by Matt Larkin
Mahesa shrugged and grinned. “So you never had to carry out difficult duties, before? Didn’t you throw all of House Hasta out of their own home to give the witches a place?”
Shit. How had she done that? She hadn’t even looked into why Ketu had ordered Sangkuriang executed. And now that she’d had the man killed, it was too late to do anything for him. But if she recalled his family, wouldn’t they still hate her and forever plot against House Soma for the hardship and shame it had wrought upon them?
Ratna paused at the wash bin to splash some water on her face, then walked out into the palace. The Hill Palace her family had stolen from House Shravana so many years ago. Because that’s what House Soma did. Take whatever it wanted.
She left the Hill Palace with Mahesa in tow. Whatever had happened in the past, she couldn’t change. But maybe she needed to fix what she could, while she could. Did she even want to be Ketu’s heir? Wasn’t this man, pretending to be her uncle, just plunging the Skyfall Isles into greater chaos with his war with Malin? And maybe Ratna would be happier with a simple life with Mahesa and Revati.
Ratna paused before the Garden Palace—Palace Hasta—hands on her hips, staring up at the window. Mahesa pulled her arm away from her side and slipped his hand into hers. He was right; she had to do this.
She could walk away from Bukit, as Chandi had done. But that wasn’t who she was. The corruption and decadence and lunacy here, she had a duty to root out. Because, however her family came to power, they were the ones in power.
“To hold a throne is to serve those who kneel before you,” Kakudmi had once said, on a rare occasion he deigned to notice her. Bastard was clever, she had to give him that. And he had loved Revati, so she couldn’t hate him. Not quite.
She nodded at Mahesa and he opened the gates. The path to the palace seemed longer this time. Had she never noticed just how much those overgrown paths closed in around her as she trod forward?
A slave opened the front door as she approached. So they had seen her. Very well, it made no difference.
Mahesa followed her up the stairs, but paused behind her as she opened the door to Tanjung’s chamber. The older witch sat by the window, where she’d have had a clear view of Ratna’s approach to the palace.
“Hello, Ratna.”
Ratna half bowed. “Tanjung, there are things we need to discuss.”
The woman rose and drifted toward her. “What things, my dear?”
Well. “I think it would be best if we returned this house to its owners. Sangkuriang has paid for his mistake with his life. It’s enough. Perhaps you should head north, do some reconnaissance on the Houses in the highlands.”
Tanjung crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re casting me out? Just like Malin, eh? The moment you grow nervous you turn on those who uphold you.” She spun on Mahesa. “The moment this boy returns. What did you say to her, child? Sweet lies to open her heart? Or her legs?”
Ratna recoiled, and Mahesa backed away.
“You can’t trust men, child,” Tanjung said to her. “I thought I taught you that. Send the boy away, and all is forgotten.”
Ratna grabbed Mahesa’s wrist and pulled him up to her side. “No. I love this man, and I’ll marry him.”
Mahesa twisted to stare at her, his jaw half open. She watched him from the corner of her eye, but tried to focus on Tanjung.
“I don’t know whether my mother was right or wrong, but I’m not going to become her. You should leave Bukit, Tanjung. Malin was right.” About too many things.
The woman stalked closer and glared at her. Her sudden slap caught Ratna off guard. The blow almost knocked her down, would have, if Mahesa hadn’t caught her. The sharp sting in her cheek stunned her only a moment. She rose up and pulled Mahesa back when he started for the woman.
“And you, boy,” Tanjung said to him, before Ratna could speak, “will regret interfering with me.” The woman headed for the door.
“You’re speaking to my future husband, Tanjung.”
The woman’s glare could have withered the moon orchids in the garden below. Tanjung stormed out of the palace, taking her fellow witches with her.
Had they done the right thing? Ratna had just cast out the woman who had tried to help her find Revati. The one person who might have understood what the book contained.
“There’s one more thing you need to cast out of Bukit,” Mahesa said, as though he’d known her mind had gone to the book.
