The Sword Of Angels (Gollancz S.F.)

by John Marco

‘I have to get back,’ she groaned. ‘Nourah, I have to see Kamag tonight.’

  ‘I know,’ Nourah nodded helplessly. ‘We will get you there. Stay at the gathering as long as you can, then be ill. I will say you’ve gone back to your room. Everyone will be too busy to look for you. By the time they do, you will be back.’

  Salina considered the plan, confident it would work. Her father always got too drunk on Oradin to notice anything unusual, and with so many people to entertain, it was certain she would not be missed.

  ‘All right,’ Salina agreed, smiling nervously. ‘Go now. I’ll be done here when I can.’

  Salina squeezed her maiden’s shoulder, then turned and walked back to Fatini and her table full of fabrics. Over the next hour she struggled hard to concentrate on her work, but her mind was a thousand miles away, over Aztar and what fabulous news Kamag might have for her.

  Just past midnight, Salina found herself in the streets of the city, surrounded by revelers still celebrating Oradin. Overhead, the moon that was the holiday’s namesake glowed a brilliant ivory, lighting the avenues of Ganjor while men and boys moved between the shrana houses and played card games, enjoying the parades of brightly garbed women as they too enjoyed the merriment. At her palatial home, Salina had managed to convince her father of a sudden illness, excusing herself from the gathering even as hundreds of guests still stalked the palace’s halls and banquet chambers. King Baralosus’ guests had come from miles, paying him tributes of gold and spices and enjoying his famous kitchens and wine cellars. Salina had endured the night gracefully, wearing the mejkith she had made and doing her best to please the young men her father introduced, smiling just enough not to encourage them. It had been a tedious function, and Salina was glad to be gone from it. With Nourah’s help, she had slipped out of the palace in the dress and sandals of a commoner. Because she was the king’s daughter and seldom allowed out of the palace, almost no one in the city knew what she looked like, making it surprisingly easy to walk the streets anonymously.

  Kamag’s shrana house lay in a dark and quiet corner of the city’s marketplace. Normally, there were few people in this part of Ganjor so late at night. Tonight, however, the streets were filled with happy people and market stalls that had stayed open for the holiday, selling sweet and spicy foods that filled the avenue with aromas. Salina’s head swam with excitement as she hurried toward the place. To be out so late at night, without a chaperone to pester her, was a rare treat she always savoured. So far, she had managed to keep her meetings with Kamag secret and rare. It had been months since she had spoken to him.

  Salina tugged the fabric of her head wrap closer around her face. Normally, women were not permitted in shrana houses unless escorted by a man, but tonight was Oradin, and that meant the holiday would give her cover. She pressed passed the inn’s beaded curtain, hiding her face from a pair of men who were leaving. Entering, her eyes scanned the busy house. Kamag was having a good night, indeed, for every one of his tables were full. Luckily, she spotted Dahj darting about the place, taking orders from the patrons. Another of her confidants, Dahj often worked for Kamag to earn much needed money. He was a young, friendly man, and brave like Kamag, too. Both of them had risked much to aid the Seekers. When Dahj glanced in her direction, Salina waved. Dahj quickly dropped his tray of shrana cups on a nearby stool and hurried toward her, pushing his way through the crowd.

  ‘Princess,’ he whispered, not smiling and not wanting to draw attention.

  Salina nodded, holding her wraps high against her face. She was pleased to see Dahj, but had no way of showing it. ‘Kamag?’

  ‘Waiting for you.’ Dahj looked around. ‘Busy tonight. Be careful.’

  Salina understood, careful to avoid the stares of others. She followed Dahj through the busy inn, keeping her eyes low. Dahj moved quickly to the back of the tavern, toward the hall that lead to the upstairs sleeping chambers. A few other servers darted past them with trays of steaming shrana and the popular moon cakes. When they reached the hall, Dahj paused.

  ‘Wait here,’ he directed. ‘I will bring Kamag.’

  Dahj disappeared quickly back into the main room, leaving Salina alone in the hall. The servers ignored her, too busy with the work to pay the girl much notice. Salina shifted uncomfortably, anxious to see Kamag and hear his news. Overhead, she heard the boards creak from the rooms upstairs, obviously rented for the evening. Salina smiled beneath her wraps, imagining the romance going on above her head. A minute passed, and then another, but before too long Kamag appeared, alone, skidding into the hall and beaming when he saw Salina.

