A Day of Fallen Night (The Roots of Chaos)

Dusk had fallen early in the Rain Pavilion, fastened as it was against the wind. In the warmth of her antechamber, Dumai wrote to her mother with news of her journey, careful with her words. She had no doubt the River Lord read all her correspondence.

Beyond the screens, her handmaidens huddled around a brazier, reading to one another from Recollections of the North – the writings of a Sepuli explorer who had sailed away from the East, beyond the unfathomed Abyss. Even Yapara had mustered the interest to listen to the tales, filled as they were with snow bears and singing ice.

The moon would soon be full. Furtia was coming, and when she arrived, Dumai meant to put everything at this court to the back of her mind. Her principal duty, both as a godsinger and a princess, was to serve dragonkind. She would help for as long as Furtia needed her.

Whatever the dark rocks were, she sensed they were far more dangerous than the Kuposa.

The fire beneath grows too hot, too fast . . .

She pressed the ache in her forehead. For several days, she had dreamed of a faceless figure, and woken with it etched on her eyelids. It must be related, somehow, to her task.

‘Dumai.’

Osipa joined her on the mats. ‘Are the handmaidens still outside?’ Dumai asked her.

‘Lady Imwo is on the porch. I believe she is trustworthy, but let us keep our voices low. As for the rest,’ Osipa said, ‘I asked them to fetch me a good handful of fickleberries.’

‘What are fickleberries?’

‘Figments of my imagination. They’ll be gone for a while.’

Dumai smiled. ‘I’m worried about going,’ she said. ‘Surely it will leave my father vulnerable.’

‘You have no choice. A god has called – but you can still help your family, even while you tend to other matters. You must visit the Sepuli queen, after all, to explain why you have come. I doubt she would take kindly to a foreign princess barging into her skies on a dragon.’

Emperor Jorodu had said as much to Dumai. There have been no official visits to Sepul in some time, and the sight of a woken dragon is likely to cause a disturbance. Go first to Mozom Alph, to reassure Queen Arkoro of your purpose. You should warn her that a threat lurks in her land.

‘Make her a friend, if you can,’ Osipa said. ‘The more allies and supporters you have beyond these shores, the less influence the Kuposa will hold, and the stronger you will be.’

‘I will try.’

Lady Imwo came in from the porch. She was a quiet and gentle musician of Clan Eraposi.

‘Your Highness,’ she said, ‘forgive the disturbance, but the River Lord’s daughter has asked for an audience.’

Dumai exchanged a long glance with Osipa.

‘Don’t,’ Osipa warned.

‘I should see what she wants.’

‘Under no circumstances will I leave you alone with that woman, after those poems of hers.’

‘Please, Osipa.’

Osipa pursed her lips. Then she said, ‘I will tell your guards to stay close.’

She left, and Dumai returned to her letter. This time, she would keep a level head.

At last, the screen moved aside, and she caught the scents of woodfall and apricot. Curious fragrances to blend – the precious and the commonplace, the sea and the orchard.

‘What is it, Lady Nikeya?’ Dumai kept writing. ‘If you intend to make a threat, make it quickly. I have no time to waste today.’

‘Princess, I would never threaten you. It’s only poetry,’ Nikeya said. ‘May I sit?’

‘No.’

‘Then I will get straight to the point. Your friend from the mountain. Did you truly think I wouldn’t remember a handsome face in a new uniform?’

Dumai finally glanced up.

Nikeya was closer than she had thought, standing with her hands folded in front of her. She wore a hunting jacket – crimson silk embroidered with silver, a dark tunic peeking through the neat slashes below her shoulders. It was a bold choice for court, where red was rarely seen or worn. The wind had dishevelled her hair and painted her cheekbones with a flush.

At all their other meetings, she had been pristine. Now a wildness clung to her.

‘The River Lord has taken note of him, too. He is a fine archer,’ she said lightly. ‘In fact, my father thinks to promote him. Perhaps some time on the northern coast to defend Seiiki from outlaws . . . though that would have its dangers. I hear the pirates are vicious.’

Dumai returned to writing.

‘And Lady Osipa. A fixture of court,’ Nikeya said, with a heavy sigh. ‘My father has always admired her tenacity. It would be such a loss if she were ever to take ill.’

‘You said the heart takes its time to decide,’ Dumai said coolly. ‘Am I to assume that yours has a wish?’

‘You are to ride to Sepul.’ Her smile widened. (Great Kwiriki, Dumai thought, their cheeks will crack from smiling, all these courtiers.) ‘My wish is simple, Princess Dumai. Take me with you.’

‘So you can smother me in my sleep?’

‘I assure you, I mean you no harm. Even if I did, I am sure the great Furtia would protect you,’ Nikeya said. ‘No, Your Highness. I simply wish to know you better than I do. After all, you are to be Empress of Seiiki, and no one will be closer to you than Clan Kuposa.’

