Chapter 13
Zaidna
The Empire of Judath
The City of Marin
Kirin frowned unhappily as she reached the warden headquarters. The building looked the same as always, large and white, with the plaster at its foundation flaking away with age. Hardly welcoming. She slowly stepped down the ten wide steps that led to the entrance, then pushed open the heavy wooden doors to make her way inside.
She immediately snorted the air from her nostrils. This place always stunk of sweat. Whoever had built this building hadn’t thought to add any windows, leaving a permanent muggy haze hanging in the air, tempered only slightly by the flames of the oil lamps that lined the walls at a constant low burn. She hated coming here, but she hardly ever found her father home, especially when she needed to talk to him.
To her immediate right sat a dozen prisoners of various high and lesser races on a series of long wooden benches. Their hands and ankles were bound together with glyphed iron shackles. They were likely detainees awaiting their “delinquent management,” as her father liked to put it. Several large, muscular wardens stood guard over them, while others were stomping around on both the main and second floors. Other much smaller men—clerks, no doubt—scurried back and forth across the arcades above, paperwork in hand.
Kirin passed the staring but silent prisoners only to stop short when she saw her father approaching, surrounded by an entourage of wardens. They wore the formal, high-collared red coats that were reserved for special events. What was happening today?
Kirin’s father, Entav, was an absolute giant of a man, standing taller than his fellows by at least a head. He wore a distracted frown across his jaw, the skin of which looked like leather that had been dragged behind a naru for too long. He seemed more irritated than usual, but it was hard to gauge his mood due to the beaded bandana folded over his ruined left eye.
“Uh, Father?” Kirin smiled pleasantly and waved as Entav and his men approached, but he did not acknowledge her. His remaining amber-colored eye was fixed on the ledger he was reading. Still, he must have heard her, for he halted in his advance, his troop also halting in perfect unison.
“Hello, Kirin!” called one of her father’s men.
Kirin smiled up at the handsome young officer, a blush creeping up her neck. “It’s nice to see you again, Lieutenant.”
“How are your studies?”
Entav abruptly flipped over his ledger and slapped it against the lieutenant’s chest, eliciting a yelp of surprise. “Stop harassing my daughter or I’ll cut off your dick and feed it to my naru.”
The lieutenant caught the ledger, turned green, and immediately shrank away from Kirin, disappearing to the back of Entav’s entourage. The other wardens snickered loudly.
“Father!” Kirin cried out, mortified. Why did he insist on threatening any man who showed even the politest interest in her?
“What are you doing here, Sweetie?” Entav folded his bulky arms over his barrel of a chest. “You know I don’t like it when you come to headquarters. There are too many thieving rogues hanging around who’d love to take advantage of you.”
Kirin scoffed. “You really think anyone would hurt me with all these wardens running around everywhere?”
“Hah! It’s my men I’m concerned about, like Lieutenant ‘Future-No-Dick’ back there.” Entav jammed his thumb behind him in the direction the lieutenant had fled.
“Must you use that kind of language around me, Father?” Kirin groaned.
“Don’t be so serious.” Entav reached out and gave Kirin a firm pat on the head, which she accepted with great irritation.
“Listen, I really need to have a word with you . . . in private.”
Entav’s smile wavered. “You’d better not be pregnant.”
Kirin flushed. “Of course I’m not pregnant, Father! How would I have the time to manage that?”
“All it takes is one priest taking advantage of you,” he persisted.
“The priests are eunuchs!”
“Oh, right,” Entav conceded. “I guess that’s why they don’t sing the low parts. One less thing for me to worry about!” He patted her on the head again, ignoring her growls. “Anyway, if it’s not important, can this little chat wait? I have a meeting scheduled with the emperor.”
Kirin blinked. An audience with the emperor? No wonder they were dressed so formally. “But it’ll only take five minutes. This is sort of important. It’s about my schooling.”
Entav rubbed at his chin a moment. “Eh, I can’t say no to you. But I don’t have time to stick around here. If it’s that important, you can tag along and talk to me on the way.”
Kirin nodded eagerly. She was going to the palace!
“Come on, then,” Entav urged as he and his men strolled toward the exit.
