by Devin Madson
I felt rather than saw her turn to look at me. “What do you mean?”
“Are we being watched?”
“Not by anyone of note.”
I dared not look around. “Leo hasn’t left his side since he named me ambassador for this meeting. I think… whatever it is that Leo does, he’s got Gideon on a short rein now. He doesn’t want us here. I don’t think this secretary is a friend of his.”
“All the more reason to make him a friend of ours then.”
She walked away, her abrupt manner leaving me feeling the full weight of the responsibilities I carried alone.
A large tent had been erected in the centre of the camp, and as the hour of the meeting approached, slaves and servants began to bustle in and out in preparation. Gideon had not left his tent since we’d arrived. He would attend with Leo in tow, and unable to exclude him, the meeting would surely go exactly how Leo wished, ending with no treaty. It felt foolish to hope for a better outcome, yet we could not come this far and leave with nothing.
If only my plan had been more than a few reckless ideas.
All too soon it was time to go. A buzz of tension and excitement had fallen over the camp, even the Chiltaen soldiers who maintained it halting about their work to watch as we gathered. From our side, Gideon in his imperial regalia, Leo in his mask, Lord Edo and Lord Nishi in their Kisian robes, Keka, Nuru, and myself, all entering the tent to find Secretary Aurus and a single scribe already seated at the table. Food and wine had been set out, less a meal than a display of finely painted dishes with little morsels set in the centre. One of them looked like a dish of flowers carved from fruit.
“His Imperial Majesty Emperor Gideon e’Torin, first of his name, Lord Protector of Levanti Kisia,” Nuru said as Gideon entered, before repeating the words in Chiltaen. She did the same in introducing me as both defender and ambassador, before introducing the others in simple terms.
Secretary Aurus and his scribe had risen to their feet at Gideon’s regal entrance and bowed now, uttering a respectful greeting. A sweep of his gloriously clad arm and a slight smile invited us to join him even before Nuru translated, and I took a place at the table kneeling beside Gideon. He didn’t so much as glance at me. Leo knelt on his other side with Lord Nishi, while Lord Edo took the final place beside me, leaving Keka and Nuru to stand.
While wine was poured, both Gideon and Secretary Aurus seemed content to sit and wait in silence, a general shuffling of fabric and clearing of throats the only sounds in the candlelit, silken space. Outside, the camp presumably went on about its tasks in the bright afternoon light, but it all seemed a world away.
When at last the servant stood back, Secretary Aurus treated us to another smile. It looked genuine, if my experience of Chiltaens was anything to go by, and a little of my wary dislike faded.
“I am honoured that you have agreed to meet with me,” Nuru translated for him. “Especially on such short notice and given the prior… history between our two peoples.”
I heard the quiet pause in his words though Nuru spoke them more harshly. It was not an admission of wrongdoing or an apology, but that he wasn’t refuting his own involvement or pretending it hadn’t happened was better than nothing.
“I am not sure how much you know of the history between Chiltae and Kisia,” Nuru went on translating. “But it is a long and bloody thing, each war being followed by periods of short-lived peace sealed with a new treaty and, often, a political marriage. We freely admit we came out of this conflict as the losers and as such are making the first gesture toward peace.”
It sounded like a fair speech to me, but the little grunt of air that left Lord Edo’s nose made me wonder whether it was unusual, even in such circumstances, for them to admit defeat.
Gideon made no reply, but for a long time sat staring at the man across from him, tension mounting. Despite Gideon’s size and stature and the sure knowledge he was a capable warrior, Secretary Aurus managed to meet his gaze with an impressive degree of calm, waiting while, beside me, Lord Edo fidgeted with his wine bowl.
“And what,” Gideon said when eventually he spoke, “do you intend to offer us in return for this peace?”
“We offer the same peace,” the secretary said. “A peace that goes both ways. Chiltae is a rich nation, one you would benefit from trading with, one who will not long be weakened by the losses you inflicted upon us. I assure you it is as much in your interests as in ours, especially with winter coming.” He gave a little shrug. “Don’t worry, I am sure we will fight again one day. There is no such thing as lasting peace in this cursed land of ours.”
