The Blood of Whisperers

by Devin Madson

  Kimiko started to laugh, the sound loud enough that a few nearby Pikes turned their heads, and I flattened myself upon the grass. ‘A fine way to court a girl, putting her in danger. Or did you think nothing would happen? That you were untouchable in your glory?’

  ‘She went against my orders.’

  Kimiko laughed again, the sound musically mocking. ‘You ordered an Otako woman to stay put? What did you expect her to do? If she is anywhere near as stubborn as you, she will never listen to reason.’

  Katashi grunted and I heard something like a chest slamming closed. ‘I have to go. It would be rude to keep The Usurper waiting.’

  ‘There’s no way into the Keep, Katashi.’

  ‘We’ll find a way. Now go on, get out of here. The men are already whispering. They say I’m such a loving brother that I take you to my bed.’

  ‘Surely they know you better than that. You only love yourself.’

  ‘Shrew. Go on. Take your sharp tongue away.’

  I heard her stand, heard the shifting of fabric and a hand brushed the canvas. ‘I’ll bid you goodnight and good luck, brother, and if those Vices are still here tomorrow, it will be goodbye. You know what they can do.’

  ‘Yes, I know. They will not be here tomorrow.’

  A few muted steps passed and the canvas was pushed aside. I saw her shadow thrown to the grass by a nearby lantern, curls dancing, before she turned and walked away. Eyes watched her go, whispers trailing after her.

  Inside the tent, Katashi sounded as though he was throwing the papers into a pile. Another chest slammed. Footsteps strode back and forth, and then he too pushed through the canvas flap and into the darkening night.

  This time it was him I followed. The energy had changed. For two days I had been waiting, silent, transitory, melding into the whispers like a formless spirit. Food held no lure. Sleep would not come. Only thoughts of vengeance sustained me. Katashi understood vengeance, lived it, breathed it, and now I knew where he was going. I could feel his purpose.

  Malice was waiting.

  ‘Tonight,’ Katashi said, the door of the wagon slamming open. ‘In the trees beyond the north wall, after the meeting. And I’m taking Endymion with me.’

  Malice showed no surprise at his violent entrance, just glanced up at me over the Pike’s shoulder. ‘Into the castle? And I thought that was already arranged, yes?’

  ‘No, not just into Koi. I’m taking him to the meeting. Dress him properly. I want him ready in one hour.’

  ‘I am not your dog to order around, yes?’

  ‘Perhaps not, but you can’t say you don’t want eyes in that tent. Yes?’

  Malice grinned. ‘My, my, Otako, you show some intelligence at last.’

  ‘Don’t underestimate me, Spider. One hour.’

  Without another word, Katashi pushed past me. Our skin touched. A blinding flash burst through the night as we connected, his whispers on my tongue, his memories before my eyes. A man lowered his head to the executioner’s block. Dark hair fell around him and I, too, could hear the people cheering.

  The connection broke, and Katashi strode away across the moonlit grass.

  ‘Wait outside, Hope,’ Malice said. ‘And close the door, yes?’

  ‘Yes, Master.’

  Hope left, shutting off the ingress of fresh air. Without it, sandalwood and opium smoke choked every breath. The haze made the air dry, dulling every bright colour.

  ‘Your idea, Endymion?’

  ‘What was?’

  ‘Going to the meeting. I know you want to see Lord Laroth again, but–’ He stopped, hearing the sharp intake of my breath. My heart hammered loudly. ‘You didn’t know? He is Kin’s right-hand man and he will certainly be there. The meeting of giants. I would give much to see Kin and Katashi attempting civility, almost as much as I would give to see Darius’s face when he sees you with your cousin, whose claim to the throne is so vastly inferior to your own. It is so amusing, yes?’

  ‘Hilarious. If anyone finds out my name, I’m dead.’

  ‘Be calm, little lamb, I won’t let anyone hurt you. You are mine, remember?’

  ‘Not yet I’m not.’

  Malice’s expression did not change. ‘Do not try to anger me, Endymion. Making an enemy of me is a mistake few live to repeat, yes? Now take off your clothes.’

  ‘What? With you watching?’

  ‘You think I want you? Let me assure you that you awaken not one iota of desire in me. On those grounds, if no other, you have no need to fear me. Now take off your clothes.’

