by Kate Elliott
Crowds have a temperament, and I can taste the way the people celebrating in the square swing wildly between joyous gaiety and a hungry anger left over from the weeks of enduring a siege. The anxious women and confused priest-wardens hang like bait before the agitated crowd.
“Shame! Shame!” a man shouts from the crowd. “Who has forced these holy women out of their sanctuary? Ill fortune upon us!”
More voices take up the call. “Go back! Go back inside lest the gods punish us for impiety!”
The crowd presses forward menacingly. The terrified wardens flee, abandoning their charges. But this is my responsibility too, because I set Kal on this path, and I won’t show less courage than he has.
I stump over. People scatter from my path. I ignore the frightened looks of the temple women as I place myself at their head and brandish my forelegs to keep the crowd at a distance. To my surprise, a troop of infantry trots out from the tunnel to take up a loose perimeter around the procession in support, as if Kal just realized what a whirlwind he has unleashed. At a deadly slow pace I and the nervous soldiers accompany the procession all the way beneath the hot sun from the City of the Dead to the queen’s palace.
It’s a long walk for people who have been trapped inside walls their whole lives but I can’t bear to leave them to make the journey alone. The first time we stop so they can rest, a small girl sidles forward to take advantage of the cooling shade the spider’s shadow casts. Her skin is so pale, as if in all her days the sun has never touched her. And after that, each time we halt they cluster as close as they can, perhaps convinced I am a talisman who will lead them to a brighter place. Some of the braver ones even touch the spider’s metal legs.
Only after they have all filed past the gates into the dubious safety of the queen’s palace do I leave.
I hide the spider in an overgrown section of the Queen’s Garden. From there it’s a quick walk on familiar side streets to the neighborhood where a lowborn man struggling to maintain a captain’s position could afford to live in a measure of peace with his most peculiar family. The compound gates are locked, but I know how to sneak in over the roof.
At first I think the compound is abandoned because the front rooms where we lived are empty, but signs of life stir in the kitchen courtyard with its cistern, hearth, and grain storehouse up on stilts. An Efean woman emerges from the interior to stir the embers of the griddle into life.
She’s followed out by a second woman, who begins kneading dough for bread. “You’d think he’d have sent warning he was coming. I wanted to go to the walls, see those cursed Saroese surrender and get their throats cut for the misery they’ve put us through.”
“Which Saroese?” asks the woman at the griddle as she coaxes sparks into flames. “The foreigners look no different from our own, do they? Efea will rise.”
“Hush, Tenefre. Not when he’s in the house.”
A third woman appears, yawning, with Wenru in a sling at her hip and a barely toddling child clinging to her hand. She glances toward the closed gates that lead into the private family courtyard. “Usually he comes to see Wenru right away. Should I knock on the gate and offer to bring the baby in to him?”
“No! You know he doesn’t like to be disturbed. He’ll come when he’s ready, Santhay.”
The wet nurse sits in a chair, shifts Wenru to her lap, and kisses the toddler on the head. The child wobbles off in the direction of a gull come to search for crumbs, and the startled bird flutters away over my head. The women don’t even look up, but Wenru follows the bird’s flight with longing.
“Mmm. I’m so hungry I could eat a crocodile.” Santhay taps Wenru on the nose with a generous smile, her voice lilting into a singsong. “Or a fat baby. I could eat a fat baby!”
He blinks, all solemn eyes and resigned boredom.
She sighs. “You are the most unnaturally quiet child.”
He ventures, awkwardly, “Baba. Baba.”
To laugh would be to give myself away and anyway, as false as his baby talk sounds, I have to admire him for trying. I creep around the roof, leaving them behind.
Father is standing alone in the family courtyard where once everything he cherished most could be found. The space lies empty, inhabited only by birds and lizards. He’s wearing the ordinary clothes of a common laborer. The sight sparks old memories, for when I was little this was how he always dressed. He was easier then, more relaxed, before he gained a captain’s rank and had to maintain a captain’s dignity.
I drop down from the roof. He turns.
“Jessamy!”
He strides across the gap and crushes me to him so tightly I can’t speak.
“Father,” I wheeze.
He sets me back and frowns with such anger that it isn’t until he touches the scar above my eye that I realize it isn’t me he’s angry at. “Where have you been? Was the king correct? He received a strange message—‘spyder cot’—written in the margin of Princess Berenise’s letter from Maldine. He was sure it referred to you.”
“Yes. Lord Gargaron kidnapped me and sent me to the mines.”
“The mines!” He rubs his forehead, then closes the hand into a fist. “And here I have sat, stuck like a bird in a cage while my daughter—”
“I am safe, Father. But you need to know that Captain Helias betrayed me to Gargaron. He betrayed the trust both you and Kal have shown him.”
“Helias.” He doesn’t look surprised. “Highborn men like him resent my success. That explains why I was moved out of the palace to quarters in the Royal Barracks. There’s been talk lately among the court officials about how lowborn men should no longer be allowed to become officers, that only highborn men are fit for leadership.”
“Isn’t that what you left Saro-Urok to escape?”
