Chapter XXII – Sayan

Chinor saw the dark shape lying among the rubble, already partially covered by sand. He hastened the camel down the dune and leapt to the ground.

“Is she alive?” came a voice behind him.

Atilay Qam landed softly as he dismounted.

Chinor crouched down, anxiety building. He pushed aside the thick folds of fabric to expose the woman’s neck and lay two fingers against it.

He breathed a sigh of relief.

“She’s not well,” he said, rising once more. “But she’s alive.”

The Qam nudged her with the toe of his boot. “She wouldn’t be for long, I’ll warrant. She’s fortunate she made it to Özgünyaylaq. If we’d had to search for her out in the desert, she’d like as not be covered by sand before ever we happened upon her. Even with our eyes in the sky.”

He raised his gauntleted arm and with a shrill cry, a falcon descended and landed. The Qam stroked the bird’s head and it closed its eyes appreciatively.

A lifetime of respectful etiquette was the only thing that maintained the calm in Chinor’s voice, when he next spoke. “Mallam,” he said, forcing out the honorific, “Surely it would have been luckier not to have been sent out here in the first place?”

Atilay looked away from the bird. “You do not understand, do you, lad?”

Chinor shook his head.

“Her journey here will have been hard on her, and yes, there was a risk that she would not survive, but she when she wakes, she will understand far more about herself and this Cosmos in which she lives.”

Chinor did not understand very much more, but he resigned himself to trust the Qam, as ever he had.

The Qam grinned. “And how well do you think she would fare with Cousin Sayan if she arrived untested?”

“This is true,” conceded Chinor. “What of the other one? He has surely set out after her.”

The Qam laughed. “Well, we will see if he truly has the approval of the Učarmaz.”

Chinor looked back over his shoulder, towards the dunes. Above them he could see the gargantuan buildings of Karbaliq rising.

“We did not see him on the way,” said Chinor. “Perhaps he is lost.”

Atilay nodded, untroubled. “Perhaps he is.”

“You are not concerned by that possibility… Mallam?”

Atilay smiled. “If we place a hand on the scale, we have not truly weighed anything.”

Chinor sighed. He would never win any debate with the Qam. He looked back at Mu’s prone figure. Even in unconsciousness he could see the hardship she had endured written upon her face.

There was a shrill cry, a flapping of wings.

Chinor felt a hand upon his shoulder. “Come, lad, we will need to fasten her upon the beasts if she is to make it to Cousin Sayan.”

Chinor nodded, and the two of them hastened to work.

Nova scampered back from the projection.

“You’re seeing this too, right?” she yelled to Seraphina.

Seraphina clicked her fingers and her grimoire vanished in a flurry of amethyst sparkles. She calmly walked over and peered more closely at the projection.

“This does seem to be an unusual character,” she said. “I have not encountered them before.”

“It’s ‘cause it’s the ghost,” said Nova.

“This is the spirit that you saw before?” asked Seraphina.

Nova nodded frantically. “Every device I use, it infests. How evil is this thing? Now it wishes to take my otome games? Will it give me no rest?”

“I will investigate and attempt to understand what the spirit wants,” said Seraphina. “Please be calm. As I said previously, I do not believe the spirit to be malevolent.”

Nova glared at the figure. “Just know, Sera, you’ve got a permanent roommate, until this thing is dealt with.”

Nova felt a little like she was being melodramatic, but somehow it felt good, so she didn’t much care. And despite all outward signs she felt much better in Seraphina’s calm, knowledgeable presence. She still didn’t want to look at the ghost though.

Or did she?

She snuck a glance.

It was still there. In the background.

Stupid ghost.

Ruining my gaming.

Can’t a girl even romance fictional ikemen in peace?

Seraphina had taken up the controller. She looked over her shoulder at Nova. “Perhaps while I investigate, you might be best off busying yourself with some work. Take your mind of the ghost.”

“I bet if I do, I’ll be happily cruising along, phishing some company employee for network access, then I’ll suddenly have a ghost pop up,” said Nova.

“I’ll be keeping the ghost busy in here,” said Seraphina, pointing at the game.

“Can it only be in one place at a time?” asked Nova.

“It’s only one ghost,” said Seraphina, as if having to explain the blindingly obvious.

“Well, I don’t know how ghosts work!” exclaimed Nova, throwing up her hands.

“You will be safe for now. If I lose track of it, I shall warn you,” said Seraphina.

“Hrm…” said Nova, squinting her eyes suspiciously. “Okay… but only because I love and trust you, Ser-bear. Don’t let me down.”

“I shall endeavour not to betray your trust,” said Seraphina, as she began clicking through dialogue options.

Nova grabbed her tablet. She’d prefer to work with her main terminal in her room, but she had no intention of spending any time alone in there, so the tablet would have to do for now.

Charlie walked up next to her and looked up. Others would say it was impossible for the lights that served as his eyes to show emotion, but Nova knew better. She knew he was worried.

“It’s okay now, bud,” said Nova, placing a hand on him. “Aunty Sera’s looking after us.”

Her efforts so far to penetrate the company’s files had been unsuccessful, though she still had a few feelers out that would hopefully yield results soon. What she had been more successful in, was getting access to the Yarkan Planetary Government’s internal network. It had been a happy moment, when after being frustrated by the Yarghun Company’s security, she had discovered the Government was using an outdated version of the systems used by Shangxia’s Government. Having already cracked the former, Yarkan was a piece of cake.

