Killing Mische

Killing Mische

I am going to die.

Why do they hide me away in this room, awaiting judgment? I know my fate. It was determined the instant I fell into their hands. The Narahai will not be forgiving. There are centuries of enmity between our clans and theirs.

I scan the room for escape, as I have a dozen times, but I see no hope. It does not look like a prison, with its merrily crackling fire and comfortable chairs and walls lined with books…but it keeps me as readily as iron bars.

“Damn them,” I hiss under my breath. “Damn them, damn them, damn them.”

I should have died fighting, but they overpowered me too easily. For some reason, their leader seemed to want me alive. Probably to give their cursed prince a chance to kill a shaman of the Kei.

Tears sting at my eyes. I am the shaman of the Kei, although I would never admit as much to an outsider. A clan without shamans is weakened beyond repair. I meant to save my people; instead, I have doomed them.

I look down at the chains around my wrists. They chose well, these demons. The symbols etched into the iron block every power I have.

I decide to sit in one of those enormous chairs. I refuse to meet my fate cowering in the corner. If they didn’t want me to make myself comfortable, they shouldn’t have brought me here.

The door is locked, and most certainly guarded. If I had my powers, I could destroy that lock without even laying a finger on it. As it is, I am helpless. I can only wait.

My gaze falls on the end table next to me. On it is a mug of tea and an open book. I am tempted by the tea, but don’t touch it. It would be an easy thing to poison, though it would be a rather roundabout way of arranging my death. I lean forward, peering at the pages of the book.

Ynaka Qel é, chavacyha kūrenai é dre. Chanl ierenne Ændrēn ta Vyrēidān ko…

As I leaf through it, I realize it goes on in this vein for pages. The language is gibberish to me, but it looks like a list of something.

The door opens.

They file in, six of them. The first through the doorway is an imperious dark-haired woman. She wrinkles her nose as she sweeps past me to stand in front of the fire. After her, an older man, with the same dark hair and cold eyes. A blond man follows these two and chooses a corner to stand in. His eyes are speculative, not yet openly hostile. Next is a tall, lithe young woman, no older than I, with long silver hair. She stands to the right of the door. Her eyes burn as she looks at me. This one, especially, will not forgive. What is he to her?

Last to enter the room is a tall young man. His hair is exactly the same color as that of the girl before him, and not much shorter. He shuts the door behind him—the girl immediately moves in front of it—and eyes me impassively.

The others are unknown to me, but I know him.

Mische Qel.

The one they call the Star Prince.

I glare defiantly up at him, refusing to be dazzled. This man is the reason my people cannot live in peace. If only I’d been successful, he would be in hell right now.

He smiles, running a finger across the thin red line on his neck.

I do not respond. My face is stone, like his heart.

“Toriana Sapphira,” he says. His voice is surprisingly musical, like the water against the rocks on the shore. I’d expected him to look harsher, somehow. “You’re new to the business of assassination, aren’t you?”

The girl in front of the door raises her eyebrows so far I expect they will fall off her forehead. I say nothing.

“You must be,” he goes on. “If you weren’t, you’d know that the throat is far more popular of a target than it should be. A knife through the heart is much more effective. Leaves a better symbol, as well.”

The girl by the door erupts. A clatter of furious speech pours from her mouth, somehow managing to be lyrical even through her anger. She ends with, “…just giving this scum encouragement to come and kill you!”

She’s translated this for my benefit, I know.

He holds up a hand. “Peace, Sen. I am most certainly not going to let her kill me.” Amusement glints in his eyes. “Although, I confess, if this is the best the Kei have to offer…”

I rise from my chair, fuming. How dare he mock me? “I am a shaman, not a warrior! You--” I choke on my anger and subside, sputtering.

“Really, Mische,” drawls the woman in front of the fire. “Must we waste time with this? Kill her and have done with it.”

He fixes her with a surprisingly cold stare. “Archana.”

That’s all he says, but it’s enough. She flushes and lowers her gaze.

“So the Kei send their shamans to attack us?” the girl called Sen demands, her eyes narrowing.

“I was sent by no one.” It’s true, although they have no reason to believe me. My clan knew that I was planning something; I didn’t tell them the details.

“You send yourself,” Mische asks. The expression on his face is difficult to discern.

I meet his gaze levelly. “I send myself.”

The blond man speaks. “Why put yourself at risk? Surely your clan has warriors better equipped to…this sort of task.”

Apparently so. Nasha or Met wouldn’t have gotten caught. Nor would any of the lower caste warriors. No, only I have managed that shame.

“I am no coward.”

The man by the fire rumbles. It sounds suspiciously like a laugh.

