“It’s a good idea,” Lord Anané said. “It will give us time to get back to Flourish and prepare a proper defence.”
Nalini hissed out a lungful of air and gave her husband a sour look. First, uncle Talekh was an experienced commander and would have prepared for such a course of action. Second, Emilio and Lord Anané had completely missed the point for marching out to meet the armies of Date-Palm in the first place. If she and the Crown retreated now, they were finished. House Reba was finished. “No,” Nalini said, using a tone that she hoped would brook no argument. “Most of our men are shitting themselves blue. With them, we will never make it back to Flourish before Date-Palm catches up with us. And even if, by some miracle, our men were to make it back to the capital, they will be in no fit state to fight, meaning the city will be a ripe plum ready to be plucked when Ríma gets close.”
“So, you would have us face the armies of Date-Palm in the open?” Lord Anané asked.
No, but what choice do we have?
Nalini walked over to the table with the map of Al-Jaraba spread over it, and scanned it for a strategic location for a battle. The terrain around the Azure Lake was flat for leagues on end in all directions. Nowhere held an advantage.
Nalini grimaced and looked over the map again, hoping she was wrong. A figurative pincer clamped round her skull, as she did so. She massaged her forehead, pressing into her lumpy, craterlike skin. The pressure burst a pore, and blood and puss oozed onto her fingers. Nalini tensed at the disgustingness of it; tensed as she could not find a spot that would give her a strategic advantage for battle. “We’ll have to fight them with our backs to the lake,” she said. “We cannot allow them to reach the food and water that the Azure Lake provides.”
“Date-Palm has a couple of thousand more men than we do and Lord Talekh is an experienced commander,” Lord Anané said. “How do you plan to stop him, especially as many of our men are sick and will not be in fighting condition?”
I don’t know.
Nalini looked at Lord Anané, Pallab, Lord Krarim and Emilio. But all of them were looking at her, and the weight of expectation dug into Nalini’s shoulders. Nalini wanted to scream. Pallab, Lord Krarim, Lord Anané, and even her husband had been the ones trained for war. Not her! Curse Abyar, how could it be that between them they could not come up with a plausible battle tactic? How was it that they were looking to her for inspiration, when she needed them more than ever?
“We’ll come up with something,” Emilio said, trying to be supportive but sounding unconvincing. “We just need a little bit of time.”
Lord Anané laughed. “You take your time,” he said. “I will have nothing to do with this battle.”
And with that, he turned and marched out of the hut. Blood rushed to Nalini’s head and she stormed after him. “Lord Anané, where are you going!?” she demanded. “Get back into the hut now and we will forget this hap-”
“I will be returning to Last Thirst with my men,” he said, without looking back. “I will not lead my men to a slaughter. Not this time. My conscience does not allow it.”
“My Lord, are you mad?” Pallab said. “You know that Lord Talekh and Lady Ríma have been imposing the most hardline of Abyar’s laws in Date-Palm: thieves are having their hands cut off, fornicators are being lashed publicly, and adulterers are getting impaled! Do you want to be subject to such laws?”
Lord Anané untied his camel and climbed between the humps. “Mayhap it is what we all deserve,” he said. “Still, I will not send my men to be slaughtered. Nor,” he added, eying Lord Krarim, “will I stand next to a man who cannot be trusted either, especially not while Lady Ríma holds his lands. I made the mistake of trusting him once. I will not make it again. I would advise you to take extra precautions with this snake, Princess Nalini. I would not want you to suffer the same fate as did my sons.”
Nalini bit her lip and the sharp, salty taste of blood filled her mouth. She wanted to shout at Lord Anané; to call him a traitor; to remind him that her father had spared him his life and allowed him to keep his lands in exchange for fealty to House Reba. So that he would unsheathe his sword to defend the Kingdom when the time arose. Which was now.
But Nalini said nothing. As Lord Anané trotted away on his camel, as his two thousand men decamped, Nalini sensed that there was no point saying anything. Whatever she said would only make her look weak and pathetic. It was best to let him go.
“In case you are concerned about my loyalty,” Lord Krarim said. “Just remember that I am part of the Haroun sect.”
