The Wall of Storms, page 62
“Don’t be so morose,” said Pékyu Tenryo. “The rightness and wrongness of things must be looked at from many perspectives. If you had not helped us, more grandfathers and grandmothers would have died in winters on the scrublands and many more children would remain unborn.”
“Tyrants could justify anything with what-ifs.”
Pékyu Tenryo laughed. “Then I’ll try another tack. If your homeland is so wonderful, isn’t it a sin to keep it only for yourselves? Those born in less fortunate lands deserve to enjoy its bounty as well. You’ve always had a restless soul, and wanderlust is what drove you to leave Dara. Why would you deny to others the freedom of movement that you view as your own birthright?”
“So you think an invasion is morally the same as a voyage of exploration?”
“I certainly saw little difference when Admiral Krita explored our land and made himself its king.”
Luan Zya sighed. “You would make a good paid litigator.”
Pékyu Tenryo was about to ask more about this exotic-sounding profession when he felt a sudden wave of dizziness and collapsed to the table, his skull-cup of kyoffir spilling across the leather surface.
Luan Zya got up from the table, rummaged through Pékyu Tenryo’s furs for the set of keys that never left his side, and hurried out of the room.
He opened the door to the storeroom that was always kept sealed.
A strong scent of smoke and fire almost overwhelmed him.
Luan Zya did not know what was kept in this room. He only knew that the grooms always clammed up whenever the conversation drifted in this direction. It was also kept locked, and, as far as he knew, Pékyu Tenryo had the only key. Whatever was held in here was of the utmost importance to the Lyucu invasion.
He had bided his time and waited for his chance. Having fallen for Cudyu and Vadyu’s trick, he had already yielded up the secret of passing through the Wall of Storms. The only way to atone for his sin was to sabotage the invaders’ mission. He had already done one thing that would hopefully thwart the plans of the Lyucu to subjugate Dara, but he needed to do more to be sure.
Luan had debated between killing the pékyu as he slept, which might have led to quicker discovery of his treachery, and making his way quietly down here to sabotage the secrets in this room. In the end, he had picked the less obvious choice. The pékyu was powerful and crafty, but another thane—such as the cunning Tanvanaki—might step into his place; the contents of this room, however, might be irreplaceable. He hoped he had made the right decision.
He had gained the Lyucu’s trust by seeming to comply with their wishes. He had acted the part of the weak and foolish man who could not understand that to stop evil, sometimes the innocent needed to suffer. He had allowed the pékyu to underestimate him and misjudge him. All for this chance. For this moment.
The room was packed with woven sacks holding some kind of grain, he decided. Maybe it was a potent medicine, or a food that endowed the warriors with extra strength. Whatever it was, he was going to destroy it.
But the strong, acrid smell, as though something was already burning, confused him. He was sure he had smelled it before. An image of a hot-air balloon ride taken with Zomi Kidosu, his best student, came unbidden to mind, and he wasn’t sure why.
No matter, he didn’t have time to investigate. There was a time for gathering knowledge, and a time to act. Lord Garu had taught him that lesson a long time ago.
He poured the jar of lamp oil he had stolen from the store all over the sacks; then he dropped the torch and watched as poof the room flared into conflagration.
As he hurried out of the room, he ticked through his mental checklist. Gitré Üthu was safely ensconced at an obscure corner in the hold, where it was unlikely to be found. In a moment of weakness, he had written a last message in it for Gin, the lover he never stopped thinking about and who he could not convince to stop the pursuit of power and honor—well, perhaps he was the foolish one. He had tried to pursue his own dream, and look where it had gotten him.
It would be good if the book survived and was eventually discovered by someone who could make sense of it, but it wasn’t critical. He had nothing more to lose.
He ran to the opening of the narrow corridor that led down to this compartment and lifted the dung shovel he had grabbed on the way down. For a moment he had the illusion that he was again in the palace in Pan that had been built by Emperor Erishi, as he fought by the side of Lord Garu and everything burned around him.
