Speaking Bones, page 88
“… Such unparalleled courage! Such unprecedented love of her people! Ukyu-taasa is blessed to have such a pékyu! Ten dyudyu cupéruna? Ukyu-taasa kyo!…”
She knew that far from freeing the people of Dara, she had brought them endless suffering. Step by step, error after error, she had turned Ukyu-taasa into a hell on earth.
There was too much history between the two peoples, too much bad blood. Lyucu supremacy was the fundamental tenet of the conquest of Ukyu-taasa, and neither Timu nor Goztan had been able to find a way for the two peoples to coexist without it. How could the Lyucu, so few in number, divided from the people of Dara by language and culture, hope to maintain their rule without resorting to the harshest form of enslavement? Once she had agreed to take up her father’s dream, there was no other way for it to end except as a nightmare.
“… I know of no sovereign more merciful and brave in all the annals of Dara! I know of no ruler with a more caring hand!…”
She could blame Cutanrovo’s inflexible devotion to tradition (or at least an imagined version of it); she could blame the selfish counsel of advisers like Noda Mi and Wira Pin. But in the end, she was the pékyu; she was responsible. In her relentless drive to protect and preserve the Lyucu, she had doomed them, and in that process victimized countless others.
For so long she had been hiding from the truth, terrified that her compassion would be aroused by the fate of the enslaved—a reminder of the Lyucu’s own suffering under Pékyu Nobo Aragoz of the Agon and Admiral Krita of Dara. She had isolated herself lest her natural empathy manifest itself as weakness and lead to the destruction of her own people. But the time for hiding was over. She was no longer in search of victory, but a dignified defeat. It was the best that the Lyucu could hope for.
“… There is no wiser counselor than the emperor… no purer soul…”
And Timu would be there, by her side, to hold her up and give her strength as the rebels lobbed their accusations against her and heaped her with scorn. She was grateful for that. The bond between them had been strained, but not yet broken—more due to his efforts than hers.
The least she could do was have the courage to face the truth, to stand before the people she had enslaved and harmed, to listen to them and mutely plead for a measure of mercy—a mercy the Lyucu didn’t deserve but needed, to let Cutanrovo go, to let her and Timu go, to preserve the peace until the arrival of Jia’s judgment.
“Summon the emperor,” she said to Noda. “And prepare fast horses.”
* * *
Cutanrovo sat in the middle of the clearing that was the former site of the village of Kigo Yezu, her feet tied together in front of her, hands bound behind her back to a stake driven into the ground, mouth stuffed with a gag made of hemp rope.
She looked around. The villagers’ once-lush fields were choked by bramble and weeds. The dry weather over the summer had left little good grazing, and now, in the cold winds of late autumn, everything was dry, withered, worn. The burnt remains of the villagers’ huts peeked out of the rotting leaves like skeletons.
The destruction of this village had marked the beginning of her bid to displace Goztan Ryoto as Tanvanaki’s most trusted adviser. She wasn’t sure if Noda Mi had selected this site because of the re-remembering, but the choice did suggest to her good fortune: The scene of her first triumph would serve as the setting for the greatest gamble of her life.
It was so easy to manipulate the natives. They thought themselves clever, but their intelligence was like that of the garinafins: selfish and shortsighted, driven by hunger for security and fear of pain. A simple promise to adopt Noda Mi into her own clan, to marry him to a Lyucu thane and give him a Lyucu name, honors unknown to any slave, had been enough to secure the loyalty of the simpering fool. But how could Noda Mi ever really be Lyucu? He lacked the Lyucu spirit, a supreme pride and courage that nature never saw fit to waste upon the natives.
Never mind that. It would be easy enough to get rid of him after the deed was done.
Thumping hoofbeats carried over the dune. She listened carefully. Though she was dedicated to the ways of the scrublands, after more than a decade in Ukyu-taasa, she was not ignorant of useful animals tamed by the natives. She could discern two horses, one heavily laden, perhaps with more than one rider.
She smiled to herself. Noda Mi’s plan was working to perfection. She readied herself for the upcoming performance.
The first rider to emerge atop the dune was Noda Mi. “The pékyu is here! The emperor is here! Do not harm Thane Cutanrovo!” His panicked tone was so convincing that Cutanrovo could even picture tears of anxiety streaming down his face.
