The sun was climbing overhead by the time we gained a broad rampway that led to the next level, and I was sweating beneath my tunic. The streets grew wider, the buildings that lined them shaded with palms and other lush vegetation. Here there were shops that catered to a more wealthy clientele: jewelers’ shops, teahouses, wine taverns.
I looked for the Lucky Tortoise to no avail, but I did see something that caught my eye.
A harried gem merchant was conversing with a city guardsman, gesticulating in an animated fashion. On the wall outside his shop, there was a scrawled symbol—a black burst of lines radiating from a single point.
I had seen it before. Brother Yarit had drawn it in the desert when the Sight first came upon him.
“Brother Drajan?” I pointed. “What does that symbol mean?”
Brother Drajan frowned. “I’ve no idea. You?” He glanced at Vironesh, who shook his head.
Brother Merik hoisted the standard of Pahrkun. “Hey!” he called. “What passes here?”
The guard saluted him. “Nothing of import, brother,” he said in a respectful manner. “Vandals, nothing more.”
“This symbol.” I edged my mount closer. “What does it betoken?”
The guard’s eyes widened as he looked up at me. “You’re the young princess’s shadow!” He took notice of Vironesh and his eyes went even wider. “And you must be—” Wisely, he didn’t finish his thought. He saluted us. “The black star? It’s the mark of some foolish troublemakers, that’s all. A disgruntled lot who care about nothing but overturning the order of the world.” He grimaced in distaste. “They call themselves the Children of Miasmus.”
TWENTY
The Children of Miasmus.
Despite the day’s heat, I felt a chill run the length of my spine. I glanced at Vironesh. “It’s just a name, Khai,” he said dismissively. “I daresay they took it to give people a fright.” He addressed the guard. “What’s their quarrel with the order of the world?”
The guard looked uneasy. “I really couldn’t say, brother.”
“Well, I will if you won’t!” the gem merchant said angrily. “They’re just a handful of ungrateful rabble who resent their betters. And they’re using the fact that Anamuht hasn’t appeared in the city to quicken the Garden of Sowing Time for over twenty years to claim the House of the Ageless has lost favor with the Sacred Twins.”
The guard put a hand to the hilt of one of his kopars. “That’s treason you’re talking.”
“I’m not saying it,” the merchant retorted. “The ruffians calling themselves the Children of Miasmus are. And I’d like to know why the City Guard can’t seem to do anything about it!”
“Do you think we’ve got enough men to patrol the streets morning and night and catch every low-born agitator able to lay his hands on a tar bucket and a brush?” the guard said in an aggrieved tone. “If you want to protect your shop at all hours, open your fat purse and hire someone to do it for you!”
At Brother Merik’s signal, we rode onward, the sounds of their quarrel fading behind us. Here the streets were wide enough for me to bring my mount alongside his. “That symbol, the black star. Brother Yarit drew it in the desert on the day that the Sight passed to him. Do you remember?”
“He did?” Brother Merik looked surprised. “No, I can’t say I do. But if it were something you needed to know about, I’m sure he would have told you.”
“Not if he couldn’t,” I said. “Not if it would upset the balance of what might come to pass.”
“And not if it meant nothing,” Vironesh said wearily. “I spent years sailing among the coursers of Obid. Trust me when I say I’m quite sure that this business has nothing to do with their prophecy.”
“How can you be sure?” I challenged him. “Do you know how all the pieces fit together?”
He sighed. “Let it go, Khai.”
Although I was not convinced, I set the matter aside for the moment.
We reached another rampway and ascended another level, our horses’ hooves clopping on the paving stones. Below us the harbor glistened, filled with ships rendered tiny by the distance, and the sea breeze cooled our skin. Now the streets were even broader, and they were lined with gracious residences set back behind fretted gates; homes that featured roofs of red clay tiles and abundant gardens. The hustle and bustle of the lower levels seemed remote, a thing best forgotten in the heights. Our company fanned out, riding four abreast. What little foot traffic there was, Brother Drajan informed us, were servants trekking to and from the marketplaces: clusters of veiled women with baskets on their arms, trudging men with lowered heads hauling long-poled carts heaped with produce behind them.
