Lanna straightened. The muscles in her lower back nagged at her so she threw her hands to the blue sky and stretched to ease the discomfort. Her fingers wiggled, thick with grey mud and dripping sludge onto her rice-straw hat. She tucked a stubborn brown curl back under the brim, smearing scalp and hair with mud. A month since the flood and hardly a trace of white contamination remained. A smile pulled at her lips.

She and other women worked the upper terraces of the valley, turning grey mud to a forest of pale green points. Lanna looked down over the edge of the earthen wall of the bund. Step after step followed the contour of the hillside below, all covered in a green fuzz of rice seedlings. Ditches fed each terrace from a dammed river by the old highway above her. The ancient road followed the ridge of the valley.

Straightening, Lanna wiggled within her tunic, trickles of sweat making the cloth stick and pull.

Mika stood across from her, feet bare and skirt hitched to keep the hem out of the ankle-deep mud. The girl hummed as she worked, her skin golden in the afternoon light, hands busily planting out the rice seedlings. Even rows grew in a line with every deft flick of her wrists.

A deep huff caught Lanna's attention. A water buffalo ploughed the paddy adjacent. The beast plodded its hooves down in the mud, creating a furrow behind it. Agami ushered the grumpy buffalo onward with a hiss between his teeth. Lanna could sympathise with the beast. On such a warm afternoon, she would rather be lying in the mud too.

The freeze had lasted a month. Lanna felt dismay at the ground thawing after only weeks covered in ice. That hadn't stopped Hemil using Lanna to 'warm his blankets' among other things.

Blushing, her eyes turned to the young men repairing the eroded bunds in the next line of terraces. Pale as the snow, her brother's bent back stood out amongst the bronzed bodies of the other village youths. Lanna wanted to giggle but knew her own tall and stocky frame looked just as out of place among the small, lithe women of the village. She should probably be bund repairing, but in the Empire women planted and men fixed bunds.

Lanna's gaze skipped over the young men. Little bund repair seemed to be going on; instead, they fought each other with handfuls of mud. Not even a bark from Agami could stop the friendly rivalry developing into full-scale warfare.

One of the warriors crossed the terrace and threw a handful of mud at her. She ducked and the sludge struck Mika on her rump.

'Coward!' she called out at her assailant – Hemil would be under all that mud somewhere. He slithered towards her, ignoring Mika's outraged wail, then grabbed at Lanna. Long-fingered hands slipped mud over her cheeks before he pulled her face downward to smudge clay-covered lips over her forehead.

'Get off me!'

'Hush. I can't marry a woman who won't let me embrace her.' He then proceeded to do just that. Mud squelched as his arms wrapped about her, covering her work tunic. 'Father is meeting the elders tonight,' he breathed against her. 'I'll leave my window open.'

Lanna shuddered and looked down at the man she would wed in only a few weeks. Dark brown eyes and flyaway black hair. They would have such pretty children. He pressed his lips to the shell of her ear and whispered. She was proficient enough in Imperial to understand the majority of the ardent plea. Spend the night with him. He had his own seeds to plant in fertile ground.

A tingle swept up the back of her neck as she whispered her acceptance, stuttering. The ceremony couldn't come soon enough. The days of separation between rushed couplings felt like torture.

Muddy water splashed over them. Mika tittered and threw the empty seedling bucket at Lanna's feet. 'Work, not play, or this terrace will never be finished,' she scolded, hands on narrow hips.

Hemil muttered a curse under his breath and let Lanna go, but not before nibbling on her ear. He turned and splashed away. Lanna aimed a pout in Mika's direction, muddy water dripping from straw hat.

'He's my older brother – I don't want to have to think about what he gets up to in your arms.'

The pout vanished and Lanna gave a grin at her soon to be side-sister. 'I'll be family soon.'

'Yes and you're not allowed to be touchy in front of me – it's obscene and very unImperial.' Mika shook a mud-covered finger at Lanna, but couldn't suppress a smile. 'You have an excuse, being Southern. My brother knows better.'

Lanna eloquently poked her tongue out at Mika then bent to retrieve the bucket. Suddenly a ripple rolled over the surface of the paddy, followed by another. She frowned and her mind turned over at the small oddity. Another ripple – stronger; then the jingle of harness.

Straightening, her eyes flicked to the road above. There were people. She had never seen anyone use the old highway. Traders seldom came so far south, and this group weren't traders. Half of them were mounted on birds.

