The Veiled Throne, page 29
Théra was silent. A pacifistic Agon pékyu was of course not the kind of ally the people of Dara needed, but she did not think this was quite the right moment to argue against Souliyan.
“My brother, however, had very different ideas,” continued Souliyan. “He believed that there was nowhere we could escape to that would be safe from the flaming breath of Lyucu garinafins. ‘If I were Tenryo,’ he said, ‘I would never let us go.’ ”
Théra nodded to herself, thinking that Volyu was exactly right. But any sense of sympathy with Takval’s uncle was extinguished with Souliyan’s next statement.
“The only way for us to survive, according to Volyu, was for the Aragoz clan to become useful to the Lyucu.”
Théra closed her eyes and cursed silently. It was a story only too familiar.
“We settled here, in Sliyusa Ki. To the chieftains and naros-votan who followed us, he delivered many rousing speeches about how it was important to plot for the long game, to bide our time until the Agon people could rise up against the hated Lyucu overlords. But in secret, he followed another plan.
“The Lyucu exacted heavy tribute on the scattered Agon tribes: cattle, sheep, children, garinafins, game, pemmican, anything they wanted. From time to time, especially when the winter was especially harsh or the summer especially dry, the weight of the tribute became too much for some tribes on the verge of starvation. As well, the Lyucu thanes, tasked with keeping watch over the Agon tribes in their territories, sometimes humiliated those under their watch beyond reason. In those cases, the desperate tribes would decide to raise the banner of rebellion, and it was the custom for the rebelling chiefs to seek our blessing.
“Beyond appeasing the shamans, these visits also served the purpose of probing our willingness to support the rebellion. Volyu would nod in sympathy and perhaps even pledge to counsel the other tribes to rebel in support.”
Théra’s blood ran cold, and she shivered involuntarily as Souliyan continued her account.
“But as soon as the rebel chiefs left, grateful for the support of the Aragoz clan, Volyu would spread rumors against the would-be rebels, raising doubts about the chiefs’ characters and making up prophecies that they were doomed to fail. When confronted directly by those who wondered if they should join the rebels, he would give ambivalent answers, making everyone hesitate.
“Worst of all, he would secretly dispatch messengers to Taten, reporting to Tenryo all he had learned from the rebels.
“Thus, when the rebellions finally began, the mutinous tribes found themselves devoid of allies and surrounded by Lyucu troops, who had appeared as if by magic. Volyu would then mourn the rebels and cry in front of the next gathering of the tribes at the Festival of Afir, vowing vengeance for the dead brothers and sisters, but explaining that the time wasn’t yet ripe. He would then demand the tribes raise an extra-large tribute for Taten, which he collected and sent on to Tenryo after keeping a tenth of the goods for Sliyusa Ki. He explained these tributes as a way to shield the innocent from suspicion and to buy us time to plot against the Lyucu.
“But among the Agon, his reputation for wisdom and shrewdness, for being attuned to the will of the gods, grew. Nearby tribes came to join us with their flocks and herds, and more distant tribes pledged their loyalty to him and to me.
“So many times I wished I could reveal the truth of who he was and how he gained wealth and power by sowing discord among the Agon to prop up his own tent of lies,” said Souliyan, her eyes closed and her voice a dry whisper. “But then I would realize that the consequence of such revelation was the deaths of everyone I loved and everyone who trusted me. Either Volyu would kill them, or the Lyucu would. So I’ve been forced to hold my tongue, a silent coconspirator in my brother’s despicable scheme.
“This is a secret that no one knows, not even Takval. But if you’re going to ally yourself with my brother, you deserve to know what sort of man he is.”
* * *
In the predawn darkness, a small group of men and women approached the garinafins penned on the shore of the lake at the heart of the Agon camp.
“Who goes there?” asked one of the Agon guards, his bone axe at the ready. The advancing figures had hidden their faces under skull helmets and animal-skin cowls. With the marriage of the Princess of Dara scheduled for noon, Chief Volyu was poised to rise even higher in the estimation of the Agon tribes. He had ordered increased security against anyone who might dare to disrupt the nuptials.
