by Matt Larkin
He caressed her hand a moment before stepping forward to kiss her. Chandi stumbled backwards from his grasp. “Malin!”
Malin shook his head violently a moment. Chandra, what was he doing? She was good for him. And he could be there for her, better than Anusapati ever had. Instead, she was spending time with another Rangda-damned Guardsman. “He’s just like Empu Baradah! And they’ll both pay. Chandra will not let their crimes go unpunished. The Arun Guard are the real monsters. They call us monsters, but we’re not monsters, Chandi.”
“Malin, calm yourself.”
Malin paced before Chandi. He shouldn’t have tried to kiss her.
Mate.
He shook his head, trying to drown out the tiger. She needed him. He had to be there for her, protect her. “And if he assaults Bukit this time? We need to know where he goes. If he tries Bukit, my people await him. Guarding every Moon Scion House.”
A pair of Academy students, a girl and a boy, each perhaps sixteen, paused. Stared at him like a freak. Malin bared his teeth. Let them come closer. Let them see the real Macan Gadungan. The students scampered away.
“Malin, he’s not going to assault Bukit. We’re at peace. You’re letting your hatred make you irrational.”
Irrational? It happened sometimes, especially around the full moon. Malin stopped his pacing to lean in close to her face. “We’ve had peace before. Your uncle broke the last one. Invaded the Astral Temple. Rather, we did it for him. Did everything he commanded.” A shudder ran through him. Twice, he had led an attack on the Astral Temple, once to start the war, and once to try to end it. “This time, the Solars will strike first.”
Chandi threw up her hands. “Empu Baradah’s not attacking anywhere. Just training a new Guardian.”
“You can’t know what he plans.” Malin paused. “Guardian? Guardian for the Astral Temple? He’s returned to the site of his crime.” Astral Shore. Where Empu Baradah had slaughtered countless Macan Gadungan in defense of that cursed ruin. And still, it paled before the crimes he had committed in Bukit.
Protect and avenge.
Malin ignored Chandi’s cries for him to return as he stomped through the Academy District. He had to slow in the tube. The tiger let him run faster, but it used up so much of his endurance to maintain the pace. He continued around the Circuit to the Harbor District. Had to circle half the damn city to reach it. Because of the Festival, the harbor would be crowded with Solar ships.
They would be avenged.
The Butcher was fleeing the safety of Kasusthali. The War King would act, would do something. Empu Baradah would pay.
Sunshine washed over him as he exited the crystal tube and entered the Harbor District. He paused and caught his breath, letting the fresh air soothe his nerves. Solars and Ignis watched him until he scattered them with a scowl. This cursed place would drive them all mad. Men should not live beneath the waves like fish.
He trotted off toward the piers, his shoulders itching to shift. Of course, even if the moon were up he couldn’t transform in front of these people. Though he’d enjoy seeing the look on their faces.
A Lunar ship would arrive in a week or so to take him back to Bukit, but he couldn’t wait that long. He stalked the harbor, searching for the right ship. Most captains would never consider traveling to Swarnadvipa, and for good reason. Lunar pirates grew bolder and more numerous near the Lunar homeland. The Lunars had an unhealthy taste for Solar palm sugar and spices.
A fisherman jostled Malin as he passed. Malin caught his arm and spun him around. He grabbed the man by both shoulders and lifted him off his feet. “Watch where you walk,” he said, leaning in close to the man’s face. Trembling, the fisherman only nodded. Malin dropped him. The fisherman collapsed on the pier, then scrambled away without collecting the full net of grouper he’d dropped.
So many people here. It confused him, made it hard to keep all the scents straight. Given the choice, he’d remain in the rainforest. He could take the Macan Gadungan there, away from the Moon Scion schemes, away from the Solar arrogance. But first he’d find justice for Astral Shore.
Malin grinned. The Queen of the South Sea. He rushed up the gangway and leapt onto the deck. Startled crewmen stumbled backward. One fool drew a keris knife. Malin lunged and caught the man’s wrist. A twist and the sailor yelped, the blade clattering onto the deck. No one else moved in, though several more drew knives. “Where is Bendurana?”
