CHAPTER SIX

THE WESTERN CRAWL

There are no words that can describe the feeling of having shed a burden and facing the winds that would bring me home. If I could write poetry, if I at least knew how to create imagery meant to evoke the beauty of emotion and all these things that make people clasp their hands and gasp in awe, I might be able to find the pretty words for what I felt as I stared at the fading shoreline on the horizon. If I was a poet and not simply a woman whose memories were bursting from her heart and onto paper, I might have found better ways to describe the trail of foam behind the currents against the setting sun, or the stars that crept along the edges of the grey sky above that swollen sea. Or the shadows that danced on Khine’s face as he dropped beside me on the deck—a faint ghost of the proud, arrogant man he had appeared earlier. Perhaps I don’t need words. Perhaps the reminder that joy and sorrow went hand in hand is enough. No laughter without at least a few tears. No light without the dark.

I reached out to cup his cheek with my hand.

He made no sign, no motion, of having noticed me. His eyes were dimmed, as if he wasn’t even looking at what was in front of us. Maybe it was just that all he saw was water and sky. The horizon that called me back home held no meaning for him. Not that he would ever have anything of that sort waiting for him again. To have your home tainted with grief—my father would’ve known that feeling.

I pulled away, leaning back against the railing as the salt breeze played with my hair.

“Can’t believe it actually worked,” he croaked out after what felt like forever.

“You’re good at what you do, Khine.”

“At tricks? Lies? Cheating?”

“Making plans. Executing them.”

“Maybe I’m glad my mother died.” His face tightened. “At least she didn’t have to know I’ve been using my talents to hurt people.”

I didn’t reply. The sorrow in his voice was so thick that I didn’t know if I could find the words to remove it.

“Let me be alone, Tali,” he said at last. “I need to be alone.”

“All right,” I whispered. “But when you’re done, remember that I’m here for you.”

He nodded without really looking at me.

I left him and went up the ladder to join Lahei. She was still at the ship’s wheel, staring at the spread of maps and a compass on the table. “I don’t really think they’ll send anyone after us, but I’ll rest easier once we’re in Kag waters,” she mumbled.

“How long?” I asked.

“Twenty days, if the weather stays like this.”

“I suppose there’s no sense trying to convince you to take me to Fuyyu instead. It’s closer to Jin-Sayeng.”

“My father wants to speak with you as soon as possible. He is waiting for us at Ni’in. To dock at Fuyyu would mean dealing with authorities.”

“My authorities.”

She smiled.

I took a deep breath. Not even an hour in and it’s already started. “I was under the impression that we were working together.”

“Are we not, my queen?”

“You tell me. It almost sounds like you’re going to detain me against my will. Tell me, Kaggawa—am I your queen, or your hostage?”

She dropped her head. “It may seem like it, but believe me, this is merely a precaution. We do not know the sort of ill intention that lurks through the streets of Fuyyu.”

“There are no warlords in Fuyyu. The city officials answer directly to the Dragonthrone.”

“The Ikessar-appointed officials?”

I smiled at her. “Are you suggesting the Ikessars are not to be trusted? You people worked with the Ikessars once, did you not?”

“I’m not implying anything, my queen,” Lahei replied. It sounded honest enough, although the knowledge that she couldn’t act her way out of a wet paper bag probably helped. “That said, your husband is an Ikessar and didn’t seem to trust them, either. Else why would he be alone out here, relying on the Zarojo almost as much as you?”

I paused, considering her words, before pulling myself into the chair next to the table. “Be straight with me, Lahei.”

“How straight, Beloved Queen?” She leaned over the ship’s wheel to face me. “Shall we talk about the situation back home now? Are you sure you’re ready to hear it?”

“I thought we’d discussed this before. You’ve as much as implied that you’re the only people I should be trusting. Did I get it right? Every single one of my warlords are only looking out for themselves, and my own general and lords, it seems, are no better. Tell me something I don’t know, Kaggawa.”

She smiled. “The queen is wise. But also a lot less concerned about this situation than I feel she should be.”

“Must I stomp my feet and scream? Run around like a headless chicken?” I leaned across the table to glance at the map before turning back to her. “I know what the warlords feel about me, Lahei. It’s not news to me. I wouldn’t be surprised if half of them decided not to send help because they were hoping I would just die out here. As for Lord Ozo, I have every intention of having him answer for his actions while I’ve been away. If he is indeed involved with Yuebek, he will not go unpunished.”

