“That is all I want. I wear a green kaftan, and a dark blue cape and turban, to show that I am content so long as the fields are green, and the waters are deep. And that House Reba sits on the throne, of course.”
Nalini raised a brow. For all Lord Krarim’s modest claims, he had an air of intellect and wisdom about him, shrouded in mystery. He belonged to a small, mystical sect of Abyar; no-one knew if he had long, short or no hair under his turban; and kept his full black beard cut short, leading the late Sultan Daquan to once quip that Lord Krarim kept his knowledge as close to him as his beard.
“In answer to your question,” he continued. “Pallab and his brother believe that Sultan Razilan is exaggerating the threat to the Kingdom’s eastern borders.”
“Do you believe that?” Nalini asked. “Are our eastern borders not under threat?”
Lord Krarim looked at her impassively. “No more than usual,” he said. “While the His Majesty, Sultan Daquan, was ill bandits tested the Kingdom’s resolve by raiding around Date-Palm Port and Peace Valley, while Sharafi pirates have been launching raids across the Slim Sea. But I have not seen anything to suggest a significant build-up of forces from either the Zufans, the Sharafis or the Galutlis.”
“Then why did my brother give Lady Ríma three thousand of Father’s-” she shook her head. “Or, rather, of his men, unless he had made an agreement with her.”
The black fumes wafted their way from the pyre. The smoke attacked her nostrils and stuck to the back of her throat. Nalini coughed.
“Come inside… These fumes are choking me too,” he said, in between whoops, and led them way into the palace. Once they had gone through the doors, he ceased coughing and stood up straight, as if his whooping had been an act. “Lady Ríma and His Majesty,” he continued in a low voice. “Have a more aggressive understanding for defending Al-Jaraba.”
Nalini’s stomach fluttered. “You don’t mean that they intend to attack one of our neighbours, do you?”
“Lady Ríma has decried for years that your father did nothing to help the Rakimists retake Zenith. Now, though, we have a sultan who is more sympathetic to the cause.”
Nalini’s insides sank. Zenith was the holiest place in the world for all the Believers of Abyar. It was where the Messenger had come down from the heavens, and where he had gone back up after His death.
However, after Abyar’s death, the Believers of Abyar had split into two main sects: those who followed Rakim, Abyar’s nephew, of which House Reba and the majority of the people of Al-Jaraba followed; and those who followed Gautam, Abyar’s grandson via his daughter, who composed a minority of the Kingdom.
For more than a century, Zenith had been under the control of the Zufan Kingdom, who were ruled by Gautamists, even though they made up a minority of that kingdom too. Over the last hundred years, they had imposed heretical prayers and rituals upon the holy city, and thus far no Sultan of Al-Jaraba had started a war to conquer Zenith and return it to Rakimist control. Indeed, the only Sultan that had voiced support for a holy war to retake the holy city had been Sultan Jashan the Fanatic. And no sooner had he made his intentions known when Daquan Reba had rebelled against him.
Nalini could not allow Razilan to make Sultan Jashan’s mistake and bring down everything their father had built. “Please tell me that you do not seriously believe my brother is considering starting a war for Zenith?” she asked.
“It does not matter what I believe,” Lord Krarim said. “I can only tell you that Lady Ríma has agreed to let him marry her daughter, Ahnja, so long as His Majesty leads a holy war for Zenith.”
So that is what he and my aunt discussed in the gardens! “But that is absurd,” Nalini said. “Razilan already has a wife. He is no fool. He will not divorce Sultana Olella. He knows that Lord Nahmet will never accept that. And if he wants to fight a war in the east, he cannot have the western half of his kingdom taking up arms against him.”
“Let us hope you are right.”
The doors burst open. A column of soldiers came in from the courtyard and marched past Nalini and Lord Krarim. Nalini looked back at the pyre. The flames had died down to mere embers and her blood ran cold. They had burned the Sultan and gone against Abyar’s laws, igniting the fire of Abyar’s anger in the process. Mayhap, the consequences of Razilan’s next moves would be the punishment for what they had done; for what she had advised. “My Lord,” Nalini said. “Do you think we’re cursed?”
