The Skyfall Era Trilogy: Books 1-3

by Matt Larkin

  His wife’s arm stiffened a little when she looked at the place, but she trudged forward nevertheless and shouldered open the door. The guesthouse opened into a lobby with several low dining tables. An aroma of fish curry thick with coriander permeated the entire room, and Naresh could have sworn Chandi stifled a gag.

  Inside, an old woman in a faded green baju waddled over to them. “Rooms are a heavy pearl a week. Meals are extra.” The woman’s skin sagged, and she had the plumpness of someone who loved to eat.

  Naresh nodded and paid her. “We’re looking for a friend.”

  “Probably in the wrong city, then.”

  Surya, he was too sick to deal with this. “A Serendibian. Tall, well-built.”

  The woman raised an eyebrow, but otherwise remained still as a statue.

  Chandi pushed him further inside. “Go sit down. I’ll take care of everything.”

  Naresh glowered a moment, but did as his wife asked. He knelt at one of the tables, though the cushions were not half as comfortable as he’d have liked. He rested his head in his hands, but snuck a glance at his wife. She passed the old woman something, and they whispered for a moment.

  Then Chandi came and sat beside Naresh. “He’ll be here this evening. We’ve got a room upstairs. You can rest there a few phases.”

  A bit of sleep would help. His eyes had gone so dry, and his head felt like ultop. “I need to go out and get something. A Tianxian herb that might help me.”

  “Fine.”

  Naresh suppressed a sigh. Chandi could be the warmest person he’d ever known. Most of the time. He rose, but she grabbed his wrist before he walked away.

  “Naresh, wait. Malin told me, even before the Lunar fall, this city was all but ruled by the Luhur.”

  Naresh knelt beside her, his leg throbbing from the effort. “Luhur?”

  She leaned closer to him. “A cabal, a union of several pirate cabals, in fact. The local House lord condones, or at least ignores, their dealings.”

  More local color. This place was seeming less and less like somewhere he wanted to settle in. He kissed Chandi on the cheek, and she rose.

  “I’m coming with you.”

  Oh, thank Surya. They left the guesthouse, and she supported his weight until he got his feet under him.

  For a phase they walked the market, asking after Tianxian herbs. Maybe if he’d spent more time with Chandi in the markets of Daha, the one here would have been less confusing. Kasusthali market might have appeared chaotic at the time, but compared to this it ran like a disciplined battalion. Chandi didn’t seem bothered by the place, though he could almost feel her anger seeping off her skin. She kept him from falling, but she said nothing other than to ask locals after the herb.

  Naresh was almost ready to give up, when a man sitting on a three-foot high crate waved him over. The man was older than Naresh, probably in his forties, with long, matted hair that overhung his eyes. A week’s beard completed the effect.

  “What do you want?” Naresh asked.

  The man leaned back on the crate. “Well, boy, I was going to ask you the same. You’ve been wandering around the market, clearly not from this place. Which is nothing new. Strangers come here all the time. But you … people notice you. So what do you want with Tianxian goods, eh?” Now that Naresh was closer, it was easy to see the man wore numerous finger rings and even an earring. Despite his rough appearance, he had the look of one well-fed and healthy.

  Chandi hung back, watching them from the shadows with glazed-over eyes.

  Naresh leaned on the crate, as much to support himself as to intimidate the man, though he hoped that wouldn’t be obvious. “You’re Luhur, right?”

  The man burst out laughing. “Chandra’s hidden whore, boy! You are bold, aren’t you? You really him, then? The Arun Guard from Suladvipa, the one people call Whale Lord?”

  Oh, Surya, not this again. Naresh stood, trying to keep from swaying. “If I was, I wouldn’t be looking to announce it to the public.”

  The man shrugged and stepped off the crate, fingering the hilt of a keris knife at his side. “Might be too late for that one.”

  Naresh rested his hand over his own sword. “What do you want, Luhur? You still haven’t told me that.”

