by Matt Larkin
“This is the way to the Sun Temple?” Ratna asked.
Naresh glanced back at her. “The Temple District is the easternmost part of the city. This tube leads to the Civic District. We’ll have to go around the palace, but it’s still faster than using the Circuit around the city.”
He led them from the tube into a great crystal dome filled with buildings carved from golden-yellow stone. At the center stood a palace tall enough that the top reached beyond the dome. Before the palace, Chandi paused at a fountain. Of all the absurd ideas. An underwater fountain. She stood at the bottom of the sea, dry and breathing, feeling a chill though the dome was warm.
A throng had begun to gather around the palace, awaiting the food gifts the emperor would bestow to celebrate his wedding. Servants had prepared large tables filled with rice and fish, but guards kept the people from sampling the dishes before the ceremony. So much fish in one place filled the dome with a noxious stench no amount of spices could cover.
She rushed after Ratna, unwilling to be left alone in such a place. Or to leave Ratna alone in it.
By the time she caught them, Naresh had already led Ratna into another crystal tube, one that caught the echoes of a song. Perhaps it would reverberate throughout the whole city. How had they managed such perfect acoustics? The haunting hymn left her lightheaded, as though wandering in a dream, unsure whether to flee or delve deeper.
“How can you live in such a place?” she asked.
“There’s an arboretum in the Igni District for food, and, of course, fishermen in the harbor. We use crystal pipes to purify water and draw in air.”
“But how can you stand to live so confined?”
“I was born here.” He seemed to think that answered the question. Maybe it did. The man’s hand still rested on his keris. If he wanted to attack them, one of these empty tubes would give him the perfect chance. Even his own man, Bendurana, had said he didn’t trust him.
“How did you warrant this duty?”
Naresh paused, watching Chandi a moment before answering. “I was awarded the honor as a potential for the Arun Guard.”
Potential? She tried to keep scorn from her face. He couldn’t have been much older than her own twenty years. So they thought the safety of the War King’s daughter should be left in the hands of a man who hadn’t even been accepted into the Arun Guard? Worse, he didn’t seem to realize the insult to Ratna.
The tube led into another great dome. Much of this one was taken up by circular walls of white and gold stone, forming the Temple of the Sun. Even more people had gathered here, and many turned to stare at Ratna. Chandi could see other tubes leading from the district, most clogged with people, but Naresh waved them to a large archway leading inside. The rising sun lit the dome like fire. Here, the hymn intensified to a soul-twisting aria.
Chandi followed Ratna in. The dome itself formed the roof and layers of angled mirrors lined the walls, reflecting light everywhere. Even the inside of the temple was arranged in a circle, with the altar on a dais at the center, and the audience standing in a ring around that platform. The scent of flowers filled the air, wafting up from the bouquets decorating the entrance. Ratna drifted toward the man at the altar, who could only be Kakudmi, the new Solar emperor. Older than Ratna, but still in his prime, he wore a long-sleeved green baju with woven gold threadwork that looked like Lunar songket. Did the emperor think to honor his bride by wearing Lunar clothing? His warm smile almost seemed genuine. The bastard.
Behind the emperor a woman in her early forties stood alone, garbed in a crimson baju, a diamond-encrusted stagen across her chest. The Radiant Queen, Aji Bidara, leader of the Solar faith and supposed bride of their god, Surya. Bendurana had mentioned her with reverence, like she was a living goddess. The woman who would bind Ratna forever to her fate in this charade of a ceremony. She was no goddess. Chandi and Ratna were children of the Moon God. Chandi shifted her feet and flushed as she realized Aji Bidara watched her, eyes cold, hands folded behind her back.
A hand touched her shoulder and Chandi jerked, then spun to see Naresh pointing toward the Lunar delegation. Her father nodded at her, but any more would reveal her as more than a handmaid. Her uncle, Rahu, didn’t even spare her a glance. He had sent for her, demanded she watch over his daughter, told her to risk her life spying on the Arun Guard, finding their weaknesses, and still he did not bother to meet her gaze. As always, his face remained unreadable.
