“That’s impossible,” I said. “We don’t dabble in the agan in Jin-Sayeng.”
“I thought so, too. But this was how she introduced herself. I didn’t argue. We took you back here. Your husband stayed in the mines.”
“Qun’s soldiers…”
“He knows about them. He’s a smart man—he’s been hiding from them the past few days and didn’t seem concerned. And he’s safe from the featherstone, I’ve been led to believe. A spell. Namra’s been studying how to protect one’s self from the worst of it.” Khine scratched his chin. “She helped me flush it out of you, actually. Without her, you’d be dead by now.”
“Do I want to know how you flushed it out of me?”
He grimaced. “Water and spells and…”
“Nevermind. This Namra.” I paused, remembering a priestess of Kibouri that evening I met with Rayyel in Anzhao City. I remembered calling her by my horse’s name. I bit back a moment of indignity—I had been so angry that night. “I suppose she’s been with Rayyel this whole time.”
“She returned to the mines yesterday after the worst was over. I think she wanted to give him a full report on your condition. They will be back, Tali,” he quickly added, noticing my restlessness. “They’ve secured lodging here, paid for in advance. Eat, please. You were asleep for three days.”
I lifted the rim of the bowl to my lips. The soup was sour and creamy, the noodles thick and soft. My hunger made me finish the meal, but my mind was in a daze. Khine bent forward to take the empty bowl.
“When I fell…” I began. I struggled to find the words. “What did he do?”
“I didn’t notice. All I cared about was you.” Khine took a deep breath. “I think he ordered the priestess to follow us. It was very dark there, Tali.”
“But he cared enough to send her.”
He hesitated before nodding.
“So why does he want to kill our son?” I turned to him helplessly.
Khine’s face softened. He placed his hand on my arm. “I can’t answer for him,” he murmured. “I can tell you that for a man to go through such lengths as he has for hate seems…a bit too much. Not with what you have told me about him, with the kind of man he seems to be. You wouldn’t have loved him in the first place if he wasn’t a good man.”
Choking down the tears felt like swallowing nails. “That doesn’t tell me anything. Love. Love is meaningless in our world, do you understand? We move to the beat of our ancestors, of our clans. I need to know if he thinks he is doing this because he has to or because he wants to. My child’s life is at stake here.”
“I never said I had a gift with words.” His eyes turned to the door. Agos was standing there, arms crossed.
“I heard you were awake,” Agos said. “Welcome back, Princess.”
“She still needs to rest,” Khine replied.
“I know,” Agos snapped. He nodded towards me. “There’s one inn in the village, if you could even call it that, and it’s full. The rest of us are staying at the mayor’s. He insisted on having you in this hovel.”
Khine made a sound in the back of his throat. “She needed peace and quiet.”
Agos ignored him, his eyes fixed on me. “So you’ve found him. Prince Rayyel. He doesn’t want to see you, seems like, or he’ll be here now. What do you want me to do?”
I folded my hands over my knees. “I want you to let me figure it out.”
“You said you’ll give the order to kill him if it comes to it.”
“I haven’t decided yet.”
Agos snorted. “Talking to him—you’ve already tried that. He’s dead set on getting rid of Thanh. You know why, don’t you? He wants you and Thanh out of the way so he can sit on the Dragonthrone alone.”
“Rai’s not like that.”
“The hell he’s not,” Agos hissed. “The Ikessars are sneaky. They know how to act and what to say, but to trust an Ikessar—his mother did everything she could to get her hands on your father. She would’ve wrung the life out of Warlord Yeshin if she could—she was just as ruthless as he was.” He sighed. “I know you’re not going to listen.”
“Good. You’re learning.”
“What if you let him have it?”
“I’m sorry?”
“The Dragonthrone. Let Rayyel have it.”
“I already brought that up,” Khine broke in.
