by Dana Marton
Once our barges reached Uramit’s port, we disembarked and marched to the city gate. Unlike Muzarat, sprawling at the edge of the desert, the port city was well fortified with thick walls and guard towers.
As we had an emissary with us from Muzarat who was well known to Uramit’s city fathers, we were allowed in without delay. Indeed, once I told the city fathers that we had come to help them, we were celebrated.
I was escorted to the Blue Palace of the leader of the city council, Mizrem, while the other city fathers assigned lodging to my army, adding them to their own defensive forces.
I was to be housed at the Blue Palace with Orz and Marga, as they would not leave me. Tomron was also offered chambers, but he wished to stay with the soldiers.
“Before I have the servants escort you to your quarters, my lady,” said Mizrem, “allow me to show you something.”
He was a pleasant man with a stubby beard and had the lean look of someone who ran around all day. He told me he owned the city’s warehouses and was the type of owner to visit each every day to oversee the work of his men personally.
Mizrem was greatly worried that the enemy would breach the walls and erase all his wealth in a single day. He was most grateful for our timely arrival and promised to repay us for our aid.
He led me atop his tallest tower. Since the Blue Palace sat on the highest point of the city, the view was incomparable.
As we looked east, buffeted by the wind from the water, my throat tightened. The Kerghi hordes were spread out in the distance, a black pestilence that covered the ground as far as the eye could see. They were like a giant funeral shroud the uncaring gods were about to pull over the city.
“They will reach us tonight,” Mizrem said, his voice pinched. “Then they will attack at first light.”
They were a great host for certain, much greater than I had hoped. Fear tingled across my skin. How could we stand against them?
Orz watched them too. I wished he could tell me what he thought.
I turned away from the bleak sight with relief when Mizrem suggested that I should go and rest. I nearly stumbled down the stairs in my misery. Marga held me up, leaning against me.
My quarters were suitable for a queen, a spacious room with a large balcony, an iron tub in an alcove that had its own hearth, smaller rooms for my own servants, of which I had none. Mizrem swiftly offered me a dozen.
“No need,” I assured him. “I will have Orz and Marga with me.”
His eyes widened slightly but in no other way did he betray his surprise. He simply nodded and took leave of me.
Marga lay in the middle of the sumptuous carpet that covered the floor, the weaving depicting a flowering garden. I walked to the balcony.
“We have reached this far,” I said to Orz. “Pray to the spirits to help us beyond this point.”
I could not see over the city walls from here but could see most of the city, myriad houses pressed close, even built on top of each other. Uramit was crowded with people, filled to bursting, the streets barely passable. I suspected it had been so even before we had arrived. Like all other cities, they probably had their share of refugees.
I could see a blue temple—a popular color in Uramit from the looks of it—and in the temple square, the Uramit Gate: giant white stones set up in a circle, with other stones atop them, forming a series of entries to an empty space in the middle.
“It is a working Gate,” I told Orz. “It must have a Guardian. I would wish to talk with him.” My eyes were suddenly burning. “I miss the Guardians.” I sighed. “How is it possible to feel this lonely in the middle of a crowded city?”
Orz moved closer. His presence truly was a comfort to me. I knew that if any danger threatened me, he would be the first one to reach for his sword. He had been willing to lay his life down for me, more than once. He had listened to all my doubts, all my complaining.
He stepped forward until he was in front of me, his head bowed as always. He had definitely filled out his robe, especially in the shoulders. None who saw him could doubt now that he had been a soldier, even a captain, before his affliction.
He reached for me and took my hands, smoothed his scarred thumbs over the tops of my knuckles. We had not been this close since we had been trapped in the hollow tree. His touch seemed to tingle through me.
Such longing swept over me, I swayed on my feet.
“I wish to see your face,” I whispered. Even if his features had been monstrously distorted by the sorcerer, I could not imagine drawing back from him. He had been a true friend to me, a confidant, and even…
He let one of my hands go and reached for the edge of his hood, his jaw working as if he prepared to say something.
I held my breath.
But just then, the door burst open, and Orz’s hand shot to his sword.
“Sorceress!” A familiar voice boomed behind me, and I turned to see Graho stride in, dressed like a prince, surrounded by the children, who were equally well dressed, smiles on every face.
Graho strode to me without hesitation, picked me up, and swirled me around, laughing like a child himself. “I found you then, the gods be praised.” He set me down, keeping me close. “I have thought of you every day.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
(The Unexpected Prince)
The children greeted me with enthusiasm and unrestrained love, hugging me and chattering as we drew into the room. They were so changed from when I had last seen them, I could scarcely believe it.
Once I told them how much I had missed them and hugged them all back, one by one, they went to catch up with Marga, who was impatiently waiting her turn, nudging them from the back with her great head, eliciting peals of giggles.
“My lady,” Graho said in a softer tone, his gaze darkening as he looked me over.
He was freshly shaven, his hair cropped, his clothes well-appointed indeed. He looked at me in such a way…
I wrapped my arms around myself, feeling naked suddenly, my face heating even as my mind scrambled to catch up with what was happening. “You are not a merchant.”
