Catching Pathways

by Danielle Berggren

  Inside the walls lay a grand central courtyard, with a massive reflecting pool in center stage. The water was a deep, emerald green which nonetheless seemed inviting after so many days riding through the parched desert landscape.

  Their guard herded them past the pool and toward the steps leading up to the palace, where they fanned out in front of the horses, stopping their progress. Rodan dismounted, with Maeve and Pike following close behind.

  Maeve looked up, and up, at the spire rising above them and swallowed hard. A pressure rode the air, and she sensed that whoever she met inside would be a formidable opponent if crossed. Wealth and power radiated from the place.

  “Maeve,” Rodan called, his voice soft. “Come here.”

  She moved to his side before she thought twice and frowned a little as he took her arm in his, hooking them together. “Are you okay?” she asked, her voice quiet.

  He gave a slight nod, his eyes flicking to hers. “A united front,” he said in way of explanation.

  Rodan moved forward, and the guards parted before them like water.

  The steps were the same cream-colored stone as the walls, worn smooth by the thousands of feet which came before them. Maeve noted Pike followed the two of them at a small distance, his thumbs hooked through his belt and close to his twin blades. As always, when he wished to, he seemed to blend into the background, almost as though he cast a spell saying, I’m not here, don’t look over here.

  The main doors, intricately carved wood, stood behind two more guards who opened them as they approached. Cool air wafted toward them, scented with perfume and incense. Rodan dropped Maeve’s arm but laced his fingers through hers, moving into the shadowed recesses of the grand entrance.

  Inside a fountain burbled, spilling cool, clear water. Women tittered and laughed from somewhere off in another corridor, and the shrieking giggles of children floated toward them on a breeze. The stonework in the entrance was inlaid with semiprecious stones—lapis and citrine and quartz—in a mixture of floral and geometric patterns. Palms swayed in enormous stone pots in each of the corners, and sheer fabric separated the entrance from the shaded outer courtyards.

  Rodan stopped before the fountain, dipped his fingers in the water, and pressed them to his forehead. He dipped his fingers again and turned to Maeve, applying droplets of water to her own forehead. He nodded at Pike, and the man stepped forward to do the same. Maeve, unfamiliar with the gesture, assumed it had something to do with the greeting customs of the area.

  Soft footfalls sounded, and a man burst through the billowing curtains, his slippered feet almost silent on the stone floor. When he caught sight of the three of them, he grinned and threw his arms wide. “My king! Rodan! My friend! How good it is to see you.”

  Rodan did not let Maeve’s hand go as he moved around the fountain and embraced the man with one arm, kissing him once on each cheek. “Bairam,” he said, smiling a little, “it is good to see you again.”

  The man, Bairam, stood shorter than Rodan by an inch or two, yet looked stocky by comparison. Broad, with a barrel chest, his hair and beard pure white. Eyes so dark brown to be almost black shone with a genuine warmth as he looked upon Rodan. But something about that gaze seemed almost possessive, Maeve thought. As though he beheld a prized possession.

  Bairam’s eyes found her as though drawn by her musings, or at least by her proximity to Rodan. “And this must be Maeve. I heard a lot about you all those years ago, but you were a child! How young you seem!”

  She blushed a little and Rodan squeezed her hand. “In my world time moves differently.”

  “Your world? I would love to hear more about this world. Come, come, I have a meal prepared for you all. You must be hungry. And your companion? Will he join us?” Bairam started moving away while he spoke, gesticulating wildly, “What a journey you must have had. Did you see any of the sand worms? Nasty creatures.”

  “We did,” Rodan supplied, “but from a distance.”

  “Ah, the gods are good,” Bairam said. “Many years ago, they were a nuisance to some of my outlying districts. But you remember that don’t you, Maeve?”

  She nodded. “Yes. I remember.”

  He shook his head. “So young,” he wondered aloud. “So beautiful.”

