Gifting Fire

by Alina Boyden

  “Was?” I whispered, my stomach roiling. Ali Talpur was dead? How had that happened? Who had killed him? Was it the Safavians? Had they attacked already?

  “Kadiro was attacked three days ago, your highness,” she continued. “The city was captured and my brother was killed. I escaped with as many of our men and zahhaks as I could and fled north.”

  “She’s lying, your highness,” Sikander growled, shocking me almost as much as the poor woman standing before my throne.

  “Sikander!” I hissed, horrified that he would say something like that when it was plainly obvious from the look on the woman’s face that she was telling the truth.

  “Ali Talpur had no sisters, only a brother, your highness,” Sikander reminded me.

  My heart sank. He was right. I should have seen it at once, but I’d been so wrapped up in the woman’s story that I’d missed it. I was annoyed with myself for being duped, but she’d seemed so truthful. Even now, she looked offended more than frightened. Whoever she was, she was quite the actress.

  “I’m not lying!” she exclaimed.

  I held up a hand to forestall any more of this nonsense. “Sikander is right. Ali Talpur had no sister.”

  “And Sultan Humayun had no daughter!” the woman retorted.

  A surge of anger welled up inside me on hearing that. I’d been mocked dozens of times for being a hijra before, but I’d never gotten used to it, and I’d be damned if I let someone do it in my own palace. “If you think that mocking me for the circumstances of my birth is a good way to live a long life in my province, you are sadly mistaken.” I reached out and stroked Sultana’s head scales to emphasize exactly what her fate would be if she said one more word about it.

  The woman bristled at the obvious threat. “You know, your nayak, Geeta Barupal, assured me at the last jamaat that you were a lovely, polite little thing, not at all haughty in spite of the circumstances of your birth. I’m sorry to see that she was mistaken.”

  I jerked my hand back from Sultana like I’d been touching a hot stove. My heart fluttered in my chest. I’d missed it. She hadn’t been insulting me, she’d been comparing her circumstances to mine, claiming to be a hijra herself. And the proof of it was in her words. There was no way she could have known our nayak’s name if she wasn’t one of us. But I could scarcely bring myself to believe it. Could she really be a hijra like me, and a royal too? Lakshmi was, but my little sister was so young, she didn’t understand the dangers and the responsibilities like I did. This woman, if she really was a hijra, shared so much with me. I longed to ask her for every detail of her life, to understand if she had been through the same things I had.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, much to Sikander’s shock, “I think maybe we’ve misunderstood each other. I hope you’ll forgive me, and let us start again. I am Razia Khanum, princess of Nizam and subahdar of Zindh. To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?”

  “Hina Talpur, daughter of the late Jam Rustam Talpur, and sister of the late Jam Ali Talpur.” Her voice cracked on those last words, and one of her retainers stepped forward, placing her arms around her shoulders to comfort her. “Forgive me, but I loved my brother very much.”

  “You have nothing to apologize for, Hina,” I told her, wanting very much to comfort her myself, though I knew that there was little I could do to remove the hurt of a loss like the one she was describing, and I wasn’t sure she’d want comfort from a stranger, a potential enemy, and someone who had threatened her like a fool. “When you’re ready, I think I should hear more about what happened in Kadiro, but for now, know that you are safe here in my dera.” I gestured to the palace around us.

  The little jest wrested a slight smile from Hina’s lips. “Thank you for your hospitality, your highness. When my brother was killed, I . . .”

  I held up a hand to stop her, as she was clearly having a hard time keeping the tears at bay. “There will be time for that later. Please, sit with me.” I stood up from the throne and descended the dais, instead gesturing to the few cushions we had arranged on the floor for courtiers. I looked to Shiv, who was standing just outside the pavilion, and said, “Please have refreshments brought for Lady Talpur and her entourage.”

  “At once, your highness,” Shiv agreed, rushing off to see it done.

  Hina sank gratefully onto one of the cushions, and her retainers did too. They all looked exhausted, though they struggled to keep alert enough to protect their leader if it came to it.

  I gestured to them. “Are they hijras too?”

