K’ivin stood silently beside his Emperor, as C’ekat detailed their defences.
“Within 5 months or so, we should be fully prepared,” the commander concluded at last.
“That seems like a long time,” V’graen commented disapprovingly.
“Emperor, it is fairly standard. We need time to assemble and train new men and women. Our army is not prepared for a true conflict. Especially not with a country as powerful and experienced as Esrasea. They have a well-equipped standing army. We do not. It was always assumed that the treaties would protect us better then blades and soldiers could.”
K’ivin’s mind wandered. As the head advisor to the Emperor of Maaskal, he should probably be paying attention, but this was not a new conversation. Ever since word had reached them from his intelligence network that Esrasea’s new Queen, Istaria, was making obvious overtures to war, C’ekat and V’graen had replayed this little chat roughly every other day. Right now, there was too much on his mind to listen to the same old information in a different order. He already knew that Esrasea was stockpiling food, and weapons, recruiting more soldiers. Talk in the pubs centered on rumours of impending war. There had been no formal declaration yet, and the emperor seemed to be expecting one, but K’ivin wasn’t so sure it would ever come. Esrasea’s new Queen was reputed to be cruel, ruthless, unpredictable. The other rumour was that she had killed the former king and gained the throne in a bloody coup, leaving many prominent citizens dead in her wake. If she was willing to do all that to gain power, and if she was willing to break the longstanding peace between the two countries, why would she bother standing on ceremony with a declaration? Better to retain the element of surprise and attack with no warning. Either way, she was obviously preparing for something, and that was disturbing. As far as K’ivin was concerned, they couldn’t be ready soon enough. And they were very far from ready. Not enough food, not enough supplies, not enough trained soldiers. Not to mention the fact that several of the countries that could hopefully be counted on to support them were to the west, on the other side of Esrasea, an obvious problem that could see their supply lines cut, and resources suddenly scarce at precisely the worst time. Maaskal hadn’t seen a war in decades, the people were peaceful, their neighbours were friendly and there were treaties in place that ensured it stayed that way. At least there had been, until now. V’graen wanted to believe they would hold. K’ivin knew that to be nothing but a seductive and dangerous delusion.
“K’ivin,” the emperor’s voice startled him. “What have you been hearing?”
K’ivin was quite possibly the one man, besides the tavern keepers, who made it his business to know every rumour, every hint of scandal, every whiff of unrest that spread through the kingdom, and the lands around it. The emperor relied on him for his judgment and insight, because in situations like this, rumours were all they had.
“The citizens all know,” K’ivin replied. “They all see the war looming on the horizon. Some of the young with more bravado than brains are looking forward to it. They think it will be exciting; bring them glory and riches. The older and the wiser among them are growing apprehensive, even afraid. No one really wants to go to war, and most know we aren’t ready for it. If this goes much further, I am afraid we will have a mass exodus; people fleeing to the south, north, east. Anywhere, to get away.”
V’graen looked troubled; K’ivin knew the emperor didn’t really appreciate how serious things were becoming in his own land. He needed to understand that war was not just about the enemies outside your empire, but also about the demons within it: fear, famine, disease and unrest. C’ekat cleared he throat nervously,
“K’ivin, are you saying that people will abandon their empire? That we will have panic on our hands, on top of a war?”
“Bluntly, commander?” K’ivin asked.
The military man nodded solemnly.
“If we don’t act soon, then yes. People will panic. Do you want my advice?”
The emperor raised an eyebrow,
“That is what I pay you for, advisor.”
“Of course,” K’ivin continued with a mirthless chuckle. “I would suggest acting quickly, and decisively. You need to show the people that we are strong, that we are taking action. Increase the training of our military, immediately. Stockpile from our suppliers to the west and begin going through the diplomatic channels to open new supply lines to the east, maybe the south if we can manage it. Increase military patrols in the city, not so much for the enforcement as to reassure the citizens and quell the hysteria before it gets out of hand. Their presence is all the people need, for now. But bear in mind, we need to keep all this defensive and make no overt overtures of war. Esrasea is much better prepared than we are, if they think we are readying ourselves, they will move right away, before they lose their advantage. We need to strike a careful balance, seem strong to our people but weak to our enemies, and buy ourselves as much time as possible by appearing ignorant. Maybe we can make a show of combating internal crime, as a cover. I am still working on that part.”
“Doesn’t that seem a bit extreme, before a war even starts?” C’ekat replied dubiously.