“It’s me,” said the woman in the lead. She pulled back her hood.
“Chief Souliyan!” said the guard in surprise. “What are you doing here?”
“I require the use of one of the garinafins,” Souliyan said.
The guard looked suspiciously from Souliyan to the others behind her. Souliyan was no garinafin pilot. “Why?”
“My family’s sheep were spooked in the middle of the night by the clumsy Dara visitors and ran away,” said a girl standing next to Souliyan. “The chief is going to help us get them back.”
The guard considered the girl. She was bundled from head to toe in animal hide, a rather odd choice considering the heat, and her face was hidden under a tusked-tiger helmet, a sign of high status. Her accent was that of the First Family’s, indicating that she was from a lineage close to the Aragoz clan—perhaps even one of Chief Volyu’s unacknowledged daughters.
The guard was about to ask for her name and lineage—
“Those sheep are needed for the wedding feast,” said the girl impatiently. “Chief Volyu specifically picked them. We have to hurry!”
The guard decided that he didn’t want to risk the chief’s ire.
“Take the small female at the end of the pen. She’s the fastest. Are you a good pilot?”
The girl pointed to one of the other hooded figures. “My cousin is.”
The man she pointed to did have the limber build and cocky attitude of a garinafin pilot—even under that bull skull helmet. The guard had no more doubts.
“Then go, and may Péa speed you.”
* * *
The winging garinafin, guided by the sure hand of Toof, soon caught up to the lone figure among the dunes. Takval had carried no supplies with him. It was clear that he was expecting this walk to be his last.
Toof landed the garinafin in front of the startled Takval. Théra scrambled down as soon as she had been released from her harness while Souliyan and the others took care to secure their position.
“Don’t you ever try anything like that again,” said Princess Théra. “What in the world made you think this was a good idea?”
“Among our people, a chief or clan head has the right to preempt a subordinate’s claim to the hand of a powerful prospective spouse,” said Takval. “The only alternative was for me to challenge him.”
“Then challenge him! Or at least explain the situation to me!”
Takval looked at Théra, his eyes full of longing and confusion. “But you told me to let him win. You told me that there must be no blood spilled for the sake of the alliance—”
“That wasn’t what I meant at all—”
“You said that saving Dara meant everything to you! My uncle has the support of all the Agon chiefs, while I have nothing to offer you. And I had already asked you to sacrifice so much just to come to Gondé….” Tears welled up in Takval’s eyes.
“Oh, you fool! You dolt!” Théra was exasperated, but her rage had dissipated in a wave of tenderness. “I know I’m no good with words of the heart, but how could you think that I would be willing to give up everything we’ve built—you and me—to marry some stranger with a larger army?”
“But you only agreed to marry me for an alliance—”
“Don’t you ever try to make decisions for me. We’re partners in this, don’t you understand? I did agree to marry you as a political act, but I’ve come to respect you, to care for you, to make room for you in my heart. We’re stronger together, and sacrifices, if they must be made, should be a joint decision.”
A look of joy slowly brightened Takval’s face. “I wasn’t sure how you felt—”
“Then you should have asked—”
“But would you have said how you felt unless you thought you were about to lose me?”
Théra tried to answer but found that she could not. Really, until the moment she found out that she could lose Takval forever, she hadn’t really known how she felt about him.
“There will be enough time for this later,” said Souliyan as she approached the pair. “Right now, we have to decide what to do about my brother.”
“We must head back so that I can openly challenge my uncle for your hand,” said Takval resolutely.
“No,” said Théra. “That is going to lead to one of you getting killed, and I’m not going to start my marriage or this alliance with sister taking up arms against brother, nephew against uncle.”
“There is no other way,” said Takval. “This has been the tradition of the scrublands for innumerable generations.”