“In Efea, the poets sang, a man can be anything. Even a poor baker’s son like myself. Do you know why our Royal Army has time and again defeated larger enemy forces? Because our soldiers rise if they show promise. To change that is to corrupt the heart of Efea.”
“That’s what I came here to talk to you about.”
I glance toward the gate because I do not want Wenru’s attendants to barge in unexpectedly and find me here, but the gate is barred from the inside, as if Father wants peace to consider the life he threw away.
“It’s true. Efea is in danger, but we have a chance to save ourselves. I need your help. I have to meet the king in secret. Tomorrow.”
“Surely by now you comprehend why you have to stay away from the palace. Anyway, there’s nowhere His Gracious Majesty can secretly meet you. He can’t come to this compound because people know I come here. He is surrounded day and night by officials, servants, and soldiers. And now, of course, by his family. His affianced bride will be arriving soon.”
“Talon!” Now I understand.
“What?”
“Princess Talessa must have sent the message in Princess Berenise’s missive, although I can’t fathom why she would do such a thing. The words were spelled wrong because she only started learning her letters while training at Garon Stable. Did you know they’re hiding that she is an ill-wisher? That her tongue was cut out to spare Menoë?”
“Yes, Lady Menoë told me when we discussed… her scars. How do you know about the words being spelled wrong?”
I can’t tell him, but I already see the next opening of these Rings. “I assure you, Father, I will never go back to the palace of a Saroese king. Convince Kal to announce a victory game to be held tomorrow. An all-comers Fives trial at the City Fives Court to honor the citizens’ courage in outlasting the siege. He can come masked, and we can speak secretly.”
“I won’t agree to anything until you explain how you escaped the mines. Did the king’s agents rescue you, as he hoped?” Again he touches the scar.
“I led a revolt in the mines where Gargaron was keeping me. My comrades and I were then aided by Efeans, and we went on to rescue Maraya and Polodos.”
“Maraya? He had Maraya too?”
>
“Yes. But he doesn’t have us now. We have joined the rebellion.”
“The poet’s words we see written on walls? Of course we’ve been cut off from our usual sources of news but a few messenger pigeons have flown in from garrisons in the north with reports they are being attacked and overrun by outlaws and criminals. There was even a report that outlying temples have been turned into stables in a most impious manner.…”
“That’s not true! The temples are being restored to the Mother of All.”
He stares. “Have you something to say on this subject, Jessamy? Are you saying these are not isolated incidents but part of a broader action?”
For one breath I hesitate, gathering my courage for the risk I must take if I want my plan to work. Can I trust my father not to give us up? Does he mourn what he lost enough to choose his family over his ambition this time?
“The Efean rebellion has taken over the north.”
“And you’ve come to warn me. What do you know?”
“You’re not listening. I am part of the rebellion. So are Amaya and Maraya. So is Mother. In fact, Mother is one of its leaders. She is its queen.”
He takes an agitated turn around the courtyard before returning to stand in front of me. “Kiya? What can you mean by saying this?”
“All of our wars have to do with the Saroese still fighting over their broken empire. If Efea must keep fighting, she should do so for herself, not for others. So here is your choice, Father. You can fight for Efea, or you can fight for the Saroese who conquered Efea one hundred years ago. If the Efean revolt loses, Lord Gargaron will hunt Mother down and he will kill her. This time you can’t pretend otherwise. You can’t look the other way. Is that what you want? For Efea to be watered by her blood?”
“Did she send you?”
“No.”
“Ah.” He looks away, regret a shadow that will haunt him for the rest of his life.
“You can make this choice not because there is a reward in it for you, but because you know it is right. Do you hear what I’m saying?”
He stares at me for so long, too incredulous to reply, that I finally reach for his hand. He shakes me off.
“You want me to betray the king and queen and join the rebellion.”
“I am asking you to fight for Efea. Not for Efea’s conquerors. Fight for your daughters, and for your strange new son. Fight for the woman you love because you were afraid to fight for her when she needed it most. Don’t abandon us this time, Father.” I wipe away tears and say the words we never used in our house. “I love you.”
“Jessamy…” He is powerfully affected, almost too choked to speak, but before he can go on we are interrupted by a hammering on the closed gate between this courtyard and the kitchen yard.
“General Esladas! Open up at once.” The voice belongs to Captain Neartos.
26
I immediately clamber up the trellis and swing onto the roof. When I glance down Father is watching me with a look caught between amazement and pride. Then he waves at me to retreat, to get out. But of course I disobey. As he unbars the gate I roll up against the kitchen trellis so it hides me. In the kitchen yard Santhay has set Wenru in a leather cradle and taken her own child into her arms protectively. Lord Gargaron stands beside the cradle, looking down at Wenru with distaste.
He glances at the three women and says sharply, “Go inside and do not come out until you are called.”
They flee, so frightened that none bother to pick up Wenru, poor little mite.
Father walks into view. “My lord, this is an unexpected visit.”
“Indeed I am sure it must be, you keeping this compound as your secret hideaway. Does Her Gracious Majesty know you have taken a new Commoner concubine?”
