The Silk Map Read online

  “Mother . . .”

  “Hush, child. I’m not marrying you off. Although the eldest boy of the Cloud Arrow clan is brave and honorable, and worth a look—I am not yet food for scavengers, girl, so trust me on this—still. No, I am not corralling you, fox. I am giving you something to hunt.”

  Steelfox widened her eyes.

  “I want you to see this.” The khatun led her around the fire to a collection of chests, which even as a child she’d never been allowed to open. Her heart beat faster as the khatun opened the largest and most ornate, a lacquered, jade-inlaid chest marked with stylized cicada-shapes in Qiangguo style. Inside was clothing for moments of high import, weddings, funerals, treaties, and the anointing of khans.

  The khatun rummaged through the clothing as though all the bright silks, velvets, and satins were just so many cleaning rags. Steelfox heard a click, and the sliding of some hidden panel. Her mother turned and raised up the strangest scrap of clothing Steelfox had ever seen.

  It was the right sleeve of a dress, torn from its body by some unknown moment of violence, such that ragged tears still suggested the curves of shoulder and scapula. Its primary colors were green and brown and gray, and painted upon the shimmering fabric were suggestions of grasslands, deserts, and mountains, with blue rivers here and there, and dots for lakes, and dark pagodas marking cities, and the odd outlines of monsters. Many features were marked with a script, vertical like the Karvaks’ but unreadable to Steelfox.

  “Is it a dress, Mother? Or . . . is it a map?”

  “It’s perhaps both. I know a story about it. Not a true story, surely. But a story that may contain truth—a truth that may be of great importance for you. And your nation.”

  THE KHATUN’S TALE

  When your father subjugated Madzeu, fox, I ruled there for a time. Now, your father mistrusted cities as he did dogs, mammoths, and men who swore only by Father Sky. Thus he stayed only long enough to secure the place and set off to conquer Qushkent. I wished our subjects to be happy so I promoted storytellers and music. This is one story I heard sung.

  Long ago there was a land beneath the ground, called Sham. In this place there was no light save what glowed from the magma pit at its heart or what shone from the magical crystals of the cavern roof. In this dim, ruddy gaze, human beings dwelled and harvested strange toadstools and stunted trees.

  Into this land came one Bora, a girl of unknown origin. She was treated roughly by her adopted family, and so she dreamed of dancing at the Palace Outside, a citadel of crystal that peered up from the caverns of Sham, into the true light of day.

  The kagan who ruled that palace announced a great gathering, and Bora dreamed of going, but her adopted family ringed her round with duties. Yet magical help came in the form of fire-fairies who wove her a dress of fire-spider webbing. And the dress had this wondrous property; it took on many colors and had the appearance of a map, showing the way Bora might take to journey to her unknown home. The fire-spiders meant by this to show Bora that her true journey did not end at the palace but would go on until she found her heart’s desire.

  Bora did not care about the fine points. Wearing this magical dress, Bora went to the great gathering.

  In that place she danced with the kagan, a kind young man whom she loved at once. But she also beheld the upper world, gleaming green and blue and white like a vision from dreams. And because it was so unknown and so true, she feared it.

  Bora fled from the Palace Outside. So panicked was she, she caught the sleeve of her dress in the gateway, and it tore, so that she had to leave it behind. It was all the kagan had by which to remember her.

  As luck would have it, however, she left behind much more. For the gateway she’d found led not back into Sham, but into the very place that had terrified her, the wild outside world.

  Now, the kagan is said to roam the world, carrying his heart in the form of Bora’s torn sleeve, looking for the woman whose arm it fits. But of her fate, no one knows.

  “This is clearly not fire-spider-whatsit,” Lady Steelfox said after a moment of silence. “If that even exists. This is ironsilk.”

  The khatun nodded. “I believe the story takes many forms and has wandered many times up and down the Braid of Spice. It changes with each town and each year. I have even heard from Akinakhia one variation where the girl wears glass slippers. Yet I think there’s truth in it. For I found within the royal treasury of Madzeu this sleeve.”

  “Why show it to me now?”

