A Day of Fallen Night (The Roots of Chaos)
A Day of Fallen Night: Part 3 – Chapter 68

‘Princess.’

Dumai stirred with a faint headache. ‘Juri. Is it time?’ she said, hoarse. ‘Have the wyrms come?’

‘No, Your Highness.’ Juri faltered on the threshold. ‘Are you well?’

‘Yes.’ Dumai sat up a little, rubbing her eyes. She had not meant to sleep. ‘What is it?’

‘Her Majesty has sent you a message.’

Juri held out a knot of fine paper, which Dumai opened with care. For the attention of the Crown Princess, whose sister is eager to see her, it read. Please come at the hour of the conch.

Osipa would have told her to make an excuse, but Dumai could not bring herself to turn her back on Suzumai. The child was only eight, as innocent of politics as she remained of wyrms.

‘Very well.’ Dumai pushed the bedding away. ‘Will you help me dress?’

‘Yes, of course.’

The rain had lightened to a mist, sometimes fattening to drops. On her flights, Dumai dressed almost as she had on Mount Ipyeda, but now she found herself enclosed in heavy robes again.

Yapara was even rougher than usual, combing as if she wanted to rip out a hank of hair, and now there was no Osipa to stop her. ‘You seem troubled, Lady Yapara,’ Dumai said. ‘Unburden your mind, if you wish.’

Yapara upheld her indifferent expression.

‘This gentle rain is beautiful,’ she said, ‘but it reminds me that the gods are not yet as strong as they were. One can only wonder why they had to be disturbed.’

‘I assure you that the gods know my reason.’ Dumai looked at the window. ‘I fear everyone will know it soon.’

Nothing more was said. Until the wyrms came, she would be an object of ridicule or misgiving at court, warning of an enemy no one could see. It would end, but it would be a bitter triumph.

As she crossed the palace, she tried not to look for Nikeya. Instead of dulling the ache, a season of separation had richened it. Each time Dumai did catch a glimpse of her – always at her periphery, usually with her fellow Kuposa – it stayed with her for days, like a bruise.

Nikeya had saved her, yet suddenly they were apart. The will of the emperor, perhaps. She ought to be relieved.

Nights offered some reprieve. She was haunted then not by a woman or wyrms, but a vision of a snowbound valley. It reminded her of her flying dreams, the ones she had often dreamed at the temple. Her mirror sister had reached out while she lay on the brink of death, and after – but Dumai could not remember their conversations, or even if she had answered.

It was time to face her other sister. The one she had usurped.

Suzumai was in her nightclothes, watched by the chief Lady of the Bedchamber as she played on the floor, absorbed in a story she was mumbling to herself. When Dumai stepped into the room, the woman retreated with a small bow, and Suzumai looked up.

‘Dumai?’ she said in wonder. She rushed to her and wrapped her arms around her waist, pressing her face there. ‘I missed you so much. You were away for such a long time.’

‘I hope I will not go away again.’ Dumai knelt in front of her, brushing a tear from her cheek. ‘Don’t be upset, Suzu. I am here now. We have not spoken in some time, have we?’

Suzumai shook her head. ‘You fly away so often with the great Furtia. One of my uncles says it is because you have grander concerns than Seiiki,’ she said. ‘I didn’t understand. You are to be empress, and I am going to help you. You must not want to go so often.’

Which uncle she meant, Dumai had no idea. The empress had several brothers. ‘Your uncle misunderstands why I leave,’ she told Suzumai. ‘I go to help Seiiki, not to run from it, Suzu.’

‘Could a dragon take me over the sea?’ Suzumai said, drying her tears. ‘Then I wouldn’t have to swim. I could see everywhere, the whole entire world. Do you think I could ride one, like you?’

‘I hope you can.’ Dumai looked at the floor. ‘You have so many fine toys.’

Suzumai nodded earnestly. ‘Would you like to see my dollhouse?’ she asked, taking Dumai by the hand to tug her to it. ‘My granduncle gave it to me. He makes it better every year. Do you like it?’

‘The River Lord is very generous.’ Dumai crouched with her, seeing that it was a miniature recreation of Antuma Palace, perfect in every detail. ‘Did he give you the dolls, too?’

