A Day of Fallen Night (The Roots of Chaos)

After centuries of slumber, the Imperial Dragon was awake. Together, she, Nayimathun and Furtia had been able to drive off the golden wyrm, which the Lacustrine royals had named Taugran – splendid death. Days later, soldiers were still on the streets, fighting off the creatures left in the capital. The sky was stained as if with iron, dirty red and black.

The smoke had sunk into the palace, where two rooftops were on fire, lit by the embers that blew across the city. Dumai limped after a servant, who wore cloth over his mouth. Her ankle was splinted, her left shoulder dark with bruising, the wound sewn. Beside her, Kanifa kept a hand on his sword, as if he expected something to break in at any moment.

Consort Jekhen received them on a roofed balcony, breaking her fast on porridge and fruit. Princess Irebül sat beside a burner, hair in a Lacustrine style, a gilded band across her brow.

‘Princess Dumai,’ Consort Jekhen said. Her eyes betrayed a lack of sleep, but otherwise she was pristine, down to the pearl set into each cheek. ‘Do join us. Master Kiprun was just about to give us a short demonstration, which may enrich your interest in alchemy.’

‘I would be glad to join you, Consort Jekhen.’

They looked down at a courtyard, where Master Kiprun was holding some manner of iron gourd, a long thread trailing from its mouth. He placed it on the paving stones and took a candle from his assistant.

‘This is why I hired him,’ Consort Jekhen said conspiratorially to Dumai. ‘It makes his fits of temper worthwhile.’

Master Kiprun lit the thread. A bright tongue licked towards the pot. Together, he and his assistant backed away behind stone columns, and a line of guards raised their shields.

A shattering din burst from the gourd, a blinding eruption that shook the tiles on the roofs and rang every ear in the vicinity. Dumai shielded her eyes with one hand as heat rushed into them, and when she dared to look again, half the courtyard was scorched and broken.

‘Kwiriki’s breath,’ Kanifa muttered.

Dumai wished she had breath of her own. Beside her, Nikeya stared in fascination.

‘Black powder. Drawn from the deep earth, unlocked by the golden art. It makes all matter leap and tremble,’ Master Kiprun explained. ‘For years, I have built on other alchemists’ work, chasing this substance they had created – a secret lost to us for centuries. In the Nhangto Mountains, I found the final ingredient and refined the recipe.’ He came to stand on the ruins. ‘I am certain it will help defeat these creatures from the West. The fire and heat may not harm them, but the force of the explosion should.’

‘A significant discovery,’ Consort Jekhen said. ‘It pleases me when you prove useful, Kiprun.’

‘May I have a higher salary?’

‘Perhaps, if you can make enough of this, and if you manage not to be impertinent for a few days.’

Master Kiprun bowed in a sweep of crimson sleeves. Dumai took in the damage, heart punching in her throat. She smelled brimstone and char, and something like steel.

It smells of the wyrms.

‘Do enlighten me, Princess Dumai,’ Consort Jekhen said. ‘When was the last time Seiiki went to war?’

‘Centuries ago.’

‘Hm. Until our recent truce with the East Hüran, we battled them for nearly a year.’

Princess Irebül surveyed the damage to the courtyard, seemingly unperturbed by the reminder.

‘Fortunately, that means we are prepared,’ Consort Jekhen went on, ‘for now it seems we must fight again, for more than a city. For survival against something far stronger than humankind. Do introduce me to your fellow dragonriders.’

Ears still muffled from the blast, Dumai said, ‘My sworn guard – Kanifa of Ipyeda – and Lady Nikeya, daughter of the River Lord of Seiiki.’ They both saluted again.

Consort Jekhen gave Kanifa a passing glance, and Nikeya a longer one. ‘You have an uncommon beauty,’ she told the latter. ‘I imagine that oils the wheels of existence for you.’

‘You are too kind, Consort Jekhen.’ Nikeya inclined her head. ‘Your own beauty is the sun to mine, brightened by a sharp mind.’