As if that reassures me. The Horouns were a branch of the Rakimist sect, who covered their hair at all times to show deference to the Divine, and who sacrificed animals, as their ancestors, the Harus people, had done before they reverted to believing in Abyar seven hundred years ago.
Fanatics, however, deemed the Harouns to be heretics. In times gone by, they had beheaded Harouns by the hundred for keeping the traditions and rituals of their ancestors. And, yet, despite all that, Lord Krarim had begun her father’s revolt on the side of a fanatic, only to switch sides when it suited him. Would he switch sides again, even to another fanatic, if it meant getting his lands back?
Nalini did not want to know the answer. “With Lord Anané gone,” she said, changing the subject. “We now have six thousand men.”
“Five thousand, actually,” Pallab said. “One thousand have already died from the Blue Sickness.”
Nalini inhaled deeply and the stink of excrement assaulted her nostrils. The stench throughout the Azure Lake was as pungent as it had been in the hut where Wumla had died. Physicians said that foul air carried the Blue Sickness from one person to another. With this reek, it was a miracle that they still had a semblance of an army. “Then we are going to have make those five thousand men count,” she said. “Aren’t we?”
Lord Krarim, Pallab and Emilio said nothing. But their silence and furrowed brows spoke volumes. No doubt, they wondered how she intended to defeat ten thousand men with only half that number, and with many of those sick.
Is this their way of saying that they deem our numbers too few? That they will flee like treacherous rats in the night?
Nalini looked away from them, to make sure they did not read anything untoward from her façade. Instead, she grinded her teeth and looked ahead again, toward Lord Anané. She could just about see his outline through the dust that he, his men, his mules and his camels had kicked up as they rode south for Last Thirst.
The heat rose inside Nalini and she dug her nails into her palms. She wanted to damn Lord Anané, to curse him as the heavens had cursed her family. Yet, at the same time, she wanted to ride out and speak with him, to plead with him to-
An idea lit up in her mind like a torch in the dark, breaking off her thoughts. “We are going to need to fix my brother’s armour so it fits me,” Nalini said.
“What?” Emilio said.
“You heard me.” She spun around and marched back to the hut. “Come with me and help me prepare for tomorrow.”
10
-What Brings You Here?-
(Nalini)
Nalini trotted to the front of the royal army on the back of her camel, with Emilio following behind her. The chainmail around her neck and shoulders rattled with each step. Nalini’s head throbbed and the minaret-shaped helmet pressed down onto her skull, aggravating the throb. As did the rattling mail.
Through the thick clouds of dust, she made out the banners as she passed through the ranks: the knot of unity of her family, House Reba; the castle and citrus fruits of Lord Krarim’s family, House Ta’ína; the carob tree of Pallab’s family, House Bazak; the silver river-mouth of House Elnakhya of Greatmouth Castle; the sparrow of Nalini’s mother’s family, House Asfour of Orange Fork; and the four scimitars of House Jadwiga, even though the latter three Houses had neither their lords nor men present.
Finally, Nalini reached the head of the armies, where Lord Krarim and Pallab were on camelback. She went toward them. “A
re your men in form-” she coughed as the dust and grit choked her.
“In formation,” Emilio finished for her.
Nalini shot him a glare. In authority, if not in title, she was the commander of all of Al-Jaraba. No-one, especially not her heathen husband could speak for her, even if she were choking.
“Yes,” Lord Krarim said. “The men are in line.”
Nalini pursed her lips. The men might have been in formation, but how many of them would be able to fight when-
The ground tremored. A cold hand seemed to clutch the back of Nalini’s neck, and her hairs turned to pins.
Nalini looked ahead, to the east. The morning sun blazed at her and she put her hand before her eyes, shielding them, before she observed clouds of dust rising on the horizon.
Nalini’s stomach heaved. Like a plague of locusts, figures of men and camels approached. They grew with their every step, and more lines emerged as they did so, stretching further and deeper than the Crown’s.
Nalini’s pulse quickened, and she turned to Lord Krarim for advice. “H-how much more time should we wait,” she said, hoping that neither he nor anyone else heard the quaver in her voice. “Before we go toward them?”
