The Veiled Throne, page 57
Tanvanaki felt a twinge of sorrow. This land was teaching all of them to engage in more subterfuges.
If Savo learns all he can of the native expertise with machinery, he will be an invaluable resource. But meanwhile, I must continue the clandestine effort to abduct more skilled engineers and mechanics from the core islands through the pirates. The hard-liners may rage across the land like a winter storm now, but eventually, even my brother must concede that we have to learn all the secrets of the natives if we’re to overcome them and secure our future in these islands.
She prayed silently to Péa-Kiji to keep the pirate ship safe, and waited for the morning.
MEANWHILE, IN PAN.
Bright moon. Cloudless sky.
The ground was far below her, and for a moment she thought she was about to fall, to plunge to her death. She swayed on her feet, her arms cartwheeling.
She managed to stumble back from the edge of the balcony atop the Moon-Gazing Tower. Heart pounding, she pressed herself against the wooden wall behind her, and couldn’t help but let out a terrified whimper.
A crisp laugh.
She looked to her left. There was a swirling column of smoke coalescing into the shape of a woman with long sleeves. Her long hair covered her face so that Jia could not see her features. But she recognized that laugh instantly, even though she hadn’t heard it in years.
Jia sat down in mipa rari. “Sister,” she croaked. She didn’t know how to continue. How does one speak to a ghost?
Smoke-Risana approached her and sat down in mipa rari as well, as though they were about to share a pot of tea, like they used to do long ago.
“This is where you killed me,” said Risana.
Jia said nothing.
“You claim you did it for Hudo-tika,” Risana said, “but the Dandelion Throne remains veiled and empty.”
“Phyro isn’t ready,” Jia said.
“How can he be, when you hold the Seal of Dara as tightly as the Hegemon once held the seals of the Tiro states, unwilling to part with power?”
“That isn’t the reason!” Jia took a moment to calm herself. She mustn’t lose her cool, not even in front of a ghost. “Phyro thinks of nothing but war against Unredeemed Dara, and that will lead to unspeakable death and suffering—”
“As if your actions haven’t already led to those things? People are dying over there now by the hundreds, soon thousands and perhaps tens of thousands.”
Jia closed her eyes. “Between two terrible choices, I chose the one less evil. Until Phyro can see that war is the wrong choice for the people, I cannot allow him to hold the Seal of Dara.”
Risana said nothing. The two women sat under the bright moon, its silvery light making the smoky form of Risana glow like a jellyfish from the deep.
Risana stood up and began to sing and dance. Now unconstrained by physical form, she moved with even more ethereal grace than Jia remembered.
The gentle ruler governs without seeming to govern.
He honors his subjects as he honors his own mother.
Jia shuddered, and the indistinct form of Risana swam in her suddenly moist eyes.
“I feel sorry for Toto-tika,” Risana said, stopping her dance. “His mother would use him like a cüpa stone or a zamaki figurine.”
“I only told him to do what was already in his heart,” said Jia. She sounded weak, even to herself. She had never felt the need to defend herself from anyone, but Risana was different. She couldn’t help but wonder if she would have been a better empress.
Risana cocked her head. Though Jia couldn’t see her face, the posture seemed to her to show a combination of curiosity and pity. “I can never see into your heart the way I could with everyone else. I can’t tell if you’re telling the truth or if you’ve deceived yourself for so long that lies have become the truth.”
“Timu is dearer to me than my own life,” said Jia. “But for the people of Dara, I won’t shrink from what must be done. Teeth on the board.”
After a moment, Risana nodded. “Then live with your choices.” Her smoky form began to fade away.
Howls, screams, moans filled the air. Jia looked about, terrified. Puffs of smoke appeared all around her, coalescing into human shapes: Rin Coda, Théca Kimo, Laughing Skeleton, the other prisoners she had experimented on, the nameless dying men and women in Unredeemed Dara she had only imagined….
All of them dead because of her, because of her schemes.
They approached her, their featureless faces containing only bloody maws through which a soul-chilling wind blew. She tried to run, but they surrounded her, blocking her way back into the tower.
