The Eyes of God

by John Marco

  “Your king is generous,” said Cahra. “Tell us about him. We are all interested.”

  Miva and the other girl, Yilena, had gathered closer to listen. “What do you want to know?” asked Lukien.

  “A story.”

  “What?”

  Cahra smiled. “Ganjeese are story people. We tell our history in stories. So now you tell us about your king and his story. If he is a great king, he will have a great story.”

  Lukien thought for a moment. Was Akeela a great king? A great humanitarian perhaps, but he had ruled Liiria too short a time to be called a great king.

  “There are no stories about Akeela,” said Lukien. “I’ve known him all my life, and can’t think of a single one.”

  “But that is a story,” argued Cahra. “You and him, together. If you have known him all your life, then that is his story, and yours. Tell us. It will pass the time.”

  Knowing that he had nothing but time on his hands, Lukien agreed. He told them of Akeela, and how he was a good man with big visions for Liiria, a man of peace and justice, and he told them how he had met Akeela in the streets of Koth. Cahra and her sisters listened, enthralled, as Lukien told of growing up in Lionkeep as ward to King Balak, like a brother to Akeela, and how they had attended war college together. Lukien bragged about his own exploits as a soldier. He had posted almost identical grades as Trager, he said, but he was the better soldier by far, and that was why he was Captain of the Royal Chargers. Cahra smiled at the boast but let Lukien continue, and for almost an hour he regaled them with tales of wars and soldiering and his comradeship with Akeela, which he explained was stormy at times but was quick to point out how much they truly, truly, loved each other.

  “Brothers are like that, you know,” Lukien stressed, knowing it was for his own sake that he took such pains to explain things. Cahra listened and seemed intrigued by this, even suspicious, yet still she said nothing. Finally Lukien came to the part in his story where King Balak died, leaving his throne to Akeela. He told them about Reec, and how Akeela was determined to make peace with them, and how King Karis had greeted Akeela warmly, even after years of war. Finally, he told them about Cassandra.

  “Ah, so your king has a woman,” said Cahra. “Tell us about her. Is she very beautiful?”

  “Oh yes,” said Lukien softly.

  Cahra’s eyes narrowed on him. “The queen is special to you.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Your voice. It changes when you speak of her.” Cahra looked at her bare feet dangling off the side of the wagon. “Forgive me. If you do not wish to speak of her . . .”

  “No,” said Lukien. “I don’t mind. It’s just that Queen Cassandra is very ill. She may not survive. I’m worried about her, that’s all. And I’m worried about Akeela.”

  “Yes, I can tell. You think of them often. They are both special to you.”

  Lukien grinned. “You should be a fortune-teller, Cahra.” Then he sighed. “I don’t want to talk about Liiria any more. It’s your turn to talk. Tell me about Jador.”

  “You will see Jador soon enough.”

  “Prepare me, then. What’s it like?”

  The girl thought for a moment. “It is pretty.”

  “Like Ganjor?”

  “No. Ganjor is dirty. Jador is clean and beautiful. All white.”

  “But how do they live in the desert?” asked Lukien. “Ganjor is near the Agora River. What do the Jadori do for water?”

  “Jador has a river. It comes from the mountains. And Jador is not in the desert. It is like the start of a new world.”

  “New world? You mean there’s more beyond the desert than Jador?”

  Cahra looked away as if being caught in a lie. “There is always more,” she said evasively.

  “What’s beyond Jador?”

  “I told you—the mountains.”

  “And after the mountains? What’s beyond them?”

  Cahra shrugged. “I do now know. I have never been.”

  Lukien could tell the girl was hiding something. “But you must have some idea. Are there other countries past Jador? More people like them, perhaps?”

  “There must be people beyond the mountains,” said Cahra simply. “The world is large.”

  “Yes,” said Lukien. “I suppose.” He wasn’t satisfied with the answer, but decided not to push. He was about to change the subject when he heard a shout.

  “Lukien, Trager, look!” cried Figgis gleefully.

  Lukien looked at the librarian. He was pointing to something ahead, something vast and long on the horizon. After days of endless sand, Lukien had to think for a moment before recognizing the things for what they were—mountains.

  “I’ll be damned . . .”

