by Matt Larkin
“Come, Macan Gadungan, I have a task for you.”
Malin rose, clenching his muscles like he was in pain. Perhaps he’d been in a brawl, but he always healed quickly. The tiger stalked over to her, sniffed her, an odd look in his eye. He cracked his neck, but said nothing, thank Chandra.
“My uncle executed many of the House lords in Bukit, didn’t he?”
Malin jerked. “How do you …?”
“That doesn’t matter. The lord of House Hasta is dead, yes?”
Malin glared at her.
“Good. Then evict the rest of his House. I have need of his palace.”
With a laugh, the tiger sat back down. “You’ve lost your mind, child.” He rubbed his eyes.
“The War King could do it, yes? And I speak for him. So now I’m ordering you to tell those people we want them out of Bukit. If my uncle had the lord killed, he must have been a traitor. His shame stains his family. Send them away. Or do I need to send other Moon Scions?”
Malin sighed, then shook his head. “So be it.”
But the tiger paused when he reached the house. Gathered in front, Tanjung and her three witch friends waited. Ratna nodded at them.
“Is this a joke?” Malin asked.
Ratna smiled. “No, Macan Gadungan, this is my new Moon Council. They’ll be taking over this house. And helping me run the Lunar Empire while Ketu is away. Someone told me to see to the future. Well, it’s time to change a few things.”
Perhaps a lot of things, but first she had to find Revati. And to do that, she needed Tanjung’s unwavering loyalty.
Malin gaped a moment. “Yes, it is.” The Macan Gadungan turned back to House Hasta and pounded on the gate.
Ratna couldn’t make herself watch as its people were cast out.
CHAPTER EIGHTY-FOUR
Malin had to shake himself awake. Volcanoes and rifts, bubbling magma, and a swirling vortex devouring creation. Every time he shut his eyes. Maybe Moon Scion children saw these things. They must fade in time.
They must. Sweat streamed down his back. The tiger inside stretched its claws through his mind. He felt himself arching his back along with it.
Focus. He returned to the papers in front of him.
He’d hoped the Hill Palace would grow more comfortable with Ketu gone. But Ratna, now she even smelled different. A predator, preparing for the hunt. Since her uncle—the man she still thought was her uncle—had left three days ago, the girl had grown bold. Too bold. Sangkuriang would not be pleased to learn his family had been cast out of Bukit.
Still, Ratna spent as much time in Palace Hasta as here, and with Ketu gone, Malin could tolerate the Hill Palace as much as any building. And Ratna had ordered him to sort through these reports. Damn girl loved her reports.
Only starlight from the window lit the sitting room, but Malin’s eyes had no trouble reading.
He cracked his neck and brushed another paper aside. He’d been sitting cross-legged so long his feet were falling asleep. Of eleven Arun Guard, at least seven were believed dead. Given the chaos as Kasusthali fell, it was hard to be sure. It could even be more than that.
For certain, they’d hunted down and destroyed two since the city fell. The Arun Guard remained the greatest threat the Lunar Empire had ever faced. Whether Malin followed Ketu or not, he had no love for the murderous Guard.
But to go after Naresh and Landorundun, Ketu was sending those Igni Firewalkers after Chandi, too. Treacherous bastards. They had hidden their ability to control flames for Chandra-alone-knew how long.
Better to leave the Guardsman in peace, maybe. But Malin had given Naresh reason to hate him. And vengeance would play out sooner or later. All Macan Gadungan knew that in the depths of their souls.
Probably the man would kill whatever Ignis Ketu sent. Assuming the Ignis were really with them. And assuming their Firewalkers could do as they said. They’d betrayed Kakudmi and helped destroy Kasusthali, but they hadn’t exactly gone to war with the remaining Solars on their home island. Malin’s overtures of alliance had been met with redirection and delay, though never refusal.
Fools. Or maybe wiser than anyone.
He started to toss aside the next report, then paused. Malin never paid much attention to the prisoner manifests. Wouldn’t normally even look at them if Ketu was here. But Ratna had handed the duty off to him. Too small a thing to defy her over.
