The Blood of Whisperers Page 8

  ‘Oh gods,’ I muttered, pulling my papers free from my sash. ‘Take them. You must be the first man to ask for them in years.’

  He took the papers and opened them, all the time keeping his eyes averted from my face. Fortunately, it would take little more than a glance down the list of names and titles to assure him I was who I claimed to be, though he could as easily have asked the lowest peasant and received the same answer.

  The guard handed back my papers. ‘Thank you, Your Excellency. Long live Emperor Kin.’

  ‘Long live Emperor Kin,’ I said, taking them from his hand.

  Like a good citizen I carried my papers wherever I went, but no one ever asked to see them. They had been added to over the years whenever I gained a new rank, or a new position, but the thick parchment was still crisp. I glanced down at the neat characters:

  These papers are to attest that their owner is a true citizen of the Imperial Expanse of Kisia 1346

  Darius Kirei Laroth

  Born the fifty-third day of spring 1346

  Father

  Lord Nyraek Laroth, Fifth Count of Esvar

  Born the eighty-third day of summer 1312

  Mother

  Lady Melia Laroth, Countess of Esvar

  Born Melia Chinya, second daughter of Lord Eri Chinya

  Second day of summer 1323

  Ascended to the title on the thirty-first day of winter, 1359

  Lord Darius Laroth, Sixth Count of Esvar

  Elected Councillor to the court of Emperor Kin Ts’ai, first of his name, spring 1367

  Councillor Laroth, Sixth Count of Esvar

  Minister of the Left to the court of Emperor Kin Ts’ai, first of his name, summer 1369

  Lord Darius Laroth, Sixth Count of Esvar and Minister of the Left

  No children

  Allowing myself a wry smile, I folded the papers and slid them back into my sash. The guard watched me warily. The words were so dry, so official. There was no mention of the time when I had not used my papers at all, had not even owned the name written therein. No mention either of just how my father had passed, leaving me the title so sonorously declared in its black ink. It was just a list, a construction, the shroud I had created for myself to escape it all, to escape him. But he had refused to leave me alone.

  I rode into the city. The sun was setting, piercing the storm clouds with its last rays, and in the fast-fading light the Tiankashi Square was crammed with people. Thunder would have gone unheard beneath their noise. Their emperor had been absent too long while whispers of trouble spread – knowing lips to curious ears.

  There was no time to linger. I had no liking for crowds and soon slipped into the side streets where I found the city on its cusp. When I had been that boy without papers I had lived for the cusp, for the time when the city began to change. Dusk would creep through the streets, and in the declining light merchants packed their wares, eyes seeking one last sale while their ears caught the city’s changing tone. Even the women would change. In the full light of day noblewomen filled the streets, pink sashes flashing in the sunlight and trains of servants running at their heels. They vanished with the sun, but there were other women for the night hours, women always dressed in black.

  Passing through the streets, I felt like that boy again, looking everywhere for the signs that it was time to play. During the day Mei’lian moved like a lazy beetle, full of its own importance, but the night was furtive and quick. Away from the link-boys’ bright torches an older city existed, one that cared nothing for the noblemen travelling to and from their nightly entertainments. It existed in the shadows, in corners and alleys and dens, where the world changed day by day. There, fortunes were made and lost at the turn of a card, women would lift their skirts for a coin and men would rob you blind. A grunt of exhaled breath and a body would fall lifeless on the stones. A scream cut short. A cry; a gibber for mercy, and information changed hands. These were the places where the power of the empire lived. This was where I had learned to hunt.

  It was into these dark corners of the city I rode, cramped buildings blocking the last of the sun from view. Thunder rumbled, and the first heavy drop landed on the road. Another hit my sleeve.

  I left my horse at the entrance to the Pleasure Quarter, slipping a silver coin into a boy’s hand. Other rein-boys hollered, declaring they would take better care of my horse, but I waved them away. In a few hours it would be a busy prospect, even in the rain, with scores of link-boys chattering beneath their torches and a constant stream of palanquins halting at the mounting stone.

