She rested her hand on Elra's forehead and summoned all the warmth, love and care she had inside, both for this woman and her sister, now gone. The emotions swirled within her, causing a strange feeling she now recognized as the growth of healing power.
Elra sighed and her eyes closed. The heat grew and traveled into the palm of Elishiba's hand, transferring to Elra. It seemed as if Elra were an open channel, and Elishiba sensed this was somehow different than when they had dealt with the shayatin. Then it was as if she and Amshazar had to force the power into him, for he was unwilling. Her handmaiden—although deeply wounded at this time—had an open communication channel with her mistress, which enabled the healing power to travel swiftly to where it was needed.
Elra's body trembled against the blankets and then stilled. After a few moments, Elishiba moved her hand away. Elra opened her eyes and looked at her mistress. She sat up and rested herself into Elishiba's arms, who rocked her slowly. The grief had not gone, nor would it ever. But it had been tempered.
They stayed that way for some time, and then Elishiba drew back and looked into her handmaid's eyes. “Do you wish to return to Suzin?"
Elra shook her head.
"Take some time to think about it. You can return with The Immortals, you will be safe."
Elra squeezed her mistress's hand before giving a sad smile. “I don't understand why this has happened, but my place is with you, more so now than ever."
"I'm glad of it, but say the word and you will be safely home in Suzin.” She took a deep breath. “This has perhaps occurred to make me afraid, but I cannot let it happen."
"I feel that too.” Elra seemed thoughtful now. “The evil that has struck at my heart and yours,” she blinked, and Elishiba felt the depth of her contained emotion. “We must not let it creep into the heart of Aleem."
Reaching into her lap, Elra clutched at the sash that Amra once wore. Lifting the precious fabric in her fingers she bent to kiss it. Then she lifted it over her head and rested it across her shoulder and down between her breasts, until it lay against her own bind of indigo. “I must be both Amra and Elra for you now, Empress."
Moved deeply by her words and actions, Elishiba nodded. “We will enter the city of Lhastari later today. I am determined to show them that whilst we represent a small, peaceful country, we will not be trampled on."
* * * *
The caravan moved in a more subdued procession than before. Speculation about what had gone on in the camp the night before was, however, rife, the conversations ongoing in low-level murmurs. Amshazar observed it cautiously, his senses honed to pick up information and gauge reactions.
Elishiba rode at the forefront of her closest companions, her magnificent stallion a noble white beast with silver coins spilling over his coat. A worthy mount for her, the horse held its head high. So too did she. Her expression was determined, her beautiful eyes focused on the horizon. Ebony hair escaped her white headdress on one side, sleek as it hung down against her breastbone. Her body undulated gracefully with her steed as she rode, making Amshazar want to hold her in his arms again.
Although they exchanged an occasional lingering glance, he could not reach her so easily at that time. She was hurting from the loss of her close companion, her confusion a wary divide between them. He sensed her mind was focused on their arrival, her hands moving to stroke her mount often the only clue that she was aware of her current whereabouts.
He wanted to lead her away from this path, hide her away in a secret place and make her happy, mesh their bodies together and see the passion flare in her eyes the way it had the night before. But he knew it wasn't the right thing to do. That was merely his selfish desire forcing his thoughts, his attachment to her causing him to put his own feelings first. She needed to do this, for her country, for herself. But he would protect her in her cause, no matter what.
Sibias approached her while she was talking quietly with her warrior Xerxes, and blatantly asked her how she fared. She eyed him knowingly and answered him with one word, before turning her attention back to Xerxes. Sibias's further attempts at conversation were rejected. Even so, he wore an unbearably smug expression, smiling whenever he caught Amshazar's eye. He had evidently convinced the Aleemite guards he was innocent of all knowledge concerning the incident the night before. Amshazar avoided him and his constant companion, the slave Patrino. He knew that if he were to speak with Sibias while in his current mood, it would end in a brawl.
