“You are a persistent woman,” Rai said as I strode up to him.
“You knew that,” I replied. “You’ve always known that.” I stopped a few paces away from him. My heart was beating very fast. I considered that with a measure of detachment. Was it because Rayyel was there, or because Khine was angry with me? Perhaps it was both. I tried to imagine how Rai and I had been in our youth—a gilded prince and princess, worshipped and loved by so many. Looking at us now, with our unkempt hair and filthy clothes while we stood in the middle of those dirty hovels, you wouldn’t know that.
“Perhaps,” he said. “I’m not sure I know you as well as I thought I did.”
“We have that in common, at least.” I swallowed. “You have to stop this madness, Rai. You have to come home with me.” My hand dropped to the side, to the sword that wasn’t there. I was suddenly grateful for that.
Rai shook his head. “My mind is made up.”
“Made up to what? To kill our son? Or at least get him killed? You’re creating problems where there is none. Until you decided to do something about it, it wasn’t an issue. You…”
Rai cocked his head to the side. “Did you think the innkeeper was alone in his knowledge, Talyien?”
I swallowed. “If he wasn’t, we would’ve found out by now.”
“His entire family knew. His wife, his three daughters. Their husbands.”
I realized what he was saying. “Gods, Rai—you didn’t…”
There was barely a flicker of emotion on his face. “Had to be done. The last thing you needed was one of the warlords catching wind and interrogating true witnesses.”
I swallowed. “Who did it? The Shadows? You?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does. You’ve kept me in the dark far too long, Rai!”
“There’s a reason for that,” he said, bristling. “It worked, too. You accuse me of making trouble, but the truth is I stayed away to protect you and your rash, impulsive…” He drew a quick breath. “Because I was the one who walked away, they couldn’t very well blame you, could they?”
My ears were still ringing, but for a very different reason now. “But they did, Rayyel. They all did.”
“Not officially. That makes all the difference. Do you think the Ikessars would’ve kept as quiet as they did if they found out first?”
“So you’re telling me that this—all of this—is just political maneuvering?” I reached out to grab his arm with every intention, I think, to yank it out of its socket. “You told me you intend to kill Thanh if he isn’t yours. I didn’t just dream that, Rai. You said…”
“I did,” he said in an even voice. “I meant it, too.” He slowly removed my fingers from his sleeve.
“Princess Ryia must’ve dropped you on your head when you were a child. If you really think I’m going to just stand and let you—”
“Don’t be dramatic, Talyien. He is an entire ocean away from us, surrounded by the best guardians the Ikessar clan has to offer. Anything I say will have to be backed with proof, which the council will first examine and then deliberate over. None of this will happen in a day. I don’t intend to murder a child in cold blood. I think you should know me better than that.” He cleared his throat and stepped aside as a man passed by, giving us a curious look. We had been conversing in Jinan, completely oblivious to the rest of the world.
“It won’t come to that if I stop you now.”
He frowned. “If you feel that is necessary. You’re the one with guards, after all.”
I tried to bite back my amusement at his feeble attempt of fighting back. “What happened to the men you inherited from Zheshan?”
“I was given an escort to An Mozhi and no further. I only have Namra.” He paused. “I’m not a fool. After the things I said, I knew it was only a matter of time before you came rushing after me. You were never one to let an insult go by without action.”
“Ah hah! So you do learn.”
“I was…the things I said…” He turned red, slightly. “I may have erred in that.” He shook his head. “Do you know what the Ikessar clan will do to the boy if he is found false? What my mother Ryia will subject him to—her enemy Yeshin’s grandson, and not her own? Think for a moment, Talyien. Death by my hand will be the cleanest, most merciful thing I could give him.”
“You’re an idiot.”
“And so I am. And thus, you follow me all the way out here.” Rai held his hands out, showing me both of his palms. “I am at your mercy, Queen Talyien.”
I flushed. “You saw I wasn’t armed.”
