King of Ashes

‘You’re going to get us all a beating,’ whispered Hatu.

Donte tried to remove the hot sausage from the makeshift harpoon and burned his fingers in the process, while his companions continued to stifle their laughter.

A small tearing sound caused Hatu to look down in alarm, and he whispered, ‘The awning!’

The students scrambled back to the tiled roof above the awning as quickly as they could, but as they moved, the tear widened and the cloth began to give. None of them could see through the canopy yet, but an angry shout from below made it clear that the merchant had noticed that his striped awning now sagged heavily with a widening tear at its front.

All three youngsters reached the peak of the roof without pause, then quickly scrambled down to the eaves at the back of the house. Like all of the buildings surrounding the market square, the house was a merchant’s dwelling and place of business. There was a good-sized yard below them with a wagon in it and a gate opening onto the alley beyond. Donte glanced one way and then the other, and then signed for Hava and Hatu to follow him as he tiptoed along the edge of the roof. When he reached the alley at the side of the house, he knelt and jumped, and was followed by his two companions. Donte looked back towards the busy market before he motioned for them to follow him to the trade alley behind the yard.

They moved swiftly but didn’t sprint, as they had been taught that running drew too much attention. Donte turned a corner only to find them confronted by a large, broad-shouldered man with a heavy black beard and blue knit cap. He held a long truncheon in his right hand and his arms were crossed.

‘Been stealing sausages?’ he said.

Before any of the students could reply, the man stopped them with a dark look, and with a nod indicated that they were to follow him back into the market. ‘Lose the sausage,’ he instructed Donte, who immediately tossed the warm, savoury treat to the ground. They followed the burly man, a gang captain named Hilsbek, who had been put in charge of Facaria’s pupils while the island master was in a meeting. This wasn’t unusual, as the youngsters spent as much time in the field as in the classroom or training yard.

‘The sausage?’ repeated Hilsbek.

‘I got hungry,’ said Donte, trying not to smile.

A quick cuff to the ear told Donte that this wasn’t amusing to the gang leader. The blow was hard enough to get the student’s attention without damaging him. Donte’s eyes glistened from the pain, but he didn’t let tears come. His face and stance shifted to a position Hatu and Hava knew all too well. Donte would usually have challenged anyone who struck him like that. He’d even risk fighting a crew captain if he thought he could win, but would not defy anyone of a rank higher than that.

Donte was the grandson of Master Kugal, one of the seven masters on the Council, which granted him some additional status, though it was never openly commented upon. The students were supposed to be treated equally, but in practice, their privilege was often dictated by the amount of power held by their close relatives.

Though rank was not official, the pecking order among students had been well established by the time they could leave their mothers. Hava was unusually gifted, among the best archers, runners, and hand-to-hand fighters, both boys and girls, which earned her more respect than was normal for a farmer’s child. Hatu was an orphan, an anomaly without connections, but he was treated with greater care than might be expected.

‘What was your duty?’ asked Hilsbek, his eyes narrowing as he looked from face to guilty face.

Hava and Hatu glanced at each other as Donte, with as impassive a tone as he dared, replied, ‘To watch the market for anything unusual.’

Hilsbek nodded. ‘You were on that roof for over three hours—’

‘And I got hungry,’ added Donte, which earned him another cuffing, one hard enough to leave a red mark on his cheek and tears in his eyes.

Hilsbek glared at the youngster, as if daring him to utter another word.

Donte fell silent.

Hilsbek remained quiet for a while, then spoke in an even tone. ‘What did you see?’

Hava said, ‘A busy market.’

Donte hesitated, as if anticipating another slap, then added, ‘Nothing unusual.’

Hilsbek looked at Hatushaly next. After a pause, the youngster said, ‘There was one group of men trying to appear … normal. They came from the docks and moved a little too fast, as if they were in a hurry but trying not to be noticed. They wore simple robes with deep hoods. One wore boots, the rest sandals. They moved to the north and I couldn’t see them leave.’

Hilsbek looked at Hatu. ‘Well enough. If you were to see such a group while on duty, what would you do?’

Hatu said, ‘What I was told to do. If I was told to report at once, then I’d leave and report. If told to wait until relieved, I’d—’

Hilsbek interrupted. ‘Enough.’