  ‘Why can’t I go like this?’

  Malice let out a long-suffering sigh and looked at a portrait hanging beside his divan. It was of a woman dressed in a long robe, her hair pulled back into the style known as the “split peach”.

  ‘He asks “why?”’ Malice said, speaking to this woman. ‘The great Katashi Otako demands he meets The Usurper and he wants to go in dirty clothes. And yes, you are dirty.’ He took up the long opium pipe that was never far from his hand and pointed it at my clothing. ‘Mud and grass there. Specks of blood on your sleeve, oil on your collar, and that sash can no longer be called white. You are a filthy specimen.’ Malice rose from his divan and began to sift through a chest of clothes scented with cinnamon.

  Under his eagle eye, I removed my offending robe. Hope entered, carrying a can of hot water that he poured, steaming, into a large bowl. Hardly aware of what I was doing, I washed. I let Malice drag a comb through my hair and fix my nails, but all I could think about was that porcelain face with its dead violet eyes.

  I will find him and I will teach him pain.

  Malice chose a robe for me to wear, pale blue silk over white linen, its sleeves covered in a myriad of thread-thin branches. I watched it shimmer in the mirror while Malice tied my sash, his hands moving with practised speed. Upon my cheek the Traitor’s Mark glared. The skin had scabbed, forming an unsightly mess that even the thickest layer of paint would not hide.

  Malice moved away when he had finished, and I heard the sound of stirring coals.

  ‘Stay still.’

  He pinched my ear. A soundless cry lodged in my throat as something hot slid through my lobe. It was removed as quickly, and Malice waved a thin needle in front of my face. ‘There, that was easy,’ he said, putting the intimidating instrument down upon the brazier. ‘Now don’t move.’

  ‘Why did you do that?’ I said, tentatively touching the newly-pierced hole.

  ‘Because you are not properly dressed without it. I said don’t move, yes?’ With a linen cloth, Malice washed the injury he had just inflicted, the gesture oddly tender in one so seemingly selfish. When he had finished, he slid an earring through it, the weight of it causing the skin to stretch painfully.

  ‘You are now correctly dressed,’ he said, returning to his divan. ‘Give my love to Darius, yes?’

  He lay down and took up his book, shutting himself off so completely that I might no longer have existed. Feeling like the lost sheep for which I had been named, I let myself out of the hazy wagon. Hope was sitting on the steps.

  ‘They are waiting for you at the northern boundary,’ he said. ‘Might I walk with you?’

  ‘You haven’t needed permission before.’

  He did not reply, just fell in beside me, his lantern lighting our path. It turned the grass golden beneath our feet and made my silk skirt shimmer. I had never worn a nobleman’s robe before. It felt strange, heavy and yet soft, the hem catching on the grass with every step.

  ‘Avarice says you are going to be one of us,’ Hope said as we made our way through a tight knot of cedars, their needles prickly.

  Not sure what to say, I did not answer. A hare dashed away from our steps, sending wineberries swinging on their boughs. At the edge of the copse a group of shadowy figures were lighting their lanterns.

  Hope s
topped, his hand on my arm. ‘Whatever it is you think you want from Malice, you don’t. Nothing is so important. Trust me.’

  His youthful face looked worn and aged in the golden light. He had been someone once. But I had only ever been an outcast, a freak.

  ‘It’s too late,’ I said. ‘I’m a traitor and a dead man. I have to go.’

  He nodded at my waiting escort. ‘Yes,’ he agreed. ‘But if you take my advice you will run. You’re not dead yet. Run fast. I wish I had. I was a man once.’

  With a little bow, Hope left me and I went the rest of the way on my own. Katashi was waiting. He was restless, his fingers curling the mane of his chestnut stallion.

  ‘I was sure you would come not dressed at all,’ he said in greeting. ‘But it seems Malice has outdone himself. You look more lord than I. Do you ride?’

  I shook my head, reluctant to explain the difficulty I had with animals.

  ‘You can walk beside me then,’ Katashi said, and there was some laughter from the Pikes as they mounted. Katashi threw his leg over his great stallion with the same effortless grace he brought to everything, but as he settled himself in the saddle, I realised he was not carrying Hatsukoi. No weapons. A meeting of peace then. Nothing else could induce him to part with her.

