Silence threatened to crush Yvir. She sat on a chair, facing the desk of Bookkeeper Gobin. He watched her with the waiting patience of a predator eyeing its prey. Yvir stared back, her gaze carefully blank.

Gobin offered a closed smile. “How is your mother?”

“Fine,” Yvir said.

“Have the People’s Army given you any trouble?”

Yvir shrugged. “They’re the people, just like us. We keep to ourselves. So do they.”

The Bookkeeper opened a drawer beneath his desk. He placed a small pouch in front of her. “Open it."

It was filled with gold coins, enough for Yvir and her mother to live in luxury. She returned the pouch back onto the desk. “I thought I owed you a debt.”

“That debt will be paid.” Gobin gestured to the pouch. “This is a token of good faith. That you will finish your part of the deal: gain the Cadrian’s trust, and tell me her secrets.”

“She doesn’t trust me, and I don’t know what you want from her.”

The man took off his round spectacles, polishing them with a handkerchief. “The Century Invasion ended twenty-four years ago. Just before you were born, I believe. Since then, the West has withdrawn from the continent. Only their envoys, the Inquisition, were allowed to stay and meddle. I want you to find out what their Empire wants with Qeita. Find the truth, coax it out, cut it out if you have to.” He took the pouch of coins. “I’ll save this for you when you return. You and your mother could do with a sum like this.” He waved to the door. “Best not keep the Inquisitor waiting.”

She stood to leave.

“And Yvir,” Gobin said, “bring your mother here. She’ll be given quarters away from any vices downstairs. You should be at ease knowing she’s safe. Remember your job, and perhaps there may even be more opportunities with us.”

Once Yvir slid the door shut, she gritted her teeth and screamed within her mind. She wanted to break something, to break the Bookkeeper and his shining glasses, to free her mother from their prison that was this city.

Her fists trembled open. Her mother would be unreachable here. Gobin was just a man answering to someone she’d never even faced, whose influence reached the province, perhaps even the continent. They couldn’t leave the city, blockaded by the People’s Army. There was nothing they could do, except stay.

Her mother had brought them to the capital over a year ago. When some villagers had beaten her nearly to death for her half-Cadric blood, she woke up in the city, bandaged and sullen. She’d been unconscious for several days. How she was still alive, her mother wouldn’t explain why, or how she came to deal with the Taorin. Everyone had their secrets. Now, it was her turn to keep her own – starting with the Inquisitor.

*

The streets to the Imperial District was quiet. People glanced at the roving patrols of the People’s Army. They called themselves the United Republic: the allied provinces beyond Qei. They could call themselves pretty names; it made no difference. They were bastards sent to do bastards' work.

The wagon continued, the soldiers allowing them through.

Yvir watched one man, a street hawker, shout at one patrol marching past, “Go back to whatever backwater village you all came from, and fuck off! Tell your fair and just viceroys I said that too!”

One of the men, their officer, ordered, “Halt!”

The soldiers stopped. The officer walked towards the street vendor, a portly man that was nearly wide as he was tall, which was not much. The officer eyed the man’s stall, a steaming pot over an oven. He started to say something, but Yvir’s wagon was moving too far away to hear. The fat man pointed at the soldier’s face. In one smooth motion, the officer drew his sword and cut off the cook’s hand.

Yvir heard his scream in the distance. It was the only sound left behind the silence that followed.

The other guards sitting beside her said nothing. The People’s Army prowled the streets, more soldiers swarming from the imperial palace like a hornet’s nest. Their wagon driver pulled the oxen’s reins, stopping before a blockade. He presented one of the officers with a sealed scroll. The man waved them onward.

Entering the forest grounds of the imperial district, Tuli murmured beside her, “You’re still here.”

Yvir said, “Did I have a choice?”

“Do any of us?” one man grunted. “The People’s army.”

Another guard spat out from the wagon.

“Still, they haven’t looted the city. Downright left Lowtown alone.”

“Of course. Why would anyone dirty their boots in that pisshole?”

“You live in that pisshole, Folin.”

Folin, a man whose voice was higher than Yvir, exclaimed, “We all live there, idiot. The point is, they haven’t razed the city to the ground.”

“Not yet.”

“Yes,” Yvir said, “they just kill and maim whoever they please.”

The men grew quiet, the wagon rattling over the stone path.

Tuli said, “So long as we keep our heads down and our mouths shut, they’ll leave us well alone. These are rotten winds blowing. No telling when it’ll blow over.”

Their wagon broke through the dense bamboo thickets, revealing the imperial palace, now more of a barracks. Tents lined its vast courtyard, hundreds holding thousands of soldiers. Several men watched them, eyes hard with the sense of wolves waiting. More than likely waiting for the viceroys to lift the order of leaving them be, until they could finally show their feelings for the West.

