Ken Liu - The Wall of Storms

Then a great dome-headed whale breached near his coracle, capsizing it. The whale swallowed him and his goods, and the rest was a long dream.

“What do you seek from us, Prince of Agon?” asked Empress Jia.

“An alliance between our peoples against our common enemy,” said Takval. “A bond as tight as that between the garinafin and its pilot against the horrid wolf or the tusked tiger.”

“We can fight the Lyucu on our own,” said the empress. “We have triumphed over them and we will again.”

“Can you triumph over another wave of garinafins, numbering in the hundreds? The Lyucu are coming, and they will bring more of the flying beasts.”

“What do you offer in return?”

Takval pointed to the dozens of ovoid bodies at his feet, each about the size of a man’s head. These had been found when the whalers cut open the carcass of the dome-headed whale. “These.”

“What are they?”

“Garinafin eggs.”

Prince Cudyu had decided that the best way to transport a large number of garinafins to Dara was to carry them in the form of eggs. Once in Dara, they could be incubated in batches and slowly incorporated into the army. This was safer and more efficient than carrying only adults and younglings.

Théra and Jia looked at each other.

Empress Üna pleaded with her eyes. Please, Mother. Garinafins of our own will change the fortune of Dara.

Jia leaned forward. “What is to prevent us from simply seizing them from you? After all, you have nothing more to offer.”

“It took me years to learn how to care for the garinafins. Without my knowledge, the hatchlings will die and you’ll never make them do your bidding.”

Empress Jia narrowed her eyes. “What sort of assistance do you want from us?”

“The Wall of Storms is about to open—that’s why Prince Cudyu’s new fleet is coming. When it does open, I ask that Dara send a fleet to Ukyu and Gondé to help my people free themselves.”

The two empresses looked at each other again.

We can’t afford to start a new war, much less a war thousands of miles away on the other side of the ocean.

“And as a gesture of goodwill, we ask for a royal marriage with an Imperial princess of the House of Dandelion.”

The Grand Audience Hall fell completely silent.

Théra barely stopped herself from gasping at the bold request. She looked at the young man. He was earnest and determined, his chiseled features and fair complexion and hair not unhandsome. But marriage?

She looked over at Zomi Kidosu, and the two spoke volumes in a single glance.

“We will get the secrets out of him, Daughter. I will feed him herbs to dissolve his will until he babbles like an idiot. Risana will trap him in smoke until he obeys every order we give him. And if neither works, we will torture him until he gladly gives us everything we ask for. There is no need for you to be troubled.”

“No, Mother. If you so much as try any of these tricks, I will strip you of all power. We have seen what costs your methods impose. I, for one, am not willing to pay them.”

“You are indeed stronger than your brothers,” Jia muttered.

“Were you disappointed when Father named me as heir instead of Phyro? You didn’t plan for that, did you?”

“No, I’m not disappointed, not exactly. Your father believed in picking the right heir to avoid the fall of Mapidéré’s empire, but I have always wanted a Dara where it mattered not who was the emperor. Your strength simply makes it more complicated.”

“My strength may be exactly what Dara needs.”

“I am still the regent.”

“Only until I am ready. I know you want the best for Dara, but there are lines I will not cross. I will solve this, my way.”

The sea threshed as though at war with itself.

- Lutho, my meddling brother, I must applaud you. Keeping a mortal alive in the belly of a whale is no simple feat!

- Would you please not shout into my ear? Our heads are connected to the same torso.

- How do you justify this bit of interference?

- Saving lives from the merciless sea is something I’ve done since time immemorial; it’s part of my charge.

- What I can’t figure out is how you got the whale to swallow him in the first place. Have you figured out a way to pass through the Wall of Storms?

- Being swallowed by the whale was a matter of chance. It was only when the whale entered Dara that I could practice my art.

- “Chance.” I like the sound of that. Though I can’t pass through the Wall, it delights me to know the larger world follows my rules.

- Or perhaps what looks like chance to us is calculation in the eyes of Moäno, the King of All Deities.

- You just can’t let me win, even once, can you?

And the sea roiled on, an eternal argument with itself.

Inside the Three-Legged Jug, the wood-burning stove warmed the air and bathed everything in a soft, hazy light. A snowstorm raged outside and ice-flowers bloomed against the glass windows.

“I don’t like this storyteller,” Fara seethed.

“What don’t you like about him, Ada- tika ?” asked Théra.

“He makes Auntie Gin sound like a man who reluctantly put on a dress,” said Fara. “But she was proud to be who she was.”

“Maybe you can tell better stories about her when you’re older,” said Théra. “You like to write, don’t you? Maybe you’ll be like Nakipo of old, whose words enthralled kings and peasants alike. I bet you can also ask Aya to help you.”

After the elaborate state funeral for the marshal, Empress Jia had given Aya the title of Imperial Princess, with the same ceremonial rank as a daughter of Emperor Ragin himself, and moved her into the Imperial palace to live with Fara. However, the cynical noted that this nominal honor actually deprived her of her inheritance, as Empress Jia did not restore to her the kingdom of Géjira, her mother’s old fief. One might have thought that her mother’s sacrifice at the Battle of Zathin Gulf had washed away the dishonor of her betrayal, but the empress was implacable in her continuing program to reduce the power of independent fiefs.

Fara nodded resolutely, and, despite her criticism, soon became entranced by the tale of the storyteller again. He was enacting the episode of Gin Mazoti’s killing of Gray Weasel, who had maimed children for profit.

“How’s Takval’s teaching?” Théra asked in a low voice, turning to the other woman sitting at the small table with her and Fara.

“Not bad,” said Zomi. “I’ve taken detailed notes, but the real learning won’t start until the hatchlings arrive.”