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

by Pope, Christine

“The maids are still scrubbing the stains out of the carpet,” I said darkly.

  With a shake of her head, Isala handed me my change. “It will get better, honored one. The stars are shifting.”

  They are? I thought. Perhaps that is a good omen….

  Not that I would know for certain, as I had not discussed the stars with my husband in some months. Realizing I was frowning, I thanked her, then stowed the vials in the small embroidered bag I had brought along for that purpose. Then it was time to fall in behind the guards once again as they led me out of the bazaar.

  How I wished I could stop and look at everything — at the hanging lamps of brass, and the cunning figures carved of marble in a dizzying array of colors, and the embroidered pillows, and the mirrors whose frames were inlaid with mosaics of multicolored wood and chips of mother-of-pearl. But because I had come here on a very particular errand, and because I knew that gawking at the wares in the bazaar as if I had never seen them before would certainly invite the guards’ attention, I followed them meekly until once more we were winding through the streets of Tir el-Alisaad.

  It seemed that we were following a slightly different route this time, for some reason; perhaps the traffic in the streets had its own particular patterns, and so it was easier to head toward the palace along this street rather than the one we had first taken to get to the bazaar. Here there was more foot traffic, and fewer carts, which made the going somewhat easier, although as we walked along, the lane became more and more crowded, until we came to a dead halt.

  I could hear why immediately, although I could not see much beyond the shoulders of the people stopped in front of us. A man’s voice, rough with anger, was carrying above the murmur of the crowd.

  “…And all his protests for nothing! My brother was innocent! You know me, know my family!”

  A wave of assent seemed to swirl through the watching people. It seemed clear to me that they knew the speaker…and I also thought I knew of whom he was speaking. Despite the heat of the day, which even now was making the perspiration drip down my back, I felt a chill go over me.

  “Do we have the money for even one horse, let alone enough to pay an entire squad of horsemen to attack His Most High Majesty?”

  Another murmur, this one seemingly in the negative.

  “And yet they ignored my brother’s protests, ignored common sense, and took his head anyway, just so they could say the culprit had been dealt with! It’s wrong, I say! Wrong!”

  Again the crowd shifted and whispered. It seemed they were in agreement, yet afraid to speak up too loudly. And that fear became apparent when the people in my immediate vicinity noted my escort of two guards in the uniform of the palace.

  “Quiet, Halmud! There are soldiers here!” someone cried out, and immediately the group began to surge, scattering in all directions.

  In that moment I saw the man who had been speaking. He was of medium height, with a heavy beard and equally heavy shoulders, thick with muscles. Dimly I recalled that the executed man’s brother was an ironmonger. As his gaze seemed to fasten on me, my guards pushed forward, faces grim. Yes, they had been sent to protect “Miram,” but it was more important that they go to take this man who had been speaking openly against the Hierarch.

  Their purposeful steps only served to increase the panic of the people around me, and I found myself pushed along with them, flowing with a river of frightened humanity down the narrow street, heading out and as far away from the palace guards as possible. I struggled against them, trying to get back to the spot where the ironmonger stood, but it was impossible. All I could do was move along with the crowd and hope that eventually their alarm would subside, and I would be free to return to the protection of my guards.

  That hope proved to be in vain, however. Some minutes later I found myself in an unfamiliar street, surrounded by buildings I did not recognize. Wildly I looked around me, but I could pick out no landmarks to guide me back to where I had started, nothing that told me where I was.

  My own panic rose in me, and I forced it down. The last thing I should do now was lose my head. Very well, I was a woman alone on these streets, which in and of itself was bad enough. But if anyone should guess who I truly was….

  Heart pounding, I glanced down at my hand. The skin was a pale golden-brown, several shades darker than my own, with the prominent veins of someone who must do much of her own work. Good. So the enchantment still held, but I could not guess how much longer it would last. I had to get back to the palace, and it seemed I must do it on my own.

