Shefali, my dearest love,
I shall not hope that this finds you in good health, for I know it will. You are my unstoppable rider, my soaring arrow—you cannot help but keep going forward. In time, you shall loop around and find your way back to my arms, where you belong. Of this I am sure.
When we were children and I sent you my first letter, I asked you what sort of flowers you liked. I wanted so badly to be friends with you. You may not know this, but I used to drive our messengers half-mad, asking if you’d written back. I asked you about flowers because I have always loved them, and I planned to plant more of whichever was your favorite. That way I could keep something you liked near me at all times. I’d be closer to you, I thought.
I want you to know I kept the flowers you sent me from Gurkhan Khalsar. I didn’t plant them. You see, when it came down to it—when you gave me something of yours—I thought it was so sacred and so wonderful that I couldn’t bring myself to do anything but hoard it.
I have kept everything you’ve ever given me, no matter how small.
So now, I send you something to hold on to.
Enclosed in this box is what remains of my short sword. Dueling has gotten me nowhere in the end. What good have I done for you, or for my country, by dueling?
No. If I am going to have to spend time away from you, then I will spend that time bettering Hokkaro.
May you wear this well, my love, my dearest one.
Return to your wife. She is waiting.
Ever yours,
O-Shizuka
I must’ve read it eight by eight times. Even now I write it from memory. Oh, do not think I lost it, Shizuka. I keep it in the chest pocket of my deel, safe from sand and weather. Sometimes I press it against my nose to try to inhale what’s left of your scent. Whatever bits of your soul hide amid filaments of parchment, I treasure them.
But I was on horseback then, riding to lands I did not understand. When I was done reading your letter (over and over), I opened the simple red box that came with it.
I don’t know where you got the idea for it. You’ll tell me when we next meet, won’t you? You could’ve just sent me the sword. Yet that would not do, and you had to make a grand gesture of it.
So you had the sword melted and reforged into a prosthetic eye. One that bore an engraved peony where its iris should be, no less. When I saw, it I laughed. It was so like you to be ridiculous like this. The first time I popped it into my socket, it was so cold, I couldn’t keep it there for long.
Now, well …
It is warm. As warm as the rest of me. And, this may sound strange, Shizuka, but I swear to you I can see through it. Not well. Everything on that side is fuzzy and distant, but I can see out of a steel eye all the same. Prince Debelo has a mirror he has let me use on occasion; would you believe there are veins on that steel eye now?
I tell you, when I return, I worry you will not recognize me. I hope beyond hope that you do.
But there is one letter left. A letter that sent me from the Golden Sands, where I began to write this, to the towering bazaars of Sur-Shar, and Prince Debelo’s Endless Palace. Four years that journey took, and another two to ingratiate myself to him.
We leave tomorrow for what he calls “the Shadow’s Mouth.” You and I think of it as the Mother’s Womb, where all souls return after death. Yes, Shizuka, he claims to have pinpointed an entrance to it. It is my hope I’ll find a phoenix hiding there, waiting to be reborn.
The letter was from Empress Consort Aberash. You transcribed it into Qorin for me. This one I was forced to turn in to Prince Debelo as proof of my identity, so I do not have it with me. You’ll forgive me if some of the words are wrong.
Barsalyya,
My husband has exiled you from family and love, as if you stole his trade secrets and not merely killed a man who deserved killing. He has not exiled you from my family, however, for he did not think that far ahead.
My brother, Debelo, is Merchant Prince of Salom; if anyone knows where to find a firebird, it is he. Since childhood, he’s loved them; now that he has the wealth to track one down, it is all he can talk about.
Here is what you shall do: Go to the Golden Sands, and find a rabbit with horns. Take it to Salom (it is the capital, if you don’t know), and present it to Debelo. Show him this letter.
I can’t excuse my husband’s actions, and I can’t reverse his decisions, but in this way, I can ease your trouble. Consider it a wedding present from your new family.
Your Aunt,
Aberash
And so that brings me here, Shizuka.
As I finish this letter, I am sitting in my rooms within the Endless Palace. My bed is so large, you would be jealous, and carved from dark wood native to Sur-Shar. It is a good bed, a fine one, but I am happy to leave it. I do not do much sleeping, and so it taunts me with its size. I think over and over of what it would be like to lie with you here. The cloth is soft as clouds.
But I think your skin is softer.
Tomorrow, I leave for the Shadow’s Mouth, where the Mother welcomes all her lost souls. Tomorrow, I leave for the underworld. Years it has taken us to gather a team. Two Pale Women, a fox woman, and a girl with an arm carved from stone that she uses as easily as I use my eye. Debelo picked each of us for a specific reason, though he will not elaborate to me.
And there is Otgar.
Yes, my cousin is with me. That is a story for another time, I fear; if I do not return, then surely she will. Rest assured, she’s been of great service to me. On top of speaking Surian, she is fluent in coins and commerce. The preposterous amount of money we’ve made here will serve us well on the journey back, I’m sure.
If we make it back.
I think that is why I am ending the letter here. Why I have waited so long to complete it. I may die soon, if I am still capable of it. If I do, then you must have something to remember me by. Something you can keep close to you. And I know I have wasted time and space and ink and paper on this letter, but if you keep any part of it, keep this:
From the day Grandmother Sky first dreamed of the Earth, I have loved you. From the time wolves and men lived together in harmony, I have loved you. Certain as frost gives way to moss, certain as the stars, I love you. And though I ride at sunrise to unmapped darkness, I will let my love for you light the way.
For on the steppes of my mind, you are a bright campfire, and I will always find my way back to your side.
Always.
THE EMPRESS
SIX
The Empress of Hokkaro rises from her bed in a storm of red silk. In her haste to leave, she does not bother fetching her outer robes; as she bolts down her Imperial corridors, her nightgown threatens to open. Like bees dropping pollen, the hundred thousand servants of the Jade Palace cease what they are doing. At once they turn their backs; at once they kneel.
“Messenger!” she shouts. “I need a messenger!”