Kirin hurried after, following him outside and into the covered stables. Several large, scaly narus were already saddled and awaiting the wardens, who marched over and mounted them with ease. Once settled atop the largest beast, Entav grasped one of the naru’s horns with one hand and reached down with the other to pull Kirin up and behind him. She shifted on the back edge of the saddle until her meddlesome skirt folded modestly around her thighs.
As Entav kicked his spurs into the naru’s flanks, it lurched forward, starting their lumbering procession. They took an immediate left and made their way onto Marin’s most central, brick-paved avenue, which spanned across the entirety of the city straight down the middle. Almost at once, the familiar smells, sounds, and colors of Marin flooded Kirin’s senses. The road was lined with street vendors, who peddled a variety of wares, ranging from steamed snacks to imported silks and baubles from Chalei. It was characteristically congested for this time of day, bustling with people, narus, and wagons carrying produce.
The wardens’ movement was slow at first, fighting upstream through the throng, but soon the men began to shout down at the crowds, and those who heard made way. Their path eased, and they neared the western gates in relatively short order.
“Hey, did you remember to bring my reports?” Entav asked his second-in-command. When the officer gave the satchel he wore a firm pat, Entav nodded sharply. “Good. Let’s hope this meeting goes better than last quarter’s. At least we haven’t had any raids this time around. I hear from Chalei that they had something like two or three raids in the last season alone. Those dalanais must have really pissed off some padus.” He slowed his naru and nodded to the warden stationed at the city gates, then picked up the pace as they exited the city.
Not too soon after, Kirin felt a rush of anxiety as the Goddess Forest rose into view. At this distance, it was barely a glimmer of brightness against the horizon, but she still shielded the left side of her face to avoid looking at it. The real Goddess Forest wasn’t like the one within her dream, but it was still unnerving.
“Father,” Kirin blurted out. “I want to stop my pre-seminary schooling.”
“Whoa!” Entav pulled back on the reins of his naru. The beast made an angry warbling sound as it skidded to a halt. “What—why for?” he demanded. The other wardens slowed or reined in their narus as well.
Kirin began gnawing unhappily on her thumbnail. This wasn’t quite the way she had envisioned this conversation going. She really wanted to tell him about her nightmares, and how she couldn’t tell the priests about them without being banned from seminary, but she had no idea how badly he’d respond.
“Well?” Entav asked expectantly.
“I just don’t want to go anymore,” Kirin said lamely. “The priests expect so much out of me, and I’m studying so hard every day without seeing any improvement. I feel like I don’t have any oil left to burn.”
Entav nodded. “Hey, you boys go on ahead,” he called out. As the officers moved on, he turned to look over his shoulder and pierced Kirin with his eye. “Now that’s a load of sazi scat, and you know it. If you studied half as much as you daydream you’d be at the top of your class. What’s really going on?”
Kirin hung her head. “Everybody wants me to be a candidate—even you—and people like Batem keep telling me that I’ll be the Nassé for sure. But I don’t think I want to go to seminary or become a priestess. I don’t want to be a candidate anymore.”
“Really?” Entav sat thoughtfully for a moment before turning to face forward again. He tapped the naru’s sides with his heels, beginning an intentionally slow trot down the hill toward Bakavoth Palace. “Look, Kirin, if you were a boy this wouldn’t be an issue at all. There’s no way I’d allow you to get castrated. It just so happens that you ended up a girl, and you girls born beneath high houses are too scatterbrained to be suited for a whole lot of other jobs.”
“Thanks,” Kirin mumbled.
“Hey, don’t take it the wrong way! You’re lucky. My house isn’t anything to sniff at, but because I’ve got a penis I don’t get to dream hardly at all.”
Kirin grimaced in disgust, wanting to hear nothing more about her father’s anatomy.
“Besides, I’m not always going to be around to take care of you. Even if you just ended up a priestess, and never became the Nassé, you’d still be well-fed for life. What’s so wrong with that?”
Kirin hesitated. Would it hurt to tell her father the real reason why she didn’t want to return to the temple? He probably couldn’t fix this for her, but it might make her feel better to tell somebody, and she knew she could trust him. “I . . . I had an audience with the Nassé a while back.”