‘Oh, hark at you. Such pretty airs. You are a flower grown for court.’ Consort Jekhen studied her. ‘I am curious to know who this River Lord is.’

‘My beloved father is a loyal councillor and servant to Emperor Jorodu,’ Nikeya recited.

‘It is an old position,’ Dumai said. ‘Its holder is bound to nurture the land and join its people, as rivers do.’

‘Sounds to me like a role the emperor should hold. Instead, your dynasty compares itself to a rainbow – fragile, distant, fleeting. Rivers have more use than rainbows, Princess, and last significantly longer. Give Emperor Jorodu that message, from me.’

Dumai wanted to shrivel. Even this woman she barely knew could see how weak her family had become.

Nikeya said nothing more. Her polite smile had stiffened, but she kept it in place. She smiled the way a tamed bird sang. Princess Irebül swirled her drink in its cup, observing with open interest.

‘Furtia Stormcaller.’ Consort Jekhen broke the silence. ‘I heard she was injured.’

‘She has gone to the Sleepless Sea with Nayimathun to recover her strength,’ Dumai said. ‘Now the Imperial Dragon is awake, I wondered if she means to rouse the others.’

‘Fortunately, yes, else I fear humankind would be ash in a week.’ Somewhere in the palace, one of the burning towers crumbled, raising shouts of frustration. ‘We still may be. She might wake her followers, but they entered the Long Slumber for a reason. Some may choose to return to it.’

‘Do you know that reason?’

‘I have only one clue. Before the Imperial Dragon slept, she said the sunset of the gods was near – but to look to the night for the dawn. Quite the riddle. On the subject of riddles, I hear you spoke with Master Kiprun before the attack.’

‘Yes.’

‘I have met with him, too. He seems to think the wyrms have something to do with things being altogether too dry in recent times. What say you, dragonrider – is he raving?’

‘I don’t claim any knowledge of his arts, but his words made sense to me.’

‘How fortunate. I must not have the head for alchemy. Now he’s insisting on speaking to an astronomer, despite initially refusing my invitation to court because of its large population of astronomers. I had to pay him twice their salary to convince him.’ Consort Jekhen ate a slice of grapefruit. ‘I sent our most talented from the Office of Ceremony. Kiprun threatened him with a broom and demanded a stargazer, not a sycophant. A less forgiving person might have banished him by now, but I grow soft with age.’

‘What is to be done, then?’

‘You may wonder why Princess Irebül is sitting over there. You see, Master Kiprun has agreed to see one astronomer . . . and she lives on the mighty peak named Brhazat.’

Kanifa made a sound of disbelief.

‘Brhazat strikes the roof of the world,’ he said in halting Lacustrine, when Consort Jekhen lifted her eyebrows. ‘Consort, forgive me, but no one could live that high.’

‘Apparently, this astronomer does. To save time, which is now a precious commodity, it would make sense for someone to carry Master Kiprun to her on dragonback.’

Dumai slowly frowned. ‘You wish for me to go, Consort Jekhen?’

‘You were raised from birth on a mountain. You might have a hope of surviving Brhazat. You could visit the astronomer and see what can be gleaned. Princess Irebül would ride ahead to advise the East Hüran of your coming.’

Dumai searched her instincts. It seemed unwise to be away from her father for any longer.

‘If you need motivation,’ Consort Jekhen said, ‘I can provide it.’

She motioned with one hand. Four guards hauled a wheeled cart into the courtyard. Upon it was a huge crossbow, mounted with a lance of proportionate length, its iron head almost as long as an arm. From one side to the other, the crossbow was wider than two men were tall, with three limbs: two alongside one another, and a third at the rear, pointing in the opposite direction. Twin cranks were used to draw the lance into position.

‘The bed crossbow. A war engine, designed to launch spears over a great distance,’ Consort Jekhen said. ‘I would be happy to give you one, so you might build your own.’

