A Day of Fallen Night (The Roots of Chaos)

Ever since the gods had woken, they had carried a thick haze of sleep on them. The blue stone ripped it clean away. With Dumai pressing it to her scales, Furtia had sniffed out a deep black lake in a valley, strewn with the remnants of a North Hüran camp, and broken a hole in the ice.

Once she was submerged in water, the wound in her crest had started to heal. She caught them silver fish between long sleeps.

Dumai spoke to Nikeya only when necessary. For once, Nikeya returned the favour. She disappeared for hours into the forest by the lake, hunting what deer and birds remained. When she came back, she skinned and roasted her spoils in silence, no spark in her eyes.

Each time they lay down to sleep, Dumai wanted to ask her forgiveness. Each time, stubborn pride strangled the words.

It was better this way. She had trusted the voice in her dream, and it had betrayed her. It was a sharp reminder not to trust Nikeya, either. No matter how sweet her kiss, she was silver.

No matter that she saved your life.

Seiiki was all that mattered now. This journey had been a terrible mistake.

On the seventh day, Furtia was healed enough to fly, and they left the North behind them. The dragon took them back across the Broken Corridor, then followed the coast of the Empire of the Twelve Lakes, knowing her way home. Dumai slipped in and out of sleep. Her physical hurts were mending, but they tired her.

Sister?

Dumai woke halfway to the inbetween. Her exhaustion had softened the dark ice of her mind, letting a voice from outside flow again.

You would still dare to call me sister?

I . . . don’t understand. Her breath knotted in her chest. You haven’t spoken in so long. I felt alone without your voice.

Do not think to deceive me with yours again. For the first time, she turned her back on the stream. You will take nothing more from me. Before the trickster could answer, she shook herself awake, the tears cold on her cheeks. One day, she might think of the betrayal and not weep.

The Grand Empress would know how to cut what had tethered her to the dreamer.

She had to do it soon.

****

A dark smog lined the Sundance Sea. As it refined into a coastline, Dumai gazed towards it. She felt and smelled the smoke before it came in sight – piled over the island, smothering the sunset.

Seiiki was on fire. It blazed with such a fury that the flames made their own wind and cloud.

Dumai watched a herd of deer stampede from a roaring wall of light. She saw a single wolf, its pelt ablaze. Hot ash made her cough until she tasted her insides. She leaned to the side of the saddle and saw two dragons in a meadow, broken and tangled in death.

No.

Nikeya woke with a dry cough of her own. Seeing the conflagration, she made a faint sound against her sleeve.

Now comes the fire beneath, the swollen earth. Furtia spoke for the first time in days. As she passed through the black smoke, her crest flickered. The star has not yet wept, earth child.

I know, great one. Dumai swallowed, tears running again. I know.

The wyrms must not have been in Seiiki long. Past the coast, Furtia flew over unscathed fields and trees. Below, people were fleeing towards the capital. Dumai realised why when Furtia came within sight of Antuma. Several dragons had formed a circle of protection around Mount Ipyeda and the Rayonti Basin, including Tukupa the Silver.

Furtia sailed between them, towards the palace, and landed in its main courtyard. Dumai dropped to the ground.

The walkways rushed past. A few courtiers were outside, wet cloths pressed over their mouths, but Dumai paid them no heed. Reaching the Inner Palace, she stopped, giving Nikeya time to catch up. The guards wore grey tunics beneath their armour, masks of iron and leather over their lower faces.

‘Stay back.’ One of them reached for their sword. ‘The Inner Palace is sealed.’

‘Where is my father?’

‘Princess Dumai,’ another said, eyes shocked above the mask. ‘You’re . . . alive.’

‘Why should I not be?’

‘You must see the River Lord. He is in the Throne Hall,’ came a muffled reply. Dumai marched in that direction, though not before she heard someone mutter, ‘Great Kwiriki, what is to be done now?’

Nikeya followed her. ‘Dumai,’ she said, ‘grey is for mourning at court.’ Dumai shut her mouth tight. ‘His Majesty—’

‘Do not say it.’