The hairs on the back of her neck rose when someone leaned in close to whisper in her ear. “Are you well, Chandi?” The tension in her shoulders eased. Malin. The Macan Gadungan’s breath was hot, his voice throaty. Of course he was here. Always a step behind her, always watching over her.
She nodded, once, without looking back at Malin. This should have been her wedding. Not like this, of course, and not to a Solar. A simple, true Lunar wedding. For Lunars to marry, they need only proclaim their love and kiss before witnesses.
On the plateau, beneath the full moon, she’d have kissed Anusapati. Held him close. Even Rahu would have smiled to see them. They’d have danced until dawn. Instead the Solars took him from her. And now they were taking Ratna, too.
And her mother should have been there. These people Ratna was marrying, they had killed both their mothers. Had Ratna forgotten that?
The Solar hymn rose with the sun, hundreds of voices cascading together like a waterfall. The entire city would hear their song, would know that the war ended today. Ratna and Kakudmi joined their voices to the hymn. Her cousin had practiced all through the journey, trying to imitate the Solars under the ever-present tutelage of Bendurana. The captain delighted in teaching Ratna the Solar hymns, but then he seemed to delight in everything.
Singing should be for the celebration after, not the wedding. And yet they had agreed to do this the Solar way. Everything here spoke of Solar religion. Where were the Lunar values in this alliance?
At last the hymn broke. For a moment, stillness filled the temple. After the echoing song, Chandi’s heart clenched at the silence. Then she heard footsteps on the gilded floor. An initiate—or maybe a curate—carried a bowl of water to the Radiant Queen. He would take three steps, stop, take three more, stop. Chandi squeezed the rhino statuette, its tiny horn digging into her palm.
When the man at last reached the Radiant Queen, she dipped her fingers into the water and praised the Sun God. “Be blessed,” she said, wiping the water on both Ratna and Kakudmi’s brows. “May the lord of heaven watch over you and your union.”
“I pledge my love until the dying of the sun,” Kakudmi said.
Ratna did not hesitate in her role, not even for a moment. “I pledge my love until the dying of the sun.”
Chandi bit her lip as Kakudmi kissed Ratna. As Ratna kissed him back and ended the war.
CHAPTER SIX
The Queen of the South Sea drew up to the pier in Kasusthali, Bendurana’s crew knowing exactly what he wanted them to do without him needing to give an order. Which kind of took some of the fun out of being captain, but he supposed he’d get over it. Since leaving Serendib, Ben had sailed all over the South Sea, and Kasusthali remained one of the greatest wonders he had ever seen. A city beneath the sea, built from crystal and looking for all the world like something only Nyai Loro Kidul—the real Queen of the South Sea herself—could have built. And yet, the Solar capital was not built by any mermaid goddess, but by humans. Damn fine story.
Naresh was busy with the Lunar girls and Ben paid him no further mind. Or pretended not to. The prickly Solar had had a pineapple up his ass ever since he learned Ben had used to run with Lunar pirates in another lifetime. Since those pirates had abducted him and planned to kill him if he didn’t join them, Ben wasn’t about to make any apologies, least of all to some young Solar who was too dim to realize half of what he didn’t know about the world.
On the other hand, out there on the pier, Empu Baradah waited. The First of the Arun Guard had accepted Ben’s tales freely and offered him th
e chance to find a place as a merchant and sometime privateer. It meant Ben owed him almost as much as he owed Malin, and what kind of a gallant hero forgot his debts? Mollusks. Mollusk heroes forgot their debts. And Ben was pretty sure there was not a drop of mollusk in his blood.
Beside Baradah stood a young woman, her long hair blowing in the breeze and shimmering despite the predawn darkness. She was slender but with the tone of a warrior, and eyes that grabbed him and just would not let go. Ah, he was no mollusk. Ben reached into his satchel and pulled out the ripest golden mango he had, one of the batch he’d picked up in Bukit. The mangoes of Swarnadvipa were said to be the most succulent in all these Isles. And a princess deserved a gift from her prince, after all. He tossed it to the girl and she caught it, looked down at it like she didn’t quite know what to do with it, then back up at him. Ben winked at her. Ah, one bite and the princess would be his forever.