“I think extreme may be our only chance,” K’ivin replied. “We have a small full-time army and an even smaller militia. Decades of peace have left us unprepared for turmoil. If we act fast, and are very lucky, we might have enough time to catch up, but I make no guarantees.”
“That is a grim view, K’ivin,” Emperor V’graen sighed.
“I fear that these are going to be grim times, Emperor. It seems that Maaskal’s golden age is about to come to an end. And that end will be bloody and abrupt.”
V’graen rubbed his hands across his face,
“I need some time to think. Leave me now.”
K’ivin hesitated. He knew that V’graen was having trouble with this. He liked being a peace-time leader, he was good at it and as a result, was adored by the people. But K’ivin wasn’t sure he had it in him to lead an army into war. For that matter, he wasn’t sure C’ekat had it in him, either. He hoped that he was wrong, that they would both surprise him. The fate of the empire might depend on it.
K’ivin exited the throne room and C’ekat followed behind him.
“Well, advisor, do your rumours tell you if we will make it out of this?” C’ekat asked.
“We are going to need a miracle,” K’ivin smiled sadly.
“That’s what I thought,” C’ekat grimaced. “It seems I have work to do tonight. Good evening, advisor, may your dreams be better than our present reality.”
As the man strode out into the night, he looked like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. K’ivin almost regretted what he’d done. He had laid out the blunt and ugly truth before them, even though he knew that they had not been ready to hear it. Perhaps he had been too harsh, the doom he had depicted too absolute. But then again, perhaps he was right; perhaps they were about to be crushed under the heel of their neighbour to the west. Still, it was far too early to despair. K’ivin had been the spymaster of Maaskal for a long time, and in that time, he had cultivated much more than just a rumour mill. There were still a few tricks up his sleeve yet, and K’ivin was determined not to give up on the empire without a fight. He entered his chamber and opened the doors to his private porch; leaving them ajar he sat down on the divan in the opposite corner of the room. She should be here any minute.
“Where have you been? I’ve been waiting forever.”
The voice startled K’ivin, and he spun around, searching for its source. The woman chuckled as she strode out of the shadows behind him. She certainly blended in; her black leggings and tunic matched her glossy, ebony hair, swept up in a loose bun behind her head.
“Where were you hiding, Mikiva?” K’ivin asked, slightly annoyed that she had been able to sneak up on him, but not really surprised.
“If I told you, that would ruin it for next time,” she laughed.
K’ivin rolled his eyes.
“I need you, Miki,” K’ivin said at last.
“Of course, you do,” she replied, matter-of-factly.
As she approached, the spymaster appraised her carefully,
“You’ve added a knife to your left boot,” he observed as she took a seat, he knew all her usual hiding places and that one was new.
Mikiva raised an eyebrow, glancing down at the carefully concealed weapon,
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“What gave it away?”
“You only put a knife in one boot, caused some asymmetry in the way the leather flexes as you walk.”
“I should have thought of that. I’ll have to even that out later. Thanks.”
“Of course,” K’ivin leaned back on the divan. “Now for the matter at hand. No doubt you’ve heard of the impending war.”
“Of course. Nasty business.”
“Not for you.”
“Well, no. Wars are notoriously kind to assassins and spies. We have a way of surviving.”
“Yes,” K’ivin agreed. “And of getting rich in the process. But you work for us now, and I don’t want to lose this war.”
“Understandable. But it seems unlikely that you will win. Esrasea has been priming themselves for a long time, and we, well, we have not.”
“I know. I am working on that as quickly as I can. But you are right, we need to buy some time. That’s why I need you.”
“You want me to stop a war? Look, K’iv, I’m good, but I’m not that good.”
“I don’t expect you to stop it, just to get me something I can work with.”
“What do you have in mind?” Mikiva asked, her curiosity obviously piqued.
“There is an estate, in Esrasea. It looks like a simple country mansion, but it is unusually well guarded. Your target will be travelling back there from a meeting with the queen soon, and I want you to be waiting for him.”
K’ivin handed her an envelope, full of cash and the necessary papers and instructions for the job he wanted done. He watched her eyebrows raise as she skimmed the pages,
“Where did you get this information, K’ivin?”
“I have my sources.”
“I know that. But this…”
“I may have gotten a tip from an unusual source, this time.”
“Unusual?”
“A priestess of Tasya.”
“Where would a priestess get this information? More importantly, why would she share it with you?”
“She declined to say.”
