We have to safeguard our precious ethnic purity, don’t we?
Aeko shook her head, fighting back a derisive smile. She wished she had the ability to glean their thoughts at a glance, the way Shel’ai did. But she could only see what was obvious. With her, at the head of the host, rode just a half dozen Knights with a third symbol on their tabards: a white nine-petaled blossom with a golden center. She was the first female Knight of the Lotus in the history of the Order.
As far as the histories have been chronicled, that is.
In the past, the Order had not hesitated to amend—or outright burn—certain texts they deemed too controversial or dangerous. They had all but eradicated written traces of Fel-Nâya, Knightswrath, the tragically obtained sword that Fâyu Jinn had used to win the Shattering War.
Few Knights below the rank of Stag even knew about it beyond fairytales and rumor. The Council’s official excuse for the secrecy was concern that a thousand starry-eyed Knights of the Crane might tear across the countryside, looking for a fabled sword that probably did not even exist. Aeko saw their point. Still, if anyone could remake the Order into what it was supposed to be, the way Fâyu Jinn had intended it to be, that was Rowen Locke. She glanced at the man riding next to her.
If I can keep Crovis from killing him.
Sir Crovis Ammerhel had done an admirable job of concealing his disdain. Grand Marshal Bokuden had promoted Aeko and given her formal command of the expedition—an unmistakable slight directed at Crovis—but Crovis knew better than to be too obvious with his scorn. Instead, he asserted himself in small ways. He rode just a little too closely and spoke just a little too cordially to be believable.
And, of course, he insisted on leaving the squires behind.
Aeko was more popular with the idealistic squires and younger Knights of the Crane. Normally, the Knights were accompanied by at least as many squires, giving Aeko an additional advantage. But Crovis had uncovered an obscure passage in the ponderous annals of the Codex Viticus that said an offending Knight could be arrested only by fellow Knights. He’d interpreted it to mean that Knights alone could go in search of Rowen. To her disappointment, her fellow Knights had agreed with him. The law was the law.
It won’t matter, though. Once the Knights see Rowen Locke wearing the Sword of Fâyu Jinn, maybe marching at the head of a Sylvan legion of reinforcements, they’ll fall all over themselves swearing allegiance.
She shifted uncomfortably in her armor. At least, I hope so.
The Knight of the Lotus took a deep breath to clear her mind and returned her attention to the task at hand. The column was making good time, already well away from the city of Lyos and halfway to Nosh. But the way was not nearly as safe as it had once been.
She spied a curl of smoke on the northern horizon. “The Bloody Prince must be preparing to winter at Cassica. Let’s hope the bastard stays there.”
Crovis’s reply said he’d missed her meaning. “Have no fear, Lady Shingawa. The painted men wouldn’t dare attack us.”
Aeko answered with a smile. “Dhargots aren’t known for being timid. You remember what Sir Royce said.”
Crovis frowned at the mention of the Lancer captain they’d encountered at Lyos. “I wouldn’t put much stock in the military prowess of an Ivairian.”
Still, the Lancers had shed and spilled more blood fighting the Dhargots than the Knights had. “Either way, according to the last report, the Dhargots outnumber us by hundreds to one.”
Crovis shrugged. “Skill counts more than numbers. Besides, even the Dhargots would never be so daft as to incur the wrath of the Lotus Isles when they’re already in the middle of a war.”
Aeko shivered as a sudden gust of wind blew a smattering of snowflakes between them. Crovis had said the same about Fadarah’s army—right before the Shel’ai laid siege to Lyos. “I am privileged to have your expertise on this campaign—if campaign is the right word.”
Crovis reached back and smoothed his dark braid with sun-weathered fingers. “As fine a synonym for fools’ errand as any, I suppose.”
Aeko decided to let that go. She eyed the horizon again, still half fearing that she might see the ghastly banners of the Bloody Prince thundering down on them. To her relief, the hours wore on without incident. By sundown, hungry and tired with frayed nerves, she called a halt.
