by Matt Larkin
She turned to glance at Lembu Ampal. The man could Stride over and take down Sunten in an instant, but the other kitchen staff would surely raise an alarm. Maybe their best shot at Rangguwani was to let his own people bring them to meet him. Assuming Lembu Ampal had enough sunlight left to get them out of this place when it was done.
Pohaci turned her gaze back to Sunten and nodded. The weretiger ordered one of the kitchen staff to ferry a message, then waved to Pohaci and Lembu Ampal to follow him. He led them into a sitting room lined with giant round cushions. “Wait here.”
Lembu Ampal paced around the room, examining the paintings on the wall. Dead Solar kings, most likely. Pohaci had just gotten comfortable on a blue velvet cushion when guards arrived. If Sunten had betrayed them, she’d skin the tiger. Of course, she planned to betray him, so perhaps she deserved no better. She rose, eying each of the men. They clutched arbirs tightly, but didn’t level the polearms at her.
After a few moments, Naresh entered the room. Shock washed over his face and was replaced in an instant with a set jaw.
“Pak Naresh,” Lembu Ampal said, almost stumbling as he trod toward the other Guardsman. “I didn’t realize you were … You truly serve here?”
Naresh looked away a moment, almost like he was looking past them. Pohaci glowered. She hadn’t counted on him being here, and Lembu Ampal might not be willing to challenge him.
“Better than Tohjaya,” Naresh said at last. “You think he deserves your loyalty?”
Lembu Ampal fidgeted with a medallion around his neck. “I’ve given it to him. I’ve sworn—”
“What?” Naresh said. “To follow a man who can’t tell friend from foe? Who trods on the weak to make himself feel strong? Think about who he was in the Academy. The boy made it his business to harass and abuse anyone he could, including …” Naresh twitched his jaw for a moment. “Including Landorundun.”
Lembu Ampal shut his eyes a moment, then turned back to Naresh. “Did this Lunar really unite the three dynasties?”
“So it would appear,” Naresh said.
Pohaci could almost smell the doubt on Lembu Ampal. Chandra’s surging tides. Solars! “Are you going to do what we came here for, or not?” She didn’t relish fighting Naresh—she’d seen that one in battle, and only a fool would go against him if she could avoid it—but she had to find Malin.
Lembu Ampal opened his mouth, but Naresh spoke first. “And what did you come for, Jadian?”
Jadian. So the Solar spoke to her with enough respect to not call her werecrocodile. “Do you know where Malin is?”
Naresh shook his head.
Lembu Ampal sighed and looked down. “I think I should meet with Pak Rangguwani in the morning.”
Pohaci threw up her arms and plopped down on the pillows piled about the room. At least they were comfortable. Not that she needed pillows, of course. She was Buaya Jadian. She could sleep just as well on a warm beach or rock. But this plush fabric did feel nice on her skin.
“I’ll arrange quarters,” Naresh said. “Neither of you are to leave those quarters until I come for you in the morning. Understood?”
The big man nodded and Pohaci sneered. This was not going according to plan, at all. After Naresh left, Lembu Ampal sat in front of her. He didn’t speak. Fine, let him linger in silence. Jadian lived longer than normal humans anyway. She had more time to spend than he did.
“Tohjaya is …” he began, then stopped as if unsure what he wanted to say.
“An idiot?” Pohaci offered. “A spoiled child? Contemptuous?”
Lembu Ampal frowned. “He was a king, almost an Arun Guard himself. I’d known him …”
Pohaci watched him without moving. “Spare me the justifications for why you followed him. There are always reasons, and maybe yours were good. I don’t care. All I want is to find the man I love. Tohjaya has that knowledge.”
“So do I. I was always at Tohjaya’s side, but he wouldn’t have wanted me to tell you …”
She sat up slowly, leaning in toward the big man. “And now?”
“I think … I’m staying here. Rangguwani seems the better king, the one who could really unite the dynasties. Even Naresh is with him. When I meet him tomorrow—”
Pohaci leapt to her feet, pulling the man up by his baju. Shock passed over his face. Clearly no one had ever manhandled him like this. “Where is Malin?” The crocodile was so close to the surface. She could feel her vision start to shift, feel her muscles tremble in anticipation of the change.
