War of the Sultans

by Fuad Baloch

  Nuraya didn't reply. She could see Shoki and the inquisitor inching closer. They weren't the only ones. All eyes were turned toward her. The Atishi priest shook with righteous fury. The two accused stood still, awaiting their fates. Jinan snarled at anyone who looked his way. Camsh shook his head sideways.

  Nuraya squeezed her eyes shut. Camsh made a good argument. How was it the iron’s fault for flattening, losing its shape, when smashed on the anvil? Then again, was it wrong to expect her men to turn to steel in difficult times, acquiring a better form instead of losing themselves entirely?

  Were they no better than the invaders?

  Despite the idealist principles floating within her chest, she couldn't afford to lose sight of their wider predicament. Resources and men were in short supply. If she took the wrong decision here, she would risk alienating Jinan and the five hundred who might have sympathized with what these two men did. Besides, if there were other groups of stragglers ahead, or potential recruits, she could put them off from joining her ranks as well.

  She saw Ranal Poolani rushing toward her. The nobleman was flanked by members of his retinue, looking both harassed and furious.

  Nuraya turned her eyes back to the two salars.

  It wasn’t easy being sultana. Especially, when she was just as lost as the rest of them.

  Chapter 30

  Shoki

  “This man,” said Ranal Poolani, stepping toward Nuraya, “is from my province. Show him mercy for Rabb’s sake!”

  Shoki turned to watch Nuraya, who glared first at the dandy nobleman and then at Camsh beside him.

  “No easy decisions to be had here,” muttered the inquisitor next to Shoki.

  Gritting his teeth, Shoki ignored the inquisitor. The true mettle of men—and women—was tested in tough times. Inquisitor Aboor had had one such occasion where he should have trusted Shoki but had ended up resorting to torture. That had revealed truths about the inquisitor’s personality that would have remained hidden otherwise.

  “Ranal, step back,” said Nuraya. “My decisions cannot be colored by factors other than those mandated by justice.”

  The nobleman blinked, then, in an almost dazed state, did a turnabout as if to see whether any others supported him.

  “I’d give these men a stern warning,” Camsh was saying, his words audible to Shoki despite Camsh’s attempt at keeping his voice low, “and let them off. We don’t need to depress the soldiers’ morale.”

  Shoki scratched his chin. The inquisitor was right regarding this being a difficult decision. What would he have done had he been the one in Nuraya’s shoes? Would he have considered the extenuating circumstances that influenced these men’s decisions, or would he have judged them purely on what they did?

  A lifetime ago, Shoki had been in a similar scenario. He and Salar Ihagra had investigated the murder of a rich merchant in the Mercantile quarter. Though initial suspicion had fallen on the dead merchant’s business acquaintances, he’d eventually discovered that the murder had been committed by the merchant’s wife. The man had been a wife beater. Someone who got drunk and ended up gambling most of his wealth away before the wife had finally slipped poison in his drink.

  Had Shoki kept his mouth shut, the woman would have gone free. And what had he done in the end? Calmly, almost dispassionately, he had broken down the manner in which the woman had killed her husband, then allowed Salar Ihagra to take her away.

  In a way, that woman had been right to do what she did. Had she not defended herself, her husband would have been the end of her. Shoki had had the chance to choose between mercy and justice. And had chosen the latter.

  Now though, as he stood watching the proceedings, he wasn't sure whether the differentiation between black and white was this clear in his mind any more. These two men, despite what they’d done, had been moved by forces far beyond their control. They had been attacked by djinn, beings they had never harmed, pressed into a war they had done nothing to invoke, disadvantaged by the lack of education to know any better—something Shoki’s adoptive parents had spent a great deal of energy on—and in the end they’d done what they could to recenter themselves in a difficult time.

  Shoki shivered, recalling the same excuses could probably apply to those who had attacked his adoptive parents as well. Once, he would have torn those bastards limb from limb. But, if they were to appear in front of him and plead their case now, would he be able to come to an easy decision?

