A War in Crimson Embers

by Alex Marshall

  Perhaps that was only fitting, though. As they reached the shadow of the massive triple-roofed gate at the end of the courtyard and the servants deftly slid long poles in the underside of his wheelchair to carry him up the many stairs, he supposed a reversal of roles was as common in war as it was in Lupitera’s dramas. There was an unimpeachable freedom in being a pawn, a detachment from commitment no tactician could ever appreciate, so now that he was here he might as well savor it …

  Yet even as he was borne up the palace-wide stairs toward the Samjok-o Throne, Domingo couldn’t help but wonder if there was a way he could still get a bit of his own in against the Burnished Chain, since they were apparently trying to sail into Othean Bay and whatever Domingo told the empress might affect the reception the Immaculate Isles offered them. He would have to be both clever and quick, however, acting before Choi took her revenge against the autocrat who had executed General Ji-hyeon and all her family. Or even better than scoring a final victory over the church before losing his head, could he find a way of disentangling himself from Choi’s assassination attempt altogether? Truly, what good would it do the world if he got dragged down along with her? No less an oracular luminary than Hoartrap the Touch seemed to think Domingo had some role yet to play in this grand tragedy that mortals call life, so didn’t he owe it to the Star to stick around as long as possible?

  Besides, the empress was dishonorable and craven and a menace, certainly, but Domingo had already taken away her son, and in doing so had proactively caused her as much pain as any parent can deal another. To live on past a child felt a crueler destiny than death, so to let Choi murder the woman now would only put an end to her suffering; hardly the stuff of high drama or poetic justice …

  Not that he had mentioned this facet to Choi, thinking she would be less than impressed that her general and everyone else from her homeland had been executed because Domingo had framed Ji-hyeon for the crime he himself had taken considerable pride in committing. Seemed such a conversation would make things needlessly tense in their already tight quarters.

  Now, though, as they approached the dizzying top of the open palace steps and the candlelit interior of the hall beyond the gate, part of him regretted not volunteering the information to her sooner. Choi was an anathema, yes, but an honorable one, hard as it was to believe such a seeming oxymoron existed. Anyway, it was hard to deny she had proven more loyal to her sworn cause than Domingo had to his. The fat, pimply, bare ass of the truth was that the only reason he hadn’t told her was fear of what she might do to him. Which just proved that even after he had lost everything and had nothing left to live for he still sought to prolong his wretched existence just a little bit longer. And that was why Domingo Hjortt had outlived his son and his regiment and multiple sovereigns and commanding officers and found himself here, the first Crimson colonel in living memory to meet the Empress of the Immaculate Isles: because he was a fucking coward.

  They lowered his chair down at the top of the stairs, the smell of brine blowing in at his back, and Choi wheeled him into the throne room. Great jade pillars framed the room, with an orderly horde of perfectly silent Immaculates dressed in far nicer attire than Domingo kneeling in rows that stretched from the golden screens that composed the distant walls clear into the center of the room, where an avenue of open tile led to the waiting empress. Of the hundreds in attendance, the only members of the court not dressed in white were a dozen or so golden-masked, yellow-robed figures with matching horsehair hats who sat closest to Her Elegance, and at the very end of their row a bearded vulture perched atop a bronze statue of a harpyfish.

  As the servants hung back and Choi and Domingo approached, he realized that the terraced platform the empress had erected in front of the Temple of Pentacles upon the Cobalts’ arrival through the Gate must have been crowned with the actual Samjok-o Throne, for there she sat on the same impressive stage, though now it was elevated only four wide steps off the ground instead of a dozen. Behind her stood a tall white screen with a huge likeness of a three-legged raven perched above the gold leaf faces of her smiling heathen gods, and beyond this stretched a vast painting of the Immaculate Isles themselves.

