Naondel

by Maria Turtschaninoff

  My sons were dead.

  The next day smoke lay thickly over the Garden of Eternal Serenity, over the golden roof of the palace, over the whole of Ohaddin. He had the bodies burnt on one of the hills north of the city. They would receive no burial. They would be obliterated, not united in eternal life with their ancestors.

  That day Ohaddin was shrouded in smoke and deathly silence. Nobody spoke. The thick smoke silenced even the birds.

  My sons were dead.

  Orseola went crazy that day. She had always been unstable, but now she raged in a mania beyond reaching. The guards of the dairahesi bound her to her bed so that she could not harm herself, and Garai forced soothing concoctions into her.

  I suspected I knew the cause of her suffering.

  My sons were dead.

  Iskan came to me after the Day of the Burning Bodies. He had not visited me in a long time, not since Esiko told him the truth about her. Esiko was with me when he entered my chambers without warning. I fell to my knees at once and bowed down to the floor. After a moment’s hesitation Esiko followed my example. She had not yet grown accustomed to behaving as a meek woman must. She was wearing women’s clothes, on her father’s decree, but her hair was still short and I could not reconcile myself with the sight of her dressed as a girl. She was changed. She was timid, and did not leave our chambers. I was glad to keep her close. As close as possible. Anything, so long as I did not lose this last child. Esiko sat and waited for her father to summon her and accept her as his confidante, his closest adviser, once again.

  He had not summoned her since he had discovered the truth.

  “Rise.” I peered up at Iskan. It was Esiko he was addressing, not me. She was crouching and looking expectantly up at her father. He grimaced with disgust.

  “What a monstrosity. Such short hair, and why do you wear no hair chains? Ten, to show that you are of the house of Che. Do not show yourself in public until your hair has grown.”

  Esiko appeared as though he had spat in her face. He turned to me. Looking into his entirely black eyes was like seeing into the land of the dead. I thought that perhaps if I looked long enough I would start to hear the wails of his victims.

  “Is she a woman in all ways? Between her legs?”

  “Yes,” I said. “Naturally.” They were the first words I had said to Iskan since he had killed my sons.

  He scoffed. “Who knows what harm it has done her to grow up as a boy. It will be a long time before Iona can provide me with sons. Anji has shown it. However, Iona holds something of far greater value to me. As soon as I take possession of it no one will be able to get the better of me again. Until then I must strengthen my standing. I shall see to it that I eradicate the final opposition. None shall remain who might threaten me. Misfortunes do occur. I realized that when the Sovereign died. Now that he is dead I must reign in his stead.” He smiled. There was no joy or warmth in his smile. “The conspirators had not counted on that. They gave me the throne as a tidy gift. However, I need someone by my side. Esiko shall be married off as soon as she is presentable. I am going to great lengths to find a good candidate. Someone who can take over from Korin. Someone who is entirely loyal to me.”

  “But I am loyal, Father!” Esiko burst out. I took a deep breath. She must not displease him. He was capable of absolutely anything. She was no longer his son. But Esiko did not understand that.

  “I have served you well, you have listened to my counsel, I know all about your dominion. I know all about Anji! Father, I beg of you, let me visit the spring again. Let me prove my worth.”

  Iskan turned to her, slowly. Studied her carefully, expressing no emotion.

  “You have lied to your father and lord. Do not speak to me of loyalty. Do not speak to me at all. Count yourself lucky that you are still alive. It is only because you have a function to fulfil. You are to be married.” He looked at her, expressionless. I thought about how she used to ride on his shoulders. When she was a little boy.

  He turned and left. Esiko remained motionless, her eyes filled with tears. I had not seen her cry since she was four years old.

  “We can expect nothing more,” I said. “Marriage is every woman’s destiny. Perhaps he will find someone who does not live too far away. Then we can see each other often.” The mere thought of not being able to see Esiko every day filled me with panic.

  Esiko turned to me. “I expect more!” she screamed. “This is your fault. In all my fourteen years I have learnt to expect more. I am son of the Vizier! And now you want me to be like you. A woman. One who wants nothing, knows nothing, does nothing!”

  Then she spat on the floor before me and stormed into her own chamber.

  Anji had granted her power to Iskan. Anji had aided him in all of the dreadful crimes he had committed. Anji had stolen my daughter from the very beginning; while Esiko was still inside me the force of the spring flowed through her veins. My daughter had always listened more to the spring than to me. Anji could command Iskan indefinitely. He would take my daughter or he would kill her. I could not let these things happen.

  There must be a way to strip Iskan of his power.

  Without it he would be an ordinary man. An old man. His grip on Esiko would loosen. She would finally see him for what he was and then she would be mine. As I had initially believed she would be, that evening when I took Iskan into my bed for the last time.

  I was awoken that night by the smell of smoke.

  At first I thought it was the lingering smell of burnt bodies torturing me. Then I opened my eyes and saw a blazing red glow dance across the walls of my chamber. I rushed up and over to the window.

  The Palace of Tranquillity was in flames. The building that housed all the Sovereign’s concubines and daughters who had survived the massacre.