Lord Krarim looked at her with the same impassivity he had shown throughout their conversation. If he were surprised by the question, he showed no sign. “I am not the Divine, I cannot say,” he said. “But whether we are cursed or not, it is best we focus on what we can do in our positions.”
Nalini nodded. She was a vizier at court, the royal treasurer, and one of the few people in all of Al-Jaraba who Sultan Razilan listened to. She had to use her position intelligently and find a way to talk her brother out of whatever mad ideas their aunt had seduced him into believing. And she had to do it before he set the Kingdom on the path to war and ruin.
4
-Saving The Kingdom-
(Nalini)
Nalini put down the parchment and scratched at her forehead, trying to break the tension that had built up around her head. Did being a royal vizier always bring with it tension and strain? Had every courtesan’s muscles been taut throughout the reign of Sultan Daquan? Or was her body stiff because Razilan now sat on the throne?
Nalini yawned. She had only been at her desk for an hour, yet the weight pushing down upon her eyelids made it seem like she had been there all day. Was governance always this exhausting? At this rate, her days would be long, and her hair would turn grey soon enough.
The door creaked open. Nalini sat up and grimaced. She did not like it when people did not knock before they entered.
“Look!” Emilio said, when the door was fully open. “There’s your mother, hard at work.”
Payam then rushed into the chamber. The sight of their four-year-old son, who had inherited more of Nalini’s darker complexion than her husband’s fair features, brought a smile to her face. Nalini had not smiled or laughed much since her father had died. But her son brought her cheer and delight every time she saw him, and now was no different.
Payam ran around the desk as Nalini spread out her arms, before her son jumped into them. Nalini hugged her son tightly and kissed him on the brow. “Shouldn’t you be at breakfast?” she asked.
“I want you there,” Payam responded. “Can you eat with us?”
Nalini placed her son on her lap and smiled wanly. She would have loved to join Payam for breakfast. Yet, how could she tell an infant that she didn’t have time to eat with him because she deal with the finances of the Kingdom?
“If your mother can get through a few more of her papers before you finish eating,” Emilio said. “I am sure she will join us before you begin your lessons. How does that sound?”
Payam nodded and jumped off his mother’s lap. “Don’t forget, Mother,” he said.
He feels forgotten, like I don’t love him. Nalini’s throat tightened. She loved her son more than anything in the world. It was just that between caring for her late father and now being a royal vizier, her time seemed to be completely taken up of late. “If I don’t eat with you at breakfast,” she said. “I will eat with you at lunch.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
Payam gave her a cheeky smile and ran away, with all the enthusiasm of a little boy. Emilio gripped the door handle. “Sorry if we interrupted you,” he said. “Payam just wanted to see you, and I wanted to show him how hard his mother works.”
Nalini exhaled. Emilio had done what he had come for. Couldn’t he just leave and not grate on her nerves for a change? “Don’t worry about it,” she said. “It made for a pleasant change. But if you don’t mind-”
“In addition,” Emilio continued, oblivious to her last sentence as he removed a scroll from his pocket and placed it
on the desk. “I received this a quarter of an hour. I don’t know who gave it to me, but she told me to give it to you. I decided to use Payam’s whining as an excuse to bring it to you.”
Nalini raised a brow. This was the first time her husband had shown a glimmer of intelligence. She had always thought that King Fransisco had agreed to take the unprecedented step of letting his son marry a woman outside of his Faith of the Holy Circle because he had no use for Emilio. Had she underestimated her husband?
“Do you know who it could be from?” he asked.
Probably Lord Krarim. Sending a message via proxy, so he could deny any involvement in the message, was something Lord Krarim was likely as not to do. But there was no way to prove it. “Maybe I’ll find out when I read it,” Nalini said.
Emilio nodded. “Also, I was thinking-”
“Ouch,” she interjected, grinning. “Don’t hurt yourself.”
Emilio saw the humour in that and chuckled. “Yes, quite,” he said, dryly. “But, anyway… Would you like to go for a walk in the gardens later? Some fresh air cannot hurt.”
