by John Marco
‘But why? Why did you come here?’
‘To see you,’ Salina argued. ‘To speak to you.’ She felt her resolve shaking. ‘Because I had to see you.’
‘Because the boy came to you,’ said Aztar. ‘Gilwyn Toms. He made it safely?’
‘And delivered your message, yes,’ said Salina. ‘He told me that you were still alive. And that you love me.’
Aztar did not look away. He nodded. ‘I am glad. He was a remarkable boy. We tended to him, right here in this pavilion. Harani looked after him just as she has you. You sent him on his way?’
‘He was heading north, back to Liiria,’ said Salina. ‘I don’t really know why. I gave him all that I could to help him. I have not heard from him again.’
‘And because you helped him, you were discovered,’ said Aztar. ‘I am sorry, Salina. I have worried about you.’
His apology surprised Salina. Like a knife through her heart, she remembered what had drawn her here.
‘You are sorry? Aztar, I betrayed you. I know that Gilwyn told you what I did, helping the Jadori. How can you stand there and apologize to me? Look at—’ Salina choked on her words, shattered by the sight of him. ‘Look at you, Aztar. Look what I did to you.’ She began to cry, and to hate herself for doing so. Even lost in the desert she hadn’t cried. ‘I did this to you. I ruined you. And I’m sorry . . .’
Prince Aztar at last inched closer. ‘That is why you came here? To tell me this?’
‘Yes,’ Salina said, holding her hand to her face.
‘Salina, you did not do this to me,’ said Aztar. ‘It was the will of Vala.’
‘No, Aztar . . .’
‘Yes. I’m the betrayer, not you. It was my love for you that made me betray Vala and fight against Jador. I prayed mightily, but I never confessed the truth to Vala. I made a deal with your father for you, Salina. I wanted to cleanse the desert but I wanted you even more. That’s why Vala punished me.’
‘No,’ Salina argued. ‘I know you believe this but it is not so.’
‘It is!’ Aztar thundered. ‘The little woman of Jador – she made the fire come! She is Vala’s favoured, not I. How can anyone command the sky without the help of Vala? She is blessed by him, and I tried to destroy her.’
‘And that’s why Vala burned you? Why he makes you suffer? Because you loved me?’
‘Because my love for you led me to betray him,’ said Aztar. He held up his burnt hands, hands that had once been beautiful. ‘I will always have these to remind me of what I did, Salina. To you, it may look like a curse. But it has opened my eyes to the truth, and for that I thank Vala every day.’
‘Your burning was the magic of Jador, Aztar, nothing else. Gilwyn Toms explained this to me . . .’
‘The boy said the same to me,’ Aztar snorted dismissively. ‘But he is not one of us. He doesn’t know our ways, our beliefs. I have never seen the hand of Vala so clearly in anything before, Salina. And I accept what Vala has done to me – and why.’
Salina tried to argue, but her words began to fail. There was serenity in Aztar’s eyes, the one thing she had never expected to find there. And there was love as well, just as plain as it had been before his maiming, when they had walked through her father’s gardens and he had read his love poems to her. Had she loved him then? Did she love him now?
‘I don’t know what drew me here,’ she told him softly. ‘I just knew I had to come. I had to see you and tell you what I did. My father said you will not speak to him any longer. He said he sent men to you to help you, but you sent them away.’
‘Your father is part of my sins,’ said Aztar. ‘I cannot see him any more, or take aid from him.’
‘He told me you would not speak of me, either,’ said Salina. She looked at him hopefully. ‘And now I know why. You think I have corrupted you.’
‘No,’ said Aztar. He sighed and went to stand beside the table, still littered with Salina’s supper. ‘How can I make you understand this? Only I am to blame for what happened to me, Salina. I made the deal with your father. I attacked Jador. I thought the Jadori were filth polluting my desert. And I was pleased to make my bargain with your father.’
‘Because you love me,’ said Salina. ‘You love me still. You told Gilwyn that you do.’
‘I am not embarrassed by my love for you. It is what we do with our love that matters. I used mine to betray Vala and to attack those he protects.’
‘But you’re wrong, Aztar,’ pleaded Salina. ‘You have to see that. The Jadori are not chosen by Vala, and you were not condemned by him.’