  Pike cleared his throat and Maeve glanced back at him. He raised his eyebrows and gestured at the sultan’s back, a questioning look in his eyes. Maeve shook her head, unsure what he wanted but sure she did not want to start trouble with the ruler of the fourth Realm in his own home.

  Bairam led them from the entrance area through the billowing curtains and out into a courtyard where great patterned lengths of cloth stretched over their heads to keep off the heat of the suns while letting light filter through. Another fountain stood carved into the exterior wall of the central spire depicted a woman with a jug where water flowed out in an endless stream. Huge, long tables stood along either side of the yard, overburdened with heaps of food.

  Maeve did not have time to take in the feast before her eyes drew to the women and children moving in from the opposite direction. Dozens of them. Beautiful, tall, stately creatures dressed in flowing dresses and shawls, with gold bracelets and anklets winking in the dim light. The children rushed forward to Bairam, like a giggling wave, at least ten of them if not more. None of them were older than seven or eight. All of them jumped and begged when they got to their patriarch, jostling for sweets.

  Bairam let out a belly laugh and reached into his robes, pulling out handfuls of sweetened almonds that he scattered among the children, their greedy hands snatching the treats from the air. He glanced over at Rodan and Maeve. “Grandchildren,” he supplied with a grin. “I have more than I know what to do with. The glorious light of the suns shines upon me.”

  “It must be,” Rodan agreed. “They’re all beautiful.”

  “There are many more,” Bairam laughed. “These are the young ones. Ah, and these are my daughters,” he said with a gesture at the women coming closer. “My wives are on their way. You will eat with us.”

  Maeve’s head whirled as Bairam introduced them to daughter after wife after daughter. The sons, apparently, dined in a separate section of the palace. Bairam had at least fifteen wives, and twice as many daughters. Some were still quite young, no more than ten or so, and they stole shy glances at Maeve under thick eyelashes, giggling behind their hands.

  They sat at the tables, the women and children slipping into place with a quiet efficiency. Bairam sat at the head of the longest table, with Rodan at his right side and Pike to his left. Maeve sat between Rodan and one of the eldest wives, a handsome woman with white in her long braid who smiled at Maeve and offered her a cup of hot sweet tea.

  Maeve never beheld so large a family. After years of being shuttled around from one household to another, she thought she knew all the shapes and sizes they came in, but this gathering was a wholly new experience. Bairam laughed as much as he talked, yelling down the table to include everyone in the conversation. The children ate for a while before they began playing tag and ran around the courtyard in an intricate game of hide-and-seek. The women teased and goaded each other to tell stories or recount family histories.

  Maeve found herself to be a little out of place in her white travel-stained clothes while everyone else dressed in such colorful finery, her unadorned throat and wrists strange in contrast to the clinking, tinkling chime of so many gold and jewels. Bairam possessed a ruby the size of a pigeon egg pinned to his robes. Only Rodan, of the three of them, appeared like he belonged, with the faint glow to his skin and the upturned green and black eyes, otherworldly and elegant among the glittering throng. She and Pike more like servants who crashed the party.

  “So, my friend,” Bairam said, leaning back on his floor cushion with a goblet of golden wine in hand, “what can I do for you while you visit our fair city? I will do all I can for my king.”

  “I have seen that the Realms have largely rejected Sebastian’s rule. Is that true for here,
as well?” Rodan inquired, sipping his own wine.

  “He never once took an interest in us desert-dwellers,” Bairam said, with something like regret edging his voice. “Said there was nothing here of interest. Only sand and dust. What little he knows.” His eyes crinkled as he smiled. “You always knew how important we are. I remember your court well. All those people! You, always so accommodating. If only you were not stripped of your role,” he said with a shake of his head and a glance at Maeve. “That was a true tragedy.”

  Heat rose up her neck and blossomed in her cheeks. “I—”

  “What’s done is done,” Rodan interrupted, placing a hand over hers. “What’s important is we’re united now.”

  “United?” Bairam leaned forward, a keen look back in his eye. “What of my daughters, Rodan? You always danced so prettily with our family, when you had your throne.”