Nalini inhaled deeply, closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. Just as she had begun to think that her husband had some wits under his messy mop of caramel-blond hair, he had proven himself a fool once again. “Emilio,” she said, with as much patience as she could muster. “I barely have a moment to sit and eat with our son. Do you really think I have time to go for a walk?”
“Well… if you don’t have time for a walk, can we sup together? You have been at this desk day and night recently; and that doesn’t include the months you spent, quite rightly, by your father’s bedside. We have not spent any time together for longer than I can remember, and… I would quite like to have an evening with you.”
How lovely. “We’ll see,” she said. “For the moment, though, I need to get back to work. Thank you for bringing me this letter.”
Emilio chewed on his cheek and looked away. It was something he did when he was hurt. “All right,” he said. “I am here for you if you need me.”
And with that, he left Nalini’s work chamber, closing the door behind him. Nalini shook her head. Couldn’t Emilio have just gone after handing her the letter? He would’ve shown himself useful and intelligent then, and she wouldn’t have had to reject him or send him away either. Why did he always have to linger too long and undermine himself?
Nalini broke the blank, green seal and unwound the scroll. “His Majesty,” she read, “has written a decree that will significantly increase taxation for heretics and heathens within the Kingdom, with punishments to include loss of property, confiscation of merchant goods, banishment, and even death in major instances.”
Nalini’s blood heated. She pursed her lips and scrunched up the letter in her fist. What was Razilan thinking? Did he want the shortest reign in the history of Al-Jaraba? Because he was going about it in the right way if he did. The Kingdom existed in a delicate balance and a law like this would antagonise the many non-Rakimists sects and other non-Believers into rebelling against Sultan Razilan as their father had done to Sultan Jashan the Fanatic, and it would deter merchants from all over the world.
Nalini marched out of her work chamber and walked down the corridors to speak with her brother. She passed windows with curtains as green as grass, to symbolise agricultural prosperity amidst the desert. Nalini noted that the curtains had a frown that matched her mood. She had never noticed the shape of the drapes before. Now, it seemed, the fabric of the curtains was as concerned for the fabric of the Kingdom as she was.
“I demand to speak with His Majesty!” Pallab shouted at Egemen and Peder, the two guards on duty, blocking the doors to the Council Hall. “My brother will never consent to this decree!”
“His Majesty has just returned from the port,” Egemen said, contemptuously. “He is busy at present.”
“I don’t give a rat’s arse where he’s been or what he’s doing! His Majesty should bear in mind that he would rather deal with me before word reaches Lord Nahmet. And the sooner he sees me the better!”
Nalini frowned as she approached the Council Hall. Razilan and Pallab had had a frosty relationship since Razilan had undertaken a strict adherence to the Rakimist sect of Abyar. Since then, Razilan had treated Pallab with disdain and Olella with disrespect for being heretics of the Gautamist sect, neither of which Pallab had not accepted.
Now, though, Sultan Razilan had sunk their relationship to new depths and was undoing their father’s work in the process. As Gautamists, Pallab and the rest of House Bazak would be penalised under Razilan’s new decree. “I wish to speak with His Majesty,” Nalini told the guards. She then turned to Pallab. “With your approval,” she said. “I will do what I can to arrange a time for you to speak with His Majesty. Then, you can raise your concerns with him.”
Pallab hissed out a lungful of air. “Please do, Princess Nalini,” he said, his anger in no way receding. “I have much to say to His Majesty.”
Subsequently, he stepped back to allow the guards to open the doors. Nalini then walked past them and entered the Council Hall. Sultan Razilan sat at the long, rectangular Council Table, stroking his short, wiry beard with thought as he read some papers.
That was until he realised that Nalini stood on the other side of the table. “Ah, Sister,” he said, jovially. “In case you were wondering what I was doing at the port, I had heard rumours that the marketplace has been demoralised since Father’s death. So, I went to raise the people’s spirits. Apparently, there is nothing like a visit from His Majesty to give people cheer. Don’t ask me why.”
