The Skyfall Era Trilogy: Books 1-3

by Matt Larkin

  “The empress wishes a tour of the tower,” Naresh said.

  Ratna tried not to smirk at the pale look that flashed over the girl’s face. She knew she wasn’t supposed to admit anyone, and she knew moreover she dared not deny Ratna. It was, she supposed, one of the few advantages of being trapped in her loveless marriage. And it was Kakudmi’s own damn fault. She had tried, she truly, truly had.

  After Revati was born, she thought things would change between them, but they hadn’t. And when Mahesa came to visit, to congratulate her on her daughter, seeing him had opened a pit in her stomach and left her dreaming of a life that would never be. He must have felt it too, but he sat and patiently listened to all her stories. And Kakudmi had sent him away too.

  The girl watching the tower nodded and motioned for Ratna to follow. She feigned interest in the girl’s ramblings as she spoke of the history of the tower, the different rooms, the training basement, and so forth. While she had little reason to care about such things, Ratna supposed there was no such thing as useless information—simply information she hadn’t found a use for. Yet. The fourth floor held a library she’d visited before, one open to the public and containing a wealth of fascinating details. Still, when they reached the fifth floor and the girl showed off the restricted library, Ratna’s interest piqued. This was what she had been waiting for.

  “This library is limited to officers of the Ministry and students with special dispensation,” the girl said.

  The Ministry of Information, as the name implied, not only ran the Academy, but decided which truths to pass on to the general public. Of course, they couched the role by portraying it as distribution of all of news, but Ratna had no doubt the organization’s true function was to keep details that might inconvenience those in power from reaching the ears of the masses. And it had functioned so long in this capacity, most Solars never even thought to question it. Those who did, she had learned, often found themselves visited by the Ministry of Law. Like the rest of Solar society, it was an intricate web of self-sustaining bureaucracy that kept everyone in whatever social status they were born to. In a sick way, perhaps the Lunars could learn something from all this—after all, a Lunar House could easily be toppled when a powerful Moon Scion rose up in another.

  “Wonderful,” Ratna said, before the girl could close the door on the restricted library. “I’ll have a look around.”

  “Uh … my lady … my Empress, that’s not …”

  Ratna’s raised eyebrow silenced her. “I cannot see any danger in an empty room. Naresh, watch the door just to be certain. My daughter and I will be fine.”

  Naresh frowned, but bowed. The man seemed oddly distracted and that worked in her favor. Perhaps he still dwelt on the little spat he’d had with Chandi over the Ignis. It would surprise Ratna if a Guardsman could actually be left to wonder when his own hypocrisy was pointed out, but then, stranger things had happened.

  “Mama, books are boring,” Revati complained.

  Ratna hefted the girl up and sat her on a table. “Oh no, moonbeam. You just don’t know how to get them to speak to you yet. They have the most fascinating stories. Anything you could ever want you can find in a book, somewhere.”

  “I want ketupat.”

  Ratna smiled. Fine. Maybe one wasn’t likely to find rice dumplings in any of these books.

  “The imperial heir wants ketupat,” she called over to Naresh or her student guide—whoever was listening.

  Naresh cleared his throat. “I don’t think anyone would be serving Lunar dishes here.”

  Ratna hid her wicked grin before turning back to the student. “My dear, they’ll have it in the Market District. Go and fetch some, would you. Pak Naresh, give her some pearls.”

  The trick to command was not even allowing the possibility of disobedience. That, she’d learned from her father.

  With the Solars occupied, Ratna thumbed through the books on the shelves until she found ones about the Fourth War. Her father had started that war, she knew. He’d sent Malin to take the Astral Temple from the Solars and they had retaliated with more terrifying brutality than any Lunar had ever expected. Someday, Ratna would love to peruse these tomes and learn the Solar perspective on those events. But right now, she was interested in something that happened ten years into the Fourth War.

