Chapter Eight

  The Good Governor Constantin Gil

  The party had walked many long days and bitter nights, their backs broken by roots and their purses tightened by taverns. Their legs were weary, pricked by the low brush and thorns of long, lonely roads. Kugo, after all, had his own ways of going about the world. But when they smelled the salt of the sea upon the air, their chests swelled with vigor and their steps fell a little lighter. And so would begin the final leg of what was meant to be Nephis’ little excursion.

  ‘Remare, the jewel of the coast, her walls are high and washed white.’ Her towers reached for the low sky. Her red roofs caught the eyes of all who came near. Whether by road or sea, she was as a siren. Carts and wagons lined the road to her gates, waiting, panting for the treasures of faraway lands, of Ebedi Devlit, Xian, Brithwyr, and a hundred other places. Yet ships carrying precious treasures do not leave empty-handed. Heavy laden carts and holks came from every corner of the empire, gold and silver, fragrant woods and wine, skins and slaves. The road to Radina was lined with cattle cars, bearing the war-broken people of the eastern borders. Their strongest, most rebellious men and their leftover daughters, bound to lands away. Bound by order of the Emperor. For what other man could bind peoples with a word?

  The line into the city stretched into the far hills. It was at least a mile long, if not more, and many carts deep. They clogged the road and spilled into the grasslands, forcing the party alongside it, lest they be trampled. The sun was high in Remare that day, and any clouds were distant above the waters. The heat beat down upon poor Kugo, though free from the sun’s kiss, his cloak and armor baked him within. He stumbled and trudged down the road, doing his best to keep his mind on the smell of water. This too had been his destination, even before he had met Moss and Nephis.

  “Nephis,” Kugo said, his voice weary and his mind clouding, “I think we may as well rest here for the night, it will be morning before they finish checking all the carts before us.”

  The princess smirked. “Kugo, I am as tired as you are. You need only trust me, I will have us in the city long before nightfall.” And she strutted forward freely, her pack long ago handed off to Moss.

  They hurried passed the snaking, packed lines of cart and carriage, much to the disgruntlement of their passengers, and squeezed before the gate guards, who looked at Nephis quizzically.

  “Miss,” he spoke slowly, “You mustn’t rush the gate. You need to get back in your place.” He pointed a long arm way towards the rear of the train.

  Nephis stuck her hand before his eyes, her silver signet ring sparkling in the open air. The three-headed dragon of Radina shone before him, and his eyes widened and his back straightened. “I needn’t do such things,” she simply answered.

  And the guard let her pass.

  All eyes were wide with awe at the grand streets of Remare. Her road was red with brick, not yet smooth, and her homes were tall and handsome with walls as white as cream and doors of solid oak. Oddly, these homes only grew newer and newer as they pierced into the heart of the city and approached the coast. Indeed, Remare was no mishmash, but of one mind. Yet its people were not even of one folk. It seemed to Nephis that every sort of person wandered the streets with great purpose. Most were the common folk of Radina, pale of face and dark of hair. But among them were the tawny, proud men of the Ebedi Devlit, with great arms and fiery tempers. Stranger still were the yellow men of Xian, thin and scheming faces, with cloaks much like Nephis’, though none quite so fine. These were the homeward kin of the Foreign Queen.

  Like a bee, Nephis buzzed to each new sight; it seemed Remare indeed had everything one could want. Not just a tailor’s workshop, but a dress shop with bright and wonderful displays. Not just a bakery to hand out the common loaf, but a confectionery, dedicated to delicacy and taste. Not just a smith, but a jeweler with elegance and pride. Indeed, Remare held the wealth of nations in her hands. Doubtless, only to be rivaled by her home city, Nephis thought. But as they wandered the streets, Kugo’s eyes fell upon each and every tavern, latching upon them desperately as a fish to a hook until the next one came along, but he did not say a thing. And much to Kugo’s dismay, Nephis was delighted to drag them through every inch of the city.

  “What do you say we enjoy ourselves this evening?” Nephis suggested.

  “By some bed rest, surely,” Kugo tried.

  “By nightfall and later,” Nephis answered, “I would like to explore Remare, and perhaps find a nice place for supper.”

  “Don’t you have to meet with someone?” he pleaded.

  “I do. But, I am not expected at any time at all, so what is a day or two?”