‘Yes.’ Suzumai gathered them up. ‘He made sure all of us are here, all safe and together. This one is me,’ she said, showing Dumai the smallest doll. ‘Here is Father and Mama, and my nurse, and my cousins – and you. He made you, Dumai.’ Suzumai showed her. ‘I kept her with me all the time when you were gone. I thought if I looked after her, then you would be safe, too.’

‘That was very thoughtful of you, Suzu,’ Dumai said, touched. ‘You did keep me safe.’ She studied the wooden figure, its fixed and placid smile. The hair was real. ‘I see many great and noble people in your dollhouse, but not the River Lord. Did you lose him?’

‘He never gave me a doll of himself. I wanted one – he is so generous and clever,’ Suzumai said wistfully, ‘but he said he felt silly, giving himself to me as a present. He’s funny.’

Dumai looked down at her doll self again. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Where is your granduncle now?’

‘I think he went away. Will you play with me?’ Suzumai asked her. ‘Just for a little while?’

Dumai forced another smile, even as her insides soured. ‘I will stay for as long as you like,’ she promised, and when Suzumai embraced her again, she held the child as close as she could.

****

Suzumai soon tired of the dolls, and they sat on a garden porch to stargaze and keep watch for dragons. Their patience was rewarded when Pajati the White appeared, silent and beautiful, swimming through the hazy sky as if it were the sea. Suzumai gazed after him in amazement.

Comes the star of life and balance, now the sower of cold chaos . . . closer by the night, not yet here . . .

Dumai tensed, eyes closing. His voice washed right the way through her, surprising her with its clarity. He sounded even closer than Furtia. Then again, Pajati was an ancient elder dragon, who was thought to have come from the sky.

Exhausted by so much excitement, Suzumai fell asleep, clutching the dolls representing both of them. Dumai gathered her into her lap and looked back to the sky, wondering.

‘She loves you.’

Empress Sipwo had stepped on to the porch, hair cascading to her waist. She came to stand beside Dumai.

‘Even when your father told her she would not be empress, she never stopped,’ she said, gazing towards where the mist hid the mountains. ‘She said it was right that you ruled Seiiki, because you were her big sister, the eldest, a rider. Not once did she resent you for it.’

‘She is a very kind child. It must have been hard to keep her that way.’

‘That is why I am grateful you came. Suzu is too small for that cold seat.’ As the empress leaned down to take her, she said in a low voice, ‘I believe you struck the Queen Bell with reason. I believe the gods speak to you, and through you. My uncle is wrong to deny this.’

‘Then will you persuade him to listen to me, if I speak of what I have seen on my travels?’

‘He has gone to attend to his estates in the northern wetlands. When he returns, I will try to open his ear – but this world is his world, Dumai. It may be his world for a long time yet.’

Not if it ends, Dumai thought. Then it will not even be the gods’ world.

‘Your Majesty,’ she said as Empress Sipwo turned to leave. ‘When I came back from Sepul, the River Lord sent my parents a sorrower. He said you killed it.’

‘I did. I fear those birds,’ came her soft reply, ‘but I never asked him to send it to Jorodu or Unora.’ She gave Suzumai a kiss on the top of her head, where a crown would sit the heaviest. ‘I will not keep you, Dumai. Thank you for seeing Suzu. She has missed her big sister.’

****

It came on her as brutally as a snowslide – the feeling of being shut in a box, pressed into a space that had never fit her. Suddenly her layers were smothering, and the air weighted not with rain, but with dread. As she walked back to her own quarters, the dollhouse locked itself around her thoughts. By the time she reached her bedchamber, she was breathless and clammy.

‘Juri, please, help me out of all this,’ she said. The handmaiden rushed to assist her, leaving her in her underrobe. ‘I need nothing else. You may do as you please this evening.’

The girl shepherded the others away. Dumai sank to the floor. There was no Osipa to guide her, no Kanifa to make her smile. I do not want this. Panting, she pressed a hand flat to her stomach, the other to the mats. I have never wanted this. This is not me . . .

Brhazat had been in the spring. Now it was deep into the summer, and she had done nothing for Seiiki. Kanifa had let go of his life to save hers, yet she was still a wooden doll, waiting to be picked up and placed. Not until this moment had she understood, in full, what Princess Irebül had said in Golümtan. That palace is a silken cage, and Hüran are not meant for walls.

Neither was she. She was meant for the sky. Was that not where a rainbow belonged?