  There was also, incredibly, a unicorn sitting at the feet of the empress. Never having seen one before, Domingo hadn’t known what to expect when Choi had claimed that the royal family of Othean was blessed with the friendship of the immortal animal; he had thought a one-horned goat, maybe, given special importance by superstitious foreigners. This was no goat, nor was it a unicorn of the equine persuasion as portrayed in Azgarothian bestiaries—this grotesque horror was closer to a lion, covered in pearlescent scales with a sharp bone rising from the end of its snout, and Domingo was loath to look at it for more than a moment. Especially since it seemed to be staring at him.

  Only a touch less intimidating than the monster at the foot of her gold and mahogany throne was the Empress Ryuki herself. If most Immaculates’ attire was so baggy it might have doubled as a bedroll, their regent’s could have served as a tent, layers of starched white skirts and jackets and petticoats piled one atop another. She might have been wearing a blanket over her hands or maybe her embroidered sleeves were simply that roomy, and over this bolt of cloth dangled an enormous tasseled pendant. In lieu of a crown she wore an enormous pearlescent wig whose braids stretched out and around and coiled back in like a tangled-up devil-fish, and beneath this was the only visible part of her body: her face, which was not a kind one, and bore a close resemblance to that of her son.

  Choi rolled his wheelchair past the masked, yellow-robed figures and their ugly vulture, right up to the bumper of cushions set a dozen steps from the bottom step of the elevated throne, then locked his wheels in place. He didn’t get a good look at her face as she knelt on the floor beside and a little behind him, but the little he saw from the corner of his eye did not bode well for their leaving this chamber alive—she did not look angry so much as satisfied. One of the white-dressed ministers who flanked their approach to the Samjok-o Throne bawled something out in Immaculate, and the empress canted her head the tiniest bit forward.

  “You are announced as the Baron of Cockspar first, a guest of Othean second, and a Crimson colonel last,” Choi translated, her eyes fixed on the tiles in front of her cushion.

  “Yes, well, say whatever polite greeting is expected of me,” he told Choi out of the corner of his mouth.

  “You will speak directly to me, Baron Hjortt,” said the empress in High Azgarothian. “In your province it may be acceptable for a servant to speak on behalf of her betters, but that is not the case in Othean. Besides, close neighbors as we should have no need for intermediaries.”

  “You honor me and my people with the eloquence with which you speak our tongue, proving again that the souls of our nations are unmistakably entwined,” said Domingo, bowing as far forward in his chair as he could manage without falling out of it altogether. Back home in his native province the Empress of the Immaculate Isles was more hated than any villain since the fall of Cobalt Zosia … and had probably surpassed even her, following recent events. The Immaculate invasion of the borderlands and conquest of independent Linkensterne was only the most recent of Ryuki’s countless offenses against the Empire and all its loyal provinces, but the sheer brazenness of the crime had ignited Azgarothian wrath like nothing before. And meanwhile up here in Othean every Immaculate from the empress down to a witchborn warrior seemed fluent in Azgarothian, or at least Crimson … “While I should have wished for this day to come sooner, Your Elegance, I am overjoyed we have at long last come together.”

  As Domingo spoke the unicorn rose to its feet, yawned its jagged maw, and padded down the wide steps in front of the throne. It then sat on its haunches staring at him. From this close he could see its teeth looked as sharp as its horn.

  “You will discover, Baron Hjortt, that I do not care for deception, even in the form of flattery,” said the empress. “I know that for you Imperials deceit and treachery are
so ingrained in your being that you often practice such baseness without even considering it. I have generously taken this into account, and have instructed my devil not to harm you unless you tell three lies. That was the first, but I believe any civilized person would be able to proceed without a second, and only an enemy of Othean should tell a third.”

  “Ah,” said Domingo, and almost apologized before catching himself—that might be considered a lie, too, since he was only sorry he’d been called out for offering idle blandishments to this Immaculate warlord … and that she had a lie-detecting devil with a very big mouth pointed directly at him and Choi. “I understand, Your Elegance.”

  “Excellent,” said the empress. “In that case you may yet prove your province’s use to Othean, as I have a number of questions that perhaps you can answer.”

  “I hope you find my answers satisfactory,” said Domingo, eyeing the so-called unicorn.