“We go when-”
“It must be just you, Nalini,” Emilio interjected. “You must do this alone.”
“Are you mad?” Pallab put in. “The men of Date-Palm are fanatics. They believe that women should be cooks, nurses, bedwarmers and childrearers. They will not listen to a woman without some powerful men standing beside her.”
I agree.
But Emilio shook his head. “An army behind her will be convincing than any man, however powerful, at her side. If she wants, she can take the Sultan’s guards for protection. No-one else.”
Nalini’s head pounded, and she pressed her teeth together to try and alleviate the pounding. She had practiced what to say to her uncle with Lord Krarim, Pallab and Emilio the previous night. Still, Nalini had no experience in parleying before battle. Lord Krarim and Pallab were good talkers and had the experience she lacked. They would know what to say if the conversation drifted away from what she knew. What she do if that happened?
Yet, at the same time, Emilio was right. If only some of the lords that had their banners ostensibly present went forward, Date-Palm would suspect that something were awry. “I will go forward alone,” Nalini said.
“Then there’s no point in you remaining with us here anymore,” Pallab said. “You might as well be on your way before it’s too late.”
Already!?
Nalini turned to Lord Krarim, as she had done since her father had made her a vizier. Of all the men in the Kingdom, Nalini had wanted Lord Krarim to go with her for the parley. One, that way she could guarantee he would stay loyal. And, two, she could rely on him if she didn’t know what to say, or she could add to any suggestion he came up with.
But Lord Krarim showed his usual dispassion. He nodded once at her and gesticulated for her to go forward.
Nalini’s heart thumped. She pushed down the visor, covering her face like an iron mask. As a result, no-one could see her eyes, the doors to her thoughts and emotions, and she could feign assurance. Her father had once told her that exuding supreme confidence had been the key to leading his men to triumph. Now, Nalini had to copy him, even though she lacked his physique, swagger, charisma and know-how.
Subsequently, she flicked the reins and her camel trotted forward. Her head pulse with her heart; and, with every step, her helmet seemed to weigh more, pressing down harder on her head, dizzying her.
So much rested on her. Nalini could not let her aunt and uncle seize the Azure Lake. Then, they would have an open route to the capital, her son and Wumla’s unborn child. Yet, she didn’t have the men to fight either-
Dust assailed her throat. It clawed at the inside of her throat and Nalini choked; her insides stung with each whoop.
I am falling apart and I haven’t even started speaking to uncle Talekh yet. What chance do I have if-
A horn blasted ahead. Nalini looked up. The horde before her halted and a solitary figure trotted forward. Nalini’s heart hammered. It was aunt Ríma. The fanatic. The witch. No doubt, she had cast a spell on uncle Talekh to ensure that she would do the talking and get her way, ahead of the Lord of Date-Palm Port.
A bead of sweat dribbled down Nalini’s face. What could Nalini do against her aunt? The woman was so much more experienced and savvier than her. Plus, she had unnatural powers and a superior army.
Nalini’s mouth dried up. Her hand moved to her goatskin, full of water. But she stopped herself from drinking a drop. For all intents and purposes, she was the commander of the royal armies. She had to appear as if she were above the heat and her thirst.
Lady Ríma stopped half a dozen yards before her. She was not in armour, but a violet dress that contrasted with her shining, straight dark hair and brought out her seducing eyes of glowing amber under her immaculately plucked, arching brows; all of which gave her a refined, youthful elegance that belied her years, something Nalini would never have. “It is an honour to see you again, nephew,” Ríma said, keeping her eyes fixed upon her target. “I was deeply saddened to hear of the passing of the passing of His Majesty, Sultan Razilan, especially so soon after that of His Majesty, Sultan Daquan. But if you believe that you are Sultan, should you not be wearing a crown?”
Nalini froze. She wanted to look away, to turn away, to go back and get Lord Krarim. She had practiced with him about what to say when confronted with this question, knowing that how she began would have a significant bearing on how events unfolded.
