The Flame Iris Temple Read online

  “I haven’t changed that much, Sir Ako,” Sandun said with a smile. “I always look forward to your company.”

  On the way to Valo Peli’s residence, Sir Ako asked about the tour of inspection.

  “Governor Vellen and General Kun are managing, but they are beset by many problems,” Sandun told him. “Kitran raiders in the north, uncooperative Red Sword followers in Mamarvi, some corrupt administrators in Sasuvi, and, most troubling of all, increasing pressure from Vasvar both on the river and in the west. King Tuno returned to Lakava, along with most of his fleet and army after they successfully conquered the province of Buuk.”

  “King Tuno is now our greatest foe,” Sir Ako pronounced. “We must destroy him before he becomes stronger.”

  “I’m sure you are right,” Sandun said. “The good news is that King Tuno seems to have taken ill from some sickness in the south. Spies report that Vasvar’s army lost many men to disease. More even than from storming the fortified city of Buuklos. Despite his losses, Tuno has some capable generals, including the former governor of Zelkat, a man by the name of Talmaksi. Lord Vaina is concerned about that one but, for the moment, he is far away, consolidating control over the province of Buuk. We can assume this is no easy task judging from the difficulties our man Vellen is having in Zelkat.”

  At the war minister’s mansion, they waited a few minutes before a young man who Sir Ako had never seen before greeted them. He looked similar to Alina Boethy but younger; his nose had once been broken, and the palms of his hands had the callouses of an archer. Sandun greeted him by name. “Danilo, we are looking for your father.”

  “And Sir Lathe,” Sir Ako added.

  “My father left very early this morning for the War Ministry, and even I haven’t seen him yet. Opmi Lathe left an hour ago. I’ve been talking with my mother—she’s quite upset. You must be Opmi Ako. Lord Sandun has told me of you.”

  “And you must be Valo Peli’s son. You traveled on the same boat as Sandun and Lord Vaina?”

  At the name Valo Peli, Danilo looked confused for a moment, and then he responded. “That must be the name my father assumed for his journey to Tokolas. It’s not a name he used in our home at Sajabalo. But yes, the arch-governor let me ride on his battleship from Sasuvi to here.”

  Now it was Ako’s turn to be confused. “The arch-governor?”

  Sandun interjected, “It’s a new title for Lord Vaina. Since he rules two provinces, he is taking the title of arch-governor. There will be a formal ceremony tomorrow.” Addressing Danilo, Sandun said, “I expect to see your father at the council meeting in an hour. You should go to the War Ministry if you want to talk with him.”

  “Thank you for that suggestion, I shall,” Danilo said. “My father’s estate supervisor seemed confident that my sister would soon be found. I hope he’s right.”

  With that, they said their farewells and left the mansion. “I’ll see you back at the embassy, Sir Ako,” Sandun said in parting. “With any luck, this will all be resolved by the end of the day, before the New Year starts.”

  Ako was not easy in his mind but lacked a good idea as to what else he could do. He returned to the embassy and sent a servant to buy good seats for the circus that evening. Padan and Wiyat expressed interest in going; Padan said he would bring his new ladyfriend.

  Padan’s new woman was named Akvil, and she was the daughter of a soldier. Her father, a sergeant in the Red Crane Army, had died during the Battle of Devek alongside General Erdis’s son. What little money the family possessed had disappeared into the funeral expenses. Akvil, already twenty-three and penniless, was not beautiful and had no prospects. It seemed the shortage of money in the government was hurting tens of thousands of people. In addition, Sir Ako had come to realize that almost everyone in Serica looked down upon soldiers and their families; even street sweepers had more respect. Padan, after surviving the Northern Expedition, put out feelers through the embassy servants that he was looking for a wife. A relative of one of their gate guards knew that Akvil was eager to marry and arranged a meeting at the rather unromantic soldiers’ graveyard in the hills east of the city.

  Padan explained his reasoning to Sir Ako a few days later. “She’s a soldier’s daughter and a good cook. She’s modest and doesn’t expect too much. These highborn Serice women are not for the likes of me. Akvil, she’s willing to accept the true faith, and it does seem like we are going to be here for a while, doesn’t it?”

