by Astrid Amara
Keshan winked at Jandu. Jandu quickly looked away, forcing himself to focus his attention on the competition.
The first man to compete was the elderly lord of Penemar, who took several minutes to make it over to the table where the bow was laid out.
“Grandpa there wants some action,” Jandu whispered into Baram’s ear. Baram laughed loudly. Yudar and several of his supporters scowled at them both.
The lord of Penemar could barely lift the bow off the table, much less string it. He sat down quickly.
The routine was the same for all of the older gentleman who tried their hand at a young blushing bride who they didn’t have to bribe into their beds. Jandu shook his head, hoping he never grew to be such a deluded old fool. He yawned.
The challenge only started to get interesting once Druv, the young lord of Pagdesh, had his turn. He was the first to actually lift the bow completely off the table and start stringing it. But the bow was designed not to be strung easily. He struggled for several minutes, breaking out into an embarrassed sweat and swearing, until he finally threw the bow down.
“This challenge is rigged!” he spat at Nadaru.
“He can’t get it up,” Jandu whispered to Baram. Baram snickered.
Next up was Darvad, Jandu’s half-brother.
“Piss-drinking bastard,” Baram hissed under his breath.
“Quiet. Respect our half-brother,” Yudar whispered. He was always urging his two younger brothers to be more polite to Darvad. But Jandu had seen the hint of a smile on Yudar’s lips a moment ago and he suspected that Yudar took a secret pleasure in their rude comments. After all, there was no love lost between Yudar and Darvad. Even as children the two of them had competed intensely.
Darvad bowed to Suraya, and she smiled coyly at him. He turned to the bow and placed his hands on it.
Jandu immediately smirked at Darvad’s error. There was no excuse for it. Mazar had instructed Darvad in exactly the same battle lessons that he’d given to Yudar, Baram and Jandu himself.
They had played together, studied together, and fought together since they were all children. And yet a smile from a pretty girl was obviously all it took to wipe Mazar’s instruction from Darvad’s memory.
Darvad was the first person to successfully string the bow. Triya noblemen throughout the room broke out in applause. Jandu couldn’t believe that so many of them could have failed to recognize Darvad’s grave error.
Jandu snuck a quick glance at Keshan. Keshan watched Darvad intently. Suddenly Jandu found himself jealous of the way Keshan eyed Darvad so expectantly.
Darvad grabbed an arrow from the quiver and knelt beside the pool of water. He immediately looked up at the fish.
“You must shoot using the reflection,” Lord Nadaru reminded him.
Darvad scowled. He looked down at the water’s reflection and then tried to pull back the bowstring.
His arms twitched and his muscles trembled, but he couldn’t pull the bowstring back. A number of Yudar’s supporters snickered. Darvad stared at them as if he could kill them with the evil eye.
Darvad struggled with the bow a minute longer, and then put the bow down, breathing heavily.
“That’s what you get for paying attention to the girl and not the bow, fucker,” Jandu said under his breath. He loved this.
“Watch your language,” Yudar whispered, but his expression was one of quiet satisfaction.
Darvad sat back down, flushed with humiliation. Jandu relished every second of it. Out of the corner of his eye he searched to see how the defeat had affected Keshan. To Jandu’s annoyance, Keshan still watched Darvad and his cluster of close friends.
The herald read from his list of competitors. “Next to compete is Tarek Amia, lord of Dragewan.”
Jandu didn’t really know much about Tarek, other than he was of the lower Suya caste and excelled at archery. Since he kept Darvad’s company, Jandu assumed that he was probably evil.
As Tarek approached the bow on the table, Jandu noticed that Keshan’s interest again peaked. Jandu stared hard at his cousin, hoping to distract Keshan’s attention. Someone as remarkable as Keshan didn’t need to be so fascinated by a lowly Suya.
Tarek brought his hands together and prayed to the bow. Jandu had to give the Suya credit. That was what Darvad, and most of the men before him, had failed to do.
Tarek lifted the bow easily and strung it without difficulty. Jandu watched, fascinated by the balance in Tarek’s movements.