  The Solars had been winning the war already, Ratna had gathered that much. Slowly taking one island after another in an inexorable press toward the Lunar homeland. And then they had bypassed all the remaining islands and led a massive attack on the island of Bangdvipa. Why? The island was a training ground for the Lunar Jadian troops, but the Solars had to know they couldn’t hold an island so deep in Lunar territory. And, at the same time, they had even launched a small raid into Bukit.

  That raid was what truly interested Ratna. A single Arun Guard had come in and killed her mother, along with a handful of other Lunars. Not her father, the War King. Her mother. Why?

  She was still flipping through the book when the student returned bearing a bowlful of ketupat that set Revati to squealing so loudly Ratna could barely keep from chuckling.

  “You want some, Mama?”

  “Soon, moonbeam,” Ratna said, and flipped another page.

  Her breath caught at what she read there.

  The infiltration of Bukit was deemed crucial due to the suspected presence of the witch Calon. It was believed her sorcery was responsible for the pestilence that rotted the terraces across Yawadvipa and led to the great famine of 1181 AP.

  A sudden, terrible numbness settled over Ratna and she shivered and shut her eyes. Her mother was a witch? Or the Solars thought she was. And if they thought it … it might well have been true. The Solars had accused her of witchcraft, of breaching the bounds of Kahyangan. Such people were outcasts in Lunar society, shunned by Moon Scions and common-folk alike. But among Solars, witchcraft was considered treason against the Sun God. They burned practitioners at the stake.

  And they had sent an Arun Guardsman to Bukit specifically to kill her mother. Was the whole Battle of Bangdvipa, one of the bloodiest engagements prior to the Battle of Astral Shore … a mere cover? And Chandi’s mother had been killed at the same time. What would Chandi do if she found out? Would she blame Ratna’s mother for the death of her own?

  Sweet Chandra, who could she even tell about this? Not for the first time, she wished Mahesa were still in Kasusthali.

  But then, Ratna wished a lot of things were different.

  She’d wanted to know why her mother was killed. Now, it seemed, the better question was who her mother really was.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Chandi knew every street of the Igni District. Some of the vendors recognized her and waved, showing warmth she doubted the Solars ever received, even at Igni shops in the Market District. The Ignis here did much the same menial work they did in the rest of the city, but here they did it for themselves, maintaining their own homes, cleaning their own streets. A trio of Igni children ran past her, giggling, tossing a small basket back and forth between them. One laughed and tossed it to her. The children giggled as she fumbled with the basket, so with a grin, she ran off with it, the children chasing after her. Chandi kept her pace slow enough for them to keep up, and stopped running after a block. She held the basket over her head as two boys jumped for it, then she tossed it to a third.

  The wooden structures looked like any ramshackle village in Swarnadvipa. Except that here, sunlight passing through the water above cast Chandi in a dancing pattern of light and shadow.

  She distributed a few pearls she had swiped in the palace to children outside the Shrine of Sacred Flame. Though well kept, the windowless shrine might have passed for any other building, but for the burning brazier out front.

  Solars needed their ostentatious temples to commune with their god. Ignis hid in dark shrines where their fires took on ephemeral life. But Lunars worshipped in the open air, absorbing the world around them. A shrine to Chandra would stand on a mountainside,
attracting rows of devotees during the full moon, though a few would come almost every night. She had no such shrine anymore, but during full moons she tried to find herself in the rooftop gardens of the palace.

  Now, she needed to see Semar. Since their first meeting, she’d found the fire priest inexplicably engaging and a welcome relief from sneaking about the palace, trying to uncover the secrets of the Guard. Despite her threat to the priest, she’d come back again after the executions, drawn to speak with the Igni. And almost every week since. Was it sympathy for his plight, or did she just like his company? Sometimes they met here in the shrine, sometimes at the Rangda Teahouse. And, for reasons she still couldn’t quite explain, she’d told him everything, even about Anusapati. Talking about Anu’s death had helped, she supposed, and Semar was an excellent listener.

