Moontide 03 - Unholy War

by David Hair

  ‘You spend much time together. He treats your children as if they were his own.’

  ‘We have shared many dangers in the short time I have known him. I know I can trust him.’

  ‘How does he feel about you?’

  She felt a touch of anger at the line of questioning. ‘You should ask him, Vizier.’

  ‘Have you slept with him?’

  ‘No!’ She stopped and faced him. ‘He is my sworn bhaiya and wears my rakhi. We know the boundaries and respect them. Why are you asking these questions?’

  ‘Because, Lady Meiros, you appear increasingly to have taken against this union, despite the great advantages it would bring for you: security and safety for your children, wealth, status and comfort for you. It is a match any girl would dream of, and yet you are baulking. I cannot help but wonder whether the young man at your side has already seduced your heart, leaving you unable to give this marriage opportunity the consideration it deserves?’

  She put her hands on her hips and let her temper rise. ‘That is completely false! I have not fallen in love with Goat! I am thinking only of my children! I am thinking only of what my husband would have wished! But I am not convinced that marriage to a callow boy will achieve what my husband wanted!’

  Hanook raised a placating hand. ‘Lady, I have tutored Tariq all my life. I admit he is not perfect, but who is? The truth is, you will barely see him. A woman’s life is lived in the zenana.’

  ‘Then why meet him at all? Why not do it all by contract and I can meet him in the wedding bed a few seconds before he puts his lingam in me!’ She belatedly put a hand over her mouth, not quite believing her own temper, but it was too late; the words were out. So she refused to recall them. ‘Well, I want more than that!’

  ‘There is no more!’ Hanook threw up his hands. ‘To be Queen of the Lakh? You cannot aspire to more! There is nothing higher to aspire to!’

  She glared up at him and he down at her.

  If thrones were the only currency you might be right, Vizier Hanook of Teshwallabad. But there are other coins I treasure.

  For a few long seconds they just looked at each other, both of them panting slightly from the exertion of anger. Finally Hanook took a very deep breath and said, ‘What is it that you actually want, Ramita?’

  I want my mother. My father. My brothers and sisters. I want to show them my beautiful twins and know they will love them unconditionally as I do. I want to see Kazim and Huriya restored to the people they were. But as she tried to find words to articulate this, it all sounded so selfish, the sorts of things a child would wish for. Her husband had given her the gnosis and told her that she could stop the war. He had not told her to run and hide.

  As the mughal’s wife, perhaps I can achieve all these things …

  Her mind was going in circles now, and suddenly she felt increasingly tired resisting her Destiny. She sighed and bowed her head. ‘I am sorry. I will meet your mughal. But I have my own conditions for this. He will not dictate all the terms of this marriage.’

  Hanook looked less than pleased, but also relieved. ‘What terms?’

  ‘I will tell them to him, not you.’

  They went on in silence, the vizier contemplative. As she cooled down, Ramita began to feel that her flash of temper had been a good thing. It showed him that I have my own mind, that I am just not some doormat.

  At the end of the tunnel was a door set in a stone wall, unusual only for its plainness. There were no carvings or fretwork, no painted patterns or gilt embossing, just one symbol, carved on the door. It looked somewhat familiar. They were at least three levels underground, Ramita thought.

  Hanook produced a key, but he did not immediately place it into the lock. ‘Lady, there is something you need to know,’ he said quietly. ‘Beyond this door, you may not use your gnosis.’

  She raised her eyebrows. ‘I suppose it is forbidden, yes.’

  ‘More than this. It is suppressed.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘When the palace was built, Lord Meiros came secretly with some of his most trusted Ordo Costruo. They assisted with the building, including placing the famous Crystal Dome on top. Does the Dome look at all familiar to you?’

  She cast her mind back to something she’d seen just once before, when her husband had shown her … ‘Southpoint. The lights at the top of the tower – just not so bright … you barely notice it, unless you’ve seen it before.’

  ‘You are correct, and this dome is made of the same material, special crystals cultivated by the Ordo Costruo. It’s making is a carefully guarded secret. The crystals turn the sun’s light into gnostic energy – only such a power source could sustain the Leviathan Bridge.’

