Kate Elliott - Traitors Gate

Maybe she fainted. Maybe she just tripped on uneven pavement. Maybe she just forgot to breathe.

Then she was on her knees, shaking, hands over her face.

'Mai!' Miravia steadied her.

'Why are corpses hanging from posts?' She'd never forgotten Widow Lae. On the day of the widow's execution for treason and spying, every man, woman, and child of Kartu Town had been required to assemble in citadel square to watch. That had been the day Anji had first spoken to Mai's father. That had been the day he'd made it clear to a man who could not refuse him that he intended to have her for himself. Of course he'd never asked her. It would have been surprising if he had!

How could she ever have thought it was romantic?

And yet hadn't it been just as sweet and satisfying as one of her beloved songs? Up until the end, when he had killed Uncle Hari. When his mother had taken over Mai's household. When he'd married a woman he didn't know in capitulation to the very mother who had arranged the murder of the woman he loved.

And all for what?

For now she understood what she had been hoping for, in the last four days. The unspoken wish, the unexamined dream: that, upon seeing her, Anji would cast all the other aside, discard it without a second's thought, and embrace her. Just as it used to be.

'Them's the executed men, verea,' their escort was saying. 'So sorry if it upset you, if it came unexpected. But surely you have assizes down there south, too, don't you?'

'We do,' said Miyara slowly, 'but I never saw such posts as these. I heard that the Star army would cleanse people, hang them up by the arms until they died of pain and thirst. It gives me a sick feeling to look at these dead men and think of them suffering like that.'

'The hells! I know the cleansing you're speaking of. We're not such savages. This was done all according to the law. The assizes came through, just like in the old days. Very fair, it was. Very orderly. Because we're so close to Toskala, we happened to host the commander himself just for the one day, a very impressive man with excellent manners. He come accompanied by judges, just like the Guardians of old with their law scrolls and each one wearing a tabard in a color that marked their specialty. You know, white for murder trials. Green for agricultural disputes. Gold for boundary disputes. Red for- Well, anyway! I don't mind telling you the local lads had captured twelve fugitives from the demon army who'd, been hiding out in the woods. The commander interviewed each one personally, in front of witnesses. Two he deemed were just young fellows, led astray but salvageable, and those he sent on to a militia training camp in High Haldia. Two were auctioned right here into debt slavery, for a seven-year term. Four were sent for a three-year term of labor on public works in Toskala, very fair, mind you. These four, though — they were the senior men, and poison-mouthed fellows they were. The judges really had no choice but to condemn them — it has to be unanimous, you know. They got a quick execution, more merciful than what things they themselves done to innocents at their own confession, I'll tell you.

Their corpses were hung up on these posts as a warning to them who might think of turning to the shadows, and as a reminder to the rest of us that justice was served.'

She slept poorly. Maybe they all did, for they rose before dawn and left as soon as the eagles could be whistled down.

Not long after dawn they reached Toskala. The city filled up a wedge of ground between two rivers, the breadth of its packed buildings, avenues, alleys, compounds, walls, and outer districts where the dirty work of living was carried out sprawled northward along the banks. It was almost as big as the Mariha city she had glimpsed in the distance, right before they'd been detoured up to Commander Beje's villa where Anji had been given a reprieve from his death sentence.

A huge promontory of solid rock thrust up at the southern point, a spear dividing the two rivers. The Greater Istri glittered like hope under the morning sun; its tributary, almost as wide, streamed into the greater in a web of currents and countercurrents as complex as the yearning and anger interlaced in her own heart.

Miyara flagged them down over the huge rock, toward a reeve hall strung along the western cliff in a series of long barracks and open parade grounds. They landed in one of the parade grounds. After unhooking and handing her eagle over to the care of fawkners, Miyara led Mai aside to a tiny cottage set back in a small garden.

'Vekess is marshal here, isn't he?' she demanded of the elderly man sweeping the porch. 'I need to speak to him immediately.'

'He's out on patrol.' He frowned at her brash approach, and then he saw Mai. He smiled, setting his broom to one side. 'What's this? Where are you come from?' He looked up to see Keshad and Miravia hesitating in the alley, with Siras and Ildiya at their backs.

'I'm Reeve Miyara. I have brought messengers from Merciful Valley. I was hoping Marshal Vekess could tell us where Commander Anji is, and arrange for the messengers to meet with him.'

'I'm Reeve Odash. Sit down. I'll send for someone from headquarters to speak to you.'

'I beg you,' said Mai, 'but perhaps there's a place I might relieve myself. And change out of these dusty clothes?'

Of course there was, a tiny square garden shed nicely made

with sliding doors on two sides and cupboards and shelves inside so neatly organized with shears and rakes and digging spades in four different sizes that it was a pleasure to admire their disciplined ranks. The old reeve, with a grandfatherly solicitude not without a touch of a wistful lust, carried in a copper basin, a pitcher of cool water, and a linen tower. Even so, she could only wash her face and hands and feet and, with Miravia's help, clasp and pin up her hair so it was tidy. Last, she succumbed to the vanity she had often pretended she did not possess. In Astafero, she had taken a first-quality taloos from the dusty storeroom. She shook out the cloth now. The intense blue green color mirrored the salty waters of the Olo'o Sea and was chased with faint silver threads outlining the foam and waves of a sea caressed by winds. She wrapped its silky glamor around her body as Miravia shook her head.

'How do I look? You're my mirror, Miravia.'

Miravia's frown deepened. 'Are you meaning to confront him, or seduce him?'

'Should I make my entrance in all my dust, in those unattractive trousers and vest? Looking like a — a — sheepherder?'

A hand patted one of the doors. 'Mai?' Miyara was whispering as if she dared not let anyone know who was concealed within. 'Can you come out? Now?'

A decisive step thumped on the porch and the door was slammed open to reveal a Qin soldier with sword drawn.

'Tuvi!' She grasped Miravia's arm, seeing the sword's ugly curve, the tip as deadly as an eagle's beak.

His other arm flashed out and he caught himself against the wall. He stared at her as at a monster. The sword wavered, drooped. He took a step back, and Miyara had to jump back down the step to avoid being shoved off by his movement.

'How can this be?' he said hoarsely.

'Chief Tuvi.'

'What are you, that comes here wearing Mai's face and form?'

'I'm Mai, Tuvi-lo.'

'You can't be Mai. She is dead. I saw her die. She vanished into the pool.' He found his balance and held out a hand to display the ropy white scars across the skin. T tried to pull her out, but the demons had already claimed her.'

'No. That pool is the womb of the firelings. They healed me.'

'Of course that is impossible,' he said, 'and it is foolish of you

to claim it could be true. For then why do you only appear now? No person can breathe water. Only demons can. Therefore, you are a demon. Now you have come here with anger and a demon's mischief in your heart. What do you want?'