The Ikessar Falcon

by Villoso, K. S.

  “The infection will spread,” I said. “We’ll have to open the coffin up ourselves. I don’t want my master’s wife finding out I killed an entire temple of priests, even if you are Kibouri.” I wrung my hands together.

  The priest regarded me with a long look before giving a soft sigh. “Wait by the crypt.”

  I nodded at Agos. We took the cart as far as the path would take it before dragging the coffin down. It banged on the ground, and I thought I heard Rai give a soft groan, which I covered up with a cough.

  “Some dead man,” Agos murmured. “You should’ve just let me do it for real.”

  “I can still hear you,” Rai hissed.

  “Idiots,” I grumbled. I started to hum as I grabbed the end of the coffin. Agos did the same on the other side, and we slowly shuffled up to the crypt entrance. It was carved right into the foot of Oka Shto. Various names were carved around the entrance, famous figures known for their contribution to the Kibouri religion. I noted that Rysaran the Uncrowned’s name was on there, which was surprising—I figured my father would’ve had the power to have it removed if he had wanted to. I traced my fingers around the one that said Thanh, my heart skipping a beat at the thought of seeing my son tonight.

  I saw a silhouette in the distance. A young priest arrived, stepping lightly towards us. He smiled at me and then at Agos before thrusting the string of prayer beads and a leather-bound booklet into my hands. I glanced down at these items while he busied himself with unlocking the crypt doors.

  “The rooster crows at midnight,” he said, just as he stepped away.

  “What?” I asked.

  But the priest was gone before he could answer my question. I turned to Agos, who shrugged.

  “Who knows? Crazy bastards, these Kibouri worshippers.”

  We dragged the coffin all the way into the tomb. Agos shut the doors, dropping the bar in place. He draped a chain around it to ensure the locking mechanism wouldn’t work from the outside. “They’ll leave us alone the whole night if we’re lucky,” I said as I cranked the coffin open. “Damn Kibouri rites take hours, from what I remember. Not that I’ve ever had to do them myself, thank the gods. I’d sooner stab my eyes out.” I set the lid aside. Rai gingerly stepped out, wiping his face.

  “I hope the escape plan doesn’t involve this again,” he said wryly.

  I grinned at him. “And here I was starting to enjoy your silence as a dead man.”

  He didn’t look amused. “Has anyone ever told you how inappropriately morbid your jokes are?”

  “It’s unbecoming for a queen…yes, so you’ve said lots of times. Are we ready, Agos?”

  Agos pulled out a shovel from the bottom of the coffin and handed it to me. He took out a pickaxe for himself. “I know you hate lightning, but it’s a good thing we’ll have that to drown out the noise.”

  “Since when did you hate lightning?” Rai asked.

  “There’s lots of things you don’t know about me, Rai.”

  “So it seems.”

  “I really should admit to you that I’ve always found it entertaining to irritate you.”

  “I’ve always known that.”

  Agos cleared his throat. “I thought we were digging.”

  We reached the far end of the tunnel. I pulled up the lantern, noting the rows of stone likenesses that marked the tombs. I didn’t realize there had been so many Kibouri-worshippers in the city.

  “Do you know,” I found myself saying. “My father hated your mother so much that he never referred to her by name? At least, not in passing.”

  “I am aware of that as well,” Rai replied.

  “He called her the Hag. The Hag Princess. The Ikessar Witch. And a few others which I won’t utter out of respect of these dead, who must’ve supported her at one time or another.” I gave a small, exaggerated bow.

  “His hatred is one of the reasons I was not allowed to leave the Citadel until his death. My mother never fully trusted him.”

  “A wise woman,” I said. I watched Agos press his hands on the wall, tapping it. “I’m surprised he allowed this temple to exist at all. You would think he’d just outright ban the worship of the Nameless Maker in his own city.”

  “I never really knew him, my lady. You are perhaps the best judge of his character.”

  I snorted. “No, I’m not. If I was, I could’ve figured out this whole Zarojo thing from the beginning.”