  Esiko rushed past me and out through the door. I pulled on a jacket and followed quickly behind. The dairahesi was filled with a clamour of voices, movement, fear.

  Esiko was running towards the lattice doors before the stairs. A single guard was standing there, one of the new ones, recruited from the army. She addressed him by name.

  “Barado. Brother-in-arms. Open this door.”

  He shook his head. “Sorry, little sister. The Vizier’s orders are not to be contradicted.”

  “Where is the Vizier?”

  “Nobody knows.” He could not conceal his worry.

  “Who is leading the firefighting, Barado?”

  Esiko continued to use his name. To remind him of the bond they were bound by.

  “I don’t know, Ora—… little sister. Most of the guards are there fighting it now.”

  Outwardly she was still Orano, Iskan’s son, but the guards of the dairahesi had seen her as Esiko, in women’s clothes, and they knew the truth. I do not know what Iskan had told them. Perhaps nothing. He was not required to explain himself to anyone.

  “Somebody must lead the effort, Barado. You know that. It requires a commander. It was not long ago we were in battle together,” said Esiko earnestly. She was not pleading. She was decided, collected: a leader. “We flexed our bows side by side. Everybody who is able must help to quell the fire. You too. I will lead the effort, if you all will follow me. And if the worst should happen, if the fire spreads, surely you do not want to bear the responsibility for all the Vizier’s women being burnt alive?”

  Just as the Sovereign’s women and children were being burnt alive at this very moment, I thought. I looked at my daughter. She stood straight and tall before the guard, and he looked at her. Without another word he produced the key and unlocked the door. Only then did I see how Esiko was dressed, in her old Orano clothes. Blue jacket, white trousers, high boots.

  She turned to me.

  “Mother, if the fire threatens this house I want you to lead all the women and children to safety.”

  I nodded.

  She disappeared down the steps without another word.

  I looked around. The great hall was deserted.

  I slip
ped out through the lattice doors without hesitation. Unescorted, for the first time since this palace was built. As I was running down the steps and out into the garden I was reminded of my vision following Lehan’s death. My vision of this house, of the women who now lived there. I had known nothing of them at the time. Now they were my only companionship and had been for all the years of my confinement. Esiko had entrusted their lives to me.

  I did not care whether they lived or died.

  Garai

  HAVE LONG BEEN PREPARING FOR THE BLOOD moon. The stars have shown me that it is close at hand. Mother taught me to read the signs. It is the time when the moon’s power is at its strongest, and she draws the life force of the earth towards her. It rises to the surface and all offerings at this time are more potent than ever. I can feel it in my entire being. My very bones sing of the life force. I have not had the opportunity to walk among the zismil trees in a long time; Iskan has forbidden us from going outside after all that has happened. Nevertheless, I can feel it when night falls. If I dance the moon dance it is as if the zismil roots extend from my own feet, and I can extend them down into the depths of the earth, below the mountains, and I feel the life force simmer and seethe. My roots find their way into the deepest origins of this source of power. She is calling to me. As I sit and write this, in the light of a single candle, the call grows ever stronger. It seems I do not only feel it in my body, but I hear it also, as a great clamour. The air in my room thickens, it must be the life force filling the very air! It smells of… smoke?

  I just got up and looked out of my window, and it is smoke. And the noise is of people screaming. The Palace of Tranquillity is in flames.

  And the spring is calling to me.

  I once took a knife from our evening meal, hid it and thoroughly sharpened it so that the blade is now as keen as Mother’s offering dagger, though not of obsidian. I shall take it now. This is my chance. If I find just one open door I shall go to the spring and make one more offering—a great one. An offering made under the blood moon to a source of power as strong as the one bound here in Ohaddin—this will transform me into a priestess as powerful and wise as Mother. Or more still. There is no time to lose. I am taking my notes with me. This could be the offering I never return from, in which case I do not want anyone to be able to find my papers. I am dressing warmly to face the night. I am ready.

  Clarás

  STEGI WOKE ME. I HAD BEEN DEEP ASLEEP, and it took me a long time to swim up to the surface. She stood leaning over me with a lamp in her hand. “The Palace of Tranquillity is burning,” she said. “The doors are unlocked.”

  I sat up. “Can we escape? Now, tonight?”

  She nodded. “I will wake Sulani.” She left my room without a sound.

  As I rushed to dress I thought of Orseola. I knew that she would be a burden. Something that needed dragging along, that could weigh us down to the bottom and sink us. But sometimes burdens are necessary. Nets would float away without weights. Besides, she had helped me to find Naondel.

  I lashed the bundled sails onto my back with a thin rope. Sulani came in, fully dressed and grim-faced. Behind her came Estegi, who quickly packed items in a bag: lamps, oil, tinder boxes. Sulani had several rolls of rope around her waist and over her shoulders. Good. They had listened to what I said. I saw something else in her hand, something shining and sharp.

  I pointed. “A weapon?”

  She held out a long knife. “Estegi smuggled it for me. A warrior does not go into battle unarmed.”

  Suddenly I was glad I was not fleeing alone.

  “We can go down the stairs,” said Estegi quietly. “First via the store room. And then?”

  She looked at me and at Sulani.