He smiled.
Understanding dawned on me. “The children were no slaves.”
“We do not practice slavery in Landria,” he said, holding my gaze, his blue eyes sparkling with laughter.
“You are Landrian,” I said weakly.
He bowed with the ease of a born courtier. “Grahomir, crown prince of Landria. At your service.”
I gasped, then grabbed on to the first question I could catch flying around in my head. “Why are you here?”
“We arrived two days ago. We have been waiting since for favorable wind to take us to Landria, the Forbidden Islands. I was just in the harbor to see if we could sail out tonight, before the enemy reaches the port, when I heard news of a great sorceress, the sister of tigers, come down from the north to free the world. I wondered if it might yet be you, so I have come to see for myself.”
The crown prince of Landria. I stared, having trouble comprehending this turn of events.
“And your slave marks?” I remembered suddenly.
He flashed a puzzled look.
“The tattoos on your side.”
He smiled. “The royal house of Landria is marked so at a young age.”
Oh. “What were you doing on the pirate ship?”
He said nothing for a long spell, then, “That is a story not many know.” He paused. “I shall tell you, but at another time, my lady.” He turned toward the balcony and looked out at the city overrun by my soldiers. “I see you found your army.”
My mind was too stumbling to think. “In truth, they found me.”
He looked at me carefully. “You do draw people.” His lips turned up into a smile as to make maidens swoon. “You are the candle in the night. All things are drawn to light.”
He could sing a sweet song for certain. If he had not been born a prince, he should have been born a bard.
“I believe you are mistaken, my lord,” I told h
im, not intending to fall under his spell. “Only moths go to the flames. To their detriment, I believe.”
The sound of his laughter filled the room. He took my hands without hesitation and held them. “I knew you had power. Had I known how great, I might not have given up looking for you in Ker. What happened? You disappeared.”
I told him, finishing with, “I am not a true sorceress. That was…accidental.”
I wanted the war to be over so I could go back to the cave on the beach where I had been born and raised, where I had learned healing at my mother’s knees. I wanted the sunshine and the sea, to know the joy of helping those who came to me for healing. I wanted, more than anything, to have the life my mother had. I had never wanted great power, as I wanted no great riches or great beauty.
“People follow you. That makes you a leader,” Graho said. “And when you are a leader, you become what your people need you to be.” He smiled. “Or so the palace philosophers have been telling me from the time I can remember.”
Of course. Because all his life, he had been taught as a prince, trained to be king someday. He knew more about leading than I could ever hope to comprehend.
“Will I ever be my own again?”
He watched me with a gentle gleam in his eyes. “I am afraid not, my lady.” He drew me closer. “It is a service easier for two than for one. Come to Landria with me and be my princess.”
A growl sounded behind me. In the surprise of seeing Graho and the children, I had forgotten about Orz. He still stood on the balcony, his face deep in his hood. I could not tell if he was looking at me or seeing something out in the city.
“I am safe here, Orz.” I told him. “You may go if you wish.”
But he stayed.
“I heard tales of you in the harbor,” Graho said, drawing my attention back to him.
I wanted to ask what tales, but servants came to invite us to a feast. The city fathers wanted to talk with me about the morning’s battle.
Two women were already pouring me a quick bath; another brought a selection of dresses, gifts from the city.
“I must prepare,” I told Graho.
He let me go with a reluctant gleam in his eyes and headed for the door, but stopped and turned back from the doorway. “And the hollow? How is it that it still lives?”
“His name is Orz.”
Surprise crossed the prince’s face. “He speaks?”
“Only his name,” I said with true regret.
“He is much improved,” Graho allowed. Then he nodded toward the hollow. “A pint, then, old friend? I would reward you for guarding my lady.”
But Orz did not move, nor did he acknowledge the prince.
“He usually stays with me,” I put in.
The prince’s gaze cut to me, widened. “Whilst you bathe?”
“By the creeks in the woods, he protected me.” At first I had not looked at him as a flesh-and-blood man but as a lost wraith.
“Very well,” the prince said. Then frowned. Then smiled. “I am jealous of a man without a spirit.”
I wanted to argue that Orz had a spirit. I was almost certain. He had shown so much care for Marga, such care and loyalty for me… But by the time I found the words, Graho had left me, the door closing behind him.
“Your bath, my lady,” one of the servant women called, and I headed to the alcove, glancing at Orz.
He took up position in the middle of the room, facing the door, his back to me, his hand near his sword. The servant woman frowned at him with disapproval but held her tongue when I did not send him away.
“If you allow me, my lady.” The woman distracted me with stripping off my clothes, then unbraiding my hair once I was in the hot fragrant water that felt better than anything had in a long time.
I sank into the comfort and closed my eyes, let the woman rub soaproot paste over my body and into my hair.
The journey down Silver River had been a cold and distressing one. I had worried about our soldiers, about failing, about never reaching Dahru, about not being able to save my people.
