War of the Sultans

by Fuad Baloch

  Jiza scowled. Shoki grabbed her by the arm, pulled her back just as she started advancing toward the inquisitor.

  “They are setting up schools,” said Inquisitor Aboor, his voice rising in anger. “Formal structures to organize their vile power. Institutions that would not only protect them but misguide generations of newborns to come, while offering them a united way to push back against lawful attempts by my brethren to contain their evil. I shudder to think what more harm they would cause if they rediscovered the cursed ways of blood magic.”

  “Inquisitor, what is blood magic?”

  “The vilest form of jadu. Banned, forbidden ever since the first magus walked these lands.” Inquisitor Aboor paused. “Ever wonder how these magical wells came into being? By capturing souls of infants spawned by the seed of ghouls and djinn and pari folk.” He shook his head. “These magi… unless they’re contained, they will follow their ancestors. Evils long dead and subdued will rise again. Surely, you can feel that?”

  Shoki didn't respond, did his best to hide the slight tremor that had crept into his fingers.

  The inquisitor raised his fist. “Mark my words: either the magi will be brought to heel, or they will be severed from jadu. All of them.”

  Shoki licked his lips. “Severed… like me? Not as scary a prospect as others had made it out to be.”

  The inquisitor arched an eyebrow. “Most all magi who are severed from jadu go mad. Eventually.”

  “Ah, so time is of the essence,” said Shoki, affecting a high-pitched voice. “You need me to act the guard dog, help herd the stray cattle back before I go barking mad?”

  “Shoki, the Battle of Algaria saw no more than six magi take part. Just half a dozen. And look at all the damage you six caused.” The inquisitor leaned forward, thrusting a finger at Shoki’s chest. “Imagine a hundred. A thousand!”

  A cold shiver ran down Shoki’s spine. He didn't really have a response to that either, the terror growing heavier within him. He had seen another glimpse of that as well at Nainwa.

  “What if these magi have other things on their mind instead of what you allege?” demanded Jiza. “Does everything have to be tinged with these dark words of yours? What if they could form effective communities of their own, governing their numbers better than anyone else could?”

  Inquisitor Aboor scoffed. “Would you be willing to bet the future of the worlds on mere fantasies?”

  Shaking his head, Shoki took a step back. Though he was back in Istan, he had passed the baton to Nuraya. An action he had carried out willingly and without coercion. She’d seen the ramifications of siding with the magi before, and he had to trust she would do the right thing. At the end of the day, she was the daughter of Sultan Anahan, scion of the Istani line for which this very land was named. It was right that the realm unified behind her.

  If he really trusted her, why hadn't he told her of where he had been? Jiza hadn't stopped him from sharing those events. Shoki swallowed, uncomfortable by the realization that her actions in the past continued to cloud his judgement of her motives.

  He would tell her eventually, though. When the time was right. For now, she had too much to worry about, and problems facing the djinn hardly seemed important to burden her with.

  Shoki couldn't deny the truth of the inquisitor’s words either. The magi were more likely to listen to him than Nuraya, or any other temporal ruler. After all, he was one of them—had been one of them. Someone who had actually seen the Divide, a barrier none bar the Ajeeb got to see.

  There were more troubling observations he had been trying not to dwell on. Though he had renounced the Peacock Throne—rightfully so—he hadn't failed to notice the manner in which these soldiers, all sworn to Nuraya, stepped away whenever he approached them, their gazes dropping.

  Even when he held no more temporal power, he hadn't lost power he held in their hearts. Could the same be true with the magi as well?

  “Well?” asked the inquisitor. “You don’t have to be the monarch to do the right thing!”

  Shoki exhaled. He had scarified himself once already for the sake of this land. What would be wrong in trying to help it more? His eye fell on the sulking figure of Maharis. For all the wrongs Maharis’s kind had done, could the magi really be blamed?

  A tiger was meant to hunt. That was its nature. But could a tiger that had been wounded, then pushed out of its lair and into human settlements, be held accountable for its desire to lash out and defend itself?