  In his heart, Sir Ako thought Padan could do better, but he himself had grown up in a great castle surrounded by elegant women, while Padan came from a small hill town near Mount Lefkotai. Different standards, different expectations, he thought. As Padan had previously been lavishing his money on an expensive teahouse girl, marriage indicated a more serious approach for his right-hand man. Ako gave his blessing.

  Since Akvil would certainly be leaving her hovel near the South Gate to live with Padan, Sir Ako could envision a day when the Kelten embassy ran out of room. What then? Ako knew from experience that castles didn’t expand with the population; instead, the castle-dwellers had to adjust to smaller rooms while the others perforce took up residence outside the castle walls.

  Sandun returned two hours after noon, but without much news. “Lathe and one of Valo Peli’s clansmen are still watching at the Seven Stars Temple, but with no sign of a gang member. Lathe requested Squire Hikki’s assistance, and since there are so many people out on the streets today, that seems reasonable to me. It took me half an hour longer to return here from the palace because of the crowds.”

  Sir Ako agreed. He apprised Squire Hikki of the situation and dispatched him to the Seven Stars, reminding him to wear his most nondescript clothing.

  “Instead of us sitting around here waiting for new developments, Russu, Padan, Wiyat, and I—and Padan’s Akvil—are going to the circus. There will be fireworks after the performance to celebrate the New Year. Our newest squire, Zaval, will hold the fort just in case. Would you like to come with us?”

  Sandun had a curious expression on his face: faint amusement, perhaps. “I’ve seen…” And then he paused. “I am content to stay here for the rest of the day, but I will ask my lady of Shila if she wishes to see the Serice circus.”

  He returned to Sir Ako after a few minutes. “We will stay here tonight. Miri has seen the circus already—she went to see it shortly after she arrived in Tokolas with Jay and Ven. She said it surpassed her expectations, but she has no great desire to see it again so soon. Maybe we will see it next year.”

  Ako nodded and went to pace around the embassy, clenching and unclenching his hands. He wanted to return to the Seven Stars Temple, but he told himself Russu was right: he would be noticed, and his presence might well spook any gang members who came to pray. Thousands of people in Tokolas knew the connection between Valo Peli and the Keltens, for they had made no secret of it after the Northern Expedition. Still, he worried about Alina, who had been abducted a day ago. What had been done to her? Were the kidnappers really looking to make money from a ransom? Were they planning on spiriting her out of the city? Or was this a darker plot? The New Year celebration was, he admitted to himself, the perfect time to kidnap someone.

  There was a palpable excitement in the air, and the noise from the street could be heard throughout the embassy. The staff were rushing around the building doing last-minute tasks. This morning, he’d learned that no food would be cooked on New Year’s Day or the day following. Everything had to be made ready before the New Year: rooms had to be swept and cleaned, new clothing and bedding laid out, brass polished, and even new paintings hung.

  As Ako stalked the embassy, he glanced at the new paintings hanging in the dining room: gifts from Lord Vaina’s wife, Lady Osmo. Once unrolled, the paintings depicted small children playing with each other or flying kites or holding little turtles. Sometimes the turtles were depicted standing on their back legs and holding
tiny black flags. Cheerful, but not the sort of art he liked. Ako preferred landscapes, portraits, or, best of all, scenes of battles. These new paintings struck him as overly sentimental, portraying a world very much at odds with reality. He resisted the temptation to tear them off the walls and left the dining room, slamming the door shut behind him.

  The preparations for the New Year vastly exceeded his expectations, to use Lady Miri’s expression. The only thing he could compare it to was when King Pandion had come to visit his father’s castle. That had occurred five…no, six years ago when he was already married and living with his then-wife in a small manor house east of Agnefeld. Of course, he had been invited to join his father and older brothers and many of the other nobles in paying homage to the king. Arriving early at Castle Agnefeld, he’d found it a veritable madhouse: servants were cleaning everything that could be reached, furniture was being rearranged, and some pieces were still being touched up with new paint. His mother, standing in the great hall, barely kissed him on the cheek before she returned to issuing a seemingly endless stream of snap decisions, much like a general giving orders in the midst of a battle.

