We Cry for Blood

by Devin Madson

  “An ally?”

  She gave me a look. “He’s Chiltaen. Ally is probably the wrong word.”

  Nuru was saved a snap of temper that had everything to do with me and nothing to do with her words by the noisy return of a pair of scouts.

  “Your Majesty,” one said, a little out of breath as he came within earshot, his horse sweating. “We found a small, hastily abandoned camp not far off the road ahead. Levanti.”

  “Are you sure?” Gideon said.

  “Yes, Your Majesty. Laid out like one of our camps and with shem still cooking in the pot.”

  No Swordherds were meant to be in this area. Nor were the deserters.

  “How many?”

  By this time the scouts had drawn up before Gideon, the whole cavalcade halting and glad of the rest. It had been a long day on the road, travelling with so many like travelling with a herd, except that not everyone put in equal work.

  “By the hoofprints, maybe only half a dozen. We tried following them but lost the trail, so I’d say they don’t want to be found.”

  The only unaccounted for Swordherd were the Second Swords of Torin, but I had only to think that than to wish I hadn’t.

  A short conversation between Gideon and Leo took place in Chiltaen, while the thud of hooves from behind heralded Lord Edo passing the increasingly anxious cavalcade upon the grass, a question on his lips the moment he joined his emperor.

  “Can you hear what they’re saying?” I asked Nuru.

  She shook her head. Empress Sichi’s box had been lowered to the road, and the lady was peering through the side curtain. Nuru spoke to her and it was Sichi’s turn to shake her head, but the mention of Lord Edo’s name held the expectation he would explain later. And barely had we started moving again than he fell back to ride beside Sichi. He kept his voice low, but not so low Nuru couldn’t catch what he said.

  Gripping Itaghai’s reins to enforce my own patience, I awaited a lull in their talk before demanding a translation.

  She hadn’t been wary of our surroundings when explaining the Chiltaen leadership, but this time Nuru looked all around to be sure she wouldn’t be overheard and still lowered her voice. “There is talk of Rah. Both he and the rest of the Second Swords disappeared after he challenged Captain Yitti in Mei’lian and when—”

  “Wait, what? When was this?”

  “When they were burning the city. Captain Lashak brought back the news. It must have been while you were kneeling.”

  She said it as though I’d just been out for a walk, no weight in her tone for the shame kneeling was to us.

  “Rah was there,” she went on. “He challenged Yitti for the captaincy of the Second Swords of Torin and lost, but Sett shone light in his eyes—”

  “What?” I interrupted again. “Sett e’Torin shone light in Rah’s eyes during a challenge?”

  “Yes. That’s what I just said.”

  “But that’s so dishonourable! Who would do that?”

  “Sett, apparently. Rah had him killed for it.”

  “Killed?”

  Nuru gave me another of her looks that made me feel like a child. “It was well within Rah’s right as the wronged challenger.”

  “Of course it was, I’m just shocked.”

  “Shocked that Sett would do such a thing or shocked that Rah would?”

  “Either. Both. Gods, what a mess.”

  “Indeed, now if you’ve finished interrupting, I’ll continue. After that they all disappeared. The Second Swords didn’t return with Lashak, and no one knows what happened to Rah. Perhaps they joined the deserters or are on their way home.”

  She paused there a moment to catch something in Lord Edo and Sichi’s conversation and, seeming to deem it unimportant, blew out a heavy breath.

  “And Gideon thinks this camp…” I began and couldn’t finish.

  “It’s not big enough for a whole Swordherd, or even half one, which they must have been reduced to by now. But if Rah was his stubborn self and chose to stay, perhaps with a few loyal others…”

  She too seemed not to want to finish that thought, leaving the consequences of finding Rah here playing out in both of our heads. Rah was a stubborn, honourable man, one who could turn an already dangerous situation into something far worse, and yet I couldn’t but wish for him. For someone I could trust, whose shoulders could bear some of the weight of responsibility I carried alone.

