Can We Change Our Desires We Want To
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“We’re here,” Kip said, and the others fell silent. The last rays of light were disappearing behind them; they stood in a small clearing in the woods just beyond the outer wall. On either side of them stretched dark trees, their branches reaching out like fingers to touch one another across the path they walked.
In this place where everything was so still, Kip thought he could feel something waiting for them; his muscles tightened, even though nothing was there. They had been walking through the forest all night long, but it seemed like they had not left at all since that afternoon in Lsel’s courtyard.
He wondered if they’d ever get back—but no matter what happened, he felt certain they would need the skills taught by the people of Tashan, whether or not they succeeded against the Empire.
The three figures on horseback came toward them, moving more slowly than anyone should be able to do with horses that big. But Kip saw the way the men leaned forward, leaning into their mounts’ necks as they rode; they did not seem strained, and the horses did not stumble as they approached.
“It looks like we might have a chance after all,” he whispered. He didn’t think about the fact that these men looked much the same as those who had killed the soldiers in the courtyard, only smaller—much younger than Kip, and probably younger than any of the others. “Let’s try and stay calm.”
He held the sword in his hand. It was still strange to see the blade so short and slender. At times like this, he wanted to reach down and draw its length back, pull up his sleeve to show someone, but he knew how foolish that would be.
If he drew attention to himself now, he wouldn’t be able to hide the blood on his hands until he was ready to kill someone. He hoped it wouldn’t come to that. He wondered, as he always did whenever he thought about the time before his training began, why the swordsmen of the Empire never fought without armor; surely if they did, some of them would be cut open and die before they had a chance to attack. And why had none of them been trained as warriors?
How did they become rulers when they couldn’t even fight properly? Perhaps it was simply because, wherever you went in the Empire, you found the same sort of people: the people of House Deneith, the people from the south of Tashar-Koro, the people from the north, the children of the great houses who were born with golden spoons in their mouths.
They came closer, and the man on the right dismounted. He was older, with thin, pale skin. His black hair was pulled back and braided tightly behind him; he wore it like a crown. The other two stopped a few steps away.
They had spears; Kip realized they must be members of House Deneith, too. Their faces were hard, and there was no warmth whatsoever in the eyes that stared back at them. All three carried swords that looked identical to the one Kip held; they seemed to move as easily as the air around them.
As soon as they saw the sword Kip was holding, they nodded to each other and turned back to their horses, taking up their spears again. “Wait,” said the young man who had dismounted first. He came toward them.
There wasn’t a weapon between them, which made Kip wonder why they were so relaxed. “You have a blade,” the man said, nodding toward the sword in Kip’s hands. “But we know you can’t use it properly. That’s why you’re wearing a tunic—so you won’t make us waste our energy trying to kill you. So let us help you. Give up your sword now.”
Kip took a step back, but he didn’t let go. His mind whirled. They knew he couldn’t fight properly. What did they mean? Were they going to take his life if he refused to surrender the weapon? Or perhaps they meant it was dangerous for him to try to wield a sword, and if he surrendered, it might hurt less for everyone involved.
Was that what they meant? Or maybe they didn’t want him to fight them because he would be better off if they put an end to it before things got out of hand.
“Why are you doing this?” asked Kip, looking at the man he had called the leader. This fellow had not spoken yet. The other two were silent; Kip could sense they were listening. “What do you expect me to do?”
The man looked at the sword. “Do you truly believe we are interested in killing you?” He laughed. “I can tell you don’t understand what we’re doing. Do you really think we want to kill you? Why do you think we’ve come here?”
Now Kip understood. It was just like with the soldiers in the courtyard; it was exactly like what Kip’s teachers told him about when they talked about the history of the world, only in reverse order. These men were not coming for him—he was already dead.
Instead, they wanted to talk to him about the past. About the time before the First Emperor, about what happened before the world changed, when the great houses fought over power like dogs fighting over a bone.
And the way he saw it, the best thing he could do was to agree. After all, if he refused, they’d have to kill him sooner or later anyway, unless they were willing to leave him lying there wounded until he died, and if they did that, then he’d have to live with the shame of letting them down after his family had spent so much money sending him to the palace in hopes of making his dreams real.
Still, he needed more than words for assurance, and there wasn’t enough time to get to his knees. “If you want me to give up the sword,” he said, “then I’ll need a shield to protect my head.” ” And he threw aside his cloak and rolled it up.
The moment it landed beside him, he grabbed it and held it out toward them. “Here—you can have this as well, so you won’t have to fight me for it.” Then he dropped the sword, and stepped back quickly, ready to run.
