The Ikessar Falcon

by Villoso, K. S.

  “Warlord San,” I said, allowing him to take my hand and press it over his lips, the most old-fashioned way of greeting possible. “You’ve been expecting me, then.”

  He laughed, pulling away from me to spread his arms out. “I did send a ship after you, didn’t I?”

  “And an entire hold of other women you were hoping might be me,” I said. “Is one Lady Talyien truly not enough for you?”

  “You know full well it’s not,” he said, using his most flattering tone. Now he turned to Qun, who didn’t look too happy at being ignored. “Deputy,” he began.

  “Governor,” Qun corrected.

  “Ah. Indeed. Forgive my oversight.”

  My eyes flicked between both their faces. Qun had his politician’s smile on. San’s seemed more genuine, but his eyes were distant, like he didn’t really want to look directly at Qun at all. Blackmail? Yuebek’s information on Jin-Sayeng must’ve been extensive. Did they unearth skeletons from Warlord San’s closets and are now using it against him? Potential ally, indeed.

  San made a sweeping gesture towards us before leading us down the road to a restaurant overlooking the wharf, one that his ancestors had built long before they were ever recognized as a royal clan. His family had been running it for years. Their specialty was crab, it seemed. An opportunity for Qun to be embarassed, what with all his fastidious native Zarojo ways. It was amusing to watch him look confused as we ate, as if unsure how to start. In the meantime, I cracked a crab in half without missing a beat and drew out a piece of white meat, covered in the rich, yellow fat that lined the inside of the shell. A fat, happy crab—Kyo-orashi must’ve been blessed with a good season. I popped the meat into my mouth, followed by a pinch of rice and squash. It was heavy with the taste of the coconut cream they had boiled them in.

  San smiled. “It’s all delicious, isn’t it?”

  “Delectable,” I said with a drawl.

  “They’re coconut crabs, fresh from one of the islands.”

  “Warlord San—”

  He glanced at Qun before switching to Zirano. “You seem to think you’re here against your will.”

  “I really wasn’t given much of a choice,” I said. “Isn’t that right, Governor?”

  “You wouldn’t have come if we’d asked nicely,” Qun scoffed. “You do have a reputation.”

  “And leaving you to be picked up by just about anyone, to be sent off to the Ikessars, seemed a bit…unreasonable.” San spat out a piece of orange shell and wiped his mouth. “It was their missing brat that you went to meet in the empire, wasn’t it?”

  “Brat—” I started.

  “We’re in Kyo-orashi, Lady Talyien,” San said with a grin. “We can speak frankly, can we not? You are among friends.”

  “Am I?” I asked. “I seem to recall being trapped in the empire and not having a single soul come to save me. You didn’t, either.”

  He waved a crab leg at me. “While you were in the Zarojo Empire, I waited to see what the Oren-yaro would do—I didn’t want to be blamed for imposing. You can hardly fault me for not having the sort of resources the rest of them have. Well, forget all of that. You’re here now, aren’t you?”

  “You undermined Fuyyu authority.”

  “I did! Not that the Fuyyu guards had any sort of authority without a Dragonlord on the throne. I told my men to point out this little fact when I ordered them to march for Fuyyu, and considering there was no reported bloodshed, I’m sure the city guards were more than happy to step aside. You can punish me for it later.” His eyes twinkled. “This meeting with Prince Rayyel—I suppose he didn’t get what he wanted, else he wouldn’t have started accusing you like he did.”

  “You could say that.” I gathered rice and squash between my fingers and took another bite. From the corner of my eyes, I observed Warlord San’s expression. He had turned away from his food to look out at the shore.

  I wiped my fingers on the wet cloth beside me. “Let’s not mince words, Warlord San,” I said. “Why am I here?”

  San glanced back at me with a smirk underneath his thin, black beard. His small eyes seemed to smile with the rest of him. “I signed the pact to put you on that throne.” He bared his arm, revealing a long scar from his wrist down to his inner elbow. “You could see I was rather enthusiastic with the blade.”

  “So it looks like.”

  “The point—” Qun said.