  Based on the throngs of people out in the streets of Tokolas, it seemed like the entire city was preparing for some grand inspection—but by who? It was as though Lord Vaina was about to visit every single house on New Year’s Day and pronounce his verdict on the degree of preparations. And still, New Year hadn’t yet arrived. What more was coming? Quite a number of shops had pictures of turtles hanging on their doors, and he heard people talking about “the Year of the Turtle.” Apparently, every year had a special guardian animal associated with it, or some such custom.

  Finally, it was time to head off to the circus. Russu bounced down the stairs wearing her favorite green dress with a long coat over it. “Is everyone ready? Let’s go!” she said excitedly. “We don’t want to be late.”

  Padan and Wiyat were ready, wearing their tabards over heavy jackets. Ako had a good deal of money hidden in his belt, just in case. Outside their gate, Padan’s intended, Akvil, waited patiently beside the wall. She was accompanied by another woman, her aunt, acting as a chaperone. It wouldn’t have been proper for her to come inside the gate of the Kelten embassy, not before she was married. Padan treated her with great courtesy, and Ako smiled as he recognized Padan’s use of a few of his own gestures. And why not? Padan was a knight now.

  The Knights of Serica and their women formed a tight knot as they made their way to the east market plaza through the crowded streets. Sir Ako asked Russu what year was ending if the Year of the Turtle was starting.

  “Today marks the end of the Year of the Whale,” she told him gaily. “Tomorrow starts the Year of the Turtle, followed by the Year of the Silan, and then the cycle of twelve starts over with the Year of the Dragon.”

  “What’s a Silan?”

  “Well, it’s called the heavenly bird, but it’s drawn in two different ways. If it’s a male, it has the head of an eagle and the body of a horse, and if it’s female, its head looks more like a swan. Supposedly, the Silan is found in the south, though I never saw one in Rakeved. Like dragons, they are very rare but quite auspicious if you catch sight of one.”

  The east market was closing early today, and the stalls were being moved out, clearing the space for the fireworks. The circus had taken over a field south of the market plaza, a space usually reserved for penning animals for sale such as chickens, sheep, and goats.

  Sir Ako’s thoughts returned to the first time he had taken Russu out. They had come here to the east market and looked at the horses. It had been a very pleasant excursion up until the moment four thugs from Rakeved had attempted to kill the princess. Her thoughts apparently fell along similar lines, and she moved close to him, putting a brave face over her troubled memories. “This is our first time back here. I’m sure tonight will be much safer,” she said.

  A surprisingly cold wind gusted out of the north, sending bits of hay swirling into the air. Although the days were getting longer, it still felt like the middle of winter. Heavy clouds bearing down upon the city might bring rain tonight, or even snow. Earlier in the week, Russu had commented that she had never seen snow fall. Ako had seen snow last year, in Gipu—more snow than he wanted to see.

  The circus was walled off by an extensive barrier of mats made of woven straw and hanging from wooden poles. The mats looked much the worse for wear. Small boys were darting underneath the mats and then—after shouts from the other side—they rolled back out and raced off to find a less well-guarded section of the circus. At the entrance, Sir Ako and the knights were recognized, and they were escorted to good seats near the front. The cost: two silver cats per person, more than eight times the price of the cheap seats in the rear. He purchased food from the attendant with some of his money.

  Russu said, “Aren’t you paying for the others?”

  “No, they have their own money,” Ako replied.

  “Oh, so you are giving them money tomorrow, then.”

  “Why would I give them money tomorrow?”

  “Because it’s the New Year,” she answered.

  “What does that have to do with giving anyone money?”

  “I don’t understand you, husband. Are you telling me that you don’t give money to your subordinates at the start of the New Year?”

  “You mean people give each other money at New Year? Why?”

  “For luck, obviously.”

  Sir Ako chuckled at Russu’s use of the word obviously.

  “Oh,” she said, looking up at him. “You weren’t planning on giving anything to the servants either?”

  “Why would I give money to the servants? Are they lucky also?”

  Russu sighed. “Never mind. I’ll do it.” She started naming people under her breath and counting out figures. “I’ll need fifteen cats. That sounds right.”