  A small camp had been set up outside the town of Kima, and I recognised it as a Chiltaen forward camp, the sight chilling my blood. Their tendency to build camps ahead of themselves had always appeared overconfident and risky, but I realised to them it was no risk. What did rich leaders care if slaves and lowly ranked soldiers were killed? More important that everything was already in place for said rich leaders when they arrived.

  We were greeted by a man called Captain Leveret who, despite the number of Chiltaens he appeared to have under his command, did not look at all happy that we had arrived first. His ill-ease was more than shared by us. Free as we were, being back inside a Chiltaen camp, being around Chiltaen soldiers and the smells of Chiltaen food, dug up all too many memories most of us would have liked to forget.

  Despite every fibre of my being wanting to escape, I tried to focus on Leo, to watch him with his own people. Most Chiltaens knelt before him and kissed his feet, gathering around him and treating him like the god he wanted to be, but while the companions he had brought with him still treated him so, these new Chiltaens paid him no heed. Not his supporters then. A small amount of my tension loosened.

  While we awaited the envoy, we were shown to tents. There were pens for our horses and firepits already burning, and I found some peace in being surrounded by Levanti voices despite the Chiltaen trappings.

  Until a shout made me drop the bowl of soup I’d been cradling. Those sitting around the fire with me all looked up, a few losing their bread into their bowls, Nuru the only one too focussed on the task of gathering Sichi’s meal to immediately attend. A group of Levanti hustled past, shunting shadowy figures toward Gideon’s tent. A crowd of onlookers tailed them, and abandoning my meal, I leapt up to follow.

  “Gifts for His Majesty,” a rough voice said as the two leading men halted outside Gideon’s tent, saluting to Anouke and Eppa on guard. “We found them.”

  Employing my shoulder, I reached the front of the group as Gideon emerged, Leo at his side. And down onto the dirt at his feet were thrown four Levanti. Bruised and bloodied and filthy, their hands tied behind their backs. Their hair was just too long to make out their brandings, but too well did I know their faces.

  “Yitti,” Gideon said, standing over them.

  Yitti—Captain Yitti now, I reminded myself, the man no longer Rah’s healer but Rah’s replacement—Himi, Istet, and Lok e’Torin, four of Rah’s former Swords, and I hated how relieved I was that Rah was not among them.

  “Gideon,” Captain Yitti said, no respect in his tone.

  “You didn’t return to Kogahaera.”

  “No. We didn’t.”

  Gideon folded his arms, becoming a broad, immovable wall of crimson silk. “Of all the Swords I thought would desert, I never thought it would be you. Any of you,” he added, turning his glare along the line of beaten Swords. Istet spat blood at his feet, but Gideon didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge the disrespect with anything but a dismissive glance. “A shame my own herd are so short-sighted.”

  He looked at the men who had brought them in, who stood like hunters over their kills. “Just the four of them?”

  “Three others. Ptahphet is bringing them.”

  “Rah?” The question burst from Gideon, a breathless, desperate demand that drew Leo’s attention. His frown was there and gone in a flash, but while he could regain control of Gideon, he could not retract the question.

  Yitti’s bloodied lip curled. “Dead, if your army has done their job,” he said. “You probably don’t care anymore, but I hope you live long enough to regret him even if you haven’
t enough soul left to regret the rest of us.”

  “Lock them up,” Gideon said, his moment of honest emotion gone. “We will take them back to Kogahaera with us. Their deaths must be seen. Must be witnessed. A warning to others who would take our future into their own hands by throwing the rest of us under the cart.”

  They were hauled to their feet, arms so tightly bound that but for the thickness of the gathered crowd they might have overbalanced and been unable to save themselves. The closest Swords jeered and spat at them, hissing condemnations at these Levanti traitors, but beyond the central core of hate and anger, discontent muttered its way through the crowd. I had been a captain too long to miss the signs, to ignore the prickling of my skin as small groups broke away whispering.

