into the floor. “You were not given permission to enter.”
He bowed, not the graceful bow he had given me outside the emperor’s apartments, but the brusque economical bow of the angry soldier. “Forgive me, Your Majesty,” he said, the words like the staccato snap of sandals on stone. “I shall be gone in a moment. Captain Koto is under arrest.”
“Why?” I said.
Koto drew himself up and scowled at his commander, but said nothing.
“On a charge of treason, Your Majesty,” General Kin said. “For aiding in the death of Lord Epontus of Chiltae.”
“Aiding in the death—”
General Kin spun his ferocity upon me. “Your presence is also required by His Imperial Majesty.”
“My presence?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. At once.” He looked at Koto, a brief glance of disgust and annoyance, before gesturing to the guards behind him. “Take the captain away.”
Still Koto did not speak. He was armed, but drew neither sword nor dagger upon his comrades, letting them bind his hands and lead him away. But where there might have been defeat there was pride, and where pleading eyes might have turned my way he did not risk a look lest he give away more than they knew. Let him be just another guard to me, nothing more.
The throne room was empty of all but echoes. Emperor Lan sat upon the Crimson Throne and watched my approach, no Jingyi this time, no court, nothing but the haze of red-tinted light that spread in through the stained-glass windows.
At my back walked General Kin, his heavy footfall muted compared to the snap of my sandals. I stopped and bowed at the Humble Stone and there I waited, head to the floor, until the emperor bade me rise.
“You always were a stupid woman,” he said as I got to my feet. Sitting upon the great lacquered throne I could see why people thought him a god. But I knew better. I had seen him make love, grunting like a pig, had seen him sit upon the chamber pot and sleep with drool sticking to his lip. He was a man like any other, except unlike any other he needed to die.
I buried that thought as deep as I could.
“Stupid and more trouble than you were ever worth,” he said, his voice filling the room. “You know,” he added, shifting position upon his throne. “I could have had you executed after you birthed the bastard, but I chose not to. People would have said I could not co
ntrol my own wife. They would have whispered. They would have talked. They would have laughed. So I accepted the boy as my own kin and let you stay. And your thanks for my forbearance? A daughter and treason.”
Emperor Lan rose from the Crimson Throne and stood looking down at me, lips twisted to a sneer. “You may leave us now, General,” he said. “Prepare to execute the traitors. A warning must be given to those who think to betray me.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
I did not turn, just listened as General Kin’s tread retreated toward the great doors. They creaked as they opened and creaked as they closed, shutting me in. Beyond the crimson windows snow dusted the branches of skeletal trees in the garden and the walls of the outer palace beyond.
“You see, my dear,” Emperor Lan said, striding to the dais steps. “Eight men are going to die because of you. Eight guards who were only doing what they were told. I shall be sure to send their heads to their families with your compliments.”
Koto, his neck still bloody and his eyes staring. But at who? I didn’t even know what family he had, knew nothing about him except that he had given everything for Kisia, and for his ambition. Even his life. There might yet be a chance to save him if I said the right things, if I took the blame for it all. But where would that end?
The emperor stepped onto the smooth black floor and made his way toward me. “Still nothing to say?” he said. “I could suggest something perhaps. How about you beg? Get down on your knees and beg for forgiveness, beg for your life to be spared, beg for mercy or pray to whatever wretched god you heathens believe in.”
I did not kneel.
“No?” he came across the floor as a beast stalks prey. “At least I have taught you pride.”
Emperor Lan stopped before me and it took all my control not to step back. There was nowhere to run. “The Chiltaen Oligarch, Lord Epontus is dead,” he said, leaning close enough that his warm breath touched my face. “This, as I imagine you can see, does not look good. Easy enough to say it was an accident, but there will always be whispers. And people live and die upon the tide of whispers.”
He struck me, the force whipping my neck, but I held my ground.
“You seem to be lost for words,” he went on when I did not speak. “I said before that it would not have looked good to execute you, but I might still do so if you provoke me. Lord Epontus is dead. Why?”
Why? A chance then that he did not know.
A slap returned the other way, not as strong with his left hand but unexpected enough that I staggered. “You ordered him killed. Why?”
“He had plans to force the other oligarchs into another war,” I said, keeping my hand from touching my cheek though it smarted. “He offered me asylum.”
No slap this time, just a growl. “You think I’m stupid enough to believe that? If you were innocent you would have brought the matter to me. Now stop—” He struck me so hard I cried out and fell upon the hard floor. “—lying.” Loose tresses hung over my face and I was glad of their protective curtain as I sat upon the black boards, the emperor stalking around me.
“You know what I think,” he said, each step the slow beat of a death drum. “I think you went to him for help.” He continued to circle. “I think you didn’t like being sent away and went to the highest ranked Chiltaen you could find to beg for help. What did you want him to do? Start a war so you could keep your title? And when he refused? Well... he knew too much by then, didn’t he?”
I watched his feet as I sneered behind the fall of my hair.
“And now eight of my guards are going to die for following your orders.”
His foot dug into my side, not a hard kick but an insistent grind beneath the sharp edges of his wooden sandal. “Aren’t you going to beg for their lives? Women are soft-hearted. Are you not a woman?”
“They don’t need to die,” I said through gritted teeth.
