Chapter 30

Ahkio peered up at him from the stack of temple maps on the tea table in his rooms. Para was well above the horizon, and a hint of the double suns already kissed the treetops. He’d lost track of time. “No. Did you?”

“Not really,” Liaro said, shutting the door, “but I suspect I had a lot more fun than you did. What’s this?”

Ahkio turned the pages over. “A very old conversation between my aunt and my sister.”

“You mean Nasaka?”

“Really? Well. That’s interesting. You know you have a bunch of clan leaders downstairs who want to keep talking government today.”

“I’m aware.” Ahkio rubbed his eyes. “I’m going to bathe and change. If Caisa comes in, tell her to leave these pages for me today. I’m in the middle of something.”

“Does this tell you what Kirana was up to in the temples?”

“I don’t know yet. It all makes me feel a little mad, to be honest.” He stood and pulled off his tunic. He’d confided in Liaro about the invaders and made him swear not to tell anyone else, including Caisa. He wasn’t sure how the country would take it. “There’s something you should know, though.”

“It gets better, does it? Have our mothers escaped Sina’s grasp and come spiraling back to life?”

“I’ve agreed to get married.”

The look on Liaro’s face gave him pause. “Are you all right?”

“I… I thought Meyna was exiled.”

“She is. I’m marrying Clan Leader Hona’s daughter, of Sorai. Probably by the end of the week.”

“You say that so casually.”

“Is that a problem?”

“Did Ora Nasaka put you up to this?”

“I have to make hard decisions, Liaro. What did you expect? We’ll need the harbor.”

Liaro sat on the bed. “So we’re not getting married, then?” His tone was light, but Ahkio knew better.

“You know I’d like nothing better. You also know that’s not likely with a male Kai. A woman Kai like Kirana… she could have as many husbands as she wanted. It’s harder to determine parentage, with a man.”

Liaro guffawed. “You expect a Sorai to keep to one man?”

“She can take female lovers. It’s not unheard of.”

“You make like you’ve thought this through, but you haven’t.”

“Liaro, I’m tired. I don’t want to fight.”

“She was Ora Nasaka’s choice, right? Ahkio, Ora Nasaka doesn’t at all mean for you to carry on the blood of the Kai. She’s setting up Clan Leader Hona’s family to take the seat. Who knows whose baby it will be?”

“I wouldn’t care, Liaro. I’d be distantly related to just about any child, from any combination of parents.”

“You gave up so easily.”

“If you knew what I did, you’d understand why I gave up on this point.”

“Just like you give in to everything.”

“That was mean.”

“It’s the truth.”

“Get some sleep, Liaro. I’m not going to fight with you.” He grabbed a clean tunic and went downstairs to the bathing room.

After that were breakfast and more polite talk with the clan leaders. He didn’t get a break until midafternoon, and by then, his mood had soured completely. He called for a halt to the meetings for the rest of the day and went out to the clan square for a fresh breeze.

He found Caisa there, sweating through defense forms, and asked if she wanted to spar. An hour later, she had thrown him to the stones eight times, and he was exhausted and soaked in sweat. He peeled off his tunic and tossed it aside. Asked her to go again.

She gave him a long look, one he recognized, but he ignored it. If she meant to woo him, she would fail at it. That was one fight he did not want to have with Liaro.

This time, he threw her, so hard he heard her shoulder crack against the stone. She rolled away and came up clutching at her shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Are you all right?”

She shook her head. “Give it a minute. Are you all right?”

“Yes, I’m sorry. Just working some things out.”

“There are more productive ways to do that. Write an opera or something.”

“Do you want me to call a physician?”

“No, it’s fine.”

He picked up his tunic and went to the fountain to wash up. Who was he to tussle with a novice? What he really wanted was to pick up a sword and run Nasaka through with it, because she was only going to trade him the answers he wanted for some horrible thing she wanted.

Ahkio undressed and dumped a bucket of water over his head. His clothes, bunched about his feet, got soaked, but he didn’t care. They would need washing anyway. As he turned, he saw Ghrasia Madah standing a few paces away, staring at him.

Ghrasia came up into the council house from the rear entrance. The day was warm for high autumn, and the bad news she carried made it all seem that much worse. She had more dead bodies to bring to the Kai’s attention, and a recommendation she already knew he was going to resist.