He would stand here and hold off the Lyucu guards as long as he could. The longer he could keep it up, the more the mysterious material held in the storeroom behind him would burn.
“You should have invited me.”
Oga Kidosu stepped into view. He was carrying two swords of Dara, kept by the thane he served as trophies.
Luan was startled. “Don’t you want to see Zomi and Aki?” He accepted one of the swords from Oga and dropped the dung shovel.
“It’s the duty of fathers to fight wars so that their children don’t have to.”
Luan smiled. “All right then, friend. Let’s make this count.”
The Lyucu guards came at them through the darkness, and they ululated and stabbed into the unknown.
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
A TRAP
RUI: THE SECOND MONTH IN THE TWELFTH YEAR OF THE REIGN OF FOUR PLACID SEAS.
“They finally overcame us . . . the storeroom burned down . . . chained us both in the hold . . . would not kill us . . . witness the destruction of our homeland . . .”
Oga Kidosu’s voice faded until, even with her ear next to his murmuring lips, she could hear nothing.
“Proud . . . daughter . . . proud . . . seen you once . . .”
The lips stopped moving. Zomi placed her head against his chest, and there was only silence.
She held his hand against her face and hot tears covered the wrinkled skin that was growing cold and stiff.
In the other stretcher, Luan Zya’s hands moved. Zomi shifted over and held them. She gazed into his sightless eyes and shouted, “Teacher! I’m here!”
The hands continued to move in her grasp like slippery fish that were trying to escape. Zomi let go and watched as the hands moved through air.
She turned around and called out, “Writing wax! He’s trying to say something.”
Others in the grand audience hall scrambled and soon, soft wax was brought over on a tray. Zomi held the tray up and placed her teacher’s hands over it. Even without his eyes, his fingers sought out the malleable wax and began to sculpt.
Zomi watched the logograms take shape on the tray, one after another. She saw that the hands were slowing down, growing sluggish. Tears flowed down her face unimpeded; she felt her heart was on the verge of breaking.
Weigh the fish, the universe is knowable.
A cruben breaches; the remora detaches.
Mewling child, cooing parent,
Grand-souled companions, brothers,
Wakeful weakness,
Empathy that encompasses the world.
To imagine new machines, to see unknown lands,
To believe the grace of kings belongs to all.
Grateful.
This was a summary of his life, the ultimate call of the wild goose departing the pond.
The last logogram took shape; the fingers stopped. And with a final, barely audible gasp, Luan Zya died.
Zomi backed up and knelt before both stretchers. She touched her forehead to the ground in the direction of Oga Kidosu.
“You are the author of my body and the mold of my spirit, Father. Though we have seen each other only twice in our lives, at the moment of my birth and the moment of your death, yet the silver streaks of our passing shall forever illuminate the vast sea of my memory.”
She turned and touched her forehead to the ground in the direction of Luan Zya.
“You are the parent of my mind and the instructor of my soul, Luan Zyaji—”
Her sobbing made it impossible for her to continue.
No one objected to her use of the honorific, though it was the custom that only kings and emperors could convey such honor upon great scholars.
A detailed report was prepared and sent to Pan. Some thought it best to send Gitré Üthu to the emperor as well, but Than Carucono looked at the mourning figure of Zomi Kidosu, who cradled the book the way a drowning man clutched at anything that floated, and shook his head. The book was where it needed to be.
Oga Kidosu’s and Luan Zya’s bodies rested in the grand audience hall. After a suitable mourning period, Zomi would take both for burial in their hometowns in Dasu and Haan. Given the state of the war, however, that might take some time.
- Why didn’t you whisk the body of your protégé away, Turtle-Brother, the way we took the bodies of our favorites away in their moments of apotheosis?
- Luan has always believed the universe is knowable. Making the moment of his death a mystery would be wrong.
- You have strange ideas for how to honor the mortals, Lutho.