  Cahra laughed. “You see? The desert is a trickster.”

  Lukien shielded his eyes with a hand. “Jador?”

  “Almost,” said Cahra. She spied the mountains coming into view. “You will see it soon.”

  Kahan Kadar’s city of white and gold sprawled at the base of a brooding mountain range, shining like a beacon across the burning sands. It was tall with towers and domes and lined with limestone streets, and it rivaled Koth in size and beauty. There was no city gate to guard it, only a welcoming avenue down its center. Green trees served as sentries to the city, bursting with fruit and swaying lazily in the desert breeze, while a winding aqueduct roamed above the roads, bringing water down from the distant mountains. The streets of Jador bustled with caravans from around the desert, swarming in and out of the city’s many streets. There were drowa everywhere and dark-skinned people much like Jebel’s clan. And there were kreels. From his place on the outskirts of the city, Lukien could see the fleet-footed lizards scrambling through avenues, some being ridden, others pulling trading carts. After five days in the desert, it was like a dream to Lukien, and he watched it wide-eyed from the confines of his cowl, eager to reach the gleaming city.

  “Great Fate, it’s amazing,” said Figgis breathlessly. As he rode at the head of the caravan with Jebel, he kept his gaze fixed on Jador. Lukien and Trager rode beside him. Both were equally struck by the amazing city, but only Figgis seemed unable to look away. “I’ve waited all my life for this,” said the old man. “All my life . . .”

  Lukien smiled at him. “I’m glad for you, Figgis. Enjoy this moment.”

  Jebel overheard the conversation and looked at Figgis oddly. “All your life? To make this simple trip?”

  “Simple for you, maybe,” said Figgis. “But not for me, or anyone else from the north.” He smiled at Jebel. “You have done me a great service, my friend, and I’m grateful. Seeing Jador was always my greatest dream. And now . . .” He sighed, taking in all of the desert city’s glory. “Now I feel like I could cry.”

  “Please, don’t,” said Trager. “Spare us that at least, will you? We have a mission, old man. Remember that.”

  Lukien shot Trager a warning glance. “Easy.”

  “Yes, your mission,” said Jebel, nodding. “You will want to see Kahan Kadar quickly.”

  “If possible,” said Lukien. “But will that be difficult? He’s the kahan, after all. Where do we start?”

  Jebel pointed toward the city. “The green tower,” he said simply.

  Lukien squinted and saw a cylinder of lime-colored stone rising from the city streets. “What is it?”

  “Kadar’s palace. You will go there, speak to the kahan.”

  “And he will see us?” asked Trager. “Just like that?”

  Jebel laughed. “You do not know Kahan Kadar.”

  “No, I don’t,” said Trager. “Tell me.”

  Jebel looked at Trager. He replied, “Even you will be welcomed by Kadar.”

  Lukien didn’t laugh. “I just hope you’re right, Jebel. We’ve come so far; I don’t want to be turned away now.”

  “When Kadar learns you are emissaries, he will welcome you,” said Jebel.

  “Emissaries,” said Lukien sourly. “Right.”

&nbs
p; None of them had told Jebel the truth of their mission, and now that they had reached Jador Lukien felt a familiar pang of guilt. As they rode toward the city’s main avenue, he noticed that none of the men were armed. Just as there were no soldiers or gates barring the way, there were no swords or daggers, and none of the drowa or kreel were armored, the way horses often were in the north. Lukien recalled what Figgis had told him—that the Jadori were peaceful. Now, seeing their serene, unarmed city, he believed it completely. He realized suddenly that his plan to steal Kadar’s amulets would be easier than he’d thought. For some reason, the realization saddened him.

  Dressed as they were in the Ganjeese gakas, no one took particular notice of Lukien and his companions as they neared the city, but by the time the caravan entered Jador the people in the streets began to surround the wagons, shouting at Jebel and his family and holding out silver coins.

  “Figgis,” whispered Lukien, “can you understand what they’re saying?”

  “Only a bit,” the librarian replied. “I think they’re asking what the caravan has to sell.”

  “Look at them,” spat Trager. He glanced down at the people milling about his drowa, plainly disgusted. “Like animals.”