Jia covered her face with her hands and curled up on the ground, making herself as small as possible. She felt the cold breath of the ghosts on her bare arms, felt the icy drops of blood dripping on her hands. She screamed—
* * *
Zomi followed the First Fin and the Second Fin through the winding open galleries in the Palace Garden toward the empress’s bedchamber.
It was highly unusual for a minister to wish to see the empress so late, after she had gone to bed. But Zomi believed that the latest report from the tribute fleet that had just returned from Rui could not wait.
As she ran along, she looked up at the bright moon.
Are you looking up at the moon at this moment, my beloved? Can the moon act as a mirror to let me see your figure, alone across the ocean, as it shows you mine?
She pushed the thought away. She missed Théra so much that it was a physical ache, and it was better to lose herself in her work than to be plagued by such pain, which left her feeling helpless. But like a wound in her mouth, she could not help licking it, savoring the taste of her heartache.
They entered the building that served as the empress’s private residence and turned down the long corridor that led to her bedroom.
A bloodcurdling scream.
Shido and Wi dashed ahead like two loosed arrows. Zomi ran after them, her heart in her throat.
* * *
“A nightmare, nothing more,” said Jia.
Wi and Shido looked at each other, unwilling to let it go.
“Mistress—” Wi began.
“I’m fine,” said Jia, in a tone that brooked no disagreement. “Leave us.”
Reluctantly, the two Dyran Fins bowed to her and faded into the shadows.
“Sit,” said Jia, gesturing at the small tea table. Zomi obeyed and sat down in géüpa.
Even dressed only in her sleeping robe, her hair undone and no makeup on, Jia exuded an air of command. The old woman that Zomi had caught sight of when she had first run into the bedchamber after the Dyran Fins, on the verge of losing her wits, her eyes filled with terror, her limbs shaking uncontrollably, was gone, as unreal as one of Empress Risana’s smokecraft creations. Zomi couldn’t even be sure her memory wasn’t playing tricks on her.
“You wouldn’t have come to me at such a late hour without important news,” said Jia impatiently, sitting down in géüpa. “Get on with it.”
Zomi brought out Lady Ragi’s report from the winter tribute trip and laid it down on the table.
Jia unfolded the scroll and began to read the columns of logograms. Since only a couple of candles were lit, she ran her fingers over the logograms, using touch to assist her sight. Zomi thought she saw the empress’s fingers tremble, but she couldn’t be sure. She got up to light some of the whale-oil lamps.
By the time she sat back down, Jia was finished.
“What do you think?” the empress asked.
“There are several items of interest,” said Zomi. “First is the revelation from Noda Mi that there have been more massacres of villagers during the last three months than in the previous three years. Second is the report from carpenters at the floating dock that multiple scholars have been publicly executed, contrary to the usual leniency with which scholars are treated.”
Jia nodded. “I noted those points too. Ragi writes here that Noda Mi is more forthcoming with information than before, and he appears far more terrified of the Lyucu. Do we know anything about this Nazu Tei he mentioned?”
Zomi shook her head. “Not much, I’m afraid. I consulted with Cogo, and the Imperial examination records indicate that she was a toko dawiji who once donated some possibly apocryphal manuscripts to the Imperial Library.”
“A Golden Carp?”
“Yes. But not a very distinguished one. She didn’t advance into the later rounds of the examinations. Perhaps that was why she went to Rui during the Reign of Four Placid Seas, thinking her limited talents would be given more recognition in a less learned land.”
Jia was quiet for a moment. She imagined the woman being immolated alive by garinafin fire and suppressed a shudder. Knowing the name somehow made it more real. She knew Nazu Tei would, like the other ghosts, haunt her dreams from now on.
“There’s no need to speculate upon her lack of scholastic distinctions,” she chided. Zomi sometimes exhibited a tendency to overvalue the examinations. “Have a tablet erected for her in the Hall of Mutagé, and make sure the court historian records her name as a martyr.”
“But there’s no proof that she was loyal to the Dandelion Throne,” objected Zomi. “She could have been a collaborator who was simply no longer useful to the Lyucu.”
