The Sword Of Angels eog-3

by John Marco

  ‘You would have gone on as far as you could,’ said Aztar. He shook his head with a dark chuckle. ‘All this to reach me. I’m honoured, Princess.’

  ‘When my drowa died I thought I’d never reach you, Aztar. I tell you, I cannot believe my fortune! To be found in the desert. .’ She shrugged. ‘The odds of it stagger me.’

  Aztar’s red lips tightened. He glanced away. ‘Not so staggering.’

  ‘Yes! I didn’t even know where I was!’

  ‘Salina, we must talk.’

  Salina lost her smile. ‘We are talking, Aztar.’

  ‘No. We must talk about your father.’ Aztar put the pomegranate down on the table, then flicked it away. Facing her, he said, ‘What did you think your father would do? Just let you leave Ganjor?’

  ‘My father? He will send men to come after me,’ Salina admitted.

  ‘He has, Salina. They arrived here yesterday.’

  Salina reared back. Suddenly she understood. ‘That’s why Fahlan and Rakaar were in the desert. They were looking for me.’

  ‘You should have made it here before your father’s soldiers,’ Aztar explained. ‘When you didn’t, I sent my own men out looking for you. Not just Fahlan and Rakaar but dozens of them. Fahlan and Rakaar went to the oasis because it seemed the sensible place to look.’

  Salina grew alarmed. ‘And where are these soldiers now?’ she asked. ‘Still here?’

  ‘Still here and waiting for you.’

  Like a noose tightening around her neck, Salina felt her breath catch. She studied Aztar’s face, hoping for a clue to his intentions. His burned expression simply seemed troubled.

  ‘I won’t go back with them,’ said Salina. ‘Don’t try to make me.’

  ‘I want you to think about all of this, please. You need to be reasonable.’

  ‘I can’t be reasonable, and I can’t go back,’ Salina insisted. ‘I knew what I was doing when I left Ganjor. It wasn’t just to see you, but to escape my father.’

  ‘Your father? Why? Because he made you stay in your rooms?’

  ‘Because he killed the man who helped me,’ said Salina. ‘And a girl who knew almost nothing — my handmaiden — was flogged. He’s of the old ways, Aztar.’

  ‘Like me?’

  Salina nodded, hating to admit it. ‘Yes. Like you. His advisors have all spoken against me. Some of them wanted me flogged like my maiden. And my father agrees with them. He only stayed his hand because I’m his daughter. What kind of life is that for me, Aztar? I can’t go back to it. I won’t.’

  ‘Salina, you are not thinking. It was madness for you to come here, and it would be madness for you to stay. You are your father’s daughter. You-’

  ‘Don’t tell me that I’m being a silly girl, Aztar. I know I’m a girl. Does that mean I don’t have rights? That I can be beaten like an animal whenever a man chooses?’ Salina gave the prince a withering glare. ‘Is that what you believe?’

  ‘The old ways have served Ganjor well,’ said Aztar.

  ‘Maybe, but you’re not Ganjeese. You’re a Voruni. Do the Voruni beat their women?’ Salina took his hand. ‘Do you see what I’m asking you, Aztar? If you send me back, you send me to be beaten or worse.’

  ‘Your father loves you. You are his favourite. He would not do such a thing.’

  ‘He would, because he listens to his advisors and because it’s what the people demand,’ said Salina. ‘I won’t have it.’

  ‘You cannot remain here,’ argued Aztar. ‘I have told you already — you are the cause of my betrayal. Vala does not want us to be together.’

  Salina tried to stay calm. ‘No, Aztar.’

  ‘Yes! Damn you, yes!’ Aztar got quickly to his feet and pointed toward the tent flap. ‘Those men are in my camp. They know you’re here and they’re waiting for me to bring you to them, Salina. What shall I tell them? That the Princess of Ganjor won’t go home because she’s afraid of her father?’

  ‘You may tell them anything you wish,’ said Salina acidly. She got to her feet and faced Aztar’s fury. ‘If they take me, they’ll do so by force, because I will not go willingly.’

  ‘Then they will carry you! Not like a child, either, but like a trussed up chicken! Is that what you want?’

  Salina felt her legs go weak. ‘I want to stay here,’ she said. ‘With you.’

  The anger fled from Aztar’s face. ‘I know,’ he said wearily. ‘But you cannot.’