  “A madman of the free desert town of Shahuang has this past year uncovered lost caves filled with paintings of times past. Among these is an illustration of a torn portion of this dress.”

  “Ah! Then the caves may point the way to more pieces.”

  “Indeed. And more pieces, together with mine, may just point the way toward a new source of ironsilk. News of this only just reached me via the poets, fox. I would send someone I trust to investigate this matter. You may consider it your last great venture . . . before I bind you to a new husband.”

  Lady Steelfox blinked. “I see much potential in ironsilk.”

  “Good. When the Parliament of All begins, my clever one, I want you to assign your vote to Jewelwolf, to use as she would.”

  “You trust her with this? Why should I not assign my vote to you?”

  “I do not wish the Parliament to be troubled by any accusation of manipulation on my part. Jewelwolf is of the younger generation, and they will trust that your proxy is a well-intentioned one. Having done this you will depart on an errand I will concoct. But your true errand is the map. You and your sister have the keenest eyes and sharpest memories of all my children—and Jewelwolf is otherwise occupied. I must send you.”

  “I thank you, Mother. This is a true adventure, worthy of a Karvak. I won’t disappoint you.”

  Mother nodded. “No, you will not.” The khatun seemed to consider whether or not to say anything more. “I believe, fox, this Silk Map is more than a map. It is a story—the story of a woman’s life. As such, I think it’s an omen that the map is rent.” She stood and stepped to the opening of the tent, looking south. “A woman yearns for a steady path through the years. At any rate, this one does. Yet there are always wars, sicknesses, famines, arguments. Deaths. There are moments when the sunlit path seems beset by storm, and the dark path lit by an unsuspected moon.”

  “Mother . . . I wish our customs . . . I wish you could remain khatun. Your rule’s been wise. I wish we need not elect a khan.”

  The khatun turned. “Is that what you think I mean? Well. I thank you. But I was thinking of you. I think that to seek the Silk Map will be to experience such turnings and rendings. Perhaps sooner than you are ready for, my clever one.”

  This was Mother in her mystical vein, such as she’d indulged more and more often since the Grand Khan’s death. Perhaps it was the burden of rulership. Perhaps it was age. Either way, Steelfox was impatient with it. She herself did not yearn for a steady path through life.

  “I’m ready, Mother. If we can find the Iron Moths we’ll have a strength that could make the world tremble. I can’t yet tell you why. But I feel Mother Earth and Father Sky have brought me to this moment.”

  The khatun’s smile was sad, and in that moment she seemed a very ordinary elder. “I don’t think we are ever ready for what Earth and Sky have in mind. I acknowledge your courage, however. Your father would be proud.”

  “I wish I could believe so—”

  She was interrupted by the ringing of a great gong. An officer walked into the tent. Despite the urgency inscribed in his stance, he bowed and shifted to the spot where Steelfox had waited patiently not long before.

  “You may speak,” said the khatun.

  The man approached and prostrated. “Great Khatun, your daughter Jewelwolf is arriving.”

  “Thank you for your news. Make certain the encampment is prepared. Steelfox, go to your sister. Make her welcome.”

  That arrow’s easier aimed than shot, Stee
lfox thought, but she said, “As you wish.” She bowed and followed the soldier.

  From the encampment the land rose gently toward the south. Steelfox bade her pony ascend. She saw Qurca’s circling form drifting in kind. Her mind swirled as well; it was good to be in the wind again. She trusted her pony and loosened the reins, letting herself touch Qurca’s perceptions.

  The land receded below, like a collapsing green tent that puffed outward as it fell. The sun was well up as Jewelwolf’s fleet came rolling in. Eighteen craft painted in bright colors, sails emblazoned with animal symbols, rolled upon their great wheels. Outriders on sabercats preceded the ships, mastodon-riders escorted the vessels, and the great mass of horsemen followed. Next came horse-drawn wagons carrying civilian gear, and last followed the woolly rhinoceroses and their brave riders, perhaps the toughest Karvaks of all.

  The fleet could not have moved without the skill of the Wind-Tamers, one for each vessel. Steelfox could see them in their ribbon-bedecked coats, beating upon drums. The wind pulsed through the air like the invisible blood of the world.

