Requiem (18 page)

And Neb and Petronus are on the moon.

Rudolfo lay awake and let the past, the present and the future have its way with his memory and his imagination. He did not know how many hours passed before he finally slept fitfully. And when he finally dreamed, he could not remember the images themselves, only the emotion they carried. A son’s sorrow over the world his father left him and a father’s sorrow for the world that he, in turn, passed on.

Jin Li Tam

Jin Li Tam watched the palm trees slipping past on the canal’s shoreline as their engines carried them east and upriver in the absence of wind. Two days ago, they’d sighted land—a dark scar of horizon that grew in her porthole until it became a desolate coastline. They’d entered a wide-mouthed river there in a nondescript bay, and the ship began its slow climb, moving up a series of locks. Slowly she could tell by the crew’s good humor that they neared home, and she’d capitalized on it to learn as much as she could under the guise of practicing her language skills. She’d already learned the names of most of the crew, had identified the ship’s armory and medico supply locker as well as its armorer and medico, and had picked up references to place names that she did not recognize.

She’d also used her sessions with Sister Elsbet to broaden her knowledge of Y’Zirite belief and custom. It was an intricate system that integrated their faith with life—ritual scarrings during high holy days and monthly bloodlettings into a community still, combined with gospels that were preached and taught on a weekly schedule by a priesthood that consisted mostly of women, and daily prayer led in small clusters. Coming from the Named Lands, where religious belief was largely eschewed, she had little frame of reference for such a pervasive form of belief, and she found that it both fascinated and horrified her.

Because ultimately, these people can justify anything if they can find even the slightest support for it within their beliefs.
She shuddered and turned away from the porthole.

The door rattled and Lynnae pushed it open. Jakob stood with her, his fist tightly clutching her finger and his eyes alive with excitement. The young woman smiled. “He only fell twice,” she said.

They’d been walking the deck several times a day now, giving the boy time to learn his way.

Jin Li Tam smiled and extended her hands. Jakob laughed and ran to her. As she scooped him up, she met Lynnae’s eyes and waited for her to close the door before she spoke in a whisper. “Did you find him?”

A hoarse voice nearby answered. “Aye. I’m here.” She could still hear the anger in his voice.

She’d only encountered the man twice previously on the ship after their conversation on the deck. He’d hidden himself, foraging for food and water, and somehow managed to keep his presence secret so far. “Good. We near our destination, and it is time for us to hold council.”

Aedric’s cough was muffled by magicks and by his scarf. “I see no council needed beyond that which places my lord’s son into my care and sends us homeward. What you get up to is your own affair.”

She bit her tongue, feeling her own anger spike. Jin knew from years of training that every feeling—including and especially anger—was a useful tool. But timing was everything. She pushed past the emotion. “You’re not well, Aedric. How long have you been under the powders?”

“I’ll be fine.” His voice was on the other side of the room now.

“Pig shite,” she said. “First, you’ve over-magicked yourself, going all this time under the powders. And second, when you run out, you’re sure to be captured—especially if you’re in a weakened state.” It wasn’t as if he could just resupply himself with the Y’Zirites’ scout magicks. Theirs were distilled from forbidden blood magicks and came with a three-day life expectancy, at least for the Marshfolk who’d used them—and her sister, Rae Li Tam. She’d heard rumors that the Y’Zirite Blood Guard did not have that issue, but she’d yet to understand why.

“I’ll be fine,” Aedric said again.

She felt the anger again and once more pushed it down. “We are in a unique position to gather intelligence, and I am going to need all of our assets functioning at their very best. Whatever anger you bear me, I suggest you put it aside. The sooner we complete our work here, the sooner we return home. And I intend for us to return home.”

She walked to the bed and put Jakob down upon it, giving him a carved wooden duck that one of the sailors had made. “The dreamstone has made language acquisition far simpler than I imagined it would be. I’m gathering what information I can. But I’m going to need all of the eyes I can muster when we land. I need to know their defenses, their military protocols, guard rosters and shifts. No different than during our stay with Ria in the north.”

Lynnae nodded. “I’ll keep my eyes open, Lady.”