Agos barely glanced at him. “We can pretend to cooperate long enough to get home. And then take Thanh and just run. To the Kag, to Dageis, away from the rest of them. I know you don’t like this half as much as you pretend to.”
I felt Khine’s eyes on me as I considered Agos’ words. The image of me taking my son away from all of this filled me with the same, mad longing I experienced when I saw that airship in the sky. But the thought passed as quickly as it came. “I can’t do that,” I found myself saying. “I wouldn’t deny my son his legacy. He will be Lord of Oren-yaro someday. My father’s grandson…” My heart ached, hearing the words. I imagined Thanh’s face, so clearly Yeshin’s shadow with nary a trace of his own father. Did my father mean more to me than my son? “Don’t speak of this again.”
Agos took a deep breath, a clear sign that he wasn’t going to argue any further—at least, not for today.
“I’ll stay here,” I continued. “Keep an eye for Rayyel. Send word as soon as he returns to the village.”
“Beloved Queen.”
He strode out. I fell back into the bed.
“Would you?” Khine asked. “Give it all up?”
I stared at the fan as it skipped with the breeze. There were a hundred answers in my head, all very surprising. I settled on one.
“My father fought too hard for this.”
~~~
If people were sensible, after all, The War of the Wolves would’ve been over in an afternoon.
Instead, the Ikessars responded to my father’s call for parley with hidden knives and poison. Support Yeshin, their actions said, and your livelihood dies, your family dies, you die. That something good was able to come out of that tangled mess was still seen as a miracle by historians and the common people alike.
If I stepped down, who would take over?
Rayyel?
Like Rayyel could rule anything that couldn’t be shoved into a bookshelf or folded into a desk. If I handed the throne over to him, I would be giving it up to the hissing tongues and venomous fangs in the shadows. Who else lay hidden in the dark? His mother Ryia had not even left the Citadel in the mountains for over twenty years out of fear for her own life. My own mother-in-law, whom I’ve never met—not even during the wedding she had agreed to. I don’t think she had ever even formally acknowledged me—some of my advisers claimed it was because I did not take the Ikessar name, which was ridiculous, because it was one of the terms my father had agreed to: that his only heir remain an Orenar. All my brothers were dead.
It wasn’t as if I was expecting open arms and kisses. Certainly not the warm acceptance Khine’s mother offered. I think the woman had been unprepared for the sudden arrival of all her children and coped by doting on me instead. When she learned I was to stay in her hut during my recovery, she looked thrilled. She even gave Khine a layered look, the message quite clear in her raised eyebrows.
“I liked it better when you thought she was my patient,” Khine grumbled.
“Well, she’s someone. I thought the next time you came home it would be with Jia.”
“Thao already told you—Jia was years ago.” Khine looked like he wanted to be anywhere but there, having this conversation.
“And you never thought to tell your old mother when it ended? I had guessed, of course—for you to fall silent after so much excitement could’ve only meant the worst—but I would’ve still appreciated the news. Are you ever going to get married, Khine?”
“The way she goes on,” Khine told me a few days later, when I was strong enough to take a few steps out of the hut, “you’d think she didn’t have two eligible daughters to worry a
bout.”
“You’re clearly her favourite, Khine,” I said.
“We all have our own opinions about that. Thao never gets any trouble from her and Cho gets away with everything. No—she expects more from me as the eldest, I think. Everything I do must be…perfect.” He smiled. “I know how that must sound, especially to you.”
I shook my head. “I am starting to learn that perhaps commoners have the same sort of troubles that we royals do.” I fell silent as we left the shadow of the tight houses, pausing to catch my breath as I gazed in wonder at the sight around me.
I had been told before our journey that Phurywa was a village at the edge of the sea, but I didn’t realize that it was actually a cluster of hovels along a narrow peninsula and a few small islands, connected by wooden bridges that swayed with every breath of the wind. We were in the peninsula itself, overlooking a bay filled with pebbly red and grey sand. I could also see a deep blue lake the shape of an hourglass in the distance. Grass-covered cliffs rose sharply from the other end of the lake.