‘You say this? After protecting them?’ Aztar turned away in frustration. ‘Even you saw the worth of the Jadori, Salina. When I was harming and killing them, you protected them. And you were right to do so. Vala favours them.’
‘He doesn’t.’
‘He must!’ said Aztar, whirling to face her. ‘You were not there, Salina. If you had felt the fire as I did, you would believe.’
The serenity on his face fled, replaced by a grieving pain. Salina went to him. Taking his hand, she guided him down onto the pillows by the table. Aztar relaxed at her touch, yielding to her, and together they sat staring at each other. Neither spoke for a time, and suddenly the insects buzzing outside the pavilion seemed the only sound. Both kept a determined eye on the other, sure of their positions. At last Aztar looked away, picking up a pomegranate from the table and rolling it in his palm.
‘I am glad you came,’ he said softly. ‘Whatever else you might think of me, I want you to know that.’
Salina smiled. ‘Thank you. And thank you for saving me.’ She laughed at her good fortune. ‘I could not have gone on much more without Fahlan and Rakaar. If they hadn’t found me when they did, I think I would have died within the hour.’
‘You would have gone on as far as you could,’ said Aztar. He shook his head with a dark chuckle. ‘All this to reach me. I’m honoured, Princess.’
‘When my drowa died I thought I’d never reach you, Aztar. I tell you, I cannot believe my fortune! To be found in the desert . . .’ She shrugged. ‘The odds of it stagger me.’
Aztar’s red lips tightened. He glanced away. ‘Not so staggering.’
‘Yes! I didn’t even know where I was!’
‘Salina, we must talk.’
Salina lost her smile. ‘We are talking, Aztar.’
‘No. We must talk about your father.’ Aztar put the pomegranate down on the table, then flicked it away. Facing her, he said, ‘What did you think your father would do? Just let you leave Ganjor?’
‘My father? He will send men to come after me,’ Salina admitted.
‘He has, Salina. They arrived here yesterday.’
Salina reared back. Suddenly she understood. ‘That’s why Fahlan and Rakaar were in the desert. They were looking for me.’
‘You should have made it here before your father’s soldiers,’ Aztar explained. ‘When you didn’t, I sent my own men out looking for you. Not just Fahlan and Rakaar but dozens of them. Fahlan and Rakaar went to the oasis because it seemed the sensible place to look.’
Salina grew alarmed. ‘And where are these soldiers now?’ she asked. ‘Still here?’
‘Still here and waiting for you.’
Like a noose tightening around her neck, Salina felt her breath catch. She studied Aztar’s face, hoping for a clue to his intentions. His burned expression simply seemed troubled.
‘I won’t go back with them,’ said Salina. ‘Don’t try to make me.’
‘I want you to think about all of this, please. You need to be reasonable.’
‘I can’t be reasonable, and I can’t go back,’ Salina insisted. ‘I knew what I was doing when I left Ganjor. It wasn’t just to see you, but to escape my father.’
‘Your father? Why? Because he made you stay in your rooms?’
‘Because he killed the man who helped me,’ said Salina. ‘And a girl who knew almost nothing – my handmaiden – was flogged. He’s of the old ways, Aztar.’<
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‘Like me?’
Salina nodded, hating to admit it. ‘Yes. Like you. His advisors have all spoken against me. Some of them wanted me flogged like my maiden. And my father agrees with them. He only stayed his hand because I’m his daughter. What kind of life is that for me, Aztar? I can’t go back to it. I won’t.’
‘Salina, you are not thinking. It was madness for you to come here, and it would be madness for you to stay. You are your father’s daughter. You—’
‘Don’t tell me that I’m being a silly girl, Aztar. I know I’m a girl. Does that mean I don’t have rights? That I can be beaten like an animal whenever a man chooses?’ Salina gave the prince a withering glare. ‘Is that what you believe?’
‘The old ways have served Ganjor well,’ said Aztar.
‘Maybe, but you’re not Ganjeese. You’re a Voruni. Do the Voruni beat their women?’ Salina took his hand. ‘Do you see what I’m asking you, Aztar? If you send me back, you send me to be beaten or worse.’
‘Your father loves you. You are his favourite. He would not do such a thing.’
‘He would, because he listens to his advisors and because it’s what the people demand,’ said Salina. ‘I won’t have it.’
‘You cannot remain here,’ argued Aztar. ‘I have told you already – you are the cause of my betrayal. Vala does not want us to be together.’
