The Sword Of Angels eog-3

by John Marco

  ‘Take me to him,’ said Salina. ‘I want to see him.’

  The top floor of the house had about a dozen small bedrooms patrons could rent for the night. Salina had never spent much time in any of them, except to meet secretly with Kamag and give him money to help the Seekers. Knowing the way, she followed Kamag up the stairs toward the landing, where the first beaded curtain was drawn closed, light spilling out between its braids. Kamag went ahead and parted the curtain. He spoke softly to someone inside, then held the curtains open for Salina. When Salina stepped past them, she noted the tiny room, dimly lit by a few well-placed candles. A young man seated on the bed rose stiffly to greet her. Dressed as a northerner, he had the red complexion of sunburn, with sandy hair that fell into his eyes and a curious, trusting expression. His left hand dangled at his side, palsied into a club. A heavy, strange looking boot surrounded his left foot. A slight smile crept over his boyish face when he saw Salina.

  ‘Hello,’ he said, shuffling forward and staring. His eyes went to their host. ‘Kamag?’

  ‘This is she, Gilwyn,’ said Kamag. ‘Princess Salina.’ Kamag gestured toward the stranger. ‘Princess, this is Gilwyn Toms, from Jador. He has come to speak with you.’

  ‘I do not know you, Gilwyn Toms,’ said Salina. ‘Nor have I ever heard your name. Yet Kamag tells me you have a message for me, and news from Prince Aztar. Tell me, please.’

  ‘I should go,’ said Kamag. ‘Princess, you will be safe with him. Keep your voices down, yes? When you need me, come downstairs.’

  Salina said nothing as Kamag left, wanting only to hear from the stranger. The young man named Gilwyn Toms offered her the only chair in the little room, which Salina declined. ‘Please tell me,’ she asked. ‘I want to know about Aztar.’

  ‘Aztar is alive, my lady,’ said the stranger. ‘I was with him just two days ago in his camp.’

  ‘He sent you here?’

  ‘No,’ said Gilwyn. ‘Not really. I’m from Jador, my lady. I was heading home to Liiria. A man named Lorn told me to ask for you when I got here to Ganjor. Do you remember him?’

  ‘Lorn? Yes, I remember,’ said Salina with a smile. ‘Lorn of Norvor. He made it to Jador, then?’

  ‘He did, my lady, and he says he has you to thank for that. He wanted me to see you, to thank you for helping him and his people make it across the desert. They’re all safe, my lady.’

  ‘That is good news,’ sighed Salina. ‘I did not think they would all make it alive, especially the little one, the baby.’

  ‘You mean Poppy?’ Gilwyn Toms laughed. ‘She’s well, too.’

  The two strangers looked at each other. Salina shrugged helplessly.

  ‘I am desperate for news, Gilwyn Toms,’ said Salina. ‘What of Aztar? Is he well?’

  The young man seemed reluctant. ‘He lives, my lady,’ he said gravely. ‘But he is not well, no. You warned us in Jador about the battle. .’

  ‘Yes,’ said Salina. ‘What happened?’

  ‘Aztar was hurt. . badly.’

  Salina felt her legs go weak. She went to the chair Gilwyn had offered and sat down, unraveling her stifling face wraps. Gilwyn Toms stood over her, concerned. It took a moment for Salina to find her voice again.

  ‘Tell me more,’ she said softly. ‘Tell me everything.’

  ‘There was a fire during the battle,’ said the young man. ‘Aztar and his men were pushing their attack. They were winning. They would have overrun us.’ Gilwyn’s face darkened. ‘Something had to be done.’

  ‘You do not need to make apologies,’ said Salina. ‘Some of Aztar’s men came to Ganjor after the battle. They told of the magic fire.’

  ‘So your father knows about it too, then?’

  ‘Yes,’ replied Salina, confused. ‘What does that matter?’

  Gilwyn shrugged if off. ‘Maybe it doesn’t mean anything,’ he said without explaining. ‘But Prince Aztar survived the fire. We didn’t think he did, but he managed to escape.’

  ‘But he was burned,’ said Salina. ‘Yes?’

  Gilwyn nodded gravely. ‘He has trouble walking sometimes. He is in great pain. He hides it, but I know he suffers. The fire burned much of his body. He probably looks nothing like you remember, Princess Salina.’