  Rodan gave a small shake of his head, and Maeve felt her stomach sink. This is what she had been fearing all along. “Your daughters are lovely,” he said, gesturing down the table toward them. “I am afraid I have committed myself elsewhere.”

  Bairam’s eyes lit on Rodan’s hand atop Maeve’s. “I see.” A hard edge crept into his tone, and the fine hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, while at the same time her heart squeezed at Rodan’s words. It was the first time he had said something like that in front of others. “There are other avenues to pleasures, are there not, my friend? One does not have to commit themselves to one while spurning the rest.”

  Rodan’s mouth tightened and his fingers convulsed on Maeve’s hand. The food she ate turned to a thick paste, weighing down her stomach. This is exactly what I was talking about. He’s not free to love where he wants. He’s a king, and kings must make matches to create alliances. She pulled her hand out from under his, twisting her fingers together in her lap. Bairam’s eldest wife glanced at her and quickly away, sipping from a silver goblet.

  “One must take their pleasures where they can,” Rodan said, his tone lighter than the subject matter deemed appropriate, in Maeve’s estimation. “But, in certain matters, there is honor in abstention.”

  “Honor?” Bairam laughed. “You are much different from the king I remember, Rodan. You had little care for honor, before.”

  “Perhaps,” Rodan said with a slight smile, “this is why I’m in the position I am now.”

  There fell a small silence, filled with the tinkle of jewels and the rustle of long skirts. Bairam glanced down the table toward his family, tearing his gaze from Rodan. “Leave us,” he barked, his voice and countenance severe.

  Maeve spoke while the women rose and filed out of the courtyard, ushering the children to attend them. “I can tell you care for Rodan. I want you to know I would never hurt him again. What happened in the past was because I was—because Sebastian led me to believe I did the right thing. I was young. It was stupid, but I’m here now, and trying to rectify the mistakes I made.”

  Bairam’s dark eyes settled on her. “It was you who took the throne from him. All of us who matter know you were the true power behind the rebellion.”

  Heat seared her face. “I didn’t know,” she protested, the excuse sounding weak even to her own ears.

  The sultan leaned forward. “Did you see what happened since your friend took the throne, girl? Do you understand the impact your actions took? Do you know how many people have died, or gone missing? Sebastian steals into my land to take my people. He ships them off to that cursed continent, never to be seen again. How is that justice? How is that right?”

  “Bairam,” Rodan said in a smooth, cool voice. “Enough. She explained herself.”

  For a moment, it looked as though Bairam would say something more. His jaw worked, and a pulse jumped at his temples. As though a taut string had been cut, he relaxed into a smile. “Of course, my friend. Of course. Many apologies, lady Maeve. My family has known Rodan for a long time. We are protective of him.”

  Maeve nodded, her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth.

  “I nearly forgot,” Rodan said, his voice smooth and soothing. “For you, my dear friend.”

  Rodan pulled a dagger from midair, the golden weapon materializing in his hand. Festooned with rubies and emeralds, it glittered in the dull light. He passed it to Bairam with a bow of his head, but Bairam put up his hands. “I could not accept such a fine gift.”

  “It is nothing,” Rodan assured him. “It is but a small token of my gratitude to you and your family, for holding faith for all these years.”

  Bairam hesitated before reaching out and clasping the hilt of the gold dagger, pulling it close and examining the intricate carvings along the guard. “We always knew you would return to us, my king. This is a glorious gift, indeed. I shall treasure it always.” He slipped the dagger under his belt and rose, a smile on his face. “Come. I will have rooms made up for you in the palace. You’ll stay with us while you remain in Visantium.”

  Rodan stood, Maeve following and Pike not far behind. “We will seek accommodation in the city, my friend. Travel, I hear, is less than it used to be. I am sure one of your innkeepers could use our coin. We will often visit during our stay.”

