by Devin Madson
Only Katashi stood out from the rest, his aura unmistakable. He was not in the camp, and curious, I let my Empathy hunt him. The Pike Captain was alone in the forest, far from the excitement and the noise.
Around me Vices were finishing their meals and throwing their scraps into the undergrowth. Avarice had gone, no doubt to tend his horses, and there had been no sign of Hope all evening.
‘Where’s Hope?’ I asked of no one in particular.
Beside me, Apostasy slurped the last of his soup. ‘With the Master,’ he said. ‘The Master never lets him wander far.’
Pride sniggered, jabbing at the fire. ‘Lucky boy.’
They laughed, and finishing their meals, soon moved away about their business. No one was paying the slightest heed to me.
I left my bowl unfinished.
Katashi was easy to find. He had built himself a small fire out in the woods, and sat in front of it with Hatsukoi across his lap. Having made no attempt to mask my footsteps, he looked up as I approached, pausing in the act of waxing Hatsukoi’s string.
‘I thought it might be you,’ he said. ‘Have you come to apologise?’
I didn’t answer, just watched him work the leather cloth, practised movements making the job look so simple.
‘No?’ he said after a while.
‘No.’
‘At least you’re honest. Sit down, I could use the company.’
I knelt in the dirt, the fire flickering between us ‘I should be sorry,’ I said, watching his face through the flames. ‘Brother Jian would have smacked me over the head for not saying a prayer.’
‘Who is Brother Jian?’
‘He took me in when I was a child,’ I said, giving voice to thoughts I had long kept silent. ‘He was like a father, you could say. I don’t know what happened to him when I was branded.’
‘But he wasn’t your real father?’
Almost I answered, the openness of this man drawing words to the tip of my tongue. But the truth would ruin more than just this moment of apparent friendship. ‘No,’ I said. ‘But whoever was, I doubt they would approve of what I did.’
‘You killed a man, what of it? He was my Pike. People get so hung up on their first kills. Take my cousin, Hana. I taught her how to fight. I’ve never seen anyone more bloodthirsty, but after she killed her first man, with a neat little jab through the side of the neck, she hardly spoke for a week. She soon got over it.’ His hand had halted in its task, and for a full minute he stared into the flames. I wanted to ask where she was now, but his dark scowl warned me to keep my questions for someone else.
He began working the wax again. ‘She’s tough,’ he said, more to himself. ‘A fighter.’
Hana Otako. My sister. I kept my lips closed. It was not time for that admission, nor to tell him how many guards had already fallen to my hand in Shimai.
‘It’s different for me,’ I said instead. ‘Killing him hurt, like I could feel my own heart seizing.’
‘And if I was to call you a freak–’
‘You wouldn’t be the first. Pretend there was a knife in my hand, then I would be no different to you.’
‘Do you like being an Empath?’
‘That’s a stupid question. I don’t know what it is like not being an Empath, so how can I compare? Do you like not being one?’
‘No need to get cranky,’ he said, as though I was a child. ‘It wasn’t that stupid a question.’
He was laughing at me. I swallowed my annoyance. ‘I imagine not being one is peaceful, and that would be nice. Especially now.’
‘At least if you are so busy feeling everyone else’s emotions you can escape your own. Doubt, anger…’ he trailed off, grabbing a stick and throwing it into the fire. ‘At least your Empathy is useful.’
‘Useful to you. There’s someone coming.’
The feeling had been creeping up on me, the insistent pressure of another soul drawing close. It was hard to pinpoint a direction with Katashi’s aura so blinding, but this new soul was no Vice.
‘See?’ Katashi said, not taking up his bow. ‘Useful.’
‘You aren’t worried.’
‘Why should I be? You can kill with a touch and I am by no means defenceless.’
Leaves shifted under a light step. ‘Planning to kill me?’
The voice came from the trees. A man stepped out of the shadows; unremarkable features coloured orange by the flames. He was dressed for riding, and carried a leather saddlebag over his shoulder.