“Pak Malin,” the Serendibian captain said from behind him. Malin caught the familiar scent, then, and turned to face the captain. “You should not be here.”
“On that we agree. You’ll take me to Bukit. Now, Captain.”
“Ah, Malin,” Bendurana said as he spread his arms wide. “Now I see you have truly lost your mind. Perhaps you mistake me as so beloved in all lands I can pass without hindrance, but I assure you that is not the case.”
Malin snarled and grabbed Bendurana’s baju. The Serendibian had begun to dress like a Skyfall native, but it didn’t make him one. “I know how you came here,” Malin said into Bendurana’s ear, his voice low.
Bendurana glanced at his crew. “Ah, perhaps we should finish this conversation in private.” When Malin nodded, Bendurana led the way to his cabin beneath the poop deck, and shut the door. The captain leaned against the door and watched Malin with guarded eyes.
Malin paced, casting a glance at Bendurana every time he turned. “Would your new Solar friends like to know you as well as I do, old friend? Would they want to hear how you came to these Isles in disgrace?”
To his credit, Bendurana kept his face blank, but Malin could smell the scent of fear on the captain. “Blackmail, Malin? Isn’t that beneath you?”
It was beneath him, and Rangda take Bendurana for pointing it out. “You should have stayed with us. Why join the Solars after all I did for you? But your life was yours to choose. If you like the life you have … Is that a woman I smell on you? A Solar woman?” Bendurana didn’t answer, so Malin continued. “Perhaps love was not lost to you forever after all, Captain. I’d hate to see you separated from another lover.”
Bendurana hesitated, his normal bravado cracking for just a moment. “Malin, you know I would wish to help you, my friend. We both know I owe you for this ship, but these tactics dishonor you.”
Malin gritted his teeth. Perhaps Bendurana was right. He would have disdained Rahu or anyone else for using blackmail to get what he wanted, much less on someone he once called friend. But Bendurana was not the only one who had forever lost someone. “I may have a new buyer in Bukit for goods from the Spice Islands.”
Bendurana hesitated. “That will make this easier to sell the crew on. We did just get back …”
Malin turned away. He had Bendurana now. The captain was always keen to earn just a little more silver.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
“You’ve finally gotten your big chance to prove yourself, Naresh,” Landi said. “And here you sit, planning a party.”
Naresh glanced up from the pile of scrolls on the table, gave Landorundun a cold look, then returned to his papers. “I’m also in charge of Ibu Ratna’s security, Landi.”
He sat in the Arun Guard mess hall, trying to ensure nothing would surprise him tonight, thinking he would have privacy here. Early in the afternoon, no one came here. Usually. “I could find something for you to do.”
“You’d like that. Giving me orders.” She sat across from him, then brushed her hair from her face. Hair down, silk cerulean baju, she’d turn more heads than usual. “Did you dream about pushing the rest of us around while you were at the Astral Temple?”
“Mostly I dreamed about coming home.”
“Pak Empu Baradah gave you a great honor, making you Guardian. And you don’t seem to appreciate it. Not that you appreciate anything, since everything’s always given to you. Like now.” She waved her arms back as if encompass all Kasusthali. “Just given to you.”
Given to him? Naresh glowered. He’d worked just as hard as any
other potential to get where he was. And before being sent back to serve as Guardian, he’d done everything he could to protect Ratna and that baby. They wouldn’t have even had the information about Partigatiga without Naresh. He’d been the one to interrogate her, after the Ministry of Law had made so little progress with her.
Naresh looked up at Landi, where she stood still watching him with those haughty eyes. What did she want from him, anyway? He slammed his fist on the table and rose to his feet. “I, at least, have things to do today, Landi.”
As he stormed out of the mess hall he plowed right into a startled-looking Chandi. The Lunar girl fell to the ground, and scampered backward. “What are you doing here?” he asked.
“I … I was just coming to find you.” She stopped backing away, but didn’t rise.
Naresh relaxed and stepped closer, offering a hand. During the week since Empu Baradah had left, Naresh had spent a lot of time with Chandi, talking about everything from architecture to cuisine. “You’re not supposed to be in here, Chandi.” When she grabbed his hand he pulled her to her feet.
