by Nhys Glover
I sighed and rested my head on her shoulder. Her hair was back in its neat knot and so her shoulder was covered only by her gown. I let my tears soak into the silk, turning it from rose-pink to blood-red. It looked and felt as if I was crying bloody tears.
"Tomorrow or the next day I will see Father. Do not push me or I may not be able to say the things I need to say to give him peace and forgiveness. I just need time and space. And there is still some of both before the solstice is upon us."
Mother nodded and sighed deeply too. I could hear the tears in her sigh. "As you will, daughter. You have always had to do things your own way. Your father is proud of you for that. He sees himself in you, though he wishes it was not so. But he respects you for it. I will tell him to give you a few more days. It will give him hope."
I wanted to weep and scream and hug the soft woman before me. I wanted to dash away to my father and tell him it was all right, that I did not blame him for what was to come.
But I could not. If I did so I was likely to break, either giving in to his desires or confessing my plans. Either result would mean my death.
"I am so very sorry, Mother. I wish you did not have to go through this. None of what is to come is your fault. I want you to know that. Nor do I blame you or father. I love you both. We all must do what is right for us," I whispered through my tears.
"Is this right for you?" she asked for the first time, her eyes showing her confusion and dread.
"I would never do what was not right for me. You should know me well enough by now. By the time I come out of that room I will be convinced of my path and ready to follow it. I just have not reached that point yet."
She nodded and stroked the tears from my cheeks. "You look so pale and tired. Are you sleeping at all?"
I gave a little laugh. "I will have plenty of time to sleep after the summer solstice."
Mother moaned. "Do not joke about it. I cannot stand it."
I kissed her cheek again, this time with a little of my old humour. "If I do not joke I will fall into a heap and never recover. Let me joke. You do not have to laugh."
She gave a little laugh then, which almost reached her teary eyes.
"I do love you, you know. I expected to lose you sometime soon, when you finally married and moved away. I just never expected to lose you this way. I thought being your father's favourite daughter would safeguard you. I was wrong."
It was my turn to wipe away her tears. "Be strong, Mother. Please be strong. None of us knows what will happen. The only way either of us will weather the coming storm is to be strong. I love you so much."
"You are my heart, daughter. From the first moment you pushed your way into the world ahead of your brother by half a turn of the sandglass you had my heart. You so clearly wanted to be here to see everything, know everything, ask impossible questions and live to the fullest." She paused to reflect for a moment and I let her.
"Have you ever noticed what happens when a breeze touches a fire? The flames leap higher and brighter, and the wood burns faster. You are like that. Your flame burns high and bright and too fast."
"I am who I am," I said croakily, staring over her shoulder, too afraid to look at her in that moment. "I can be no one else. I wish I could have been more like the dutiful daughter you wanted. Mayhap Airshin would have loved me better then too."
She surprised me by giving my shoulders a little shake. "Never say such a thing. You are the daughter I wanted. And your brother... well, some people are weak and they resent those who are strong. Making yourself less than you are would not serve him. He would have been no happier with himself. His life will never be easy because he is too afraid to try. He would rather find excuses and blame someone else for his failures, rather than do something about them."
I seem to have experienced more shocks in the last few days than I had in a lifetime. My mother was criticising her darling son. And I could not help feeling a little relieved of my guilt and self-loathing.
But it was getting late. The sun would soon set and I had much to do before I made my escape. Giving my mother one last kiss, I headed out into the communal area to get food. My stomach would probably not let me keep anything down, but I could store away what I claimed in my satchel for my journey. My plan was to take only food that would keep and leave as much space as possible for a large vessel of purified water.
Eyes glanced my way as I entered the large, ornately decorated common room, where about twenty wives and daughters were currently sitting on cushions, talking and laughing together. As they recognised me they fell silent. This was not the first time since we had all heard the news of my sacrifice that I had brought a room to a standstill. For some who stared dumbly at me, it was guilt that drove them. They felt wrong for being glad it was me and not them who was to be sacrificed. For others it was discomfort. I might cry and behave irrationally if they did not freeze in place. Who knew what I might do in my moment of desperation.
Not one looked at me with pity. My one true friend and sister had been Mina and she had died five suncycles ago. Mayhap her death had been what had lost the Godling his favour. Mayhap the gods were not as cruel as I thought and they disapproved of castrating the ones they had granted their power to. Now that was a thought that could cause a revolution!
I pushed it away with all my other unacceptable ideas and proceeded to pile a plate high with fruit and my favourite rice and date cakes. There was cheese too, the soft kind that melted in the heat. I would need to eat it to break my fast in the morning because it would not last through the heat of the day. I wished the sacrifice had been scheduled for the winter when it would have been cooler. But the days would have been shorter then and the wagons would not travel as far in the daylight hours. No, this was better. This way I had a chance.