  I stood up just as Agos gave a small sound of exclamation. He was tapping the wall. “Hollow. You hear that?” He lifted the pickaxe and struck it. The tip plunged into soft dirt.

  I held the lantern while he dug into the wall, breaking out chunks of loose clay. When he had uncovered enough, I began to help him out with the shovel. Sweat gathered around my neck as I dug. Minutes passed.

  “Let me take over,” Rai said, stepping forward.

  “Are you sure?” I asked. “You’ll get calluses on those soft, Ikessar palms. They won’t press quite right together in prayer.”

  He glared at me as he pulled his sleeves up.

  “Scrawny arms,” Agos whistled. “She’s got more muscle than you.”

  Rai coloured. “Let’s just get this over with.” He grabbed the shovel and got to work.

  The hole in the wall got larger, the pile of soil behind us higher. I wondered where Thanh was and what he would be doing at that time of the day. It was too late for his studies. By now, he would’ve probably had dinner and was somewhere in the libraries or in his room with a book. I regarded the men in front of me. They had fallen into a rhythm, their faces tightened from the physical strain. Neither paused longer than to wipe their brow or catch a breath.

  All this effort for one child. Rai was right in that at the very least, Thanh was loved. It wasn’t perfect—nothing ever was. But it became clear, more than ever, why we had to get him away from this. Perhaps we could live with what we created, but my child deserved a better world than this. And perhaps deserved wasn’t quite the right word, but I at least owed it to him to make it right after everything I had done.

  “There she goes,” Agos said, stepping back. There was a creak as the last of the soil caved in, revealing a long, narrow tunnel.

  The path was dark and dusty, but there was a fresh intake of air coming from somewhere which stopped it from becoming too muggy. It smelled of the rain, too—when I held the lantern up high, I could see the flames dancing.

  The tunnel didn’t go for very far. We reached a long, circular chamber with a winding staircase. Etched right into the mountain, I gazed up in awe at the stone walls, wondering how they were built. There were windows at the very top, accounting for the air. I could see the torrent of rain and swaying branches outside.

  “Your father had this built?” I heard Rai ask in wonder.

  I turned to him. He was standing at the end of the staircase, gazing up at an etching that glowed blue. I felt myself grow sick.

  “The agan,” I murmured. I couldn’t even make myself touch the etchings. “It can’t be. He hated everything about it, everything it stood for. Rysaran’s dragon killed my brothers.”

  “And yet here, a clear indication that he used the agan to build your castle,” Rai said. “He used mages.”

  “Zarojo mages.” It wasn’t even a question anymore.

  “It seems their partnership runs deep,” he said. “Longer than our betrothal—longer even than my own birth, if I remember correctly when Oka Shto was built.”

  “How could you be so factual about it?”

  Rai shrugged. “It is a fact, nothing more.”

  “It speaks of a betrayal that continues,” I whispered. “My father detested the agan. He had nothing but ill words for Dageian mages. He spoke of how we should continue with the old ways, how it was Rysaran’s obsession with the agan-mad dragon that resulted in the war in the first place.”

  “You keep repeating these words as if you find it hard to believe that Warlord Yeshin, of all people, could be so treacherous. You’ve already seen
how his mind works.”

  “But…”

  “How could he lie to you, you mean?” It was Agos, this time. “If you asked me, he was probably just doing it to protect you. The less you knew, the better.”

  “The presumptuous bastard,” I whispered. “What would he have been trying to protect me from?”

  “I don’t know. Lots of things. Can’t fault the intent, much as you may hate it. What are you staring at me like that for?” he asked, turning to Rai.

  Rai shrugged. “I just didn’t realize you could speak so eloquently given half the chance.”

  “Fuck you up the ass.”

  “And now it’s gone.”

  I began to walk the length of the chamber, which was bigger than I first gave it credit for. I stopped before I could reach the far end. There, upturned on its side, was a rusted animal cage with wheels. It was the biggest cage I had ever seen—six horses could’ve fit in it, maybe even seven, and I imagined it must’ve taken a good number of beasts just to pull it. Some of the bars were bent, bowing outwards. There were more markings on the iron, all of which also glowed blue.