Pushing the spectre from her mind, she scrolled through search results. There was an abundance of material on the development at Karbaliq, but nothing that seemed to be particularly relevant to the present mystery. She’d hope the police might be a source of enlightenment, but irritatingly, they appeared to keep case files on a separate, isolated network. With any luck she’d eventually find her way into that, but in the meantime, she figured she’d dig around in the general network.

Scrolling through random search results, the files all stripped of context, was not yielding anything particularly revealing, but she did notice most of them seemed to belong to a particular directory. Maybe checking them out in their natural habitat would be more telling.

Department of Planetary Development and Planning. Click. Major Project Approval Submissions. Click. Tourism Development. Click. Integrated Resort Developments. Click. Historic Black City of Karbaliq – Yarghun Company (Comprehensive IRD Submission). Click.

She kept scrolling. Many of these were documents she’d come across before. Some were not, but few looked interesting. She typed up a little piece of code to intelligently parse through the documentation. A fraction of a second later she was looking at something that just might be promising.

Addendum 7.1 – Site Security Policy Implementation Plan.

Nova clicked it.

Alright Taghay. Let’s see whether or not you’re bullshitting about there being no cameras.

She scoured the table of contents.

Site Monitoring.

Perfect!

She scrolled through the section until she found the site map, showing which areas were monitored, and the locations of cameras. She overlayed this map with the one she’d previously developed.

“Aha!” she shouted. Charlie leapt up and began wagging his tail. Matthias looked about, ruffled his many wings, then once more buried his head in his feathers, going back to sleep on his perch.

Seraphina looked away from the game. “You have discovered something?”

“Sure have!” said Nova, holding out her tablet to show Seraphina.

“What am I looking at?” asked the witch.

“Camera coverage. And see here?” asked Nova, her finger pointing at the murder site.

“It’s a not very good drawing of a face with cross eyes and a tongue sticking out,” said Seraphina.

“That’s the murder site,” said Nova, somewhat indignantly. “But look: two cameras covered it. Taghay wasn’t lying that the whole protected zone wasn’t covered by cameras, but he was lying that there was no coverage of the murder site itself.”

“So, it is like Mr Nyx and Mr Zhang thought?” said Seraphina. “The company is covering up the truth about the murder?”

“Well, they sure ain’t telling the truth,” said Nova.

“We should inform the others,” said Seraphina.

“We should indeed. I just wish I could get into the company’s own network. Footage from these cameras must exist somewhere. And it would crack the whole thing wide open.”

“Hopefully, you will find a way in soon,” said Seraphina.

“Mmm,” said Nova, distractedly, once again staring at the screen of her tablet. “How’s the ghost going?”

“I am yet to establish contact,” said Seraphina, “But I shall continue striving to do so.”

Nova nodded, only half-listening. She began typing out a message to Kal and Ostara.

Better to know you’re being lied to than just suspect you are.

Tavian’s own breath seemed disconcertingly loud in the sand suit. The air, though filtered, was oddly stuffy. All in all, it was not an enjoyable experience. And with the sandstorm starting to die down, he was increasingly considering removing the helmet and taking his chances with the desert air.

He couldn’t say precisely what it was he was expecting when he left the protected zone, but so far, the experience had not been nearly as harrowing as he thought it might be. Chinor had made this out to be a deadly journey without the presence of a Qam; this had not been Tavian’s experience thus far.

Not that it was an everyday experience, by any stretch of the imagination. There were the eerie lights that danced in the distance. There were the occasional whispers on the wind. There were the moments when a side street would appear almost pristine, at stark odds with the rest of the ruins. And most of all there was the veiled woman who appeared at times in the distance, seeming to beckon Tavian to follow her, before vanishing once more.

During all of this, however, Tavian had yet to feel threatened. Not that the Black City was a cheerful place, rather he did not feel malice from it. He felt sorrow. He felt loss. He felt a yearning to be remembered. But not hate. Not anger.

It was as he reached a plaza with a crumbling fountain at its centre, that he decided to finally give up on the helmet and its breathing apparatus. Inexpertly, he removed it and took in a deep breath. It was not the freshest air he’d ever experienced, but nor did it give him the experience of inhaling a sandpit.

He looked around the square. It was not particularly remarkable. He struggled to remember the route he must take. Many streets led away from this place, and if he remembered rightly, only one took him in the direction of Özgünyaylaq. Last time he’d attempted to consult his tablet, he’d discovered it only working intermittently – to the point of being essentially useless. At least three streets led off in approximately the direction he needed to go.

He wondered if Mu had encountered such navigational difficulties.

In the end he settled on the most significant looking of the streets. He figured the road to the gates was likely to be a more important route. Time would tell.

Decision made, he set out again. He had not travelled far when he saw her again – the veiled lady. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing, but regardless, he would stick by his choice having made it.

It proved the correct one.

He reached the open desert after travelling not too much farther. Atop the distant dunes he could see her again.

Is she leading me to Özgünyaylaq?

