Dragonfly

by Julia Golding

  Number one wife is becoming a bit of a scold, thinks she's superior to the rest. I think I'll execute her when I return home." He picked up a pen and scribbled a note in the margin of his book, as if making a memorandum to unleash the imperial axeman on his unfortunate spouse.

  Ramil tried not to imagine what it would be like to be number five wife to Fergox. He wouldn't wish that on his worst enemy, let alone the little Islander. Could the warlord be dissuaded from the plan?

  "But you surely will not hope to defeat the Blue Crescent navy? You won't be able to walk in and take over!"

  "You forget, Princeling, that the navy will be at the other side of the world bombarding Gerfal. I think we will have no trouble just walking in, as you put it. You're not eating. Is there something wrong with your meal?"

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  Ramil shook his head. The problem was the company.

  "And if the Princess does not convert, what then?" Fergox gave a heartless smile. "She'll discover I can

  be very persuasive."

  The next morning, Tashi was surprised to find that her ceremonial robes had been restored to her. There was a new white shift in place of the one that had got ruined on the journey, but the orange tunic, dragonfly robe, and orange sash were lying on the clothes press, cleansed of any stain.

  But not my boots, she thought with a sigh. I don't think I'll ever see them again.

  Having no one to wait on her, Tashi went through the rituals, even remembering the absent fingerbowl as she mimed washing her hands. She then struggled into her clothes, feeling sure the layers must be all uneven at the back and the sash badly fastened. She stroked the heavy brocade with its turquoise and gold dragon-flies, admiring afresh the skill of the craftswoman who had made it many years ago on the orders of a previous princess. It really did make her feel royal when she wore it. A mirror stood in the corner. She walked over to inspect herself. It was odd to see the old Fourth Crown Princess staring back. She'd almost forgotten what she looked like.

  Mergot came in without knocking. She hesitated near the doorway, no longer so sure now that the girl

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  was dressed up in the strange clothes, looking so foreign. She held out a green veil, stick of kohl, and a pot of white make-up, not daring to come nearer.

  "You're to put these on," she said, placing them on the floor and retreating.

  "I'll be back in an hour to fetch you."

  Tashi sat in the window and carefully applied her make-up, obscuring her individuality under the mask of the ruler. She supposed that the return of her robes amounted to an invitation to appear in her official capacity. Perhaps it meant that Fergox was going to treat her as a state prisoner and grant her the privileges that went with that status, giving her the chance to contact her sisters and open negotiations. She threw the veil over her hair and pinned it in place. She was ready.

  Bare toes peeped out from under the robe. Almost ready.

  True to her promise, Mergot reappeared an hour later, accompanied by four guards. They made the sign against evil, two fingers to their forehead, as Tashi stood up to receive them.

  "My lord asks if you are fit enough to walk downstairs," Mergot muttered, not looking at her.

  "I am," Tashi said simply.

  "Then follow me."

  The guards made way as Tashi emerged from her bedroom. They walked in pace with her down the steps and across the snow-covered courtyard. The frosty bite of the stones hurt her feet but she kept her face impassive, trying to remember she was a Blue Crescent

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  princess and proud of it. Physical discomfort was nothing. Emotions were to be hidden. Ice cold and strong, she told herself, that was what she had to be for her people.

  All who had gathered there--farriers, servants, soldiers--stopped what they were doing when the foreign Princess appeared among them. Their eyes were fearful; many reached for the hilts of their weapons. Tashi almost laughed at the irony: they were scared of her! A girl of sixteen with no weapons or special powers, a prisoner in the land of her enemies far from home, and yet they still trembled as she passed.

  Mergot led her to the threshold of the great hall of the castle and stopped.

  "You are to go in there," she said, pointing.

  Tashi bowed her head in acknowledgement and pushed the door open. It swung back to reveal the great hall of the castle, decked in imperial banners.