'Kelen!' Lanna gasped, dropping her bucket with a splash. Mika looked up from her planting and tipped her hat back to view the travellers.

'Oh? They've returned?' Mika looked over her shoulder. 'Imperial caravan – they pass by every half a year.'

Lanna watched, struck mute. The kelen moved with surprising agility, placing black-clawed feet with care on the uneven road surface. White and blue fluffy feathers billowed, their bright serrated beaks wound with leather, so a rider could control them. She had only ever seen the wild cousins of the domesticated flightless birds. While smaller than a wild bronto, the kelen were no less impressive. Her blood pulsed in her ears. She wanted to touch them.

Astride the birds, soldiers wore studded leather and purple plumed helms. Did the colour indicate something? A palanquin dominated the middle of the procession. Dark hardwood, a barred window, shuttered. Whoever travelled within took no chances.

The low angle of the afternoon sun cast deep shadows and beams of light flickered between the birds, reflecting off white feathers. She should have looked away, but she ignored the pain in her head. When would she see something like this again? Curiosity overcame the warning thumping against her temples.

When it came, the seizure sent her muscles into spasm. Lanna gave a strangled cry as her mind fell apart and the world spun into nothing.

***

Lanna woke. A string of onions hanging from the rafters above her gave her an immediate location. The vegetables sprouted little white hairs. Her mother still didn't know how to preserve food in the near constant humidity.

Other than where she lay, her mind remained hopelessly blank. Lanna knew from experience that her memories would return, but she needed to put things in order. Her mind wouldn't be able to focus until she managed to gather her scattered wits.

Light streamed through the shuttered windows, exposing the gaps in the planks and highlighting dust motes in the air. The hut had only taken two days to repair after the earthshake.

Sticky air fought with her lungs and sweat trickled down her neck. She groaned and clenched her teeth, struggling for a point of focus. Where had she been before this? Snarled thoughts refused to unpick into something she could make sense of. Grunting, she blinked and tried to sit. Her head spun and her vision faded. The last thing she wanted was to vomit so she lay back down.

Why was there no one to watch over her?

She tried again to rise, twitchy and restless, but only succeeded in rolling onto her front. Her elbow hit a nearby beaker. Water splashed over her arm and the cup rolled away. Lanna huffed into her musty-smelling mat, her head thudding with renewed pain.

The thatch door to the hut lifted and she squinted at the pair of well-shod feet.

'Emperor's balls, what are you trying to do?' Hands wound around her waist and turned her over. A pair of worried brown eyes looked down at her.

Hemil pulled her limp body into a sitting position then refilled the beaker from a copper urn in the corner and pressed it to her lips.

She drank, her lazy lips letting a little spill. Legs clad in bleached cotton settled either side of her and golden-brown hands moved around her stomach, pulling her back until her head rested on his shoulder. A hand smoothed over her head, snagging unruly curls. His fingers worked through her matted hair, brushing away dried mud.

'My sister will help clean you later,' he said into her ear. Lanna managed a moan of protest. Couldn't they wait until she could do it for herself?

The flaking mud stirred her mind. Why was she so dirty?

A memory slowly resolved itself from the mental fog. She and Mika had been in one of the Headman's rice fields.

'Better?' Hemil murmured.

Her lips twisted into a half-smile. His hands tightened on her stomach. She could feel a tension in his embrace.

'Was it bad this time?' His voice faltered. 'Are you in pain?'

Her head lolled to one side to indicate a negative. He shouldn't worry so much.

'Don't lie to me.'

Lanna tried to snort but ended up drooling.

'A dutiful wife doesn't contradict her husband,' he quoted, almost keeping the amusement from his voice. 'So said Emperor Tikhi the First.'

Was he trying to cheer her up? He must really be worried about her. Also, Lanna suspected that Emperor Tikhi the First had taken too many nagging concubines into his palace.

'Don't fret,' Hemil said in a dramatic tone. 'We're not married yet, so I'll forgive you.' He dropped a kiss on the crown of her head. 'Besides, I don't want to spend months trying to win you again.'

Lanna sighed and made no reply, closing her eyes.

'You better not be falling asleep.'

She grumbled and shifted against him. Why could she not sleep and wake later when her aches would be almost gone?

'Don't complain,' he murmured, tone serious. 'I've got to tell you something.'

