Vessel

  From deep below the ground, massive worms moved through the rocks, churning up the earth beneath the feet of the army. The sand shook and tossed rocks as the worms attacked the water. Some burst through the surface. Liyana heard the desert people cheer, and she heard the soldiers scream.

  Leaving the deities, Liyana bolted out of the tent. She looked across the camp to see her people side by side, watching. They had not moved. Across the desert, the army was lost in a writhing mass of sand.

  “Retreat,” Liyana whispered at the army, knowing that even if she had shouted, the emperor couldn’t have heard her over the sounds of dying. “Please.”

  She sent her consciousness out again.

  At last she sensed the bulk of the army pulling away. She ducked back into the tent. “Hold the line. Do not let the water seep farther. Keep the scorpions and the snakes here.” She guided each deity, drawing a ring around the clans’ camp.

  Breaking his concentration, Sendar began to object. “We could defeat—”

  “Do not chase them,” Liyana ordered. “Keep the sandstorms high. But hold them.” Controlled destruction would be more impressive and terrifying than chaotic annihilation, but there wasn’t time to explain that to Sendar.

  As the deities continued to pour more magic into the battle, the empire’s soldiers ran from their ring of death.

  Sendar opened his mouth again, and Liyana clapped her hand over it. “Silence, or I will silence you.” As magic swirled inside her, Liyana meant every word. She felt Bayla’s surprise, and she ignored it, keeping her eyes boring into Sendar’s until he backed down.

  As Sendar sank back into his trance, she threw her magic toward the armies to corral the winds. “So long as the emperor does not attempt to pass,” she said to all the deities, “we will not harm them.” It was the same bargain that the sky serpents had made long ago with the people of the turtle. Liyana bet that the emperor would understand her message.

  * * *

  All the clans celebrated.

  Not a single warrior had been harmed, and not a single soldier from the empire had crossed the deities’ defenses. As the celebrations stretched into the night, Liyana walked through the camps. She heard men and women swapping stories, and children chased each other in games as if they were at a fair. Everyone was outside under the stars. In several places, people were dancing. She heard music from various sections of the camps: flutes and drums and voices. People flowed from clan to clan, blurring the invisible boundaries between the camps until they felt like a single clan.

  She wished she felt like joining them. But as the deities recovered, she’d used the quicksand pits to bury the empire’s dead, and then she’d let the water disperse back into the bedrock. Without the moisture, the earth hardened above the bodies, and the wind swept the sand clean. Spread across the desert, she had felt it all happen. So many lives, ended.

  She walked to the edge of the camp beyond the singing and the laughter, and she looked across the expanse to the emperor’s camp. She didn’t see the guards, but she saw movement between the tents. She imagined that they were dealing with their wounded— and with their fear.

  “It isn’t over,” Korbyn said behind her.

  Liyana jumped and then nodded. He was right. Though many had died, the empire’s army still vastly outnumbered them. “They won’t underestimate us again.”

  Maara was with him. “Did you see the size of that army? That was stamp-on-us-like-we-were-bugs size. Hardly underestimating us.”

  “The magician was not in the battle,” Korbyn said.

  Liyana nodded.

  “One magician?” Maara snorted. “Most likely he stayed out of it because he knew we were here. Come, you two, celebrate with us.” Swaying, she spread her arms wide.

  Liyana studied her. She’d seen that look in Raan’s eyes once, the first time they’d met. She noted that Maara held a waterskin. “The emperor won’t leave easily,” Liyana said. “He believes that the mountains hold the key to his people’s salvation.”

  Maara shook her head. “Trust me. No one is sticking around to face us after that display! Whoo, did you see those worms? One of them swallowed a soldier whole.” As if to emphasize her point, she took a deep swig from the waterskin.

  That soldier could have been one of the ones who Liyana had seen in the emperor’s encampment. She pictured the pinched cheeks and gaunt bodies. She wondered who the soldier had been there for—had he had a wife at home? Mother? Sister? Brother?