  Shoki turned his eye toward the frail Atishi priest. He had been wronged, that much was sure. The people of this town had been harmed, there was no denying that. But their aggressors had been equally harmed as well. Most of these men who’d made up Nuraya’s armies had been from the south and west of Istan, places trampled under invaders.

  They were all victims. Each and every single one of them.

  Shoki inclined his chin, forcing himself to not flinch from the bright sunlight.

  Wind moved even when one couldn't see it. Quite in the same vein, other forces were playing out their moves, most he could only detect by virtue of their ramifications. Who, really, was the victim, and who the aggressor?

  They were wasting time when they should have been preparing.

  Shoki shivered. How did anyone begin to prepare against foes that never showed themselves?

  Maybe the magi held answers? Yes, they had to. All he had to do then was to find them and make contact.

  More despair settled in his gut. Even as they struggled to make sense of it all, the real world around him continued to burn. Men killed each other, women raped, property destroyed, and cities razed. Man against man against man, divided by class, religion, magical aptitude, race. All of them ignorant of the real enemies lingering in the shadows.

  Shoki swallowed, taken aback by the sheer scale of factors stacked against them all. Enough to reduce anyone to a perpetual state of despair and gloom.

  “She’s not making the right decision,” said the inquisitor and Shoki finally snapped out of the reverie.

  “Shut up,” he replied, not bothering to see the inquisitor’s reaction.

  Nuraya was ascending the marble platform that led into the Atishi temple. The two accused shook like dry leaves. Ranal was babbling angrily at anyone who walked within earshot. Jinan stood very still, arms crossed on his massive chest. Camsh was shaking his head softly. The priest grinned.

  Shoki inched closer. He was far from the only one. The dozen or so men who had escaped the island with them were crowding in as well. Some of the locals had begun emerging from their homes and were gathering in the plaza. To the right, Shoki saw the glint of steel as the five hundred stragglers started forming lines.

  A microcosm of Istan. Soldiers and commoners. Royalty. A nobleman. Peasants. Atishi and Husalmin. The wronged and wrongdoers.

  “People of Istan,” said Nuraya, her voice carrying over the din that had begun to grow loud. “Gather around!”

  They did. More women and children emerged from their homes, their faces twisted in fear and hope. At first, they milled outside their doors, flinching from the distant soldiers. Then, seeing Nuraya waiting patiently for them atop the platform, her dark hair fluttering behind her, the bright green eyes beckoning them forward, they inched toward her.

  Shoki felt the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. Regardless of what decision she was going to make here, Nuraya had invoked something far greater than he had been expecting. This was no mere administration of justice. More the ruler of Istan granting an audience.

  Shaking his head, ignoring the tingling running up and down his spine, Shoki stepped forward. He had spent many a day at the diwan-e-aam watching the Iron Sultan interact with all those who brought their grievances up to him.

  But even he, the mighty sultan who had ruled the realm for decades with an iron fist, would never have hosted this big an audience at his diwan-e-aam.

  At a whim, Shoki turned around toward the inquisitor. He was gone, his dark clothes impossible to spot amidst
the sea of bobbing heads wearing veils and hats and turbans of all styles. Licking his lips, Shoki approached the staircase. Camsh stood at the foot, accompanied by a dozen sullen looking soldiers. He glared at Shoki but didn't stop him when he squeezed past them. In the periphery of his vision, Shoki caught sight of the inquisitor talking with another man wearing a gray turban. A gray turban! What was going on there? Hopefully, Deraman was onto it.

  Something tugged at Shoki, an invisible cord pulling him toward the north-east. A feeling that had been growing for some time. He ignored it.

  “Men and women of Istan,” said Nuraya again. The crowd fell silent immediately. Shoki looked around. One instant, the noise had been like a million bees buzzing at the top of their puny lungs, and the next, it had subsided to the soft murmur of a dozen sleeping cats.

  “I, Nuraya Istan, daughter of Sultan Anahan, Keeper of the Divide, personally apologize for what these men did in my name!”

  Someone cheered. A lone, solitary voice that fell silent immediately.

