One Thousand Nights (Tales of the Latter Kingdoms Book 6)

by Pope, Christine

  For myself, though, I could only marvel at the expanses of open water all around us, with no land in any direction. I had read of such things, but until one can see them for oneself, the notion of the open sea does not seem quite real, like something out of a fairy story. As were the dolphins that swam alongside the ship, jumping in and out of the blue, blue water, guiding us along our way. We were very lucky, for the weather held during almost the entire voyage. It was only as we came around the Melinoor Peninsula at the far southern end of Purth that we hit a squall, and were tossed about quite fearfully. But then the sun came out once again, and the wind settled, until a few days after that we drew close to land again, and the white spires of Tir el-Alisaad came into view.

  My heart seemed to catch then. Finally, after a month and a half of waiting, and another two weeks on the ocean, I had come to Keshiaar.

  Or at least, to its docks, where a runner was sent to the Hierarch’s palace to inform him of our arrival. As good a ship as Merwinna was, I rather longed to be off her at that point, to feel solid earth beneath my feet again. But we must wait until a suitable escort arrived, Ambassador Sel-Trelazar informed me.

  “This meager party will never do to accompany the betrothed of His Most High Majesty to the palace,” he said.

  As I could tell he was quite serious, I nodded gravely, thinking that even in Sirlende a troupe of some twenty-five should have been sufficient to go the two miles or so from the docks to the royal residence. Perhaps it was just as well, for I found myself needing that time to acclimate myself to the heat, which seemed to encroach upon the ship as soon as it was stilled at the dock, with no more strong ocean winds to combat the dry, hot air that seemed to spill down upon the city from the deserts that stretched on three sides around it.

  But I waited, clad in my new Keshiaari garments and glad of them, feeling them like a whisper of gossamer against my skin. I had told my maidservants not to bother with curling my hair, as I had no idea what the fashion for such things was here, and I guessed the hot, dry winds might defeat their best attempts. Besides, I thought perhaps it would be best to meet my betrothed with no such artifice between us. Well, not much, anyway. Karenna had insisted on touching just the faintest bit of rouge to my lips, and I had decided to let her — mostly because the beeswax ointment used to bind the pigment felt as if it would give my mouth some protection from the sun.

  After almost an hour had passed, a great clamor rose up from the docks, and I saw a large group of men-at-arms wearing curiously curved helmets and long crimson coats approaching through the crowds, which parted immediately to let them through. In the center of the group were ten large, burly men in white, carrying what seemed to be the Keshiaari version of a sedan chair, although this one was far more ornate than any I had ever seen, painted and gilded, with a curious carved knot on top, almost like a pinecone, but far more intricate. And I somehow doubted that such a thing as a pinecone had ever been seen in Keshiaar.

  “Your escort,” Ambassador Sel-Trelazar murmured to me, quite unnecessarily.

  I nodded, though, and waited until the contingent had made its way to the quay where Merwinna was docked. Captain Talaver, I noted, stayed out of the way; he had done his duty by bringing me here, but he had no part in the events which were about to unfold.

  One of the guards stepped forward and clasped his hands together, then bowed from the waist. “Amassador Sel-Trelazar, we are here on behalf of His Most High Majesty to see that his intended bride is conveyed safely to the palace.”

  “I thank you,” Sel-Trelazar replied. “Here is Her Serene Highness.” He turned to me and bowed as well, far more formal than he had been on the journey here, when we had had a number of lively chats about the oceans and ships, in addition to his continuing to instruct me in the Keshiaari language and customs. “If Your Highness will take her seat in her chair?”

  I nodded, then stepped forward, allowing myself to be handed up into the sedan chair. Although their customs were not mine, I knew enough to follow along, to play my role. Just before the guard closed the silken curtains, obscuring my view, I saw the ambassador give me a reassuring nod. Good thing, for my stomach had begun to feel quite fluttery, as I wondered what they would do with my maidservants, or my luggage, or — but no, that was foolish. Sel-Trelazar had it all in hand. My task was to sit here in the stifling gloom of the sedan chair, and feel those burly men turn it around and convey me away from the docks, into the heart of the city.

