An Accident of Stars (39 page)

“Not at all,” said Zech. “My mother's actions are indefensible. I only mean that she feared what I might be, and that her fear ultimately drove her to do terrible things. It would be… ironic, I feel, for the Council to do likewise.”

“Careful,” Lekma snapped. “Your words tread perilously close to insolence. A queen you may be, but you still owe respect to your betters.”

“My
betters
?” Zech said icily. She turned to Hekve. “Has there been a misunderstanding, Hekve a Rin? Am I not the equal of any on this Council?”

“You are,” said the old queen slowly, staring hard at Lekma, who realised belatedly that she'd overstepped her bounds.

“Elders, honoured Hekve,” Lekma gulped. “I meant that Zechalia should respect her
elders
.”

“Perhaps. But you did not say so, and the slip is telling,” Hekve said coldly.

“What do you want, Zechalia?” someone called out suddenly. All eyes turned to the speaker, who came to her feet just as Lekma sat. It was Ruyun, of course, and she visibly bristled with anger. “Let us have no more posturing, no dancing about the issue like farmboys at a festival – tell us why you're here.”

“The Council recognises Ruyun a Ketra,” said Sahma, after a moment.

“Well?” said Ruyun, when Zech hesitated. She spread her arms. “Have you no clever answer for us, girl? You pledged to sit the Trial of Queens only when your exiled companion, Yasha a Yasara, was denied an audience with us. Hekve a Rin has already asked why you joined this Council – a question you've avoided answering. Are you only here to speak on an exile's behalf, with an exile's voice, in the interest of heathen Kenans?”

Deadly silence.
This is it,
Zech thought, and gathered her courage.

“Yes,” she said simply. “But ask yourself this: would I need to be here at all – would Ashasa have let me pass the trial – if she didn't hold my words, my presence, my
point
, to be necessary?”

Ruyun stiffened. “
What do you want?
”

“I want my mother removed from Kena and brought to Veksh, to be held accountable for her crimes against Ashasa.”

“And why,” said Ruyun, after a moment of stunned silence, “should the Council indulge you in this matter? Kadeja the
Motherless
–” she snarled the title, a deliberate rebuke of Zech's refusal to use it, “–is now the Vex'Mara of Kena, powerful and protected in her heresy, cowering in a palace where our magic cannot reach. Would you have us go to war with Kena for the sake of a single woman? What do you have to offer us as compensation for such a risk? What can you bargain, with allies such as yours?”

Zech lifted her chin. “The heresy of one woman might be a small thing, were that woman not the joint ruler of a country and her heresy not a direct threat to the sovereignty of both Veksh and Ashasa. As for what I can offer… Well. There are three things, actually.”

“Really?” Ruyun laughed. “I very much doubt it.”

“You don't want me here,” Zech said flatly. “That much is plain. You know Yasha a Yasara as the Queen Who Walked. Remove Kadeja, and I will, firstly, offer you my absence from this Council – and from Yevekshasa itself, if need be – for five full years and a day. I will become the Queen Who Waited, and you, Ruyun a Ketra, will be free of me for all that time.”

The queens began to murmur again. Ruyun, however, was unimpressed. “Is that all? You–”

“Secondly,” said Zech, cutting her off, “I will enable you to reclaim Vex'Mara Kadeja directly from the palace in Karavos without the need to send Vekshi troops into Kena. And thirdly, in return for your cooperation in this, the Cuivexa of Kena, Iviyat ore Leoden ki Rixevet, soon to rule Vexa i Vexa alongside Amenet ore Amenet ki Rahei, will return control of the Bharajin Forest to Veksh. Or is that worth nothing to the Council?”

Ruyun looked gobsmacked. Queens and priestesses alike began to shout their reactions, and in the confusion before Sahma once more raised her arm and chose a speaker, Zech allowed herself a quick glance in Methane's direction.

“The Council recognises Ksa a Kaje!” Sahma bellowed, but at her choice of name, the noise in the amphitheatre only intensified. Zech felt her knees go weak.

“Silence! Silence!” Hekve called, thumping her staff on the platform, but Zech was close enough to hear the hoarse emotion in her voice, and to feel it echoed in the sudden, frantic twitching of her fingers.

Grandmother.