  ‘You came,’ he pronounced happily. ‘I knew you would.’

  ‘Nourah told me it was important,’ said Salina. ‘What is it? What’s happened?’

  Kamag came closer, tossed a glance over his shoulder, and said softly. ‘Princess, someone has come. He is upstairs, waiting for you.’

  Salina trembled. ‘Aztar?’

  ‘No,’ said Kamag. ‘But someone with news of Aztar. A young man from Jador.’

  ‘Jador? I don’t know anyone from Jador,’ said Salina. Though she had sent the Jadori doves warning them of coming Seekers, she had never met any of them. ‘This young man – he knows of Aztar? He has seen him?’

  Kamag waited for one of the servers to pass before answering. ‘He was with Aztar in the prince’s camp. He said he had a message for you.’

  ‘Take me to him,’ said Salina. ‘I want to see him.’

  The top floor of the house had about a dozen small bedrooms patrons could rent for the night. Salina had never spent much time in any of them, except to meet secretly with Kamag and give him money to help the Seekers. Knowing the way, she followed Kamag up the stairs toward the landing, where the first beaded curtain was drawn closed, light spilling out between its braids. Kamag went ahead and parted the curtain. He spoke softly to someone inside, then held the curtains open for Salina. When Salina stepped past them, she noted the tiny room, dimly lit by a few well-placed candles. A young man seated on the bed rose stiffly to greet her. Dressed as a northerner, he had the red complexion of sunburn, with sandy hair that fell into his eyes and a curious, trusting expression. His left hand dangled at his side, palsied into a club. A heavy, strange looking boot surrounded his left foot. A slight smile crept over his boyish face when he saw Salina.

  ‘Hello,’ he said, shuffling forward and staring. His eyes went to their host. ‘Kamag?’

  ‘This is she, Gilwyn,’ said Kamag. ‘Princess Salina.’ Kamag gestured toward the stranger. ‘Princess, this is Gilwyn Toms, from Jador. He has come to speak with you.’

  ‘I do not know you, Gilwyn Toms,’ said Salina. ‘Nor have I ever heard your name. Yet Kamag tells me you have a message for me, and news from Prince Aztar. Tell me, please.’

  ‘I should go,’ said Kamag. ‘Princess, you will be safe with him. Keep your voices down, yes? When you need me, come downstairs.’

  Salina said nothing as Kamag left, wanting only to hear from the stranger. The young man named Gilwyn Toms offered her the only chair in the little room, which Salina declined. ‘Please tell me,’ she asked. ‘I want to know about Aztar.’

  ‘Aztar is alive, my lady,’ said the stranger. ‘I was with him just two days ago in his camp.’

  ‘He sent you here?’

  ‘No,’ said Gilwyn. ‘Not really. I’m from Jador, my lady. I was heading home to Liiria. A man named Lorn told me to ask for you when I got here to Ganjor. Do you remember him?’

  ‘Lorn? Yes, I remember,’ said Salina with a smile. ‘Lorn of Norvor. He made it to Jador, then?’

  ‘He did, my lady, and he says he has you to thank for that. He wanted me to see you, to thank you for helping him and his people make it across the desert. They’re all safe, my lady.’

  ‘That is good news,’ sighed Salina. ‘I did not think they would all make it alive, especially the little one, the baby.’

  ‘You mean Poppy?’ Gilwyn Toms laughed. ‘She’s well, too.’
/>   The two strangers looked at each other. Salina shrugged helplessly.

  ‘I am desperate for news, Gilwyn Toms,’ said Salina. ‘What of Aztar? Is he well?’

  The young man seemed reluctant. ‘He lives, my lady,’ he said gravely. ‘But he is not well, no. You warned us in Jador about the battle . . .’

  ‘Yes,’ said Salina. ‘What happened?’

  ‘Aztar was hurt . . . badly.’

  Salina felt her legs go weak. She went to the chair Gilwyn had offered and sat down, unraveling her stifling face wraps. Gilwyn Toms stood over her, concerned. It took a moment for Salina to find her voice again.

  ‘Tell me more,’ she said softly. ‘Tell me everything.’

  ‘There was a fire during the battle,’ said the young man. ‘Aztar and his men were pushing their attack. They were winning. They would have overrun us.’ Gilwyn’s face darkened. ‘Something had to be done.’

  ‘You do not need to make apologies,’ said Salina. ‘Some of Aztar’s men came to Ganjor after the battle. They told of the magic fire.’