“Tohjaya’s spies said he was seen in Malayadvipa. In the court of the Witch-Queen.”
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FORTY-SIX
Chandi couldn’t say whether her husband had made the right choice in sparing Kertajaya and Lang. It was good to see mercy in him, without doubt. But those two would probably stir up trouble again. At least she aimed to make sure that, if it happened, she was there to help him, to protect him from those mistakes.
Of course that meant spending her afternoons spying on Hainuwele from the roof of her own house. Her Blessings let her shift her gravity to the wall, so getting up to the roof was easy. And if anyone looked up at her—unlikely given the tight layout of the houses—she could always use the Glamour.
Sure enough, on the third afternoon after his encounter with Naresh, Lang came stalking into Hainuwele’s garden again, carrying a lamp, oddly enough, though daylight remained. Hainuwele rose slowly to meet him, as if afraid she dreamed. Did she love the man? Lang didn’t seem worthy of such affections, but then, Chandi didn’t think much of Hainuwele, either. So they were perfect for each other. Chandi smiled.
Something shifted in the shadows beneath one of the houses. Someone else was here. How had she missed this? First a single form rose from those shadows, stalking closer to the oblivious lovers. Sunten. She’d heard the young Macan Gadungan had fallen into Rangguwani’s service.
Chandi could shout and warn them, but not without giving herself away. And should she, anyway? She owed Lang no loyalty.
A pair of soldiers followed Sunten, flanking Lang. His head jerked up and he rose, drawing his keris sword.
“If you come along quietly—” Sunten started to say.
Lang flung the lantern at him. The weretiger ducked, but flames exploded out from the lantern, forcing Sunten to throw himself to the ground. Both soldiers rushed Lang. He engaged one. Hainuwele threw herself at the other’s back, trying to pull him away from her lover.
Chandi rose.
Then it happened so fast. The soldier Hainuwele clung to twisted in her grasp, trying to throw her off, and fell on her. When he rose, his keris had gone through her chest.
Landi’s sister convulsed. Landi’s sister. Chandi drew her Blessings to shift her gravity and ran down the house. She jumped to the ground and smashed her fist into the soldier’s face. When he fell, Chandi stood before Hainuwele, who looked up at her with eyes like a mountain lake. She trembled once more and then was still.
Lang had killed the other soldier. He dropped to his knees next to Hainuwele, wailing. Sunten stalked closer, keris knife in hand. Lang seemed completely unaware of him.
Chandi interposed herself between them. “Leave now, Macan Gadungan.”
“I have my orders, Chandi.”
“You’ve done enough.”
He tried to move past her. She drew her Blessings and grasped his wrist, then spun, flinging him against a stilt so hard the house shuddered. Sunten lay still in the dirt.
Chandra, Hainuwele was … Chandi turned back to her. Lang had his head down on her chest. How had this happened so fast? Had she really considered not helping at all? Her hesitation had cost a life.
After a moment, Chandi went to Lang, but he didn’t seem to notice her. He lifted Hainuwele’s corpse in his arms, then carried her away. Chandi followed, but he never turned to look back at her. He walked past the rice fields and back into the hills as if returning to his cave. For a long time he walked, seeming heedless of the weight of the body in his arms
. Perhaps he was strong, or perhaps grief had denied him the ability to notice.
And Chandi had let this happen. Landorundun had given her life to save Chandi, and this was how she repaid her? By letting a thug ram a keris through her sister’s heart.
When Lang reached the edge of the cave, he laid Hainuwele’s body down as though she merely slept, then climbed down the rope.
Was he going to just leave her there? Chandi drew her Glamour and snuck closer. Should she do something?
The rope began to sway as Lang climbed back up. Chandi slunk away and hid behind a tree. Lang had brought a shovel from below, and began to dig a hole in the hillside. His face was so hard, Chandi almost wanted to go and help him, but she dared not reveal herself.
She watched as he dug and dug. He panted, and stopped to wipe his brow, but mostly just smeared dirt over his face. And then it was done, and he coughed.
“Haini,” he murmured. He lowered Hainuwele’s body down into the hole, as though setting her into a bed. “Surya guide your way back to the Wheel of Life,” he said. For a time Lang stood still, then at last he began to pile dirt onto her. As the last pile fell, his calm broke, and he wept. That, Chandi couldn’t bring herself to watch.
