“Tali,” he repeated. “You’re not from around here, are you?”
“Was it the lack of honorifics or did I inadvertently do something more offensive this time?”
“You’re Jinsein, and not one who lives around here, either. I’ve never seen you in the immigrants’ quarter—I think I’d have remembered you if I did.”
“And here I’ve been telling people it’s impossible to know from appearance alone.”
“I’ve known Jinseins. Even been friends with some of them. You have a way of speaking Zirano that’s difficult to ignore once you’ve heard it. Mix that with a few more clues, and then…” He folded his arms across his chest. “You came all the way out here to meet your husband?”
I nodded.
“Is he Zarojo?”
“No. He’s Jinsein, too. I haven’t seen him in years.” I hadn’t intended to say so much, but somehow, speaking with Khine made it easy for the words to come tumbling out.
“I see,” he murmured. “I’m sorry to hear that. Are you hoping to reconcile with him?”
“I don’t know,” I mumbled. “It would only be right if I did, wouldn’t it?”
He smirked. “It depends. Do you love him?”
It was a strange question, mostly because I had never had it asked of me since Rai had left that fateful night. I have never been asked that question at all, actually. Was it because marriages between Jinsein royals are never about love? Or was it because no one ever cared to broach such a subject to me before? Surely they would’ve whispered about it in dark halls or crowded kitchens where I couldn’t hear them; surely they would’ve asked themselves if the woman who could make a man like Rayyel Ikessar walk away had loved him at all.
“Ah, talking about love with a brazen thief in some unnamed part of town,” I said, pretending to brush it all off. “I’ve moved up in the world. And here, you, acting as if you know something about it, about love.”
“You got me,” Khine said with a laugh. “I’ve never been married. Wouldn’t know how to get a woman’s attention if I tried.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“Really?” he asked, scratching the stubble on his chin.
I nodded earnestly. “You just convinced an honest shopkeeper, as you put it, to part with a thousand rean.”
“You convinced him to do it. I just tricked him into thinking he could make some money out of you without you knowing about it. Anyway, women’s hearts are harder.”
“And should, in theory, require less trickery,” I said.
“A lot less,” he agreed.
I was starting to enjoy the conversation a bit too much, which reminded me of where I was and where I was supposed to be. A queen’s life didn’t leave much room for such talk, for things beyond responsibilities. It was even less so with me, with what I had to carry. “I think enough time has passed,” I said. I poked my head through the curtains. The street remained silent. “I don’t hear the city watch.”
He gave a quick snort. “I seriously doubt he would’ve called them about this. Too much trouble, too much investigating. The man can’t be all that clean. Plus, he still has the ring, and he still doesn’t know I have no intention of ever coming back. He’ll wait.” He got up from the crate. “I’ll walk you there.”
~~~
The way back did not take as long as I thought it would. It was already dark—I could see the lights reflecting like stars off the canal’s surface. A number of lute-players were scattered on the outdoor patios of various establishments, the combined sounds of different songs lending a note of cheery chaos to the atmosphere. The air was thick with the scent of smoked meat and incense. The smell of it made my stomach rumble.
“Anzhao City’s night life,” Khine said distractedly. Then, as if noticing he had spoken, he craned his head towards me. “The kind they talk about, anyway. For tourists like you.”
There was a sad note to the end of his sentence. I followed his gaze and saw a sign with the embossed image of a dancing goose. I caught sight of several of my guards standing near the door. It was clear from the harassed looks on their faces that they were looking for me. The poor bastards had probably assumed the worst, and I could only imagine the harsh words Arro would’ve had for them when he found out what had happened. I would have to clear up with him that it was partly my fault.
And somewhere in that building, with its brightly lit windows of wrought iron and glass, Rai probably sat, waiting.
I felt a lump in my throat. The excitement of the last few hours faded, leaving only trepidation and more fear than I knew how to handle. But this man, Khine, didn’t need to know that. I pulled the purse out and placed it into his palm. He looked at me in surprise, as if just suddenly remembering about the money. I closed his fingers around it with my other hand.