“Sorry. I just …” She glanced around the room, perhaps watching Landi behind him. “Since I hadn’t seen you all day, I thought you might be here.”
Naresh felt Landi’s eyes on his back. “Come on,” he said, not releasing her hand. “Ibu Ratna plans on taking Revati to the Academy tonight. They’re performing the Harvest Dance.” Naresh had spent the last few days planning security for it, a task that normally would have fallen to the First. Maybe that was what Landi was so pissed about, but it wasn’t his problem.
Chandi nodded as they walked out of the larger mess hall used by the palace guards. “It’s the first year I’ve been able to talk Ratna into attending. She thought … well, maybe we both thought, we shouldn’t get too involved in the Solar faith.”
“It’s not hosted by the Children of the Sun. The Ministry of Information manages the Academy, and the Academy hosts the Harvest Dance. It’s a celebration of music and life.”
“That’s something worth celebrating. I suppose it’s just a coincidence it falls so close to the Armistice Festival.”
“I think the Armistice date was chosen because this is a joyous time of year for my people. Perhaps Rahu thought we’d be most amenable at such a time. Maybe he was right.”
She released his hand when they reached the stairs to the fourth floor. “I’ll get Ratna and Revati.”
Naresh nodded then leaned against the wall to wait. One of the palace guards had seen him walk hand in hand with Chandi, but looked away when Naresh met his gaze. Naresh sighed. No rule said he couldn’t have Lunar friends.
Naresh began to tap his foot. Chandi had been gone rather long. As he glanced back at the stairs, he’d have sworn the palace guard was watching him again.
At last he heard footsteps coming down the stairs. Chandi carried Revati in her arms, Ratna following behind. Chandi and Revati both smiled, while Ratna seemed to either fight for a smile, or fight against one. “Sun warm your face, Empress.”
Ratna nodded then motioned for him to lead on. Naresh guided the ladies through the city to the Academy District. The sun had begun to set, but today, a plethora of smokeless torch poles lit the Academy grounds. The sounds of wild drums and shouting filled the dome long before they passed through the Academy gates. Once this place had been home. Once. He’d thought his times with Landi were the best of his life.
Thousands of flower wreaths lined the Academy walls and the towers. The scents of fresh fruit, roasted meats, and sugary desserts drifted across the grounds. Between the three Academy towers, a cadre of students tossed flaming batons, spinning and whooping, undulating and shouting. A large number of drummers surrounded the fire-dancers, setting the rhythm.
Despite his planning, the place was barely controlled chaos. Revati cheered and ran off, Ratna chasing after her. Naresh scanned the grounds, spotting his Arun Guardsmen where he had assigned them. With a wave of his hand he motioned Lembu Ampal after Ratna and Revati. Regular soldiers slid into position where the Guardsman had been.
Chandi turned about, taking in the performance. “It’s like a marriage party.”
“What?” Naresh almost tripped. “This party?” Far too wild for something as solemn as a marriage.
“Lunar marriages are simple declarations of love. It’s the party after the ceremony that everyone remembers.”
Chandi strolled through the grounds, sampling the fruit drinks and pastries offered by vendors around the plaza. Naresh followed, but kept his eye on Ratna. He may have assigned people he trusted to her, but she was still his responsibility. Chandi paused to watch the throng of people who had begun to dance. The dancers whirled and leapt, losing themselves in the rhythm as much as the fire-dancers. Chandi swayed in time, as though mesmerized.
Revati started for the fire-dancers, and Naresh took three steps toward the girl before Lembu Ampal ushered her back to her mother. When Naresh turned back, Chandi had joined the other dancers. In moments, Chandi had lost herself in the dance, leaping and swaying with amazing agility. Her sarong and hair flew out to the sides as she spun and twirled. The torchlight created an ever-changing maze of light and shadow across her face, across the kemban tight over her chest, over legs partially bared by her flying sarong.
Naresh shook himself, forced his attention back to Ratna. The empress too watched her handmaid, though in this light Naresh couldn’t read her face. He followed Ratna’s gaze back to Chandi. The Lunars must have this kind of dance often for Chandi to have taken to it with such ease.
