You are now nothing but a memory. Drift on out into the cheerless ache of lonesome and lost. Cling to your passing resurrections like a moribund mist. You will not be fully revived. You were not made to feel the warmth of their skin. Nor to listen to the lullabies of beating hearts. You were meant to twist in the long winds, a dying passage to starless nights. And fall, fall like embers from the limbs of life. Fall like snow upon hungry graves. -- Helaena C. Moon

Everyone had heard some version of the story. It was popular with bards and playwrights in three different countries. No two retellings were exactly alike, but all agreed on three facts.

One: there was something lurking in the sea that was best left in the sea, and anyone who disturbed it did so at their peril.

Two: people had seen strange things late at night on the border between the empires – things like castles that disappeared when they looked again, gaunt figures glimpsed out of the corner of their eyes, and an unknown creature that lay at the bottom of a river and breathed fire.

Three: if a stranger came to your door asking for food, it was never wise to turn them away.

Now

"Rusi! You'll never guess what I just heard!"

A few heads turned curiously towards the speaker, but the majority of the restaurant's customers didn't look up from their meals. That included the person who the speaker was addressing. She waved for the speaker to continue even though she didn't look very interested.

"The emperor has publicly acknowledged one of his illegitimate sons! He's given him a title and everything!"

"...And am I supposed to care about this?"

The speaker fished a piece of paper out of her pocket and shoved it in front of her sister's face. "This is him. The prince, I mean, not the emperor."

Her sister looked at the picture. Then she looked again with much more interest. "But that's--"

"Exactly."

Then

For as long as he could remember Hariye knew there was something odd about him. It wasn't just one thing; it was a lot of little things that added together to make... something. He didn't know what yet. All his life he'd loved baths, which had been very unusual in a toddler but was now just mildly bemusing in a teenager. He had no idea who his mother was, which wasn't unusual when his father was a ghorurdu-khan[1] of Çarisar and had twenty concubines. He could see in the dark better than anyone else in the palace. And he was forbidden from ever going near the sea.

That wasn't hard when he lived in his father's palace in Konunkaya, in the Plains of Deniturak, more than fifty miles from the sea. The closest he ever got to the sea was when he watched the boats on the Lațian River. Really, his father had no need to have ever given any instructions at all about the sea.

It would have been much better if he hadn't. Because when Hariye became a teenager he naturally began to resent any parental interference in his life, and by the time he was fifteen he was utterly determined to go to the sea.

Now

Everyone in Onomi Manor knew to avoid Princess Ketevan when she was in one of her tempers. From past experience they assumed she would calm down after a few days. A week at the most. But now it was almost two months since her mother had sent her here in disgrace, and she still flew into a rage at the slightest provocation.

It wouldn't have been so nerve-wracking if her household had only known what it was all about. It wasn't unusual for the princess to be exiled to her country house after clashing with her mother, but those clashes tended to be so public that the entire kingdom knew about them. This time was different.

As far as anyone could tell, Ketevan had gone to the shore of the Blood Water to deal with a group of pirates. While there she had somehow been separated from her soldiers. A week later she returned -- some said with a teenage boy in tow -- and began her journey back to Tavgirid. Then she had abruptly turned back towards the sea, and after spending a month travelling along the coast she returned to the capital in a terrible temper. The teenage boy, whoever he was, had disappeared from the story.

The only people who knew for sure what had happened were Ketevan and her soldiers. The soldiers were back in Tavgirid and Ketevan wasn't talking, so the servants were left to wonder.

Then

It was easier than Hariye had expected for him to be able to slip away. His oldest brother was getting married, the bride's father was a rival khan, and with all the diplomatic discussions and wedding preparations no one paid any attention to the younger princes. Hariye put on servant's clothing "borrowed" from the laundry room and strolled out of the palace.

There was so much coming and going throughout the city that one more person didn't attract any notice. Hariye attached himself to a caravan carrying wool north to the port cities. He was miles away before any of his family noticed he was gone.

Now

"I need your help," Ketevan said stiffly.

"Do you indeed? I thought you despised me and everyone associated with me." Rusudan Lajareshvalë idly picked up one of the decorative stones on the café table and spun it around like a spinning top. "Or was I mistaken when I heard Princess Ketevan Diashamijë was leading a campaign to exile government officials who came to me for help?"

Ketevan's instinctive reaction was to pick up the teapot and throw it at the creature on the other side of the table. She restrained herself with difficulty. In the first place they were in public, and café owners tended to object to violence on their premises. In the second she was dressed as a commoner and would be arrested for causing a disturbance, which would lead to embarrassment for everyone when her identity was revealed. And in the third, the woman opposite her was the Shadow Queen of Tsalenlaki who had eyes and ears everywhere, even in the royal palace. Rumour had it that nothing could happen anywhere in Vakaryan without Rusudan hearing about it. It was neither wise nor safe to attack her.

"That was different," she said.

"It always is," Rusudan said in an undertone -- the sort of undertone just loud enough to make it clear she wanted Ketevan to hear.

Through gritted teeth Ketevan continued as if she hadn't heard. "Government officials talking to outsiders about matters of policy is more serious than asking for help finding a missing person." She opened her bag and rummaged through it until she found the portrait. "I need your help to find this man. Hariye Zinoth han-Teyar."

Rusudan looked at the portrait in silence. Her face was perfectly blank. At last she spoke. "Man? That's a boy."

"He's sixteen."

"And who is he to you?"