“No,” Mische says thoughtfully. “I suppose you’re not.”

His comrades sputter indignantly, but he ignores them. “Sen, what would you have me do?”

She is clearly appalled that he even needs to ask. “You know my thoughts, brother. This Kei tried to kill you.”

“And failed,” Mische points out.

My fists clench. Trickery, trickery, I want to cry, but the truth is…there was no sorcery involved. He was a better fighter than I, plain and simple.

He turns to the man by the fire. “And you, Vyreidan?”

These names, clatters of unpronounceable syllables. They are alien to me, as this entire society is alien. The hill people must have a weak spot. They must.

It seems, however, that I will not be the one to find it.

“I would think the answer is obvious,” the man growls. “Death is what she deserves.”

“Cian?” Mische asks of the blond man.

Of them all, he seems the most reluctant to condemn me. “The law is clear,” he says slowly. “She attempted to kill a prince of the Narahai. Any one of our own people would receive the same punishment.”

“Then it is too good for her,” the woman by the fire spits, rising to her feet.

Mische seems unconcerned. “You have something to say, Archana?”

“I do,” she hisses, shooting me a look of pure venom. The hair stands on the back of my neck. If any of them have the power to influence my fate, she does. I cannot even say why I have this feeling, but it is there.

“This Kei hyrsaki invaded our lands and tried to kill you!” she continues. “Make her an example. Her people must learn what happens when we are crossed--”

“That will be enough,” he says abruptly, cutting her off. She falls silent, although she still glares viciously at me.

He regards me for a long moment, then seems to come to a decision. “Out,” he orders suddenly.

“Brother?” Sen asks, a confused expression flitting across her face.

“Out. All of you. I’d like to speak to her alone.”

Cian rises to his feet, frowning. “I don’t think that’s wise.” He glances over at me, clearly reluctant to leave me alone with his prince.

Rightfully so. Or perhaps not. I am chained, weaponless, and locked in a room among enemies. My hope was destroyed the instant I was captured.

They slowly file out of the room, Archana glaring at me one more time before she sweeps through the door.

It’s just he and I now, staring at each other across the room.

Enemies, representing thousands of enemies. Centuries upon centuries of them.

The Narahai.

The Kei.

Hill people.

Lowlanders.

My gaze drifts to the book on the table. Maybe if I hit him hard enough in the head…

He follows my gaze. “I wouldn’t bother, if I were you.”

Have they developed the ability to read minds now?

“It’s long. Very boring.” He picks it up, tosses it from one hand to the other. “It’s my family history. Someone was obviously not in the mood for light reading.” He chuckles.

I don’t. “Felt like torturing me yourself before you put me to death?” I ask.

“Not really.” He sets the book down. “What would you like me to do with you?”

Is this a trick? “I suppose you can’t be talked into letting me slit your throat.”

The corners of his eyes crinkle in amusement. “Cian has your knife, so that would be difficult even if I was feeling suicidal. I suppose you can’t be talked into going home quietly.”

“Going home quietly?” I echo, unable to believe my ears. Even supposing the Narahai weren’t bloodthirsty brutes, why would anyone pardon someone who’d just made an attempt on their life? Besides, he was their prince. He had to guard his people, as I had to guard mine. “Are you mad?”

“Likely,” he says, sounding amused. “Though you’ll probably just come right back and try to kill me again, I don’t feel like returning the favor.”

I stare.

Mische sits down in the other chair. “Since I have an understandable aversion to being dead, I have to ask: are you going to try to kill me again?”

For a few seconds, I’m too astonished for words. Then fury rises in me. This is some trick, some other way to make a fool out of me.

“Of course I would!” I shout, jumping up. “Why wouldn’t I? Your people have slaughtered mine for centuries! You could just stay in your cursed hills, but you always want more…” I trail off, coming to a sudden realization.

I’m standing right over him, yelling in his face. He’s still seated, presumably weaponless. We are practically nose to nose.

If any of the other Narahai walk in now, I’ll be killed on the spot. They won’t need any other justification.

He is still perfectly calm. His deep violet eyes pierce through me, completely devoid of emotion.

I sit back down, shaking. So that’s what he wanted. To taunt me until I snapped.

“Tell me,” he says casually. “Do you know why the wars started?”

Hundreds of offenses spill to the tip of my tongue, old wrongs, older feuds. But the beginning…?

What did happen at the beginning?

What turned the Narahai and the lowlanders--my clan among them--into implacable enemies?

I’m ashamed to realize that I don’t know the answer.

Slowly, I shake my head.

He leans over until he’s staring into my eyes once more. “Neither do I.”

