The Ikessar Falcon

by Villoso, K. S.

  “We just visited the healer,” I said. I sat down and helped myself to the food.

  “At least Lamang is getting his exercise.” Agos scratched his cheek before pulling a stool closer to the table. “Well, come and sit, you fucking idiot. You won’t do us any favours keeling over in hunger, either. Just don’t expect me to spoonfeed you or anything.”

  Khine heaved himself into the seat. “Thank you, Agos. You’re a good man.” He looked at the dried squid and then, as if making a decision, reached out with his bad hand. His fingers twitched as he forced himself to grab the food.

  Agos looked almost embarrassed. “Well…”

  “I’ll try my best not to be a burden,” Khine said. “I know the queen is concerned for my safety. She is right about the dangers she faces, at least. It’s why I made the decision to send my brother home.” He took a bite and set the squid down on the table with some effort. After a moment, he started to do the same with the rice.

  “Akaterru be damned,” I sighed. “Stop it, Khine. That sort of courtesy sounds odd coming from you.”

  “Would you rather I be savage and uncouth?”

  He said it very softly, but I wondered if it was a jab. It was difficult to tell with Khine sometimes. Agos, thankfully, didn’t catch on. “Cho’s going to be peeved by what you did,” Agos said with a snort. “That boy’s got fire in him. A hundred of him in an army—ah! You just have to drill some discipline into him, that’s all.”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised if he tries to jump on the next boat back,” Khine said. “Still, he may not. The boat goes straight to Anzhao. With any luck, he’ll just spend the next few weeks drowning out his complaints about me in wine amongst friends.”

  “He’ll be all right. Young man like that—” Agos paused, a handful of rice halfway into his mouth. A villager, a beggar, was walking straight towards us. “Hey, you,” Agos said. “Not another step. Stop right there!”

  The beggar was deaf to his words and continued walking.

  I wasn’t sure who reacted first. Me, I think—I had my sword drawn before the man pulled out his knives. A sharp tang in the air warned me they might’ve been laced with something and I jumped back just as he came rushing for me.

  Agos flipped the table, food and all. The bamboo snapped against his body.

  “Get back!” Agos screamed. He was holding the bench with one hand. He flung it at the assassin.

  The assassin pulled himself up from the debris, but instead of trying to attack again, he sprinted for the tall grass behind us, disappearing into the brush.

  The attack had happened so fast that I didn’t even get the chance to draw my own sword. I saw the villagers starting to cluster around us. “We have to get out of here,” I whispered.

  “My thoughts exactly,” Agos said.

  “I’ll get our things ready,” Khine broke in. “Pay them to keep quiet.”

  “They’ll be gabbing the first chance they get,” I whispered.

  “Tell them you’ll come back with a bigger reward next time,” he said. “Some will talk. Others won’t. You want them fighting amongst themselves. Quickly, now.”

  I wrapped my fingers around my purse and stepped towards the crowd.

  Chapter Nine

  The Bowels of Osahindo

  An assassin behind me, Qun ahead, and warlords rearing all around. Too much, too fast. I thought it would be enough for me to cave. That somehow my mind would snap under the weight.

  It didn’t, not yet. Something strange happened after that assassin attacked. I felt like I was soaring. As if—now that almost everything that could go wrong had gone wrong, it suddenly seemed easier to throw caution to the wind. The days rolled on top of each other, the deafening silence irritating enough that I almost wished they just get it all over with. What the hell were they waiting for?

  The idea of easy travelling, even with Khine’s injuries, was forgotten. With one single horse to carry our supplies, we kept away from the villages and stayed in the forests as often as possible. Some days we went without food, and we would huddle in makeshift tents under the beating rain with growling bellies. Summer had ended and we were in the midst of the monsoon yet again.

  We also travelled on the inland roads, which were rough and wound around like a maze through the foothills. The riverside road leading straight to Osahindo would’ve been too dangerous. Or so we figured—the days passed, and other than that lone assassin from the second village, we encountered no one else. I turned to other worries. Where were the warlords’ soldiers? I had imagined that after word from Kyo-orashi got out, hordes of them would be scouring the roads for me, as Lord Huan had warned.

