by Mike Grinti
She pulled away, as though she could sense the direction of his thoughts. “Do you love her?” she whispered.
“Yes,” Azi whispered back. “I hardly know her, but . . . I think I do. Even when she sounds like her father.”
“I see.” Kona was quiet for a long time. “Will you still come to see me? We can just talk.”
“I will,” Azi promised. But neither one of them was sure whether to believe it.
Azi didn’t know how long they stood together. Only when the drummers on the beach faltered and stopped did Azi turn to go. Someone was shouting, he realized, and it was more than a drunken argument. A breeze blew in from the manor, carrying with it a strange, sulfurous smell that hung heavy in the air.
“Something’s wrong,” he said. “What’s that smell? I could almost believe the fire mountain was paying us a visit.” He stepped away from her. “I should find out what’s going on.”
“It’s probably nothing,” Kona said. She touched his arm. “You don’t have to go yet.”
Azi gently took her hand and squeezed it. “I have to. I’m the king.”
Jala heard the drums out on the beach as Iliana led her down the hall and past its many windows. Azi’s mother had accepted her dinner invitation. Jala could almost hear her mother saying, A Bardo queen doesn’t attend on others, she doesn’t knock on doors and wait to be let in. Everyone is the queen’s guest, never the other way around.
But Jala didn’t want a guest, she wanted a friend. It was a lot easier to win arguments when it was only her mother’s memory she had to contend with. Jala knew her mother wouldn’t have thought twice about the Sectioning. She’d acted the part of a queen her entire life. So why can’t I be like that? Jala wondered. What’s wrong with me?
“The queen is here, Lady Chahaya,” Iliana said.
“Let her in.” The old queen’s voice was hoarse, though Jala thought it must have been strong once. “Sit down, my queen. Heh, it feels strange to be addressing someone else like that.”
Azi’s mother sat at a square table in the center of the room. She was a large woman, but the flesh on her face sagged as though she hadn’t eaten well in weeks. Only the half-grin on her face gave her any semblance of life.
“I was wondering if you’d come,” Azi’s mother said. “I know how lonely it can be to find yourself among the Kayet without friends or family, but I thought you might be too proud to admit it. I was when I first arrived.” She laughed. “And now I find myself too proud to want to leave, even though I long to be with family. Remember, Queen Jala of the Bardo, a king is king for life. But there may come a time when you’re no longer queen, and you’ll need your family again.”
“Lord Inas said the same thing,” Jala said. “Though I think it was more of a threat.” She looked down at her food. “I’m sorry, you’re still grieving. I shouldn’t have intruded on you with my problems. Things are probably hard enough for you without them.”
Azi’s mother snorted. “I’m alone on an island filled with Kayet who no longer give a whale’s ass about me, and because I’m in mourning I’m not supposed to go anywhere or do anything. Any break from routine is welcome. And I’m curious to meet my replacement, especially after the trouble you caused at the Sectioning.”
Jala’s face grew warm. “I did what I had to do.”
“You never have to do anything, my queen.” Azi’s mother emphasized the title, as though they both shared some joke together. “If you let them, they’ll be more than happy to keep you safe and sound through all the dinners and dances and meetings. Your presence isn’t even required at the Sectioning, you know. You’d never have to say or do anything except what’s most polite and pleasing.”
“I’m not just a pretty decoration for the throne room.”
The woman shook her head knowingly. “Of course you don’t think you’ll be anything of the sort. But what about a year from now? Five years? What about when you’re tired, tired of fighting, tired of making mistakes? And you will make them, I promise. Then, oh, then you’ll be tempted to close your eyes and let the Kayet do your talking for you.”
“Is that what you did?” Jala asked.
Azi’s mother chuckled. “Eat your food, little queen. A full stomach doesn’t sour, not even when talking to a bitter old woman.”
Jala ate, glad for an excuse not to talk. Lady Chahaya, too, was silent for a while. Outside, the distant drums beat slow and steady. Eventually Jala said, “Tell me about Azi.”
