Page 27 of Immortal Longings
“I told you that we would be fine today, didn’t I?” He brushes off his jacket. “You didn’t have to leave your post.”
“I have a whole team of very capable stand-ins,” Leida replies, swinging her leg off the saddle and hitting the ground hard. “San-Er won’t fall without me for one day. You, however, are another matter.”
Galipei makes a noise of protest on August’s behalf. August pretends not to hear Leida. The yamen looks empty, its open structure void of activity. This is where the village’s bureaucratic business is conducted, where the mayor should emerge for formalities as soon as the palace drums draw near.
August waits. He eyes the yamen walls.
And then, movement.
A man stumbles out from the yamen, his arm looped tightly around the neck of another. It takes August a moment to recognize the captive as the province’s councilmember and another to realize that the unnatural quiet was the preparation for an ambush. Now a small group of rural civilians filters out from the yamen, wielding torches and branches.
It’s the best they can do for weapons. The palace guards do not stir; they look upon the scene evenly. August exchanges a glance with Leida, and Leida nods.
“Stay where you are.” The mayor—the man who is clutching the councilmember—takes a deep breath. There’s fabric tied around the lower half of his face, and August can’t tell if this is a small attempt at concealing his identity or the makeshift methods of civilians bracing against plague when they don’t have proper masks.
The mayor continues: “We have demands of the palace—”
But he doesn’t have the chance to finish speaking. August jumps in easily, taking the briefest second to adjust. Galipei moves to catch his birth body; the palace guards surge forward at once without instruction.
“Go on,” August says, releasing the councilmember from his arms.
The councilmember hurries forward. The palace guards swallow him up, then fan out. In seconds, the rural group forming the ambush from the yamen is disarmed and on their knees. It’s almost too easy. Dissent is useless. August knows they hate the palace, but he’s aggrieved about how stupid their plans are nonetheless. He can’t blame them, because they don’t know that he is already trying to depose the current king, but what’s the point of taking more hours out of his day for these disorganized, futile attempts?
Leida holds out his cellular phone. August returns to his birth body and takes it, freeing her hands in time to grab the mayor when he blinks back into consciousness. She hauls the mayor off to the side before he can run, spitting a series of rote interrogative questions. The wind has picked up. The sensation is so unusual that it almost stings when a particularly strong gust blows against August’s left.
He dials the palace.
“A poorly thought-out hostage situation,” he reports when King Kasa answers. “We’ll return within the day.”
A beat of silence. Then it draws out, and August pauses, wondering what he’s said wrong. Are they in trouble? His eyes raise in search of Galipei. Escape routes don’t come easy in the provinces. Open space doesn’t allow for disappearances, only full battles.
“This was in Eigi Province, yes?” King Kasa finally replies. “How is Mugo faring?”
“He’s fine.” August casts a look at the councilmember. Mugo hardly looks ruffled. “And yes. Our nearest province.”
Another beat of silence. August has started to sweat.
“How big is its capital? About a thousand inhabitants in the village, from what I remember.”
Small villages freckle each province, gathering rural populations together for commerce and trade. A provincial capital is usually no larger than the others, but the presence of its yamen designates it the base of administration within the province. Past the open archway, August can peer right through the courtyard and the back gate to see rough dirt streets and small shop fronts. The people idling on the other side of the yamen pay no heed to the scene unfolding outside the village walls.
“Yes,” August replies. “I would be inclined to agree.”
“Put me on speaker, please, August. I’d like to address the palace guard directly.”
August does as he is told. Leida has moved off into the distance, and he wishes she would come back, just so she could have some sway on whatever King Kasa is about to instruct. But she is still interrogating the mayor, looming over him while he kneels, and the palace guards huddle closer, blocking her from August’s view. All ten surround him: not large enough to create a unit, but enough to act as a functioning force for the palace. Enough to cause whispers through Talin tomorrow, when the rural dwellers wonder what brought the royal guard out to Eigi.
King Kasa’s voice crackles through the phone.
“As sworn defenders of San-Er, there is no mercy for resistance. One wall is no longer enough. We need further protection.”
August feels a stone sinking slowly into his stomach.
“Burn Eigi’s capital down,” King Kasa continues, and suddenly the stone turns leaden, plummeting to the very bottom at high speed. “Turn it to ash. If its people air their grievances with threats, then we shall simply take the breath from their lungs.”
August turns off speakerphone and returns the device to his ear, but the palace guards have already heard every word. They cannot deny the command or pretend it was never heard.
“Your Majesty,” August hisses. “This is San-Er’s center for rice imports. It would be a loss—”
