The Weavers of Saramyr (45 page)

It was not satisfying, but it would do for now. Whatever the real answers, he had no doubts about Kaiku now. He would follow her where she went. As if his traitor heart would allow him otherwise…

‘Out of the question,’ Cailin snapped. ‘She’s too valuable.’

‘Nobody knows that more than me,’ Mishani replied. ‘But if you want me to go, she goes too.’

Mishani and Cailin faced each other, locking eyes and wills. Cailin was almost a head taller than the diminutive noblewoman, but Mishani was not in the least cowed by her opponent’s size or fearsome appearance. They stood in one of the upper rooms of the house of the Red Order, a long building with a curving, peaked roof which overhung the balconies running around its first floor. In

contrast to the somewhat ramshackle nature of its surrounding buildings, this one was tidy and precise, with pennants of red and black hanging from the balcony rail before the entrance.

‘You would willingly put your friend in danger, Mishani,’ Cailin accused.

‘No,’ said Kaiku, from where she leaned against a wall boyishly. ‘I asked her. I demand to go.’

‘So do I,’ put in Tane, who was watching from the other side of the room. Asara stood near him, a faint smirk on her face.

‘Why?’ Cailin asked, her voice cold. ‘You are no warrior. Have you killed before? Have you, Kaiku?’

‘I made an oath to Ocha,’ said Kaiku calmly, ignoring the question. ‘My enemy are the Weavers. The Weavers want Lucia dead. I wish to be part of any effort to thwart them.’

‘You will be!’ Cailin said, anger creeping into her tone. ‘You will learn to be a more powerful force than you can imagine. Dying in the Imperial Keep before you grow into your strength is futile.’

‘Cailin, she speaks sense,’ Asara said. ‘The Keep guards will expect warriors, much as those you have already chosen to go. They will not suspect women and priests.’

‘She is dangerous still!’ Cailin hissed, flinging out a finger at Kaiku. ‘She has only begun to learn how to suppress her
kana
. If she should unleash it within the Keep, we would all be killed.’

‘Don’t be melodramatic,’ Asara said. ‘You merely wish to protect your investment.’

Anger blazed in Cailin’s eyes, but Asara met her gaze with an insouciant stare.

‘It is only two more, Cailin,’ Mishani said. ‘You have asked Asara and I to go because you need us. I am the only noble you have who is willing to set foot in Axekami again; Asara is an experienced handmaiden. But I will not go unless Kaiku goes. And Tane, if he wishes. You said yourself that we four trod a braided path. Perhaps it is braided more tightly than you think.’

Cailin framed a retort, then swallowed it. She rounded on Kaiku. ‘Is your mind made up in this?’

Kaiku shrugged, an imitation of her brother from long ago. ‘I have no choice. I made an oath.’

‘Oaths can be interpreted any way you see fit,’ Cailin pointed out archly. ‘Very well then. We leave for Axekami tomorrow. All of us. If we do not move soon, we may lose our chance. The danger to

Lucia grows daily, and we have little time remaining, if my sources tell me true.‘ She swept around and stalked out of the room, her black dress trailing behind her. ’We will steal the Heir-Empress from under their noses,‘ she declared as she left.

Kaiku gave a smile of thanks to Mishani, and wondered what she had let herself in for.

Twenty-Eight

The armies of Blood Kerestyn and Blood Amacha faced each other across the grassy plain to the west of Axekami. The morning sun beat down on them, already cruelly hot and not even close to its zenith. It glinted off swords and rifles, sheening down the edges of pike blades and making men shade their eyes and squint. To the west, Blood Kerestyn, their gold and green standards limp in the windless humidity. To the east, Blood Amacha, a swathe of brown and red mingled with the colours of other, lesser families. Fire-cannons brooded in the swelter, their barrels fashioned into the likenesses of demons and spirits, their mouths open to belch flame. Between the armies was the killing ground, a great strip of untrampled grass where they would meet if it came to conflict.

