by Tia Reed
Kordahla reined in the horse and nudged Timak awake. “Go get it,” she said.
The boy slid off, collected the meal, and allowed her to lift him back up. Unwilling to tarry, she kicked the horse on, careful to allow the sleeve of her robe to cover her delicate hands. If this was how the populace revered the mahktashaan, starvation would be the least of their problems. The poor might suffer a pang of hunger for their generosity– she could bear the twinge of guilt when she was in direr straights than they. Out of sight of the cottage, Kordahla turned the horse into grass long enough to obscure them if they lay. The horse needed to rest and graze, and sleep pulled at her heavy eyes. They tucked into the crude breakfast on horseback, guarding it from the fat crows strutting to peck the falling crumbs. Timak slid off as soon as he had licked his fingers, and she followed. One hand yet on the roan horse’s withers, she looked up and down the road. The hard ground was no bed for a princess, and a traveller would investigate a bridled mount. There were brigands, too; she had heard Father rant of the horrors they perpetrated on the unwary. Beside her, Timak folded to the ground and curled up unconcerned. Despite the burning heat on the back of her hand, Kordahla rubbed her arms. On a sharp intake of breath, she shuddered.
“You can rest,” Timak murmured. “Genie will keep watch.” He was asleep within seconds.
After a final, fleeting scan of the bare horizon, Kordahla braved the coarse grass. She ran a dry blade through her fingers. A day ago, she would never have sat on earth without a servant spreading a thick rug for her. Had she really dared to run away? To take her life into her own hands, she corrected. One thing was sure: she could never go back. Honour would see her imprisoned in the tower under constant guard. If Father allowed her to live. Defying his wishes was unthinkable, but to bring shame on his head in front of Verdaan. . . his anger would raze the thoughts from her head. She shuddered again as she clutched the quartz pendant at her chest. It was her one link to Vinsant. She hoped he was not suffering on her account.
It seemed a mere moment later that the urgent voice sounded in her ear. In truth, it must have been hours, for the sun beat high overhead.
“Wake up.” Timak was standing between her and the road, his head just visible above the grass. “Wake up.” He was a picture of misery as he twisted his neck to check the danger. He rustled back as she eased up with a grimace for her sore muscles, silent and still now he had her attention. Vinsant would have been all rough and tumble over her. Vinsant would have devised some mischievous scheme to avert whatever danger threatened. This rigid child faced the road, waiting for her to assume control when she had no idea what she might do other than to stand in the hope the figure of a mahktashaan might scare off whoever approached.
Lady Luck had veiled her face; it was a mahktashaan who lurked by the road. She grabbed Timak and pushed him toward the horse. The child had the presence of mind to grab the horse’s withers and hoist himself on. She mounted after him and kicked the horse into a sedate walk, hoping a wave might discourage an approach.
“Halt!” the mahktashaan called.
The smallest scrutiny would be her undoing. Kordahla urged the horse into a trot.
“I said halt!” the mahktashaan called.
She chanced a look over her shoulder. His cream crystal held a soft glow. She spurred the horse into a gallop, pushing Timak down so she might lean low over its neck. Dear Vae, but she hoped that Levi stationed the less adept in this unpopulated, minor satrapy. Her hope died as on either side of the horse, grass sizzled to cinders: a warning, given the precision of the blasts. She sat up and reigned in the horse, knowing too well the form mahktashaan justice took. In front of her Timak sniffed.
“Now would be a very good time for that genie friend of yours to do something.”
Timak shook his head. He had to be scared out of his wits. Her heart went out to him. At Ahkdul’s hand, she would live in misery borne of freedom lost, but for this child, already little more than a shell, perverse torture awaited, if not a lingering death.
“I mean it, Timak.”
The mahktashaan glided towards them. He pointed a hand at her heart. “Dismount and disrobe.”
A princess after all, she remained where she was, shifting her shoulders back and lifting her head high despite her thundering heart.
“I will not ask you again.” The crystal pulsed with threatening light.
