When Jackals Storm the Walls

by Bradley P. Beaulieu

  King Alaşan, who’d risen to a place of prominence among the lesser Kings, sat to Meryam’s left. As he droned on about how the ships being built in King’s Harbor were delayed because of disruption in their shipping lanes, Meryam saw Amaryllis enter the council chambers. She was Meryam’s master spy and assassin, a beautiful woman with long curly hair and looks many women would kill for. She gave Meryam a pointed look before settling in next to Basilio.

  Meryam dearly wanted to speak with her, but the council took precedence. Appearances must be maintained, for the time being, at least.

  “They’ve begun to harass the caravans now,” one of the Kings was saying. Mighty Alu, she could hardly keep track of which of them was speaking.

  “No,” Alaşan replied. “It isn’t the Mireans, nor the Malasani, but the Kundhuni warlords. The very ones who were supposed to be guarding the convoys are taking the ships and claiming the Mireans ambushed them, when in truth they’re stealing the wood and selling it to our enemies. And their boldness doesn’t end there. Now they’re saying that since the ships and cargoes have been lost, they need more coin for the shipments that do make it through. It’s part of an intricate scam that began months ago, a thing that was hardly apparent at first but that is now rampant among the warlords.”

  Meryam sipped her drink, losing track of the conversation for a time, and was brought back to it in startling fashion when she realized they were all staring at her. “Pardon me?” she asked King Alaşan, the one who’d spoken to her.

  Alaşan was a young man, handsome, with a gentle face, prone to kindly smiles. Just then, though, he looked ugly and dispassionate, a hangman grinding his axe. He spoke loudly and slowly, as if she were a child. “When did you learn that the Kundhuni warlords had started taking bribes from the Mireans?”

  Meryam scanned the curving table. The other rulers of Sharakhai were waiting, but she wasn’t sure how best to answer. She’d been caught flatfooted. Basilio had asked her what to do about the Kundhuni, but for the life of her she couldn’t remember what she’d told him, nor the outcome. She certainly wasn’t ready to spin a lie about it.

  “She wasn’t aware.” With one hand raised in an admission of guilt, Basilio rose from his seat behind her. “The queen has had so much to worry about, I took this matter into my own hands.”

  “And your decision,” Alaşan said, “was to bribe them yet again and to mention not a word of it to the rest of us?”

  Basilio glanced at Meryam, then Amaryllis, as if either of them could help him now. “It was a temporary measure. Until we had more ships of our own.”

  “And now you see what’s come of that,” Alaşan said, his voice growing angrier. “Your temporary measure has delayed the very thing you hoped would rid us of the problem. And now things have grown much worse. It’s not only skimwood we’re short on, but oil, steel, medicinals, the components we need to make fire pots and dousing agent. We’re even running low on skimwood wax! How do you suppose the war is going to go when our ships grind to a halt while our enemies circle them like vultures?”

  “Poorly, I suspect.”

  “Poorly, indeed! Now we need to remedy the threat our Kundhuni allies represent.”

  “More Qaimiri ships will be arriving soon.”

  “As you’ve been saying for months. The war is poised to recommence. A dozen signs and more point to it. Ships that arrive in two months’ time are useless to us when we must right the Kingdom now. And why are you speaking?” Alaşan’s gaze slid to Meryam. “Why isn’t your queen’s voice being heard?”

  “In this,” Meryam said, “Basilio’s voice is my own. I will take the blame, but I trust in his judgment. From what we knew at the time, I’m sure it seemed like the best course of action.”

  “And what has so occupied you, to the detriment of all else?”

  “You know what I’ve been focused on.” She took in the full assemblage. “You all do. Your ancient enemies. The Moonless Host. The tribal alliance.”

  Alaşan took a moment, his nostrils flaring with the breath he was slowly exhaling. “I’ve told you those are secondary concerns.”

  “I disagree. Your own Lord Captain of the Silver Spears came here not one month ago and told us how active the Host have become in the city again.”

  “Reports that by other accounts are overblown. And, disagreement or not, you do not rule Sharakhai alone, Queen Meryam.”