The sheer weight of numbers was immense. Amacha’s army had been swelled to over ten thousand, and Kerestyn had more than that, a wave of soldiers that had washed over the land and now teetered on the edge of breaking. From the city walls, they melted into two huge pools of blades and guns and armour. The front ranks were foot soldiers, horses pawing at the dirt and manxthwa loping back and forth, the soldiers standing ready, hair damp with perspiration. Behind them were riflemen, most in rows but some gathered in little clusters, cleaning and checking their weaponry. Further from the front ranks, the tents began, angular polygons of colour ranging from simple and utilitarian to complex and grandiose. Where the battle lines were still, the rear of the armies was a swarm of activity, a constant shifting of supplies, troops, and information. Tents were being erected; cannons were being repaired; armour was fixed or handed out. To the east, the enormous beige

walls of Axekami were a frowning barrier that dwarfed them all to insignificance, stretching to either side of the battlefield and curving out of sight, a bristling mass of guard-towers behind which the jumble of the city’s streets could be seen cluttering their way up the hill towards the Imperial Keep, its gold walls paled by distance.

The two vast forces shimmered in the heat haze, waiting.

The armies of Blood Kerestyn had begun their march on the capital some days ago, but they were slow, detouring to amalgamate with other, smaller forces on the way, minor families who had allied themselves with the Kerestyn cause. A further delay was caused by the need to skirt Blood Koli’s lands around Mataxa Bay. The Barak Koli had firmly allied himself with Sonmaga, for better or worse.

Blood Kerestyn had been ousted from the throne by Blood Erinima over a matter of dishonour, not warfare. The last Kerestyn Blood Emperor, Mamis, had lied to the council of nobles over a matter of great importance and been discovered. He had done the sensible thing and abdicated, for the council had given a unanimous vote of no-confidence in their ruler after that; Anais’s father had filled the void. But though Kerestyn had lost the might of the Imperial Guards, which were sworn to protect the Blood Emperor or Empress regardless of their family, they had retained the vast strength which had won them the throne in the first place. And they had bided their time, waiting for an opportunity just such as this.

Sonmaga tu Amacha was no less ambitious, but his ambition outstripped his means somewhat in this matter. He believed passionately that the Heir-Empress should be removed from the line of succession, even if Anais stayed as Empress. If only that cursed Mishani woman had done what she was supposed to, then all this could have been averted. He didn’t want a civil war, principally because he suspected he would lose it. In ten years, when he had enough support, when his plans had come to fruition… maybe then would be the time to strike. But getting rid of the Aberrant Heir-Empress would solve all their problems. Kerestyn would no longer have a righteous cause motivating them, and their support would swiftly peel away if they chose to press their suit upon the capital. He wished he’d just had Purloch kill the little bitch when he had the chance, instead of settling for a lock of her hair; but Purloch had disappeared the moment he was paid, and had not been found since.

Sonmaga’s tent bulked out of the sea of armour, an island of

brown and red surrounded by other smaller, lesser islands. The constant convection of soldiers and horses flowed around them in a grubby tide, relaying messages, reporting from the front line. The smell of rank sweat was overpowering, and the din was a constant background babble, so loud that it was only when people shouted at each other to be heard that they realised how their ears had adjusted to block it out. Sonmaga’s tent was near the rear of his forces, his back towards Axekami. He had crossed the Zan and placed himself squarely between the forces of Kerestyn and the capital. He didn’t want a civil war, but he’d be gods-damned if he’d let Blood Kerestyn walk into the capital without a fight.

The emissaries from Blood Koli came at mid-morning, twenty soldiers with the hardened leather of their armour dyed black and white. The newcomers arrived on horseback, their eyes narrow beneath the black sashes tied around their heads to avert sunstroke. Heading them was the Barak Avun tu Koli himself, his balding head held high as he rode, his omnipresent expression of weariness temporarily banished for the benefit of appearances.

The forces of Blood Amacha parted to let them through. That he had come out personally spoke of a matter of great importance. They passed through the ranks to the tent of the Barak Sonmaga, and there Avun dismounted and was shown inside.

Barak Sonmaga stood as Avun entered. He had been sitting on one of the woven mats placed around the centre of the tent, studying a map. At the edges were low tables of refreshments, chests of clothes and charts, and a rack where Sonmaga’s battle armour hung. It was stiflingly hot in here, but being out of the direct gaze of Nuki’s eye was a blessing, and the tent walls somehow managed to muffle the worst of the noise from outside.

‘Avun,’ Sonmaga said. ‘What news?’ It was almost insultingly informal, but neither was much concerned with ritual greetings at a time like this.

Avun looked him over, the tired cast returning to his hooded eyes. ‘You already know,’ he stated.