- I’ve been thinking a lot about our relationship with the mortals. We may not have encountered the Lyucu gods, but have you not noticed how they’ve started to pray to us, giving us the names of their gods? Do you feel honored or dishonored?
Than Carucono and Zomi Kidosu debated the wisdom of the plan to bring the emperor over to Rui.
“Based on Luan Zyaji’s experience, Pékyu Tenryo is a wily, clever opponent,” said Zomi. “We should ascertain whether the apparent retreat is but another stratagem before committing the emperor to this path.”
“But if we wait too long, it will give Tenryo a chance to regroup. The longer we wait, the more likely it is that Tenryo will strengthen his position. The right strategy is to immediately call for reinforcements and strike while the iron is hot. The emperor’s presence will rally our troops and awe the barbarians, and having the emperor here will allow negotiations for the safety of Prince Timu to be conducted with alacrity.”
Zomi sighed. By now, she was sufficiently experienced with the ways of the world to understand that Than Carucono’s real fear was that he would be blamed if Tenryo, in desperation, decided to harm Prince Timu. He wanted Emperor Ragin here so that he would not have to face the wrath of the emperor and the empress if things went wrong. This might be wise politics, but she was sure it was the wrong strategy.
Once the messenger airship arrived in Pan, Kuni immediately began preparations for going over to Rui with the rest of the army.
“I advise strongly against such a path,” said Mün Çakri. “The situation in Rui is still uncertain, and I think Zomi’s concerns should be given due consideration.”
“Why are you suddenly so cautious?” said Jia. Her voice took on an edge. She couldn’t wait to be reunited with Timu, and the idea that Mün might be hoping to prolong the war to increase his own influence flashed through her mind.
“The marshal has always taught us that there is a time for acting, and there is a time for waiting,” said Mün Çakri. “I don’t trust the speedy victory and the apparent collapse of the Lyucu defenses.”
“The marshal isn’t fighting this war,” said Kuni, an edge in his voice. “I’m going whether you come or not. My son is over there. Surely you, of all people, can understand that.”
Emperor Ragin arrived in Kriphi with General Mün Çakri and a reinforcement of ten thousand men, along with more airships equipped with flamethrowers.
As the Lyucu did not trust their own airship crews—mostly manned by surrendered Imperials—not to defect, they grounded the airships they had been using as scouts in Dasu. Since the Lyucu also didn’t have the training or skill to field large fleets of battle airships, they scuttled all the ships at the Mount Kiji Air Base during their retreat rather than letting them fall into Imperial hands. It would take a long time to construct more; the airships that accompanied the emperor here were the very last ones in Dara.
Mün Çakri ordered a slow and steady march by the army in pursuit of the Lyucu. Puma Yemu was put in charge of the Imperial airships, and he directed them to make hit-and-run raids against the Lyucu army. The goal of these raids wasn’t to cause damage, but to draw out garinafin fire and exhaust their flight. The Lyucu responded by dividing their garinafins into groups who alternated between waddling along the ground to rest and taking off into the air to deal with Puma’s harassing airships.
While the barbarian warriors slowly retreated toward the coast, forcing civilians to travel with them as human shields, the garinafins, skittish after their last disastrous battle against Imperial airships, stayed at a safe distance from the flame-tongued airships even as they rose to intercept them. The two sides thus engaged in an aerial dance, feinting and probing for weaknesses but never engaging fully.
More garinafins were sent to protect the city-ships anchored along the western coast of Rui against either airship bombardment or sneak assaults by mechanical crubens.
Pékyu Tenryo’s overall plan appeared to be to get to the coast and board the city-ships. Once that was accomplished, he could either retreat to Dasu for a final stand or make a run for the open ocean.
“We have to stop him before he can reach the coast,” Kuni declared, and Than Carucono took a detachment of a few hundred horsemen to try to secretly outflank the retreating mass of the Lyucu army and their abductees. A few flame-throwing Imperial airships flew at some distance from the brigade to act as decoys to draw the attention of patrolling garinafins away from the location of the horse riders. If Than could cut off the retreating Lyucu’s path to the sea, the emperor’s army had a chance to completely surround the Lyucu army.
