"The Karseedians brought it with them,” Xerxes added, “and he says the Empress Mehmet will expect to see you arrive in it."
Elishiba smiled at Xerxes. She had no intention of spending three days being jolted to her destination, captive in a small prison, when she could ride her own beautiful stallion. “I may be going there to negotiate for the sake of peace, but they cannot order me where to sit. At least, not yet."
"Never will they, Empress.” His handsome mouth curled. His faith in her warmed her heart. He held up one hand, and shook his head at Sibias and the men who waited to assist her into the seat and its shaded interior.
"I will ride my own mount,” she declared loudly, and gestured to one of her own men, who led Fidda forward.
Sibias scowled. “It would be unwise of you not to accept this generous gesture from the Empress Mehmet,” he shouted across at her.
He was an unpleasant man, but when he was thwarted in his plans he wore it badly, and looked comical. “Maybe later,” she responded, mounting Fidda. “If only to keep the peace,” she added, in a low voice.
"I'm ready.” She took a deep breath and nodded at Xerxes, who gave the signal. Her people began to move toward the gates of the palace and the winding street through the city to its outer gates. Sibias and his men had to hasten toward their own mounts in order to keep up with them and join the caravan.
Xerxes smiled at her admiringly as he mounted his horse.
She returned his glance affectionately, noticing that beyond him Amshazar, too, was amused. It gave her strength, and seeing them both that way, it made her think. Xerxes—her familiar companion andloverofdaysgoneby—andAmshazar—themysteriousstranger whose motives were still so unclear to her. It was Amshazar who stirred her blood in that illicit way. He was the one who set her skin alight with sensation whenever he was near, he whose image had haunted her since the first moment she had met him.
The palace gates opened.
Shouts issued from the crowd when they saw her.
Elishiba guided Fidda to the front of the caravan, and as it passed through the gates and began its passage through the crowded city streets, people jostled to get near her. She reached down to touch their hands, grasping as many of them as she could. A lot of the women were crying, and even the younger children were wide-eyed and watchful, clinging to their mothers’ sides, aware that something portentous was taking place.
This wasn't what she wanted.
She wanted them to be secure, to know and trust her even while she was gone. She told them so, reassuring as many as she could. Inspired by their heartfelt gestures, their calls for her safe return, she gestured over to the nearest guard who flanked the caravan. “Give me your sword."
The soldier obliged, drawing his heavy sword from its sheath and passing it to her. She gripped Fidda's reins with one hand, directing him ahead of the caravan. As she did, she raised the sword, pointing it at the path ahead, and called out the words of the battle prayer the warriors of The Immortals chanted to strengthen their souls. “I will fight in your name, Aleem, my life is yours."
On hearing the familiar vows, the crowd raised their hands to her, repeating the words alongside her, recognizing her strength.
"To fight upon the battlefields of The Immortals, with your laurels carved upon my breast would be an honor for you, my homeland."
The crowd surged forward, touching the trailing hem of her robes, calling out and wishing her safe return. At her back, she heard her soldiers join her chant. She felt the love of those who accompanied her. Alongside her, the devotion of the people she sought to protect swelled. As they passed through the outer gates of the city, a trail of flowers had been left upon the ground to mark her way toward the distant land. The gesture made her heart ache, but still she smiled, promising them she would return victorious, and that Aleem would be safe.
On the crowd went, many of them running alongside the caravan for as long as they could, until the soldiers turned them back to the safety of the city.
It was not until they had passed many leagues beyond the city walls, and the last of the stragglers who ran alongside them had gone, that Elishiba finally lowered the sword and covered her face with her veil. She focused on the horizon, refusing the emotion that had built inside her. Her will was strong, but even so, a battle lay ahead. What sort of battle, she did not yet know, but whatever it was and no matter how that battle had to be fought, she would fight to win. For her people.
* * * *
That first afternoon their journey passed quickly and uneventfully. They needed to cover as much ground as possible before nightfall, then set up camp for the night. In the hotter season, just a few weeks away, traveling across the desert by day was altogether impossible. Even now it was uncomfortably hot, and that's why they had waited until the afternoon was well under way before setting out. Through the twilight they traveled. It was only when the sky grew wholly black and the air turned suddenly cold that they unfolded the long caravan into a broad, temporary settlement.
Elishiba barely noticed the procedure. Tired and withdrawn from the emotion of the departure, she ate little and fell quickly into an uneasy sleep in the spacious tent erected for her and her closest companions.
On the second day, she felt stronger again, and became preoccupied with how and when she might speak with Amshazar. When she could not see him—and he watched her, too—she wondered where he was, and sought his image out. She also began to notice her surroundings more. Their passage away from the mountainous region brought them into a vaster landscape, marking the distance of their journey through a sparser region, where the people were still Aleemites, but lived a more nomadic life than her own kind.
Taking in the sights, she was also aware of where Amshazar was, at all times. It made her skin tingle and her blood heat when she noticed him watching her as well. Silent questions passed back and forth between them as they observed each other. He was waiting, too, she realized now. He was waiting for her to speak to him. Soon. Soon they would speak. Anticipation flooded through her.