‘I wouldn’t dream of it, Raven,’ Katashi said, not looking up. ‘You haven’t betrayed me yet.’
‘Nor will I unless you betray me first. Who is this?’
‘A new friend. Don’t trouble yourself over him. Did you bring the supplies?’
The man called Raven dropped the saddlebag on the ground. ‘Here’s what you asked for special. I’ve left the rest with your men.’
‘Good.’
Katashi dug a leather pouch from his sash and threw it to the newcomer. The man untied it with more speed than politeness, drawing out a gold disc pinched between thumb and forefinger. He held it to the fire, the dancing light causing an engraved pike to swim across the coin.
‘Another bag of trinkets?’
‘I do not think my father’s coronation coins can be called trinkets,’ Katashi said coldly. ‘Take them or leave them.’
‘Oh, I’ll take them. Gold is gold. They might have no greater worth, but they can always be melted down. Until next week?’
‘Perhaps.’
‘Perhaps?’
‘You might hear some interesting news before then.’
‘I will wait with bated breath,’ Raven said dryly. ‘And follow you with open hands. Until next time, Great Fish.’ He bowed, and letting his gaze linger on me a moment longer than was polite, the stranger turned back into the dark trees. His footsteps retreated, fading into the distant sounds of the camp.
‘You’re selling your father’s belongings?’
Katashi threw another stick into the fire. ‘What choice do I have? Men without food and wine do not fight, not even for me.’
‘A steep price.’
‘Come here. Look at this.’ He beckoned me closer, and I moved around the fire to crouch beside him. From beneath his tunic, Katashi disgorged another pouch. He untied the strings with quick fingers, tilting the opening toward the firelight. Inside, a gold crown gleamed. It was covered in intricately carved jade figures, and I knew immediately what it was. I had heard the rumours.
‘You stole the Hian Crown.’
‘I reclaimed it for its rightful owner,’ he corrected. ‘Without it, Emperor Kin cannot take his oath. But I can.’
‘If you get inside Koi.’
Katashi closed the pouch, pulling the strings tight. He slipped it back beneath his tunic.
Absorbed in his own troubles, he gave no thought to why I wanted passage into the old Otako stronghold, and I made no effort to enlighten him. Lord Laroth was mine. Every night I dreamed of his suffering, lulling myself to sleep with thoughts of vengeance.
Nothing had been the same since that day in Shimai.
The fire died to embers while we sat brooding. Katashi had undoubtedly been waiting for Raven, but he continued to stare into the ashes. The glowing coals barely lit his frowning face and trouble hung about him like a blackened fog.
A long time passed. The sounds of the camp died away. Now and then I caught Katashi dozing, leaning back against a broad tree trunk, Hatsukoi in his arms. I could not rest. The numbers sat on my tongue. Eighteen watchmen, twenty-two Vices, and nine hundred and two souls in the camp. And above us the trees rose to a fluttering canopy, a gentle breeze all that remained to stir the world.
Even the night birds went quiet.
A lantern flickered through the trees. It moved quickly; a single
firefly in the night. Two souls were coming toward us.
This time Katashi needed no warning. He saw the light and got quickly to his feet, striding off into the trees. Making no attempt at stealth, his heavy footfalls were easy to track and I followed, winding my way around featherbark trunks and clumps of mountain saplings.
‘Tan!’ Katashi called. ‘Tan!’ He stepped into the sphere of wan lantern-light.
A man on horseback turned in the saddle, and I recognised his second in command, Captain Tan. ‘Monarch,’ he said. ‘I–’
‘Katashi?’ The second rider put back the hood of a light cloak, freeing a profusion of dark curls. They sprang naturally from a wide brow, seeming to dwarf her small figure.
‘Kimiko.’
The young woman slid from her horse and into his arms. Katashi crushed her to him, her head barely reaching his shoulder. For a long time he held her there, until she pulled away enough to look up into his face. ‘I missed you, brother,’ she said, a laugh sounding in her voice. ‘I never thought I would say it, but I missed the sight of your face, and even the sound of your peremptory commands. We are never so fond as when we have been parted, am I right?’