“What? Don’t make up stories!”
“No! It’s true! Being the Nassé isn’t what I thought it would be. She wasn’t what I thought she would be.”
“And what does this have to do with your schooling?”
“The Nassé lives with a bunch of old priestesses and sleeps all day long. It sounds horrible! I don’t want to go to seminary or be a candidate if that’s what might happen to me,” Kirin continued.
“You sleep all the time, already. It’s one of your favorite things.” Entav scowled. “Try again. This time tell me the truth.”
They finally arrived at the gates of the massive palace complex, and Kirin kept her lips sealed. The stationed guards bowed and quickly permitted them entrance, probably having just let the other wardens through. Once past the guards, Kirin whispered, “You can’t tell anyone about this, Father. Do you swear? If I tell you the truth, nobody can know.”
“Well, that sounds serious. Go on. I won’t tell.”
“The Nassé’s been having nightmares. She made me elucidate one of them, and it was awful. There was this woman on an altar, and a priest, and an evil-looking man lurking in the shadows, then the sky just—it just fell. There was glass everywhere, and there was so much blood!” Kirin paused a moment, attempting to shake away the memory. “I don’t know why she made me do it, but ever since then my dreams have gotten a lot worse. I think I’m having nightmares, too!”
Entav flinched visibly.
“I’m really scared! What if the Nassé is sick and I ended up getting sick, too?”
“I don’t know of any diseases that cause nightmares.”
“What else could it be? Our doctrine says candidates have protected sleep. I’m not supposed to have nightmares, ever!”
Entav steered his naru in the direction of the palace stables, where groomsmen were already tending to the other wardens’ mounts. “I hate to break it to you, Sweetie, but our religion isn’t perfect,” he said very quietly. “Your mother was a daughter of the eighth house—she was a candidate and going to be a priestess until I came along—and on very rare occasions she had nightmares. She’d tell me about them if I pried it out of her, but she’d never mention them publicly because she didn’t want to be shunned.”
Kirin gasped, shocked at the revelation. “I never realized!”
Entav shrugged and dismounted the naru. He held out his hands to help Kirin hop down as well. “You were so young, and it wasn’t something she spoke of often,” he remarked, passing the reins to the groomsman.
Kirin followed her father down one of the stone paths leading to the palace. “But if that’s true about Mother, what about other candidates? Have the priests been lying to us all this time?”
“I have no idea. Isn’t it up to you spiritual folks to tell me about that stuff?”
Kirin said nothing as they climbed a set of stairs that led up to one of the palace’s side entrances, where a servant bowed and gestured for them to follow him inside. Kirin’s mind tangled with confusion. Even though she was still just a student, she already knew that there were inconsistencies in her religion. The priests often bickered amongst themselves about little points of doctrine and made declarations and decisions that were quickly overturned or tossed aside almost capriciously. But the principles behind sleep and dreams were foundational to their religion, and if the Nassé was having nightmares, what other core doctrines were tainted?
“How long have you been having these . . . dreams?” Entav asked as they passed beneath an ornate skylight, scattering sunlight across the polished alabaster walls around them.
“I didn’t realize what they were at the time, but since midwinter. They became more vivid after I met the Nassé and have gotten even worse over the last two weeks or so.”
“If they started that long ago I doubt there’s a connection to the Nassé. Besides, two weeks isn’t so bad. I’m guessing you’ve already begun skipping your lessons?”
“I’ve skipped a few.”
Entav shook his head. “That has to stop. Go back to the temple and do your studies like a good girl. And don’t worry so much. Your mother’s—” he glanced at the servant “—issues always resolved themselves in time.”
“But Father, if the priests discover—”
“Don’t whine, Sweetie. Until you’re twenty-one, you have to do what I say. If your problem hasn’t gone away in a few more weeks, we’ll discuss your options.”
Kirin chomped on her lip to hold in her grumblings. He was probably right. If her mother had had nightmares in the past and was able to rid herself of them, surely Kirin could do the same. Maybe all candidates had nightmares like this, and they resolved them in dutiful secrecy. If Kirin could properly interpret the symbols in her nightmare on her own, she would be well again and no one needed to know of her condition.
