The Ikessar Falcon

by Villoso, K. S.

  I folded my hands across my knees without replying.

  “From one trap to another, Queen Talyien. When will you learn?” His voice faded into the darkness.

  ~~~

  We sat in silence for several moments before Agos and Khine began to work the oars, shifting the boat steadily downstream. “This should just lead back to the Yu-yan River,” Agos remarked. He coughed. “You realize we’re not going to make it all the way to Fuyyu on this dinky little thing, right?”

  “He said Zarojo,” I said. “Does he mean Yuebek?”

  “Anything is possible at this point,” Agos sniffed.

  “He wasn’t wrong. The whole world against me sounds about right.”

  “It’s not you,” Agos said. “You just happened to be right in the thick of it.”

  “Me and my son,” I replied bitterly.

  “They want the Dragonthrone. I told you. Let them have it.” He craned his neck to the side. “I can turn this boat back, if you want.”

  “Don’t joke around, Agos.”

  “You realize,” he repeated, “That there is no way we’re getting Thanh out of Oka Shto by ourselves. Kaggawa has given you the most sensible option.”

  “Marrying Thanh to his daughter is hardly sensible.”

  “Gods, Princess, after all this time, you still don’t get it? You don’t have to stick to your word. Just agree to it long enough to get Thanh out, and then ditch the bastards. Easy enough to do.”

  “You’ve seen what he is. I wouldn’t trust the man with a dog, let alone my son.”

  Agos grimaced. “He’s already sent people after Thanh. How do you expect to get there before them? Or the Zarojo? How, Tali?”

  I couldn’t muster up a reply. Exhaustion had rendered my mind blank. With the chaos erupting around us and the sting of Nor’s betrayal still fresh in my mind, all I wanted to do was see my son again. The details didn’t matter.

  The tunnel ended. We found ourselves floating down a narrow section of the river, into a sea of fog.

  Sometime before sundown, we took a fork in the river that opened up to roaring currents, transforming tranquil waters into a sheet of raging foam that went as far as the eye could see. We pushed ourselves to the bank while we still could and landed on soft, silty ground that went up to my knees as soon as I stepped in.

  “We’ll walk the rest of the way to Fuyyu,” I said as I emptied mud and water from my boots. “Take a boat up River Agos.”

  “If there’s even any running this time of the year,” Agos said. “I’m worried about Anyu’s soldiers. They catch up to us, they’ll take you back to Shirrokaru. Then we’ll be really hopeless.”

  I didn’t like the tone of his voice, and turned away from it with a frown. “We’ll follow the river and then crest along the coast. It’ll be slow walking, though.”

  “Not a problem unless you have basilisks,” Khine replied brightly.

  “I’d pay to see them all ripped apart by basilisks,” I huffed. We gathered our things and began to walk downstream. The fog had lifted, but the wind still carried wisps of rain with it, light enough not to soak.

  It was evening when we finally stumbled on a small village on the eastern side of the Yu-yan River, the sort that didn’t have inns or other facilities for lodging. Khine managed to convince a fisherman to offer us use of his hut in exchange for a few coins. We were all exhausted, but Agos went off to do a quick patrol and keep an eye out for anyone who might be sniffing around for us, leaving me alone with the Lamangs.

  I sat cross-legged on the small porch overlooking the dark river, watching as the window shutters shivered slightly in the breeze. Khine was standing beside me, arms crossed, his attention captured by the windchimes on the overhang. Eventually, he scratched the side of his face and said, “We need food, Cho.”

  From inside the house, Cho started to grumble. He fell silent when Khine peered through the door and flipped him a coin.

  “Tell me how this all works,” Khine said as soon as Cho disappeared. “You’re Queen, and then suddenly you’re not. What’ve you left to work with?”

  I sighed. “Even as Queen, I can only really lay claim to the Orenar lands. The throne and I are two separate entities.”

  “What about this city we’re travelling to? You’ve got no allies there?”

