Linnet and the Prince

by Alydia Rackham

  All the men wore loose, black shirts and trousers, wrapped at the waist with a cloth belt. Rajak wore a gold belt. The others wore red. And they were attacking him with all the fury and speed they possessed.

  Rajak moved in a flurry, easily turning aside the blows that came at him, ducking beneath high kicks, and whirling out of the way only to use an opponent’s own momentum to throw him to the ground. He struck out with his fists, but instead of delivering crushing punches, he opened his hand at the last moment and slapped the other fighters. He spun, dropped low and swung his leg out, knocking the feet out from under two men. They thudded to the floor.

  “Racham, racham,” one man coughed, and Rajak halted, his stance spread wide. He looked down at the man, straightened, wiped sweat from his brow and grinned. He answered the man in Badi, in a mocking tone. The others who remained on their feet chuckled. Rajak bent and helped the two men up. Despite the heat in the room, a chill ran over me, and I wrapped my arms around myself. When the time came, hand to hand combat with Rajak might be—difficult.

  All the men stood a moment, catching their breath, and commenting to each other. A few of them slapped others on the back and shoulders, and laughed. They all had flashing white teeth.

  One man behind Rajak, the one who had called out “racham,” twisted around, snapped his fingers, and barked:

  “Ma’a.”

  I frowned. All at once, I realized that there were other people in the room. Women. Eleven of them. They sat in a row against the far wall on their knees, each dressed in a different bright color, veiled so that their hair, noses and mouths were covered. They all held wide, earthen cups. The woman at the end, wearing brilliant orange, straightened when the man snapped his fingers, and hurried to get up. I watched her, pressing myself forward against the doorframe. Were these their wives?

  The woman’s long headdress trailed on the ground. She stepped on it. She tripped. Half the water sloshed out of the cup and spilled on her hands and the floor. She yelped. The man who had called out now bristled.

  “Kelb!” he shouted, lunged forward and struck her across the face.

  I slammed my back against the wall and covered my mouth with my hand. The woman dropped the cup and it shattered. The man roared at her again, uttering a stream of harsh words. She began to weep, and babble helplessly as she lowered down on the ground, almost putting her forehead on the stone. The man thundered again, and raised his foot. I lifted my hands to hide my eyes.

  “Dai!”

  I gasped. Faster than a bolt of lightning, Rajak leaped toward the man, grabbed the back of his collar and flung him to the ground. The man crashed to the stones. Rajak whirled and lowered his head, his burning eyes locked on the attacker. His shoulders arched and his fists closed. The look was poison.

  Everyone went still. Rajak lifted his head, like an asp, and met the gaze of every man in there. He spoke. I could not hear what he said. But it was slow and deliberate, like a command—a warning. And then he turned and knelt in front of the fallen woman.

  Shivering, she buried her face in her hands. Rajak stretched out his hand and rested it on her head. He murmured something, then slid his fingers down to lift her chin. She halfway sat up, still shaking, and met his eyes. He smiled at her.

  One of the other men let out a remark—it carried the word “Niro.” My eyes flashed, but Rajak did not move. He answered coolly, not taking his eyes from the woman. He took her hands, and arose. She followed him, getting to her feet. Her head stayed bowed. Rajak looked down, keeping hold of her, and fingered a large ring on her left hand. The fallen man got up, his face twisting in restrained anger. Rajak murmured something. The man retorted—his voice banged against the walls.

  I blinked. And in that space of time, Rajak had clamped his hand around that man’s throat. He snarled like a tiger, and flung him back down, harder than before. In the dead silence, he pointed a severe finger at the man’s face. In a quiet tone, he left him with one phrase—a sentence that contained the same word that had stopped the sparring: “racham.” And then he turned on his heel, swept through a side door and out of the hall.

  I let out a quivering breath. Everyone watched him go, especially the women. Stillness followed. One of the men muttered. I swallowed, then backed up. As soon as I knew they would no longer see me, I turned and raced down the twisting flight of stairs, my heart pounding, my mind trying to fathom all I had witnessed.

