The Kraken King, Part 8 Page 4

  She might have been able to. Ariq didn’t think many others would have stood a chance against his uncle’s guard. This woman might have had a slim one.

  “Why didn’t you?”

  She started forward again. “He freed everyone in Rabat years before that. All of those people were under the tower’s control, yet even though he had been appointed governor by the Khagan, he freed them—and when they no longer accepted his governorship or Horde rule, he didn’t crush them. He could have.”

  Easily. “That cannot atone for Constantinople.”

  “No. Nothing ever could.” Her voice was bleak. “Not even killing him would. But now I wonder how you support him. You don’t want Ghazan Bator to have this machine because he would destroy innocents in his path. Yet your uncle already has.”

  “That is the difference. My uncle has known that weight, and he once told my mother that he would never bear it again, no matter what result might come of it.” And through his mother’s teachings, Ariq had learned that such a weight was never worth carrying. “My uncle is not an innocent man. If someone killed him for what he’d done in Constantinople, if you had killed him, it would have been a just death. But of all men who might end the Khagan’s tyranny, he is the only one I trust not to trample his own people. And he is the only one I trust not to seek the throne for himself, or to control the next person who sits upon it.”

  By the bobbing of her cigarillo, he thought she nodded. “When I saw the machine,” she said, “I feared I might have to slit your throat. I’m glad I won’t have to.”

  So was Ariq. But he understood. The Skybreaker was too much power in the hands of anyone willing to use it—and right now, the machine was in Ariq’s hands. “Why did you fear?”

  “Zenobia would have hated me for it.”

  “You hesitated for her?”

  “Yes. And because of the crossbow bolts you took to save her.” The tip of her cigarillo glowed brighter as she inhaled. “Her trust is rarely given, so you must have earned it. So I will trust that you won’t use this machine to create another Constantinople.”

  “I won’t,” Ariq said, even as a dreadful ache screwed deep into his chest. He knew exactly how precious Zenobia’s trust was. Now he might lose it because he’d been an instrument of her terror. In the quarantine tower, he’d done to her what he’d sworn never to do with the machine: justify the route he’d taken with the result he hoped to achieve.

  But he couldn’t think of that now. He had to push the fear of losing her away, or risk losing everything—not just his wife, but the lives of everyone who depended on him.

  Yet the fear still lingered, a dark ache beneath the calm when he reached the end of the chamber and began the long climb up the ladder. Once inside the pump house, Captain Corsair paused at the door, listening for movement outside. Unlike Mara, she didn’t have a listening device. She didn’t need one.

  A moment later, she gave the signal and they slipped out into the dark behind his home.

  Zenobia had been right about Captain Corsair’s crew. They were well-trained and efficient. Ariq couldn’t fault their silence or their swiftness as they fanned out, scouting for guards.

  Captain Corsair and Ariq waited at the back wall of his exterior garden. Quietly, she said, “Something in the town is burning. It smells like dead flesh.”

  He knew the scent. “A beached kraken.”

  Roasting until the shell could be picked clean. Captain Corsair nodded, then glanced to the side as the first of her crew returned to report on the guards’ positions.

  Only a half dozen men within his home, with another four at the front gate. Two were stationed outside his brother’s quarters, but the others on rotation within the residence. Still easy enough to ambush. Few of the rooms were connected, allowing them to slip between the buildings and attack all at once.

  There might be other men within the living quarters—including Ghazan Bator. Mara had said the general had taken up residence in Ariq’s home. But the night was still young, and the number of guards suggested that the general was elsewhere. He would have wanted more protection while sleeping.

  “Quickly and silently,” Captain Corsair told her crew when they’d assembled again. “After taking out the guards, check each chamber. No surprises. We don’t want to alert the guards stationed at the front gates.”

  Ariq did. He wanted them to come running in so that he could smash them, too. But he settled for climbing over the garden wall and making his way around behind Taka’s quarters, his bare feet silent on the ground.

  Two guards flanked the entrance, alert but with their weapons sheathed. They might have had a chance if those blades had already been drawn.

  The signal sounded—a soft trill that couldn’t have belonged to any bird in this part of the world, but these guards didn’t know that. That ignorance was their death.

  Ariq slipped from the shadows and snapped the first guard’s neck. The second guard died while pivoting to see what the movement had been. Around the courtyard, the thud of flesh and crack of bone joined the gurgle of blood as throats were sliced and the guards were silenced.

  Taka’s doors opened. His brother’s face didn’t show any surprise when he spotted Ariq standing before him. Taka’s gaze took in the scene behind him before returning to Ariq.

  “That was no night bird,” he said softly.

  Ariq grinned. “No.”

  His brother stepped into the courtyard—moving easily, Ariq was relieved to see. Whatever had happened here, and however Ghazan Bator had planned to use Taka against him, torture hadn’t been part of it . . . yet.

  “I hope these guards weren’t rebels that you trained,” Taka said. “I would doubt your leadership, brother.”

  So would Ariq. “If I’d trained them, they would already be living in my town. Where is Ghazan Bator?”

  “In the soup house. He’s taken to eating there with a full complement of men. Sometimes he invites one or two of your soldiers to dine with him.”