  ‘Because you believe in some mad curse? I know Vala too, Aztar. It was he who gave love to the world. If you love me, why would he condemn it?’

  ‘I do not know,’ said Aztar. ‘But he has chosen the Jadori and given them his might. The little woman who leads them — she is his favoured, not me. And you are the reason I fought them, Salina. Not just to claim the desert but to claim you for my wife. My love for you is a corruption.’

  ‘How can that be? How could love be such an evil?’

  ‘I tell you again, I do not know,’ said Aztar. He shuffled toward the exit, stopping short of it. ‘I don’t have all the answers, Salina. I’m not even sure why you came here. Was it just to escape your father? Or to apologize to me?’ He paused, then stole a glance at her. ‘Or was it love that brought you here?’

  ‘Love,’ said Salina, surprising herself. ‘It must be.’ She drifted closer and stood in his warmth. ‘I didn’t know it when I left. I only knew it when I was walking across the desert so I could see you again.’

  The answer twisted his face with pain. ‘Come with me,’ he said, then went to the flap and held it aside for her.

  Salina didn’t have to ask where he was taking her. At first she hesitated. She made to speak but he held up a hand to silence her, urging her outside. The princess relented, stepping out into the cool night air. As she did, the woman Harani appeared. She had been sitting on a barrel near the tent, waiting attentively, and now rushed forward.

  ‘Master?’

  ‘Bring them, Harani,’ ordered Aztar.

  Harani blanched. ‘They are waiting in their tent,’ she said. ‘A moment, Master.’

  The young woman sped off, disappearing around one of the many pavilions. A handful of Aztar’s men stood nearby, waiting for any order the prince might give. Among them were Fahlan and Rakaar. Salina’s rescuers both gave her a mannered nod. The princess acknowledged them with a wan smile. It had been a long ride from Ganjor. Now it would be a long ride back.

  Aztar said nothing as they waited, his eyes occasionally looking skyward at the stars, doing his best to avoid Salina. It was unthinkable to her that she should leave Aztar and return to her father to face his wrath, but now that the soldiers were coming she decided not to fight them. They would win easily, after all, and she was still a princess. Determined to keep her dignity, Salina waited solemnly for them to arrive.

  It did not take long, for when Harani returned she led the soldiers into the moonlight. Salina recognized the pair at once. Jashien, the taller of the two, had been one of her chaperones during her month in the palace. The other, a young soldier named Zasif, often watched her from the shadows, admiring her the way many of the palace’s young men did. Jashien sighed with relief when he saw his princess.

  ‘Princess Salina, thank the heavens you are well! Your father has been insane with worry.’ Jashien looked her up and down, smiling at her appearance. ‘And you are well, just as they told us. Thank Vala.’

  Salina was not at all surprised that her father had sent the smooth Jashien after her. He was a lean, quick-witted man, easy to like. And the young Zasif looked unthreatening, the kind of man you might send for a favour.

  ‘Jashien, my father wants me back? You heard him say that?’

  ‘Of course, my lady!’ In his button down shirt and red silk sash, Jashien looked splendid, a true herald of the king. ‘I thought I had done with the duty of protecting you. Too soon, I see. You can rest tonight, Princess. We’ll set out in the morning. Your father must have news of you.’

  ‘No,’ said Aztar.

>   Salina looked at him, confused. So did Jashien.

  ‘Prince Aztar?’

  ‘You may go in the morning, but not with the princess. She is staying.’

  ‘Aztar?’ probed Salina.

  ‘My lady, let Vala damn me for this, but I won’t have you taken back to Ganjor to be paraded through the streets just to ease your father’s politics.’

  ‘What?’ Jashien sputtered. He looked at his princess. ‘My lady. .’

  ‘Aztar, I can stay with you?’

  Aztar put up his hand, ignoring her question. He looked at the soldiers squarely. ‘Go back to your king,’ he ordered. ‘Tell them that his daughter is safe and well, but that I will not be the one to return her to him. You may stay the night or longer, but when you return home it will just be the two of you.’

  ‘Prince Aztar, I cannot accept that,’ said Jashien. ‘I was sent to bring back the king’s daughter. And now. . what? A ransom?’

  ‘Nothing so despicable,’ said Aztar. ‘She has asked for sanctuary here, and I am granting it.’

  ‘But you cannot! She belongs to the king!’