If they were going to kill him anyway, they didn’t need the added challenge. But the young man didn’t even look down. He didn’t pick up the blade; he simply walked around Kip, stepping carefully to avoid getting cut by the broken shaft. “You should be grateful,” he said, looking straight into Kip’s eyes.
“It is good we met you. You will change everything.” He picked up the spear from the ground where Kip had tossed it and began walking back toward his companions. “We’ll send someone to fetch your father soon as possible,” he called out as if talking to a child.
“He’ll be so happy you’re safe. Just don’t forget that you owe us your life—you will answer any question we ask. We will know you’ve forgotten and we will take it out on you.”
And then they were gone. No one chased him. They weren’t coming for him anymore. They had been bluffing: They wanted to get him alone, unarmed, and they were going to torture him—to break his spirit and make him beg for death.
Kip waited, listening, but heard nothing behind him, so he took a deep breath and walked slowly down the trail, back toward the palace courtyard, feeling a thousand years old. It was strange how he felt no fear, not the least inkling of dread, though these men were killers.
Maybe because the threat of violence was so familiar, and he had already endured more than anyone could ever imagine.
When he arrived at the entrance to the courtyard, however, the place seemed different somehow, as if the sun had changed places with the moon. The light was wrong, the shadows too long, so when Kip looked back through the trees to the road he had traveled along, he saw that he had missed something important.
His path had taken him past a small pond near the base of the palace wall, and now there were men sitting around the edge. Some stood in the water; others stood on the bank where they sat. They wore black cloaks like the ones the men he’d seen in the forest, but none of those had been so large.
They watched him walk toward them. He didn’t see anyone standing behind them, but they seemed to be watching every step he made. “Who are you?” said a voice from the pond. A few of them chuckled softly. The sound was unsettling.
“That doesn’t matter,” said Kip. “What matters is that we’re friends. Let me pass. I need to go inside.”
The voice from the pond sounded older than most of the others, and Kip thought it might be the man who had offered him food in the morning, but when he lifted his chin, the face was different again, and he couldn’t remember anything else about the man. Still, the voice sounded friendly.
“Come closer,” said another voice, “and we’ll show you our faces.” The same man from earlier in the morning stepped into view, but now he had a second companion; he carried an old wooden cane, which he rested on the ground beside him. “Our name,” he told Kip, “is Tanechka. We are the king’s watchmen. Do you have a message for the king?”
“My father gave me orders.”
One of the other men muttered something. Another laughed. “We heard you say ‘father’ when you spoke, so perhaps you’re his son. That explains a lot.”
Kip didn’t respond.
The one in the pond chuckled, but no one else joined in.
“Let him through,” said the one holding the cane. “If it was your father’s command, then there’s no need to be suspicious.”
But when Kip came within thirty paces of them, they suddenly scattered, running away. One slipped and fell, landing heavily on his back in the mud. Others were forced to leap over fallen branches or rocks, making it look like some kind of game—but it wasn’t funny when they got hurt. In less than ten seconds all of them were gone.
For a moment Kip just stared after them. They were fast! And why would they do that?
Then he remembered the words they had said: King’s watchmen.
He had seen their black cloaks, and he knew that he hadn’t seen enough of them to be sure that this was the king’s watch, but surely this must be it. If only he could find King Uthas. He would explain everything.
“Wait!” The sound of his own voice startled him. Kip had been certain no one would hear him, yet here they were, and they were moving.
In a moment he was surrounded by four men in dark coats. One of them held out a hand, motioning for Kip to wait while they circled around him. Kip did what he always did: He tried to remain calm. He didn’t want to give these people any reason to suspect he was nervous.
A couple of the men had drawn knives from beneath their cloaks, and they fanned out, looking left and right as if searching for someone.
“Where are they?” demanded the first speaker. “There should be five of us, so why aren’t they here? Where are they?”
“Perhaps one of them is dead,” suggested the man beside him. “Maybe they’re hunting him down.”
“Don’t talk about that!” shouted Kip. He had no idea why he cared, but suddenly he did. They weren’t going to get into this unless he let them in.
One of the men moved forward with his knife. “You don’t know what we’ll do—”
Another stepped in close to Kip, and Kip could smell him, sour breath and sweat. He reached out and ran his fingers along Kip’s arm. There was a sharp tingle, and for a moment Kip thought that he felt a cold shiver run up his arm.
Then he saw that the man had cut flesh away from his forearm in two places, exposing pale skin. “This isn’t a weapon,” said the man next to him, “but we can use it to teach you manners.”