  Hoping to work on them, most likely—so that they would either give up the location of the machine or expose any brewing resistance.

  “Then I’ll be his guest tonight,” Ariq said.

  But not in a blousy white shirt and bare feet. Quickly he entered his own quarters and changed his clothing. Taka and most of Captain Corsair’s crew had gone when he emerged—already leaving to quietly spread the word of his return. The captain and Archimedes Fox waited for him in the courtyard, their dark clothes splattered with blood.

  Zenobia’s brother looked him over. “What do you expect now?”

  “To have a crowd behind me by the time I reach the soup house,” he said. “I don’t believe that his men will attempt to stop me.”

  “If they do?”

  “I will stop,” Ariq said simply. Better that than have Ghazan Bator’s soldiers using force against his people. “They will take me to him, anyway.”

  “Where do you want us?” Captain Corsair asked.

  “Behind me.” Just in case events didn’t proceed as Ariq thought they would. “I’ll need you to help protect anyone who joins us.”

  But it wasn’t necessary. The general’s men must have been told to stand down if Ariq arrived, because although far more than three people gathered behind him, Ghazan Bator’s rebels didn’t attempt to stop them. They should have. Because with every step Ariq took, every relieved face that he saw, his purpose and resolve only grew. Ghazan Bator had brought into his town the same quiet fear and oppression that so many of Ariq’s people had tried to escape. He would not fail them.

  Word of his return had spread through the town. Others townspeople already waited at the soup house gate, along with Taka and Ariq’s soldiers—all of them quiet while the guards watched uneasily. They’d have known what to do against a mob, Ariq thought. This silent resistance unnerved them.

  Ariq only
took Taka and Tsetseg with him up the path to the soup house entrance. He would have liked to have them all beside him, but better that the others remain behind to reassure the crowd.

  More of Ghazan Bator’s soldiers sat at every table, but although food waited in their bowls, none of them were eating. They’d known he was coming.

  All rebels, but Ariq didn’t know any of them. Most were young. Many were frightened. He didn’t know if Ghazan Bator had persuaded them that this course—first hiring marauders to fire on airships, then occupying a town—would benefit the rebellion or if they simply followed orders. He hoped it was the first. He knew how persuasive the general could be, and how he fed the fires of rebellion within his men until it burned away every other care.

  But care could be taught; courage could not. And as much as they respected him, Ariq’s own soldiers would have rebelled against him if he’d sacrificed innocents in the name of the rebellion.

  The general sat at Ariq’s table, in Ariq’s spot, with Vasili beside him. The blond soldier didn’t hesitate before rising to his feet and making room for Ariq.

  Ariq took his place. Ghazan Bator sipped his tea, as if this were all exactly what he’d expected.

  Perhaps it was. The general glanced across the courtyard toward the soup house entrance, where Captain Corsair and Archimedes Fox stood quietly, watching. “Did you find mercenaries in the dens?”

  “No. Only friends,” Ariq said. “But your presence here makes this town no different from the dens. You are the strongest; you have more men and a fleet at your side. So you have taken control.”

  Like the twins and almost every other den lord would have.

  The general seemed amused by the comparison. “Some would look to your strength and disagree that I am the stronger.”

  “A man is only as strong as the weapons he possesses.” And Ariq had an iron heart. A steel will. A mind like a blade and words like arrows. Even a war machine was not more powerful than those.

  But Ghazan Bator had forgotten that. “The rebellion could be stronger,” the general said. “The Skybreaker could change everything.”

  Ariq shook his head. “It would be exactly the same. The Khagan doesn’t care who he destroys with his power; if you use the Skybreaker, nothing would change. Power would be in the hands of someone willing to destroy anyone who stands in the way of victory.”

  The general’s mouth flattened. “You think Temür Agha will be different?”

  He hoped so. “I think the difference is not in the man, but how many stand behind him. I think that change will truly come when their combined fists are bigger than a single mighty one.”

  With a heavy sigh, the other man shook his head. “You ask those who are weak to fight; we should fight for them.”

  Ariq was fighting for them. But now he saw that he and the general would never agree about what the meant.

  Ghazan Bator must have realized it, too. “Where is the machine? And do not tell me that the map is on your back.”

  “It is,” Ariq said. “Just as I have told the Nipponese. The empress’s guard is flying to the location now.”

  “And I have already been there. I knew what that tattoo was—but I didn’t know what it was for. Your mother said that it pointed to her home island, so that you would always have your history on your back. You had your father’s body and face, but would have her history on you, too. I believed it, until I heard rumors of the machine. I went there to look for it before I came to see you last year.”

  But it had already been moved—and Ghazan Bator would not be fooled as Lady Nagamochi had been. Now only one course remained. It was not the route Ariq preferred, but it was the one he would take.

  Ghazan Bator must have recognized the resignation that filled him, but he mistook the reason for it. “I know you well, boy,” the general said. “And your mother made you too soft. You have this machine, and so much strength, but you don’t have the heart to do what must be done.”

  His mother had taught him exactly that: To do what must be done. But she had taught him to do it while having a heart. Not heartlessly.