She shook herself and returned to Daha. The woman had been alive a phase ago. Alive, in love, vibrant. And her life was snuffed out in a heartbeat. It felt like it had all passed in a dream.
She returned to her home, and sat on the porch, seeing nothing. Ice seemed to build in her chest and wouldn’t release her. She didn’t realize she was crying until Naresh wrapped her in his arms. “What happened?”
First she buried her face in his chest. He was warm, solid. And alive. How quickly any of those things could change.
“Chandi?”
“Rangguwani sent his men after Lang, Naresh.” She kept her face nuzzled against him, tightening her arms around his waist. “Hainuwele got in the way … She … I wanted to stop it, but it just happened so fast.”
Naresh guided her into the house and sat her down on the mat. His jaw was tight, and a shadow passed over his eyes. “He shouldn’t have done this. I told him Kertajaya would no longer be a threat. Rangguwani shouldn’t have sent his men. This will divide the people.”
“I think it was an accident,” she said, “but still. They came for a fight, and they found one. He sent the Macan Gadungan. I guess so they could track Lang.”
Naresh rubbed away her tears, though his hand shook a bit. “I have to go see Solokang. And then Rangguwani. He may not have meant for this to happen, but if he sent the Macan Gadungan he had to know it could come to bloodshed.”
Solokang. Sweet Chandra, Landi’s parents had just lost another child. And Chandi hadn’t even stopped to tell them. She’d let Lang carry his beloved off to be buried in the hills where he lived.
Her husband kissed the top of her head before departing.
If she’d come down off the roof the moment she saw Sunten, if she’d tried to help right away, could she have stopped this? Yes, she could have. She could have easily faced down both guards, especially with her Blessings. Chandra, she’d let Hainuwele die for her hesitation.
She’d failed Landi, after all the woman had done for her.
And she should have acted. Her improved Blessings made her unstoppable, if only she used them. The Amrita had made her a true Moon Scion, a living god among these people. And she had done nothing.
Shivers wracked her. She was torturing herself, wasn’t she? She needed to get control. Naresh would need her now. Just a sip of it and she’d be fine again. She’d be able to help Naresh, then. She just wasn’t thinking clearly, that’s why she failed. She needed the Amrita to clear her thoughts.
Chandi tossed aside the clothes Naresh had piled on his footlocker. She flung open the lid. Sketches and useless junk. Where had he hidden it?
She scrambled over to their sleeping area and threw aside the mats. Nothing.
Frantic, she flung aside the dresser, sending it crashing to the floor. It had to be here. He wouldn’t have thrown out the Amrita. It was the blood of gods, it was her blood. He couldn’t have destroyed it. It had to be close.
Chandi punched through the floor. She stared at the hole. Had she been drawing her Blessings and not even known it? Her hand hurt, a little. She forced herself to drop the Blessings.
What was she allowing herself to become? But she already knew the answer. She was becoming what Rahu had been.
Chandi crawled to the balcony and vomited over the side.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FORTY-SEVEN
Naresh often rose before the sun and let its first rays charge the Sun Brand, but he rarely found himself in the Iron Palace this early. Still, Lembu Ampal’s return was a boon. The man had made a mistake joining Tohjaya, and it was good to have him back. The two of them were the last of the Arun Guard, after all.
Few courtiers walked the halls at this phase. It was for the best, since Naresh had little to say to such men. Politicians with too much time and, often, too little honor. Rangguwani had collected the oddest assortment of followers, sycophants, and even a few idealists. A united Skyfall Empire sounded wonderful, of course, but working side-by-side with Macan Gadungan and Firewalkers was like keeping a crocodile as a guard dog. Sure, it’d scare away the criminals, but it could bite your hand off, too.
Lembu Ampal had been given quarters in the palace, on the second floor of the eastern wing. Naresh rapped on his door. The man would probably be up already. He was Arun Guard, and even if the Solar Empire had fallen, the habit of rising at dawn would linger.
After a moment, the big man cracked open the bamboo door. He bowed when he saw Naresh, then stepped aside to allow him to enter. Rangguwani had provided adequate guest chambers—a large bed, a washbasin, and a small table. The highlight was the massive window, though, and Lembu Ampal had thrown open the shutters, letting in the morning sun.