At the mention of their ‘weapon’, a couple more of the men had begun to gather. Now they held daggers, swords, and axes. They wore leather belts strapped tight across their bodies, and these also carried small items that looked like tools to Kip: little bits of metal shaped to hold blades and knuckles, but they seemed to be empty.
These men were prepared for violence, and they didn’t mind admitting it.
“I’m not going anywhere,” said Kip.
They didn’t argue. They just watched him, eyes bright with anticipation.
Suddenly one of the men behind Kip grabbed him by the hair and yanked hard, pulling Kip off the ground. It was the same way they had attacked in the morning, so Kip had time to realize they were going to hit him before it happened—but still he flinched at the impact.
Something struck him in the stomach with a force that knocked the air from his lungs and sent a wave of pain through his body. He doubled over, coughing, trying to get enough air. When he finally gasped a mouthful, he was surprised to see the man who had punched him lying on the ground.
For a moment he couldn’t believe anyone could move that quickly, but when he turned to check on the others, he found three more were down. One was groaning, another already unconscious and bleeding from his forehead, but the fourth, this last man—he was laughing, and as the other men gathered around him, Kip realized that he was their leader, or perhaps he was the leader of the entire gang because he was tall and broad-shouldered and wore a sword like the rest of them.
Kip didn’t even care about being hurt anymore. All his thoughts had turned to how this man had made a fool of him! His head was filled with images of him striking out with his hands, and now he was down and helpless, with a broken nose and a bloody lip, and his clothes ruined.
He would have killed this man if he’d gotten a chance! This was no way to treat anyone, never mind a prince of the empire.
And then he noticed that he was standing alone, in front of this band of thieves, and that none of the men he had beaten were moving, and that he was alone on the road where he had fought them. No one came to help him. Nobody came to see what all the commotion was about.
He was still angry with himself, and he wanted to go back and hit that man again. But something told him it would be a waste of time. He needed to be smarter than the rest of these cowards. He needed to figure out what this was about.
The man who had laughed pulled out his blade and wiped it clean on the sleeve of one of the men who lay wounded on the ground. Kip had been expecting the man to come over to him, to ask some questions, to tell him what to do, but instead, the man began to circle around to the side of the wagon, looking toward the forest.
“That’s where we came from,” muttered Kip to himself. He could see it. He remembered that the trail led straight into the trees.
Then he remembered that he was standing here alone, and if he went after the wagon—the people would kill him. And if he tried to follow them anyway—they might take him somewhere else. They might not kill him, but he knew very well that they would make him work until his muscles were torn loose from his bones until he begged for death.
If only they hadn’t made that noise earlier… if I hadn’t been too slow to grab their weapons…
But the wagon was already moving down the path and away from the woods. The man was walking backward and pointing down the road, and as Kip stood there wondering whether he should chase the wagon, he heard shouts from the direction of the river. A few moments later men were running toward him, and Kip took off at full speed.
By the time he got there, he found his brother among the crowd of farmers. At first, all Kip saw was Ryl’s white shirt and blue breeches, and that made him want to scream. He wanted to shout, “Don’t look at me! Look at your own son!” Instead, he walked forward slowly, hoping to catch them unawares.
Then he saw Ryl’s face as soon as he was close enough. The tears were streaming down his cheeks and there was blood splattered over his clothes, and Kip felt a lump rise up in his throat.
Ryl had seen what happened, of course, but even knowing why Kip was here did nothing to lift his spirits.
“I’m sorry,” said Kip. “For everything.” He wanted to say much more than that, but he knew the words wouldn’t mean anything to him now. He didn’t know what to do, either. How could he help? What could he do?
“Are you okay?” Kip asked, but his voice was choked with emotion.
He nodded slowly, still trying to catch his breath. He lifted a hand, wiping away the blood that coated his cheek—it was a shallow cut, but it bled freely. The pain of his injuries made him shiver, and his eyes filled again, this time with the hot, wet sensation that meant he was crying.
He turned and ran toward the nearest farmhouse, hoping he could find something in which to wrap his brother’s wound.
His parents weren’t home, and Kip was beginning to think that this had been a mistake when he saw his mother inside the kitchen. She had the door open to let a stream of fresh air flow through the house, and she was peering down at the pile of dirty dishes in the sink.
Her hair had grown out, and it fell past her shoulders in dark waves. It was a far cry from her days as a young girl in the capital.
She was wearing a plain brown dress with a white apron covering it. Kip wasn’t sure that she had changed any more than he had, but he knew that she would be furious about what had happened, and that made him feel worse.
