Vessel

Chapter Twenty

Liyana presented the same smooth face that she’d shown her clan on the day of her summoning ceremony, and she hoped the emperor couldn’t hear the way her heart galloped inside her chest.

“You’d like us to leave because of a turtle’s bargain with celestial bodies.” The emperor sounded amused. He was younger than she’d expected, at most only a few years older than she was, but he had a presence that filled the tent. He held himself with a power and stillness that reminded her of carved stone.

“I ask you to leave because we belong to the desert, not to your green lands,” Liyana said. “We have no wish to join your empire.”

The emperor plucked another date from the tray and held it up as if contemplating its color in the candlelight. He let the silence stretch. Liyana kept herself still and silent as well. She knew this was a tactic—Mother wielded silence as a weapon too. Finally he asked, “How do you know that is why we are here?”

She chose a date from the platter to show she was not afraid. “You have an army camped at our border,” she said. “I assume they are not here simply to enjoy the heat.”

His mouth twitched.

She wondered if she had almost made him smile. “Of course I would be delighted if there were another explanation.” Feigning casualness, she bit into the date.

“It is my hope that your clans will join my empire without bloodshed.”

The sugar tasted sour in her mouth. She swallowed, forcing it down, as she tried not to imagine this vast army overwhelming her clan. “When the people of the turtle were born, many of them died in the harsh desert—these were the first deaths in this new world. Unfortunately, there was no place for the dead souls to go, so they wandered through the sky. This annoyed the stars, who loved their quiet and solitude. And so, one of the stars sacrificed himself and fell. He hit the desert with such force that he ripped a hole in the world. Flocking to this hole, the souls left our world—and discovered, or some say created, the Dreaming.”

“You may leave us,” the emperor said to the guards.

One of the soldiers looked as if he wished to object.

“If she assassinates me, you have full leave to declare war on the desert clans and exterminate every man, woman, and child you find.”

Liyana felt as if water, cold from a deep well, had been poured into her veins.

The soldiers bowed and filed out of the tent.

“Continue,” he said.

She clasped her hands together to hide their shaking. “The souls were happy in the Dreaming, but when they looked back at their desert home, they saw suffering. So they created the gods out of the magic of the Dreaming, and they sent the gods’ souls to walk among their people and help them live in their waterless world. Because of this, because of our deities, we of the desert are strong and free. And so we will remain.”

He fingered the sky serpent knife on his desk. She ached to take it back, take back her link with her family. “Tell me why you are truly here,” the emperor said.

She thought of Bayla and the Goat Clan, of Pia and Fennik and their deities and clans . . . and especially of Korbyn. “The empire has never shown an interest in our desert before. Tell me why you are here.”

His eyes widened, the first crack in his perfect, sculpted face. He placed the knife down, folded his hands, and leaned back as if to contemplate her from a distance. “You do realize that you are addressing the emperor of the Crescent Empire.”

“And you are addressing a free woman of the desert. You are not my emperor. Therefore I am your equal.” She felt like a rabbit blustering before a wolf. Everything about this man, or boy, radiated power. He sat at a wooden desk, a luxury that Liyana had never seen. It looked as if it weighed as much as a horse. Behind him were wooden shelves graced by glass sculptures. Each sculpture was a masterwork of perfect details: a fox with fur tufts on his ears, a falcon with outstretched wings, a cat poised midhunt. . . . Each one was more beautiful than the next. Only an emperor could have such impractical extravagance around him. She waited for his response, expecting to be savaged like a rabbit by a wolf.

“Very well then,” he said. “I should consider you a visiting dignitary?”

Liyana’s knees felt weak with relief, but she locked them and held herself straight and strong. “Use whatever terminology you wish.”

“Hostile visiting dignitary?”

“Cautious visiting dignitary,” Liyana said. “I am not here as an enemy, unless that is what you are.” She took a deep breath and asked, “Are you?”

To her shock, the emperor smiled. It transformed him from a stone sculpture into a flesh-and-blood human being. She was stunned for a moment by how handsome he was, the perfect beauty of his face. “You are refreshingly blunt,” he said.

“My mother would agree with you on that.”

“I do not wish to be your enemy or the enemy of your people. Indeed the empire has much to offer your people. And I believe you have much to offer us.” He twirled Jidali’s sky serpent knife between his fingers. She watched the glass-like blade catch the candlelight. “Mulaf, as always, your timing is impeccable.”

Liyana turned to see a man with a thick beard and sunken eyes enter the tent accompanied by a trio of guards. The man wore the robes of a desert clansman, though she didn’t recognize the patterns embroidered on the blue silk panels. He bowed to the emperor while his eyes swept over Liyana. She took a step backward. His gaze felt like a lick of fire.

“She is Liyana, the vessel of Bayla of the Goat Clan,” the emperor said. “This is Mulaf, chief magician to the Crescent Empire. Mulaf, this woman is a visiting dignitary and my personal guest. Show her to a tent and then return to me. We have much to discuss.”

In contrast to the expressionless emperor, Mulaf was awash with emotions. His face twisted and stretched. His eyes narrowed then widened. At last he said, “I would be honored to escort her, Your Imperial Majesty. Please, accompany me.”