The servant turned, leading Kirin and her father through an adjacent hallway lined by potted fruit trees down one side and circular windows down the other. After passing through the hall, they veered into a spacious sitting room, where plush-looking settees were positioned atop a large ornamental rug woven in patterns of blue and green. There was a staircase directly to Kirin’s right, with a large portrait of a pretty but serious-looking girl positioned above it. Kirin didn’t know who the girl was but could see she was of high status by the red sun tattooed on her forehead.
When the servant led them through the sitting room past a pair of sliding glass doors, Kirin found herself within a brightly lit solarium, with wide open windows that allowed for a fantastic view of the lake beyond. The floor was lined with red ceramic tiles, while the whole of the ceiling was one gigantic skylight, with lead traceries that curled across panels of framed, clear glass to form the outline of a sun. The wardens, who must have arrived some minutes before, were sitting on a number of wooden lounge chairs and wicker settees, listening uncomfortably to the banter of one of several nobles in the room.
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The chatting immediately stopped as Entav and Kirin entered, and after a momentary pause, there came a cheerful shout. “Ah, you’ve made it!” A man with silvery hair rose from one of the lounge chairs and strode over to Kirin’s father, offering him a firm hug and pat on the back. This had to be Ravad, the emperor of Judath. His resemblance to the girl in the portrait outside was uncanny, and he bore the same imperial crest on his forehead. Why was he being so informal with her father?
“Sun Emperor, it is a pleasure to see you again,” Entav said, bowing low once he was released from their embrace. Self-conscious now, Kirin bowed as well.
The emperor, who wore only a sleeveless blue tunic instead of the fine baubles and robes Kirin would have expected, made a dismissive wave of his hand and moved to sit back down in his lounge chair. “You know I don’t care much for titles, ‘High Chief Toredath.’”
“My apologies, Ravad,” Entav replied, sounding slightly embarrassed.
“Much better. Now, who’s this with you?” Ravad asked, a grin forming beneath his mildly crooked nose. He gestured to Kirin, who gulped down a massive knot of nerves.
“This is my daughter Kirin. Please excuse the imposition; she was in need of my escort,” Entav explained as he took a step away.
“Ah, yes. Kirin Toredath, daughter of the ninth house. I selected this candidate myself.” Ravad held out his arms to Kirin. “Come over here.”
Kirin walked a pace over to Ravad, allowing him to grasp her hands. His palms and fingers were broader than hers, and his skin was brown and warmed by the sun.
Ravad brought her in closer, taking the opportunity to stare at her intently, his irises like a pair of silver discs. He looked like he might be in his early thirties—still quite young by eshtan standards, and he was attractive enough that Kirin couldn’t help but blush. “You must dream often?”
Kirin nodded.
“Good. And does the sleeping sickness affect you?” He began to examine her hands like a physician would.
Kirin flinched, her heart skipping a beat, but then shook her head. Of course he wasn’t referring to her nightmares. Girls born beneath the eighth and ninth houses were skilled but were known to be so overcome by their dreaming that many slept all day, every day, and lived in a stupor while awake. Such girls were considered to have the sleeping sickness and could not function normally, often wasting away and dying early in life. They did not make good candidates, and high priests—even honorary ones from birth like Ravad—weeded them out whenever possible during their evaluations once they came of age. “I doze off now and then when I’m bored. It’s nothing,” she mumbled.
“That’s reasonable. Entav, you have a lovely daughter.” Ravad released her hands and made a sweeping gesture to his right. “Candidate Kirin, allow me to introduce you to my colleagues. These are the western and eastern kings, and this is the western prince.”
Kirin gulped hard before swiveling around and bowing in one inelegant movement. She didn’t know anything about the eastern king, but she definitely knew something of the western king and his family. His children, Anji and Javan, had attended that disastrous lecture at the temple, and Anji, creepily enough, had somehow found her address and sent her an increasing number of invitations for her to visit with them at their summer estate west of the city. Of course, that put their estate in close proximity to the Goddess Forest, which Kirin wanted to avoid at all costs. And had Emperor Ravad said that the western prince was here as well? Kirin forced her eyes open as she rose from her bow. There indeed was Javan, staring back at her with his cinnamon-colored eyes.