I caught sight of Mina's mother sitting quietly on the side. She was not a favoured wife. Had never been, not even in her prime. She was too tall, too scrawny and her features were more suited to a man. Her one appealing feature was her eyes, big brown eyes with heavy lids and lush dark lashes. Mina had had such lashes and we used to joke that we could make paint brushes from them if we ever ran out ones made from underlings' fur. The small rodents who burrowed under the earth had the longest softest pelts imaginable. And the hairs from the fur made excellent brushes.
"Mother of my dearest friend," I said by way of greeting as I approached her.
The woman looked up from her embroidery. The women of the harem were famous for their embroidery. We all had so much time on our hands we had to use it somehow.
"Dearest friend of my daughter," she replied with a sad smile. "I am sorry to hear of your sacrifice. Although I am sure Mina will be waiting impatiently for you on the other side and misses you greatly. Tell her when you see her that I will not be long in joining her. I grow weary of this life."
"But you have Jahrud! You must live for him," I exclaimed, looking around for the little hellion who was born not long after his sister died.
"He will not be with me for long. After he has gone there will be no more childlings for me. The Godling has no time for me anymore and I am not sorry. To bear and rear a child, and then to lose them, is the worst pain imaginable."
I did not know what to say to that. My knowledge of motherhood was not my own. I could only imagine what it was like to struggle through ten mooncycles, growing childlings in your womb, and the many sandglass turns it took to birth them, then to nurture and love them for even more suncycles, only to have them taken from you. It did not bear thinking about. I would never do it. I would never be a mother, if that was what I had to look forward to.
"I am sorry. I know Mina loved you greatly. I wish..." I did not want to voice my wish. How could I tell this still-grieving woman that I wished she had not agreed to have her daughter castrated. That she had found some way to hide her daughter's power. But fire was harder to hide than air. The first time Mina got angry she set alight the gossamer divider in the temple. There had been no hiding that.
"I wish it too... As I am sure your mother wishes you were not your father's favourite. But these are things we have no control over. The gods in their wisdom know better than we."
I disagreed, but could not voice my dissent, so I simply nodded and went on my way. I had done my duty by Mina. There was nothing else I could do.
I hurried back to my room and began my preparations in earnest.
Chapter Four
The turns of the sandglass were an eternity that night. I watched the sandglass at my bedside by the bright moonlight, as I made the most of my last moments of comfort. I had thought passingly of taking a pillow with me, to ease the jolting of the wagon on my poor spine. But pillows were cumbersome. I needed to be able to move fast and stealthily. The more I carried the less I would have of both.
After five turns of the sandglass I knew it was my time to leave. The palace was quiet and the guards on duty would have become bored and slipped away to their gathering place to gamble and share stories.
I had to push my satchel ahead of me along the air vent, where I was glad I had been sensible enough not to try to bring a pillow. Once I reached the grate for the store room I hastily descended and sent a silent pray for forgiveness back to my mother on the other side of the wall. If she peeped into my room at any time over the next night and day she would see a lump in my bed that looked enough like my form to trick her into believing I was asleep there. How long she would be able to keep from waking me was anyone's guess. I hoped it was long enough.
Once outside the air was fresher but not much cooler. I had heard stories from the wives who had grown up in Highlund that the nights there, even in summer, were chilly. I always thought I would like to live on the top of the world like that. But I was not a craftsman. What use would I be to those people? What use would I be to anyone? I was a pampered princess who had never done a day's real work in her life. The only skills I had were in embroidery and fighting, and I had not tested the latter since I was eight suncycles old.
I stuck to the shadows as I made my way around the edge of the stables and loading bay. I heard the night birds call, the rustle of scavenglings in the hay, and a laugh from the direction of the guards' usual camp. I saw no movement at all.
The sky was clear and the moon was nearing its fullness. That made it easier for me to see the wagon I was looking for but meant I could more easily be seen by anyone who might be looking. Everything I chose to do seemed to be like a double edged sword. It had its gains but it also had its losses. All I could do was make a decision and hope for the best.
So I ran to the wagon from the closest shadows, keeping low and moving as fast as I could without missing a step. The wooden vehicle had a waterproof covering made of hide. There were bags packed tight along the back of it. Having watched its loading I knew that further back there were barrels, probably containing olive oil. These were tightly packed too, but substantially taller than the sacks, making a kind of tent out of the covering. I thought that this might have been intentional, in case it rained. The water would more easily run off the sides and back of the wagon that way.
At this time of year sudden storms and rain were common. They usually brought a reprieve from the heat. And though I could do with a reprieve, I did not want the rain. It would turn the roads to mud and slow the wagon down. I wanted it to get as far away from Godslund as fast as possible. If I had to live in a tunic soaked in sweat until that time, then so be it.
I loosened the ropes, which held the cover in place, just enough to allow me to slide on my belly beneath it. The wagoners would check and tighten the ropes in the morning. I would then be trapped inside until they unpacked the wagon. I was not sure how I was going to escape detection then, but if I was fast enough and took them by surprise, I might be able to jump down and run for the nearest alley before they realised what had happened.
That was my plan, for better or worse. And, as I was dressed as a boy, no one who saw me would connect me to a missing princess from Godslund.