  Gideon surely noticed, but with Leo at his side and in his mind, smothering everything he was, he did nothing. Together they walked away, leaving the Second Swords of Torin to be dragged off by those Levanti who had found a hateful sort of joy in the cruelty absolute loyalty allowed them. The leader who had brought us all together, upon whom we had heaped our hopes, had become the wedge that would drive us all apart if I didn’t stop Leo soon.

  By evening it was clear the envoy was not expected until the following day, but when Swords and soldiers alike made for their tents and the camp quietened, I could not rest. Could not be still. I strode the edge of the camp under the watchful eyes of the Chiltaen guards on duty, up and back, up and back, a caged animal with a burning purpose but no agency, trapped by everything except bars.

  I needed to get rid of Leo. I needed to save the Second Swords from execution. I needed to make sure we left this place with a treaty. But all the success I’d felt having Gideon name me ambassador had crumbled. Momentum had gotten us here but could carry us no farther, not while Leo had his claws so deep in Gideon he had become a puppet.

  I pressed my palms to my eyes, hard enough that bright colours darted in the darkness. Gods, I wanted to close my eyes and open them upon a new day, this nightmare nothing but a memory. I had thought being enslaved was the worst that could happen, but at least we had all been united then, had all wanted freedom. Now it was each other we fought.

  The Second Swords of Torin had been penned near the horses, and once the camp was quiet and the lamps in Gideon’s tent had been extinguished, I went to see Itaghai. He was happy to see me, but wasn’t fooled, treating my distraction with nudges for attention.

  “Just hush a moment, will you?” I said, patting his neck. “There are some Swords locked up over there and I need to see if I can…”

  I trailed off. What could I do? I’d been given the power to organise this meeting, but I could no more order the captured Swords released than I could fight those guarding them. Both the most and the least I could do was check that they were all right for now, a plan so pathetic I almost retreated rather than carry it out.

  Leaving Itaghai to sulk, I made my way across the grass to where Yitti and his Swords had been dragged. My steps faltered as I neared, not because their guards glared at me, not because they glared at me. The sight of the chains holding them to the ground reminded me all too viscerally of those nights imprisoned within Chiltaen camps. Only momentum kept me moving through the horror.

  “Defender,” one of the guards said, his tone one of wary respect. Not one of my Swords, I noted, not even one of Gideon’s usual guards, and I thought of the Swords who had first stepped into such positions when Gideon had taken the throne, their loyalty an excuse to revel in chaos, and the opportunity to take power our society didn’t usually allow.

  Not knowing his name, I saluted. “I have a few questions for the prisoners,” I said, not waiting for them to step aside but pushing through with all the assurance I possessed, hoping the sneering words would make them see me as an ally in their hate.

  Neither stopped me, but where no amount of insistence from them could have, the hateful glares of the captured Swords halted my steps like I’d walked into a wall.

  “Captain Yitti,” I said, trying to swallow the feeling I was going to be sick.

  Chained to the ground, the man looked up at me unblinking and said nothing. I had so much I wanted to say, so much to ask, but the guard’s stare was like a blade between my shoulders, stealing my voice.

  I crouched as close to Yitti as I dared. He had the look of a man who would tear my throat out with his teeth, and I couldn’t blame him.

  “Why didn’t you come back from Mei’lian?”

  Behind the captain, Istet barked a sharp laugh. “See? I told you it was Dishiva behind that mask. It’s the way she walks.”

  Chains clinked as Himi elbowed her twin. “Well, excuse me for not ogling arses as much as you do. I found it impossible to believe that someone so abused by the Chiltaens would become one of them.”

  I had been chained to the ground just as they were now, and I couldn’t look at the stakes hammered into the dirt between them. “I am not one of them,” I said, vibrant hurt overtaking my calm. “I am a prisoner here as much as you are; my chains are just made of fabric and guilt.”

  Himi’s eyes narrowed, but she didn’t speak, owing me nothing.

  “Are you… all right?” I said, aware as I asked how foolish it sounded.

  “Oh, very excellent, Captain, yes,” Lok e’Torin grumbled.