The warmth of the bath seeped into my bones now, nearly lulling me to sleep. Then Orz gave one of his soft growls, maybe answering Marga, who was now sunning on the balcony. My exhaustion-addled brain drifted, idly wondering what it might feel like to have Orz’s scarred fingers in my hair instead of the servant’s.
A strange feeling flooded me, startling me so much that I sat upright in the bath, splashing water on the stones, upsetting the woman.
“Forgive me, my lady.” She thought she had somehow hurt me, pulled my hair.
“All is well. I can finish this myself.” I ducked under the water and held my breath for a moment, then another, trying to regain my composure.
Yet I still did not have it when I broke the surface.
Orz still stood as he had, his back to me, innocent of my strange imaginings, his attention on the door, giving no indication that he could hear me splashing around in my bath.
But I was aware of his presence as I had not been before.
I dressed in a hurry, in the nearest dress, barely allowing the servant to help me, which upset the woman again.
“I’m sorry, my lady,” she kept repeating.
To calm her, I let her comb and arrange my hair.
Then I caught Orz, from the corner of my eye, looking at the tub. Did he wish to bathe? Even as I thought that, I grew embarrassed. Of course he did. He was no different than I.
Among the common people, sharing a bath was a habit. They started with the young and finished with the parents, the whole family of a dozen or more accomplishing their weekly bath in the same water.
Yet now, with Orz, sharing a bath seemed an oddly intimate thing. Still, I could not deny him the comfort.
“Would you like to use the water?”
He stilled as if I had caught him by surprise. But then he nodded.
I could not stay and watch him disrobe. Even if part of me wished to look upon his face. As the servant woman fled, I strode to the balcony, closed the doors firmly behind me, and looked out at the city.
The city fathers walked the parapets, assigning soldiers to towers. I could see Tomron. I saw many men who had come to the city with me, some with better weapons than they had arrived with.
The city merchants were putting away their wares, some nailing boards across their windows. The noise of the city rose up to me, but I suddenly heard another, muffled, noise behind the doors. Was that Orz, splashing into the tub?
I felt so many things. Longing, yes, and a great curiosity, but also great shame. I had allowed Graho to hold me earlier, and now I was thinking about Orz. Where was my loyalty to Batumar? What was wrong with me? I did not want any other man but him.
Orz’s kindness had reached my heart. As a brother, I tried to tell myself. And yet…
My cheeks burned by the time he opened the door behind me and cleared his throat, signaling that he was ready. I turned slowly. Blinked.
He had shaved. I stared at the tip of his scarred chin.
I wished to see the rest of his face. “Orz—“
A rap on the door interrupted.
I stepped closer to Orz. But then the rap sounded again, and, with a small sigh, I hurried to the door.
Graho waited outside, his face immediately breaking into a smile.
“A lovely dress, but it pales in beauty next to the lady wearing it.” He offered his arm. “Allow me to escort you to the feast.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
What else could I say? Even if Orz was making low sounds behind us that made me think he might shove Graho down the staircase.
“Uncanny how much he sounds like the tiger,” the prince observed, oblivious to danger.
He entertained me all the way to the feast, then during the feast. And I did not receive respite after the feast either, for Graho escorted me back to my quarters and wished to come in.
Only because I wanted to know more about the children and the truth about their
strange journey did I let him inside.
Orz stood guard by the door. I invited Graho to sit with me by the fire.
He looked toward Orz. “I think that hollow is in love with you,” he said thoughtfully, then offered a sudden smile as he returned his attention to me. “Who can blame him?”
I did not want to acknowledge his words, much less think on them. “How does a prince with the best navy in the world come to travel on a pirate ship?” I asked instead.
Graho leaned back in his seat. “Why are you here?”
“I hope to hire the Landrian navy to sail my army to Dahru to free my island.”
He offered a rueful smile. “I wish you had told me so when we first met.”
“When we first met, you were a horrible merchant who traded in children.”
He laughed, holding my gaze. “Not a very good merchant. A good merchant does not let go when he sees something he wants. He obtains it at any price.” He fell silent, then looked toward the city outside the balcony. “You gathered an army. Not that I ever doubted you could.”
“But I arrived here too late to sail.”
He turned back to me with a pensive look in his blue eyes. “The Landrian navy does not sail the hardstorms. But I would try for you,” he added. “Now that I have seen how it is done. I paid most careful attention.”
That I could believe.
“Why were you on the pirate ship?” I asked again.
He cleared his throat. “My father, the king, had known for some time that the Emperor would reach our corner of the world sooner or later. We gave all our attention to our fleet, building more ships, so we might be able to defend our islands.”
I waited.
He scowled. “While we worked in the shipyards, watching for an enemy fleet, a simple fishing boat slipped past our defenses. Some of our children were kidnapped.”
“The nine?” I guessed.
He nodded.
His journey was beginning to make sense. “And you brought them back.”
“They are not ordinary children,” he confessed. “Many centuries ago, during a great war like this one, Landria had taken in a handful of refugees from a faraway land. Their men and women have special powers, most strong in childhood, then fading as they age, almost as if they are born with a certain amount and it runs out over the years.”