Her hand touched the soft hood, tentative, unwilling. His surprise might, just might, purchase an escape before the thought-link that would seal their fate. The surprise was hers. A whirlwind erupted between them, a dizzying, indigo blur which gained form as it twirled into the sky until the devious djinn loomed above. Arms and ankles crossed, he flashed a black-toothed grin and bellowed out an evil laugh.
“Puny soldier.” Bending his head, the djinn blew a gust that knocked the mahktashaan off his feet. “This little trinket is mine.”
The mahktashaan regained his feet fast. His crystal was aglow with light that blasted right through the breadth of day. It remained steadfast against his chest even as his cloak and hood whipped back to reveal an age-spotted face and greying hair. His squinting eyes and dripping nose left no doubt the wind raged strong, yet his feet stood firmly on the ground as his lips moved in incantation. Untouched by the storm, the nervous horse fidgeted under her. The hairs on her arms prickling, she backed him up, wanting to be far from the creature that made sport of her humiliation. The pit of her stomach growled at the memory of the wanton image of her atop the ship. The Kordahla, she remembered with a start. Suddenly, whatever justice the mahktashaan might mete out seemed inconsequential next to the degradation the djinn had bestowed. She forced the shying horse into the raking wind.
“Imbecile!” the djinn roared. The indigo crystals in his joints flared so bright they overwhelmed the shimmer of his skin. “Do you crave the humiliations of that swine of a Verdaani?”
She stretched her fingers in silent plea to the mahktashaan. He was standing his ground, his lips working at some spell she could not hear. His crystal burst bright with ineffectual light, but the wind gusted, forcing him back step by step. The shimmering djinn laughed. A muted glow sparked in the crystals in his joints as he lunged at her. Her horse reared. She struggled for control, found herself facing the other way.
“Shall I show you again what lies in store for the Princess of Terlaan, display it high for all who pass to see?”
A snap of the djinn’s fingers quelled the wind. With a terror she was unable to control, Kordahla urged the horse into a gallop.
* * *
The three robed executioners pulled the hoods off the heads of the kneeling condemned. Levi’s right hand came down. They swung their blades, precise and clean. He allowed the three coloured crystals to topple from his other hand. They dissolved before they hit the blooded cloaks. Mahktashaan justice was swift.
He caught movement at the library window high above as he strode the width of the secluded courtyard. A startled face was peering down. It was just. The spoilt brat needed to learn of consequences. This dereliction in duty reflected on them all. To have men dead on account of an apprentice and a woman was unconscionable. The apprentice would bow to him before this was done. Thrice over he, Levi, Majoria, had earned the favour Mahktos so cavalierly bestowed on a boy. As for the princess, she would pay for the liberty when he found her. Oh, yes, she would pay for the death of his men.
A gentle nudge intruded on his thoughts. All praise to Mahktos. All honour to you, Majoria.
Well? he demanded, granting the Minoria permission to thought-link.
Mahktashaan are dispersing in every possible direction. The Inner Circle is contacting those in the nearest villages and towns.
Whether the overindulged princess travelled the Arezou River, crossed Lake Sheraz or headed inland, she would be found. And then…Levi swallowed. He would consider it his duty to re-educate her on the role of women in this realm. She was much too headstrong for one of the fair sex, flaunting her la
scivious body as though unaware of the passions it roused. Blood honour or not, Wilshem would entrust her to him. He would ensure it. Would ensure the shah understood the mistake he made. Had the fish not fallen upon him before it hit the perverted Verdaani lord? Had Shah Guntek, founder of their order, not sanctified the marriage of mahktashaan and royal?
Another mind bumped him out of his thoughts. All praise to Mahktos. All honour to you, Majoria.
Report, Levi snapped.
The piddling presence identified itself as Zermane of the cream crystal. His flustering if not his talent demanded note. An impostor has just passed through the region. She wore the garb of a mahktashaan but with an apprentice’s opaque quartz around her neck. The stream of thought hesitated. It is only an impression you understand, but I think I am correct to say her. I think it was a woman and not a man.
Explain, Levi demanded. He wanted to take every detail to the Shah.
Her hands. It was all I saw of her, but they were delicate. There was a boy, too. I was about to apprehend them when an indigo djinn appeared.
