“My queen,” Lahei said. “You seem to believe that you can return to Oren-yaro uncontested. That all you have to do is sit on your throne once more and the warlords will slink back to their dens like nothing happened.”
I tried to hide my amusement at the prospect of a girl trying to school me on how to rule. “Tell me how I’m mistaken,” I said.
“You? No, Beloved Queen—you are only acting as expected. You were ignorant, perhaps, but that is something we can all be accused of once or twice in our lives.”
“You’re lucky I don’t know how to steer a ship, or else…”
I was losing my touch, because she merely continued to smile at me. “The ignorance is not yours, either. Not entirely. It lies in your father’s misjudgement. He sparked a war to wrest control away from the Ikessars, because he believed that the Ikessars lacked the strength to maintain order in Jin-Sayeng. It is not a difficult leap of logic to make: the Ikessars valued diplomacy, sometimes over common sense. And without the army to support them, they’ve had to resort to cheap tactics to be heard. The Ikessars have always been aware that they are little more than the balance of power in Jin-Sayeng.”
“Cheap tactics,” I repeated. “You say this. Those cheap tactics were your family’s, weren’t they? Didn’t they result in bloodshed, too?”
“We don’t pretend to be more than we were. We served. My family did not always agree with what needed to be done, but the Ikessars were our masters at the time, and so…” She drifted towards the table and took a seat next to me. “Warlord Yeshin forgot to consider one thing. The problem with Jin-Sayeng did not lie with the Ikessars or how they managed—or mismanaged—their power. The problem lies with Jin-Sayeng itself. The word royal, for example.”
I pretended to sniff. She said the word with about the same amount of loathing as her man had back in An Mozhi. “What about it?”
“The warlords believe they own the people, which stems from the idea that the nobles are at the top of the ladder. Why should a man be worth less because his name is alon gar instead of aren dar? The aron dar? A single letter, an entire world away. The aron dar serve the aren dar, no matter that they are also royals. My great grandmother was an aron dar, Beloved Queen—of the Sera clan. They detested her for marrying a merchant.”
“I believe I know that part of your history,” I told her. “I’m told that Reshiro Ikessar became involved at some point.”
“I’m not trying to re-open old wounds, only giving examples. Your own husband’s father was an aron dar, too, and look at the trouble his mother had to go through in order to legitimize him as her heir. Is there a difference? They all come from the same blood. But I’m told there’s a map you people follow, that it’s different for every clan…”
“Yes. The rules for lineage,” I said. “As Jin-Sayeng lost its dragons and its dragonriders, we had to resort to mapping out the bloodlines. It used to be easier. You were a royal if you had a dragonrider in your family. It signified service to your lord, sacrifice.”
“It’s like you’re saying that commoners don’t know these words.”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it. I didn’t come up with the rules, Lahei,” I murmured.
“You’re a queen,” she said. “The queen.”
“Even queens must follow the law,” I reminded her. “Even if I had wanted to change the way things are, they won’t let me. The warlords hold on to what scrap of power they can like greedy dogs worrying over a bone. My father knew this, which was why he knew a stronger Dragonlord was needed to keep them in line.”
“A stronger Dragonlord…we don’t disagree with that, Beloved Queen. But not to keep the warlords in line—no. I believe you keep dogs. If you had weak lines in your pack, what do you do? Do you let them continue to run during hunts? Or do you keep them behind, cull them from the work and the breeding?”
“Cull the warlords,” I said with a small grin. “This is what your father would talk to me about?”
“My father wishes to discuss many things with you, Beloved Queen. He has wanted to for a number of years, but we never found the opportunity…until now.”
The way she said it, I had the sudden impression that if I outright refused, that if I demanded she turn this ship towards eastern Jin-Sayeng instead of the west, she would do something about it right then and there. Kill me, perhaps. The look in her eyes—I wouldn’t put it past her. I reminded myself of the stories about the Shadows during the war. They were more than just spies and assassins; there was talk that they manipulated the war into ending the way it did against the Ikessars’ will. Dai alon gar Kaggawa was just a young man in those years and I didn’t know what role he played, but it was not an organization to take lightly.
