The Empress of Xytae Read online

  “At least stay until Ioanna comes out of her meeting,” wheedled Vitaliya. “She’ll be disappointed if she doesn’t get to say goodbye properly.”

  “Very well, but I sincerely hope she does not try to offer me a reward. I already have all I require, and the temple will provide me with anything I lack. Whatever she might be thinking to give me would be put to better use helping our people.”

  “Fine! I’ll tell her so,” said Vitaliya. She climbed into the back of the wagon, where the chickens were already settled and crossed her legs. “But if you ever find yourself in Vesolda, come visit me. Or maybe once Ioanna is empress—I’ll make sure they invite you to the coronation. I won’t let them forget.”

  “If it happens in the summer, I may be too busy to attend,” said Otho, but he was smiling, teasing. “Some of us must work for our living.”

  “How terrible. What have you done to deserve such a fate?” Vitaliya took one of the chickens in her arms and held it carefully in the way Otho had taught her with one arm beneath to support the body. She’d never considered whether a chicken might make a good pet, but Otho’s were calm and surprisingly affectionate. “Goodbye, egg friend.”

  “If you’re serious about keeping chickens of your own, make sure you get more than one,” said Otho. “They’re social animals, just like Men. And they’re perfectly capable of becoming lonely.”

  “I’ll remember,” Vitaliya promised. She’d be the only girl at Bergavenna with pet chickens! Or at least she would be for a week or two until people started copying her. But that was still a long way off. She was still not ready to think of returning home.

  The door to Irianthe Isinthi’s study was under guard when Vitaliya approached it. Two men, both dressed in leather armor, had been posted on either side of it. But they did not draw their swords or even frown at her as she came nearer, so she felt confident enough to ask, “Are they still in there?”

  “Yes, Princess,” said one. “The empress mother has ordered they not be disturbed.”

  Could Irianthe still be called the empress mother now that Ionnes was dead? Would she become the empress grandmother when Ioanna took the throne? Vitaliya considered this as she wandered back off down the hall. Surely Enessa would be empress mother then? She had the impression Irianthe wouldn’t care very much if Enessa took that title from her.

  With nothing else to do, Vitaliya went back to her room, which she could not stop thinking of as Netheia’s. Maybe she would take some of the weapons off the wall and swing them around just to see what it felt like and hopefully not cut any of her fingers off. She’d been encouraged to throw a javelin when she’d been among Netheia’s friends, but they’d all laughed quite rudely at her first attempt, and so she’d feigned disinterest in the sport ever since.

  She examined a sword hanging from the wall. It was a lot larger than the swords the guards outside Irianthe’s study carried, and she doubted she’d be able to get it down—and if she did, she certainly wouldn’t be able to get it back up afterward.

  The room was warm and comfortable, and the bed was still made from yesterday. Vitaliya wondered if the servants had taken note of this and, if they had, what their opinion was. She slid her shoes off and lay down on the soft mattress. Her last, irrational thought before she fell asleep was of home of her empty room at Bergavenna and if anyone was missing her.

  Chapter Nine

  IOANNA

  Knight-Commander Livius had brought two paladins with him from Ieflaria. One was a fellow Xytan, who had left the country with the rest of the Order when Ioanna was young. His name was Vel, and he’d spent a few years fighting dragons in eastern Ieflaria before they ceased their attacks. Following that, he’d remained in Birsgen, prepared to serve if needed but seldom called upon.

  The other paladin was a woman, and one Ioanna had met before in childhood. Her name was Orsina, and she was not Xytan, but Vesoldan. Orsina had been responsible for rescuing Ioanna from a chaos cult when she was seven years old. Her mother’s sister, Aunt Livia, had invited Ioanna to her home deep in the countryside for a visit. That visit had ended abruptly, with her rescuers turning up just in time to save her.

  Ioanna barely remembered Aunt Livia. The woman had vanished afterward, and neither of Ioanna’s parents ever mentioned her again, nor did anyone else at court. In a way, it was as though Livia had never existed, as though they’d rather erase her than acknowledge the empress’s sister had worshipped a chaos god.

