Roberto Ricci
Kingdom of Deceit (Red Harlequin #2)
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Table of contents
Prologue
11. A New Destiny
12. Survival
13. Paths and Trails
14. Ferya
15. Merchromes
16. The Gatekeepers
17. Dawn of Darkness
18. Escape
19. Serpents and Seeds
About the Author
Copyright
Prologue
Our world is different from yours.
It is a world divided by colors,
Where we wear masks in public to hide our true faces and feelings.
The color you belong to defines who you are and where you will live.
Chromes of different colors never intermingle.
That would be like trying to mate a sheep with a wolf.
And then there are the Harlequins.
I know well, what is true and what is not, about Harlequins.
I have met one and lived to tell my tale…
11. A New Destiny
If you have followed me this far wayfarer, then you know my name is Asheva and that I am a Black chrome. More than a solstice has passed since I left my native city of Axyum. The sweeping changes that forced me to travel to different territories until I arrived here in Everdia, the city of the Greens, were many. But let the God of Time take me back to that moment when everything I had learned about the territories was shattered by the confession of Chtomio, the Harlequin I befriended. And when through his words, I discovered that fate had indeed made curious plans for me.
“Unite the Territories? That’s impossible!” I said.
From the way he replied, it was clear that Chtomio had not expected me to embrace the idea.
“It’s the only way chromes will ever be able to live in harmony with each other. Think, Asheva, how many times must the Blacks and the Reds go to war? How many lives must be torn apart by the death of a father or a son?” He paused to let this settle, knowing that our losses tied us together.
“But every chrome is different!” I said, with utter certainty. “You can’t unite territories that have been separated since the dawn of time.” I thought for a moment about what would happen if opposites like the Green and Black were forced to live together. The very idea was inconceivable to me. “It’s unnatural,” I added.
“I didn’t say it would be easy,” the old chrome replied. “It would mean finding a way to show everyone how chromes of different colors can be united without sacrificing their different cultures. It would take one powerful gesture.”
“Such as?”
Chtomio spoke in a low voice: “A long-lasting peace treaty between the Black and the Red, one that would replace war with trade. Take this for example …”
He produced a pouch of salt from his robe and placed it in front of me.
“Even in times of peace, it’s no secret the Blacks use the Yellow to buy the salt from us Reds. They are too proud to ask us directly.”
“I did not know that,” I said.
“Nor did you know, I am sure, that your sacred forest keeps the Blacks isolated from the rest of the territories. Why else do you think the Blues have such power over trade?”
I thought again about the Harvest Faire and how it was full of chromes of every color, except the Black. As if reading my mind, Chtomio said: “You have to ask yourself who in Axyum gains from such isolation?”
I burst into nervous laughter. “You really are a Harlequin!” I said. “The idea of Blacks allowing any Red chromes to walk freely in their forests would never happen. Everything divides us.”
He took a moment and looked at me. “What is everything?” he asked, quietly. “What is nothing? Are they not the two extremes of the same world? The Black and the Red have fixed territories. If the two had the courage to combine, all the others would soon do the same”
This was pure nonsense to me. “The Elders in Axyum would never agree to such a thing. You said it yourself, they’re so corrupt they’d do everything they could to obstruct the truth.”
“Which is why we need an eldest with the courage, the integrity and the vision to challenge the old ways; someone who can influence others.”
“Good luck finding him,” I scoffed.
Chtomio raised an eyebrow at me.
It took me a full moment to realize what he meant by it, so ridiculous was the very notion.
“Me? You really have taken leave of your senses!”
Chtomio nodded and smiled. “Quite possibly.”
“How can I be an Eldest? I haven’t even reached my sixteenth solstice. And I’m a wanted chrome.”
“Never underestimate the deceiving power of the masks. I have known elders that were only a few solstices older than you are now.
I knew from my own experience that Chtomio was right. The ‘Eldest’ that came to our house was certainly not as old as I’d expected him to be. Nevertheless, he was still a lot older than me. “You’d be surprised at how many times elders have been killed in their prime, during a struggle for power,” he continued, as if reading my mind.
“How do you know so much about the Blacks?” I asked.
“Information gathering is an art among Harlequins, Asheva. It’s what we do.”
For a moment, I wasn’t sure whether he was mocking me or being serious. “But forget about all of that for now. We must build a shelter for the night.”
Now it was my turn to teach Chtomio a thing or two about forest craft. He thought the beach would be a good place for it, but I assured him it was too exposed and windy. I told him how my father had spent so much time with me hunting in the Eastern forest, how he had passed on to me all he knew. I did what he would have and chose a site to build a simple lean-to among the pine trees.
We found a place close to a stream, by a pair of trees two body lengths apart, with space enough between and behind them for both of us to lie down in. As we set about our work, Chtomio told me that he would not be staying with me. I was to stay on my own in the forest.