  With lanterns held high, Katashi’s entourage moved off through the dense trees, shadows running ahead of us. I kept pace beside Katashi’s horse, watching my step as best I could in the shifting light. My stomach churned with nerves, but Katashi’s courage did not waver. Breaking from the cover of trees, we found ourselves on a wide field before Koi Castle, its lighted Keep a beacon in the night. Katashi did not hesitate, and I marvelled at his daring, so easily did he advance upon his enemy’s stronghold.

  A large pavilion had been erected in the middle of the field. It glowed from within, like a silk lantern dropped from the castle walls.

  ‘You’ll stand behind me, Endymion,’ Katashi said, his horse tossing its head as it caught my scent on the breeze. ‘I want to know everything you can tell me about Kin and his men, anything you can get.’

  ‘I can only do so much without touch,’ I replied.

  ‘Then do what you can. I need everything you can give me.’

  We arrived first. A servant greeted us with a fragile air of anxiety. He knew not what to say to a man who was both lord and rebel, heir and exile, and settled for saying nothing at all. He bowed, a lantern trembling in his hand. Katashi dismounted, and leaving his horse with a group of Pikes outside, strode into the tent. I followed, the silk brushing my face as I stepped through the narrow slit.

  Inside the pavilion a dozen lanterns winked at us, shining their light upon a low table in the middle of the floor. It was set with wine jugs and a stack of earthenware bowls, but no other attempt at hospitality or decoration had been made. A practical man then, our emperor, above the ostentation of the nobility. I felt some curiosity about this man who was so hated by all other Otakos, but it was Lord Laroth I had come for. I wanted to see the look on his face when he found me standing behind Katashi, bearing the branding he had all but given me with his own hand.

  I will teach him pain.

  Katashi knelt at the table, only the slightest tang of nervousness in the air.

  A few minutes passed in silence, then the sound of horses came through the night. I closed my eyes. Ten new souls emerged from the darkness, each subtly different. Then the murmur of voices. I strained my ears, but caught only the fevered thrum of my own heart.

  The tent opened. I saw the red sashes and for an instant thought the Vices had come, but these were Kin’s men, Imperial Guards, stiff and solemn. Kin followed. I had hardly a moment to catch my breath and he was there, pausing on the threshold, his crimson robe flowing to the floor like water. He stood tall, firm featured and determined, an Emperor in every sense of the word. He wore a soldier’s topknot and his skin was tanned and weathered, but neither seemed to matter when his aura spoke for him.

  Emperor Kin stepped forward and the gold threads of his sash gleamed in the lantern light. There, the Ts’ai dragon undulated down the crimson silk, gripping the grand characters of their motto in its curling claws: ‘Honour is Wealth’.

  This potent man knelt opposite his adversary, their auras clashing upon the table.

  ‘Seated before you,’ a servant intoned, ‘is His Imperial Majesty, the great Emperor Kin, first of his name, Lord Protector of the Kisian Empire. And His Excellency Lord Darius Laroth, Sixth Count of Esvar and Minister of the Left.’

  My eyes shot up. In the opening Lord Laroth stood framed by the night. A gasp caught in my throat. I could not breathe, but when those violet eyes travelled slowly over the company, they passed me with barely a flicker.

  One of Katashi’s Pikes stepped forward. ‘All bow before His Grace the Duke of Katose, Lord Katashi Otako, Prince of Kisia and True Heir to the Crimson Throne.’

  A shock of anger stained the air. Lord Laroth paused in the act of kneeling, but still he did not look at me. Did he not recognise me in these clothes? Had he forgotten me?

  Emperor Kin stared across the table. Words were already snapping from Katashi’s lips. ‘–I’m an Otako and proud of it,’ he was saying. ‘I am my father’s heir, he, the last true Divine Emperor to sit upon the throne.’

  ‘I make no such claim to divinity,’ Emperor Kin returned quietly. ‘But I am Emperor of Kisia in more than just name. Your family lost the crown when your father lost his head, and there the Otako reign came to an end.’

  ‘And what of the claims of my cousin, Lady Hana? I do hope you are treating her well.’