  The statement shattered Salina. She tried to speak, but her throat constricted and her voice died. The joy of simply knowing Aztar was alive fled in an instant, replaced by a horrible guilt.

  ‘It’s my fault,’ she gasped. She could barely bring herself to look at Gilwyn. ‘I warned you of his coming. I sent him to this fate.’

  Gilwyn Toms came closer, falling to one knee in front of her. ‘He knows that,’ he said gently. ‘Aztar knows you warned us.’

  ‘You told him?’

  ‘I did. I told him what I knew about you, my lady, and how much you’ve helped us, and helped the Seekers.’ Gilwyn gave an encouraging grin. ‘He knows all about it, and he isn’t angry. He just wanted me to come and see you.’

  Salina gaped at him, stunned. ‘He is not angry? That is unbelievable. .’

  ‘He’s not what I expected, that’s true,’ said Gilwyn. ‘He took care of me, made sure that I was well enough to travel before I left camp.’

  ‘Yes, tell me about that — you were in his camp? That I do not understand.’

  ‘It didn’t make sense to me either at first,’ said Gilwyn. ‘I woke up there, after being attacked by a rass on my way through the desert.’

  He went on to tell her about his time in the camp, waking up from an illness that nearly killed him. Aztar’s women had cared for him, he told Salina, nursing him back out of a sleep that had lasted for weeks. Then, finally, Aztar himself had come to see him. Salina listened intently, watching Gilwyn’s face in the candlelight, amazed by his tale of Aztar’s kindness. She had always thought there was a part of Prince Aztar that could be gentle; she had even glimpsed it on occasion, when he came to visit her with flowers or quoted Ganjeese love poems. It broke her heart to hear it.

  ‘When I told him I was coming here, it saddened him,’ Gilwyn went on. ‘I told him I was coming to see you if I could, because I had been told by King Lorn that you would help me. He loves you, Princess. He wanted me to tell you that.’

  Sitting in her chair, Salina felt like a little girl, all alone and wanting to weep. Aztar had loved her from the moment they had met, and she still didn’t know why. Then, when her father had tried to bargain her away to him, she had resisted because she wanted only independence for herself and the chance to choose her own husband. Yet Aztar’s memory tugged at her, always like a little bird on her shoulder, chirping and reminding her that he cared for her.

  ‘Even though I betrayed him,’ she whispered darkly. ‘Even still he loves me.’

  ‘He does,’ Gilwyn echoed. ‘And he’s changed. He wanted me to know that and tell the others in Jador, too. He claims he’s not our enemy anymore, that he’s been changed by Vala and that. .’ Gilwyn stopped himself, looking unsure.

  ‘What else?’ urged Salina. She could tell he was holding back.

  ‘Aztar thinks Vala’s punishing him,’ said Gilwyn. ‘He thinks Vala made the fire to teach him a lesson.’

  ‘What lesson?’

  Gilwyn finally rose from his knee and made his way to the edge of the bed. There he sat contemplating his words.

  ‘Aztar told me about the bargain he made with your father, Princess Salina. He said that if he conquered Jador for him, your father would give you to him for a bride.’

  ‘That is true,’ Salina admittedly sourly.

  ‘But Aztar didn’t tell this to his god. He didn’t tell Vala he was attacking Jador to win your hand. That’s why he thinks Vala punished him, because he spilled innocent blood for his own lust and desires. He’s convinced of it. That’s why he won’t leave camp, not even to go to Jador to explain himself. He feels disgraced.’

  Salina got up from the chair and went to the room’s lone, dingy window. Outside the small square of glass she could see the stre
ets of Ganjor filled with people. Beyond Ganjor, the Desert of Tears loomed, dark and lonely. A spike of despair impaled her as she thought of Aztar, tortured and confused, sure that the god he loved so mightily had struck him down.

  All for her.

  ‘That’s why you asked about my father,’ Salina surmised. ‘Because you knew about his plans for Jador.’

  ‘That’s right,’ said Gilwyn. ‘Pardon me for saying so, Princess Salina, but I do not trust your father.’

  ‘Nor should you.’ Salina turned from the window to face him. ‘My father is a good man, mostly. But he is a Ganjeese king, and there are always jackals around him. He needs to stay strong, and do what he must to grow his power. I do not hate my father for the plans he laid against Jador, or even for trying to bargain me away. I am a girl, and in Ganjor that does not mean much.’