Pointing at Hatu, he said to the others, ‘He knows how to see. You looked, but you didn’t see. Learn how to see.’

Hilsbek regarded the three youngsters for a moment, then he said, ‘You are only months away from being placed …’ He fell silent again and shook his head. ‘If you left training today, you would find a trade, but soon …’ A third silence fell.

Finally Hilsbek said, ‘Find another roof. Watch from there until sundown. See if you can find more men trying to appear normal. Meet at the safe house after sunset.’

As the students started to move away, Hilsbek slapped Donte on the back of his head. ‘I don’t care who your grandfather is, boy. Do something stupid like that when you’re working, and at some point you’ll get yourself and your companions killed.’

Donte grudgingly held his peace as they walked away, but once out of hearing range, he said, ‘I’ll settle with him some day.’

Hatu shook his head in silent disbelief, while Hava laughed openly. ‘Your grandfather will not always be around to get you out of trouble. We all make mistakes, we all get beaten.’

Hatu nodded in agreement.

‘You make a mistake, you just get sent to your grandfather,’ Hava continued.

‘Ha!’ laughed Donte. ‘The preceptors and the other masters are afraid of my grandfather, so he beats me harder than any of them. My grandfather is afraid of no one.’ After a moment, he added, ‘Well, other than my grandmother.’

Hava laughed, but Hatu said, ‘Do you ever take anything seriously? You know what Hilsbek was saying, don’t you?’

‘What?’ asked Donte as they began to look around for a new observation post.

‘The day is coming when we’ll know too much,’ whispered Hatu harshly.

‘Too much?’ asked Hava.

Hatu’s expression held exasperation. ‘To let us live,’ he whispered. ‘Once we know all of the secrets …’

Hava’s eyes widened. Hatu nodded; it was about time she understood. ‘We need to be more careful,’ he added in low tones.

‘Life’s too short to be careful,’ Donte responded with annoyance as they reached the centre of the market. He halted and looked around. ‘Where?’

After a quiet consideration, Hatu said, ‘Over there, I think.’

He didn’t point – another lesson learned early – just raised his chin in the direction of a large building on the far side of the market. It wasn’t situated as advantageously as their last post but offered a good view of anyone arriving from the docks.

‘How’s your ear?’ Hatu asked Donte as they moved quickly through the crowd.

‘Hurts,’ was all Donte said.

Hava shook her head and furrowed her brow as she said, ‘One day you’re going to say something that will get you killed.’

‘Maybe,’ said Donte as he led his companions into the alley beside their new vantage point. He took a quick look around and with a nod of his head indicated that Hatu should be the first to climb. Donte formed a stirrup with his hands and his friend hopped into it without hesitation. Thrown upwards, Hatu caught the eave of the roof and pulled himself onto the roof with ease. He turned and lay flat, letting his arms dangle over the edge.

Donte lifted Hava so she could grip Hatu’s arms and when she reached the roof, she lay next to him. Donte leapt and caught his companions’ hands, and together they pulled him upwards.

Settling in, Donte said, ‘Two hours to sunset.’

‘Try to stay awake,’ chided Hatu.

Hava chuckled as they started to scan the crowd below for anything unusual.

The port was the heart of the Coaltachin nation, and yet at the same time it wasn’t. To those who lived in the Kingdom of Night, and their trusted associates, it was called Corbara: the capital city of a sprawling set of tiny islands, populated by a people whose main export was assassination, espionage, and crime. Its residents were expert at detecting which newcomer should be respected and which should be misled. By tradition and habit no one used the name of the city in front of strangers in the port. Corbara was only ever called ‘here’, ‘home’, or ‘this city’. Some travellers had passed through the port more than once and still had no idea where they had been. Such was the culture of Coaltachin.

This combination of secrecy and commerce forged as strong a brotherhood as there was among any tribe on Garn. The lowest peasant in Coaltachin felt akin to the highest of the masters, and while few natives acknowledged it, the outsiders who had dealings with the island nation were forced to navigate the insular, chauvinistic nature of its people with sensitivity. Anyone not of Coaltachin was at best a necessary nuisance, and at worst a potential enemy. This attitude towards strangers, even friendly visitors, was so ingrained that it was never spoken of, simply learned from childhood.