He struggled over the rise, and looked out upon the small oasis. Beyond, the expanse of the desert stretched out to the far horizon. There was little to see here. After the immensity of the Black City, the remains of this village were far from remarkable. Yet it was here Tavian headed.

And sure enough, she stood there: at the edge of the water, the dark fabric of her robes fluttering in the gentle breeze that now flowed over the placated sands.

As he approached the oasis, things were different. The veiled woman did not vanish this time. She stood still, awaiting his arrival. Though the sun was now shining down brightly upon him, he felt a chill as he came before her.

“You led me here,” he said.

“Because you can help us,” she said in a voice that immediately gave him a sense of calm. It reminded him of someone. Someone from long ago.

He looked at her. There was little to see, but her dark eyes. Every other part of her was covered in cloth. Yet in those eyes there was deep wisdom – deep wisdom, and deep sorrow.

“How can I help?” he asked.

“You come here from far Cáerthand,” she said.

It felt strange to hear the name of his homeworld in such a remote and strange place, but he nodded.

“You have a task, do you not?” asked the veiled lady.

Tavian felt a pang of guilt. “I once did… I don’t know if I have been true to it for a long time.”

“But you learnt my lament,” said the lady.

He attempted a smile. “Always trying to grow the repertoire.”

The lady came closer. “But isn’t that precisely the task you were given? You are a Bard of Anu, are you not?”

He nodded.

“Then your task is simple. You are the Memory of Cosmos. You recall its stories and its songs. You preserve the ancient voices. So that—”

In that instant Tavian remembered the familiar voice speaking the words long ago. He intoned them as he remembered them: “—so that they can one day join Lady Anu’s Chorus.”

Tavian’s whole world was swallowed up in the dark eyes of the veiled lady. “You never forgot your mission, Tavian. But you lost faith in yourself. In your capacity to realise it.”

He breathed in deeply.

The veiled lady began to hum.

But it was not the Lament.

It was another song: one he remembered from a dark basement and a frightful moment. And it seemed, that though the two women were separated by centuries and lightyears their voices merged as one in Tavian’s mind and he remembered being comforted in the dark in a moment of danger.

“How do you…?” he began.

“Your sister lives in you, Tavian. If you believe in her, believe in yourself. She gave you the seeds of the power you will need for what is to come.”

Tavian stepped away from veiled lady and walked to one of the pieces of rubble that protruded through the sand. He sat upon it and took out his mandolin.

“Tell me their names,” he said. “Tell me the names of those who died here.”

And she did.

And as she did, they gathered. A little boy came to watch him, then another, joined by their faithful hound. Their teacher stood by them. Others came.

The veiled lady finished her recital of the names.

Tavian began to play.

This time he could feel the Starflow. This time he reached out to Lady Anu and felt her presence. He played a new song, one of his own making. A song, not of mourning, but of celebration.

When he finished, the veiled lady spoke once more: “The dead in time must make way for the living, but you can help them take flight, knowing their memory endures.”

Zhen Yan sat propped up on plush pillows, comfortably clad in a luxurious bathrobe, courtesy of the Yarghun Grand. Her tails splayed out around her on the immense bed. In one hand she held a glass of red wine, in the other her tablet, surveying the map of Karbaliq it displayed. Who said the hunt could not be pleasurable?

The targets appeared to have spread out. That raised key questions about the order of operations. One of the Amrita crew was right here at the Yarghun Grand, but the main targets appeared to have proceeded to Karbaliq.

What could they possibly want out there?

The town was abuzz with talk of the development there, and with various controversies and incidents at the site – including a murder. No doubt the Amrita crew were tied up somehow. Guns for hire perhaps? Her background research on the vessel certainly suggested the incident on Shangxia was not the first time they’d found themselves in the thick of the action. But the primary targets had only joined the Amrita belatedly.

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Ultimately it didn’t much matter. Big Bai wanted them dead, and was paying to make that happen, so Zhen Yan would kill them. Nothing else mattered beyond any use it might have in locating them.

She took a sip of wine. Her tablet vibrated. Her vulpine ears twitched.

Speak of the devil.

Bai Qiang.

She tapped the screen and a moment later the White Gang leader’s hologram materialised in the air over Zhen Yan’s bed. But he wasn’t alone. Beside him was a man Zhen Yan had never met before, but one she certainly recognised.

“Your Excellency, what a surprise,” she said.

“Miss Zhen, should we give you a moment to make yourself more decent?” asked Big Bai.

“Oh, but I heard His Excellency lost one of his women,” said Zhen Yan, with a smirk, “I thought perhaps he’d enjoy the view.”

She loosened up the robe slightly to give an expanded glimpse of cleavage.

“My apologies, Your Excellency,” said Big Bai, “I assure you, though, as uncouth as she is, she is certainly effective.”

Governor Aixin Yucheng smiled. “Oh, please Mr Bai, I’m no prude. Frankly, if a pretty lady like Miss Zhen wished to be naked for this meeting, it would not perturb me in the slightest.”

Zhen Yan smiled. “Please, Your Excellency, don’t tempt me. I do like to be comfortable. But, may I ask: to what do I owe this pleasure?”

Bai spoke. “His Excellency and I are good friends. We’ve both been caused many problems by the fugitives you’re pursuing. However, His Excellency hears things, even from the Imperial Court.”