  Kugo did not have it within him to explore the city, but to argue with the princess was the wearier road.

  Once their revelries were through, Nephis arranged for an inn. And Kugo was stung again to find that the princess had grown tired of the humble life. After tonight, he would have to be sure to rein her in. The money could only last them for so long. But for now, a good bed and a belly of food were enough to lull the monk to sleep. In the morning, they would seek out Nephis’ governor. Then he would have the time to finish what he had come here for.

  The halls of Governor Constantin the Golden were indeed great. A tall, lofty palace overlooked the city. At once upon her arrival, Nephis and her entourage were ferried inside. However, the Governor was not in at the moment, off on some errand, though the chamberlain seemed uncertain. In the meanwhile, they would be welcomed guests. The sea-colored walls were lined with great, wooden beams, which held up the high ceiling. And placed between these supports was always a work of art, each of varying design and quality. Some were master works, a silver flute that would put many treasures of the imperial palace to shame, a miniature clock not larger than Kugo’s hand, and even a disk of that strange white stone carved into the imperial seal. But others Nephis might have politely described as an inspired choice, some even looking childish to her: stones bound to a chalice by mortar, a sculpture made of what only could have been trash, and a painting of nothing but drifting color. Indeed, much of the palace was full of this great variety. But even when it did not suit Nephis, Kugo, or even Moss’ taste, there was always something of interest.

  The house was bursting with wood, something that reminded her of her own home. Wooden stairs, a wooden floor, and at times, even wooden walls; so teeming was it with all the lumber, that each of them expected to find a deer or a fox lurking behind a pillar or in a shady corner. It all was carved, yet not obnoxious; it was ornate, yet inviting; and it was stately, but warm. After the tour, the chamberlain set the party in the sitting room, each upon their own great, threaded couch, imported far from the South. And for their stay, a maid was arranged for them. A boney thing with scarlet hair and a flush face, her name was Ileana, and she smelled of roses. Doubtless, Nephis thought, this girl was from the far east and north.

  Ileana brought for them tea and nut cakes with honey. “Here you are, Your Highness,” she placed the tray before Nephis with shaking hands. Even the forks here were strange, chunky and coiling.

  “Ileana, when do you suppose your master will return?” Nephis asked.

  “Oh,” Ileana sighed, “I could not say. He is always out and in.”

  “Always?”

  “Yes, he was once gone for a fortnight without a word,” she admitted.

  “What was he doing?” Nephis asked. It was unusual for a noble to leave their halls without proper business.

  “I shouldn’t say,” Ileana murmured, but when she caught the burning gaze of the princess, she could not hide the secret. “Ah, he was out gambling!” she hissed so none would hear her, “It was Boian who dragged him back, spending all his treasure on a game! I had never been angry at a noble before that.”

  “Have you grown angry with nobles since?” Nephis asked cautiously.

  “Oh yes!” Ileana seemed to have worked herself into a passion. “I am often quite angry with Master Constantin! He does not eat when he should, he disappears without a word, and he is often frivolous with the other girls!”

  “The other girls?” Nephis asked, “But not with you?”

  “Well . . .” Ileana trailed off, “It’s hard to be angry when it's with you.” And indeed, it seemed all the servants of House Gil were well dressed and fed, even some bearing jewelry, a scandal that never would occur in the imperial house.

  They waited for hours for the master of the house to return, but it seemed Ileana’s words were true. Governor Constantin was no where to be found, and likely would not be for a long time. In the meanwhile, perhaps in an attempt to abate the princess’ ire, they were given an extended tour of the rest of the manor. It bore that very same spirit as before. That is to say, there was always something new and noteworthy, and yet it was always familiar. The rooms in the Governor’s house, aside from a spare few, were always very small and tidy. Each their own little cabin. However, it was the library that interested Nephis the most. Few people, nobles included, had little more than a shelf. The imperial palace, of course, had a dungeon’s worth of tomes and scrolls. But here was a provincial governor – not yet a lord – with not only a personal study, but a library.

  “What sort of things does the Governor read?” Nephis asked.

  “Many things,” the chamberlain Boian replied, “Philosophy, religion, war, histories, I understand there are even some of the old romances buried inside.”

  “Histories, you say?” Nephis asked, “Kugo, are you interested in digging through some tomes with me?” She tried to flash him the hand sign for Valai Kei she had come up with.