Salina tried to stay calm. ‘No, Aztar.’
‘Yes! Damn you, yes!’ Aztar got quickly to his feet and pointed toward the tent flap. ‘Those men are in my camp. They know you’re here and they’re waiting for me to bring you to them, Salina. What shall I tell them? That the Princess of Ganjor won’t go home because she’s afraid of her father?’
‘You may tell them anything you wish,’ said Salina acidly. She got to her feet and faced Aztar’s fury. ‘If they take me, they’ll do so by force, because I will not go willingly.’
‘Then they will carry you! Not like a child, either, but like a trussed up chicken! Is that what you want?’
Salina felt her legs go weak. ‘I want to stay here,’ she said. ‘With you.’
The anger fled from Aztar’s face. ‘I know,’ he said wearily. ‘But you cannot.’
‘Because you believe in some mad curse? I know Vala too, Aztar. It was he who gave love to the world. If you love me, why would he condemn it?’
‘I do not know,’ said Aztar. ‘But he has chosen the Jadori and given them his might. The little woman who leads them – she is his favoured, not me. And you are the reason I fought them, Salina. Not just to claim the desert but to claim you for my wife. My love for you is a corruption.’
‘How can that be? How could love be such an evil?’
‘I tell you again, I do not know,’ said Aztar. He shuffled toward the exit, stopping short of it. ‘I don’t have all the answers, Salina. I’m not even sure why you came here. Was it just to escape your father? Or to apologize to me?’ He paused, then stole a glance at her. ‘Or was it love that brought you here?’
‘Love,’ said Salina, surprising herself. ‘It must be.’ She drifted closer and stood in his warmth. ‘I didn’t know it when I left. I only knew it when I was walking across the desert so I could see you again.’
The answer twisted his face with pain. ‘Come with me,’ he said, then went to the flap and held it aside for her.
Salina didn’t have to ask where he was taking her. At first she hesitated. She made to speak but he held up a hand to silence her, urging her outside. The princess relented, stepping out into the cool night air. As she did, the woman Harani appeared. She had been sitting on a barrel near the tent, waiting attentively, and now rushed forward.
‘Master?’
‘Bring them, Harani,’ ordered Aztar.
Harani blanched. ‘They are waiting in their tent,’ she said. ‘A moment, Master.’
The young woman sped off, disappearing around one of the many pavilions. A handful of Aztar’s men stood nearby, waiting for any order the prince might give. Among them were Fahlan and Rakaar. Salina’s rescuers both gave her a mannered nod. The princess acknowledged them with a wan smile. It had been a long ride from Ganjor. Now it would be a long ride back.
Aztar said nothing as they waited, his eyes occasionally looking skyward at the stars, doing his best to avoid Salina. It was unthinkable to her that she should leave Aztar and return to her father to face his wrath, but now that the soldiers were coming she decided not to fight them. They would win easily, after all, and she was still a princess. Determined to keep her dignity, Salina waited solemnly for them to arrive.
It did not take long, for when Harani returned she led the soldiers into the moonlight. Salina recognized the pair at once. Jashien, the taller of the two, had been one of her chaperones during her month in the palace. The other, a young soldier named Zasif, often watched her from the shadows, admiring her the way many of the palace’s young men did. Jashien sighed with relief when he saw his princess.
‘Princess Salina, thank the heavens you are well! Your father has been insane with worry.’ Jashien looked her up and down, smiling at her appearance. ‘And you are well, just as they told us. Thank Vala.’
Salina was not at all surprised that her father had sent the smooth Jashien after her. He was a lean, quick-witted man, easy to like. And the young Zasif looked unthreatening, the kind of man you might send for a favour.
‘Jashien, my father wants me back? You heard him say that?’
‘Of course, my lady!’ In his button down shirt and red silk sash, Jashien looked splendid, a true herald of the king. ‘I thought I had done with the duty of protecting you. Too soon, I see. You can rest tonight, Princess. We’ll set out in the morning. Your father must have news of you.’
‘No,’ said Aztar.
Salina looked at him, confused. So did Jashien.
‘Prince Aztar?’
‘You may go in the morning, but not with the princess. She is staying.’
‘Aztar?’ probed Salina.