She found Caisa flirting with Liaro near the hearth of the main room of the Osono council house. Caisa was bathed in sweat and laughing uproariously at something Liaro said. Ghrasia remembered how delightful it was the first few years she dressed in a red skirt and called herself a member of the militia. She recognized the girl’s easy confidence and open face. Chances were very good that Caisa had yet to kill anyone. She didn’t truly know what the sword meant yet. It was just an ornament, like a particularly fine pair of earrings.

“Have either of you seen the Kai?” Ghrasia asked.

Caisa sobered. “He’s out training in the courtyard.” She rolled her shoulder. “Nearly dislocated my arm. Tell him to take up poetry or something. He needs to relax.”

“I’ll talk to him,” Liaro said, standing.

“Don’t,” Ghrasia said. “I need to speak to him first.”

“He should be by the fountain,” Caisa said. “That’s where he was headed.”

Ghrasia stepped into the Osono square and walked purposely toward the fountain, where Ahkio was stripping off his tunic. Her steps faltered as he pulled off his trousers. She stopped there for half a breath as he leaned over and splashed his face with water. Ghrasia tried to work some sense into her head and some spit into her mouth. He’s just a young man, she told herself, but it had been a good long while since she saw a man with the proportions of some passionate sculpture dripping naked beside a fountain.

“Am I keeping you from the fountain?” Ahkio said.

She started. She hadn’t noticed him turn his head. Her gaze had been… elsewhere.

“Not at all,” she said. “I wanted to speak to you.”

“I’m just going up to change,” Ahkio said. “Come up.”

Ghrasia weighed her response. Her hesitation must have disgruntled him, because after a short while, he simply pulled on his wet trousers and threw the rest of his clothes over his shoulder. He began to walk into the council house.

She made her decision. She followed.

He opened the door to his room. Ghrasia expected to see a number of hangers-on there – she had seen him trailed by students and merchants and members of the clan leaders’ families since their arrival. There did not seem to be a moment where he wasn’t meeting with someone over a meal. But save for heavy furniture and riots of book-filled trunks and stacks of paper, the room was empty.

Ahkio went to the wardrobe. “What is it you wanted to discuss?”

“I’ve had small squads running patrols across the clans,” Ghrasia said, “in response to the recent murders and rumors about strangers.” She shut the door, turned back.

Ahkio had pulled off his wet trousers and begun to dress in the dry ones.

She realized her voice had trailed off. She cleared her throat. Heat bloomed up her face. Somewhere above them, captured within Sina’s soul, Javia was laughing. How old was he? Nineteen? Twenty? Even her husbands would laugh. She preferred experienced, quick-witted men, not pliable young ones.

“I apologize,” he said, and yanked on his tunic. “It didn’t occur to me–”

“Not at all,” she said. “I have just been… more tense than I anticipated.”

“I had a lover once who said desire is like–”

Ghrasia suspected he was about to quote The Book of Oma at her. That indignity would be too much. “The patrols,” Ghrasia said.

“Have they found something?”

“I had them map out where each of the murders occurred – such as the ones at Kalinda Lasa’s – and follow-up with the local militia and safety ministers,” Ghrasia said. She stood on the other side of the tea table from him.

“You found a pattern,” he said.

“They did, yes.” She pulled a square of paper from her tunic pocket and unfolded it onto the tea table. She had to push some of the other pages out of the way. They looked like temple maps, and she wondered why he’d have any interest in those. “I know your sister’s death was strange. Since then, we’ve seen more. I purposely sought a connection, thinking it may circle back to these invaders the Saiduan are fighting. Before you take a country, you send small groups of scouts to soften the way.”

He sat across from her and leaned over the map. Dhai was a narrow sliver of a country, bordered by the sea to the north, mountains to the east and south, and Mount Ahya and the woodlands to the west. The fifteen Dhai clans were demarcated by a series of dotted lines, some of which intersected. Clan territories weren’t about claiming land so much as organizing family groups. It helped reduce the chances of dangerous inbreeding, which had become an issue in the country’s early history. Clans Sorila, Saiz, Saobina, and Raona clung to the south. Progressing north from there were clans Badu, Garika, Daosina, Taosina, and Osono. Farther north still, the clans of Mutao to the west, then Alia, Adama, and Nako, and finally Daora and Sorai on the coast.