“I’ve heard that kind of excuse for death and bloodshed entirely too often,” said Théra. “Before Akiga Aragoz, the tribes were scattered and did not fight as one. Before Tenryo Roatan, the Lyucu did not enslave the Agon. Before the coming of the city-ships, the people of the scrublands did not dream of conquest across the seas. Even stories that have been told for millennia can change, and I’m certain that we can change this story.”
* * *
By flying close to the ground and coming in from the east with the rising sun, Toof managed to disguise the figure of the approaching garinafin until it was too late for the camp guards to raise an alarm. He guided the garinafin to land right next to Volyu’s big tent, and the small band led by Takval and Théra was able to fight their way in to seize Volyu, still dreaming of his big day, before he could rally a proper defense.
Souliyan, standing in front of the tent, assured Volyu’s followers that everything was fine. There was simply a family matter that needed to be discussed in private. The coup, bloodless and lightning-fast, was over before most of the camp were even up.
While Souliyan continued to deflect the growing crowd of anxious elders and shamans who demanded to know what was happening, inside the tent, Takval and Théra had to decide on the fate of the deposed Volyu.
“The best thing is to kill him,” said Takval. He was seething with rage after Souliyan had revealed to him the full extent of Volyu’s treachery on the flight back. “It’s the only way to satisfy the spirits of all the brave Agon warriors who had rebelled and died because of him. Once we publicize his crimes, the other chiefs will support us.”
“No, killing him is the one thing we must not do,” said Théra. “To begin our marriage and the alliance between our peoples with a death is a terrible omen.”
“You can’t always avoid spilling blood—” began Takval.
“It’s more than that,” said Théra. She glanced over at Volyu, who was gagged and bound in the corner of the tent with thick ropes of sinew. He glared at his nephew and would-be bride with baleful eyes. “If we kill him or depose him, news will reach Taten. Cudyu Roatan will be alarmed if his loyal hound has been removed.”
“A confrontation is inevitable.”
“That may be, but your uncle is right that the time for a confrontation isn’t ripe yet. The Agon tribes are too weak and too disunited. We have to grow stronger before we challenge the Lyucu, and your uncle can help us if we leave him where he is.”
After much discussion, they settled on a plan. There was to be an announcement that Volyu had changed his mind and decided that an alliance with Dara was too risky, voiding the marriage plans. Volyu would be left in charge in Sliyusa Ki, but Théra and Takval would leave with those warriors who believed that an alliance with Dara was worthwhile and set up a new base elsewhere, even farther away from the notice of roaming Lyucu thanes and garinafin riders.
“Where will we go?” asked Théra.
“Very far,” said Takval. “As far as the World’s Edge Mountains in the east. I’m afraid conditions will be even harsher than here.”
“As long as we do this together,” said Théra. “I’m not even afraid to drink pee anymore; how much worse can it be?”
“What makes you think I’ll keep your secret?” asked Volyu, as soon as the gag was pulled from his mouth.
“Simple: survival,” said Théra. “You’ve made it clear that’s the only thing you care about—that, and gaining power for yourself. If you reported us to the Lyucu, you would be blamed. How could Cudyu trust you if he learned that your sister and your nephew had both rebelled? And that you were so incompetent that you allowed them to get away? Surely he would think you were conspiring with them.”
Volyu continued to glare at her, but said nothing.
“And even if Cudyu somehow didn’t blame you, your own people would not let you off easily. Remember, Souliyan is at least as respected as you are. If our departure had her blessing, and the Lyucu then caught us, no one would believe your claims about the gods not favoring us.”
The sneer on Volyu’s face faded.
“Thus, the most advantageous path for you is to keep our secret.”
“You can’t keep a rebellion like this a secret forever!” Volyu said. “Eventually the Lyucu will find out.”
“By then we’ll be strong enough to fight them,” said Théra. “Think of it this way. The longer you help keep our secret, the stronger we’ll get, and the better the chances the rebellion will succeed. And when that happens, you’ll be a great hero and have more power than you can possibly gather here in the desert as a Lyucu sheepdog. I know you are not much of a warrior, but even you must dream of being a true pékyu of the Agon, with your name celebrated in song and story—at little risk to you.”