“Hello, Kirin. It’s nice to see you again.” Javan nodded his head awkwardly, his spectacles slipping down his nose.
“The two of you have met before?” Ravad asked, arching an eyebrow.
Kirin began feeling waves of antagonism starting to emanate from her father toward Javan. Please don’t make a scene, she begged silently.
“Uh, well, not exactly,” Javan admitted, his face reddening. “Kirin is really more of an acquaintance of Anji’s.”
“Ah, I see,” Ravad murmured thoughtfully. “Unfortunately, we have some classified matters to deal with at the moment. I realize this was to be a learning opportunity for you, Javan, but you will have plenty of opportunities to audit political matters during the summit.” A small smile subtly tugged at his lips. “Please escort Kirin out and keep her company while the wardens and I conduct our business.”
Javan frowned, causing Kirin to worry that he was unhappy at being ordered to serve as her chaperone. He stood and shuffled over to her, offering his arm. Hesitantly, she took it and was surprised to feel firm muscle there.
Without another word, Javan led Kirin out of the solarium, and the doors were shut behind them. Kirin immediately released Javan’s arm and folded her hands together behind her back. This was going to be uncomfortable.
Javan cleared his throat, and she dared herself to glance at him, before looking back to peer through the etched glass of the solarium doors. Her father was now sitting with the other wardens, and all were enjoying cylinders of chilled tea.
“Curious?”
Kirin jumped at Javan’s question. “I . . . I guess a little. My father meets with the emperor every quarter. I’ve always wondered what they do here.”
Javan pushed his spectacles up the bridge of his nose and looked into the solarium as well. “I’m not sure, but my father thinks the high chief will be reporting on the coastal raids today.”
“Really? It’ll be a short meeting, in that case. My father told me that there haven’t been any raids all year long.”
“I’ve heard that, too,” Javan agreed. “It’s never been that big of a problem here, so it’s probably just pirates or something, but it’s supposed to have been really bad in Chalei. I bet Judath will have to send aid. My father thinks the violence will only escalate.”
Kirin looked up at him. “You seem to know a lot about all this.” He wasn’t all that unattractive. With his hair worn loose, he looked nicer today than he had at the temple.
“It’s just a guess. Honestly, I’m clueless. I’ve been away from home for four years, so I feel like I have to relearn everything.”
“Oh, really?” Kirin asked.
Javan nodded. “I spent two years in each of the other empires. They say we do it to help us learn diplomacy among the other races. Truthfully, my time in Xeshun with all those engstaxis was like a stint in Yalet.”
Kirin snorted with laughter. “The engstaxis aren’t very nice, are they?”
“No, not really. Say, do you, er, want to sit down or maybe go for a walk?” Javan suggested. “They’re probably going to be in there for at least an hour—possibly more.”
Kirin hesitated. Her father would be furious if she wandered off alone somewhere with a boy, especially one he hadn’t personally vetted. “Oh, I’m fine waiting here,” she said, moving away from the glass doors to lean against the wall.
“Of course.” Javan stared down at what must have been a particularly fascinating speck of dust on the floor as he settled against the wall quite close to her. “Um, I hope this isn’t too personal, but I was sorry to see you leave so soon way back at the temple. I wanted to tell you how good of a job you did helping that priest.”
Kirin suppressed a scowl. He couldn’t be serious. “Oh, thank you. I’m surprised you remembered me.”
“Certainly. Your drawings were—different.” He paused a moment, as if trying to decide whether he should say what was on his mind. “You know, my sister can’t stop talking about you. It’s a shame she couldn’t come with us today. She hasn’t been feeling well lately.”
Kirin frowned. Just what was Anji plotting? “I hope she gets well soon,” she mumbled.
“I’m sure she will,” Javan said, shifting slightly to lean closer. He had a pleasant, spiced scent about him. “I remember you, you know,” he blurted out.
Kirin blinked.
