Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Roka and her master turned around. The corridor had new occupants. The carpet had masked their footsteps. It occurred to Roka that a carpeted palace might make sneaking too easy for would-be intruders, but she supposed that was the price the emperor paid for comfortable feet.

The new arrivals were a young man accompanied by a single armed guard. Roka guessed the young man to be her own age. He stood a head taller than Roka and his hair made a short frizzy black cloud on his head. His dark brown eyes looked between Master Yusubru and Roka, full of excitement. Two thin pox marks spouted out an inch from the sides of hie eyes like parallel eyelashes. His simple dress—a long white robe and waist-length black coat—belied his presence in the richest, most powerful building in the empire. Still, the cloth looked expensive. That and the guard—a bald man in his mid-forties with a scar on his cheek that followed a similarly scar-like pox mark—indicated that this was someone important. Roka did not recognize either of them, but given where she was, it was not hard to guess who she was dealing with.

“Could that be my troublemaker nephew?” Master Yusubru grew a wide smile. “No, this man before me is much too tall and dignified to be that little runt.”

The young man’s smile was just as wide as Yusubru’s. They each flung their arms wide and joined in a tight embrace. Yusubru affectionately patted the young man’s back. “It has been too long, Talit. You’ve grown so much.”

Talit, Roka thought. Son of Dawuto and Nierha, the emperor and the late empress.

“And you look not a day older than last we met, uncle,” Talit said.

“A pleasing lie,” Yusubru said. “When I left Topto, I only had a few gray hairs. Now I have white curls like blanched seaweed.”

“I’m sorry, uncle, but you were always a farmer of ill seaweed.”

They smiled and laughed together for several seconds.

“I wish I had known you would be arriving tonight,” Talit went on when they recovered themselves. “I would have met you at the gate. Did you have any trouble finding your way through the city?”

“No trouble at all,” Yusubru said. “You must remember, I committed the streets of Topto to heart before you were old enough to escape your swaddling.”

Talit blushed. “So much of the city has changed since you left. The visitors from Donpar have brought new innovations. Many of the streets are paved, and the older districts have been renovated with new, stronger buildings. In many ways, it is a different city.”

Yusubru’s expression darkened. “It is still Topto. The Ensigns have not changed it that much.”

“People of Donpar,” Talit corrected him. “They are offended by the other name.”

Yusubru did not say anything. He forced his mouth back into a smile and turned to Roka. “Forgive me, this is my apprentice, Roka, daughter of Barata and Fuuko.”

Roka bowed her head in acknowledgment. A normal citizen would have been required to prostrate themselves before the heir to the empire, touching their head to the floor, but that was both unnecessary and unbecoming of a Sentinel. During a formal audience, a full bow would be polite, but not here.

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Talit bowed his head in return. “It is an honor to meet you, Roka. I have re–” He stopped mid-sentence and quickly looked between her and her master. “Anyway, it is a pleasure to have you in the citadel. My father is very excited to meet with both of you tomorrow.”

“It will be good to see the old man again,” Yusubru said.

Talit laughed. “Even so many years after your departure, father insists on reminding everyone that you are the older.”

“Only in years.”

Talit looked back at his guard. He didn’t say anything, but the guard shook his head. Talit’s face fell. He returned to Roka and her master.

“Late as it is, I’m afraid there are duties I must complete before my poor servant here can rest. I must leave you now, but I will see you both again at the meeting tomorrow.”

He sounded disappointed.

“We look forward to it,” Yusubru said, and Roka silently nodded again.

Talit gave them both one last forlorn look and then stepped around them, continuing down the hallway with his guard in tow. Roka thought she saw him perk up and try to turn around, but his guard put a hand on his shoulder, and they kept going.

Roka turned to her master. “Nephew?” As far as she knew, he was not the brother of the emperor.

“In name only,” he said. “There is no blood between us, but the boy and I were near-constant companions from the time he was little until just before his teen years. I may as well be his uncle.”

“Ah,” Roka mouthed. “He had been about to say something but stopped. I–”

Her master put up a hand to stop her. “I am sure it will come up again. Let us just say that he has likely done his very best to follow our travels.”

Roka considered what that meant for a moment and then made another “ah” of acknowledgment. It was not a topic either of them would be eager to discuss and boded poorly for Roka’s next encounter with the heir. He seemed pleasant enough. Hopefully, he would not prove to be too great of a fanatic.

Eichreth, the head steward, his business with his subordinates concluded, had been standing by patiently while they met with Talit. Now he bowed at the waist. “I apologize for the delay. The citadel is always in need of some renovation or re-adornment.” His eyes flashed to Roka’s face. “Again, I must say I deeply apologize.”

That probably explained his earlier silence leading them through the hallways. He was afraid of her. Strangers always were. Though Talit had seemed largely unphased by her appearance.

“It is fine,” her master said. “Please, continue. I believe we are both weary from the day’s travels, and the dawn comes early tomorrow.”

“Of course,” Eichreth said, and resumed leading them to their rooms.

***

A small section of the Citadel Proper had been reserved specifically for Sentinel visitors. There were two rooms joined by a cramped sparing ring. Roka and her master set a time for their waking, and each took a room, retreating for the night.

Roka’s room was simple. It held only a bed and a short wooden table. She laid her possessions on the latter. A bundled-up mosquito net hung from the ceiling above the bed. At the far end of the room was a single small window that looked out on the citadel walls. It was by far the most exciting feature of the space.

She knelt down in front of the window, untying her hair from its buns and letting it fall loose across her back.

The night’s festivities had mostly come to an end. The many sources of light throughout the city were still powerful and there was an occasional shout of delight, but there were no more parades or musical performances. She hoped that she would have more time on the morrow to experience the breadth of the city, but it was unlikely she would get a chance to leave the citadel. A formal visit with the emperor seemed like the kind of event that would take up most of the day. The visit itself would be short, but such a busy man might keep them waiting all day, even if he was excited to reunite with an old friend. Then there were likely to be other meetings and events throughout the citadel, late into the night.

Roka did not truly know what a new day would bring. She returned from the window to check the condition of her sword, disrobed to her undergarments, and, after draping the mosquito net around the bedframe, tucked herself into bed. The blanket’s fabric scratched her skin and lumpy straw filled mattress, but she fell asleep within seconds. She dreamt of stars exploding into colorful lights, and, oddly enough, the cries of distressed mothers, calling for their children in the dark.