  Ioanna frequently wondered if her father had ordered Livia to be executed for her crimes, but lacked the courage to ask.

  Orsina was a little bit older now, but her face had not changed too much. Ioanna found she remembered the paladin vividly, unlike Aunt Livia, though their meeting had been short. At the time, she’d seemed so much older and wiser than Ioanna, but in retrospect she’d probably been around the same age Ioanna was now.

  Orsina had not acted alone during Ioanna’s rescue. Accompanying her was another woman, the one responsible for getting Ioanna out of Livia’s house discreetly.

  Are you Talcia? she had asked, for something about the woman gave her the impression that she might be. But the woman only smiled and said no, her name was Aelia, and Ioanna had probably never heard of her because she was not very important…

  And that was true, but Ioanna had remembered the name and looked it up later, when she was safe at home once more. With the aid of the priests, she managed to locate a single short entry on a very, very long list of everyone the Order of the Sun classified as a chaos god. The entry in question was only a single line long, reading simply, ‘Aelia – Goddess of Caprice.’

  Aelia had not seemed like a chaos goddess. Or at least not what she would expect one to be like given their behavior in stories, legends, and rumors. Chaos gods, Ioanna understood, manifested in awful, monstrous bodies and tricked, bribed, or terrified innocent people into worshiping them. Aelia’s body had not been monstrous at all. If not for Ioanna’s blessing, she might have passed for an ordinary woman. And she hadn’t tried to get Ioanna to worship her or even talked about worshippers at all. She’d been there to help her, to get Ioanna to safety.

  Afterward, Ioanna asked Archpriest Lailus if the lists were ever wrong; if the scribes ever made a mistake when they were writing down names. There were so many gods in Asterium, after all, and sometimes they were called different things in different lands. It would only be natural if people mixed some of them up. But Archpriest Lailus said he did not know, and the Order of the Sun could probably give her a better answer. But, of course, the Order of the Sun was gone, and so Ioanna could do nothing but wonder, speculate, and hope.

  The one good thing to come out of the entire mess was Ioanna had been able to compose a hasty letter to Knight-Commander Livius. She shuddered to think how naive and foolish it must have sounded to him! And yet, she did not regret sending it. At a time when she had felt so utterly alone, reaching out to the Order of the Sun had given her hope that someday her life might change.

  Before now, Ioanna had never been allowed to set foot inside her grandmother’s study. Whenever she expressed interest, Grandmother Irianthe would tell her to go visit the Temple of Ethi, for their books were not nearly so expensive. In retrospect, her grandmother probably just didn’t want Netheia following Ioanna in and swinging a sword around.

  The study was large with a colored marble floor. Some of the shelves had been built to hold books, while others were the square slots meant to keep scrolls organized. At the center of the room was a large table of polished wood, and this was what Ioanna and the others gathered around to discuss their plans. Except they clearly had already discussed things before her arrival because she felt as though it was less of a conversation and more of a lecture.

  “We will take advantage of my holdings in Nassai,” said Grandmother Irianthe, naming a rural area located west of Xyuluthe. “It is remote enough that we can safely use it as a gathering place for your supporters, but near enough that it will not require an un
due amount of resources to march on the capital.”

  “You don’t think it’s too near?” worried Ioanna. “If Netheia learns—”

  “I’m sure she will, eventually,” agreed Grandmother Irianthe. “But by the time she does, it will be too late to call the legions back from Masim in time to intercept us. To help ensure this, I will go to Xyuluthe. I do not think it will require much effort to convince them they cannot risk losing ground.”

  That was probably true. The Xytan court would view it as a shameful thing to retreat. Especially now, when hatred of the Masimi would be higher than ever following the death of her father.

  Ioanna supposed that was their greatest advantage—the fact that, even if Netheia did gain control over the armies, most of their forces were too far away to be of any real use to her.

  “I also wish to speak to your mother to understand her intentions.” Grandmother Irianthe’s expression darkened and her fingers interlocked. “I cannot say I approve of how she is handling this.”