From time to time, we saw curtained litters carried by strapping servants, their occupants hidden from sight.
It was all very strange.
On the penultimate level of the city of Merabaht, we reached the barracks of the Royal Guard, an imposing sandstone structure. At least it was a fortress of sorts, and thus familiar to me.
The king’s guardsmen had seen us coming and they flung open the doors to their barracks. Servants were summoned to lead our horses to the stables and cart our belongings inside, and we were escorted to the Common Hall, where the captain of the Royal Guard greeted us.
Captain Laaren was a tall, lean fellow with grizzled grey hair he wore cropped short. “Welcome, brothers,” he said with a salute, then stopped short at the sight of Vironesh. “You. I’ve heard tell of you.”
“I’m here to serve if the king will have me,” Vironesh said quietly.
The captain shrugged. “Well then, I reckon that’s for His Majesty to decide.” His gaze settled on me. “Khai, is it?”
I saluted him. “Yes, brother.”
At me, he smiled. “His Majesty is eager to meet you. Princess Zariya is quite a favorite of his, you know. I’ll send word to the palace that you’ve arrived. All of you are welcome to share our quarters. Please take refreshment, rest, and avail yourselves of the baths until the king is ready to receive you.”
“We will require a private chamber for Khai,” Brother Merik said, prompting a perplexed look from the captain.
“I am bhazim.” The word tasted bitter on my tongue, but I was weary of having others explain it for me.
“Ha! I assumed—” Captain Laaren scratched his chin and regarded me as though I’d sprouted a second head. “Well, no mind. You’ll take my chamber, I’ll have a basin sent so you can bathe. We’ve no proper women’s quarter here except in the servants’ lodgings, and that’s no way to offer hospitality to the shadow of one of the Sun-Blessed.”
I inclined my head. “My thanks.”
The captain beckoned to one of the guards who’d escorted us into the hall. “Tell His Majesty that the delegation from the Brotherhood of Pahrkun has arrived. And please ensure that he’s aware of the, ah, particulars of the situation.”
In the captain’s chamber, servants brought a basin of water, a jar of soap, and a strange porous object that I might scrub myself, a clean length of cloth with which to dry myself, as well as a platter of food and a pot of mint tea. I removed my weapons, stripped off my clothing, and washed quickly, feeling self-conscious about the whole process. So much water just for the purpose of bathing! It would have been unthinkable in the desert. Still, it did feel good to don the new clothing that Brother Merik had presented me over clean skin, and stow my dusty, worn, and sweat-stained garments in my pack.
After sampling the food the servants had brought, I lay down on the captain’s pallet and dozed through the midday heat, awakening to the unfamiliar salt tang of ocean breezes sighing through the open window.
In the Fortress of the Winds, this would have been the hour when we resumed our training, but when I ventured into the Common Hall, I found the off-duty guardsmen idle, tossing knucklebones and wagering with each other in a game of chance that Brother Yarit had told me about.
“Is that customary?” I asked Vironesh.
“In most parts
of the world, yes.” He smiled wryly. “Although the coursers of Obid frown upon it.”
I smiled, too. “I do not doubt it.”
Vironesh eyed me. “Shall we have a bout?”
“Here?”
He nodded. “Here.”
“I don’t think it’s a bad idea to remind these city-born fellows what kind of warriors the desert gives birth to,” observed Brother Merik, who’d overheard us. “Or what a pair of shadows are capable of.”
The guards left off their games to watch as Vironesh and I faced off in the center of the Common Hall. To be fair, it was more a demonstration than a proper bout, but it was a good one nonetheless. We exchanged blows almost too quick for the ordinary mortal eye to follow as I danced around him, Pahrkun’s wind singing in my veins, using my youthful energy and speed to prod at his deceptively impenetrable defenses.
When we halted in unspoken accord, the watching guards whistled and clapped their hands in applause.
“Very impressive,” Captain Laaren said in a neutral tone. I hadn’t known he was there. “Are you finished? King Azarkal will see you now.”
I sheathed my weapons. “Of course.”