  San snarled at him. “I was getting to that. Look, Lady Talyien. I’m not in any sort of hurry to throw the land back into the days of the Ikessars. I’m a traditionalist, and the Ikessars entertain too many strange ways—ways that have been curbed ever since your father’s little war.”

  “I see.” I glanced at Qun. “And what was the dear Governor’s idea?”

  By now, the crab on his plate was nothing but a pile of orange shells, piled higher than the candles around us. San flicked his fingers and grinned. “A chance to gain some respect back, to remind the land who you truly are. Not Prince Rayyel’s forlorn wife, brooding with her infidelities, but Yeshin’s bitch pup, all grown up.”

  Chapter Five

  The Kyo-orashi Arena

  I think the expression on my face, more than making San think that he had crossed a line, only amused him further.

  “Are you suggesting war?” I asked. “The Zarojo and Kyo-orashi…”

  “And Oren-yaro,” Qun said, uncrossing his arms.

  My nostrils flared. “And you really think I’d agree to this?”

  “Prince Rayyel has forced our hand, Lady Talyien,” Qun replied with a smirk. “Believe me, it wouldn’t have come to this if you had only abandoned him then. Look where it got you.”

  I bristled, turning to San. “You’d agree to this. You’d let us ally ourselves with the Zarojo—”

  “As we had once done,” San said with a snarl. “Do you remember, Lady Talyien, how we used to be allies? And how prosperous Jin-Sayeng had been in those days? The Ikessars meddled, and look what it got us.”

  “Rest assured,” Qun added. “We are not riding off to war. Not yet. First you need to show your nation that you are in fact alive and very much worthy of the throne, and not crawling around begging for help, as it were.” He gave another smug smile. Gods, but I wanted to wipe it off him, with my bare fists if I had to.

  “Don’t presume to tell me what my nation needs,” I said in a low voice.

  “Temper, my lady,” Qun crooned. “I thought we had an understanding.”

  “You’ve heard of my arena,” San continued with a cough. “I believe I showed you the plans a few years ago. You even praised the design and my architect’s ingenuity.” He cleared out part of the table and began making a reconstruction using crab shells.

  “I remember,” I murmured, forcing my attention away from Qun towards him. “For horsefights and karo-ras tournaments, you said. What of it?”

  San rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. “I may have expanded on that. You see the sides here? Seats for over three times what I wanted before. We built it right across the palace where the barracks used to be. Didn’t think the guards needed all that view, anyway. We hold more than horsefights here, my lady.”

  “What Warlord San is trying to so eloquently say,” Qun said, “is that you need a glorious return to Jin-Sayeng’s public eye. War is not just about who has the most powerful forces. If we don’t sway the public, how much support would we get from the rest? You need to convince them that you are worth the trouble—that your defiance of the Ikessars comes from within.”

  “And so what—you want me to put on a show?” I nearly laughed in outrage. “Hack my way through—what? A select force of your fighters, hand-picked? Do you want me to wear a blindfold and wave a wooden sword around?”

  “Not quite,” San said. “Though the picture you painted would be amusing.”

  “In case the expression on my face isn’t clear enough, my lords, I am far from amused.”

  San smiled. “If we announce an alliance with the Zarojo, we are makin
g a pact to return to tradition, to the roots that gave this nation strength. Traditionally, warlords got their titles by proving their worth in battle, or at least a worthy pursuit of some sort. Back in the day, most of this involved dragons. Chief Ryar won the hearts of the people by not only being part of a clan well-known for raising and training dragons, but also by being a renowned dragon-rider, one who tamed his dragon himself. A worthy feat in all of Jin-Sayeng’s eyes.”

  “Your clan was one of those who rebelled against Chief Ryar’s position as Dragonlord.”

  “Of course we did,” he replied brightly. “The Kyo clan didn’t hold dragons as highly as the rest of you did. They had their uses, of course, but we saw them for what they were: beasts of burden, nothing more. We didn’t worship them. Do you not see how Kyo-orashi soldiered on while the rest of the east crumbled? We didn’t pin our hopes and dreams on the existence of dragons.