  “From our interrogation of various Cobalt officers we know that they believe you led the Fifteenth Regiment during this Battle of the Lark’s Tongue. We know they believe it was your collusion with the Burnished Chain and a great sacrifice of many thousands that opened a new Gate upon the battlefield. We know they also believe that this ritual sacrifice lifted the storm from the Haunted Sea and brought about the return of Jex Toth.” The empress shifted slightly forward in her throne. “What I ask you now, Baron Hjortt, is if what they believe is all true.”

  “I … I believe so,” said Domingo, and hastened to add, “save for that speculation about the Sunken Kingdom coming back. The rest of it I know for certain, and I do believe that was indeed the Chain’s goal in carrying out their ritual. But the only real intelligence we received about the return of Jex Toth came from you, Your Elegance, when you wrote to … to the Cobalt Command, and spoke of monsters besieging the Isles.”

  “Jex Toth has indeed returned,” said the empress, so offhandedly she might as well have been discussing the seasonal migration of starlings. “The presence of monsters has yet to be confirmed. Othean’s lamentable but unavoidable deception to lure back the last traitor of Hwabun was predicated on a hundred prophecies from not only the Isles but all of the Star. Many believed that when the Sunken Kingdom rose it would bring with it a calamitous evil, and so our ruse capitalized on that fear. Yet now the Imperial Navy of Diadem arrives flying Chainite flags, seeking sanctuary at Othean under the very same pretext we offered the Cobalt Company—an army of demons plots to assail the Star, and we must rally together as mortals to confront the scourge.”

  Domingo waited, and so did the empress, and when no actual question was advanced, he said, “They do?”

  “That is what I seek to find out,” said the empress crossly, as though Domingo were being the difficult one here. “I know the Imperial fleet initially bypassed our blockade, and I know upon returning from Jex Toth they sought amnesty from my navy and safe passage here to Othean. What I do not know is if their claim is true, or if it is a deception of the Crimson Empire to gain access to Othean. Is this all part of your plot to destroy me?”

  “My plot? I don’t have any plot!” As soon as the words left Domingo’s mouth he knew they were a mistake, the monster at the foot of the stairs standing up straight again, its pale scales shimmering as it crossed the tiles and then sat down in front of his chair. It was too late to put the rash words back in his mouth, but he could still try to outmaneuver the empress and her devil. “What I meant to say is I was never aware of the scope of the Burnished Chain’s plot. I only discovered too late what they intended at the Battle of the Lark’s Tongue, and ever since that day I have been stuck with the Cobalts, and even less aware of the Chain’s scheming than I was before. I have heard the Crimson Queen has fallen, and the Black Pope has taken complete control of Diadem—and if the Imperial fleet is flying black flags that’s further proof, isn’t it? So if anyone seeks to deceive you and your nation it’s likely the Burnished Chain … but you’re the one with the bloody devil, so why not call this thing off me and put it on someone who knows something!”

  The empress did not respond, staring down at Domingo and her monster, and then she sniffed.

  “I see no purpose in allowing a single Outlander to set foot on Othean, be they Imperial or Chainite or both,” said the empress, puffing up in her nest of white finery like a spoiled cockatoo. “If they are false then we have fallen into their trap to gain access to our shores. If they speak true then we would be declaring our allegiance with them, and incurring the wrath of whatever unknown forces they have provoked upon Jex Toth. This is the law of spirits, a truth we have maintained since the Age of Wonders—do not call up that which you cannot put down, and do not come between a devil and its vengeance. I hereby deny the Imperial fleet sanctuary; exile them immediately, before whatever calamity that pursues them is visited upon us.”

  One of the ministers kneeling behind the yellow-robed contingent quietly rose to her feet and padded out, her muffled footfalls fading as she crossed the hall.

  “I realize you’re the Empress of the Isles and can do any fool thing that crawls under that wig of yours, but doesn’t that seem rash?” asked Domingo, too overcome with indignation at her stupefyingly superstitious line of reasoning to remain diplomatic. “What if there is an army of devils or what-have-you on Jex Toth, and they don’t hold to the enlightened view of only wanting revenge on the Chain for summoning them? What if they behave exactly like they do in all the legends you spoke of and wage war against us all? And even if such creatures do only come after the Imperial navy, your Isles lie squarely between Jex Toth and the rest of the Star, so you don’t have much choice about coming between monsters and their meal!”