‘That is not as comforting a thought as you clearly believe. Besides, Furtia may not wish to take you.’

‘I say you could persuade her.’

Dumai leaned back from her table, considering her next move. ‘A dragon can fly higher than a mountain stands,’ she said. ‘Tell me, did you have a headache during your stay at the temple?’

‘A little.’

‘At best, that is what mountain sickness will give you. At worst, your eyes will bleed.’ Dumai raised her brows. ‘Courtier, dancer, spy – there seems to be no end to your faces. Still, I wonder if you have the stomach for this flight.’

If Nikeya was unnerved, she gave no sign of it.

‘You flatter me, Princess,’ she said, with that crooked smile, ‘but I have only this one face. I can’t help that it serves me well.’ She bowed. ‘Thank you for warning me of the risks. I’ll come ready to travel.’

She retreated. Dumai looked down and found that she had smeared ink across the letter.

Osipa returned before the scent of apricot had gone. ‘Osipa,’ Dumai said, ‘I need you to ask Kanifa to meet me in the Water Pavilion. Then I need you to pack your belongings.’

‘Am I going on a journey, too?’

‘Yes, back to Mount Ipyeda.’

‘Why?’

‘Lady Nikeya has threatened you and Kanifa.’

Osipa snorted. ‘Kind of you to show concern, Dumai, but I will not be going anywhere.’

‘I can’t leave you to—’

‘I have met a thousand simpering courtiers like her,’ Osipa said, with disdain. ‘You forget, I was closest of all to your grandmother. Her rivals and flatterers all wanted to seduce, coerce or banish me, but I endured. The waves may pound the rocks, but they do not give way. Remember that, Dumai. Remember who you are. Let their threats wash over you.’

‘You have the thin protection of your clan and reputation, at least. Kanifa has no one.’

‘He has you, and he’ll never leave you. I can’t tell if he’s in love with you or the most loyal friend in the world – perhaps both – but his life is twined with yours. It has always been so.’

‘Then only I might persuade him.’

‘Perhaps. Good luck with him,’ Osipa said. ‘You will have none with me, Dumai.’

****

The Floating Gardens were too risky now. No doubt Nikeya had seen them meet there. Instead, Dumai waited for her friend in the old hatchery, which her father had allowed her to use.

‘Dumai.’ Kanifa joined her. ‘Osipa asked me to meet you here.’

‘I need you to leave.’ Dumai turned to him. ‘Lady Nikeya remembered you from the temple. She wants to come with me to Sepul, and if I refuse, I fear her father will harm you and Osipa.’

Kanifa thought for a time, his thick brows knitted.

‘Then take me with you,’ he said. ‘Let it be two against one. Three, if we count the great Furtia.’

‘That would only keep you safe for so long.’ Her voice softened. ‘Please, Kan. Go back.’

‘I assume you made the same request to Osipa, and she refused.’

‘Yes.’

‘Then I don’t know why you thought I would accept.’

‘Osipa is as stubborn as an ox. I thought you had more sense.’

‘Not as much as you might think,’ Kanifa said, with a faint smile, ‘else I might have stopped loving you long ago.’

Dumai stared at him, unable to speak. Not once in two decades of knowing him had she suspected that he felt this way.

‘Kan,’ she managed.

‘It’s all right.’ There was an old sorrow in those dark eyes, but no bitterness. ‘I’ve known for years, Mai.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘I’m not. Being your friend is enough. You have made my life richer in so many ways, and I would never seek to change it.’ Kanifa pressed her hand to his chest. ‘Answer me one thing. If you say yes in truth, I promise I’ll leave for the mountain tonight.’ Dumai waited. ‘If I were in your position – if we found out that I was a lost Prince of Seiiki, that I was the one the gods had awaited – would you leave me friendless in this court?’

She tried to lie to him. With all her heart, she tried. ‘No,’ she finally said. ‘Of course not.’

‘Then take me with you, and we’ll hold each other up. Always together. You promised me, Dumai.’

‘We were children.’

‘It was still a promise.’

She dropped her head in defeat. ‘All right. If the great Furtia agrees,’ she sighed. ‘At least you will be safe for now, away from court. We can decide on our next move when we return.’

‘Don’t be afraid for Osipa. Nothing fazes her.’

‘I know.’ She looked up at him with a reluctant smile. ‘Are you ready to ride a dragon?’

****

That night, the moon shone brighter than it had in weeks. Her father waited for her in the North Courtyard, along with the most important officials, the Council of State. She carried his Privy Seal in her pack, to show that she travelled with his authority. He took her to one side.

