“There is no difference,” Shonan said.
“To us, the difference is great. The mask is but a thing. It is the mind behind the mask with whom we will speak.”
I snapped back to the time and place I was in.
“Drink. You are thirsty,” Jalla said with a frown.
Reluctantly, I took a cup from her hands, sipping down the cool water. I could have drunk four more, but she took the cup back. This was ridiculous. Like everything else, I’d need to think of some way out of this.
“Ah, Jalla,” Gahteen said as he poured more wine in his cup. “Your cousin asks for our help. He has returned to our lands.”
“We’ll help him, of course, Father,” Jalla replied. She was staring at me like a saddle she was deciding to repair. I shifted awkwardly.
“An alliance with his tribe can only help Bao’hauld,” the old man to the left of Gahteen said as he helped himself to a bowl of rice. My belly rumbled as I watched, but it occurred to me that they spoke in my language for a reason. Were they trying to make some sort of point?
“I think alliance alone is no longer an option,” Gahteen said, his mouth a grim line. “Tell me about my nephew, Dragon Rider.”
Perhaps this was why he chose my language. All eyes shifted to me. So, they all spoke Dominion. These must all be very powerful, educated people.
“He has great power. He has married the Chosen One of the Dominion and plans to help her destroy the Ifrit plague our lands suffer under.”
A stream of speech poured from a woman to Gahteen’s right. He responded, still in their language, and then a debate broke out around the circle. I watched expressions and wide gestures, trying to piece together who was arguing what.
“If you were me, Dragon Rider, would you submit your city and tribe to Rakturan?” Jalla asked me quietly.
“Do you want to live? Do you want your people to flourish and this city to stay strong?”
“You may as well ask whether I want the sun to continue rising in the East.”
“Then yes, you should follow Prince Rakturan.”
She tapped her chin with a finger. She was considering. How long would it take for all these bickering people to decide? Hours? Days? Longer? Rakturan did not have that much time.
I stood and cleared my throat. Prince Gahteen raised a single eyebrow in a quizzical expression.
“Men and Women of Bao’hauld,” I said over the arguments. “Prince Rakturan is your only hope. If he can’t unite Baojang, the Ya’kar will let loose a flood of Ifrits across your mountains and plains. They will overrun your city and smash your citizens on the rocks. They will raze your cities and leave nothing but dust and memories behind them. Do you love your oasis here? You must fight to keep it. And if you don’t, not one of you will live to remember my words. I watched Ifrits pour from the ground with my own eyes just south of the mountains. Rakturan has asked for your support to fight this invasion. Will you give it to him?”
Gahteen cocked his head, a small smile on his lips. “He sent you to ask for our help, did he?”
“You read the message.”
“But you are his messenger?” he pressed.
“I am. And so is Renn.”
“But the other rider is incapacitated.” Gahteen’s smile grew.
I nodded.
“Then you will speak for Rakturan.”
Sudden silence swept across the room and I felt sweat form on my brow. It was never a good thing when these people were silent.
“We require a prince with the strength to lead all of Baojang – like the Great Leaders of our ancestors. Is Prince Rakturan that man?”
“He is,” I said firmly. I needed to show them I was certain.
“We need a leader who has the power and fortitude not to shirk when sacrifice is required. Is Rakturan that man?”
“Yes.” I pushed my conviction into my words.
“We need a man willing to prove himself in the fires of trial. Is Rakturan that man?”
He’d certainly already proved that time and again. “Yes.”
“Then it is agreed,” Gahteen said with a devious smile. “Rakturan will go to A’cauib - as it is written - and open the Kah’deem there. Let our ancestors decide his fate.”
Chapter Ten
“Wait. What?”
“You spoke the words of ceremony on his behalf. The covenant has been made,” Gahteen said with smug satisfaction. “I will send my own messenger in reply – the fastest we have – and also messengers to all the tribes of Baojang. Not all will have time to arrive, but some are close enough. We will meet together at A’cauib and see if Prince Rakturan is indeed our leader.”
“But the Crescent Prince-”
“Will also submit to the will of the ancestors,” Gahteen said smoothly. What had I done? “We leave as soon as our forces can be mustered. Akbar,” he turned to one of the men eating with us. “Prepare the Salah and Elah divisions to accompany us. Ashreena,” he turned to a grizzled woman who promptly assumed an alert expression. “You’ll keep the Telah division here to defend the city. When Abin returns, you may also take command of the Yelah division for defense.”
The two of them bowed curtly and scrambled to their feet, hurrying out of the arched doors. He must be serious about leaving immediately. I sucked in a breath of air to calm myself, coughing as incense filled my nose.
“I beg leave to prepare for the journey, father,” Jalla said.
“Go, daughter.”
She stood, crossing her arms as she looked at me. I stayed where I was. Despite what she thought, I was no slave.
A rasping sound made me turn to look and I sucked in a second incense-laden breath as the remaining people in the room drew curved swords and knives.
“Have you no honor? Shall I not trust your master, Rakturan?” Prince Gahteen asked me.
“I think you have the wrong idea. I am only his messenger.” I gritted my teeth. I didn’t like speaking up with all those weapons drawn, but if I didn’t say something, then I might as well just resign myself to life as a slave.
