Shan felt her body warm and safe all of a sudden, as she slipped under her thick down. Well, for tonight at least, you are a queen, she told herself. Her thoughts of her fake life stayed with her as she drifted off to sleep.
She woke to the light from the desert (filtered through King Romarus’s tent) casting on the sand wall next to her bed. As she turned over, she was greeted by a pleasing sight. The king was cleaning the metal cups with a piece of cloth and he was bare chested. His white cotton top was tied loosely around his low hanging trousers. Shan was fascinated by the muscles on his stomach. She had correctly counted them the previous day through touch, six. And there was an upside-down triangle running from those muscles into his cotton coverings below.
“Are you okay?” The king’s words snapped her back into the small shelter in the desert.
I’ve been staring too long! “Yes, thank you, I’m just tired and haven’t woken up properly.” She smiled. “You don’t have to clean those cups. I can get that.” He is so unlike a king.
They ate a breakfast of the same dried meat from the night before and then packed up Romarus’s tent. Shan secured the little shelter and they were back on the duneback heading for home. As the beast began to move, her body reminded her how chafed she was down below, but she endured. They rode until midday and took refuge from the heat in one of her father’s underground channels. She always planned into her journey an escape from the burning heat for the three hottest hours of the day.
Shan laughed at Romarus when he set up his tent as shade for his duneback. “I wasn’t going to let Barry melt up there,” the king said, straight faced, as they both sheltered in the chilly gloom at the bottom of the long ladder; their lower legs paddling in the cool water.
“You’ve named your duneback, Barry?” she tried to hold back a laugh but failed. “And you know that he would be fine out in the sun.”
“You leave Barry alone, okay!” He smiled and pushed her on the shoulder. The sun beat down from above; its light piercing down the shaft at least halfway. It was so much cooler where they stood that Shan almost felt a wonderful chill through her body.
Before leaving their watery underworld, they refilled their skins and drank as much as they could, then climbed back up to the surface. Although it was cooler on the sand than when they escaped it earlier, it was still a sharp contrast from the gloom of the channel below. Barry seemed happy enough though, standing with his head and neck in the shade of the royal tent—his shaggy-haired bum sticking out.
Both of them, now back on Barry, trundled off once again. “Do we have much further to go?” Romarus asked.
“I would think we will make it just before sunset.”
Shan was pleased that her estimate was correct. She saw the torches of her father’s farmstead in the distance as the sky started to redden. As they drew closer, she saw the familiar shapes of her home. A large block of mud made up the largest part of the three-story building with steps cut into its side. A dome-shaped roof rose from the lower floors. On the far side, the rest of the farmstead lowered below the ground into a square courtyard. The courtyard led off into underground bedchambers and living areas that they would use when the sun was too hot.
They hopped off Barry and tied him to an iron ring on the lowest step of the stairway that ran up the side of the farmstead.
I cannot wait for Papa to meet Romarus. She skipped up the stairs, pulling the king by the hand. They hopped up three at a time. It’s nice to have somebody as quick footed on stairs as me, for once, she thought, remembering how slow all of her friends were if they played chases.
Shan peered inside the main dome but nobody was there. Then she heard voices coming from the lower courtyard. Mother! She smiled.
“I am just saying that we should not speak to them when they come. It just seems ungodly in my book!” her mother moaned to her father, who sat at the dining table in the open-air courtyard.
“Everything is ungodly to you though, Mum,” Shan interrupted from the wall above.
Immediately her mother’s face beamed. “My Cyan Shan,” she said.
Her father turned his head from where he was sitting in his chair. “Come down here my beautiful girl and tell us how you are.” Polo went to turn back to his dinner—it looked mouth-wateringly good, steaming in front of him on the table—but quickly snapped his head back around and stood. “Who is this you have brought with you?”
Shan jumped off the high wall, landing at a crouch in the courtyard directly in front of her father.
“You’re going to hurt yourself doing that one of these days, Cyan Shan,” he warned, running a hand over her cheek as if to check if she was well. “Now you didn’t answer me. Who is this young man traveling with you?”