  Kugo’s eyes were locked squarely on the library doors, yet were very far away.

  “I’m sorry,” he shook awake, “What was it?”

  “Never mind!” she grumbled, “I suppose we will have to wait for the Governor to return.”

  Nephis tapped her foot for all of thirty seconds. A fortnight, Ileana had said? Well, they might as well enjoy their days in Remare during that time.

  And so, much to Kugo’s displeasure, Nephis marched them out of the fine home of Governor Constantin Gil and into the wide, flourishing streets of Remare. Nephis wished to see the beach, as she had never been to the coast before, at least not within her memory. Though as they wandered through the city and her fine and tall homes and shops and apothecaries and whatnots, they instead found a harbor. And in the harbor were the many black ships of that South and Eastern country, Ebedi Devlit, with their tawny men and their gold and their iron. Iron chains as far as the eye could see. Indeed, the air stank with the smell of a conquered people, with their red hair and tired eyes.

  The cries of a foreign language carried in the air, the voices of the slave traders were harsh and unknowable to Nephis; to her, they sounded like the braying of goats. Slaves of any age were drug onto the ships in endless lines. A foreign merchant examined one slave, a huge man a head taller than him with a great mane of red hair; so strong was he that he was twice bound, and a great yoke was set upon his neck to bend him down, so that he might bow. The merchant grabbed him by the mouth to examine each of his teeth. So great was he that the merchant could not wrap his hands around his forearm. The slave’s eyes were dull and low, like a beaten dog. Once he was satisfied, the merchant gladly handed over a fistful of gold and silver and sent the twice-chained slave onto the ship. Nephis, and Moss, and Kugo each turned their gazes away. They shuffled away as quickly as they could.

  “Nephis,” Moss asked, “Were those people?”

  Nephis was taken aback, and then she steeled herself, “Those were slaves. It is the fate of a conquered people, of an ungovernable people.” The words made her mouth dry, but she said them anyway.

  Moss considered all these things, but did not say a word, remaining deep within his own mind for a while.

  They walked away in a cold silence, until Nephis, perhaps feeling a bit unnerved, ribbed Kugo. “And you were going to ship me away on one of those! I suppose I am due some extra allowance as recompense, no?” she joked in a proud and flippant voice.

  But Kugo was deathly silent. He turned to look at her. And though with his mask, his eyes were but shadow, she could feel the cold glint from within. And he could not bear to look at her any longer.

  Nephis deflated and stammered for a while. “Well, why were you wanting to take me all the way here?” she asked, “It is a long way, after all.”

  The monk was silent a little longer before he spoke in his simple and low voice. “There are good supplies in Remare, some are hard to come by,” he explained, “But there was also someone I wanted to meet.”

  And though she pestered him, Kugo would not say any more.

  They wandered for a while before eventually they turned their sights onto finding this Governor Constantin. After all, it would do them no good to lounge in the city forever. But no matter how many taverns, or bars, or gambling houses they stepped into, the man was nowhere to be seen. “What a horrible governor!” Nephis exclaimed after some hours, “Vanishing like a ghost, doesn’t he know he has a whole province to tend to? I have half a mind to leave this scroll with the mayor!”

  “And where would that land you?” Kugo asked.

  “In a heap of trouble,” Nephis mumbled.

  Moss, meanwhile, was listening. Instead, he watched the sky and slowly counted on his fingers. “Nephis,” Moss interrupted, “It’s been thirty days.”

  “Since what?” Nephis asked. And then the visage of her driver appeared in her mind. Nephis stared with dead eyes at her own visions and then bolted down the streets, desperate to find to a merchant headed that way. But no such luck. Any merchants headed to Elemeer, or even the capital, did not have haste in mind.

  As they wandered the streets, there outbroke a chorus of angry voices from an alley. “Hand the rat over, and we’ll let you leave unharmed!” Kugo was the first to run, with Nephis and Moss barely keeping up. There in the dim alleyway were three robbers surrounding a man dressed in fine blue and crimson. The man was doubled over, using his body to shield a young child. The thugs kicked the man in the side, but he would not budge. “He’s just an orphan!” the thug explained, “No one will miss him. Hell, we’ll even cut you in! Those Devlots will pay a lot for him, I hear they like them young!”

  The man only curled up more, too weary to say a word.