Dumai watched the soldiers rotate the platform it was fixed on, so the lance could be loosed at anything.

‘And all you ask in return,’ she said, ‘is knowledge?’

‘The most valuable asset in the world,’ Consort Jekhen confirmed.

‘It will be worth the journey, Princess. The astronomer I wish to see is the one who created the theory of the scales,’ Master Kiprun said. ‘She will have the answers we seek.’ He reached up to pat the crossbow. ‘I’ve decided I would like to see the stars from Brhazat.’

One of the soldiers slapped his hand away, glowering.

‘Well, Daughter of the Rainbow,’ Consort Jekhen said. ‘Everyone is willing. All we need is a dragonrider. What say you?’

Dumai looked down at the crossbow for a long time. Furtia, she thought, feeling the dragon stir to attention, if I asked you to carry me north, to help find a way to end this, would you go, once you are healed?

The fire was strong, earth child.

The mountains lie north, Nayimathun of the Deep Snows interjected, making Dumai start. She will recover in deep water. Then we will go north.

A headache chipped at her temples. You would honour us with your presence, too, great one?

The sea dweller knows nothing of the land of many lakes . . .

‘This city is clearly not safe any longer. The empress and I plan to move the court to Whinshan Ridge, where the mountains should keep us hidden,’ Consort Jekhen continued, unaware of the conversation. ‘Once you have seen the astronomer, you could send Master Kiprun and Princess Irebül back to us, and return to Seiiki yourself. I will let you share in the knowledge, Princess. All you have to do is bring it down the mountain for me.’

‘What if it’s meaningless?’ Dumai asked her. ‘What if this astronomer is mad or dead, or gives no useful aid?’

‘Then you will at least have this weapon, as a token of my friendship, and I will be able to rule out the astronomer as an answer to this chaos. That would be reasonably useful.’

Dumai glanced at Kanifa, who was worrying at the inside of his cheek.

‘Furtia needs time to recover first,’ she said. ‘She is not strong enough to fly such a long way.’

‘Then wait. It will give Princess Irebül time to warn her people, so they won’t shoot down the Stormcaller. They do not all revere dragons, as we do.’ Consort Jekhen looked her in the eye. ‘Fire wells from the earth, Princess. Shall we find out what will put it back?’

****

In the apartments, Dumai drank from a bowl of hot broth. Kanifa sat with her beside the hearth.

‘Do we need siege weapons?’ she asked him. ‘Is it worth making such a perilous journey to obtain one, even if the astronomer gives us nothing of use?’

‘Yes.’ Nikeya was leaning against the wall. ‘Trust me, Princess. We have nothing like that in Seiiki.’

‘I hate to agree,’ Kanifa said, ‘but I agree. Mai, our dragons are awake, but they remain weak. We must support them. It’s worth a try, to understand what might end this.’

‘Seiiki should be safe, in the meantime,’ Nikeya said. ‘Thanks to you.’

‘Be plain with me,’ Dumai said to her. ‘Does your father intend to usurp mine while I’m away?’

‘Not as far as I know.’

‘How reassuring.’

‘Centuries we have watched over and served the House of Noziken. Perhaps we have overstepped our bounds, out of concern for Seiiki – but never have we speared the golden fish. You have the gods’ favour, so we cannot overthrow you. Do you not understand by now how it works?’

Just as her father had thought. The Kuposa feared the gods would answer only to the House of Noziken.

Nikeya came to sit on her other side. ‘You asked for honesty. As a Kuposa, I advise you to return to Antuma, where we can keep you safe.’ Her smile was warm, the fire turning her eyes to dark honey. ‘As a Nadama – as my mother’s daughter – I tell you to go to the mountains.’

You will be the first empress to have started life as a godsinger. The first to ride a dragon in centuries. The first to leave Seiiki, Osipa had said. Dumai closed her eyes. You are here to break the mould.

‘Find me a writing box,’ she said. ‘I must inform my parents I will not be home for some time yet.’