A Day of Fallen Night (The Roots of Chaos)

Nikeya slept, as she had for two days. Unora had cleaned her wounds, daubing a resin salve on the burns, while Dumai had combed the ash from her hair and washed more from her face.

On the night she arrived, she had been cold and confused, her lips splintered by thirst. Now she slept in the warmth of the tent, breaths scratching into coughs. Dumai checked her fingers and felt her forehead, finding no fever or chill, or any stain of the red sickness.

She had never thought she would set eyes on this woman again. Nikeya was part of the life she had relinquished.

As night drew in, Dumai emerged from her tent, into a red and shadowed light. It was cruel that evenings should be so beautiful in this time of death, the sun a glowing coal.

‘Queen Dumai.’

Dumai turned. ‘Lady Mithara,’ she said, joining her by the hitching post. ‘I did not expect you so soon.’

Lady Mithara wore a coat of iron and stiff leather over hunting clothes, the breastplate marked with the stork of her clan. This was her paternal grandaunt – a proud and gentle woman who had lived in the region for decades, since the Kuposa had taken steps to erode her influence. As head of the Mithara, it was she who had pledged their loyalty to Dumai.

‘I am glad to see your feet on the ground for a time, niece. It is good for you to be among the people,’ she said. ‘But I understand a certain Kuposa found your camp. Unora told me, in confidence.’ Her gaze was piercing, wary. ‘What do you mean to do with Lady Nikeya?’

‘I have yet to learn why she is here.’

‘Presumably as a spy for the regent. She has been his instrument since her mother died.’

‘Only since then?’

Lady Mithara gave a curt nod. ‘I knew Tirfosi. A good woman.’

‘I owe Nikeya my life,’ Dumai said. ‘She has had many opportunities to hurt me, and took none of them.’ A sharp breeze ruffled their furs. ‘Have you come about the crossbow?’

‘I had the parts brought to my camp. Once we understand how to piece it together, we will be able to build more. The people will know they are from you, not the River Lord.’

‘So long as they have protection, it doesn’t matter to me where they think it came from.’

‘It should. You must be formally enthroned after this chaos, and my clan means to see it done.’

‘Seiiki cannot bear a civil war after this, my lady. We will wait and see what the gods decide.’

She went to the nearest cookfire and opened a pot of venison stew. Lady Mithara fastened her horse to the post before entering a tent, while Dumai returned to her own with a bowl.

Inside, Nikeya was awake.

They looked at each other for a long time. Nikeya swallowed, deep shadows under her eyes.

‘I thought I would die before I reached you,’ she said.

Dumai slowly became aware of the bowl scalding her palm. She moved it to the other.

‘You could have,’ she said, kneeling beside Nikeya. ‘Here. You should eat.’

‘Thank you. I tried to hunt on the road, but so many animals have fled into the forests, or been . . . remade.’

‘I suppose a noble lady never learned to forage.’

‘I risked it once, in desperation. I was sick for a day,’ Nikeya said, with a bleak smile. ‘Later, a farmer told me it had been a godslight mushroom.’ They had glowed throughout the forest in the early winter, clustered on the dead beeches. ‘He showed me some grasses I could eat. The next morning, he tried to take my bow as payment for that service.’

‘Our food is humble, but sweeter than grass.’ Dumai set the bowl down. ‘The horse died. I’m sorry.’

‘Better than living as a beast of anguish.’

Dumai helped her sit up. Nikeya caught her gaze. Just that one touch, that meeting of eyes, brought back all the wants she had tried to forget.

‘This camp is not easy to reach.’ Dumai let go. ‘How did you get here?’

‘I was so tired. I needed water, so I made for a city. I was almost to Ginura when I saw Furtia – finally, after months of following every whisper of her,’ Nikeya said. ‘I rode to this forest with the Ginurans, and happened to see an old friend from court, who now serves as guard to Lady Mithara. He described the markers I would need to follow to find you.’

‘You should have rested first.’