  Bairam tried to insist, but Rodan rebuffed his every attempt with a smile and a well-worded compliment. Bairam grew flustered, smiling and laughing along with Rodan’s jests and gentle teasing. Watching them, Maeve became struck by the fact she never before witnessed Rodan with a true friend. Light tension strung between them, true, but there were all the years of separation. Considering they had not seen each other for several decades, they fell into an easy companionship. Not unlike her and Pike.

  Bairam followed them as they left the palace, the two of them talking on the Basu family tree. It seemed that, if Bairam ever needed it, Rodan possessed an encyclopedic history of his family.

  “See us again tomorrow. My sons would love the opportunity to spar with you,” Bairam said, slapping Rodan on the shoulder. “I would show you the changes we’ve made to the palace. It has been many years since you wandered our halls.”

  “I look forward to it,” Rodan said, his fingers woven in with Maeve’s as he pulled her along. “For now, thank you for the meal and the hospitality.”

  “Of course, my friend, of course.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Rodan

  THEY FOUND A RESPECTABLE-LOOKING INN a little off the main road partway between the gates and the central palace, a three-story affair wedged between a banker and a bakery, run by a married couple and their three grown children. As Rodan suspected, they proved almost vacant of guests and were more than happy to accommodate three new visitors willing to pay in gold.

  They rented three rooms. Rodan took the best one, next door to Maeve’s. The people of Visantium did not look well on unwed couples sharing the same room, a fact he pointed out to Maeve before she objected to the separate beds. He had grown used to sleeping beside her, as well, but he held no desire to disrespect their hosts.

  The three rooms lay on the second story and shared a private dining room where the three of them met up to discuss plans for the following days.

  After they ate, Maeve and Pike pushed the dining table against the wall and began to spare like they did each night before bed. Her hair pulled into a high bun, wisps of which floated about her face, she glowed with determination as Pike tested her with wooden practice daggers.

  When Rodan took over her training, they did so with long sword. Maeve did not take to it the way she did to the shorter blades, but Rodan was insistent that she understand how to use any weapon she might take to hand.

  Pike, circling her, said, “I don’t know if I trust this Bairam character.”

  Maeve, her daggers at a middle guard, tilted her head a little. “Why not?”

  “I don’t like the way he talked to you. He was quick to drop the subject when Rodan distracted him, but he doesn’t like you.”

  Pike lunged, his movements a blur, and Maeve backed up. She did not have Pike’s
quickness, but she used what speed she had to her advantage. “Not everyone needs to like me,” she huffed. “I’m not trying to win any popularity contests.”

  “You do, though,” Rodan pointed out from his seat on the edge of the room. “I remarked upon it before—you draw people to you. It is your gift. You helped me with it as well, guiding others toward me.”

  Pike nodded agreement, pressing her back into a corner. Maeve ducked beneath one of his slashing arms and rolled back to the middle of the room. She lost precious momentum as she did so, and Pike put a dagger to her throat. She frowned and stood, the two of them returning to their starting positions.

  Maeve twirled the practice dagger in her right hand. “Whatever the case, I don’t need his approval.”

  “It was a little disarming, to be honest,” Rodan said. “It is the most disagreeable I have ever seen the man.”

  “You haven’t seen him in fifty years,” Maeve pointed out, taking two quick steps forward and striking out, missing Pike by a mere inch. She pressed her advantage, putting him on the defensive. She spoke between strikes, “Thirty years by his count. He probably wants you to marry one of his daughters.”

  “You’re distracted,” Pike growled, disarming Maeve and thrusting a dagger toward her chest. “Don’t talk if you can’t do it and fight.”

  She flushed a deep red and clenched her jaw, falling silent.

  Rodan laughed. His two companions clashed again, and again, until Maeve’s chest heaved from exertion and Pike began to appear a little winded. “Well,” Pike said, “at least we know he’s not working with Sebastian. Bairam made it pretty clear Sebastian has little regard for Visantium.”

  Maeve wiped at the sweat on her brow with the arm of her shirt. “What does Visantium offer the empire? What can any of them offer to you, when you can make anything you wish?”