  “Hush,” said a woman beside him whose name I didn’t know.

  “Well, what are we supposed to say to that? I thought being prisoners of the Chiltaens was the worst that could happen to us, but prisoners of Levanti? Some of them from our herd?”

  Captain Yitti adjusted the way he was sitting on the dirt. “If you’ve nothing of use to say, Dishiva, do fuck off. I have no information for you no matter what sort of martyr you claim to be.”

  The woman beside Lok spat at me and I fell back, as shocked by her anger as my own. That my suffering was invisible didn’t make it any less painful. How I wanted to shake them, but it wouldn’t help them to acknowledge I was hurting too.

  Behind me one of the guards hissed to the other, something of ill-ease in their tone. Half a dozen Swords had gathered before them, bright-eyed and belligerent. “This is wrong,” one of them said. “We shouldn’t have attacked the deserters, and we shouldn’t kill Levanti just because they want to go home. Let them go.”

  “That’s not your decision,” a guard said, standing his ground. “Take it up with His Majesty.”

  Around us, Chiltaen soldiers who had been minding their own business drew closer, watching warily, their hands all too close to their weapons. One spark was all we needed to tear ourselves to pieces before the envoy even arrived.

  “His Majesty.” The man spat. “It isn’t our way to have a majesty.”

  “It isn’t our way to fight each other when we can talk either,” I said, eyeing the Chiltaens closing in. “Fight for what is right only after all possibility of talk has failed. I’m sure Emperor Gideon will be happy to hear your thoughts.”

  Whether it would have worked without the Chiltaen onlookers didn’t matter; it only had to work because of them, because the tension was growing taut and I feared how much hate and anger we all carried. I needed to walk away, to calm the situation, but I could not leave without turning back to Yitti one last time. “I will not let you die,” I whispered, pulling down my mask enough that they could see my face. “I will do everything I can. I promise.”

  “We aren’t afraid of dying,” Yitti said. “Only afraid to die like this. For nothing.”

  For nothing.

  I carried the echo of those words with me away from the pen and back toward the tents, muttering remaining in my wake. So much of what we had fought for, had died for, had strived for now seemed to have been for nothing. We had to stop letting it be true.

  Secretary Aurus arrived the following afternoon, his travelling group far smaller than I had expected. Unlike us with our whole cavalcade of Swords and servants, he travelled with half a dozen guards, a collection of men who looked like scribes, and a sho
rt train of pack mules led by slaves. He was welcomed by Captain Leveret as we had been, though while only Chiltaen eyes had watched our arrival, our whole party was added to the number watching his. Despite the interested stares of Chiltaens, Levanti, and Kisians alike, the man appeared unconcerned.

  He was tall for a Chiltaen, his short hair more brown than sandy, and his attire was one of the most glorious I’d ever seen. At a glance it was made from dozens of layers of different-length fabrics with folds and embroidered hems gathered around him, but on closer inspection it was only two garments atop his breeches, one white, one gold, both draping asymmetrically around a thick belt inlaid with slices of glittering gemstones.

  And this a man not wealthy enough to be one of the nine leaders of Chiltae.

  “Secretary,” the captain said. The rest of his words were in Chiltaen and lost on me, but the respect he showed the newcomer bordered on obsequiousness. He and his companions were shown to tents on the opposite side of the camp, the divide narrow but present.

  “It sounds like the meeting will be in about an hour.” I jumped at the sound of Nuru’s voice beside me, the mask I was forced to wear having stolen my periphery vision. “Sichi isn’t allowed to attend. As usual. She requests you come to see her afterward to let her know the details.”

  “Are you and Lord Edo not to attend?” I said, still watching the envoy’s people being shown to their tents on the other side of the camp.

  “I will be too busy translating to watch expressions. And yes, Lord Edo is, but he can only report what happens from a Kisian point of view. As Gideon is not Kisian, she would appreciate your thoughts as well.”

  “I’m not sure Gideon is Levanti either at the moment,” I muttered.