  Yet there were none, and we were travelling so slowly through those hill roads that it was impossible to have missed them. We passed by other travellers or the occasional farmer transporting animals or crops, but no soldiers, and no word about what was happening at court or how the council was dealing with Warlord San’s antics. The silence grated at me.

  Days later, perhaps weeks—I had lost count by then, and knew only that my own injuries had faded into the realm of scabs and bad memories—we came up to the silhouette of the riverside city from where the smaller paths and the main road converged on top of a rocky plateau. I patted the slick rain off the packhorse’s neck and stared at the River Agos from the distance. I recognized the area. Upriver and into the left fork on a boat would lead me straight into Oren-yaro. I took a deep breath, taking in the familiar scents and sounds. So close to home, and yet…

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Agos said. “It isn’t safe.”

  “We haven’t met any soldiers yet,” I said, wiping moisture off my face. “Maybe they’re not looking for me at all.”

  “Let’s see, the chances of the warlords deciding you’re not worth the trouble…what do you think, Lamang? I’ve heard you’re a gambling man. You want to make a bet?”

  Khine gave a small smile. “I think, perhaps, that the wisest choice would be to stay away from the cities.”

  Agos laughed. “I thought so, too.”

  “But—” Khine continued, turning back to me. “You have every intention of going straight to the heart of Oren-yaro anyway, don’t you? You know too little to be walking into this blind. Let me go into the city to learn what I can. If there’s talk about you, I’m sure it wouldn’t take more than a visit to a tavern or two.” He turned around.

  I watched him trot down the bend before following him. “We’ll all go together,” I said.

  “I’m not as weak as I was,” Khine reminded me. “It’s too dangerous for you to show your face.”

  “It’s dangerous for me to stay waiting for you in the open road, too.” I glanced at Agos. “We’ll just have to keep our eyes peeled.”

  “Don’t think we haven’t been doing that this whole time,” Agos grumbled. “Bastards still manage to sneak up on us.”

  “We’ve lived this long.”

  “Luck don’t mean you’re blessed by the gods, Princess.”

  But as luck would have it, there were no guards at the gate. Lady Bracha of Osahindo’s influence was weak compared to other warlords in their regions. A big reason for this was the structure of the river lands—too many minor lords of major clans who believe they should’ve been awarded the city refuse to bow to her claim. Politics within politics.

  We left the horse at the nearest stables. I let Agos do most of the transactions, choosing to keep as far away from people as I could. Not that it would’ve helped. Either they recognized me or they didn’t. I was as close to home as I had ever been, and my appearance and manner of speaking no longer stood out. It was Khine who had to keep quiet this time, a thing he didn’t seem to have any difficulties with these days. Or at least, he was quiet most of the time around me.

  He didn’t seem to have problems with Agos. I had assumed the awkwardness would persist, but if anything, they seemed to get along better now that Agos no longer considered Khine a threat to my affections. I had woken up
at least a few times to the sound of them sparring, trading blows with their swords in the falling rain with Khine’s arm still wrapped in bandages. I expressed my disapproval to Agos that first time, reasoning that Khine wasn’t well enough for such exertions.

  “He needs to use that arm,” Agos had thundered. “It’ll wilt if he doesn’t. I’ve seen it happen before. And anyway, it was his idea. Said he didn’t want to be useless. Meant what he said about not wanting to be a burden. Footwork’s getting better. Think I’ll make a fighter out of him yet. Hell, made one out of you, didn’t I?”

  “Wonder what old Sharkhead will say about you taking the credit for that.”

  “He taught you, but I sparred with you the most. Of course, these days…”

  I tore my attention back to the present. Agos was still talking to the stable manager. Khine was staring at the river, where houses were stacked on top of each other like boxes. Wooden docks sprawled out into the water. They were empty at that time of the day—even though it was still early enough in the morning, most of the fishermen would’ve ventured out to try their luck further into the river. Some might even make it all the way to the southern wetlands for mudfish, and eels, which was a delicacy in those parts.