  With little doubt in their minds, the party sprang at the thieves and sent them packing with little effort or struggle. Once he realized his assailants had left, the man struggled to his feet, every movement pained and aching. He pulled the boy to his feet, “Well, everything’s alright now! Say, how would you like a job?” he pressed out these words, swaying on his feet. But before the orphan could answer, the man collapsed, lying deep in terrible slumber.

  The man upon the ground was well dressed, in a fine coat of rich blue. He, through the bruises and bumps, was fair of skin and flaxen of hair. He was handsome, perhaps in his forties, and very much out of place in the deep and the dark of a moist alley.

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  Governor Constantin Gil awoke in an uncomfortable bed, staring up at a most horrible visage. “A demon!” he cried, “Was I so wicked as to be sent to Hell!?”

  Kugo sighed. “No, you are only injured.”

  “What a relief! However, if it’s money you want, you will have to wait! And selling me off to the East will do you little good, I’m worth far more than that. Take me to the Governor’s palace, I am sure they will pay whatever you ask to have their dear master back.”

  Behind his mask, Kugo raised an eyebrow. “You are the Governor?” Well, it certainly fit what they knew of him.

  “Indeed, I am!” he huffed, “Now for the proof . . . Oh, where has it gone?” He began to clumsily pat himself down. “The boy! What have you done with the boy?” And the governor tried once more to sit up, though he was obviously wincing in pain.

  “Young Victor is quite alright,” Kugo assured him, “My lady and . . . Moss are keeping him entertained.”

  “Entertained?! What foul euphemism is that?” And he lurched to his feet, “I won’t stand for it, villain!” And the blonde governor stumbled into the long hall to see Nephis and Moss playing with the young orphan, who hung from Moss’ great arm as if he really were a tree.

  “See?” Kugo stepped next to him.

  The governor suck up his nose and marched as best he could to the trio, and dug out an amulet bearing his family crest. “By order of the governor, Constantin Gil, myself, I demand you release this boy!” he huffed, “To conspire and sell a child of the empire? Of Radina? What ruffians and fools you are! I will have you all strung up, unless you comply!”

  “You are Governor Constantin?” Nephis asked.

  “Indeed, I am!”

  Nephis stuck out her hand and presented her signet ring. “I am Nephis Flores, thirteenth of my line. And I have been looking all day for you.”

  The governor’s mood brightened immediately, as if nothing bad had ever happened to him. “A Flores?” he asked, “To think a Flores would be my savior again!”

  “Did you hear that, young man?” he called to little Victor, “You are in the presence of true royalty!”

  “Ha! Indeed, consider yourself fortunate, young Victor!” Nephis grew another inch that day, her face flush with haughtiness.

  The boy continued to play. It seemed the mystical creature Moss was of far greater importance than royals or plots.

  “My, why didn’t your – er body guard say anything?” Governor Constantin asked.

  “Why indeed, Kugo? Did you not think it useful?” Nephis prodded, “Did you not think it pertinent to announce your fair mistress?”

  “I am unsure if fair is truthful,” Kugo said plainly. “It is not becoming of a servant to lie about his mistress.”

  “Huh?! You know I could have you crucified for that!” Nephis threatened and began to shadow box with his stomach.

  The governor laughed, “It is good to see the emperor’s children have not grown so stiff. You say you have been looking for me, but it would be my honor to have you in my home during your stay,” he offered.

  They all left once again for House Gil. Yet when they arrived, it had changed. Nothing had been rearranged, nor had a veil been lifted, but the house moved with the governor. Wherever he went, something happened. By his whim or by his presence, the very air of the home wrapped around him, though he seemed no different. The servants flocked about and moved like blood through the halls, a thousand letters were sealed and sent out, dinner was arranged for the guests, and on and on. “Boian!” he called for his chamberlain.

  “Yes, your grace?” Boian answered.

  “Get this young boy some new clothes, and set him to work, I think he shall make a fine spoon polisher, but set young Victor to whatever he seems apt at,” he nudged the young boy a little closer.

  “Of course, sir,” Boian said and beckoned the boy to follow him.

