“Is Duilio here, too? Our Strategos?”
“I shouldn’t talk about that.” Rao stepped closer to the bars of the cell. “What about your arms? Can I see them?”
Realizing it made no difference anymore, Lucia pulled back her sleeves. A moment later, she pulled the sleeves down again.
“Amazing,” he said.
“They are tattoos.”
“Briraji has canny senses. He said you would say that, and that you are lying.”
The sage is called Briraji. Remember, the sage is Briraji. “Well then I can’t convince you, can I?”
“Would you try?” he asked.
Lucia became aware of herself shaking her head in frustration, then stopped, not wanting to give the prince any more clues. “They are tattoos.”
“There has never been a time with two Haizzem, has there?”
“Exactly. It’s impossible.”
“Unless this is the first time in history.” Rao’s hand shot to his chin. He scratched it as if experiencing a revelation. He took slow steps, a few in one direction, a few in another, keeping his head turned toward his prisoner.
“Let’s talk about something else then,” he said. “Think back to the day you and your goddess created the great lightning storm. Do you know I’m the one that stopped you?”
“I felt an evil presence around me before I fell down unconscious.” The prince smiled, but Lucia continued, “We found out later you had taken credit for stopping me. So it was you.”
“Your Grace, I did stop the storm, but as I did I sent you a message of peace. I could have really hurt you or killed you. And then at the ambush, after the rainstorm, I could have killed you and the man who came after you. You said that was also Ilario?”
“Yes.” And Lucia realized he was right, that he could have hurt her and Ilario much worse that day. But he wanted our army to retreat. That’s why he didn’t kill us.
“I am a man of peace. I wanted to negotiate a conclusion to this war, but you were gone before we were able to discuss it.”
His words were very, very hard to accept. She knew he was a skilled liar. “What do you want from me?” she asked.
“I want your people to go back to their homes and leave Pawelon alone.”
Gods! Could it be? Could she have misjudged him this much?
“Your father offered to give back to us my lady Narayani in exchange for you. Our general and my father said no.”
“How did my father capture her? I have to tell you, I saw her there, interfering with your combat.”
For the first time, the prince looked afraid. “What do you mean you saw her?”
“I saw her arguing with my brother. She saved your life.”
The prince’s face stretched long in shock. “I have to go now. I want you to consider something. Remember I did not hurt you or kill you the first two times I had the chance—”
“Except when your friend tried to smash my face.”
“We were defending ourselves. You came for us. Your Grace, I want to work with you.” The prince looked around the room and continued speaking in Rezzian, as before, “My general has his own ideas. Your father does, too. But think about what we can do together to end this war. Consider this.”
Lucia watched Prince Rao exit the room without another glance or word for her. She needed more time to think over their conversation.
Chapter 67: The Measure of Old Dreams
DUILIO FELT GRATEFUL staring at the jagged stone walls of his ancient prison cell. The old Strategos had been granted another miracle, another day of life. He had a bench to sit on, a bit of water to drink, and a little bowl of lentil soup, even if it hadn’t been seasoned with any of those wonderful Pawelon spices.
He had been stripped of everything. His horse and armor and weapons, even his necklace bearing the ivory symbol of Lord Cosimo. His dear father had given it to him during his youth, in an era that felt as if it occurred many lifetimes ago.
In his solitude, away from soldiers and weapons and unbearable sun and a king and his two royal children, Duilio found his entire life to be a wispy memory, something once so important: every love, every pain, every near-sighted hope and dream. Had those old dreams mattered? Attaining his station? Raising three beloved children? Winning a war? He couldn’t decide. Either those old dreams had mattered not one bit, or their measure was and always would be boundless.
Now, on what could be the last day of his life—he still didn’t know what the Pawelons would do with him—he felt grateful for another breath of air, however soiled by stale urine and new feces, because each breath gave him another chance to remember his god, The Lord of Miracles, and to hope he was a worthy recipient of Cosimo’s divine grace.
Footsteps and low voices sounded from outside his cell. The act of sitting up reminded Duilio how emaciated he felt by his impoverished conditions. It was a hoary creak, the moan of the door’s hinges. He wondered how many centuries the metal had labored.
General Indrajit entered. Duilio stood and bowed his head just enough to salute him. The enormous rajah entered the room after the general.
The two Pawelon men stood side by side, a little closer to the cell than to the center of the room, close enough to be intimate, but not uncomfortably so.
“I have a question,” the rajah said in his rumbling voice. “We have taken the king’s daughter—”
“Lucia?”
Rajah Devak nodded. “I threatened King Vieri, told him that if he does not retreat I will do unthinkable things to her.”
The rajah’s threat reminded Duilio how many horrors were committed in the dark corners of their world.
“Your king replied,” the rajah continued, “saying if we lay a finger on his daughter, he will not stop until every Pawelon woman and child is a Rezzian slave, until every man and every bit of Pawelon culture is gone.”
Rajah Devak took two more steps toward Duilio. “Tell me, knowing how we have threatened him, would King Vieri attack us again?”