But this one. A werecrocodile held for sedition. On Rahu’s order. Which meant there probably wasn’t anyone around that still cared whether she’d ever be released.
Malin needed to stretch his legs anyway.
It was late enough that Bukit’s night market had begun to dwindle down. Few people still walked the streets. The soldiers at the guardhouse off the market stood straighter at his approach, but he just nodded to them.
A Macan Gadungan stood guard over the stairs into the tunnels beneath Bukit. The Bowels of Bukit, everyone called the complex of dungeons, sewers, and the coliseum. The weretiger met Malin’s gaze before making a half-bow.
“I was not here,” Malin told the Macan Gadungan. “Make sure the others know.”
The weretiger nodded.
Malin dismissed another weretiger guarding the dungeon itself. Some cells were near the coliseum, but they wouldn’t have kept this prisoner there. He had to go deeper into the Bowels.
The stench wasn’t just the smell of human waste and rats. Stale air filled the halls. Stagnant water. Mold. The foul mixture stung his eyes. Bowels. An apt name.
A tremor ran through his muscles. Not now. Three days practicing the Blessings wasn’t enough. Sometimes they just came on him. His stomach tried to jump into his throat. But it was oh-so-sweet, when he had the Blessings.
He slumped against the wall a moment, then forced himself to drop the Blessings, before continuing. Soon, Malin had to take a torch to proceed. Even he needed some light. The torchlight glittered off the water slicking the walls of the lower dungeon.
His sandal brushed against something squishy. Malin grimaced. One thing he had to give the Solars. They’d never build a place like this. They’d burn people alive for treason. But they wouldn’t have built this pit for their worst enemies.
The water on the floor ran downhill. Malin followed it. After an intolerable trek through this place, he paused at a grate on the floor. The water poured through it in a foul cascade. Could be the place.
The grate was a circle, almost as wide as he was tall. A slimy crust had formed where the guards had tossed fish and slop down to the prisoner. Malin crouched atop the grate, peered down into the darkness.
If something hadn’t moved in there, he might not have seen it, even with his eyes. But something was shifting down there. A woman. He held the torch closer to the grate.
The woman pressed herself farther back into the shadows. Naked, shivering. Faint sound of water splashing as she slipped into it.
“Who are you?” he asked.
The woman didn’t answer at first. “Pohaci,” she said, at last.
That was the name on the report. “You know who I am?”
“Yes.”
“Why are you here?”
“I was brave enough to stand up to the War King when he wanted us to sneak into Kasusthali with his delegation.”
Brave enough. Interesting. “Rahu’s no longer the War King. He’s been dead over a year.”
Malin should have brought the key. Assuming anyone knew where the key to this cell was. Disgusting slime squished under his fingers as he grasped the bars.
Pohaci laughed. “Not even a weretiger could pry that loose.”
With a deep breath, he tried to draw his Potency Blessing. He’d watched Chandi trying to master her Blessings as a child. Heard the advice Ketu had given her. Time to see if all the practice paid off.
Combined with his weretiger strength, when he managed the strength Blessing, the effects were … impressive. Iron shrieked as he pulled. The echoes of its protests filled the cell. And then the grate snappe
d free in a shower of stone.
“Sweet Chandra,” Pohaci said.
Malin tossed the grate aside.
The drop was at least a dozen feet, probably more. No ladder. No one left this kind of cell.
With a grimace, Malin dropped down. He landed in muck up to his ankles.
The woman took a step back from him. But only a step. “You really are the first of the Macan Gadungan, aren’t you?”
Malin joined her on dry land, then shook the filth off his feet. He’d burn these sandals. He noticed a pile of discarded clothes in the corner, ragged and covered in mold. No wonder she’d preferred to strip naked.
“Climb onto my shoulders, and I’ll hoist you up.”
She did, and he lifted her until she could reach the ledge. She pulled herself up.
Malin drew his Blessing harder and jumped. The strength of his legs was enough to let him catch the ledge. He heaved himself over the lip. A shudder ran through him at the thought of spending a day here. Much less a year.
“Come,” he said.
Pohaci fell in step behind him, heedless of her state of undress. She practically clung to him. “I’ll never forget this,” she said.
