Chapter 33
YUMA
The long winter was coming to an end. It was perhaps the most peaceful winter Danras had ever seen, as the defeated Grim King had been silent. He made no demands of Danras, not for conscripts and tithes, nor for the Imperial emissary. Travelers from Iorca and Lansis brought similar news.
Several times had Yuma asked Lysandros about the corpse hidden inside Fractica.
Every time, Lysandros refused to answer, saying that it was a state secret he couldn’t reveal yet.
She eventually gave up. After all, Merseh probably had its own peculiarities, from a foreigner’s point of view.
Perhaps the Empire attributed a special meaning to their dead.
As the Emissary had shown his respect for the customs of this land, she decided she would do the same for his.
Yuma had lent her winter house to Lysandros, as he needed an official residence to receive visitors from all over Merseh as the Empire’s alliance-building with it began.
The Host suggested Yuma move to an empty room in the Feast Hall.
At first, it was too much space for her and far from cozy, but as winter passed, she accumulated various little gifts.
The other day, Lysandros came bearing a baby’s cradle that he had made with his own hands.
It was a simple affair and not expertly done, but a thing unseen in Danras, meant to rock the baby to sleep.
There were letters awkwardly engraved into the inside headboard.
Yuma couldn’t read Imperial yet, but she knew this was the name of the baby—Tychon.
When the Host prophesied a boy would be born to them, Lysandros had explained that it was an Imperial tradition for a man to bring the mother of his child a cradle with the name of their baby engraved into it.
When he suggested he would make a new cradle if Yuma did not like the name, she laughed and said the name would suit the baby just fine.
That the Chief Herder of Danras was pregnant was a cause for celebration in the city.
Some wondered why she didn’t marry Lysandros and hold a large wedding, but Yuma thought it inappropriate for the Chief Herder to marry a foreigner that many in Danras did not yet know well.
It was part of the reason why she accepted the Host’s invitation to move into the Feast Hall, instead of living with Lysandros at her winter house.
Some weeks had passed since the passage through the southwestern range of the Rook Mountains—which the Grim King had sealed—was reopened.
When construction on it started, she had often gone for inspections without much of a problem; but a month later, sitting on a saddle became too much.
The thought that she would not make it to this year’s herding made her heart sink.
Yuma sat in her chair and placed one hand over her visibly pregnant stomach and rocked the cradle with the other.
As she was thinking about who she should choose to step in to lead this year’s herding for her, someone cleared their throat outside her door.
“Come in.”
The Host entered. He wore not the ceremonial robe of feathers or the somber black garments, but the clothes of an ordinary child. As Yuma made to stand, he waved at her to remain seated.
“Chief Herder, I have something to discuss with you. Are you occupied?”
“Not at all. Please sit.” She gestured to a chair near her.
“You’ve decided on a name?”
“Yes, we’re calling him Tychon.”
“Strange name. Well, so is ‘Lysandros,’ I suppose.” He nodded a few times and looked at the cradle. The fact that he was taking his time despite having something to discuss meant the matter must be very serious indeed. Yuma politely waited him out, a silence that was meant to urge him to speak.
Finally, staring at her hand rocking the cradle, he spoke.
“I’ve heard the passage through the southwest is open. The Empire will be arriving soon.”
“Yes, today even, if the weather holds. But I suspect sometime in the next three days.”
The silence that followed was a little longer than the moment before.
“Whatever happens,” the Host said, “we must face—and defeat—the Grim King.”
“Don’t worry. The Empire will handle him. Especially if you help them—”
“That’s what I wished to discuss,” the Host said, quickly cutting her off. “I am leaving Danras.”
Surely the Host was joking, so she laughed. But his expression was serious, which struck horror in her eyes.
“What are you talking about? Who will protect Danras if not the Host?”
“Protect Danras from what? If the Grim King is no longer here, then Danras should no longer need the Host.”
Yuma tried not to get too agitated. Carefully, she stood.
“Still, that you should leave home is too—”
“Regardless, the Empire will never let me stay.”
“What?”
Unlike her, the Host was completely calm. “I’ve known for a long time. That’s what the auguries said, ever since you brought Lysandros to my carriage. Have you not heard that the Empire forces all sorcerers to go to its capital?”
“But the Host is not a sorcerer.”
“That isn’t what they think.” He smiled, and Yuma could not help thinking it was forced.
“I will go speak to Lysandros this minute.” As she stood up to get her coat, the Host grabbed her sleeve. His hand was the small hand of a child.
“We already talked it through yesterday. That I would leave without resisting. Lysandros seemed relieved that I brought it up first. So, you don’t need to say anything. A child’s parents should lose no love for each other, not for things like this.”
Stupefied, Yuma sat back down.
