Linnet and the Prince

by Alydia Rackham

  “He is beautiful,” I declared.

  Rajak looked at me in surprise.

  “You think so?”

  I nodded.

  “But he is favoring his left foreleg, yes?” I asked.

  Now I felt Rajak’s regard change.

  “Yes,” he said, stepping forward and taking the horse’s head in his hands. He rubbed Al-Hawa’s forelock and sides of his jaws, then addressed me. “He is gentle, if you wish to look.”

  I glanced down at my bare feet again, but I was longing to run my hands through that mane. So I stepped forward, slowly but with purpose, and smoothed the coat on his muscular neck with both my hands.

  “Hello, Al-Hawa,” I cooed. “How are you today? Something bothering your foot?” I stroked his rippling shoulder, then bent over, pushed my left shoulder against his right and picked up his leg below the knee.

  He shifted his weight and let me have his hoof. I rested it on my knee, bending his ankle so I could see. I ran my finger around his hoof, then nodded.

  “He has a stone in here,” I grunted. “Do you have a pick?”

  “I do, but I am holding his head—”

  “You can let him go for a moment,” I said. “I have him.”

  Rajak stayed where he was for a second, then turned, left the stall, and came back with a wooden-handled pick. I took it from him, dug it in behind the stone and pried the rock loose. Then I rose up and gently let go of the hoof, careful to get my foot out of the way.

  Pushing my hair out of my face and letting out a puff of air, I turned around and handed the pick back to Rajak. He was smirking. My satisfaction fled.

  “What?” I blushed again. His smirk grew more sinister, and he left and put the pick back where it had been.

  “What?” I demanded as he re-entered the stall. He reached up and scrubbed Al-Hawa’s forehead with his knuckles.

  “Commander Hashim and I had a wager that you knew nothing of horses, and that Al-Hawa would step on you.”

  Anger flared up in my chest.

  “And which did you say?” I asked. “That he would or he would not?”

  For an instant, he looked at me, and his black eyes glittered. But he did not answer. Instead, he lifted his chin.

  “I was going to take you out to see the valley and the edge of the wine country today,” he said. “But you are not dressed for it.”

  The anger in my chest vanished like smoke.

  “Out?” I repeated, baffled.

  “Our kingdom includes more than these caves—I hope you know this.” He smoothed away the hair from Al-Hawa’s forelock. “Hundreds of tribes live in the valleys and raise cattle and sheep and grapes.” He slapped Al-Hawa’s neck and turned to me. “But if that does not interest you—”

  “It does,” I said quickly. “Yes. I want to go.” I hesitated. “If…If I may.”

  “Then go change into better clothes,” he waved me off and returned his attention to his horse. “And put on some shoes, woman.”

  I did not pause to retort. I turned and raced out of the stall and down the aisle, my feet flying, a grin on my face.

  I was going out.

  Chapter Nine

  I raced back toward the stables wearing boots, and a lighter, more rugged brown dress with a wide skirt fit for riding. I had bound my hair back in a half braid, and I wore the horse necklace at my throat.

  I knew I should not show my excitement this way. I should remain stoic, silent, and observe everything I could. My mother would have done it. So could my father.

  But I had always failed at that sort of thing. And I did not care if the company I kept was ten goblins—nothing I tried could contain my delight at being able to be out under the sky again.

  I burst into the stables, passed two shocked slaves, and started down the aisle toward Al-Hawa. I slowed, my mouth falling open.

  Saddled horses did not await me, as I had supposed. No, down at the far end waited Al-Hawa and another horse, hitched to a golden chariot.

  Rajak, now wearing a scarlet cape clasped at the right shoulder, spoke rapid Badi to one of the slaves who stood adjusting Al-Hawa’s bridle. The slave nodded and answered. Rajak caught sight of me, then headed to the back of the chariot.

  “That does not befit you.”

  I halted, and glowered at him.

  “You mentioned riding, not feasting,” I replied. He examined the backs of both wheels.

  “You should veil yourself.”

  “No.”

  The slave gaped at me. Rajak did not answer. He just reached down, picked up a bag from the ground and pulled out a brilliant red and gold scarf. He pushed it at me, eyes blazing.