Shan beckoned to Romarus to jump down too and as he stepped off the two-story ledge, her mother screamed. He stayed in his crouch then rose to stand next to her.
“Don’Calon above!” her father blasphemed. “Meria, he is unhurt from the fall. Look at his eyes.” Polo held the boy’s chin and inspected him as if he were a mutt he was going to purchase.
“My Cyan Shan, how did you become traveling companions with this dashing blue?” her mother said, looking entranced with Romarus’s blue eyes. “Have you taken him as a partner?”
I wish! “No, he is simply a friend. Let me introduce King Romarus of—”
She hadn’t finished her introduction before both her father and mother were on their knees in front of the king. “Forgive me, Your Grace, I should not have laid my hands on a king,” said Polo, clearly shaken. He didn’t lift his head.
“Why are you kneeling?” the king asked through a laugh. “Stand. I should be kneeling to you to thank you for the help Shan gave me.”
Her mother spoke first. “She is a good girl, we know, but we serve Your Grace without need of thanks.”
The two of them were now standing and Romarus spoke again as he studied the farmstead. “I would ask for another favor though.”
“Yes, anything, Your Grace,” said Meria.
“I’d really like some of that stew if there’s any going,” he said with a smile.
They sat and ate together in what was the most embarrassing time of Shan’s life. Her father said, on at least seven separate occasions, to the king, “You really do have the look of your father about you, Your Grace.” And he told the same story twice about how King Locutus helped him to finance the building of the south channels. And the final shovel of sand on her cocoon was the moment he said, “You know when Shan was a little girl she used to be as fat as one of those blubbery little chungsils that swim around in the icy Horned Sea in the north.” He made a fist in the air and continued, “Her tiny little fists used to be so chubby that when they got muddy you would swear you were holding a potato.”
Romarus laughed and looked at her face from where he sat next to her father. “Well she is clearly not fat anymore,” said the king, coming to her defense.
“Of course not, no. Our little Cyan Shan is quite the beauty now and you will have noticed her blue eyes, yes? That is why we call her Cyan. It’s just something we’ve done since she was a little girl.” Her father looked at her and smiled in his caring, yet embarrassing, way.
Cyan, yes…Yet another means you think of to humiliate me!
“A bit of meat on my women doesn’t bother me though.” Romarus’s words seemed to shock her mother, who no doubt thought the boy’s talk to be ungodly. “And yeah, we talked about her blue eyes. It is strange.”
Polo nodded, saying, “We do not understand how she can be of blue-sight. Neither of us are.” He looked at Shan and talked about her as if she were not there. “We have reason to believe that somewhere in both of our trees there has been those of gods’ blood. Perhaps that explains how she is so. I have always found it strange how my line and a lot of the village of Sal’Merel have been able to create life with little influence from those of blue-sight.”
Romarus looked up from his strange, low eating position
above his plate. Shan found it funny how the king would lower his head close to the plate to lessen the distance his spoon had to travel before it reached his mouth. He spoke with a half-chewed mouthful. “Londenia is always saying that male-mortals like you with brown eyes can bring life into the world again, but a lot of the kings cover it up.”
Polo agreed, saying, “There are many who believe this, Your Grace. There are no other blues as far as we know in this village—not for a great many years. So the people must be doing fine where breeding is concerned if we are all here.” He chuckled. “But ever since our Shan came along, fourteen years past, there have been few births. People are beginning to fear that the Great Poison has returned to our village. There have been no large numbers of mysterious deaths, though—only a lack of births. And this began almost immediately after our Shan came into this world.” Her father looked at the young king as if expecting some kind of answer to the mystery.
Romarus’s eyes searched for somewhere to look away from her father as he continued to shovel food into his mouth. He eventually broke the silence, uttering, “But I still don’t get how Shan could have blue eyes if you don’t.”
Polo finished his stew and pushed his chair back from the table, holding his growing belly in a stuffed, satisfied way. “Well, we are just happy that she is here. And we thank So’Chor every day.”
