The Empress of Xytae Read online

  “Until what?” asked Vitaliya.

  “I’m not sure; I’m not a farmer. But there have been rumors, in past years, the soil is beginning to weaken, and their output is not so impressive anymore.”

  Vitaliya knew weakening of soil was a natural thing and could be combated by growing different crops in the same fields, or by calling in priests to rejuvenate the soil with magic. “Why don’t the priests restore the soil?”

  “They can’t,” said Otho. “Or, at least, not as effectively as they once could. Perhaps there is a limit to how much magic the earth can take in such a short time. Or maybe there is some other reason.”

  “Like Eyvindr is displeased with them?”

  “I would not presume to speak for Eyvindr.”

  “I might,” said Vitaliya. “If he sees them going to the south, not helping ordinary people but contributing to the war, that would upset anyone, wouldn’t it?”

  “But what choice do they have?” asked Otho. “If they stand against the emperor, they’ll certainly be imprisoned or worse.”

  “This country is awful,” muttered Vitaliya. Then, not wanting to offend, she added, “I mean, the fact temples have to take direct orders and ignore ordinary people…”

  “It is difficult,” said Otho. “I count myself fortunate the Temple of Cyne has been largely overlooked by the war effort. And I have hope perhaps things will change in the future. And we will be able to go back to living as the gods intended.”

  Vitaliya looked over at Ioanna, but she had her back to them and was carefully unfolding the blankets and making up the beds. Vitaliya knew she’d heard the conversation, for they were nearly within arm’s reach of each other, but Ioanna went on as though nothing had happened.

  Vitaliya wasn’t very tired yet, mostly thanks to the long rest she’d had in the wagon, and so she went back outside. The sun was setting, but it was still warm, and Vitaliya was seized by the impulse to find a tree to climb.

  Maybe that would be a bad idea, though. She was supposed to be an acolyte, and therefore should probably attempt to conduct herself with some degree of dignity.

  The door to the temple opened behind her, and Ioanna stepped out. She looked as solemn as ever, which meant Vitaliya was once again compelled to make her smile.

  “This has been nice,” said Vitaliya. “I mean, nicer than I’d have expected, considering the circumstances.”

  Ioanna did not reply, and Vitaliya feared she’d been insensitive.

  “I wouldn’t have thought I’d ever ride in a wagon pulled by a donkey,” Vitaliya hurried to add. “And wear a robe. And visit a town so tiny. And give fruit to bandits. Things like that.”

  “It might still end badly,” said Ioanna quietly.

  “Maybe! But it’s not bad now. And I think that’s important too.” Vitaliya gave an encouraging smile. “I think Cyne or someone sent Otho to us. We’d be lost without him, wouldn’t we?”

  “Yes,” agreed Ioanna. “Those priestesses would have certainly had us today if not for him.”

  “He’s quite familiar but not in an impertinent way. Don’t you think? I like it. It makes me feel ordinary.”

  “Yes,” said Ioanna. “I think so.”

  Vitaliya smiled and looked up at the sky to see if she could pick out any stars. But it was still too early. “I think it will all turn out all right somehow. And maybe that’s silly. But it’s what I think.”

  “I can’t see how.”

  “Well, neither can I. But we don’t know what we’re doing yet. Once we get to your grandmother’s house, we can stop worrying about hiding from guards and priestesses and come up with a proper plan.”

  “It seems impossible.”

  “What? No, she’s only a few days travel away. We’ll make it for sure.”

  “No. I mean…coming up with a feasible plan. Defeating Netheia. Everyone is already on her side. Sometimes I wonder if it might just be better to give them what they want and disappear.”

  “Well, that would be the easier thing,” granted Vitaliya. “And if I was you, that’s probably what I’d do. But you’re smarter than me, and more responsible than me. So, I expect you’ll do better than that. Besides, everyone needs you to come fix everything—to bring back the priests, the parents, and stop trying to draft children into the army and stop the whole ridiculous war!”

  “I know that’s what needs to be done,” said Ioanna. “But I can’t see the path to it. Everything I can think of only ends in my death.”

