by Devin Madson
* * *
Tili combed my hair. In Mei’lian she had been just a seamstress, but of necessity she had risen to the place of a lady’s maid. Kin had sent many noblewomen to wait on me, but I had driven them all away. Tili was the only one I could trust.
Two altered robes lay on the matting, waiting for me to decide which I would wear.
‘I think the blue looks very fine, my lady,’ she said. ‘It suits your hair. Although this is perhaps too light to look good with His Majesty’s crimson.’
‘Then I will wear it,’ I said, wincing as the comb caught on knotted curls. ‘He is not my husband. I’m only dining with him because if I don’t, he could have my head chopped off.’
Tili gasped. ‘Surely not, my lady. He never said so!’
‘Well, no,’ I had to admit. ‘He didn’t.’
Setting aside the comb, she shook out the tunic sewn from a once striking robe. ‘I’ve always thought him a good man.’
‘He’s The Usurper, Tili.’
‘Yes, my lady, but he doesn’t have wandering hands. I hear such terrible things from my sister. She works for Lord Kirita, and almost every night she says he’s down in the servants’ quarters with one or other of the girls.’
‘Why don’t they just tell him to go away?’
Tili let the tunic slip from her fingers, catching it just before it hit the floor. ‘They would not dare, my lady! They would be lucky to receive just a beating for such a thing.’
‘And if Emperor Kin walked in here right now and ripped off your robe, what would you do?’
The girl shook her head. ‘Nothing.’
‘But you fought against that guard.’
‘He wasn’t Emperor Kin.’
I digested these words while she helped me dress. I could think of nothing worse than working for a man like Lord Kirita, a man who would let his hands wander while you served him, let his eyes slip to where they had no right to be, and stalk you after dark for all you had left – your virtue and your dignity.
A little shiver ran through me as I thought of Praetor’s skin against mine, and I saw Tili’s worried expression reflected in the mirror. ‘Are you all right, my lady?’
‘Has Emperor Kin ever amused himself with his serving girls?’
Tili shook her head. ‘No, my lady. Not that I have ever heard. Some of them have tried to interest him, but nothing ever comes of it.’
‘They try to interest him?’
‘He’s the emperor. And there is something about him, my lady. The maids fight over who will serve his evening meal.’
‘What about Lord Laroth? Does he have anything to do with the servants?’
Tili looked horrified. ‘Oh no, my lady. But one of the maids once walked in when he was dressing. She swears she saw a long scar on his chest where his heart had been cut out.’
‘And what happened to the maid?’
‘Nothing, my lady. She says he didn’t even frown at her, just went on dressing.’
‘Do you think him beautiful?’
‘Very, my lady,’ Tili said. ‘He is like a painting, or a statue.’
‘Or a doll.’
There was a knock on the door. Tili went to open it, speaking quietly to the servant in the hallway. She carried my sash draped over her arm, the black silk unmarked. There was no family symbol, no name. I was no one.
Tili returned, straightening the sash between her hands. ‘His Majesty is waiting, my lady.’
‘Then he can wait a little longer.’
‘You have such courage, my lady,’ she said with admiration as she held out the sash.
‘Because I keep a man waiting?’
‘No, because you keep an emperor waiting.’
Twenty minutes later, I followed a servant through the quiet halls of Lord Pirin’s house. Quarters had been set aside for the emperor’s use. He had declined dining with his host, but for that I could not take credit. Tili said he rarely ate in company.
The servant knocked upon the emperor’s door, and, receiving a summons, slid it aside for me to enter. ‘Lady Hana Otako, Your Majesty,’ he said, prostrating himself upon the threshold.
I did not bow. I remained standing, my black sash tied in a simple knot over my mannish tunic. Amid a sea of correspondence sat Kin, cross-legged on the reed floor. He looked as he always did, his crimson robe pooling about him like blood.
There was no sign of dinner.
Kin got to his feet, setting a stack of parchment aside. ‘Lady Hana.’
