The Blood of Whisperers

by Devin Madson

  ‘It was built as a means of escape beneath the walls of Mei’lian,’ he had told me, his voice echoing back from the dripping stones. ‘Some men say it once travelled all the way to Shimai.’

  Now he stood waiting, unsmiling, while the others joined us one by one. I was not looking forward to the journey. Tremors had collapsed whole sections of the tunnel, forcing us to climb screes of cracked stone and slither on our stomachs through spaces so narrow they were like the guts of the earth. Worse would be the silence, and the knowledge that at any moment the ground could shake again.

  Once we were all present, Monarch set off along the tunnel. Although the distance was no more than a few miles, it felt longer, the air growing hotter with every step. Soon sweat began to prickle my skin. Ahead, Monarch moved the lantern from one hand to the other.

  When we came to the first narrow squeeze he pushed Hatsukoi ahead of him and dragged the lantern behind, a grunt of effort the only sound he would allow himself as he scraped over sharp stones. The smell of sweat filled the space like raw wool.

  It was a relief to come out the other side, but there was no reprieve from the heat. Smothered coughs came from the men. The hours dragged on. The air grew hotter, thinner, until I began to wonder if we had somehow lost our way. Nothing looked familiar in the strange light. Every breath was like fire and my mind drifted further from my aching body. All I could do was stare at the back of Monarch’s head, his hair dripping with sweat.

  Eventually, the air began to change. Breathing became easier. The gentlest of breezes ghosted through the passage. Monarch stopped, and without looking around he handed me his lantern, its handle damp from his grip.

  A cart rumbled overhead.

  Monarch went to the wall, running his hands over the stones. When he found the one that stood proud of the others I knew we had made it, and a flutter of excitement filled my stomach. The others gathered as he began to climb, catching hold of a thick root and pulling himself into the darkness.

  With a grunt of effort he was gone.

  Another Pike took the lantern and I, too, began to climb. I was not as tall as Monarch, but I had grown up climbing trees on my foster father’s farm and knew how to shift my weight. Grasping hold of the root, I swung my arm up, gripped the ledge and pulled myself through the hole in the stone ceiling. Monarch took hold of my arm, helping me to my feet. One by one the others joined us in the old hay room, grumbling in whispers. Cut, grazed and filthy we might be, but we had made it in alive.

  With a snap of his fingers, Monarch had us moving again. Shin opened the door, his cat-like steps taking him unseen across the moonlit stable-yard. We followed; a silent group of shadows. Horses snorted. They were nervous, disliking our intrusion. The smell of refuse grew stronger.

  At the end of the stable-yard a gate led to a narrow lane and on to another courtyard shadowed by the broad canopy of an old magnolia. The Kissing Tree. Here couples hung offerings to the god of love. Amid its branches sat dozens of lanterns, some winking down at us, others dark. There were flowers, too. Bunches hung from low branches, along with strings of red beads and crumpled shreds of parchment.

  The men stopped beneath the tree’s emerald blanket, an oddly gathered group licking their wounds. But for us, the courtyard was empty. The city was quiet, yet like a hulking beast it had presence, weight; thousands of people in their beds: men, women and children, noblemen and commoners, the whole spectrum of life from the lowest urchin in the gutter to the emperor in his palace.

  I crept to the end of the courtyard. The gables of city houses rose above me and I soon found myself in another street, this one lined with closed shops, their signs turned down and their windows shuttered with latticework. In the distance an open plaza was hazy with lantern-light, the city a mess of shapes and smells and shadowy figures going about their business in the early hours.

  A man glanced at me and I fought the urge to pull back into the courtyard. Instead, I nodded to him and waited for him to pass on before I snuck back, heart hammering. Wen and Kai were waiting at the gate, the shadows of shifting leaves upon their faces.

  ‘No guards,’ I said. ‘But there are people in the street. Go carefully.’

  They had concealed their weapons well, and with linked arms looked enough like a pair of old friends to fool the casual observer. Strolling out into the street they might have been on their way home after a long night.