“Should we be worried about that?”
“I have confirmed as much as I can through other channels. The information is sound, as far as I can tell. The why is unimportant. Probably just one of the games the gods are always playing. You know how the Eleven can be. We need to focus on mortal concerns. You think you can make it?”
“I don’t have much time; I will have to prepare immediately and leave tonight. Can’t afford to be late.”
“Good luck, Mikiva.”
“Luck is for amateurs and civilians,” she grinned, then she rose and strode out the porch doors and disappeared into the night.
**
Jade stood in front of Lady Avrinly, her eyes on the floor, and hands folded in front of her, attempting the most submissive posture she could manage. It was difficult. Jade could have tried to hide in the house or on the grounds, but they would have found her eventually, and it would have only made things worse for her when they did. So, once she’d left J’arrin’s quarters and disposed of the contraband, she had turned herself in immediately. Avrinly was fuming; she paced the floor, back and forth with frantic energy. Jade studied her idly; she was a slender woman, of medium height, with long brown hair that fell to her mid-back. She was supposed to be something of a reputed beauty, but today, the anger twisted her normally elegant visage into something ugly. Avrinly glared at Jade.
“After all I’ve done for you, after everything that I have given you, you would disrespect my home in this manner!?”
Jade clenched her teeth, biting back a response. Avrinly had done plenty to her, but nothing for her.
C’arren was standing in the shadows in the corner of the room, smug smirk plastered across his features. What Jade wouldn’t give to wipe that stupid grin off his face. Actually, she supposed she was about to find out what she would have to give, wasn’t she? Lady Carayn continued,
“You will have to be punished for this crime. Do you have anything to say for yourself?”
“Nothing mistress, I deserve whatever punishment you give me,” it killed Jade to say that; she knew she didn’t deserve any of this. But that was beyond her control at this point, so there was no reason to antagonize the woman.
“Very well. What should I do with her, C’arren? You are, after all, the victim here.”
Jade glanced over at the man. She could see in his eyes what he wanted to say, but he hesitated because it was doubtful that wish would be granted. Avrinly had spent money on Jade, and she would want her to remain useful, or at least retain her resale value. Still, C’arren tried,
“Execute her,” C’arren pronounced. “She is no good for this house. She does more harm than good. Make an example of her.”
Jade was hardly surprised.
“Now C’arren,” Avrinly said patiently. “You know that I can’t do that.”
The guard’s face fell.
“But mistress, why do you even want her here?”
“It isn’t that I want her here…” Avrinly chewed her lip. “She just… has to be here. That is not up for discussion.”
Jade raised an eyebrow at that. What reason would Avrinly have to keep her? There was nothing special about her that would merit this. She had no particular skills, and she wasn’t exactly useful to the household. She didn’t have much time to ponder that, though, because Avrinly was already continuing her deliberation on punishment.
“No. I need to be practical here. This was a first offense, and you have already been healed, after all. There is no reason for me to lose the use of a servant over something that is relatively minor. I see no reason to deviate from the traditional punishment in this situation.”
C’arren’s face puckered at that, like he had tasted something sour. Jade allowed herself a small smile. Avrinly tapped a manicured nail on her chine for a moment before finally nodding, clearly pleased with her decision.
“I have decided to sentence you to 200 lashes. But who could do it?” she wondered aloud. “It would absolutely ruin my hands, and T’emlin won’t be home for days.”
Jade had heard that her husband had been away on business in the royal capital for some time. That wasn’t uncommon. Avrinly furrowed her brow, as if in consternation.
“I volunteer, mistress,” C’arren had a malicious glint in his eyes when he spoke.
“Hmmm, yes, I do believe that would be perfect,” Avrinly smiled broadly. “Justice will be best served that way.”
Jade cringed. C’arren. Great, now her punishment would be both painful and humiliating.
“Very well, then,” Avrinly declared. “There is no reason to delay. Go now and retrieve the cat o’ nine tails from the armoury. We will go to the whipping post out back and administer the punishment immediately. Then I will heal her myself, so she can return to work immediately.”
“Of course, my lady,” C’arren bowed and exited the room, casting a backwards glance at Jade as he went. His smile could only be described as triumphant.
“Take her to the yard,” Avrinly instructed her personal guards.
“Yes, my lady,” they grabbed Jade roughly by each arm and marched her out behind the house.