Still. Cull the warlords, indeed. There lay the offered blade, and they didn’t even have the courtesy of wrapping it in golden silk first. As if I needed a reminder of what I was getting myself into. But I smiled at her politely as I walked back out the deck, and replaced every ounce of weariness and anger in my heart with an image of my son. A dangerous image, that. It brought me one step behind Mei, one step away from the edge of that cliff, and I didn’t think I cared.
~~~
I woke up to the sound of Nor’s voice the morning we arrived in Ni’in. “We’re at the docks, my queen. The mainland, at last!” She seemed almost excited, bursting at the seams, which was not typical of her. I rolled over to get dressed and put my boots on, pausing long enough to untangle my hair with my fingers. Not having a handmaid to take care of my grooming was liberating.
The sound of seagulls greeted us as we stepped into the harbour. There were more than I was used to—a result, probably, of the vast amount of refuse bobbing along the shoreline. I struggled against the stench, trying to find air to breathe that didn’t send my eyes watering, and eventually I gave in and covered my nose with my hand. I caught sight of Lahei, who had a handkerchief wrapped around her face.
“You’ll get used to it as we go along,” she said.
I doubted it. The streets were covered in muck that threatened to crawl up my legs. It smelled like both human and animal feces, ground into the mud. There was half a dead rat in what passed for a gutter here, and then later, the stiff body of a cat, its lips curled upwards in a death-snarl. “Doesn’t anyone clean around the harbour, at least?” I asked. I had to raise my voice a bit so I could hear myself above the din.
“The towns and villages in Kago have no government,” Lahei said. “Power lies with who can afford it, and so typically the merchants rule, in what limited way they can. You can see why cleaning up may be the last of their concerns.”
“Not really,” I grumbled. “Think it’ll bring in more trade if they did.”
“The prices are low enough and the goods from the region are sound,” Lahei replied almost cheerfully. “It works. It may not look like it, but it works.”
I focused on watching my footing. I didn’t want to slip, but maintaining my balance with one hand on my mouth was harder than it looked. When we reached the corner of the street, I tested the air with a sniff and found to my relief that the smell here was almost tolerable. I flicked my boots in the air like a high-stepping horse and heard Agos trying to choke down his laughter.
“What’s so funny?” I asked him.
Nor gave him a glare, but he ignored her. “It’s still amusing to see you like this, is all.”
“You should remember to start respecting the queen again when we get back to Jin-Sayeng,” Nor said. “If I had guardsmen with me, you wouldn’t be allowed to talk like that.”
“Give it a rest,” Agos said. “Stick up your ass like that, can’t imagine how you can even walk.”
“She does have a point, Agos,” I replied. “We’re very close to home now. We will have to fall back to our usual routine whether you like it or not.”
“Our usual routine involves me in exile, remember?” Agos asked.
I cleared my throat. “I will…endeavour to change that part. I
never made any official announcements.”
“There’s lots of other things to worry about until then, at any rate.” Agos tilted his head towards Khine and his brother, who were walking some distance behind us. “What about them?”
“Their sister entrusted them to my service,” I said. “You’ve seen how Khine was able to get us out of An Mozhi. It would not be the first time a royal took on an outside adviser. Arro was half-Zarojo, if you recall.”
“Ah—adviser. That’s what you’re calling him now.”
“Akaterru—at least say Beloved Queen once in a while,” Nor snorted.
“That’s what you’re calling him now, Beloved Queen,” Agos droned, giving her an angry look. “Best you keep it straight, then. The warlords won’t be too happy to see you bringing Zarojo to court. Magister Arro was an exception. He grew up in Jin-Sayeng, at least.”
“They’re never happy with anything I do.” I saw Lahei turning around to stare at me from the distance, and walked faster to catch up with her. As I came up the intersection, I noticed two men walking down the street towards us. I recognized Dai Kaggawa immediately.