  Halfway up the marble stairs, Shoki came to a stop and turned around toward the plaza bursting with people. When they had arrived, the plaza had been deserted. Now, it bustled with hundreds, no, thousands of souls.

  “Times like these,” said Nuraya, leaning forward as if straining against some gust of wind at the summit, “show the real character of a people. They separate the wheat from the chaff, contrast silk from goat wool, and steel from unworkable iron. These men,” she pointed at the two salars which prompted a few jeers, “are not the kind that Istan needed yesterday, needs today, or will need tomorrow. Those who prey on their neighbors, the poor, their own people, have no place within us.”

  The crowd cheered, a restless beast in constant motion, pushing against the thin line of guards separating them from the two salars.

  “Too long have you, the people of Istan, looked up to others for defending yourselves. You have appealed to your local nizams and ameers. Even to me. And quite often, you have been let down by us.”

  Nuraya paused abruptly, her eyes scanning the crowd, a grim expression settling on her face.

  “It changes now. In times like these, Istan doesn't need her royals or able-bodied men or mercenaries to defend her. She needs her people, you folk, to help us all!”

  More cheers went up at that. This time, they didn't quieten down for a long while. Frozen in place, Shoki looked at the angry faces of the local citizens. What was she getting at?

  “I, Nuraya Istan, hereby order you all to come to Istan’s aid. Give us—me and yourselves—all the men and women you can afford so we can defend Istan today, and for all time to come!”

  More cheering broke out.

  Nuraya raised her hand and the crowd fell silent. Then, she motioned the line of soldiers standing between the two accused and the crowd to step away. They did. “These two are the men who wronged you. And because of that, they are no different than the Reratish bastards or the Zakhanan misguided.” She paused. “I want you to do justice to these two. Once done, spread throughout Istan with my message, and mow down every single invader you see! So commands your sultana! So desires Istan!”

  She dropped her hand, falling silent.

  For a second, nothing happened, the crowd frozen in its place.

  Then a loud cheer went through its ranks, and like a beast unchained, it advanced. Shoki heard the briefest of screams as the crowds drowned the two salars.

  Shoki turned his chin toward Nuraya. She stood still, her lips set in a straight line, her eyes blazing hot, not flinching from the sight of two of her men being torn apart by the rabid crowd.

  Shoki shivered. This wasn't a side of Nuraya’s he’d seen before, and now it chilled him to the bone. Daughter of the Iron Sultan indeed.

  For a long time, Shoki stayed where he was, caught between the empowered men and women of Istan and their leader who watched them without any emotion. He’d known Nuraya for a while, but standing here like this under her shadow, it felt like watching her being reborn.

  He caught sight of a horrified Ranal shaking his head, retreating from the plaza, accompanied by a dozen soldiers. The bannerman was no doubt just as horrified as him. Jinan stood still though at the foot of the staircase, his eyes plastered to the spot where his men had been standing before citizens of this town had surged forward and swallowed them whole.

  “Shoki,” came a voice from above.

  Startled, Shoki turned around. “Nuraya!”

  She didn't chide him for calling her by her name. “Time has come for us to leave the town behind us.”

  “North-east,” he blurted, climbing up to her. “That’s where we need to go.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Why?”

  “The magi are after magical artifacts stored there. If they get their hands on them, only Rabb knows the mischief they can cause.” He hesitated. “And I feel we can get answers there about our real enemies.”

  She didn't reply, her eyes moving past him to the crowds behind him.

  “Inquisitors are rushing there as well,” said Shoki, guessing that was what Inquisitor Aboor was planning. “That provides us with another opportunity to appeal to both parties and get them to cease their fighting. We need to do this for the sake of Istan!” And for Nainwa.

  Her eyes settled back on him. Shoki felt another cold shiver run down his spine, and he looked away.

  “Very well,” she said. “We travel north-east.”