‘I’m so sorry if I have kept you waiting, Your Majesty,’ I said, trying for demure.
‘Are you indeed? Then perhaps I was misguided in sending a servant to you half an hour before dinner was to be served. Are you angry with me?’
‘Furious,’ I said, with some truth. ‘For now you have robbed me of the satisfaction of knowing I kept you waiting.’
‘Then I apologise. How rude of me to be thinking of my dinner instead of the exquisite delicacy of your sensibilities. On that subject, I hope you found the bucket useful.’
I laughed. It was such a traitorous sound, and with a gasp it died on my lips. The Usurper’s smile faltered, his lips thinning to a line. The air grew strained.
In silence we knelt at the low table. Normally a lady would fan her skirts out as she knelt, but I had no skirts and felt very ill at ease. If anyone else came in they would be more likely to assume I was a whore than a lady.
Maids served the meal. Kin did not shift his gaze from my face, his unsmiling scrutiny uncomfortable. Plates and bowls slid onto the table as the maids went quietly about their job, not looking up from their hands. Despite this modesty, I couldn’t help thinking of Tili’s words. Had these two girls fought for the right to serve Kin his dinner? Was his allure so great that they would lift their skirts for him gladly?
Once they had bowed themselves out, I looked down at the meal. Salted fish, pickled plums, black rice and clear turtle soup made up the majority of our dinner. I wondered if Lord Pirin was trying to insult his emperor, but Kin looked satisfied.
‘Do you always eat so simply?’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I’d have ordered something more extravagant for you, but I felt my usual diet was good enough for a rebel outlaw.’
‘Why do you eat like this?’ I asked, refusing to rise to his bait. ‘Darius has a diet that borders on starvation, but he only eats to maintain his precious beauty. You–’
‘Have no beauty to keep?’ Kin smiled, mocking laughter dancing in his eyes. ‘Your honesty is dampening. In truth, old habits are hard to break. I eat like this because I was a soldier.’ He set his elbows on the table. ‘What was it like growing up with Darius?’
‘I didn’t. A peasant couple raised me on a farm–’ I stopped speaking, remembering who I was talking to. The story of all those who had helped me wasn’t one for his ears. Especially not the story of Malice and his Vices. ‘I don’t think I should tell you about it.’
Kin paused in the act of serving himself some fish. ‘Do you suppose I would have them executed for harbouring you?’
‘Perhaps not, but why does my childhood matter? You already know Darius was a part of it, do you need more?’
‘No. I’ve lost the loyalty of my finest minister and that is quite enough.’
He seemed to be searching for some reassurance, some guarantee that Darius was still his, but I could not give it. I might not trust Darius, but who was to know what went on behind those expressionless eyes. Even Malice had given up on him.
I took a slice of fish. ‘Tell me about my mother and father,’ I said.
His smile had vanished with Darius’s name, but this turned his expression sour. ‘An edifying subject. What do you want to know?’
‘What they were like. I know I look like my mother.’
Emperor Kin stirred his soup, staring
into the liquid. ‘Yes, you look like her. I’m amazed I didn’t see the likeness when Regent came for my life.’
‘He didn’t.’
Kin looked up sharply. ‘What?’
‘I didn’t come for your life, only for the crown. But I needed to protect my men, so I played decoy. I got lost and ended up in the gardens, and I knew I was as good as dead. It seemed I might as well take you with me while I had the chance. I could have managed it too, but for Darius.’
‘Darius?’
‘He ordered me to leave, and when I refused, he called your guards.’
‘Thank you,’ he said, his tone indecipherable.
The silence that followed was terrible and I wished I had kept my mouth shut. Desperately searching for something to say, I said: ‘Have you really survived forty-eight assassination attempts?’
‘Forty-seven, I’ve just been informed. But yes, some closer than others.’
‘How close?’
Kin pulled down his collar. A thin scar traced its way across his tanned skin, stopping just short of his throat.