Levi’s hands curled into fists, his nails digging harder and harder into his palms. The foolish girl would stand cursed to the end of her life if she had dealt. All the more reason for the shah to entrust her to him. Most powerful of the mahktashaan, he alone might salvage her soul. It is the Princess Kordahla, he said. You will pursue her. Risk every breath of your life to return her to the palace unharmed. He snapped off the link.
Arun’s voice immediately intruded into his mind. I will see if Vinsant knows anything of this.
Levi cursed himself for not severing their link when Zermane had initiated contact. It was an indulgent thought. The Minoria had as much right to the information. For now. It seemed his second had gained a measure of the girl’s trust. The princess would never have accompanied him through the gardens unless ordered. His breaths sounded harsh to his own ears. I will be there, he snarled. It would not do for the royal children to have one to whom they could turn before him.
Yes, Majoria. All honour to you, came the respectful reply.
* * *
Vinsant stopped shuffling down the hall, and turned to look at the two mahktashaan flanking him.
“I suppose you’re here to make sure I get to Mahktashaan Branak?”
“If you wish, Highness.”
The title took a moment to register. “Highness? Oh, you’re guarding me,” he said, perking up. He had assumed this pair were either accompanying a wayward apprentice, studying a mahktashaan freak or, worst of all, shadowing an accessory to Kordahla’s flight.
“Orders of His Majesty and the Majoria.”
“We’re taking a detour to the library.” With all the fuss, nobody was likely to notice if he played hooky for a while. Hitching up the robe, he doubled his pace, letting fly one or two childish sounds as he tripped over the hem and ordering a loitering page to bring enough food for an army. Talking to a god had left him with a hunger mightier than his curiosity.
“Wait here,” he ordered at the doors, scrutinising the men for any sign of protest. Getting none, he closeted himself inside and considered the rather impossible task of finding a detailed map of Terlaan among the musty tomes on the oversized shelves. He located a somewhat faded one rolled on an upper shelf next to a window after climbing on the huge desk and pulling off an assortment of scrolls. He jumped down, pushed the oversized, leather chair to the side and swept the ink vials, quills, paperweights and books to the back of the desk so he could unroll it. As he was smoothing the crackles out, the page entered with a silver tray of snacks. Vinsant was halfway through a gooey apple pie when he chanced to look out of the window, down onto the courtyard below. Letting the pie drop from his hand onto the map, he cursed as three unhooded heads rolled in the execution yard. He jerked back as Levi looked up. The Majoria would blame him, and it was his fault. He swept the pie from the map. It was difficult to concentrate on anything but the greasy smudge it left right across the Olono Range when he was choking up. Those mahktashaan had been good men. Ranesh had a hunting hawk he had once allowed Vinsant to fly, and Sagtir had mentioned a young family a few times. He didn’t know the third but he could imagine a whole life.
A rap sounded at the door. Vinsant ignored it in favour of deciphering the apple-stained name of a village. “I don’t want to be disturbed,” he said, springing to his feet and glowering at Lord Ahkdul when the doors opened to admit the intruder.
“The Shah has given me access to the entire palace.”
“Well she’s obviously not in here.” He picked up the pie, bit off a large mouthful he really didn’t feel like and sat on the cracking seat, chewing noisily. It was a mistake. Swallowing made him feel quite queasy. The apple tumbled out of the pastry onto his lap as the swine crossed the floor to stand behind him. The whiff of stale, unwashed skin oozing through the oceans of man’s sandalwood perfume didn’t help settle Vinsant’s tummy any.
“My page is missing,” Ahkdul said, looking over his shoulder at the map.
“He’s not in here either.” Vinsant dumped the remaining crust on the tray.
“I suspect he’s with Kordahla, which gives me twice the motive to find her.” The swine lowered his voice and placed a tight hand on Vinsant’s shoulder. “And twice the reason to discipline her.”
“Then go look for her,” he said, pretending to study the contours of the land when all he could concentrate on was that brutish hand.
“As soon as you tell me where she is.”
“How should I know?” He felt a thrill of nerves that had nothing to do with his secret and everything to do with the swine’s proximity.
“From that map,” Ahkdul said, sliding his hand onto Vinsant’s chest.