“I wasn’t paying that close attention. Would you like to go and fetch your sword now?”
I didn’t answer.
He nodded. “I thought so. I don’t have to remind you that killing Thanh is not the only option. The boy could be mine, yes?” He gave me a look of appraisal.
“Of course,” I mumbled.
“A most ideal situation. Should such a thing occur, we can put all of this behind us.”
I met his eyes. “Explain.”
“Zheshan’s suggestion to split Jin-Sayeng was sound at the time when I thought…” He gave a soft sigh. “You followed me, risking your life in the process. I apologize if I have questioned your loyalty to the nation. If Thanh is mine, then the whole land will know. Such a declaration will silence the warlords once and for all. We will forget that accursed meeting in Anzhao and resume our duties side-by-side.”
“If he is yours,” I said dryly.
“Yes.”
“Can we not just…” I started. Just go home. There’s a ship waiting for us. But I had no energy left for that sort of conversation anymore. Something had changed. A shift in the wind. I wasn’t throwing myself into his arms. I wasn’t trembling with joy or hope or all of those feelings I once longed to have. Too many years, Rai.
“Too much has happened,” he said, echoing my thoughts. “To do so would be to walk into an arrow range blindfolded. In order to put these rumours to rest, we need to face them head on—pretending that nothing has happened will only weaken our stand. Uncertainty has served us very well for now, but for how long? How long will Jin-Sayeng remain happy with this uneasy peace?”
Gods be damned, but I hated it when he made sense.
“All right,” I said, after a moment of deliberation. “I will call a truce for now.”
“It was all I ever asked for, Beloved Queen.”
“But if you talk about killing my son one more time, I swear to Akaterru and the rest of Jin-Sayeng’s gods and goddesses that nothing will stop me from spilling your guts. I’ll use a kitchen knife if I have to.”
He was used to my threats, I think. Without a flicker of reaction, he gave a small nod.
I turned, my eyes skipping down to the street and the house at the end of it, where I imagined Khine arguing with his mother. I stared longer than I should’ve. I forced myself to turn away. Worry about yours.
Rayyel, unaware of my disquiet, gestured for me to follow him. I tore my attention back to my husband. “When Namra and I arrived, we encountered one of the priests in the village, a man who goes by the name of Belfang.”
“I am acquainted with the bastard.”
Rai pretended not to be bothered by my language, but I could see his face muscles twitch. “I asked him if he knew of a settlement of mages around, and he immediately blurted out that visitors to the temple will not be entertained unless there is a reason. Namra, of course, pointed out that his reaction meant the mages were there, which was when he started speaking of the featherstone, of trying to cure the villagers of this common ailment. The mages, he said, were sent by the Empire to help the villagers.”
“Namra. This is the priestess you were with during our meeting in Anzhao?”
“She is a devoted servant of Kibouri, as well as someone who has been studying the agan in the west for years.”
“A risky endeavour.”
“Mages in the Empire of Ziri-nar-Orxiaro are sanctioned by the Estee
med Emperor himself. This is one of the few ways they keep them under control—similar to how Eheldeth functions in the Empire of Dageis, for example. Or—”
“Yes, I get it, Rai.”
He flushed. “Namra pointed out that serving a small hamlet that has otherwise been forgotten by the empire seems a bit—out of touch. Yet we had observed him gathering blood from the villagers, so that much at least was true. Blood magic is outlawed in most places for a reason—including here, as far as we’re aware. It is volatile, dangerous; in Dageis, where it is practiced, there are precautions set in place, tattoos on slaves that imbue them with a spell to keep the agan fabric intact. Was he gathering the blood for this reason? And why these villagers, in particular?
“To speak with these mages, to get them to entertain us, we needed leverage. Namra suggested we investigate the featherstone. A hunch, she said. It’s been said that featherstone can enhance a mage’s connection to the agan. It is one of the reasons it’s prized, despite the ill effect on anyone who works around it. We wanted to find out why these mages would choose to come here.”