The occasional dwellings they came upon held small groups of shy inhabitants who emerged to observe their passing. She insisted they pause a while here and there, and the people brought them out fresh water, speaking with her enthusiastically, waving them on as they went. Where Xerxes was impatient and concerned for her safety at these times, Amshazar seemed to watch her with a more curious, sympathetic gaze.
The land and its immense space fascinated her, so very different to the heavily walled city and clustered homes within Suzin, already so far behind them. Having only ever traveled a few hours at a time, the journey was becoming an experience in itself, bringing welcome relief from her preoccupations. This route was one that had been followed by some of the visitors who had stopped in Suzin over the years, those who made their lives on the trade routes, bringing precious, rare items for sale, incense, ivory and silks. Carved boxes, jewels and spices, their wares providing them with funds to live on, and hospitality along the way. It made her curious. What would it be like to travel that way, to live an adventure every day? The journey was opening her mind to new possibilities.
She ventured away from her companions, ignoring Yoshi's constant complaints about the journey, and the twins’ lighthearted flirting with Kerr. Instead she led Fidda, rather than simply allowing him to follow the troupe before them. Fidda galloped up and down the caravan, passing amongst the line of mules that carried great blankets bulging with the goods that unwound into their dwellings for the night. She rode past the camels that brought up the rear of the caravan, heaped high with many boxes carrying supplies and possessions.
Riding alongside Xerxes a while, she observed his powerful presence over his men. She had never had a chance to see him in his role as a leader of The Immortals outside the city, and it intrigued her. She noticed with pride how he kept everything in order, and how he warily kept note of where their Karseedian companions were. He watched Sibias and Amshazar above all, especially
when they talked between themselves, along the journey.
She galloped past the two of them at such a moment herself, in her passage up and down the great snake of the caravan weaving its meandering line over the land. Again, Amshazar held her gaze. The low set of his headdress only served to accentuate his handsome face, the sharpness of his features and his sensuous mouth. His hair twisted amongst the folds of material, entwining the shimmering burnished strands with palest blue draped against his neck. He and Sibias paused on their conversation when she drew near. She slowed Fidda, but did not halt until he spoke directly to her.
"You swoop amongst us like the desert hawks, Elishiba,” Amshazar called, eyeing her floating robes, the swathe of white linens that covered her from head to toe. The thin, gleaming material reflected the sun, whilst also making her an unmistakable figure amongst the variously robed travelers.
He pointed overhead.
She looked up and noticed a trio of hawks, circling high above them, moving in synchronized and harmonious patterns, casting shadows in the bright sunshine.
"They hope for failure in our journey, for their subsequent feasting.” He smiled, insinuatingly. His words always seemed to hold an undercurrent of suggestion, and warning.
She unlatched her veil, curious as to his deeper meaning, wishing she could question him openly. “Do you expect failure?"
"Never.” His suggestive tone reminded her of another encounter, when he had remarked upon the curiosity that rose between them. The look in his eyes confirmed that curiosity was still mutual.
She felt her skin heat. To distract herself from his tone, she backed her mount up, turning him gently with a subtle shift of her hand on his reins, to move in step alongside them. “I'll try not to read complacency in your comment, Amshazar."
"Failure is a result of complacency, not the reverse. I myself have no intention of entertaining either complacency, or failure.” There was such a teasing tone in his voice and his expression, that Elishiba found herself smiling, thinking back to his actions on behalf of the young Aleemite in the city, the boy he had saved from the shayatin.
"Such talk of failure,” Sibias announced, with false merriment. “We are about to forge a great alliance, let's forget the uninvited hawks who ride with us.” He glared at Amshazar, as if in warning.
Elishiba chuckled softly. To see Sibias flustered by their curious interchange amused her. Amshazar acknowledged her amusement, and their underlying conversation, reminding her again of their secret encounters. Her gaze fell to his hands on the reins of his mount. How she longed for the touch of them.
Sibias looked from one to the other of them, and opened his mouth as if to comment again, but Elishiba urged her horse on, and threw her veil back across her face, before he had further chance to comment.
For the rest of the day Amshazar eyed her openly, which kept the arousal he kindled in her simmering beneath her skin. Warm embers of anticipation glowed inside her.
By early evening, they had crossed over into the territory of Karseedia. A dark and uneasy atmosphere crept over the terrain, as real and ominous as if it were a swarm of death ghouls descending upon them. Elishiba sensed it in the atmosphere, and saw it reflected in the eyes of those traveling with her. They were alert to it too; aware that they were no longer in their homeland and more, that discontent was breeding in the very air itself here in this neighboring land.
The sun disappeared and the evening grew cold. They set up camp and Elishiba watched gratefully as fires were lit and her tent was erected. It was vast and comfortable in comparison to the smaller tents everyone else would bed down in that night. Even so, Yoshi trundled around the tent, complaining bitterly that she would have to burn precious incense to rid them of the smell of camel dung while plumping flattened cushions and trying to make some semblance of comfort for them all.