Tarek was several years older than Jandu, but they both had dark, slightly curly black hair, and high cheekbones. Someone even once accused them of looking like brothers. At the time the comment had enraged Jandu, but now, as Tarek took a perfect stance and drew the bowstring back easily, Jandu could see the resemblance.
“No!” Suraya suddenly shouted. It was the first time she spoke. “I will not marry a charioteer’s son.”
Voices raising objections and support to Suraya’s refusal flared through the room. Nadaru looked displeased and held up his hands, asking for quiet.
“He may be the only one who can win,” Nadaru said softly to his daughter.
Suraya shook her head. “I don’t care. I’d rather remain a maiden than marry below my caste.”
Tarek looked momentarily crushed, but he regained his composure quickly. He unstrung the bow and put it back on the table, and then bowed before Nadaru.
“My apologies. I meant no offense.” He sat back down, pale with the insult. Darvad patted his back and then pushed another of his friends forward to take the challenge.
Firdaus Trinat, the lord of Chandamar, swaggered to the table.
Jandu caught the immediate frown that appeared on his cousin Keshan’s face. Firdaus and Keshan were said to have been enemies from the first moment they met and Jandu was sure that being banished on Firdaus’ account hadn’t warmed Keshan’s disposition towards the man any.
Jandu watched Firdaus anxiously. The man was developing a slight gut, and his long black hair thinned at the roots. But his square jaw, massive forearms and thick chest lent him a formidable appearance. There was also something slightly ethereal to the way Firdaus moved. It was said that Firdaus had Yashva blood, like Keshan. Firdaus lifted the bow with ease, and managed to string it as well. Applause rang through the room. Without hesitating, Firdaus loosed his arrow. A loud crash echoed through the pavilion and the spinning fish plunged into the water.
Men all around the room jumped from their seats to get a closer look at the results. But Lord Nadaru scowled as he pulled the fish from the water. The arrow jutted up from the belly of the fish.
“You have missed the eye,” he said.
“Your challenge is unrealistic,” Firdaus said. His voice was low. “It is the best a man of this earth can do. I demand my prize!”
Nadaru looked to his daughter. Suraya offered the slightest shake of her head, clearly unenthused by the prospect of being the second wife of a man almost twice her age.
Nadaru pulled the arrow from the fish and then held out his arms for silence. “If no other man here can match your skill, Lord Firdaus, you may claim my Suraya.”
The room erupted in chatter once more. Jandu felt bad for Suraya, who looked about to cry as she eyed her potential future husband. But it was not his problem. He was not here to rescue Suraya.
A few other young warriors tried, but none succeeded in even stringing the bow. A deathly hush settled over the attendees, realizing that they had exhausted the potential in the room and no one had even gotten close to Firdaus’ accomplishment.
“Perhaps I made it too hard,” Nadaru said.
Jandu anxiously looked to Keshan, wondering if he would compete as well. But Keshan, like himself, only watched the festivities. Then Keshan suddenly turned and stared straight at Jandu. He raised an eyebrow, and smiled almost lasciviously. It was an inviting smile—a beckoning smile.
Into the stillness of the room, Keshan spoke. “I thought I was going to get a demonstration of Jandu Par
an’s legendary skill today. But I suppose he feels too underdressed to compete.”
All eyes turned to Jandu.
Jandu hid his shock by casually straightening out of his slouch. “Well, cousin, if you’re going to ask me that way, how can I refuse?”
Baram laughed and slapped Jandu on the shoulder so hard that Jandu had to struggle not to topple over. Suraya smiled softly at him. Nadaru positively beamed. Dread snaked through Jandu’s gut, but he was already standing and all eyes were upon him.
Jandu stepped to the bow, but before he began, he looked behind him, making sure that his cousin watched. Keshan stared at him intently, his expression expectant.
Jandu brought his palms together to pray to the bow. He had learned from his master Mazar that any weapon needed to be respected in order to be wielded properly. After doing so, he lifted the bow with ease.