  “I should not expect an Azgarothian to comprehend our traditions,” said the empress, her smug expression matching that of the scaly devil that remained uncomfortably close to Domingo’s crotch. “The Burnished Chain misunderstands the First Dark and its mysteries, but you ignorant people deny them altogether. There is more to existence than simply life, and more to life than simply being alive. The Immaculate Isles shall stand as we always have, apart and above the schemes of lesser lands. Our purity protects us, and should any ignoble army assault us, be they mortal or spirit, they shall be overcome, and in righteous fashion.”

  “Well, that certainly sounds exactly like the rot the Chain’s always spouting,” said Domingo, because even with a devil breathing on his fruit basket he couldn’t stand to hear spiritual claptrap informing military policy. “Purity this and righteousness that in place of common sense! Your monster here knows I’m telling the truth, too, or that would’ve been my third offense, wouldn’t it? So if you won’t listen to me, why don’t you listen to him?!”

  The yellow-robed attendants remained as still and mute behind their masks as the statue their creepy bird sat atop, but murmurs rippled through the previously silent rows of kneeling nobles, each a monarch of one of the hundreds of Immaculate Isles that all paid homage to the Samjok-o Throne. But were some of them agreeing with Domingo and his sound argument, or were they all simply offended he’d spoken in such a fashion to their empress? He never got to find out, because without seeming the least bit perturbed by the conduct of her guest Empress Ryuki asked the last question he would have ever wanted to hear leave her wrinkly lips. Well, one of them, anyway.

  “Well then, Baron Hjortt, since it is presumably separate from any designs of the Burnished Chain, what is your plot to destroy me?”

  That was that, then, the unicorn’s horn bobbing in the air and its scaly muzzle pulling back to show its full array of teeth as it offered Domingo a final smile. He should try to distract it with a lie, to lure it in to attack him so he could wrap his arms around its neck and pin it still long enough for Choi to charge up the steps of the throne. He could die helping the woman take her vengeance, vengeance that was more righteous than anything Empress Ryuki spoke of … but looking up past the devil at the self-satisfied face of the empress and seeing the ghost of her son looking ba
ck at him, he supposed he could do all of them one better.

  “It wasn’t part of my plot when I first rolled in here, I admit, but I did just hit on something choice,” drawled Domingo, looking Empress Ryuki in the eye. “I murdered your son Byeong-gu, under nobody’s orders but my own. I suppose I could have mentioned this to someone sooner, Your Elegance, but that’s just my bad Azgarothian manners.”

  The empress and all her court were dumbstruck, but Choi growled low in her throat. Looking over to where she crouched beside him on her cushion, her fists tight and her gap-fanged snarl directed at him instead of the Samjok-o Throne, he gave a humble little shrug.

  “No,” said the empress decisively—he had momentarily rattled her with the ghastly suggestion, but he could tell she didn’t believe him. “The traitor Ji-hyeon Bong of Hwabun assassinated my fourth son, the Prince Byeong-gu. They were betrothed. She sent me his—”

  “Head in a box, wrapped up in a Cobalt flag, yes?” said Domingo, savoring the slow collapse of the empress’s face—this must have been how Brother Wan felt when he’d finally been able to reveal his plot in the back of that damn wagon. “That is exactly what I wanted Othean to think, after I caught your runt and his bodyguards skulking around just south of that new wall you’re putting up around Linkensterne. He gave me all the information he had, willingly I might add, and I murdered him. On his knees. This was a long time before we ever caught up with General Ji-hyeon ourselves, but I thought it might be just the thing to get the Immaculate juices flowing for a little joint offensive against the Cobalts, if it became necessary. Unlike you enlightened people who would rather lose a war than combine forces with an ignoble army, as you put it, we Azgarothians take a far more utilitarian perspective.”