Jala's Mask

by Mike Grinti

  Azi shrugged. “My uncle says if you let them come fresh and awake, they’ll argue until the next morning. This way they just want to get back to bed.” He banged his fist on the table to get their attention. Several of them flinched at the sound. “The sooner we begin, the sooner it’s over, my lords. Shall we start with the Autumn Lands?”

  The Gana ambassador said, “Keen-lay has had a drought. Wan-lay to the south fares better, but they spend their riches on ships to patrol their coasts.”

  Somehow, everyone’s territories were having a hard time. There were bad crops, wars, plague, and natural disasters. Jala thought it was a wonder that anyone came back with silk and gold at all. It would be a greater wonder still when the storm season was over, and trade fleets set sail for the Constant City loaded down with the very goods that—to hear the ambassadors tell it—had become as hard to find as a dry fish in the Great Ocean.

  Of course, when the Bardo’s territory came up, she told them about the great flood that had covered the Orange Road in mud, blocking any caravans from getting through. Everyone knew it was an act, but that was how the Sectioning went, and all she could do was play her role.

  “What about Two Bones?” Azi asked. He talked differently at the Sectioning, Jala noticed. Slower and more forceful, so that each word carried clearly through the entire room. More like a king. It didn’t quite sound like him, though.

  The Rafa ambassador shrugged. “A poor city, long fallen from its former glory. But it has always belonged to the Rafa, and we value our traditions more than gold.”

  “Truly, my lord? I hear they still make a beautiful red dye there that my wife adores. Since the city is poor, it should be no great loss to the Rafa if I make Two Bones a gift to my queen.”

  The other ambassadors sat up straighter, suddenly paying very close attention.

  “But, my king, Two Bones has been ours for two hundred years.”

  “Long enough, I think. You may find that new gold is an adequate substitute for old traditions.”

  “Are we being challenged?” The Rafa ambassador sat rigid in his chair.

  Any family could challenge for a territory: the family that had the most ships to commit to the territory won that territory. It was the Kayet’s task to keep a tally of all the ships grown and lost in the past year, counted and memorized by the teller-of-lists. He stood now, along the wall, waiting patiently. It was rare that he actually had to speak. Challenges left too much bad blood. Any family might find themselves short a few ships because of bad luck at the next Sectioning. Mostly the families preferred to bicker and argue and make deals.

  “Of course not,” Azi said. “Nobody’s challenged the Rafa in years. In exchange for Two Bones, the Rafa will get the city of Shek. We’ve already heard from my queen how the city has grown in recent years.”

  “The Rafa don’t give away their lands. Not since the first Sectioning have we been challenged, and only through challenge can our lands be taken from us.” He pointed at Jala. “The Rafa unified the Five Islands while the Bardo were still growing their own food, not a single grayship among them, yet now you want to give our lands to them?”

  Jala felt a flash of anger. “We had no ships because the Rafa burned them all. Only a few weeks before the first king and queen married. Or, by some accounts, a few weeks after.”

  “You see, my king?” the Rafa ambassador said. “See how already they try to undermine everything our families have worked for? They’re liars, upstart thieves!”

  “Sit down,” Azi commanded. “That’s your queen you just insulted.”

  But the Rafa ambassador went on as though he hadn’t heard, speaking to the other ambassadors. “Will you stand there and let them do this? The Bardo know they don’t have the strength to match the Rafa, so they come at us from behind, stealing what they can’t take by right of strength.”

  Jala stood, her hands balled into fists. How dare he say such things about her family? She’d given him a way out, and he’d spat in her face. Fine. She’d do this her father’s way. “Is that what you want? Then the Bardo challenge. Read out the lists.”

  The Rafa ambassador nodded, and the teller-of-lists opened his mouth to speak.

  “The real count, my friend,” Jala said. “Not the count the Rafa pay you to recite.”

  The teller-of-lists glanced at Lord Inas and whispered, “My lord?”

  Azi sighed. “The real count, as your queen said.”