“It’s beautiful here, Khine,” I found myself saying.
“There’s a path up there that leads to the mountain temple,” Khine said. “I’ve asked around. The villagers…don’t want to talk about it.”
I tore myself away from the scenery. “Is that odd?”
“Let’s just say the people here aren’t like the ones in Anzhao,” Khine said. “I haven’t been home in years and they already consider me a stranger. So I can’t tell if it’s because they don’t want to talk to me or they have something to hide. Bribing them doesn’t normally work, either.”
“What makes you think they’re hiding things?”
Khine didn’t reply immediately. He led me to the end of the settlement, where a low rock slope led to a tidal pool. Waves bubbled over the sharp edges, which teemed with barnacles and mussels. I also spotted a crab daintily making its way along the shoreline.
“I asked my mother,” he said, when he was sure that we were out of earshot. “Asked her if she’s heard about these mages, or anything happening up at the temple. Everything I learned, I learned from Namra, you understand. But Ma only wanted to talk about you. And I figured maybe she was just frightened for your sake, because she was convinced you were Jia at first and I never really found the time to explain to her until we knew you were on the mend. I brought it up this morning again and instead of replying, she announced she was going to visit Inzali and the others.
“I tried the others and they were all tight-lipped. I’m still not sure if it means anything—they’re mostly old folks, these ones who remained in Phurywa. Fishing is poor in this region and the road is badly connected. Almost everyone who grew up here have left. I’m not even sure we have young families around anymore. I haven’t seen any children.”
“It’s possible there’s pressure from the mages,” I said. “They went through quite the trouble of keeping their location secret.”
“That’s what I thought, too.”
“Will you bring me to where everyone is staying? I’d like to speak with them.”
“It’s by the bay. You sure you can walk that far?”
I nodded. “I think I’m strong enough, and it’ll get the blood running.”
“You’re such a good patient. And I’m just saying that for my mother’s benefit.” Khine held out his hand. I stared at it. A week ago, I would’ve taken it without a problem.
He must’ve noticed the look on my face, because he dropped his arm to the side before I could reply. “I’ve forgotten—your husband could return to the village any moment.”
“I just don’t want to make more trouble,” I mumbled. “At least no more than what we’ve already had.”
“We’ll just walk really slow, then.”
There was an eerie silence as we returned to the street. I tried to ignore it and focused on the furtive glances the villagers were throwing our way. I saw what Khine said about the village population—our black hair stood out in a sea of grey and white. Many of the residents were much older than Khine’s mother. Some were so gaunt they looked like skeletons as they gathered around their outdoor stoves, waiting for the evening’s pot of rice. They were also grilling thin strips of fish over the charcoal.
“If there are no industries around here,” I found myself whispering, trying to catch up to Khine, “how do people live?”
Khine hesitated before he answered. “Everyone sends money. They send a wagon up to the next town for supplies.”
“What your mother’s been feeding me, that didn’t come from her pantry, did it?”
“The mayor’s daughter is Inzali’s friend. They’ve been providing everything.” He caught on to what I was saying. “Why…what would make you think…”
“Did you see what they were cooking back there? Five people, five pieces of fish. My thumb is wider than those things. Surely you know what starvation looks like.”
He swallowed. “Ma never said anything.”
“How long have you been away, Khine?”
“Nearly ten years,” he croaked out.
Too long, I found myself thinking. If an entire ocean could come between me and Rayyel in five…
Not that it was the same thing, and I needed to learn to stop bringing my personal issues into everything I saw. I grabbed the ropes as we made our way across the first bridge, built over a rocky cliff that separated the peninsula into two. A man passed by us, carrying steaming bamboo baskets. He was dressed in robes that marked him as a priest of Shimesu. I smelled the scent of cooked rice with lemongrass.