The image of him facing down a dragon to save both me and Rai was burned into my memory. He still had the same, stern expression, a stark contrast to the turn of his mouth and the dimples on his cheeks. His curly hair, completely black when I was young, was now peppered with gray.
He was still built like a man who could cleave a dragon in half. Not tall—we were probably of a height if I stood on tiptoe—but stocky and well-muscled. Lahei came up to greet him, dropping to a bow and placing his hand on her forehead.
“Queen Talyien,” Dai said, turning to me. “It is good to see you again.”
“I am honoured,” I replied. “I still remember what you did for me and Lord Rayyel. I never did get the chance to thank you properly.” I bowed.
Dai gave me a small nod before turning his eyes towards my companions. “Is this your guard?” he asked. “I was told you went up there with an entire retinue.”
“We ran into some unfortunate circumstances. Half of my men were killed.”
“What happened to the other half?”
“Father,” Lahei broke in. “Perhaps not out in the street.”
“It is a simple question,” he bristled.
There was no point in hiding it. “A Zarojo bribed them in order to get close to me.”
Nothing seemed to skip past Dai. “Your guards were Oren-yaro. They are, I’ve been led to believe, not easily bribed.”
“The matter has been taken care of.” I hoped my own voice sounded convincing enough. It was becoming more difficult to pretend to be confident after all I had been through.
Dai considered these words with a grunt and gestured to us before striding ahead. We followed him around the corner, where the streets were wider, fringed with buildings—mostly storehouses from what I could see. There was also a brewery which emitted a stench noxious enough that I immediately made a mental note never to drink anything they offered me.
We soon found ourselves in a small building overlooking a wide ditch. The stench was less prominent here, though that probably had something to do with the thick smell of incense they must’ve been using to mask it. I was still struggling to breathe, but felt myself less nauseous. My people stayed in the main hall while Lahei escorted me into a narrow office after her father. She closed the door behind us before standing in the corner, straight and stiff as a soldier. It reminded me of how I was in Yeshin’s presence.
With a measure of discomfort—and without waiting for Dai’s invitation—I made myself comfortable in one of the velvet-lined chairs. “You didn’t strike me as a man who liked his luxuries,” I said, rubbing the solid wood armrests, which had been polished to a fine sheen.
“Well-made things pay for themselves over time,” Dai said, with one eye on the drapery. “You don’t have to keep replacing them.”
I laced my fingers together. “Is this the beginning of some drawn-out metaphor about the Ikessars?”
He snorted behind his beard. “Your husband isn’t a well-made man?”
“Please don’t tell me you’re going to propose to me. I’ve just had enough of those in one year.”
Dai frowned. “I’m not sure why you would think that. The luxuries, as it happened…when you grow up poor, you’re made to understand the value of things as they are. It is amazing what people will put a price to. Some things are expensive for no reason. Which is the life and blood of a merchant, of course—a few years ago, purple rice became popular with the royals, and the demand for it increased beyond comprehension. Purple rice is tough and grainy, cheaper to produce.”
“Good for the bowels, though,” I said brightly.
He grimaced at me. “Value is worth what you pay for. I believe those drapes have been there before my eldest daughter was born. My wife picked them out when she was still alive.”
“My condolences.”
“She died a long time ago.”
I laced my fingers together and cleared my throat. “Tell me what I’m doing here, Kaggawa. I didn’t want to argue with your daughter, not when she was my only chance to cross the sea, but you could have very well taken the short way around and taken me straight to Sutan. I would be sitting on my throne by now if you didn’t insist on bringing me here instead. So. Talk.”
“You’re unbelievably arrogant for someone with only two guards and is a long way from home.”
“I’m closer to home than I’ve ever been,” I said with a half-snarl. “Imagine what I would do to get closer.”
“You mistake me for one of your warlords. I’m not interested in trading sharp words with you, Queen Talyien,” Dai replied easily. There was a quick knock from the door. He nodded towards Lahei, who strode up to open it.