  “I think you have had enough to drink,” Korbyn said to Maara. “Sober yourself up or sleep it off.”

  Maara leveled a finger at him. “You used to be fun.”

  You have changed him, Bayla said to Liyana.

  Because he cares about more than himself? He— She broke off her own thought. I don’t want to fight right now. She rubbed her eyes. She felt sore inside and out. There’s been enough fighting. And then she knew what she had to do.

  Without speaking to any of the deities, including Bayla, Liyana walked away from the camp. She stopped when the voices and music and celebration faded into a blur. She was a quarter of the way to the emperor’s camp. Bending over, she ripped off the white bottom ruffle of her mother’s dress. She broke off a stalk from one of the dead desert plants, and she wrapped the ruffle around the top.

  Following her, Korbyn caught her arm. “Liyana, they’ll kill you.”

  “The emperor wanted to parlay.”

  “With all the clan chiefs,” he said. “And that was before. Now—”

  Liyana faced him. With his hand on her arm, he was close. His eyes bored into hers. She was aware of his lips and how they frowned at her, and she remembered how they felt on hers. She felt Bayla stir inside, swirling. I have had enough fighting, Liyana told her again before she could say a word. Out loud she said to Korbyn, “He’ll speak to me.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Liyana waved the white flag as she walked across the expanse toward the emperor’s camp. After a while her arm ached, but she continued to hold it high. She didn’t want to be riddled with arrows.

  You do know what you’re doing, I hope, Bayla said.

  You can hope that, Liyana said.

  Lowering the flag, she climbed over a cluster of rocks. She raised it up high and waved it once she reached the other side. She watched each step, veering around clumps of brittle grasses, in case not all of the snakes and scorpions had dispersed after the battle.

  Ahead she saw the tents in the neat rows that she remembered. It looked as if the emperor had scooped up the encampment from its location on the border and then deposited it intact in the middle of the desert.

  You may control this body, but I have a vested interest in its continued health, Bayla said. I do not like the way you are recklessly endangering us.

  Guards gathered at the edge. She’d been seen.

  I’d like to know what you plan to say to the emperor, Bayla said.

  Last time she’d told him a story. This time there was no relevant story. No one had ever done what had happened here. She caught a glimpse of a glint out of the corner of her eye. She looked up and saw two sky serpents wheeling overhead. Stars reflected off their scales. She wondered what they thought of the battle. She hoped they knew the desert people were keeping their gods’ bargain. I plan to talk to him, Liyana said.

  More specifics, please. This is an important conversation. I’ll feed you the words, and you will repeat them. We can’t afford to risk—

  No, Bayla. You don’t understand the emperor.

  Liyana felt the goddess swirl inside. And you, girl of the Goat Clan, understand him, the emperor of the Crescent Empire? Scorn tinged her voice.

  Liyana approached the guards. Yes, I think I do.

  The guards clutched their swords. One had a bow with an arrow leveled at her chest. Liyana continued to hold the white flag. “I am here to accept the offer to parlay with His Imperial Majesty,” she said. “I come in peace, and I expect to be treated with hospitality.?
??

  One guard had a gash on his cheek. Clotted blood still dotted his face.

  Liyana spread her arms out. “I am unarmed.”

  Except for the knife in your sash, Bayla commented. Ah, you do have a plan!

  Could you please feed me some magic? Slowly, so as not to alarm the soldier, she reached one hand toward the wounded man’s face. Flinching, he pressed the tip of his sword to her sternum. She felt the metal through the fabric, and she froze. Magic poured into her. Without moving, she expanded her awareness to encompass his wound. She encouraged the skin to knit together.

  He healed.

  He lowered the tip of his sword.

  “I am not your enemy,” Liyana said. “Take me to the emperor.”

  * * *

  Ringed by guards, Liyana was led through the camp. Other soldiers joined them as they marched, until she could see only uniforms in every direction. She kept her eyes straight ahead, and she gripped the truce flag so hard that the wood dented her skin.

  At last the guards parted, and she saw the emperor’s tent. It matched her memory of it exactly, and for an instant she felt like she had weeks ago, when she first insisted on an audience with the emperor and demanded that he leave.