“I guess someone’s been feeding them,” I said, turning around to watch the man saunter down the street. A crowd was beginning to gather around him.
Khine paused. “Perhaps,” he murmured. I think my words had struck a chord. I of all people should have known the hollow echo of failed expectations.
“I apologize if I made you worry,” I said. “Your mother seems perfectly healthy.” In the distance, the priest was unwrapping the contents of his baskets and handing them out to people. “You see? The fine priests of Shimesu…”
The priest grabbed the first outstretched hand and stabbed the arm with a needle-like implement. There was a vial immediately under. I was too far away to see what else was happening, but I heard a low groan.
Khine was gone from my side before I could blink. The bridge swayed with my efforts as I hobbled after him.
“What is this?” he thundered, approaching the crowd.
Blood was trickling from the end of the implement straight into the vial. The priest pulled away to cap it and wiped his hands on his robes. He handed the woman something wrapped in lotus leaves and only then got up to face Khine. “Who are you?” he asked. He had a hooked nose behind his hood.
“It doesn’t matter,” Khine said. “I’m asking what you’re doing to these people.”
“That’s Mei Lamang’s son!” someone called from the crowd. “Let the priest be, boy!”
“Khine Lamang,” the priest said, his eyes lighting up in recognition. “You’re Inzali’s famous brother, the physician we’ve heard so much about. You don’t remember me, do you? Why should you? You used to be such an arrogant son of a bitch. But I suppose anyone would be, the way your family goes on about you. A boy from this village making such a big name in Anzhao City—and to have studied under Tashi Reng Hzi himself! It’s been all Mei could talk about for years. Which reminds me—I haven’t seen Mei all last week. I hope she’s well.”
Khine took another step closer to him. “You haven’t answered my question.”
“Your hostility is—”
Khine grabbed him by the shirt.
“I would listen to him if I were you,” I said as I reached them. “Make this easy for all of us.”
The priest’s eyes darted to me before falling back on Khine. “I’m taking blood samples,” he finally grumbled. “Nothing wrong with that. Half of these people are sick.”
“Sick from what?”
&nb
sp; “Featherstone exposure. You’d know that, being here and all.” The priest licked his lips. “We’re doing a study on the effects of it on the local populace. Purely for…future incidents.”
“There won’t be future incidents unless you’re planning to open up the mines again.”
“Not my concern. I was just asked to do this.”
“You’re bleeding them in exchange for food.” Khine’s voice was shaking. I found myself reaching for his elbow.
“Let’s not stir up trouble,” I said.
The priest nodded. “Listen to the lady. They’re letting me do this. I’m not forcing anyone.”
Khine looked like he wanted to throw up.
Chapter Nine
Slaves of Shimesu
The priest had uttered one truth, at least: there was no resistance from the crowd. They knew exactly what they were there for. They fell in line, baring their arms as they reached the end and looking away as the horrifying procedure took place. When they received the paltry amount of food in exchange afterwards, they looked almost grateful—one man even kissed the priest’s hands with tears in his eyes. It took a lot of effort to pry Khine away from them. It might’ve been harder if he had grown up in an environment like mine—if I was as upset as he looked, I would have gone straight for my sword and asked questions later. As it was, I think the crowd’s acceptance had shocked him into silence.
We reached the street leading up to the mayor’s house. Here, Khine’s eyes lit up with rage, like he was just seeing something for the first time. I tried to understand what it was. The mayor’s house was bigger than the rest of the hovels, which by itself wasn’t a strange thing—it was exactly the same in Anzhao City. Lo Bahn himself had a mansion in the slums. People always found a way to rise up among the downtrodden, or at least benefit from them.
Inzali saw us at the gate. Khine grabbed the rails with his hands before she could even open it, tugging hard enough for the hinges to creak. “Tell me you didn’t know about this,” he hissed.
Inzali regarded him with an expression that bordered between irritated and unamused. “Maybe you should calm down first.”
The Ikessar Falcon Page 12