Her mother chipped in, emphasizing, “Yes, this is a godly home, Your Grace. We follow the ways of the Ten.”
You don’t really, because if you did, I shouldn’t be here, she corrected her mother’s words in her head but didn’t confront her in front of Romarus.
It looked as if the king didn’t take much notice of what her parents had just said. “I was wondering if you could help me more. The village, Sal….” he hesitated, clearly forgetting the name.
“Merel,” Shan popped up to rescue him.
“Sal’Merel…I’d like to talk to the people there to ask if they have seen somebody I’m looking for.”
“For whom do you search, Your Grace? If you don’t mind me asking,” her father questioned.
Shan jumped in. “He’s looking for Prince Baskerville, the lost prince of the Wetlands. King Stewart was murdered and King Romarus promised him that—”
“Ten Gods! The King of the Wetlands is dead? And Shan, let the king speak!” Polo looked shocked at the news.
“It’s not just him. King Servin, the Watch King, was murdered too and the whole of their capital!” As Romarus spoke, it looked as if he was recounting tales that he had come to terms with, but for Shan’s parents, it was as if the king had kicked them both in the gut.
Meria hurried over and knelt in front of the family deca-shrine in the corner of the courtyard. She tapped her chest with ten fingers, mumbling a prayer to the small wooden carvings of the Ten. Polo stood behind her and squeezed his wife’s trembling shoulder to calm her. Looking across the table, he said to the king, “These are grave tidings you bring to us, Your Grace.”
“What are tidings?” Romarus asked, to which Polo and Meria looked at each other, still in shock. They did not answer his question. Shan’s father sat back in his chair looking numb. Romarus continued, “It’s important I find him. I made a promise to his father.”
Meria joined them at the table again, and offered, “Of course we will help you, Your Grace. What do you need of us?”
“Can you help me to speak to the crowds? The places I’ve been so far don’t seem to get how I speak and I can’t say what I want to say.” Romarus made frustrated fists as he spoke.
“I speak for my guild in the village and must talk publicly often,” said Meria. “I will assist you in writing some words. However, if Prince Baskerville was on the run, then surely he would not announce his name to you if he heard you talk and therefore others will not know of him either.” Her mother made a fair point, which had crossed Shan’s mind also.
Polo put a hand on his wife’s, now steadier, arm and said calmly, “But perhaps a skip will overhear and know of something. They have ways of knowing where people are and how to find them. We must try! I will write notices saying that King Romarus will speak in the village square at midday tomorrow. I’ll have them placed on all six village pillars by dawn.” He looked at his wife. “You will help His Grace write his words for tomorrow.”
Shan woke the next morning and walked to the courtyard. Her mother was already serving breakfast to King Romarus, who sat at the table with his face close to a bowl of porridge. The jam jar sat next to the bowl. Scoop of porridge. Scoop of jam. And repeat. Straight from the jar! You would have shouted at me for doing that, she thought, watching her mother rushing around trying to impress the king.
Romarus’s eyes flicked up from the intense porridge eating and she was given a quick, toothy, porridgy grin.
“Good morning, Your Grace,” she said politely.
“Shan, dear,” Meria said, smiling, “you must be ready to escort King Romarus to the town square within the hour. Papa has promoted the news that His Grace will speak at midday. He left before dawn to make sure as many people saw the notices as possible.” Shan noticed her mother announced the last part, as if to show Romarus that they were working extra hard for him. “After he prayed of course,” she added, flashing a glance at the young king.
Okay, I’m sure he gets that we’re godly and that we’re working hard, Shan thought in irritation. “I am ready whenever His Grace is ready.”
“Don’t rush the king,” Meria snapped, as if Shan had practically pushed him out the door.
I only said I was ready…
After Romarus’s third bowl of porridge and eating nearly an entire jar of jam, they set off on faithful Barry to the village of Sal’Merel. It was a short journey of only two thousand footfalls. The beautiful green of the village and the shape of the mud buildings could be seen from the steps of Shan’s home, separated by the wide flat sands.