  LLL

  I found my way back without difficulty, noticing the increase in dankness and coolness as I went. My footsteps pattered as I entered my room and shut the door behind me.

  I leaned back against the door and glanced around. Twelve lamps burned on my walls—that was all of them. I frowned, thinking. Did the number of lamps burning signify what time it was?

  My bed had been made, and a new tray waited for me. More cheese and bread. I sighed. Better than rat.

  I sat on the bed and ate the bread and cheese and drank the milk, pondering the details of my exploration. There were a few that truly intrigued me.

  There had been eleven women in the practice chamber. One of them belonged to the man that hit her. I had assumed they were the men’s wives, but I supposed they could be their slaves…

  Except Rajak had drawn attention to the fallen woman’s ring, and said something about it. My eyes flicked to my vanity, where the snake wedding ring sat. Perhaps they were the wives. But if there were only eleven, then that meant that one of the men was not married. Or his wife was not there.

  Or…

  His wife was me.

  I set my piece of bread down on the tray, pondering. I could not have been expected to fulfill the water-holding duty—I had barely been in Nazre three days, and knew nothing of protocol. Besides which, that task was demeaning, and they would have had to pull out all my hair to make me do it. They had to know all this. So why had one of Rajak’s other wives not been called upon to hold the water?

  I stood up, closing my eyes. Something was missing, something I ought to remember…

  “If you vow to be henceforth this man’s only wife…”

  My eyes flew open.

  His only wife.

  I shook my head, disbelief filling me. Surely not. One of the reasons my people considered the Badi to be savages was their penchant for “collecting” women rather than marrying just one. And Commander Hashim had assured Jahin upon my arrival that Rajak had brought me for his harem.

  But then again, Jahin had sounded surprised. As if Rajak did not have a harem.

  I swept to the door and pulled it open, my mind flying. This room had belonged to Rajak’s aunt. She had apparently been single, or one of Niro’s wives. Maybe she had been his first. In any case, she would not have been lodged very far away from the other women. This could very well be the women’s wing of the caverns, just as Rajak’s corridor might lead to the men’s wing. It could be—I had always turned right when I exited my door. I had never turned left.

  Now, I stood in the hallway, gazing the direction I had never gone, frowning at the silence. Taking a deep breath, I strode forward.

  This path was smooth, with no stairs, and it curved slightly toward the right. I felt an incline as I walked, scorpion torches still lining the walls.

  The floor changed color from gray to red. I slowed, studying it. My eyes were drawn to the walls. I stopped altogether.

  Elaborate, brightly-colored hieroglyphs of women doing all manner of tasks, such as bathing, washing clothes, dressing their hair, putting on jewels, playing instruments, dancing, and feasting, covered the walls from ceiling to floor. Their hair was black, their eyes were large, and their skin was dark. They wore long, flowing clothes, and only a few were veiled. The anatomy of the drawings seemed strange to me—flat—compared to the art of my people. But it was strong evidence that I was heading in the right direction. I picked up my pace.

  The hall darkened. The floor felt cold beneath my feet. A large set of double doors rose out of the shadows. Two women hol
ding water in the same manner as the women in the sparring chamber were carved into the wood, as were several ornate words. I did not recognize any of them except two: “Harim,” and “Maharaj.” The Badi words for “harem,” and “prince.”

  My heart leaped into my throat and I almost ran back the way I had come. But I could not. I had to know. I stepped forward, and closed my fingers around the cold handle.

  I pulled. The heavy door thudded against a bolt. Gritting my teeth, I wondered if I had anything in my chambers with which to pick the lock…

  And then I felt the weight of my key in my pocket. I canted my head, and pulled it out.

  After casting one glance behind me into the silent corridor, I bent and pushed the key into the lock.

  It took strength to turn it. But all at once, it clicked, and the door eased open. I pushed it aside, stepped in…

  And stopped walking.

  No torches burned in here. But the ceiling at the far end spilled a full banner of sunlight, as well as a glittering waterfall. The water fell down into a lovely fountain in which a marble figure of a woman washed her headdress. Several decorative partitions stood in maze-like positions, but the floor was bare, and dust covered the stones. There was no one here.