  “You can’t stand still when you have the opportunity to help,” said the inquisitor.

  “Indeed,” said Jiza. “Do not forget your promises.”

  “I…” Shoki mumbled, aware he was at a crossroads here. “I will think it through.”

  Chapter 21

  Nuraya

  Her soldiers looked up from their chores as she walked through them. Their eyes widening with surprise, they coughed, exchanging furtive glances with each other, turning to right their turbans.

  They weren't used to seeing the daughter of the Iron Sultan amongst themselves without her retinue. A divide that had continued to separate her from them. Strange how they all faced the same threats to their homes and families yet continued to let all these other differences stand between them.

  Camsh pointed at one of the men, and he slapped his companion scratching his scrotum as if he had no other worry in the world. The man muttered angrily, then as his eyes found Nuraya’s, he froze, hand still over his groin.

  Shaking her head, Nuraya continued. Word must have spread as the men affected a busy air, bending down to polish armor and swords they probably hadn't touched in days.

  Nuraya didn't mind. A good siphsalar had to make her presence known to the common soldiers. A timely reminder from Camsh she was thankful for.

  “If only I’d known you were about, I’d have whipped these slackers into shape personally,” came the high-pitched nasal drawl of Ranal Poolani. He might have been caught off-guard, but in his silken yellow turban, he looked ready for a fancy ball in Algaria.

  “You may join us, Sahib,” said Camsh, his tone offering no welcome.

  “Don’t even think of asking,” continued Ranal, giving his head an exaggerated shake. “Whenever the sultana walks, her retinue follows. Nay, precedes her.” He snapped his fingers, motioning one of his hangers-on to step forward. “What are you doing standing there like a pregnant she-camel lost in the desert? Go, sound the bugle. The men must know the sultana herself walks amongst us.”

  “No need for it,” said Nuraya, waving away objections she could see were forming in his mind. “Just surveying the morale of our army firsthand.”

  “A sorry bunch, most of them,” said Ranal, puffing up his chest. He looked up at the rising sun, its tip just above the treetops. “I expect the Sultan’s Body will be a much different affair once they begin accompanying your august majesty.”

  Assuming they have a new salar who follows me, despite the fact that my army cut down their previous one!

  Shaking her head, Nuraya continued. Water puddles stood in the narrow alleys between the tents, the ground mushy from the slight drizzle that had fallen last night. Good thing she was wearing her long leather boots and not the dainty slippers that Mona might have insisted on.

  She couldn't stay here. The Reratish prince might have won the first battle, but that wasn't the end of it.

  Nuraya continued, ignoring the stench that seemed to linger everywhere she turned. Apart from Ranal Poolani, the very air itself seemed tainted by the stink of unwashed bodies and latrines to the side, mixing with the sickly-sweet smell of metal being roasted at the other end of the camp.

  “Ranal, I’ve spent months on the road,” she said, turning toward the nobleman. “And I still haven't gotten used to the rigors of travel.” She pointed at his immaculate robes. “How do you not let that… bother you?”

  Ranal arched an eyebrow, raised a hand delicately to pat down an errant lock that had slipped out from under the turban. “We
ll, despite what you might think of me, Father was most insistent I accompanied him on every single hunting expedition he ever went on.” He shivered. “And, by Rabb, he went on far too many. At some point, I must have just made peace with the traveling aspect, whilst maintaining a good appearance.” He rubbed his stomach. “Mind, I ended up inheriting a… delicate disposition from my mother… that I’ve never been able to shirk off.”

  “Hmm.” Something he’d said rang too close to comfort. In a way, this nobleman seemed to exhibit traits of the young princess she had been, and of Kinas, one who had spent his formative years in the mud.

  Despite the pain spreading in her chest, she smiled, recalling Kinas as a young child, jumping in the muddy puddles out in the gardens after a rare thunderstorm had blown over the city. How they had all laughed!