He opened his mouth to protest. I didn’t stop to wait for what he had to say and walked towards my guards. They saw me before I could even reach the path and rushed forward, my name on their lips. As they crowded around me, I glanced up to take one last look at Khine, but he was already gone.
I allowed my guards to lead me into the building.
Chapter Five
The Silver Goose
I had the impression that my arrival broke a silence that had hung over the establishment for hours. Nor was the first familiar face to greet me, and her expression clearly showed someone who had been on the verge of panic. My memory of what transpired after was lost in the flurry of excitement, the flash from the bright paper lamps hanging over the round tables, and the smell of fried meat—so deliciously distracting and now impossible to ignore. I have no recollection of who else met me, what words were spoken, or if Arro tried to scold me or Nor for our carelessness.
I was led to a private room upstairs, where entire walls were slid open to make way for my arrival. I found myself in a large room with a giant, lacquered table. Sitting at the far end, directly across from me, was Rai.
A flurry of emotions descended on me like a hawk barrelling for its prey. Perhaps if we had been alone, I would’ve allowed myself the pleasure of perusing through them for a more appropriate response. But I felt other eyes on me—Arro to my left, and then from the unknown faces on both sides—and reached for anger instead. Anger and sarcasm I could do. I had built my reputation around them, after all.
I took a seat, even before a servant could offer it to me. The chair was comfortable, with a rounded back and smooth armrests. I looked at Rai, who remained silent, his eyes like hardened steel. Our gazes locked for a moment before he turned away. I could feel the weight of the last few years pressing on me. There was so much I wanted to tell him, so much I wanted to say.
A man beside him cleared his throat. “We have been waiting for hours, Queen Talyien.”
“How appropriate,” I said, craning my neck towards him, “seeing as to how I’ve been lost for hours. Was it part of the plan when you made such sudden changes to our venue? A little prank to play on a clueless guest? I should tell you that I had quite an adventure, one which would’ve been amusing under different circumstances. As it is now, though, I am merely irritated.”
The man’s face stiffened. “Is this your idea of a joke? You were the one who—”
“We must remember our respects, Governor Zheshan,” Rai said. “She is still Queen of Jin-Sayeng.”
“Thank you, my lord,” I said, unsmiling. He didn’t respond.
Arro cleared his throat. “We are all pleased the Beloved Queen made it out of the streets safely. We will go through a review of our security measures later, but for now, perhaps, we can begin.”
“I’ll let Lord Rayyel start by explaining himself,” I said. My eyes had never left my husband. I took a deep breath, telling myself to remember to keep my head clear. “You walked away from me, our son, and all your responsibilities on our coronation night. By all rights, you should have been rotting in the dungeons of Oka Shto years ago.”
“For refusing to be crowned?” Rai asked.
“What law did I break for such an action?” To his credit, his voice never rose an octave. I was the one struggling to keep mine steady.
“My father and your mother made an agreement. We were to rule Jin-Sayeng jointly. You abandoned your duties, my lord.”
“I did not,” Rai said. There was a scroll on his right hand. He gave it to a servant, who ran over to hand it to me.
I glanced at it. There were some numbers, names of cities and towns. I detected a few villages from the mountains north of Darusu. “You’ve been managing the farms in your ancestral lands,” I said. “Helped the price of rice go down for some of the cities.”
“Oversaw trade between the Sougen and the Kaitan fields, directed the appropriate people to convince the rice merchants to give up some of their records for the Dragonthrone, and other duties I needed to fulfill within my capacity as Minister of Agriculture.”
“And these people you’ve been dealing with never even thought to alert me of these activities?”
“I would assume they didn’t think you’d care.”