A corner of the map rustled into a curl as Vinsant twisted up and out of Ahkdul’s clasp. He tried to sidestep, but he was pinned between the desk and the large body. Kicking the chair out of the way, the disgusting swine pressed close, forcing him to lean back over the desk. His hood fell back and Ahkdul, looking straight into his eyes, flinched. In that moment, Vinsant squirmed sideways. He was blocked by a thrust of Ahkdul’s leg.
“Get away from me.” Bile was burning his gullet. He pushed at the man’s chest. “Get away before I call the guards and have them throw you in the dungeon.”
“Hush,” Ahkdul said, putting a squat finger on Vinsant’s lips. “You are in a compromising position. Do you really want the mahktashaan to find you like this, their revered protégé just a little boy unable to defend himself?” He planted a moist kiss on Vinsant’s forehead and stepped away.
For a shocking second, Vinsant lost all thought. Then a white-hot embarrassment exploded in him.
“Go on. Call the guards. The moment for accusations is past, Vinsant,” Ahkdul jibed as he took a breath to do just that. “Do you think they will believe you after your outburst earlier?”
“You pig!” Vinsant flew at Ahkdul, pummelling him with every limb. The swine had the audacity to laugh, to catch his hands, pull him into his sickening odour, use the assault as an excuse to grope. Too late Vinsant realised his mistake. He went limp. Without the excuse for contact, Ahkdul was forced to drop his hands.
“You will never find her!” Vinsant said, his voice so low it was barely audible. He would never let this pig have Kordahla. Not if he had to kill him.
“Don’t be so sure. Dozens of mahktashaan are combing every inch of the land as we speak.”
“Not even they can go everywhere.” The hate was talking now. He wanted Ahkdul to stew.
Ahkdul stepped forward. “Where is she?”
Vinsant stepped back. “Where you can’t get to her!” He regretted the words the instant they were out, but in this poisonous mood he had no control.
“Ah,” said Ahkdul, his eyes dropping to the map. “Then she’s not in Terlaan.”
Vinsant glowered and bit his tongue till he tasted blood.
“So where is she?” Ahkdul said, coming towards him. “Not Verdaan, if the
mahktashaan are barred.” Vinsant moved back. Ahkdul kept coming. “Myklaan then.”
“Guards!” Vinsant bellowed, feeling smaller than a gnat for his indiscretion. The blood drained from his face when the Majoria entered behind them.
Levi took in his dishevelled state, pointed at Ahkdul and said, “Leave.” Flecks of dried blood dotted his hand. Ranesh’s blood. It was more than Vinsant could cope with. Clutching his stomach, he doubled over and emptied its contents onto the floor. As Ahkdul strode out, Levi extended a hand to his forehead.
“Don’t touch me,” Vinsant barked, swiping at Levi’s arm. His cheeks flamed brighter when he saw Arun had entered the room, but he would die if someone’s flesh touched his body.
“Prince Vinsant has confided that Kordahla is headed for Myklaan,” Ahkdul said from the door. “I expect her to be found before she crosses the border.”
“I asked you to leave,” Levi said. His threatening glide hurried the Verdaani lord out of the room.
The Minoria asked a servant in to clean the vomit. “What happened, Vinsant?” he asked, closing the door.
Vinsant sank to the floor and rested against a bookcase. He was shaking and his breathing was ragged. And he wanted to vomit again. Arun sat down beside him, mimicking his pose with arms around bent knees, waiting until the servant left.
“What happened?” Arun asked again. “Did Ahkdul touch you?”
“He tried,” Vinsant replied. “Though I don’t suppose you’ll believe me.”
Arun gave him a strange look, stood and went to have a word with the mahktashaan guards. “You are never to be alone in his presence. Those mahktashaan have been charged with seeing that is so. Do not evade them, Vinsant, or they will suffer the same fate as Kordahla’s guards.”
It was not what he wanted to hear, and he retched.
“Stand up,” Levi said. “You are not a babe. You should have called for those guards as soon as he entered the room.” Vinsant stiffened. “You deceived us, Apprentice. Do you wish to confess?”