  I glanced up at the sky. The sun was now nearing its zenith, bright and blinding, giving me no real clue as to which way was east. Very well, I would simply have to ask.

  This seemed to be a residential street, but even so, I spied some people about. There seemed to be a well of sorts tucked in between two buildings, and women queued there to fill various ewers and basins and buckets with water. None of those women had any male escort, and I guessed they did not require one to go the few paces from their homes to the well and back again. Even better; that way my own unaccompanied state would not draw as much attention.

  I approached one of them, put on what I hoped was a friendly but somewhat meek smile — an expression I doubted the real Miram had ever attempted — and asked, “A thousand pardons, but could you tell me in which direction the palace lies?”

  The woman, who appeared to be some ten years or so older than I, with gold rings in her ears and expertly painted eyes, shot me a questioning look. “How is it that you do not know where His Most High Majesty resides?”

  “Well, I — that is, I thought I did, but I seem to have lost my way.”

  Her expression shifted from skeptical to somewhat pitying as she appeared to take in my lack of a male companion. “If you are looking for employment, I would advise you to go elsewhere. My own cousin was sacked only a week ago, and with no explanation. It would be better to try someplace else.”

  “Oh, I am not looking for work,” I began, but she cut me off, saying,

  “Perhaps not, but you would do well to heed my advice.” She lowered her voice then. “And if it is not that sort of work you desire, I can tell you right now that you are not pretty enough to catch the eye of any of the guards.”

  For a second I gaped at her, and then I realized she must think me some kind of prostitute, to be wandering around the streets unaccompanied. Words failed me for another second or two, until I finally managed, “Very well, but I still would like to know where the palace is.”

  She lifted her shoulders, pointing with her free hand past the queue at the well. “If you go down this street, and then turn to the right at the first intersection you come to, then you can follow that street all the way to the palace walls. They won’t let you in, though,” she added, apparently unable to prevent herself from giving me one final warning.

  Perhaps not, but I would worry about that when I got there. I thought I would recognize my surroundings well enough once I got closer, and after that, all I would have to do was go to the small side gate in the outer wall, and tell the guards there that I had been separated from my escort. No doubt the two guards were even now searching the streets for “Miram”…or perhaps they had hurried back to the palace once they realized their charge was nowhere to be found. At any rate, the guards on duty would recognize me and let me in.

  That is, I had to hope they would.

  I hurried off in the direction the woman had indicated, and, sure enough, some hundred paces later I came to an intersection with a much larger street, this one with the familiar ox and donkey carts, and the occasional sedan chair, which told me I must be getting closer to my destination. They were the preferred mode of transportation for the women of the court, and not something one saw much of in the poorer districts of the city.

  As I walked, I could feel the curious gazes of the men and women in the street settling on me. They had to be wondering who this woman was who had the temerity to walk through Tir el-Alisaad wit
hout a single male companion as her escort. All I could do was keep moving forward, not allowing my eyes to meet any of theirs. Perhaps they would note the determination in my stride, and let me alone.

  This seemed to work at first, and I allowed myself the tiniest sensation of relief. Gradually the traffic on the street lessened, the carts replaced almost completely by men on horseback or women safely concealed in the confines of their sedan chairs. The buildings on either side were very grand, faced with marble and decorated with intricate carvings, banners of colored silk fluttering from their balconies. And there — not a hundred yards off I saw the street come to its end, high walls of pale stone marking the boundary of the Hierarch’s palace.

  Something not unlike a sob of relief escaped my lips. I hurried forward, gaze darting this way and that as I looked for the narrow lane that would lead me to the gate on the south wall whence I had departed only an hour or so earlier. Nothing seemed familiar, but perhaps it was only because I now approached from a different direction.

  I paused then in the shadow of a stately palm, one of a pair that guarded the entrance to a large home with its own wall and gate, although that gate now stood open. Pondering the best place to go next, as my current location did not jog my memory at all, I raised my hand to push a stray strand of hair away from my face.