As the day wore on the winds lifted a desert storm, hampering their progress. In the heat of the day the overcast sky and the swirling dust seemed a cruel reminder how quickly things can change. The mounted guards from Aleem formed a barrier at the side of the caravan, riding close upon each other, their shields raised to protect their empress and her entourage. Thankfully it did not last long and the desert demons were not drawn to them.
When the dust storm dissipated, he noticed that the tight group of Aleemite warriors gathered around the Empress masked a hidden conversation. The mood amongst them was changing. He could sense the warriors’ anticipation rising and when he looked closer, he saw that Elishiba was directing them, gesturing back across the caravan as she gave instructions. What it was that she was planning he could not tell, but her warriors seemed pleased to act on her directions, their eyes glinting and their posture proud.
Amshazar smiled to himself. If Sibias thought he would make her meek through his actions, he had surely been mistaken.
* * * *
Mehmet yawned, tapped her fingernails on the wooden arms of her ornate chair, and then fidgeted again with the large jewel-encrusted armband that rested a mite too heavily upon her wrist. The courtiers also shuffled restlessly upon their seats, assembled as they were on a platform to see the arrival of Hanrah's bride.
It was close to evening. It had been the middle of the afternoon when the watchman had raised the call, reporting that the advance rider was on the horizon. She would have spent much longer in her bath if she had known they would take this long to complete the last stage of the journey. Were they dragging their heels, afraid to face their destiny under Karseedian jurisdiction?
The notion satisfied her immensely.
She smoothed her hair and checked her jeweled hands, pleased with her appearance. The daughter of Ramsis would be tired and disheveled after her journey in that wretched contraption. Mehmet had hated to travel within its confines and was pleased to pass it on.
Hanrah shuffled at her side. Dressed in the finest robes made especially for the occasion, he sat hunched over in his stately chair, brooding. His eyes flitted nervously and he bit into his fingernails as he waited for the arrival of his betrothed. Beyond him, she could see the much finer figures of his half-brothers amongst the gathered courtiers, their mothers preening beside them.
"Sit up straight,” she hissed, when she caught sight of the smug glances from her late husband's many concubines. They waited like gannets for her son to fail, but he would not. Oh no, not with her guiding him.
Hanrah did as he was told, shuffling in his seat. He stared fixedly at the palace gates, which would be opened when the caravan reached the heart of the city, but she could tell his mind was elsewhere. With that wretched slave boy he'd set his sights on, no doubt. Not for long though, it was only a matter of time until her men hunted the slave down and fulfilled her execution order. She was about to comment on Hanrah's sorry attitude when a fanfare sounded.
She could see movement outside the gates as they swung open. The Lhastari citizens pressed forward, craning their necks to witness sight of the Aleemite surrender.
Karseedian palace guards pushed the crowds back, ushering the prize through. Mehmet broke into an amused smile when she saw the Aleemite guards were clustered around the camel bearing the curtained traveling box, their shields raised, as if they could protect their empress even now. Fools. She was merely a key. Once Mehmet had hold of the key, the door would be open to them, then the key would be disposed of. A simple and fl
awless plan.
She noticed with reluctant admiration that the Aleemite warriors looked more outstanding then their own, riding proudly as they did in their polished silver breast shields. It was a fine piece of armor. Worthy. She might consider adopting that particular part of their culture, once she swallowed Aleem into their kingdom. Or maybe not. She didn't particularly want reminders, once the deed was done. Apart from the wealth of fine lapis lazuli treasures and its powerful location on the trade routes, there was little else she wanted from Aleem. As far as she was concerned, it was a small and undeveloped country.
When she took control she intended to raid the place, then keep the country and its inhabitants under her jurisdiction—as a buffer against enemies for their land—with a handful of loyal Karseedians stationed there. It's what her husband had dreamed of and attempted for many years—just as his entire lineage had before him. They hadn't been as clever about it as Mehmet had, though. They charged in like enraged animals. Claiming ownership of the land by claiming the Empress Elishiba was a much simpler way to enter and take whatever they wanted.