Malin glanced back at the cell. “Neither will I.”
CHAPTER EIGHTY-FIVE
Palace Hasta, once the most beautiful palace in Bukit, had been overrun with witches. Not even the rains covered the scent of the decaying Lunar Empire. And today, the rains had stopped and the sun was shining.
Malin left his baju open, drinking in the sunlight, as he crouched near the palace gate. The gardens here, almost a rainforest within the compound, called to him. Sangkuriang’s daughter had sobbed when he ushered her from this home. Malin clenched the dirt in his fists, crushed it. Felt it crumble. “Why?” the child had asked.
Because Tanjung had poisoned Ratna’s mind. Because the daughter was becoming the mother. Malin had held Calon as she died. Nothing but death came from black magic.
Four days since he’d rescued that poor girl Pohaci from the Bowels. Enough time to master the easiest Blessings, strength and speed. To feel the addiction the Moon Scions felt. Technically, Malin was one of them now.
No. He wasn’t like them.
Word came this morning that the Hasta girl had taken ill in the rainforest. Her mother had begged on the edge of town for medicine. Glorious to see the Moon Scions grovel. Except when innocent lives hung in the balance.
And the witches had refused the family.
Even Ratna, when Malin had begged her to rescind the exile, had refused. Malin had offered her the chance to join him, and she’d spurned him.
Malin rose and flung open the gates. Ratna had stationed guards on the place. One look at Malin and they backed away. Best for them.
Stark emptiness greeted him in the palace entry hall. Once, wall hangings had displayed peacocks and tigers and star-filled skies. Gone. Gone also were the golden candlesticks. All sold, trying to scrape by after Malin had cast out Sangkuriang a year ago.
A slave imposed himself between Malin and the inner hallways. He held a hand up, as if to ask Malin what he planned. Malin shoved the man aside. The slave collided with the wall, then rubbed his shoulder, mumbling obscenities human hearing would have missed.
The spirit within clawed at his mind. Vengeance. No, not the time. Still, he caught himself taking the stairs two at a time.
She was there, in the largest chamber. Tanjung. Actually smiled when he barged in. Intricate rosewood furniture still decorated this room. The remainders of House Hasta’s wealth, stolen by this Rangda-worshipping woman.
“More than a week, Macan Gadungan. I didn’t expect it to take you so long.” The witch sat on the windowsill, had probably seen him enter the compound through that window. From here, he could see clear to the market.
Malin approached Tanjung at an angle, kept his gaze locked on her eyes. “There was a girl I knew. A child that took refuge in my arms. A child that sobbed for the loss of her mother. I swore to protect her.” Malin edged closer to the windowsill, until his nose almost touched Tanjung’s. “What have you done with that child, witch?”
Tanjung smiled, but stank of fear underneath. “Did you or did you not ignite the Fifth War by murdering Empu Baradah? I think that left one child in the arms of the Solars, and the other, well, not a child anymore.”
Chandi. No. Malin hadn’t driven her into Naresh’s arms. No.
He grabbed Tanjung by the throat and shoved her back, shattering the glass in the window. He left her dangling out of it, clutching his arm. “Do you think I’m toying with you, witch? Leave Ratna alone. If you send her down this path, I’ll kill you.”
Tanjung shoved him, the surge of strength catching Malin unaware. “I am a Moon Scion, Macan Gadungan! Your threats frightened me away once. But we have both grown since then. I’m going nowhere, but you are leaving. Now. Or perhaps you’d like a closer look at the dungeons in the Bowels? What is it like beneath the streets of Bukit? They say you can hear the moans of the dead that never received their sending. If I tell Ratna you attacked a Moon Scion, I imagine she’d let you find out.”
Malin bared his teeth. Edged closer. Should have killed her all those years ago. Oh, maybe Ratna would have him jailed for it. Or she’d try, and start the war. The Jadian would never let it stand, if she tried to lock him in the Bowels.
“For the child’s sake, you live.”
“Then get out of my house, beast.”
Malin paused at the doorway. He smashed the dresser with one blow. Tanjung’s shriek felt even better than crushing her expensive furniture had. “It’s not your house, witch.” Malin’s smile didn’t even last until he’d exited the palace.