Duilio licked his lips and realized he was probably smiling. “Vieri loves his son and his daughter. He also loves his war. I am sorry. I really can’t tell you which he loves more.”
Chapter 68: Choosing War or Peace
CAIO WANDERED THROUGH THE DESERT VALLEY under the dome of night, toward Pawelon’s citadel. The moon filled the canyon with sparkling white light, illuminating each tiny leaf and red stone. He hiked up the northern route to the fortress and closed the distance with ease.
The goddess Mya beckoned him toward the massive citadel with a wave of her hand, her pale back facing Caio as she walked in front of him.
“Mya, wait for me.”
The goddess maintained her steady pace. Caio ran. Her soft shoulders reflected the milky light of the moon. Once Caio reached her, she stopped and looked up at the great stone walls.
Keeping her gaze upon the Pawelon fortress, she asked, “What is your wish, my son?”
“I want Lucia back safely. And I want to make my decision, to choose either war or peace.”
“I can help you have whichever you wish.” Mya paused. “My son, if you would destroy your enemy’s citadel, witness how I would have it done.”
Mya moved no limb, nor diverted her gaze, but her hair and the leaves of her vine dress flew and fluttered in the sudden storm. The enchanting light of the moon was eclipsed behind expanding brown clouds condensing out of a clear, black sky. The scent of heavy rain blew on the gusting wind.
Caio pulled his cremos robe more tightly around himself just as the storm’s rains began to pound the hard desert. A wicked squall knocked him down, flat against the earth. The storm wailed and howled like the fury of the god Lord Danato himself. Caio found himself unable to stand upright in the wind. He crawled through the downpour to a rock formation and wedged himself between two boulders leaning into each other.
Unrelenting waves of rain crashed against the citadel’s walls like a swell devouring a child’s sand castle. Mya’s form had already vanished
.
A square section of the leading wall broke down and collapsed, spilling rock onto the ground. The hole grew larger with each gust from the storm, until the east-facing wall disintegrated into a mass of rubble.
Caio awoke lying on his side, with warm, smooth legs rubbing against his own. A moment later, he felt Narayani pressing her chest against his back, draping an arm over his body. He turned over and smiled.
She smiled back. “Did you have any dreams?”
He remembered the storm against the citadel. “Yes,” he said.
Caio held Narayani close and felt her heart, both physically and spiritually. He sensed all of her emotional swings, more acutely than he had with anyone he’d ever known.
He knew she felt safe with him in that moment, but she remained confused about whether she could remain with him. She would need to confront those emotions later. Not now. Her instinct for survival motivated her to make love with him and to heal him, but he knew she felt love for him and might consider remaining with him.
“I can’t remember if I had dreams,” she said.
You did. You dreamt of Rao. You were at a beach with him. You were happy together.
She lowered her lips to Caio’s neck and left a soft kiss. Then another. Another …
“My Haizzem!” a man’s voice from outside the yurt interrupted them. “Forgive me. Your father wishes to see you immediately. He is at the pavilion.”
“Very well. I’ll be there soon.”
Caio tried to pull away from Narayani, but she held onto his painted arms.
“Don’t go,” she said.
“You are safe here. I’ll return as soon as I can.”
The light pouring in through the ceiling indicated the morning was young. Narayani threw off the sheet and lay on her side in the nude, facing him. Caio dressed himself in a long, light blue tunic and walked to his altar.
“How do you feel?” she asked.
“Even better today. Thank you for what you’ve done.”
He splashed scented oils on his skin and tunic and stared at The Book of Time. Though he had thrown the book against a wall three days ago, its spine showed no sign of tearing.
He knelt and prayed to Mya and Oderigo, prostrating and kneeling, prostrating and kneeling, prostrating and kneeling.
When he stood up, Narayani was clutching a pillow against her chest with a trickle of tears wetting her face. He sensed what was in her heart: she worried he would not come back.
He sat on the bed beside her and caressed her hair and cheeks. “I command these men. This is my army, and I will not let anything happen to you.”
She sniffled and gazed at him with those dark, sensual eyes. He pulled some of her wet hair away from her cheek.
“There’s plenty of fruit and bread on the table. Eat as much as you like. You can trust me, Narayani. I care about you.”
Caio kissed her forehead and exited his yurt. The soldiers knelt all around him. He blessed them, touching the their heads while thinking of the gods.
“I am your Dux Spiritus and you will obey me. Let no one enter my yurt until I return. This is an irrevocable order. Is this understood?”
“Yes, my Haizzem,” they said together.
“It is also very important that you not let her out for any reason, no matter what she says. She has everything she needs inside that room. She has food. She has water. She has everything she needs for hygiene. She has the power to conceal herself so that you cannot see her. Do not open the door, no matter what she says.”
The guards agreed.
Caio began the walk with a contingent of ten soldiers around him. His muscles felt almost normal again, just a bit sore, after just two full days with Narayani.
He asked the soldiers accompanying him how they fared, and comforted two of them who had not seen their families in years. He asked the men to join him in praying that they would meet their loved ones again soon. Caio prayed he would be alive when it happened.