Immediately, the Knights went to work, glumly going about tasks that would have otherwise been delegated to the squires. Some set up tents while others tended horses. Still others dug a trench all around the camp, while still more Knights fortified the trench with sharpened stakes. By the time they were finished, the tents had been erected, fires built, and a meager meal of rice and vegetables. The Knights ate in silence, still armored, swords close at hand. There was lotus wine, but even the most aggravated Knights knew better than to get drunk amid the possibility of battle.
Aeko made her way through the camp, letting all the Knights see her. She was careful to avoid appearing too friendly, lest they think she was desperate for their approval. She even scolded a Knight of the Crane for staring too long into his campfire, as that could hamper his night vision in the event of an attack. She had considered banning campfires altogether, but she knew the Dhargots were likely aware of their presence already. She stationed more sentries than usual and even sent a handful of Knights to patrol a half mile beyond the camp.
Not that a bit of advance notice will mean much difference if the Bloody Prince decides to march in force.
She had nearly completed her second walk through the camp when she spotted Crovis stalking toward her, his face taut. She interpreted his expression and hurried to meet him, one hand straying for her sword hilt.
“Lady Shingawa, I have been looking for you—”
“What’s wrong?”
“A lone Dhargothi ambassador just arrived at the perimeter. He has requested the honor of addressing the leader of this company.”
Aeko caught the subtle rebuke. “You say he came alone?”
Crovis nodded. “No bodyguards. Just one haughty bastard in silk.”
For one rare moment, Aeko almost liked her rival. “Lead the way, Sir Ammerhel. Best not keep the haughty bastard waiting.”
To Aeko’s surprise, Crovis had already shown the ambassador to her tent. A newly minted Knight of the Crane who had been tasked with acting as her servant had given the man wine and a chair but otherwise loomed over him with arms crossed.
Aeko sized up the Dhargot. He was middle aged and short but thickly built. Like nearly all the Dhargothi men she had ever seen, he had a shaved head, painted eyes, and a braided goatee. He was armed with a matching dagger and shortsword, both inlaid with black pearls in the pommels. He wore scale armor and black silk, plus a ghastly necklace of human ears: trophies from enemies he’d killed.
Aeko counted six ears and smirked to conceal her revulsion. Rumor had it that Karhaati, the Bloody Prince, wore forty-seven ears—though if that had been true, Aeko figured he’d added a few pairs since then. She cleared her throat.
The Dhargothi ambassador turned, looked at her, and rose slowly, draining his cup. When the cup was empty, he passed it without looking to the Knight standing behind him. “Are you the one I’ve been kept waiting for?”
Aeko bowed slightly, wondering how much of the contempt in the man’s speech came from his accent. “I am Aeko Shingawa, Knight of the Lotus and Knight-Captain of this host. Whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?”
The ambassador did not answer for so long that Aeko wondered if he meant to ignore her. Then he simply said, “Vaanti.”
Aeko forced a smile. “And I trust that you were sent by Prince Karhaati.”
The Dhargot took his time nodding. “The Bloody Prince sent me.”
After a long silence, Aeko said, “And his message?”
“Just th
is: you are in our lands without permission. We Dhargots have no quarrel with the Isles. Leave at once, and the Bloody Prince will forgive your insult without bloodshed or demand for reparations.”
Aeko could smell the stink of the man’s breath, only thinly veiled by the sweet smell of lotus wine. She wondered if the man had deliberately chewed on an onion before coming to the camp. “Tell the prince I appreciate his generosity. No offense was intended. This is not an invasion. We are merely on a training exercise and did not know the Dhargothi Empire had extended its boundaries all the way to the heart of the Simurgh Plains. It seems I shall have to be better about consulting maps before I leave my keep.”
Vaanti sneered, though she could not tell if it was in derision or grudging appreciation. “The Bloody Prince claims whatever lands he wishes. If you object, meet him on the field.”