He was losing Ratna as surely as he’d lost Calon. And Chandi. But any overt attack on Tanjung would only hasten that loss.
Another way, then. Malin passed through the market, ignoring the vendors pawning coriander and other goods from the Spice Islands. And beyond. The fall of the Solar Empire had opened freer trade with Au Lac and Tianxia. Men and women tried to sell him bundles of silk, foreign blades, jade necklaces.
Perhaps it should bother him he no longer saw himself as human. He was Macan Gadungan. He was a Moon Scion.
But not like the others.
“Be gone, tiger,” Ratna had said this morning. Dismissed him like one of the Solars’ pets, when he tried to offer her alliance.
He couldn’t blame her, the foolish child. All her life a Macan Gadungan had been her bodyguard and servant. As they were for all Moon Scion Houses. But if words couldn’t awaken her, and he couldn’t drive Tanjung away, he’d need something more.
Dirty children ran past him, chasing each other around the narrow alleys of the Loghouses. With no rain today, the stink of refuse stung his eyes. The filth would wash into the Bowels when the rains came, but now the slimy muck piled on the sides of the alleys.
Careful of where he stepped, Malin passed on from the Loghouses into the marshlands. Sad even the swamp felt cleaner than the common areas of Bukit.
Malin passed through the wetlands without fear. They teemed with life, but no animal could or would harm him. His Blessings, when he could summon them, made him almost unstoppable.
The thought of the Blessings left him trembling. His skin began to change color, matching the greenery around him. Sweat beaded his brow, and Malin had to hold himself up on his knees from the sudden pressure just below his abdomen. Fire coiled inside him, threatened to rise up and scorch his brain.
Malin fell to his hands and knees in the water, gasping for air. Clear his mind. He took a deep breath and held it. When he blew it out, his skin had returned to normal and the pressure had faded.
Chandi had said her Glamour was the hardest to control. But he would control it.
The dreams meant nothing, just hallucinations of Kahyangan. They haunted his sleep. But they would fade.
He resumed his trek through the wetlands. The Buaya Jadian had their own communal loghouse—not on stilts�
�near the beach, beyond the wetlands. The other Lunars wouldn’t suffer the werecrocodiles to live among them. The Buaya Jadian probably wouldn’t want to, either.
They weren’t in the hut, though. They all lay about on the beach, soaking in the sun.
Pohaci reclined on her stomach, amidst the others of her kind, her baju discarded. She opened one eye at his approach, then languidly pushed herself up on her arms.
“Malin.” Her voice was rich, no longer raspy. She’d cut her hair off at the shoulders, even shorter in the front. Cleaned up, she almost looked like Chandi. A sweet face to mask the beast inside.
He forced his gaze from her bare breasts to her face. “Get dressed.” He’d seen plenty of Jadian unclad. Didn’t need these thoughts now.
Pohaci took a moment to stretch before doing as he ordered. None of the other Buaya Jadian moved, though now he saw several had opened their eyes. Watched him.
“Walk with me.”
The woman fell in step beside him. She was short, lithe. Just like Chandi.
Malin spared a glance at her. “Do you like this situation? With your people?”
Pohaci stopped and turned toward the beach with exquisite slowness. “It’s a good beach.”
Malin grunted and grabbed her by the hand. Pulled her through the wetlands, back toward the Loghouses. The Lunars there shied away from them.
One old woman made a sign of warding, as though Rangda herself walked the streets of Bukit. Others ducked behind stalls as Pohaci passed.
Spies. Saboteurs. Assassins. The werecrocodiles were feared even by other Lunars. But Pohaci made no attempt to hide her unnatural stillness, no attempt to deny her nature. Nor should she.
“The Macan Gadungan at least get some measure of respect,” he said. “You like this?” He waved at the cowering humans, then ushered her along through the city.
“What do you think, Malin? Am I a monster? The people I served treated me like one. And if I questioned them? I was beaten and locked away in a dank cell. Fed rotten fish and the occasional entrails. You didn’t have to bring me here to see that these people are cowards.”