  Red flashed on my finger, and I stared at it for a few seconds, puzzled, until I realized with dawning horror that the flash of red had come from the ruby ring I wore. I wore…not Miram.

  With a gasp, I looked down at myself, saw not the ivory tunic and skirts that were Miram’s normal costume, but my own garb of embroidered red silk with the filmy pale gold wide-legged trousers underneath. The spell had worn off.

  Now I knew I must get off this street as soon as possible. Bad enough that a woman in the dress of a palace servant was wandering about alone. In this outfit, I should be recognized almost immediately — if not as the Hiereine, then at the very least as someone who had no right to be out and about without a full complement of guards.

  As I hesitated there, not wanting to leave the spurious protection of the palm in its large planter of cast stone, I heard a most unwelcome voice say in incredulous tones, “Your Majesty?”

  Knowing there was nothing else I could do, I took a step toward the speaker, lifted my chin, and said, “Good morning, Chancellor Tel-Karinoor.”

  Chapter 16

  “What on earth were you thinking?” Besh demanded, turning away from where he had stood at the window and coming to stand by me, arms crossed over his chest, brow thunderous.

  “I - I wasn’t,” I faltered, my courage deserting me in the face of his very real anger.

  His jaw tensed. “You weren’t thinking?”

  “I — ” Damnation. I had rehearsed this speech in my mind at least a hundred times, almost from the very moment when the visanis saw me in the street as he left his house. Perhaps the gods knew why they had decided to twist fate and make me pause in front of the very residence that belonged to Tel-Karinoor, but they had not seen fit to pass that information along to me. At any rate, I had thought I was prepared for this confrontation. What was the worst Besh could do to me, after all? Confine me to my chambers?

  We were now in his suite, in his library with the door shut. At least he had the grace to chastise me in private, and not in front of his chancellor. Perhaps it had only been my own fear and worry, but I almost thought I’d seen an expression of satisfaction cross Tel-Karinoor’s face when he confronted me in the street, as if he’d been somehow happy to catch me in such a wildly inappropriate situation. Why, I couldn’t begin to guess. For some reason, it seemed as if he had never approved of me, and I supposed anything that might make me look worse to my husband would please the chancellor.

  “I merely — I needed to escape for a bit.”

  “Escape? Escape to where?” His tone was not quite as rough now, but I could still hear the thrum of repressed fury within it.

  “Nowhere!” I flung at him. “Anywhere! I had no true destination in mind, my husband, only that I needed to be out, away, someplace where I was not breathing the same air I had breathed a thousand times before, or staring at the same walls, or the same faces. Truly, it is enough to drive a person mad!”

  To my horror, I felt tears begin to stream down my cheeks, and I put my hands up to my face to conceal my weakness, even as I pushed myself up from the chair and stumbled to the door. Where I thought I was going, I did not know, for the guards standing watch at the entrance to Besh’s suite would not let me go any farther than that without his express permission.

  But then, wonder of wonders, I heard him approach, and strong arms reached out to enfold me, to pull me against him. His hand touched my hair, almost gingerly, as if he were not quite sure that I wouldn’t slap it away. “Shh,” he murmured, voice much gentler now, rich and soothing. “It is all right. I am not angry with you. It is only that you could have come to some grief, wandering about the streets like that.”

  And would you care? I wondered, but in that moment I realized that was a petty thought, and that, wonder of wonders, he must care. Surely if he were indifferent, he would not have been so angry, even though he had said he was not. At least I had been with him long enough to perceive when he was upset.

  “I know, and I am sorry,” I told him, trying my best not to sniffle. “It is only when I saw the gate open, and no one watching it….” For that was the lie I had told to explain how I had gotten away from the palace grounds in the first place.