‘I feared I would be recognised.’ Nikeya picked up the bowl, resting it on her knee. ‘Your camp has kept you alive, but it is a far cry from court. How have you withstood this winter?’

‘The forest provides.’ Dumai watched her as if she would disappear. ‘When did you leave?’

‘Autumnfall. You were hard to find.’

‘Lady Mithara and Lord Tajorin will be glad to hear that.’

‘Even my father could not conceal his ire at their defiance.’ A coldness washed over her face. ‘He has done nothing with his power as regent, even as our island burns. I stayed as long as I could, to watch over Suzumai, but when I uncovered the truth, I could not stand the sight of him a day longer.’

‘What truth?’

‘The attack on the palace. It was him.’

Dumai waited for the knowledge to set, like dye into cloth. ‘Is my grandmother in danger?’

‘Tukupa the Silver protects the temple. For now, the Grand Empress is safe.’ Nikeya looked at her with disquiet. ‘I didn’t know, Dumai. He must not have trusted me. I never thought he would go so far as to plot the death of an emperor.’

She coughed again, so hard her eyes welled. Dumai gave her a cloth and a flask of water.

‘I believe you,’ she said. ‘He had the crossbow destroyed, too.’

‘I know. There was always cruelty in him,’ Nikeya said, ‘but he killed in softer ways than murder.’ Her fingers tightened on the flask. ‘I almost lost you to him. He has wielded and worked me for thirteen years, using me to realise his ambitions at the cost of my freedom to choose. I am his daughter, not his doll, and I have served his interests for too long.’

She took a long drink.

‘You found the crossbow, then,’ she said, when the cough had calmed. ‘At Purinadu.’

‘Yes.’

‘Look in my saddle, and you will find the plans the Lacustrine brought with the weapon. I stole them from his study. They should help you put it back together, and build more.’

‘That must have been a risk. Thank you,’ Dumai said quietly. ‘It will help us protect the survivors.’

‘I hope it will prove to your mother and allies that I am not a spy.’

‘My mother knows you saved my life. Others may not feel warmly towards you.’

‘I am confident that I can win them over.’

Dumai smiled, in spite of herself. ‘That is one of your gifts.’

Nikeya looked at her for a long time, the flicker of the oil lamp in her eyes.

‘Suzu,’ Dumai said. ‘Is she safe?’

‘My father has shut her away. She knows little of the conflict beyond the palace, and trusts in her regent to rule in her stead. It hurt to leave her, but she still has the Dowager Empress.’

‘You wish to join my court, then,’ Dumai said, holding her gaze. ‘To sleep in the wilds among outlaws and paupers, led by a queen without a throne. Are you certain, Nikeya?’

‘A flower grown for court might yet thrive in a forest.’

‘You had better not tell anyone your name. Lady Mithara knows, but your clan is not popular here.’

‘I like to think I am not a fool.’ Nikeya motioned to her own hair, which now fell just past her chin. ‘Observe my cunning disguise. Do I not look provincial?’

Before she could stop herself, Dumai reached out to brush it behind her ear, lingering on her jaw for a moment.

‘Make sure this face is convincing,’ she said, very softly. ‘So you can stay at my side.’

Nikeya nodded, reservation clouding her face.

‘There is another reason I came. I have a proposal that may help us protect Seiiki,’ she said. ‘And I must keep the promise I made in the North. I must tell you the truth, as best I know it – about our families, and the reason they are intertwined.’

From one look, Dumai knew that what she was about to learn would shake her world to its foundations.

‘Not here,’ she said. ‘I know a safer place to speak.’

****

Rituyka believed the forest was haunted by those whose remains had not reached the sea. Like many from the region, he refused to leave the camp after dusk. Dumai lacked his fear, but night did bestrange the stillness beyond, where the silence was so deep and empty not even the wind could break it. She walked between the towering pines, a lantern held in front of her.

Perhaps her father lingered here, waiting for her to redress his murder.