  Pity flashed through Gilwyn’s eyes. ‘I’m sorry for you, Princess. I’m sorry I had to bring this news to you. But Aztar is still alive. That should bring you some comfort, at least.’

  ‘It does. But then I think of him burned and pained and lonely. And then. .’ Salina turned hopelessly back to the window. ‘Then I do not know what to think.’

  She saw Gilwyn’s reflection in the glass, slowly approaching her. ‘My lady, I cannot stay long. I have things to do in Liiria, and I am so late already it may be too late.’

  ‘Do you need my help?’ asked Salina.

  Gilwyn shook his head. ‘No. Aztar gave me money and a good horse. I should be able to make the rest of the trip on my own. I only stopped to tell you his message, and to thank you for the help you gave Jador.’

  ‘That help has cursed me, Gilwyn Toms. I saved strangers at the cost of someone who cared for me.’ Salina turned to look at him. ‘I want to go to him, Gilwyn. I want to see him.’

  ‘You can’t,’ said Gilwyn. ‘He made that clear. He doesn’t want to see anyone, especially not you.’

  ‘But he loves me. You said so yourself.’

  ‘Aye, he loves you, my lady, but he’s convinced his love for you is what brought down his punishment from Vala. Don’t you see? He thinks his love is a curse, and that Vala had forbidden it.’

  ‘That is madness,’ hissed Salina. ‘Love is never evil. Never.’

  ‘It’s what he believes. He won’t leave his camp, and he won’t have any more contact with you. He only wants you to know that he’s alive, and that he still cares for you.’

  ‘And that is all? That is why you came here?’ Salina stormed across the room, feeling trapped. ‘You bring me this message, then expect me to do nothing. Am I to live with this guilt forever, then?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Gilwyn admitted. ‘I only wanted you to know that he’s alive.’

  ‘Yes, alive. Alive and burned and hidden from the rest of the world. And all because of me. Well, I cannot live with that, not without seeing him.’

  ‘He won’t see you, Princess,’ Gilwyn insisted. ‘He has already told me that.’

  ‘Tell me where to find his camp. Please, that is all I am asking.’

  ‘And how will you get there? Just coming here tonight was difficult for you. I know; Kamag told me. You won’t be able to ride off into the desert.’

  Salina wanted to scream, because his logic was unassailable. How could she go to Aztar? Without her father’s blessing it would be impossible, and that was something the king would never give. She slumped.

  ‘You are right,’ she conceded. ‘But if there is a way — any way — I must try. Please, Gilwyn Toms, for all that I have done for you, do this one thing for me. Tell me where to find his camp.’

  ‘My lady. .’

  ‘I have not much time. If I do not return to the palace soon they will miss me.’ Salina gave him her best, imploring pout. ‘Please. .’

  Under her onslaught, the young man buckled. ‘I’ll regret this,’ he sighed, flopping down on the bed. ‘The camp isn’t hard to find. It’s two days ride from here. I can draw a map to make it easy for you.’

  Salina went over to the bed and touched his clubbed hand, which was dangling off the edge of the bed. ‘Thank you, Gilwyn Toms.’

  The young man stared up at the ceiling. ‘I am leaving in the morning,’ he said.

  ‘For your business in Liiria?’

  ‘Yes. And if you don’t mind, I’d like to keep that to myself, at least.’

  He wasn’t joking, and Salina didn’t laugh. She knew she had forced him to betray a confidence. She squeezed his hand in thanks.

  ‘Be well on your journey, Gilwyn Toms. If there is anything you need, tell Kamag and he will get it for you.’

  Gilwyn sat up, smiling at Salina. ‘My lady, you are very kind. If you do try to find Aztar, take care of yourself.’ He laughed. ‘I know now why Aztar cares for you so much. You really are beautiful.’

  The young man’s words made Salina blush. She had spent an entire night being admired by men, and was surprised by her reaction to Gilwyn’s compliment.

  ‘I hope we see each other again someday, Gilwyn Toms. And thank you for my message.’

  ‘Good-bye, Princess Salina,’ said Gilwyn. He rose and walked her to the beaded doorway. ‘And good luck.’

  Back out in hall, Salina let the beads shower closed behind her. Quickly she covered her face with the wraps, then scurried down the stairs to make her way home.