Amra and Elra stayed close by her side. They had adopted Kerr into their service, keeping him close by too, supplying him with tasks and teasing him with sips of their wine, and bites of the roast meat and warmed bread they had brought in from the campfires.
Elishiba ate a little and sipped a glass of wine, then donned a heavy cloak and left them to their flirting. Her silent unease at being on Karseedian territory was forcing her to take action. She walked out into the night, gesturing at the sentry stationed outside the tent, indicating that she should be left alone, and walked quickly into the darkness at the edge of the camp. A short climb had her up on the rocks above the enclave where they had halted for the night. The sky was vast and clear, the desert night air crisp and alive with mystery. The moonlight spilled an eerie passage of pale light through the dark sky. She shivered and drew her cloak tighter around herself.
Looking down at the sprawl of tents, interspersed haphazardly with the glowing embers of fires fading into the night, she could make out the dim inner lights of the many tents, and watched the shadowy movements therein, the occasional stirrings of music and voices reaching her through the still night air.
Where are you, Amshazar?
Lingering images of him upon his stallion that day stalked her memory; his teasing words haunted her, his knowing smile, his watchful ways. He reminded her of a poem she had heard told of a creature called a panther, a sleek black cat, waiting to step out of the jungle shadows, to meet its mate. Prowling, he was always prowling and watching. She wondered about his presence in this; he seemed not quite to fit with the rest of those involved, and yet moved amongst them so easily, so ever-present. She wondered, too, if others noticed and felt his presence, as much as she did. Since the day before, his insinuating ways made more sense, even though she could not begin to explain it.
As if in response to her thoughts, she saw his distinctive outline pass swiftly through the camp, and into one of the outer tents. A light flared within, but she could not make out any further movement.
Where had he been? she wondered. Conferring with Sibias again, perhaps. Could she get to know him, truly? Her practical nature meant she had to find out, to confront the questions he had planted in her, directly. And now she knew where to find him. Her chest grew tight with anticipation. She stood up, moving quickly down into the encampment, through the tents and toward the spot where she had seen him.
The path through the campsite seemed fraught with obstacles; a figure emerged in front of her, suddenly, gesticulating to someone and laughing. Elishiba pulled her veil close to hide herself from the man's view, as he turned to speculate on her flitting shadow. She raced past him, not wanting to know if she recognized him or not.
She was just a few steps away from his tent when she began to reconsider. Was this wise? The notion that she was under his spell once again crossed her mind, but she shook it off. As she did, the skin on the back of her neck prickled with awareness. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Sibias passing. His eyes were narrowed as he observed her there. Was he following her, or had he been on his way to see Amshazar? Just as she was about to say something, make an excuse for her presence in this part of the encampment, a cruel smile passed over his face. His eyes glittered in the darkness, and then he left the spot without acknowledging her.
A shiver ran down her spine. She wondered what had passed through his mind to make him smile that way. It was as if he were perversely pleased to catch her near Amshazar's tent. Perhaps he hadn't recognized her, though, dressed as she was in her cloak. She tried to take comfort from that thought, but felt the urge to hurry inside Amshazar's tent.
She moved close to it and whispered his name. “Amshazar?"
"Come inside."
He knew. He knew she was there. It sent a nervous tremor through her, and made her question her sanity in approaching him secretly, but she was unable to walk away. She drew back the drape of material that covered the entrance.
He was sitting in the small dim enclosure, but rose to his feet when she drew the curtain back. His mood was focused, serious. His hair hung loosely around his face, his eyes dark as they rested on her.
> She knew instantly he was expecting her, from the look on his face. Had he lured her there? Her doubts multiplied, and she wanted to turn away, but his brooding eyes held hers.
He suddenly reached out and grabbed her wrist, pulling her in.
Elishiba gasped at the sudden contact.
"Come inside, before you are seen,” he urged. His expression held a note of caution.
She felt the heat rise to the surface of her skin, suddenly embarrassed at being there. She began to turn away from him, but he held her still tighter.
"No.” His voice was commanding. “Elishiba, you came here because you had to. Now is not the time to leave."
"Who are you to decide what I shall do?” Even though she resisted, it was faltering. She could feel the heat of his body, and her own melted in response. She let him hold her wrist, not fighting it. There was something curiously satisfying about the way he held her so tightly. The curtain fell closed at her back. She swallowed. The atmosphere in the small interior was close, the private space of his tent implying its own intimate suggestions to her.
He did not reply, but smiled and drew her in against him so their bodies touched.
She gave a quiet gasp, unable to withhold her surprise. His sudden proximity threatened to overwhelm her; she was awash with desire for him. She steadied herself, weighing her body against his grasp.
"We both know what this about.” His darkly hooded eyes glittered.
Her legs felt weak. The subconscious forces of desire that had forced her there were rising rapidly to the surface. She grappled with reason, reminding herself of the questions that had also brought her here. “Who are you, Amshazar? I came here because I have to know that."
"You have many questions,” he said, smiling gently and releasing her wrist, his fingers moving to stroke her hair back from her face.
Unveiling the Sorceress Page 11