“My queen,” Lahei said. “You seem to believe that you can return to Oren-yaro uncontested. That all you have to do is sit on your throne once more and the warlords will slink back to their dens like nothing happened.”

I tried to hide my amusement at the prospect of a girl trying to school me on how to rule. “Tell me how I’m mistaken,” I said.

“You? No, Beloved Queen—you are only acting as expected. You were ignorant, perhaps, but that is something we can all be accused of once or twice in our lives.”

“You’re lucky I don’t know how to steer a ship, or else…”

I was losing my touch, because she merely continued to smile. “The ignorance is not yours, either. Not entirely. It lies in your father’s misjudgment. He sparked a war to wrest control away from the Ikessars, because he believed that the Ikessars lacked the strength to maintain order in Jin-Sayeng. It is not a difficult leap of logic to make: the Ikessars valued diplomacy, sometimes over common sense. And without the army to support them, they’ve had to resort to cheap tactics to be heard. The Ikessars have always been aware that they are little more than the balance of power in the kingdom.”

“Cheap tactics,” I repeated. “You say this. Those cheap tactics were your family’s, weren’t they? Didn’t they result in bloodshed, too?”

“We don’t pretend to be more than we were. We served. My family did not always agree with what needed to be done, but the Ikessars were our masters at the time, and so…” She drifted towards the table and took a seat next to me. “Warlord Yeshin forgot to consider one thing. The problem with Jin-Sayeng did not lie with the Ikessars or how they managed—or mismanaged—their power. The problem lies with Jin-Sayeng itself. The word royal, for example.”

I pretended to sniff. She said the word with about the same amount of loathing as her man had back in An Mozhi. “What about it?”

“The warlords believe they own the people, which stems from the idea that the nobles are at the top of the ladder. Why should a man be worth less because his name is alon gar instead of aren dar? The aron dar? A single letter, an entire world away. The aron dar serve the aren dar, no matter that they are also royals. My great-grandmother was an aron dar, Beloved Queen—of the Seran clan. They detested her for marrying a merchant.”

“I believe I know that part of your history,” I told her. “I’m told that Reshiro Ikessar became involved at some point.”

“I’m not trying to reopen old wounds, only giving examples. Your own husband’s father was an aron dar, too, and look at the trouble his mother had to go through in order to legitimize him as her heir. Is there a difference? They all come from the same blood. But I’m told there’s a map you people follow, that it’s different for every clan…”

“Yes. The rules for lineage,” I said. “As Jin-Sayeng lost its dragons and its dragonriders, we had to resort to mapping out the bloodlines. It used to be easier. You were a royal if you had a dragonrider in your family. It signified service to your lord, sacrifice.”

“It’s like you’re saying commoners don’t know these words.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it. I didn’t come up with the rules, Lahei,” I murmured.

“You’re a queen,” she said. “The queen.”

“Even queens must follow the law,” I reminded her. “Even if I wanted to change the way things are, they won’t let me. The warlords hold on to what scrap of power they can like greedy dogs worrying over a bone. My father knew this, which was why he knew a stronger Dragonlord was needed to keep them in line.”

“A stronger Dragonlord…we don’t disagree with that, Beloved Queen. But not to keep the warlords in line—no. I believe you keep dogs. If you have weak lines in your pack, what do you do? Do you let them continue to run during hunts? Or do you keep them behind, cull them from the work and the breeding?”

“Cull the warlords,” I said with a small grin. “This is what your father would talk to me about?”

“My father wishes to discuss many things with you, Beloved Queen. He has wanted to for a number of years, but we never found the opportunity…until now. We want to show you what’s truly happening to your nation—the flames crawling at the edge of your map.”

The way she said it, I had the sudden impression that if I outright refused, that if I demanded she turn this ship towards eastern Jin-Sayeng instead of the west, she would do something about it right then and there. Kill me, perhaps. The look in her eyes—I wouldn’t put it past her. I reminded myself of the stories about the Shadows during the war. They were more than just spies and assassins; there was talk that they manipulated the war into ending the way it did against the Ikessars’ will. Dai alon gar Kaggawa was just a young man in those years and I didn’t know what role he played, but it was not an organization to take lightly.