‘I nearly didn’t recover from this one. Men tried to kill your father, too. Not so many, but then people believe in the divine right of emperors, not in stability and peace.’
‘And one of them got him,’ I said.
He didn’t immediately answer, but again I found the weight of his gaze upon me, searching. ‘Yes,’ he said at last. ‘And the rest of your family. I was supposed to keep them safe. It was my duty to keep you safe, too. Believe me, it lives with me every day.’
I picked at the bowl of plums. There was nothing I wanted to say, no forgiveness I wanted to give, and yet his words left a lump in my throat. Kin frowned at his food and we finished the meal in silence.
When, at last, Kin sat his bowl aside, he said: ‘What is Katashi planning to do with my crown?’
The silence had been preferable. ‘Do you really expect me to tell you?’
‘I don’t know what I expect. But I’m asking.’
I hesitated. ‘I am no longer privy to such information, now I am your hostage. Most likely the plans have changed. We never planned that I would get caught.’
‘You have not answered my question. Will you tell me what you know of Katashi’s plans?’
I shook my head slowly. ‘No, Your Majesty, I will not.’
‘I see. Again it is a choice I should have expected. I have allowed myself to hope too much.’
‘If you need information from me then why be kind? Why not torture me until I talk?’
‘Would you rather I tortured you than invited you to dine with me? Perhaps it is one and the same to you.’ He rose quickly and nodded to the servant. ‘See Lady Otako back to her rooms.’
Irritated at being thus dismissed, I rose with all the haughtiness I could muster, determined not to smile or thank him. I would have left without another word, had he not thrust a small lacquered box into my hands. ‘I had this made for you,’ he said, turning away the moment I had taken it. ‘Goodnight, Lady Otako.’
‘Thank you, Your Majesty. Goodnight.’
I followed the servant back through the empty passages, the hateful box pressed between my hands. I wished I might leave it somewhere, on a side table or a step, but perhaps I had angered Kin enough for one evening. His change of mood had been abrupt and disconcerting.
When I returned I found Tili waiting for me, her figure made hazy by steam. It rose in languid curls from the wooden tub, leaving the surface of the bathwater barely visible.
‘Back already, my lady?’ she said. ‘I was hoping this would have time to cool. I’m afraid I made it too hot. Would you believe I’ve never had to do a bath for anyone before?’
‘I think a hot bath will be good,’ I said, setting the box down. ‘I feel strange.’
‘Perhaps the food did not agree with you, my lady.’
‘Perhaps.’
She helped me out of the clothes Kin had labelled abominations, smoothing creases in the silk. I stared at myself in the mirror. Was that me looking back? I tried to imagine it was my mother, her eyes older, more knowing, able to see what I could not. What had the Kin she knew looked like? Younger, of course, and less careworn. Had he smiled more? Had he smiled at her?
I sank gratefully into the hot water, my skin tingling. It was so close to pain, and I hoped it would burn Kin’s gaze from my skin. He had covered me with his eyes and poisoned my thoughts.
‘My lady, it’s–’ Tili was holding the box. ‘I’m sorry, my lady, I did not realise it was a gift, I–’
‘Never mind that, Tili, what is it?’
She brought the box over, its lid discarded upon the sleeping mat. ‘It’s a sash, my lady.’
Rolled inside was a dusty pink sash, firelight glinting off its shimmering silk. It was the sash of a noblewoman, but not just any noblewoman. This one had a family crest picked out in silver – two fish circling in the water of the fabric. Pikes. It was the Otako crest. I had seen it on the sash Katashi kept safely hidden.
Unrolling it amid the steam, I saw a line of arresting characters shimmer along the tail. Our motto.
We conquer. You bleed.
Chapter 16
Koi Castle rose above the trees, the curved roofs of the great Keep outlined against the setting sun. From its highest point a crimson flag snapped in the wind.
Emperor Kin had arrived.