“As to be expected of a man of your prestige,” said Zhen Yan.

The Governor smiled smugly.

“You may be aware that the Resonance Bureau was pursuing one of your targets, but that they were called off,” said Bai.

“Yes, I do recall that.”

“Well, as it turns out certain very powerful individuals weren’t all that happy about the agents being called off,” said Bai.

“But you know, Court politics. As a result, the Bureau can’t directly hunt one of the fugitives – Mukushen,” said the Governor.

“So, you want me to take care of it off the books, bring Mukushen to you, you present her to your friends at Court… Am I heading in the right direction?”

“Precisely,” said the Governor, beaming. “Mr Bai was right, you are good.”

Bai interjected, “I appreciate it will require a change to your methods, bringing back Mukushen alive. But don’t fear, you can kill the others.”

Zhen Yan shrugged, “It shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Mr Bai told me you’d be able to do it, no trouble.”

“Of course,” said Zhen Yan, then added, “Of course things become a tiny bit more complicated if I need to bring this Mukushen back alive. I might, for example, encounter additional costs…”

“Not a problem,” said the Governor. “Just let us know what you require. Mr Bai will take care of the financial arrangements. Everything at my end must appear above board, as I’m sure you can appreciate.”

“Of course. Well, in that case, I’ll make the necessary adjustments,” said Zhen Yan. “You’ll be pleased to know I am on-world, and should have the job finalised shortly.”

“Ah, that is excellent,” said the Governor. “Bring her back to Shangxia when you’ve got her.”

“I’m sure your friends at Court will be most impressed that you achieved what the Resonance Bureau could not,” said Bai.

“Can I ask… who exactly is this Mukushen? There’s very little information on her before she reached Shangxia.”

The Governor looked over at Big Bai. Bai nodded. “I wouldn’t hire her if she wasn’t discreet.”

The Governor nodded. “Mukushen is the next Empress of Aixingo.”

“Huh,” said Zhen Yan. It wasn’t the answer she was expecting.

A future Empress.

Fascinating.

“Well, then, that sounds important,” she said. “I best get back to work.”

“Of course,” said Bai, “I trust you’ll have good news for us soon.”

“Thank you very much, Miss Zhen,” said the Governor, “And please: when you return to Shangxia, do drop by in person. It would be a true pleasure to meet you… properly.”

“I look forward to it,” said Zhen Yan. She ended the call.

What a disgusting man, she thought. The things I say and do to keep these bastards on the hook.

She took a sip of wine.

Well, nothing more for it.

Time to go to Karbaliq.

Mu awoke with a pounding headache. Groggily, she opened her eyes, gazing up into a cloth ceiling, through which light dimly filtered, given an orange hue by the fabric. She brought up both her hands to cup her face and groaned. Every part of her hurt. She tried to gather her thoughts, but her mind was a mess. She couldn’t grasp where she was, nor what had happened to bring her here. She could feel her heart beating rapidly, even though she’d just woken.

She felt hot under the covers of the bed and kicked them away to see she was wearing a simple, loose brown dress.

No sooner had she done this than she heard a noise. A young girl poked her head into the tent. Her eyes widened when she saw Mu awake. She darted back out. Mu heard voices outside, speaking in a language she didn’t understand. Moments later, the girl returned, this time entering the tent.

Mu saw she was even younger than she’d first realised, maybe twelve or thirteen. She had dark hair and eyes, and was dressed in an intricately-patterned dress. A silken scarf was wrapped around her neck.

She spoke in a halting fashion, her use of the Imperial Common Tongue heavily accented. “You are awake? Are you well?”

Mu took a shuddering breath. “I have a headache.”

“Headache, headache,” repeated the girl, nodding. “I get someone to help.”

With that she was gone again. Soon an older woman appeared, led by the girl. This woman appeared to speak even less of the Common Tongue, and the girl acted as a translator of sorts, though much of Mu’s interaction with this woman consisted of being given things to drink, and doing so, though she was quite unsure what she was drinking.

Her memories were gradually returning: memories of the harrowing journey across the Black City to Özgünyaylaq. The memories were hazy, but their outline was with her now. Mu realised she must be in a camp of the desert tribes. Someone must have found her.

The woman laid a damp cloth upon Mu’s forehead and said something. The girl translated, “She say you must stay cool. When you are better, Sister Sayan see you.”

Sayan… Sayan…

She knew that name.

Then it came back to her. That was who she had to see. Chinor’s sister. Had she somehow made it? Even without the assistance of the Qam? Despite her sorry state, she felt her mood lift a little. Perhaps now she could finally have some questions answered.

She looked at the old woman. “Is Chinor here?”

She nodded and said something. Mu caught Chinor’s name, and perhaps Sayan’s too, but nothing else. The girl once again stepped in.

“She say Chinor brough you here with Atilay Mallam. She says you must rest first. Then you speak to others.”

Atilay Mallam? Atilay Qam?

She hadn’t made it here without a Qam after all. And he was here – the one who had sent her out to die in the first place.

But she knew one thing: she did not want to rest. She wanted answers. She was finally so close, after all the dead ends in Karbaliq. She sat up.

“No,” said the old woman, the word clear. She pushed Mu gently but firmly back down. “Rest.”