Instead of biting the mango, the girl held his eyes, staring a silent challenge at him. Ah, well, perhaps he’d have to introduce himself to win her heart.
“Pak Empu Baradah,” Ben shouted. “An honor to have you here.”
“We cannot linger, Captain,” the First said. “Ibu Ratna, please follow Naresh to the Temple of the Sun.”
Naresh did so, leading the Lunar girls and his princess away while Ben saw to the tie-down of the dhow. When it looked like the crew had that well enough in hand, he set a brisk pace down through the Circuit. It was unlikely the Solars would hold the ceremony beyond the dawn for him, and almost as unlikely that Surya would delay the sunrise on his behalf. “Just this one time,” he whispered to the Sun God, offering the deity a wink. Hadn’t worked thus far, but there was a first time for everything.
Of course, the Solars were still singing when he reached the Temple of the Sun. Maybe Surya hadn’t arranged it for him, but he supposed he’d better offer supplication to the Sun God anyway. One couldn’t be too pious, after all. Or, one could. In fact the Skyfallers were all a bit too pious. Maybe the best way to even things out was to skip on the prayers after all.
The Temple was crowded with dignitaries, officiates, courtiers, and imbeciles from both dynasties. Ben saw more than one man who probably fit into all such categories, but he was more interested in spotting his princess. She was there, watching over the Lunar delegation, just a bit out of his considerable reach.
Since he didn’t want to deprive the locals of his talents, Ben decided to join in the marriage hymn. With the Queen’s luck, maybe his princess would hear his voice and swoon. Then they could have two weddings to save some time.
After the Solar ceremony ended, the congregation broke and spilled outside to take in the feast. Ben danced about, positioning himself until he could catch the woman’s eye, then winked at her again. With his best smolder plastered on his face, he sauntered over, making damn certain to sway his braided locks. Girls loved the locks.
“Ah, my princess,” he said, “your shimmering hair has enchanted me. Since you’ve stolen my heart, it seems only fair I should steal a kiss.”
“You’ve got to be joking,” his princess said, then turned away.
Ben skittered around back in front of the girl. “Indeed, I jest often, and sometimes loudly. I promise to keep a smile on your face, and laughter in your heart. But I hardly joke about your beauty, my fair Solar.”
She folded her arms across her chest. “It’s Landorundun, and I’m not interested.”
Ben offered her his most gallant bow. “And I am Bendurana, traveling hero, lover, and all-around source of adventure. Also, my dear, I am both interested and interesting.” He grinned, pretending not to notice Landorundun rolling her eyes, then cocked his head. “And if you weren’t interested, you wouldn’t have told me your name, would you?”
“Really, I was just being polite.”
“Did you not eat my mango?”
The girl opened her mouth, then scowled.
“And that was a gift from my heart. I grew that myself, on the shore of an uninhabited island, just so I could give it to my true love when I found her. And a little bird told me, if I came to Kasusthali, I would. So my dear, I brought this golden mango for you, and you alone. And having accepted it, you have taken a piece of my heart.”
“Is any part of that story true?”
“You wound me, dear Landorundun,” he said. “A part of it is most assuredly true.”
Landorundun snickered. “Excuse me, I have places to be.”
“I as well,” he said, and chased right after her. She turned and raised an eyebrow at him. “My place is by your side, of course, my dear.” Where else would a hero go?
Ben stuck to her side throughout the feast, making every effort to regale the girl with any story he could think of. Tales from around the South Sea of adventure, mischief, and romance. Especially romance. One had to keep in the right frame of mind, after all.
“So,” he asked later, as the celebration wound down. “What do your friends call you?”
She folded her arms. “That’s between me and my friends.”
“Fortunately, my dear, I am your friend. The best friend you could hope for, in fact. I mean people who know me call me swell. I heard them, once. They said, Ben, he’s swell. Or swollen. Past, present, either way, I’m here for you, my princess.”
Once again she rolled her eyes in that adorable way that made him want to kiss her breathless. “Stop calling me that. I’m not a princess, I’m a soldier. And fine, if it will shut you up, you can call me Landi.”