  Before the fleet even slowed, a woman leapt off the largest ship with a rope ladder, landing upon a pony brought up by group of riders bearing Jewelwolf’s red and gray standard. The riders galloped ahead of the ships and past the sabercats.

  Steelfox broke her link to Qurca and halted, standing her ground against the advance of fleet and riders. As they reached her, she lifted her arm and Qurca alighted, screeching as the bannermen stopped, their ponies whinnying.

  Only their leader’s white mount made no noise but rather looked upon Qurca with a cold-eyed, nearly human appraisal. Aughatai had been Jewelwolf’s gift-beast almost as long as Qurca had been Steelfox’s. The pony had much of Jewelwolf’s character by now, and the two animals were never cordial.

  “Lady of the Il-Khanate of the Eternal Green,” said Steelfox.

  “Dear Lady,” answered Jewelwolf, dismounting.

  They embraced. Jewelwolf dismissed her guards, who returned to the ships bellowing disembarkation orders.

  “You are looking well,” Steelfox said, as they walked toward Mother’s ger.

  “And you, elder sister,” said Jewelwolf, “you seem well-favored as always.” She smiled. “Shooting arrows at the sunrise again?”

  “I have some catching up, to reach your level of skill.”

  “Oh, you’re much too hard on yourself.”

  “I wish Father had heard you say that.”

  “I did tell him, frequently, though the winds of war roared loudly in his ear.”

  Once or twice, I’m sure, Steelfox thought. “How fares your husband Lord Rocklion?”

  “He’s well. Although he’s somewhat preoccupied chastening the Xurian clans far to the east. While he dispatches them to Tawalisi across the sea, he dispatches me to vote in his stead.” Jewelwolf sighed. “I suppose Mother would have preferred to see him, rather than me. With the exception of yourself, she’s always preferred the conversation of men.”

  “Nonsense, sister. She’ll be delighted to see you.”

  “Ever the diplomat. I admire your ability to rise above all frays. . . . So, she has not complained of my lateness?”

  “Well . . .”

  “Ah. I departed as soon as my husband could spare the ships, but I suppose Mother won’t believe that.”

  “I believe you.”

  “Why, I thank you, elder sister.” Jewelwolf’s tone was airy and amused, as if implying Steelfox was surely insincere, but that Jewelwolf, as a true Karvak hero, would rise above it all.

  It left Steelfox confused and irritated, as ever.

  “You’ve added ships to the fleet,” Steelfox noted, searching for a compliment.

  “The four directions have sent me many Wind-Tamers,” Jewelwolf said, a note of pride in her voice. “Dodderers and doubters claimed we couldn’t form an organized school, but we found help on unexpected horizons. How fares your own fleet?”

  “We do well enough,” Steelfox said. Of course you aim your words at my il-khanate’s greatest weakness. “I have an interesting addition myself.”

  “A new ship?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Ah, Steelfox, always so many secrets. If you have something that can strengthen the realm, you shouldn’t hoard it.” Jewelwolf lowered her voice. “We’ve recovered from the disaster Father led us into. But vultures still circle the realm.”

  It always perplexed Steelfox that while Jewelwolf had been Father’s favorite, Jewelwolf had, in the end, held the Grand Khan in contempt. “You’ll see it soon. As for secrets . . . you’re right, sister. I would speak of something before we reach Mother’s ger.”

  “Oh?”

  “Mother’s sending me away on an errand.” Steelfox could not keep the pride from her voice. “Something I must do immediately. She’s asked me to give my vote to you.”

  “Me?” Jewelwolf sounded suspicious. “Surely she knows I’ll support my husband as a spur supports a foot. And respect him though she does, she’s never liked him. What does she scheme?”

  “I see no scheme. Mother, as khatun, might well elect someone she doesn’t like, if it were for the good, as you say, of the empire.”

  “But she’s always championed Eldest Brother. That drunken lout who only wins battles by accident. There’s intrigue here.”

  “You always think people are plotting.”