Kanifa would not be among these ghosts. He had lost his life a long way from their island. She prayed her friend was content with his fate, his spirit rooted to a mountain – but sometimes, when her courage failed, she wished he would find his way back to her.

Snow pattered from the branches, which grew dense as a roof, so they could hardly see the sky. Nikeya carried the other lantern, dressed in borrowed clothes and deerskin boots that were too big for her.

‘I’m not sure I like that I have no idea what you’re plotting. No wonder I had to leave the palace,’ she said drily, stepping wide across a log. ‘I must be losing my flair for intrigue.’

Her voice broke the smothering quiet, nerving Dumai to use her own. ‘Your place was once at court,’ she said. ‘Mine was on the mountain.’ She searched for the next marker, a branch twisted into an arch. ‘A forest is new ground for both of us.’

‘If we lose our way, the ground is exactly where we are heading.’

‘I have yet to lead you astray.’ Dumai held out a hand, helping her over a fallen tree. ‘I’ll show you how to forage soon. In return, you could help me improve my archery.’

‘At least I bring one useful skill.’

They climbed a rugged cliff that carved a rare gap through the canopy. A hot spring pooled a short way up, overhung by a snowy branch, and Dumai placed her lantern beside it.

‘No one should overhear us here.’

‘Or see us.’ Nikeya looked back at the trees. ‘We didn’t have to go nearly so far.’

‘I’m told these waters are healing. You’re still weak.’ Dumai sat beside the hot spring. ‘And you did say you hated the cold.’

‘How thoughtful.’ Nikeya gave her a smile. ‘Will you join me this time?’

Dumai raised a faint smile of her own. ‘I like the cold.’

‘You’re learning.’ Nikeya held her pelt close, mischief in her eyes. ‘Perhaps I feel shy this evening.’

‘I can always turn away.’

‘No.’

The silence closed in again. Trapped by it, Dumai was all too aware of her heart, thick and slow.

Nikeya loosened the sash at her waist. One by one, her layers rustled to the ground, until she stood naked, barely lit by their two lanterns. Dumai kept her eyes on her face.

‘You can look at me,’ Nikeya said softly. ‘I want you to.’

‘I am looking at you.’

A small smile touched her lips again. ‘I love that you’ve never mentioned my beauty. I was taught to wield it without mercy,’ she said. ‘It is the first thing people see. It is what they remember.’ She glanced down, arms crossed over herself. ‘Beauty requires no talent.’

‘Sharpening it to your benefit does,’ Dumai said, ‘but that is not how you won me over.’

‘What did?’

‘Everything else, in the end.’ Dumai held her gaze. ‘You don’t have to share your secrets, Nikeya. The conflict between our families, the regencies – they matter less now than they did before. It took me a long time to trust you, but I do. I trust that you want to stand at my side.’

‘Our world floats on secrets, as I told you once. I want you to know all of mine.’

Nikeya waded into the warmth and sank under. She surfaced with a deep sigh of relief, scraping her short hair away from her face. Dumai glimpsed several cuts and grazes, and a swathe of faded bruising on her shoulder. She had fought hard to reach this place.

Once Nikeya had washed off the last dirt and soot, she came to rest her elbows on the side.

‘There is a legend in my clan. About our origins,’ she said. ‘A secret told to certain heirs. Before we saved your dynasty, one of our ancestors served the Mulberry Queen. Do you know her story?’

‘The bones of it,’ Dumai said. The name raised bird skin on her arms. ‘They tell it in the camp.’

‘She was a poor woman who discovered an island in the Unending Sea. A mulberry tree grew there, and it gave her a remarkable gift. She could make fire without spark or tinder,’ Nikeya said. ‘At first, she was alone on her green island, Komoridu. Over time, others flocked to her shores, for she welcomed those who were needy and outcast.

‘But when her tree finally died, so, too, did her will to live. By then, she is said to have drawn breath for centuries. She sent her loyal subjects away. Though her queendom had withered, she wanted the best for its people, most of whom had come from Seiiki. She asked my ancestor to infiltrate the nobility, to maintain the balance between two forces.’