“I’m going of my own volition,” continued the Host, “which might mean they’ll treat me a little better.
From what I’ve heard, it is truly a large and fanciful city.
Ten times the size of Danras! People from all over the world living in one place, and I would get to learn a bit of the Empire’s sorcery. Is this not good?”
How could this be good?
“But the Host and Danras have existed together for generations,” Yuma countered. “What would happen to Danras if it lost the Host?”
The Host smiled bitterly.
“Chief Herder. Sometimes I wish to be not the Host but just a thirteen-year-old boy named Dalan. So, I’m not entirely dreading my new life, you see.
And Danras … Without the Grim King, Merseh will be a completely new country.
What would it matter, then, if we had a Host or not?
Do not fret,” he said, trying to reassure her.
“If I knew you would feel this way, I would’ve slipped away without saying anything.
Lysandros came up with a way to keep the catacombs safe, to feed Power to the enchantment in my stead, so nobody will even notice. ”
Yuma didn’t know how to feel. Sensing this, the Host picked up the small box he had laid down next to him.
“As a baby is being born, you will need a receiving blanket. I wanted to leave you one gift before I went.”
Yuma opened the box. Inside was a thick blanket, a pretty blue with white flowers embroidered on it. The Host stretched out his hand and stroked the embroidery.
“These flowers bloom on the grasslands,” he explained.
“I have been at many herdings but never seen these. What are they called?”
“They were very common when the first Host came to Danras, so we just called them grass flowers. Did you know that over hundreds of years, the world has become cooler and cooler? These grasslands were once very warm. So, you don’t see these flowers here now.
That is the way of life. If one thing is whole, another decays, and we forget even the memories of things that once were. ”
He then gave her a blessing for a safe delivery and left.
Alone, Yuma sat staring into the cradle, lost in thought.
Why hadn’t Lysandros told her about this?
If she had known before that this path would lead to the Host leaving, would she have been insistent on aligning with the Empire?
What kind of place would Merseh be without the Grim King and the Host …
“Foolish girl. Too late to have such thoughts now.”
The sudden voice made her head jerk up. She was no longer in her spacious quarters in the Feast Hall but in an even larger room where everything was made of obsidian.
In the middle was a wide stairway of black rock, and the voice was coming from above it.
There was a strange noise in the background, nothing she had ever heard before.
“Grim King.”
She had never laid eyes on him directly like this, but she knew it was him. A tall man sat on a throne made of human bones, wearing robes that looked woven from fire and shadow. He was gaunt. On his head was a crown woven of bones and gold.
“So, do you find the Empire more to your liking than me?”
“The Empire is our equal ally, not our conqueror. Nor are they tyrants who kill people on a whim.”
The Grim King scoffed.
“Is that so? Your ‘equal ally’ has taken your Host like a pig to a slaughterhouse.”
“The Host goes to their capital of his own volition.” She said this, even when she knew the truth.
“Well, well, well,” mocked the Grim King, “if the Empire only wants to hold hands, then it’s not a bad idea to live your life fat and happy in its grasp. But should they want more…”
Yuma could not stand where she was any longer. As she made her way up the obsidian steps toward the throne of bones, the Grim King stopped speaking. Each of her steps echoed in the room.
“How did you bring me here?” she asked.
“Rest assured this is not my true castle, and you are still in that shabby little hut sitting next to that shabby little cradle that isn’t fit for a horse’s trough.
” He cackled. “The child inside of you has potential. Seeing as he doesn’t even have a true form yet but still can bring us together …
Yes, this is your dream. And I have entered it through your son. ”
This didn’t make much sense to her, but she had other objections to voice first. “I may have been your subject the last time we met, but we are now enemies. What do you propose to do this time? Since your eyes are all over the Rook Mountains, you should know the Imperial forces are coming from the southwest, yes?”
“Do you remember, when we met last summer, how I said I would flood the river to sink Danras into the steppe?”
This time, it was Yuma who scoffed.
“Why don’t you try? The Trina River is low because of the winter, and even that much is frozen.
The Imperial forces will have your castle surrounded by the time it thaws.
You can bring forth your armies that need no water or food, but how long can you withstand an enemy that has the support of Danras? ”
“You are correct,” said the Grim King. “I won’t last the next autumn. I will be too busy fighting such a siege that Danras couldn’t be further from my mind. Your child will be in the light of the world by then as well. Perhaps not by the starlight of Merseh, though.”
Inexplicably, a chill ran down Yuma’s back at these words.
“You still do not understand,” he continued, “what it means that we can talk as we do now. This would not be possible if yours were a common child. Do you know what the Empire does to uncommon children? And do you think such a child would escape the notice of someone who is an inquisitor of the Empire—his own child no less?”