Nevertheless, now, it was as if they had never practiced at all. Her head was a void of blackness, like it had always been when she had been put on the spot.
How can this be happening?
“Wumla?”
Nalini’s heart thudded. Now, she had to speak. She gulped, then forced saliva back up, into her dry mouth, and took off her helmet. “It is not Sultan Wumla who comes before you,” she said, wiping sweat from her face. “Alas, His Majesty succumbed to the Blue Sickness. So… it is I, who comes before you. W-what brings you here, aunt Ríma? And where is my uncle? I would have thought that a commander would not need to hide behind his wife’s skirts?”
A grin formed across Ríma’s face. A shudder crawled up Nalini’s skin and she did her utmost to hold it back. Nalini had hoped that her appearance in place of her brother would have put off her aunt. But it had merely emboldened her. “If the Sultan is dead,” Ríma said, with a hint of scorn in her tone. “On whose authority do you speak?”
Another bead of sweat dribbled down Nalini’s face. Why did she have to sweat now? How was it that her aunt looked impeccable with not a drop of perspiration blobbing on her smooth skin, while Nalini looked like she were melting like butter in the sun? “I speak for the Royal Council,” Nalini said. “And for Sultan Wumla’s unborn child.”
“And Lords Nahmet Bazak, Krarim Ta’ína, Anané Jadwiga, Ehud Asfour, and Adelram Elnakhya would have you speak for them without themselves present?” She raised one of her immaculate, arching brows to show her skepticism. “I think not.”
“Think what you like. But I speak for them as you speak for my uncle, as well as Lord Nash Basara of Castle Need and Lord Fedor Malouf of Peace Valley, among others.”
“Oh, His Majesty, Sultan Talekh the Fifth of His Name, and the lords you have mentioned, would have loved to come forward. But none will speak to those who have accused His Majesty of treason. His Majesty, Sultan Talekh, is especially disappointed that his own family would do this to him.”
“You and he have ridden half-way across Al-Jaraba with an army at your back. Anyone would think you are trying to seize power for yourselves at this delicate time.”
“His Majesty is the rightful Sultan.”
And then your son from Lord Calman Gherda would be next in line. Nalini’s blood heated. The thought of a cousin of Sultan Jashan the Fanatic sitting on the throne agai
n, in time, was unthinkable. “According to the Crown and the laws of the Kingdom-”
“The Crown is not upholding Abyar’s true laws,” Ríma interrupted. “You have come to tolerate heretics and heathens in the Kingdom as equals, and you make no effort to reclaim Zenith from the Gautamist heretics. In the days of Sultan Jashan the Devout, the Crown and the Faith were the two pillars that uphold the Kingdom. Alas, that is no more. And the shameful accusations that the Crown has placed against your own uncle prove that; he, who would implement Abyar’s true laws.”
Nalini pursed her lips. The conversation was not going in the direction she had hoped. She had but one option left, and her stomach churned at the thought of using it.
Nalini looked past Ríma, at the soldiers behind her, and quivered. “You look… like you are ready to fight for what you believe in,” Nalini said; it was a line she had rehearsed with Lord Krarim. “I admire that. My father admired that in you as well. How many men have you brought with you today?”
“Twelve thousand.”
A figurative pincer clamped around Nalini’s head. Ríma had more men than Nalini had expected. And more than double what she had. Date-Palm could crush her forces, especially as many of the men were sick.
Vomit rose to her throat and Nalini gulped, pushing it all down. She wanted to take back her question, to run back to Lord Krarim, to her men, even to the capital, to get behind its walls for safety.
Yet, Nalini could not change course. Not now. It was too late for that. “And how many men do you think I’ve got?” she said, somehow managing to keep her voice stable.
Ríma hummed. She looked past Nalini, at the soldiers behind her, at the thick clouds of dust that concealed all but the first handful of lines.
Nalini’s helmet bore into her head. Her arms shook, her armour rattled. Nalini gripped the reins to keep silent.
Ríma concentrated on Nalini’s men.
Nalini’s heart thumped. Her breakfast turned to liquid inside her. Sweat beaded down her back. But Nalini kept her eyes on her aunt, rigidly.
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