Chapter 29. Lin Imperial Island
Uphilia moved like a ghost through the palace. I didn’t know where she lived so I’d had to send my little spy construct out to find her lair. It took my spy three days to report on its location. Three days I spent poring over books, trying to study as my mind filled with images of Bayan melting. I couldn’t figure out what had happened to him. Each time I saw Father in the hallways, he didn’t look at me. I’d dared only once to ask him where Bayan was, and Father had only said “resting”, a warning in his tone. I knew better than to press the issue. Still, I’d gone to Bayan’s room the next night and had found it locked. When I’d placed my ear to the door, I’d heard nothing, not even the sound of his breathing.
Why hadn’t he wanted to see Father? Why had he wanted to hide from him? The only conclusion that made sense was that Father had done this to him.
The night air breathed down the back of my neck, bringing with it a few small drops of rain. Of course Uphilia couldn’t live someplace easy to reach. Foxes liked snug little dens, and ravens could fly. I clung to the tiles of the palace roof, slippery with rain. My engraving tool was in my sash pocket along with an extra two shards of bone from the bone shard storeroom. I’d have to be careful what commands I added to Uphilia, lest I upset the balance of existing commands, but this would give me more room to work with than I’d had with Mauga. And I knew Father cared more about trade than bureaucracy. I had the suspicion she’d be a more sophisticated construct than Mauga.
I stepped across the curved roof, going slowly, doing my best to keep my footing. The rain and wind threatened to topple me from the tiles. The palace was several stories high; I’d break more than just a rib if I fell. My foot slipped a little. My heart jumped into my throat. I windmilled my arms, trying to keep my balance.
I didn’t want to die like this.
My hands broke my tumble, and I slid only a little way down the roof. My palms were raw, and from the fiery feeling, I guessed one of my fingernails bled. I hated Uphilia and her stupid lair. She nested near the peak of the roof in a hollow my father had made for her just beneath the gable. It would be foolish of me to try walking again. So I crept across the roof on my hands and knees, cursing the rain that fell faster and ran into my eyes.
The edge of the roof came into view. I made my way to the edge, lowered myself to my stomach and peered over.
Loose straw peeked out of a hole carved into the wall below the gable. I caught the glimpse of black feathers, the white-tipped end of a red tail. Uphilia had returned to her roost. By how still she sat, she was likely sleeping. Even so, how could I sneak up on a winged fox? I’d never be as quick as she was, I couldn’t fly and getting into her lair would be difficult enough. I needed to find a way to do so quickly and block her escape at the same time. I could lower myself from the edge of the roof but the tiles were slippery, and I’d need to drop into her lair right away.
There was a decorative piece at the gable, curling iron nailed to the beams. I edged to the peak of the roof and probed it with my hands. It was nailed securely to the beams, and there was a horizontal piece I could fit both my hands around. It wouldn’t be easy, but if I lay on my back, put my hands around this piece and kicked off of the roof – I could get enough momentum to swing around and into Uphilia’s lair.
I wasn’t an acrobat but I was short and light. However, the piece still might not hold my weight. I didn’t see much choice though.
The cloud juniper berries were still in my sash pocket. I took one and popped it into my mouth. It tasted musty and sharp, a slight bit of juice escaping between my teeth. Ignoring the taste, I chewed and swallowed it. I wasn’t a cloudtree monk, but I knew the stories. No one had ever assailed a monastery – not even my father – and succeeded.
It took only a few beats of my heart before I felt the effects. My heartbeat quickened, strength flowing into my arms and to the tips of my fingers. If I’d been in my rooms, I would have tested my strength on something benign. But I didn’t have the luxury. The rain on the roof tiles soaked through the back of my shirt. Above me, clouds obscured the moon, a dim halo shining through them. When I looked at it, I could see the raindrops falling just before they hit my eyes. It was a dizzying, disorienting feeling.
I reached around the edge of the roof, flailing, searching for the horizontal metal bar. I had to walk my fingers down to it, but I found it.
