by R. Cooper
“Wait,” Nadir burst out, panting. “You guys have to—”
Whatever else he might have said was lost as Mos hefted Taji against her and began to run. Not a full run, not with her breathing short and strained and Taji yelling in her ear.
“Your loss is great,” Mos told him, ducking through a tunnel entrance and bolting down the stairs. Taji’s chest was constricted, cutting off his screams. Mos’s every leaping step was another bolt of pain down his spine. “But they come for us now.” She was still holding her knife. Taji tried to kick less, although he couldn’t stop his racing heart.
She stopped at a fork in the tunnel to put him down. “I ruined your new soria,” she observed, holding a hand to her side. Taji looked down and in the dim light saw her blood on his clothes. Her breathing did not sound good. “Apologies.”
“You do not have to help me.” Taji didn’t know what he was saying.
“I accept your offer of medical attention,” Mos replied, “if your eshe does not kill me.” Then she lifted Taji back under her arm and headed in a new direction, over and down, down forever, until they finally came to a place with no lights.
This tunnel was wet and the ground was slippery. Mos did not put him down, but she did move slower. Taji trailed a hand along the wall, searching for any sign of where they were or where they were going.
“Carvings,” he observed with only mild surprise. He wondered if he was in shock. “They have not been worn away.”
“This tunnel is older than the Sha,” Mos noted. Taji didn’t have any adrenaline left to worry about that. More of Mos’s blood seeped into his clothes, warm on his skin. He didn’t ask about that either. There was no point.
“You are Inri,” he said instead, realizing. “Not like the other Sha.” Running to fight another day made sense to Taji, but not to Shavian nobility.
“I am.” Mos had to stop and put him down again to rest.
Taji clenched his hands at the sound of her pained wheezing. “I would have made Trenne ask to pick me up.”
The statement startled her, made a hitch in her breathing. But when she spoke, she was a weary sort of polite. “Taji shehzha from beyond the rings, I will need to carry you the rest of the way. We do not have time to wait for you to recover. Will you allow it?”
“Absolutely yes,” Taji agreed, and closed his eyes as he was lifted again.
After another few turns, and the vague feeling that they were still heading down, a steady, pounding noise drowned out his heartbeat and Mos’s increasingly labored breathing.
Light crept in slowly, then flooded in all at once, a fluid lilac glow as they emerged from the dark into a cave behind the waterfall. They must not have been at the center of the fall, because Taji could see through the thin sheets of water to the beach.
Mos took several deep breaths. These were different, more like Trenne’s when he had to prepare himself. Taji’s side was hot with her blood. “There may be Guards,” Mos said evenly, despite that. “Are you ready, Taji shehzha?”
Taji wasn’t, but he nodded.
Mos darted out from beneath the water, splashing through shallow pools. Shavian feet, Taji remembered again, had no trouble with rocks or rough sand or clay.
He bit back a cry as he was jostled, and turned his head to peer up at falling water and sheer cliffs, the smoke coming from Laviias.
“There,” Mos told him, and stumbled but kept her grip on him.
Ahead of them, across the sand, was the IPTC flier.
“Please,” Taji whispered, although he didn’t know who he was asking, as the loading door began to open.
The ramp didn’t lower all the way, but figures in black jumped out, blasters at the ready, and Mos skidded to a stop and let Taji slip from her arm.
Taji put his hands out but miraculously didn’t fall. He stared dazedly at Markita, stern and bleeding from a gash near his temple. Nev swung a look from Taji to Mos and then behind them to the rest of the beach. She aimed her blaster at Mos.
Mos spoke before Taji could try. “Apologies, Trenne. He had no other way down.”
Taji turned from her toward someone he hadn’t even known was there. Trenne was silent and fast, on the flier and then in front of Taji, his fist curled into Taji’s soria as he pulled Taji forward.
Taji stared at Trenne’s chest, which was all in one piece, smelling of smoke and metal, rising and falling with breath. He put his hands up to the dust-covered uniform shirt and tentatively held them there. “You’re okay.”
Trenne tightened his grip to pull Taji even closer. His breath was hot over Taji’s ear.
“It is not his blood, hu—Trenne. Though he may be injured, that is not his.” Mos kept talking through her struggle to get air. “I touched him to save him. The Guard were coming. The Guard…” Mos was still too loud. “They will come for us now, once they find their way through the tunnels. Even if their intent is peaceful, they will not leave the shehzha unaccounted for.”
“We should get him in the flier, sir,” Lin called out from the cargo door. “Thank you for the help, Inri.”
“Time to get the fuck out,” Markita added, too full of adrenaline to be calm.
“Rodian,” Trenne said evenly, “get back in the flier.”
Taji lifted his head in time to see Rodian appear from around the end of the flier, a long projectile gun in his hand.
“We were not sure who would arrive,” Trenne told Taji. “I will carry you to your seat.” It would have been a request for permission if Trenne hadn’t been holding Taji so close with no sign he planned to let go.
“The Inri, sir?” Lin asked, giving Rodian a hand up to get him inside. “Kill her? Leave her?” Lin paused when there was no immediate answer. “Take her?”