I couldn’t understand it at all. “What am I going to do here, alone? Why can’t I come to the Red kingdom with you?”
“Because Blacks are still regarded as our enemy.”
“So I’ll wear a Green’s mask. If the aura of our chromes really doesn’t exist, no one will find out.”
“It is out of the question,” said Chtomio. “Just like in other territories, the Green aren’t welcomed in the city of the Reds.”
I argued with him as we chose a sturdy log to serve as my shelter’s transversal beam and heaved it in to place. My body still ached all over and Chtomio had to do more than his share. We managed to tie the log crosswise, about six feet above the forest floor between the two trees, using rope from Chtomio’s cart.
“What about if I traveled with you as a Red, then?” I asked.
“You know nothing of our ways,” he said. “You’d be uncovered as an imposter.”
“I could at least try,” I said, now more curious than ever. “I have mastered the ways of the Green so I can certainly learn those of the Red.” I said this half in jest, but I sensed Chtomio was hiding something from me, something important.
“Enough, Asheva,” he said. “When the time is right you will be able to visit every territory with your head held high and with nothing to fear from anyone.”
“You are fooling yourself. There will never be a right time,” I sulked.
We continued with our work, chopping down two straight young trees. I shaved off their limbs, tying one end of each to the
transversal. Their opposite ends touched the ground, so that the whole now formed a triangular frame. We worked mostly in silence, only conversing to gather materials and thinner branches to lash between the two angled beams for the lean-to’s roof. I tied them tight with a clove hitch knot, the way my father had taught me. Then, I lay down inside the shelter to test its height and length. When I saw that I didn’t touch any of the back beams, I showed Chtomio how to weave long, flexible thin pine branches through them all, way down to the ground. Their pine needles acted like shingles and we layered them on a foot thick, until I had a solid, insulated, waterproof roof.
Chtomio was impressed with my skills.
“I’m pleased to see how clever and resourceful you are, despite your condition,” said Chtomio. Seeing how his praise did nothing to lift my sour mood, he continued, “but your Black pride will not help you in time of need. You must learn to be humble and astute. The time you spend alone here will help me teach you a thing or two.”
“So it’s a Rite of Initiation?”
“The path I have in mind for you is worth ten rites of the Black nation,” he said.
It amazed me how much he knew of us Blacks.
“So why can’t I begin?” I asked.
“You are,” he said. “The first step is to become independent. That is why I must leave you.”
“Already? I mean, right now?” I was still recovering from all that had happened to me in such a short space of time; from my escape from Axyum to near-death on the Wheel of Chance. Even though I didn’t want to admit it to myself, I felt lost.
Chtomio put his hands on my shoulders and looked hard at me. “There are some things only experience can teach you. You are my last hope, Asheva. I need to keep you away from my troubles until you are ready to help me deal with them. Also, if anything happens to me, I would better accept my fate knowing that you are out here, readying yourself to turn our plans into reality.”
This was so much to take in, I didn’t know how to respond. I took a moment and looked at him.
“I’ll be ready,” I said, touched that he had so much faith in my character.
“Good!” he said. “I know this seems hard. Forgive me, but I must make a tough adult of you if we are to succeed. Come, walk with me to my cart.”
Moments later, as he climbed in, he turned to me. “I promise I will return, Asheva. And when I do, you will know more about my plans.
“When will that be?”
Chtomio smiled. “That, I cannot say. But you have my word that I shall come back.”
His word would obviously have to do.
“One last thing,” he said, taking a canvas sack from the back of his cart and handing it to me. Inside were my father’s dagger, my mother’s medallion, my black ceremonial mask and the wooden mask I had used to simulate a Green.
“I picked them up inside the pyramid. Nobody there dared touch anything of a Harlequin’s, the superstitious fools,” he laughed, urging his horse forward. “Stay well, Asheva.”
I watched his cart roll along the beach until it became but a small speck and then vanished from sight. When it had, I had never felt so alone, even when I was forced to flee Axyum. Back then, my mind had been preoccupied with escape and survival. Now, I would have all the time in the world to think and remember many things I would rather forget.
The sight of the sun sinking lower in the sky banished my gloomy thoughts. I had to make a bed for my shelter.
My father had taught me that warm days could be deceiving. During the night, anyone who slept on the ground would lose body heat. To prevent this, I cleared out all the rotting leaves and twigs from the forest floor inside my lean-to. Then, I heaped in a heavy layer of pine needles and covered them in moss I scraped from trees and boulders, so I could insulate myself from the ground. I was proud of my handiwork, too, and I sent my father’s spirit a prayer of thanks. I also gathered stones from the beach and created a fire ring in front of the shelter. I used my flint to light a fire the moment darkness fell. Inside the lean-to, I discovered a bag of dried jerky Chtomio had left me for my first night. I ate it by my fire while thinking about the events of the day; a day that would always remain crystal clear in my memory as the one which the gods chose for me to begin walking down a new path, toward a new destiny.