“Peace,” Gideon said after a time, and I wondered whether it was as obvious to others as it was to me that it wasn’t him speaking. He had always drawn us together as much through inspiring words as actions, and now here he sat barely managing single sentences as though they were being dragged from him. “That is all?”
For the first time since we’d entered, Secretary Aurus turned to Dom Villius at the emperor’s left hand, answering as though he had been the one to speak. The smallest of gestures, but I held my breath. Perhaps this man understood. “The Nine have authorised me to negotiate terms in good faith,” he said. “Trade routes. Goods. Merchant galleys. A bride. There are many options, each from wealthy houses that will bring much fortune to your coffers besides making you an admirable empress.”
“I already have an empress.”
The secretary’s brows rose before Nuru translated, and again I stared at him, increasingly sure he understood a lot more than he wanted us to see.
Lord Edo spoke and I caught Sichi’s name. Whether for us or for the show of maintaining Gideon didn’t speak Chiltaen, Nuru translated this too. “His Imperial Majesty allied himself to my family by wedding my cousin, Lady Sichi Manshin.”
“Ah a pity,” the secretary said, though he didn’t sound disappointed. Or surprised. “We shall keep our rich brides and may argue over the rest.”
“No.”
Gideon snapped the word, dropping the smile from Secretary Aurus’s face. “No?”
“No. There will be no treaty. There will be no promise of peace. Not unless what you have on offer is the entirety of your lands and your people. We already have an alliance with Dom Leo Villius, and given the political situation in Chiltae that is of far greater value.” Gideon settled his hands on the table. “Curiosity made me accept your proposal to meet, a curiosity that has now been sated unless you have something more meaningful to offer or say.”
Secretary Aurus gave back stare for stare, resting his hands on the table in the same confident manner. “Nothing more meaningful to offer, but a question if I might, Your Majesty,” he said through Nuru’s lips. “On one side of you sits the son of our late hieromonk, while on the other sits a Levanti he seems to have elevated to the position of Defender of the One True God. Are you yourself a believer, or is this an… odd coincidence among your advisors?”
“I am a Levanti.”
“Ah, a requirement forced upon you then. How very insidious the faith is.”
Gideon rose from his place at the table, causing a small smile to turn the secretary’s lips. “This meeting is over.”
And that was it. While I had hoped for better, it was no surprise, the whole thing having taken on the appearance of a play. But I was not done yet.
Rising to his feet, Secretary Aurus bowed to Gideon, thanked Nuru for her translation, and stood watching the imperial party stride out one after another until I was the only one left. I stared at him through the slits in my mask while his scribe shuffled papers, the stare a question I could not ask even had I known the right words. All but alone, the envoy met my gaze, and over the peace negotiations that hadn’t even begun, we shared a long, silent stare. And then he nodded. Not a nod of acknowledgement, but of agreement. I nodded back and departed, glad I hadn’t been wrong.
With the meeting over, the camp was restless. Nothing had changed. We had wasted our time and everyone was keen to
get moving, to leave this all too familiar Chiltaen camp behind. It was too late to depart that day, but our half of the camp was soon busy with preparations to leave at first light.
I found Nuru talking to a servant outside Empress Sichi’s tent, seeming to be arguing over the tray of food that had been brought to her.
“Nuru.”
“I am rather occupied, Captain.”
“I need Sichi’s help. It’s important.”
She thrust the tray into the guard’s hands with a growl and turned on me. “What is it, Dishiva?”
The servant stood stunned, watching us, but thankfully so few Kisians understood our language that I sped on. “I need to meet with Secretary Aurus. Alone. I’ll be watched, will be seen if I go to his tent, but—”
“If Sichi invites both of you to her tent, it will be less noteworthy and may not get back to Leo or Gideon. I’ll see to it.”