Aedric grunted his assent in the midst of more quiet coughing, and Jin winced at it. He should have been a resource, but between his rage, his stubbornness and his illness, he was a liability she wasn’t sure she could afford. She bid her voice to soften and directed her next words toward him. “You must understand, First Captain Aedric, that we would not be here, having this conversation, if the work were not critical. You saw the ships. You’ve seen what their magicks are capable of in Pylos and in Windwir—” she gestured to Jakob where he lay on the bed, “—and even at the Firstborn Feast. The armies of the Named Lands will not stand long. This is now a war that can only be won with stealth and cunning.”

“If that’s the truth,” Aedric said, “I don’t know what work you and a toddler and a girl and a wrung-out forest scout could possibly do here that could win a war unless…” His words died, and she heard him suck in his breath.

He knows.
She closed her eyes and waited.

Incredulity shaped his voice as the ciphers of the Rufello lock opened for him as he tested the dials. “Does Rudolfo know?”

She shook her head. “No.” She opened her mouth to say more, then closed it. There was no reason for Aedric to know that she herself hadn’t known until she was aboard.

“It makes sense,” he finally said. The anger was gone now, replaced by something that sounded like a very tentative respect. “One of your father’s careful snares, no doubt.”

She didn’t correct him. The affairs of House Li Tam were just those—and only shared beyond the close bonds of family on a need-to-know basis. It wasn’t important for him to know all of the details; it was only important that he saw that it might work, that an empire without its Crimson Empress—especially one so carefully established through gospel and prophecy—had no cohesion without its figurehead.

Now, it was her turn to repeat herself. “I need all assets functioning at their very best,” she said. “I will need information—every scrap of it that you find. And I will likely need items … procured … for the work.”

“Aye, Lady.”

He addressed me properly
. She had no doubt that there would still be a reckoning down the road of some kind. His loyalty to Rudolfo would require it, and even if she succeeded and somehow made her way back to the Ninefold Forest, she had no doubt that Rudolfo would hold her accountable for not honoring their partnership with the truth. And his history with her family would make that dishonor much worse a betrayal for a man who’d lost so much already.

Still, she also had no doubt that if this worked and all was safe and sound at home, Rudolfo would reach a place of acceptance in the matter. And she knew that when he did, so too would his best friend’s son.

Until then, if she at least had his respect, she would make do.

Jin Li Tam stood from the bed and saw Jakob was slowing down, his eyes drooping. That meant it neared lunchtime in the galley, and she’d made a point of eavesdropping on the sailors over long, leisurely lunches. “I need to leave,” she said. “Will you watch over Jakob?”

Lynnae nodded. “Of course, Lady.”

Then, she turned in the direction where she thought she’d last heard Aedric. “I want you to stay here, Captain. Get off the powders and sleep for a spell. You’re unwell, and I cannot afford for you to be unwell.”

She heard his sigh. “Yes, Lady.”

She shot Lynnae a glance. “Keep him here. Lock the door behind me. I’ll bring back food.”

She slipped out into the hallway and made her way to the galley. Out in the open, her father’s training took hold and her eyes moved over everything, taking inventory and measuring value. This sailor’s posture. That sailor’s smile. The keys that dangled from the armorer’s belt as he passed her. And her ears caught the words that they could and the names that she recognized.

An uncharacteristic optimism seized her—a rare and nearly euphoric experience given how much of her life was lived in the shadow of doubt and hypervigilance.

We may just be able to do this.

But even as she thought it, she knew that if they were successful her own likelihood of seeing hearth and home again was slim. And as she thought it, Jin Li Tam was surprised at how acceptable that was to her if it meant her son could grow up in a better world than the one she presently saw on their horizon.

Vlad Li Tam

Vlad Li Tam dozed in the saddle and lurched with the large beast’s every step, aware of the small hands that clutched at him. He’d seen pictures of the dromedaries of the Oldest World—the Tam library was renowned throughout the Named Lands, second only to a handful of bookhouses and the Great Androfrancine Library itself. They’d fascinated him as a child.

But I never imagined I would ride one.