  The governor brought them to a grand sitting room, cozy as the rest, but certainly meant to impress guests. Each of the seats was cushioned and well embroidered, hanging above the mantle was a great many trophies: animals and beasts hunted, art of all sorts was set casually around the room, each worth a small fortune, though crammed together like simple knick-knacks. Moss took up a couch on his own, and how it bowed beneath him. The governor pretended not to notice and to only smile, but Nephis could see his eye leering toward him. They exchanged pleasantries for a while, and supped on yet more delicacies. Ileana, the maid, kept her composure, but was a little redder than before, her brows knitted a little closer. And eventually, Nephis gave the message, acting as the mouth of the emperor for the final time of this journey. It was a plain and unremarkable message, though Nephis noted it was unusually long and far less rote than the rest.

  “It is always wonderful to serve a Flores,” the Governor said with a wide and gentle smile, “I owe your father a great debt. It must have been thirty years ago, are you familiar with it?” he asked.

  “I am not,” Nephis answered.

  “OH! What a tale it is, listen here! My father, the previous governor, passed away. Now, I am the oldest son, but perhaps the least ambitious. Yes, the younger two tried to take the seat for themselves, quite maliciously, I must say. Pirates from the Ebedi Devlit waylaid the city for days when they found out the governor was dead, and in my weakened state, my brothers kicked the seat right out from under me. They nearly had me murdered, poisoned by one of their servants. Now, I have little doubt they would have turned against one another once I was dead; however, it is quite difficult for a young man to face off two boys in their prime! I was alone, could you believe it! My servants scattered, my supporters disgraced, my funds stolen away from me! I was certain I was to die. But then your father, only having been emperor for eight years or so, came to me. Indeed, he marched his army right down to Remare and found me. For my brothers were lounging in the palace. And he sorted out the situation in my stead, with nary a drop of blood. He was in every right to kill my brothers, it would have been expected. They had no army, only a handful of guards; no claim to my throne, nor even the scruples to keep it. But he allowed them to live. He seemed almost reticent to harm them. I should say he did so very wisely.”

  “What did he do?” Nephis asked.

  “Oh, he gave them a lump of gold and sent them off to govern some minor provinces in the far, far north. I don’t think I should see them again, and I would not like to. But, for my dear brothers to be dead . . .” he fell pensive for a while, “Ah, did I mention? He even sold off some of his properties, his manors and castles, to help rebuild the city.”

  Nephis had little say, but thought on it for a while.

  “Do you perhaps want to see more of the city? There is a lovely bakery, they are selling something new, they call it a ‘chimney bread’, it is sweetened and-” he had stars in his sea green eyes.

  “Master Constantin,” Ileana sighed, her red hair falling over her face, “Could you please stay within the palace for a few more days? There is so much we need you for.”

  “Very well,” Constantin huffed. “But we will have to arrange for something for our most honored guests!”

  “Governor,” Nephis said softly, “If you would like to repay your debt to my father in part-” she began to try and use him.

  But the governor only interrupted her with hearty laughter, “You don’t need to twist my arm, dear! I said I am happy to help any child of the Flores house! What is it you need?”

  Nephis was taken aback, but sat a little straighter. “Well, I, er, you have a library. Yes? Your chamberlain showed it to us.”

  “So I do.”

  “I was wondering if you had any manuscripts on the Vallai Kei,” she said.

  “The Vallai Kei?” he asked.

  “The Stone of the King . . .” she clarified sheepishly.

  The governor thought on it for a while. “No, I don’t suppose I do.” And Nephis' heart fell a little. “But!” he added, “If you are in need of old manuscripts, I presume you are looking for ancient ones, then there is a place you could try. The Studium of St. Albert. They have some of the oldest tomes of this or any place, at least within Radina. I hear they even have some from that elusive dark period, if you could believe it. It is not terribly far from here, perhaps a day's travel by foot. And I could arrange a cart for you, if yours has left.”

  “I am afraid to say we have walked here from Elemeer,” Nephis admitted.

  “Elemeer?” the Governor asked, “Where is that?”

  “It is in Dealuri,” she said.

  “Dealuri! You walked all that way? Why?” he exclaimed, “Did you not bring a retinue? Or a cart?”

  “I had them dismissed.”

  “Dismissed? Why would you do such a thing?” he asked, “You- you are the emperor’s child!”

  “Why would a Governor be wandering the backstreets of a city such as this?” she coyly asked.

  His face brightened up. “You have me there! But please, allow me to charter you a carriage ride for the rest of your journey.”

  “That is a generous offer, Governor Gil,” she said, “I accept.”