  “Perhaps you have the answer you seek,” Rai said, coming up from behind me.

  I swallowed. “I don’t know what I’m looking at.”

  He scratched his chin before replying. “There are rumours that Warlord Yeshin was the one who brought Rysaran’s dragon to Oren-yaro in the first place.”

  His words had an eerie quality to it. “I’ve never heard these,” I said.

  “You’ve made it a point not to listen to every rumour, if my recollection rings true. I’ve not paid much attention to this one myself.” He walked towards the cage to touch one bent wheel. It turned with a creaky sound. “From what I understand, Warlord Yeshin was said to have sent his men to intercept this…thing. The dragon didn’t come from the wild—a Kag merchant was transporting it from Gaspar, moving through Jin-Sayeng. That much might be true—do you see the Kag characters?”

  “I see them,” I murmured, my ears burning.

  He continued, oblivious of my discomfort. “Rysaran knew of this dragon from his travels. It may be that he baited Warlord Yeshin into taking it for himself. Warlord Yeshin sent the men, and then hired mages to open the cage, which was sealed with powerful spells.”

  “The idea that my father purposely hired mages from the beginning is still…difficult to believe.”

  “That’s why I didn’t pay attention to these rumours myself.” Rai pointed at the glowing markings on the wall. “Perhaps I should have. This was Warlord Yeshin’s castle. It’s hard to deny a mage’s handiwork when you see it.”

  “He hired Yuebek’s mages,” I murmured. “They helped built the walls in Zorheng City for him. I’m not an expert on his handiwork, but the coincidence is too much to deny.”

  “Or perhaps the mages are Yuebek’s mother’s,” Rai said. “He must’ve been a very young child when this all happened, and my understanding is that he inherited his skills from his mother’s line.”

  “You’ve been doing your research.”

  “You’re surprised?”

  “No, just—pleased, oddly enough. That some things remain as they should be.” I stared at the cage, half-shadowed under the lantern light. My father’s sins ran deeper than he admitted. Rumours of a dragon, the first seen in Jin-Sayeng in decades, would’ve been too hard to resist. He had sent the men, hired the mages. Opened the cage, releasing what he called Rysaran’s mad dragon into the world. Ambition destroyed his own city and killed his own sons.

  I prodded myself for what I felt. Grief, I think, but the numb kind. I wasn’t as surprised as I had been when I learned of my father’s involvement with Yuebek. There was also that ever-present sorrow which came every time I thought of my father, and sympathy for my brothers, whom he blamed for getting themselves killed. Growing up under my father’s shadow and expectations—would it have been easier because it was spread out between them, or harder because Yeshin was younger and not yet bent?

  Unbelievably enough, though, the one emotion that reigned was sympathy for my father himself. It must not have been easy to live with your mistakes, to swathe them with your lies and carry forward as if nothing ever happened. The true reason for the War of the Wolves lay in front of me. Yeshin’s actions, the bloodbath that ensued, was not a reflection of his hate for the Ikessars but for himself. He killed his own children. You don’t recover from that. Yeshin may have done inhuman things, but he was more human than most.

  Your brothers loved dogs.

  I got up. “No sense in dwelling in the past,” I croaked out, remembering my words from earlier.

  Rai nodded. But as I went up the stairs, my brother Taraji’s haunting music began to play inside my head again.

  Madness, it seemed, ran in the family after all.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The Lone Wolf

  The tunnels opened up into the kitchens. It was very late, and I knew that most of the servants slept early to make sure they had tea and coffee ready before the rest woke up. With a storm right outside, it was unlikely they would linger through the castle hallway for long. But as we took a turn around the pantry, past sacks of rice, flour, and mung beans, I caught sight of a familiar figure bent over the large kitchen table. A fat woman, with eyes that disappeared every time she smiled. She turned at the sound of our footsteps.

  “Agos,” she gasped, recoiling as if seeing a ghost. And then she turned to me, and her face grew whiter. “My queen.”

  “Ma,” Agos breathed. He walked towards her.

  She slapped him.