Azi’s mother set down her fork, the meat still on it. “I can’t tell you anything you won’t find out soon enough. Nothing that would help you understand him. Some days I think I hardly know him myself. He spent so much time at sea.” She looked up. The sardonic smile had vanished from her face. Without it, Jala could see how old and tired she really was. A woman who’d recently lost a son, a husband, and a throne.
“One piece of advice. The most important I can give you. The most useless. Don’t have a son. A daughter is useless to the Kayet. A daughter carries your name. But any son you bear is Kayet first and foremost.” Her voice had fallen to a whisper. She wasn’t looking at Jala anymore but past her. “I tried the herbs and the secret dances to make sure I never had a boy . . . well, you see where that got me? I’ve heard such magic exists on the mainland, but magic is a lot harder to steal than gold and swords and silk. Besides, what man wants to steal such a thing? No matter that they are ruled by their mothers and their queen, that there are women fighting beside them, they all still hope for sons. Pompous, self-obsessed fools.”
“You’re right,” Jala said. “That is pretty worthless advice.”
“I think you really might be as dangerous as Lord Inas says,” Lady Chahaya said after a while. “But not for the same reason.”
Jala was trying to figure out if that was supposed to be an insult or a compliment when the drums outside stopped. The silence hung heavy in the air, only to be broken by shouts a moment later. She went to the window to see what was happening. A heavy fog lay on the water. It seemed to glow with its own light, and strange shadows moved slowly inside it.
“Put out the candles,” Jala whispered. Behind her the candles were snuffed out one by one, then Chahaya came to stand next to Jala.
“Those aren’t shadows,” Jala said, squinting. “They’re ships.”
Ships made out of brown wood instead of gnarled gray reef, ships without mast or sail. They were flat-bottomed, like barges, completely unsuited to face the waves of the Great Ocean . . . but the ships didn’t touch the water at all. It was the fog itself they traveled over, quiet and steady. There was no one on the decks that she could see, but the ships were tall and wide, with plenty of room below deck for . . . who? The fog rolled out over the beach.
Azi’s mother sniffed the air. “Can you smell that? It’s sorcery,” she said.
The lead ship didn’t slow, and Jala heard more shouting as the ship beached itself. A shiver ran up Jala’s spine. “I think it’s an invasion.”
Jala smelled the magic now, an acrid smell that burned the back of her throat. How else could anyone have reached their islands without grayships?
Her dinner sat heavy in her belly. She touched the Queen’s Earring, running her fingers over the rough surface. Its weight wasn’t reassuring now. It was a reminder. It was responsibility. I have to do something. It’s my job now.
“I have to find the king,” Jala said. “Excuse me.”
Chahaya nodded, glancing outside again. “All this time I tried to convince myself death wouldn’t be a relief, and now it looks like I might die anyway. Ha! Might as well go with a full stomach.” She sat down again and continued her dinner.
In the hallways, servants and nobles all ran through the halls, crowding to see out the nearest windows.
“What is it?” a woman asked.
“The Rafa are attacking. Who else could it be?”
“Those aren’t Rafa ships. They’re hardly ships at all. Wouldn’t last an hour on open water.”
People still shouted in the manor, but near the windows the talk grew quiet as they waited to see what would happen next. Jala stopped to ask, “Where’s the king? Do the captains know of this?”
They stared at her. An older noble with a trim beard raised himself up. “Word has spread. Surely the king has heard.”
“But you’re not certain. We have to be certain.” Jala pointed to three younger nobles. She hoped they couldn’t see her hand shake in the dim light. “You three. Go to all of the captains, send boats out to the barges. Make sure they know what’s happened, or before long they’ll be too drunk to fight.” They stared at her, each of them taller than her by at least half a head. She wondered if they were as scared as she was.
They glanced at the older man. He nodded. “She’s right. Do as your queen commands.”
They ran.
Jala found a maid and pulled her aside. “Where is the king?”
The maid hesitated. “He’s in his chambers, my queen. His stomach troubled him.”
“Take me to him. Quickly,” Jala said. The Kayet manor was massive, three times the size of the manor she’d grown up in. She still wasn’t sure of the way to Azi’s rooms, and this was no time to get herself lost.