The woman who stood was a priestess, her brown hair silvered with salt-and-pepper streaks and bound in a braid. She was tall, regal-looking, and missing her left eye, the empty socket scarred and lidless. Against all protocol, she stepped out from her sixth-tier seat and began to walk down the amphitheatre's centre aisle, her stately passage silencing all those she passed.

With quiet more deafening than the aftermath of thunder, she stepped into the main circle.

Zech alighted the speakers' platform without any conscious volition, ignoring Safi's frantic tug on her hem. Her eyes were fixed on Ksa, whose single eye was fixed on her, and in full silent sight of the Council of Queens, they came within arm's reach of each other, the moment tense with the poignancy of a lineage lost and rediscovered.

Slowly, so slowly, Ksa reached out and cupped Zech's chin with her cool, thin fingers.“I thought that all of her was lost to me,” she said softly. “I thought
you
were lost to me.”

Zech's throat was tight with tears. “I was lost,” she whispered. “But I came back.”

Ksa dropped her hand to Zech's shoulder. Without turning her head, she spoke again, loudly enough that the whole amphitheatre heard her. “For too long, I've endured my grief in silence. Kadeja broke my heart and Ashasa's law both, and we let her go because it was easier to have her be someone else's problem than to claim responsibility. But no more! If she poisons Kena against us – or worse, succeeds in spreading her false truth – then sooner or later, Veksh will wear the consequences. If my granddaughter has found a way to stop that now, without the need for any military action, then I stand with her.”

And then, with a quick squeeze of her hand, Ksa a Kaje turned and walked slowly back to her seat, while the Council of Queens sat stunned and silent.

Ruyun was still on her feet, her face distorted with fury. “How is this miraculous rescue to be effected then?” she asked. “How can a child do what Ashasa's Knives cannot, and reach safely into the very heart of Karavos?”

The question hit Zech like a slap, startling her out of her reverie. Voice still thick with emotion, she forced herself to answer. “Because,” she said, “Kadeja is my mother. In the dreamscape, I was able to see what ought to have been concealed from me, because I share the Vex'Mara's blood. Better still, I did so undetected. We have a Shavaktiin ally in Vex Leoden's court, and with his aid and the aid of Ashasa's Knives, my blood can be used to make a portal into the palace. My alliance with Iviyat ore Leoden ki Rixevet will see two women – two queens, in truth, with no hostility to Veksh – installed on the Kenan throne. We remove Kadeja to the care of Ashasa's Knives, and leave behind our allies in her place.”

Ruyun scoffed, but her face was pinched. “And what of Leoden?”

Zech's voice was flat. “We kill him.”

“That's all very well,” she said, triumph creeping back into her tone, “but who among the Knives will stand with you? Why should Ashasa's finest sully themselves with your heathen scheming?”

“Because, Ruyun a Ketra,” said a new voice, snapping across the amphitheatre like a whipcrack, “Kadeja the Motherless is our responsibility. Because Ashasa's Knives are not so much your creatures that we've forgotten our duty to Veksh, or to common decency. Because war with Kena – and there will be war, if things continue this way – serves none of our interests. Not yet, at any rate, and not like this.”

Several queens gasped. Even Samha looked shocked. “The Council recognises Kiri a Tavi,” she said faintly.

The priestess of Ashasa's Knives didn't bother to stand; she didn't need to. She was withered and sharp as fractured bone, a woman of angles and edges. Her hair was brittle and white as the sun, and her robes were the red of dried blood. She laughed at Sahma – a rattling sound, like broken stones starting an avalanche.

“Recognise me? You're half afraid to name me; it's a wonder you even remembered the words. This Council is rotten as stonefruit left in the sun, and half the reason, Ruyun a Ketra, is women like you who'd rather hoard power than use it. Ashasa's Knives were never meant to be the military arm of the Council, and yet that is what we've become. Yasha a Yasara was right, all those years ago, and before she leaves again I plan to tell her so, and a great many other things besides!” She made a sharp cutting gesture. “Enough regrets! Let the queens vote now, before more lies can pollute the verdict. You know where Ruyun a Ketra, Lekma a Tari and their cabal stand; you know that Ksa a Kaje, Kiri a Tavi and Zechalia a Kadeja stand against her. Shall we bring home Kadeja the Motherless? Hekve!”