“Dangerous to bring her. Dangerous not to, possibly.” Tsomyal’s voice carried down to them.
“She saved me,” Taji blurted. He looked up, but Trenne wouldn’t look at him. “I wouldn’t have made it down here otherwise.”
Trenne’s ear swept back toward Lin, then forward. “Take her knife. Bring her. Don’t let her near him again.”
Taji opened his mouth to form some sort of objection—they had more pressing things to worry about than someone touching someone else’s shehzha—but Trenne picked him up, carried him to the flier, and lifted him into Lin’s hands to be pulled onboard.
Trenne jumped in a second after him, grabbed hold of Taji’s soria again, and said, “Taji,” in a low warning voice that was confusing until Taji realized Trenne was the only thing keeping him on his feet.
“Mr. Ameyo,” Tsomyal greeted him weakly, curled up in a seat with someone’s black coat thrown over them. “You have survived your first coup attempt.”
“I think it’s more of a purge,” Taji responded, then tripped forward to wrap his arms around Tsomyal, bringing Trenne with him. “Sorry.” He pulled away almost immediately. “I—I’m sorry. I just—”
“It is a relief to see you as well.” Tsomyal’s large eyes took him in and then they spoke, nearly drowned out by the starting engines and the closing cargo door. “Share your affection with the living, Mr. Ameyo. They need it more than the dead.”
Taji reached behind him, grasping at whatever part of Trenne he could reach. “Trenne.” His voice cracked. “Trenne, Nadir is—”
“I know.” Trenne reeled Taji backward. Taji turned around to look up at him. Trenne met his stare. “You must sit now.” He let go of Taji’s soria to urge Taji down into the nearest seat, but he stayed upright, one hand firm on Taji’s shoulder.
Taji regarded him blankly while his stomach swooped and the flier began to rise. Nadir’s comm had been working. Trenne and the others must have heard everything. Taji’s gaze went to Nev, sitting forward in her seat, eyes firmly on Mos as she pulled away Mos’s clothing to look over the slashing cut across her side.
The team hadn’t been waiting here for Nadir. Taji and Mos must have arrived shortly after everyone else had. “We’re lucky we got here in time.�
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“You have a tracker in your DD,” Rodian remarked, seated across from them, long gun propped against his leg. He was staring at his hands, which were steady. “The moment we got here, he told us to find a device and check for activity. Ledo had left his here. That’s the lucky part. Sergeant Major said you wouldn’t lose yours and you didn’t.”
Taji twisted around to look at Trenne but that was too much, so he put his head down. Trenne’s rough fingertips swept over Taji’s skin in short, not quite soothing motions.
“I’m sorry,” Taji whispered. “I didn’t want you to worry.”
“Amretz.” Nev snorted, arms crossed. The word had the sound of an insult. She looked over at Taji for the barest moment, then turned to Markita. “There should be a spare bag of my supplies with the rest of the extra gear. Get it. Hey, Mouth?” Nev yanked a knife from her belt and sliced through Mos’s soria to get it out of the way. Mos pressed her lips together and said nothing. “Tell me if you have any injuries. You in pain? On a scale of your usual to needing a hypo to knock you out, you would be…?”
Markita set down a large bag at Nev’s feet.
“I…nothing hurts yet. It all hurts. I don’t know.” Taji stared at the blood steadily oozing from Mos’s wound. “Is Mos going to be all right?”
“If we want her to be,” Nev said immediately and pulled a packet from the bag that looked like a field medicine cauterization kit. Lin moved silently to stand behind Mos and put her hands on her shoulders to hold her still. Mos put her head back to meet Lin’s eye.
Taji let out a startled breath. “They were after her, too.”
Lin was unfazed. “She is Inri. Tell us, Inri, where were you when your emperor had his feast?”
“I attended to what Rinnah had asked of me.” Mos’s tone was too flat for Taji to begin to guess if she was lying. “Larin Emperor did not wish me to be at his feast.”
“No, he did not.” It almost sounded as if Trenne agreed with her.
“Do you know what he did?” Lin pressed. “Your emperor? He insulted us, and he insulted Trenne, and he frightened his shehzha.”
“He offended anyone he could,” Tsomyal interrupted. “But I believe the display was mostly meant for the Koel. Eriat, in particular, and anyone Eriat has been speaking to.”
“He incited discontent,” Lin added. “Provoked rebellion.”
“The hunt,” Mos said, then fell silent.
Nev looked to Trenne in question, hypo in one hand.
“Trenne,” Taji whispered quickly, “I don’t want to hear Mos scream.”
Nev didn’t spare Taji a glance but she hit Mos with the painkiller anyway. “Not a dose for a Shavian of her size. But should be no screaming.”
“Destroying the fliers slowed the emperor down, but also handed him more excuses to collect prisoners as he chooses.” Trenne spoke over the stinging hiss of the cauterization chemicals as they worked. Mos was stiff, shivering, but she did not close her eyes. “The rest of the nobles will hear of this soon. There may be action or there may be nothing. The capital is not a guarantee of safety, and we are in no position to promise asylum. We have sent a message to the I.P.T.C. to inform them of our situation and the danger any replacements will face. It will take some time to reach them.”