It was this or being disowned. It was this or disappointing my father. It was this or perhaps even ending up like Bayan, my flesh melting from my bones. The memory machine. Had my father taken my memories? Or was it something he was building to try to give them back? Is that what had happened with Bayan? Had it malfunctioned? How long until he tried the machine on me? Later. I could think about it later. I tamped down the horror and pushed myself into an upside-down bridge.
Taking a deep breath, I shoved off of the roof and felt the world tilt.
The iron of the gable piece was slippery in my fingers. It creaked as my full weight fell upon it. I was facing the ground when one side tore from the beams. Everything seemed to move more slowly, each beat of my heart feeling like it might be my last. I swung my legs to my chest and saw the opening of Uphilia’s lair before me.
I might not make it. But with a burst of enhanced strength, I kicked my legs out hard. I let go.
For a moment, there was only me and the air and the whites of Uphilia’s eyes. She woke to find me hurtling toward her in the dark, in a place she thought no one but she could reach.
I tumbled into her soft body, my arms outstretched, and caught her. She snapped at me, and her teeth sank into the soft flesh of my side just below my ribs. Even though I knew by now that my father’s highest constructs would still attack me, the pain of it surprised me. I tried twice to get my hands inside her body, and only succeeded in tangling my fingers in her fur. She shook her head, her teeth still nestled into my side. Warm blood soaked into my shirt. My whole side burned.
If I didn’t get myself together, if I didn’t end this, I would fail.
I was Lin. I was the Emperor’s daughter. I would not fail. The words burned in me, molten iron forged into a blade. A deep breath in, and then I tried once more, moving my hand slowly, with purpose.
Uphilia’s body gave beneath my touch. She froze as I searched inside her for the bone shards, her teeth still embedded in my skin. I found the shards stacked one on top of the other, and it felt like there were more than there were even in Mauga. At the top of the chain, I pulled a shard free. I had to wiggle it like a loose tooth before it disengaged.
When it was safely in my palm and outside Uphilia’s body, I took a moment to pry her jaw open. It was like levering open an oyster. Blood soaked my shirt and the wounds burned, but I adjusted my sash around the bite to stop the bleeding. I’d have to tend to it later.
Lamplight glowed from between the cracks in the floorboards of Uphilia’s den, and I held the shard over the light. I’d expected the same command I’d seen on Mauga’s shard: obey Shiyen always. But my father had different ideas for his Construct of Trade.
Esun Shiyen uvarn: nelusun 1, 2, 3.
Obey Shiyen unless: conditions 1, 2, 3. It took me a while to decipher the words. This was more complex than what I’d encountered inside Mauga. Uphilia had the option to disobey Father under certain conditions. The numbers would match reference shards within Uphilia’s body, though I wasn’t sure where I’d find them. They’d be marked with those same numbers.
I bled as I worked, each move sending a twinge of pain into my ribs and hip. Uphilia’s feathers tickled my cheeks each time I leaned in close. She didn’t stink like Mauga did. Hers was a light and almost sweet musky scent; she smelled less like a dog and more like hay. I checked each shard for a number in the corner. Commands flashed in the dim light from below:
Purchase boxes of caro nuts when: condition 9.
When tithes of tuna fall below twenty fish per year, report to Shiyen.
Gather reports on stolen goods from Tier Two constructs daily.
Finally, I found a shard engraved with a “1” in the upper left side. The engraved words on it were tiny; I had to squint and hold it just above the floorboards to make out the words:
If Shiyen does not have all the information Uphilia has, and Uphilia’s experience dictates a different decision for betterment of the Empire.
So my father trusted her enough, or at least trusted her sophisticated commands enough, to let her override him when she thought the occasion called for it. I replaced it, noted its location and searched for the next two.
They were located directly below the first, so I didn’t have to search far.
On “2”: if Shiyen’s decision will result in a total or partial collapse of the Empire’s economy. And on “3”: if Shiyen is asking for something that cannot be reasonably achieved.
I sat back on my heels, the last reference shard cradled in my palm. I couldn’t rewrite the shards the same way I had rewritten Mauga’s. I hadn’t done the cleanest job, and though he seemed to be behaving as normal, Uphilia was more complex. I couldn’t count on the same solution to work with her. I had to find another way.