“Seems like you’re seeing to a lot of things.” I glanced at the servant. “Is everything all right?”
“No, not really, but… here isn’t really the place to talk about it.”
Nuru always looked so confident and sure and angry at the world that the sight of her biting her lip in a worry she could not contain reminded me just how young she was. Too young to have so many responsibilities thrust upon her. “Then walk with me,” I said. “No, don’t argue. Sichi will be just fine for five minutes and you will feel better for it. Come.”
Gripping her arm, I bore her away from the fine tents, away from the curious gazes and the proximity of Leo, out toward the horse pens where the scent of hay and horsehair held a trace of home.
“All right, spill,” I said throwing her a brush as we reached Itaghai’s side. “What’s wrong?”
Nuru caught the brush and glared at it like it had offended her, but she took it firmly in her grip and started on Itaghai’s side without answering.
“Come on, it’s not like you have another confidant besides Empress Sichi.”
“That you’re the only person I can confide in does not make you someone I want to confide in.”
“Is it Sichi?” Nothing. “Is it Leo?” Still nothing. “Gideon?”
She huffed an annoyed breath. “It’s all of them. Do you remember that seven days after the marriage ceremony, Gideon was supposed to untie her sash and… and bed her to complete the rite?”
“Supposed to?” I’d been kneeling when the sevenday had been up, but the next time I’d seen Sichi she had no longer been wearing the white sash.
Nuru gave me a long look over Itaghai’s back. “I don’t know what you’ve heard about Gideon, but… well the whole time I was a saddlegirl with the First Swords of Torin, I never once heard of him lying with anyone. Sex just… didn’t seem to interest him, and that doesn’t seem to have changed. Whether he’s incapable, not interested in anyone, or just not interested in Sichi…”
“He hasn’t tried? For the sake of the rite?”
“No.”
“Did you ask him about it?”
“No, I didn’t want Leo hearing about it. So I asked Tep, since he’s been the healer of the First Swords for years. He laughed at me.” Nuru glared at Itaghai’s back, her hand working fast with the brush. “He said I ought to have been with the First Swords long enough to realise Gideon has only ever been Rahsexual and told me to untie her sash and bed her myself. So I did.”
I’d not heard it put that way before, but the moment she said it I knew it for truth. I’d not been with Gideon as long as any of his Swords, but long enough to know there was only one person he truly cared for.
“That’s good advice,” I said. “So what’s the problem?”
“Leo. He knows. In the way he knows everything. And the Kisians are so… Kisian that it could ruin not only their marriage, but her as well, and have her thrown out of her family. He says he will if she doesn’t promise to marry him should anything happen to Gideon, but not only is he awful and she hates him, but she is afraid that making any such promise would be as good as stabbing Gideon in the back. Someone like Leo doesn’t ask for something like that without having a plan in place to make it happen.”
Her tide of admissions ended of a weak huff of frustration all too like a sob.
“Well,” I said, words momentarily abandoning me. “That’s some shit. Why does he want to marry her? I mean, I can see why you like her, but Leo isn’t exactly the sort to be… in love. There must be some reason why her.”
“We think so too, but gods only know what it could be. Or why I told you. It’s not like you can do anything about it.”
“Not right now, but you feel better having let it out, I’m sure, and we’re more likely to find an answer together.”
“I want the answer to be ‘No, fuck off,’ but she’s considering letting him bed her as a sort of unspoken promise no matter how awful it would be, and whenever I get frustrated and say Levanti would never let such a thing happen she snaps at me. I am told this is quite normal in Kisia and if I don’t like what she is forced to do I should leave.”
For a time we stood brushing Itaghai together, nothing more either of us could say that would be of use. I wished I had advice, or could fix this as I wished to fix everything else, but I had no answers for anything, only ever more problems.
“I should get back to her,” Nuru said after a while. “I don’t want her to worry.”