  “Yes. I will not have my wife’s face looking like leather,” he said, and went back to his chariot. I growled in my throat and shook out the scarf. I did not know how to do this…

  At a loss, I just draped it over my head, wrapped the ends around my neck, then pulled part up over my mouth and nose. I grimaced. I did not like it.

  But before I had a chance to protest, Rajak beckoned to me. I went to the back of the chariot and he prodded me forward until I hopped on. I heard his feet thud as he boarded as well.

  “Move forward,” he ordered, although there was very little room. I shuffled forward as far as I could and grasped the front of the chariot, which came up to my waist. Rajak reached around me, one arm on either side of me, and took the reins from the slave. I felt him just behind me, but he did not touch me.

  “Ready yourself,” he warned, then shouted out in Badi. Several slaves scurried ahead of us, then began to work the gears of a large door. It slid upward, groaning with its own weight, the chains clanking.

  Blinding light spilled into the stables. I squinted and put a hand up to shield my eyes.

  “Hut, hut!” Rajak barked, slapped the reins down on the horses’ backs, and they lunged forward.

  I yelped and snatched hold of the front of the chariot with both hands. My back hit Rajak’s chest. The horses leaped into a canter and we burst out of the cool shade of the stable and into the full brilliance of the sky and sun.

  Rajak slapped the reins again. The horses’ hooves thundered and the chariot wheels rattled in a spritely, tight rhythm. The floor vibrated beneath my feet as the little carriage sped down a smooth, narrow road across a landscape I had never seen.

  Rolling dunes of sparkling white sand, set against a pale blue, limitless sky, looked like a field of diamonds in a dragon hoard. Hot wind hit me and blew through my dress and veil. The sun pulsed up above—I dared not look up to find it for fear it would lash at my eyes.

  The light chariot sped downward, as the descending hills directed the winding road. I glanced from horizon to horizon. We were completely alone here. What had Rajak meant by “wine country”?

  We plunged into a valley, dunes surrounding us, and wove between the foothills. Rajak checked and steered the horses with subtlety—sometimes I did not even sense him move before the horses responded. Sand hissed beneath the wheels.

  Rajak shifted forward until he pressed against my back. I was about to object when his right arm pushed against mine and he leaned to the left.

  The chariot banked hard as the road twisted. I gasped, holding on tight, then marveled as the land transformed.

  We whizzed down a narrow path as wind-worn, stone canyon walls leaped up on either side of us, their shadows hiding us from the sun. The wheels clattered now, as did the horses’ hooves.

  We wove through a maze of switchbacks and curves, ever downward. Rajak’s arms kept tight around me, his hands firm on the reins. Sometimes, I felt his chin on the top of my head. I did not protest. I knew that if he backed away, I would probably fall out.

  The road leveled and the horses broke into a full gallop. I gritted my teeth, my knuckles white on the chariot. If we hit a rock at this speed…

  “Dai, dai!” Rajak shouted, pulling back on the reins. The horses slowed, then skidded to a halt. And the canyon wall on my right opened up to reveal a vast
and glorious sight.

  Far down below, green hills dotted with trees and striped with crops rolled and dipped into the distance. A great, wide, winding river, like a silver ribbon, glittered in the afternoon sun. I marked several houses—huge houses with walls and orchards and flocks of sheep and goats. My hands relaxed on the chariot.

  “Would you like to go down to the bazaar?” Rajak wondered.

  I glanced up at Rajak. His solemn face was very close to mine, and his eyes watched mine.

  “Bazaar?” I asked.

  “Market,” he said. I turned back to the valley before me. I smiled beneath my veil.

  “Yes.”

  “Hut, hut!” he cried, and we were off again.

  LLL

  This was the wine country. It was still arid, and the hot wind blew, but the earth was darker here, not sand; birds sang, and cattle grazed in the fields. We followed a wide dirt road at a slower pace, between fields where tanned workers tended to the grapes, carrying baskets on their heads or tilling the dirt. Many of them shouted when they caught sight of Rajak, waved if they were far away, and knelt if they were close. I saw Rajak nod to a few of them. Dust billowed behind us.

  A town rose up before us—brick walls and tiled roofs, and laundry hanging from lines that stretched between their windows. And right down the center road, hundreds of colorful tents and booths squatted close together, and countless people bustled amongst them, shouting and holding up merchandise.