  “What are you doing here, Princess Linnet?”

  I spun around, my hands snapping up to defend myself. Steward Jahin stood out in the corridor, hands clasped, eyebrows raised. I made myself unclench my jaw, put my arms down and stand upright.

  “I was trying to find Prince Rajak’s harem,” I answered, calming myself. “I must have taken a wrong turn.”

  He frowned, and glanced past me. But when he met my eyes again, he shook his head.

  “No, madam, you have not taken a wrong turn. This is the entrance to the chambers that were meant for Prince Rajak’s harem.” He sighed. “It was locked years ago. And now he has no use for it.”

  I hesitated, looked behind me at the waterfall, then back at him.

  “You mean…he has no wives.”

  Jahin gave a small smile.

  “Only one.”

  I frowned.

  “But he will have more.”

  Jahin shook his head.

  “No.”

  I stared at him a long moment.

  “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

  Jahin considered for a moment.

  “Many of us are confused by the prince’s actions,” he admitted. “Why he should break the tradition of several generations and settle only for a single wife is beyond our understanding. No one even in my father’s father’s day ever heard of a man only marrying one woman. It is surprising and…distressing. I am certain he knows what he is doing, however,” he said, looking me up and down. “But for now, his servants remain in the dark.”

  My mind reeled. I swallowed, trying to form my thoughts into words.

  “So…I am the only wife that Rajak will ever have?”

  “The vows he chose secured that,” Jahin told me. “They are ancient vows—I only read about them in my lessons when I was a boy. No one has ever seen them performed. But they are sealed by the presence of a thousand-and-seven witnesses, and the sacred dance afterward. They can never be undone.”

  I went cold. But I cleared my throat, trying to clear my mind at the same time.

  “I remember parts of this in the ceremony—I wondered about the kneeling and the identical vows—”

  “Yes, those were very ancient. And unorthodox,” Jahin said. “It means Prince Rajak has entered into an equal alliance with you.” He arched an eyebrow, looking down his nose at me. “It is unheard of.”

  My breath caught. Why in all the earth would Rajak do that?

  “Come, princess,” Jahin beckoned to me, and gestured to the corridor. “It is best you leave this room alone. It is nothing but empty space, now.”

  I had wanted to explore the harem rooms, but now I had no choice. An equal alliance might mean that I could command Jahin—but it might not. So, keeping my protests to myself, I followed Jahin back to my chambers, and shut the door behind me. I could not help but give him a halfway-unfriendly smile as I bid him goodbye, satisfied that he could no longer lock me in. But I was not very upset about staying in my chamber for the rest of the day of my own volition. I had far too much to think about.

  Chapter Seven

  I passed several days in virtual solitude. Ayah came in to light my lamps, but otherwise did not speak or look at me. Food was there when I woke up—always bread and cheese. After four days of that, I began to get sick of it, and left it there without eating.

  I continued to explore the twists and turns of the caverns, though now I mostly avoided the sounds of footsteps and voices. I learned that the entire structure of Nazre was organized in a circular pattern, with a labyrinth within the circle. The main chambers, such as the wedding and feasting halls and throne room, were in the center, and the training area, stables, and military barracks were situated at the fore. The bed chambers and personal rooms of the courtiers stood on the outside of the circle, and the harems and slave quarters at the far rear. Besides this, I had come across several dark staircases that led downward indefinitely, and I did not venture that direction. I had enough to remember about the inhabited parts of these caves without getting lost in the uncivilized depths.

  I uncovered several large rooms that had waterfalls spilling in from the walls or the ceiling. Many of them also bore small holes that led to the surface, and through which brilliant sunlight streamed. Several times, I turned a corner to see a dozen shirtless men—slaves, by the look of them—holding a large white canvas stretched out over a vast hole in the floor, though the hole was covered with iron bars. Above them was an equally vast, caged hole, through which I could see the next storey. As one, the men lifted and lowered the canvas, like a blacksmith’s bellows, forcing air up and out, and pulling new air down. I always leaned against a wall and watched them, unseen, as their powerful muscles worked to keep the air in the depths of these caverns healthy and breathable. I just wished that the man in the white headdress who paced around them would stop fingering his whip.