“My queen, he asked not to be disturbed. I couldn’t intrude on him.”
“Look outside if you haven’t already. Whoever those ships belong to, they’re not going to wait for his stomach to settle.”
The maid looked frightened, but she led Jala down the hall. They turned a few corners, walking past rich tapestries and cloths, swords and tall mirrors. They stopped at a door of dark-red wood from the mainland. Azi’s bedroom. This wasn’t exactly how she’d imagined first seeing it.
Jala banged on the door. “Azi, are you awake?” When no one answered she pulled open the doors. Azi’s rooms weren’t quite as lavish as the hallway implied they would be, meant more for actual living instead of showing off. The furniture was made of palm wood, familiar and simple. The empty bed hadn’t been slept in.
“Where is he?” Jala asked, turning to the maid.
“Maybe his stomachache passed, my queen. He might have gone down to the ships to drink with the sailors or decided to sleep out on the beach. He says he prefers sand to fine linen. If that’s where he went, he must know about these ships already.”
Jala banged on the door in frustration. Even as she did she heard her mother’s voice in her head. You’re acting like a child, not a queen.
“My queen?” the maid said. “It’s the storm season. Do you really think this could be an invasion?”
“I don’t know what this is,” Jala said, trying to keep the panic from her voice. “I wish I did. What about Lord Inas? Is he down on the beach somewhere as well?”
“No need to go looking,” a voice said from behind her. Azi’s uncle held himself up against the wall. His eyes were bloodshot, but an old, notched raider’s sword hung from his belt. “Go back to your rooms. You’ll be safe there. For a little while, anyway.”
Jala stared at him in dismay. “You’re drunk.”
Inas pushed himself off the wall. “I am not drunk, little queen. I’m in mourning.”
Next to her the maid whispered, “Lord Inas does not sleep well at night. He often takes mournroot with his dinner.”
“If you’re too sick to lead, let someone else do it,” Jala said. “Too drunk or too sick, it’s all the same right now.”
“What do you know of sickness? Of leading? Go and hide. Take the girl with you. There will be fighting in the manor soon.” The maid glanced nervously from Inas to Jala.
“You think it’s hopeless,” Jala said.
“You can’t think a human foe would be capable of this. Sorcery enough to move a fleet of ships . . . it would kill a man. A hundred men, a thousand. Who would pay such a price? We won’t find men inside those ships, I promise you.”
“You can’t scare me with stories of sea monsters and demons,” Jala said. “I’m not a little girl.” But her heart pounded hard in her chest just the same.
Inas leaned down to stare at her face to face. “I think you are a little girl. I think you haven’t seen the things I’ve seen, sailing out of sight of land. You know nothing of the world, though you aspire to rule it.”
Jala stepped back but forced herself to meet his eyes. “Azi is out there somewhere. I need you to take command. I’ll come with you. My father says sailors should see their lord before braving the Great Ocean, so let them see me now, since the king’s misplaced himself.”
There was a moment of tense silence. Through the walls, Jala heard the war drums starting. She made herself breathe.
Finally Inas whispered, “Fine. Come along if you insist.” He turned away and strode down the hall, only a little unsteadily.
Jala glanced back at the maid. “You’re free to go. Find somewhere you feel safe.” Then she ran down the hall after Lord Inas. The drums continued, playing over each other with different rhythms, alerting the villages. She wasn’t sure how much good it would do. There hadn’t been a real war among the islands since the first king and queen, and the mainlanders had no way to reach the islands. Or so they’d thought. Nobody expected anything like this. They weren’t ready.
Men gathered in the great hall of the manor. Nobles carried swords that hadn’t been drawn in years. No one spoke. Everyone looked tired and grim. Some of the servants and noblewomen helped barricade the windows and doors, others brought lamps and torches. Iliana was arming all of the women with spare swords and kitchen knives.
A man ran up to them and bowed hurriedly. “Lord Inas.” He looked at Jala, realized who she was, and bowed again. “My queen. No one’s come off the ships. They’re just sitting there. Our lookouts on the roof haven’t seen anyone on deck.”