  Beneath the tree the others clustered together like a pack of lost goats. I caught Monarch’s eye, shooting him a strained smile, before heading back out with the next pair of Pikes.

  Back and forth I dashed, peering out into the city and signalling to each pair in turn. The group dwindled, and in our caution the night flitted away, the silence of the city reaching its zenith as dawn approached. Then, slowly, it began to wake, and only Monarch and I remained.

  ‘The sun will be up soon,’ I said, already turning to leave. ‘We had better go.’

  ‘Not yet.’ He grabbed my arm and pulled me back, close.

  ‘We need to go.’

  ‘You’re not just here for revenge, are you?’ he said, holding me fast.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  My words came out breathless and I tried to pull away, but he just grinned, his smile artlessly lopsided. ‘You like me.’

  I felt my cheeks burn, and looked away from his amused gaze. ‘Katashi.’

  He laughed. ‘A reason to be glad you haven’t really got balls,’ he said. ‘You know we’re not going to get another chance to say goodbye. In case anything goes wrong tomorrow.’

  ‘It won’t.’

  ‘It might. Do you know why it’s called the Kissing Tree?’ His voice was little more than a murmur now, his breath warm against my ear.

  I shook my head.

  ‘It’s where couples kiss goodbye.’

  It was like a dream, blurred around the edges. I could imagine the touch of his warm lips and his fingers in my hair, the strength of him and the fire of his skin. His dry lips brushed my cheek and I yearned toward his kiss. Breath ghosted across my face. Then there was nothing but the cool night air.

  Monarch stepped away, letting go of my arm. From across the courtyard, Shin was watching.

  ‘Another time, sweet Regent,’ Monarch said in a husky whisper, stepping back to let me pass. I couldn’t move. I wanted him to kiss me, even just quickly, for luck, anything but parting like this.

  Monarch smiled, that single dimple appearing beside his lopsided grin. He winked, and tapping Hatsukoi, strode off along the road.

  The city was waking.

  ‘You’re with me, Captain,’ Shin said, his eyes darting between my legs. Was he looking for the bulge that wasn’t there? For the shame of desire that clouded my thoughts? Whatever that lidless eye saw, he did not speak, just turned, leaving me to scamper after him like a dog.

  Monarch had vanished before we reached the street; no sign of his prominent figure or Hatsukoi’s reaching tip. In the pre-dawn light the city was no longer quiet, but full of shutters slamming open and barking dogs, the twinkle of lantern strings becoming obsolete as the day crept steadily upon us.

  Carts rumbled past and the air was rent with hawkers greeting the morning with their cries. Some were too occupied with their business, but others stared hard as we passed. As soon as he could, Shin veered off the main road, cutting down a side alley and into a different world. It was a tangle of narrow passages, the houses so close they blocked the pale dawn sky from view. Courtyards connected these passages like the rooms of a palace, curtains left to draw the line between inside and out. It was a strange world, where laundry and drying herbs hung from lantern strings like a makeshift ceiling shifting in the breeze.

  Shin seemed to know his way, not so much as pausing when the maze offered two paths, nor flinching from the stares of Mei’lian’s lesser citizens. Eyes watched us from darkened alcoves and
the stench grew with every step. The nightsoil carts never got this far; never penetrated to this place where the city’s sounds were so distant they might have been imaginary.

  Sound returned as we came out the other side. The streets opened up, allowing us glimpses of the bright sky, and we soon found ourselves in a quiet, well-kept district. Here, the alleys led to the back doors of larger establishments, and it was down one of these that Shin turned. The door he stopped before was hung with a dozen horseshoes. It was an old custom, a prayer for good fortune for all those who passed beneath the low lintel.

  Shin pushed the door open, not even glancing at the sign. The Gilded Cherry, it said, its inked characters fading.

  I followed him in. A dim, dusty passage welcomed us, thick with strange scents and memories of people long gone. From the low kitchen space came the buzz of chatter and the smell of millet porridge. It was comforting, a known smell in the old space, and going through we found the others huddled in groups on the floor. Blankets and furs had been strewn about, some men already laid down to rest.