  Fergox sat on a throne at the far end, surrounded by his senior officers and nobles. Soldiers stood to attention on both sides of the room. A group of red-robed priests, heads shaved leaving only a topknot on the crown, waited about halfway down, holding an icon of the Spearthrower's war god.

  Standing at Fergox's right hand, looking very uncomfortable, was Prince Ramil. He gazed at her and shook his head slightly, a gesture that was both a warning and regret.

  Tashi had no choice but to enter. She took a breath and began the long lonely walk down the chamber. The paving stones were worn, as if many supplicants

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  had passed this way over the centuries. Her robes swished softly, almost the only sound in the room. She reached the foot of the throne and stood without bowing, waiting to see what Fergox would do.

  "Princess Taoshira," announced the warlord, "Holin, the Warmonger, has smiled on you. He sees the purity of your heart and knows that you are not beyond redemption. Renounce your old faith and kneel to his image, and you shall go free."

  Tashi swayed as if he had struck her: this was the last thing she had been expecting. A demand for a ransom or treaty, threats and bargains: she had been prepared for all these, but an order that she recant was startling and offensive. Seeing her surprise, Fergox smiled and beckoned the priests.

  They moved in behind Tashi, pacing forward to the beat of a solemn low chant. Unnerved, she turned to find the icon elevated in front of her, the frowning god with his spear and axe looking down on her like Fergox's angry twin. The chief priest struck his staff on the ground.

  "Pay homage to Holin!"

  Tashi faced Fergox and clasped her hands in an appeal. "Lord Fergox, I am a ruler of my country and should be treated with the respect due to my rank. I stand here as a helpless prisoner. You should not abuse your power over me with insults to my faith."

  Fergox descended the step and took her shoulders. He pulled her round to face the priests again.

  "Come now, my little princess, all you need do is kneel and this will all be over," he said in her ear.

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  Tashi shook her head. "I cannot do what you ask, sir."

  He frowned. "I feared as much." He nodded to the priest and raised his voice. "The delusion remains. The girl must be cleansed before she can accept the truth. I entrust her to you and your brethren." He gave Tashi a little shove between the shoulder blades.

  "But, sir!" Tashi cried. "I am a state prisoner! You cannot treat me like this!"

  Fergox continued to walk back to the throne, not even paying her the courtesy of looking at her as he spoke. "You are an infidel in need of salvation. I can treat you as I see fit." He sat down. "It's for your own good."

  Two acolytes seized Tashi's arms. The chanting grew louder, swelling around her so that her protests could no longer be heard. The chief priest snatched off her veil and orange sash and cast them into the fireplace. He then ripped off her dragonfly gown and orange tunic, tearing the priceless fabric as he did so. When Tashi was clad only in white, he put round her shoulders a long black robe.

  "The mark of the penitent," intoned the chief priest to his audience.

  He held up a cloth to be blessed by sacred water sprinkled from a gold cup.

  "The falsehoods of the demon goddess will be wiped from your heart as we wipe the mark of her from your face." Tashi tried to duck but the two acolytes pinned her arms to her sides. With rough movements of the cloth, the chief priest removed the white paint from

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  her face. "You return to us as a humble petitioner for the mercy of the all-powe
rful Warmonger."

  "No!" Tashi shouted. She wanted everyone to hear that she resisted this and would until her last breath. "No, no! I am the Mother's servant. I am--"

  The chanting grew louder.

  "You will come to our temple to seek enlightenment," announced the chief priest. "You will dwell there to be schooled out of your errors until you are ready to avow publicly your repentance."

  "I won't!" Tashi sobbed. "I won't! You can't make me!"

  The body of priests bowed to Fergox and filed out of the chamber, forcing Tashi along in their midst. Silence fell as the doors closed on them.

  "Well," said Fergox, jumping to his feet and rubbing his hands as the dragonfly robe smoldered in the fire, "I thought that went very well." He clapped Ramil on the back. "She'll make an excellent penitent. I am looking forward to forgiving her."

  The priests placed Tashi in a cell in the temple crypt. It was freezing cold but they appeared to think that earthly comforts would impede her conversion.