  The teller recited the numbers. The Rafa had too few ships, fewer than any other family. The Rafa ambassador looked back and forth between the teller-of-lists and the other ambassadors. “They’re lying. The Rafa are strong. She’s the one who paid him to lie.” The desperation in his voice made Jala queasy, but she pushed the feeling aside. She repeated the words her father had told her. “You’ve lost nearly half your fleet to the ocean’s temper. Your shipgrowers won’t be able to replace what you’ve lost for years.” She took a breath to steel herself. “But if you still insist I’m lying, my family’s ships will meet yours on the open water.” You have to threaten war, her father had said. It’s the way of things. Show no fear, my little queen. It is only another wind-dance.

  “That won’t be necessary,” Azi said quickly. “Two Bones has already been gifted to the Bardo, therefore the Bardo can’t challenge for it. Isn’t that right?”

  The ambassadors seated around the table refused to meet the Rafa’s gaze. There was no help coming. His jaw clenched, but he nodded to Azi.

  “Good. We’re all agreed, then, that this was a fair trade.”

  The other ambassadors muttered their assent. Azi tried to go on as if nothing had happened, but a few minutes later the Gana ambassador challenged the Rafa for one of their smaller territories and won. Other ambassadors did likewise, until an hour later the Rafa had lost all but a few of their best territories. Then the ambassadors challenged each other all over again for the territories they had just taken, and the Rafa lands changed hands a few more times.

  As she listened, Jala felt more and more miserable. This wasn’t what she’d intended. Even her father hadn’t intended the Rafa to be stripped of all they had. At least, he hadn’t said so. But he must have known. He just didn’t care.

  When the last of the challenges had passed, the Rafa ambassador stood, bowed stiffly to Azi, and walked out. The other ambassadors followed, whispering among themselves.

  “I wish you hadn’t done that,” Azi said, rubbing his face.

  “I warned you about the Bardo,” Lord Inas said from behind him. “If you don’t stand up to her, she’ll have them all up in arms.”

  “This was going to happen sooner or later even without me,” Jala said defensively.

  “And better for us all if it had happened later,” Lord Inas said. “If the challenge had been started by one of the other families. But no, I can smell your father’s schemes in this. You wouldn’t have thought to do something like this on your own. He had to prove that the Bardo had power. Well, he’s proven it and frightened everyone else. The Rafa may have fewer ships, but their voice still carries weight.”

  “They wouldn’t dare do anything against my family while I’m the queen,” Jala said.

  “Maybe not while you’re queen, no. But you won’t be queen forever. At the rate you’re going, maybe not even for very long.”

  Azi leapt up from his seat. “Uncle!”

  “You’re right. I won’t be queen forever,” Jala said hotly. “But on that day the Bardo will still have Two Bones.”

  Lord Inas shook his head. “You see what you’ve married, my king? The perfect little puppet.”

  “I didn’t mean for this to happen, but he shouldn’t have forced her to challenge. It was stupid. So stupid.” Azi rubbed his eyes. “What should I do, Uncle?”

  Lord Inas looked at Jala. “Leave us. We have a lot to talk about if we’re going to clean up the mess you made.”

  Azi wouldn’t meet her eyes. Suddenly, she wanted nothing more than to be gone from there.
It wasn’t until she’d made it to her rooms and locked the door behind her that Jala realized she couldn’t stop shaking.

  Jala watched a flock of messenger birds fly from the manor and disappear in the distance.

  The messenger bird she’d requested had fallen asleep waiting for her to speak. She should feel satisfied. She’d done what her father had wanted. Instead she just felt angry. Angry at Lord Inas, at her parents, at the Rafa ambassador for being so stupid and proud. At Azi for not stopping it before it got out of hand. And most of all, angry at herself for feeling like this. Never regret what you do, her mother had told her. You’re the queen. What you do is right. Easy for her mother to say, all the way back on the Second Isle.

  “Wake up,” she said, poking the bird in the chest. It squawked and tried to bite her finger. She put her hand on the bird’s wing and waited for it to settle down, then began her message. “Listen. For Marjani of the Bardo.”

  “Marjani of the Bardo,” the bird repeated, mimicking her voice and inflection.

