by Sarah Zettel
Mikkel thought of the beautiful bird, of the heartache and how close it had come to believing him, how very close, and now it was gone again to someone who wanted to drive it back into captivity.
He bent his head, and then his knees, and the emperor of Isavalta so recently freed from his own bondage began to cry.
Chapter Twenty-two
Mae Shan and the sorcerer Sakra hopped into the surf and each grabbed a gunwale to help beach Uncle Lien’s boat while the woman, whom Sakra had told Mae Shan was named Bridget, took in the sail and lashed it down. When she felt the press and shift of dry sand under her shoes, Mae Shan thought she might cry or faint from relief. She had not believed she would live. She had not believed she would ever see the sun or the shore again.
She had spoken to old soldiers and heard about the things one did after battle. The moments of insanity, elation, or unbearable sorrow that could seize hold of one who had been pressed to their breaking point despite years of training. She had not at that time truly understood the feeling with which they spoke, and had dismissed much of it. Perhaps one day she would be able to return and apologize. If any were left alive.
Mae Shan swallowed and closed her eyes, feeling the sun on her face and listening to the surge and roar of the ocean at her back.
Your battle is not over yet. Not yet.
She opened her eyes. Sakra was helping Bridget out of the boat. She had her hems gathered up almost to her knees, revealing a pair of thick black stockings and tattered shoes that had once been fine slippers. She didn’t seem to need the hand the sorcerer held out to her, as she jumped down easily into the water and waded to the beach without hesitation or thought of modesty. Surely she was a fisherwoman, or the daughter of farmers as Mae Shan was. Whatever she was, she was used to hard work and boats, as well as magic.
She was saying something to Sakra, her hand clutching his arm tightly. Her face was white, and Mae Shan thought that if she could hear her there would be a tremor in her voice. She hoped Sakra knew where they were. It was a beautiful place with the great mountain rising green and grey to meet the sky, and the strange sand of the beach glittering around them black as well as gold. She was thankful beyond words for their rescue of her but she still hoped they knew how she might best find a representative of the emperor of Isavalta. As much as her blood burned to undo her uncle’s murderer with her bare hands, she was not such a fool. She needed magic, and she needed other soldiers. She would get down on her knees before the gods of Isavalta and forswear herself if she had to, but she would get what she needed and she would drive Valin Kalami back into the Land of Death and Spirit, and if need be she would follow him there herself to make certain that he stayed this time.
For now that she was in the real world and on solid ground, now that shock and nightmare were over, her anger spilled out of her like blood, and only blood would assuage it.
Sakra approached her. Mae Shan took a deep breath and calling on years of discipline pushed that anger to the back of her mind. She bowed to the sorcerer, her hand clasped around her fist in salute.
“Sir, this one most humbly thanks you and the Lady Bridget for all you have done. This one’s life is in debt and service to you.” She spoke in the most formal dialect she possessed.
The Hastinapuran bowed. “This one salutes the bravery of Mae Shan. Certainly she has borne herself honorably through grave dangers. If a question may be permitted.”
Mae Shan glanced over Sakra’s shoulder and saw Bridget. It was not only the black sand that made her look so white. She watched Mae Shan’s every move with anxious eyes. “Of course. I will help in any way I can,” she said, switching to less formal phrasings.
“Do you know a girl child named Anna?”
Mae Shan felt as if she had been struck. “What is this?” she demanded. “Who are you? What do you know of Tsan Nu … of Anna?”
Sakra held up his hands and pressed them together, a gesture asking for peace and patience. “Forgive me, forgive me, but I doubted for a moment what I had been told and I should not have … will you come with me? There are stories to be told here.”
This I readily believe. Mae Shan followed him to where Bridget stood. He said something to her in the language they shared, and her hand flew to her mouth to stifle a scream or a sob. For a moment Mae Shan thought the woman was going to lunge forward and shake her, but she only swayed on her feet. Then, she said something to Sakra.
“The Lady Bridget asks your forgiveness for her emotion,” Sakra said to Mae Shan, though Mae Shan wondered if the Lady Bridget had said any such thing. “She asks me to tell you she is Anna’s mother.”