Sonmaga raised a black eyebrow, impressed at Avun’s reading of him. ‘Yes, I do. Sit down, please.’

Avun joined him in sitting on another of the floor mats. Sonmaga poured cups of dark red wine for them both. Avun waited until Sonmaga had drank from his before taking a sip.

‘The forces of Blood Batik approach the city from the east,’

Avun said. ‘If they had set out from Batik lands north of Axekami and gone directly south, we would have spotted them long ago. But they crossed the Jabaza and circled round so we would not detect their movement. Now they are almost at the city gates.’

Sonmaga let none of the faint disdain he felt for this man show on his face. Excuses, always excuses. He could not even control his daughter, his own blood; in fact, if his accounts were to be believed, she had fled and was missing even now. For such an allegedly brilliant player of the court, he seemed remarkably inept. His desperation for trade concessions with Sonmaga had revealed the sorry state of affairs at Mataxa Bay; he had even let slip about how ill-maintained the boats of his fishing fleet were, and how they were apt to sink at any time. He had always thought of Blood Koli as one of the most noble of families, an unassailable trading empire; but since circumstances had brought Avun and Sonmaga together, he had seen how hollow that assumption was. Avun was weak, and easily dominated. Sonmaga was content to let it be so. The troops Avun brought to this standoff were a valuable portion of Blood Amacha’s army. And if the price he had to pay was to listen to this man’s fawning agreement as they discussed their battle plans and strategies, even letting Sonmaga dictate the movements of Avun’s soldiers, then it was a small price indeed.

‘Do you suppose Grigi knows about it?’ Avun asked banally.

‘Undoubtedly,’ Sonmaga replied. ‘They will be at the city tomorrow afternoon. The Empress has evidently decided to let them in. I cannot imagine they are marching on the capital to invade; not with Durun and Mos still in the Keep.’

‘You have spies there?’

‘It is there for all to see,’ Sonmaga said, unable to stop a hint of exasperation. Did this man have no eyes working for him in the most important building in the Empire? ‘Everyone in the Keep knows it. If the forces of Blood Batik tried to take Axekami by force, the Imperial Guards would kill Mos and Durun in a moment. Their allegiance is to the
Blood
Empress, not her husband. So we must assume they are approaching with the Empress’s consent.’

Avun nodded in understanding. Sonmaga watched him over the rim of his cup as he sipped his wine. ‘It appears we remain in a stalemate,’ Avun said at length, stating what Sonmaga already knew.

‘My only concern is what Grigi might do,’ Sonmaga said. ‘He

must know he’ll never get past the walls of Axekami with Blood Batik inside. His only hope is to get inside before they do. That means going through us.‘

‘Then why not get out of his way?’ Avun said. Sonmaga’s eyes widened in disbelief. Avun floundered. ‘Well, that is to say, isn’t what we wanted that the Heir-Empress be disinherited? If we stand in Blood Kerestyn’s way, then all we are doing is keeping the capital safe until Blood Batik can move in. Blood Erinima will keep the throne, and the Heir-Empress will come to power.’

‘Do you think I am not aware of the situation?’ Sonmaga barked. ‘Do you think, all this time, I have not been seeking a way to get to the Heir-Empress, to do what your daughter should have done?’ Avun cowered before the larger man, whose bulk seemed twice that of Avun’s slender frame. ‘I do not want Kerestyn on the throne; I want Erinima there, for when Anais’s daughter dies - and make no mistake, I
will
get to her, or the people of Axekami will - then I have many more years to prepare before Anais’s time is up. And when the Empress dies, childless and barren, then Blood Amacha will be ready to face even the strongest of enemies and claim the throne we have never had! If Kerestyn march into Axekami, with the forces they command, they will rule Saramyr for many decades to come. I cannot rely on another foolish mistake such as had them deposed before. I can only keep them out, and wait. Blood Batik may strengthen the capital now, but a thousand men cannot protect Lucia for ever. I play for time, Avun, for now is not the moment for me to strike.’

Avun’s gaze dropped, shamed that he had offended Sonmaga. Sonmaga gave a curt grunt and got to his feet. Avun stayed where he was, head bowed like a servant. Sonmaga rolled his eyes. ‘Get up, Avun. We should not quarrel. You know as well as I that we cannot withdraw now. I am committed, as are you. Do not let your courage falter.’