  But Lukien didn’t think they were animals. He thought they were beautiful. Like their Ganjeese cousins across the desert, the Jadori had dark skin and shiny, dancing eyes. The women wore multicolored robes and silk veils over their faces, and the children laughed as they played. Lukien looked around at the structures of white and gold, awed by their sunlit beauty. Overhead the aqueduct gurgled, bringing its life-giving water. He saw a fountain at the end of the street, marveling at the way the water cascaded over its limestone tiers. Exotic looking trees stood around the fountain, almost completely bare of limbs except for sprouts of fanlike leaves at their tops. A warm breeze tumbled down the avenue, bearing the scent of strange perfumes. For Lukien, the noise of Jebel’s bartering fell away; he felt remarkably happy.

  “You’re right, Figgis,” he said. “It’s beautiful.”

  Figgis sighed. “It’s paradise. Just like I knew it would be.” He turned to Lukien and Trager. “You see? I was right. It’s just like I told King Akeela.”

  “Fine,” said Trager. “Now let’s find those amulets and go home.”

  Lukien nodded. “Sorry, Figgis, but Trager’s right. We can’t dally. Let’s get on to the palace and find Kadar.”

  Figgis didn’t argue. He went to Jebel, asking him to take them to the kahan’s palace. Jebel agreed, telling Cahra and the others to see to their business. The wagons came to a stop in the street and were soon surrounded by eager Jadori. Jebel said good-bye to his daughters and brother, then rode out ahead of his charges, leading them out of the bustling street and down a quieter corridor shadowed by tall buildings. The Jadori that passed them did not stop to stare this time, and Lukien made sure to keep his face covered. As they rode through the avenues, changing course with the flow of the streets, the palace of Kahan Kadar came into view before them. Sunlight played on its copper dome, aged through countless years to a green patina. The main tower rose high above the city, a twisting spire of emerald and gold. People and drowa and kreels choked the square outside the palace. But once again there were no soldiers baring the way, only men in dark gakas milling around the open archway. Lukien took careful measure of the palace. The main archway led to the huge square, and the square led to the crowded streets. Fleeing the palace would be difficult, even if stealing the amulets wouldn’t be. He realized at once they would have to flee at night, when the streets would be less crowded.

  Once Jebel had led them into the square, he dismounted, telling them all to do the same. He pointed at the archway to the palace. “Kadar.”

  “Yes,” said Lukien, understanding. “But how will we see him?” He got down from his drowa. “We can’t just walk in and ask for him.”

  “Come,” said Jebel. “Let me show you.”

  Jebel led his horse through the archway onto a carpet of cool grass just outside the palace. Lukien and the others followed him warily. There were children on the grass, playing with a leather ball, and men and women sitting around in little circles, happily ignorant of the nearby foreigners. The shadow of the green tower fell gently on the field. Jebel cleared his throat to get some attention, then began to speak. All around the yard people turned to look at him, then at the strangers with him.

  “Figgis?” Lukien asked. “What’s he saying?”

  The old man shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  Jebel turned to them. “Uncover your faces,” he said.

  “What?”

  “Your face wraps,” said Jebel. “Take them off.”

  Lukien hesitated. The people in the yard were staring at him. Some began to inch closer. Very slowly he reached up to his face cloth and pulled it down.

  One by one the Jadori stood and gaped. Figgis and Trager both uncovered their faces, and soon the children in the yard began to point in astonishment. But they weren’t horrified the way Lukien had feared. Instead, their smiles lit the yard.

  “I told them you are visitors from far away north,” said Jebel.

  “By the Fate,” hissed Trager. “Why’d you do that?”

  Jebel laughed. “To show you how stupid you are to be afraid. Look! I told you they would welcome you.”

  Ignoring Lukien’s orders to keep back, Figgis raised his hands in friendship to the crowd, then began to speak in his broken version of Jadori. The men and women listened carefully, trying to understand. But enough of the meaning was clear to them. They returned Figgis’ greeting, putting their hands together and bowing to him. Figgis laughed in delight.

  “You see, Lukien?” he cried. “I told you they were peaceful. Jebel was right—they’re welcoming us!”