  Eventually, I found my way to all the rooms Rajak had said my key would open. The kitchens were large and bustling, filled with the noise and chatter of at least fifty roughly-clad men and women clanking pots, stoking blazing fires, beating dough and chopping meat. Bright peppers and nets full of beetles hung from the rafters so thickly that I could not see the ceiling. It was hot in there, and smelled of that spice that had coated the desert rat. Within a few moments of sneaking in there, I covered my nose and mouth with my hand and retreated.

  The linen rooms were a little better. The walls, ceiling and floor were white marble. One room was steamy and stifling. Only women worked in here. They wore white to match the stone, and their sleeves were rolled up past their elbows. They worked in what looked like natural hot spring water, though the pools had been bricked so the water formed orderly shapes. The women scrubbed white lengths of cloth against ridged wood, talking and laughing to each other, though their hands turned red from the work. The adjoining room had ropes stretching from end to end, where the linens hung to dry. Shelves stood against all the walls, where the cloth was folded neatly and stored. It was quieter and cooler in there, and though a few women caught sight of me, they merely nodded and went about their work.

  I had little interest in the storehouses or the guestrooms, but I longed to find the stables. It took me an entire day of traipsing through that maze and avoiding several legions of newly-arrived, dirty troops, but at last I came across it. It was a very long, though lower-ceilinged, room with windows on one side, and rows and rows of stalls. I heard the sound of water here, though I could not see it. And at last, I was greeted with a familiar scent: no matter where a person traveled, I supposed, the smell of horse was the same. I had always liked it, and the scent of hay. But I had no sooner leaned around the doorframe, meaning to sneak into a stall and make friends with some lonely mare, when ten
soldiers, leading their foaming, exhausted mounts, came in from the other side, complaining to each other and wiping sweat from their faces. The next moment, several stable slaves darted out and began to attend to them. I bit my lip, my heart sinking, and made myself depart.

  That night, I lay awake in bed, my stomach empty, though the bread and cheese sat there, uneaten. As I did every night, I closed my eyes and ran through the pieces of the caverns I had learned that day. In its entirety, I supposed that Nazre was at least three times larger than my town of Hilrigard. It was impressive, and parts of it were so old I wondered why the ceiling did not collapse.

  But for me, it was merely an impressive prison—a prison filled with vaulted ceilings, banners and servants. And I still had not found the door.

  LLL

  It was midnight on the seventh day of my captivity in the Caverns of Nazre. I lay awake, staring at the ceiling, cold tears running down my face. Chills raced over my skin. I felt like I had a fever, but I knew I did not.

  I had dreamed of home.

  I had dreamt of the smell of peat fires, and roasting venison, and cut flowers. I had felt the cool, heavy wind rushing across the dark green moor. I had listened to it run its fingers through the leaves of the beeches—closed my eyes as the hurried air penetrated my clothes, tossed my hair, and brought the smell of rain on its back. I had dreamed I walked beside my sister and mother as we picked berries in the thicket, laughing and teasing as the birds sang above us. I had dreamed I stood beside my smiling father, tall and strong as an oak, as he and I raised our bows in a contest of aim.

  Then I had awakened, taken one breath of musty cave air, and remembered where I was.

  And it was like I had been crushed by a pile of stones.

  I shuddered, bile rising in my throat, and turned onto my side. My head hurt and my eyes ached. I stared at the wall without seeing it until Ayah came and lit six lamps. But this morning, I did not get up until she had lit all twelve.

  From the time of that first dream on, the days grew long and thin. I could not sleep, for fear of dreaming again and waking with stabbing pain in my heart. I continued to explore the hallways at first, but I grew tired quickly, and returned to my room. After another failed attempt at infiltrating the stables, I gave up, and did not cross my threshold again.