She chuckled on the words and I saw Katashi’s constrained smile. ‘You are my sister and that must mean something,’ he said. ‘I hope you had a pleasant journey?’
‘As pleasant as riding in the summer ever is. Tan always looks after me well.’
Katashi looked up at his captain, who had become fascinated by the flick of his horse’s ear.
‘What’s wrong?’ the young woman asked, stepping away from him. ‘You don’t look pleased to see me. Why did you send for me?’
‘Because I need you, Kimiko. You must be very tired and hungry. Tan, take her into the camp and see she is looked after. Make sure every man understands the proper conduct to be accorded Lady Kimiko Otako, or there will soon be men missing hands.’
Kimiko laughed, pretty lips curving into a smile. ‘I can take care of myself, Katashi. I have been doing so these last ten years.’
‘That’s as may be,’ he said grimly. ‘But you are still my sister.’ He nodded to Tan, who handed Kimiko the reins of her horse. She took them and allowed Katashi to lift her into the saddle.
‘You aren’t coming?’ she asked, drawing her hood back over those dancing curls.
‘I’ll join you soon. I have a fire to douse.’
‘Then I will save some food for you and we can eat together.’
Smiling down at her brother, she clicked her tongue and set her horse walking. Tan followed her lead and they moved away, taking their light with them.
Lingering at the edge of the trees, I had thought myself unseen, but when we once more stood in shadows, Katashi turned.
‘Still there, are you?’ he said.
‘You didn’t tell me not to follow.’
He snorted, but did not walk away. He seemed to be thinking, staring down at his feet, barely visible in the weak moonlight. The dense cloud of trouble about him stained the night blacker still.
Then, with a derisive grunt, he turned to leave. He took a dozen steps before he stopped and turned back. ‘Go tell your master we have a deal,’ he said, and, waiting for no reply, strode away into the night.
Chapter 15
Kin rode ahead, proudly erect in the saddle of his brindle stallion. I had to lie on my stomach to see him, lifting the corner of the curtain just enough so as not to draw attention.
Since setting out from Mei’lian, Kin had dispensed with his imperial robes. Instead, he wore traditional armour, layers of leather and linen cinched by his sash. A line of gold fasteners ran down each arm, and around his cuffs wound the Ts’ai dragon, picked out in gold thread. His crimson surcoat showed the same allegiance, its broad back bearing the feathered tail of the southern dragon.
His horse swished its black tail lazily. Never had I seen an animal like it. It was a bay war stallion, strong but otherwise unremarkable until one saw the brindle pattern on its right hindquarter. It was a fan of white tears, as though the bay skin had been stretched so tight it split, releasing the true horse beneath.
At the head of the procession, Kin rode with one of his generals. The man was leaning a little out of his saddle to hear his emperor’s words. I saw the general smile, saw Kin laugh, and propped my head on my hands to watch. It was a bright summer day, the sultry air punctuated with the sound of hooves and endless footsteps. Sunlight gleamed off the golden threads of Kin’s surcoat, and a dozen tiny birds seemed to flap their wings, trying to escape their red silk cage.
Kin looked around, and I felt the weight of his gaze fall upon me. He turned in his saddle, a gleam of laughter still shining in his eyes.
I dropped the curtain and retreated into the scented palanquin, heart pounding. My cheeks burned. Had I really been staring that hard?
Someone cleared their throat. ‘My lady, His Imperial Majesty requests a word.’
‘Tell him–’
The curtain was yanked aside, bright light spilling in. Kin’s horse was level with my palanquin, its muscles moving beneath the brindle. From its back, the emperor looked down at me, something all too like an amused smile playing about his lips. ‘Surely we would do better if you aren’t given the opportunity to be rude,’ he said. ‘There being no windows here to jump out of.’
I deigned no reply, just watched him from beneath lowered lashes. He sat tall in the saddle, moving so easily it might have been his throne. By comparison, my palanquin was a silken cage, created by men to convince women they were useless creatures. Its sway was sickening.