This time, though, I’d brought more resources with me. I dug inside my sash pocket and brought out one of the shards from the storeroom. This might be an even easier and more elegant solution than with Mauga. I could add another condition to the topmost command. “If Lin asks Uphilia to obey her instead, Uphilia will thereafter obey Lin.” I couldn’t replace my father with myself in all Uphilia’s commands, but this would provide a stopgap measure until I could fully rewrite Uphilia’s shards.
I found the topmost command again and used the engraving tool to carve a “4” into the corner of it. And then I held the tool poised over the corner of my fresh, blank bone. I’d made certain, when I’d gone back to the storeroom, to choose an island far away from the inner Empire, one where I didn’t know the occupants and never could have met them. One where I might never know the occupants.
I’d avoided looking at the drawer where the blacksmith’s shard had once lain.
But the moment I pressed this tool into the bone, I was writing on the life of someone, no matter that they were half a world away. When I placed the shard into Uphilia’s body, the shard’s original owner might have a day where they felt a little unwell. The thought might cross their mind, but they wouldn’t know that their shard was in use. It wouldn’t be until they were older that their life would seem to flow more swiftly from their bones. They’d age faster, feel weaker. Eventually, they’d die years before their time, and Father would have to replace the old, dead bone inside Uphilia with a fresh one.
This is what I would do if I engraved the new reference into the bone. I would shorten someone’s life.
Several days ago, I might have done so without a second thought. But meeting Numeen’s family, getting to know his daughter Thrana – I knew however far away the person was whose skull this bone had been chiseled from, they were a person. A person with hopes, dreams and people who loved them.
Was there another way?
I went through the rest of the shards, sifting through the commands, searching for a pearl in the Endless Sea. All I found were grains of sand. I went through them again, desperate. The rain clinked against the tile roof above, a staccato accompaniment to the frantic beating of my heart.
The sky outside turned blue, and then gray. I couldn’t delay any longer. I’d come too far to make a different choice. Steeling myself, I engraved the command onto the bone. It felt like I was digging the end of the tool into my soul, scratching irreversible words into its surface.
But it was done.
I shifted Uphilia’s body beneath me so I could have better access to the reference shards. I’d need to shift them a little in order to fit this new one between them. But when I slid my hands under her ribs, I felt something across the backs of my hands – not the floorboards, or straw. She was lying on something hard and square. A book?
I moved her to the side. The book she’d been sleeping on was broad and wrapped in brown leather, the cover unmarked. I opened it, shuffling through the pages. It took me only a moment to understand the contents. Names were written inside, and dates. The top of each page was labeled: “Imperial Island”.
Birth records. And deaths, by the end dates next to some names. Why did Uphilia have this and not Mauga? Mauga kept track of such bureaucratic matters. It wasn’t in Uphilia’s purview.
Out of curiosity, I flipped through the birth dates, searching for my own. I found it closer to the end, written in a neat and orderly script.
Lin Sukai, 1522 – 1525.
My gut turned, a cold mass of writhing serpents. 1525. I scanned the page again, and then the next page, and the page before. This was the only Lin Sukai listed in the year I was born. I’d been born in the year 1522, but I was also still alive. It was 1545 now, and I was still alive.
I ran my hands over my chest and belly, feeling somehow less solid than I’d felt just a moment before. Why was it written in this book that I was dead? My hands trembling, I placed the book back on the floor and covered it with straw. I couldn’t ask my father. I couldn’t ask Bayan. The numbers written on the page fluttered in my mind, a bird’s wings beating against a cage.
The sun was rising, and I was out of time.
I shoved the shard into Uphilia, just below the other three reference shards. Before she could awaken, I lowered myself to an overhang below. I had to let go to fall the rest of the way, but the strength of the cloud juniper was still in me. My knees bent only a little on impact. I could make it into a window from here, though I’d need to hurry before the servants began their chores.
I was dead. According to the birth records, I was dead at three years old. Perhaps this was tied somehow to my memory, to why I couldn’t remember anything beyond three years ago. But then what were the memories in the journal, written in my handwriting?
And why did my father think these memories should be mine?