  A cry went up, carried by three boys on a rooftop. The attention of the townspeople left their bartering and fastened on us. Rajak bent his head and spoke in my ear.

  “Welcome to Casim.”

  The next moment, he had to stop the chariot, for the mob descended upon us, stretching their hands toward him, calling out “Maharaj!” and lifting up their smiling faces. He touched some of their hands, then spoke in Badi and waved them back. They obeyed, and he hopped off the back of the chariot. He turned and held out a hand to me.

  My heart pounded hard, but I reached out and grasped his fingers.

  “Take off your veil,” he said. “I want them to see who you are.”

  I pulled the scarf down off my head and off my nose and mouth, then stepped forward. He helped me down, then slid his hand up to my elbow just as an impressive-looking, bearded man in a towering white turban and flowing red robes appeared at the head of the crowd. The smiling man bobbed his head at Rajak, and the two exchanged greetings. I understood none of it. Then, Rajak motioned to me and spoke, as if in introduction, and I caught the words Peliar Linnet Ealasaid, Hilrigard, and jaaneman. I watched him like a hawk, wondering why my name had been attached to the word we had shouted during the wedding dance.

  But that thought faded from my mind as I realized that the crowd had gone silent. They easily heard Rajak as he turned to me and spoke.

  “Linnet, this is Mahanidhi, the lord of Casim and the Keeper of the Great Vineyards. He has been blessed with seven daughters and seven sons, and has been my friend since boyhood.”

  Mahanidhi was staring at me, baffled. And something else was the matter. Something had startled him, troubled him…

  “I…Yes, yes I have,” he stammered with a thick Badi accent, putting on a weaker smile. “I am honored to meet you…Princess.”

  I floundered. I had no idea how to address a keeper of vineyards! So I swallowed, and did the best I could. I gave him a slow curtsey, and bowed my head.

  “It is an honor to meet you as well, my lord.”

  This answer apparently satisfied him, for he turned back to Rajak.

  “What is your pleasure, Maharaj?”

  “I brought my wife to see the bazaar,” Rajak answered. “Then, if it would not trouble you, we will pay you a visit.”

  “Of course, of course!” Mahanidhi cried. “My servants and my people are at your command. I will take you through the bazaar myself.”

  “I would not deprive your daughter of your company,” Rajak objected. “Is this not Abhishri’s birthday?”

  Mahanidhi straightened.

  “Is that why you have come?”

  “It is,” Rajak nodded. “And I have brought a gift for her. Take my chariot with you, go ready your house for our arrival and we will meet you at mid-noon.”

  “Gracious Maharaj,” he bowed to Rajak. “Enjoy yourself.”

  Rajak nodded to him, took my elbow again and started through the crowd. Dozens of people darted back to their own booths, and began holding up the goods and shouting to us. Dozens more filed in behind us and trailed after, watching our every step. It unnerved me. Rajak, however, did not seem to notice.

  He directed me to each booth, keeping a hand on me always, and told me all about the different treasures and trinkets that lay upon the velvet or in the woven baskets. I saw jars full of writhing scorpions, baskets of seething beetles, bracelets of lapis lazuli as blue as the sky, curved swords with jeweled handles, scarves and dresses and shoes of every color, gold and silver necklaces, headdresses and earrings, rugs and tapestries and platters and candlesticks and all manner of wooden, carved boxes. When I expressed special awe at one particular box carved out of black wood in the shape of a running horse, Rajak pulled three gold coins from a purse and pressed them into the merchant’s hand. The merchant’s eyes widened, but Rajak did not see him. Instead, he picked up the box and handed it to me. The wood was light and the lid was a puzzle. Three lids, slid or lifted, had to be moved in order to reach the little chamber. I had never seen anything like it. My heart swelled. I looked up at Rajak.

  “Thank you,” I managed. His dark eyes studied me for a moment, then he directed me to the next booth.

  Loud, nasal flute music, accompanied by drums and rattles, filled the narrow street, along with the smell of incense, spicy food, and the banter of barter. I kept close to Rajak, avoiding the press of the people of Casim, and wearing some manner of smile the whole time.