“I have taken no concubine or lover, my lord. I hired Santhay as a wet nurse for my son.” He picks up Wenru, who clutches his vest with little baby fists in a gesture so precious that for an instant I wonder if I have dreamed all my other interactions with him. But the baby stares with such rancor at Gargaron that I could almost cheer, because I think I have finally figured out who Wenru is.
“What a sour, dark little face that baby has. You confound me by acknowledging him so openly!”
Father’s next words genuinely shock me for their open provocation of a man he would have obeyed blindly a year ago.
“Doma Kiya gave birth to twins in Lord Ottonor’s tomb. You knew she was pregnant and yet you and the High Priest entombed her anyway. That’s blasphemy.”
“A charge you will never be able to prove. The priests are furious at having their authority flouted by a callow boy who has allowed power and a single victory on the field to go to his head. Much like the daughter you threw at him.”
“My lord, I forbade her from talking to him. Alas that my strictures went unheeded.”
“I would feel more sympathy for you, General, if Jessamy did not remind me so much of you. Ah, Captain Neartos.”
The captain walks up to the other side of the cradle. “I searched every room. The house is empty, my lord.”
“Is there something you are looking for, my lord?” I can’t see Father’s face, only the perfect military posture of his back and the powerful muscles of his bare arms.
“There is something I am looking for that has escaped me, but it’s hard to imagine how it could have crawled so far without help. Never mind. I am here to give you your next assignment, General. We have received an increasing number of messages from the north of criminals and outlaws disrupting garrisons and temples, stealing grain and gold, and making a nuisance of themselves. Now that Nikonos is dead, you will take the Royal Army and restore order in the northern provinces. Kill the rank-and-file rebels but bring the ringleaders here for trial and public execution. Is that clear, General?”
“Yes, my lord.”
Crushed behind the trellis, I exhale my hate into the tiles.
“Now, the war council awaits our presence. There’s a carriage waiting outside.”
With badly concealed reluctance, Father settles Wenru in the cradle, hesitates without looking up on the roof as if to remind me to stay hidden, and at last strides out.
Gargaron and Neartos exchange words in such low voices that I can’t hear, a longer conversation than I expect, and one that I’m sure contains vital information if my plan is to work. At length, tapping his whip against his thigh, Gargaron departs. Neartos goes into the kitchen. Soon after the women hurry out into the courtyard. A carriage rumbles away, easy to hear now that I’m listening for it. After a while Santhay goes back into the kitchen and returns outdoors with a lightened expression.
“They’re gone, thank the Mother. What were they looking for?”
I scrape out of my hiding place and drop into the courtyard, immediately scooping up Wenru. Kicking, he squawks in outrage. At once the three of them surround me.
“Who are you and what do you think you’re doing?” demands Santhay.
“I’m General Esladas’s daughter. I want to see my brother, just for a moment, if you don’t mind.” I can’t quite bring myself to cradle Wenru in my arms, so I hold him by the armpits as I hurry into the family courtyard.
“What did they say?” I demand as soon as we are alone.
When he sticks out his lower lip in petty defiance, I pinch his thigh.
He wails, and I pinch him again, so he stops. Santhay appears at the gate and I wave her away with a false smile as I pretend to soothe him.
“There was only one other person in the tomb with us. Lord Ottonor had a living spark placed in his body so he could walk to his final resting place. I’m sure I heard scratching later, like someone desperately trying to claw their way out of the coffin. It terrified me. So maybe that spark hadn’t quite faded when the coffin got tipped over and his corpse fell onto my stillborn brother’s body.”
His stubborn stare challenges me, as if to say I can’t get him to talk no matter what I threaten, but I sense a quiver of curiosity.
“He
re’s what I think happened: The spark and Ottonor’s frightened, trapped self leaped into the baby’s flesh, but the stolen spark was by then too weak to jolt the dead baby’s heart. Later, beneath the City of the Dead, we were flooded by a tide of sparks, and the baby woke, quite to our shock.”
His eyelids flare.
“A strong second spark could have fused the baby’s heart and shadow with Ottonor’s self and the weakened first spark. Thus, Wenru was born. Is your self that of Lord Ottonor?”
He stuffs a chubby fist in his mouth and glares at me.
“I understand why you fear to confide in me. No one cares about the part of you that was once Lord Ottonor. All they see is a mule. But what if I told you I can get you revenge on the man who murdered you?”
After a long, considering pause, he removes his hand from his mouth. The eerie voice that emerges has the soft tone of a baby’s, not yet hardened by years and lies.
“Can you truly?”
“With your cooperation, yes. Or things can just go on as before, and you can hope General Esladas isn’t murdered by his palace rivals, leaving you an orphan with no protection.”
The threat convinces him. “Gargaron told Captain Neartos that in three days the Royal Army will march north to put down the rebellion. He wants them to wait to leave Saryenia until the West and East Saroese armies are well away from the city with Lord Thynos. Then he told the captain to kill Esladas after the rebellion is put down, or at any time if Neartos feels the general’s loyalty is wavering, and name himself as the general in command.”
“Go on,” I say grimly.
“He said Kalliarkos has become incorrigible and unmanageable. That if Queen Menoë doesn’t give birth to a boy, there are foreign princes available who can become king consort to an Efean queen.”
“Can you get word of this to my father?”