It took her time to think clearly again. When she did, she was ashamed, sitting there with her fine clothes and fresh water, squandering her salt. Her mother had not been able to cry at all when she lived in a dust province, even when death had surrounded her.

Dumai blotted her face with her sleeves. She was a fool for weeping. Exhausted, she undressed to her skin and crawled to her bedding, where she slid into a light and fitful sleep.

There you are.

At once, she was in the dreamers’ land – but this time, it was as sharp as the waking realm. Above, the fog had thinned, and she made out a silver net over the sky, stars glistening at its crossways, most of them almost too faint to see. She could hear the stream so clearly.

On the other side, the figure had solidified. She stood with uncharacteristic stillness.

Sister. Dumai turned to face her fully. I am so relieved to hear your voice. I have never felt more alone in my life.

You are not alone. You have not been alone for a long time.

You saved me. She found she could open her eyes and still just about see it all. You feel . . . different.

So do you. I feel your pain, your restlessness. You feel trapped. That is why you reached for me again. The voice rang clear and calm, all wariness gone. And yet I also feel a great power from you. I sense that something lost has finally been recovered.

You know. Dumai shifted on to her side, moulding herself back into the fragile boundaries of the dream. If you know what I have found, then you know how to use it, too. It will not answer my call, as you do.

That is because it has another half, which I possess.

You. Her eyes darted beneath their lids, matching the thunderstrokes of her heart. You have a stone, too?

A piece of the star was broken in twain. The star that will calm the fire back into the deep earth, for a time.

I feel it coming. Above, the stars glowed. Is this why the gods brought us together?

My sister, it must be. I understand now. We must join our two halves, to hold off this destruction. The figure walked towards their stream. Your dreams have shown you where I am. Come while we still have time.

I still do not know who you are, or where that valley lies.

I am your friend. Now we are both stronger, you can follow our bond all the way to my side. A bridge appeared. Do not be afraid. Let me show you the naked truth of our power, given to us by the sky.

She stepped straight over the stream, and touched Dumai.

That touch ripped away her illusion of dreaming. She knew, she knew she was awake – and yet the dream went on, bridge and bedchamber entwined, and the figure rose before her, still faceless.

It was dark in the room. A weight crushed her chest. Her body trembled, naked and clammy. A hand made of shadow had come to her cheek. She smelled and tasted icy steel, pierced with a sweet bitterness.

The cold washed from her face to her palm. She stared at the hand with shortened fingers, where a light had danced to life, a flickering star.

All of this is real, the voice said, as the figure released her. Leave now, and you will reach me in time.

The vision disappeared. Seized as if by a water ghost, Dumai bolted upright, as chilled as if she had eaten snow. Sweat dripped from her hair, slicking her wet and cold as a dragon.

At the entrance to the Water Pavilion, the guards’ spears blocked her way. ‘I must see His Majesty at once,’ she said.

Her apprehension must be burning like a fever in her eyes. When she was finally shown into his quarters, she found Emperor Jorodu beside a hearth.

‘Dumai.’ He beckoned her towards a cushion. ‘You look shaken, daughter. Sit with me.’

She could hardly get the words out. ‘Father, I know this will sound reckless, given what remains at stake, but I must beg your leave to depart. I must fly.’ Kneeling, she looked him in the eyes. ‘A messenger has come to me. It is the culmination of many dreams – those I had on Mount Ipyeda, and after, when I came to court.’

She told him all of it. He listened without interrupting, fervour quickening his gaze.

‘Such dreams are a rare gift, but they run in our house,’ he said, when she was hoarse from talking. ‘Dumai, do you think this figure is a messenger spirit, sent by Kwiriki?’

‘Or someone touched by the gods’ power, as we are,’ Dumai said. ‘The Grand Empress believes the stone our ancestor sought was white. What if she is not mistaken?’

‘You mean you think there are two stones?’

‘They might help us to fight the wyrms.’ Dumai removed her gauntlet. ‘See for yourself that this is real, Father.’ She held up her hand, with the palm facing him. ‘A remnant of the dream.’

‘I needed no convincing.’ Her light floated in his eyes. ‘You think she will give you the other stone?’

‘Or show me how to wake mine, at least.’

‘But the wyrms, Dumai – it’s too dangerous.’

‘I have survived before.’