  Oh, how I wished they had not closed the curtains! For not only was it quite unbearably hot, but, more importantly, I could see nothing of my surroundings. Perhaps the Hierarch did not wish his affianced bride to be gawked at in the streets of his capital. Although I could just barely understand that reasoning, I did not find it quite fair that I should be denied a glimpse of my new home. Also, though I had certainly fared well enough on the ocean’s tossing waves, I could not say the same for my current mode of transport. Some cloying perfume seemed to cling to the draperies that enclosed me, and that, combined with the heat, made my stomach begin to churn. I swallowed and shut my eyes, willing myself not to be ill.

  For won’t that make a good impression, I scolded myself, having you appear in the Hierarch’s palace spattered with your own sick?

  The mental image that produced was enough to force back some of the nausea, and I held on to the edge of my seat, feeling the carved wood bite into my fingertips. To distract myself, I shifted, then lifted just the barest edge of the curtain to my right. Surely it couldn’t be all that bad to allow myself just a peek. I could tell the streets were crowded simply from the babble of voices around me, speaking words I could not yet understand. Yes, the ambassador had been instructing me in the tongue of this land, but to hear so many voices at once, all clamoring together — well, of course I couldn’t possibly begin to separate them into coherent syllables.

  I caught a quick glimpse of buildings of pale brick and white stone, bodies packed together, their clothing similarly light in color, perhaps to ward off the rays of the fierce sun overhead, black hair gleaming in the harsh, bright light. And beyond that, a quick impression of a group of market stalls huddled up against a building, with fresh fruit and vegetables shimmering in hues of green and red and yellow, and gold glinting in a woman’s ears as she laughed and tossed her head.

  All that I caught in a single brief flash before one of the men carrying the sedan chair apparently noted the gap in the concealing curtains, and twitched it shut again. He did not look at me, but the disapproval in his stance was clear enough.

  Ah, well. I could only hope that once I was properly installed as the Hierarch’s consort, I might be allowed to see something of the people who would then be my subjects. Surely he didn’t intend to keep me this cloistered at all times?

  After an interminable jolting ride through the streets of Tir el-Alisaad, the sedan chair finally halted someplace that felt marginally cooler. The curtains parted, and I saw Ambassador Sel-Trelazar beaming at me and flanked on either side by five of the crimson-wearing guards. He appeared none the worse for wear, and so I guessed he must have been provided with a mount for the journey to the palace, even though I had not spied one before I was stuffed into that awful chair.

  “Your Highness,” he said. “Welcome to your new home. If you will allow me to guide you a little longer, I will take you to your suite, where you will meet your new servants.”

  “My new servants?” I inquired, puzzled. “But what of Karenna, and Halda, and Jensi and Shendra?”

  “Oh, they are being brought to your quarters as well. But four is certainly not enough to service the Hierarch’s betrothed, and so they will be supplemented with women from the palace. But here, allow me.”

  He extended a hand, and I took it gratefully, descending to the ground with rather an ungraceful jolt. Well, after that long voyage, and the sedan chair trip that followed, perhaps I could be excused for not being at my best.

  All that was forgotten, though, as I loo
ked around me, remembering to close my mouth, as gaping like a peasant getting her first glimpse of the Iselfex grand market was most likely not behavior befitting a princess. But even I, accustomed to the splendors of my brother’s court, had not been expecting anything as splendid as this.

  Buildings of white marble surrounded us, all of them constructed with colonnades to provide shade from the bright sun. The columns supporting the roofs of the colonnades were carved into the semblance of slender women, their upraised hands touching the ceilings of the covered walkways, which appeared to be painted in intricate patterns of blue and ochre and red. In between the columns were enormous alabaster planters, each with an elegant evergreen trimmed into a stylized diamond shape. And out beyond the shaded colonnades was a garden with colored gravel walks and more evergreens, and flowers whose names I did not know, but which cast their sweet perfume in all directions, so it seemed to drift on the hot air. In the very center was a white marble fountain several times the height of a man, water splashing over its fluted basins, and reflecting the mosaics in shades of blue that shimmered under the midday sun.