  The rain grew heavier, its fat drops failing to dampen the buzz of activity. Passing beneath the string of red lanterns was like walking into a different world. Here, all men were customers, our carnal desires making us as much like meat as the women in the whorehouses. Hawkers dogged my steps.

  ‘Want to see the most beautiful girls in the empire, my lord?’

  ‘Exotic beauties, plump breasts bigger than your head.’

  ‘Follow me for fair Chiltaen girls. Hairless bodies.’

  They followed, even though I moved on without acknowledging them. ‘How about boys, my lord?’

  I fought the urge to snarl at them all and strode on. One by one they fell back to cluster around a newcomer.

  The Pleasure Quarter was a welcoming place, all brightly lit doorways and winking lanterns. Muted music drifted from the houses, squeals and laughter overriding the tunes gently plucked upon each zither’s strings. Despite the closing night, the alleys that branched from the main square were full of colour and noise, the steadily-falling rain sending whores and yijis darting from door to door, skirts held high and painted faces laughing.

  Past the long fountain, the colours and noise began to die away, leaving nothing but the rain. The shadowed forms of old houses rose neglected from the street. From the web of dark alleys eyes stalked my every step and faded women watched me pass. ‘Lost?’ they asked.

  ‘No. I know where I’m going.’

  And I did. I had come this way too many times to ever get lost.

  The memories returned. There, in the drenching rain, sat the house we had used for so many years – a faded yiji house stripped of all glory.

  The Gilded Cherry.

  Its front doors had lost the last of their paint. It had been years, but looking up at the old façade I knew little else had changed. No attempt had been made to salvage the house, the world happy to leave the rotting timbers to their ghosts.

  Ducking beneath the jutting roof, I found respite from the rain pouring in streams off the eaves. The windows were dark, but a lantern hung above the door.

  He was waiting.

  I set my hand on the door. It had never been locked and wouldn’t be now. People had long since learned to keep away.

  The door swung in. Light from the welcome lantern slashed through the darkness, drawing old furnishings from the gloom. And his smell. My heart betrayed me.

  It had been five years.

  ‘You are late, yes?’

  The voice pierced my flesh. In a different life I had known it better than my own.

  ‘As you say,’ I said, surprised by my even tone. I could only hope that five years of practise had made the act true.

  A figure shifted into the shaft of light. I saw an arm clad in fine silk and the tip of a sleek black ponytail.

  ‘Darius,’ he said.

  ‘Malice.’

  I could not see his face, but I knew he smiled. He had always liked the sound of his adopted name.

  ‘You’ve changed.’

  ‘And you haven’t,’ I said.

  The ghost of a laugh sounded in his next breath. ‘Perhaps it only looks like you have, yes? Come closer so I can see you.’

  I was tempted to obey, but dared not. ‘Why are you here?’

  ‘Is it wrong to want
to see you?’ he asked, that same laugh in his voice. ‘You got my message, yes?’

  Kun. He had knelt in my place, Malice’s blood staining his skin. The Traitor’s Mark. And now Takehiko Otako would have it, too. No, don’t think about Takehiko.

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘As you see. And now that I’m here, tell me what you want.’

  He stepped further into the light. ‘What do you think I want?’ he said, another step bringing him close. I took a deep breath and caught the vague trace of opium lingering on his skin. How great had the habit become, I wondered, standing my ground as he came closer still.

  ‘How should I know?’ I said. ‘A position at court, perhaps. I’m afraid I will have to disappoint you there. Kin takes commoners into his service, but he only keeps men who work hard in his name.’

  Malice smiled. ‘I see your sense of humour is as strange as ever, yes? I would not work a moment in service to your Emperor Kin.’

  ‘Then to whom? Katashi Otako perhaps. I hear he is calling himself Monarch these days.’

  ‘You leap ahead, Darius.’ Malice rested his fingers upon his brow and shook his head. ‘There is no dealing with you at all, yes? Do not leap. Let us reach important points by steps, baby steps. Whatever happened to the pleasantries? I remember you used to talk for hours at a time, then be silent as long, your energy as erratic as your humour.’