She sought Sibias amongst the crowd, but he was evidently in the rear. A massive warrior with a shaved head headed the entourage. He was an attractive man. As the caravan drew to a halt at the foot of the steps to the platform, the warrior with the shaved head gestured to another Aleem guard, who climbed down from his horse and approached the waiting courtiers, bowing at the bottom of the steps, as if requesting permission to approach.
Hanrah looked at his mother for guidance.
She shrugged one shoulder. “Perhaps he has been instructed to present some token.” She waved her hand dismissively and Hanrah gestured the guard forward.
The guard ran nimbly up the steps.
Mehmet frowned.
The Aleemite had his hand on the pommel of his sword in a manner that unsettled her. Surely they had not sent an assassin? That would be suicide for the rest for them.
The guard stared directly at her as he ran up the steps, confrontation evident in his very stance.
Tension crackled in the air. Hushed whispers of concern rose amongst the gathered courtiers.
Mehmet's hand went to the amulet that hung between her breasts, ready to protect herself if needs be. The palace guards caught her glance and adopted a battle-ready stance.
The Aleemite guard's head was tightly bound in his headdress. She could see only his eyes glittering from the folds of white cloth. When he reached the top of the steps, he dropped to one knee in deference.
She rested easier. She saw no gift in his hand and sighed heavily, annoyed. “Pull back the curtains, let us see my son's betrothed."
The guard stood, and then lifted one hand toward the camel-mounted palanquin in which the empress rode, gesturing instructions to the attendants.
"At last,” Mehmet said expectantly, rising to her feet.
Hanrah stood up next to her.
The procession split either side of the camel. On the guard's signal, the attendants tapped the animal's head with sticks. It lowered to the ground and the attendants reached to pull back the curtains. As they did Mehmet watched, expecting a figure to step out. Instead, what looked distinctly like a corpse bound for burial slid forward, strapped by rope to a narrow plinth.
Mehmet stared at the sight, then sighed deeply. Elishiba was dead. Her immediate reaction was annoyance. Sibias had failed to get the prize here in one piece. She cursed aloud and sought Sibias's face out in the crowd, hissing her annoyance at him, wherever he was. “Damn you, Sibias, your duty was to keep her alive until after the wedding ceremony."
Gasps of dismay ran around the assembled courtiers as they stared at the body presented by the Aleemites. Hanrah looked from the curious sight of the corpse, to his mother and back, his eyebrows lifted in speculation.
Sibias had emerged from the procession and was trying to push past the Aleemite guards. Even in that he seemed thwarted. She waved him on, and then pulled off the bracelet that had been annoying her and threw it on the floor.
The heavy object bounced once and landed at the feet of the Aleemite guard who still stood by, observing. He bent to retrieve the object and it was then that Mehmet realized that the guard was watching her steadily. She was about to order him to lower his gaze in her presence, when she noticed a curious, defiant look in the eyes that watched her so closely.
Mehmet's suspicion flared. “You there, what are you staring at?"
The guard didn't move for several long moments, during which Mehmet's unease rose. She hissed impatiently.
"I stare with interest at my prospective mother-in-law,” the guard replied in a soft, level voice, apparently female, then pushed back her headdress. Ebony hair tumbled down over her shoulders and she shook it out proudly.
Elishiba. Mehmet recognized her instantly from her likenesses, and gave her future daughter-in-law a tight smile, biting back her rising irritation. “Was there any purpose to this rather childish hoax?"
Elishiba stepped forward. “Oh yes, it confirmed something I wished to know.” She gave a knowing smile. “Whether or not my future mother-in-law would be ... saddened ... to see me dead.” Sarcasm rang in her carefully chosen words.
Mehmet mustered a laugh. She was taken by surprise, and resented still more that everyone around them, Aleemite and Karseedians, ogled the whole exchange. Even the city dwellers jostled at the gates to see what went on. But Elishiba was perfectly calm. This was unexpected. Mehmet even got the impression this was her idea. Then she had to wonder, had Elishiba heard her initial response to the sight of the body?