  All this I drank in as quickly as I could. Perhaps, despite my best efforts, my mouth had fallen open slightly, for the ambassador said, “Truly, the palace of His Most High Majesty is one of the wonders of the world. But now, Your Highness, if you will permit me?”

  I nodded. “Of course, Ambassador.”

  Perhaps the briefest smile, one that came and went behind his beard so quickly I couldn’t be sure I had not imagined it. Then he led me through a massive arched doorway, and into a long hallway of marble cunningly inlaid in the shapes of flowers and twining vines, with more of those alabaster planters on either side, although now they were occupied by graceful, feathery-looking plants I could not identify. And oh, the frescoes on the walls, and the intricate mosaic ceilings overhead! My senses were quite dazzled by the patterns and colors I saw around me, so different from the grand but dark splendor of the imperial palace where I had grown up.

  These hallways were quite busy, with servants in white scurrying about, and men in long silken robes like the ones I had seen both the Keshiaari ambassadors wear, so their appearance was not quite as foreign as it might otherwise be. I did not see many women, but knew that was to be expected; it was the Keshiaari way to keep the sexes far more segregated than they were back home in Iselfex, and so they would not be wandering idly about the palace, but kept to their own quarters, save when all might gather for a great feast in the evening.

  Down one hall, and another, and then up a great curving flight of stairs, and finally down another corridor, one which ended in a set of massively carved doors in some pale wood I did not recognize. Two of the guards hastened forward to open them, and Ambassador Sel-Trelazar bowed to me once again.

  “Here I must leave you, for I am not permitted within Your Highness’s quarters. But if you should need anything, only send word through the servants, and I will meet with you in one of the audience chambers. Fare you well, Your Highness.”

  Panic seized me then, for he was the only familiar thing in my world in that moment. How I wished I could reach out and seize his silken sleeve, beg him to stay with me, if only for a few minutes longer. But that was certainly not how the Crown Princess of Sirlende should behave, and so I merely bowed my head and said, “Thank you for all your advice and support, Ambassador. I hope it will not be too long before I see you again.”

  He must have seen something of my nervousness, for he said, “I have been told that His Most High Majesty has a welcome feast planned for this evening, and I am honored to have been invited. So it shall not be very long at all, my lady.”

  I flashed him a relieved smile then. Knowing I could not delay any longer, I turned away from him, and allowed the guards to shut the heavy doors behind me just after taking up their positions on either side of the massive lintel. The sound seemed terribly final, as if providing the final division between my former life and the one I must live now.

  Taking in a breath, I made myself turn around and survey my new surroundings. The antechamber was large, with more of those intricately beautiful mosaics on the ceiling and frescoes on the wall, the floor this time alternating red and white marble faintly veined with gold. Despite this splendor, the room was sparsely furnished, decorated with only a few carved tables topped by blown-glass vases in jewel hues and filled with creamy fragrant flowers. The windows had carved lattice-work covering them that allowed something of a breeze to come through but blocked out much of the light and heat of the day.

  “Greetings, Your Highness,” said an unfamiliar feminine voice in Keshiaari, and I looked away from the window to see a tall woman in the off-white clothing of a servant, just as the ambassador had described, standing outside a doorway that must lead to the inner rooms of the suite. She was tall, and rather forbidding in appearance, with her long, strong nose and equally pronounced chin. Her brows were thick and black, and pulled together somewhat as she surveyed me. “I am Miram, the keeper of your chambers and your person.”

  That was what she said, but my mind translated it as “maid,” or perhaps a combination of chatelaine and lady’s maid. “Greetings, Miram,” I replied.

  She clasped her long hands together at her waist and bowed. “Your things have been brought hence already, Your Highness. Perhaps if you would wish to survey your rooms, to see if they are to your liking?”