She said something more expansive in what Mu assumed was Jaril. “She say you too sick. You rest.”

Mu saw that she was going to get nowhere. She settled back down on the bed. Every part of her was still burning hot. Even though the dress was a very light fabric, she could feel it sticking to her clammy skin. Nonetheless, the damp cloth upon her forehead and whatever the woman’s ministrations had consisted of, did seem to be having some effect.

She closed her eyes again. “Alright,” she said. “I’ll rest a little while.”

She remembered little after that.

When she awoke, the young girl was back.

“Hello miss, you are well now?”

Mu blinked a few times, staring up at the ceiling. She could tell it was night. A lantern sat on a table by her bed, illuminating the interior of the tent, though it had been turned down low, so the light was soft.

She felt her head. The cloth must have fallen away some time in her sleep, for it was no longer there. She no longer felt so clammy either, and the profound headache she had been enduring earlier was also gone. With the blankets still off her, she almost felt cold in the thin dress, as the warmth of the day made way for the cool desert night.

She sat up.

“I feel much better,” she said. “Thank you.”

The girl smiled. “That is good. I will tell the others. Your clothes are there.” When saying this last part, the girl pointed at a chest at the foot of her bed. On it were some neatly folded clothes.

“Thank you,” she said again and the young girl left.

Mu removed the dress, vaguely wishing she could have a shower. As one didn’t seem to be forthcoming, she dressed hurriedly in the new clothes provided. These consisted of a long-sleeved and high-collared cotton dress that went down to her ankles, covered in many intricate and colourful patterns arranged in vertical bands, alternately floral or geometric designs. The exception to this was the sleeves, which were mostly a burgundy colour, apart from two horizontal patterned bands – one around her upper arm and one on the cuffs. There was also a sleeveless tunic, similarly patterned and open at the front, the two sides tapering in a v to a point at her waist. The final components of the outfit were a wide satin belt that seemed to be clasped with a circular turquoise stone, and a silken headscarf, likewise intricately patterned. The dress and the tunic were simple enough to work out, but Mu found herself struggling to properly fasten the belt and arrange the headscarf. Her hosts – whoever they may be – had also provided her with long stockings and boots to complete the outfit.

As she was dressing, she looked around the tent. Nowhere could she the clothes she’d been wearing during her journey through Karbaliq. She wondered what had become of them.

She had just finished an attempt at the headscarf when the young girl returned. She saw Mu struggling, and with barely a word came to assist her. The outfit complete, Mu slid her feet into the boots, which to her surprise fit perfectly. The girl beckoned for her to follow her from the tent.

“Come, Miss: Sister Sayan and Brother Chinor want to see you,” she said.

“Can I ask your name?”

“I am Erkegul,” said the girl.

“Thank you for helping me, Erkegul.”

The girl beamed. “I am happy to help!”

There were many circular tents arrayed among the dunes – yurts they were called, Mu had read. Various people were walking around among them, and they sometimes stopped to stare as Mu passed, but none spoke to her or Erkegul. As ever was the case when she was wearing anything aside from Aixin court dress, Mu felt vaguely self-conscious, almost as if she were wearing a costume. She had only recently gotten used to the modern casual styles, now common in many parts of the Empire. At least these Yarkanese clothes were more modest than some of those styles.

At length they reached a wide-open area that was surrounded by the largest of the yurts. A huge fire was burning in the centre. At numerous spots around the edges of this central area were totems, most with falcon heads topping them. Apart from geometric patterns, she noticed the totems were frequently adorned with abstracted designs that she assumed were intended to depict the ancient Clanship that had brought the Jaril to Yarkan. The designs were distinct from the totems of the Aixin, but not so different that Mu could not recognise them. Absent from these, though, were the imperial dragon motifs, and the pervasive symbol of Nara Enduri ringed by the Nine Suns of the Shang.

In a circle around the fire, many people sat upon rugs. Mu immediately recognised among their number Atilay Qam, who was deep in conversation with another man – one who sported a similarly long beard, though one not quite as white as that of Atilay. She guessed this must be the Qam of this tribe. She also saw Chinor, seated a short distance away. And next to him was a woman who immediately stood out from the many others.

The woman was maybe in her thirties. She had a powerful presence about her – perhaps this was in part due to her fierce green eyes that sparkled in the dancing light of the flames. She had long brown hair, which mostly fell down her back, apart from two braids which hung at either side of her face, each tied with small ringlets of patterned cloth and adorned at their ends with falcon feathers. She likewise wore long, turquoise-bejewelled earrings, similarly featuring falcon feathers, and sported an intricately patterned hairband, its ends tucked behind each ear. Unlike the bright colours of the dresses of most of the women present, she seemed to wear a plain tan-coloured dress, the only adornments being the intricate patterns in orange and gold around the cuffs and hems. Over this she wore a tunic, typically patterned, but in various shades of browns, oranges, and verdant greens. A silken scarf bunched around her neck and a long, fur cloak was clasped at her shoulders. At the centre of her breast was a large turquoise, below it hung a golden tassel. At her side a spear was driven into the sand. Two falcons – their fierce eyes seeming akin to her own – were her companions.