  ‘I belong to no one, Jashien,’ Salina fired back. ‘I am my own woman. I make my own choices. You may tell that to my father.’

  Jashien laughed. ‘And you condone this? Really, Prince Aztar, think on what you’re saying. This girl has no right to ask your aid. If you give it, you’ll only invite the king’s anger.’

  Aztar nodded darkly. ‘I know this.’

  His answer vexed them all. Jashien frowned and looked at Salina. ‘Princess. .’

  ‘You have my reply,’ said Salina. She straightened, liberated by Aztar’s protection. ‘Go and tell my father what I’ve told you. Tell him that I am a free woman, with my own free will. Tell him that exactly.’

  ‘You’re making a mistake, Princess,’ Jashien advised. ‘Please don’t do this.’

  But Salina had already made up her mind. It was a decision she’d made weeks ago. She ordered her countrymen to go, and did not wait for them to respond. Instead she took Prince Aztar’s scarred hand and led him back into the tent.

  24

  On the river, Lukien’s troubles seemed a thousand miles away, and the towns and farms on the banks lulled him, calling to him to stay. Overhead, the sun was perfect, the way it always was in this part of the world, glistening off the blue water as the barge skimmed quietly across the river’s placid surface. Past the rocky shore where a fishing village clung to the shoals, a range of blue-green mountains reached skyward, crowned with mist. Children gathered on the shore, wading into the river as the barge passed, announcing the Red Eminence of Torlis with a snapping scarlet flag. Wind tugged at the cloud-white sails, filling them with gentle strength. Below deck, unseen by Lukien and Lahkali’s royal entourage, a team of oarsmen waited to paddle the barge when the wind failed. Lukien looked across the shore and waved at the shouting children. They had been at sail for most of the morning and the saline air invigorated him. The children waved back excitedly.

  It was called a feruka, this royal boat they sailed, and though the river around Torlis teemed with them none were so grand as Lahkali’s own. She was bigger than the others, a barge of royal bearing, her blonde wood oiled and shining, her stout masts groaning as the wind met the sails. On its top deck sat Lahkali’s entourage, serious-looking men and their gilded wives, shielded from the sun by silk canopies. At the bow, a handful of sailors piloted the ship while most of their comrades remained below, out of sight.

  Lahkali herself sat on a throne in the centre of the deck, raised above all the others. To Lukien, she looked radiant, dressed in a white gown that fell only to her knees, her neck and wrists decorated with gold jewelry. The old priest Karoshin sat at her right with a smile on his face, pointing out the landmarks on the bank while Lahkali nodded politely. To Lukien’s great surprise she had reserved the seat at her left for him, a comfortable chair of tawny leather that was shorter than her own but still a good bit grander than those occupied by the others on deck. Among those others was Niharn, the fencing master. Seated near the stern of the barge, Niharn turned around just as Lukien thought of him. The two shared an insincere smile before the soldier looked away.

  It had been nearly two weeks since Lukien had taken over Lahkali’s training. In that time he had worked the girl to near exhaustion, always without Niharn’s help. Lukien had asked nothing of Niharn, and he supposed the old master had taken umbrage at the slight, though he never dared show it. In truth, none of Lahkali’s underlings had been impolite, allowing Lukien full reign over their young ruler to train her as he wished. So far, the process had been difficult, yielding mixed results. Lahkali had not yet worked with the katath, the forked weapon so favoured by her people. She had neither the size nor strength for the one she had been trying to use, and while the smiths of the palace made her one more suited to her stature, Lukien had trained her to fight using sticks instead.

  Lukien stole a glance at Lahkali. The Eminence, distracted by Karoshin, did not notice. He smiled, pleased with her. Beneath the lines of her gown he could see the leanness of muscle taking shape, and he knew that behind her white gown, purple bruises had risen. Lahkali had taken some powerful blows during her training, but she had never once cried or broken down in defeat. More importantly, she had done everything he had asked of her, refusing to capitulate even when her body screamed for rest. And that was why he had granted her this day on the river. She had earned it.

  Lukien turned fully around to see the bow of the vessel. There, among the sailors in their knotted-button shirts stood Jahan. His friend looked pensive, staring out toward the misty mountains, alone and ignored by the busy sailors. It had taken some convincing before Jahan had agreed to come along. Unlike Lukien, his simple friend from the village had yet to grow accustomed to Torlis or its fabulous palace. Lukien tried to get Jahan’s attention, but the man with the ponytail remained lost in thought, his eyes locked on the riverbank. At last one of the sailors saw Lukien’s gesture. Nudging Jahan, he pointed toward Lukien.