Ratna sighed. He really left her no choice. “I’ll take care of it.” She couldn’t lose Mahesa, and he was right. Wasn’t he? Because, without doubt, this pursuit had changed her. They’d have to find Revati another way. “Go and tell the people House Hasta is now welcome back in Bukit.” Undo the mistakes, one at a time.
Ratna followed Mahesa out of Palace Hasta, and left him to return to the Hill Palace. The book remained where she had left it, on her floor.
Book in hand, she wandered the hills toward the cliff above Bukit. If she cast the thing into the sea, the Queen of the South Sea would take it where she willed. Perhaps her mother’s book would fall into the depths of the ocean, lost for all time.
Stories said her mother had died by the sea, as well.
Malin had carried her body home in his arms, along with Simhika’s. Ratna’s and Chandi’s mothers had died beneath Solar blades, because of this book.
Then let it be gone. She walked down the path to the sea, careful of her footing on the sandy ground. Down the beach, people worked in the harbor, a new ship arrived from somewhere. Puradvipa, perhaps, with word or orders from Ketu.
Her supposed uncle still tried to hold the temple against Malin’s forces. But his only defense against the Macan Gadungan seemed to be to unleash cyclones against Puradvipa, until the island must have been beaten to the breaking point.
No one in the harbor would notice her, most likely. She waded into the warm, sapphire waters of the South Sea, up to her knees.
She would cast the book out and be done with it. The tides would carry it away.
As they had carried away her daughter.
Was she ready to give up hope of ever seeing Revati again? Because that’s what casting the book away would mean. Because, if she failed to find her with Mahesa’s help, this book was the last recourse.
“Chandra?” she said. Could the Moon God even hear, now, in daytime? Or did he sleep? Did he care? “Please, help me.”
She clutched the book to her chest. Of course, he didn’t answer. And if she cast this away …
No.
Her wet sandals held sand as she trod back across the beach to the cliff. It made the trek back up the path even more treacherous, but she had time.
Years and years ago, after their mothers had died, Chandi had shown Ratna a hollow tree up on this cliff. Their secret hiding place. At the base, near the roots, the opening was just wide enough for her to slide the book inside.
She wouldn’t use it. Not if she had any other choice.
Head high, she walked back to Bukit. All would be well. Just breathe.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED ELEVEN
Malayadvipa made a convenient staging ground for an assault on Swarnadvipa. Still, the local people spoke the Skyfall tongue with a dialect that grated on Malin’s ears.
His Moon Scion allies had dwindled because of their losses at Puradvipa. Only a handful of Houses, those that owed him, followed Malin to begin with. Now, too many had fallen into an ambush they thought they’d planned. Malin’s agent in Bukit had fallen silent. If Sangkuriang had betrayed him, Malin would kill the man.
A half dozen of his remaining Moon Scions stood in the hut, looking over a map of the Skyfall Isles. Once he might have doubted them. But Ketu and Ratna had made it clear all their lives were forfeit. It meant these men had no choice but to see this through.
So seven people crowded in a hut meant for three or four. The breeze through the open window kept the place from stifling them, but not by much.
Pohaci stuck her head
in the door. “He’s arrived.”
Everyone looked up.
“This is a mistake,” someone said.
The last Moon Scion they awaited had declared for no one. Not much remained of his once-mighty House, but the man had taken over a pirate cabal. And that made him valuable.
Rangguwani slipped into the hut a moment later. The man was perhaps thirty, clean-shaven. He wore his golden baju unbuttoned, exposing his muscular physique. Malin scoffed. Wouldn’t impress his allies any more than it did him.
“Captain. Welcome to our war council.”
Rangguwani bowed. “The Macan Gadungan who betrayed his House. And Moon Scions who betrayed their own people. What do you want of me?”
Malin’s allies murmured at the disrespect Rangguwani showed them. Pohaci moved to block the doorway. Malin called her off with a slight shake of his head.
“We want you to help us build the new Lunar Empire. We want your ships to help us assault Swarnadvipa. We want you to stand for something.”
“And we want you to decide soon,” Pohaci said behind him.