“So you went to the mines,” I said.
“Yes.”
“Did you find out anything?”
He folded his hands into his sleeves. “They are creating moving effigies using the agan and the villagers’ blood,” he said, in the same voice one would use to announce that it was, in fact, starting to rain.
“You’re ah—going to have to explain that a bit more, Rai.”
“I explored the tunnels for days. The remains of the mining is evident, but so are remnants of other things—things that have nothing to do with such an operation. Broken vials and burners. Mage equipment, as Namra pointed out. And there, in the deepest section of the mines, I found them—wrapped effigies that breathed, like insects caught in a spider’s web.”
~~~
What Rayyel lacked in basic conversation sense he more than made up for in memory and a gift for description. We walked slowly, our past animosities seemingly forgotten in his fervour to explain exactly what he had seen.
Effigies, he had called them—things that appeared to be corpses wrapped in linen at first sight. They had lined an entire tunnel like clutches of frog eggs, one on top of another. He had cut one open from the thin membrane that encased it. Though its chest moved to simulate breathing, it didn’t look like it had lungs or needed air—it was like a reflex, one that created a bubble around its mouth as it pressed against its casing.
Rayyel’s knife had nicked the effigy’s belly while he worked, which was when he realized it was not made out of flesh at all. The blade slid through as effortlessly as if it was clay. A thin, black liquid poured from the cut, followed by globs of congealed blood and wet sawdust. The effigy itself continued to make breathing movements while it flopped along the ground like a dying snake.
It was just like Rai to inspect these things instead of worrying about getting attacked. He suspected the effigies weren’t self-aware and went as far as to spend a whole night near them to see if there was any activity. Later, when Namra rejoined him, he showed her the entire chamber.
“Did she scream?” I asked him.
He stopped mid-sentence. By this point, we had reached the house that had agreed to provide lodging for them. Dogs wandered along the low-lying bamboo fence, attracted to the smell of cooking food. Rayyel absently walked through them. “She can explain the rest to you,” he said, gesturing.
Namra was sitting near the single table propped out on the deck. I recognized her immediately.
Her reaction was the same. “Beloved Queen,” she said, rising before giving a deep bow. She had tanned considerably since our last meeting in Anzhao. I couldn’t recall anything else about her from that time. Back then, the anger had consumed me like wildfire and I had considered them all enemies, Zheshan included. If I could turn back time, even only until then…
Perhaps if I had swallowed my pride, swallowed enough at least to take my tongue along with it, Arro would still be alive. Or perhaps I would be in the bottom of the Eanhe with Rayyel. What does regret accomplish beyond making us obsess over things we cannot change? We had gotten that far without killing each other. And she did save my life, if Khine’s words were anything to go by. I didn’t have to like her, but I could be civil. I accepted the bow and allowed myself to sit on the other end.
“I was explaining the effigies,” Rai said. He strode to a spot on the table between us, and because there were only two mats, decided to stand.
“Agan-wrought creatures. Do you want to know how they work?” Namra asked.
I nodded.
“The agan can be used to mimic life in certain cases. The common belief is that the agan embodies the souls of living things, or at least a part of it. Imagine a current of water that runs through everything alive, all stemming from a single source—Sheyor’r, they call it here, the place across the fabric. We are all part of it, though most are blind—unable to feel or trace the various connections that allow people you call mages to manipulate it for their own uses. Someone extremely skilled in the agan could draw on that current and pass it on, imbuing life where there was once none or where it has long fled. A doll, a dead body, even skeletal remains.
“The thing, of course, is never truly alive. For it to act on its own, it must continuously draw on the source of agan. A skilled master might be able to use his own connection, his own soul if you will, but these creatures will be little more than puppets dancing on a string. I’ve heard of others who have been able to create a shielded well—a fabric—around their creation in order to block the agan flow and trap another, forcing that soul to be its rider. This requires tremendous skill—in all of history, I’ve heard only of one who was able to accomplish such a feat.”