Still. Cull the warlords, indeed. There lay the offered blade, and they didn’t even have the courtesy of wrapping it in golden silk first. As if I needed a reminder of what I was getting myself into. But I smiled at her politely as I walked back out to the deck, and replaced every ounce of weariness and anger in my heart with an image of my son. A dangerous image, that. It brought me one step behind Mei, one step away from the edge of that cliff, and I didn’t think I cared.

The winds were fair the first few days. The third or fourth day of our journey, I stepped out of my quarters very early on to catch the sunrise. Nor, who must have been standing outside the door all night, followed me silently as I made my way to the end of the ship.

“Agos cannot return with us to Oren-yaro,” she said once we were well out of earshot of anyone who might already be awake.

“That’s a distant worry, Captain,” I told her.

“It isn’t. He needs to know it now—that his task is to deliver you safely back to Jin-Sayeng. Once we are with people we trust, his services are no longer needed. Pay him, to make it official.”

“People we trust. Who exactly, Nor? You two are all I’ve got, it seems.”

She paused, as if considering her words. “I am your Captain of the Guard,” she finally said. “A task assigned to me joylessly, as if I was the lesser choice. I am an Orenar, too, Talyien, lest you forget. A royal’s daughter. My father owns a small estate in the Oren-yaro foothills, where I was heir until my elders decided I need to join the guard instead. They meant for me to serve you directly. The Orenar clan is far, far too small to maintain itself; we have always gotten by with support from the others.

“But who do they truly serve, Beloved Queen, if not their own interests? Lord General Ozo is a Tasho. He chose Agos—a bastard—over me. An untried young man, as hotheaded and impulsive as you. I had the credentials, the experience—I served as part of your father’s guard for years before his death, and in Oren-yaro after that. Yet when it was time to officially assemble the Queen’s Guard before your coronation, my name never came up. Did you ever wonder why?”

I hadn’t. I gazed back at the older woman, gazing at the lines on her forehead between her eyes, the clear mark of someone who spent her days scowling. Scowling, or thinking.

“You can trust Agos,” she said, when I didn’t reply, “or you can trust me. To trust us both is foolish. We do not serve the same thing. To me, you are the Dragonlord, the queen of Jin-Sayeng. To him, you are…”

I turned my head away, the conversation filling me with discomfort.

“Beloved Queen…”

“No.”

“Talyien.”

“I don’t need to hear it, Nor.”

“I think you do. Sometimes I forget how young you are.”

“I know he thinks he loves me.”

“Well,” Nor said with an exhale, “at least you’re not that blind.”

“I’m a married woman.”

“You know full well that doesn’t make much of a difference. The man doesn’t act like a guard. I don’t think he ever did. He thinks he owns you.”

“He wasn’t always like this.”

“Well, something’s changed. He hangs around you like a lovesick puppy, and I think if you don’t find a way to get rid of him soon, you’ll regret it.” Her face tightened. “If you’ve been lonely the past few years, there’s establishments where you can get—”

“Oh, gods. No. I am not talking to you about this, Nor.” I was starting to miss the days when we didn’t feel the need to have conversations.

“I gave you the chance to come clean the day we broke into Governor Zheshan’s office,” she said. “Or to kill me, if you’d rather not deal with my opinions. But you have, for whatever reason, kept me around. So I’ll say this: he needs to go. His presence is a problem. If you’re keeping him for sentiment, or quite probably something more, then fine—I won’t be judging you as a woman. I will, however, be judging you as our ruler.” She pointed out at the sea, where Jin-Sayeng lay. “That there is the land of our ancestors. The land of our children. Use this…” she said, now jabbing my forehead with her finger. “And not this.” She pointed at my heart.

I wanted to tell her it wasn’t that easy. Nothing was. But I chose not to answer, and we left it at that. Later, after she and Agos had switched shifts, I sat with him in the mess hall for lunch, sharing bowls of rice porridge with dried oysters, ginger, and green onion, covered by a dusting of fried pork rinds, and thought about what she’d said.

I didn’t take any lovers during my separation from my husband. Certainly I was tempted to, especially given the anger that seemed to be a constant in those days, and I had more than enough suitors arriving on my doorstep as soon as it was clear Rayyel wasn’t going to return. Nearly every province—apart from Bara—sent a representative, and at least five eligible men from minor but well-off clans came courting. I entertained them long enough to get the gifts, at least. Jewels, silk, and perfume did nothing for me, but it was hard to say no to the horses and the dogs, especially when they took such great pains to get ones that would catch my attention.