“You Narahai probably wanted our land,” I scoff, looking away.

“Really.” He looks amused. “I was told that every conflict was the fault of the lowlanders. You, no doubt, were told the opposite.”

“Are you going to kill me or not?” I demanded, my nerves stretched too thin at last. I can’t take this relentless…evaluation much longer. I’m out of my element here, out of my depth. I’ve just completely botched an assassination, dooming my clan in the process, I have bruises all over from where this cursed prince hit me, and I’m going to be put to death very soon. How long it will last is up to him, and I don’t think I’ve done much to put him in a merciful mood.

And I’m frightened.

More so than I’ve ever been in my life.

He closes his eyes, rubs a hand across his forehead. When he opens them again, he says, “No.”

No?

No?

“Oh,” I say faintly, slumping against the chair.

He is silent.

“Why not?” Perhaps foolish to argue with him on this point, and I’ve certainly no wish to overturn his decision. But I don’t understand. I tried to kill him. Why would he release me in exchange? If our places were reversed, my clan would have killed him the instant he entered my home.

“I don’t want to.”

I scrutinize him for any sense of fraud, but he seems sincere enough. Of course, the Narahai do lie like they breathe…maybe he’s just trying to give me a false sense of security.

To what end? I don’t know.

“Your people won’t like that.”

A grim smile appears on his face. “No doubt. You’ve made yourself some powerful enemies, Lady.” He nods towards the door. “Sen Qel, my twin sister. Cian Rainneke, captain of my Guard. Your...ah, entry here was something of an embarrassment for him, aside from the personal loyalty he seems to hold. Vyreidan Khaasl, whose line of nobility dates back to before the Breaking. His daughter, Archana.” His face twists slightly as he adds, “She seems to think we’re betrothed. All these people want your blood. I’m sure convincing them otherwise will be…difficult.”

I’m still too busy digesting the fact that he called me Lady.

Hardly a title with which you’d address an enemy.

I stare into the fire.

“What do you want?” I finally ask.

“I want to end it.”

I laugh, and he flinches as though I’ve hit him. “End it? End it? Just how do you propose to do that? Erase centuries of violence and hate because you say so? It can’t be done. Last year, you ordered raids on our villages, to destroy our crops so that we’d starve. Two years before that, my uncle fell to the arrows of your people, along with countless others. You’ve never objected to this feud before. Now you sit here and tell me that you want peace?”

Mische looks down at his hands, neatly folded in his lap. A rueful expression crosses his face. “Before this year, I wanted to kill you as much as you want to kill me now. But my perspective has been…altered.”

“What changed?” I demanded.

He glances up at me, almost warily. “Can you keep a secret?”

I nod.

“Good. So can I.”

It takes me a few seconds to realize his meaning. By the time I do, he’s laughing. Even my glare doesn’t darken his mirth.

“Damn you,” I mutter. Another trick.

He hears me, of course. “I’m sorry,” he says, although he’s still smirking. “I couldn’t resist. What changed my mind…” He fingers a small round metal object hanging from his belt. “Let’s just say I experienced a different worldview.”

I frown.

“People are dying, Lady. Yours and mine. And for what? We don’t even remember. It’s ceased to matter. Now all that matters is a clan name and a homeland. That seems to be enough for you. It used to be enough for me. Now…” He trails off, staring at the book again.

“You’re not so sure?” I ask tartly.

“I am sure.” He regards me solemnly. “Sure that these wars are pointless.”

“So all those people died for nothing?” I clench my fists.

“What’s the alternative? Continue allowing them to die for nothing?”

“Why should we trust you? Once we make our treaty or whatever it is you want, how do I know you won’t betray us?”

He sighed. “You do not know me, so I will forgive that accusation. You may heap whatever invective you like on me, but I am not a liar.”

“I don’t know that.”

“No,” he says softly. “I suppose you don’t.”

We remain thus for some time. His face is calm as he gazes into the dancing flames. I wonder what he’s thinking. He, too, is undoubtedly trying to do what he thinks best for his people.

The thought unaccountably makes me sad.

I thought to kill this man. The Kei are backed into a corner. We are losing territory to the other lowland clans at a rapid rate. We have one shaman remaining: myself. I’d told myself that killing Mische Qel would eliminate the threat from the hills, since the Narahai would be occupied with power struggles to determine the next ruler. At the very least, I thought, we would strike a blow at our enemies.

Now that idea seems…childish.

What good would it do, one more death?

“Toriana,” he says suddenly. “Your name. It means ‘nightfall,’ does it not?”

“It does,” I reply, surprised that he knows this. “I was born at twilight,” I add, somewhat awkwardly. I wish he’d stop looking at me. It makes me feel as though I am being judged.