  “My dear,” he said, and my heart wanted to break at those words. How I had longed for him to address me by such an endearment! What had caused his shift in attitude? That he had finally forced himself to examine his feelings when he realized he had come close to losing me? That perhaps he had taken my presence for granted, and at last saw in his heart what it might mean to him if I were not here? “Why did you not tell me how you were suffering? It was never my intention to make you feel as if you were a prisoner here.”

  “I could not think of how best to talk to you. Most days, it seemed to me that you might as well have been one of those stars you watch in your telescope, thousands of miles beyond my grasp.”

  His arms tightened around me, and I breathed in the wondrous scent of him, warm skin and something fragrant and spicy, as if his wardrobe had been scented with dried orange peel or something similar. “Lyarris…I am sorry for that. It was never my intention to cause you pain.”

  “Then what was it?” I asked, determined to learn something of why he had held me away from him all these months. “Every day I racked my brains, trying to think of what I might have done to offend you, and how best to get you to speak with me, treat me as your wife. In the beginning, I thought perhaps we were growing closer, but….”

  “That was my fault, and none of yours,” he replied, loosening his grasp so he could step away half a pace and look directly into my face. “My way of protecting myself.”

  “Because of Hezia.” I did not bother to keep the bitterness out of my words.

  “Yes, because of Hezia,” he said heavily. “Some wounds take a very long time to heal.”

  “How much more time do you need?” I wrapped my fingers around his, gazed up into those extraordinary amber eyes. “One year? Two? Ten? Am I supposed to be patient and wait however long it takes?”

  Heavy black lashes swept over his eyes as he glanced away from me. “I had told myself after her that I would never love again. Not like that. And then you came to me. They had told me you were beautiful, but I had thought that was merely a pleasant fabrication, a lie told to make the marriage contract even more appealing. But you were — you are — and beyond that, you are strong and wise…but not so wise that you protest staying up until all hours to look at the stars with me.”

  “If I am all those things,” I said, taking care to keep my tone light, for what he had said struck at my very core, and I wanted to weep all over again, “then why this eternal distance? Simply be
cause you would not grant yourself permission to ever care again?”

  “No, it was more than that.” A long pause, as he returned his gaze to me and seemed to study my features for an endless moment. “I was told — that is, my chancellor informed me that you had been engaged in Sirlende, and that you had thrown off your betrothed as soon as you were given the opportunity to become my wife. I did not want to risk becoming close to someone whose affections could be so easily transferred, even though as time went on, it became clear to me that you were not that sort of woman at all. It was difficult for me to reconcile what I had heard with the truth of the person before me.”

  The chancellor. Always the chancellor. What was his stake in all this? In truth, I could not begin to guess, for surely the welfare of the kingdom was his greatest responsibility, and doing whatever he could to keep the Hierarch and his new wife apart did not seem to agree with that responsibility at all. A ruler without an heir of his body was never good for a kingdom. Tel-Karinoor’s scheming was something my husband and I would have to discuss, but I thought it better to clear up one misconception first.

  “Besh,” I said, pausing as I saw one of his rare smiles steal over his face when I used the familiar form of his name. Thank the gods. It had quite slipped out, but it seemed that he did not mind at all. “While it is true that I had to break my engagement to the Duke of Marric’s Rest to become your wife, it was not without a good deal of soul-searching. I cared for him — yes, I cannot lie and say I did not. But when I examined my feelings, I realized it was more because he was handsome and pleasant, and rather an outsider to court politics, a quality I found very appealing. It was not enough, however, to make him what I considered to be my ideal husband.”

  “And my qualities were?” Besh inquired, mouth quirking slightly, although he did not quite smile all the way. “But you had not even met me at that point.”

  It did sound rather dreadful when put that way. “True. But Ambassador Sel-Trelazar spoke so highly of you, spoke of you being a man of learning, one who did not scorn the pursuits of the mind, and I thought in that we were far better suited. If we could not have love, real love, I hoped at least we would share respect and friendship, which is more than many princesses can hope for in their royal matches.”