  And as promised, they spent the next days resting in the palace of Governor Constantin. The weight from their many days of travel was lifted. Nephis spent the first day merely lying down upon a great, feathered bed. The East and West walls of the house were lined by tall and costly windows, which let in the warm rays of the sun. She lounged like a cat wherever she pleased during these days, reading freely from the Governor’s collection. Histories, philosophies, romances – all at her fingertips.

  “Governor,” she pestered him one day, “How did you and your wife meet?”

  “Hm. I believe it was by happenstance. I was passing by the road, and I found that the wheel of her carriage had broken,” he continued on to describe the day, how he rescued her, and then how he pursued her. It, by Nephis’ account, was all very romantic.

  She lay upside down on the couch, her head hanging above the floor. “That is how it should be,” she nodded sagely, a warm grin on her face.

  “You are at that age, dear, have you found a husband?” he asked.

  She frowned, “No, my father insists on selecting one for me, but all of them have been . . . subpar,” she explained.

  “I’m sure his majesty has his reasons,” he awkwardly suggested, “No doubt there are a fair few eligible bachelors around, especially with your father at the helm.” The Governor gave a forced laugh.

  Nephis' heart sank a little that day, now certain she was doomed to a loveless marriage or the life of a spinster. The trouble soon left her mind, but remained in her heart like a cold dagger for some time.

  Within those days, Kugo approached the governor as he hurried through a mountain of requests.

  “Governor Constantin,” he asked.

  “Yes, err,” the Governor looked up at the hulking man, still wearing that demon mask even now.

  “Kugo.”

  “How can I help you, young Kugo?” he offered.

  Kugo was taken aback. ‘Young.’ Few, if anyone, had thought of him as young in a very long time, even if he was a whelp by their standards. “I am looking for someone that I believe to be in the city,” Kugo said in a quiet voice. “I was hoping you could help me. He belongs to a fraternity called ‘The Rod of Three Parts’. He has a brand on his neck of a three-fingered hand.” And Kugo held up his hand in the same way. “I am told he frequents a tavern in Remare, but I don’t know which one.”

  “And why do you seek out this man?” Constantin asked.

  Kugo was silent.

  “Can you not tell me?” he asked.

  “I cannot.”

  The Governor mulled it over, pulling at his blonde goatee. “Well, boys must undergo such things from time to time. To help find their own way in the world. Very well, I will endeavor to help find your man, but I cannot promise you success. I only ask you to consider what your father would hope for you,” he had a kind gleam in his eyes, like the sun across the sea.

  In a few days, the chamberlain Boian and his underlings had tracked down the man, or rather, the tavern he often frequented. The Bull’s Horn, a decrepit thing deep in the bowels of Remare, a throng for sailors, thieves, and men drifting through life half awake. Kugo slipped in and turned no heads despite all his regalia. It was filthy, every inch was blackened by soot and grime, cobwebs strung across the ceiling like frayed tapestries, like a mockery of the fine halls of the far East. The drinking hole bowed under the weight of the years drunk away. Kugo sat at the far end of the room and waited as a hunter hides in a tree, still and sharp. Not more than an hour later, a man stumbled in. He was a stringy man, wet with grease, and sallow, having never called the sun a friend. But peeking from his collar was the brand upon his neck.

  Kugo sat in the seat next to him by the bar. “Marian of Razlin,” Kugo addressed him by the name Boian found, though he kept his face towards the bar.

  The man turned slowly, looking quizzically at Kugo, trying to peer into his mask. “Do I know you?” he asked. “Your voice ain’t familiar.”

  “No,” Kugo said, “I’m just here to ask you some questions.”

  “’Fore you ask, I haven’t stolen nothing in a long while,” he said, with a weak smile, “Probably some other Marian.”

  “I’m here to ask about your time in the Rod of Three Parts,” Kugo said, “I don’t care about what you stole.”

  Marian raised an eyebrow. “You get around, asking about an old thing like that. How’d you find that name? Are you joined up? I dinnae recommend it. But I will not tell you nothing,” he said with a toothy grin, with what teeth he had left anyway, “Not when you're asking like that.”

  “Do you want to know what I’ll do if you don’t answer?” Kugo threatened in a hushed voice.

  “Aye, kill me if you like, but you still won’t get your knowing. You don’t have the cards,” he said in an airy voice, “On another note, I am feeling aw-fully parched.”