  “Back in the days of the Merchants’ War, Fuyyu was designated as the official port. It’s nearly a Kag city. I’d say about half the population are immigrants. We’re not exactly closed to foreigners, but many of the warlords make their lives difficult and you’d be hard-pressed to find an immigrant’s quarter as expansive as Dar Aso in many of our cities. So instead, many of them prefer to settle in Fuyyu. Our soldiers are supposed to leave the foreigners alone, too—despite my father’s efforts, many of Reshiro Ikessar’s policies remain in place.” I took a deep breath at the tired old answers, the ones that seemed to just fall out of my mouth without bidding. “To answer your question, no. No allies. Fuyyu has no warlord. The guards all answer directly to the Dragonthrone, which really means they’re the Ikessar’s.”

  He watched with that same expression he always regarded me with. I suddenly had the distinct impression that he didn’t listen so much to what I said, but that it was how I spoke that he paid attention to. I remembered we were alone.

  “It’s Rayyel’s influence, I think,” I murmured. “And my father’s. I’m still not entirely sure how to talk like—like real people do.”

  “You don’t always have that problem,” Khine said softly.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Back in the Ruby Grove…”

  I felt my cheeks burn at the memories. “Ah. Yes. A world away.”

  “Now we’re back in the world you left behind.”

  “When all I want is to be elsewhere, away from all of this.” I smiled. “Yet why does it matter? My very existence attracts the power-hungry like vultures to a slaughter. What Rayyel did ought to have come as a relief. My own Captain of the Guard abandoned me. My own cousin. Nor—”

  Khine ventured closer to me, drifting a shawl around my shoulders. Only then did I realize that I was shivering. I wrapped my fingers around the moth-eaten cloth, feeling both the discomfort and ease that I have come to expect from his presence.

  “What happened to you out there?” he asked.

  I mulled over my answer. “I think I saw myself against the backdrop of everything else,” I murmured. “For once in my life, I felt…real. Not a construct, not Yeshin’s daughter or Rayyel’s wife, not a wolf of Oren-yaro. Just me, making my own decisions. But I suppose when you’re down to it, that sort of thing doesn’t matter. Not to these people.”

  He didn’t understand.

  “Eikaro…isn’t dead, you know,” I said.

  The confusion in his eyes deepened. But even before I could say anything to chase it away, I felt his hand on mine. I allowed him to wrap his fingers through my own before he turned my hand over, squeezing it. Warmth. Comfort. Acceptance. I wanted to pull away, but my body was starting to betray me. My skin prickled at his nearness.

  “Explain,” Khine said, blatantly ignoring what was going on, this unsaid thing between us.

  The words tumbled out of my mouth as I told him everything, about the mad dragons, and how Eikaro had sacrificed himself to save me, dragging the dragon and the corrupted soul into his own body and becoming the dragon himself. He listened without interrupting. I tried to focus on my narrative, but as I spoke, I considered his half-open mouth and my eyes traced a line from his neck down to his collarbone. For an instant, I became aware of nothing else.

  My other hand came up his arm, drifting towards his chest.

  The wind started to rattle the windows. He turned away from me. “Tali.”

  I stopped.

  “You’re tired, I think,” he whispered. “You should go to sleep.”

  “Not that tired,” I murmured, playing with the hem of his shirt instead.

  He swallowed. “Has Cho been talk
ing?”

  I felt myself flush. “He may have said something.”

  “It wasn’t his place.”

  “Khine…”

  “Queen Talyien,” he said. “Let’s not complicate things any more than they already are.” It was as if he was speaking for his own benefit, reminding me who I was. Reminding himself. But the coldness of his voice was enough to crumple me. It carried echoes of how Rayyel used to treat me—the guesswork, that distant uncertainty, when I think all I ever really wanted was to rush head-first into fire. That was why I slept with Agos, after all—a thing I had done out of weakness, trying to catch a glimpse of whatever it was Rayyel found in Chiha, a wave of emotion worth risking a kingdom for. If you believed yourself to be numb, you stuck your hand in the fire. That was what it was—a burning expression of rage I wasn’t allowed to feel, of passion that seemed to exist in everyone else’s world but mine.

  Why couldn’t it exist in mine?