“…you can’t stay in your rooms forever…” Her voice was quiet like she didn’t want to attract attention. “You’re going to have to go outside sooner or later. You’ll be late—”
“Mum…” Kip stopped talking. He knew it was foolish, and it was also true, and it would certainly please his mother, but he couldn’t bring himself to speak the words.
“It’s fine, Mum,” he said instead, smiling weakly. “We’ll talk another day.” He left the house before she could argue with him further.
When he reached his brother’s room, he closed the door quietly behind him and sat on the bed. His mind raced over the events of the last few hours, trying to figure out what to do. There were so many things Kip wished he had done differently, starting with staying put when they came out of nowhere.
He had watched them come—they must have noticed him then, but they’d ignored him and simply kept on coming. That’s what I get for thinking someone would actually need my help, he thought bitterly. They probably just needed someone who looked weak and helpless. I should have stayed hidden until they got closer.
He had always known that his brothers were capable of doing terrible things, but somehow the reality had never sunk in until it was right before him. Now that they had shown themselves, Kip realized that he couldn’t pretend anymore that they weren’t there.
They were his family. He was supposed to protect them.
But he was too late. He had no idea how long it took the man to drive his knife into Ryl, and there was nothing he could do to stop him now. He didn’t even know where the man was hiding—the man hadn’t said anything after Ryl was dead and Kip had run off. Kip had tried to tell him something, but all that came out of his mouth was an unintelligible whisper.
And now his mother was going to worry herself sick.
Kip looked down at his hands; they shook as though his body were fighting against itself. He forced his hands to sit still, but his fingers were shaking badly enough that he had to clasp them together. The sound of footsteps drew near, and Kip tensed up.
When the door swung open he expected to see one of the men who had just murdered his brother staring at him with cold, cruel eyes. Instead, he only found a boy his age, wearing his school uniform, looking at him curiously from across the room.
“…are you alright…?” the boy asked.
“Yes,” he said automatically. His throat felt thick and his head throbbed with the force of his grief, and he hated himself for being so obvious. This wasn’t how it was meant to happen. He had been preparing himself for years, and he had finally figured out that he couldn’t save everyone.
This is wrong, he thought. He was a soldier! He was trained for combat, for killing. It was his job. His duty. But he had not fought in a single battle since his brothers had begun their reign of terror, and here he was, trembling like a child because he’d seen a friend die.
And it was happening again. He was losing friends again—not just a random stranger, but Ryl, one of his oldest and dearest friends, who had stood by Kip and protected him throughout his life.
The world was ending around me, Kip thought, and all I could do was stare stupidly at this boy like some frightened child.
He heard his father’s footsteps, and suddenly his mind was filled with images from the night of the rebellion. He had gone into the forest with his family to hide during the chaos surrounding the rebels’ defeat. He remembered crouching beside his brothers, his heart racing, waiting for his turn to fight, wondering what would happen if his father found out he was alive.
Then the soldiers stormed in, and everything had become terrifyingly clear. They knew he was there. Their eyes had locked onto him before anyone spoke. They were angry, they were afraid—their fear had been directed at him. It had made him think of Ryl as well, and Kip had been certain he was going to die then, and all the times his brothers had threatened him before that.
I’m not prepared for this. What am I supposed to do? I don’t have any weapons, and he doesn’t look dangerous. I should be able to beat him easily, even unarmed.
His father had been furious, and he threw Kip into the woods, telling him to find safety somewhere else. It had seemed like a joke, but there was more to it than that. They had always wanted him to run away from the violence.
They had said they were too old, that he would have to grow up sooner or later, and that it would be better if they didn’t waste their lives fighting the Empire’s soldiers.
That had been five years ago. He had spent three years trying to stay hidden, and in the meantime, his brothers grew older and wiser—they learned how to fight. And in the end, they did nothing except stand on the sidelines when the time came. He had watched helplessly as his family was killed by those very soldiers whose faces he’d never seen until today.
And now they are coming after me. I can’t run. If they catch me, they’ll kill me, just like my family. I’m done running. I refuse to let them take me. Not again.
Kip stood up abruptly. “Get back in bed, Jax.” His voice was rough as gravel and he barely recognized it as his own.
Jax turned around quickly. “What happened?” he asked softly. He was standing over two chairs where his parents were sitting at the dining table, both looking up at him nervously. His mother’s face was streaked with tears, and he wondered whether she’d cried for a moment there.
“They’re coming for us,” Kip said harshly.
“Wha—” his father began to ask.
Kip grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the stairs without saying another word. He heard his mother sobbing behind him, begging his father to tell her why Kip had been crying.