  Jala paused. There was too much to say. “I hope you miss me as much as I miss you, because it wouldn’t be fair otherwise. I hope you’re happy. I imagine you walking the beach looking for shells. It’s the right time of year for it, all wind and waves. Try not to get washed away.” She toyed with the comb Marjani had given her, picking out some of the hairs caught in its teeth. “Things here aren’t exactly the way I thought they’d be.”

  A knock sounded at her door.

  “Damn it,” Jala said, taking her hand off the bird.

  “Damn it,” squawked the bird. Jala swore again. She’d have to start the message over now.

  “I’ve brought your dinner, my queen,” Iliana called from behind the door.

  Jala let her in. She tried to smile, but it felt awkward. “No feast tonight for our honored guests?”

  Iliana hesitated. “There is, but the king said that you have a headache and preferred to have dinner in your room tonight. He made your apologies to the other families.”

  “Am I being punished?”

  “I couldn’t say, my queen.”

  Jala snorted. “You mean you won’t say.” She sat down again and stared out the window. Iliana set the food on the windowsill in front of her. Down on the shore, a circle formed, and someone tucked a small hand-drum under their arm. She watched the wind-dance and wished she could think of what to say to Marjani.

  “The wine will grow warm if you wait too long,” Iliana said.

  Jala looked away from the window. “You’re right. I should eat instead of sulk.” She poked at the crab meat on her plate. It smelled delicious, but for some reason she had no appetite for it. “Is he very angry with me?”

  “It’s hard to say. Lord Inas is furious, he makes no secret of that. The king . . .” Iliana hesitated. “He’s been different since Prince Jin died. He may be angry, or sad, and yet he looks and acts the same. The day he returned from the Second Isle with you was the first time he looked happy in a long time.”

  “Well,” Jala said. She took a bite of food and made herself chew it. “I suppose today I have a headache.”

  “Is there anything I can get you?” Iliana asked her. “Mournroot to help you sleep?”

  Jala was about to refuse, but the mournroot had given her an idea. “No, thank you. The queen . . . the old queen, I mean. Azi’s mother. She’s still in the manor, isn’t she?”

  “She is, until her days of First Mourning are over.”

  Jala nodded. With her oldest son and husband dead, the old queen’s grieving had lasted many months already. “I’d like to join her for dinner. If she’s feeling well.”

  “I’ll tell her,” Iliana said. She took Jala’s plates and left.

  Jala waited, watching the sailors and soldiers dancing on the shore. She woke the bird again and touched its wing, and repeated what she’d said before, then added, “I miss you. Fill this bird’s head with anything trivial. Tell me what you find on the beach. Tell me how you felt this morning and which of our cousins you’re not speaking to.” Jala blinked the tears out of her eyes. It was almost too hard to send the message, but she’d promised, and she was already several messages overdue.

  “Thank you for the comb. It really is lovely.” She snapped her fingers. The bird gave her a tired look, then hopped up on her arm, gripping painfully with its talons. She stuck her arm out the window and jerked it up. “Go!”

  The bird took off in a blur of orange and blue. Soon it was nothing more than a speck flying toward the Second Isle.

  All anyone could talk about at dinner was what happened at the Sectioning, and Azi was sick of hearing it. He was sure the ambassadors were giving him sideways glances, though they always seemed to be busy eating when he turned to look. And he missed Jala. He’d already gotten used to having her by his side at all of the feasts and dances and speeches, even if they hadn’t spoken as much lately.

  This is her fault. If she wasn’t so . . . so. . . . The words bold and beautiful kept coming up, which wasn’t at all what he meant. She hadn’t even waited a day before trying to seize power. I thought you were different. His words kept repeating in his head, taking on a mocking tone. Who did he think she was going to be?

  He needed to get out of there. “If you’ll excuse me, my lords, the food doesn’t agree with me tonight.” As he made his way past the ambassadors, his uncle smirked at him as if he knew exactly where Azi meant to go. That only made Azi angrier.

