"How did Wu react when the Hiwan clan was chosen?"
Khalem's expression darkened. "Very insubordinate. During one of the hottest battles in the Valley of Ming, he ignored direct military orders and took matters into his own hands. His decision exposed the entire army to danger. Thanks to his choice, many men died. As a result, Saemon sentenced him to death." He snorted. "As he rightfully should have."
Isao sucked in a sharp breath. "Steep punishment."
Khalem's eyes showed no mercy. "Deserved. Wu invoked his rights and asked for a Dvanda."
Celty chuckled from behind them. Isao glanced back, but her face had fallen back into a serene expression. She turned, brow furrowed. "Dvanda?" she asked.
"A deadly duel between two clan members," Isao said. "Some may know it as the Duel of the Righteous. It's supposed to cleanse them in the eyes of the deities. Wu lost the duel to my father, I take it?" Isao asked.
Khalem nodded. "Saemon won. Wu's brother – Danjuro, the current ruler of the Nari clan – had to watch his brother die. He couldn't fight back, as everything had proceeded according to the rules. The Nari clan repudiated Wu and swore loyalty to Saemon. Thankfully, the war ended, but apparently their hatred remained. From then on, the Naris have always hated us."
Isao’s thoughts were troubled. So many people dead now, simply because of a lost duel stemming from one man's poor decision and lust for power.
"That," Khalem said, "is when all of this mess really started."
Khalem grabbed a nearby canteen and headed back to the lake, running his fingers down his horse’s flank as he passed.
Isao stretched his neck, only to see Celty kneeling in the dirt, pine needles piled up around her knees and head tilted back toward the sun’s rays. Her hands danced, building on top of each other. Dirt clenched in each hand trickled out through her fingers as she swung her hands around and created interlocking circles with them.
Isao stilled in place. For a moment, Celty's innocent gestures inspired thoughts in Isao of Ren.
He shuffled closer, moving one careful step at a time, until he stood only a few steps away. He waited, arms folded, and leaned against a tree.
Celty continued for several more minutes, murmuring under her breath as she moved her hands. The only words he could make out were Suryan and Jin. When she stopped, her eyes flew open, instantly locking on his.
"I've heard those words before," he said. "During a funeral chant for Suryan. Have you lost someone close to you?"
"The young boy back at the stables."
"The one beneath the horse?"
A pained expression wrinkled her brow, and she turned away. "Yes. He was my only friend. The only one who really cared. And he was innocent. Goro, his uncle, deserved that death and more, but not Jin. He died in your war."
The word struck him right in the chest.
"Watch your mouth, woman!" Khalem roared from only a few steps behind Isao. "He's royalty, you foolish – "
"Khalem, please."
Isao held up a hand, and Khalem sputtered to a stop.
"Celty is a free woman now. Her words are dictated by her grief. Don’t make it worse. Allow her to mourn the tragic loss of her friend. Wasn't this one of my father's greatest teachings?"
"Jin was innocent," Celty snapped at Khalem. "Young. Full of life. He was brave, too. He tried to protect me when Goro beat me. Which is more than some can boast."
Khalem's expression soured, but Celty continued before he could say anything in his own defense. She held up her arms, highlighting the bruises and abrasions left there by the ropes.
"Jin brought me water. He was different. And now, because he was too scared to leave, he's dead. I'm praying for his soul, that's all."
Isao reached out to put a hand on her shoulder and comfort her, but she jerked away, teeth clenched.
Khalem turned, muttering, and strode away.
"It was my Yodon's fault," she hissed, rage infusing her voice. "He owned me. A slave owner. He owned me, a human. These are the kinds of things that happen to people who are slaves. People who are forced to do things just because nobles want them."
Isao gently took one of her wrists in his hands, inspecting the marred skin there. It went far deeper than just bruising and scratching. Beneath the fresh injuries he could see scars from previous times.
This hadn't been her first time tied up. Her life threatened. At the mercy of a slave owner, or worse.
"Celty," he murmured, brushing the tip of his thumb across her wounds. Goosebumps rose on the girl’s skin. "I'm sorry this happened to you. It's wrong. I promise you that I will erase all forms of slavery when I am Sheng in the Empire."
Her lips closed. She stared at him with a strangely open gaze, a slight wrinkle in between her fine eyebrows. She swallowed and pulled her hand free. Isao knelt down, ripping a piece of his robe off in a long strip.
"Here," Isao said, gently wrapping the fabric around the still raw skin.
Celty stepped back, but didn't withdraw her hand. Her intense gaze bore into him. Her breath hitched.
The sound of clomping feet drew both of them away. Celty stepped back as Khalem approached with both horses saddled, and his jaw tight.
"My young Sheng, it's time for us to get started again. We can use the afternoon hours to get through the worst of the day. Today will be very challenging, but we can hit the worst parts in the cool of the evening. It will help."
Isao nodded, dropping Celty’s arm. "I understand. But one last question, Celty. You said that you had a bad feeling that something was going to happen. What does that mean?"
Celty shrugged. "I perceived that something was wrong the past couple of days. I don't know how to explain it, I just . . . I knew that something bad was going to happen. Anyway, it's not hard to figure out. There were slaves that weren't really slaves on the auction block yesterday."
"What do you mean?"
"I know what slaves look like, and there were several that weren't common slaves. They were too healthy. Too strong. Too proud. They weren't submissive."
Isao's nostrils flared. He nodded, forcing himself to remain calm in the face of his inner anguish. "I understand. The Nari and Ameyas must have snuck some of their own into the slaves as a means to get more of their soldiers into our city."
"Despicable," Khalem muttered.
"They will pay," Isao murmured, rage swelling within him. "The cowards."
The late morning soon turned into the afternoon.
As soon as they started off, the slope became a steep pitch heavy with shale. When the horses stumbled, their legs were cut by the loose rocks.
By afternoon, the horses were only able to stagger forward, so weary were the animals from the night before.
Khalem stopped and slid off his horse. Sweat streaked down the sides of his face.
"We must proceed on foot,” he decided. “The horses won't survive if we continue like this, and they're slowing us down. Grab the canteens and let them go. They're intelligent steeds. They'll make it back on their own."
Celty grabbed one of the two canteens before Isao could carry both. The horses remained where they were, blowing out great breaths as the three of them started up the path.
The rough terrain cut into Isao's shoes. He stumbled every other step, and had to grab onto shrubs and bushes to keep from falling back down the high-pitched slope. Even Khalem slowed, panting with every other step.
"Your violet eyes," Isao said to Celty in between gasps, hoping to distract himself from the exertion. "They're unique. Where are you from?"
"I don't know. My childhood was . . . I don't remember much. Just strange images with many women's faces and unusual bodies. They were…serpent-like?" She shook her head in confusion. "It doesn't make any sense. Maybe they're just some weird nightmare that I think actually happened. Anyway, some farmers found me outside of the small town of Jinx. I worked in the fields there until they sold me as a slave."
"I'm sorry you don't know your family."
Her face remained even, yet Isao couldn't help but wonder what lingered behind it.