  My eyes hunted Monarch in the dim light. He stood a little apart from the others and I felt relief at the sight of him, unscathed. Whatever the direction of my thoughts, he looked as he always did, his thick brows knitted in concentration.

  Our eyes met and I felt my skin tingle, conscious of Shin’s watching gaze.

  ‘No trouble?’ I asked as I passed him, eager to appear natural.

  ‘No trouble,’ he repeated. ‘Your Vice is upstairs.’ His upper lip curled. ‘He desired me to send you up.’

  I chose to ignore his mocking tone; there would be better times to argue about my guardian. For now, Monarch’s disapproval had been silenced. Malice had offered us the use of his safe house, which put him temporarily beyond reproach.

  The Gilded Cherry had once been a yiji house, where high class whores entertained wealthy men. Masquerading as Regent, I had seen the inside of numerous whorehouses, but none had looked as expensive as this one must have been in its day. Even the servants’ areas were decorated with fine fretwork, and a once plush carpet ran up the hall, faded and laden with dust. An army of servants must have been needed, working behind the scenes to prepare food and mend robes, to wash the mountain of laundry and care for the children the men left behind.

  After the buzz of the kitchens the rest of the house was oppressively quiet. It was rare my guardian travelled alone, and the knowledge that his followers were here somewhere, lurking in the shadows, made the silence all the more eerie. The Vices were strange creatures, and though I might never admit it, I could well understand Monarch’s dislike of them.

  Malice was waiting. I found him in a back room, reclining upon a divan with a book open before him. His long ponytail snaked across the divan’s worn silk. Despite my silent steps, he looked up at my approach, the tip of a finger marking his place on the page.

  ‘This is an interesting choice for a safe house,’ I said in greeting. ‘There are a lot of rooms. I hope they had a big laundry.’

  One thin eyebrow rose. ‘The laundry is no larger than in any other establishment. Is this a problem? Dead men need no clothes washed, yes?’

  ‘Perhaps not, but live whores surely needed their bedding changed.’

  The other eyebrow went up. ‘You think men need clean sheets to copulate? What a strange idea. Men are animals. What dog complains of its quarters while it has a bitch to rut?’

  ‘But the women–’

  ‘The women? What say did they have?’ Malice set his book aside and patted the divan for me to sit. ‘I foresee this conversation going sadly off track, yes? Tell me, Hana, you look vastly put out. Can I blame that cousin of yours?’

  ‘I wish he would treat me like an equal instead of a child.’

  ‘You mean you wish he would treat you like a woman.’

  ‘No, I–’ I stopped under his knowing gaze.

  ‘You smell like him,’ he said, tracing a finger the length of his nose. It was an oddly distracted mannerism for a man with such sharp eyes. ‘Be careful there,’ he warned. ‘He won’t spare you if you get in his way.’

  Malice shifted his ponytail out of the way and I sank onto the divan. ‘Monarch and I are in this together.’

  ‘Is that what you think?’

  I searched his face for meaning, but found none. Neither of my guardians had ever been expressive. Malice was always reposed. He was the rock amid the swirling stream of my thoughts.

  ‘Hana,’ he said, his striking features unaltered by the ten years I had known him. ‘I’ve always looked after you, yes?’

  ‘Better than Darius.’

  ‘We’ll leave him out of this, I think. He has chosen a different path. Although I am sure he would agree that Emperor Kin’s claim to the throne is that he has it. He took it, and if you want it, you have to take it back. With your own hands. Monarch’s plans are all very well, but I know what you are capable of. You’re an Otako. Don’t forget that, yes?’

  ‘But I’m a woman,’ I said. ‘No man would bow to me. No man would fight to put me on the throne.’

  He let out an irritated snort. ‘You have been spending too much time with your cousin. His opinions, like his smell, are an insidious stench, yes? When you get your hands on that crown tonight do not let it go–’

  ‘I’m not going.’