The Cadrian Empire was hated and feared by all Qeitans. If not for the Emperor and his court of immortals, the Eastern continent would have submitted to the West’s hold. All their hatreds had been voiced and aimed towards Yvir, be it through words or stones. She’d learned quickly that being half-Cadric was half a death sentence, just enough for her to survive. She still had the scars to remember.

As they stopped before the embassy’s gates, she remembered the Cadric holyman. Her mentor, perhaps even father in all but blood. His name was Thouen, a swarthy old man with silver hair and sky blue eyes. The wrinkles on his face were made from his permanent smile.

What did you learn today? he’d ask after the end of a day’s lessons.

Yvir gave the same answer, You’re going to say it.

Thouen would smile a bit wider. He’d said one day, You are living proof that peace is what remains in the end. Never forget that.

The Inquisitor was waiting for them outside the gates, her face shielded by her black hat. Yvir knew she wasn’t ready for peace, not while people like that woman wanted a piece of her. She smiled grimly at that: to live in peace or lie in pieces.

“Yvir, come with me,” the Cadrian said.

Yvir followed her, heading towards the palace.

“Why am I only with you?” Yvir asked.

“The viceroys only allowed one guard to join me for their meeting.”

Yvir took in the newfound information. Of course. The immortals could only contact the Empire through their Inquisition.

“What would be the point of just one guard?” she said.

The Inquisitor answered, “To see who I trust most.” She glanced at Yvir and smiled. It was a joyous smile despite the absence of any warmth. When was the last time she’d witnessed a true smile? From Thouen, and that memory had rotted with his forlorn grimace, his body swaying, rope creaking, the noose taut round his neck. The sky looked like Thouen’s dead eyes now, a gray and lifeless blue.

Yvir continued walking beside the woman. Soldiers’ eyes traced along their chests and legs. The Inquisitor sauntered as if she were fully naked, basking in their attentions. She had to admit, despite the cover of the woman’s dark cloak, her body cut a curving figure compared to Yvir’s lean, flat body.

Yvir scowled. They were going to meet immortals, and all she could think about was this woman. How she could move with such confident ease panged Yvir with envy. Was there nothing this woman cared for? Yvir knew if she died, her mother would swiftly follow.

They stepped up the tiered stairs that led to an open gate, shadows crossing between the red lacquered pillars behind them. The hall was long and looming, stained glass from the ceiling lighting shapes of lotuses and symmetrical designs over the blood-red marble floor.

The viceroys sat behind a starkly ordinary wooden table, twenty or so paces away. The purple-eyed man and turquoise-eyed woman, absent the orange eyed man. The celestial throne, a block of hewn jade, stood empty behind them. They were beautiful. Silk clothing adorned with gold thread in painstakingly detailed embroidery. Their skin was marless, like ivory with the sheen of satin. Their hair shined to a sable luster, and their eyes… orbs glowing with a jeweled radiance that held Yvir's gaze when she dared to meet their stares.

"Bow," the Inquisitor hissed.

Yvir bowed with her.

"You honor us with your call, viceroys," the Cadrian said. "Thank you for granting us an audience."

The purple-eyed viceroy stirred. "Your Empire treatied with our predecessor, Emperor Jian. We wish to continue that spirit of diplomacy between the East and West."

"Please forgive me for this question, but King Hroth wishes to know the fate of the Emperor before any terms are discussed.”

“The Emperor is dust,” the man said. “Your King would understand that statement.”

The immortal who ruled the Dynasty for over half a century, was dead? Killed by the hands of his own subjects. He had been well loved in his home province, Qei had prospered in his rule. What would the People’s Army do now?

The Inquisitor said, “I apologize, but King Hroth requires proof that the Emperor is truly dead.”

The amethyst-eyed immortal stared at the Cadrian, saying nothing.

The turquoise-eyed woman offered a smile. “Please forgive my brother for his silence. I believe that your King would recognize this.”

She held up a jade ring between her fingers, placing it on the table, gesturing for the Inquisitor to step forward. The woman walked to the table, her boots clacking on the marble, Yvir still standing in place.

The Cadrian took the jade ring and said, “Thank you, viceroy Li Na. I will act as envoy to King Hroth.”

The Inquisitor stood before the viceroys, still and silent. Yvir fought the urge to fidget. After several more moments, the woman jerked her head up and nodded to the viceroys. She seemed a different person, now clasping her hands behind her back.

Regarding the ring in the sunlight falling down the glass above, she spoke, her voice somehow deeper and raspier, “How did you kill Jian?”

Viceroy Yan-Li grimaced. “It took our combined might, as well as his circle’s aid. We lost many. After the deed was done, we killed the remainder of his circle.”

The Inquisitor said, “I remember you, viceroy Yan-Li. Your province, closest to the West. You let the women, children and elderly in the colonies return to Cadria when the fleet arrived. Even left their farms intact. Why would you do such a thing?”