  “What you’re feeling right now…” Khine continued. “You don’t have to feel indebted to me.”

  “That’s what you think this is?” Outrage crawled into my voice.

  “My own feelings are mine to bear,” Khine whispered. “You figure yours out.”

  I stared at the river. “I don’t think I’m allowed to,” I found myself saying. “I never was.” I closed my eyes, the blood pounding in my head.

  And I remembered something I had first learned when I was young and all I had was a father with the blood of thousands on his hands. People speak of love and all these things it ought to be, but the truth is that love is not always this wondrous thing to be carried with pride or celebrated. I can imagine, of course, that there is no comparison to joyous love, the kind that came with no baggage or expectations attached. But I can only imagine. We cling to what is broken when we have no choice. Even love that tastes like poison, that presses like a blade on your throat, is better than gaping emptiness.

  Khine placed his hand on my shoulder. I found myself turning around to gaze into his eyes. And I thought that if I could do this, if my heart was mine to give away and tomorrow was not a word fraught with burden…

  He was reading my expression now. I wondered if he knew something I didn’t. Eventually, he ran his thumb over my cheek. “Go to sleep,” he repeated. “I will wake you when they return.”

  I didn’t have it in me to argue. What else could I say that wouldn’t make me sound like a desperate woman longing for something she couldn’t have? I removed the shawl and stepped back inside the hut, willing my thoughts to leave me be. If only we could drift through life unfettered, and not feel. If only.

  Chapter Three

  The Road Back Home

  That night, I dreamt of Thanh walking towards me with blood pouring like rivers down his face, his face as white as snow. I woke up before I could reach him, grappling in the dark with a mouth that tasted like cotton. I spat to the side and tried to drown out the image with the thought that my son was still alive. He had to be. If anything had happened to him, they would’ve trumpeted the news from every corner of the nation.

  Why did I think I could save him by myself? The terror was a cold hand around my throat, choking me senseless. Alone with my thoughts, I could almost admit that I wasn’t sure what I would do once I returned to Oren-yaro. The survival of Thanh the boy seemed all but impossible between my husband and my own people’s treachery. My eyes wandered over to the dagger beside the mattress and briefly considered if my own death would solve anything. Without me as the prize, Yuebek’s claims would fall on deaf ears. Without me to blame, wouldn’t Rayyel show mercy to the boy? He would be free to marry anyone, Chiha even. Perhaps he might even be generous enough to let Agos take Thanh away from court.

  The temptation was strong. I picked the dagger up, running my hand over the length of it before I slid it out of its sheath. The sharp edge glinted at me in the dark with a sort of predatory smile.

  I was Yeshin’s daughter. The thought of death didn’t scare me. My father had threatened suicide in front of his lords and officials before, the few times he didn’t get exactly what he wanted out of them. I had already given birth—I figured the pain would be similar, though probably not as far-reaching. It certainly wouldn’t hurt half as much as losing my son.

  There were two gentle knocks at the door. I froze, dropping the dagger with a flush of shame. “We’re ready to go, Tali,” Khine called out.

  I glanced at the window, noticed that the sky was grey. Dawn. “Yes,” I managed to croak out. “I’ll join you shortly.” Shaking my head, I got up and returned the dagger to its sheath. The promise of sunlight brought a glimmer of hope. I didn’t really want to kill myself. I wanted to see my son grow up—I wanted to hear his laughter again so badly that it hurt just to think about it.

  But to have slipped so far that every step I took felt like a mistake, like I was sinking deeper into the mud, was not a good feeling. That the thought of rejecting my father’s upbringing came with the rejection of the nation itself didn’t seem like a coincidence. I was a dead woman walking. Was a dead woman worth risking my son’s life for? It wasn’t even much of a question.

  I got dressed and followed the path out of the riverside hut. The fog had lifted, revealing much of the village that I hadn’t seen the day before. It wasn’t much more than a handful of small houses, separated by bamboo fences. The smell of chicken and pig droppings pervaded the air. Off in the distance, I spotted a log mill, the only structure of noticeable size in the vicinity.