But I took no one to bed. Once or twice I may have allowed a fleeting kiss at the end of a long evening of banter, but my experience with men revolved solely around that one night with Agos and my brief marriage to my husband. I knew very little beyond that—nothing but glimpses of a world where passion was allowed and you didn’t have to go to battle to feel the warmth of somebody’s arms. And anyway, it wasn’t as if I had the time. The demands of my position and my son left me little room for anything else.

It made me wonder about those who dared gossip about me, who would throw the words whore queen around without a second thought. Would they be surprised if they knew? Perhaps they’d find it too hard to believe—I played the part of indifferent wife too well the past few years. They have no reason to suspect that I spend almost half my time disassembling social norms, that the very idea of romance filled me with panic.

The memory of the kiss back in An Mozhi unsettled me. It didn’t help that it was the second one Agos had unabashedly offered since our reunion. A more experienced woman would’ve been able to make a decision right then and there about what it meant and what to do about it. I could only fall on one thing: after years of not knowing where I stood in my husband’s life, of waiting for his approval and trying to understand the meaning behind his terse words, it felt strange to know I was wanted.

“When you’re quiet like that,” Agos broke in, “it always makes me unbelievably nervous.”

“How come?”

“Because I never know what you’re planning next.”

“Afraid I’ll say something like, Let’s go hunt some whale-sharks?”

“It’s not that funny when you’ve said worse things.”

“Like?”

He scratched his head. “I vaguely recall gathering stray cats from the city and bringing them up to the castle.”

“That! I remember that. It was a brilliant plan. They’re good for getting rid of mice. We were overrun, and the dogs were too fat and lazy.”

He frowned. “The other boys caught me shoving cats into a basket.”

“You should’ve explained why to them.”

“Tali, have you ever been around boys?”

“Uh, yes?”

“When you’re also a boy? I just grabbed the basket of cats and ran as fast as I could and—why are you laughing? Stop laughing. I told you, it’s not funny.”

I wiped a tear from my eye. “Gods, you’re right. I’m sorry.” I let out another snigger.

“You’re horrible.”

“What are you saying? Everyone tells me I’m a perfectly lovely queen.”

“The most well-mannered, too.”

“Absolutely, and not at all a bitch.” I absently stirred the porridge with a spoon.

“Remember the crispy chicken in that place near Old Oren-yaro? Deep-fried whole and covered in garlic?” Agos asked, after a few moments of silence. “They sold them wrapped in banana leaves, with little bowls of soy sauce and vinegar.”

The memory made me smile. “I’d come home smelling like oil and Arro would go into hysterics,” I said.

Agos laughed. “I remember what he used to say. ‘I will not have the Jewel of Jin-Sayeng die of dysentery on my watch.’ Bless the poor man—you didn’t, at least.”

“Not yet.” I paused. “I miss home.”

Agos set his spoon down. “It won’t be the same when you go back, you know.”

“Gods, I know that. It’s not like it has since…since that night.” I looked down at the bowl, at the globs of porridge.

“You mean when Lord Rayyel left?”

“Rai. You.” I met his eyes. “It’s different being queen of Jin-Sayeng instead of just lady of Oren-yaro. You said I changed, but the truth was everything changed around me, too. It was hard enough growing up the way I did, as my father’s daughter, but suddenly the entire nation’s eyes were on me. The Ikessars…recorded everything I did. What I ate. Who I spoke to. How many times I hugged my son. They lectured me about staying in Oka Shto instead of moving to the Dragon Palace in Shirrokaru at least once a week, if not more often.”

“It would’ve been worse if you had stayed in Shirrokaru,” Agos agreed.

“But of course that meant that Oka Shto ceased to be the Oka Shto of our youth. At least half of the servants were switched around on a regular basis, and I stopped keeping track of who was who. That’s how Kora slipped by. You remember Rai’s spy?”

“How can I forget?” Agos said grimly.

“Rhetorical question.” I took another bite of porridge and washed it down with hot tea. “Nothing,” I continued, “will be the same, because the world that we knew was a lie. My betrothal to Rayyel was a fabrication.”

