This is the twenty-fifth chapter of Wealthgiver, an alternate history serial romance about nationalism and cave-Thracians. For the back-of-the-book description and an index of chapters, click here. For the beginning, click here. For the previous chapter, click here.
Kori watched the smoke and the sunset with equal relief. The first, a pool of fluffy white over the river valley ahead, meant they were approaching the town of Tatar Pazardjik. The second meant that soon the Sun would set, and she would be able to think clearly again.
She flexed and extended her legs, arched and hunched her back, trying to find some combination that eased her aching muscles. It had been more than half a year since Kori had last ridden, and now she wasn't entirely sure that it was healthy for her to spend so much time in the saddle.
This whole hot day, Kori had felt the tension swelling. Andrei's jokes becoming less funny, Cenk's responses more obviously false as the weight of Kori's own load grew more unmanageable. Andrei, Cenk, Nikolai. She couldn't depend on any of them, and yet her task was too great to do alone. It was all very well to resolve to build a nation, but how did one actually go about doing so?
Perhaps in the coming darkness, she would be granted a vision.
"Houses are getting thick," said Andrei. "Is this Tatar Pazardjik?"
"Glavinitsa," said Cenk. "The town on the near side of the Maritsa."
The Greeks still called this river Evros, from Greek word for 'wide.' It was wide, but not deep, even at this time of year, but it sprawled, hissing, in the red-lit smoky fog.
"Cenk," said Andrei. "Go ride ahead and make sure the bridge is still there. And if there's anyone collecting tolls, pay them for us."
Kori clicked her tongue, unsettled, but Cenk trotted off without hesitation. In moments, he vanished into the cooking-scented haze.
Kori eyed the houses around them. Chimneys smoked above garden walls, but not even a dog was on the street. "Andrei?"
He shook his head silently, head cocked as if listening to Cenk's receding hoof-beats. A hollow opened under her heart.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
Andrei sidled his horse closer to hers. "Turn east," he said. "We're going to Plovdiv."
Kori sat very still in her saddle. Her pulse throbbed in her aching thighs.
"Plovdiv," whispered Andrei. "Or at least as close as we can ride before it gets too dark. We can arrive tomorrow, blend in with the Russian army garrison there. I'll lie about who I am. Get us to San Stefano. And then, a ship."
Kori bent her head back, watching an early bat flail frantically through the smoke.
Andrei leaned in closer. "You think you can stay here and play goddess to a bunch of cultists? If we stay, we'll be killed." He looked around, as if listening for the returning Cenk. The horse under him shifted uneasily. "Come on."
"If we go," she told him. "You'll be the one killed."
"Then at least I won't die an idiot. Or a madman. Devil take me, Kori, I'm a doctor, not—"
"A king!" Kori commanded. "A god!"
"No! I'm a traitor." He growled to himself. "A Deserter. But I'm not a murderer. Leading men into a meat grinder? I won't!"
When he looked up at her, the whites showed all around his eyes. "Don't you understand I'm going back to the Russian army? I'm putting my head in the lion's mouth for you. San Stefano!" He said it like a curse. "Tell me you'll follow."
She raised her chin. "Do not ask that of me."
He leaned toward her, eyes black in the fading light. "I'm not asking."
Kori was not afraid for herself. Her goal was to prevent Andrei's death, and, if possible, preserve her respect for him. His fear must have been growing all day, like a river swelling as the sun melted snow. Could Andrei even still hear her, or would her words be swallowed by the hissing torrent of his panic?
"Don't do this," she commanded. "Don't call this cowardice courage."
He didn't answer. He didn't seem to even hear her words. Eyes unseeing, teeth bared, he drew back his right arm, ready to slap her horse. How could she save him? Kori closed her eyes and listened.
"Don't move," she said.
Ears undistracted, Kori caught the change in Andrei's breathing. He had felt the point of Cenk's dagger.
"It's poisoned," whispered the assassin on a long exhalation. "Don't let the tip break your skin, My Master. Hold very still."
Kori opened her eyes to find that the sky had darkened. There was another mercy.
"I see you left your horse for someone to steal," Andrei said. "Too bad. He was a fine one."
"He is indeed," said Cenk. "Comet knows to wait for me. This isn't the first time we've played this game."
"I suppose it wouldn't be." Andrei let his breath out slowly. "Captain Cenk, you know that the Hadean—"
"No details, if you please," said Cenk. "All these houses around us are inhabited and the darkness knows itself. Dismount, My Master, and walk with me to the bridge, where we can talk without being overheard."