Dumai thought back to the chart, in the chamber of life.

‘Yes,’ Nikeya said, reading her face. ‘What we learned from Master Kiprun fits exactly with all this. You see, before the tree died, my ancestor was permitted to eat its fruit, and take its fire into herself.’

‘How were you to keep this balance?’

‘You’re clever, Dumai. Think on it. The stars run in your family, as fire runs in mine. Our bell should be gold, really – like flame and sunlight – and your fish should be silver.’

Two years ago, Dumai might not have believed any of this. Now it made a certain sense.

‘Your line once had formidable powers. Empress Mokwo could make storms and inflict dreams on her enemies – even bend the waters of the mind, draining out the will. The Kuposa were meant to temper that unearthly power,’ Nikeya said. ‘We lost our fire, but a residue still runs like oil in our blood. We only lack the tree to rekindle it.’

‘Your father does not seek mere balance, does he?’

‘No. Like his recent ancestors, he sought to control and dominate the Noziken, taking his chance while the gods slept. Instead of advising your relatives, he preferred to steal their authority.’

‘You are different.’

‘I like to think so.’ Nikeya lowered her gaze. ‘I wasn’t. My mother tried to keep me kind and devout, but when she died, my father shaped me into his agent, the silver needle that embroiders his world. I took quickly to intrigue. I always strove to impress him, so I went to spy on your grandmother – he liked to stay abreast of what the Noziken were doing. When I saw your face at the temple, I rode to warn him, but your father got to you first. One of my rare failures.

‘Then you were at court, and you had Furtia. My father claimed you would bring chaos, and that I must rule you, for the sake of everything we held dear. Your magic is awake; ours is not. That threatened his sense of security. For a year, I was torn between loyalties.’

‘That’s why you insisted on flying with me,’ Dumai said. ‘You wanted to see who I was.’

Nikeya nodded.

‘I never expected to like you so much,’ she said. ‘I have played with many hearts, but with you, it was all too real. For the first time in years, I nurtured a wish of my own. A wish that lived beyond his shadow.’ She looked up at Dumai. ‘I would have explained it all sooner, but I didn’t think you would believe me. I have no fire, no real proof.’

‘Then how do you know this is true?’

‘I don’t. These are ancient hearth tales, and all clans like to give themselves impressive origins. But my father believes it.’ Nikeya paused. ‘And I can resist the red sickness.’

‘What?’

‘I helped a dying woman on the road. I took her hand before I realised it was red. Mine never changed.’ Nikeya showed her. ‘The wyrms breathe fire. It seems they cannot sicken me.’

The quiet deepened again, broken by the lap of water and a nightingale. Dumai circled a thumb over her own palm, where the white light had risen. Her vivid dreaming, the gods’ voices – they were only the first steps on a long path to grasping all she could do.

What she still failed to understand was why these abilities had appeared in her, and not her father or grandmother.

‘You told me you had a proposal,’ she said.

‘I’m afraid to say.’

‘Why?’

‘Because even letting it pass my lips could shake your trust in me, and I can’t bear that, Dumai.’

‘No. You can speak your mind.’

Nikeya seemed to weigh her sincerity. Dumai watched her throat working, her chest rising with breath.

‘Join me first,’ she said. ‘I want to hold you as I say it.’

Dumai glanced away. She had bathed in front of others many times, including Nikeya, but this was different. Taking off her gloves, she undid the clasp of her hunting coat.

The hot water took the chill from her skin. Nikeya drew her close. She kissed her fingers, lingering on the remnants, and Dumai shivered at the intimacy of it. After so much hardship and mistrust, there was nothing between them.

‘Heat and water,’ Nikeya said. ‘A little of both of us.’ She looked up at Dumai. ‘In the North, you reminded me that I was not your consort. What if I was?’

Dumai just kept from embracing her. Even one movement could fracture this dream.