Aeko tapped her sword hilt. Someday, perhaps, when I have more men with me. “As I said, we’re on a training mission, nothing more.” She intended to leave it at that, but her eyes fell on Vaanti’s ghastly necklace again. She wondered if any of those ears came from women. She lowered her voice. “Cassica is not a protectorate of the Lotus Isles. Until its people request our help, Karhaati has nothing to fear from us.”
Vaanti looked surprised. Then he laughed. “Cassica’s a pen for dogs! We took it in accordance with the Way of Ears, which has guided my people for two centuries. If you want it, come take it. The Bloody Prince would welcome the fight.”
Aeko held up her hand. “We didn’t come here for a fight. I told you—”
Out of the corner of her eye, Aeko saw a flash of steel. Before she could stop him, Crovis strode forward and pressed the edge of his adamune to the Dhargot’s throat. Vaanti’s eyes widened. He tried to back up but collided with the Knight of the Crane standing behind him.
Crovis said, “Pray that your beloved prince never meets an Isle Knight on the field, little man, or else the Red Emperor will have one less son to pay him homage.”
Aeko hissed Crovis’s name, but he did not answer. She eyed the other Knights, some of whom looked back at her with uncertainty, and wondered if she should have Crovis seized. She decided against it.
Meanwhile, all the fight had gone out of Vaanti’s expression. The edge of Crovis’s sword had already drawn a thin trickle of blood, though given the steadiness of Crovis’s hands, Aeko figured that was deliberate.
She took a step forward and fixed Vaanti in her most withering stare. “On the Isles, threatening someone in their own home is considered extremely rude. I believe that’s the lesson Sir Ammerhel was trying to demonstrate.”
With the sword still pressed to his throat, Vaanti tried his best not to swallow. “I didn’t threaten—”
“Maybe we misunderstood. If so, I hope you’ll accept our apology and convey our peaceful intentions to your prince.”
Crovis pressed his sword against Vaanti’s throat for emphasis. A fresh trickle of blood ran down his neck.
The Dhargot said, “I will. Of course I will!”
“Good.” Aeko touched Crovis’s arm. To her relief, he stepped back, made a show of wiping his blade on his sleeve, then sheathed his sword with the faintest of smiles.
Aeko gestured to the Knight standing behind the Dhargot. “Sir Wei, give the ambassador another bottle of wine and show him to his horse.”
As the visibly shaken Dhargot was being led out of the tent, Aeko noticed that the pearl-inlaid dagger was missing from his belt.
Crovis twirled it between his fingers then offered it to her with a slight bow. “Care for a souvenir, Knight-Captain?”
Only two other Knights remained in the tent, but Aeko dismissed them with a look. “I would prefer that my second-in-command not assert his ego by trying to start a war.”
Crovis blinked then laughed. “I beg your pardon, Lady Shingawa, but it seems I’m more familiar with Dhargots than you are. That was no show of bravado. Their kind hate courtesy. Had he returned to the Bloody Prince with nothing but gifts and reassurances, there would be bloodshed within hours. This way, Karhaati will think we’re bold. He’ll respect us. With luck, he’ll use his assault on the Free Cities as an excuse to give us a wide berth.”
Aeko saw his point, but she knew better than to concede too quickly. “You nearly killed his ambassador.”
Crovis shook his head. “It’s written in their laws, what they call the Way of Ears. If an enemy’s messenger threatens you, you send him back bloodied. But you send him back alive.” He offered her the dagger again.
Aeko took it. “I believe you. Still, a word of warning would have been appreciated.”
Crovis bowed. “Next time we are accosted by a foreign dignitary, I will bear that in mind.”
Aeko pretended to examine the edge of the dagger, then she twirled it between her fingers—faster and more deftly than Crovis had—and handed it back. “Keep it. I’ve never had much fondness for foreign steel.”
If Crovis caught the rebuke, he gave no indication. After reclaiming the dagger, he left the tent. Aeko heard a chorus of laughter from the other Knights of the Lotus waiting outside. Before the tent flap closed, she saw Crovis idly pass the dagger to one of them, who gave her a sidelong glance, grinned, and slid it into his belt.