“You’ve sent men to our ships?” Lord Inas asked.
“Yes, my lord. A few were already awake. The Nongo planned to attack without waiting for us to combine our forces. Their captain is stupid with bravery. Some of the Gana captains plan to run. They’ve already raised sail.”
“We should burn these ships,” Jala said. “Stop them before they can disembark and put an end to it now.”
The man shook his head. “We tried, but the fire won’t catch. My lord, we can defend ourselves better inside the manor. We can wait, and if no one comes out we’ll push them back into the water with the tide. Let the ocean decide what to do with them.”
Lord Inas shook his head. “What makes you think they’d attack us here first? There are too many villages along the beach. No, if we’re going to face them, we have to move now, combine our strength with the Nongo and board the ships before they’re ready.”
The closest sailors looked at one another, then nodded. They were Kayet, and the villages around the manor were filled with their family and friends. Jala felt a pang of fear, for a moment regretting her decision to follow Lord Inas. But she couldn’t take back what she had said now, not if Lord Inas was ever going to treat her as queen.
“At least then we’ll know what these invaders are,” Lord Inas said. He pointed to a thin girl who looked barely old enough to be on the crew of a ship. “Namu. Send birds to the other families. If things go badly for us, maybe we can hold out long enough for help to arrive. Help or scavengers.”
The girl nodded and ran off.
“The rest of you, we’re moving out,” Lord Inas called out.
“You’re not our captain or our king,” one man said stubbornly. “Why should we risk our lives for you?”
Lord Inas drew his sword. “I’m the head of this family in the absence of the king. You’ll do as I say.”
“I’m not Kayet, and I have my own head, thanks,” the man said. Jala looked closer and realized he was a Gana captain.
“We should get to our ship,” a Gana woman added. “With good wind we can be home by noon to help our own family.”
Lord Inas opened his mouth to speak, but Jala cut him off. “You won’t have your head for long, if
any of us live through this. I’m here, and I speak with the king’s voice. Do as Lord Inas commands. Once the First Isle is safe, you can all go home. The Kayet will send ships to aid whichever family needs them.”
Jala held her breath as she waited for him to respond. She didn’t know if she had it in her to order a man’s death. But luckily the captain kept his mouth shut, though he glared at Jala.
“We’ll face them now,” Lord Inas said. “We’ll give them no time to rest and catch their bearings. We’ll keep them trapped on the beach where their feet are uncertain.” He pointed to two of the servants. “Open the doors.”
They cleared away the makeshift barricade and did as he commanded.
It was pitch-dark outside. “Put out those lamps, damn it,” Lord Inas hissed. “We need to see.”
The lamps were blown out, the torches taken away. They all followed Lord Inas out into the dark. If we lose, it won’t be any less dangerous inside anyway, Jala told herself. It didn’t help.
The stars above them dimmed as they entered the fog that surrounded the ships. The air became thick and hard to breathe, and the smell made Jala’s head swim. As they neared the ships, she realized that the nobleman at the window had been right. These “ships” were little more than wooden boxes, flat-bottomed like the barges the mainlanders used to travel on lakes and rivers.
She wondered if there were more ships coming. How many soldiers could each ship hold? Even more reason to find out what was inside.
Someone called out to Lord Inas. Jala tensed, wondering if this was it, if the fight was starting. But no, Lord Inas called back in greeting. Moments later, more men and women joined them, arriving from the nearest village. They were armed with knives and fishing spears. Jala spotted Azi among them.
She walked toward him as quickly as she could without running. The villagers parted to let her pass. It was embarrassing how relieved she felt to see him.
“Jala,” Azi said. “You should be inside where you’ll be safe.”
“No,” Jala said. “I shouldn’t. We’ve gathered nobles from the manor and some of the sailors that were on the beach. But they’re tired and drunk, and some are badly armed. A few of the Gana ships have already sailed, and I was afraid others would follow. I couldn’t find you, but I thought at least one of us should be here. To help keep the families together.”