  His suspicions ebbing, Lukien followed Figgis forward. A crowd of children gathered at his legs, looking up into his striking, pale face. They pulled at his garments, urging him down. Lukien knelt and let them touch his face. A little boy stared into his blue eyes and gasped.

  “Liiria,” said Lukien to the children. “That’s where I’m from. Liiria.”

  The boy frowned. He tried to say the word, but could not. Lukien laughed.

  “It’s all right, I’ll teach you later,” he said. He rose and looked back at Jebel. “So?” he asked. “What now?”

  “Now we wait for Kadar,” replied Jebel. He didn’t move from his spot on the grass, but nodded toward the palace. Lukien listen carefully and heard people shouting Kadar’s name. Excitement rippled through the yard and into the open halls of the tower.

  “Shouldn’t we at least go in?” Lukien asked. “Surely the kahan won’t come to us.”

  Jebel simply shook his head. Lukien watched the opening in the tower, swelling now with curious people. A few moments later, a man came skidding into the yard, stopping short when he saw the visitors. Instantly his face went from astonishment to glee. The people in the yard parted to let him pass, but he merely stood there, staring, his youthful face fixed with a joyous smile. He wore regal robes of gold and crimson, the sleeves hanging in loose loops from his arms. His hair was jet black without the slightest hint of gray and slicked back against his head. He was neither tall nor short, but he was striking nonetheless. And most striking of all was the item hanging from a chain around his neck. Lukien’s jaw fell open when he saw it—a beautiful, jewel-encrusted amulet.

  “Figgis . . .”

  “I see it,” whispered Figgis.

  Lukien could only stare back at Kahan Kadar. He was just as Figgis had expected—amazingly youthful, as if disease had never touched him. Merely yards away, he regarded the strangers with silent awe. His dark eyes darted toward Jebel, who bowed and spoke to the kahan.

  “Bow, bow,” urged Figgis, who followed Jebel’s lead. Lukien and Trager did the same. To their astonishment, Kahan Kadar put his hands together and returned the gesture. Then he clapped like a school boy, laughing in delight.

  “Tell him wh
o we are, Jebel,” said Figgis. “Tell him we mean no harm, and that we’re on a peace mission.”

  As Jebel explained, Kadar nodded. The kahan had an almost comic exuberance about him, like a younger version of Figgis. Not surprisingly, Figgis was the first of the group to step forward. With all of Kadar’s people watching him, he again tried out his poor Jadori. Kadar listened, sometimes nodding, sometimes frowning. Jebel hurried to his aid, explaining that Figgis was from Liiria, and that he and the others had come bearing peace offerings from their own king, Akeela. Kadar beamed at the news. He began speaking quickly to each of them, his voice as melodious as it was confusing.

  “I’m sorry,” Lukien offered, “but I don’t understand you. I—” He snapped his fingers. “Wait,” he said, then went to his drowa. The children surged around him as he unpacked the gifts they had brought, gold coins and flasks of perfume and ruby rings, all donated by Akeela to appease Kadar. Eager little hands reached for the items, but Lukien held them out of reach as he gave them to Kadar, who nodded before handing them out to his people. Surprised, Lukien looked at Jebel.

  “Kadar thanks you for the gifts,” said Jebel, “but he does not need them. Do not be offended. The kahan is very generous.”

  “Apparently,” said Lukien. The children squealed happily as Kadar doled out the gifts. The Jadori men and women smiled. Kadar continued talking, letting Jebel translate for him.

  “The kahan says he is honored that you would come so far to see him, and that you would cross the Desert of Tears for peace.”

  “Tell him it’s our pleasure,” said Figgis. He was plainly enchanted with Kadar.

  “Yes,” added Lukien. “Tell him the honor is ours, and that we’re pleased that he and his people have welcomed us.”

  Jebel told Kadar what Figgis and Lukien had said. He did not bother looking at Trager, who was customarily quiet as the children milled around him. Kadar replied by saying they were all welcome in his palace, and that he was eager to hear about Liiria and its great, generous king. But before Jebel could finish translating another figure emerged from the palace, a striking young woman with straight black hair down to her backside and her stomach swollen with pregnancy. She had Kadar’s warm smile and a dark, regal look, and when the people saw her they greeted her with bows.