  “People always are. You, living among your Reindeer Folk, half animals themselves, have the luxury of believing otherwise. Mother is sending you away because of that. Because she knows you might emerge from Parliament disgraced. Or dead. That much makes sense.” Jewelwolf nodded to herself. “You were always her favorite. What did she say, that you have some magical treasure to find? The First Forge of the Steppes? The Scepter of the Archon of Night?”

  Steelfox’s face burned.

  “Aha!” said Jewelwolf. “Ah, sister. Still drunk on fairy tales like our brothers sucking down kumiss. But indeed I envy you. I’d love the opportunity to leave all my responsibilities and gallop off on a mad quest. Alas, some of us must consider matters of war.”

  It was hard to maintain composure around her younger sister. Keeping her voice steady around a shaman was comparatively simple. “I trust my khatun,” Steelfox said. Yet she thought, What if it’s true? I’m a blunt instrument, and I do hate politicking. What if this Silk Map’s something Mother invented to keep me busy? What if I’m just an idiot? But she said none of this aloud, rather, “War? Do you mean something beyond your husband’s ‘chastisement’?”

  “Our mother has a quiver of admirable traits, sister, but her bowstring’s broken; she’s too peaceable. With a new Grand Khan—and of course I mean for this to be Rocklion—we’ll again be ready to invade the trading cities, and Yao’an as well. This very year, perhaps this very season, we’ll leave off the thin gruel of skirmishes and toss the poets some meaty war tales, as bloody flesh before wolves.”

  “As at Hvam?”

  “Do you expect me to feel shame at that name?” Jewelwolf scoffed. “Have you forgotten Firegold?”

  “I mourn the best of our brothers. But the truth is, the Hvammi got a lucky shot in. Heartened, they refused to surrender. In this, they behaved just as Karvaks would.”

  Jewelwolf made a dismissive wave. “City-dwellers have no more claim on martial honor than mice have a claim on the clouds. They choose to live as penned animals, and at our discretion they can be slaughtered as such. Your remarks reveal you’ve no heart for battle—as our father concluded. Don’t feel ashamed. It’s not for everyone, not even every Karvak.”

  Steelfox did not take the bait. “You seem different, sister.”

  “A good difference, I hope.”

  “You seem like a honed blade.” And a bloodied one.

  “Good. Yes, I have been learning much of the wider world. My horizons go on and on. I’ve seen the outlying nations at Rocklion’s side. Like Mother, I’ve entertained poets and scholars.” Jewelwolf he
sitated before leaning close. “Unlike Mother, I’ve treated with sorcerers, and learned much from them.”

  “I will not repeat that.”

  “Thank you. I hoped you might understand, you who know the Reindeer Folk and their strange ways. I’ve searched for knowledge farther afield. I’ve encountered a cabal of sorcerers, one from the frozen North, one from the steaming South, the last from the stormy West. They’ve convinced me that an alliance might be beneficial.”

  “To whom?”

  “Ha! Their lands are far too remote to threaten us, but my generosity aids them in securing various rare substances for their works. And they for mine. Already their assistance has improved the training of my Wind-Tamers. I could take matters further. Much further. But for now I think Mother would be squeamish.” Jewelwolf shook her head. “Alas for foolish taboos. We’re willing to lose thousands in battle, when a single human offering to higher powers could secure us a bloodless victory.”

  Something was agitating Qurca. His claws dug painfully through Steelfox’s thick sleeve. She could hear her own heartbeat. “Father forbade such things.”

  “Sister, no one respects Father’s memory more than I! But he tried the scrupulous path toward conquest. He failed. We nearly lost the empire. His methods will keep sacrificing honorable Karvaks to the cowardly schemers of Qiangguo and their ilk, time and again. Mother hides from the truth, but she knows the world laughs at us. Perhaps that is why she’s willing to support Rocklion.”

  Qurca’s mind was shrieking at Steelfox now. Images blew into her mind like evocative clouds ahead of a storm: a broken wing, a beak crushed against the ground, an egg cracked before its time, a peregrine turned to carrion. If she could translate the images into Karvak they might say, Wrong, wrong, wrong!

  At the same moment, Aughatai was staring at the bird. Steelfox clicked her tongue and raised her arm, and after a moment’s reluctance the falcon flew off.