The king sat in front of her as he had done on their trip through the desert on the previous day. Romarus was reading the words Meria wrote for him. The king told her he struggled to read words on a page. They would jumble in his mind. However, he had practiced his speech often enough so that now it seemed to flow. In the first attempt the previous evening, it was as if a child of six years were reading it. He sat repeating it as they swayed back and forward on the duneback’s back.
They were nearing the outer buildings of Sal’Merel when Romarus raised his head. “I can’t believe somewhere like this is possible in Last Kingdom. It’s amazing,” he said as they moved past the first palm tree. Romarus pulled Barry to a halt and they tied him up at the duneback point.
People stared as the pair of blue-eyed mortals walked through the green trees and sandy streets leading to the town square. “Perhaps you should put up your hood,” Shan suggested, as she did so herself.
They eventually met up with Polo. “My little Cyan Shan,” he said, hugging her. He bowed to King Romarus. “You are early, Your Grace. I expect the crowd to gather in little under an hour.”
The crowd assembled as the sun reached midday, just as Polo had arranged. Romarus stood in the middle of the street underneath a large palm tree and shouted, “People of Sal’Merel, I am King Romarus and it pleases me to visit your fair village.” His nerves were still noticeable in his voice but they began to disappear as he continued.
Shan thought he sounded strange in his attempt to come across as kingly and formal.
“I come to you in the gravest of circumstances. My friend and mentor, King Stewart of the Wetlands, was murdered a half moon past and now I seek to fulfill a promise to him.” There were gasps throughout the crowd as they heard the news concerning the King of the Wetlands. “I ask if you know of any information of his son. I am looking for Prince Baskerville, a boy of fifteen years, blue of sight.”
There was no answer as his voice echoed off into the desert beyond the huts and trees. Slowly, murmurs built in the crowd. At first, Shan could not make them out from where she stood, f
acing Romarus at the front of the village folk. Then she heard some brief phrases. “Ten Blessings to the king!” an old woman shouted. Then a man offered, “King Romarus, will you do me the honor of laying with my daughter? She has bled and would be honored to bear a king’s son.”
King Romarus attempted to answer the questions but they all came so fast.
“King Romarus, tell us of what you saw in the Watch Kingdom. We hear King Servin is dead!”
Shan couldn’t see where that last shout had come from.
“Your Grace, lie with me as your father once did. I crave to have a king’s seed in me once more,” a wench, of at least forty years, shouted.
He wouldn’t want you, you brown-eyed old crow, Shan decided.
The crowd began to advance on him and, although all seemingly friendly, their attempts to get the king’s attention were becoming more and more enthusiastic. Some grabbed at his clothes. One old wench pressed her lips to his forehead and then nearly fainted. Another man pushed a girl—who Shan assumed was his daughter—in front of the king, showing her off like some piece of furniture he was trying to sell. A fat man barged the daughter out of the way, as he held a scroll to Romarus’s face. The pushing seemed to enrage the proud father displaying his daughter to the king. They began to brawl. A group of young girls, perhaps a few years older than Shan, began to pull at Romarus’s clothes and hair. He started to back away.
Shan’s father stood in front of the king and shouted, “People, give His Grace some room. His Grace will try to answer your questions but you must—” He was knocked to the ground by the throng of people descending enthusiastically on the young king. Polo’s eyes locked onto his daughter through the bodies standing between them. “Shan, run as fast as I know you can. Show King Romarus to the safe place. I will not be able to keep up. I will meet you there once you have lost these mad creatures.” He winked at her with a smile before standing up and brushing himself off.
Shan leapt into action, bursting between the old fat man who was fighting with another, and grabbed Romarus’s hand. “Climb!” she commanded. Both blue-eyed mortals scrambled up onto a high wall and leaped onto the mud house next to it. They ran across its flat rooftop and saw the crowd follow them in the street below. They leapt across the street onto the dome-shaped rooftop of the next house. Running up to the top of the dome, Shan and Romarus paused.
A Poisoned Land (Book 1: Faith, Lies and Blue Eyes) Page 24