  I strode up to the mill and watched as the men pulled up logs from a barge with a pulley and dropped them into a chute that led straight to a rusty circular saw. A man with a towel around his neck stepped out of the mill to wipe his face. He was shirtless, with a rotund belly that spilled over his trousers.

  “Where do you deliver these?” I asked, pointing at the wrapped piles of sawed logs gathered on a platform a few paces away.

  He turned to me and gruffly said, “Those in particular?”

  I gave a small shrug.

  “They’re going to a builder outside of Fuyyu. Special order by his client—man wanted narra wood all throughout his house. Rich folks.” He rubbed his mustache and gave a small sniff to show exactly what he thought about such extravagance. I felt a pang of embarrassment—Oka Shto was decked with the beautiful, red wood from top to bottom.

  “May I ask about your delivery schedule?” I gave him the sweetest smile I possibly could.

  He glanced back at his men for a moment before nodding curtly.

  “We’re travellers,” I continued. “If you can bring us all the way to Fuyyu, I’ll make it worth your while. There’s three others with me.”

  He stared at me for a second. “You a royal?”

  “No,” I said quickly.

  “You sound like a royal.”

  “How does one sound like a royal?”

  “Like that.” He sniffed. “And royals ask things like that all the time. Don’t stop to think about what my boss will think.”

  “What will he think?” I asked.

  The man paused for a second, scratching his belly while he thought. “Well, I don’t know. He ain’t here, so…”

  “I’ve found us a ride,” I told the others as soon as we met back in the village square. “They’ve got a delivery of lumber ready to go. It’ll only cost us—oh, about a couple hundred aekich.”

  Khine stared at me. “We don’t even have ten left.” He patted his pockets to emphasize his words. “Maybe if you gave me a bit of time to find someone to pilfer from…”

  “Begging for transportation. Stealing. How far have we sunk?” Agos grumbled, a basket of rice cakes in his arms. I took one from him. Unwrapping the banana leaf covering revealed a flat, purple cake frosted with dried coconut and brown sugar. I hadn’t eaten one of those in so long and I had to stop myself from cramming all of it into my mouth.

  “And it’s not like we can leave someone behind to work it all off,” Khine said as we wal
ked back to the mill. “Although if we have to, if we really have to, I think Agos would be happy to volunteer.”

  “I was about to say the same thing about you, Lamang,” Agos growled. “I think they’d prefer you. You’re fresh. Exotic.”

  “No, no, I do think they’d probably like someone more seasoned.”

  “Did you just call me old?”

  “I did no such thing.”

  “Maybe you’d like me to even out that cut on your head. Give you another.”

  “I was praising you, you big lump,” Khine said in exasperation. We reached the mill, and he came up to the foreman with a big grin. “My dear man,” he continued, patting him on the shoulder as if they had been friends forever. “I want to give you my most heartfelt thanks in allowing us to secure your carriage for transportation.”

  The foreman gave a painful grin. “Err, it was my…pleasure?”

  Khine squeezed his arm. “If you must know,” he said, lowering his voice to barely a whisper. “My lady here is on a secret errand. For her to ask your help at all is a great honour.”

  “Are you a foreigner?”

  “We both are,” he said, nodding towards me. “Officials from the Empire of Ziri-nar-Orxiaro, sent by the Esteemed Emperor’s Fifth Son, Prince Yuebek, himself.”

  It took a great deal of restraint for me not to choke on the rice cake. “Indeed,” I said, after I swallowed the last of it down. “I wasn’t truthful earlier because—well, you can understand why. Your assistance, you know, will be seen as a great thing by the Zarojo Empire.” I dropped a few Zirano words into my speech.

  The man narrowed his eyes. “So you mean I’m not getting paid now,” he said.

  I smiled. “Not immediately.”

  “Don’t think so, then.”

  “My good man—” I reached for his other arm. Both Khine and I were clinging to him now. “Let’s not make hasty judgements. It’s not every day that an opportunity like this presents itself.”

  “Aren’t we at war with your empire?”

  “We are most certainly not at war with Jin-Sayeng,” I said firmly. “If you must know, it is more than that.”