  The man flashed a grin, or rather, bared his teeth. “Asamanja’s the name. And maybe I like having an Arun Guard owe me. Or maybe I just want to make sure you go on your way without causing trouble. Some might think it best to simply remove the threat, but I’ve seen your kind fight. I’d rather have a friend than an enemy.”

  Naresh relaxed his fingers off his sword. The man was probably a pirate, but such things were no longer Naresh’s problem. And if they ruled the city, he certainly hadn’t come here to interfere. “All right, Pak Asa—”

  The man held up a hand. “I’m not Pak anything, boy. I’m a Lunar, through and through, so don’t go throwing around that Solar title nonsense with me.”

  Title nonsense? The titles were signs of respect. If the thug didn’t want respect, fair enough. Naresh would be happy not to feign it. “I’m looking for an imported Tianxian herb. Qinghao.”

  Asamanja shrugged. “You can find just about anything in this city.” He beckoned and Naresh and Chandi followed him, winding through a maze of alleyways. Probably the man took him this way to ensure he couldn’t find his way back on his own. Or maybe this was just the only way. Kutai didn’t seem built with logic, so much as grown, one building shoved up next to another, wherever someone could fit it.

  Eventually, they reached an exit back onto the main road. On the corner of the alley, a shop sat, marked only by a sign in Tianxian. Naresh knew only a few of the strange characters in that language, but he thought this one was for medicine. So maybe the pirate hadn’t misled him.

  He looked back, but the man had slipped off into the back alleys. Fair enough. Chandi scowled at Asamanja, then pushed open the door for Naresh.

  Inside was dark, and cramped, the shelves stuffed with jars. A few, he could guess the contents. Oils, salts, even a few spices. Most, he couldn’t tell what the strange liquids, powders, and herbs were. The whole shop smelled foreign, from the Tianxian peppercorns to the old man behind the counter with that long thin mustache.

  “You need medicine,” the old man said. “Best medicine here.”

  Naresh leaned on the counter, and the old man abruptly reached out and felt his forehead. Naresh was too shocked, and too tired, to stop him.

  “Fever,” the man said.

  “Malaria. I need qinghao.”

  The man grunted and grabbed a small clay jar from the shelves behind him, then offered it Naresh. “Best medicine. Buy lot. Mix in tea.”

  Naresh opened the jar and sniffed the powder. It smelled the same as what Semar had made those teas from. He handed the man a heavy pearl and left with the jar. He couldn’t say he’d ever been so eager to go make tea in his life.

  His feet almost slipped out from under him when he exited, and then Chandi was there, holding him up again. She led him back down the main street, back to the guesthouse.

  When they entered, he spotted Ben at a table. The Serendibian laughed, then jumped to his feet and sauntered over to embrace him. Naresh cradled the jar in one hand, using the other to return the embrace.

  “And Chandi, my dear,” Ben said. “I must need a hug from you, too. Yes, I think I do need one.”

  She sighed, but did give him a quick hug.

  “Quite a place you’ve chosen for yourself, Ben,” Naresh said.

  Ben shrugged. “Ah, Naresh. It’s a place.”

  CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FIFTY

  After two weeks in Kutai, Naresh couldn’t say the city felt like home, but it had at least begun to feel sane. Or rather, it had its own unique brand of sanity. Never in his life would he have thought he’d have dealings with criminals, but the Luhur had proved cooperative enough, even helpful, so long as he had money to pay. And of course, as long as he stayed out of their business.

  The tea ha
d done its work, and Naresh could move about with strength and a clear head, at last.

  Asamanja had put him in touch with the one-eyed man sitting in the corner of the guesthouse this evening. Finder, the man called himself. Not much of a name, but rumor held he knew his work. Etchings covered his eyepatch, marks that looked like swirls.

  Naresh sank down at the table across from him. Neither of them spoke until a serving girl had dropped off two teas and left.

  Finder took a sip of his tea, licked his lips, then set the cup down. “You wanted to know about those close to Kertajaya.”