Nobles thronged the Throne Hall, traced by the dim reflections off the water. Dumai shouldered through their ranks. When they realised who had come among them, their mutterings sharpened into chatter, and they parted to make way, so she could see the Rainbow Throne.

The throne, and her sister, sitting on it.

Suzumai wore paling layers of grey. The mantle that swamped her was almost black, a silver crown teetered on her head, and her hair was combed to her waist, laden with dancing pearls. Seeing Dumai, she stared at her damp furs and dishevelled hair, the bruising on her face.

‘Suzu,’ Dumai said, just as stunned.

‘Princess Dumai,’ came a familiar voice, before her sister could utter a word. ‘Can it be you?’

Dumai stiffened. She had failed to notice him beside the throne, a shadow by her sister.

‘It is. And you, Nikeya,’ the River Lord said, his face a picture of relief. ‘I never thought to see you again.’ He wore a small crown of seashells. ‘Thank the great Kwiriki.’

‘We are both very well, Father.’ Nikeya came to stand beside Dumai, sliding on her court self like a sleeve. ‘But this is a disturbing sight indeed. Where is Emperor Jorodu?’

The question covered the hall, silencing every whisper.

‘Tragedy has struck our court. A band of murderous provincials infiltrated the palace,’ the River Lord said, his voice breaking the utter quiet. ‘They were demanding retribution for an outbreak of sickness on the coast – a sickness that turns the hands red and boils the blood. They believe it arrived with a Lacustrine ship, which brought a crossbow for you, Princess Dumai.’

‘Consort Jekhen offered it to me in exchange for my assistance,’ Dumai said. ‘To help us fight the wyrms.’

‘Unfortunately, provincials are of a crude and rustic mindset, thinking of little beyond their fields. They saw an arrival from the mainland and blamed it for their suffering. It was dismantled in a riot, and the Lacustrine soldiers who brought it were killed.’

‘What?’ Dumai whispered.

Out of sight, Nikeya gripped her wrist, hard enough to hurt.

‘By the time the guards cut them down, the intruders had breached the Inner Palace, infecting His Majesty. He fought very hard . . . but he was the Son of the Rainbow,’ the River Lord said heavily. ‘His body could not withstand such pain, such fever.’

Dumai looked between the River Lord and her sister, her stomach warning her of a trap.

‘I’m sure this must be a great shock, Princess,’ the River Lord sighed. ‘I offer my sincere condolences.’

‘What was done with his body?’

‘We had no choice but to burn it,’ said one of his many cousins. ‘We do not yet know how this sickness spreads. It was all we could do.’

No Seiikinese ruler had ever been burned. He should have been laid in a river barge, on a bed of pearls, sung to the sea without end.

‘Since you could not be found anywhere, we feared you had been captured and killed,’ the River Lord said, wringing his hands in a show of distress. ‘The Council of State made the difficult choice to enthrone your sister – the heir apparent – as Empress Suzumai.’

He could make anything sound reasonable, even usurpation. The gift of his silver tongue.

‘I am a dragonrider – a woman, firstborn,’ Dumai managed to say. Nikeya tightened her grip. ‘Suzumai is a child of nine.’

‘Your father was the same age, and he was a splendid ruler, as were many children of the rainbow before him. All of us are here to help and guide Empress Suzumai. I hoped you would join us.’ His voice was the gentlest reproach. ‘Princess, as a former godsinger, would you truly ask us to unravel the sacred rites of an enthronement?’

Discordant murmurs filled the hall. Suzumai looked nervously at her new subjects. ‘I’m sorry, Dumai,’ she said. ‘I didn’t mean to take your throne. I thought you were dead.’

‘As you all see, I am alive,’ Dumai said coolly. She had to maintain her composure. ‘As my father informed the Council of State, I was making a private visit to my grandmother.’

Years of work and planning. All the groundwork the remnants of her family had carried out in secret, undone in a few days. With Emperor Jorodu dead, there could be no shadow court.

