by J. A. Comley
“I am glad you came, although I had little doubt that you would.” Mukori smiled when she remained silent.
Valana huffed a laugh at his self-assured manner. “Well then, Mukori, Lord of the Outcasts who are not Outcasts, I think you'd better tell me what was so urgent you came all the way to a bloody battlefield just to find me.”
His eyes tightened a little at the edges, then his face smoothed over.
“Ultimately, I came to make you an invitation.” He turned to the side and motioned towards two chairs half-facing each other before wide doors thrown open to the dark day. “But first, I think a little background might be useful. Will you sit with me?”
Without waiting for a reply, Mukori took the necessary steps and sat down in one of the chairs. Valana paused as he made himself so vulnerable. Not even Okano would be fast enough to save him if she chose to attack. It had been a long time since she had met anyone who didn’t seem to look at their fellows with mistrust. What made him so assured? Would she see fear spark to life if she attacked?
She quelled the wayward thoughts. Her Mentor had taught her that Nightstalkers were not to give in to the bloodlust that sang in their veins. They were not mindless killers nor even Protectors. Only madness lay that way. She was Valana before anything, including her Nightstalker lineage.
She took the offered seat and faced him, holding his gaze and waiting for him to speak.
His intelligent eyes sparked with some emotion that made her sure he knew perfectly well what thoughts had occurred to her as he had sat.
Another test, I guess. Like on the battlefield. But this time there was no one to protect him if he had been wrong about me.
“I am usually a very good judge of character,” Mukori began, reading her mind again. “My father trained me rigorously in reading all the small, unconscious signs that a person gives off, betraying their thoughts to those who know how to interpret them.”
Valana endeavoured to keep her face blank, but Mukori's half smile told her she had failed. She fought down a snarl.
“I do not mean to make you uncomfortable, simply to explain why I do not feel that I am in any great danger from you. And also why I would travel such a great distance, through dangerous tribal lands, just to find you.”
Valana nodded and waited. He was talented, to be sure, and it was a useful gift that his father had given him. She used his pause to glance around the room. The desk he had risen from when she'd entered was littered with scrolls, sheaves of paper and pens. In the opposite corner of the room, a winged reptile sat eating some food from a bowl beside its perch, it's long sticky tongue flicking out of its mouth then back with its snack in tow. The retari was beautiful, with silvery feathers, interspersed with bright blue and green. The dark scales along its slender body shone with a healthy glow. The black feathers in the crest on its head marked it as female.
She pulled her attention back to Mukori when he shifted position. He gave her another small smile then began to speak.
“Firstly, I must ask you, on behalf of my followers, to stop using the term ‘Outcasts’.” His eyes grew stern as she met them. “Most of my followers chose freely to leave their homes, their tribes, to join my cause. My hopes are that you will do the same, once you've heard more.”
“Most?” Valana asked, remembering how Okano had not lumped himself in when telling her the same thing and not wanting to linger on the fact that she no longer had a home to return to, even should she wish it.
Mukori sighed. “Since the Demilain broke our worlds, I'm afraid tribal justice isn't always what it should be. Some bare the title of Outcast without just cause. Okano is one such.”
Valana opened her eyes wide and glanced back at the door, wondering what he thought of his Lord giving away such personal information. She had no doubt that he could hear them. She could still hear his steady heartbeat and breathing.
Mukori waited for her to look back at him. “I do not accept their brand, as I do not believe they have committed any crimes. Do you accept my request?”
Valana paused, taking his measure again. She knew the question held a deeper meaning. If she said yes, then she was saying that she trusted his judgement that those who bore the brand did not deserve it.
“I do,” she said, her mind on Okano. Unless he was nothing like the man she had known, he certainly did not deserve the brand.
“Thank you.” Mukori straightened in his seat, eyes on her face. “My aim is to bring order to the chaos that consumes our worlds, to bring peace through unity.”
“Yes, Karicha said as much,” Valana said, when it became clear that he was waiting for some sort of answer. Perhaps he thought his words would take her by surprise. Really, he sounded a lot like Hapira, like her. She gave him her full attention, if not her trust. “So, what is this group you lead?”
“My followers have named us the Unseen Hand.”
Valana snorted.
“I know,” Mukori flashed a lopsided smile. “However it gives us a banner under which to rally and it holds true to the core of our function.” He waited for Valana's nod before continuing. “I believe that people stick to their decisions better when they arrive at them freely. I therefore prefer to work in the shadows, trying to defuse volatile situations before they can cause chaos, providing opportunities for peace to bloom.” He looked at her again, and his eyes seemed to grow darker. “But I know that it is not always possible to achieve peace through peaceful means.”
Valana shifted in her chair. Here was a man with enough charisma to sway a nation. If he and Hapira joined forces, they'd be unstoppable. But something in his tone made her hesitate to tell him as much.
“The desperation, the chaos of our natural elements, has brought out the worst in some people. They are thriving off the backs of others’ despair and loss. Many are actively trying to seed more and more chaos into our lands. We stop them where we can.”