The three youngsters watching the market and harbour were already part of the nation’s elite. The sons of masters and preceptors, like Donte, were automatically selected for the schools, as were the children with exceptional potential, like Hava. She had been a combative child, and her early willingness to stand against much larger and stronger children had caught the attention of the local master, Facaria. The others knew nothing about Hatu’s past, hut his admittance to the academy marked him as exceptional, and so the fact he came from outland stock was ignored by those who had been raised alongside him.

The students were training to become soldiers, but soldiers unlike those of any other nation. The forces of Coaltachin included squadrons of ships, often disguised, but ready to repel the rare incursions by seafarers who didn’t understand whose waters they entered. Some of the larger islands held defensive garrisons with small units of archers, pikemen, and swordsmen. The true militia of Coaltachin was invisible, a thing of reputation and rumour myth and lethal ability.

In the old tongue, Quelli Nascosti meant ‘The Hidden’, and it was possible that some day the very best among these students would count themselves among their ranks. As the grandson of a powerful master, and son of a deceased master, Donte would almost certainly advance.

Hava was among the finest students in combat and weapons training, and possessed rare athletic skills.

Hatushaly’s advantage was unique. He knew he was receiving special treatment: he had heard of no other outland child at his or any other school. The mystery was one of the sources of his constant smouldering anger, as was the uncertainty over his future.

THAT EVENING, TWENTY-THREE STUDENTS SAT in small groups at the back of a cluttered warehouse. Most of the youngsters were known to the three friends; several were from other villages, here because their masters had been called to an important meeting. As they made their way from the door to the rear of the warehouse, where food waited, Hatu saw a familiar face watching them walk past. Hava saw his expression change and quietly asked, ‘What?’

Hatushaly lifted his chin towards the youngster who stared in their direction. ‘Raj,’ he said in a venomous tone.

Hearing that name, Donte turned. Across the room, near to where the students’ travel bags were stored, squatted three young men, eating silently. Raj’s lopsided smile was easily recognisable. The boy had a strange face: delicate features and deep brown eyes that were overshadowed by a heavy brow, giving him an unbalanced appearance.

Donte sighed and said, ‘Do not start anything, do you hear me?’ He gripped Hatu’s tunic and said, ‘I know Raj’s look; he’s ready to start something. He knows he can goad you, so just leave it alone.’

Hatu forced himself to look away, and Donte added, ‘We’re already in trouble with Hilsbek, and if you start a fight with Raj …’ He made no further comment, simply put his hand on Hatu’s shoulder and steered him to the waiting food.

After a few steps, Hatu shrugged Donte’s hand away and said, ‘I’m not going to start anything …’ He glanced back at Raj and saw that the boy was still staring at the three of them.

‘What is it between you two, anyway?’ Hava asked.

Hatu remained silent as they reached the table where food had been laid out on wooden plates. When they had settled into an unoccupied corner of the room, he said, ‘I don’t know, it started …’

‘Years ago,’ supplied Donte. ‘Do you even remember what that first fight was about?’

‘He called me a name,’ said Hatu, ‘I think …’

Hava’s brow furrowed. ‘You think?’

‘It was before you came to school,’ said Donte. He took a bite from his platter. The food was plain, and as usual cold, but they ate gratefully, for over the years they had trained for periods of privation, and going without food was a normal part of their lives, even if only for short periods of time in training.

It was quiet in the warehouse. Students rarely spoke while eating. From an early age, they had been taught to focus on things most people took for granted, like food, water, and rest, to conserve and build their strength. These drills and lessons had been hard ones: two days without food was not life-threatening, but to a child it felt like an eternity of starvation. Many mornings had broken on severe stomach aches as the youngsters learned which foods were safe to eat and when. Water was always close at hand, for while going without food for days was possible, severe dehydration would kill sooner, and incapacitate even faster. Rest was precious, for the rigours of life under their masters would often require long periods of sleepless exertion.

Hatu looked at the small square of wood that served as his plate and ate his food with his fingers: cold lumps of sticky rice in a congealed broth, a slice of a roll, and a small portion of bitter greens. He would finish every bite.

After a moment of silence, Hava asked, ‘Before I came? How old were you when it happened?’