  Agos’ face was red, though it had nothing to do with the heat from the hearth and nothing to do, I think, with the slap itself. A man who took blows like a tree trunk would have hardly felt it. “You show up here after years, without a single word…” she began.

  “The queen’s orders,” Agos said. He took his mother’s hand, pressing it on his forehead. I think if there had been room to grovel, he would have.

  Hessa shook her head. “She ordered you to leave and never speak to your mother again? I find that hard to believe.”

  “I—”

  “Beloved Queen,” she said, pushing Agos away to look at me. “Ah, you look thin. Wherever you’ve been, they haven’t been feeding you very well, have they?”

  “I went to fetch Lord Rayyel,” I said, glancing towards Rai, who looked like a drenched rat in the corner. He had never particularly gotten along well with the palace staff, and I think he was embarrassed by the attention.

  Hessa didn’t comment on his presence—you would’ve thought that wayward princes showed up at her doorstep every week. Instead, she gestured at the stove. “There’s fried milkfish and bean stew, if you’ll give me a moment to get the stove going. Maybe I’ll fry some eggs, too—that’ll warm up the rice. You’ll want to see Lord Thanh while you wait, I suppose.”

  “I trust you’ve taken good care of him, Sang Hessa.”

  She snorted. “Of course I did. He pined for you, dear child, but I told him—your mother is smart, and strong, and quick-witted. Nothing they do will hurt her. She’ll be back home, you’ll see—and here you are.” She beamed at me, her cheeks deepening. The familiar sight of her, the scent of sambong tea that seemed to reek from her pores, and even the way her hair curled around the fringes of her hat told me I was home at last. I felt as if a dreaded weight had been lifted from me. I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time.

  “Is he in his room?” I asked.

  “The last time I checked. But hey—you’re not supposed to be wandering around the castle this time of the night, are you?” She took me by the arm, pinching me. “Warlord Ozo, he calls himself now. The nerve. You watch out for that one, child.”

  “I think she knows—” Agos began.

  She turned to him with a vicious glare. “Children,” she huffed. “You know less than you ought to.” She gave a soft sigh. “We servants know where our loyalty lies. I don’t know about your soldiers. I don�
��t know what got over them. I’ve been asking for months why they weren’t going after you, and they kept their silence. You best be careful, whatever it is you plan to do. You…” She wagged a finger at Agos. “Pay me a visit once in a while, eh?”

  “I don’t know if I can do that after this, Ma.”

  “Always so honest. Nothing like your father.” She patted his cheek before reaching up to kiss it. “Go with my love.”

  We drifted from the kitchens towards the empty dining hall. My father’s table was gone, replaced by a rectangular monstrosity of Kag-make, complete with thick-bodied, velvet-backed chairs similar to the arrangement in Shirrokaru. Tapestries hung from the wall. They bore the wolf emblem of the Oren-yaro, but of the green and yellow pattern attributed to the Tasho instead of the Orenar clan. I longed to rip them out and set them on fire. Should I kill Ozo, on top of Qun? I didn’t like killing, but what was one more death? I was keenly aware that my anger, at times, was stronger than my ideals.

  “Thanh’s room is still at the top floor of this wing?” Rai asked.

  It felt strange to hear his voice again here, echoing through the castle. “Yes,” I replied. “The one next to our…to my room.”

  Agos bade us to wait in the shadows of the dining hall while he went ahead to make sure the path was clear. It seemed to take forever for him to return; I stood with my back to the wall in silence, trying not to think about how I had once dreamt of nothing else but having Rayyel back here all those long years. I never expected that such a moment would come to pass, or that it would happen this way, that he could be this close yet again and not make me feel a thing.

  Eventually, we heard Agos whistle. We made our way to the main staircase, which went up three levels to the main chambers and the study. I instructed Agos to stay on the second landing to keep an eye out for anyone coming in from the guest rooms. He looked conflicted.

  “Rai could do it, but I’m pretty sure you’ll fare better if there’s trouble,” I said.

  Agos scratched his cheek. “It’s not that.”

  “Then what?”