Indeed. When the decree was executed into law, those same people were likely as not throw rotten fruit or stones at him. “No doubt you went to visit the people before they learned of your new decree,” she said, folding her arms to emphasise her displeasure. “Do you really think the same people who did not support Sultan Jashan’s madness are going to back yours?”
“Don’t be silly, Nalini. I am merely implementing Abyar’s laws, as they should be implemented, in their purest forms. Which Believer could argue with that? Besides, we need an increase in tax to help fund the war.”
“War with our neighbours or war with our fellow Al-Jarabans?”
Razilan shivered as if a wintry wind had blown through the hall, despite the summer heat. “I intend to declare a holy war,” he said. “This Kingdom should have been preparing for war the day the Zufans seized Zenith. Now, we are forbidden from visiting, from taking a pilgrimage to Abyar’s most sacred city. It is time we forced the heretics out and restored Zenith to the glory of old.”
Nalini’s muscles twitched. A thousand thoughts swirled round her mind like a whirlpool, and it began to pound. Somehow, she had to convince her brother not to go ahead with this fanatical idea. “You are risking the wrath of Lord Nahmet,” she said. “He will most probably rise up as Father did to-”
“Lord Nahmet will be fighting skirmishes against the Al-Yutams for a while to come,” Razilan interrupted. “I’ll make sure of it. Trust me, Lord Nahmet has no interest in being under Al-Yutamite control, even if they are heretics like him. Whatever increase in taxes I decree, it is nothing compared to the religious dogma he would be subjected to under Sultan Raham.”
Nalini pursed her lips. She had to come up with another idea, one that would make Razilan think again. “How will you logistically reach Zenith?” she asked. “The city is a five hundred leagues east of Date-Palm and with few places to replenish food and water.”
Razilan shivered again. “It will be hard, but Zenith has been taken before,” he said. “If Abyar desires for us to retake the holy city, He will enable us to find a way. Of that I am confident.”
“Since when were you so keen to invade Zenith? You had seldom spoke of it before aunt Ríma came. I don’t know how that witch has talked you into this madness. You are a married man. You cannot marry her daughter, Ahnja.”
Razilan looked her square in the eye. All joviality had vanished from hi
s face. “Sultana Olella is barren and I need an heir.”
Nalini grinded her teeth. Before Razilan had found Faith, he had slept with harlots every other night. None of their wombs had quickened. Mayhap, the one who was barren was not Sultana Olella, but him. “You have Wumla,” she said. “He is your heir, and Princess Yasmeena is with child. They will ensure House Reba’s continuation.”
“You cannot tell me you think Wumla is fit to be heir? There are those who claim he is not Father’s son, for one.”
Nalini rubbed her eyes and shook her head. It was true that Wumla looked like neither their mother nor their father. Their mother claimed that he looked like her father, but Lord Ajmal Asfour had died when their mother had been small. Moreover, before Nalini had been born, Father had had a guard, who’d had a bald, egg-like head, who had shown affection toward their mother. The rumours were that this guard had been intimate with the then Lady Padma Reba of Greatmouth Castle, and Daquan had executed him in the hope of putting an end to the rumours. But that had only fuelled them. “You don’t seriously believe that old rumour, do you?” Nalini asked.
“It doesn’t matter what I believe,” Razilan said. “Others believe it, and I want stability in the Kingdom. That is why I am going to change the laws on marriage. I will bring them back to the true ways of Abyar, meaning that a man can have three wives if he so wishes, so long as he treats them all equally and-”
“You sound like a fanatic!” Nalini shouted. “Lord Nahmet will never permit you to sideline his sister, you could lose the trust of the nobility, and the last Sultan who’d had three wives… his descendants caused civil war! Have you forgotten what happened to the last sultan who acted recklessly in the name of Abyar?”
Razilan smiled broadly. “Worry not,” he said, with a calmness that belied the severity of the consequences to come. “I am familiar with the Kingdom’s history and I intend to make sure that it does not descend into civil war for generations to come. I just want to bring back the true Faith to the Kingdom and to where Abyar was given Divine revelation. How does that make me a fanatic?”
The Sultan's Daughter Page 3