The Pikes were already restless. We had left the last of the rumours behind in Suway, too close now to Koi to risk communication with the outside world. The Pikes had taken up the last of their food two days earlier, and left the last of their whores behind. The only female that remained was one no Pike dared touch – Lady Kimiko Otako, Katashi’s twin sister. Another Otako. This was the family I had been denied.
The family I dared not own.
Whispers followed Kimiko through the camp, but I followed her in the flesh, slipping from shadow to shadow like a ghost. I wanted to know why she had come. Katashi would have me believe he had acceded to Malice’s demands, but I was not so sure. His aura had blackened. It would be hard to fool Malice. Most men wouldn’t try, but Katashi had courage enough for anything.
As the summer drew to a close the heat became oppressive. It did nothing to aid the Pikes’ tattered tempers, which seemed to have sprung up in response to their leader’s foul mood. They knew Katashi’s purpose, but he gave no orders. For two days he had barely been seen, and all the Pikes could do was wait and whisper.
Kimiko’s name was on every man’s lips. Why had she come? Was Katashi going to marry her to Kin? Or sell her to Chiltaen mercenaries? The suggestions had grown more outrageous. Twins, they said, you know what they say about twins.
And still I followed her, treading in the whispers’ wake.
The setting sun gilded the trees as another day sank into night. The Pikes were eating. Some sat in groups, others in pairs or alone, cross-legged on the grass or perched on upturned pails and crates. I was not hungry, even though the smell of salted meat and barley was all-pervasive.
I hovered near Katashi’s tent.
‘Captain?’
A Pike stood at the entrance, a bowl in each hand. I heard Katashi’s voice over the hum of the camp and the man went in. He returned a moment later, empty-handed and frowning. Without acknowledging my existence, he strode past, trailing the smell of leather and oil and the unmistakable scent of uneasiness.
I stepped closer to the tent and heard the clink of bowls and the rustle of paper. ‘But I have gone through every record, Katashi,’ came the sound of Kimiko’s voice. ‘My eyes are near parched with reading. There is no way in.’
‘There has to be. The empire is riddled with passages and escape routes. You cannot tell me they built a ten mile passage between Shimai and Mei’lian, but never built an escape route out of Koi.’
‘That is
exactly what I am telling you.’
No Pike was paying the least heed to me as I stepped even closer. Night was almost upon us, lengthening shadows in the gloom.
Katashi’s low growl sounded through the canvas. ‘There must be something,’ he said. ‘We must have missed something. I have to get inside the Keep tonight.’
‘You know Mama took everything when we lost Koi. She burned all the accounts and crammed every scroll in the archives into sacks and had them carried out at night. She wouldn’t have missed anything. She knew it was the end.’
There was a long pause and I crept deeper into the shadows between the two tents. Light eked under the canvas, spreading onto my feet.
‘I stole the Hian Crown, Kimiko.’
No sound came from the tent for a full minute, but shock touched my Empathy.
‘Katashi…’
‘The crown belongs to me. Kisia belongs to me. What do you think all of this has been for? Just to jaunt around making trouble for Kin and to have a few laughs?’
‘You are going to get yourself killed! Don’t you remember what happened to our father?’
‘Better than you. I was there. I saw it. I still see it every night. Even now I can hear the crowd cheering.’
‘And Hana?’
Another pause. Then: ‘Who told you?’
‘Tan. He figured it out. You should have sent her to me, Katashi.’
‘She wanted to fight.’
‘Shivatsa! You don’t need to tell me. She was bowled over by your handsome face and your smile, and dreamed of marrying you like every other foolish girl who has ever come your way.’
‘How would you know? You’ve never met her.’
‘That doesn’t matter, I know how she thinks. She’s an Otako. A merry dance you have led her and see what has come of it.’
Papers fell in a rush, hitting the canvas. ‘You talk too much, Kimiko,’ Katashi snapped. ‘I led her no dance. She was always going to be my wife.’