  As she entered the landing she blinked in the sudden shadows after the bright streets outside. The only light came from the open doorway behind her and a central fire pit farther in. A strong scent of incense filled the air. A couple of priests tended the flames, tossing offerings to the fire god that never seemed to answer their prayers. Once the Ignis and Solars had been allies, perhaps, but when the fire-worshippers refused to convert to follow Surya the Sun God, they became mere servants in the Solar paradise.

  “Do you think how they treat us is worse than what your people do?” the priest asked from the back of the temple.

  How did Semar always know what she was thinking? He knelt on a pillow, hands pressed before him in prayer. The flickering firelight obscured his face. As always, the priest wore a simple sarong, and a white baju adorned only with the Ignis’ sacred flame.

  Chandi edged around the fire pit and knelt beside the priest on the pillow he laid out for her. The man liked to huddle in the shadows, dispensing one bit of wisdom for every two mysteries he created. Though she’d never admit it to Semar, she liked that about him.

  “At least you have some choice in your lives. What’s more important than choice?”

  “Perhaps having your choices matter. That’s why you chose to become a spy, isn’t it? To feel like you matter, to prove your worth to your people?”

  Had she chosen it? Rahu ordered and she obeyed. But she hadn’t hesitated. Ratna needed her. Maybe she shouldn’t have told Semar about her mission, but somehow he just drew the truth out of her. He had a way about him, like an old soul one could trust implicitly.

  “You can join us. If there is another war, stand with us against the Solars. Your refusal to act in your defense brought you here, in a run-down district of a glorious empire.” It was an unfair accusation, she knew, but a people had to fight.

  “Trade one master for another? Lay down our lives to overthrow the Solars, only to become outcasts in Lunar society instead. Very tempting. Are you so eager for another war, child? In the twelve hundred years since the breaking of the Pact you’ve fought four wars with the Solars. And what have you gained?”

  What indeed? Lunar lands had shrunk with each Solar victory. Anusapati had died in a hopeless battle. Or, died because of one, if she was honest with herself. Thinking of him still caused her gut to clench, but not the way it had. She shouldn’t care who broke the old Pact, who controlled the Astral Temple, or who ruled the most islands. But she had to care about her family. “You have the chance to change your future.”

  Semar rose. Did he smile, or was it just a trick of the shadows? She followed him to the fire pit where he tossed in an offering of rice. The fire crackled as the smell of burnt grain filled the temple. “Change the future?”

  “Together we can build a new world. A chance to make the Isles a better place for both of our peoples. We can show the Solars we are united, force them to give us better terms. If the Fifth War comes and you don’t join us, you will be no better off.”

  The priest put his hand on her shoulder. Standing, he towered over her. “And if war comes, you think we will be better off?”

  Maybe not. They would no more measure up to Lunar society than they did to Solar. The Ignis meditated as though seeking the Solar Kebatinan. But unlike the Solars who quested for inner peace, the Ignis did not fight. Whatever else might be said of the Solars, they had mastered warfare. The Ignis had never been strong enough, and so the strong ruled them.

  She sighed. “I see what’s become of your people. I’m trying to help you change that. But I need to know you will help us if it comes to it. You may not have sent that assassin, but your people did.”

  Now Semar turned from her to the fire. “You remember the Serendibian captain?”

  Chandi frowned. He’d deliberately changed the subject away from the assassin. Semar so often misdirected their conversations, though oddly she sometimes later found he had answered a query in a roundabout way. And how could she forget the foreigner? “Bendurana. A Solar servant. Hunts Lunar pirates.”

  “The captain empathizes with the Ignis. I trust him more than many, less than some. He will go to some lengths to fight for what he believes in, even if he doesn’t know it yet. Men of strong passions make valuable allies and dangerous enemies.”