Zomi Kidosu elected to join the riders of Than Carucono. The winter weather made her leg harness stiff and made walking more difficult, and riding a horse gave her more mobility. She took advantage of the opportunity to ride away from the cavalry brigade and observe the distant aerial dance of garinafins against airships. Although Luan Zyaji had taken detailed notes on the creatures in Gitré Üthu, she reminded herself that there was no substitute for direct observation, for weighing the fish.
The crews of the Imperial airships and the garinafin riders had by now fought each other often enough to have adjusted somewhat to each other’s tactics. The airships had the advantage of being able to stay aloft indefinitely and of having flamethrowers with longer range, but the garinafins were more maneuverable and faster. As long as the airship crews remained alert and maintained careful formations that prevented blind spots, they could fend off the garinafins though they did not have the speed or agility to catch up to them.
Kidosu carefully sketched pictures of the garinafins in action and noted whether they seemed particularly protective of parts of their bodies as they fought the airships. She even took the time to examine garinafin dung heaps when they encountered them, much to the consternation of others in the cavalry brigade. She wasn’t sure exactly what she was looking for, but she believed that Gin Mazoti was right: Understanding the garinafins was the key to eventually defeating them.
Occasionally, some of the civilians managed to escape the Lyucu army and ran to Than Carucono’s riders for protection. There were far fewer of these escaped villagers than Carucono would have expected, and questioning of the escapees revealed that this was due to the deci-chief system set up by the traitor Ra Olu—even when given the opportunity, few of the families dared to escape because they knew that their neighbors who remained behind would have to pay for their safety. Ra Olu’s system was effective at helping the Lyucu to secure their control over the population, and Carucono cursed Olu’s name.
Once Than Carucono had finished questioning the escaped villagers about the morale and deployment of retreating Lyucu troops, he wanted to send them to Mün Çakri, who was leading the main army and could offer them protection. Zomi Kidosu, however, kept the escapees around longer and asked them many questions about the garinafins: how many people were assigned to feed and care for each garinafin; how much did they eat and for how many hours during the day; what exactly were their favorite foods; how often did they relieve themselves and what form did the fresh excrement take; and so on and so forth.
To Than Carucono, these questions didn’t seem very useful. “Are you thinking of becoming a garinafin herder?”
Zomi Kidosu shook her head. To most people of Dara, the garinafins were monsters from nightmares, but she and her teacher both understood that even monsters were knowable.
To reach the coast, the Lyucu army and the abducted villagers had to go through Naza Pass, which was near the northern coast of Rui.
The pass was at the narrow end of a funnel-shaped valley between looming hills on both sides. The valley was about a mile in breadth at the wider end, where the village of Phada was located—the tiny hamlet had a measure of fame because this was where, during the Chrysanthemum-Dandelion War, the secret tunnel from Dasu to Rui dug by Gin Mazoti terminated.
As the tunnel had been dug only for military use, it was not suitable for commercial exploitation without significant investment, and Kuni Garu wisely thought taking up a hated project initiated by the tyrant Mapidéré would not have appealed to his subjects. The tunnel was thus soon abandoned, and over time, the crater from which Gin Mazoti’s forces had emerged had been filled back in by loose stones. Few even remembered its existence except for old veterans who had fought under Marshal Mazoti in the early days.
The valley narrowed as one moved west, and by the time it reached Naza Pass, the hills had pressed in until only about a hundred yards separated them.
General Than Carucono’s riders managed to get to the pass ahead of the retreating Lyucu by several days, which was plenty of time to build up impressive fortifications with stones and fallen trees.
Carucono sighed with relief. Once the fortifications were in place, even attacks by garinafins wouldn’t be able to dislodge them. The five hundred riders were confident that they could hold off the much larger Lyucu force until the main army led by the emperor and Mün Çakri in pursuit of the Lyucu arrived.