  Naresh nodded. Kutai might not be the best place to find answers, but the former king had left him with too many doubts. The man had told the truth about Ken Arok’s keris, so if any more of the story had been true … well, he needed to know. If Kertajaya was a legitimate heir to the Solar throne, Naresh owed him loyalty.

  And everyone said this was the place you could find anything. Even information long buried.

  “He had a lot of concubines back then, harem girls.” Finder sipped the tea again, and again licked his lips. “One lives here now.” The man stared at Naresh, his eye narrowed.

  Always about the money. Naresh slid a bag of pearls over at Finder.

  The man snatched the purse off the table and jiggled it. A moment later, he slid a piece of paper to Naresh, then leaned in. “They said to tell you … you need work, we can provide.”

  Naresh snorted and rose. He’d work for the Luhur when the sun burned cold and fish walked out of the sea. He glanced at the paper as he walked down the hall to his room. If the address was correct, this woman lived in the northern districts of the city, the slums locals called the Coils because of its winding layout. The Luhur had their palaces in the southeastern district, and the market and harbor lay in the southwest. The north, though, Naresh had avoided. One of the first warnings he’d received here was that if you weren’t a local, you could get lost in the Coils and never find your way out.

  Chandi was in their room, lying on the cot, curled in a little ball. The poor girl had gone through fits of sweating and trembling as bad as any he’d had with malaria, but she seemed to be pulling through it. Maybe the Amrita was almost out of her system, now.

  They had a small tea stove in the corner, so Naresh lit the burner to boil some tea—thank Surya he didn’t need the qinghao anymore, but Chandi looked like she could use something hot. He sat down beside her, resting his hand on her hip while he waited for the tea to boil.

  She stirred, rolling over to look up at him, then pulled him down toward her, wrapping her arms around his neck. It had been days after they came to Kutai before she forgave him, but when she had, she’d tried so hard to take care of him, despite her own weakness. She’d woken every day and made him qinghao tea.

  “I made something for you this morning,” he said. He extricated himself from her embrace, then reached over to show her his sketchpad. He’d spent more than a phase getting the lines of their old house in Cenrana just right. It wasn’t just the house—it was her tree. It had to be perfect. But the look on her face was worth it. She ran her fingers along the sketch of the rope he’d hung in their tree, then glanced back at him, eyes glistening.

  “Naresh …”

  He kissed her, gently massaging her lips with his own, until the boiling water insisted on his attention. Too bad. He rose and poured the tea into two cups. It was a Tianxian blend, supposed to promote good health. At least that’s what the market vendor had told him.

  Chandi cradled the cup in both hands, as though savoring the warmth.

  Naresh brushed her hair away from her face. She did seem a little clammy. “I have to go out a bit. There’s something I have to do.”

  Chandi’s body went rigid, and she clutched his hand, boring into him with her eyes. “You always think you have to do things. What’s more important than our life together?”

  What a question. It could have only one answer. “Nothing. Nothing is more important than that.” Once, he might have said duty, or honor. But time devours all things, even preconceptions about the meaning of life. And she had to know she was the most important part of his life. “But there are a few things that need tending so we can enjoy that life. I need answers about something.”

  “And when you get them?”

  Yes, there was that. If Kertajaya had spoken the truth, perhaps Naresh would need to return to the man. Even help him overthrow Rangguwani. Surya, if so, he should have stood up to the Lunar in the first place. Supporting Kertajaya now would destroy the fragile peace Rangguwani was building. Did it matter what foundation that peace was built on?

  It had to. To build something that would last, you still needed honor. Otherwise, the foundations would crumble. Maybe not soon, maybe not until after Rangguwani’s death. But an empire built on lies would inevitably cave in on itself. It would have to.

  “Rest, my moon. I’ll be back soon.” He stroked her hair, then rose, leaving his half-full teacup by the cot.

  In truth, he would have welcomed her assistance to navigate the Coils. Chandi had a better knack for such things, but there was no way Naresh could take her out in her condition. He’d heard her crying in the middle of the night. One morning, he’d woken to see she scored the floor with her nails. He couldn’t lie to himself. His wife was not well. Lunars might have already put her down as a lunatic, but Naresh wouldn’t give up on her. She was still in there, and when this mess with Kertajaya was done, he’d find a way to pull her through her darkness. As she had pulled him through his own.