There was no outer road from the barracks of the Royal Guard to the palace, but rather a broad tunnel carved into the hillside proper, illuminated by periodic shafts of light from strategically placed apertures overhead. Although the tunnel and the ensuing rampway that led to the uppermost circle of the city of Merabaht were tall and wide enough to accommodate horses, we progressed on foot, emerging into a heavily guarded courtyard. Zar the Sun was setting in the west, and the honey-colored walls of the palace glowed in the evening light.
Men built this, I thought; and marveled at the thought.
And then I thought of the crippled boys I had seen begging in the marketplace, and I marveled less.
Captain Laaren strode up to the tall doors of the palace, and the palace doors swung open wide.
We followed him inside.
It was an immense place, and I was grateful to have a knowing guide. Among us, only Vironesh did not gape at the splendor, at the high ceilings, marbled floors, and frescoed walls.
Here and there, guards strolled.
Here and there, servants scuttled, keeping their heads down, meeting no one’s gaze, nigh invisible.
I thought about Brother Yarit.
I missed him.
The captain led us to the throne hall, where he announced us in ringing tones. “Your Sun-Blessed Majesty King Azarkal, foremost of the House of the Ageless, ruler of Zarkhoum! I present to you the delegation of the Brotherhood of Pahrkun the Scouring Wind, and among them Khai of the Fortress of the Winds, who would serve as shadow to the Princess Zariya.”
Seated on his throne, the back of which was rendered in the shape of a vast golden sunburst, the king beckoned us forward.
At a glance, King Azarkal looked youthful, a man in the prime of his fighting years, no more than thirty … but only at a glance. There was nothing obvious that belied the semblance. His face was unlined, and the skin of his hands was smooth. There was no trace of grey in his black hair or his neatly trimmed beard, and his body beneath the flowing golden silk robes he wore looked fit and hale. But he wore a crown set with clusters of glowing red stones I knew without being told were rhamanthus seeds, light shifting like embers in their depths, and somehow one could see in his stillness that it was a weight he had carried for a very long time.
“Khai,” he said to me. “Approach the throne.” I found my knees trembling slightly as I obeyed and saluted him. King Azarkal’s gaze searched my face, dark and penetrating. “Yes,” he mused. “Your features are delicate for a boy’s. But I am not sure I would have seen if I were not looking.”
Not knowing what to say, I said nothing.
“You bear Pahrkun’s mark.” The king leaned forward on his throne. “Tell me, did the Scouring Wind reveal to you why the Sacred Twins chose to bestow a shadow upon my youngest?”
There was a strange combination of hunger and bitterness in his voice. I shook my head. “No, Your Majesty.”
“A pity.” He sat back, his gaze shifting. “Vironesh. I did not think to see you again in my lifetime.”
“Nor I to find myself in this position, Your Majesty,” the purple man said with quiet dignity. “But it was Pahrkun’s will that I train Khai.” He hesitated. “I do not exaggerate when I tell you that because of it Khai possesses skills that it took me many more years to acquire.”
King Azarkal drummed the fingers of his right hand against his thigh. “And yet I find myself wondering why; and wondering, too, would my third-born son have become such a target had the Sacred Twins not shown him such favor? What does it betoken for my youngest daughter? What need has a girl-child of a desert-trained shadow?”
I drew in a sharp, involuntary breath at the notion that the king would challenge Pahrkun’s very will.
He glanced back at me. “That strikes you as blasphemous?”
I looked around for assistance, but Brother Merik gave me a slight gesture with one hand, indicating the question was mine to answer. “I think it is a fair question for a grieving father to ponder, Your Majesty.” I saw that there were three empty settings in a cluster on the left of his crown where rhamanthus seeds had been pried loose; and I saw the king see me notice. The shortage must be grave indeed if they were desecrating the royal crown. “But if I were a member of the House of the Ageless, I do not think I would choose this moment in time to question the will of the Sacred Twins.”
I felt rather than saw a shock ripple through the members of the Royal Guard in attendance.
King Azarkal lifted one hand, bidding them to stillness. “So the young shadow dares say to my face what members of my household do not,” he said. “Very well. I shall emulate those touched by Lishan the Graceful in Barakhar and bow before the winds of fate like a veritable willow tree. Thank you, brothers, for delivering your charge. Your duty is fulfilled. In the morning, Khai will be presented to Princess Zariya on the occasion of their shared day of birth.”