  Ioanna knew she ought to be grateful people more experienced than she were removing a great deal of responsibility from her shoulders, but for some reason, she was not. She felt like a pawn in their hands, to be moved from place to place for their benefit.

  But what choice did she have? She could hardly send them all away and proclaim she’d take the throne from her sister without anyone’s help.

  Perhaps it would have been easier if she could sense deception, or at least ulterior motives on them. But though the meeting stretched on for hours while they pointed at spots on the map and argued about details, Ioanna felt no signs anyone in the room was anything other than precisely what they purported to be.

  Would it be different when she was empress? Or would it all be the same, sitting quietly in a large chair while other people told her what she would do next?

  And what’s wrong with that? Ioanna asked herself. What’s wrong with taking advice from people who know better than I do? Refusing counsel out of sheer hubris was the sort of senseless thing she might expect from Netheia. But what if everyone thought her weak because of it?

  “Ioanna?” Her grandmother’s voice cut through her thoughts. “Are you listening?”

  Ioanna blinked and rubbed at her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I think I need to stop. Just for an hour to clear my head. I’m going in circles.”

  “I think that would do us all some good,” said Knight-Commander Livius. He got to his feet, and the other two paladins followed his example. “We have made good progress for now. It is becoming too warm in here.”

  Perhaps her grandmother wanted to object, but Ioanna couldn’t bring herself to care. She hurried out of the room, ahead of all the others. The hall was significantly cooler than the study had been, and a soft breeze blew in from the garden.

  Orsina was the last paladin to emerge from Grandmother Irianthe’s study, and Ioanna waited behind so she might catch her. They hadn’t had a chance to speak at all before Grandmother Irianthe called the meeting to a start, but Orsina had given her a smile that suggested she did remember Ioanna. When she saw Ioanna waiting for her, she smiled again.

  “I’d hoped for a chance to speak with you,” said Ioanna. “It’s been such a long time—”

  “I thought you must have forgotten me,” said Orsina. “It was so long ago, after all.”

  “No! Not even a little bit.” Ioanna felt herself smile. “Is Aelia here with you?”

  “Oh yes, she’s about. She’s just not terribly good at meetings, so I didn’t bring her.”

  Ioanna nodded. “Can I ask you—”

  “Come with me,” Orsina said. “I don’t want to shout this out for the servants to hear.”

  They went into the gardens and walked in silence for a time. The day was peaceful and bright, and Ioanna found it difficult to dwell on empires, sisters, and military plans.

  “After Kynith and Aunt Livia, I looked at the records,” said Ioanna at last. “And they said Aelia was a chaos goddess. But I thought that must be a mistake.”

  “It is outdated information,” said Orsina. “I’ve made a special effort to have her name stricken from those records, but it is difficult to have it done in Xytae, given that the Order has no presence here any longer.”

  Ioanna frowned. “So she is a chaos goddess?”

  “She was,” said Orsina. “Once. Redemption is not only for the mortal races. When you met her, she had only taken the first few steps away from her old domain. That was more than ten years ago…though I’ll admit it does not seem so long. It has all gone by very quickly, and we’ve been keeping busy in the meantime. I’m glad we were in Ieflaria when Knight-Commander Livius received his summons.”

  “But she changed her domain?” pressed Ioanna. She did not want to be rude, but now she was thinking of the conversation she’d had with her grandmother after her arrival yesterday. If you believe you can reason her out of her own domain, Grandmother Irianthe had said of Reygmadra. She’d only said it to point out how absurd Ioanna was being, and Ioanna hadn’t been meant to consider it as a legitimate course of action. But the idea was compelling.

  “Yes, you’ve no reason to fear her,” said Orsina, misunderstanding Ioanna’s interest. “Honestly, even before she shifted, she wasn’t one of the more dangerous ones. Whatever awful things you’re imagining—”

  “I’m not,” Ioanna interrupted. “That is, I’m not asking because I’m afraid of her. I’m sure you wouldn’t have brought her here if she was dangerous. But I’ve been thinking of…” Words failed her as she was struck by how foolish this line of questioning was. Reygmadra was the goddess of warfare, Eighth of the Ten and one of the most powerful gods in Asterium. She would not be coaxed away from that! Not by one so insignificant as Ioanna!