  Few street signs marked the tangled mess of streets here. Many of the roads curved in spirals, looping back over themselves so he couldn’t tell if he traveled in circles, or even how large the district was. The buildings were packed so closely together almost the entire street was overshadowed by the eaves of the roofs, which would have made it shaded even in daylight. Now, nearing twilight, everything was cast in darkness. Only the flickering lights of candles and torches from the buildings gave him enough illumination to navigate, if wandering the back streets could even be called navigating.

  Something squished under his sandal. Foulness he hoped was food someone had tossed out.

  There were people here, in the streets, watching him, too. Most wore dirty sarongs and dusty bajus. Many of the men went without shirts at all, as did a few women. Some beckoned to him from alleys. He passed by quickly. Twice he paused to ask directions from local children. For a silver coin, both were happy to help him through this maze, though the second took him on such a circuitous route Naresh suspected the boy was trying to confuse him on purpose. Job security, he supposed.

  At last, the boy pointed at a door. The building looked no different than any others. Mud-splattered, dusty brown walls. Cracked shingles on the roof that probably leaked in the rainy season. No one in Kasusthali had lived like this. Even in Daha, he didn’t think it ever got quite so bad.

  Sighing, Naresh pounded his fist against the door. After a moment, a woman opened it. She had a pretty round face, a bit older than Chandi, and long brown hair. Her gray baju was only half laced. She looked him up and down, then shook her head. “No clients today. It’s my night off.”

  Naresh found his fists clenched. So that was what she thought. Shouldn’t surprise him, he supposed, that a concubine would fall into this line of work. “I’m not here for that. Are you Dewi Kadita?”

  She cocked her head and narrowed her eyes. “Who wants to know?”

  “I’m Naresh.” She still didn’t move. Best tell her everything then. “I’m Arun Guard.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Sure. Arun Guard have better ways to find companionship than crawling around the Coils.” She started to shut the door.

  Naresh pushed it in, sending her stumbling back into the room. He unbuttoned the top button of his baju, and the woman opened her mouth, sneering. The sneer fell away when he pushed his baju back enough to reveal the Sun Brand tattoo.

  “I … I thought you wore cerulean
uniforms?”

  He motioned for her to sit in front of her tea table, then shut her door. “It would attract too much attention these days.” And, Surya, was he tired of being hailed as some kind of savior everywhere he went. It was kind of refreshing, actually, to meet someone who didn’t know him.

  “Can you really Sun Stride?”

  He watched her for a moment, then Strode over to the table. Dewi gasped and clapped her hands to her mouth.

  “You were in Kertajaya’s harems?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t make that common knowledge.”

  “How did you find yourself here?”

  “It’s a long story. But as long as there’s life, there’s hope it’ll get better, right?”

  Indeed. He leaned over the table, and slipped her a heavy pearl.

  She took it, eyes almost smiling. Almost. “So you do want …”

  He shook his head. “I want information. I’ve heard stories about why Kertajaya turned on Ken Arok. I want to know the truth from someone who was close to him.”

  “I wasn’t. He never even used me … but my mother was a favorite of his.”

  “Did she speak of it? Anything?”

  The girl shrugged, fingering the pearl. “I think … Kertajaya had felt justified. He claimed Ken Arok was a murderer, a blasphemer. I guess the king liked to talk in bed. To bemoan his failures.”

  That was too close to what Kertajaya had said to be coincidence. So unless he’d been perpetuating the same lie for years, and so thoroughly he told the lie to one of his harem girls … Surya, Ken Arok had really murdered a Radiant Queen. And he’d used his supposedly sacred keris to do it. The same one Lembu Ampal had just given to Rangguwani. The keris the Lunar would try to unite the Skyfall Isles under.

  Naresh groaned. “Surya, please tell me Ben has a ship,” he mumbled. He was going to have to go back to Suladvipa.