  “What’s your best plan?” asked Vitaliya. “Or, what’s your least worst plan?”

  “I suppose I’ll have to go to Ieflaria,” murmured Ioanna. “That’s where most of the Order of the Sun went after my father cast them out. I hope their knight-commander can call enough of them back to constitute a fighting force.”

  “The Order of the Sun? You think they’d help you?” Ioanna had Iolar’s blessing, but would such a simple thing be enough for them to lend their support? They tended to stay out of political disputes, preferring to handle threats that were celestial in nature.

  “Yes,” said Ioanna, but she did not elaborate. “I was planning to write to them before Netheia confronted us. If we’d had more time, I might have sent a courier. But perhaps it would be better to go to them myself, so they can see I have nothing to hide.”

  “Ieflaria’s nice,” Vitaliya encouraged. “I’ve been there a few times—when the princesses got engaged, and married, and when the queen had her baby. It’s a little colder than I like, especially since the capital is so far north, but everyone’s very friendly. They’ve got a dragon.”

  “Yes,” said Ioanna. “I heard.”

  “He’s blue, and tame, and he talks! He was raised by the princesses from an egg, so they’re like his mothers. Isn’t that adorable? I’d much rather have a dragon for a child than an ordinary baby.”

  “He would be very expensive to feed.”

  “You’re probably right,” mused Vitaliya. “Still. I wonder if he would fight for them if there was ever a war? Or maybe not if the princesses are his mothers. They wouldn’t want their son to go into danger.”

  “The Ieflarians are not inclined to war.”

  “It was just a thought. A silly one.” Vitaliya gave her an encouraging smile. “You should think of silly things more often. All this worrying will make you sick. But let’s find something to eat. Real food, I mean. If I have to eat another orange, I’ll turn into one.”

  Ioanna’s laugh was short, but Vitaliya was thrilled to hear it anyway.

  They left town the next morning after Otho did his round of animal inspections. The residents seemed disappointed he was going so soon, but he said there was a pressing matter to attend to in another community, and he would return as soon as he was able.

  “We’re coming to the edge of my territory,” Otho advised. “The next settlement we see will want to know what I’m doing there since I’m not their usual priest. We should tell them we’ve been called to a special assignment to the north, and we’re only passing through.”

  “Do you know when we’ll reach them?” asked Ioanna.

  “I have a map somewhere back there,” said Otho. “Given the area, it probably isn’t more than a day out, so hopefully we’ll reach it by sunset.”

  Vitaliya found the map under a bag of shearing tools and brought it out for examination. “It says here there’s a town not far ahead,” she reported, tracing the line that represented the road with a finger. “Or at least, I don’t think it’s far ahead.”

  “It’s probably accurate,” said Otho. “If it hasn’t been abandoned in the meantime. But I shouldn’t say that—if it’s large enough to have been listed on a map, it’s probably doing well.”

  “There’s places that aren’t on the map?” asked Vitaliya.

  “Certainly,” said Otho. “Small villages and the like. Camps. Side roads and streams too small to bother taking down on a cheap map like this.”

  Vitaliya looked down at the yellowed page
and tried to imagine what wasn’t pictured there. Logic said it probably wasn’t anything interesting, but that wasn’t as much fun as thinking they might unexpectedly stumble upon a hidden shrine or mysterious forgotten hanging gardens.

  They arrived at the next town a few hours after noon and, as Otho had predicted, the inhabitants were openly confused by the arrival of a priest who was not their own. After reassuring them he had not come to replace their regular priest, and they were only passing through, everyone relaxed.

  This town, Vitaliya realized, was home to far more young adults than she would have expected given how the priestesses were so aggressive in making certain nobody was able to escape military service. They were still only a few days from the capital, so it was not as though they’d escaped notice simply by virtue of living in a remote location.

  Vitaliya turned to Ioanna to ask her if she’d noticed this as well. But before she could speak, she realized Ioanna had a very strange look on her face like she was about to be sick.