Ghrasia made a circle at the edge of Clan Garika territory. The spot was already marked with a red dot. “This is where Kalinda Lasa, the way house keeper, was killed along with three still unidentified men.” She circled another spot on the edge of Clan Osono. “And here’s where Clan Leader Saurika found the body of a young shepherd named Romey.”

“Romey?” Ahkio said. “Romey Sahina was one of my students in Osono.”

“Yes,” Ghrasia said. She pointed to another mark in Sorila, near the woodlands. “This was the woman found at the bottom of a mine,” she said. “I suspect you may also know her name. She was a member of the Kuallina militia. Fouria Orana Saiz. She and two of her squad members were found here, Alasu Carahin Sorila and Marhin Rasanu Badu.”

“Fouria,” Ahkio said. He touched the dot on the map. “I remember her, yes. She passed through Osono the day Nasaka called me to the temple. The others, too – Alasu and Marhin were there. They spent the night with Liaro and me before heading back to Kuallina.”

“They did not make it back to Kuallina,” Ghrasia said. “They’ve been missing for some weeks.”

“What were they doing in Sorila?”

“That’s an excellent question,” Ghrasia said. “I hoped you might know. Only Kalinda Lasa was found in a place one might expect – her place of business. Romey did not work as a shepherd. His family were weavers. And that squad… should not have been in Sorila.”

“Is there a connection between these people we’re not seeing?” Ahkio said.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to determine.”

Ahkio circled the Temple of Oma with his finger. “If you include Kirana, all these deaths occur around Clan Raona. Have there been any deaths there?”

“No,” Ghrasia said. “It may simply be coincidence. I just want to make sure I’m looking at every option. If we have agents inside our country and we’re invaded by a larger force, they could sabotage the harbor gates, poison water supplies, or simply continue to assassinate key citizens.”

Ahkio pulled the map closer. “I kept thinking Kirana was a singular case. But… all these unnatural deaths. If three were already killed at Kalinda Lasa’s…” He traced the rough circle the deaths made around Raona. “What’s in Raona?” he said. “They cultivate rice and wine.”

“And sparrows,” Ghrasia said. “They raise most of the sparrows used by the temples.”

“That doesn’t bring much commerce–”

“No, but it’s key here,” Ghrasia said, and took the map back. “If you have a diverse number of agents and needed access to sparrows to relay information, Raona would be a strong base.”

“If you worked with the local militia to identify strangers requesting sparrows–”

“We may get one or two of them in for questioning,” Ghrasia said. “It could help us track the others.”

“That’s a start,” Ahkio said.

“I’ll need the help of a half dozen Oras,” Ghrasia said. “By all counts, these people are gifted.”

“Nasaka can help you with that.”

“This brings up another issue,” Ghrasia said. “Right now, I have no authority in the clans. I oversee the militia posted at the Kuallina and Liona strongholds. But working with local militia in places like Raona is… challenging.”

“I’m sure they’ll be accommodating.”

“The clans don’t like centralized authority,” Ghrasia said. “But being so decentralized makes us vulnerable.”

“What are you suggesting?”

“I think we should organize the country’s militia under a single hierarchical structure.”

“Out of the question,” Ahkio said.

“You have over a dozen clan leaders downstairs working on changing the government right now. Why not change this?”

“We are not a dictatorship.”

“This is nothing of the sort.” His implication offended her. She couldn’t keep the heat from her voice.

“I only hold this seat because the clan leaders haven’t thrown me out of it,” Ahkio said, “and they only hold theirs because the people haven’t thrown them out. But what citizen can overthrow an armed militia? You might as well tell me to train Oras in martial combat.”

“The Book of Oma was written five hundred years ago. It was a different time. They didn’t face what we do.”

“They had already faced it and lost,” Ahkio said. “In the face of that loss, they changed, and that’s the reason we’re still here.”

“That’s a very loose interpretation of the Book.”

“And in times of great strife–”

Ghrasia made a face. “Please don’t quote the Book,” she said, and began to roll up the map.

“Did Nasaka put you up to this?”

“Ora Nasaka? No. She is not the only person in this country speaking sense.” Sense of a sort, at least, Ghrasia thought.