‘Seven, or eight,’ said Hatu quietly.

Donte shrugged. ‘I’ve lost count of the fights they’ve had.’

‘Seven,’ said Hatu, keeping his voice low, though both his friends could sense his rising tension. He glanced at Donte. ‘Eight?’

‘More,’ said Donte. ‘I lost count at about eight.’

Hava shook her head in disbelief. ‘Ten, eleven? So at least once a year you and Raj just decide to fight?’

‘Sometimes you just don’t like someone,’ said Donte. ‘For no reason. It takes most people a while to dislike Hatu, but Raj hated him from the first moment they met.’

‘I don’t care what his reason is, or even if he has one,’ said Hatu, clearly on edge. ‘He’s a piece of shit to everyone. I just fight back.’

‘True,’ said Donte, turning to Hava. ‘You and I are the only two people on Garn who truly like Hatu, but nobody likes Raj. He just bullies people into pretending they like him.’

‘I know that,’ replied Hava. ‘I just wanted to know what started the whole thing.’

‘Can’t remember,’ replied Donte. He smiled, then purloined the greens from Hava’s plate, a theft she allowed without protest. She couldn’t abide the bitter leaves and would always eat them last, and only then if one of the gang captains or a master was watching. They made her sick but that didn’t matter to those supervising the students’ meal.

Donte, on the other hand, would eat almost anything. He had won many bets for eating all manner of disgusting things, including some large insects that were still alive.

Hatu didn’t care much for food one way or another. He enjoyed some tastes, but he didn’t seek them out to satisfy a craving. As far as he knew, food was necessary for life and beyond that he took little pleasure in it.

While he ate in silence, Hatu’s thoughts turned inwards, and his frustration began to grow. He found Donte’s antics amusing at times, especially in Hava’s company, but on other occasions the big lad’s disregard for authority caused problems.

Raj’s presence did not help calm the situation. Hatu could feel the boy’s gaze upon him, and it took all of his self-control not to turn and meet it. He felt his anger building as he tried to push his mind away from their previous encounters, and from his annoyance that Donte had pulled him away from this fight; more annoyed that Donte was right to do so rather than anything else.

If Hatu dwelled on this intervention, he could easily start to resent his friend, and knowing this unsettled him, for among the male students, Donte was his closest friend and one of the few for whom he’d risk his life. Hatu hadn’t fully accepted the lesson that he might one day have to choose to complete a mission over saving a friend. When asked to envision it, he had little difficulty forsaking most of the other students but he could never reach the place in his imagination that permitted abandoning Hava and Donte to a lonely death. But there were moments where his friend’s antics got on Hatu’s nerves so much that he felt like killing Donte himself. He knew he was letting his deep seething anger rise up and forced himself to practise a calming exercise silently while he ate.

He finished his food and put down his plate. The orders had been simple: silence until everyone had finished eating and then they were to wait for instructions.

He looked around the room, avoiding Raj, and saw only a few faces he recognised in the scattering of strangers. Hava was now leaning against the back wall with her eyes closed. Hatu admired her profile and felt a stirring. He pushed aside the sudden emotion and felt an unexpected rush of foolishness and then anger at himself. He saw Donte also scanning the room for someone to cajole, bully, or bribe for extra food, so he was oblivious to what Hatu thought must have been an obvious display of his reaction to Hava. Donte could usually read Hatu’s moods easily.

Hatu settled back against a crate, finding scant comfort. He tried to calm his mind and failed; instead his impatience grew. The students were often kept waiting; Hatu suspected it was designed to stem their restlessness. When they were little, students would often act up, unable to abide the silence. Hatu quickly realised that repeat perpetrators of such behaviour disappeared from the school.

Thinking of the school made Hatu recall his earliest memory. It was a painful one, a sudden startling sting that quickly faded. It was a memory that had been repeated many times since the first birch had struck the back of his hand, a sharp memory of correction rather than punishment.

He remembered his first experience vividly: he had reached for a carp, golden in the afternoon sun, swimming just below the surface of a pond, and had fallen into the pool when one of the matrons had been distracted.