  And if they are not? I thought, with a wry twist of my lips, one which I fought to hide. But I merely said, “That would be very good, Miram. Thank you.”

  Her mouth tightened almost imperceptibly, although I could not quite decide what I had said to provoke her disapproval. Was I not supposed to thank her? Quickly I wracked my brains, trying to recall what Ambassador Sel-Trelazar had told me about exchanges with the servants, but in that moment I could not remember what he had said.

  “This way, Your Highness,” she said, spreading her hand to indicate the rooms beyond her.

  Chin high, I advanced into the sanctum, seeing more mosaics on the ceiling, although the frescoes here were less geometric and instead painted in the shapes of stylized flowers that twined in and around one another. This was quite obviously a sitting room, furnished with several silk-upholstered divans, and with rugs patterned in shades of blue and rust and soft green on the floor. I noted there was no fireplace — not that surprising, if it was this warm already in early May. Beyond that I spied a sumptuous bedchamber with a large bed covered in soft terra-cotta-colored silk and hung with gauzy drapes of the same color.

  I also noted my own serving women in there, unpacking my wardrobe and bustling about, and I felt my spirits lift somewhat. So they had been brought here. I had no idea why I would ever think otherwise, but perhaps it was merely my weariness and discomfort at being in a strange place. Even though I did not know them well, at least they were a small piece of home, one I still had with me.

  “As you see, all is being taken care of,” Miram informed me. “Tonight His Most High Majesty, may God praise his name, is holding a great feast in your honor. We must lose no time in preparing you.”

  “Indeed?” I said in some surprise. Not that I was any stranger to spending hours and hours getting ready for the banquets and balls and musicales back home, but as I thought it could not be much more than one or two in the afternoon, I had a hard time imagining exactly what they had in mind for me.

  “Indeed, Your Highness. We must begin right away.” She clapped her hands then, and three young Keshiaari women came out of one of the side chambers, their embroidered slippers slapping on the marble floor. “Guide Her Highness to the bath chamber, and begin getting her ready for the feast.”

  They all bowed, hands pressed together at the waist, and then pointed toward the bedchamber. I knew there was little I could do to decline, and so I followed them into the room where I would sleep, and then past that to an elegant tiled room where an enormous tub had been built right into the floor, with steps leading down. It had al
ready been filled with water — I did not want to think what a monumental task that had been — and scented with rose petals.

  Light hands plucked at my garments, peeling them away one by one. As I had had my own maid attend me ever since I was a child, I was not overly modest about allowing women servants to see me undressed, although it did feel strange to do so in front of a group of girls I had just met. I quickly moved to the tub and descended the steps into the water, feeling it soft and warm around me, only a few degrees warmer than the air itself. To my surprise, the servant girls peeled off their own clothing as well, save the thin blouses they wore under their tunics, and came into the water with me, each one taking a limb and scrubbing it well, as if I had brought something of the stink of the ship’s confined quarters with me. Perhaps I had; once I got over the shock of the situation, it did feel rather good to have them use soft brushes on my arms and neck and legs, and to wash my hair not once, not twice, but three times with some sort of foaming concoction that smelled of a sweet spice I could not identify.

  During all this, I saw nothing of my own maids, and guessed that Miram had instructed them to stay occupied with the disposition of my wardrobe, for whatever reason. After I climbed out of the tub and was dried off from head to toe, soft rose-scented lotion was rubbed into every inch of my skin, and one of the maids handed me a robe of soft, shimmering red silk. Thankful, I took it from her and wrapped it around myself, then sat down at a dressing table and had my hair polished with silk until it gleamed like glass. Two of the maids pulled some strands back from my face and coiled them into a knot at the back of my head, but they left the rest of it to hang down as it was. I saw no sign of a curling iron, and was glad, for I had always hated the interminable sessions of winding my hair around the iron, attempting to torture my stick-straight hair into the long spirals currently in fashion at court.