I wished I could have knotted my hair up to keep it tidy and my neck cool, but a runaway boy would not have neat hair. His would be ratty and unkempt, with more tangles than not. The thin braids down either side of my face and the leather strap that held the lengths down my back would keep the worst of it out of the way, but I could look forward to many hours with a comb, removing the tangles, once this adventure was over.
If that was the worst I had to look forward to I would be lucky, I warned myself fiercely. If I started to consider my escape a given, took anything for granted, or underestimated the challenges I faced, then I would be caught and returned to the palace. And be dead in a quarter mooncycle.
The grain was not as hard as the wooden floor of the wagon would have been, but it was not soft either. The hessian of the bags was rough on my exposed skin and the dust from the grain made my eyes water and skin itch. I just hoped no scavenglings had joined me. They were no strangers to me, as I crawled along my air duct or hid in shadows, but I did not like them. Nasty, red-eyed beastlings!
Once I reached the barrels, I explored by touch the space that would be my home for the next day or more. I hoped it would be no longer, as my food and water were limited and I was not at all sure what I would do about the call of nature. I just hoped I could edge my butt in between the barrels and pee through the floorboards while the wagon was moving. Anyone following would then take it for the beastlings work, not mine.
The wagon was wide enough that I could lie across it with room to spare. The height difference between the grain bags and barrels was enough that I could sit up, if somewhat slumped over. This would allow me to get at my satchel. It was cramped, and I would have to be careful not to press against the cover in case someone saw the strange moving lump and came to investigate. But, all in all, I thought it would do.
I settled down with my head on my arms, wriggling in until I found a comfortable spot. Sleep had been hard to come by since I had heard of my fate. The terror I could keep at bay during the day was tenfold at night. Every frightening possibility would play itself out for me, over and over again, until I wanted to scream and take flight. It took all my strength to keep myself still and the insanity at bay.
Now that my plans had been carried out, and there was nothing more for me to do but hope I would escape undetected, my body took over. It was pitch black under the cover so there was no difference between having my eyes open or closed. I therefore closed them to keep out the dust. And, despite the danger, I quickly fell asleep.
I woke to the sound of movement outside my hiding place. I huddled down and held my breath, praying to gods I did not believe in that I would remain undiscovered. It was one thing to plan my escape in my imagination, it was quite another to live it. My heart raced, my mouth grew dry, I felt sick and faint all at the same time. And, above all, I desperately needed to pee.
I closed my eyes tight with the irrational thought that if I could not see the men moving around outside they would not see me. I would have laughed at my own stupidity if I was not so terrified.
In a surprisingly short time the wagon started moving. It creaked and groaned under the weight as the slow moving beastlings began their task of pulling the load along the rutted and bumpy road out of the palace grounds and on into the township.
I could see a slit of light along the edge of the cover and my gaze became glued to it, taking a measure of peace from the sight. For years I had learned how to live in darkness, how to make my way without the benefit of my eyes. But now I needed that light. My fears seemed less when I could see something. Anything.
Once I was sure we had travelled beyond the town and were on the open roads, I tried out my toilet arrangements. Not easy, not perfect, and very, very embarrassing, but it worked. And, once I had relieved myself, I was able to settle down and consider my empty stomach and dry mouth. I would have to ration both food and water, as I had no idea how long I would be stuck in the wagon, but I could afford to break my fast with the soft chee
se that would not last well as the day heated up.
It surprised me how well my stomach handled the food. I had been feeling sick with anxiety for days, putting little into my mouth for fear it would come back out again. But now I could eat and my stomach seemed happy. I had worried that the motion of the wagon might make me sick. I had heard that it affected some people that way. As I had never travelled anywhere outside the harem and the palace grounds before, I had no idea whether I would be one of them. Luckily I seemed to handle the rocking and jolting well.
As the sandglass turns added up and I felt the heat increase, I experienced a mixture of hope and fear. Hope that I had escaped cleanly; fear that I could not replace enough of the water that was sweating out of me. I had heard about people caught in the Badlunds without water who literally shrivelled up and died in a matter of days.
But I would not be one of those, I told myself more than once. For one thing, I was sheltered from the heat, even though the cover above me burned my skin if I brushed against it and what air there was under it was stale, dusty-dry and smelled like rotten fish. I knew air could get up through the cracks in the floorboards and through the gaps between the barrels, but it did not feel like that was true. I felt like I was suffocating, a little bit at a time.
The heat made me drowsy, which was good, because it meant that I dozed through the long sandglass turns of the day. Only when the wagon came to a halt and the men began preparing for their rest did I rouse myself to full wakefulness.
I worried they might take the cover off to get at their camping goods. I worried they would sleep under the wagon and look up through the floorboards at me. But neither happened. Instead, I heard the men remove the beastlings from their traces and lead them to their resting place for the night, probably by the gurgling stream I could hear nearby. Once the beastlings were settled, the men unpacked goods from beneath the seat at the front of the wagon and then moved away again.