Kin glanced down at me again, and I threw one of the many cushions out onto the road. The palanquin slowed, the steady rhythm broken as one of the carriers stared after it. Kin made no sign for them to stop.
‘Your conveyance is perhaps uncomfortable?’ he said.
‘It’s not a conveyance, it’s a bed,’ I returned. ‘How many fat old men would fall asleep like this? It isn’t any way to travel.’
‘I agree.’
‘Then give me a horse.’
He lifted his brows. ‘Demands already, my lady? But I thought you had declined the honour of being my wife.’
‘I did, but that doesn’t make this any more enjoyable. I’ve a mind to be vilely sick if I have to remain in this thing much longer.’
‘Then I’m afraid it will be an unpleasant journey. There is no other way for a lady to travel, however she might dress.’ His gaze skimmed my attire and the laughter in his eyes died.
‘Hiding the abomination behind silk curtains?’ I asked. ‘Are you ashamed of me?’
‘Hardly. Having refused to become my wife your whims fail to reflect upon me. But you are my hostage. You may be grateful you travel encased in silk instead of chains.’
His hostage. I closed my lips on a retort. It had become all too easy to forget the difficulty of my position. Although I was housed apart from the rest of his court, every one of his servants and retainers treated me with a deference I was not used to receiving from Katashi’s Pikes.
Neither of us spoke for a long time. His horse kept easy pace with my palanquin, but Kin’s attention was elsewhere. It left an uncomfortable silence, and I wished he would go away.
‘Do you remember your father?’ he asked abruptly, a cleft between his brows.
‘No,’ I said. ‘I was a baby when he was murdered. Why? Do you remember him?’
‘Of course I do. Your implication is exceptionally obtuse.’
‘I didn’t–’ He was scowling, but I had meant nothing by it, just answered in kind. Now, for the first time, I wondered how old Kin was. People said he had been the youngest general in Kisian history, but that had been sixteen years ago. Sixteen years ago when my father was still alive.
‘He was a good man,’ Kin said absently.
‘That isn’t what y
ou said before. “No responsibilities, only rights”? I do listen, you know. You made me glad, then, that I did not know him.’
Kin’s expression twisted, and he let his gaze rest on me. ‘We lay over in Risian tonight,’ he said. ‘Guests of Lord Pirin. Will you do me the honour of joining me for dinner, my lady?’
I would have refused, would have uttered a cutting retort, but Kin left me no time to reply. ‘We were doing well when you had no opportunity to be rude,’ he said. ‘Just say, “thank you very much, Your Majesty”, and smile.’
Fixing a sycophantic smile to my face, I said with mock sweetness: ‘Thank you very much, Your Majesty. It would be such an honour, such a treat.’
His eyes laughed down at me. ‘Good girl.’
‘A horse?’ I asked.
Emperor Kin called for his chancellor. The man came, and for a moment my hopes rose. Kin’s eyes still laughed, but he said with perfect solemnity: ‘Fetch Lady Hana a bucket. She says she wishes to be vilely sick in her palanquin.’
‘Yes, Your Majesty.’
‘Monster.’
He bowed his head. ‘My lady,’ he said, and letting out his rein, urged his horse to a trot.
Sliding over cushions, I scrambled to the front of the palanquin and drew aside the curtain in time to see his brindle stallion pass, its tail swishing in the brilliant sunshine.
‘My lady?’
The chancellor was keeping pace alongside, earnestly clutching a wooden bucket. ‘If there is anything else I can do to make your journey more comfortable, do not hesitate to ask,’ he said.
Feeling sorry for him, I took the bucket. ‘Thank you.’
He smiled and bowed, before walking away down the line. Foot soldiers sped up, retaking their positions beside my palanquin. Shin was there. For an instant our eyes met, but he made no sign of recognition beyond allowing his gaze to rest on me a moment too long. Then, looking for all the world like one of Kin’s soldiers, he straightened his red sash and marched on.