I struggled with the anger. There was, of course, an official proclamation that I sent days after the coronation ordering Rayyel sent straight to Oka Shto if they come across him. Yet if he had been strolling through the countryside as he pleased, bartering with farmers and merchants and officials, why had I received nothing more than rumours that he might have passed through a certain city or town at a given point in time? “Such accomplishments—forgive me if I don’t throw a feast in your honour.”
“I am not trying to impress you,” Rai said, his eyes darting across the room like he wasn’t even talking to me. “I am merely giving you a quick account of my activities the past five years while you were busy with other things.” He let the last word slide out abruptly, as if in place of something harsher. I could feel my temper rise.
“Busy fending the warlords off from each other, you mean?” I asked. “You know the difficulties of ruling Jin-Sayeng just as much as I do. You cannot just run off and play King of Your Own Castle, my lord. The realities do not change just because you willed it.” I noticed the map unfolded in front of him. He was holding a brush.
“These difficulties exist because too many of the warlords do not like the idea of Orenar blood on the throne. After years of the Ikessar clan ruling Jin-Sayeng without incident, your father’s war has made their nightmare into a reality.”
“Without incident?” I asked. “I’m sorry, do I need to remind you about Ziri-nar-Orxiaro’s attacks on our main cities and the closing of trade—after centuries of goodwill, or the tyranny brought on by The Seven Shadows’…”
“Heroes—”
“Who killed, in the dark, anyone who defied the Ikessars.” I reached for a bowl of wine and swallowed. “Let’s not forget the wonderful legacy your Uncle Rysaran left us all to contend with: Oren-yaro and Shirrokaru both in ruins, and the dragons on our eastern borders threatening to destroy our towns and villages there, in addition to over half of Jin-Sayeng’s rice crop.”
“He had nothing to do with the dragons,” Rai breathed.
“Yet it was his insistence at bringing the mad dragon into our lands that gave way to the others,” I said. “He wanted to see dragons returned to Jin-Sayeng. And he got his wish! Untameable, blood-crazed beasts now swarm our lands, and if not for the efforts of the valiant people of the Sougen, it would be a lot worse. What have you done to control this plague and help our people? Busy with other things, indeed.”
I gulped down more wine. The faint taste of plum stayed on my tongue, helping with the bitterness. “When you left, the warlords blamed me. The ones who didn’t defy me in the open did so to my back. I couldn’t create a single decree that wasn’t outvoted in an instant. And the arguments between them…twice I’ve had to ride to stop Warlord Lushai from marching his army to take over Warlord Graiyo’s lands. Ten villages raided in five years and up until now we don’t know who did what and what for.” I felt despair hook its claws into me as soon as I spoke up. There was more, so much more he needed to hear, even though I knew it would all sound like nonsense to him.
“Lord Rayyel does not disagree on the complexities that plague your nation,” Governor Zheshan spoke up. I considered him for the first time. He was a short, squat man with a long beard, a shaved head, and enough fat on his body to live on for a year.
“Who are you,” I said, “to get yourself involved in all of this?” I turned to Rai. “Why does an official of the Empire of Ziri-nar-Orxiaro speak for you? Did you suddenly lose your tongue? Maybe you left it behind at Lushai’s.”
“Governor Gon Zheshan is offering his assistance,” Rai said, flushing red. I wondered if it was because he had caught on to my insult.
“An outsider’s look at what is causing these rifts in Jin-Sayeng.” Governor Zheshan bowed towards me. “My intention is not to cause disrespect.”
“You don’t say,” I drawled.
“These are issues we have all dealt with at one time or another within the empire. We know all too well the pitfalls that come with a federal government, especially when taken to the extremes your warlords have gone through.”
“Are you proposing we strip them off their titles and their lands?” I said. “If so, be my guest. You can dole out the proposal for them in your best silks. They’ll be your funeral robes, too.”
“We are not quite so foolhardy,” Governor Zheshan said with the sort of smile that could mean anything—appeasement or amusement, I couldn’t tell. It made me distrust him even more. He turned to Rai, who knotted his thick eyebrows together before nudging the map closer to me. I saw the thick, black lines running through it and felt my senses blur.