Vaanti pressed a silk cloth to his throat as he rode away from the camp. The pain from the shallow cuts had passed. Anger had replaced it. Vaanti swore oath after oath to the Dragongod that one day, he would face that man again and kill him. Though he had never fought an Isle Knight, he doubted the stories of their fighting prowess were true. Besides, even if they were, Vaanti had confidence in his own abilities.
He touched his necklace, fingering the first pair of dried ears he’d taken as a trophy. Despite his mood, he smiled. Those ears had belonged to a Dwarrish sellsword, the biggest man Vaanti had ever seen. He touched the second pair, tracing their dried swirls with cold affection. Those had come from an Iron Sister at Hesod. He wished he’d had the chance to savor her, but the speed of her sword had convinced him to end the fight quickly.
He did not touch the final pair of ears, though his smile broadened when he remembered the look of terror and agony on his dying father’s face. The man had savaged him all throughout his childhood—as was customary in the raising of warriors—but in the end, Vaanti had taken his revenge.
As I’ll have my revenge on that Knight—and that pretty bitch who gives him orders.
He laughed and took a long swig from the bottle of lotus wine he was supposed to deliver to his prince. He’d opened the bottle the moment he was beyond the Knights’ camp. After all, it would take him hours to reach Cassica, and the snow had just begun. The wine would keep him warm, though it was much too sweet for his liking.
Vaanti glanced up at the stars as he rode. Spotting Armahg’s Eye, he shook his fist and spat on the snowy ground. Then he took another drink. He thought of all the other people he wanted to kill. He decided to add Prince Saanji to the list.
He’d happened to encounter the youngest of Karhaati’s brothers right before leaving Cassica. Fat, not a single pair of ears around his neck, Prince Saanji had ridden through the gates at the same time as Vaanti—not to see him off but to break up a squad of Dhargothi warriors who had just begun their nightly celebrations by savaging some wives and daughters in full view of their impaled husbands.
Vaanti shook his head with disgust. Prince Saanji had no respect for the traditions and terror that had made the Dhargothi Empire what it was. Everyone knew that if Saanji had his way, the glorious empire would abandon the practices that kept their enemies at bay. It would fall practically overnight.
Vaanti took another drink of wine, but the sweetness overwhelmed him, and he spat it out. He liked how the wine looked like blood on the snow. Tipping the bottle, he poured out a little more, laughed, then returned the bottle to his lips. He forced
himself to swallow.
“The Bloody Prince should have killed him already,” he muttered. Of course, he knew why Saanji was still alive. Karhaati was the most powerful of the three princes, but he still had his brother, Ziraari, to deal with—not to mention the Red Emperor himself. Saanji’s impalement would come, as it would for all those Earless who rejected the true Dhargothi way, but for now, they could still be useful.
Especially if that damn Lancer keeps winning battles.
Vaanti shook his head. For weeks, Karhaati’s forces had enjoyed regular, bloody incursions into Ivairia, burning villages and raiding monasteries, killing and pleasuring without hindrance. Though Ivairia had little value compared to the Free Cities, rumor had it that the Ivairian king had ordered his Lancers not to fight back, to withdraw farther north so that they could protect him.
Lately, though, a company of Lancers had been defying their own king, boldly attacking Karhaati’s larger forces at every turn. And they were winning. No one knew who was leading them, but Vaanti resolved that if he ever met the man, his impalement would be preceded by the slow removal of his skin.
Vaanti smiled. He guzzled the last of the bottle’s saccharine contents then threw it against a tree and watched it shatter. His horse jerked, but Vaanti raked its flanks with his spurs, urging it to a full gallop. He was tired of snow and tired of riding. He wanted to get back to Cassica as quickly as possible, even if he had to ride his horse to death.
The night air tore at his face, but Vaanti laughed. Drawing his sword, he whirled it over his head. He imagined he was riding down on some helpless Ivairian village, as frightening as Fohl himself, a whole army of Dhargothi brothers behind him. Then he reined in.
Kingsteel (The Dragonkin Trilogy Book 3) Page 6