  I didn’t know how she would get us beyond the palace grounds. After our plan to surprise the guards I hadn’t come up with another. Sulani stuck the knife into her belt.

  “Over the pagoda roof of the spring. From there we can get to the wall. We have rope. We can lower ourselves down.”

  I laid my hands protectively over my belly.

  “I will help you,” she said. “There is no other way. The gates are too heavily guarded. Are you shod?”

  I didn’t understand what she meant.

  “We will need to cover a long distance quickly and under cover of darkness. You cannot go barefoot; it is too great a risk.”

  I showed the sandals on my feet. Estegi showed hers. Sulani nodded in approval. She had woven her hair into small tight plaits and bound them back so it would not disturb her. I wore only my copper comb in my hair. Estegi had covered hers in a blue scarf.

  “Orseola?” Sulani asked.

  “We must take her with us.” We left my room and went out into the great hall. Several other concubines were gathered there, some with tiny babes in their arms. They stood in front of the windows. The fire’s glow reflected in their eyes. They didn’t look at us. I rushed into Orseola’s room. She was sitting cross-legged on the bed.

  “Away away away,” she mumbled in a monotone. I found her sandals and straightened her legs. She let me put them on her, passively, the whole time muttering, “Away away away”. I dressed her in a quilted jacket and bound her jewellery box to her back. Sulani stuck her head in.

  “Can you manage with her?”

  I nodded and led Orseola out of the room. She saw the flames through the window and stopped. “Dreamsnares,” she said suddenly, very clearly. Estegi rushed into her room, then soon returned and showed us her bag.

  Sulani took the lead. I followed behind with Orseola on my arm, and Estegi came last. Nobody spoke to us as we left the great hall for the corridor beyond. It was dark. The smell of smoke was unmistakable.

  “Crackle crackle,” said Orseola. “The dreams go up in smoke.”

  Sulani pushed against the main door. It swung open. She peeked down the stairs and motioned for us to follow. I took one final look behind. The other women were still standing by the windows. The fountain was quiet. The air was heavy with smoke. I followed the others down the steps. Held my breath as we walked. I was afraid that Orseola would draw attention to us. I thought about what the guards would do. What the man would do. For so long I had been thinking about the escape, dreaming and planning. It was hard to believe that it was truly happening.

  We reached the lower floor. Estegi led us through corridors I had never walked before. They were narrow, twisting and dark. The servants’ quarters. We met no one. They were all presumably busy fighting the fire.

  Estegi opened a door and told us to wait. After a while she returned with two sacks. From one she took out filled waterskins. We bound them around our hips; I tied Orseola’s tight. Sulani heaved the sack up onto her back, but then Orseola chuckled.

  “The battle horse becomes the pack mule.”

  Sulani looked at her. “It is true. I cannot fight while heavily laden.”

  Without a word Estegi handed her little bag to her and took the heavy sack.

  We continued through a small door out into the garden. Now the smell of smoke was even more intense. The Palace of Tranquillity was like a flaming torch. It would burn to the ground. Figures were running between the trees with buckets from the stream, lakes and fountains. Voices were shouting, both women’s and men’s.

  We crouched low and ran. The trees’ shadows hid us. Bushes scratched my legs. I had to pull Orseola along with me. She was slowing me down, but Sulani waited. She ran ahead, constantly vigilant, held up a hand, made us wait, then hurried on. I followed after as though blind. I felt just as helpless, putting my trust in this almost entirely unknown woman, as a blind person trusting their guide.

  We came to the building with the pagoda roof in the northern part of the garden. The door to it stood open. I heard voices. Sulani gestured to us to wait as she crept forward. I dragged Orseola with me up against the wall of the building. Estegi released the heavy sack. Crumbs of soot fluttered down like snowflakes.

  “It’s Kabira and Esiko,” whispered Sulani whe
n she returned to us. “And Garai is with them.”

  “What shall we do?” I whispered. I looked up at the pagoda roof. The lowest edge could just about be reached, if someone helped me. My belly was weighing me down. I was already out of breath. If we started climbing now they would hear us. “Should we wait?”

  “An opportunity like this will never come again.” Sulani’s forehead was deeply creased. “We must away tonight.”

  “I’ll go in,” said Estegi. “I know them. If I speak with them they will not hinder us.” She didn’t sound as certain as her words. Sulani looked at her a moment, then nodded.

  “We will wait here.”

  Estegi disappeared through the open door.

  Kabira

  REACHED SERENITY HOUSE WITHOUT BEING seen. All the guards were rushing around carrying water or saving what could still be saved from the Palace of Tranquillity. The palace doors were open. I did not know where the library was, only that it was located on the ground floor. I tried many doors, some locked, some that opened into empty chambers. My steps echoed on the marble floor. My heart was racing. I did not even know for what purpose I sought the library. To search through the secret scriptures in hope of finding something to save Esiko? Or else rescue the most valuable in case the fire spread? Find something that could strip Iskan of his power, once and for all?

  I do not know.

  The farthermost door was locked, and I knew at once it must be the right one. Esiko had told me where Iskan safeguarded the keys: in a box in his bedchamber. On the upper floor.