Emperor Jorodu seemed to think. ‘You are supposed to be visiting the Grand Empress soon,’ he said, with a growing smile. ‘That gives you an excuse to leave court. I could even send a cart to Mount Ipyeda, as if it had you in it. All of this would buy you time.’

‘You will let me go?’

‘Your grandmother would insist I did. Clearly she saw your affinity with the gods, and even the emperor must heed their call. Your mother may not understand, but we do,’ he said. ‘We are Noziken.’

Dumai watched him rise and cross the room, opening a hidden compartment in the floor.

‘I entrust the blue stone to you.’ He took out a small box, for preserving woodfall. ‘You will also need protection, if you are to fly into the chaos beyond our island.’

She waited. He turned back to her with a sword in his hands. Its openwork pommel formed a leaping golden fish within a circle, and studs ran the course of its single-edged blade.

‘This sword belonged to Queen Nirai. It is called Nightborn,’ he said, ‘and soon it will belong to you. Take it, to defend yourself.’

It looked a heavy thing to wield. Dumai started to reach for it, then lowered her hand.

‘Your Majesty, it is too magnificent a gift. I have not the skill or stomach to use this,’ she said. ‘I am content with my ice sickles. Kanifa made them for me. I know they will keep me safe.’

Emperor Jorodu smiled again.

‘Perhaps this is a wise decision,’ he said. ‘You should be free to make your own legacy, Dumai – but you must take armour this time, for your mother’s sake, and mine. You ride into a war.’ He set the sword down, and presented her with the small box instead, a cover for the stone within. ‘You have been a gift to me, daughter. Bring us the sum of all your dreams, so we may win the battle to come. The battle that may yet decide if any of us will be left to remember.’

****

Epabo brought the armour from where the saddle had been found – a fortified jacket, broad plates of iron sewn on to cloth. In the Rain Pavilion, Dumai tied back her hair and covered it with a hood that fastened under her chin, reinforced with twisted metal rings. Heavy sleeves for her shins and arms came next, then her furs and riding boots.

Furtia, do you hear me?

The dragon sounded distant: The air thickens. This way comes the fever of a shattered earth.

Great one, I must ask for your help once more. She retrieved her ice sickles. Will you come to me?

Careful not to wake her handmaidens, she took her secret way into the Floating Gardens and waded out to the nearest island, as she once had to meet Kanifa. This was the only part of the palace where a dragon might land without being seen. She took a lantern from the bridge and carried it with her, into the dark.

‘Dumai?’

She turned with a hand on one of her ice sickles. When a figure stepped into her light, she breathed out.

‘Nikeya,’ she said, releasing the handle. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘I came for a late walk.’ Nikeya took Dumai in, from her boots to her hood. ‘Dumai, the heir can’t keep flying away. If you leave a third time, the Council of State will think you are disloyal to Seiiki. The River Lord has already sown that particular seed among the nobles.’

‘May I not visit my own grandmother?’

‘I had no idea the Grand Empress was so dangerous that you need armour,’ Nikeya said in amusement.

‘My armour,’ Dumai said, ‘is none of your concern.’ They both stopped to watch Furtia soar overhead and descend, the light from her scales bobbing on the black water. ‘I will return before long. Do not speak to anyone of this, if you value your position here.’

‘All this time at court, and you still can’t make a threat. Or tell a lie.’ Nikeya raised her eyebrows. ‘There is a way to guarantee my silence. Let me come with you.’ When Dumai looked away, Nikeya lost patience and took her by the chin. ‘Wherever you are going, you might need help. Why should I have saved you if I meant you harm?’

‘To win my trust.’

‘Frankly, I think I deserve it. And I find that I have dreamed of flying.’

Dumai had little time to decide. In that moment, it was simpler to take her than to leave her.

‘It will be a harsh ride,’ she said. ‘I do not plan to stop often. There is no time to retrieve your furs.’

‘No need. I stored them here, in the gardens.’ Nikeya released her. ‘I always knew we would ride again, Princess.’

****

The Sundance Sea washed a long grey beach on the northern coast of Seiiki. It had no formal name, for the fishers’ huts there were rotting, and its salt kilns had not burned in years.

As dawn broke, a boat struck out from its shore. The man inside sculled away from the cliffs, nets and pot traps clustered around him, tears slick on his face, his fingers red around the oars. He would make his way to a physician he knew, at the busy port of Cape Ufeba.

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