"My husband."

"Funny," Rusudan said calmly. "I could have sworn you were twenty-nine. I must be badly mistaken."

"I'm twenty-eight[2]," Ketevan snapped, "and what has that to do with anything?"

Rusudan's face remained blank and her eyes were eerily empty. A corpse would have shown more emotion. Yet there was something about her lack of expression that sent a chill down Ketevan's spine. An approaching blizzard couldn't have been any colder.

"In my experience someone who disappears without trace doesn't want to be found." Rusudan went back to spinning the stone around. There was something vicious about the way she spun it, as if she was imagining twisting someone's neck instead. "My advice to you is give up, go home, and mind your own business. I won't help you."

Ketevan opened her mouth to protest. Rusudan stared her in the eye until she quailed and thought better of it.

Now

Most people reacted with awe when they walked into the Summer Palace. Konstantine Niðarajë was not most people. He looked at the ornate carvings, marble staircases, and gold-plated walls with the same sort of displeasure he had shown when examining a body in the city morgue.

When he was shown into the throne room he wasn't remotely surprised to see the Emperor of Sui seated on the throne in full ceremonial clothes. His Imperial Majesty looked irritatingly self-satisfied with himself and his palace. His complacent expression wavered when Konstantine refused to bow. It wavered even more when Konstantine walked right up to the stairs leading to the throne and stared impassively at him without the slightest show of respect or awe.

An awkward silence fell. Konstantine steadfastly refused to break it. At last the emperor cleared his throat.

"Cheng Yin."

Konstantine said nothing. He showed no sign of knowing he was the person being addressed.

His honoured and respected father stopped. In his entire life he'd probably never received such a reaction before.

"Vasilij?"

Konstantine still didn't reply.

With considerable displeasure his father asked, "Well, by all the gods, what name are you using this time?"

"Konstantine."

His father frowned. "That is not a Belgonkorovan name."

"I no longer live in Belgonkorovo."

The emperor's complacence had completely evaporated by now. He openly glared at his son and spoke in a sharp, clipped tone. Konstantine could practically see the thoughts going through his head: He's spent so long among the barbarians he's become one of them. But how can he be anything else when his mother is one? At least this time the emperor had the courtesy not to say what he was thinking to Konstantine's face.

"I called you here because I have decided to formally acknowledge you as my son." He paused and waited for a reply. None came. "This means that your mother will be listed as having been one of my concubines at the time of your birth, so you will no longer be illegitimate and will have the right to use the imperial surname. From now on you will be Gao Cheng Yin, Prince of Li Bei."

There were many things Konstantine wanted to say to this. He kept all of them locked firmly away. When he trusted himself to speak he asked, "Why now? Why after twenty-one years have you finally remembered I exist?"

"Matters of state," his father said with a dismissive wave.

Konstantine had learnt as a child that he could unnerve people with his eyes. It was part of his inheritance from his mother. Unlike her he couldn't cast a spell on someone by looking at them, unlike her he couldn't make them say everything on their mind, but he could stare at them until their skin crawled and they spoke just to make him look away.

That was a trait of zimej, not merong[3]. The emperor had no more resistance to it than an ordinary human. He flinched and rubbed his forehead as if he was suddenly struck by a headache.

He began to explain, slowly and unwillingly. "The Çarisar Khanate has been a thorn in our side for too long. They hold the passes of the Zadrolok Mountains and our merchants must pay a tax to be allowed through. But they have done nothing yet that would give us the right to invade. We need Vakaryan's support to launch a successful invasion; they hold the coast of the Blood Water and our ships couldn't pass their watchtowers unseen. But Vakaryan will not help us if our reason for invading is simply to extend our borders."

The emperor trailed off. Konstantine continued to stare at him until he resumed his explanation.

"I have arranged a marriage between one of my sons and the Khan's daughter. The groom will be escorted into Güzenbeyli, the wedding ceremony will go smoothly, and then the groom will be assassinated at the banquet afterwards. Naturally Sui cannot allow such a dreadful crime to go unpunished."

Konstantine felt his skin crawl as he looked up at his father. He couldn't keep the disgust off his face or out of his voice. "So you have summoned me to replace my soon-to-be-murdered brother."

"Oh no." A ghastly smile crossed the emperor's face. "No, I would never throw away the life of one of my true-born sons."

Light began to dawn. "So you see a way to get rid of your unwanted half-breed bastard."

The emperor nodded, his self-satisfied expression returning. "Exactly. I'm glad to see we understand each other."

Konstantine looked at him, then looked back at the doors to the throne room. They were closed and no doubt barred from the outside. He thought of how long the journey was from the main gates to the steps of the palace. He thought of how many guards were on duty. "And of course I cannot leave this place."

"Certainly not. Not until your wedding procession leaves for Güzenbeyli."

Then

The prison was cold and damp. The only place she could find to write was a patch of dry stone high on the wall. To reach it she had to pull the table over to the wall and stand on tiptoe.

Her grandmother's voice echoed in her ears. Blood magic is dangerous and impure. It must never be used alongside light magic. Grandma would have been appalled if she saw the sigil. But Grandma was dead, their village was burnt, and all that remained was a teenager in a prison cell with nothing to write with but her own blood.

She finished drawing and jumped down from the table. Nothing stirred in the rest of the prison. She backed up against the door and whispered the words of the spell.

The explosion rocked the prison.

When the guards reached the cell they found it empty, with a gaping hole in the wall.