“So, she did speak to you?”

“I know you and Ora Nasaka don’t often agree,” Ghrasia said carefully. “I wouldn’t trust her to care for my own child. But her shrewdness has preserved this country during terrible times.”

“I have confidence in your ability,” Ahkio said. “You held back the Dorinahs during the Pass War.”

“With volunteer militia sent from every clan, yes,” Ghrasia said. “There may come a time when we need more than volunteers.”

“When that time comes, we’ll have far larger problems than the size of our military,” Ahkio said. “When children are throwing roof tiles at invaders, there’s another conversation we’ll need to have. But not yet.”

“I’ve heard the reports from Saiduan,” Ghrasia said, standing. “I had an obligation to bring it up.”

“And I appreciate that.”

“We’ll have this conversation again.”

“Find the assassins first,” Ahkio said. “Nasaka has already put the harbor on alert. It’s our most vulnerable point. Clan Sorai is managing security there. We’re bound together by something far greater than empty titles, Ghrasia. That’s blood and tradition. We can overcome this without becoming like our neighbors.”

“You are very optimistic.” He sounded like something from a book of inspiring speeches.

“I have to be,” Ahkio said. He, too, stood. “I’ll see you out.”

“Do we want to capture one alive?” Ghrasia asked.

“If possible. Yes. I’d like to interrogate them and try to come to an understanding. We may be able to find out why they chose to kill who they did.”

Ghrasia made her way to the door, and Ahkio followed her. She paused with her hand on the knob.

“There’s something I wanted to be clear about,” Ghrasia said. “You know how the Pass War really started?”

“The Dorinahs attacked the Liona Stronghold,” Ahkio said. “Then they blocked our harbor. A campaign of aggression.”

“That’s what they teach,” Ghrasia said. “Those are the songs. It wasn’t like that.” It had been a long time since she told this story. But he was Kai, and young, and needed to hear it. “Eight hundred Dorinah-born Dhais from the slave camps came to the gates of Liona pleading for mercy. They said legionnaires were following. But we couldn’t let them in. That’s the policy. They tried to climb the wall, but that’s impossible.

“They called up to us in Dhai. Called their family names. Their clan names. But I knew the rules. We didn’t expect the legionnaires would follow. But there they came, two thousand women in chain mail, bristling like bone trees. They trapped the Dhais between them and the wall. They marched in and smashed them. Bled them at our feet.

“Somebody on the wall got upset. They fired on the Dorinahs. Then we all did. I don’t know how many we killed, but we must have killed someone important. That’s when they blocked our harbor. When we were too frightened to save our own people, we murdered others.”

“It must have been a difficult decision.”

“This isn’t the Pass War,” Ghrasia said, “but we risk making the same mistakes.”

“We have rules at Liona,” Ahkio said. “If you hadn’t fired on the legionnaires–”

“Spoken like an Ora,” Ghrasia said.

“Or a Kai,” Ahkio said. “I may not like the morality of those policies, but I understand them.”

Ghrasia flexed her scarred knuckles. “I’ll find the assassins,” she said, “but this is all going to get bigger, Kai.”

“One more thing, Ghrasia. When you find these assassins… when you speak to them… don’t be surprised if they look like us. If they speak like us. There’s a reason they’ve been so difficult to find.”

Ghrasia frowned. “And will you tell me the reason?”

“In time,” he said, and opened the door.

Ahkio married Mohrai Hona Sorai in the Osono clan square amid a brilliant stir of falling leaves, big as plates, and a cascade of tiny white seedpods carried on the stormy wind. He remembered her hands were soft, and she had a kind mouth, and when she stood next to him, her mother stood a little straighter, too.

They married with every clan leader in the country in attendance, even if a few of them huddled in the council house behind them, surly that it was not their clan he joined through marriage. Liaro drank with them inside. Ahkio did not blame him.

Nasaka came in from the temple, acting in her capacity as Ahkio’s closest kin, and bound their hands in brilliant blue grass and lemon flowers.

After, Ahkio led Mohrai upstairs to his cluttered rooms. Caisa had tried to tidy the trunks and stacks of paper, but even now, married and bound to Sorai, his mind was on the work more than the marriage.