  “It doesn’t get much better than this, in case you’re wondering,” I said. “Oren-yaro is not that much different. It’s all so provincial compared to Anzhao City.”

  “I was actually thinking about how peaceful it is,” Khine replied.

  “Ah. It’s only because you’ve stumbled upon a rare instance in Jin-Sayeng history when the warlords aren’t living up to their titles.”

  “Is this the longest you haven’t had war?”

  I counted back the years to my birth. “I suppose,” I found myself saying. “I’ve never thought of it that way. Reshiro Ikessar’s reign had its rough spots. Yes…I think this is the longest we’ve gone without us trying to kill each other.” I gave a grim smile. “If Rayyel could only see it this way…if my father wasn’t a conniving bastard…if, so many ifs, Khine.” I stared at the grey water, my eyes blurring.

  Khine suddenly strode close to me, grabbing my arm. “Don’t say anything,” he said in a low voice. “Just walk and laugh.”

  I glanced behind us for a moment. A man with a rice hat appeared in the corner of my eyes and then disappeared. I hooked my arm through Khine’s and made a chortling sound, pretending to laugh over some joke or another.

  We headed straight for the alley. “He’ll strike where it’s dark,” I murmured, reaching for my sword—an elaborate piece of weaponry gifted by Warlord San before I left Kyo-orashi. “Let him. I want the bastard dead.”

  “If you kill him, you’ll alert the guards,” Khine whispered back.

  “Then we’ll have to hide the body.”

  “No. Too risky. Too many people.”

  We turned into a corner. The buildings here were pressed closed together, towering over us like trees. Grey brick and stone everywhere, remnants of a Kag-fashion building craze from decades ago.

  Khine swore under his breath. “Tali, I think there’s two of them.”

  “What?”

  He pointed at the other end of the alley. “Over there, I saw—”

  The first assassin attacked.

  He moved so fast that he almost nicked my shoulder with his blade. I tried to strike back, but he had sprinted for the shadows. I felt my heart begin to race. This was almost not fair. Yuebek’s assassins had been slow and lumbering, easy enough to fight once flushed out. These knew what they were doing.

  Khine grabbed my arm and dragged me into one of the buildings. He slammed the door shut behind us, dropping the bar over it.

  Sweat dripped from my forehead to my neck. Hands shaking, I turned around and saw that we were inside a warehouse. The only source of light came from a few barred windows along the ceiling, too small for a person to fit through.

  “There were more than two,” Khine breathed. “They would’ve seen us go in.” He tapped the door, testing it.

  “Let’s find another exit.”

  “I’m hoping we get to it before they do. Three assassins, maybe more. Agos—”

  “He can take care of himself,” I said. I didn’t even want to think about the idea of more of those bastards skulking about. If Agos remained around other people, he was safe.

  The warehouse was packed with shelves, full of dusty crates and barrels. There were no workers from what I could see. All the lanterns were cold, the oil wells unfilled. The strangeness of this left me with an uneasy feeling, but I dared not say it out loud.

  We found a door at the far end. It was covered with cobwebs, which did little to reassure me. It creaked inwards when I touched it, pivoting around rusty hinges. I stepped through the doorway and onto a strange, narrow corridor hall. I waited for my eyes to adjust to the darkness before I proceeded forward, finding the way by touching the walls like a blind woman. I could hear Khine behind me.