The man jerked, clearly unaware she stood so close. Malin tried not to smile at Pohaci. She fingered the ekor pari wrapped around her waist.
“I came here in good faith, to negotiate.”
Malin spread his hands. “You are a guest. I have not threatened you. Yet.”
Rangguwani took a step toward Malin. “And why would I want to join the man who ripped out my little brother’s throat?”
Malin cracked his neck. He’d known this would come up. “Anusapati was a lunatic. You know what had to happen.”
“So you say. And that accusation not only cost him his life, it brought House Kshuparaka into ignominy and financial ruin.”
“You seem to be doing well enough at the moment,” one of the Moon Scions said.
Rangguwani held up his hand. “Be that as it may, I won’t join you. Your war with Ketu is not my problem. I have other aims. You asked me to hear you out, and I have.”
Malin met and held his gaze. “And will you join Ketu?”
Rangguwani shook his head. “The man’s not much better than Rahu. A religious zealot makes a poor king. And the destruction he’s been causing helps no one. I’d not shed a tear if you killed him. But that doesn’t mean I’ll become another of your pawns. I wouldn’t be sorry to see you die, either.”
The Moon Scions bristled again. The man had nerve, Malin had to give him that.
“Give us a ship,” Malin said. “If Ketu wins, he’ll never know where we got it. But if we win and you refuse, we’ll remember that. One ship, and we’ll let you be on your way.”
The captain looked from one face to the next. “So be it. One ship. It’ll be sent here tomorrow.”
Malin waved for Pohaci to let the man leave. The captain fixed his gaze on Malin for a long moment before departing.
After returning to the map, Malin pointed at the northern edge of Swarnadvipa. “We’ll cross the Strait of Malacca in two days’ time.”
“We should move right for Bukit.”
The other Moon Scions seemed to agree, but Malin shook his head. “We’ll capture the northern ports first. Each of you will sack one. Gain a foothold.”
“They’ll know we’re coming for Bukit,” Pohaci said.
“Yes. They’d know we’re coming anyway. Now, they’ll have time for fear to work its way through them. Fear of the Macan Gadungan. Fear of the Buaya Jadian. While the Moon Scions capture the port towns, Pohaci, you send your people to scuttle more of the ships in Bukit. We don’t know if Ketu is there, but we want to make sure he can’t escape by sea. Either way, we have to take Bukit. And Ketu dares not turn his cyclones on Swarnadvipa. To do so would turn every Lunar in the Isles against him.”
When no one argued, he dismissed them.
Pohaci lingered behind, leaning against the wall, watching him. Always so still.
“You object to your part in the plan?” Malin asked.
“No.” She slid from her perch and glided toward him. “But I don’t want to go myself. I want to remain with you. Fight by your side.”
She stood so close he could feel her warm breath on his skin. Her face, eyes so much like Chandi. Even the hair, though Pohaci’s was shorter in the front, only just past her ears.
“As long as your people can do the job on their own, I don’t see any reason for you to go.”
She grabbed his shoulders. “I want you, Malin. I know you have your preoccupations. Maybe someone else is on your mind. Maybe it’s the weight of your destiny. Doesn’t matter to me.”
His shoulders tingled where she squeezed them. Images of ripping off her sarong ran through his mind. Throwing her onto his bed. Soft face and eyes like Chandi. Silky black hair. And she smelled exotic.
Malin cracked his neck. Focus. “We have no idea what would happen if you got pregnant.” Jadian sometimes took human mates. Such a child was almost always taken by the same kind of spirit. But if a weretiger and werecrocodile had a child, which would it be? If both spirits could take the child, the result could tear it to pieces.
She shook her head, once. “We don’t even know if that could happen. We can’t live in fear. Enough things have been denied to us already. We shouldn’t deny ourselves the things we want.”
Malin sighed and kissed her on the forehead. “Go get some rest, Pohaci.” He wasn’t sure what he wanted anymore.
Between Pohaci and the war, he doubted he’d find any rest tonight.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWELVE
For a phase they had all stood, watching Landorundun paint Glyphs on the deck of the Queen of the South Sea.