12. Survival
The following day, I took a plunge in the surging waves of the sea. Carrying the sour odor of several days’ travel on my body, layered on top of the stench from the dungeons of Ayas, I reckoned I stank bad enough to make a vulture vomit!
Yet, the moment I dived into the waves, the memory of those unpleasant days faded away. I had learned the ways of the water in the River Axi, but the sea was different. The churning currents embraced and invigorated me while the salt had the flavor of a new life. The many fleet and wild marine animals living in its vast cradle inspired new feelings of freedom in me. As the waves rolled me back onto the shore, it occurred to me that we Blacks did not honor a deity of the sea. As I stepped back on to land, there was no doubt in my mind that if one existed, it was benevolent.
Later that night, I snuggled into my lean-to like a creature in its burrow, praying that no beasts would wander near my shelter. I periodically made myself wake up so I could keep an eye out while the waves and the moon kept me company.
When the sun rose the next day and the heat grew strong, I found refuge beneath the shadow of the pine trees. Already, my arms felt better and soon the need to feed myself overtook everything else. I gazed at the woods around me, where food could easily be found, according to Chtomio. Unfortunately, this didn’t turn out to be so. These woods were not like the forests of Axyum, which were full of game. When dusk arrived, I returned home empty-handed and hungrier than ever, trying to convince myself I would have better luck tomorrow.
The next morning, the sunny warmth of the previous day gave way to grey clouds and a stiff wind. I woke up early, trembling with cold. I had never been so hungry in my life. Even my firewood looked tasty. I gazed at the sea. Perhaps I should hunt water creatures rather than creatures of the land? I had eaten fish before, albeit only from the rivers in the Black nation, so I couldn’t see why sea fish might be more difficult to catch.
But the sea was not ready to give up its sustenance and treasure easily. The surf was choppy; the waves no longer playfully rolled onto the shore but crashed onto the beach with a violent booming sound that shook my bones. But it was not as threatening as loss of precious strength that would soon follow if I didn’t find something to fill my empty belly.
I waded into the water with my dagger and began trying to stab anything that swam by. After many attempts, I had yet to succeed. Tiny white fish teased me by swimming in circles, just out of reach. Then I spotted two silver fish in deeper water. I clenched my knife between my teeth and dove toward them, moving in sure, swift strokes.
The gods rooted for the fish, and I quickly found myself gasping for air, unable to keep my head up in the strong current. Luckily, one rogue wave shoved me back to the beach, and I was able to get my footing.
I plunged in again. This time, I saw another shoal of fish close to shore. Learning the lessons of earlier failure, I waded out of the water and grabbed my salt pouch to use as a fishing basket. I went back in to the water, held it open and waited. It worked! Two small blue fish swam inside. I couldn’t get back to the beach quickly enough. I was so famished I didn’t worry about making a fire to cook them and ate them raw, all but the guts which I placed in my sack.
Once more I waded out into the water. Even more fish swam into my sack, attracted by the bait I’d provided for them. I spent the rest of that afternoon happily eating my fill for the first time in two sunrises.
Feeling strong once again and in good temper, I made sure every new dawn brought more progress. In Axyum, I had seen my mother dry meat with salt to preserve it. Using the salt Chtomio gave me I began to smoke and salt the fish I caught. I also set traps in the forest and wove supple seagrass blades toget
her for blankets. I built a bucket for toting water and an ax from a giant razor clam shell. I also decided that I would not wait for Chtomio to visit and teach me his ways. During his absence, I would practice fighting on my own. That way, he would surely be impressed by my initiative!
The first thing I did was carve a wooden sword so I could simulate bouts, using the sea birds as my audience. I also took up running again, just like I used to do in Axyum, when Andahar and I raced along the city walls.
Many times, I wondered how my old friend had fared during the Rite. It stung to know that he now considered me a murderer and traitor. I wished more than anything that one day I could return and tell him the truth. I also thought of my mother. Each time I did, I had to suppress the strong urge to return to Axyum and look for her. But Chtomio was right; I would surely be killed if I went back to my native city. The Blacks needed time to forget about me. But knowing this did nothing to comfort me or to alleviate the pain that grew out of not knowing what had happened to her.
I tried to shut all such thoughts out and concentrate on my training. My muscles hardened and my body grew limber. My skin tanned in the sun. And yet, as much as I tried to force myself to live in the present like the other wild creatures, my time alone gave my thoughts no rest. I also began to mark every night I passed in the forest by carving small crosses on my lean-to’s support beam. So far, I had carved twenty and still no news from Chtomio.
Chtomio the Harlequin, Chtomio the chrome who saved me in Ayas and who knew how to rig the Wheel of Chance. Chtomio, who declared chromes and Harlequins were one and the same. That meant we all had the same gods. Did the gods even really exist? Had they also been created during the primitive ages, just like the color separations of the chromes and the harlequins?
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