“You are not here to discuss how to return to Oren-yaro with your head intact, are you?” I asked. You are not here to speak with me about what had happened five years ago, either.
Rai’s lips formed a thin line. “Why ever would you think that, my lady?”
“Our clans had an agreement. A treaty.”
“One which I am merely interpreting another way,” he said. He turned to Arro. “Why is she surprised, Magister? I had requested that you get her acquainted with the terms before this meeting.”
Arro looked uncomfortable. I held out my hand to stop him from replying.
“He tried to show me your terms,” I said. “I declined and told him I would hear them straight from your own mouth.”
Rai placed his hands on the table. “I need not speak. They are in front of you, my lady.”
I glanced at the map, at the divided Jin-Sayeng Rai was proposing. The north and west would be his. He was giving me Oren-yaro and the south, running to the east, including the dragon-infested Sougen Plains. I stared at the letters that made up our clan names, Ikessar and Orenar, and wondered how my father could’ve done all of this without going mad.
“I will not do this,” I said.
I saw Rai frown. I’m not sure why he was surprised. He must have known on some level that if he wanted to wrest me from the position my father had destined for me he would have to do so over my mangled corpse. I noted that there were now more lines on his face then when I had seen him last, five long years ago. His shoulders were broader now, too, and he had grown a proper beard instead of the peach fuzz he had carried all those years. We had been so young, once.
I think he wanted to say something to me, but he didn’t want to look me in the eyes. “Magister Arro,” he said, a layer of revulsion in his voice. “Why waste our time? If the lady did not even bother to read our terms…”
It irritated me that he was still playing this old game. “I was under the impression I would be presented with reasonable terms.” I pointed at him with my fan. It was all I could do not to rush over and jab him in the eye with it. “By all the heavens, Rayyel, if you cannot even talk to me straight we might as well end this meeting right here.”
Something in my voice must’ve done it. He did finally turn, though slowly, like it was the most painful thing he had
to do in his life. Eyes that once gazed at me with a flicker of affection now regarded me with detached observance. I suddenly had cause to wonder what he was thinking about—what the last few years had done to me, perhaps. I was not the soft, naive princess I once was.
“Perhaps if you would both set aside your differences for now…” Rai’s other adviser, a woman whose name I didn’t catch, took a long sip of tea before glancing at my direction. She was very pale, with a forehead that subtly reminded me of my horse’s, Osga. Her robes marked her as a priestess of Kibouri; the sash around her belt marked her as a scholar. I found it amusing how even as far as Ziri-nar-Orxiaro, the Ikessars insisted on flaunting their perceived superiority.
“The only difference I see here…” I started.
“My queen,” Arro warned.
“—is that Lord Rayyel is an idiot.” I fixed another glare at Rai, daring him to respond in kind.
He avoided it by following the priestess’ example and drinking the tea. “To be fair,” he murmured, a moment later, “the fact that you think so is not news to me.”
“Oh,” I said, feigning surprise. “So you were listening!”
His face remained impassive. “I’ve heard more than you give me credit for.”
“Then maybe perhaps you’ve heard me call you a donkey’s…”
“My queen,” Arro coughed. “The matter, at hand.”
“Methinks your queen has been spending too much time with her soldiers,” the priestess said, concealing a grin behind her tea.
I turned to her. “Too low, priestess.”
“I was merely implying the manner with which you speak,” the priestess said. “If you think there is more to it than that, it is your concern, not mine.”
“Arro…off with her head.”
“More wine,” Arro grunted, glancing at the servants behind us. “Did you hear at all what I said?” There was a flurry of robes and footsteps. “It has been a long night and we are all tired. Perhaps we should wait until we’ve sufficiently filled our bellies before we proceed with the talks?”
The Wolf of Oren-yaro Page 7