Jia sighed. Zomi’s parents and teacher had all died at the hands of the Lyucu in horrifying ways. Her hatred of the Lyucu and those who collaborated with them was deep and unrelenting. No matter how much Zomi tried to conceal her emotions under the guise of dispassionate reason, her prejudices showed through from time to time.
“Even collaborators sometimes manage to save lives,” said Jia. “Don’t argue with me on this.”
“Yes, Your Imperial Majesty,” said Zomi, startled by the heat in the empress’s voice. She paused, thought for a moment, and said, “But none of these items is as interesting as the last thing in Lady Ragi’s report: Tanvanaki’s demand for an increase in our next tribute in the spring. Rather than the normal yearly increase by a tenth, she’s asking for a doubling of everything except gold. And she’s added a demand for cattle.”
“What do you think is happening?”
“The massacres and executions could be explained as the result of some temporary power struggle at court,” mused Zomi. “But such a large increase in demand for tribute doesn’t feel like a test of our resolve. I suspect some crisis has occurred in Unredeemed Dara, and Tanvanaki anticipates disruptions to her food supplies.”
Jia nodded. “We’ll have to accede to her demands, of course. We can’t let the people of Rui and Dasu starve.”
“No, we cannot,” said Zomi between gritted teeth. She squeezed her fists, as though wishing for something to punch. At length, she added in a cool, analytical tone, “Looks like our prayers have been answered. We were hoping for instability in Unredeemed Dara, and the gods have delivered.”
“Let Cogo know right away so that he can plan for the increase in tribute goods.”
After discussing the matter a little more, Zomi bid the empress a good night. Before leaving, she said, “I just wish I knew what caused the sudden change in Kriphi. Something… must have altered the political balance. I hope Prince Timu is all right.”
Jia said nothing in response. But just as Zomi was turning to leave, the empress said, “The Grand Examination is coming. I’m thinking of putting you in charge instead of Cogo.”
Zomi paused. “Why?”
“You’ve always had an interest in reforming the examinations, so I’m giving you a chance,” said Jia.
“I’m… surprised that you remember.”
“It’s important to watch over the Lyucu, but don’t neglect the creative and useful arts. As Farsight Secretary, you’re also responsible for the research of new machines and the discovery of talent. Don’t let obsession with the potential for war overwhelm the needs of peace. In war, one must take care not to become like one’s enemies.”
Zomi bowed. “I understand.”
As the Dyran Fins escorted Zomi out of the palace, Zomi was already composing a letter in her head to Phyro. With just twenty-four months to go until the expiration of the treaty of nonaggression with the Lyucu and twenty-eight months until the reopening of the Wall of Storms, the emperor would see this new instability in Unredeemed Dara as a perfect chance to build up an invasion force.
The empress is right, but so is the emperor.
She looked up at the moon again, sighed, and hurried her steps.
* * *
Long after Zomi left, Jia remained awake.
She had to admit to herself that she was afraid to close her eyes. The ghosts would be back.
Zomi had spoken of the destabilization of the Lyucu court in Kriphi as a gift from the gods. Jia wondered how the gods would react to being given credit for such a thing by the mortals. Yes, it was necessary to prevent the Lyucu from setting down roots and imposing their caste system on all Dara, with themselves at the top, but destabilizing a government, even a brutal one, had real human costs. Only someone responsible for the costs, whose hands were stained with the blood of the innocent, could understand.
To keep herself from the lure of bed, she dug out her experimental notebooks and read over them. The new cultivar she had developed during the last few months was finally strong enough for her purpose, she saw. It would soon be time to summon the Dyran Fins to find a place to grow it on a larger scale.
Kuni had used his rice paddy and vegetable garden as a teaching aid for his children in the art of governance, but it was Jia who had dedicated her life to cultivation: to nourish the tender shoots of peace, to kill off the weeds of war, to bring to life a system in which it no longer mattered who held the Seal of Dara.
Cultivation was at the heart of her art. A good herbalist kept her own garden and learned to breed the plants to encourage the nature that was already in each herb, to bring it to its full potential. Through selective pollination and judicious grafting, it was possible to make the flowers more magnificent, the scents more alluring, the berries more potent.