She had been a naïve fool, to leave at such a fragile time. Nikeya had been right to warn her.

‘Now you have returned,’ the River Lord said, ‘I would like to address some matters of great import, Princess.’

‘Let us address them. Here, my lord,’ Dumai said. ‘In the open.’

‘As you wish. First, I must dispute your belief that your age prepares you to rule. Suzumai has lived at court all her life, while you spent yours on a mountain. You have no particular knowledge of Seiiki. You have been to Mozom Alph, but not Ginura.’

‘Father,’ Nikeya said, with a feather of laughter, ‘surely you know that Furtia Stormcaller summoned Princess Dumai on her journeys. Would you ask her to ignore the gods?’

‘Never, daughter, but it does not change the fact that the heir to Seiiki abandoned it in a time of need. We cannot live in fear of that. Second is the delicate matter of how this red sickness entered Seiiki,’ the River Lord said, after a polite hesitation. ‘Princess, before your journeys into the world, we were safe. Now we are not. It pains me to do this – but I must, for the sake of Seiiki. Will you please show us your hands?’ Dumai did it without question. ‘Ah. Your fingers. Does the sickness not begin there?’

Dumai frowned as voices bristled again. ‘Lord Kuposa, I have lacked these fingers since I was ten.’

‘It will raise questions among the people, Princess Dumai,’ the River Lord said, sighing yet again, as if all this sent him into despair. ‘These wyrms have set their minds to fear. I think it best that you leave once more, for your own protection . . . to Muysima.’

Dumai held his gaze. ‘That is the place of exile.’

‘That is not true, Princess. It is somewhere you will be safe for a time, where you may know contentment.’

‘No,’ Suzumai cried. ‘Granduncle, please, don’t send Dumai away.’

‘Now, Your Majesty—’

‘Please.’ She was suddenly in tears. ‘She is my sister, my only sister. I want her to live here.’

The River Lord knelt beside the throne.

‘Your Majesty, I serve at your command,’ he said. ‘I think we could find a way to let Princess Dumai stay. I know it would comfort you.’ Suzumai nodded at once, making her crown quiver. ‘But your big sister is in grave danger. She must not keep flying away from court. She must respect my place as regent and obey, or there will be quarrels, and she must always show you deference. Do you understand that, Your Majesty?’

‘Yes,’ Suzumai said shakily. ‘Please, Dumai. Say you will.’

For nine years, the child had been kept docile and dependent, in awe of her granduncle.

Another silver Noziken.

Dumai looked at them all, the whole belfry of courtiers. Her father had summoned her because she owed allegiance to no one. Now she saw that no one owed allegiance to her, either.

I am alone. She stood at a great distance from herself. I am alone, with my foot in the fishnet.

No, not alone. Outside, a dragon waited for her. The stone was tucked between her breasts. And when she heard the words in her head, they did not belong to a god, or a woman in a dream. It was her own voice.

What are you doing?

As that question filled her mind, a weight lifted.

She did not have to fight this battle. She did not have to stand here and try to outwit the River Lord. She did not have to become like him – and she had come so close, some days. This court had made her reckless, untrusting and hard; it had almost made her cruel.

Now she remembered the godsinger of Mount Ipyeda, who had wished for nothing more than the life she already had. That godsinger had needed no throne to serve Kwiriki, or to help the people of Seiiki. After all, she had known Kwiriki before she ever set eyes on his throne.

You are a kite, a rainbow, a rider. The realisation tilted the corners of her lips. Where have you ever belonged but the sky?

Before she could think better of it, she walked towards the throne and knelt, taking Suzumai by the hand. ‘Your Majesty,’ she said, ‘I love and respect you, as your big sister. I will not ask for the Rainbow Throne. You have every right to sit on it, too.’ She touched her cheek. ‘I must leave again, for a little while, but I will always come back.’

Suzumai swallowed, eyes shimmering. ‘You promised you wouldn’t go away again.’

‘I know.’ Dumai tightened her hold on her hand. ‘I’m sorry. Will you keep me safe?’