Memories of burnt houses and bones flashed into her mind and she looked away.
“I wish we were not necessary, but if the darkness will not part willingly for the light, then I will make it.”
She looked up again, worried by the fervour in his voice, but his eyes were clear of fanaticism. “Sometimes people need a helping hand, or a firm shove, before they can see things clearly.”
Something in his tone made Valana certain that he was talking about her.
She gave him a wry smile. “So your use of laricori, of goading me into attacking you on that battlefield so that you could kidnap me, was to help me see clearly, what, exactly?”
Mukori returned her smile and shifted forwards in his seat. “Me.”
Valana cocked her head to the side. Surely he was not serious? His actions have only caused me to mistrust him.
“When we first met, you were lost to the void. In the Killing Calm, I was nothing more than an enemy. I knew nothing I said would be taken to heart.” He leant closer. “But I apologise all the same. If I had been able to see a different way, a less underhanded way, I would have taken it.”
Valana listened to the ring of sincerity in his voice and conceded her first genuine smile.
“Apology accepted. And thank you. For taking in Durio and Karicha. For shielding her from any retribution.” Valana hadn't yet met the man Karicha had wounded, but if he would bare the scar for life, then he was well within his rights to seek retribution, especially if he had been unarmed.
Mukori waved a dismissive hand. “Of course. Tanoril understands that she was not thinking clearly, having fled her burning village only to find her warriors dead.”
Valana looked away again, then glanced at him sharply, baring her teeth as he took her hand. He took no notice of the aggressive gesture. “They are not all gone. There are many Kazori still alive. Those who left to follow the lure of love, knowledge or fortune. I even have a few in my employ.”
Valana felt her heart stutter a step. She hadn't even thought of that, although Okano had said something similar. Members of the tribe often
left to find a different way of life, or because they'd fallen in love, or, for the Makhi, the lure of the knowledge held by the Order on Galatia was sometimes too enticing to pass up.
Mukori smiled at the hope that blossomed in her eyes. He squeezed her hand and then let it go, straightening in his seat.
“What will your choice be? You can take the information we've gathered, which isn't much more than Karicha knows, and seek vengeance; you can go in search of the other Kazori scattered across Trianon; or you can stay, join me and help break the cycle, help restore balance to our worlds, make the loss of your people mean something more. Let their deaths save the lives of others. Let it end in something good.”
Valana took a moment to meet his gaze again, knowing he would be able to read much more than she wished to reveal. His voice held a determination she hadn't seen in anyone, not even Hapira. He was not drowning in the hopelessness that had filled so many when years became decades and then decades became centuries and neither the Sacrileons nor the Conclave offered any hope. Finally she looked up, needing more from him before being able to begin to trust this man.
“I want you to spell it out. What exactly do you want from the world?”
Mukori nodded, his face showing that he was pleased with her question. “I want the worlds of Trianon to unite. I want a formal alliance between the planets, something to hold us all together while these Sacrileons learn to control and balance the elements, so that there is something left when they do.”
All of Trianon? He has ambition to match his charisma. But again, he is not wrong.
Valana nodded solemnly. The death toll from the Breaking was dangerously high across all three planets. The Chiefs, lead by Hapira, had been gathering intelligence on the other planets before she had left for Hipotarali and the Conclave had ignored her. Valana knew that while the tribes slaughtered each other here, raiders took ships and burned shores on Cosmaltia. Only Galatia had managed to avoid any kind of civil war, with the King's Makhi and the Queen's Inagium keeping order. Their marriage near the start of all this had given their people a single banner to follow. Yet Mukori's plan was far more ambitious than she had given him credit. The planets had always been independent. Uniting them would be hard. None would be willing to give up any of their cultural ways. She had been harbouring a secret fear that the leaders of their worlds would cling to their own ways until it was too late. What they needed was some pre-made connection, some sort of common ground from which to build.
“How would you achieve this? They'll never listen, not without some link, some common cause from which to act.”
Mukori's eyes lit up like they had on the battlefield, delighted by her response. She looked away.
“I agree. To that end, I believe certain sacrifices must be made. As with all things worth achieving, worth fighting for, the price is high.” He waited for her to meet his eyes. “I want to place a member of the Unseen Hand on or behind every planet's leadership.”
Valana rose and stepped away in a single fluid motion. His thoughts had not been far from her own, but they were far enough to rankle the laws of Honour in which she had been raised. Her shrinking mistrust grew stronger again.
“You want to assassinate the Conclave? The Royal Families of the other planets?”
What he was saying would be a coup, not an alliance.
“No, no, no,” he said in alarm, rising too. The lamp light glittered in his eyes, drawing out small flecks of gold. “I want to help them see that things cannot continue as they are. Offer them advisors to aid them, give them all a ready-made link to help bridge an alliance.” Then he shook his head, his entire posture seeming to echo some deep sadness. “But I am not naïve enough to think that it will end peacefully every time, nor to think that some would not try to kill me to stop an alliance that will cost them the comfortable life they have built from the ashes of others. The worlds are broken, Valana,” he lifted his eyes to hers again and stepped closer, “but they are not beyond saving, beyond healing, not yet. Is the life of one Eldest, or King, or Queen, really worth all the lives that could be saved through a strong, united leadership with a goal of peace?”