  So the Serendibian paid loyalty to no one. In a way that made him worse than a Solar servant. And her? The deeper she delved into this, the fouler it tasted. Three years of peace. It no longer seemed so impossible to hold it together. No longer so monstrous to try. And yet … she had sworn to uncover the secrets of the Arun Guard, to use those secrets to avenge Anu. Did she betray his memory to even consider giving it up? Her people needed her. Maybe so long in this city was poisoning her mind. She needed to get back to the mountains, to roam the rainforest and dance beneath the moon.

  “You want to help the Ignis?” Semar asked. “Ferry messages to the captain. For the Ignis to do so would draw attention. But a servant of the empress? You can go where you wish. Who would question if you were to visit a man dealing in exotic wares?”

  Chandi shrugged. These people certainly needed help, and who was she to turn away? The way the Solars always turned their backs on their supposed allies.

  Semar read the look on her face. “You would have the Ignis follow your people? If the Solars learn of it, we both risk the Fifth War. Or perhaps the Ignis do nothing, and lose the war if it does come?”

  Chandi bit her lip. “I have to prepare.” She owed her family that much. She had to try to finish this mission. It was not her place to question it.

  “Then Bendurana is the ally we both need. You take messages to him, and he can get those messages anywhere in the Skyfall Isles. Beyond, even. Of course, such things have some risk. Solars do not treat spies well.”

  No. They burned them at the stake.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  The monsoons would sweep over the Skyfall Isles very soon, and Ben, sadly, needed to make one last trip to the Spice Islands before the rains came. There was simply too much profit to pass up. The Spice Islands were the easternmost of the Skyfall Isles, well into Solar territory and generally safe from Lunar pirates, if not from exorbitant Solar taxes, the outrunning of which was much harder than fleeing pirates. Despite the levies, a run to the Spice Islands was always worthwhile, and, during the monsoons, the extra sugar, cardamom, and especially the saffron would command a premium here in Kasusthali.

  He leaned against the rail on the poop deck, watching Landi, who sat on the same rail, her hair streaming in the breeze.

  “I like the rains,” she said without opening her eyes. “Fresh and clean and romantic.”

  Ben grinned. “Ah, my dear. Just like me. That must be why you love me.”

  Landi opened her eyes and sighed. “Sure you have to go?”

  “It pains me too, my dear.”

  Now that Landorundun was finally done babysitting the empress he’d hoped they could see each other more often. But if he didn’t make these trips he’d never truly make his fortune. And though his romantic gestures had invariably won Landi’s heart, Ben suspected providing her with her weight in pearls might go further to winning over her paren
ts on Suladvipa. And he had to win them over. Sure, Ben had had his fair share of romantic interludes, had even been in love a few times. But Landi was the one, he could feel it.

  When he returned from the Spice Islands, she’d let him kiss her. And after that, she’d made it damn clear they wouldn’t be sleeping together until they were wed. So, of course, he’d immediately proposed.

  And they’d spent the past two years in this dance, him trying to earn enough to impress her family, and her barely finding time to even see him thanks to her duties in the Guard.

  “I do love you,” she said.

  “Indeed, my dear, and don’t let that trouble you. Everyone loves Captain Ben.” He flexed his biceps and his crew, well-trained, let out a collective whoop. Ben winked at his first mate. They all knew Ben planned to stop at Kutai on the way back to offload goods, and that meant their captain would be buying Tianxian liquors for the entire crew. A captain had his duty, after all.

  Landi just shook her head, clearly trying not to laugh.

  Ben sobered and drew her close. “When I get back, I’ll have enough. This is the last run I need to make, I’m sure of it. Ask for leave and we’ll go to Suladvipa and see your parents. It’s really happening. We can finally get married.”

  Landi nodded, but didn’t quite manage to hide the doubt from her eyes.

  It didn’t matter. Ben was going to show her and her parents both. After two years, he would be wed.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Chandi hummed as she strolled through the tube under the sea, back toward the Civic District where the palace lay. Maybe Semar was right, maybe war wouldn’t come again. If peace endured, all she’d done here meant nothing. Could she live her life here, as a handmaid? Maybe. Maybe she wouldn’t have to. If peace held, maybe she could go home at last.