  “It seems to me she does not rule at all.” This came from Queen Sunay, Sukru’s sixty-year-old daughter who, Meryam swore by Mighty Alu, was the spitting image of her father, greasy hair and hunched back included. She flung a crooked finger at Meryam. “Never at council. Hidden away in darkness like a bloody vole. Content to let her vizir speak for her, as if a vizir is supposed to manage her throne. She hasn’t even answered our questions about how King Yavuz died.”

  “I told you,” Meryam said, biting back the bitterness that came to her, “that was an unfortunate accident.”

  Queen Sunay’s face screwed up in anger. “He never should have participated in that ritual in the first place.”

  “He offered. I accepted. We nearly delivered King Emir’s head to you on a platter.”

  “But you didn’t, did you?”

  “War never goes as planned,” Meryam replied, slowly finding her footing once more. “We do not turn tail when we lose skirmishes. We regroup and move on.”

  Sunay stood in a rush. “We do not move on when one of our number is killed. And don’t think we’ve forgotten how you attacked Cahil.”

  “I believe it was one of your number who attacked Cahil. Queen Nayyan held that crossbow, not me.”

  “Do you hear her?” Sunay asked smugly while scanning the other Kings. “One of our number. Our number is right. You’re an outsider here, Queen Meryam. Never forget it.”

  King Alaşan rose, gesturing for calm. “Queen Meryam is one of us now.”

  Sunay stared at him, incredulous, her pale face splotchy with anger. She looked like she was about to say something rash, but choked back the words—she knew, as they all did, that if Meryam were to leave the city with her fleet, Sharakhai would fall. “Listen to her,” Sunay finally spat. “She called the death of a King at her hands a skirmish.”

  “Her efforts were made at our behest,” Alaşan countered, as if that settled the matter. Then, in a move as gracious as Meryam supposed she could expect, he flourished one hand toward Meryam. “Since, as you say, your days have been preoccupied with the Moonless Host, why don’t you tell us where your efforts stand.”

  In truth, Meryam wasn’t ready to share her progress with them. For weeks she’d had trouble completing the master sigil, the one that would see the end of the Moonless Host. Only last night, Rümayesh had returned from her forays to the blooming fields and given her the last of the sigils she needed. Finally she had all the components, but she hadn’t had a chance to test it yet, and she refused to unleash the power of that spell before she was ready. To do so would ruin years of planning. She wanted, she needed, Macide to know precisely what was happening to him when the end came. He had to know that he had been the cause of his tribe’s ultimate destruction.

  “I would ask for a day or two more, three at most, to refine what I have.”

  “What harm is there in reporting your progress?”

  Meryam fumbled. “I wouldn’t wish you to get the wrong impression from a project that’s incomplete.”

  The room was becoming ever more like a hornet’s nest just whacked with a stick. Alaşan, the closest thing she had to an ally, looked like he was about to force the issue, but he was interrupted when Queen Nayyan strode stiffly into the room, her boot heels clicking on the marble floor until she deposited herself into her chair with an air of regal authority. Nayyan was a stark beauty, but just then she looked haggard as a west end whore. “Our scouts have returned. The Mireans and Malasani are on the move.”
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  “As we knew they would be,” King Alaşan replied evenly. “Our defenses are ready, are they not?”

  “You don’t understand.” Nayyan took them all in. “The Malasani are sailing in from the east. But the bulk of Queen Alansal’s dunebreakers somehow got behind our lines. They’re sailing in from the west with a vanguard of Kundhuni warships.”

  Meryam felt the blood drain from her face. Alansal was the centuries-old Queen of Mirea, fearless and crafty. It took no collegia master to deduce that the Kundhuni had been working to hide the movements of her fleet, likely misreporting the enemy’s numbers for months. Many looked to Meryam accusingly. Others launched into conversations.

  Standing, Alaşan rapped his goblet onto the table. He kept doing so, the metallic ring filling the room, until order had been restored. “How far away are they?” he asked Nayyan.

  “With the storm it’s difficult to know for certain. Less than a day’s sail. They may arrive tonight. They could attack the city as soon as tomorrow.”

  And likely will, Meryam thought.