Mos lowered her head to focus on Trenne. She was breathing hard again, in pain, but also clearly startled by Trenne. “You imply I destroyed the fliers.”
“I do, Inri Mos,” Trenne agreed. “If not the emperor to serve his own purpose, then who else?”
“Who other than the Inri?” Mos flicked a look to Taji, then Tsomyal, before returning her attention to Trenne. “That matters, even to a hurat?”
“Inri betray emperors,” Lin sneered. Taji hadn’t thought she cared about Sha nobility.
“Inri uphold the Sha,” Mos corrected, pale from pain or meds. “Loyalty to the Sha, not to an emperor.”
“The emperor is the Sha.” Taji was trembling. Trenne settled his hand over the back of his neck although that could do nothing for shock or exhaustion. “Until he isn’t,” Taji realized a moment later. His thoughts wouldn’t slow down long enough for him to feel anything, which was strange, and yet he couldn’t focus on that, either. “Oh, shit. What are the Inri, like, the wildcard? The moral compass of the rest of the Sha?” He was aware that Mos probably didn’t understand half of those words but he couldn’t be assed to explain. “Just more practical? I mean, let’s face it, sorry, but if the Sha were practical, they wouldn’t even have an emperor. What sort of outdated government lets someone like Larin be in charge?”
He reached up to pull on Trenne’s hand. He was still shaking. Nerves, then. Maybe shock. Exhaustion, too. None of that was important right now. “Why are you friends with Rinnah—oh. You were spying on her. Right. I miss the moon. No spies on the moon.”
“Nev,” Trenne said shortly, taking Taji’s nonsense as a sign of something bad, which it might have been. Taji didn’t protest.
“Sir.” Nev dug into the supply bag. “Painkillers or a sedative?” she asked, but pulled out two capsule packs. They landed in Taji’s lap a moment later.
Taji left them there. He needed to think, and when he closed his eyes, he saw Nadir.
“Olea Rinnah is a likely candidate for emperor, should Larin no longer be available.” Tsomyal made a subvocal, harmonic noise in their throat to punctuate that. “A good choice for someone to keep an eye on. Perhaps influence. Have the Inri ever been emperor?”
Mos stayed silent.
“Not that I saw,” Taji answered for her. “Though I didn’t get through much. They all need a centralized source of information. Not that any of them would attempt that without aggrandizing their own families and playing down any misdeeds—if they even think of them as misdeeds. Um. I…right.” He had to take several moments to pull his thoughts back together, or try to. “The sheer lack of available information on prior civilizations feels like cultural genocide, which is only a part of overall genocide. How much Anglisky does Mos speak? Should I translate?”
Tsomyal made that noise again. It also left the impression of a curse word or an insult. “Mr. Ameyo, you should take your capsules so that Sergeant Major Trenne can be calm.”
Taji jumped, then glanced up. For the first time, Taji noticed the dust across Trenne’s face and his mussed hair. Trenne’s hands were dark with dirt, possibly caked with blood beneath that, although his black uniform would have absorbed any other traces, so Taji couldn’t be certain.
“Do you know,” Taji began quietly, unable to stop himself, “that Larin Emperor is full of shit, and if he asks me again, I will tell him exactly what you taste like, so he can suffer from the lack of it for the rest of his life? I am sorry I left your side and that you worried. Did that Guard…” He didn’t actually want to know at this moment whether the Guard had saved him, if the Guard had lived afterward. “I’ll take them now.”
His hands were clumsy. Trenne took the packets from him and offered the capsules one at a time. Taji swallowed them dry, wondering if the last ones he’d taken were still effective, then didn’t care.
Mos was watching.
“Rest.” Trenne let Taji take his hand again and hold it against his chest, even though it meant he had to bend down. “Everyone rest,” Trenne added, only a bit louder. “There should be food in the extra gear. Possibly spare clothes. Clean up. Make sure you get water and food. Then rest.”
While you can, was left unsaid, but even Markita probably understood the precariousness of the situation they were in.
“That is all?” Mos demanded.
“For now.” Trenne held himself together better than Mos or Lin, in Taji’s view, even if the ambassador hadn’t thought so.
Trenne was lying. Taji was willing to bet Trenne and Lin—and Nadir—had worked out contingency plans long before this. Stay in the capital and lay low until rescue. Get to another continent where the Sha held less sway. Get back to the moon and wait for IPTC. But Trenne wasn’t going to
trust his team’s safety with Mos, even if she hadn’t been Inri.
Mos regarded Trenne in disbelief. “Even if the Imperial Guard did not want to arrest any of you, the emperor made his opinion of you known, and you were here for this insult. The Guard might have questions.”
Lin looked down at Mos, then stood up that much straighter. Questions must mean something else.
Taji’s stomach turned.
“Rest,” Trenne ordered the team again, apparently unbothered by Mos’s lack of faith in him. “Sharp minds, well bodies for whatever is coming. You would not honor him with your deaths.”
Nev lurched upright, then stormed to the back of the flier. Taji thought she was going toward the lavatory to clean up, but she perched on the edge of the farthest seat in a row and stared blankly at the row of seats in front of her.