“During the noble summit six years ago. It was the first day of it, and you were sitting near the servants eating a pile of dumplings. I thought it was odd; you obviously weren’t one of the servants, but you didn’t have a familial crest. I couldn’t figure out why you were there. I guess it makes sense now that I know your father is the high chief warden.”
Kirin tapped her fingers together. “Oh, I remember those dumplings! My father always picks one day to bring me along to the noble summit so I can try all the fancy foods. I always imagined engstaxi food would be gritty and bland, but it was so spicy and saucy. I’d love to try some again.”
“Why don’t you come to the summit with me this year? That way you can spend more than one day and see more of what it has to offer. Have you ever tried any of those dalanai noodle dishes?”
Kirin flushed and burst out laughing before she could consider her options. She regretted it an instant later.
Javan’s back stiffened, and he cleared his throat uncomfortably. He was obviously embarrassed, possibly even offended.
Kirin knew she should say something, but instead said nothing, cursing herself for being such an idiot.
Finally, Javan moved away from the wall to face her, bowing slightly. “My apologies. I was too forward. Of course it would be strange for you to accompany me to the summit after having just met.”
Kirin opened her mouth to salvage the situation but was distracted by a flash of something red appearing at the top of the staircase on the other side of the sitting room. She craned her neck to see what it was, and managed to make out the top of someone’s head, crowned by fair, silvery hair that was pinned up by a shining red comb. A spy!
Javan turned and narrowed his eyes, which flashed recognition. “Tirbeth! Come out right now!”
The fair hair jerked suddenly and then held very still before realizing that the game was up. “Aw, just when it was starting to get interesting.” A girl, probably only fifteen or sixteen years old, popped her head over the banister and waved at Javan mischievously. From the red of her dress to the sun tattooed on her forehead, Tirbeth looked exactly like the girl in the portrait hanging directly over her head.
Kirin gawked, taken aback by the high princess’s swift flight down the stairs. Tirbeth might have shared the girl in the painting’s silvery locks, but her devilish grin was a complete departure from the portrait’s solemn expression.
“Hello, Tirbeth,” Javan sighed as the high princess glided right past him and peeked into the solarium.
“Ooh!” Tirbeth gushed, ignoring Javan completely. “I knew I smelled wardens! Just look at those two juicy ones right over there! I bet they have rock hard stomachs!” She clasped her hands together, her bangles tinkling. “Say, there’s that old, ugly one!” Tirbeth’s expression soured as she pointed in Entav’s direction. “Anji’s been trying to meet with his daughter for forever. Do you think she’d be any good at elucidating dreams? Anji seems to think so.” Tirbeth spun around to face Javan expectantly.
Javan gestured at Kirin. “Maybe. You could ask her yourself.”
Tirbeth blinked for a moment or two before letting loose a high-pitched squeal and grabbing Kirin’s hands in her own. “So you’re Kirin Toredath, eh? Anji’s told me so much about you! I’m Tirbeth! And I guess you’ve already met that one.” Tirbeth dropped one of Kirin’s hands and pointed at Javan in disgust.
“Um, hello,” Kirin mumbled, and Tirbeth took the opportunity to embrace her as though they were old friends. It seemed that Tirbeth and her father, the emperor, had a lot in common, including their shared disregard for formality.
Tirbeth released Kirin after one last squeeze. “I’m simply thrilled to have you as a guest, but you must explain to me why you haven’t been to see Anji yet. She’s tried to reach you a million times already.”
Kirin swallowed. “Oh, I didn’t realize,” she lied. “I must have missed her summons somehow.” In reality, the only thing Kirin had missed was the waste basket on her first attempt to throw Anji’s messages away.
“Well, you must go see her so you can elucidate her nightmares.”
“What?” Kirin and Javan asked in chorus.
“Oh, they’re just awful! She doesn’t sleep, she can barely eat, and I think she may have even given herself an ulcer! I told her to ease into the stimulants, not take them all at once.”
“What are you talking about?” Javan demanded. “I knew Anji was sick, but what is this about nightmares and ulcers?”
“Oops! I completely forgot you were standing there, Javan.” Tirbeth giggled nervously. “Please don’t tell anyone.”