Mae Shan stared in open and frank disbelief. The woman met her gaze, but it was clear she was at the end of some harrowing adventure of her own. Mae Shan tried to see any of Anna in her. The coloring was wrong, and the hair, but there was something familiar in the shape of the face. Mae Shan took two steps forward, and now that she looked closely, the eyes, the eyes were the right pale shade. It could be the truth.
“How is this possible?” Mae Shan asked Sakra.
“I don’t know.” He shook his head. “We are in the hands of the gods in this, all of us.”
Mae Shan looked at Tsan Nu’s mother, who looked to be Isavaltan, and at the Hastinapuran who stood beside her and obviously had to restrain himself from taking her hands to comfort her. But in the hands of whose gods in this tumult when our gods distrust each other as much as our emperors do?
“Tell Lady Bridget I was Anna’s bodyguard for five years as lieutenant of the Heart’s Own Guard in the Heart of the World. Tell her I helped bring Anna out of the Heart when it burned down. Tell her when last I saw Anna she was alive in my uncle’s house. Tell her …” Mae Shan faltered. “There is too much to tell.”
“Will you permit this one to make it possible for Lieutenant Mae Shan to speak in her own words without this one’s fumbling?” asked Sakra with another bow.
The return to high formalities told Mae Shan all she needed to know about what he wanted to do. The thought of yet more magic made her sick inside, but she nodded her aquiescence.
The spell itself involved taking one of the beads from his braided hair, rinsing it clean in seawater, and speaking over it in the manner of sorcerers. He then gave it to her to swallow, a possibility Mae Shan found she had prepared herself for. It was not as difficult as she feared. Sakra then pressed two fingers against her lips and spoke three more words. Mae Shan felt cold for a heartbeat, then hot, and then that too passed.
Sakra stepped away, bowing in thanks or apology, Mae Shan was not sure which. “You will be able to speak freely now,” he said in words and cadences that were alien to Mae Shan’s ears but no longer so to her mind or tongue.
She turned to Bridget, who had knotted the fingers of both hands into her skirt in a search for something to hold on to.
“Tell me,” she said to Mae Shan. Her voice was a whisper, barely audible over the waves, and it brimmed with fear, with hope, with love and sorrow and forty thousand other things that Mae Shan could barely begin to guess at. “Tell me about my daughter.”
There on the black and gold sands, Mae Shan told her story. They sat out of reach of the waves. There was water and a little food stowed in the boat so they were able to find some refreshment as she spoke. Mae Shan reclaimed her spear and sat with her back to the water so she could face inland. She was a soldier still, whatever else happened. Her training had kept her alive this far, she would follow it even if they were in the middle of nowhere.
She was glad to be able to tell this woman that Anna was a good child, that she was clever, kind, obedient, and happy, that she had been well cared for and had known affection from her teachers and nurses.
She spoke of the burning of the Heart as quickly and as sparingly as she could, to save the mother’s feelings, yes, but also her own. She did not want to dwell on what was not there anymore. She was too worn down by that enormity to be able to fend off a fresh attack from her own memory.
&
nbsp; She was, however, glad to speak of Valin Kalami and what he had done. She wanted every moment carved deeply in her mind. She wanted these two to be as furious as she was. She wanted their help without question or delay, and letting them know exactly what Kalami had done to Anna seemed the best way to secure that agreement. It was the only weapon she had for this fight.
When at last Mae Shan finished, Bridget said, “Thank you.” She rose, bread crumbs and sand scattering from her skirt, and walked back to the edge of the waves. She stood staring out at the sea for a long moment, rubbing her arms.
Mae Shan thought Sakra would go to her then, but he did not. Instead, Sakra told Mae Shan Bridget’s story, and it was as fantastic as any fairy tale told at fireside after the children had gone to bed. Although he did not move toward her, he watched Bridget as he spoke. She stood with the waves lapping at her torn shoes. She did not look like any great sorceress, until one saw the stony resolve tightening her features and sparking danger in her eyes that were so much like Anna’s.