As Mu knew would happen, it was to this woman that Erkegul led her. The young girl seemed shy, unable to meet the burning emerald gaze of this other woman. Mu understood why, for even though she had stood face to face with Iron-Capped Princes and the Emperor of Aixingo, himself, seldom had she encountered anyone with a gaze quite like this woman.

Erkegul skittered away.

“Mukushen, I take it?” said the woman. Her accent was strong, but her words were clear.

Mu nodded.

“Atilay Mallam!” shouted the woman throwing up an arm, “Your stray is awake.”

Mu saw the Qam glance up. He saw her, and rose from the rug he was sitting on, offering some final words to the other Qam, before coming over.

“I wasn’t sure you would still be with us tonight,” said Atilay, “You were lucky Sayan’s little brother here took such a liking to you. We may never have found you otherwise.”

Mu glanced at Chinor, who looked away. She thought she detected a faint blush there.

“Thank you, Chinor,” she said. He briefly met her eyes, giving a meek smile, before looking away again.

“So,” said the woman, “Mallam, should I trust her now? She did your trial.”

Atilay gave a wide grin accompanied by a chuckle. “Aye, that she did. I think she may be true after all.”

The woman nodded, seemingly taking a moment to consider. Then she stood. Mu only now realised how tall she was – taller than Mu, but taller even than her own brother.

“Well, Aixin, you wished to meet me? Here I am,” said the woman. She put a fist to her chest, placing it over the turquoise. “Sayan Yinalqizi at your service.”

Mu considered replicating the fist on chest gesture, but was unsure of the cultural implications.

“Mukushen of the Hala Mukta,” she said, choosing to omit the Aixin surname. She wasn’t sure how familiar these people were with Imperial customs, but before the empire, the Aixin – or Alabey, as they then were – did not use surnames, only clan or hala names. After the custom of the subjugated Shang, they had adopted surnames after the founding of the empire, but the elites had all collectively taken on the name Aixin. Mu was not yet ready to reveal the proximity of her heritage to the emperor who had ravaged this world.

“Well met,” said Sayan. “Take a seat. Let us talk.”

Chinor moved over to provide a space adjacent to Sayan and Mu did as indicated, seating herself, cross-legged, upon the rug. Sayan’s falcons observed her intently as she did so and they had a knowing quality about them that she’d only once before seen in a bird – Matthias, Seraphina’s familiar. Nearby Atilay Qam also took up a seat. Sayan sat, her pose exuding a distinctly masculine, aggressive energy.

“You survived the Učarmaz,” said Sayan, then added with a laugh, “Atilay Mallam did not think they would take kindly to an Aixin.”

The memories of her experiences in the Black City were far clearer now. She shook her head, “I would not say they were kind… but they could have destroyed me and they didn’t. They had every right too.”

“Are you some self-hating Aixin? Atilay Mallam and Chinor have both told me about your strange attitudes. So strange Mallam did not believe you.”

Mu decided honesty might get her further than any other approach. “In truth I am a princess of the White Horse Banner. Or at least I was. I left the Imperial Court.”

“Do they allow that? Leaving?”

Mu shook her head. “My father has hunted me across the stars.”

Sayan laughed uproariously. “What a terrible daughter! Ah, but do not worry. Perhaps unlike most of your people you retain some of the nomad spirit, hrm?”

“I did not want to live my life in a cage,” said Mu, getting a sense for what appealed to Sayan.

“A falcon amongst the Aixin, eh?”

“I told you this one was strange,” said Atilay Qam.

“Very strange,” agreed Sayan, “I have not met so many Aixin, but I suspect they are not like this.”

Mu thought of the people she had known at the Imperial Court. “Not most, I guess.”

Sayan looked Atilay’s way and smiled, giving a shrug. She fixed Mu with her penetrating gaze. “So, Princess, what questions did you have?”

Mu again settled on a policy of honesty. “I have been travelling on board a starship, the Amrita. Ulduz Yarghunqizi hired us to investigate the murder of Su Bolin at Karbaliq. Toghrul—”

Sayan held up her hand. “I know the story well. Ask your questions.”

Mu nodded. “Ulduz thinks Toghrul is innocent. I was wondering if you had a view on that matter and—”

“He is innocent,” said Sayan, her tone now firm, her smile gone.

“Do you have any evidence of that? Something we could—”

“What would evidence mean? They don’t have evidence that Toghrul was guilty. They don’t because they can’t. Such evidence does not exist. But that man—his brother, Taghay—he wants Toghrul gone, so Toghrul will take the blame. They will kill him.”

“They will not believe evidence from you, it’s true,” said Mu, trying a different tack, “But if we can get something compelling to Ulduz… well, she’s Taghay’s sister.”

“I am certain Taghay does not believe Toghrul committed the murder, but he is still willing to see his brother die for that crime. You think a man who will slay his little brother will be swayed by his sister?”

“I think with the right evidence, Ulduz can make it impossible for the authorities to pretend to have a case,” said Mu. She still remembered Mingxia’s accusations of naïveté, and was determined to avoid such perceptions now.

“What would work? Footage of the crime? No such footage exists and if it did… they would say it is doctored,” said Sayan.

“It would be a start… but what makes you so certain that no footage exists?”

“Because if it did, they would have destroyed it by now,” said Sayan. “Maybe there was footage. There isn’t now. I can guarantee that.”