“Warlord Yeshin’s reach goes beyond the grave.”

“You want to know something? When I was little, I used to wonder about that, about all the things people said about him. I knew he was firm, that his anger could tear through the walls of Oka Shto if he willed it, but I still couldn’t see him as anything but a frail old man who instigated a revolution. I couldn’t accept him as Yeshin the murderer, as the man who would willingly order his soldiers to slay innocent people—let alone sink a sword into a child himself. He wasn’t that cold tactician, that man who could ruthlessly make decisions that changed people’s lives. He was just…my father.”

Agos took a drink and didn’t say anything.

“You saw him differently, I suppose.”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I know what you mean about him just seeming like nothing more than an old man. The rest—people said it about him, so I believed them. I didn’t see a reason not to.”

“All these things Yuebek says Yeshin planned…if they’re true…” I swallowed. “What am I supposed to do, Agos? Do I continue to deny these allegations, even as the evidence mounts? I know now what my father was capable of—I’ve known for years. Or am I supposed to be a loyal daughter who will stop at nothing to carry out her father’s will, and deny my husband and my own son in the process?”

“I’m not the sort of person who should be advising you.”

“Arro would know. Oh, Arro…I’m sure the old man is pleased at how much I wish he was with us right now.” I placed my hands over my head and was silent.

I heard Agos clear his throat. “Is this why you brought Lamang along?”

I glanced up.

“It just seems like you two get along, is all. He seems like an intelligent enough man—though you have to be careful about taking counsel from a Zarojo. At least Magister Arro’s mother was Jinsein. Who knows where this man’s allegiance lies? I just don’t understand why you’d take him on now. He’s not really of any use to you the way he is, is he? He hasn’t left the sleeping quarters except to piss. Unless…”

“What are you saying, Agos?”

He crossed his arms and mumbled something under his breath.

“You know I’ve killed men for implying similar things?”

“You haven’t. And anyway…” Agos coughed again. “When you went off with him back at the Ruby Grove, I thought for sure there was something else. And then you saw Lord Rayyel and near-killed yourself going after him again, and Lamang didn’t seem to care at all about any of that…”

“I didn’t realize you’ve been thinking these things or that it’s your business to think about them at all.”

He lowered his head. “My apologies.”

“You’re not sorry. You wanted to see my reaction.”

“My queen is free to think whatever she wants.”

“Now it’s ‘my queen.’ Fine. I’ll humour you, Agos, just because I want to make things clear. Lamang isn’t my lover.” It was true enough, in any case. Agos’s gaze flicked back towards his food, as if he didn’t quite believe me. “Do you really think I have time to entertain such notions? Especially while chasing after my husband?”

“The husband who abandoned you…”

“I thought you knew me better than that.”

Agos’s eyes flickered. “I’ve seen you in love,” he said, after a moment’s hesitation.

We were interrupted by the soft sound of a child’s laughter. A little boy—the cook’s son—toddled over towards us, hands held out in a plea for one of us to pick him up. He was an extraordinarily friendly child, with long curls that went down his shoulders. I turned around to greet him.

The ship lurched to the side.

The boy gave a small cry as he knocked his head against one of the tables, where a large bowl of still-steaming rice porridge sat. Agos grabbed him just as the porridge slid off the surface, crashing on the floor where the child had been. The ship righted itself again and the boy began to cry.

“Ah, there now,” Agos said, setting the boy on his lap. He patted his back in circles, trying to get him to calm down. “That was nothing. You’re a brave fellow, right? Look, it’s over already.” He wiped the boy’s tears with his thumb before giving him a soft bun from our table. The boy hadn’t finished crying, but he tore into the bun without hesitation, which made Agos chuckle. “Look at this little beast, eh?” he asked, a grin on his face.

I had a flash of memory from when Thanh was little, a year old, maybe two. Agos always held him the same way, with more affection than Rai ever did. Thanh cherished the attention. He wouldn’t remember Agos now, but for a time there, he considered Agos a treasured friend. I wondered if Agos thought my son was his from the very beginning, or if it wouldn’t have made a difference. How could I explain any of this to Nor? I belong with you.

He noticed my glance and placed the boy back on the ground, to shoo him back to his father. “We’ll get to Thanh before those bastards,” he said. “Trust me, Princess.”

I gave him a cursory nod before excusing myself.