‘My father would see it as a victory,’ Nikeya said. ‘He would think he had won – that I had succeeded in sculpting you into our grip. In secret, you and I would be a true partnership. Together, we could chisel away his influence. You have the love of three clans, at least, and I have the Nadama, through my mother. We might still balance the court, Dumai.’

Her hands slid down, taking Dumai by the hips.

‘If I were to be empress,’ Dumai said in a whisper, ‘I would need an heir of my own.’

A picture came, unbidden, of a stranger crushing into her. Her body taken over, laden, stretching and filling beyond her control, growing a seed that unfurled in the darkness. She knew that bringing it into the light would rip a deep scar through her mind, even if she recovered in body. It would all pull so hard on her line that it broke her, leaving her to sink. She had known for many years that she would not do it by choice.

‘Dumai.’

Nikeya pressed their damp foreheads together. Her face, her voice, banished the picture.

‘There is another way,’ she said. ‘Suzumai is your sister and my cousin. We could make her strong and brave, bolster the rest of your family – and you and I could rule as the Mulberry Queen would have wanted, with the people as our guide. All we need do is trust one another.’

Dumai touched her then – just barely, with her fingertips, stroking along her jaw. Nikeya watched her with aching, restrained hope.

‘It’s a good idea. It could work,’ Dumai said, and realised it was true. The relief was enough to bring a smile back to her lips. ‘We must wait for the comet, but . . . I will think on it.’

Nikeya framed her face. ‘I will think on it, too,’ she said, almost too soft to hear. ‘I will think of being yours.’ Their noses brushed. ‘I will think of having you in my arms every night.’

Dumai could hardly think at all. Her heart was beating at her breastbone. When Nikeya kissed her, all else faded into the dark, even the rock beneath them.

She was soaring.

Nikeya walked them farther into the spring. Dumai hitched her into her arms, feeling a tireless pull between her thighs, a call to draw Nikeya close. (No, she reminded herself, drunk with need. No, I am the one at the end of the hook.) Nikeya grasped her hair, and the strength of her touch was a confirmation.

The spring washed around their waists, reaching their shoulders. Dumai longed to touch her as the water did, covering all of her, all at once. Nikeya sighed into her neck. Even wordless, desire lay thick on her voice, and Dumai imagined her in bed – their bed, for a ruler and consort. A bed that was also a harbour. The thought pushed away the other picture, made her deepen the kiss. They lost their footing, and Nikeya laughed against her lips. It had been so long since she had heard a laugh like that, sweet and carefree.

Somehow, they reached the shore, and Dumai laid her on their clothes. Nikeya gazed up at her, the love so clear in her eyes that Dumai wondered how she had ever missed it.

‘I had a dream,’ Nikeya whispered, ‘that you were still a godsinger, and I was your shrine.’

I had the same dream, Dumai wanted to say, but her throat was dry from wanting. Instead, she spoke with touch. She cradled a breast as if it were sacred, a river pearl in the shell of her palm. Nikeya pressed her close, one hand on her shoulder and the other on her waist.

Time lost all boundaries, all meaning. Dumai had never done this, except in sweet and secret dreams, but Nikeya was the silver moon that told her where to go. The undertows of her body, her small and tender sounds, her limbs – those were the only guides Dumai needed. She watched pleasure wash over her, break on her, and it was a sight more breathtaking than dawn on Mount Ipyeda. Dumai kissed her once more, and though she had never bathed in the sea, she knew how the waves would taste in her mouth.

Dumai smoothed a strand of hair from her brow. Nikeya smiled, her eyes sparkling in their old way. She draped a leg across Dumai, tipping her on to her back, and sat across her hips, hand sliding low, the touch a startling promise. With the other, she interlocked their fingers.

‘Do you trust me?’

Her voice was soft as evening prayer.

‘Yes,’ Dumai told her. ‘I trust you now.’

Nikeya lifted their twined fingers to her cheek. These might be the very last days of the world – they had no time to waste on waiting. Nikeya captured her lips once more, and there was nothing else.

She drowned in the ruthless sea of Nikeya, and she longed for the whole burning world to drown with her.