Ben swept another bow. “Believe me, my dear, I shall call you thus. Repeatedly and in many situations. Now then, about me stealing that kiss.”
“Don’t push your luck, Serendibian.” With that, Landi spun and sashayed away, obviously conscious of the sway of her beyond perfect hips.
“I promise no such thing!” Ben shouted after her. “You can, in fact, count on me to push luck to the limits time and again.”
That was, after all, what a hero must do.
CHAPTER SEVEN
A dozen or more people had gathered in the gardens atop the palace, watching Naresh and the other potentials in the morning sunshine. They had waited a week past the imperial wedding, but some things could not be put off too long. The gardens should have been closed off for this, but maybe Empu Baradah thought they needed to learn to work under pressure. Naresh didn’t care. Let them watch.
They could all sense what was happening today. The way Landi stood swaying back and forth, the way Lembu Ampal kicked at the cobblestone path. They all knew.
“Lunars living in the palace,” Wanebaka said. “Never thought I’d see that.”
“Pak Kakudmi knows what he’s doing,” Naresh said. At least, Naresh prayed he did. To forgive after all they’d done—the war had lasted almost his entire life—Naresh couldn’t imagine it.
Empu Baradah stood beneath a palm tree, eyes closed, seeming to drink in the morning sunshine. Naresh had no doubt he noticed his students’ unease, but the First did nothing. Everyone knew why they were here. Arun Guardsmen had died at Astral Shore. Someone had to fill their places and take up the honor of protecting the imperial family.
The First had always liked him, so he’d be chosen, same reason Empu Baradah let him ride that Warak Ngendog. No, that wasn’t why—he was good. The First had to choose Landi, too. Landorundun had worked harder than most to get here. Of course, Lembu Ampal was the strongest, so he’d be a good choice. Tohjaya was a bully, but he had skill.
At last the First pushed off the palm tree and paced in front of the potentials. “Eleven Arun Guard receive the Sun Brand,” he said with an air of ritual. “Eleven men and women guard the emperor against the night.”
Naresh struggled to remain still.
“Three died at Astral Shore. You were the finest of the potentials. The fastest, most skilled, most worthy. But there are only three places, and six of you. Who will rise and become Guardsmen?” Empu Baradah smiled and clapped his hands together. “We will decide who w
ill receive the honor by combat.”
A murmur drifted through the onlookers, though the potentials did not speak. The First always chose new Arun Guard. It didn’t often happen he had to choose more than one at a time, but this contest defied convention. Naresh frowned. The traditions of the Empire had held for centuries. Whatever his intentions, the First shouldn’t set new precedents.
Landi kept her voice low. “I’ll enjoy putting you in your place. I can’t believe the First let you ride the Warak Ngendog without a Sun Brand.”
Naresh smirked. He hadn’t believed it either. The First had controlled it for him, but even so it was an honor few ever received. At least, he hoped it was to honor him, rather than to slight the Lunars, whom Empu Baradah hated.
“I’ve put each of your names on a tile,” Empu Baradah said. “We’ll draw lots to match fighters. Single elimination, non-lethal bouts, with the keris. First blood.” He motioned, and an Igni servant brought forth a jar that jingled with ceramic tiles. “Lang, choose first.”
Like Landorundun, Lang came from Suladvipa, one of the Outer Isles beyond Puradvipa. But while Landi had come to Kasusthali as a child, Lang had come much later. He had only spent one year of his training at the Academy. Naresh didn’t know the man half as well as he knew the other potentials, but he’d seen him fight and he knew what he was doing.
Lang drew Wanebaka’s tile. Lithe and short, Wanebaka came from the Spice Islands beyond even Suladvipa. Both men fell into fighting stances, swords in hand. At first they danced about each other, testing one another.
“Lang will take him,” Tohjaya said. “Strength and reach. Same reason Landorundun never ranked top.” He didn’t even bother looking at her.
“Those of us who are small learn to work harder,” Landi said. “We make up for it with skill.”
Naresh said nothing. Standing up for Landi would only piss her off.