Of course, nothing in his life now was something he could have imagined.

They’d ridden for days, the robed women taking up positions behind and before him as they plodded along single-file. Their Blood Guard ran the wastes unmagicked, chewing a root that he suspected was similar to what the guides in the Churning Wastes used for stamina, speed and hydration.

Behind him, the young woman—the Vessel of Grace—clung to him in silence.

After his confrontation with them and her healing there in the shadow of their shrine, they’d ushered him inside the small temple and tried their hand at questioning him. Vlad had waved them off. “I will speak to your superiors.”

To their credit, they’d not continued, but he was very aware of their eyes upon his staff, and when he rolled into a borrowed blanket to sleep, he tucked it carefully beneath him.

The next evening, they’d brought out their dromedaries and set out to the southwest. When he’d seen that they had no mount for the young woman, he stopped them.

“Surely,” he said, “you do not intend for her to walk?”

The woman who had been preaching the day before shrugged. “She is whole. The walking will go easier for her.” Her face was a placid mask, but her eyes carried something in them—fear, he thought, though it was not him that she feared. He held those eyes until she spoke again. “The scripture is clear on this matter: ‘And in that day you shall offer her neither food nor water nor shelter, for it is right that the sins of many be borne by the back of one and that the unrighteousness of all be cleansed by her passing.’”

Even Vlad was surprised by his response to the words. Because even as he felt anger over them, he felt an uncontrollable compulsion and suddenly laughed loud and long. Then, he reached down and extended a hand to the woman.

She regarded him with large eyes that flitted from him to the priestess. “It would not be right, my lord,” she said.

“Nonsense,” he said. “Take my hand.” When she hesitated, he looked again to the priestess. “I’m certain you’d like to pass me quickly into the care of your superiors. I’ve violated your so-called scriptures once. Surely doing so again cannot make matters worse for me in the eyes of your god.”

The woman bit her lip and looked away. “Your sin is your sin,” she said.

When the Vessel of Grace took hold of his hand, he felt renewed strength pass into him from the staff, and he swung her easily up into the saddle behind him.

That had been nearly a week ago. In that time, he’d not only carried her behind him, but he’d also fed her from his own share of the hardtack, jerky and water his captors provided, and during the day, when they slept, she nestled up against him.

It struck a paternal chord within him, bringing back memories of children and grandchildren he would never see again, whose last words whispered in his ears, barely discernible beneath their screams of agony.

When they crested the rise and saw the wide canal below, Vlad paused to take it in. The waters shone in moonlight, and a warm breeze rustled the palm trees and grass that lined its banks. There, a few leagues south, lay a collection of stone buildings surrounded by a gated wall lit with lanterns.

The sun rose behind them as they made their way to a gate that swung open with their approach. The woman who led them stood in her stirrups and raised her voice as they crossed the threshold. “Behold the Vessel of our Lord’s Grace, bearer of sin and salvation. Aid her not nor offer her comfort, for her passing is the hope of this world.”

Vlad smiled at the hollow tone of her words, but it faded when he felt the woman shift uncomfortably behind him.

A man and a woman awaited them. The man wore a dark uniform accented by a saber tucked into a wide red sash and highly polished leather boots. The woman wore robes much like the priestess, but her hems bore silver trim and tassels and her long dark hair was piled up beneath a silver scarf.

The woman spoke first. “Sister Agnes, your visit is a pleasant surprise.” Nothing in her voice suggested any kind of pleasure, only surprise.

The priestess climbed down from her mount and handed the reins to a boy who appeared from the shadows. She curtsied to the woman. “Deepest apologies, Sister-Mother Drusilla. There have been … unforeseen and unfortunate developments.”

The woman studied Vlad now, her lips pursed. When she saw the Vessel of Grace riding behind him, a shadow clouded her face, and he thought she might actually gasp. Still, she restrained herself. “I see.”

Vlad twisted in the saddle and helped the girl down. Then, he slid down himself. The man in uniform whistled low, and a half-dozen soldiers appeared, thorn rifles ready in their hands. “Stand where you are,” the officer said.