  ‘Come here,’ Lukien mouthed, waving his friend over. Jahan smiled and shook his head. Lukien frowned then waved more insistently. To this, Jahan simply turned away.

  ‘He is welcome to sit here,’ said Lahkali suddenly. She too had turned to see Jahan. ‘He knows that, Lukien, yes?’

  Lukien nodded. Except for Karoshin, the others on deck were mostly out of earshot, a blessing for which Lukien was grateful.

  ‘He keeps to himself, your friend,’ Karoshin commented. The old priest seemed perturbed. ‘He does not like it here, I think.’

  ‘We have tried to welcome him,’ Lahkali reminded Karoshin. ‘I do not know what else to do.’

  ‘Let him be,’ said Lukien. Jahan’s behavior had troubled him for weeks, but he had already decided there was nothing to be done. He had asked Jahan, to help him train the young Eminence because Jahan was more like them and Lukien wanted the company. Jahan, however, had taken poorly to the city and its inhabitants.

  ‘It is us,’ said Lahkali. ‘He fears us.’

  ‘It is you, Lahkali,’ said Karoshin. ‘Forgive me for being so precise, but you saw his face when he met you.’

  ‘Because I am a girl,’ sighed Lahkali. ‘It is always the same. Lukien, are you listening?’

  ‘I am, Lahkali, but there is nothing I can do about it,’ said Lukien tartly. He continued watching the shore, though by now they had passed the fishing village.

  ‘You have spoken to him about this?’ asked Karoshin.

  Lukien tried to change the subject. ‘Forget about it. It doesn’t matter.’

  ‘But it troubles you,’ said Karoshin. ‘And if you are troubled than you cannot do your best. And you must do your best to teach Lahkali. That is what troubles me, Lukien.’

  Lukien avoided the priest’s glare. ‘I understand, Karoshin. I will do my best. You have my promise.’

  ‘We trust you, Lukien,’ said Lahkali.

  Karoshin turned his probing a
ttention back toward Jahan. ‘He stays with you. He wants to go, that much is plain. Yet he remains.’

  ‘He stays because he’s loyal,’ said Lukien.

  ‘Loyal to you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘For what reason? He’s not your servant.’

  ‘He is a friend,’ said Lukien. ‘Don’t you have friends, Karoshin?’

  ‘Very few! When I was younger I had friends. But now it takes much to make a friend of me. Come now, Lukien, the truth — why does Jahan stay with you?’

  Annoyed, Lukien said, ‘Because he thinks he owes me a debt. Because I saved his son from a crocodile, in the river near his home. A hooth, I think he called it.’

  ‘Ah!’ Karoshin exclaimed. ‘I see.’

  ‘No you don’t, and don’t look so smug about it.’

  ‘A hooth?’ Lahkali raised her eyebrows, impressed. ‘Then what you did deserves his loyalty. A hooth could have killed you, Lukien.’

  ‘No, my lady, it could not have, for I am cursed, you see.’

  Lahkali nodded. ‘Your amulet.’

  ‘And the spirit that keeps me alive, yes. Tell me something — you have never asked me about my amulet, not since that first day. Why not?’

  ‘Because it does not surprise us,’ said Karoshin.

  ‘It does not surprise you? A man that cannot die?’ Lukien laughed. ‘Now who needs to be truthful, Karoshin?’

  ‘Karoshin means that we have our own thoughts on these things, Lukien. We have our own magics that we believe in.’

  ‘Oh?’

  Karoshin spoke before the girl could reply. ‘There are always mysteries, Lukien. As a priest I can tell you that. Like the power of Sercin — to you, that is magic. To you, it is hard to believe that a god can become a snake.’

  ‘I would believe anything after the things I’ve seen,’ said Lukien.

  The conversation wearied him. He returned to studying the shore. The feruka had drifted well past the villages now, entering a quiet part of the waterway where the shore was marked by broad-leafed trees and dense grass. Dark hills rambled among the groves and tangled vines. The water licked laconically at the muddy bank. Intrigued, Lukien decided to ask where they had drifted. Pointing toward the hills, he asked, ‘What is this place? It looks different from the rest of the bank.’