  ‘So your father knows about it too, then?’

  ‘Yes,’ replied Salina, confused. ‘What does that matter?’

  Gilwyn shrugged if off. ‘Maybe it doesn’t mean anything,’ he said without explaining. ‘But Prince Aztar survived the fire. We didn’t think he did, but he managed to escape.’

  ‘But he was burned,’ said Salina. ‘Yes?’

  Gilwyn nodded gravely. ‘He has trouble walking sometimes. He is in great pain. He hides it, but I know he suffers. The fire burned much of his body. He probably looks nothing like you remember, Princess Salina.’

  The statement shattered Salina. She tried to speak, but her throat constricted and her voice died. The joy of simply knowing Aztar was alive fled in an instant, replaced by a horrible guilt.

  ‘It’s my fault,’ she gasped. She could barely bring herself to look at Gilwyn. ‘I warned you of his coming. I sent him to this fate.’

  Gilwyn Toms came closer, falling to one knee in front of her. ‘He knows that,’ he said gently. ‘Aztar knows you warned us.’

  ‘You told him?’

  ‘I did. I told him what I knew about you, my lady, and how much you’ve helped us, and helped the Seekers.’ Gilwyn gave an encouraging grin. ‘He knows all about it, and he isn’t angry. He just wanted me to come and see you.’

  Salina gaped at him, stunned. ‘He is not angry? That is unbelievable . . .’

  ‘He’s not what I expected, that’s true,’ said Gilwyn. ‘He took care of me, made sure that I was well enough to travel before I left camp.’

  ‘Yes, tell me about that – you were in his camp? That I do not understand.’

  ‘It didn’t make sense to me either at first,’ said Gilwyn. ‘I woke up there, after being attacked by a rass on my way through the desert.’

  He went on to tell her about his time in the camp, waking up from an illness that nearly killed him. Aztar’s women had cared for him, he told Salina, nursing him back out of a sleep that had lasted for weeks. Then, finally, Aztar himself had come to see him. Salina listened intently, watching Gilwyn’s face in the candlelight, amazed by his tale of Aztar’s kindness. She had always thought there was a part of Prince Aztar that could be gentle; she had even glimpsed it on occasion, when he came to visit her with flowers or quoted Ganjeese love poems. It broke her heart to hear it.

  ‘When I told him I was coming here, it saddened him,’ Gilwyn went on. ‘I told him I was coming to see you if I could, because I had been told by King Lorn that you would help me. He loves you, Princess. He wanted me to tell you that.’

  Sitting in her chair, Salina felt like a little girl, all alone and wanting to weep. Aztar had loved her from the moment they had met, and she still didn’t know why. Then, when her father had tried to bargain her away to him, she had resisted because she wanted only independence for herself and the chance to choose her own husband. Yet Aztar’s memory tugged at her, always like a little bird on her shoulder, chirping and reminding her that he cared for her.

  ‘Even though I betrayed him,’ she whispered darkly. ‘Even still he loves me.’

  ‘He does,’ Gilwyn echoed. ‘And he’s changed. He wanted me to know that and tell the others in Jador, too. He claims he’s not our enemy anymore, that he’s been changed by Vala and that . . .’ Gilwyn stopped himself, looking unsure.

  ‘What else?’ urged Salina. She could tell he was holding back.

  ‘Aztar thinks Vala’s punishing him,’ said Gilwyn. ‘He thinks Vala made the fire to teach him a lesson.’

  ‘What lesson?’

  Gilwyn finally rose from his knee and made his way to the edge of the bed. There he sat contemplating his words.

  ‘Aztar told me about the bargain he made with your father, Princess Salina. He said that if he conquered Jador for him, your father would give you to him for a bride.’

  ‘That is true,’ Salina admittedly sourly.

  ‘But Aztar didn’t tell this to his god. He didn’t tell Vala he was attacking Jador to win your hand. That’s why he thinks Vala punished him, because he spilled innocent blood for his own lust and desires. He’s convinced of it. That’s why he won’t leave camp, not even to go to Jador to explain himself. He feels disgraced.’

  Salina got up from the chair and went to the room’s lone, dingy window. Outside the small square of glass she could see the streets of Ganjor filled with people. Beyond Ganjor, the Desert of Tears loomed, dark and lonely. A spike of despair impaled her as she thought of Aztar, tortured and confused, sure that the god he loved so mightily had struck him down.