Cutanrovo understood the real source of Noda’s anxiety. Though Tanvanaki claimed that the man had been spared in order to act as the Lyucu’s tongue at the Dandelion Court, Noda had almost immediately realized that his real value to Tanvanaki was as a bargaining chip. He was certain that as soon as the delegation arrived in Pan, he would be bound and presented to Jia as a pledge of Lyucu goodwill. The people of Dara hated a traitor like Noda Mi even more than they hated the Lyucu.
How did Noda Mi put it? Oh, right, “Throw them a bone.”
Cutanrovo chuckled inwardly at the image the lapdog Noda had picked to evoke his pitiful fate. No wonder the furless cur was willing to do whatever he could to thwart Tanvanaki’s plans.
A second horse appeared at the top of the dune. Tanvanaki, as always, held the reins. Her husband rode behind her, hanging on with all his might.
What a weakling. A sneer flashed across Cutanrovo’s face. But also useful. As soon as her plot succeeded, she would sail right up to the Big Island with Timu naked and caged like some filthy animal and demand all the meat, grain, feed, and tolyusa she wanted from Jia. And if Jia balked, Cutanrovo would personally bite off Timu’s fingers and toes one by one until either the weakling died or his mother complied. Cutanrovo would do what Tanvanaki couldn’t.
* * *
Two horses stopped next to the clearing, and the riders dismounted.
“Where are the rebels?” demanded Tanvanaki, looking about in confusion.
“They… they must be nearby,” said Noda Mi.
Cutanrovo struggled against the ropes and made angry noises in her throat.
“We should free Thane Cutanrovo first,” said Noda Mi, but he remained where he was, next to the horses.
“Emperor Thaké and I have come alone, as you demanded,” Tanvanaki shouted, looking around the deserted clearing.
“Pékyu Vadyu and I have come to listen to your demands,” Timu shouted. He held Tanvanaki’s hand, a look of contentment on his face. This was what he had always wanted: his beloved Vadyu and himself standing side by side, trying to find a way for the people of Dara and the Lyucu to live together in peace. It had taken a long time for Tanvanaki to find her way back, but she was back.
Tanvanaki looked at her husband pityingly. She didn’t have the heart to explain to him the real consequences of a Lyucu surrender. Let him dream on, she thought. Let’s keep the peace, even if it’s just for a little longer.
Ever alert, she realized that something didn’t seem right. There were no footpaths through the bramble-covered fields, no signs of a rebel encampment, no traces of a celebratory banquet that had been held to lure Cutanrovo here.
Tanvanaki’s hand tensed around Timu’s. Everything screamed trap at her. Where were the rebels she was supposed to meet?
Cutanrovo moaned through the gag in her mouth. Her body strained against the ropes as though she was in pain. There was a pleading look in her eyes.
“They must have poisoned Thane Cutanrovo,” Noda Mi shouted. “Oh, such black-hearted cowards!”
“Let’s free her first,” said Timu. “Maybe the rebels just stepped away for a bit.”
Wordlessly, Tanvanaki let go of Timu’s hand and retrieved her war club from the horse.
“What are you doing?” Timu demanded. “You promised that we wouldn’t be fighting!”
“You and Noda should get on the horses and go back to the top of the dune,” said Tanvanaki.
“I’m not leaving you alone,” said Timu. “You can’t fight them, Vadyu. They’re just peasants who want to see us and tell us their troubles.”
Tanvanaki hesitated. Every instinct in her screamed at her to get out, that this was an ambush.
Gurgling noises emerged from Cutanrovo’s throat as her eyes rolled up into her skull. Her body arched like a bent bow, straining every muscle.
“We’ve got to free the thane,” said Noda Mi. “She’s going to die!”
“Stay near the horses with the emperor,” said Tanvanaki, finally making up her mind. “Protect him with your life.”
With her war club raised defensively, Tanvanaki approached the bound thane slowly, glancing around as though she expected enemies to leap out of the bramble in the fields at any second. Gingerly, she tested the ground with the tip of her foot before shifting her weight with each step.
Finally, she was standing next to Cutanrovo. Still gripping the war club with her right hand, she looked into the woman’s agony-filled eyes. Carefully, she reached out with her left hand to pull the gag out of Cutanrovo’s mouth—
Cutanrovo’s right leg whipped out—the loops of rope around her legs had not been knotted—and struck Tanvanaki in her ankles. With a cry of pain and surprise, the pékyu fell prone to the ground.