“I might’ve read about that,” I broke in. “A Gasparian witch, wasn’t it?”
She nodded. “So for most, a medium is necessary. The mage, as I mentioned. Or, if you need an entire army…” She gave a cursory glance at the street. An old woman was toddling by.
“You mean the villagers?”
“Yes.”
“They’re using the villagers blood…to give life to these things? To connect to their souls and make them move?”
“That’s my guess,” Namra said. “The agan is difficult to study, and even the most educated scholars and mages will disagree with each other. But it is, I think, as best a guess as anyone can make.”
“An army,” I continued. “What would they need it for?”
“Dragonlord Rayyel had a number of suggestions. None mean much in the grand scheme of things—begging your pardon, my lord,” Namra replied.
Rai made a motion that was as close to a shrug as he was capable of.
“What is important is that this sort of practice is outlawed in this empire,” she continued. “It’s the kind of thing you could get executed for. They won’t be pleased to hear about this in Kyan Jang.”
“Blood magic. Rai mentioned that. I see what you’re planning—you’re going to threaten to expose this entire operation. In exchange, they grant you a simple request: send a mage who can reveal who my son’s father is. I’m sorry, but I have a problem—one of many, actually—with this whole scenario.” I placed my hands squarely on the table. “Of all the mages in this bloody empire, why pick someone who practices blood magic?”
Rai cleared his throat. “They’re not as easy to find as you think. Not all mages are the same.”
“I certainly wouldn’t be able to do it,” Namra added. “You need someone with certain skills. These were the first mages we’ve encountered who could do this, based on what Eridu had been shipping out here.”
“Which already tells you the whole thing stinks.” I turned back to Namra. “How do you know so much about the agan, anyway? You’re a priestess of Kibouri. Last time I checked, this isn’t something your Nameless Maker embraced, as harebrained as Ikessar ideas tend to be.”
“I grew up in Dageis, Beloved Queen.”
<
br /> “You wouldn’t have been allowed to learn this much without a citizenship.”
“I have one, Beloved Queen. My parents were refugees during your—during the War of the Wolves. Your father was…not kind to children like me.”
I didn’t react. I’ve built up an immunity to that sort of comment over my life. My mind had learned to detach from my feelings as soon as I hear someone utter the words your father in that tone so that nothing will stick. “Why did you come back?” I asked.
“My father was a devoted servant of Kibouri. He taught me the texts, and I grew to love the Nameless Maker since childhood. After my father’s death, I decided that the best way to honour his memory was to dedicate myself to the Nameless Maker and the principles of Kibouri. I made my way to the Citadel and took the rites, spending two years in complete silence in one of the temples.”
Two years of silence was the process that created a priest or a priestess of Kibouri. Ryia, Rayyel’s mother, had gone through it, I believe, and so had her sisters. So had Rysaran the Uncrowned. Unlike with other deities in Jin-Sayeng, servants of Kibouri were not bound to the temples and could live out the rest of their lives as they saw fit. That Namra still wore her priestess’ robes was a good indication of how devoted she was to her cause.
“Did they know about your special…skills?” I asked.
“I have spent enough time in Eheldeth, the Dageian school for the agan, to know how to control it,” Namra said. “It was easy enough to hide, Beloved Queen, especially around those blind to the agan. I entrusted Dragonlord Rayyel with the knowledge after he sought my assistance with…this entire matter.”
She had propriety, at least, which was more than I could hope for these days. “So you’ve been with him this whole time.”
“The better part of three years now, Beloved Queen.”
We were interrupted by the arrival of the old woman who owned the house. She placed two bowls of fish head soup and a pot of rice on the table, stared at me, and then walked away, grumbling something about extra people.
The Ikessar Falcon Page 14