‘I await your safe return,’ he said, his voice low. ‘By then, I hope your grandmother and I will have established a safe place for the shadow court, and loyalists to fill it.’

‘I wish you well. Be careful, Father.’

‘I have survived this long. I am glad Kanifa is going with you.’

‘So is Lady Nikeya.’

‘Lady Nikeya.’ A pair of lines appeared in his forehead. ‘Daughter, have you lost your senses?’

‘I will explain when I return. She forced my hand,’ Dumai said under her breath, ‘but with us, she is outnumbered, and isolated from the others. Let me use this opportunity to spy on her.’

Emperor Jorodu narrowed his dark eyes.

‘Perhaps it is time we played them at their game,’ he said, just as quiet. ‘I trust your judgement, but do not let your guard down. She is their sharpest weapon.’ He beckoned Epabo. ‘I have a gift for you.’

Epabo came forward with a box. Inside lay a pair of fine gauntlets. Dumai pulled them up to her elbows. They were thick yet supple, and the right one had been sewn to fit her.

‘Thank you, Father,’ she said, touched.

‘They were meant to be yours,’ he said. ‘Do not neglect to stop in Mozom Alph. Furtia may not understand the reason, but we must pay heed to diplomacy. I know you will find a way to explain. Let us reach out to the world before we are swallowed from within.’

‘Yes, Father.’

They both glanced towards the River Lord. He was deep in conversation with Nikeya, who had dressed as if for a jaunt in the snow, in pleated trousers and a smart hunting coat.

‘She can’t be serious,’ Dumai muttered as Kanifa came to her side. Like her, he wore his warm layers from the mountain, down to the deerskin boots. ‘She’ll freeze like that.’

‘Courtiers can, on occasion, be foolish.’

‘You astonish me. Do you have furs to spare?’

‘Yes.’ The corner of his mouth twitched. ‘Shall we let her suffer just a little first?’

‘I think we must.’

A familiar sound distracted them both. Every head turned as Furtia Stormcaller glided towards the palace, salted with white sparks, a dragon cut from night. When she landed, her moonlit eyes found Dumai.

It is time.

Dumai locked eyes with her father. He gave her a tiny nod, his expression hard to read. She walked towards the dragon and placed a gloved hand on her scales.

‘Great Furtia,’ she said, ‘I am ready to leave.’ In her mind, she added, I would bring two riders with me.

Who are these earth children?

One is my friend and protector, who would lay down his life for mine. Dumai beckoned Kanifa, who stepped forward and bowed low. Furtia sniffed him. The other is no friend to me, but I must try to learn her secrets, so I might choke the threat.

So be it.

Nikeya came forward with a complacent smile, which disappeared when Furtia snapped at her.

My father asks that we begin in the city of Mozom Alph, so we might see its queen, and ask her permission to search for the rocks. Dumai stroked her black scales, hiding a smile of her own. It would be easier to ride if I could use a saddle. Would you permit it, great one?

In answer, Furtia lowered the mighty coils of her body until they touched the ground.

The saddle had been recovered from a storehouse, thick with dust. Now the lacquered leather had been oiled back to glory, the gilt and steel restored. It took fifteen guards to fasten it in place. Dumai climbed to it, finding it spacious, with hollows for her feet. Kanifa shinned up next. When he lost his grip, Furtia caught him with her tail, lifting him to sit behind Dumai.

‘Use those.’ Dumai pointed out the straps. ‘Do you have the rope?’

‘Always.’

He knotted them together, as he had on the mountain. A lifeline between their waists.

Nikeya approached. Grasping part of the saddle, she scrambled towards it, arms trembling. Suddenly Furtia shook herself, and Nikeya fell hard on her backside, drawing gasps. The River Lord kept smiling, but his mouth looked strained.

‘Try again, Lady Nikeya,’ Dumai called. ‘I’m sure the great Furtia will hold still this time.’

Nikeya looked up with a glint in her eye. You win, it seemed to say. With a hearty laugh, she brushed herself off. ‘I hope so, Princess,’ she said. ‘Perhaps you could ask her to take pity on me?’

Polite chuckles followed. When Nikeya tried again, Furtia permitted her to retain her dignity, and she tucked herself just in front of the cantle.

‘No straps for a third rider,’ she observed. ‘It appears I’ll have to hold on to you, godsinger.’

Kanifa clamped his jaw. Smiling, she curled an arm around his waist and nestled close.

Dumai took hold of the horn. She looked down at her father once more, and she saw, then, how small and vulnerable he looked, alone among the bells. Great Kwiriki, please let this be the right choice.

Furtia raised her head, her crest like a round mirror on her brow, reflecting the moonlight. The courtiers made room with exclamations of pure wonder. As the dragon took off, Dumai watched the lanterns of the city fall away, down and down into the dark, until they disappeared.