I let her go and stayed brushing Itaghai for longer than he needed, the mindless task providing no answers or ideas, only more questions. The evening meal was in progress by the time I made my way back through the camp, yet few Levanti had gathered around the fires. A group stood forming a circle between two of the larger tents, their sombre expressions sending my heart racing.
I ought to have known what I would find in its centre, ought to have known I was due another warning, that Leo would not long go without punishing me and every Levanti who got in his way.
At the centre of the circle knelt a Bedjuti, bloody blade in hand as he took the heads of the Swords laid out before him. The very Swords who had stood before the captured Torin and called for their release. Who I’d sent to see Gideon.
Though I’d not seen Leo around the fires, though he was probably still in Gideon’s tent, I felt the prickle of his gaze upon my skin. He wanted me to stop. Wanted me to look at the tears of my people and listen to their mourning songs and stop. But as I stood there letting their pain wash over me, it was anger it fuelled. Anger and determination to beat him no matter what it took.
With summer long behind us, the nights were getting cold, my skin pimpling in the chill wind. Nuru came to fetch me, and by the time we reached Sichi’s tent, my hands had turned to ice. The light spilling through the opening was inviting despite what I feared to find out inside.
Although Sichi’s guards nodded as we went in, the empress was not there. Only Secretary Aurus, rising to greet us. “Ah, Defender e’Jaroven,” he said. “I hoped to be able to speak to you.”
I halted a step inside. “You speak Levanti.”
He acquiesced with a little bow. “Not perfectly, such that I am glad for your translator.” He gestured at Nuru. “But yes. I learned with Legate Andrus and a few others. Many of my…” The secretary looked to Nuru and said a word in Chiltaen.
“There isn’t a Levanti word for that,” she said. “Probably best translated simply as ‘fellow leaders.’”
“Ah. Then many of my fellow leaders thought, when Gideon first arrived, that the Levanti presence here would be short-lived and insignificant. A few of us were more… forward-looking.”
“You could have spoken Levanti at the meeting.”
“And Gideon could have spoken Chiltaen. Yet instead we maintain our formalities.”
At that, Secretary Aurus graciously invited us to sit as though it had been his own tent. In Kisia it was customary to sit at a table and be served tea, but Sichi’s tent had been furnished with a trio of long bed-like chairs. He reclined upon one, but Nuru and I just sat.
“How long has Leo Villius been with you?” he said, taking up a glass of wine from a side table.
“In total or just since he last died?” I said, as much to see his reaction as to clarify what he wanted to know.
“Ah.” He swirled the wine, looking at it rather than me. “You are aware then, of his… oddities.”
“Hard not to be when you’ve seen him die twice.”
“Who killed him?”
I glanced at Nuru, wondering if I ought to be so open with this man. He was no friend of Leo’s, but he was still a Chiltaen. She gave an infinitesimal shrug, and deciding the information could do no harm, I said, “Gideon the first time. In Mei’lian. I did the second time.” I kept the information about the cave and the holy book to myself, only willing to trust this man so far.
“Ah.” He seemed to like that sound. “I have not seen him die myself, but I understand one of the assassins I hired achieved his death, before she disappeared. Every assassin I’ve sent after him didn’t come back.”
“You need better assassins.”
“These were some of the very best money could buy, I assure you. Would either of you like some wine?” Secretary Aurus lifted his glass. “I find all conversations about Dom Villius require wine.”
“You know he can read your mind.”
He took a large gulp of wine, followed by another. “I know. Fortunately, our late hieromonk, Leo’s father, was able to discover from a man who studies people like Leo that he requires a…” He waved a hand, trying to find the right Levanti word. “… an amount of closeness,” he settled on. “In order to look inside our heads. My guards are well versed in this and will ensure he isn’t close enough to hear what we are talking about.”
“We cannot always keep him at a distance.”
“No, but he also cannot penetrate deeper than your surface thoughts. He uses certain phrases and questions to bring the information he requires to the forefront of your mind so appears to have more skill than he actually has.”
I leaned forward, elbows resting on my knees. “Why are you telling me this?”