The stick plus the honey had the intended effect. Volyu stared at her for a few more moments and then nodded slowly.
* * *
As the warriors who would follow Takval and Théra on the long journey to the Dara fleet assembled next to the lakeshore, Volyu stood in front of them and poured kyoffir on the ground, wishing the voyagers a safe journey.
Those who were leaving would be leaving without their long-haired cattle or sheep—it was impossible to keep so many alive across the desert.
This made the departure easier to swallow for the rest of the tribe. The flocks and herds were sold to the remaining naros and naros-votan for weapons, pemmican, cheese, and short-haired cattle. Those staying and those departing both felt they were getting the better end of the bargain—one group had wealth, and the other hope.
“That was not the kind of deal I would have offered my uncle,” said Takval, “or would have been offered by any Agon I know.”
“We’ll both have to learn to think in new ways if we’re to achieve our goals,” said Théra.
“I’m realizing that. I’m still getting used to the idea of leaving him alive—but you were right. It really is the safest thing to do. In fact, keeping him in place will help us. The Lyucu have come to rely on him as a watchdog. So long as he doesn’t bark, the Lyucu will not even look for brewing rebellions.”
“It’s always easy to negotiate with people like him,” said Théra, “because all he cares about is himself.” She reached out for Takval’s hand and squeezed it. “That we care about more is both a weakness and a strength.”
And as the line of Agon warriors began to march to the west, Takval, Théra, Souliyan, and a few close companions mounted two garinafins—gifts from the suddenly generous Volyu, who couldn’t wait to get them out of Sliyusa Ki—and flew ahead toward the Dara fleet.
* * *
The decision to scuttle the ships was debated, but ultimately everyone agreed it was the only choice. There was no way to maintain these ships if they were to set up their base far in the east, and leaving the ships around risked exposing their arrival to the Lyucu.
Everything was unloaded from the ships and as much of the structures that could be salvaged disassembled and then removed. As the rest of the fleet crew stood mutely on shore and said good-bye to Dissolver of Sorrows and her sisters, a tearful Admiral Mitu Roso led Captain Nméji Gon and the other captains to torch the ships.
Théra was crying too. Until this moment, she had harbored, in some corner of her mind, the fantasy that she would be able to return to Dara soon. But the burning ships reminded her that she had made a commitment to be here, at least until her task was done.
“You’re thinking of your family?” asked Takval, putting an arm around her shoulders.
She leaned into him. “I am… and more.”
“Would you like to send a… care package to them?”
She looked at him, astounded.
So Takval explained.
* * *
The moon was full.
The main Agon caravan had finally arrived. The boxes and chests and bundles from the Dara fleet were loaded onto the short-haired cattle. The warriors and marines and scholars and naros were all asleep on the beach. In the morning they would begin the long trek to the east, to the World’s Edge Mountains, where they would find a way to build the fire of rebellion against the Lyucu. Along the way they hoped to stop at other Agon oases, and to gather more to their cause.
Takval and Théra stood next to the surf and watched as dozens of turtles of various sizes crawled awkwardly over the sand into the lapping waves. They had been captured by a few Dara fishermen a few days ago, and they were glad to escape their strange ordeal.
“You think they’ll make it through the Wall of Storms safely?” asked Théra.
“I don’t know,” said Takval. “The shamans don’t mention if Afir ever found out whether her turtles reached Kikisavo, either. But I’d like to think love is a shelter against any storm.”
The turtles dove into the water and surfaced briefly to breathe, and moonlight glinted off the strange markings on their shells. These were unlike the patterns on any other turtles found in Dara or off the shores of Ukyu-Gondé. Théra had designed the messages carefully, and Takval had then shown her and the fishermen how to use gash cactus juice to etch the messages into the living carapace of the turtles. Thoryo and Çami had been fascinated by the turtles and helped keep them calm during their brief captivity.