  The room devolved into a din of conversation, and this time it went on for a long while. Advisors came and went. Battle commanders from the Silver Spears and Blade Maidens arrived, though only for a short while. Various cliques of Kings and Queens and their advisors formed, spoke in low tones, then broke apart to form new combinations. Like an inconsequential school of fish, Meryam mused, flitting about as if anything they did mattered.

  Amaryllis, with Basilio by her side, approached Meryam and spoke softly. “My queen, Prayna has returned. She reports that she’s failed to quell the uprising within the Enclave.”

  Basilio looked nervously between the two of them. He’d been told only a fraction of Meryam’s business with the Enclave, and it was now becoming clear to him how truly ill-informed he was.

  “Can she still help us?” Meryam asked.

  Amaryllis nodded. “But there is reason to make haste.” Her eyes slid momentarily to the others in the room. “Last night they had Meiying, Undosu, and Davud cornered. It was Ramahd who saved them, aided by Hamzakiir and three Kings: Husamettín, Cahil, and Ihsan.”

  Meryam felt as if a noose were tightening around her neck. “If they’ve returned to the city,” she said slowly, “it means they’re making moves to win back their thrones. Hamzakiir likely wants Alaşan’s throne for his own.”

  Amaryllis nodded. “My thought precisely.”

  Things were moving at a dizzying pace, but she’d always known they would. Now is not the time for half-steps, Meryam. It’s time to seize what you’ve always wanted.

  King Alaşan was calling the room back to order. “We’ll take some time to consider this news. Let us convene a war council in this room in one hour.”

  Meryam held up her hand. “With respect, I will decline and let my fellow Kings and Queens deliberate.”

  Queen Sunay scoffed. Alaşan, meanwhile, looked genuinely surprised. “You’re declining?”

  “Basilio will represent me. In the meantime, I will prepare a demonstration of the crystal.”

  “You said you weren’t ready.”

  Meryam waved to Queen Nayyan. “Given the recent news, I suspect it would be best if we did this tonight.”

  “We don’t have time for this,” Queen Sunay barked.

  “Oh, I suspect you will all want to attend.”

  Sunay sneered. “And why is that?”

  “Because I have Macide Ishaq’ava and Çedamihn Ahyanesh’ala in my care. They will be the focus of my spell. They will lead the Moonless Host to their own destruction.”

  A rumble rose up around the room. Surprised, even angry expressions abounded. Even the unflappable Alaşan looked affronted. “You never told us about them.”

  “I wanted to save the surprise,” Meryam replied, “for the demonstration of the crystal’s power.”

  Alaşan looked around the room, taking a silent tally. He received nods in reply, even from Sunay. “Very well,” he said. “When the war council has finished, we’ll come.”

  As the gathered council filed out shortly after, Basilio caught up with Meryam and strode with her toward her apartments. Amaryllis came just behind.

  “My queen,” Basilio said, “I beg you not to strike against the Kings and Queens while we’re in the cavern.”

  “Why?”

  He waved to the hallway behind them. “You’ve seen how they are. They’re on edge. They may suspect something. They may take precautions before coming. If even one of them escapes, our ship may founder.” Seeing her dismissive reaction, he rushed in front of her and blocked her way. “Our kingdom may founder.” He lowered his voice until it was practically a hiss. “We would be expelled from the city, if we were allowed to live at all. It may end with Sharakhai declaring war on Qaimir, and even if it doesn’t, it would take generations to recover from a mistake like that.”

  Meryam stared. Memories of Ramahd saying the very same thing danced before her eyes. Yet another man, Meryam mused, trying to tell me what I can and cannot do.

  “We’re resolved to the ritual,” Basilio went on. “So be it. Bring them to the cavern. Take solace in the fact that Macide and his conspirators will be dead. It will only increase their awe for you. But I implore you, do not try to dominate them.”

  Amaryllis, ever the faithful servant, stood patiently at Meryam’s side.

  “And you?” Meryam asked her. “What do you think?”

  Amaryllis smiled easily, a deflecting gesture. “There are risks whichever path we choose.”

  Meryam made a show of considering. “Perhaps you’re right,” she said to Basilio. “I have enough to worry about with Macide.”

