Seven Sorcerers(22)
“And honor?”
“Honor is what defines us.”
Undutu nodded. His own honor would lead him to victory or death; he was prepared for either. A surge of pride swelled in Khama’s chest. Here was a King who truly deserved to be called Son of the Feathered Serpent.
Wake them, Iardu. Wake them all, as you awakened me.
Through our sacrifice you will have the time you need.
The nine black hawks of Iardu’s creation were dispatched on the day of the triple fleet’s launch. Eight of them ranged far and wide across the Golden Sea, searching for signs of the God-King’s airborne forces. After three days only the ninth hawk returned, the one sent as messenger to the Jade Isles.
The bird dropped out of a bloody sunset to perch on the forward railing. Sailors sent word to Undutu’s cabin that his envoy had returned. Khama came up with him to speak with the hawk that was a Man. He did not like the choice of form the Shaper had chosen.
Hawks always bring trouble.
If his own sorcery could weave and warp others’ flesh the way Iardu’s could, Khama would have changed the soldiers into seabirds. Yet the Feathered Serpent’s magic was confined mainly to his own person and the realms of wind, storm, sun, and cloud. Iardu had called him a Creature of the Air. Once there were others like Khama, but they were lost in the rushing depths of time.
The black hawk bowed its head and screeched a welcome as the King and his Vizier drew near. It spoke in a human voice, barely a whisper but easily understood. Onyx eyes focused on Undutu.
“Majesty, I bring word from the court of Ongthaia,” said the transformed one, using the true name of the island kingdom. Only in the Five Cities was Ongthaia referred to as the Jade Isles.
“Speak, last of my hawks,” said Undutu. Khama steadied himself for dreadful news.
“An emissary of Zyung has arrived at the Jade King’s palace,” croaked the bird. “Robed all in silver, he stands at the King’s side as an honored guest. He offers the Jade King a choice: Surrender to Zyung or face death.”
Khama looked at Undutu. The young lion’s jaw was firm-set.
“What was the Jade King’s answer?” asked Undutu.
“I know not, Majesty,” said the hawk. “The foreign emissary is a sorcerer. He knew me for no natural bird and caught me with his bare hands. I feared he would snap my neck, but instead he gave me a message for you.” The false hawk screeched again, as if it would rather take to the sky than deliver the words of the enemy’s herald.
“Well? What is the message?” asked Undutu. He was angry. The young lion was too quick to anger these days. As a young boy he did not have this weakness. It was the weight of full Kinghood that had changed boy to man and set fire to his temper.
The hawk fluttered its wings. “Turn your ships about,” it said. “Return to your Five Cities and prepare for the blessed peace of Zyung to fall upon you like the summer rain. There will be no further warning. So the emissary spoke, Majesty.” The hawk turned its glimmering eyes toward the clouds.
Undutu stood silent for a moment, then raised his head and laughed into the wind. “This servant of Zyung does not understand us, Khama. We must educate him.”
Khama nodded. We will all learn a lesson that only spilled blood can teach.
“Your work is done,” Undutu told the hawk. “Rest now and eat well. Soon we reach the isles and soon after we meet our enemies.”
The hawk’s feathers began to fall out as its form lengthened, swirled like dark smoke, and took once more its true shape. The dusky-skinned soldier, freed now from Iardu’s spell, sank to one knee before Undutu then trundled off to find clothing, armor, and weapons. Khama supposed the man was glad to be back to his true self, even on the eve of war and death.
“We must deal with this emissary,” said Undutu.
“He may have already persuaded the Jade King to turn against us,” said Khama.
Undutu stared into the darkening horizon. “We shall have to be more persuasive.”
Khama bowed and took himself below decks to find his rest. Tomorrow the fleets would arrive at Ongthaia, and there would be little time left for sleeping. Unless death itself could be counted as slumber. Of that unwelcome sleep he was sure there would be no lack.
Ongthaia was a chain of thirteen islands, each one larger than the last. Six of them possessed wide harbors where ships from the Five Cities and the Southern Isles came to trade mainland goods for green stone, yellow spices, woven silks, and black plum wines. Villages of thatched dome huts sprouted thick as palm trees on every island, but the only proper towns were found on the harbor isles. The kingdom’s capital city, Morovanga, rose from the shoulders of a dormant volcano on the largest isle. Its double walls were of black basalt, but the towers that stood within were built all of sparkling jade. The greatest of those spires rose from the Jade Palace, where King Zharua sat upon a throne made of that same far-famed stone.