  ‘Does it strengthen the mughal’s palace?’ she asked curiously.

  ‘No, that’s not its purpose here. What it does is to sustain a spell woven into the very fabric of the palace, akin to the Chain-rune that binds the gnosis, but it is milder, and tied to an area – in this case the main building – rather than a person. Once inside, only an Ascendant can access the gnosis.’

  She quietly filed that thought away. She’d not told Hanook just how strong she was.

  The vizier patted her shoulder tentatively. ‘Please, Lady Meiros, be generous and open-minded. Tariq is still young, but one day he will be a fine ruler.’

  We shall see. She nodded dutifully, and covered her face with a silk veil as the vizier unlocked the door. A small bare chamber lay beyond. Hanook knocked on the door in the opposite wall; a slot opened and a dark eye peered through. ‘Vizier? You are expected.’

  The door was unlocked, and they stepped through into another chamber, larger, with a single throne at the far end. It was tall, and had a high balcony, slotted like battlements with arrow slits. Each one had an arrowhead jutting through. Ramita felt horribly exposed. Tentatively she tried to reach her gnosis, and thought she could sense it, just out of reach.

  If there was ever a place to kill a mage, it is here. Why did my husband build such a thing?

  She could guess: Antonin Meiros had forbidden his people from meddling in Lakh, but he might not have trusted that others would keep such a prohibition. In giving the mughal a place where no mage could use their power over him, he ensured that the ruler could deal with a mage as he would any man. She wondered if there were other such places dotted about the land.

  The double doors at the far end opened and in walked Mughal Tariq. In person he wasn’t tall, and his plump face, large eyes and the faintest beginnings of facial hair made him look soft. He had fair skin, for a Lakh. His stiffly brocaded coat fell to his knees, and a scimitar was sheathed in a glittering velvet and gold scabbard. His turban was crowned with a ruby as large as a grape. At his back stalked a large, shaven-headed man holding a giant two-handed curved sword, as tall as the man’s own six-foot frame. The weapon was bare and gleaming in his hands. The bodyguard is called Kindu, she remembered from Hanook’s briefings. His impressive moustaches gleamed with wax.

  Hanook and Ramita went to their knees and stared at the floor. She heard one set of boots click on the marble: the young ruler ascending his throne. The heavier tread of Kindu measured a slow circle about her and the vizier, then returned to Tariq’s side.

  ‘Vizier Hanook, Lady Ramita.’ Tariq spoke in a clear boyish voice.

  She and Hanook came up on their knees, then touched their foreheads to the floor. Her skin prickled at the thought that a dozen arrows could be loosed into her back any moment.

  ‘Thank you for seeing us, Great Mughal,’ Hanook replied.

  ‘Please rise, both of you.’

  Beside her Hanook came smoothly to his feet, and Ramita followed his lead, a little awkwardly, as she was wearing a sari so encrusted in gems and brocade that it had taken four servants to wrap her in it. Rubies were set in her belly button and on her brow. Her arms were covered in gold bangles. Despite the clothing and jewels, she’d never felt more like a market-girl.

  ‘The veil, please.�
�� Mughal Tariq’s voice was curious.

  Examining his new broodmare. She lowered her veil, simmering, but kept her eyes modestly downcast.

  ‘Hmphf,’ the mughal grunted unenthusiastically. ‘She is rather diminutive. Very dark. What is her family and caste again?’

  ‘Ankesharan. Trader caste, of Baranasi.’

  Tariq looked up at the ceiling, clearly unimpressed. ‘And she has the gnostic blood?’

  ‘Very strongly,’ Hanook said smoothly.

  ‘A woman can gain this power simply through bearing a child?’ Tariq’s tone suggested that he found the notion completely inappropriate. ‘How can it be so simple?’

  Simple? You try bearing a child!

  ‘It is a widely known phenomenon among the high-blooded magi, Great Mughal.’

  ‘So there must be a child?’ Tariq sounded even less pleased at this notion.

  ‘There are two. Twin boys.’

  Tariq scowled down at her from the throne. ‘How old are they?’

  ‘Six months, Great Mughal.’ Hanook’s voice was apologetic, which annoyed Ramita faintly.