‘Yes,’ Suzumai whispered.

Dumai looked at the River Lord, whose face betrayed his curiosity. He was trying to predict her next move.

‘I do not wish to fight you when an enemy threatens our island. I would not seek to divide it from within,’ Dumai said, rising to face him. ‘My mother was once a . . . provincial, as you say. She worked the barley fields of Afa. Her father was its governor, long ago.’

At last, understanding barbed his gaze. She wondered if he had ever guessed who Unora was, or if she had disappeared from his notice as soon as she was stripped of her nobility.

‘As a godsinger, as a rider, and as a princess, I serve them,’ Dumai told him. ‘It is they who will suffer most in this time of fire. I have the means to defend them. I must use it.’

Beside her, Nikeya released a breath. The River Lord watched Dumai without speaking. She could see him preparing to reshape her words, the busy work behind his eyes.

‘I will go into exile, but not to Muysima.’ Dumai faced the nobles. ‘Emperor Jorodu wished for power to reside in two places. The Grand Empress will attest to this, as will my mother, the Maiden Officiant.’ Hundreds of eyes stared at her. ‘I will honour his wishes. I will go beyond this court and establish my own, in the provinces – to protect our island, to give hope to the people, until the coming of the comet that will end this.’

Before the River Lord could steal the final word, she strode from the hall to immediate shouts of indignation, taking the path the nobles cleared for her, blocking out their voices as best she could.

Nikeya came after her. ‘Dumai,’ she called. Dumai kept walking. ‘Do I really mean so little to you that you would turn your back on me altogether?’

Dumai slowed, and looked her in the face.

‘Tell me the truth,’ she said. ‘Did you know he meant to enthrone Suzu in my absence?’

Anger tightened her face. ‘You still think I am his to wield?’

‘Please, Nikeya.’

‘I did not know,’ Nikeya said, flushed. ‘I don’t even know if he arranged the attack on your father. We both know that isn’t his way. Whatever happened, you have given him exactly what he wants by leaving. You’ve lost.’ She reached for Dumai, holding her face. ‘I know how much you’ve suffered in such a short time, but to challenge him like that, before all his allies – do you not see?’

‘Perhaps not,’ Dumai said. ‘I was not meant to see, Nikeya. This is not who I am.’

‘Listen to me. Leave now, and Suzu will spend the rest of her life in the dollhouse. You can still feign submission,’ Nikeya said. ‘You can find ways to exert your will.’

‘My father tried that for a very long time. He thought he was winning until he was dead,’ Dumai said wearily. ‘The River Lord plans to exile me. Better that I exile myself, on my own terms, for the good of Seiiki.’ She looked towards the mountain, the wooden city in front of it, the forest on its slopes. ‘I have not lost the game. I simply withdraw from it.’

‘You are a Noziken. You cannot withdraw.’

‘You believe that because you have played all your life, because you once knew no world beyond his world – but I have seen you outside it, Nikeya. There is more. Just come with me.’

Nikeya had worn more faces than Dumai could count, but never all at once. Her features were not a mask now, but pure embroidery, made up of the finest stitches of emotion: surprise, tenderness, sorrow, too many shades and myriads of feeling to be picked apart.

‘It means so much that you would ask,’ she whispered, ‘but we both know I’m not meant to fly at your side. My power stems from him.’ Her smile was small and pained. ‘Consort Jekhen was right; so were you. I am beautiful and silver, and nought else. I am a flower grown for court.’

Dumai might have agreed once. Instead, she took Nikeya by the hand and pressed one brief kiss to it.

‘I am sorry for what I said in the North,’ she said softly. ‘Please watch over Suzu.’

She strode back across the courtyard, to where Furtia Stormcaller waited for her, and climbed into the saddle. Nikeya stood alone and pale, holding herself as if she would break.

Furtia, take us to Mount Ipyeda.

Dumai gripped the horn. Furtia rose, and then they were gone from the palace at last, soaring towards the mountain that was home.

She did not look back.