She tried to concentrate; he wasn't often so solemn.

'The village elders are meeting and it's because of you.'

Her? What could she have done to warrant a village meeting?

'The travellers – do you remember them?'

A hazy image slipped into her mind of riders, birds and a palanquin.

'They saw you fall. There was a woman with them. A palace official. She ordered me to take you to her as soon as you could walk.'

Lanna's eyes fluttered open. An official? Why was an official so close to the border? Did they not have important work to do in big cities? Well, she would see this woman, but she needed to rest first or risk emptying her stomach at the official's feet.

***

A short while later, Hemil helped Lanna hobble over to the 'village hall'. The small barn built on the back of his family home served for gatherings, meetings and the occasional wedding.

A small crowd surrounded the door. Urgent whispers ceased as Lanna approached and familiar faces regarded her with sympathy. Lanna imagined she must look dreadful, but Hemil had been insistent that she had no time to change. This meeting couldn't wait.

The village elders, all landowners in their later years, sat on the hard-packed earthen floor in a half circle. There were ten, including Agami. Opposite them knelt a woman.

Lanna's eyes bulged. She had thought Mika beautiful and delicate, but this woman outshone Mika as the moons did the stars. The official's cheekbones sat high and prominent, her nose sloping down from high brows to a small, sharp point. Her chin also came to a delicate point, which gave her face a bird-like appearance, and pale, translucent skin almost glowed in the light streaming in through the gaps in the roof. Did this woman ever see the sun?

Under the official's knees lay a luxurious carpet. It looked so out of place in the glorified barn that Lanna wanted to laugh. The woman's face tilted up to watch Lanna enter.

Black hair shone, twisted into a mind-numbingly complex configuration, a myriad of ornaments and bejewelled jade pins preventing a single strand from moving out of place. The woman's only visible imperfection was her thin mouth, though the blood-red paint she favoured made her lips appear more generous. The official's clothes consisted of layers of garment, the topmost one dyed a deep purple with embroidered pink blossoms decorating the hems and neckline.

Flanking her were two burly men, one a Southerner, blond hair gleaming, arms heavy with corded muscle. The other man had skin as black as the official's hair, his head shaved, but with piercing sea-green eyes. He stood almost as tall as the Southern man but with a lithe frame that spoke of speed and grace of movement. Both men wore simple cotton tunics and slacks.

Lanna's attention flicked back to the kneeling woman. She looked up at Lanna, a greedy intensity in her dark eyes, and Lanna did her best to hold the woman's gaze, hoping the official would introduce herself, or at least smile.

The woman did neither; she only continued to stare.

Hemil ushered Lanna forward and helped her to her knees in front of the gathered elders. Her head swam and her vision darkened at the edges.

'Bow to her,' Hemil whispered, then proceeded to bend forward until his palms and forehead rested on the earth.

Something in Lanna protested. Only the lowest should grovel on the ground. Criminals in the clans begged for forgiveness with more dignity.

Agami poked her on the back with his thumb.

'Bow!' he hissed. Lanna complied but felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment. The earth under her face stank of sour rice wine and urine.

'Rise,' said a low voice.

Lanna struggled to obey; Hemil gripped her shoulders and helped her twitching body move back so she sat on her heels.

The official sneered, lips twisting, nose wrinkling.

'Why did you bring your intended before me in such a state, boy? The sight of her offends me.'

'Misra, you demanded Lanna's presence as soon as she could walk,' Hemil murmured, eyes downcast. That was a new word. Was it a title?

The woman glared at Hemil. 'Lanna,' she echoed softly. 'Strange, difficult to pronounce.' A frown creased her perfect brow. 'There are no characters to represent it.' A sharp red nail tapped against her pointed chin. 'It could always be changed to something that does not sound like a braying animal...'

Lanna twitched and narrowed her eyes. The official's attention snapped back to Hemil.

'How old are you, boy?'

'Seventeen,' came Hemil's quiet reply.

The woman tilted her head and something chimed in her hair. She laughed, covering her mouth with the back of her hand to muffle the spiteful chuckles.

'You claim a bride not only older than you but above you in rank?' She gestured to Lanna with a flick of her fingers.

Lanna frowned. What did she mean? Hemil was a Headman's son. The official cut through her thoughts with her next statement.

'Lowly refugee she may be, but had she moved north she would be in a far higher position than you, boy. Yet you keep her and her family here – in ignorance?' Her eyes fixed on Agami.