  “Lucia,” worried Vitaliya, tugging on her arm. “What’s the matter?”

  “Don’t call me that!” snapped Ioanna. Vitaliya stared at her in shock, and then Ioanna shook her head. “I’m sorry. That was rude. I just—I can’t…this place…something’s wrong.”

  “Wrong how?” asked Vitaliya.

  “Wrong,” murmured Ioanna, running her hands up and down her arms as though to warm them—but Vitaliya could see her digging her fingernails into her own skin. “Something’s here that shouldn’t be.”

  “Should we leave?”

  “Yes.” But Ioanna began to walk away from Otho’s wagon and further into town. “But if I know it is here, it probably knows I’m here too…”

  “You’re not making very much sense,” said Vitaliya, hurrying after her. But Ioanna did not reply.

  Vitaliya followed her though the town, passing houses, wells, and confused people, who all stared after them. Vitaliya tried to smile at them, to put them at ease. But she wasn’t sure how successful she was since Ioanna marched so purposefully—and occasionally paused to close her eyes.

  “Do you hear that?” asked Vitaliya. “That music?”

  “Yes,” murmured Ioanna.

  The sound was faint, but still sweet and lilting. It vanished when the wind shifted, but Ioanna seemed to know where it came from. She veered off the road and across an open field, not seeming to mind the presence of whatever lived in the long grass.

  “Ioanna,” began Vitaliya, stumbling a little as her boot caught on something. “Ioanna, we’ve gone too far—Otho is going to worry—”

  But Ioanna hardly seemed to hear her. As they came to the edge of the field, which was bordered by trees, Vitaliya realized the music sounded far more distinct now. It was coming from some kind of flute.

  “This way,” Ioanna said, pushing on through the trees.

  “I don’t feel like this is a good idea,” Vitaliya murmured. But she could hardly let Ioanna wander off on her own, especially in such a strange, disoriented state. What if she fell off a cliff or stumbled into a wild boar? Someone would have to run away screaming for help. “Ioanna, I can move the briars out of the way if you slow down!”

  But Ioanna did not seem to notice or care, and it was all Vitaliya could do to keep up with her. She wondered if maybe Ioanna was under a spell. If the music they were hearing had taken over her mind, and something awful waited for them at the end of the path.

  But if that was the case, why did it only affect Ioanna and not Vitaliya?

  Vitaliya paused to pick up a stick from the ground. It wasn’t long, but it was thick enough that it might serve as a club if she needed to protect herself. She gave it a few experimental swings and tried to imagine herself bashing a monster or a person. It was a little difficult to think about. She had a bad feeling she might freeze up when the time came.

  Ioanna was still moving, and so Vitaliya hurried to catch up with her once more. They came to a fence, half-rotted and falling over, and Ioanna followed it until the sound of the music grew so loud that Vitaliya squinted ahead to see who—or what—the source was.

  They came upon a man, only a little older than themselves. He sat on the fence, looking rather relaxed given the decrepit state of the wood, and the fact it might collapse into a pile of splinters at any moment. In his hands he held a simple wooden flute, the source of the music.

  There was nothing terribly unusual about the man, save for the fact he apparently spent his day sitting on a fence. He looked like any other resident of the area, dressed in a midlength tunic worn over long trousers and a shirt, but the clothes were covered in patches and seams from countless repairs. His dark hair was curly, and a little too long to be considered fashionable. As they approached him, he lowered his flute and raised one hand up to his eyes, as though shielding them from a strong light.

  “By Asterium,” he observed. “You hurt to look at. I thought I sensed something absurdly powerful, but I’d hoped you were only passing by.”

  “What?” said Vitaliya.

  “Not you. Her. The princess.” The man nodded at Ioanna, then lowered his hand from his eyes, though he continued to squint.

  “How did you know—” Vitaliya began, alarmed. But Ioanna interrupted her.

  “He’s not a man,” Ioanna said flatly. “He’s what I’ve been sensing. Which one are you?”

  “I’m not doing any harm,” the man objected. “In fact, if I wasn’t here, these people would have starved to death years ago.”