  Ahasan, in contrast, had never even traveled outside of Algaria until now. A man who’d always been content to stay sedentary, never straying far from the trappings of his life of privilege. What made the Unseen God choose people like him to lord over the others anyway?

  She blinked at the strangeness of this thought. Thoughts that wouldn't have found a home in her, had it not been for all she had been through.

  Nuraya continued forward, almost at the end of the first row of tents now. Her soldiers had left some twenty yards between their tents and the bubbling stream ahead. At the edge of the water, a man sat cross-legged, his back perfectly straight, his dark eyes staring unblinkingly at the sun’s golden disc.

  Jinan.

  Nuraya exhaled. This was her siphsalar, the man meant to have come up with suggestions—instead of Camsh—on how she could boost her forces’ morale.

  “What’s he doing?” she asked.

  Camsh stepped forward. “He does that most mornings. Almost every evening as well when the two moons are out. Anyone who approaches gets a mouthful.”

  “Hmm.”

  “My sultana,” said Camsh Ghiani, his voice perfectly modulated to show neither deference nor disrespect. “Might this not be an opportunity to consider a change of leadership? Whatever his past exploits, if we are to engage in a battle, I very much doubt our siphsalar would be able to lead us effectively.”

  Nuraya sucked her teeth. He was right, of course. Jinan was in no condition to look after himself, let alone the affairs of a thousand men. Then, she shook her head. “He’s here because of what I put him through.” She exhaled. “I owe him.”

  “But—”

  “And that’s the end of it,” she declared, turning toward the second row of tents. She wasn't going to discard her friends like her mother might have. Her eyes fell on two men arguing beside a cook pot.

  “Oh, shut it, Liaman,” said the one with an overgrown mustache, its ends drooping down his fat chin. “You’re gonna burn it.”

  “No, I won’t, Deraman,” insisted the other one, a bald man. “I’ve been cooking this recipe for months now.”

  “You mean burning!”

  Nuraya walked past them, not bothering to look at them when they finally caught sight of her and clamped their jaws shut. Dimly, she heard Ranal say something to them.

  She marched ahead. Another sixty or so yards later, she was back where she had started. She sighed. “Camsh, I don’t know if this… meandering through them is going to do anything. Besides, they are far too few to be helpful in a real battle.”

  “Never underestimate the power of men with great morale,” he replied.

  Nuraya bit down the retorts that came to her mind. For someone pontificating on how men fought best, had Camsh ever even punched anyone? Then again, he was doing all he could to help her, and that wasn't something she could lose sight of.

  She began turning once more when she caught sight of two men bowing, their heads turned away from her. Puzzled, she followed their gaze. “Shoki,” she croaked.

  The city guard—something her mind kept insisting on calling him—stood beside the whore-girl, shaking his head at the soldiers. Unaware of Nuraya, the two men offered Shoki another bow, before straightening and marching the other way.

  Nuraya stood frozen, hot blood coursing through her veins. This was her army, her men. She was their leader and the only just recipient of all their respect. Yet, her men had been treating Shoki as if he were the Iron Sultan himself.

  Why couldn't the world see things from her perspective?

  The city guard had renounced his claim to the throne, a supreme honor that was never truly his. Despite what she suspected of his heritage, time and distance weakened all claims of greatness. The reflection off a grimy mirror off another was never quite the same as the real thing. A part of her tried to calm herself, arguing that he had done everything she’d demanded of him since their reunion. Neither had he brought up what had passed between them, nor had he shown any signs of wanting to usurp her again.

  Yet anger continued to simmer.

  And more wounded pride.

  He wasn’t just a city guard, a magus, one who had almost been seated on the Peacock Throne by Camsh’s father. But one who could very well end up having a claim to Istan more ancient than hers. A thought that continued to terrify and anger her.

  How would her men react if they were to hear these whispers?

  No, she would never give them the opportunity to think these thoughts. Shoki had given up his claim and would never get the chance to come close to the throne again through association with her. This much, she owed the dead sultans buried in Matli.

  Nuraya turned around, began marching away.