At this last, Zech turned, only then remembering that Hekve a Rin was meant to be running proceedings, a fact that even Hekve, as startled as anyone at Kiri's entry into the debate, had momentarily forgotten. Still, as one would expect from an elder queen, she recovered quickly, banging her staff on the ground and calling for the vote.

“All those in favour of Zechalia a Kadeja's motion to recall the Vex'Mara Kadeja, stand now.”

Zech held her breath. If they'd failed now – if even Kiri's support proved inadequate – there was nothing to be done. For a hideous moment, the amphitheatre remained still.

And then, one by one, the queens began to rise.

Ksa was first, then Kiri, heaving herself up with visible effort. Mesthani and Cehala followed suit, as did a woman Zech recognised as Jairin a Jaisi, whom Yasha had also named as a likely ally. But it wasn't just them: other queens, and even some of the priestesses – who technically held no voting rights, but whose actions nonetheless held the power to influence others – were rising like a spring tide, coming to their feet, and all the while Ruyun's face grew whiter and whiter, as though pure rage had drained the blood straight from her body. Within moments, the vote had a clear majority; behind her, Zech heard Safi stifle a shout of joy, and though Samha was frowning, the slightest of smiles was evident at the corner of Hekve's mouth.

“
No
!” screamed Ruyun. She leapt to her feet, heedless of the fact that the action counted as a formal vote, and before anyone could move to stop her, there was a knife in her hand. Zech stood, dumbstruck, as Ruyun threw the blade at her. Time slowed, and she knew, with absolute certainty, that the queen's aim was true – that the point would hit her square between the eyes.

A blinding flash of light; a sound like iron exploding. Zech yelped in fright, her ears ringing with the outraged shouts of her sister queens, and as the starbursts left her vision, she saw the knife lay shattered at her feet.

“Now
that
,” said Kiri a Tavi, in the pause that followed, “was a very poor move indeed. Seize her!”

Ruyun screamed again, a wail of inarticulate rage, and tried to run; she made it little more than three steps before the yshra were on her, tying her hands behind her back and marching her out of the amphitheatre with all the speed and precision for which they were famed.

“The motion passes,” Hekve said, silencing the queens once more, “and on that note, I think it wise to adjourn the Council. Unless, of course, there's any other business to discuss?”

If there had been, no one was fool enough to raise it after Ruyun's performance.

“Ashasa guide us,” Samha intoned. “Let her wisdom follow us from this place as surely as our Mother Sun tracks across the sky.”

Hekve thumped her staff a final time. “The Council of Queens is adjourned.”

Dazed, Zech swayed on her feet, unable to take her eyes from the broken remnants of Ruyun's blade. She didn't know which of the priestesses had acted to break it, or whether some older magic laid over the amphitheatre had saved her; only that she'd survived. Forcing herself to look up, she saw that Ksa was glancing her way, and felt a rush of commingled guilt and joy at the prospect of reuniting with her grandmother.

Like an encroaching shadow, Safi stepped up behind her. “The Bharajin Forest,” she said quietly. “You said that Yasha had mentioned it, but you never asked Viya to cede it back to Veksh.”

“I lied,” said Zech, without turning. “Just my leaving wasn't enough. I had to offer something more; it was the only way to get Kiri a Tavi on side.”

“You lied,” Safi echoed. It wasn't quite an accusation. “Why?”

“Politics.”

“Politics? That's it?”

“I wanted to win,” she said, thinking it was what Safi wanted to hear, but realised as she said it that it was also true.

Safi sighed. “You'll still have to explain it to Viya, you know. She won't be pleased.”

“She won't,” Zech said, “but in return for stopping a war and putting her on the throne, I think she'll understand the loss.”

“I thought you wanted out of all this,” said Safi, frustration creeping into her tone. “I thought you wanted something else.”

“So did I,” said Zech, feeling her heart lift as Ksa approached. “I still do. But maybe I can want this too.”

“Can you still have it, though? You said it yourself – you'll be the Queen Who Waited.”

“For now,” said Zech. New strength surged through her, potent as blood. “But one day, not too far from now, I'll be the Queen Who Returned.”