  “Ioanna?” Orsina prompted.

  “Never mind,” said Ioanna. “Just—just a thought.” Persuading a little whisper of a chaos goddess away from the path of evil was certainly impressive, but nothing compared to what it would take to change Reygmadra’s nature.

  “Are you certain?” Orsina sounded a little concerned. Ioanna nodded. “Well, if you change your mind…”

  Besides, even if Ioanna was capable of such a thing, how would she ever communicate her ideas to Reygmadra? She doubted the goddess would listen to her prayers, let alone consent to manifest just so Ioanna could lecture her.

  “Don’t worry; it was only a passing thought,” said Ioanna. “But please excuse me. I should go find Princess Vitaliya. She wanted to attend the meeting, but my grandmother wouldn’t allow it.” Vitaliya probably wouldn’t have been capable of sitting through it if she had been allowed in, but Ioanna felt a little sorry for her, nevertheless.

  She left the garden and went back toward the house, deciding she’d check Vitaliya’s bedroom first. The halls of the residential area were quiet, and Ioanna had a feeling the servants were busy preparing for the midday meal.

  Ioanna took a deep breath and knocked on the door that she’d always thought of as Netheia’s. “Vitaliya?” she called. “Are you in there?”

  “Yes, I’m here!” came Vitaliya’s voice, slightly muffled. “Come in!”

  Ioanna tried the door and found it unlocked. She entered the room and saw Vitaliya sitting on the bed, her hair in disarray as though she’d been lying down. Vitaliya brightened up at the sight of her.

  “There you are! I thought they’d never let you go!”

  “I’m sorry. Did I wake you?”

  Vitaliya waved her hand to dismiss the sentiment. “Don’t worry! I wasn’t tired, just bored. I had no idea the meeting would go on for so long.”

  “I know, I’m sorry. But we’re not finished. We’ve only stopped for a short break.”

  Vitaliya got up off the bed and smoothed her skirt with her palms. “What did the paladins say? Do they have a plan?”

  “We’re working out a route I’m to follow to gather supporters,” explained Ioanna. “We’re still figuring out the details, but we’re goi
ng to move through the north, then approach Xyuluthe from the west just in time for the coronation.”

  “That’s exciting,” said Vitaliya. “When are we going to leave?”

  Ioanna hesitated. Then she said, “Perhaps you ought to remain here. Or go on to Ieflaria, or somewhere safer.”

  Vitaliya pouted, sticking out her lower lip as far as she could manage in the same way a young child might. “We already had this conversation. I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying with you.”

  “It could be dangerous. It will be dangerous. And if you travel with me, people might interpret it as Vesolda supporting me.”

  “So what if they do? I don’t care. Besides, Vesolda would support you if they knew what was happening here.”

  “What if Netheia becomes empress? If she wins, and she decides Vesolda opposed her reign, she might want to take revenge. Your people could suffer.”

  “I don’t, I don’t want to leave,” insisted Vitaliya. “And besides, who is going to recognize me all the way out here? I’ll just go on being Floriana. I’ll pretend to be your maid.”

  “I don’t think you would be able to pass for a maid,” Ioanna said staunchly. “What will happen when someone asks you to mend something? Or wash something?”

  “I’ll do my best!” But apparently Vitaliya could tell Ioanna was not convinced by this, so she added, “It’s too early to decide anything yet. You don’t even know where you’re going to go first. And if you leave me here, I’ll hold my breath until I faint.”

  “If you’re not going to take this seriously—”

  “I can help!” Vitaliya cried. “Think of all the towns and villages you’re going to travel through. They’ll be low on supplies and desperate. There are not enough priests of Eyvindr in the north. I can make their crops grow. And if we can do that for them, they might be more inclined to take your side. It’s easier to think when you’re not hungry.”