  Chapter 31

  Nuraya

  Dark clouds and flashing, crackling bolts of lightning besieged Jalna, the inquisitor castle. Nuraya exhaled, awed by the majestic sight. Her horse neighed, bucking under her, but she didn’t budge. They, her reunited five hundred plus fifteen hundred citizens of the north, were a good mile out from the castle itself, positioned atop a hill, but even from this distance, the static energy seemed to pull at her hair.

  The clouds were low, almost the height of the tallest minaret of the Shahi Qilla, and no wider than three city blocks. Like iron filings drawn to the magnet, they surrounded the castle in a perfect circle, though, remarkably, they didn’t cover the castle itself.

  “Rabb have mercy!” Ranal exclaimed, shaking his head, his horse lathered under him. Then, he pointed at the base of the castle. “Seven hells and back!”

  Nuraya followed his direction. Where the skies around the castle were dark with the swirling clouds, massive slabs of iron—black as coal—encircled the castle walls. Nuraya sucked her teeth. What other magical attacks was she not witnessing?

  “Do you see what these abominations are doing?” came the inquisitor’s angry words behind her. She kept quiet as he moved his horse beside her. From the corner of her eye, she saw Shoki spur his horse forward as well. “They go too far, these vile monsters. No matter how hard we tried to negotiate in good faith, they continued to spit in our direction. The time has come to put them all in the mud!”

  “W-what exactly is going on there?” asked Ranal. “Not that I would claim to understand even if you explain, but still it might put my mind to rest if I knew we were at a safe enough distance.” He paused. “And far away from any… non-human mythical monsters.”

  Inquisitor Aboor chuckled. When he finally turned his eyes toward the nobleman, Ranal flinched and turned his gaze away. “Magi are the worst kind of monsters, drawing vile strength from their repugnant wells. But worry not for Rabb keeps us, his chosen ones, free from their wickedness.”

  “Why can’t the magi attack your castle directly?” Nuraya asked, nodding briefly as Jinan and Camsh rode forward to join them.

  “Rabb protects us from their vile attacks.”

  “And what do you store within?” Camsh asked the inquisitor.

  “Nothing you would understand.”

  Shoki turned toward the inquisitor sharply, something unsaid passing between the two men. Again, Nuraya wondered about the nature of their relationship. Shaking her head, Nuraya turned back to examine the magi’s handiwork. Was it true that these magi follow
ed an agenda of their own? That they had somehow been in cahoots with the djinn?

  Anyway, she was here, in the north-east, having given in to Shoki instead of rushing to striking a truce with Ahasan. But had she already arrived here too late to make any difference?

  “How many inquisitors are within the castle?” asked Shoki. Nuraya blinked, not following the reasoning for the query.

  “Plenty!” replied the inquisitor after a momentary hesitation.

  She sucked her teeth. It looked like both parties were in a stalemate, a perfect time to resume negotiations they had spurned before. “I need representatives from both the magi and inquisitors to discuss terms for peace. As I declared before, now is not the time to weaken ourselves in petty disputes when we need to unite against the greater danger!” She turned around. “Inquisitor Aboor can speak for the inquisition. Who will represent the magi?”

  The men looked at each other. Ranal shrugged. Jinan turned his vacant gaze sideways. But a moment later, as if they had all come to the same conclusion, faces began to turn toward Shoki.

  “No,” he said, tapping his eye patch. “I do not have a well anymore. I can speak for neither the magi nor the inquisitors.”

  “Once a magus,” chuckled Ranal, shifting uncomfortably in his saddle, “always a magus, I say.”

  Shoki continued to shake his head. “I cannot speak for them.”

  “Funny,” observed Nuraya, her voice dry, the words cold. “Not too long ago, you seemed content to speak for the whole of Istan.”

  Shoki turned toward her, a hurtful expression spreading on his face. He didn’t like her barbed attack, something that was perhaps uncalled for, but at the moment she didn’t really care much for the pain it might cause.

  All her life, she had struggled to fit into the world, to mold herself according to what was expected of her. She had tried being the perfect princess, the obedient and dutiful daughter, a worthy successor to Abba, and that had only muddied the waters.