  “Fifteen cats of silver? That’s a large amount.”

  “Servants typically receive three months’ pay as a bonus on New Year,” Russu stated. “That’s how it is in Rakeved. The most important servants often get more. I can’t believe you don’t give money on the New Year. How…” Then she closed her mouth and smiled insincerely at him.

  Chalk this up to yet another tradition of the New Year in Serica, Ako thought to himself. In Kelten, it was commonplace to give gifts at a birthday, though he heard that some of the nobles in Seopolis had begun giving presents to people at the start of High Holy Week. However, that practice had not spread much beyond the capital city. “Buying favor from the rabble” was how his father had put it.

  Turning back to Russu, Ako said, “When is your birthday, my wife?”

  “Tomorrow,” she said.

  Ako was not normally a man to be unmoored by mere words, but this response was so unexpected he nearly unleashed the foulest oath he knew. How was he going to find a suitable present for his wife on such short notice? Seeing his consternation, Russu laughed and then covered her face with the sleeve of her jacket. “It’s the New Year—it’s everyone’s birthday tomorrow!”

  “I have no idea what you mean. How could it be everyone’s birthday?” Ako said this a bit loudly; his face was suddenly hot and sweaty.

  Russu sighed again, “Eston’s mercy—I mean, Sho’Ash…It’s just how it is. Everyone turns one year older tomorrow, on the first day of the new year. Of course, that’s not the actual day when everyone was born, but one’s actual date and time of birth is only important for matchmakers who use such information to figure out suitable marriage partners, based on their mystical books and calendars. No one else pays attention to an actual birthday.” She paused and then said, “If you are curious, I was born on the third day of the tenth month, just after the noon bell. It’s a useless fact since we are already married.”

  “I haven’t bought anything for your birthday,” Ako told her.

  Russu snuggled up t
o him and whispered. “You don’t have to get me anything. You came back from the war, robed in glory. You slew many Kitran, and everyone who was there sings your praises. What more could your wife possibly want?”

  Sir Ako grinned happily. That was exactly what he wanted to hear. He loved her when she said things like that.

  The food arrived as the performers started. Ako enjoyed most of the acts: the jugglers, the acrobats, the trick shooter with his bow hitting impossibly small targets. Russu thought the circus good, though only the man who changed his face really impressed her. But Ako’s thoughts kept returning to Lathe and Alina. Shouldn’t they have heard something by now?

  After the show, the audience was brought outside to a raised platform, facing the market plaza.

  The master of the circus told them, “The lord of Tokolas wishes our fireworks seen by the crowd, but naturally, our customers will have the best view. Please have patience while we make everything ready. The fireworks will start very soon!” Below them, workers were setting up tall poles with spinning wheels attached and long lines with what looked like fishes hanging off them. Beyond them, other men were taking down the tall hanging mats, revealing a vast crowd of people in the market plaza.

  Russu stood on her tiptoes and hung on his shoulder as she craned her head and said, “Look how many firecrackers they are setting up. I can’t believe it!” To her sorrow, Russu had missed the pyrotechnic display that Valo Peli created just before the battle of the burning tower. The explosion of sparks and flame at the end of that rally had given Sandun his nickname, the Fire Sword.

  Finally, the circus master, standing below them, announced, “We celebrate the New Year with this exhibition of Master Rinolvi’s famous fireworks. Thank you all for coming!”

  Ako couldn’t see how it was done, but suddenly a screeching whistle sounded while something flew fifty feet into the air and then exploded into a shower of flaming sparks, followed almost immediately by a loud bang. Thousands of people cried out with excitement. This was followed by colored flames shooting out from the poles in front of the platform. Wheels started spinning, making otherworldly circles of sparks in the air. More strange whistling noises seemed to come from tubes that were on fire. The poles were burning as more sparks and flames came from previously invisible branches. The line of “fishes,” which connected two of the poles in the center, now caught on fire and they exploded, one by one. The biggest fish in the center of the line went off last, making the largest boom as it erupted into a gout of red flames that shot off in all directions. One final object went whistling high into the sky, and suddenly a golden light filled the plaza as a huge circle blazed in the sky like a hundred stars swooping close to the earth.