Valana's thoughts flashed again to Hapira and how different things would be if the Conclave had just listened to her when she had first gone to Hipotarali. The tribes would never have descended into the kind of chaos and dishonour that now ran rampant. Her people would still be alive. The Voice of the Kazori would not have been allowed to hide inside the Conclave's palace. Yes, if leaders like her and Mukori held power, Trianon and its people would survive to see the Sacrileons restore balance. A true alliance would not only ensure their survival, but it would make Trianon stronger, better able to face whatever else may come. But could she really agree to a plan that may result in coups if no one listened?
“You have a point,” she conceded. “But I can't help feeling like you are asking me to be your personal assassin.”
“I am.” Mukori's voice was steady, his eyes never leaving hers. “You are a pure-blood Nightstalker, unrivalled in your fighting skills, in your natural abilities. You can go longer without food, water or sleep. You heal faster than ordinary Aurelians. You are a pre-made assassin, a pre-made spy.”
His words and matter-of-fact delivery filled her veins with ice, and she glanced towards the door, wondering if Okano's position in Mukori's organisation was similar to the one being offered her. Mukori followed her glance and nodded once. Yes, Okano was an assassin, too.
She backed away another step. “No. I came here and listened because both Karicha and Okano told me that you wanted peace, to end this needless bloodshed. But I see that they were wrong. You only want to add to it.”
She turned to leave, and he grabbed her arm. “You are the one who is wrong, Valana.” He held her firmly, even as she snarled in warning. “I know you do not trust me. I can see it in your eyes. I only shed blood when there is no other choice, when doing so will save countless more lives than the one I take. Would you not do the same? Is that not why you raced to that battlefield and felled dozens?”
She shook her head mechanically, trying to dislodge the vision of herself in a shadowy cloak, masked as Okano had been when they'd first met, her bloodied swords dripping over a faceless, nameless corpse. She shuddered, and he released her arm.
“Nightstalkers are Protectors, not murderers.”
“Yes and it is time you started Protecting all people, not just your own tribes.” Mukori sighed and took a slow step closer. “I know it is not what any of us would like.” His eyes held hers, sincere and open. “But you just agreed that our current rulers are directly responsible for the death and wars that plague us. You have been the personal recipient of an attack meant only to sow more chaos into our word.”
“I thought vengeance was not what you would recommend?”
“Not vengeance, Valana. No. Only the person who ordered the atrocities at the Ever-Spring must die. Their followers will stand trial and be punished according to what they knew. Some may have had no knowledge of, nor control over, what they did at all.”
She made a sceptical noise even as the idea caused a spike of panic.
“There are techniques that a strong Makhi might employ to take over another's mind. We have come across it before.”
Valana shivered and shook her head. It was well known that a Makhi's magic could be turned to almost any purpose, but what Mukori spoke of was terrifying.
“But we are getting away from the main point. Yes, I may ask you to take someone's life, but it will only ever be when all other means have failed, when their being alive will be too costly. I will always share all the information we have on your target, and it will always be within your right to refuse the contract. The rest of the time, you will be acting as a bodyguard or you will be sent out to collect information on key people, potential allies and enemies alike.”
She met his eyes and held them, assessing him in every way she knew, weighing his words against the state of Aurelia and it
s people.
Valana nodded. He was right. Their chosen leaders were not doing enough. Their people were being over-run by those who thrived in the darkness. If those in charge wouldn't save the worlds, then someone else had to. She met Mukori's gaze and weighed him carefully again. She needed the answer to only one more question.
“And you? When all this is over, and your plans have all been successful, an alliance made, would you then rule? Aurelia's first ever King?”
Mukori laughed softly, never breaking away from her gaze. “No. I have no desire to rule. I would be exactly where I am now. Running my information network and keeping everyone accountable for their actions. People are fickle, and I have no doubt that unrest would eventually come forward again, so I would keep the Unseen Hand functioning in the shadows, passing it on when I die so that one day, if we are ever needed again, we will be ready.”
A band of shadows to keep the darkness at bay.
Valana moved over to the open doors, enjoying the breeze on her skin. Mukori had seemed sincere in all he had said. He reminded her of the Kazori's standing with the tribes. They never took, never ruled, even though they could. His hopes for the world mirrored Hapira's and her own, only his extended to all worlds, all the people of Trianon. The sun was rising steadily behind its shroud of stardust. She needed to sleep.
“Will you join me, Valana? Help bring peace to our worlds?” Mukori said, coming up beside her on feet more silent than any Hipotarali Lord had a right to be.
A gentle wind caressed her cheek. For you, Terana. For a better future for your daughter.
She turned to face Mukori, her eyes sizing him up again. He held her gaze, back straight, no hint of uncertainty.
“Yes,” she said.
The light shifted, and the shadows of day fell over them.
6
The Great Expanse