  “Nuraya,” shouted the very man she’d been trying to ignore. “Erm… Sultana. A moment of your time?”

  Clenching her fingers, Nuraya turned around slowly.

  “Young man,” said Ranal, shaking his head gravely. “No matter what you might think of yourself, don't forget the difference of station between the sultana and yourself.”

  Biting her lip, Nuraya watched Shoki approach. The whore—looking just as glamorous and clean as Mona used to—glared back at her, betraying no respect for her. How could one be so pretty? Why did she continue to stay beside Shoki?

  “I’ve been wanting to speak with you,” said Shoki, coming to a stop two paces from her. Nuraya nodded. He was wearing a grimy leather vest. Something one of the men must have given him for it was at least two sizes too large, dangling on his thin, tall frame. He inclined his chin, and Nuraya found her eyes traveling to the eye patch on his face.

  “Go on,” she said.

  Shoki scratched his chin. “No easy way to put this. I hear that a group of magi, frustrated with the negotiations between them and the inquisitors, has started moving west. Do you know why that might be?”

  Nuraya raised an eyebrow, turned toward Camsh.

  “We’ve heard the rumors as well,” said Camsh. “Mere conjecture at this point. Could just be a story planted by the inquisitors.”

  Shoki frowned. “I’ve since spoken with both Inquisitor Aboor and Maharis. Neither of them denies the news.” He slapped his fist on an open palm. “Neither of them gives me a reason either. I… am worried. The last thing we want is to be blindsided if we keep our eyes off them for too long.”

  Nuraya considered the news for a breath. Though Camsh should have mentioned this to her before, what was there to do? The magi could flee scattered, or together as a herd. She couldn't really see how that affected her. “So?”

  Shoki turned to stare at her. “So? Can’t you see all the possible ways that can go wrong. They’re headed west! A group of them! When was the last time you heard of magi banding together like this? Especially with the Reratish in command of the western realm?”

  Did he feel any of the awkwardness she did around him? Did he, too, recall the night they had been together? Or had this whore-girl made him forget all that? Nuraya narrowed her eyes. “Again, I ask, why should I care what the magi do when the very fate of Istan hangs in the balance?”

  Shoki coughed, his wide eye crossing over to Camsh and Ranal. “We cannot stay put
forever. I fear… things are happening that we cannot see, stuck here like we are.”

  “We’re not stuck here,” said Camsh. “On the contrary, we’re actively conversing with Prince Ahasan. Already, we’ve had two hundred more soldiers join us upon hearing of our presence in these lands.”

  “We cannot stay here,” said Shoki, turning his gaze back to her. “You can see that, can’t you? Either we march north, see if your brother is going to help us. Or we head west, demand from these magi what their plans are!”

  “Shoki,” said Nuraya, fighting to keep her voice calm. “You are no one to demand anything. You may request what you seek, but that is all.”

  Shoki cocked his head to the side, his lone eye not blinking. As if sensing his discomfiture, Jiza strode over, coming to stand beside him. Once more, the intense pang of jealousy stabbed through Nuraya. Who was this woman? What was she doing with Shoki?

  A gust of wind blew over from the east. Cries went off just as she heard tents come off their poles, their flimsy canvases fluttering against the sudden onslaught.

  Shoki turned around, his brows furrowing. “I ask you to reconsider the options we have. At the end of the day, we can’t be doing nothing!”

  Nuraya narrowed her eyes. Who did he think he was to tell her what she ought to be doing? Yet, she had learned not to push away any voice of reason, no matter whose. “Camsh,” she said, turning around toward her own tent. “Prepare three messengers. The first one is to carry an ultimatum to my brother. Dispatch the other to the magi, demanding an explanation of their destination.” She paused, hating what she had to do. “And send the third to the… Reratish prince asking him whether he still wishes to negotiate for peace.”

  Chapter 22

  Shoki

  “I have a bad feeling about all this,” said Shoki, rubbing his hands as he paced round and round in circles, the sun warm behind his back. Again, the soldiers gave them a wide berth, staying away from their vicinity.