  ‘Younger than mine. And not of my blood.’

  ‘It would be desirable to tie the babies to you by adoption,’ Hanook said. ‘Familial bonds will give them status here, and help cement their loyalty. Especially as they also will develop the gnosis in time.’

  Tariq sniffed, a little disdainfully. ‘I would not have them taking precedence over any child of mine in the succession, my friend. I am of the line of Turig. Antonin Meiros was an afreet and this women is only a Lakh.’

  Ramita felt her jaw clench.

  ‘Has her womb recovered? Can she bear more children? She has little value if she can’t.’

  Little value. Ramita smarted at that, and at the memory of her fertility being proven by the midwife Hanook had summoned; the scrawny Amteh woman had poked inside her with bony fingers and sniffed them, then declared her still viable. How she knew, Ramita had no idea.

  ‘Examination reveals that Lady Ramita has a normal cycle,’ Hanook replied.

  Tariq tapped his fingers rhythmically on the arm of his throne. ‘I have been offered one of the daughters of the Sultan of Gatioch. She is said to be almost six foot tall, with fair skin and nipples the size of a flower. She is trained in the arts of pleasure, the Godspeaker says, yet still a virgin. And you offer me this used widow of a heretic. Vizier, I am not pleased. This undersized chit with her polluted yoni is not a suitable wife for the Emperor of Kings.’

  Ramita glared at him from beneath her eyebrows. I’m not that pleased with what I see either, oh ‘Exalted One’. But she recognised Tariq’s protestations as the bargaining points a trader makes to beat down the price. Hanook clearly understood this too, as he responded with equanimity, ‘Exalted One, you know all wives cannot be for pleasure. This girl will strengthen your following in Baranasi, as well as bringing the gnosis into your bloodline.’

  ‘Do I gain the gnosis by ploughing her, Vizier?’

  Ramita clenched a fist behind her back. What a revolting thought! He’d have me on my back for his entire army.

  ‘I am sorry, Exalted One, that is not the way of it. But your children by her would have a great deal of power. With the Ordo Costruo gone and Rashid of Halli’kut aligning his renegades with Salim of Kesh, you must gain magi if you are to avoid being dominated by the Keshi. Salim’s ambitions will know no bounds after his victory at Shaliyah.’

  Tariq rubbed his chin as if mimicking an adult. ‘This is true. But the Godspeakers will condemn this union.’

  ‘Salim of Kesh has found a way to reconcile his faith with using servants with the gnosis. Presumably his Godspeakers have also found some phrase in the Kalistham to justify themselves.’

  ‘Victory in battle wins most arguments. Is that not what my tutor always says?’ Tariq observed ironically.

  Hanook, that same tutor, bowed in acknowledgement of his ruler’s wit. ‘Tariq, I do counsel this union. This is a good woman, dutiful and faithful, with a proven womb and the gnosis in her blood. This is a beneficial union, worth even foregoing the dubious pleasures of taking a Gatioch virgin to wife.’

  Tariq sighed heavily, no doubt thinking regretfully of virginal beauties with flower-like nipples.

  Ramita continued to glower at the floor.

  ‘So she has the gnosis,’ Tariq said thoughtfully. ‘What danger does this present to me, and those at court?’

  Ah, so you’re a little scared of me, are you? That cheered her up a little.

  ‘Great One, here within the Dome, where she will live the rest of her days, her powers are constrained.’

  She felt a chill at that. She and Alaron had been learning so much – a whole new way of accessing the gnosis – and she’d only just begun to explore what she was capable of. Even that had left her trembling with excitement. She did not want to lose her new powers. And she most definitely did not want to be helpless in a hostile court.

  Tariq sounded mollified, however. ‘Lift your face, girl,’ he said finally, a note of acceptance in his voice.

  ‘Girl’! I’m older than you, you spoilt little brat. She lifted her face and met his eyes, then remembered she wasn’t supposed to. His eyes narrowed at the affront, but he didn’t say anything.

  ‘Can you sing, girl?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘Recite poetry? Perform the Carnatakam?’

  She shook her head again.

  ‘Speak. I would hear your voice,’ Tariq commanded.