  “They are, your highness,” Hina affirmed. “They’re my celas. I was, until recently, the nayak of Kadiro.”

  “They’re really hijras like us?” Lakshmi asked, having watched all of this from her place with Sakshi on the dais beside the throne.

  “Just like us,” I told her, though I could scarcely believe it myself. Ali Talpur’s sister was a hijra in command of her own army? God, it was like a sign from the heavens themselves.

  Lakshmi rushed over to sit with us, and Sakshi was nearly as quick. We all sat within arm’s reach of one another, us staring at our Zindhi counterparts wide-eyed, and them favoring us with much the same expressions. Never in my wildest dreams had I ever imagined that I’d meet other hijras who rode zahhaks, who did anything but sell themselves to men.

  “Your highness . . .” Sikander was staring at my behavior with slack-jawed bewilderment, and he wasn’t the only one. Arjun had his hand on the hilt of his khanda like he was expecting me to be murdered at any moment.

  “They’re hijras,” I said, like that explained everything, and when it didn’t, I sighed. “When you’re a hijra, you’re driven from your home as a child. You flee everything you’ve ever known or loved, and you find yourself alone in all the world.”

  Hina sucked in a sharp breath, because my words had inadvertently described her present circumstances so perfectly that it must have been like a dagger to her heart.

  “And it’s not until you find one of your own kind that you ever find peace or safety,” I finished, my voice softening, my eyes looking right at Hina’s, hoping she could see the promise of safety in them. All of us knew what it was like to have to flee our homes, to come to a new city, to be at the mercy of a new guru. I wanted her to know that I understood.

  “Hina and her celas are fellow hijras,” I told Sikander and Arjun. “They’re family.”

  “They’re strangers and foreigners, and rebels, your highness,” Sikander said, his voice slow and clear like he thought I was crazy.

  “They’re my sisters. We share a life that no one else comprehends, and our families are connected to one another by bonds of loyalty and rivalry as long-standing as any political bonds held by your kind.” I gestured dismissively at the men around me. “The deras of Bikampur and Kadiro have always shared good relations.”

  I glanced to Hina. “But how is it that no one ever told me you existed, let alone that you were a zahhak rider? How are you a zahhak rider? Where do you find the money to feed them? And why are you so young? Shouldn’t a nayak be our grandmothers’ age?”

  Hina’s smile was a sad one. “Well, I was only the nayak of Kadiro for a few short weeks—after Javed Khorasani’s death, and before Kadiro’s fall. Before that, Ali and I lived together as mercenaries, making our living as scouts and messengers on the backs of our zahhaks.”

  The mention of Kadiro’s fall reminded me that I still hadn’t asked how it had happened. “About Kadiro . . .” I began.

  “We were invaded,” she whispered, her fists clutching the fine fabric of her skirt in impotent rage. “We were consolidating our hold on the city when the Mahisagaris attacked, led by their prince, Karim Shah.”

  “Karim attacked you?” I gasped.

  “No!” Lakshmi exclaimed, her horror written all over her face. “No, Akka, Prince Karim wouldn’t do that!”

  I gritted my teeth in fury as the
realizations washed over me. Karim had known that I would be taking over Zindh as its subahdar. He’d known that Javed Khorasani’s death would have left the province in shambles. He’d known that my hold would be tenuous. And he’d decided to strike at the worst possible moment, to claim my lands for his own. I felt so betrayed, and I felt like a fool for being surprised by it. Had I really believed that Karim Shah had changed? That he’d suddenly become my ally?

  “That bastard is going to pay for this . . .” Arjun growled. “Does he really think we’ll just sit idly by and let him get away with it?”

  “But, Akka, why would Prince Karim attack us? He’s our friend,” Lakshmi said.

  Sakshi enfolded her in a tight hug, pulling her head down onto her shoulder. “Come on. Let’s go play in the garden and leave Razia to figure this out.”

  “No!” Lakshmi exclaimed, wriggling free of Sakshi’s embrace. “I don’t want to play in the ugly garden! I’m not a baby!” She turned to me. “Akka, she must be lying. Prince Karim wouldn’t do that!”