Mu felt a knot of frustration forming. She was starting to see why Ulduz considered this a ten million tael job. “You want Toghrul to be freed, though?” she said.

“Of course,” said Sayan.

“You think he is important?” asked Mu.

For a moment Sayan had a surprisingly introspective expression. “Toghrul had big ideas. Big plans. He was a true champion of this world. He could have been its saviour.”

“You speak of him like he is already dead,” said Mu.

“He may as well be,” said Sayan, and Mu thought she detected a note of frustration in the other woman’s voice also.

“That’s what Ulduz hired us to avoid.”

Sayan leant towards Mu. “Believe me, if I could, I would save him. But I can’t. And, even in death, Toghrul will pursue his mission. If he must be a martyr for this new world, so be it.”

“Is it not worth trying?” asked Mu. “Should you not keep fighting, keep striving?”

Mu saw something spark within Sayan. “Are you accusing me of cowardice, Aixin?”

Mu felt the ferocity bearing down on her. She shook her head rigorously. “Of course not.”

“Toghrul is important to me for many reasons,” said Sayan. “If I believed he could be saved from this fate, I would wade through lakes of blood and burn Yengishahr to the ground to do so. But I think Toghrul has accepted his fate, so I must too.”

She paused a moment.

Then she shouted out. “Erkegul!”

From somewhere nearby, the young girl who had escorted Mu, appeared again.

“Come,” said Sayan, and the girl walked over to her. “Sit.”

Erkegul took a seat next to Sayan, who placed an arm around her.

“There is another reason Toghrul is important to me. Not merely to this world, or to our people: to me. Erkegul is our daughter.”

Mu hadn’t been expecting that.

“So, Princess, do not doubt my commitment to Toghrul.”

Mu was unsure what to say to that.

“You stumped her, Cousin Sayan,” said Atilay with a laugh.

Sayan ruffled Erkegul’s hair. After she withdrew her hand, Erkegul set to straightening it out again.

“What I am curious about, though,” said Sayan, “Is why you are so committed. Is it truly just the money Ulduz has promised you? Did you endure near certain death to come here on the off chance I might be able to give you a lead?”

In truth Mu wasn’t sure herself. She had a potent need to make things right – as right as ever they could be – but she didn’t know why she was so certain that this was the way to pursue that. “I—” she began hesitantly, “I sense that something important is happening here. In truth, I don’t really know what, but if I can play a role—”

“Guilt is powerful, isn’t it, Aixin?” said Sayan. “Well, some might mock you for that. What is done is done, cannot be undone. But I guess it is a noble sentiment. Still, you risk your life for a mere hunch?”

Mu looked away, into the dancing flames of the fire. She considered, then turned back. “Perhaps you can help me understand?”

Sayan smiled. “You are open to learning. Surprisingly humble for a princess of the Aixin.”

“The Učarmaz have shown me much of what my ancestors did here,” said Mu.

“Naturally. The centuries have mounted up, and they’ve been forever trapped between life and death, unable to take flight into the Cosmos. Your people could have left us be. Even in defeat, this world could have simply been occupied. But no. Your Emperor chose to make an example of us, to demonstrate his accursed power. So yes, the Učarmaz are angry.”

“That much, I understand,” said Mu. “But what… what of this conflict between brothers? What is it Toghrul believes he can do? Why would the development at Karbaliq be so terrible… what is it about this disagreement that is worth killing and dying for?”

“You don’t know yourself why you risked your life to wade deeper in,” said Sayan, “Yet here you are, asking us why we are passionate about defending our history? What little is left to us?”

Mu chose her words carefully. “I don’t mean to minimise that… but there is something else, isn’t there?”

Sayan looked over at Atilay Qam. “There are some like Atilay Mallam who might disagree with me and Toghrul on this, but what do you think happens to the dead of Yarkan when we drive them forever from Karbaliq, with these ARCs that Taghay says he will bring?”

“The desert is vast,” said the Qam.

“But will Taghay stop? Will the Empire? In many ways Yarkan was never truly conquered. Yengishahr is part of the Empire, but out here? Sure, we must stick together and travel with our Qamlar if we are to be spared the Tempest and anguish of the Učarmaz, but that was ever our way of life, even before the Theophany. In many ways, out here we are free. But if Yengishahr is not, if it is truly conquered, then that is the case because of the ARCs. When Taghay spreads that to Karbaliq, that will not be the end of it. And what happens when the dead have nowhere left to go? The ruins of Karbaliq are not merely a physical monument to our history. The Učarmaz are a spiritual monument. They will not finally be able to take flight simply because we free Yarkan from the Tempest.”

Mu listened intently. “Is there no alternative to this way of things?”

Sayan shook her head. “That is not what Toghrul wanted. Taghay—ha!—even Atilay Mallam, here, they think that is what he wanted, to just accept our lot, but no. Toghrul dreamt of embracing our past, of working to truly let the Učarmaz fly and end the Tempest.”

She paused. Her tone shifted. “Do you know much of science? What happens when you compress a gas? For a while you can do it. The pressure builds, but the gas can be stowed in a smaller and smaller space. But that cannot go on forever. Eventually, it will explode. If we build more and more ARCs, if ever more of the surface becomes ‘protected zones’, then one day we will have compressed the Učarmaz so much that there will be an explosion. What does that look like? I do not know, but I do not think it is something we want to see.