"I will come with you," Kori informed both men, and neither of them liked it. Neither could do anything to stop her however, as Kori slid off her horse and led it down the road. Her knees shook. Her legs felt half-cooked. She recognized her anger at these brutes for making her task so much harder. As if she didn't already have a whole nation to save.
At least now, in the cool darkness, it was easy to hold the anger out away from her heart, to look at it, and appreciate its use.
Thank you, Wealthgiver.
Kori mounted the bridge and kept walking until her horse's hoof-beats were drowned by the sound of the river. Cenk's horse, Comet, was waiting for her there. He patted the animal's nose and told him he was a good boy.
"All right." Andrei's voice came up behind her. "What can you tell me? Other than, 'yes, I'll go with you.'"
Her back stiffened. "I will not. Without me, my people will be lost."
"All the more reason to get out from under this war before it falls on us, too. Kori, look at me."
"Looking!" she spat. "That is your mistake, to rely on distracting sight!" She rounded on him. "You are the king! And I am your queen. This is our war, and the only way through it is to win."
"How?" That was Andrei's voice asking, but Kori could feel Cenk's attention on her as well. The men stood side by side. For all the one had threatened the other with a poison dagger, they were united before Kori, sullenly waiting like little boys who didn't want to eat their vegetables. Priests who needed to be pushed in the right direction.
Kori inhaled. Her arms rose from her sides.
No prophesy had ever been given beneath the sky. Even after dark, even as chill water rushed below. Even the first Maiden, daughter of the chief of a band of mountain robbers, had crept into a cave to receive her vision.
And now she would tell these men what they did not want to hear. They would not doubt her. They could not. Andrei would stay or die by Cenk's hand. Cenk would cling to his belief or else lose himself. Also, she did not know what else to do.
Kori closed her eyes. The inside of her head stormed with fear, anger, and disgust. Cowardly, selfish Andrei. Impetuous, lazy Cenk. Stupid, weak Nikolai. She was surrounded by incompetents.
This is arrogance. It makes you believe that you are alone.
Nikolai was too weak for his task, but who had given it to him? Cenk never questioned his orders, which meant Kori had to give him the right ones. Andrei was selfish, and his self included her.
Within the globe of Kori's skull, below the storm, her mind grew deep and calm.
"Blood and iron ring her skirts / slippers smudged with mortal dirt. Pride in tear-warm sea is found / her enemies in gold, coal, and plundered diamonds crowned."
Images rushed through her mind. Sunlight on telescope eyes, black soot belching from a stove-pipe hat, a smile like a saber blade and a whistle like a wolf. A tower turned, pointing an arm like a cannon.
"The Powers turn, the towers aim / her armies black earth crimson stain. She paid her price, killed priests and kings / to draw the greed of greater things."
The Hadean Empire would end in their extinction. Blood and ruin, thousands killed, and all to make a nation rich enough to be worth plundering.
The Great Powers would never allow her nation to exist. Andrei was right, but his proposed solution was just as disastrous. His dooming logic, Nikolai's bloody madness, or her own childish fantasies of peace—none could support the facts of their situation.
Kori heard the raggedness in her own breathing. She recognized the despair and gripped it, cold and slick, merciless as broken glass, but hers.
"Before he dies, a Good man lives / heavy are the gifts god gives."
Kori sighed and settled back onto her heels. "Do you understand?"
"Yes, My Mistress."
The hiss of the water under them drowned out the overtones in Cenk's voice. She couldn't hear his pulse or breathing and had no way to tell whether he believed her. All Kori could do was watch the spy release her husband and try to hide her relief.
Andrei stepped sideways, rubbing under his chin. "Of course, I don't," he said. "Well. You spoke a prophesy, that's clear enough." He took another step away from Cenk. "What did you see?"
A sharp prick of guilt at that, as if Cenk's knife were now at her throat. "I saw. I said. I said that ours is the god that gives unbearable gifts. Now," she pointed into the town, "our people are waiting for us. We learn what they want, and we determine how to give it to them."
"I'll translate it for you later," Cenk told Andrei in an undertone.
"Come!" Kori stepped off the bridge, determined not to show her fear and exhaustion. She had saved Andrei. That was what was important. She had led them into terrible uncertainty, true, but he was still with her. Kori could depend on him to help her find the next step.
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