A girl in a silk dress stepped inside. She was probably ten or eleven years old, with her hair that gleamed deep brown against the sunlight. She walked over to Dai and reached up to plant a kiss on his cheek, which struck me as odd. I always greeted my father with a kiss on the back of his hand.
“Bow to the queen,” Dai said.
The young girl did so in a Kag-style curtsy. Other than her fairer features, she looked a lot like Lahei. I returned the greeting with a smile. “Your younger daughter, I presume?”
Dai gestured at the girl. “Let me introduce Faorra alon gar Kaggawa, our daughter.”
Our daughter. He had said his wife was dead. “A beautiful girl,” I replied, trying to piece my thoughts together. “I don’t think you’ve ever taken her or Lahei to Oren-yaro during the festivities. You should. It would amuse them.”
“Take Lahei to court?” He gave a quick chuckle, glancing at his daughters with an odd smile. “Perhaps if you wanted trouble and a scandal or two…” He tapped Faorra on the shoulder. “Let me speak with the queen in private, now.”
Faorra bowed again, her cheeks dimpling. “I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, Beloved Queen.” Lahei took her aside and led her back outside.
“What do you think?” Dai asked, as soon as Lahei had closed the door.
“About what?”
“About Faorra.” He crossed the room and settled into the other chair. “For Thanh, your son, to marry when he comes of age.”
I was still smiling, but could feel my heart sinking. The blade wasn’t for me at all. Oh, Thanh, my love. What have I done?
I watched Dai carefully, trying not to betray what I was feeling because a single stone could cause a landslide and what he had just said made me angry enough to want to kill him with my bare hands. “Thanh is only eight,” I said. “And regardless—Faorra is your younger daughter, isn’t she?”
Dai smirked. “Do you prefer Lahei ?”
“I didn’t—”
“Would you marry the prince, Lahei ?” he called out.
“If the queen desires it,” Lahei said. “It would be a poor match,” she added.
Dai gave a small smile. “I can see the look on your face, Qu
een Talyien. I understand what this sounds like. A commoner—no matter how well-off or respected in these parts—asking you to consider his younger daughter for your son. And yet you have not made a marriage match for Thanh as far as I’m aware, and none of the other warlords have stepped up with their daughters, either. The presumption is not unwarranted.”
“Master Kaggawa,” I said, taking a deep breath as I considered my words carefully. “My desire had always been to give Thanh the freedom to choose his own bride when he is of age, without the pressure of politics or position to worry about. My father’s agreement with Princess Ryia includes the notion that we will from now on always have two Dragonlords—a king and a queen. To leave the throne open for manipulation…”
“As it has ever been, the moment this agreement came to pass.”
“My son will know love, Master Kaggawa.”
He blinked. “I never expected Yeshin’s daughter to utter such words.”
“I guess this day has been a barrel of surprises for everyone.”
“It’s a noble enough idea, except you seem to forget the sort of precipice your position has thrust you and your heir onto. Have you told your council about this? Both your clans have agreed?”
I bristled. “I was hoping, in time…”
“I didn’t realize you were this naïve.”
“They’re less likely to agree to your proposition than mine,” I said, bristling.
“Fair enough,” Dai remarked. “But let’s pretend we don’t live in a land where the Ikessars’ ways become law. Supposing these dreams of yours come into fruition—if Thanh grows up to adulthood and is allowed to fall in love naturally, and choose his queen among the selection of approved royal clans’ daughters, then Jin-Sayeng remains where it is. Stagnant, unable to move in one direction or the other out of fear of her quarrelsome warlords. Dragonlord Thanh will just be another Ikessar, parroting the Ikessar ideals, and his wife will be a queen backed by whatever ambitious clan was smart enough to put her in his path. Let me tell you, Queen Talyien, that it is remarkably easy to put a desirable young woman where a young man can’t resist her. I think you know what I mean.”
The Ikessar Falcon Page 25