  Malice froze, his hand halting in the act of stroking his hair. ‘Perhaps I am exceptionally slow witted today. You are not going tonight?’

  ‘Monarch says it’s too dangerous. Shin goes for the crown.’

  With a sound like a coo, Malice trailed his long fingernail down my cheek. ‘My poor, deluded, little lamb. I have left you alone with him too long, yes? I have neglected my duty. You are Emperor Lan’s daughter. Katashi is a traitor’s son. Remember that.’

  ‘There was no proof.’

  ‘As there is no proof to whether the world is round or flat. What matters is what people believe. Emperor Kin rules Kisia, and in his version of history your uncle was a traitor, yes?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And his son was exiled as a traitor, yes?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Almost you make me regret we searched for him at all.’

  ‘No.’ I thought of the kiss that had come so close to my lips. ‘It is comforting to know I am not the only Otako left.’

  Malice let out a long sigh, once again running fingers through his silken hair. ‘That is sweet of you to say, but you forget that while his father and yours were brothers, they were not friends. They had their reasons. All I will say is that you must take what belongs to you now, or not take it at all.’ He reached into his sash and withdrew two vials of clear liquid, placing both in my hand. They were icy to the touch and I recoiled, nearly dropping them.

  ‘What is this?’ I asked.

  ‘Tishwa.’

  ‘Poison?’

  ‘A scholar of you farmers did make, yes?’

  ‘Are you mocking me?’

  Malice laughed. ‘Not in the least, lamb. A dose of this will kill a man in less than a minute.’

  ‘You want me to kill my own cousin?’

  ‘You may do with it what you wish, but no, that was not my immediate thought.’

  I stared at him, his true purpose becoming clear. ‘You want me to poison Emperor Kin?’

  ‘It makes no difference to me, yes? If you want the throne you take the throne, but a dead man won’t fight you for it. They won’t expect an attempt on his life the day he returns to Mei’lian.’

  ‘But–’

  He held up his hand. ‘No more words, I am fatigued beyond measure. If you do not want your father’s throne then by all means drop those in the gutter, but a leader does whatever evils are necessary. Both Kin and Katashi know that even if you do not.’

  I knew dismissal when I heard it. I had grown used to
his oddities. Already Malice had opened his book and was hunting for his page, his mind elsewhere.

  ‘Thank you for the safe house,’ I said, standing to leave.

  Malice looked up as though he had forgotten I was there. ‘Any time, my little lamb. I will see you back at Nivi Fen, yes?’

  ‘You won’t wait here to see us back?’

  ‘Like an anxious parent? No, lamb, I do not think so. I have my own plans.’

  ‘Anything exciting?’

  He smiled. ‘An old friend.’

  Knowing I would get no more from him, I bent to kiss his cheek in farewell. ‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘No one ever had a better guardian.’

  ‘That is undoubtedly true. I wish you good fortune, little lamb. Don’t let the great Katashi take what is yours, yes?’

  All I could manage was a smile, and having tucked the vials safely into my wristband, I returned to the kitchen.

  Empty bowls covered the bench and the room stank of unwashed bodies. The noise had ebbed to a whisper; only a few still awake and making preparations. Monarch was sitting on the end of the bench, Shin tending a gash to his captain’s forearm. I thought to join them, but my feet would not move.

  He won’t spare you if you get in his way.

  The words repeated in my head, and I recalled other incidents that I thought had meant nothing at the time. Other arguments, other orders. And beneath the Kissing Tree he had laughed at me. Was I a game to him?

  Perhaps sensing me, Monarch looked up. I turned away, busying myself with a bowl of porridge. He said nothing and I felt the tension grow, the urge to ask unspeakable questions fading from my tongue.

  You are Emperor Lan’s daughter. He is a traitor’s son. Remember that.

  Chapter 4

  I would burn.

  A single candle flickered though the bars; a fat, wax-streaked stub in a sconce. It threw little light; my cell filled with shadows. They had left me alone, and I had retreated into the darkest corner, hoping they would forget about me.