  “But still, we understood the significance. After your own glorious ancestor chastised mine severely, our clan came to realize how dragons can symbolize power, and why someone like Rysaran the Uncrowned could become so convinced that simply owning one would mean the difference between life and death for the nation.”

  “Not that I don’t agree with you, Warlord San,” I said. “On any other day, I’d even drink with you on it. But today, I just feel like you’re making a joke on my expense. If your soldiers hadn’t confiscated my sword, you’d both be dead on top of those shells.”

  San whistled for a servant. “The lady requires her blade,” he said.

  I struggled to keep my mouth shut as the servant rushed out. She was back before I could form any coherent thoughts, all but tripping on a chair in her haste to deliver me the proffered item. It was the Zarojo sword Agos had stolen from the temple and gifted me for my nameday.

  Expecting a trick, I took it with shaky fingers. I drew it from the scabbard and observed that it had been cleaned and sharpened. There was also a fresh coat of oil on the leather hilt, likely applied while we were having our meal. I wiped my hands on my trousers and glanced back at San, who was still grinning. “Well,” he said. “You were just speaking about running me through.”

  I flushed as my bluff was called out. “You’ve got my attention. What do you want?”

  “Since you’re so kind to ask, about two or three women with alabaster skin and luscious red lips—”

  I sheathed the sword. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “You’re right. At my age, maybe just two—”

  “Let’s start with the dragons,” I said. “Do you want me to tame one?”

  “Don’t be absurd,” Qun drawled.

  San grinned. “Tame? Ah—you’ve just come from the Sougen. Likely you’ve been talking to the Anyus.” He waved his hand. “Nothing so drastic, I assure you. We caught a dragon wandering out along the plains sometime ago. Not a huge thing—small, but vicious enough. Rysaran would’ve gone into convulsions if he had seen the thing. I simply want you to slay it.”

  A few ready responses flittered through me. I settled on the most diplomatic one. “You buffoon.”

  “Careful there,” San said, lifting one brow. “People may think you’re being unreasonable.”

  “You’re the one who just asked me to slay a dragon for entertainment!”

  “And you’re the one in my lands,” he reminded me coolly. “Let’s not split hairs over this. It’s not a big creature. It could maybe fit in—oh, that kitchen over there. With the kind of training you Oren-yaro go through, I’m sure it won’t be a problem. We’ll provide you with all the weaponry you need.”

  “How about twenty archers equipped with the largest bows you can find?”

  He smiled. “One on one combat.”

  “I’m sorry—buffoon was too kind. You’re both madmen.”

  San chuckled. “I’ve been called worse things. Look, Lady Talyien. I’ll be honest with you. I have no desire to keep you here any longer than I have to. Once the word gets out, sooner or later one of the other warlords or even your own vassals from Oren-yaro will come riding in to rescue you. Dying in a sea of blood on my own bed is on the bottom list of my priorities.”

  “It won’t come to that if we play our cards right,” Qun said. “Kill this dragon. And then declare war on the Ikessars.”

  “And you’ve got enough men to hold back against every warlord who desires to contest us?” I replied.

  “With Kyo-orashi and Oren-yaro forces backed by Prince Yuebek, the land will fold in a matter of time.”

  “I see,” I said, glancing at Warlord San. He was chewing his moustache as Qun spoke. “You’re prepared for this, I suppose. These reinforcements won’t come overnight. Or have you grown fat and senile over the years?”

  San didn’t even flinch at the insult. “I like you, Lady Talyien. Always have. Have I ever shown you anything but honour and respect in the past? When Prince Rayyel abandoned you for reasons unknown, I kept my mouth shut, choosing to let you prove yourself as a capable ruler in your own time. Oh, they all had their misgivings, and I wouldn’t be lying if I told you more than half of your lords have been sitting on the sidelines, waiting to see you fail. But while others may disagree, your rule has been good for me. Profitable, even. Our apiaries have been yielding good honey, and our fishing boats have returned full every season. Clearly, the gods favour you. Yes—we will throw our swords behind you.” He said this looking straight at me, with nary a glance at Qun.

  I very nearly laughed. “Me. Are you sure, Warlord San?”