  You failed before, Bayla said.

  I will not fail again, Liyana said. Flanked by guards, she strode into the tent. Inside, the soldiers blocked her, and she waited, unable to see the emperor through them.

  One of the soldiers bowed low. “This desert woman approached under a flag of truce. She wishes to parlay.” The soldiers parted, and she saw him. His eyes locked on hers, and she felt her heart lurch. She hadn’t expected to feel . . . She didn’t know what she felt.

  The emperor rose from behind his ridiculous wooden desk. She spotted the circles under his eyes, so dark that they looked like the smudge of a thumbprint. “Liyana or Bayla?” he asked.

  Lie, Bayla whispered. Do not tell him about me!

  “Both,” she said. “But you speak to Liyana.”

  “Leave us,” the emperor ordered his guards.

  Bowing, the guards exited the tent. The emperor studied her for a moment and then crossed to the pillows and sat. He poured tea into two chalices. Now I see your plan, Bayla said. You will kill him with the sky serpent knife. Without its leader the army will leave.

  Liyana froze. I did not come here to assassinate the emperor!

  His death would solve our problem, Bayla thought. One death to save many. It is the sacrifice that vessels have made over the generations, willingly or not.

  Liyana sat across from the emperor and accepted one of the chalices.

  “Your people killed many of my soldiers,” the emperor said. “I did not expect that. Congratulations.”

  The tea tasted sour. She set it down. “Three other vessels were with me when I came into your camp. All of them are dead now, displaced by deities. I do not celebrate deaths, ours or yours.”

  “And that is why you are here,” the emperor said. It was a statement, not a question. “We are thousands. You do not want this much blood on your hands.”

  Only one man needs to die, Bayla thought. It could be done with magic, if you don’t want blood on your hands. Slow his heart. Block his breath. You could make it painless.

  “Bayla wants me to kill you,” Liyana said.

  Liyana!

  “She should,” the emperor said without changing his expression. “I ordered her imprisonment with the intent of causing suffering to her clan.”

  “But you intended to save them—and me,” Liyana said.

  “Yes, I did,” he said. “Without their deities the clans would have welcomed an alliance with the empire. We could have worked together to survive the drought. It was a brilliant plan. You undid it.”

  “I won’t apologize for that,” Liyana said.

  A brief smile crossed his lips. “I do not expect you to, any more than I will apologize to you for trying to save my people.”

  “You’re still trying,” she pointed out. “You haven’t left.”

  “We are healing from the attack,” he said. “Our focus has not been on packing.”

  “But you don’t intend to leave.”

  “Once, there was a mosquito who—” the emperor began.

  Liyana reached over and touched his hand. Inside her, Bayla crowed, Now! and flooded magic into her body. The magic filled her, but Liyana let her hand simply rest on his. “I am not here as an enemy, even if that is what you are,” she said. “You cannot enter the mountains, but I believe I can convince my people to supply rations to you so you and your army can return to your lands. We don’t want war.”

  The emperor covered her hand with his. His hand was soft and warm. “It is too late for a simple peace. You saw the fear in the eyes of my people. If I do not find a way to defeat that fear, it will eat at us as surely as hunger.” His lips quirked into a smile. “When you walked into my tent that day, I never expected you held the power to destroy an empire.”

  “I didn’t have a goddess in me then,” Liyana said.

  “You don’t need one,” the emperor said. “You are powerful on your own.”

  She looked into his eyes. He had sorrow inside, more sadness than he should have had to hold. “If our people fight again, more will die,” she said. “We have magic, but you have numbers. You don’t want more blood on your hands, either. I know that.”

  “You presume to know me.”

  “I do know you. We are alike.”

  He was silent, staring into her eyes, and she found herself holding her breath. It was presumptuous of her. Not so long ago she would not have dreamed of uttering such a statement. But it felt true.

  “Become my wife,” he said.