Lan removed his foot. “Oh? Don’t they? Then shall I execute you to sate the Chiltaens when they clamour for blood? It is tempting, I assure you. How terrible it would be for them to know he was killed by one of their own. You are on your way out. Hardly my responsibility anymore. Old. Desperate. It could make quite the story. Yes, almost you have convinced me.”
No more pacing. He stood, one foot tapping now as he thought – a habit his council had long since urged him to cease. What god did such things?
To the beat of his tapping foot the room spun. Koto was going to be executed, and such could be my end too if the Emperor willed it. How the seer would be laughing in her grave. So many steps taken to ensure survival, and every one of them had brought death closer.
“Yes,” he said at last, cutting through my haze. “The execution of the former Empress Li, daughter of Chiltae, and the removal of her bastard children from the succession might just sate their desire for justice.”
“Why does it even matter?” I said, pushing back my hair to glare up at him. “You are just going to start the war again anyway using the Curashi. Just claim Lord Epontus attempted to kill you and send your barbarians in.”
Not a jab this time but a kick, his sandal slamming into my ribs with a swish of crimson silk. Grimacing, I sought for breath, only for the kick to come again. My shoulder. My back. My side. However I tried to protect myself he struck, layering bruises upon bruises until I curled against the barrage, tears and mucous dampening my sleeves.
When at last he stopped I did not move. Silence ruled the throne room, the only sound that of my breath inside my protective shell.
“Who told you?”
“I listen.”
He kicked my back. I whimpered.
“Who told you?”
“I listen.”
A kick to the same place, this time eliciting a yowl I could not contain. I wanted him to stop. I wanted to be far away. But more than anything I wanted back the Lan who had loved me once.
“Their emissary, Irash,” he said. “That was you, too.”
I didn’t answer. Braced for the kick.
“Who killed him?” He gripped my forearms and yanked me up, and though I kicked and fought and screamed, he was stronger. He twisted both of my arms until I could not move, could barely breath. “Who killed him?” he asked again, so close his chest heaved against mine.
“Who are you protecting? Laroth?”
My laugh surprised even me and brought a scowl to his brows. “What is so funny?”
“You think Lord Laroth gives a damn about what you do? I killed him. Me. With my own hands. Now what are you going do about it? The Curashi drop traitors off tall cliffs, but you’re already planning to behead me for the Chiltaens, so who is it more important to please?”
“You?”
He did not let go, but neither did he tighten his grip.
“You’re surprised? You stopped protecting me a long time ago.”
“Protecting you? That’s what we have guards for you stupid woman.”
I laughed. There was relief in being so far beyond redemption it didn’t matter what I said. “That isn’t the same and you know it.”
Lan shoved me away and I staggered, arms stinging. “I ought to have listened when the council said it was foolish to take a Chiltaen bride,” he said. “You have caused me nothing but trouble.” He began to pace the floor, scowling at his feet as they peeped from beneath the skirt of his grand crimson robe with every step. He ought to have been shouting, ought to be hitting me, demanding to know why I had done it, how, and with whose help. Yet those questions did not come.
“The guards will be executed in the morning,” he said, muttering as though I no longer existed. “The Chiltaen ambassador must be there. Yes. And Li—” he looked at me then. “You will admit your wrongs, admit being unfaithful and birthing a bastard, and retire to a sanctuary in the south where you can do no more harm. Takehiko will be disinherited and you may take him with you for all I care, although to ensure you do not flee to Lord Laroth he will be recalled for duty. This is my decree.”
“But I killed two men.” More than two. But the rest had died for other reasons at other times.
No longer pacing he strode toward me, but no strike came, no kick, no snap of my bones in his grip. “I am an emperor. A god,” he said. “I cannot be wrong. I can do no wrong for everything I decree is right. It cannot be that you killed men behind my back. It cannot be that you committed treason. It cannot be that such things were done without my knowledge because I know all. You will admit your weakness as a woman and retire. And this is the last time I ever want to see you.”
His words stole my breath as surely as had the tip of his sandal. After trying so hard to evade death it hurt to have it snatched from me, to have that certainty removed and replaced with a future I could not see. A future in which death would be allowed to creep up on me whenever it chose.
You will die before your thirtieth year.
“But... Your Majesty—”
Your children will die.
He sneered. “Now you want to beg?”
And Kisia will burn.
“No, the seer—”
“Is that why you betrayed me?” His sneer grew uglier. “Was it not enough to have the woman burned? Get out before I change my mind and execute you with the others.”
This wasn’t supposed to happen. But I had been given my life, allowed to leave, so I did the only thing that made sense. I knelt and bowed, and a fierce spark of joy lit my heart as I did, knowing it would be the last time. But before I went I would make sure he regretted his mercy. Though I might not be her empress anymore, I would not let Kisia burn for the whim of any god.
“Goodbye, Your Majesty,” I said when he gave permission for me to rise. “Long live Emperor Lan.”
The snow fell soft beyond the lacework shutter, its tiny holes letting in biting winter air. Quite a crowd had gathered in the Divine Square, a silent, shivering crowd blanketed in fear. No, not fear, not yet. Fear would come later, supplanting the anxiety that twisted in their guts like snakes. The last war had started the same way. With strange deaths and executions.