  He gestured at my sword. “But first you must prove your worth. Slay the dragon.”

  I shook my head. “Madman,” I repeated.

  “In this land, we are all mad,” he replied. “You want to know how your father nearly won his war? He was madder than the rest of us put together.”

  “A dragon.” I smiled. “All right,” I finally said. “But you better hope I die quickly, because if I live to sit on that throne again, I may just have your head for this insolence.”

  His reply was a booming laugh, one that could’ve been heard across the sea.

  ~~~

  The prospect of facing a dragon shouldn’t have scared me as much as it did. I had faced at least five in the last year alone, and managed to survive every encounter with all my limbs and my sanity intact. What’s another? But of course, you don’t live through dragon attacks only to throw yourself at yet another. I would have been perfectly happy never meeting another of the damned creatures again in my life.

  My unease was multiplied by Qun’s presence and that there was no one I could turn to that didn’t seem to have his own hand in the rice pot. Warlord San might have claimed I was a guest, but he had certainly done his part to make sure his servants kept quiet about my arrival in the region. No fanfare greeted me in Kyo-orashi. In fact, we waited until it was late at night to stride through the gates, and the guards who met us seemed to avoid looking at me altogether. Rumours of where I really could be still permeated the palace gossip. The very servants who led me to my room were talking about how there had been sightings of me in Kai to the northeast, or even up in the islands of Meiokara.

  But at least I had a room, where clean clothes were laid out for me. Another servant arrived to take me to the baths. I had not had luxury of that sort for months—Dai Kaggawa’s people, perhaps surprisingly for someone as prosperous as him, washed themselves with cold water straight from the pump—and I allowed the servant to strip me down and scrub me from head to toe. Under orders by Warlord San, no doubt. She didn’t refer to me by name, but I suppose it was enough that I was a royal.

  I returned to the room, where the servant left me to dress myself. I recognized the view from the window—a small outcrop of islands in the distance—and realized that this was the same room I had stayed in the last time I was here. Back then, there had been a feast—one of the warlords had casually mentioned Rai and I think harsh words were exchanged. I remember leaving Arro behind and storming up here while my handmaids w
alked on eggshells around me. “Will you be returning to the party, my queen? Will you require a change of jewellery?”

  I had sent them out with a roar before locking the door, which did little to dampen the music below. Later, Arro came by, announcing his presence with three knocks. “Are you well, my queen?” I never thought about it then, but he always said queen differently. Most people said it with respect; Arro said it with love.

  “No,” I remember replying.

  He opened the door, shuffling inside with small steps. “Well,” he continued after gazing at me for a moment. “You look well. I suppose that’s all that matters tomorrow morning, when you have to face them again. You are aware that Warlord Graiyo enjoys irritating you. Try not to give him more ammunition.”

  “How am I supposed to do a good job of this when people don’t even start by giving me a chance?”

  Arro was silent for a few moments. “The problem,” he finally replied, “is in thinking that you are entitled to chances. You do or you don’t, my queen.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  “If you don’t,” he said, “you die trying.” He was a true Oren-yaro, Arro, even though he was half a foreigner and his mother was a Kaitan. I should have never let him die back there.

  But did you ever consider that I would die trying by dragonfire, Arro?

  I went to bed, wrapped up in silken sheets while the sound of the waves crashed on the cliffs underneath me.

  A servant came by the next morning. I washed my face in a basin, changed out of my sleeping clothes, and was led out of the hall, where another servant appeared to ask how I would like my breakfast. I asked for a drink of water and nothing more. The last thing I wanted was to be heaving my guts out in front of an entire arena of people.

  They gave me herbal tea instead, to calm me. Maybe Warlord San was being presumptuous—I didn’t think I looked nervous. Afterwards, they brought me to the armoury, where I spent the better part of the hour looking through various pieces. The image of a dragon crunching through a thick piece of scale armour and then leaving me to bleed inside a cage of sharp, twisted metal made me recoil towards the leather. I needed maneuverability, anyway. There was no sense trying to meet a dragon’s attack head on—avoidance was my best defense.