“Are you stupid?” Javan snapped. “You can’t keep this to yourselves! Anji needs to see a doctor!”
Tirbeth groaned, her pert expression tightening into a grimace. “Pshaw, a doctor could fix her ulcer, sure, but not her mind. The only reason why she’s even taking all those stimulants is because if she falls asleep she ends up having that nightmare over and over again! She needs her nightmares elucidated! And so do I, for that matter!”
Kirin pursed her lips. Was Tirbeth saying she was having nightmares, too?
“You’re an idiot!” Javan declared. “Anji hasn’t said a thing about this to any of us. She needs to talk to my parents and see a physician!”
Tirbeth stamped her foot. “Shows what you know! She tried to talk to your parents weeks ago, but your stuffy old father told her that she was too old to be scared by nightmares! Now she stays awake for as long as she can until she can’t help but fall asleep, and then that nightmare comes right back. You know, she only had you take her to the temple so that she could try to meet with the Nassé. Nobody else would take her!”
“But my parents are right. She is too old for this nonsense.”
“Oh yeah?” Tirbeth snarled. “Well, you might be a son of the seventh house, but you’re still a son, and you haven’t got a clue what it’s like to dream like us!”
“Like you?” Javan arched an eyebrow. “Don’t start with me.”
“Too bad, because I will! You’re a stupid, smelly boy. If you were a girl, you’d understand that it isn’t all about being scared easy. If you don’t believe me, why don’t you ask Kirin, here? She’s supposed to dream a whole bunch!”
Javan held up his hands in exasperation. “Fine. I don’t see why you have to pick a fight over something this ridiculous. So, Kirin, what do you know of nightmares?” He narrowed his eyes down at her.
Kirin bowed her head and frowned. For an instant, she was back inside of the Goddess Forest, the black-eyed man standing in place of Javan. She quickly shook the image from her thoughts. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a nightmare,” she lied. “But I’ve heard that they can be very traumatizing. Especially the ones where the dreamer dies. Imagine what it would be like to dream that you are killed over and over again, without having any way to stop it. It might not be real, but it feels real. It’s awful—to think about, that is.”
Javan folded his arms across his chest and remained silent.
“See?” Tirbeth threw her hands up at Javan. “Kirin, won’t you help Anji? I just know you’d be able to fix her problem!”
Kirin shook her head. Judging from recent experience, she wasn’t qualified to elucidate anyone’s dreams. Doing so for Anji would almost certainly make her situation worse. “I just don’t know, High Princess. It can be dangerous, and I’ve only done it once.”
“We’re friends!” the high princess cried, her lip quivering. “We’re friends, so you should call me Tirbeth! And Anji is your friend, too, isn’t she? You really wouldn’t help a friend?” She looked utterly heartbroken.
Kirin winced at the sight of Tirbeth’s watery eyes. There could be many benefits to being Tirbeth’s friend, but they had just met, and there was no telling what would happen to such a friendship if Kirin were to fail at elucidating Anji’s nightmare. “I don’t—I just—”
“You wouldn’t turn Anji or I away like the Nassé did, would you?” A single tear slid down Tirbeth’s cheek, causing Kirin to cringe. “Here the Nassé has all this power to help other people, and she won’t do a thing with it except counsel Father and the other emperors about their silly dreams, and even Father comes away sad every time. It isn’t fair. Won’t you help us?”
Kirin sucked in a sharp breath. Maybe if she concentrated hard enough, she would recall the pattern for dream elucidation that the Nassé had shown her. Could even an attempt do any harm? “Fine, don’t cry. I-I’ll go see her,” Kirin mumbled.
Tirbeth let loose a whoop of rapture, her tears drying up a little bit too quickly. “Oh, do you mean it?”
“I guess so,” Kirin grumbled.
Javan shook his head. “This all sounds pretty fishy to me.”
Tirbeth rounded on Javan, her small body brimming with rage. “Just you wait! Anji will be well again, and you’ll have to cram your words back down your stupid throat!”