  I didn’t know how to tell my little sister that the prince she idolized because he was a dashing zahhak rider who was kind to her was also my rapist and a ruthless pirate. But I was too stunned by the news to come up with a suitable lie. So I just said, “Lakshmi, we’ll talk about this when I know more. For now, I need to speak with Hina. So go with Sakshi and practice your music lessons.”

  “But Akka—” she protested, but I cut her off.

  “Now,” I said, my tone brooking no disagreement.

  She flinched a little from the harshness of it, and that made my heart hurt. I’d never been the stern disciplinarian with her, never wanted to be, but my mind was reeling, my emotions were going in ten different directions at once, and I needed a second to think.

  “Come on.” Sakshi pulled Lakshmi to her feet and led her away.

  It was only once they were gone that I looked back to Hina, who had been watching all of that anxiously. Did she know of my connection to Karim? She must. It wasn’t any great secret that I had helped him beat the Firangi fleet, that he had helped me defeat Javed Khorasani.

  “I’m sorry for that,” I told Hina. “My little sister doesn’t know Karim the way I do.”

  “So he wasn’t lying, then?” Hina asked.

  “Who wasn’t lying?” I asked.

  “My brother knew Karim Shah well when we were in hiding from Javed Khorasani,” she said. “We even fought for him occasionally. As I’m sure you know, he was never shy about boasting of his sexual conquests, particularly with a little wine in him . . .”

  My cheeks reddened and I sucked in a breath against the memories her words brought to the forefront of my mind—memories of strong hands pinning me to a cold marble floor, of screaming into the darkness. I forced them back into the vault where I kept them, slamming that mental door shut as tightly as I could.

  “I don’t know what he told you,” I whispered, my voice colder than ice, “but I will never forget, nor forgive, what Karim Shah did to me when I was a child of eleven years.”

  “Forgive me for bringing up such painful memories, your highness,” Hina said, reaching forward and placing her hand over mine. She noted, as I did, the way both Sikander and Arjun drew their swords halfway out of their scabbards before they realized that she was trying to comfort me. “But that story is one of the reasons why I came to you.”

  “One of the reasons?” I asked. “The other reason being the life we both share?”

  “And your reputation being the third,” she added.

  “My reputation?” As a boy, I’d had a reputation of being a pathetic prince. I wondered what my reputation was now. Harlot? Deviant? I’d certainly heard those words hurled my way more than once.

  “Everyone says you’re brilliant, and wise beyond your years, and kind,” Hina told me, her olive eyes looking earnestly into mine.

  “And what arrangement would you like to make?” I asked her, though I thought I had a pretty good idea.

  “If you will swear to punish Karim for killing my brother and to throw the Mahisagaris out of Kadiro, I will recognize you as Zindh’s rightful subahdar,” Hina replied.

  “Why not simply make an alliance with Karim?” Sikander asked. “With his men, we won’t need the Zindhis, your highness.”

  “I can think of half a dozen reasons,” I replied, my tone as measured as I could make it, but I was sure that everyone could hear the undercurrent of hate in it. “In the first place, Karim attacked my province, which cannot be permitted to stand. Secondly, he is a ruthless, cruel man with whom I would never ally myself except in the direst of circumstances. Thirdly, the Mahisagaris will have infuriated the Zindhi people by murdering their rightful prince, and so Karim has ensured unrest in this province until he is driven from it. Need I continue?”

  “Your highness, we don’t even know if this . . . girl . . . is telling the truth,” Sikander said with a scowl.

  “What reason has she for lying?” I demanded.

  “Razia’s right,” said Arjun. “Hina has no reason to lie, and if she’s telling the truth, then not only has she done us a great service, but she has brought us the army we need at exactly the moment we need it.”

  “Which is what worries me,” Sikander answered. “When things seem too good to be true, Prince Arjun, they usually are.”

  “Usually,” Arjun and I said in unison, each gazing into the other’s eyes. Our cheeks blazed, as I don’t think either of us had intended on sounding like such lovesick children.

  “Forgive me, your highness, but there is nothing good about my arrival here,” Hina said.