Jandu’s heart beat faster. He braced the base of the bow with his sandal as he reached down and pulled the bowstring up and around the top. He looked briefly at Keshan as he pulled an arrow from the quiver. Keshan stared at him with his mouth slightly open, his eyes wide. He looked like he was holding his breath. Ever so slightly, Jandu nodded to him. If his cousin wanted a display of his prowess Jandu would give him one.
Jandu knelt and gazed into the water. He cocked back the arrow and pointed it upwards, concentrating on the spinning reflection of the fish.
Just before released his arrow, he realized that the reflection was deceptive. The fish spun in the opposite direction, he could tell by the reflection of his own face in the water. He smiled to himself. He concentrated on the fish, until all he saw was the fish’s eye.
He counted the spins to space the timing. And then he released his string.
The fish fell from the spinning disk with a loud snap and crashed into the water. Jandu stood as Nadaru and the surrounding men rushed to the pool. Nadaru reached his hand into the water and pulled out the golden fish, showing the rest of the room that Jandu had succeeded in shooting the arrow directly through the small eye. The room erupted in applause and cheers.
“Are you happy with my demonstration, cousin?” Jandu called out over the noise. Keshan rewarded him with a brilliant smile.
Jandu’s stomach tightened at the beauty of Keshan’s expression.
And as Suraya placed the marigold garland around his neck, Jandu realized, terribly, wonderfully, that he was, for the first time in his life, infatuated with someone other than himself.
Chapter 3
As servants tied back the silken walls of the pavilion, a gust of monsoon wind rolled over Jandu, feeling like hot breath. All across the garden he could see tables strewn with succulent dishes and awaiting wedding guests. A Draya priest stood ready to perform the ceremony. Friends and strangers, dressed in their dazzling ceremonial armor, offered Jandu their congratulations.
Jandu thanked them in a daze.
He didn’t know how he got into this mess and he had no idea how he would get out of it. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He got into it because he wanted to show off, as usual.
But now he was going to get married. The thought made Jandu distinctly uncomfortable. His mother had died shortly after his birth and Jandu had grown up in the sole company of other men. While he found women kind-natured and well-behaved as a rule, they confused him with their strange seriousness and lack of interest in archery.
“Congratulations, idiot!” Baram cheered lovingly. He crushed Jandu in a brotherly embrace that bordered on painful.
Yudar merely looked on, worry creasing his brow.
“I can’t marry her,” Jandu told them in a whisper. He didn’t know how he could explain his reluctance. His unwavering belief in his own superiority? His lack of interest in women in general? His singular dedication to the warrior arts? He simply knew that this marriage was wrong for him.
“I know,” Yudar said. He frowned. “It goes against the Book of Taivo.”
Confused by his brother’s agreement, Jandu searched his mind for the lesson on the precepts of Shentari faith, trying to recall what obscure, ancient law his brother referred to this time.
“If you were to father a son, he would be older than any child either I or Baram fathered. And since neither of us is consecrated as King, your son would have the right of primogeniture to challenge our children for the throne.”
“What?” Baram looked as confused as Jandu felt.
“I have been thinking of the problem ever since the moment you pierced the fish eye,” Yudar said, clearing his throat. His face had flushed almost guiltily. “I believe there is precedent to break the Shentari tradition in this case.”
Jandu looked at Yudar, and suddenly, everything made sense. “You should marry her, Yudar.” Jandu was certain that Nadaru would be delighted to wed his daughter to a future king.
Although Yudar flushed brighter at Jandu’s suggestion, he shook his head. “I cannot. I did not compete. You did.”
“I competed for you,” Jandu suggested.
Baram narrowed his eyes. “No, you competed to show off. Call it like it is.”
Jandu grinned. “All right. But that’s all the more reason that I shouldn’t marry Suraya. I didn’t do it for her.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Yudar replied. “You did not declare yourself to be competing in my stead, so legally I can’t claim her. However—”
“Fellow Triya warriors! I must protest this marriage!” Firdaus pushed his way through the throng of well-wishers. He held himself tall. His friend and, no doubt, co-conspirator Darvad stood beside him as if urging him on.