In a second, Cutanrovo had freed herself—the ropes around her hands had been for show as well—and pulled the stake out of the earth. Before Tanvanaki could recover, Cutanrovo swung one end of the stake, tipped with a stone like a hammer, against Tanvanaki’s feet, shattering her ankles. As Tanvanaki screamed, Cutanrovo swung the other end, wrapped in layers of cloth, against the back of the pékyu’s head. A few muffled blows later, Tanvanaki lay still on the ground.
* * *
Everything had happened so fast that Timu didn’t even have the time to react beyond a cry of anguish. Cutanrovo left the prone figure of Tanvanaki and strode up to him, a bit unsteady on her feet after having sat immobile for so long.
“Your writing dagger,” she demanded.
As though awakening from a dream, Timu dodged around her and fell on the body of Tanvanaki. “Vadyu-tika, Vadyu-tika!” He caressed her cheeks, leaning in to feel for her breath.
Cutanrovo walked up and hoisted him up by the back of the collar like a hawk lifting a baby chick. After pulling the small writing knife free from his belt, she tossed him aside.
Tanvanaki groaned and tried to lift her head.
“Stay down,” said Cutanrovo, and casually pressed a foot against her back. Tanvanaki moaned, her limbs floundering weakly.
Timu screamed and crawled over, pushing Cutanrovo’s foot aside to shield his wife with his body. Finally, he remembered Noda Mi. He shouted at the man, still standing by the horses. “Stop her!”
Noda Mi shook his head and smiled. “Rénga, that’s the last thing I want to do right now.”
Timu looked from Cutanrovo to Noda Mi, and understanding finally dawned. “There never were any rebels.”
“It’s a coup,” declared Cutanrovo. “The pékyu is no longer fit to rule Ukyu-taasa.”
“You’ve lost your mind!” Desperation made Timu’s voice crack. “It’s the tolyusa, isn’t it? You suffer from the sickness too. Listen—”
“I’ve never been more clear-minded in my life!” roared Cutanrovo. Once again she picked Timu off Tanvanaki and tossed him aside like a doll. “She’s contemplating surrendering to your mother, to the filthy Dara-raaki swine who eat food that is grown from their own excrement! You’ve corrupted her, made her forget that she’s a daughter of Tenryo Roatan, the greatest pékyu who ever lived!”
“You will doom all the Lyucu if you kill her,” said Timu. “Ukyu-taasa is hanging by the thinnest of threads. How can you handle an uprising by the peasants when you’ll be fighting amongst yourselves? And what will you do when my brother returns with his invading army? With so many warriors laid low by the tolyusa-madness, you can’t even carry out the depraved threat of mass slaughter, the only reason my mother recalled Phyro’s invasion last time. Tanvanaki and I are our last chance at negotiating tolerable terms for a surrender, to preserve the lives of the Lyucu. Don’t do this!”
“Negotiate?” Cutanrovo laughed. “The Lyucu don’t negotiate; we conquer.” She knelt down and placed a knee against the small of Tanvanaki’s back. Grabbing Tanvanaki’s long hair, she pulled her head back, revealing the bare throat. Tanvanaki sputtered, her arms flailing uselessly, too dazed to fight the garinafin-thane off.
“Stop! O gods, stop!” Timu screamed, trying to reach Tanvanaki again. Noda Mi stepped in and restrained the emperor.
“You will never understand us,” said Cutanrovo, as though lecturing a child. “A little tolyusa-thirst is nothing. A rebellion by every mud-legged native in Ukyu-taasa is nothing. Your brother’s invasion, no matter how many witchcraft-infused weapons he brings, is nothing. The Lyucu spirit, on the other hand, is everything.”
“You are mad… utterly mad—”
“You’re right that you’re very valuable, my mud-legged emperor. We may not be able to build the slaughter-engines, but we can still strike Jia where it really hurts. Oh, don’t worry, I’ll keep you alive, but you may not enjoy your existence very much. I’ll cut off a piece of you every day and send it to your mother until she sends us all the meat and tolyusa I want.”