'Why has this village concealed the presence of refugees? Their unImperial beliefs could have spread sedition and corruption among you.'

Agami stirred behind Lanna. 'We sent word to the provincial governor, Misra,' he said at last. 'No reply came to our message. We assumed all was well. We housed them as the law states and they have worked hard and adopted our ways.'

The official sniffed with disdain and murmured to the black-skinned man beside her. He nodded and left.

'Fortunately, you seem to have naturalised these Southerners. That is to be commended.'

Lanna felt a draft as Agami bowed.

'Thank you, Misra,' he whispered. 'Your words honour my family.'

'However,' the woman continued. 'These refugees would serve the Empire better in a larger settlement where the best use of their talents can be made. Manual labour is respectable, but Southerners possess agile minds as well as strong bodies...' She trailed off and looked at the floor, pondering. Moments later the piercing black eyes were back on Lanna.

'Are you satisfied to rot in this place? I have spoken to your family. You all seem to be intelligent, though illiterate.' She swept a scathing glance over Hemil and the village elders. 'Many refugees have found useful employment further north. Your skills and abilities are wasted here; all of your family would be better off if they moved to the lower numbers.'

Lanna moistened her lips. 'We like it here,' she said, cringing at her unsteady voice.

The official gave another snort then snapped another question. 'How long have you had falling sickness?'

Lanna rolled her shoulders forward. Could she not just go back to her mat now and hide? 'I... I was born with it.'

'Your people never found the cause?'

Lanna shook her head in answer then grimaced; her head throbbed a warning.

The woman's lips quirked up. 'Perfect.'

She rose with grace, the material of her elegant, multi-layered garment whispering as she did so. The Southern man at her side removed a cloth from his pocket and wiped the woman's small hands. A heady scent of flowers masked the rank aroma of the shack for a moment.

'Say your goodbyes, L-an-na,' the woman said in perfect Southern, even using the correct intonation to pronounce her name. 'You will be leaving with me within the hour.'

'What?' Lanna half shrieked. Cold shock washed over her. Had she mistranslated? Leave? She couldn't leave.

Lanna tried to get up and failed. Hemil stared at the woman, eyes wide, jaw slack.

The woman frowned, irritation fluttering over her features. 'You are coming with me,' she repeated, her tone firm and with a hint of warning.

'I don't even know who you are,' Lanna croaked.

The woman smiled at her. 'My name is Chowa-no-Ota. First chemist to the current Emperor Ashioto-no-Taiyou.'

The woman looked to Hemil. The lump in his throat bobbed, but no sound came past his parted lips.

'Pack for her, boy,' Chowa ordered. 'Find yourself another she-ox to impregnate. This one was never meant to be yours.'

Blood pounded in Lanna's ears; words flew from her lips. 'I don't care who you are, I'm not leaving.' Her hand clasped around a clenched fist at Hemil's side. 'I'm to be married.'

The woman looked down her nose and a sly grin slipped over her red mouth.

'You took a vow of obedience in exchange for citizenship. Break it and it will not be your freedom that is forfeit.'

Chowa glared down at Lanna, moving close and leaning over her. Lanna wanted to sneeze as the sickly-sweet stench of flowers turned her delicate stomach.

'Refuse and I will evacuate this hovel. No one will question me. The governor may even congratulate me. Administration costs exceed tax revenue for settlements so small.'

She straightened and folded her hands into the huge sleeves of her garment.

'Do you wish to be responsible for this entire village being made homeless? Forced to move to a town, losing their land. All because you won't do your duty?' Her voice dropped to a whisper and those present bowed as one, foreheads pressed to the ground.

Hemil snatched his hand from Lanna's touch and did the same. She stared at him, grovelling before Chowa, and her throat narrowed, burning as tears pricked at the corners of her eyes.

'There is no choice for you, Lanna.'

She looked back up at Chowa's face and her heart stuttered as she saw not even a flicker of empathy in the woman's chiselled features.

'Survival is sacrifice.'

The Southern words struck Lanna like a blow to the stomach. Chowa had turned a mantra of strength to a taunt with a mocking sneer.

'You are in the Emperor's employment from this moment onwards. Savour the honour. Your name will be a legend in this province.'

This couldn't be happening, but the bent backs of those around her gave her no comfort. No one spoke up. No one disagreed.

It was as if they had let her go already.