  All for her.

  ‘That’s why you asked about my father,’ Salina surmised. ‘Because you knew about his plans for Jador.’

  ‘That’s right,’ said Gilwyn. ‘Pardon me for saying so, Princess Salina, but I do not trust your father.’

  ‘Nor should you.’ Salina turned from the window to face him. ‘My father is a good man, mostly. But he is a Ganjeese king, and there are always jackals around him. He needs to stay strong, and do what he must to grow his power. I do not hate my father for the plans he laid against Jador, or even for trying to bargain me away. I am a girl, and in Ganjor that does not mean much.’

  Pity flashed through Gilwyn’s eyes. ‘I’m sorry for you, Princess. I’m sorry I had to bring this news to you. But Aztar is still alive. That should bring you some comfort, at least.’

  ‘It does. But then I think of him burned and pained and lonely. And then . . .’ Salina turned hopelessly back to the window. ‘Then I do not know what to think.’

  She saw Gilwyn’s reflection in the glass, slowly approaching her. ‘My lady, I cannot stay long. I have things to do in Liiria, and I am so late already it may be too late.’

  ‘Do you need my help?’ asked Salina.

  Gilwyn shook his head. ‘No. Aztar gave me money and a good horse. I should be able to make the rest of the trip on my own. I only stopped to tell you his message, and to thank you for the help you gave Jador.’

  ‘That help has cursed me, Gilwyn Toms. I saved strangers at the cost of someone who cared for me.’ Salina turned to look at him. ‘I want to go to him, Gilwyn. I want to see him.’

  ‘You can’t,’ said Gilwyn. ‘He made that clear. He doesn’t want to see anyone, especially not you.’

  ‘But he loves me. You said so yourself.’

  ‘Aye, he loves you, my lady, but he’s convinced his love for you is what brought down his punishment from Vala. Don’t you see? He thinks his love is a curse, and that Vala had forbidden it.’

  ‘That is madness,’ hissed Salina. ‘Love is never evil. Never.’

  ‘It’s what he believes. He won’t leave his camp, and he won’t have any more contact with you. He only wants you to know that he’s alive, and that he still cares for you.’

  ‘And that is all? That is why you came here?’ Salina stormed across the room, feeling trapped. ‘You bring me this message, then expect me to do nothing. Am
I to live with this guilt forever, then?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Gilwyn admitted. ‘I only wanted you to know that he’s alive.’

  ‘Yes, alive. Alive and burned and hidden from the rest of the world. And all because of me. Well, I cannot live with that, not without seeing him.’

  ‘He won’t see you, Princess,’ Gilwyn insisted. ‘He has already told me that.’

  ‘Tell me where to find his camp. Please, that is all I am asking.’

  ‘And how will you get there? Just coming here tonight was difficult for you. I know; Kamag told me. You won’t be able to ride off into the desert.’

  Salina wanted to scream, because his logic was unassailable. How could she go to Aztar? Without her father’s blessing it would be impossible, and that was something the king would never give. She slumped.

  ‘You are right,’ she conceded. ‘But if there is a way – any way – I must try. Please, Gilwyn Toms, for all that I have done for you, do this one thing for me. Tell me where to find his camp.’

  ‘My lady . . .’

  ‘I have not much time. If I do not return to the palace soon they will miss me.’ Salina gave him her best, imploring pout. ‘Please . . .’

  Under her onslaught, the young man buckled. ‘I’ll regret this,’ he sighed, flopping down on the bed. ‘The camp isn’t hard to find. It’s two days ride from here. I can draw a map to make it easy for you.’

  Salina went over to the bed and touched his clubbed hand, which was dangling off the edge of the bed. ‘Thank you, Gilwyn Toms.’

  The young man stared up at the ceiling. ‘I am leaving in the morning,’ he said.

  ‘For your business in Liiria?’

  ‘Yes. And if you don’t mind, I’d like to keep that to myself, at least.’

  He wasn’t joking, and Salina didn’t laugh. She knew she had forced him to betray a confidence. She squeezed his hand in thanks.

  ‘Be well on your journey, Gilwyn Toms. If there is anything you need, tell Kamag and he will get it for you.’

  Gilwyn sat up, smiling at Salina. ‘My lady, you are very kind. If you do try to find Aztar, take care of yourself.’ He laughed. ‘I know now why Aztar cares for you so much. You really are beautiful.’