  ‘Nostalgic?’

  ‘You left me.’ He gripped my chin in his long fingers, and as though he breathed his soul out through his fingertips, I felt the touch of his Empathy. Five years. It took all my self-control not to lower my shield. Takehiko’s skill had been nothing to it.

  ‘Where are you hiding, Darius?’ he said, his eyes roaming my face. ‘What have you done to yourself?’

  I didn’t answer, didn’t move. Malice had not withdrawn his touch. I expected another attack, but was not prepared for the blow that came. It crashed into my shield like a mace, sending my mind reeling. The tips of his fingers dug into my cheek. ‘I am sick of waiting, yes? Drop your pathetic charade.’

  I pulled away and his hand remained lifted as though frozen in place. ‘What do you want?’ he said when I did not answer. ‘An apology?’

  ‘No. I want you to leave me alone.’

  A flash of anger darkened his face. ‘I have left you alone for five years to get over your sulks.’

  ‘My sulks?’

  ‘What else can I call it?’

  ‘Conscience.’

  ‘You don’t have one.’

  ‘And I thought you knew me so well,’ I said.

  Finally, he lowered his hand. ‘I do. No one knows you better than I do, yes? I know you don’t want to remain this pathetic shell you’ve created for yourself. I’ve missed you, Darius. Even Hana has missed you, yes?’

  ‘How is she?’

  ‘She’s grown up since you left us. She’s a young woman now, yes? Five years makes great change. But of course, you know all about it, don’t you?’

  ‘All about what?’

  He was really smiling now, laughter dancing in his eyes. ‘About Monarch. You were right. Katashi is back, but he isn’t alone. Hana has made quite a name for herself as Regent – the great Otako’s most vicious little captain.’

  I closed my eyes, allowing myself a moment of weakness. And I had thought her safe, that Malice would take care of her as I had once done.

  As though reading my thoughts, Malice said: ‘I took no oath, yes? She is spirited. She wants glory and revenge and her great cousin to take her maidenhead. What sort of guardian would deny her such excitement? You would, of course.’

  ‘I did take an oath.’

  ‘Yes,’ he agreed. ‘You did. I was beginning to wonder if you had forgotten.’

  I had only been a boy. ‘Protect Lady Hana,’ my father had said. ‘You are all she has.’ And so I had given my word. I had spoken the oath to the baby in my arms.

  I swear on the bones of my forebears

  On my name and my honour

  That I will do all in my power to protect you from harm

  I will mind not pain

  I will mind not suffering

  I will give every last ounce of my strength

  I will give every last ounce of my intellect

  I will die in service to you if the gods so will it

  I will renounce every honour

  I will give every coin

  I will be as nothing and no one in service to you

  Malice was watching me. ‘I know what you’re thinking, Darius, but I am not quite the villain you imagine. I did not need to foster her hatred of The Usurper. Katashi has been an excellent role model in that respect, yes?’

  ‘You should have left her out of this.’

  ‘You should not have abandoned us.’

  ‘She could die.’

  ‘Yes, she could. Or Kin might.’

  His face gave nothing away. ‘What do you mean?’ I asked.

  ‘Only that his guards will not be expecting an attack tonight,’ he replied. ‘I gave Hana some Tishwa. I don’t think she will get far enough to use it. But she will be happy to see you when the guards catch her, yes?’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Why?’ He did not pretend to misunderstand my question, but gripped my face between his hands. ‘Because I know you. I know you won’t let her die – “The gods judge us on our choices, not our fame”, yes?’

  And they would judge me on mine. I could still see the silk band knotted around Takehiko’s left wrist. He had tried to read me, the gentle prod of his immature Empathy like the nagging tug of a small child.

  Without warning, Malice forced his own Empathy through my skin. I could not long keep him out. It ripped through me, and for a brief moment I had nothing: no thoughts, no emotions, no memories, everything sucked out through the palms of his hands.