  She swallowed her temper and said evenly, ‘Exalted One, I have no poetry and I do not know the classical royal dances. My songs and dances are of the people.’

  ‘How dull.’ He looked at his advisor. ‘She’s a peasant, Hanook. Do they not teach their daughters anything of value in Baranasi?’ He pulled a face. ‘I do not like her voice either. It has no music.’

  ‘Exalted One, this is a strategic union. You do not like most of your wives.’

  ‘True enough. I’m bored with all fourteen of them. Are you sure I cannot wed the girl from Gatioch as well?’

  ‘Tradition says one per year, Exalted One. The Gatioch girl will still have nipples like flowers next year.’

  Tariq harumphed, and went back to studying Ramita. ‘Have you anything to say on this?’ he asked eventually.

  She did. Hanook threw her a warning look, but she ignored him. ‘Yes, I have this to say. I am an Omali of Lakh, and I will keep my faith. My children will know their father, and be tutored in the gnosis, with skilled tutors imported from the north, even Yuros if need be. And I will not dwell helpless in the zenana. I will have my own annex of the palace, away from the Dome so I may continue to learn the gnosis. If you wish to father children upon me, you will come to my bed, not me to yours.’

  Her words echoed about the chamber, and when she stopped speaking, a cold silence enveloped the room. She could almost feel the tautness of the bowstrings above. Hanook’s face turned grey, and Tariq was staring at her like she’d grown horns.

  He’s probably never had anyone dictate terms to him since he was legally a child.

  She found she didn’t care what he said or thought. It felt good to have stated her position, and if he didn’t want her after all, some part of her would be for ever relieved.

  Tariq began to drum his fingers again on the arm of his throne, louder and faster, until finally he stopped. He let out his breath. ‘She has sharp teeth as well as a sharp voice.’ His tones were neutral, with just the hint of fear, as if the enormity of marrying a woman who had the gnosis had only just become apparent. ‘Even putting aside the fact that a ruler does not go cap in hand to his wife’s chamber hoping to be given entry, we are forced to reconsider the earlier question: if she is not to be constrained beneath the Dome as you said earlier, how am I to protect myself and my court against her?’

  Hanook fired a reproachful look at Ramita. ‘I am sure some compromise can be reached.’ You need to give ground here, girl, his expression added.<
br />
  ’I will not have the safety of my children threatened,’ she replied stubbornly.

  Tariq glanced at the balconies above, and for a heart-in-mouth second she feared he was going to give some signal that would end this debate instantly. Or perhaps he would simply lock her up and give her no choices.

  Hanook held up a placatory hand. ‘Will you allow me to find a compromise on this matter, Great Mughal?’

  Tariq stared down at Ramita, his eyes cold. ‘Very well, old friend. You have three days to come up with something, or I shall marry the Gatioch princess.’ He looked at Hanook with the ghost of fondness. ‘Three days, for your sake.

  ‘And for the sake of your kingdom, Tariq,’ Hanook said warmly.

  Tariq grunted, got up and strode away.

  *

  The underground tunnel was a chillier place as Ramita and Hanook walked back to his palace. Perhaps that’s just the frost coming off Hanook’s face. Finally he turned his head and said, ‘I have had to pull upon every heart-string Tariq possesses to get him to even consider you as a bride. You risked it all with your demands.’

  ‘They are not unreasonable.’

  ‘Can you imagine the mobs the Godspeakers could whip up if you posture as if you were ruling Lakh, not Tariq? If you play up your differences, you will attract so much ill will that nothing could protect you. And you will drag me down with you!’

  ‘So instead I should meekly bare my throat?’

  ‘If a mob descends on your annex, you could not defend it, and nor could I! Only by showing submission to Tariq can you gain safety! If the Godspeakers and the people are convinced of our loyalty to Tariq, and your willingness to be nothing but a fruitful yoni, they will be willing to overlook your taint.’

  ‘My taint? Is that how you see it too?’

  ‘Of course not! I share that taint – I am kin to you! But Ramita, you must submit if we are to further our cause!’

  She lifted her chin. ‘Then think of something that he and I will both find acceptable, or we will leave here and you will never see us again.’

  32

  Death Camp