He enjoyed the walk; it gave him time to contemplate everything happening with Narayani. Lucia’s last words still echoed in his mind: “He (Lord Danato) said this war will not and cannot end before one of you dies—either you or Pawelon’s prince.” If true, if Rao were the one to die, Narayani would need someone else to love and protect her. If she wished to remain with Caio in Rezzia, he might someday take her as his queen. Caio had never known such sweet intimacy.
His thoughts turned to Mya’s words. “I want to make a decision,” he told her in his dream. “To choose either war or peace.”
“I can help you have whatever you wish,” Mya told him.
He marveled at his words in the dream realm. In waking life, he had already made his decision. He found his father at the lookout and waved up at him. More soldiers lowered themselves to the ground in waves as Caio approached the stairs. He touched their heads and imparted the spirit of Lux Lucis to them.
“How do you feel, Son?” his father’s rich voice carried on the gentle wind.
“Healed, father,” he yelled as he began to climb. “She has healed me.”
His father said no other words until Caio met him. They exchanged a Rezzian handshake, grabbing each other’s right forearms. His father squeezed Caio’s uninjured shoulder and led him to the west-facing edge of the pavilion.
The sky opened out. An unusual panorama of white clouds spread out like wings embracing the heavens. The morning air remained crisp and cool against Caio’s skin. They stood side by side, staring at the Pawelon citadel in the distance.
Caio sensed his father wanted to convince him of something. If Caio’s guess was right, convincing him would not be difficult.
“Then you are ready for the next phase?” his father asked.
“I am ready for whatever comes next.”
“Have you had enough time to think over our last conversation?”
“I have. You are right, Father. We may never see Lucia again if we leave this valley. Who knows what cruel things they would do to her? If they are going to harm her, we must stop them. If she is suffering, we owe her that.”
His father smiled and glanced at him. “If our gods will not obey us now, with Lucia and Duilio in a Pawelon dungeon, then when? We can appeal to Ysa, too. The Protector of Man must be enraged.”
“Mya came to me in a dream last night. She showed me that she could destroy the walls of the citadel with a divine rain. Perhaps Ysa would contribute as well.”
“I won’t wait while Lucia suffers.”
Caio sensed his father feeling a great fear. “What are you afraid of, Father?”
The king straightened up his posture and his face grew intractable and proud. “We cannot trust their rajah. He is a vindictive man.”
Caio rubbed his father’s back with his right hand to comfort him. He prayed to Mya to soothe his pain. “Give your worries to Lord Galleazzo. Ask him for his grace.”
His father awkwardly raised his left hand and rested it on Caio’s back. The sides of their bodies touched one another.
“The army is prepared to leave at any time,” his father said. “We should fight today.”
Be with us, Lux Lucis. “Very well.”
His father placed his hands on Caio’s cheeks and turned him until they faced each other. “It is good for the Pawelon girl that she has done a noble deed for the gods of light. She has healed you. She has healed our very Haizzem. This will be good for her soul.”
“Father, I do not want her to be harmed.”
His father stepped back and searched his son’s eyes. “She is a political prisoner. I will do with her as I wish.”
“Isn’t she a military prisoner? She was captured on the field of battle. I believe she falls under my domain.”
“She is a girl, not a warrior. She is the lady of Prince Rao.”
“Yet you are saying she can be put to death for interfering with a military matter.”
“Exactly what would you do with her then?” His father raised his voice and spoke more harshly,
“She nearly got you killed. And she prevented you from killing their prince and winning your duel. Our people demand full justice.”
“I don’t want her to be harmed. No. Under no circumstances.” Caio weighed out whether to say it or not, then spoke his mind. “I could love her.”
His father threw up his hands and showed his teeth as he opened his mouth in shock. “Gods be damned! She’s a witch, taking control of your mind. Her foul herbs are further means of her dark magic.”
“No they are not. She healed me. I can feel her heart. She only wanted to heal me.” And to save herself.
“She may be killing you, Caio. Not all poison acts quickly.”
“No. She is scared. Like many, her life has been ruined by this war. She deserves a good life, like anyone else.”
“Damn, Caio, you have gone mad.” His father stared at him with pained eyes, trying to make Caio feel ashamed. “Do not. I repeat, do not get attached to this pig.”
The king walked away with an air of finality. Caio accepted that he would not hear another word. He sensed that his father intended to make Narayani pay for what happened to Lucia and for the outcome of the duel.
I will change your mind.
Chapter 69: Killing in the Face of Death
SANYAT, A YOUNG PAWELON SOLDIER, pressed himself against the mass of bodies trying to squeeze through the narrowest section of the southern trail. The stench of thousands of unwashed soldiers lingered throughout the tightly packed unit. His spear tip pointed upward, as did all the others.
Random voices yelled:
“Keep moving!”
“Move!”
“They’re nearly here!”
The Rezzians had marched straight into the valley with their forces, not giving away their destination, then turned suddenly en masse toward the southern trail leading up to the citadel. The soldier’s commander decided, perhaps too late, to retreat with all of the southern spearmen to defend the trail at its narrowest point, supported by the archers hiding throughout the cliffs.
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