“It is against our holy Book of Taivo for Jandu Paran to marry Suraya Paria. A younger prince must not wed before his elder brothers when a Regent holds the throne! It will lead the kingdom into chaos and war. So it is written.”
A sudden, deathly pall stifled all conversation. Jandu felt a flicker of hope. He wouldn’t have to marry Suraya now.
“What is this?” Lord Nadaru rushed to them. Suraya followed behind and stepped close to Jandu’s side. Her face was pale, her eyes almost fearful. Jandu realized that if his claim to her became invalid then she would become Firdaus’ second wife.
Yudar cleared his throat and stepped between Firdaus and Lord Nadaru. Though small compared to his brothers, Yudar had a royal presence that made him seem larger than he was. He held himself straight-backed with his chin tilted upwards, his dark brown eyes shining with inner wisdom.
“It is true that the Book of Taivo specifically states that under these conditions royal siblings must be married in order of age,” Yudar said. “However, the laws established under the prophet Tarhandi allow for such a circumstance, assuming that all siblings marry the wife together.”
The silence seemed to grow deeper and more disturbed, as everyone attempted to digest what Yudar said. Even Jandu, who had a lifetime of practice deciphering his brother’s cryptic religious code, stumbled over the idea. When he finally understood Yudar’s proposal, he almost choked.
He grabbed Yudar’s shoulder. “What are you talking about?” he hissed.
Yudar smiled at him serenely. “With Lord Nadaru’s permission, all three of us will marry Suraya.”
The silence exploded in outrage. Even the baboons seemed to shriek louder in the nearby trees. It took several minutes for Nadaru to call the party to order.
Jandu wondered for an instant why they all cared so much. Why couldn’t Suraya just choose some man—other than himself—and have done with it? And then he caught sight of his bride, dressed in her delicate red silk zahari dress, her eyes painted with kohl. She was absolutely gorgeous. Baram fidgeted nervously and stared at her.
Firdaus and Yudar looked as flushed and committed as men in sword combat. Head to head, they debated the issue with the kind of speed and precision that Jandu reserved for calling down a magical sharta.
“The Book of Taivo specifically prohibits this marriage!” Firdaus shouted.
“But the laws of the Prophet Tarhandi allo
w for polyandry should the bride choose to marry all siblings.” Yudar was calm and had a little smile on his face, looking assured in the way that only scholars who knew the words of God by heart could be.
“That is an ancient law! It is hardly practiced any more. It has been over a century since a woman has had multiple husbands!” Firdaus looked genuinely scandalized by the idea.
Yudar merely raised an eyebrow. “The antiquity of the law does not negate it. The Prophet Tarhandi’s precepts are well-established in the Shentari temple, and many laws dating from the same time period are used to hold up religious edicts today.”
“Tarhandi’s laws are about cattle thievery and agricultural disputes!” Firdaus’ voice raised in anger.
Jandu just shook his head. Anyone in Prasta knew better than to challenge Yudar to a religious debate. Yudar had every single holy law memorized and an uncanny knack for knowing exactly what obscure text to cite to perfectly support his argument.
Yudar’s smile widened. “The nature of Tarhandi’s laws are irrefutable, as he was a prophet from God. His standards form the basis of judgments every day across this noble country. Based on this, his word is irrefutable.”
Suraya’s father watched the debate like an active child, jumping in place and trying vainly to butt in. Finally, he simply stepped forward.
“Prince Yudar is more than just knowledgeable about the Book of Taivo,” Nadaru stated. “He is also the Royal Judge for the Regent. His decision stands.”
“Unfair!” Darvad cried out, stepping forward. “He cannot serve as judge in this matter, as it affects him personally.”
“But he is the Royal Judge for the State of Prasta. I will abide his decision,” Lord Nadaru stated flatly.
Jandu cleared his throat. “Shouldn’t we ask what Suraya wants to do?”
“Shut up!” Firdaus yelled at him. “Do not interrupt!”
Jandu’s fingers itched for his sword.
But his words must have gotten through, for Nadaru held up his hands in the sign of peace and begged silence. “Please! Let me consult with my daughter. Suraya, what would you say in this matter?”