‘My lady, let Vala damn me for this, but I won’t have you taken back to Ganjor to be paraded through the streets just to ease your father’s politics.’
‘What?’ Jashien sputtered. He looked at his princess. ‘My lady . . .’
‘Aztar, I can stay with you?’
Aztar put up his hand, ignoring her question. He looked at the soldiers squarely. ‘Go back to your king,’ he ordered. ‘Tell them that his daughter is safe and well, but that I will not be the one to return her to him. You may stay the night or longer, but when you return home it will just be the two of you.’
‘Prince Aztar, I cannot accept that,’ said Jashien. ‘I was sent to bring back the king’s daughter. And now . . . what? A ransom?’
‘Nothing so despicable,’ said Aztar. ‘She has asked for sanctuary here, and I am granting it.’
‘But you cannot! She belongs to the king!’
‘I belong to no one, Jashien,’ Salina fired back. ‘I am my own woman. I make my own choices. You may tell that to my father.’
Jashien laughed. ‘And you condone this? Really, Prince Aztar, think on what you’re saying. This girl has no right to ask your aid. If you give it, you’ll only invite the king’s anger.’
Aztar nodded darkly. ‘I know this.’
His answer vexed them all. Jashien frowned and looked at Salina. ‘Princess . . .’
‘You have my reply,’ said Salina. She straightened, liberated by Aztar’s protection. ‘Go and tell my father what I’ve told you. Tell him that I am a free woman, with my own free will. Tell him that exactly.’
‘You’re making a mistake, Princess,’ Jashien advised. ‘Please don’t do this.’
But Salina had already made up her mind. It was a decision she’d made weeks ago. She ordered her countrymen to go, and did not wait for them to respond. Instead she took Prince Aztar’s scarred hand and led him back into the tent.
24
On the river, Lukien’s troubles seemed a thousand miles away, and the tow
ns and farms on the banks lulled him, calling to him to stay. Overhead, the sun was perfect, the way it always was in this part of the world, glistening off the blue water as the barge skimmed quietly across the river’s placid surface. Past the rocky shore where a fishing village clung to the shoals, a range of blue-green mountains reached skyward, crowned with mist. Children gathered on the shore, wading into the river as the barge passed, announcing the Red Eminence of Torlis with a snapping scarlet flag. Wind tugged at the cloud-white sails, filling them with gentle strength. Below deck, unseen by Lukien and Lahkali’s royal entourage, a team of oarsmen waited to paddle the barge when the wind failed. Lukien looked across the shore and waved at the shouting children. They had been at sail for most of the morning and the saline air invigorated him. The children waved back excitedly.
It was called a feruka, this royal boat they sailed, and though the river around Torlis teemed with them none were so grand as Lahkali’s own. She was bigger than the others, a barge of royal bearing, her blonde wood oiled and shining, her stout masts groaning as the wind met the sails. On its top deck sat Lahkali’s entourage, serious-looking men and their gilded wives, shielded from the sun by silk canopies. At the bow, a handful of sailors piloted the ship while most of their comrades remained below, out of sight.
Lahkali herself sat on a throne in the centre of the deck, raised above all the others. To Lukien, she looked radiant, dressed in a white gown that fell only to her knees, her neck and wrists decorated with gold jewelry. The old priest Karoshin sat at her right with a smile on his face, pointing out the landmarks on the bank while Lahkali nodded politely. To Lukien’s great surprise she had reserved the seat at her left for him, a comfortable chair of tawny leather that was shorter than her own but still a good bit grander than those occupied by the others on deck. Among those others was Niharn, the fencing master. Seated near the stern of the barge, Niharn turned around just as Lukien thought of him. The two shared an insincere smile before the soldier looked away.
It had been nearly two weeks since Lukien had taken over Lahkali’s training. In that time he had worked the girl to near exhaustion, always without Niharn’s help. Lukien had asked nothing of Niharn, and he supposed the old master had taken umbrage at the slight, though he never dared show it. In truth, none of Lahkali’s underlings had been impolite, allowing Lukien full reign over their young ruler to train her as he wished. So far, the process had been difficult, yielding mixed results. Lahkali had not yet worked with the katath, the forked weapon so favoured by her people. She had neither the size nor strength for the one she had been trying to use, and while the smiths of the palace made her one more suited to her stature, Lukien had trained her to fight using sticks instead.