“I expect you’ll want me to go home in the morning,” Mohrai said. She dressed in violet; orange flowers were pinned in her hair.

“I expect you have lovers to get back to,” he said.

“Has Ora Nasaka spoken to you about that?”

“It’s not necessary,” he said. “I need Sorai’s loyalty. Is that less than romantic?”

She smiled. A lovely smile that reminded him of Meyna. “My family has held the harbor for two centuries, Kai. I’m aware of what this match means. I just wanted to make sure you were, too.” She began pulling the flowers from her hair. “I’ve spoken with Ghrasia Madah about the murders she’s investigating, and Ora Nasaka told me about the invaders. I expect my family to be kept in conversation as things progress.”

“You will be. Anything else?”

“I have two lovers, both from Sorai. I’d like permission to continue to court them.”

“Just my cousin Liaro. And that’s… what it is.”

“Of course. I see no conflict there.”

“Let’s sleep,” she said. “I’ve never seen a man look so haunted. You made a good choice, Kai. Ora Nasaka has your best interests at heart. My family is with you. I am with you.”

Ahkio stared at the stack of temple maps. “Let’s hope it’s enough,” he said.

After Mohrai went back to the harbor, Ahkio finalized a draft of the revised Dhai constitution. The clan leaders set their signatures on it, and he took it up to his room to stare at it. They would sit with him at council four times a year, rotating the location of the meeting to a new clan each time, and debate matters of state. Clan leaders would continue to be elected by their clans, and each clan had the same weight when voting motions into law. The Kai line was still hereditary. Oras still chose the Kai from among the Kai line.

But there were more limits. He could request no taxes without their permission. Could conscript no militia without approval. Much of the Kai’s role throughout history was simply as a religious and political leader, someone to help negotiate contracts with neighboring countries and serve as arbiter for clan disputes. Very little of that had changed. Much of the stipulations written in were indicative of the clan leaders’ fears of his attempts to overstep that traditional power. He suspected the ever-widening influence of the Oras inside the clans had caused the distrust more than anything else. If they believed he was Nasaka’s son and not his mother Javia’s… they had every right to fear how Nasaka would use him.

Liaro yawned and stretched in bed. The bed covers were a tangle. He had been out most of the night with Caisa and some of the younger novices and militia, helping with a joint bridge building project at the edge of Osono where a walking tree had smashed much of the bridge’s foundation. He spun a long, drunken tale about fencing with a tree the night before as Ahkio helped him into bed. Sometimes he wondered if he needed an assistant on hand just to care for Liaro.

“You don’t look drunk enough for a man stuck in a political marriage,” Liaro said, peering at him. He squinted at the light from the windows. “What time is it?”

“Midmorning,” Ahkio said. “I was surprised you came home alone.”

“You being Kai isn’t helping,” he said. “Everyone I talk to is afraid of you.”

Liaro sat up and shrugged. “Well, your wife. I suspect she’s trying to make dead certain she’ll be the only one carrying an heir.”

“I’m not foolish enough to challenge her claim,” Ahkio said. “It’s fine, Liaro. She and I came to an agreement.”

“Good. Let those women fight over whose baby is Kai. Either way, it will be yours.”

“I’m cheered that it’s me in this seat and not you.”

“Cheered by that, are you?” he said, gesturing to the revised constitution. “Looks like the same old story to me, though.”

“Most people don’t actually want power,” Ahkio said. “They want this illusion of power.”

“Is that from the Book?”

“I’m paraphrasing, yes.”

“You need some better lines, Ahkio.” Liaro pulled on his tunic. “Have you heard from Ghrasia yet? It’s been over a week since she left for Raona.”

“No. I needed to tie up things here before we joined her.”

“You want to go to Raona? Where there might be assassins killing people across Dhai?”

“Just get Caisa up here.”

“Fine, all right. Do this, Liaro, run here, wear this, dance around, Liaro.” He slipped on his shoes and headed downstairs.

Ahkio went to the window. What did it feel like when someone tightened a noose around your neck in Dorinah? Was it like this? A sense of dread and powerlessness? He’d untangled the notes his sister and Aunt Etena had written in the book, most of it related to philosophy, but the conversations about the soul of the temple bothered him. He couldn’t get that symbol out of his mind. What way was barred? Why?