A wave of relief washed over me at hearing an outcome I had never suspected was uncertain.
“On behalf of the Brotherhood of Pahrkun, I thank you, Your Majesty,” Brother Merik said with a respectful salute. “I believe your decision is the right one, and I can assure you the Seer agrees.”
“The Seer, yes.” The king regarded him. “I’m given to understand that a convicted thief of the Shahalim Clan serves as Seer. Is this so?”
“It is.” Brother Merik couldn’t keep a stiff note from his voice, but he didn’t back down, either. “I was there when Brother Yarit passed the Trial of Pahrkun and was scoured of his sins, and I was there when the Sight came upon him, Your Majesty. It is not a thing that could be feigned. As unlikely as it seems, he is Pahrkun’s chosen.”
“Yes, I recall the fellow, though by a different name.” King Azarkal drummed his fingers against his thigh again. “He was caught attempting to steal rhamanthus seeds from the royal treasury. Of course, he failed; but strange to say, there was another theft in the palace, almost as grave, that succeeded some years ago. An item of great value was stolen from my eldest son.” He raised his brows at Brother Merik. “I don’t suppose your Seer knows aught about it?”
Brother Merik stared at the king with unfeigned astonishment. “Your Majesty! No, certainly not.”
“No?”
My fingertips itched with the perverse urge to feel the slight rise at the nape of my neck where the Teardrop was buried in my flesh, and I was surpassingly glad that the question had not been directed at me.
“No,” Brother Merik said firmly. “There was no opportunity. On the sole occasion that Brother Yarit sought to flee the Fortress of the Winds, it was the Sacred Twins themselves who turned him back. Since he became the Seer, he has conducted himself with…” He paused, then nodded to himself. “I will not say propriety, but I believe integrity is a fair word to use.”
In a way, he wa
sn’t wrong.
Just doing my duty, the way I reckon it, Brother Yarit had said to me.
Even so, I was grateful when the king flicked his fingers and dismissed the matter. “On the morrow, then.”
Vironesh stepped forward and saluted. “Begging Your Majesty’s pardon, I seek a post in the Royal Guard. Do you consent, it would allow me to be of service to the House of the Ageless and continue Khai’s training.”
King Azarkal considered him, then beckoned to Captain Laaren, who approached and bent his head.
The two of them conferred in low tones.
“The Royal Guard has no shortage of able-bodied men of good birth willing to serve,” the king announced. “But I will gladly offer you a post in the City Guard.” His mouth hardened. “Of late, Merabaht is afflicted by a scourge of malcontents, looters, and vandals calling themselves the Children of Miasmus. Perhaps you are familiar with the name? I hear tell you served amongst the coursers of Obid.”
Vironesh shot me a wry look. “I did and I am, Your Majesty.”
“It’s merely a name chosen to sow fear and chaos, of course,” King Azarkal said. “Still, they are a thorn in our side, and I would see them rooted out and brought to justice. Do you accept?”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” he said. “I do.”
It was not exactly what we had sought, but it meant Vironesh would be staying in Merabaht, and I was glad of it.
I had the uneasy feeling that we had only heard the beginning of the Children of Miasmus.
TWENTY-ONE
Although I was offered a guest chamber in the palace proper, I chose to pass the night in the barracks. Captain Laaren was somewhat disgruntled at having to surrender his chamber for the entire night, but he bore it graciously enough.
In the morning, everything would be different.
In the morning, my entire life would change.
And so I clung to this last bit of familiarity, this last piece of brotherly solidarity, before it all changed. For the most part, the guards kept a respectful distance and allowed us our night of camaraderie, though I could see that they looked at me differently here in Merabaht than any guards to visit the Fortress of the Winds had ever done. There, none of them had known I was bhazim; here, all of them did. I caught one assessing my body beneath my loose woolen garments, although he flushed and looked away quickly when I did. I wondered if he had doubts, if he was uncertain what lay beneath my clothing. I was glad that Vironesh had suggested we spar earlier, for if any man here were minded to find out firsthand, that would surely cause him to think twice.
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