Perhaps the odd combination of sensations, the metallic burn of water in his nose, his sudden blurry vision, and his heavy coughing, was why he remembered that moment so vividly, but he’d only been a toddler and had cried until the sharp sting of the birch wand had shocked him into silence. He recalled every second: standing there dripping wet, shivering with the sudden cold, and struggling to understand what had happened.

Hatu shifted slightly while those around him finished eating. As usual old emotions rose with the memory, a mixture of anger and fear. He could even feel an echo of that first flare of shock and it reverberated within him.

The experience had marked Hatu: from that moment to this, he’d had a deep need to know what was expected of him, to understand all aspects of any situation he faced. He was content to rise or fall on his own ability, but when he failed due to lack of information, Hatu flew into a rage – often at himself for not acquiring the knowledge, or at others for not providing it. Unreliable information was what he hated most.

He was told he had been a difficult baby, prone to tantrums and fits of violence, and even now his constant frustration often put him at odds with the demand of the clan for obedience and silence. Hatu had learned to stay silent when there was need; to keep the building rage inside, away from others. He held his anger deep, rarely allowing it to reach the surface, but for most of the time, he was on edge.

No matter what caused his anger to rise, it always felt the same: a burning, seething tension that formed as a tight knot in the centre of his body. Only after many lessons, and many beatings, had he learned to control it. But it was always there, a burning just below the surface of his skin, like a fire that would not he quenched. The thrashings he received for fighting had taught Hatu to keep his retaliation in check, though from time to time the instinct bubbled to the surface. It had been months since his last brawl, sparked by a casual remark from a student at the end of a particularly gruelling day of training, when his temper got the better of him.

A sharp poke in the ribs brought Hatu out of his reverie. He glanced at Hava, who had come to sit beside him and now regarded him with a half-smile, an expression very familiar to Hatu. He had been so lost in thought he hadn’t noticed her come over.

‘What?’ he snapped, keeping his voice down lest he draw unwanted attention.

‘You’re doing it again,’ she whispered.

‘What?’

‘That thing where you … go inside your head and get angry.’

‘I do not—’ he began.

‘No!’ she cut him off, raising her voice slightly. ‘You do it. You know you do. I’ve seen you, many times, go back and remember something and get angry over it, all over again, for nothing! Now, stop it!’ she hissed.

Hatu sat back, blinking. He wasn’t introspective by nature, despite clinging to certain memories, and a part of him knew she was right, but his anger flared towards Hava, erupting alongside his annoyance with Donte and loathing of Raj. He glared at her with full force.

‘Fine,’ she whispered. ‘Be annoyed with me if you must be angry with someone, but seething over things that happened so long ago is going to get you killed some day if you don’t—’

He grabbed her wrist and hissed, ‘Stop! Now!’

Her eyes widened, and she yanked her arm away, standing up. Hatu followed her a second later. As they locked eyes, they both knew Hatu was just moments away from losing control.

Donte finally took note of their confrontation. He hurried back to stand next to them as they faced each other in silence. ‘What is going on?’ he whispered, conscious of other eyes being drawn to the trio.

Hatu could barely speak, he was so close to losing his temper. Finally, he managed to swallow his anger and whisper back, ‘Nothing.’

‘It doesn’t look like nothing,’ Donte hissed. ‘You want to get us all punished?’

Hava held Hatu’s gaze, then she turned to Donte to reply. Her words were cut off by a shout: ‘Attention!’ All eyes turned to the gang captain, Hilsbek. Hatu, Donte, and Hava quickly squatted where they stood so as not to be noticed while the others sat. Next to Hilsbek was a man Hatu, Hava, and Donte recognised: Bodai was one of the most important masters, a member of the Council. He looked around the room and spied Hatu in the corner. He pointed and motioned for the boy to stand up. As Hatu did so, Hilsbek shouted, ‘Go and get your bag. Meet us outside!’

Hatu hurried to the pile of ragged bags in the corner of the warehouse and quickly dug out his pack. It looked much like the others and contained a change of clothing, a few coins sewn into a seam, some cleverly disguised tools, and a flat tin can of hair dye. It was an oily dye, and dirt clung to it, but it was a necessity. Unlike the women and men who sought to restore their youth or change their appearance for vanity, Hatu needed only a little to turn his eye-catching red-gold locks to a dingy brown.