  The next morning, Gilwyn breakfasted in the shrana house, sitting alone at a table near the back and enjoying his last bit of friendly comfort. Being close to dawn, the house itself was empty, allowing Gilwyn precious quiet in which to think and plan his long trip north. Now the Desert of Tears was behind him, he felt closer to Liiria than he had in years, but he knew that he still had weeks of travelling ahead of him. The black stallion that Aztar had given him waited for him outside. His few possessions had been packed and his pockets bulged with gold the desert prince had provided for his journey. It had already been weeks since he had left Jador, and Gilwyn had spent most of those in a ghastly, feverish slumber. Now, though, he was refreshed from his time in Aztar’s camp and his brief sojourn in Ganjor, and he was anxious to at least be on his way. As he sipped at a hot cup of shrana, he wondered what had become of Baron Glass over the past weeks, and whether or not Kahldris had corrupted his old friend. Considering the possibilities made Gilwyn fearful.

  Finishing his food, he left some coins on the table and headed for the beaded doorway. He had already said his good-byes to Kamag the night before. As he stepped outside, the desert air greeted him warmly. Gilwyn took a deep breath of it. In the cobblestone street outside the shrana house, the great black horse waited for him, easily shouldering the packs strapped along its flanks. With his clubbed hand and foot, it was difficult for Gilwyn to mount the stallion, but the intelligent beast had already grown accustomed to his handicaps and so stayed very still while his master mounted.

  By the time Gilwyn had ridden an hour, he was already on the North Trail, the well-worn trade route connecting Ganjor to the rest of the continent. Ganjor itself fell away behind him, looking smaller and smaller as the vast Desert of Tears seemed to devour it. Gilwyn tossed a look over his shoulder to say farewell. He could see nothing of the shrana house where he had spent the night, and could not know that men from King Baralosus had come that morning — shortly after he’d departed — to arrest Kamag.

  10

  The next morning, Salina awoke later than usual, stretching out in her soft bed as if nothing had happened the night before. When her eyes fluttered open, she saw bright sunlight flooding through the numerous windows of her bedchamber. A basin of water and a steaming urn of tea had been laid at the table near her bedside. Nourah had already been here, she supposed. From the height of the sun, Salina could tell it was already mid-morning. But the night before had been Oradin, and she had already feigned the perfect excuse for remaining in bed. She sat up, coughed loudly and dramatically, and tried to look as sick as possible. It had been cramps that had supposedly driven her to bed. She rubbed her stomach
and groaned in case anyone was listening.

  No one came to check on her.

  Salina relaxed. Her father and his many wives were still in bed themselves, no doubt. There seemed no reason at all to hurry. Salina listened to the quiet of her chambers, which consisted of many attached rooms and a fine bank of windows over-looking the palace grounds. Usually, Nourah came in to see her when she woke. She had a strange clairvoyance that always notified her of Salina’s needs. Salina wondered how the rest of the night had gone. By the time she had returned to the palace, most of her father’s guests had finally gone. She had managed to spirit her way into her wing of the palace without being seen, a small miracle that still made her sigh with relief.

  ‘Nourah?’ she called, careful to make her voice sound weak. When no reply came, she tried again. ‘Anyone?’

  Puzzled, Salina stepped out of bed onto the warm floor. The deep-piled rug tickled her bare feet. Still in her sleeping gown, she went out of her bedchamber into the main room. It too was filled with sunlight. Salina heard voices in the connecting hall. A man’s brusk tone startled her, followed by the plea of Najat, her body servant. Startled, Salina hesitated before going forward. It was unheard of for a man to be in her chambers, unless it was her father. Salina listened closely. It was not her father.

  ‘Najat?’ she called.

  The voices momentarily stopped. Salina went toward the hall and saw Najat there, arguing with Ghaith, one of her father’s advisors. Ghaith’s old eyes looked dark and troubled as he turned to Salina. Seeing her in her sleeping gown, he blushed.

  ‘Najat, what is this?’ Salina asked. ‘What’s wrong?’

  Najat was no younger than Ghaith, but she fiestily stood in his way, blocking him from going further. She had been like a mother to Salina for years, and now protected her like one.

  ‘Princess, your father wants you to come,’ said Ghaith. ‘He sent me here to bring you.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Princess, go back and get yourself dressed,’ Najat ordered. She glared at Ghaith. ‘You — back into the hall.’