When they got upstairs, Kip went directly to his bedroom while his father followed silently in silence. Kip closed the door behind them. He looked through the open window for signs of pursuit, but the city was silent. The sky was darkening into the evening.
“How could you have known?” his father demanded once he was inside Kip’s room.
“I didn’t know,” Kip replied. He didn’t want to explain what had happened; he didn’t care to talk about it. He wanted to keep his memories of Ryl private, and that was all there was to it.
His father sat down heavily on the floor and rubbed the back of his head with his hands, staring blankly at the ceiling. After a moment, he looked down at the floor. “Did you…see anything…?”
“Yes,” Kip said. The last thing I saw before they shot him was Ryl’s hand.
“Are they still—”
Kip interrupted him sharply, “No!”
His father stared at him strangely and asked no further questions. Then he stood up and walked across the room and knelt beside Kip. “There isn’t much time, Kip,” he said. “We have to get out of the house tonight. There is only one place they won’t come looking for you.”
“Who?” Kip asked. I need more information. What does he mean? How long do we have? Does he know something I don’t?
His father hesitated briefly, then shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. Tonight, when the sun sets, I will give you a message to deliver to your brother, and then I’ll go into the city and warn him to flee the city immediately.”
Kip nodded. “Okay. When are we leaving?”
His father paused to consider the question for a few moments. “Now,” he answered finally.
“Why so soon?”
His father didn’t answer right away. “Because you’ll be safer outside the walls,” he muttered softly. “This is the worst possible time to try and leave. You’ll be better off here in the mountains.”
“But—”
He cut himself short and shook his head. “We have to make a plan first.”
The door opened quietly and his mother came in carrying a tray with a pot of tea on it. She set the tray down next to Kip’s chair and left quietly.
“You’ve given yourself away,” his father whispered urgently, nodding towards the hallway. “She knows.”
“Does she now?” Kip replied evenly.
“I knew you were lying when you said you had nowhere to go. I think the others already know as well. This isn’t safe for anyone.”
“So we should just lie low here and wait to see if we get arrested? Is that what you’re telling me? What happens when they figure out we’re gone?”
“I…” his father stammered uncomfortably. He looked down at his hands and said nothing for a minute, then glanced at his wife and asked her, “Is he okay?”
“He’s not going to be happy, you know,” she sighed and poured a cup of tea for herself. “I’m sorry, dear.”
His father took a deep breath and said firmly, “Let’s make sure we’re safe first, then worry about being found out later.” He paused again. “Where do you propose we hide? Where will we meet?”
Kip shook his head. “Not yet, Dad. Not until we find out where they’ll come looking for us. We’ll need somewhere secure. Somewhere nobody would look.”
“You don’t understand,” his father said sternly. “If you go anywhere, they’ll be after you.”
“That’s what I intend to show them, or die trying. They’re going to take one look at my family and they’ll never think to look farther.”
“Your family?” his father spat bitterly. “What about yours?”
“I can handle myself,” Kip snapped. “My parents are fine.” I’ve seen them, remember?
His father looked away from Kip and stared at the wall. After a few minutes, he spoke softly, “I’d say it was best that I stay with you. Your mother and I might be able to help you escape.” His eyes flicked over to Kip’s mother. Her expression hardened. “And if I don’t, Kip, they’ll be coming after you anyway.”
“They’ll still come for you, too,” Kip pointed out. “You aren’t immune.”
His father shrugged and looked down at the table. After a moment, he said, “Perhaps you’re right. It’s not like I have any other choice. Let’s pack a bag. But let’s do it silently.” He rose and walked quickly out of the room without another word.
“Mother—” Kip began but stopped himself short. If he was going to argue, he could do so only after getting his own plan in order first. I won’t make promises I cannot keep. “Just wait for us here and I promise, as soon as I know exactly how I’m escaping, I will send someone to pick you up.”
Kip turned his attention to the rest of his parents, and the two of them watched him carefully. The silence felt strained between the three of them and they exchanged worried glances occasionally. Finally, Kip’s mother looked at her husband and asked, “What do you suggest?”
“Get everyone out of the house now, tonight,” he said. “We need to move fast, there’s no way we can stop them. Get your things together and go to my brother’s home in the west quarter.”
“How do you know we shouldn’t just leave tonight, too?”
“Because of this way,” his father said firmly, “we’re less likely to end up dead.”
“As opposed to… what? Being captured?”
“Yes.”
His father hesitated. “There’s an old friend of mine who lives in the same quarter. His name is Raul and he owes me a favor or two. Maybe you should meet him before you decide anything.”
“Who is it?” Kip asked, though he already suspected who the man must be.
“Raul Vaz.”
The End