Bridget must have been able to hear at least the rise and fall of Sakra’s voice, because as soon as he had finished with their tale, she strode back, head and shoulders erect, her jaw hard.
“We will find him, Mae Shan,” she declared. “For you and for my daughter.”
“Your magics are great,” said Mae Shan. “But do you even know where we are?”
“Yes,” Bridget answered. “I recognize the mountain. This is Tuukos. Kalami has come home.” She glanced at Sakra and obviously saw some question there. “I had Richikha read to me about it after … everything. I wanted to know what had driven Kalami to do what he had done. All I knew he had done at that point.” She looked away, attempting to collect herself. “The good news is Lord Master Peshek is here, in the city of Ahde. I had a letter from him before this all started saying he had arrived. He will help us.”
Sakra nodded. “Ahde is on the coast, if I remember correctly. Do you think you can handle the boat in these waters?”
Bridget looked toward the rolling blue ocean, puffing out her cheeks in calculation. At the same time, Mae Shan glimpsed movement among a pile of rocks a few dozen yards down the beach. Not caring if she appeared too nervous, she shot to her feet. Sakra and Bridget turned to look.
A form stood on a boulder, small and slender, with long hair blowing like a banner in the ocean wind.
“What …” began Bridget.
But even at this distance, Mae Shan recognized the form of the child in her borrowed clothes. “Goddess of Mercy, it’s Anna.”
“Anna!” screamed Bridget, and before anything more could be said or thought, she was on her feet, tearing down the beach with Sakra hard on her heels.
Mae Shan swore and snatched up her spear. Stop! she wanted to yell, but it was too late. They were already running full speed into whatever trap had been set, as Kalami had surely known they would.
There was no cover beyond that jumble of rocks. No way she had not been seen, nowhere to slip away and take up position. This was Kalami’s home. If he had brought allies, all efforts were futile now, but she had to try.
Mae Shan angled for the tree line. Allies or no, perhaps she could lose them in the tangle of the forest, watch and see where Bridget and Sakra would be taken to, if they weren’t killed outright …
“Mae Shan!” A child’s scream rose high over the ocean’s roar, like the call of a hunting bird. It jerked Mae Shan’s head around before she could stop herself.
On the boulder, beside Anna, stood a man, and the man held a knife at the child’s throat. Mae Shan skidded to a stop, spraying black and gold sand up around her.
“Mae Shan!” called the man. “No farther!”
There was the trap. She should have seen it as soon as Anna appeared. Their boat had been spotted as it came to land. It had been too late before they even set foot on shore.
Mae Shan gripped the shaft of her spear with both hands and raised it high over her head. She would not drop it unless ordered to do so. Even a trapped animal might find a chance to bite.
“Very good. Now, come here. I would speak with you!”
Keeping her spear held high, Mae Shan slogged through the loose black and gold sand. Patches of black stone stood out here and there. Scoured clean by wind they looked like dark pools of oil, or bottomless holes waiting for someone to make an unlucky step.
Already done, she thought toward her own fancy.
She was close enough now to start taking in details. Waste not one breath when you are looking for your opening, her trainer had said. One breath may be all you have.
A flat black rock, speckled with lichen, thrust out of the sand, making a kind of natural platform. Ocean or mountain had tumbled clusters of man-sized grey boulders around it in a complex and disorderly jumble that left only one corner of the platform rock clear for easy climbing. A man, who was tall and wiry, stood with his back to the jumbled stones and his face toward the opening. Anna stood in front of him, as still as a statue, her face blank, but her eyes filled with fear. He had one hand on her shoulder. To the left side of her throat he held the point of an obsidian knife.
Mae Shan had seen one of these once, in the home of one of the imperial doctors who favored it for surgeries. He said there was no steel so sharp.
Mae Shan looked hard at the man. He seemed to have lived soft. His arms and long, brown face were without scars, or the whipcord lines of muscles. His clothing was simple. He wore no armor or protective gear. There was no sign of any weapon save that black and glistening knife beneath Anna’s chin. His hands were nearly doll-like in their smoothness, yet he held the knife with confidence. He kept his eyes steadily on Mae Shan’s progress. If he had confederates, he was sure of them, because he cast no glance in any other direction looking for signs of readiness or arrival.