He had danced with Landi like this once, on the Harvest Dance. For students at the Academy, the Dance wasn’t just the highlight of the year, it was an event they spent months planning. Not a musician, he hadn’t been as involved in planning as Landi, but it had meant everything to her. They had held hands, whirling in firelight, perhaps creating their own maze of light and dark while outsiders looked on. Strange that his fingers still remembered the texture of her hand, after so long.
Chandi met his gaze, saw him watching her. He tried to look back at Revati, but Chandi rushed over to him. Before he could speak, she grabbed his hands and pulled him over to the dancers. Like a fool, he couldn’t keep himself from joining her. This was what the Harvest Dance was supposed to be. A celebration of music and life. He had forgotten to celebrate either for years.
Chandi’s skin felt flushed to his touch and her breath came heavy, but her eyes and face were radiant. Her hair often obscured his vision of her face as she twisted, but he couldn’t take his eyes away from her.
Over Chandi’s shoulder, he saw Landorundun watching them. The Guardswoman stood with her arms crossed, taking in the entire grounds, watching Ratna and Revati, watching him and Chandi, watching for danger. Doing everything he should have been doing. Naresh let Chandi drag him into another dance.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Patience was not one of Malin’s virtues, but a tiger knew how to stalk its prey. An open confrontation would turn this into a bloodbath. Instead, Malin crept through the rainforest on Puradvipa, waiting. Whatever Empu Baradah planned at the Astral Temple, Malin doubted the murderer meant to move in. So for two days he had waited, watching the temple far above, keeping an eye on the three Solar dhows in the harbor, especially the one he knew the First had arrived on.
He cracked his neck. His stomach rumbled in irritation. Too much waiting. Act. Take them. Malin’s own ship waited just out of sight. Rahu had agreed to his plan so readily, Malin could only assume the War King had more than political reasons for wanting to retake the Astral Temple. Either way, the Lunars were supposed to wait for his signal. According to all Chandi had learned, at any given time only one Arun Guard watched this temple. Empu Baradah made two. The one that mattered.
He kept sitting here, waiting for the First to pass by him. But what if the man decided to Sun Stride down from the cliff? He’d undoubtedly Stride to the dhow rather than wait for a boat to be sent for him. No matter wha
t he did, though, he’d most likely head back to the same dhow he’d arrived on. Why else would it wait for him here?
Malin glanced up at the sun. At least another phase before it set. In tiger form his toes were webbed and he was a superb swimmer. But even trapped in human form, he could still easily make it out to the Solar dhow. The question was, how to do so without being spotted while the sun was up. He could probably pass quite a distance underwater. The sea was brilliantly clear, but the dhow was anchored far enough offshore he just might be able to make it. And taking the chance was better than waiting here for Chandra knew how long only to risk Empu Baradah bypassing him all together.
With a deep breath, he kicked off his sandals, then removed his baju. His sarong he kept, not for modesty, but merely because it gave him a place to stow his keris. He made a wide arc away from the dhow, hoping no one would see him slipping from the rainforest. The ship was far enough out, but still, by now the crew would be bored, waiting for the First’s return.
The cool waters of the South Sea instantly invigorated him as he waded into them, slunk low. He swam along the surface as far as he dared, silent as death. Several deep breaths, then he dove underwater and headed toward the dhow. His powerful limbs carried him far with each stroke, but his lungs began to burn well before he’d reached the ship. His muscles twitched and his chest shook. There was no way. He was going to have to chance surfacing. He just couldn’t make it all the way there. Cursing himself, Malin broke through the surface several dozen feet from the dhow, then struggled to keep his pants quiet.
Sailors on the ship milled about, but none were even looking at him. Some watched the horizon, but most seemed to be passing the time in idle gossip, boasting, or dice. Three years of peace had made them lax. Malin sunk back underwater and swam the rest of the way to the dhow, until he could grab the anchor line. He steadied himself there for a moment, then swam around to the aft. The hull was slick and it took him some time to find handholds enough to climb around to the aft window. It was shut, but unlocked. Malin cracked it open just enough to peer inside and make sure the cabin was unoccupied, then hefted himself up into it. Would the captain of his ship have given up his own cabin to the First? Probably. Solars cared ever so much for propriety.