  “Ioanna, what’s going on?” asked Vitaliya. “Who is he?”

  “A chaos god. A little one.” Ioanna’s eyes narrowed. “But I’m not sure which.”

  Vitaliya looked at the man in disbelief. He was so painfully ordinary! He had a hole in his sleeve, right at the elbow as though the fabric had been worn out through overuse. And the flute he carried was cracked in places. How could he be a god?

  “She doesn’t believe you,” said the man, amused. “Doesn’t she know?”

  “Know what?” asked Vitaliya, looking from Ioanna to the strange man and back again. “What don’t I know? What’s going on?”

  The man lifted his flute to his mouth again and began to play once more.

  “I am perfectly capable of destroying you,” warned Ioanna, raising her voice a bit to be heard above the music. The man rolled his eyes, apparently indifferent to the threat.

  “If he’s a chaos god, then you probably should,” murmured Vitaliya. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to believe it. Chaos gods were monsters! They took on terrifying shapes and forced people to do awful things! They didn’t sit on fences and play flutes.

  “Go on, then,” said the man, lowering the instrument once more. “Either incinerate me or run along. I’ve got things to not be doing.”

  “Have you seen the priestesses of Reygmadra?” asked Ioanna.

  “Who hasn’t? They’re like cockroaches. Worse. At least I’m allowed to step on cockroaches.”

  “Are you going to tell them we’re here?” Ioanna pressed.

  “And get involved in this mess? Certainly not. I’m keeping out of it.” He went to raise the flute to his lips again, but Ioanna snatched it away from him. He looked offended but did not try to grab it back. “I’ll have you know I make special effort to not remind the Ten of my existence.”

  “I can’t let you stay here and continue hurting these people,” said Ioanna.

  “I’m not hurting anyone. I told you they’d all be dead if not for me. Did I lie? I’m offering you a very generous deal, considering the circumstances. You didn’t see me, and I didn’t see you. That’s very kind of me. If I went to Reygmadra, I’m sure I’d be rewarded.”

  “I’m confused,” said Vitaliya. “You’re a chaos god, but you help people?”

  “I help my people,” he corrected. “They worship me, and things go nicely for them. Birth records go missing, so people are never summoned to fight. Things grow where they were never planted. Empty bags turn out to ha
ve one more cup of flour in them.”

  “Yes, but what sort of things do you make them do in return?” pressed Ioanna. Vitaliya nodded in agreement. She knew chaos gods often demanded blood sacrifices, or for their followers to go out and kill any who might oppose them, or even destruction for no good reason.

  “How distasteful.” The man looked offended again. “Who do you think I am?”

  “I don’t know because you won’t tell me.”

  “That’s fair,” he said in a surprisingly agreeable tone. “Acydon. God of Apathy. Now don’t you feel silly coming all the way out here to see someone so unimportant?”

  Vitaliya looked at Ioanna. “Are we sure he’s telling the truth?” For why wouldn’t a chaos god lie? “He might be something much worse.”

  “She really doesn’t know!” marveled Acydon. “Why in the world does she think you’re out here to begin with?”

  Vitaliya frowned, uncomfortable at being discussed as though she weren’t present—and at the implication something was going on behind her back. “Ioanna, what is he talking about?”

  But instead of replying, Ioanna hurled Acydon’s flute back at him, aiming it directly at his head. He caught the instrument effortlessly before it could collide with his face.

  “Come on,” said Ioanna. “We’ve got to go.”

  “What?” cried Vitaliya. “But—he’s a chaos god! You’re going to let him just carry on? Making these people worship him?”

  “He’s right. This town would be gone without him,” Ioanna said flatly. “I don’t like it, but that’s the state of things here. I’m not going to condemn these people to starvation just because I don’t approve of the god they’ve chosen to worship.”

  “It’s not just here,” said Acydon. Vitaliya was not certain if his tone was meant to be mocking or helpful. “All over the empire, my siblings have stepped in to help those whom none of the Ten can be bothered to provide for. A generous empress might remember that, after all the fighting’s done.”