  ‘Better than she deserves,’ was the cool reply. ‘Having stolen from me, many would forgive my rancour. Instead, I have offered her a place at my side.’

  My chest tightened. Disbelief. Anger. Katashi’s hands balled into fists. ‘And she accepts you?’ he demanded, a hard note in his voice.

  ‘She will. It is best for Kisia. That way her children, all legitimate heirs of the Otako blood, will sit upon the throne when I am gone.’

  ‘So you force yourself upon her? I should have expected no less from a man of common blood.’

  Kin reacted for the first time, his heavy brows drawing together. I was reminded of all the stories I had heard, of the battles General Kin had won and the men he had killed, turning the rivers of Kisia red with blood. The man had a temper.

  ‘I will have no unwilling wife,’ he said.

  ‘Then you will not have my cousin. She is an Otako and she knows what is due to her name and her blood.’

  When Emperor Kin did not answer, Katashi leant forward, his elbows on the table. ‘I will see Hana,’ he said. ‘To be sure she has been well treated.’

  ‘That is not possible.’

  ‘Then what assurance can you offer that she is even alive?’

  It was Minister Laroth who replied. ‘You do not accept His Majesty’s word as a matter of honour because you have none yourself,’ he said. ‘This fault is yours, not ours.’

  ‘Lord Laroth,’ Katashi said. ‘How charming it is to meet you at last. Hana has told me so much about you.’

  ‘If you are seeking to discompose me you will have to do better than that,’ he said. ‘She is my irritating charge and I am her ogre. A perfect match, I assure you.’

  Divorced from this pleasantry, Emperor Kin gestured to a servant. The man knelt at the table and served the wine, offering a bowl to the emperor and the minister, and then to Katashi. ‘No,’ the Pike Captain said, waving the bowl away. ‘I will pour one myself.’

  The air chilled. With trembling hands the servant withdrew the bowl. He looked to his emperor, who nodded. The wine jug was handed over. It was an insult to question a lord’s hospitality, but Kin, it seemed, was not fool enough to let Katashi rile him so pettily.

  While Katashi poured himself a bowl, Emperor Kin’s eyes strayed to my fac
e, fixing upon my branded cheek. From there his gaze fell to my robe and sash, before snapping back. Malice had said I resembled neither my mother nor my father very closely, yet Emperor Kin went on staring. Perhaps if he stared long enough Lord Laroth would see me. I wanted him to see me. I wanted him to know I was coming for him and tremble.

  ‘I am sure you’re well aware of what is happening in Ji and Ettia,’ Emperor Kin said, turning from me at last. ‘No doubt your spies keep you well informed. It would seem there is a mistaken belief amongst the credulous that the name of Kisia’s emperor is in doubt.’

  Katashi lowered the wine bowl. ‘Is there indeed? How terrible. But you see, I learned my history, the same as every noble son of Kisia, and, do correct me if I am wrong, but it was to the Otako family the gods gave this empire. There was no stipulation that anyone who conquered them might take the throne, as there is no law in this land that allows a commoner the right to behead a true and sworn Emperor of Kisia.’

  ‘No stipulation because no stipulation is required,’ Kin returned, his words clipped. ‘If you give a gift to a man and that man’s estate is taken then the gift belongs to the conqueror. That is the law.’

  ‘The Crimson Throne is not a gift.’

  ‘No. Neither is it a right or a privilege. It is a duty. The oath states as much, but your ancestors did only ill by this empire, destroying the trust placed in them by their own people.’

  Colours heightened, their glares locked across the table. Lord Laroth did not move. I could feel nothing from him, no shock, no anger, the man as dead as his expression. Why did he not look at me?

  ‘I give you my terms,’ Kin said, regaining control over his temper. ‘Return the Hian Crown and disband your rebels. If you do, you may still leave Kisia with your life.’

  ‘You think that having the crown will make you Kisia’s true emperor?’ Katashi said. ‘Even with it you have been nothing but The Usurper for sixteen years.’

  ‘And you are nothing but a rebel. Hear me when I say the Crimson Throne will never again belong to an Otako of your blood. Lady Hana will marry me and through her you must be satisfied. If you return the crown and renounce your claim to the throne you will live. If you fight, you will die. Those are my demands.’