  Once he was out of the dining hall, Azi removed the King’s Earring and stuck it in his pocket. It weighed on him constantly, itching and irritating his ear the way no other earring ever had. But it was more than that. It was the way people looked at him now, as if they only saw what he was and not who he was. People who hadn’t given him a second glance, or who’d seen only a second son, a sailor or a shipmate or a friend now saw the king of the Five-and-One Islands. Even without the earring dragging on his earlobe he still felt it there, like a mask he couldn’t take off.

  He’d thought Jala could see through it, but he’d been deluding himself. When she put on the Queen’s Earring, she put on a different mask than he did. It was her father’s mask. Maybe his uncle had been right.

  He took the servants’ entrance out of the manor. The beach was again a long, sprawling party. The drums pounded in his chest, and the bonfires blazed tall and bright, throwing burning ash up into the sky.

  There was one person he thought might still remember the old Azi and not this king he’d only just met and barely knew. But she wouldn’t be out there on the beach; he was sure of it. She’d be at her mother’s cottage, waiting for him.

  He stuck to the shadows, though the light from the fire made it impossible to see what was underfoot. He tripped on fallen branches, stones, and a few people who’d decided to sleep off their drink somewhere dark and quiet. The village was only a short walk from the manor, one of many that dotted the coast of the First Isle. Small huts sat almost on the water, fishing boats nearby, while larger cottages sat farther back on a low hill.

  More fires lit the way for him, but he didn’t need them. He would have been able to walk this path with his eyes closed. His heart was racing by the time he reached the cottage’s door and raised a hand to knock. It swung open before him, and she stood in the doorway, her smile bright from the distant firelight.

  “Azi,” she said, throwing her arms around him. “I waited for you.”

  “Kona,” he said, the name he’d whispered to himself so often in the weeks before he’d met Jala.

  “Why haven’t I seen you at all since you got back?” Kona looked at him reproachfully. “I stayed up all night yesterday waiting for you, but you never came.”

  “I’m sorry,” Azi said. “There’s just so much to do. I couldn’t miss the first feast, and there was the Sectioning.”

  Kona pulled away from him. “And you have a wife now. Some say that the Bardo girl has hooked you, and you’ll go whichever way she pulls, but I didn’t believe them. I
thought it must be some plan of your uncle’s. I mean, you’re here, aren’t you?” Kona smiled.

  Azi had never lied to her about anything that mattered before. It was easy not to lie when your life was simple, though. He wanted to lie now. “It wasn’t my uncle’s idea. He wanted me to marry a Rafa girl. He threatened to leave my side entirely. I told him he couldn’t. I ordered him to stay.”

  You can’t stop being my uncle just because you don’t want to be, he’d said. Not unless I say so. The words had sounded so cold, far colder than he felt. Uncle Inas was his only family except for his mother, and she was leaving him for her Gana family in just a few weeks.

  Kona spoke softly. “So it’s true. You picked this girl against his will. You wanted to marry her.”

  “I don’t know. It wasn’t that simple.” It had seemed simple enough on the beach with Jala, though, hadn’t it? At least, it had until that night with Jala on the barge, when he couldn’t stop seeing Kona’s face.

  “You said you didn’t care who your uncle picked for you.”

  I won’t love her, he’d said. She won’t mean anything to me. So maybe he’d lied after all. Who knew that promises could turn into lies so easily? The truth seemed to change depending who he talked to, slippery as an eel.

  “I can’t let my uncle be king for me,” Azi said. “I have to make my own decisions.”

  “What’s wrong with letting your uncle help you? Even your brother needed his help, and Jin was born to be a king. You were meant to be a sailor, and that’s all I ever needed from you.”

  “You’re right,” Azi whispered. He didn’t push her away. “I love you.” He was in his brother’s place, where he didn’t belong. Not like Jala. Jala was raised to be a queen. Why are you still thinking about her when you have Kona right in front of you?

  “I love you,” he repeated, trying to make it sound real again. It didn’t.

  He closed his eyes and tried to shut out all the thoughts, the promises, the feelings he couldn’t put into words. All the things that were trying to steal this moment from him.