Timu’s struggles against Noda’s grip subsided. “Then you don’t understand my mother. She was willing to order her own marshal to kill my father at the Battle of Zathin Gulf so that he couldn’t be used as a hostage.” Despair filled his eyes as he struggled to make Cutanrovo see. “Do you really think she’ll give up the opportunity she has engineered for the defeat of the Lyucu on account of me? Weighed against the welfare of the people of Dara, she won’t flinch at letting me go. Teeth on the board. You’ll never defeat her with such threats.”
“Then we’ll die as warriors, as is our nature,” declared Cutanrovo, sounding not only proud, but overjoyed. “It’s better than begging for mercy from people fit only to be slaves. Wolves must never become dogs.”
Timu softened his voice, straining to reach what was left of the rational part of Cutanrovo’s feverish mind. “You have no legitimate claim to be the pékyu, and the other thanes will not support you. If you kill her to seize power by force, what’s to stop the others from doing the same to you?”
“Why would they think I killed her?” asked Cutanrovo in a mocking voice.
Timu looked at her, uncomprehending.
“You really are stupid.” Cutanrovo raised her right hand high in the air, and something metallic flashed in the sun.
“Nooo!” Timu screamed.
Cutanrovo leaned down and plunged Timu’s small writing knife deep into Tanvanaki’s throat. She pulled it back out a second later, and blood gushed from the wound in powerful spurts, instantly drenching Cutanrovo’s face and upper body.
As Timu screamed and fought against Noda’s iron hold, Tanvanaki gurgled and flopped against the weight of Cutanrovo like a hooked fish. Blood filled her nose and mouth. Cutanrovo methodically plunged the small writing knife into her throat again and again, and the bloody fountain gushed to the rhythm of Tanvanaki’s fading heartbeat.
“When the body of the dead pékyu is presented to the other thanes,” said Cutanrovo in a detached, methodical voice, “they’ll see that the wounds are not from the weapon of a brave Lyucu warrior, but the toy knife of the pékyu’s cowardly concubine, who abused the pékyu’s trust to commit the most heinous of crimes against his wife and lord.”
The convulsions ripping through Tanvanaki’s body grew more sporadic and less intense. With a final spasm, the body of Flash-of-the-Garinafin, Pékyu of Ukyu-taasa, Protector of Dara, stilled.
Timu slumped against Noda’s hold. “O gods! O gods!”
Slowly, Cutanrovo climbed off Tanvanaki’s corpse and tossed the writing knife away. Her face, shoulders, chest, arms, hands were covered in blood.
“And now, it’s your turn,” said Cutanrovo, a ravenous grin splitting her blood-covered face. “I was going to keep you alive to bargain with your mother. But since you’re so sure of your worthlessness, let me send you to join your dear, departed wife. I’ll bash in your skull and take it back with me to show that I’ve avenged the pékyu, and in their gratitude, the thanes will proclaim me her successor….”
Timu howled. The gods were blind and without justice. He turned his face away from that demonic visage to gaze upon the still body of his wife, the mother of his children, the woman he loved and also regretted loving.
“… I’ll become the greatest pékyu of the Lyucu people,” said Cutanrovo. She swayed unsteadily on her feet, dizzy from the exertion of killing Tanvanaki. Slowly, she bent down to pick up Tanvanaki’s war club. “I’ll carry on the true legacy of the pékyu-votan—”
Timu felt Noda’s arms, until now locked tightly around his chest, abruptly give way. Unsupported, he began to fall, and as he looked up in confusion, time seemed to slow down.
A blurred shape rushing by him—
Cutanrovo, still bent over, wrapping her fingers around the war club—
The blurred shape stopping next to Cutanrovo and resolving into Noda Mi, unsheathing a sword and lunging forward—
Cutanrovo’s head snapping up as she looked, uncomprehending, at Noda Mi’s sword sliding into her body—
Timu felt his head strike the hard earth. Time continued to flow at an agonizingly slow pace as his view bounced and shook. He could not make sense of what he was seeing; he couldn’t think.
Noda Mi jumping back; the sword’s handle snapping off, leaving the blade in Cutanrovo—
Cutanrovo roaring and swinging the war club at the retreating Noda Mi, losing her footing as the club left her hand—
Noda Mi dodging, but not fast enough; the heavy bone head striking him in the shoulder, bringing him to the ground—
Cutanrovo stumbling forward, grunting and gurgling as blood pooled in her lungs, trying to catch Noda—