That was the one skill she had always relied on: encouraging the nature that was already there. It was how she had pushed suspicious Théca Kimo to rebel, proud Gin Mazoti to overreach, insecure Rin Coda to betray his friends. It was how she had prodded the Lyucu into revealing their true character by leaking the news of the anticipated opening in the Wall of Storms, and how she had nudged Timu into sabotaging his own misguided collaborationist project by appealing to his ideals. She didn’t know exactly how her plot had succeeded, but she knew from the start that all she had to do was to cultivate the desire that was already in the hearts of men and women of ambition.
“Just a little more time,” she muttered. She wasn’t sure if she was pleading with the gods, with Phyro, with Timu, with the ghosts who would not let her sleep.
Phyro must not be allowed to launch an invasion on Unredeemed Dara. As much as the people already suffered, they would suffer ten times, a hundred times more in war. While Théra would take care of the Lyucu in their homeland, it was up to her, here, to save the people of Dara from the Lyucu hammer with the least amount of suffering.
“Just a little more time,” she muttered. It was all she could say and would say aloud.
She would never be able to confess what she had done to anyone except the ghosts: Rin, Théca, Risana, Laughing Skeleton, and now Nazu Tei. What she had done and what she would do went against every Moralist principle, every ideal of honor and justice, every creed of the gods of Dara, every instinct she had as a mother.
She would be an exile among her own people, and yet it was the right thing to do.
With a soul-racking sob, tears spilled from her eyes.
Oh, how she wanted to sleep.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT REFUGEES
SECRET AGON BASE IN KIRI VALLEY, IN THE FOOTHILLS OF THE WORLD’S EDGE MOUNTAINS: THE TWELFTH MONTH IN THE EIGHTH YEAR AFTER THE DEPARTURE OF PRINCESS THÉRA FROM DARA FOR UKYU-GONDÉ.
Kiri Valley was on fire.
Théra watched, stunned, as diving garinafins in the distance spit fire at the granaries, smokehouses, storage pits, cabins, and tents. All the supplies they had accumulated for the year, nay, for several years, had gone up in flames in just a few hours.
She, along with Thoryo and the children at the mat near them, about three dozen in total, had been rushed away in a daze as Agon garinafin riders took to the skies to try to fight off the aerial invaders, and Agon warriors and Dara soldiers scrambled to suit up in armor and grab weapons to fight off the equally brutal assault on the ground. All around was confusion, chaos, bewilderment. Pilots couldn’t find their crew; soldiers couldn’t locate their commanders; husband was separated from wife; children divided from their parents. Wailing, screams, cries for help, barked orders that couldn’t be followed.
Takval’s fiercest warriors and Commander Tipo Tho’s personal guards had brought the group of escapees, disoriented and shocked into numbness, to this hideout up on one side of the valley.
While the children huddled in the rock shelter behind her, Théra stood defiantly outside, ignoring the pleas of everyone for her to hide.
Fiery trails streaking across the sky blotted out the stars, and the flickering torches of thousands of warriors snaked across the valley floor as two armies clashed in the darkness. Bones and limbs were crushed, guts and entrails spilled, screams of the dead and dying echoed in the distance.
And she was standing here, helpless, as everything she had built over the last seven years was consumed by the conflagration.
Gusts of wing turbulence whipped up the snow around Théra, and with a heavy thump, two wounded garinafins crashed through the trees on the mountainside and landed on the ledge before the rock shelter, panting in exhaustion.
The pilot of the garinafin in the lead was Takval. His hair had been half singed off, and across his face lay an ugly burn. Behind him, several charred and bloodied bodies hung from the netting of the garinafin, lifeless, and a few others groaned from their injuries. The second garinafin was piloted by Vara Ronalek, assisted by Radia and Toof, the adopted Lyucu riders. From the back of this second garinafin, protected and guarded by the first, Adyulek, Sataari, Gozofin, Tipo Tho, Razutana, Çami, and other high-ranking Agon and Dara climbed down.