The big man waved at the table. “Sit. I’ll order tea.”
Naresh did so, sitting cross-legged. He closed his eyes when Lembu Ampal departed, letting the sun warm his face. Really, Rangguwani had done well by the Guardsman with this room. He probably would have given Naresh similar quarters, had he been willing to move into the palace.
He opened his eyes at the sound of the big man flopping down on the other side of the table. “Are you settling in here?”
The Guardsman nodded.
Well, he was never very verbose. Naresh sighed and glanced back out the window. “Pak Lembu Ampal, I want to ask you something.”
“Brother, you’d do me honor by calling me Lem.”
“All right, Lem … You spent a lot of time with Tohjaya.”
Again, Lem just nodded. Not that Naresh blamed him. He wasn’t sure he’d have much to say about such a long stretch serving Tohjaya either. At least nothing polite.
“How close a look did you get at his keris? The one that belonged to Ken Arok?”
Kertajaya could have heard of its design from anyone, but, if that much was true, it meant Naresh had to at least consider what else the former king might have been honest about.
Lem rose and retrieved a bundle from beside his bed. He unrolled a sackcloth, to reveal a wavy keris sword. The hilt was well-carved, with ivory trim. Naresh had seen it before. He reached for it, and Lem released it. Slowly, Naresh slid it from the sheath. He’d seen the elaborate designs etched in the metal, too, when Tohjaya had shown him this blade. But he hadn’t paid enough attention before. The long serpent that ran the length of the blade on one side did look like a dragon. Four legs, and those wavy lines might be whiskers like a tiger. Rumor said the Tianxians worshipped these water monsters, but the closest most Skyfall natives came to finding dragons were the Warak Ngendogs. In his Academy days, he’d read the legends that Tianxian dragons could control the sea or the sky, like spirits of Kahyangan.
“He gave this to you?” A blade bearing the sign of a dragon. A hint Kertajaya spoke the truth … And it would only make things more complicat
ed.
“He wanted me to assassinate Rangguwani with it.”
Naresh found his grip tightening on the blade. Tohjaya would send assassins here? So the bastard thought to disrupt the fragile peace. Perhaps Naresh should pay him a visit, show him the error of his ways. And bury this keris in his heart.
“I will present the sword to Rangguwani this morning,” Lem said. “A sign of my allegiance.”
Naresh sheathed the blade and handed it back to Lem. They sat in silence a moment, then a servant entered with a tray of tea and eggs souffléd with coconut milk. Naresh had eaten with Chandi, so he merely sipped the tea while the big man ate.
Chandi had made nasi goring, Naresh’s favorite breakfast. She’d seemed to have developed a taste for the rice curry herself. Perhaps she’d woken early and cooked for him to distract him from the hole in the middle of their floor. Or maybe she thought he wouldn’t notice, with the rug pulled over it. Much as he wanted to deny it, in his heart he knew she’d been looking for the Amrita. He’d kept the vials on his person, fearing this very thing. If she would only share what she was going through with him, maybe he could help her. Or maybe he couldn’t. Some things a person had to fight through on his or her own. Naresh understood this better than most.
“Do you think Rangguwani—a Lunar—deserves the sword?” Naresh asked when Lem had finished eating.
The man frowned over his tea. “You serve him.” Perhaps. Naresh followed Rangguwani, for good or ill. Lem studied Naresh’s face. “You’re the one who insisted I leave Tohjaya. I cannot follow a king with half my heart, Pak Naresh.”
Surya, that was the thing. Naresh had believed in Kakudmi—whatever mistakes the man had made, whatever weaknesses he’d harbored, he was a good man. Naresh had trusted him. But none of the three who claimed the throne of Ratu Adil had earned his trust. Rangguwani deserved respect, perhaps for succeeding in bringing together such disparate forces. But if Kertajaya spoke the truth, Naresh had misjudged him from the start. Without doubt the man was clever, conniving even. And yet, maybe he was the rightful heir to the Solar throne. If he hadn’t betrayed Ken Arok, or rather hadn’t betrayed him without cause, perhaps Naresh should have supported him back when he first demanded it. And if he had, maybe Kertajaya would still rule this palace. By not turning in Kertajaya, by even starting to believe him, Naresh had failed Rangguwani. He offered token service to a king he didn’t believe in.