Kirin sighed and leaned heavily against the wall again as Tirbeth and Javan argued. She slowly moved to sidle away from them, hoping to make an escape, but her attention was drawn to a servant entering the sitting room, followed by a visibly exhausted dalanai who was covered in dust and pink with sunburn. The dalanai wore a stained blue caftan, similar to the uniforms of her father and his men, which meant that he was a warden, too. But what would a warden from Chalei be doing all the way in Judath?
As the servant and warden reached the solarium doors and briskly entered, Tirbeth abandoned her argument with Javan and stared at the dalanai’s backside, her jaw completely slack. “Goddess, did you see him?” she squealed, pressing herself against the solarium’s glass doors to watch the dalanai as he knelt before the emperor. “He’s so stunning!”
Kirin and Javan pushed Tirbeth a little to the side in order to get a better look through the glass. Entav and his men had just risen to their feet, his expression in particular darkening with surprise, before they placed their hands over their hearts and bowed respectfully to the dalanai. Emperor Ravad sat up in his chair and nodded in greeting. Pleasantries aside, the dalanai began to speak with great urgency, withdrawing a scroll from his shoulder bag. Although Kirin could not hear what was being said, there was palpable tension within the room, and she could tell that the message was important.
Javan nudged Kirin and pointed at the scroll, which had been sealed with a daub of blue wax and stamped by a six-pointed star. “That’s the star of Chalei. I bet that message is from the star emperor himself.”
“Really?” Kirin asked, watching as one of the servants took the scroll from the dalanai and passed it to Ravad, who promptly broke the wax seal.
The emperor’s eyes darted across the parchment again and again, and gradually, all the color drained from his face.
Ravad shot up to his heels and began to shout to his servants, prompting Tirbeth to gasp, “What’s gotten Father so upset?”
“I don’t know, but this looks serious,” Javan commented worriedly.
Now all the men were standing and barking orders to warden and servant alike. This continued for some time until Ravad gathered a small contingent of attendants and headed for the solarium doors, everyone following him.
Kirin, Tirbeth, and Javan scrambled out of the way just as Ravad thrust open the doors and strode outside without acknowledging their presence.
Ravad was still discussing what sounded like a plan of action with Entav. “You will send word to your captain in Temen that he is to gather a large portion of his men in that province and sail directly to Chalei to aid in the search. Your men here are to fortify Marin as well as the palace. We will not make the same mistake that was made in Chalei.”
“We’ll send at least five platoons, maybe double that. Those jungles are vast!” Entav’s voice trailed off as he and Ravad disappeared down the hall.
The western king emerged from the solarium toward the end of the procession. Javan caught his arm and held him back for a moment. “What’s going on in Chalei, Father?”
Javan’s father responded grimly, “Lanae Palace was attacked a few weeks ago. The star emperor was nearly assassinated, and his wife was abducted and taken into the jungle. That dalanai messenger doesn’t know if either of them are still alive. We are sending troops to assist in searching for the star empress, but it’s bad for us if this is at all related to the raids. It means that none of us are safe—not even behind the highest of palace walls.”
Tirbeth chomped down on her knuckles, looking genuinely frightened, before she turned and tore down the hall her father had disappeared down.
Watching Tirbeth go, Javan asked, “Is it true? Does Emperor Ravad think we’re in any danger?”
The western king withdrew his arm from Javan’s grasp. “We might be at risk come fall when we return home, but for now we’re so far inland that it’s unlikely anything will happen to us without warning. Still, Ravad doesn’t want to take a chance. He’s going to seek an audience with the Nassé to discover why her dreams have not yet warned us of this.” With that, Javan’s father exited down the hallway to catch up with the rest of his group.
“I don’t understand,” Javan murmured when he and Kirin were finally alone. “Doesn’t the goddess warn the Nassé about these sorts of things beforehand?”
“She’s supposed to,” Kirin responded numbly. But she knew what Javan and the others didn’t, that the Nassé was currently in no condition to be having or interpreting dreams. Nightmares, yes, but not dreams. Everyone knew that the Nassé and her priestesses, even candidates, were immune from nightmares in order to better focus on helping others through dreams. But Kirin knew better now. No one was immune from nightmares.