“Toghrul wants a brighter future, but it requires patience, understanding… respect for history, for the dead. Taghay brings none of that. There is a future for Yarkan – one brighter than its past or present: no one disagrees on this. But we disagree – profoundly – on what road we must travel to reach that future.”

Sayan sat back, folding her arms. She was quiet a moment. “I get that you came here hoping for answers. I cannot help you with that. I cannot save Toghrul. But if you seek to understand what compelled you to come here, to endure so much, go back to the yurt. Think a little on what I have said. Perhaps the answers you truly seek will become clearer to you.”

Mu sensed this conversation was drawing to an end. She stood. “Thank you for your time,” she said.

Sayan gave little more of a nod in response. Mu smiled at her, then at Atilay Qam. She began to walk away, back the way she had come, when she heard footsteps behind her.

Chinor was there. “You know she wasn’t happy that Atilay Mallam and I brought you here.”

“She seemed happy enough to talk,” said Mu, “I get the sense she wouldn’t be shy in sending me away if that’s what she wanted.”

Chinor nodded. “I… I think… She knows more than she is letting on, but I think she has her reasons for not speaking.”

“Is there something you can tell me?” asked Mu.

They were now away from the gathering area, back among the maze of yurts.

“I won’t betray her trust… but there are things I don’t understand about what she’s doing. I think maybe you can get answers on that,” said Chinor.

“You’re being very cryptic,” said Mu, “But – and I don’t mean to be rude here – I’m getting a lot of that. She spoke plenty about Toghrul’s big plans, but she never really said what they were?”

Chinor visibly swallowed. “I mean it when I say I won’t betray her trust. I think she should tell you things. I will even talk to her on your behalf… but it will be up to her to tell you.”

A pause.

“But Toghrul, I honestly don’t know what he planned. He had an inner circle. I went and worked with the company at Karbaliq, so obviously I was excluded, but I got the sense he had a big plan. Something specific. He was always searching archaeological sites for things, delving into the histories, the old stories. He would seek out Qamlar who said they could commune with the Učarmaz. I’m certain Sayan knows what that plan was—is… but I couldn’t tell you.”

Mu considered. “Are they married? Her and Toghrul?”

Chinor shook his head. “Sayan is not like most girls of the tribes who marry young. She never married. Toghrul was—is—an outsider, someone whose family moved to Yengishahr and lost touch with the old ways, so it would be unusual for a girl of the tribes to marry him anyways… but they were certainly close.”

“Even her brother doesn’t know?” asked Mu.

“She doesn’t talk about personal matters much,” said Chinor, “I was surprised she said as much as she did to you.”

Mu laughed. “I can see that. Not one for girly gossip, I’m thinking. She certainly strikes me as a tough one.”

“She is strong,” said Chinor, “Stronger than I could ever be.”

“She seems so willing, or at least so resigned to Toghrul’s fate,” said Mu.

“That’s kind of the way she is… but it’s also Toghrul’s influence,” said Chinor. “Our histories are full of tales of leaders – even the Khagans themselves – making sacrifices for their tribe, their people. Toghrul… well, his family, they have the blood of the Khagans in them. Toghrul takes that seriously. I think he thinks it is his duty to sacrifice everything for this planet if necessary… or at least for what he thinks is necessary.”

“You’re not so sure that it’s necessary?” asked Mu.

Chinor shrugged. “I don’t know. Toghrul, Sayan… they’re much wiser than me. But then so is Atilay Qam, and he is not so convinced. Who knows…”

As they’d been talking, they had reached the yurt Mu had awoken in earlier. Chinor stopped.

“I will leave you here,” he said. He clearly wanted to say more.

“What is it?”

“I want to help you. I know he probably thinks I’m a traitor for going and working at Karbaliq… but I like Toghrul. I don’t want him to die. I want you to succeed.”

“Thank you, Chinor,” said Mu. “And thank you for saving me. I wouldn’t be here without you.”

Chinor blushed. “It was the right thing to do.”

A silence grew between them.

Mu broke it. “I… have a lot to think about. And I’m still not feeling the best. Goodnight, Chinor.”

“Goodnight… Mu-Mukushen,” he said. With an awkward smile he began walking away. Then he turned, “You should eat. I’ll make sure someone brings you some food.”

“Oh, thank you,” said Mu. This time he left and she made her way inside the yurt, removing her boots at the entrance.

Barely a moment passed before she heard a rustling, then Erkegul’s face appeared. “I brought some food,” she said.

She handed Mu a plate with a variety of mostly unfamiliar items. Rice. Some sort of stewed meat. Dates. Mu thanked her.

“You try to save my Dad,” said the girl.

Mu was surprised a moment. “I am.”

“He did not kill that man,” said the girl.

“I don’t think so either,” said Mu.

“The man… the one who died. Mum and Dad - they friends with him, he come to the camp a lot.”

“He did?” asked Mu, shocked. “Are you sure? Su Bolin?”

The girl nodded fervently. “That was his name. Yes. He help Dad with his plans.”

Mu’s mind was racing. “But he worked for the company…”

“Lots of people pretend they work for company,” said the girl, “Like Mr Su, or Uncle Chinor.”