  Kugo grumbled and flagged down the barman, “A drink for my friend here, whatever is strongest.”

  “There’s a good friend! You can tell anything to a good friend!” Marian chuckled and pulled a mug of something foul and dark to himself.

  “You mentioned cards?” Kugo asked, “Are you nobility? Is that where the Rod comes from?”

  “Nae, what a foolish notion. We swiped 'em off a noble’s good wagon, helped the days go by,” he said, “Shame on them for keeping such a game from us.”

  Kugo moved on. “What is their purpose, the . . . gang’s?”

  “We ain’t no gang, block head, we’re an army,” he said proudly, “That’s what Rau said anyways.”

  “Rau?” Kugo pressed, “Who is that?”

  “He’s the leader!” Marian explained, “Surprised you dinnae know that. I won’t blame you though, right frightful man he is.”

  “Who is he? What is he like?” Kugo demanded, leaning in as close as he could.

  “Down, hound,” Marian pushed him back. “I dinnae like to think about it,” he shuddered, “I only saw him once or twice. Couldn’t tell you much about him, right secretful man, always wears his armor head to toe. Black as pitch. But he has a presence to him. Take one look at him and you know he’s the real deal.”

  “What do you mean?” Kugo pressed.

  “He’s a man who can lead,” Marian said with a grin.

  Kugo paused, his finger tapping without him. It was true, a man who could wrangle even the orcs under his will would be a man of mythical talent. “What does he want?” Kugo asked, his mouth salivating.

  Marian shrugged. “We often asked the very same amongst ourselves: power, blood, everything, or nothing at all. He never told us peons, wern’t our place, I suppose. But so long as we followed, we could have whatever we liked, so long as we could find it.”

  “Why did you leave then?” Kugo asked, “Sounds like the world was at your fingertips.”

  Marian looked down, his face was now flushed with liquor, his own reflection warped and rippled in the drink. “I couldn’t take it no more, I wern’t strong enough, I suppose. Didn’t have the stomach for it, all the blood. It’s one thing to gut a man, but . . .” he froze, unable to continue the thought. “Well, I ran and that’s that. Rau’s boys don’t get to leave, you know.”

  Kugo fell quiet again. In his mind, one of ‘Rau’s boys’ didn’t deserve to live if what he understood what Marian meant, but this wasn’t the place. And there was still a question he hadn’t asked. “Do you know who destroyed the monastery outside of Ordo?” he asked, the question tingling on his lips, his jaw just waiting to snap close on the answer. “And why? Why that one?”

  “Never heard of it!” Marian said, “Never even heard of Ordo myself.”

  Kugo deflated. “Thanks,” he huffed, and slammed some coin down on the table. He wandered the backstreets of Remare for a long while. He had gotten so close to the answer. He shouldn’t have been disappointed; he learned so much, so much more than he had in all his years of searching. But that one question still evaded him. He slouched against an alley wall. Just a little more, a little more searching, and he could set all things right. Anger boiled within him, he shook from it. Some nights he could hardly sleep from it. Fire. Fire on the mountain. Fire in his heart. In his gut. In his fingers. He had gone down a path he could not turn from. And at the end of that red path was death.

  He lay for a long while in that alley, until the sky was nearly black. But once he had cooled himself, he stood up and returned to the palace. Laughter filled the halls, and as he stood in the entrance, he felt without himself. Everyone was in the dining hall, a great dinner spread before them. Every wonderful thing, duck and pork, bread and wine, nuts and cake, all laid out for them. “Kugo!” Nephis cried, “You’re back, come, you must try this. I’ve never tasted fish so fresh, it’s nothing like from the river.” She was beaming with a wide and toothy smile. Moss had also been offered a place, and everyone cheered and gasped when he swallowed a great river of food in one bite.

  Kugo labored to a seat and sat across from the Governor. A servant piled his plate high with every full and pleasant thing, nothing was spared. Chatter and laughter buzzed all around him. A great fire blazed in the hearth; it crackled and popped, and he was cold.

  “Did you find what you were looking for?” Constantin asked, the candlelight flickering in his sea green eyes. He was the only one who knew what Kugo had sought that night.

  “Yes. Thank you,” Kugo answered in his stoic, still voice. Somewhere, there was the sound of goblets crashing together in cheers.

  He took a bite of what sat before him, and it tasted like ash.