Jade was shoved roughly to the ground and stripped her to the waist before the guards locked her into the pillory. Hanging there, waiting for the other servants to be assembled to watch her beating, Jade tried not to think about what was coming next. But that proved impossible. She had never been flogged before, but she imagined that it was unpleasant. And of course, C’arren would be right there, that vicious smirk on his face. Jade clenched her fists tightly enough that her nails drew blood from her palms. She was frustrated, and, she had to admit, a little bit afraid.
“You need to control your temper, girl. It’s what got you into this mess in the first place,” C’arren suddenly appeared next to her.
“Actually, it was your temper that was the real problem,” Jade replied as calmly as she could manage.
“You shouldn’t blame others for your problems, Jade. It’s very childish.”
“And what is holding a grudge, exactly?”
“I hold no grudge against you,” C’arren sniffed.
Jade laughed humorlessly,
“Right. We both know anyone else wouldn’t be here right now.”
“No, they wouldn’t,” C’arren agreed. “Everyone else knows their place.”
Jade just snorted derisively. That wasn’t even a little bit true. Many of the other slaves were better at hiding their disobedience, but they were no more docile than she was.
“Obedience is a trait befitting a servant,” C’arren sniffed. “You should try it sometime; it would vastly improve your life.”
“I bet it would.”
“Just remember, Jade, you will break eventually, even as stubborn as you are. Better for all of us if you do so sooner, rather than later. Stop making things worse for yourself.”
Sighing, Jade shifted in her bonds. She needed to find a way out. Before his prediction came to pass. No sooner had that cheery thought crossed her mind then she felt a shadow fall across her back. She looked up and saw a servant pass the cat o’ nine tails to C’arren, his face twisting into a malicious grin. He leaned close to her, so close that his lips brushed her ear,
“I am really going to enjoy this,” he murmured. “After all these years, I am finally going to make you beg me for mercy.”
Jade glared up at him but said nothing. There was no point. Avrinly arrived after a moment, followed by the rest of the servants; a punishment like this was a big event, a spectator sport. Not to mention that humiliation was a significant part of the effectiveness of this particular method of deterrence. The pain was temporary, but the humiliation was a lasting deterrent. Jade cringed as C’arren ran his hand down her bare back, marking his place. His touch lingered longer than was strictly necessary. She gritted her teeth, wishing vehemently that she could break every finger on that hand, one at a time. Jade watched as Avrinly took a seat, watching with passive disinterest. Jade shuddered, feeling the eyes of the crowd on her. They were all waiting to see her bleed, to see her cry out in pain. Though, J’arrin did not appear, and for that small mercy, she was glad. With his deteriorating eyesight, they might not have even bothered to ask him. Either way, at least he wouldn’t have to witness this.
“You may begin when you are ready, C’arren,” Avrinly instructed. “200 lashes, no more.”
“Yes, my Lady,” C’arren replied, raising the whip over his head.
Jade closed her eyes again and braced herself. The flail bit into her skin, cutting deep into the flesh and muscle along her back. It had been brought down with a force borne of hatred. The pain took her breath away, but she bit down hard on her lip. She refused to cry out, refused to give the bastard the satisfaction. Her fists clenched. He struck her again, harder and she could feel the hot blood seeping from her wounds, a thick, slippery film slowly coating her back. C’arren’s movements became frenzied; the blows came fast and hard, over and over. She lost count quickly as everything blurred into a haze of agony. More than once, she thought she was going to lose consciousness and at some point, she bit through her lip, and the blood began to flow down her face as well. She didn’t even notice when it stopped; tears flowed from her still closed eyes and her back burned like fire. After a moment, Jade noticed that they were not loosening the stocks. At first, she was confused, then she felt the hands on her back. Opening one eye, Jade looked back and saw Lady Avrinly, kneeling beside her, hands on her wounds. Jade sucked air through her teeth, she knew what was about to happen, and she wasn’t sure if she could endure it, not after what she had already experienced. The forced healing of her flesh would compel her to relive the pain ten times over. Just as the violent tearing and piercing of flesh was painful, the unnatural and rapid knitting together of that same flesh was a horrifying experience that could make people nostalgic for their original injury. That was one reason why healers were typically only used if it was a matter of necessity, life and death. But Avrinly seemed indifferent to the pain she inflicted on others, and never hesitated to use her power to spare herself even minor inconvenience. Jade opened her mouth to ask Avrinly to just leave her like this, to say that she would heal naturally, but even as she began to form the words, the first wave of magic hit, ripping them from her throat. This time, she did scream.