Yan-Li faced her gaze. “There was enough death.”

Yvir shivered. She’d heard the stories of the Cadric outposts sieged to the point of starvation, and the hunger that drove their people mad, or worse.

The Cadrian said, “You deem yourself a just man. What would be just in killing the Emperor you swore to serve? From my envoy’s memory, your people speak of your fair judgment. What did Jian do to justify betraying him?”

“He abandoned the western front,” Yan-Li said, “for decades, leaving my people to face your Empire, King Hroth. You could have taken Qeita. Why did you agree to the peace accords?”

“Like you said,” the Inquisitor replied, “there was enough death.”

“The chests of jade must have helped,” Yan-Li said.

“It did. If we are to talk, the accords must continue. Those are the terms.”

“We are prepared to honor that agreement,” viceroy Li Na said. “Though there are new conditions we wish to discuss.”

“Name them.”

“Your Inquisition,” Yan-Li leaned forward, “must leave this continent completely. And just as the Empire had colonies in the East, the Dynasty will have colonies to the West.”

“You would send your people to Cadria?” the Inquisitor shook her head. “My Inquisition has stayed in Qeita since the accords. As for colonies, I cannot control my people’s… feelings towards your own, viceroy Yan-Li. There are already Qeitans living among us, though few and far between. It will be seen as encroachment on Cadria. There will be hostility towards your colonists, just as Cadrians have been treated here.”

“We are prepared for such hostility,” Yan-Li said. “I understand the Inquisition is your hand, King Hroth. There may be room in our court for your envoys, given your order may complete a certain task.”

“Speak plainly,” the Cadrian woman, the King, rasped.

“We wish for your Inquisition,” Li Na said, “to help us retake the Shadai Order.”

“Well, now. They aren’t loyal to your cause, the protectors of the people? They must be quite the thorn in your sides.”

“They’re mortal,” Yan-Li stated.

“Maybe so,” the Inquisitor said, “but they live longer than a century, more than some immortals can say. Though not as powerful, they’re still changed. With enough numbers, they can pose a considerable threat. I’d say my Inquisition, if able to issue their full resources to Qeita, would be able to match your Shadai.”

The Inquisitor, or through whatever sorcery had become the King of Cadria, was treating it all like a game. Was this how immortals felt for their subjects? Like fodder, cattle, instruments used for their whims. It sickened Yvir.

“You’re asking permission to send your armies,” Yan-Li said.

“No, not my armies, viceroy. Simply the full numbers of the Inquisition.”

“And how many would that be?” Li Na said.

“Enough.” Though Yvir only saw the Inquisitor’s backside, she still saw her smug smile.

Yan-Li’s purple eyes squinted. “I’ve never met you, King Hroth. I believe in meeting someone face to face. You may bring your Inquisition, if you come as well. Then we may discuss further on such matters.”

“Hmm. You would ask me to meet you on your own terms?”

“What would you have to fear?” Yan-li said. “The Emperor is dead, and his circle.”

“Yes, and you wouldn’t betray me like Jian?” the King’s envoy chuckled. “How about a gesture of goodwill first.”

“A dozen chests of jade elixirs are ready to be shipped to you,” Li-Na said.

“Very well. When I receive them, I will begin preparations.” The Inquisitor beckoned Yvir forward. “Be ready to catch her.” She turned to the viceroys. “I look forward to continuing our terms in person. Though if you cross me…” she placed her hands on the table. “I will crush you, and wipe your people off the continent. But that won’t happen, will it? You seem reasonable. I pray that you continue your judgment in our agreement.”

The woman snapped her fingers, and she fell as if a spirit was escaping her. Yvir caught her, grunting with the weight of her limp body.

Li Na waved them off. “Leave us.”

Yvir supported the Inquisitor, one arm slumped over her shoulders. They half-walked, half-staggered out of the palace.

The woman held up a hand, resting against one of the pillars outside, hiding them from sight.

“Come closer,” the Cadrian whispered.

“What?”

“Closer,” the woman snapped. “And take off your helmet.”

Yvir moved towards her, taking off her helm.

The Inquisitor held her face, inches away, breath tickling Yvir’s skin. She stared back into her black eyes. The woman’s forefingers tapped her forehead.

Yvir gasped, sensations and sights she’d witnessed just moments before. It was like someone was poring through her memory, her thoughts and experience. A perversion that someone had taken her mind, the one thing she’d had control over.

The woman let her go. Yvir backed away, reeling.

“What did you do to me?” she snarled.

The Inquisitor said, “Nothing you didn’t know already.”

Panting, the woman produced a vial of black liquid, took a swig and exhaled.

She stood straight, flattening her wide brimmed hat.

“You and your mother won’t have to worry much longer of the Taorin. Once the King arrives with the Inquisition, your debt will be finished. All we have to do is wait.”