“Ah.”

There’s a world of meaning in that single word, but I can’t puzzle it out. “So I accept your peace or you kill me, is that the bargain?”

“No.”

I raise an eyebrow expectantly.

“No,” Mische says again. “You accept peace or not, as you choose. Either way, you’re free to go back to your clan. Call it a gesture of good faith. And whether or not you accept…” He sighs. “The tribal part of me can’t believe I’m saying this. No more raids. No more battles. The Narahai will defend our homeland if attacked, nothing more.” He holds his hand out over my chains, muttering a few words under my breath. I feel them unfasten. They fall to the floor with a clatter.

I stare at him, my mouth hanging open. “You aren’t serious.”

“I am. I refuse to see one more person die unnecessarily. Narahai or lowlander.”

I shake my head at him, slowly.

“I don’t care how long it takes you to realize,” he continues, growing more impassioned with every word. “We will not be the aggressors. Anyone who does go against my order will be punished severely.”

“I don’t understand,” I say numbly.

“How many more goodwill gestures do you need?” he inquired acidly. “I grant you your life and freedom. I have shown my trust in you by promising to stop all attacks unconditionally.” He raked a hand through his hair. “I do not believe you are my enemy, even if you do.”

Honor and practicality war within me. The lowland clans and the Narahai have been fighting longer than anyone can remember. If he’s sincere…

But how can I be sure?

“You just want to end it?” I ask him flatly. “With a few words between a prince and a shaman?”

“Is that not how peace always begins?”

I do not reply.

“Listen to me, Toriana.”

I look up at him, startled that he’s addressed me so informally.

Mische stands suddenly, moving with an inhuman grace. But then, they’re not quite human, the Narahai. They live so long…mortal beings, to be sure, but much stronger and quicker.

He reaches into the front of his long coat.

He pulls out a knife.

I find that I cannot breathe.

It’s over.

It was all a lie.

A game.

He darts toward me so quickly that I can’t even see it coming. I don’t even have time to close my eyes.

We remain frozen, our eyes locked. Oddly enough, there is no hatred in his. No anger. No…feeling.

And I realize that I am not in pain.

I look down. His knife is poised just above my heart, a scant hairs-breadth from my skin.
The blade is pointed the wrong way…not at me, but at him.

“Take it,” he says roughly. He grabs my hand, folds it around the hilt. I feel the weight of it drop into my hand as he lets go. It’s surprisingly heavy, for such a small thing.

“What…” I stammer. “What are you doing?”

“Ending it,” he says quietly. “If it will satisfy you…if you take this as a final gesture…then finish what you came here to do.”

He can’t mean…

I clench my fingers around the knife. I’m sure I can escape from here. All I need is a few seconds before they realize what’s happened. I am sure of my ability to run, at least.

As far as I know, he has not chosen a successor. Their crown has gone from parent to child for centuries. The death of a ruler without an heir would be crippling. The Narahai would consume themselves with their own power struggles.

He knows this. I can see it in his eyes.

Then why…?

It can only be for the reason he stated.

He wants to end it.

Truthfully, so do I.

Both my parents died before I was twelve, along with dozens of aunts, uncles, cousins…untold numbers of family and friends, all lost to the wars. Nasha, our best warrior, lost every member of her family to the Narahai.

If this works, no one else will have to die.

I take a deep breath, tighten my grasp on the knife.

I swing at Mische, taking all of the fury I’ve ever felt towards the Narahai and shoving it to the surface. He closes his eyes. I see his lips move in what must be a prayer…a prayer for his soul, a prayer that I will keep my word…or just the silent plea that all living creatures make when they are about to die.

The knife clatters to the floor.

He looks down, dumbfounded. It gleams dully up at us, still spotless. He touches his chest lightly, making sure that he’s truly alive.

“Neither of us,” I say, “ are going to die.”

It’s a statement of trust as much as a promise.

He nods.

“It won’t be easy,” he warns me. “Our people will be very…resistant.”

‘Resistant’ is the most mild word I can think of for the reaction of my clan. But I am their last shaman, so they will hear me out. They must.

His people will have to do the same.

And all of us--myself included--will have to learn to let go of hate.

“Truces never are,” I reply.

Mische Qel, the Star Prince of the Narahai, the person I had been intent on killing just a few hours earlier…he reaches out, and he takes my hand in his.

“I swear to do everything in my power to ensure peace,” he says.

“I swear to do the same,” I say formally.

No, it won’t be easy. Hatred runs deep.

But the two of us are a beginning.

Perhaps…the beginning.