  She stared as all words fled her mind. It felt as if the world slowed and faded away beyond the tent. She heard a roar of wind. You cannot, Bayla said.

  He leaned forward and very gently kissed her. His lips felt like a butterfly on her lips. He drew back, and she touched her lips with her fingertips.

  “We can save our people by uniting our people,” he said.

  “We . . . my people . . .” It felt difficult to think, as if she had to swim through sand. “We value our freedom.”

  “You would have it,” he said. “As empress you could ensure that your people retain the independence they need. You would be joining the empire as an equal nation, not a conquered one.”

  Bayla roared inside her. Caught off guard, Liyana fell into darkness. The swirl of Bayla’s presence surrounded her, and Liyana fought her way back to feel her body. She blinked her eyes. She was lying on the blankets. The emperor bent over her, his face merely inches from hers. He clutched her shoulders. “Liyana? Liyana! Can you hear me?”

  “You care,” she said, wonder filling her voice. The look in his eyes . . .

  He loosened his grip and rocked back. Raising his head, he waved to the guards. “All is well. You may leave us. Tell the doctors to return to the wounded.” He bent back over Liyana. “Are you well? Was it her—Bayla?”

  She nodded, and she felt tears spill out of her eyes onto her cheeks.

  You cannot consider this! Bayla howled. It is a betrayal of all we are! To choose this stranger, this outsider—

  He’s no outsider! He is human! Even more, he dreams of the lake! Liyana rubbed her forehead as if that would help the howls inside her head. “I . . . don’t want anyone else to die.” She let him help her sit up. He cradled her against his shoulder. For an instant she let him comfort her. His arms felt safe.

  “No more bloodshed,” he said.

  He wants to use you, Bayla hissed.

  “And the lake?” Liyana asked. “You cannot enter the mountains. United or not, that must never happen. The sky serpents will attack.”

  He took a deep breath. “If you can bring water to the desert, then summoning it to a once-fertile land . . . You could bring magic to the empire through what is inside you. We will not need the mountains or the lake.” Kneeling, he held both h
er hands in his. “Come to my empire, Liyana. Come save us.”

  I will not feed you magic to save our enemy, Bayla said.

  Why must they be our enemy? Liyana asked. They’re people too!

  We are the turtle’s people, Bayla said. We are of the desert.

  Liyana felt Bayla swirl faster and faster like a sandstorm. She heard the rush of wind inside of her. What are you afraid of?

  I am a goddess! I fear nothing! But Liyana saw a glimpse of a thought, one that Bayla did not intend for her to see. An image of a raven.

  This isn’t about the desert or our people, Liyana realized. This is about Korbyn!

  Bayla swirled inside her. I love him! And I felt you care for him, as he cares for you. You cannot be contemplating this . . . this abomination! You cannot make me leave him! You promised me this body!

  I cannot allow more people to die, not when I can prevent it, Liyana said. She had planned to sacrifice herself to save her people. This fate . . . He was intelligent, passionate, and handsome.

  One day this body will be mine, Bayla said. One day you will lose control, and you will lose yourself as Raan did. And I will destroy this man and his empire, and I will return to my true love. All the deities will join me, and all the clans will rise up with me.

  Liyana felt as if her breath had been stolen away. She felt the full force of her goddess’s anger rising inside her. It threatened to engulf her, but she clung to her body as if to a tree in a windstorm.

  The emperor cupped her face in his hand. “Liyana?”

  She took a breath and then another. “Your Imperial Majesty . . .”

  “Jarlath,” he said. “My parents called me Jarlath. You may as well.”

  She liked the name. “Jarlath, I cannot marry you.” He lowered his hand, and she caught it in hers. “She will not allow it.” But Bayla could not control all of her, despite her threats. Liyana leaned forward and kissed the emperor.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Liyana lost herself in the emperor’s arms. She didn’t hear Bayla inside her as anything more than a distant storm. She was aware of every inch of her skin, the way his hands felt on her back and the way his lips tasted. It felt like magic, or the reverse of magic, the way every thought drifted away until she was only here and now, only herself with Jarlath.