  For a moment Basilio was speechless. He’d been prepared for her to put up more of a fight. “Good,” he said simply, smoothing down the front of his jacket. “Good.”

  “Attend the council,” she told him. “Amaryllis and I will prepare the cavern.”

  “Of course.” He smiled, his relief plain. “I’ll represent you faithfully and well, Your Grace.”

  His steps echoed as he strode away and was lost behind a corner. When the sound had faded, Meryam turned to Amaryllis. “You’ll see to it that when the council finishes, Basilio never makes it to the cavern.”

  Amaryllis, such a pretty girl, gave a pleasant smile. “Of course, my queen.”

  Meryam strode away. “Make it so no one finds him.”

  Chapter 52

  IN A STOREROOM below the collegia, King Ihsan met with his fellow conspirators. The room—filled with lanterns, picks, shovels, and a host of other miscellany used by the collegia’s geology students—was choked with people, the hallway beyond a veritable thoroughfare for the comings and goings of those helping to make plans for the coming assault on the Sun Palace. They would have been discovered hours ago had it not been for the spells of obfuscation and misdirection laid down by the two blood magi, Meiying and Hamzakiir.

  Ihsan sat in a simple wooden chair. On stools across from him were Emre, Davud, Esmeray, and Ramahd’s brash servant, Cicio. Looming in the corner behind Emre, his impressive arms crossed over his barrel-like chest, was the drolly named Frail Lemi, who more often than not simply glowered like an old lion at everyone and everything. Closer to Ihsan, the final two members of their unlikely council, were King Cahil, whose youthful appearance made him look like the youngest among them, and Cahil’s daughter, Yndris.

  When they’d met an hour ago, Davud had relayed the news from Sharakhai, particularly where it applied to Queen Meryam and the tributes. Ihsan, in turn, had shared the events from before and after the battle in Mazandir. Ihsan had nearly finished with the tale when Meiying entered the room.

  Esmeray immediately sat up, the braids of her hair, barely kept in check with a red headband, splayed outward. “Thank the gods,” she said, “there’s far too much man in this room.”

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nbsp; Meiying shot Esmeray a sympathetic look. “We’ve found five magi willing to join us,” she said to both Esmeray and Davud, “but they’ve delivered ill news. Prayna, Esrin, and many of their closest allies are missing. Rumor says they’ve gone to the Sun Palace.”

  “Do we know why?” Esmeray asked.

  “No,” Meiying said shortly, and tipped her head toward the open doorway, “and Hamzakiir and I have more to do if we wish to remain undiscovered.”

  Meiying left, and Davud returned to a topic he’d raised just before Meiying had entered. “Help me to understand,” he said to Ihsan. “You ordered Çeda into Meryam’s hands?”

  “I did,” Ihsan replied.

  “Because King Yusam saw it. Because it’s in the journals.”

  “Now you’re getting it.”

  “And yet the very thing we’re trying to avoid, the destruction of the city, was foreseen by Yusam. How do you know that giving Çeda to Meryam won’t precipitate that very thing?”

  Ihsan smiled an easy smile. “I know it’s difficult to swallow from where you’re sitting—”

  Cicio snorted. “Impossible, ah?”

  Frail Lemi sucked his teeth.

  Davud and Esmeray might well have done the same, given how unconvinced they looked.

  “Believe me, I know it’s much to ask,” Ihsan said, “but I implore you to trust me. None of you have the benefit of Yusam’s foresight. I do.”

  “You’ll forgive me for saying this,” Davud replied evenly, “but how do we know it’s not another of your plots?” He waved to Cahil. “How do we know it isn’t some grand scheme for you and your fellow Kings to regain your thrones?”

  Frail Lemi nodded sagely. “How do we know?”

  “Well, this is hardly how I’d go about it,” Cahil said, spinning his golden war hammer easily in one hand.

  Ihsan ignored Cahil. “I’ve said it as many ways as I can.” Ihsan regarded each of them—Esmeray, Davud, Emre, Cicio, even Frail Lemi. “You either believe me or you don’t when I say I want to save the city.”