"Of course I would be upset,” she lied, annoyed at being put on the spot by a young adversary.
Elishiba'seyebrowsliftedimperceptibly."Iwasn'tsure.Especially as my handmaiden was killed along the journey, and my warriors are under the impression her fate was meant for me."
She nodded toward her men. They were observing the exchange as if ready to take on the entire city.
Tensions ran high. Mehmet's gut instinct was to have the lot of them killed for displaying such insolence on her territory. That would, however, deprive her of achieving her goal. Soon, though.
She was about to respond when Elishiba looked around and continued to speak. “And the Emperor Hanrah, where is he? I am eager to meet my counterpart."
Counterpart?
Mehmet gritted her teeth. Elishiba was either ignorant, or she was being purposefully obtuse. Her imperial son held much higher status than the daughter of Ramsis ever would. Then she noticed her son gawping at Elishiba with a half-smile. Simpleton. The irony of the situation grated on Mehmet. He was most likely stupidly impressed that she was dressed as a boy. She reached over and pushed him forward, not trusting herself to say more.
Hanrah stumbled forward and then half bowed to his betrothed.
Elishiba stared at him for a painfully long time, eyebrows arched disbelievingly. Then she fished about in her sash and pulled out a small object.
Mehmet saw that it was a Karseedian coin bearing the likeness of Hanrah. She narrowed her eyes, her irritation increasing by the second. The artist had crafted it in the likeness of his father, more than a genuine likeness of him. It had been Mehmet's instruction at the time, a decision she had been forced to regret on several occasions, due to mockery.
Elishiba held the coin up alongside his face.
Hanrah shuffled his feet awkwardly during the inspection.
"Your likeness does not do you justice, Emperor Hanrah,” Elishiba declared. “You look so much more kindly, and friendly,” she added with a smile. “I am pleased to meet you at last. I feel sure our negotiations will go well."
Elishiba obviously thought she could hold sway over Hanrah. Deep inside Mehmet, it stirred a deep-rooted fear. No one could ever influence her son as she did, she assured herself. He's mine and mine alone. She watched, unsettled, when Hanrah grinned at his future wife, evidently humored by her remark
Mehmet fumed, her annoyance with the situation multip
lying by the moment. The sooner the marriage was over and done with—and she could dispose of Elishiba for good—the better. She nodded at a guard, beckoning to him.
"Order Sibias to attend my chamber immediately,” she said sternly. She paused and shot Elishiba a warning glance before she continued. “And have my son's bride taken to her quarters."
Then, without another word to Elishiba, she took Hanrah by the arm and led him away.
* * * *
Amidst the on-looking caravan procession, Amshazar held Sibias back for as long as he could to give Elishiba time to address Mehmet in her own way, but his antagonist's ire was rising.
"Step away or you will regret it, Nomad.” Sibias's eyes flashed and he drew a dagger from below his robes.
Amshazar glanced at the object, smiling when he saw the handle was crafted from a goat's hoof. “Let them speak, your meddlesome ways will have you back by Mehmet's side soon enough."
Sibias bared his teeth. At that very moment, there was movement on the platform ahead, and the Lhastari guards ushered them on. Amshazar nodded and gestured to Sibias to go first. Sibias glared at him and then thrust forward, elbowing his way.
Looking back at the platform, Amshazar noticed that Elishiba had gone. So too had Mehmet and Hanrah, although many of the courtiers sat by, watching the passing Aleemites with curiosity as they were marched inside the palace by Lhastari guards.
Amshazar reached out for Kerr in the crowd as they moved, ducking his head down to the youth, he whispered in his ear. “Meet me tonight when the moon is high, outside the fortune teller's door, two streets away from the servants entrance. We can go to our meeting with Kazeen from there. Do you know the place?"
Unveiling the Sorceress Page 15