  I frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “My brother was a very kind, very thoughtful man.” She sounded like she was choking back tears as she spoke. “He would have made peace with you. We were planning to meet with you, to discuss a way forward, when Karim attacked. That’s why we weren’t prepared. We didn’t think there would really be war between us.”

  I realized just then how devastating Ali Talpur’s loss really was. Now, not only did I not have the prospect of a quick peace with a reasonable man, I had the man I despised most in all the world holding Zindh’s most important port city, with an army and a navy that I’d never be able to match. If I was going to have a prayer of preventing him from conquering the whole province, I was going to have to win over the people of Zindh. Karim had given me some help there. He had made himself the evil outsider I needed, and he had killed Jam Ali, giving me the chance to present myself as a protector of Zindh and an avenger of its royal family. Even so, it was going to be an uphill battle.

  “Well, I can’t promise you that driving Karim from Kadiro will be quick or easy, Hina,” I told her, “but I give you my word that if you are willing to serve me, then I will protect you and do everything in my power to punish Karim for the crimes he has committed against you and against Zindh. Is this acceptable?”

  “It is, your highness,” Hina replied.

  “Then have messengers sent to the people of Shikarpur and your men across the Zindhu that we have reached an agreement. Once that is done, I will host the emirs here in the palace, and we will determine a path forward together.”

  Hina’s full lips stretched into the barest trace of a smile. “Thank you, your highness. You really are the woman everyone says you are.”

  A year ago, I’d have been offended by those words, because I never would have been able to imagine a reputation for myself beyond being a disgrace and a courtesan, but today they filled me with pride. Saving Zindh from Karim wasn’t going to be easy, but with Hina’s army and the emirs of Zindh on my side, my prospects were already looking better than they had that morning.

  CHAPTER 6

  You look pretty, Akka!” Lakshmi exclaimed as one of Hina’s celas, a twelve-year-old girl named Nuri, draped a block-printed dupatta over my head and shoulders. It had taken
me a few minutes to calm her down and explain to her that we would know more about the situation with Karim later, and, like most eleven-year-olds, she’d been quick to put such serious thoughts from her mind. Besides, the sight of Nuri had encouraged her, as it was rare she got to meet hijras her own age, let alone zahhak-riding ones.

  “Her highness looks like Jama Sakina reborn,” Nuri agreed, offering Lakshmi a smile that helped to take some of the tension out of my heart. Hina and her celas were so kind, so easy to be around, that it was easy to forget I was going to have to fight a war against Karim and his father for control of my province.

  “Who’s Jama Sakina?” Lakshmi asked.

  “A very famous queen here in Zindh,” Hina said, wrapping her arms around Lakshmi’s shoulders, though her hazel eyes were fixed on me. “She was a Nizami princess, just like your akka.”

  “Really?” Lakshmi asked, noting the way I was knitting my brow in skepticism.

  “Really,” Hina assured her. “She was the daughter of Sultan Jahandar the Great. In those days, Nizami princesses rode thunder zahhaks just like their princes, and she was famous for her skills as an aerial warrior. But Sultan Jahandar needed to make peace with Zindh, because he was fighting wars against Vanga and Virajendra, so he gave his youngest daughter, Sakina, in marriage to Jam Nizamuddin Talpur, the greatest emperor to ever rule Zindh.”

  “Talpur?” I gasped, recognizing that name at once.

  Hina nodded, grinning at my response. She must have known what I was thinking—one of my ancestresses had married one of Ali Talpur’s ancestors. I was pursing my lips, thinking back to my history lessons in the palace. Jahandar really was the greatest Nizami sultan. He conquered northern Virajendra and Vanga, adding them as new subahs to the empire. I’d paid particular attention to him because his daughter Razia Sultana, my great-grandmother, had been the only woman ever to rule our empire, and my source of greatest inspiration. Had she really had a sister married off to a Zindhi emperor? This was the first I was hearing of it. But if it was true, then Hina was a distant cousin of mine. Maybe that explained the hint of green I saw in her brown eyes when the light struck them at just the right angle.