“Then you have no honor?” There was a glitter in his eye. Something told me that any answer other than ‘I have honor’ would be bad for me.
They have one way of dealing with the honorless – instant death.
I swallowed. “I have honor.”
Swords and knives slid back in their sheaths, but all eyes were still on me with deadly glares in them until I stood shakily on my crutch and followed Jalla out of the room.
“I hear your message, slave,” she said.
“Message?”
“In our lands, we have an expression, ‘Aim your Sentry in the way you wish to travel.’”
“Sounds like common sense to me,” I said, hobbling after her as she led us back out to the stairways and terraces outside and wove us along the cliff face to a wide terrace with vines growing along it and up the wall. A quick duck around the corner took us to a narrow set of steps and up to a carved doorway.
“I know you will be a headstrong slave and prone to trouble – because you showed me that in the haz’tarac.”
“The place where everyone was eating?”
“Yes. Thank you for honoring me with that message.”
I blinked. They had a very strange code of honor. She thought I gave her an honor by refusing to be her slave until I was forced to submit by violent threats?
Giving the truth to someone is always giving them an honor. Some people are worthy of that honor. Some people are not. The people of Bao’jang acknowledge that in a way the Dominion does not. But you know Hubric lives by that code. He loves truth – but who he gives it to is up to him.
Hmmm. Perhaps I would find a way to work with Jalla – at least until we met up with Rakturan. Then he could explain all this and get me out of it.
I don’t know if he can...
Of course, he could. He was a Prince. And once he led them all, it would be a simple thing to clear up this misunderstanding. I just needed to get ever
yone there first so that Rakturan could make it all right.
“Welcome to my home,” Jalla said as we entered the door to a sumptuous dwelling with wide open-arched windows and woven tapestries and rugs across the stone floors and walls. It was cool and shady, and a vine grew across the tops of the windows, shading the room even more. Pottery vases as tall as my knee were filled with dried waving grasses or collections of edged weapons, while smaller basins sat on shelves or low tables, laden with small red fruits the length of my finger. “Are you ready to fly as you are?”
“If I could refill my water skins that would help,” I said. “What about Renn?”
“His dragon is waiting in the hills outside the city?” Jalla asked. “Don’t gape at me. We post a watch. We know what happens around our city.”
“Yes, he is.”
“But a wounded man is not a great choice to take to a meeting of leaders.” She pursed her lips. “No, we shall leave him here. I would like to try riding one of these dragons. I shall take his beast.”
“It doesn’t work like that. He won’t let just anyone ride him,” I protested.
“But he will stay in place waiting here?”
Would he?
Yes. Until Renn recovers.
“Yes,” I replied.
A small woman with long dark hair emerged from deeper in the house and Jalla barked a series of orders at her. She set down a basket of flatbread, bowed and rushed away.
“Then I shall ride with you. Surely, you can keep your beast under control.”
“He’s not a beast,” I tried to object, but she was already on to the next thing, a flurry of energy and intensity.
I struggled to keep up as we raced through her house, packing food, supplies and a small bag of personal things for her. She barked orders at everyone she met – servants perhaps, or family, I couldn’t tell which – and asked me a series of questions.
“Rakturan – he is changed since his time in the Dominion? Tell me how?” Before I was even finished answering she was on to the next question. “But how did his eyes begin to glow. Don’t tell me you didn’t question him. I would have had a million questions. Who is this wife of his? Is she likely to survive the conflict she is a part of? A young prince like Rakturan – especially if he is the leader of all Baojang – would make a fine husband. Did he ever mention his uncle’s household before? Perhaps he mentioned me.”
“Aren’t you his cousin? You couldn’t marry him even if Savette died.”
But my objections had no effect as she bustled from task to task. She stopped, suddenly, and turned to me.
“That should be enough packing. Fortunately, you will be with me through the whole journey. You can finish answering my questions then.”
If I’d thought traveling with Renn was troublesome, traveling with Jalla was bound to be much worse.
Chapter Eleven
“But why is Savette the Chosen One?” Jalla asked again.
It had taken only a few hours for the troops and retainers to assemble in front of the city for the journey ahead. I was shocked at how quickly they could assemble, but Jalla kept saying they were the best in Baojang, and maybe she had a point.
“Because the Ibrenicus Prophecies say she is. She’s fulfilling all their signs.”
“And this is what ... a code of honor, perhaps? It is to your honor to trust this book?” She had Talsan’s book in her hands and she poured over the text from her place behind me in Raolcan’s saddle. As soon as the massive caravan had started to move she’d given loud instructions to Raolcan to circle the group, so she could keep an eye on things. And for some reason, he’d obliged. Why he would do that when he usually didn’t like being ordered about was beyond me.
I like her.
Of course, he did. Just like he’d liked Savette when I still wasn’t sure of her. He seemed to like arrogant girls.
It’s why I like you.
I gritted my teeth. I was not arrogant.
“So, if I fulfilled these prophecies, would that make me the Chosen One?”
“Well, you haven’t, so it doesn’t matter.” The constant questioning was wearing on my patience.