“I don’t think we should be doing this, Ben,” Chandi said.
Ben was still grinning. From the sounds that had come from his and Landorundun’s cabin last night, Chandi could guess why. “Ah, Chandi. The witch told her what to do, right? Trust Landi, she knows what she’s doing.” He elbowed her a bit. “And she likes to be in charge.”
Chandi shook her head. She was more afraid it would work than it wouldn’t. Yesterday, Ben had declared this was the place where he’d seen the mermaids. And so, somewhere north of the Spice Islands, they waited while the Guardswoman prepared a spell to summon Nyai Loro Kidul.
Chandi should never have agreed to this. She’d thought to spend a month or so to find the spirit. It had been over five months. And where was Naresh? What if harm had come to him in her absence?
The sky was clear, at least, and the sea calm. After so long aboard the ship, its lull no longer bothered Chandi. While she couldn’t see why anyone would choose this life, she could handle it. Some days, she even helped with the fishing nets. Though she’d sure love something different for dinner once in a while.
A few of the crew made jokes about Landorundun’s art project. But most stood around, seeming as nervous as Chandi felt. Earth was for people. Kahyangan was for the ancestors. Best not to mix the two.
Landorundun rose from her painting, admired it a moment. “Nyai Loro Kidul,” she said.
No. This was wrong. Chandi ran to the Guardswoman’s side. “Please, Landorundun, let this go. Let’s go home.”
Could she still save things with Naresh? Should she? Well, she’d have to try.
Landorundun put her hand on Chandi’s shoulder. “You can call me Landi.”
The dhow bucked. The impact beneath the ship flung Chandi to the deck. Waves crashed over the rails. Chandi slid across the deck and collided with a coiled rope.
“Nyai Loro Kidul!” Landi shouted. “I summon you to our aid.”
Nothing happened. Chandi dared to breathe.
“Dewi Kadita!” Landi shouted, using what Ben claimed was her mortal name.
The waves grew with each passing moment. Chandi struggled to regain her feet as the ship rocked. “Landi, stop!”
The Guardswoman had never lost her balance. Her long, shimmering hair swam in the wind behind her. “Dewi Kadita! I summon you.”
Something pulled on the
dhow. The ship listed to port, then started to turn in an arc.
“Surya’s angry welts,” Bendurana said.
Ben must spend phases lying awake at night thinking these lines up. She appreciated creative profanity, sure, but he tried to make it an art.
Chandi hurried to his side. “What’s happening?”
The Serendibian pointed to the center of the arc they were caught in. “Maelstrom.”
Chandi stumbled to the rail. The sea swirled in a vortex, sucking water down. She hadn’t thought these whirlpools got large enough to threaten a dhow. The crew shouted, terror awash on their faces. Chandi knew the feeling. Five hundred feet across, at least, and growing. The dhow lurched further, its masts leaning toward the inside of the maelstrom.
“Nyai Loro Kidul!” Landi’s voice was almost lost in the roar of the maelstrom.
Chandi hurried toward the Guardswoman. Ben grabbed her arm before she got there. “Too late to change course now, my dear! Enjoy the ride.”
The maelstrom exploded upward in a pillar of water. The force of it hurled the Queen of the South Sea through the air.
The ship crashed back into the ocean, the impact flinging Chandi’s feet out from under her. She drew her Blessings as she neared the rail, shifted her gravity to it. Other crew were not so lucky. At least one went over the side.
The geyser of water held in the air. Its overflow spilled onto the dhow, showering it like rain. Chandi regained her feet, drenched.
Landorundun had caught Bendurana. Must have Sun Strode to do so. She kissed him. “I’m sorry, my love,” she said. “This is the only way. When it’s finished, we’ll work it out.”
Landi Strode to the bow. “Nyai Loro Kidul! I offer you this vessel.”
“What?” Ben said, looking at Chandi. “My ship?”
Chandi prayed that’s what it meant.
And then Landi Sun Strode out over the ocean and disappeared beneath the waves. The geyser receded.
“Landi!” Ben shouted.
Chandi ran after him, met him at the rail.