He remained silent until Mae Shan drew abreast of Bridget and Sakra.
“Excellent,” he said. “You can stop there.”
“Kalami,” spat Bridget.
Mae Shan started, but stilled herself quickly, concentrating on her watching and on alternately tightening and loosening her grip on her spear so that her hands would not grow numb. So this was Valin Kalami. She did not ask how he found this body. He was a sorcerer and a barbarian. It was their way to perform such blasphemies. She was only glad he was no longer inside Anna. Now she would have a chance to kill him without harming her charge.
Kalami was smiling at Bridget. Smiling, he should have been a handsome man, in his way, except for the cruelty in his eyes.
“Yes, my dear. So good of you to come and finally meet your daughter.”
Anna also looked to Bridget, bewildered. She had thought her mother dead and her father a kind savior. What did she think now?
“Anna, has he hurt you?” asked Mae Shan.
Anna began to shake her head, but felt the knife. “I’m sorry, Mae Shan,” she said softly.
“It is of no matter, mistress.” Squeeze. Release. Squeeze. Release. Keep your hands ready. Keep your eyes on him. Don’t let him see the way you stand. Don’t let him know your readiness.
“Let her go,” said Bridget. “I will do anything you ask, just let Mae Shan take her and go.” She swallowed. “I beg you.”
“Yes.” Kalami’s smile grew broader and sharper. “You do, and you will. But our child should be with the parent who did not give her away as an infant, don’t you think?”
Which was too much for the woman. “You stole her!” she cried as if her heart were breaking afresh. “You stole her in the middle of the night and you made me think she was dead!”
“What else was I to do?” Kalami shrugged. “You were not going to let me take her, were you?”
Which story is it? Mae Shan watched confusion growing in Anna’s eyes. You should stick to one lie, Valin Kalami. What is the matter with you?
Apparently Sakra noticed as well. “You were a better liar when you were alive, Kalami. The Vixen would be disappointed you learned nothing in her company
.”
“Quiet!” Kalami’s whole body stiffened with fear and for one moment his whole attention was on the sorcerer.
Mae Shan swung her spear into her right hand and cast it out, straight for Kalami’s exposed chest and watched with elation as it flew straight and true.
The spear struck the sorcerer with a high ringing noise as if it had just struck a bell made of glass and fell clattering to the rock, rolled away, and thudded onto the sand.
Inside herself, Mae Shan howled to shake the Heavens. Anna went paper-white. Kalami did not even stagger. He just turned his head to look down at the weapon with an oddly inhuman fluidity.
“Pick up your toy,” he said to Mae Shan, his voice brimming with satisfaction. “And do not trouble me with it again.”
Slowly, carefully, so the sorcerer could see each movement, Mae Shan walked forward to the base of the rock. It came up to her shoulders, too high for her to make any sort of leap. Any such attempt would be too dangerous for Anna, who did not seem to have blinked this whole time. Mae Shan held up her right hand as she retrieved the spear with her left, and raised it over her head as she had before, and slowly backed away to stand beside the others.
“I understand you had to try,” said Kalami magnanimously. “And I am glad we have gotten that out of the way. As for you” — he looked toward Sakra, but this time Mae Shan could see he kept her in his peripheral vision — “I caution you, Southerner, I might decide you are not needed after all. There are plenty of bodies to spare.” His hand clamped down tighter on Anna’s shoulder and the child winced in pain.
Bridget bit her lip. Her hands twitched. It seemed to Mae Shan that the air grew a little colder.
“We must climb the mountain now,” Kalami went on, visibly forcing himself to relax once more. “You will walk in front of me. Mae Shan, you will go first, as you are. The other two will follow you, with their hands folded behind their backs. You will all remember that I have this knife at Anna’s throat, and her only purpose here is to prevent attack. Should attack come, she will no longer be of use to me.”