“I could try. Some of these don’t seem very hard. They’re all about bringing light here and there. I could just wander around with a lantern and fulfill half of these.” Because that wasn’t at all insulting. “Or you could. Would you like to be the Chosen One?”
Unbidden, a flash of Savette came to my mind, clear as a reflection in a still pond. Two men who looked like Castelan’s kneeled before her, swearing allegiance. I leapt when I heard her voice in my mind. ‘Amel? Is that you?’
The vision snapped away, leaving me gasping. I’d seen her again. And this time, she had sensed me, too.
“Amel? Did you hear me? Would you want to be the Chosen One?”
I sighed. “I think I’d just like to be anything other than your slave.”
“Ha! I’ll let you think about that for a minute. Anything? There are a lot worse things to be than my slave. I’m good company, incredibly adept in the arts of war, an excellent leader to my people, and destined for greatness. You’re going to get to join me for all of it. Oh, and I speak the language here. Which is something you’ll need to learn now that you are going to be living with my people.”
I ground my teeth together. Gritting them just wasn’t helping me keep my frustrations inside. How could Raolcan like this?
It’s very entertaining.
“Can I ask a question?” I asked.
“It is to your honor that you requested my consent first.”
I rolled my eyes. At least she wouldn’t see that from behind me.
“What sort of test will Rakturan have to pass when he gets to A’cauib?
“The same test your friend Renn failed.”
“You mean he’s got to grab that thing and hope it doesn’t kill him or drive him insane?”
“If all he has is hope, then it will certainly kill him.” She sounded indifferent.
“Well, what else could he have? There’s no test to pass or trial of skill. Who would even want to try that?”
“Ha! Well, you’re an unambitious people in the Dominion, aren’t you? Many of our young men and women want to free our ancestor’s artifacts and take a chance at becoming ruler of all Baojang. And they do a lot more than hope. The test involves more than just grabbing those handles. It will plumb the depths of the one who challenges it. It will only open for the pure of heart. It will only open to the one who holds truth in his palm and wisdom in his heart. It will only open for the one who passes a test of the mind.”
“Well, I’m surprised no one has opened it yet if that’s all it takes.” I wasn’t usually sarcastic, but Jalla was bringing out the worst in me. The more confident she was, the more irritated I became. After all, if she was as capable as she claimed, I would never be free of her.
“Those things are not so simple, slave.” She shifted behind me. “Tell me more about this book. I’m not sure I like this part.” She began to read from Talsan’s book again. “And one will come from the north, burning, burning, Judgment and Wisdom borne by the flow of spirit to spirit, Do not speak to us of the times that follow, For they shall be as a dream of death as a nightmare walking.”
“I’ve read that one before,” I said, noncommittally. I was watching the caravan below, noting how the horse divisions reacted immediately to any command, how the shoal of Sentries in the air flew in perfect formation, how the retainers even marched like soldiers. These were formidable people. This dry, rocky land was no match for them.
“Nightmare. In our language, that is ‘Ya’kar.’”
“Your version of the Dusk Covenant. The arrow through the spiral.”
“Very good, slave. Yes, it says the times that follow will be like the Ya’kar walking. I don’t like that. I think that part should be ripped out.”
I heard a tearing sound and spun in the saddle. My head felt light. She hadn’t actually torn the book, had she? I
snatched the torn page from the air as she let it go. We’d almost lost a page! Quickly, I grabbed the Ibrenicus Prophecies back from her.
“Don’t be so touchy about a book,” Jalla said, her mouth quirking with humor.
“You tore it!” There was accusation in my voice. Gently, I replaced the page, but now it was torn, and I would have to be more careful with it. I wouldn’t find another copy here.
“I didn’t like what it said. I don’t think it’s a very good holy book.”
“Because it doesn’t say what you want it to? I’ve seen the prophecies in this book come true. I’ve seen the warnings come true. What you think about it has nothing to do with that! Don’t ever rip my book again!”
“That’s not a very respectful tone, slave.”
I made a frustrated sound through my teeth and quickly tucked my book away. From now on, I’d need to read it in private where Jalla couldn’t destroy it.
“Do you happen to have a deck of cards?” She asked. “Let’s fly up ahead and pay a few rounds. I’m bored circling the army.”
Chapter Twelve
We sat on the highest peak of the mountains close to A’caiub – the cursed place where Renn touched the handles and doomed me to a life of slavery.
Dramatic much?
Our playing cards were laid out on a boulder where we could play and Jalla could drink wine from her waterskin – she hadn’t even brought water it turned out – while I could give her frequent reports about the approaching armies.
“How is our caravan?” she asked, playing a Dominar card. “My but your ruler card is plain. It needs some astral signs to liven it up a bit.”
“They are progressing the same as they were an hour ago,” I said. “I think they’ll arrive at the bowl of A’cauib tomorrow morning.”
“They’ll camp for the night. So, they won’t make it until midday.”
Why did she even ask me if she already knew?
“And the others?” She asked, clearing the boulder and reshuffling the cards. She’d won that hand, too. She won nearly all the hands and she was not a courteous winner. “You should practice this more. You’re terrible.”
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