Vessel

waterskin.

That soldier could have been one of the ones who Liyana had seen in the emperor’s encampment. She pictured the pinched cheeks and gaunt bodies. She wondered who the soldier had been there for—had he had a wife at home? Mother? Sister? Brother?

“I think you have had enough to drink,” Korbyn said to Maara. “Sober yourself up or sleep it off.”

Maara leveled a finger at him. “You used to be fun.”

You have changed him, Bayla said to Liyana.

Because he cares about more than himself? He— She broke off her own thought. I don’t want to fight right now. She rubbed her eyes. She felt sore inside and out. There’s been enough fighting. And then she knew what she had to do.

Without speaking to any of the deities, including Bayla, Liyana walked away from the camp. She stopped when the voices and music and celebration faded into a blur. She was a quarter of the way to the emperor’s camp. Bending over, she ripped off the white bottom ruffle of her mother’s dress. She broke off a stalk from one of the dead desert plants, and she wrapped the ruffle around the top.

Following her, Korbyn caught her arm. “Liyana, they’ll kill you.”

“The emperor wanted to parlay.”

“With all the clan chiefs,” he said. “And that was before. Now—”

Liyana faced him. With his hand on her arm, he was close. His eyes bored into hers. She was aware of his lips and how they frowned at her, and she remembered how they felt on hers. She felt Bayla stir inside, swirling. I have had enough fighting, Liyana told her again before she could say a word. Out loud she said to Korbyn, “He’ll speak to me.”

Chapter Thirty

Liyana waved the white flag as she walked across the expanse toward the emperor’s camp. After a while her arm ached, but she continued to hold it high. She didn’t want to be riddled with arrows.

You do know what you’re doing, I hope, Bayla said.

You can hope that, Liyana said.

Lowering the flag, she climbed over a cluster of rocks. She raised it up high and waved it once she reached the other side. She watched each step, veering around clumps of brittle grasses, in case not all of the snakes and scorpions had dispersed after the battle.

Ahead she saw the tents in the neat rows that she remembered. It looked as if the emperor had scooped up the encampment from its location on the border and then deposited it intact in the middle of the desert.

You may control this body, but I have a vested interest in its continued health, Bayla said. I do not like the way you are recklessly endangering us.

Guards gathered at the edge. She’d been seen.

I’d like to know what you plan to say to the emperor, Bayla said.

Last time she’d told him a story. This time there was no relevant story. No one had ever done what had happened here. She caught a glimpse of a glint out of the corner of her eye. She looked up and saw two sky serpents wheeling overhead. Stars reflected off their scales. She wondered what they thought of the battle. She hoped they knew the desert people were keeping their gods’ bargain. I plan to talk to him, Liyana said.

More specifics, please. This is an important conversation. I’ll feed you the words, and you will repeat them. We can’t afford to risk—

No, Bayla. You don’t understand the emperor.

Liyana felt the goddess swirl inside. And you, girl of the Goat Clan, understand him, the emperor of the Crescent Empire? Scorn tinged her voice.

Liyana approached the guards. Yes, I think I do.

The guards clutched their swords. One had a bow with an arrow leveled at her chest. Liyana continued to hold the white flag. “I am here to accept the offer to parlay with His Imperial Majesty,” she said. “I come in peace, and I expect to be treated with hospitality.”

One guard had a gash on his cheek. Clotted blood still dotted his face.

Liyana spread her arms out. “I am unarmed.”

Except for the knife in your sash, Bayla commented. Ah, you do have a plan!

Could you please feed me some magic? Slowly, so as not to alarm the soldier, she reached one hand toward the wounded man’s face. Flinching, he pressed the tip of his sword to her sternum. She felt the metal through the fabric, and she froze. Magic poured into her. Without moving, she expanded her awareness to encompass his wound. She encouraged the skin to knit together.

He healed.

He lowered the tip of his sword.

“I am not your enemy,” Liyana said. “Take me to the emperor.”

* * *

Ringed by guards, Liyana was led through the camp. Other soldiers joined them as they marched, until she could see only uniforms in every direction. She kept her eyes straight ahead, and she gripped the truce flag so hard that the wood dented her skin.

At last the guards parted, and she saw the emperor’s tent. It matched her memory of it exactly, and for an instant she felt like she had weeks ago, when she first insisted on an audience with the emperor and demanded that he leave.

You failed before, Bayla said.

I will not fail again, Liyana said. Flanked by guards, she strode into the tent. Inside, the soldiers blocked her, and she waited, unable to see the emperor through them.

One of the soldiers bowed low. “This desert woman approached under a flag of truce. She wishes to parlay.” The soldiers parted, and she saw him. His eyes locked on hers, and she felt her heart lurch. She hadn’t expected to feel . . . She didn’t know what she felt.

The emperor rose from behind his ridiculous wooden desk. She spotted the circles under his eyes, so dark that they looked like the smudge of a thumbprint. “Liyana or Bayla?” he asked.

Lie, Bayla whispered. Do not tell him about me!

“Both,” she said. “But you speak to Liyana.”

“Leave us,” the emperor ordered his guards.

Bowing, the guards exited the tent. The emperor studied her for a moment and then crossed to the pillows and sat. He poured tea into two chalices. Now I see your plan, Bayla said. You will kill him with the sky serpent knife. Without its leader the army will leave.

Liyana froze. I did not come here to assassinate the emperor!

His death would solve our problem, Bayla thought. One death to save many. It is the sacrifice that vessels have made over the generations, willingly or not.

Liyana sat across from the emperor and accepted one of the chalices.

“Your people killed many of my soldiers,” the emperor said. “I did not expect that. Congratulations.”

The tea tasted sour. She set it down. “Three other vessels were with me when I came into your camp. All of them are dead now, displaced by deities. I do not celebrate deaths, ours or yours.”

“And that is why you are here,” the emperor said. It was a statement, not a question. “We are thousands. You do not want this much blood on your hands.”

Only one man needs to die, Bayla thought. It could be done with magic, if you don’t want blood on your hands. Slow his heart. Block his breath. You could make it painless.

“Bayla wants me to kill you,” Liyana said.

Liyana!