  “I won’t give it up,” Ariq said.

  Nodding, as if he’d expected that answer, the general called out, “Bring her in!”

  Her. For an instant, terrible fear seized Ariq’s heart—that the general’s men had found the airship. That they had Zenobia. If they harmed her at all, Ariq would tear the world apart.

  But when the soldiers brought in Yesui, instead, his anger didn’t abate. Only his fear did.

  “Brother,” Taka said softly behind him, and the sound was joined by a hiss of breath from Tsetseg. Both of them, ready to fight.

  Ariq held up his hand, stopping them. He knew exactly what had to be done now. He was only sorry that Yesui’s boy was with her, clinging to her hand. No one so young should have to see this.

  “She was one of your favorites, wasn’t she?” the general said as Yesui was led to the center of the soup house. “You trained her yourself.”

  “Yes.” And now Ariq met her eyes. The archer was prepared to die, and he didn’t see any panic within her—only the same rage that filled him. He raised his voice so that everyone in the soup house could hear. “Her husband was one of the first men your marauders murdered. He was a merchant, not a soldier, and they blew his airship out of the sky.”

  A few of Ghazan Bator’s men looked away from him—and away from Yesui. Ashamed. As they should be.

  Ariq looked to the general again. “She is a soldier. And she will sacrifice her life so that you never possess the Skybreaker. Is that true, Yesui?”

  Proudly, she lifted her chin. Her voice was strong. “Yes.”

  “I have sent many soldiers under my command to die. You have seen this, Yesui? And will you give up your life so that the Skybreaker won’t be used to crush the people in the Golden Empire?”

  “Yes, Noyan.”

  “So I will let her die,” Ariq said. “And you will have murdered a woman who dedicated years to fighting against the Khagan. This is your rebellion? This is how you will bring change? By murdering that boy’s father and his mother?”

  Ghazan Bator smiled, as if amused. “You were so angry at me for not saving your mother, though she died for the rebellion. Should I believe that you would sacrifice this woman now? You are only testing to see if I will follow through on my threats—and I assure you that I will.”

  No. Ariq was just waiting for the general’s arrogance to overcome his sense. Ghazan Bator still saw Ariq as a soldier under his command. He wasn’t—and the general should never have looked away from him.

  Ghazan Bator glanced to the soldiers flanking Yesui. Ariq’s arm shot out. He gripped the back of the general’s head and slammed his face into the table.

  Heavy wood cracked. Bone shattered against his palm. Fleshy pulp and tea splattered the nearby bowls. The general’s body jerked and spasmed, his brain crushed within his skull.

  Silence fell—until Ariq stood. Soldiers scrambled up, some reaching for their weapons, others starting for the doors.

  “Stop!”

  His command froze them in place. Ariq looked them over. Some were prepared to fight, to die. Some weren’t. It didn’t matter. They would all have one choice.

  “Put down your weapons and you will live,” he said. “But you will not live here. When the Nipponese have gone, you will be taken to the western front to march with Temür Agha. If you believe in the rebellion, then you will have your opportunity to fight with him there. Or you will die here.”

  Slowly, the first few did. Others followed, until each one had laid down his sword.

  Satisfied, Ariq looked to Vasili. “Let his men take the body and prepare it with as much honor as they feel it deserves. Have them take it now. There are still other soldiers outside—if they see that these men aren’t fighting and that the general is gone, the
y will be more likely to give up, as well—especially when they learn they will be fighting under Temür Agha.” His uncle’s name could inspire any rebel. When Vasili nodded, Ariq went to Yesui, who was holding her boy tight. “I am sorry. I know you would have liked to put arrows through him.”

  “No death would be good enough,” she said quietly, stroking her son’s hair. “So I thank you for this one.”

  There might be more deaths to come, but he hoped that the number wouldn’t be many. “How has the general been contacting the fleet?”

  Taka answered him. “There is a device in his quarters.”

  Ariq nodded. “Show me.”

  ***

  Though not exactly like the empress’s automaton—a simple box instead of a human shape—the device seemed to work in a similar way. When a lever on the side was cranked, he could speak into it and hear voices from the connecting device.

  He spoke into it while Taka cranked. “Admiral Tatsukawa. I have taken back my town. Your ally is gone, and your empress is aware of your plot. Withdraw from my shore.”

  A long pause followed before the response came. “I will have the machine first.”

  Taka’s face tightened. Ariq didn’t know when he’d last heard his father’s voice—before his torture, most likely. He couldn’t imagine what his brother felt now.

  Suddenly tired, Ariq shook his head. “You will still pursue the machine? Ghazan Bator could not take it from me.”

  “I will not take it from you. You will give it to me to save your people.”

  So the admiral planned to firebomb his town. And even though he’d gone against the wishes of the empress, if Lady Nagamochi arrived, she probably wouldn’t halt the attack. Not when it would offer the same result that she wanted: the Skybreaker. She had held a sword over Zenobia’s arm in order to get it; no doubt she would also hold a fleet over his town.

  Tiredly, Ariq rubbed his face, glad that the admiral couldn’t see him now—and see how many doubts plagued him. “Will you come here to negotiate?”