  Finally, he told me it was time to go, and we moved out of this street and down another, toward a pair of wide gates with guards standing on either side. Rajak spoke to them, they bowed, and heaved open the gates.

  I gaped at the sight before us. A pearl-white palace waited behind the gates, with gleaming alabaster pillars and domes that looked like giant onions. High up, several balconies stretched out over the courtyard below, and a handful of women, all dressed and veiled as if they were jewelry themselves, looked down on us and whispered to each other. I glared at them, feeling beggarly in my brown riding dress.

  “You did not tell me we would be visiting a lord,” I muttered. But Rajak gazed up at the women.

  “You are a Highlander. They do not expect more.”

  I stared at him. Suddenly, I wanted to throw that box on the ground. I restrained myself, and clenched it in my hand.

  More burly slaves waited at the top of the stairs to pull open the massive double doors. We stepped through them into a grand white marble hall, pillars on either side, mosaics covering the floors. The ceiling soared and arched, and skylights let in fragments of brilliant sunshine.

  Two lines of household servants, wearing scarlet and gold, marched out to us and stopped. Mahanidhi, wearing an even larger turban and more gold and silk, came out to greet us.

  “Welcome to my house, Mahajraj and Rani,” He inclined his head. “Come to the feasting hall and see my children!”

  He moved ahead, the servants fell in behind us, and we left the great hall. Music and drums spilled out of the next tall door.

  The pillars in this room were draped with pastel curtains, and the floor was covered in large pillows and cushions. Several dozen brilliantly-dressed people reclined or stood in this room. At the other end sat a low table, behind which sat six young women and seven young men. These were the stunning women from the balcony. Mahanidhi stopped in the doorway and raised his hands. The chatter within fell silent, and all the people turned to face him. He spoke loudly in Badi, his grand voice ringing through the chamber. He gestured to Rajak, then to me, using t
he word jaaneman again. Then he turned to Rajak and me in the common tongue.

  “Those at the table are my sons and daughters. You will meet them when we eat.” Movement caught my eye. I turned.

  “Ah, but this,” Mahanidhi laughed. “This is my eldest daughter, Abhishri—the jewel of my heart, and all of Casim.”

  A young woman had just darted out of the shadows and stopped near the tables. Her form was slender and graceful, she wore brilliant yellow trimmed in gold, and a sheer gold headdress draped over her head and face, and all the way down her back. Dozens of gold bracelets adorned her wrists. Beneath the veil, her long-lashed, bright brown eyes highlighted with swirling henna and sparkling jewels gazed at us. At Rajak. Her face was perfect, and her lips like roses. She was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. And she bore an expression of shock. I glanced at Rajak. He was looking back at her. My brow tightened. I backed away from him.

  “Come,” Mahanidhi beckoned, smiling through his disconcertion again. “Come sit! Come sit and eat and talk!”

  LLL

  I sat. I even ate a little. But I did not talk. I was too busy watching. Many Badi customs of greeting and handing food and exchanging formalities passed right by me without my comprehending them, but eyes spoke one language. I did not like the looks that Mahanidhi’s children gave me. The men’s were cold and penetrating. The women’s were narrow and disapproving. As for the others, Mahanidhi’s eyes were troubled, Rajak’s were guarded, and Abhishri’s…

  She intrigued me the most.

  She sat at the far end of the table, clearly waiting for something—watching for a sign from Rajak. Not even the ten fire-jugglers, who distracted everyone else, deterred her from her intense gazing. But by the time a group of whirling dancers came out to leap and spin in time to wild music, she had lost her patience, got up and moved to leave the hall.

  Rajak stood up. I jumped. He left the table, his cape fluttering behind him. No one else noticed but me and Mahanidhi, but Rajak did not ask leave of either of us.

  He caught up to Abhishri near a far pillar, and said something to her while her back was still turned. She faced him. He stood right in front of her, speaking in earnest, though in a low enough tone that I could hear nothing. She listened, her eyes on his face. Then, he held out his closed hand. She held out both of hers, palms up. He released a sparkling chain into her grasp, spilling it like glittering sand between his fingers. Her face broke into a stunning smile, and her eyes sparkled at him. My hand rested on the little box in my lap. Abhishri then turned, and disappeared into the shadows.