  The knob to the next door took a few tries for it to turn. I finally got it to swing open, stepping into a swirl of sunlight and dust and moldy air, thick enough that I shielded my eyes for a moment. When I finally opened them again, I saw the dummies inside the room, and nearly screamed.

  ~~~

  There were dozens of them lined up in a row, faceless, nothing more than stuffed sacks with heads and bodies held up on poles. Light streamed down from the railed windows around the room, casting an unearthly glow on the figures. I tried to steady my racing heart as Khine walked past me to touch one. “They’re props,” he said.

  “I’m sorry?”

  He pointed at a pile of clothes in the corner. They were strange clothing, extravagant almost, except for the thick layer of dust and moth-eaten edges. “Costumes. Props. We must be in an abandoned theatre. Look.” He pointed at a barrel full of wooden swords and shields. There were also helmets, brightly painted and decorated in a mocking attempt to mimic those of well known clans’. At least one had the soaring Ikessar falcon on it, though it looked more like a chicken. I think it was done on purpose.

  I swallowed. “I thought—”

  “I know,” Khine said. “I thought so, too. Fucking Yuebek.” He looked at one of the dummies and gingerly touched it. When it didn’t move, he drew his sword and knocked its head clean off its body. It landed on the ground, spraying moldy sawdust into the air.

  I held my breath. “I still don’t like this. Can we go now, please?”

  Khine nodded. We drew back into the dark hall, leaving the door open to let light in, and continued to walk.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  I turned to him. “Why do you ask?”

  He pointed at my hands. They were shaking.

  I frowned. “I’ve got to see a healer for this one of these days. It doesn’t suit a warlord’s daughter, let alone a queen. I—”

  “Tali,” he said softly. “You should know by now that you can’t fool me.”

  “I don’t know what you mean,” I said, walking past him.

  Khine reached out to touch my arm before stopping himself. He dropped his hands to his side. “Something’s bothering you, and it’s not just the assassins or the dummies. Tell me.”

  I wilted under his gaze. “Back in Zorheng,” I whispered. “You remember I was in Yuebek’s dungeons.”

  “You said he allowed you to escape, only to send assassins after you.” His eyes narrowed. “Did the bastard touch you?”

  “Not that I know,” I murmured. “I was in a prison cell the whole time. He was trying to wear me down and left me alone. But then…they drugged me and I woke up in a strange, abandoned place, just like this one.”

  As soon as he spoke these words, I thought I heard the music, the one my brother had been playing in that place. I held my breath, trying to form words for something I never imagined I would ever tell someone. “Back there, I thought I saw…ghosts.”

  “Ghosts,” he repeated.

  “Spirits. Of my family. My father and my brothe
r, to be precise.” I let my voice carry the weight of this. I didn’t think I could take it if he thought I was trying to make a joke.

  But his expression remained sombre. “Yuebek’s mage tricks?” he asked.

  “I was convinced it was,” I replied. “Now, I’m not so sure.”

  Khine stopped in his tracks to face me. “Why have you never told me before, Tali? What did these ghosts do?”

  “They…confronted me,” I murmured. “Or at least, the ghost of my father did. About the things I had done wrong, with my rule, with Rayyel. Do you know why I was never sure it was Yuebek’s doing all along? If he had used something in that room to make me see things from my memories, then it would all make sense. But I’ve never met my brother, Khine. I wouldn’t know how he looked like, and my father never spoke enough about him or my other brothers to know how their relationship was.” I held my breath. “After everything that had happened, the weight of what I’ve had to deal with...I’m afraid I may be going mad, Khine.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Is it? Yuebek was proud of his tricks. Yet why had he never thought to mention this one? For me to wake up in a room with the ghost of my brother playing the piano, and then later, to stumble on my father in one of the cells…”

  “He wanted to wear you down.”

  “Maybe he didn’t have to. Maybe all he did was show me the edge of the cliff, and then wait for me to do the rest.”

  We walked in silence for some time.

  “In my opinion as a well-educated quack,” Khine said, “if there’s anyone who’s mad, it’s Yuebek. He’s a classic case, straight out of a textbook.”

  “Maybe the very idea of ruling brings one close to madness. My father went mad, once. Not the way they used the word—not like when Warlord San called him madder than the rest because he was foolhardy and did drastic things. No…he lost his mind after my brothers died. They said he just snapped. He would say strange things, hide inside closets, and talk to himself all night long. And although he put up a good show afterwards, people remain convinced he never recovered.” I swallowed. “I’ve been so exhausted lately, Khine. And I’ve been taught to keep a brave face, so I press forward, but I feel like a leaf on a branch spinning in the wind. Just one more gust and I’ll be swept away.”