  She curled up in the corner, hiding her face under the sleeve of the robe, aware that many people were coming and going by the grating in her cell door to stare at the foreigner. Her heart was filled with bitterness and shame.

  She realized now that she had only been allowed her robes so she could be ceremonially stripped of them before

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  the eyes of Fergox's court. She had unwittingly played into his hands by coming dressed as the Fourth Crown Princess.

  I should have gone as barefoot Tashi in rags, then perhaps they would have spared me, she thought miserably.

  But no, that seemed unlikely. Fergox was set on defeating her, forcing her to submit to his bloodthirsty god. There was no question of sparing her.

  And would she bow to this god eventually? The Mother seemed to have abandoned her; did it matter whom she worshipped now?

  She groaned softly, then bit her lip to stop any further betraying noises. Yes, it did matter. Not for the Fourth Crown Princess, not even for the Blue Crescent Islands, but for Tashi. Fergox had taken away everything she'd had since she was twelve--respect, power, position--but she would not let him take away the girl who had said her prayers to the sun each morning, accompanied only by her goats.

  Tashi shivered, hearing sniggering at the door. It was easy to make such proud statements; so much harder to live by them. She rubbed her cold feet, trying to bolster her resolve.

  I have known a mother's love and so surely the great Mother of us all is worth serving even when she appears to have turned her favor away?

  That wasn't enough, not nearly enough against the humiliation she was suffering. What else could she use to protect herself against despair?

  A true believer goes on believing even when all else is lost.

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  It's the last thing I have to hold on to. If I let go of that, then I have lost my soul. I've killed Tashi.

  But grim determination didn't stop her feeling wretched. Nor did it stop her tears. She did not care what the onlookers thought. She was still, after everything, only a young girl. Only human. She hoped they would remember that.

  Alone in his chamber, Ramil fumed, pacing up and down. He had watched that whole sorry farce unwillingly--a naked sword poked in his back by the guard behind him. It had been made very clear to him that if he spoke, or even tried to leave, the guard would run him through on Fergox's orders.

  Ramil thumped the wall. The poor Princess had walked to her doom without any idea what lay in store. She had been humiliated before everyone, but at least she had not gone quietly. He mentally applauded her defiance. Under that Blue Crescent reserve there was a fine, spirited girl. He wondered how he had not noticed back in Gerfal. But what must she be thinking and feeling now, holed up somewhere with those priests? He was desperate to do something for her, to let her know that she had a friend in the castle. It would do no harm to his own pride to explain that he had been forced to watch her ritual shaming. He could not bear her thinking he collaborated in it with Fergox.

  Ramil looked around his room for inspiration and

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  noticed the desk under the window. A sheet of paper lay ready for any letters he cared to write. Pushing the inkpot aside, he picked up the paper and set to work.

  "Princess, Princess!"

  Tashi raised her head to the door. It was getting dark and even colder. She felt as if her feet and hands had turned to ice. But no one all day had called her "Princess." "Witch," "demon" and other even worse names, but not that.

  "Who is it?" she asked tentatively.

  "Ramil."

  Tashi was not sure she was pleased to hear his voice. He'd seen what had happened and made no effort to stop it. Her cheeks flushed at the memory.

  "To what do I owe the honor?" she replied, taking refuge in sarcasm.

  "I ... I wanted to give you this." He held out something white. "It's all right. I got permission from the priests to be here. I told them I was going to rescue you from evil ways. I don't think I and the red brethren had quite the same thing in mind, but they agreed I could see you nonetheless."

  Stiffly, Tashi got to her feet and moved to the door. The only light came from the lantern out in the corridor where he stood. It was very hard to see what he had in his hand.

  "Go on, take it," Ramil urged.

  She reached out and took a tiny paper model.

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  "What is it?"

  "A dragonfly." Ramil sounded sheepish. "I'm not very good at it. Yours was much better but it was the best I could do."

  The crude dragonfly quivered in her hand.