  He let go. I stepped back, shaking. The transfer made my skin tingle. He had left behind a part of himself, a memory. It was a boy in a singed robe, his face covered in dirt and ash. Me. Me as he first remembered me. Me with a fierce hatred of life burning in my eyes.

  ‘There’s another Empath?’ shock had frozen Malice in place. ‘Is that why you were late? Oh… oh ho!’ He started to laugh. ‘And you let him go? Do you truly hate the blood that much?’

  ‘Leave him alone,’ I managed to say. ‘You’ll regret it if you touch him.’

  ‘Why? Who is he?’

  Prince Takehiko Otako. The name shot into my head and I pushed it away just in time. Malice gripped my face between his long fingers again, turning me to the light.

  ‘Where is he?’

  He asked the question an instant before his Empathy tore into me once more. I couldn’t block him. It had been too long. The image of the guardhouse at Shimai flashed into my mind, its tall stone tower half swallowed by ivy.

  Malice let his Empathy ebb, eyes hungry. ‘Shimai? You are out of practice, Darius. It’s pitiful.’

  ‘He won’t be there anymore.’

  ‘Other people might believe your lies, but I am used to them, yes?’ Eyeing me critically, he brushed a stray lock of hair off my brow. ‘Am I playing too rough for you? We can’t have Minister Laroth with a hair out of place. Answer me one more question and perhaps I’ll keep Hana safely at home tonight. Who is he?’

  He was giving me the opportunity to exchange one Otako for another, but whatever my duty to Hana, I could not do it. The boy was far more dangerous – Otako and Empath in one deadly package.

  ‘No? Then we’ll try this one more time, yes? Who is he?’

  The Empathy was like a sword slid into my gut, paralysing the body. The boy, the boy, don’t think about the boy. He has no name.

  ‘Who is he?’

  ‘His name is Endymion and his mother was a whore. Just like yours.’

  Malice slapp
ed me. My breath caught in my throat and I lifted my hand, touching the stinging skin. He gripped my wrist. ‘And you are more whore than any woman,’ he snarled, pressing me against the wall. The moulding dug into my spine. ‘You sell yourself to anyone who asks, but when I ask simple questions, you refuse.’ He stroked my smarting cheek. ‘Tell me who the boy is,’ he said, the tips of his long fingernails tracing my cheekbone.

  ‘No.’

  He curled his fingers, nails cutting into my skin. ‘Could I tear your skin away I wonder. I hate to mar your prettiness, but I’m curious now.’

  The opium was on his breath. It clung about him like a shroud, caught to every strand of the silken hair that tickled my arm. ‘Get off me.’

  ‘I would love to see you make me. In fact that is why I came. Do it, Darius. Make me let go.’

  His nails dug deeper and I clenched my teeth against the pain. His eyes glinted. He was laughing at me. ‘Well?’

  His Empathy snuck under my guard, digging through my soul. ‘Fight me, Darius,’ he hissed. ‘Fight back!’

  ‘No. Give me up as dead.’

  With a growl his nails gouged my flesh. His Sight cleaved through me. He wanted me to fight, but I knew all too well where that led. I had hunted here once.

  Thoughts and memories filled my head. Shimai, the guardhouse, the worried crease between the boy’s brows, and the sweat on his hands. Beside the glinting tea a silver eye saw everything. Kokoro had tapped his cup, punctuating his serenity with fear as the name echoed around the room – Takehiko. Takehiko. Takehiko.

  Malice let go. In the silence every breath sounded harsh.

  ‘A royal bastard.’ Malice touched his own face, his fingernails dark with my blood. Then he laughed, a high-pitched sound that echoed strangely.

  ‘He is not a true Otako.’

  ‘Don’t think you can fool me. His bastard blood makes no difference. Prince Takehiko was acknowledged under the law.’ He laughed again, and touching my cuts, smeared blood down my cheek. ‘Should I apologise? I think not. You will thank me when you come to your senses, yes? Now it seems I have somewhere else I need to be.’