The trio of guards closed around her, and she was swept out of the tent flap without any chance to protest. Outside, other soldiers sealed into a line, effectively blocking her return. She looked back at the golden tent. She hadn’t asked about Pia and Raan, or Korbyn and Fennik, for fear that would endanger them further. Had that been a mistake? She ran through her mind what she’d said. Had she chosen the right words? Had she done any good at all? He’d seemed . . . interested in what she had to say. He’d listened to her stories. She wasn’t certain a clan chief would have done as much, and he was the emperor of a vast land. He had even let her speak with him alone, though she didn’t doubt that the guards had lurked mere inches beyond the tarp. But if she had expected a miracle . . . He wasn’t about to withdraw his army, and she had not found the stolen deities.

Now what? She hadn’t planned beyond speaking with the emperor.

With the guards, Mulaf escorted Liyana through the encampment. She noticed that all the tents were identical—green, triangular, and plain. There were no names or stories woven into the tarps. She saw no smoke from cooking fires within. All the fires were outside and tended by soldiers. She saw no children.

Liyana had expected the emperor’s people to look different from the sun-worn desert people, but she hadn’t expected them to be so different from one another. One had a narrow, pale face with a nose as pointed as an arrow. Another was dark skinned and wore a full beard. A third sported tattooed dots over his cheeks. All of them, though, bore the serious look of men and women with weapons. All of them, also, looked too thin. She saw pinched cheeks, bony shoulder blades, and uniforms that hung loosely on gaunt bodies. Everyone had a task, whether it was repairing a boot or fixing a meal or patrolling between the tents, but everyone paused to watch her pass—or perhaps they watched Mulaf.

She studied him as he shepherded her through the encampment. His beard was riddled with white, but he moved like a jackrabbit with a startled leap to his step. His eyes darted fast in all directions. She noticed he didn’t greet anyone, and no one greeted him.

“I didn’t know the empire had magicians,” Liyana said.

His smile was tight-lipped. “I have been blessed with good fortune.”

He led her to a nondescript tent, and the guards positioned themselves on either side of the tent flap. Mulaf ushered her inside. Inside, the furnishings were minimal. A few unhandsome blankets had been tossed around the floor as rugs. A cot with a thin pillow was set up on one side. A washbasin stood on a stand in a corner next to a pot. It all smelled faintly of urine. She wondered if she was a prisoner.

He dropped to sit cross-legged on one of the blankets. “Come. Sit. I apologize for not offering you tea.” He smiled broadly at her in what she was certain he meant to be a reassuring manner, and he patted the blanket next to him.

Liyana lowered herself onto a blanket several yards away from Mulaf. She wished she had her sky serpent knife.

“Tell me, my dear child . . . Liyana, is it? How did you escape your clan?” he asked. His eyes were as bright as a desert rat’s, and he leaned forward eagerly.

She stuck to the truth, or at least part of it. “My goddess didn’t come, so my clan exiled me.”

He clucked his tongue. “What a shock that must have been.”

“Yes, it was.”

He bounced to his feet and paced in a circle around her. “Bayla of the Goat Clan did not come. What a pity. What a tragedy.” Without warning he dropped to a squat in front of her. There was something about him that made her think of a bird fluttering with a broken wing. Instinctively she pulled her knees toward her chest and shrank away. “You are a lucky girl, you know.” He reached out and stroked her cheek with a fingernail. “You have an opportunity that no other vessel has ever had. You can make your own life in the empire. You can change your fate!”

She wanted to bolt out of the tent. The tarp walls felt as if they were pressing inward. She inched backward, away from Mulaf. “When did you escape your clan?”

He laughed like a hyena. “Years ago, my dear. Would you believe that I am over one hundred years old? I am from the Cat Clan. I was once their magician.” Popping to his feet, he paced again.

She’d heard of the Cat Clan. One hundred years ago, the clan had become extinct. An abnormal number of disasters had befallen them, one after another. They had been hunted by sand wolves, attacked by sky serpents, caught in quicksand. Stories about the Cat Clan were whispered late at night when the camp’s fire burned high enough to stroke the stars. If he were truly from the Cat Clan, then it was no wonder he saw the empire as a sanctuary. “It must be difficult for you to live with people who aren’t the turtle’s children.” She tried for a note of polite sympathy while she calculated the distance to the tent flap—she could reach it in three strides.

He snorted. “Turtle. Another lie told by the parasites. Oh yes, the desert people are the special chosen ones. Chosen to be prey for the parasites!” He squatted again in front of her. His face was too close. “You don’t believe me. I can see it in your eyes. But you will, once you have tasted the freedom that the empire has to offer.”

She shrank back. “When will I be able to speak with the emperor again?”

“The emperor will grant you sanctuary, I can assure you,” Mulaf said. “In time you will understand that you are safe here.”

“Am I?” She breathed the scent of his breath, sour as rancid goat’s milk.

“Oh yes, Bayla’s vessel. You never need to fear your goddess again.”

She forced herself to sit still while everything inside her shrieked. He knows! She wanted to leap at him and force the truth out of him. Tell me what you’ve done to her! But in the heart of the empire’s army, she didn’t dare move.

The magician rose to his feet. “Welcome to the Crescent Empire, Liyana.”