  "Thank you." Tashi found that she was crying again. Before this journey, she hadn't wept for years, and now she couldn't stop the tears coming. "I am very touched that you thought to do this for me."

  "Come here." Ramil stretched his arm as far as he could to brush the tears from her face. His thumb gently traced the line of her cheekbone. She really was very pretty, he realized. "I just wanted to tell you that you were magnificent in there. And you have never looked more royal to me than now."

  She shook her head.

  "No, Princess, I mean it. And what is more, I regret every stupid thing I've said and done in your presence. I'm to blame for this and I promise you, Your Highness, that I'll think of a way of rescuing you. If you'll let me, of course."

  Tashi leant her face against the door, comforted by his hand just touching her cheek. "I don't understand what I've done--why he is doing this to me,"

  she said bleakly. "Is he making the same demands of you?"

  "Not exactly," admitted Ramil. "He's using us to make our countries go to war and then he is going to take them over. Me, well, me he wants as a puppet prince married to one of his Spearthrowing daughters,

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  God help me, and you he wants to present to the Blue Crescent Islanders as his bride."

  Tashi shuddered, revolted by the thought of Fergox touching her again, let alone marrying her. "But I can't, I don't ... he thinks I'm an infidel."

  "He believes you'll convert. He wants to use you to smooth the way to the change of state religion in your home."

  "I'd rather die first."

  Ramil nodded. It was exactly as he expected. "I promise I won't let it happen."

  Tashi gave a sad laugh.

  "I know you don't think I have it in me, but I'm going to get you out of here. It will just take time and planning. We can't rush into it like we did on the road; we'll work together, not separately. I came tonight to beg that you will not give up hope."

  "I'll try not to, Prince Ramil."

  He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. "Call me Ram. It's what my friends all call me."

  "In that case, I'm Tashi." She paused. "But that's not what my friends call me back home."

  "What do they call you?"

  "The Princess Taoshira, Fourth Crown Princess of the Blue Crescent Islands and dependent territories. We're very formal, you know."

  Ramil smiled. "I
've noticed. And I also think, Princess Taoshira of the rest of it, that you are making a joke."

  Tashi nodded, her face wrinkling into an answering

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  smile. "But you can call me Tashi. It's my family name. I don't feel very much like the Princess Taoshira right now."

  "Thank you, Tashi." Ramil dug in his pocket. "Oh, and I should have given this to you when we first met. I hope it's not too late." He handed her a second paper model. Tashi took it from him, looking puzzled. "It's a horse."

  She put her hand over her mouth to disguise her amusement. "And very like it is too, sir."

  "It's my personal sign. It's me."

  Tashi stopped laughing. "Oh, I'm sorry. I must have offended you--"

  He put his finger gently to her lips. "No, no, you forget, I am not an Islander but an ignorant boor. We do not take offense easily. Just look after it for me, will you? And remember, I'm coming back for you."

  She appreciated the sentiment but knew better than to expect so much.

  "Good night, Ram," she said sadly. "And Goddess bless you."

  Ramil saluted. "Farewell, Tashi. God be with you."

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  Chapter 7

  King Lagan's spies returned with disturbing news from Brigard. A young man answering the Prince's description had been seen tied to a circus wagon and forced to walk miles. The same spies had reported no sign of the Princess.

  The King debated the news with his chief advisers long into the night. Could it be Ramil? Lagan supposed he should be thankful that it sounded as if his son was alive, but how had he been smuggled across the border and why?

  Had he been betrayed by the Blue Crescent people? Had the Princess arranged for him to be abducted and then disappeared to make it look as if she had nothing to do with it? Lagan found his age-old distrust of the strange Westerners resurfacing. Why was his son the one being dragged to a humiliating fate in Brigard and their Princess nowhere to be seen? She could even now be hidden aboard one of their vessels, using this as a chance to declare war on Gerfal. After all, you never really knew what those white-faced women were thinking.

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  The next reports from his spies in Brigard added further to the alarm and confusion.