by Astrid Amara
Tarek watched the proceeding chaos until Darvad handed him a heavy sack of coin bags.
“Here!” Darvad shouted above the crowd. “Tarek Amia, lord of Dragewan, is one of your own people, a Suya who has proven that skill and honor are more important than birth and blood! His generosity overflows to you all on this auspicious day!”
Darvad tossed more money into the air. The crowd surged towards Tarek, and he warily stepped back as the wall of soldiers flexed inwards. He reached into his sack and began to throw coins to the expectant crowd. He smiled as a young boy and his mother snatched a purple sack from the air and cried out his name in a blessing. A slow, tingling euphoria built within him as he breathed in the positive energy, the magnanimous happiness of everyone there. Darvad and his friends laughed and spoke with the people. The crowd cried out their gratitude and their names in devotion. Only the soldiers protecting the lords seemed somewhat disgruntled by Darvad’s radical new tradition.
When the last of the gifts were gone, Darvad apologized to those left empty-handed, and promised a month of such gift-giving once he was king. The gathered crowd chanted his name and the prayer for his health and longevity.
Druv led the slow extrication back into the palace walls. They walked backwards, the soldiers protecting them from the grasping, thankful throngs until the palace gates could be shut. Even after the gates were closed, people continued to cry out Darvad’s name and clasp the iron bars.
Darvad laughed, his face transformed by merriment. Tarek smiled back at him, love radiating through him. He was so proud of his friend, so honored to be part of Darvad’s revolution.
“Whose idea was this?” Tarek asked.
Darvad smiled. “Mine. I thought that the Parans did a fine job honoring Asherwar in the traditional fashion. But if I am going to truly change the nature of this nation, I thought that Asherwar should come to represent something more. Something new. Yudar can honor the lords at a feast, but I will honor the people instead.”
“It was brilliant,” Tarek said. He looked at Darvad, and then hastily looked away, suddenly worried that the love he felt must be conspicuously obvious. Only last night Tarek had told Darvad he loved him. He would have to watch himself, or else Darvad might fully understand the terrible nature of that love.
“I hope you saved some of that bread for us,” Firdaus told Darvad. “I’m starving.”
“I have a celebratory feast awaiting us back in my suites,” Darvad replied, slapping Firdaus on the back. “All of you, come with me.”
They strolled along the labyrinthine palace walkways, speaking loudly. Inside the palace, Tarek could feel the heightened tension resulting from the attack on Jandu. Soldiers stood at every building, warily watching them pass. Their joy seemed insular, surrounded by sobriety.
As they passed by the central garden, Tarek caught sight of Jandu himself, speaking with his brother Baram. Both men looked up, startled, at the approach of Darvad’s friends. Baram failed to hide his rage, lips curling in anger.
Jandu just watched them pass. Tarek saw the jagged cut below Jandu’s jaw, the red flesh and black silk stitches standing out against Jandu’s light brown skin. Tarek and Jandu made eye contact for a second. Jandu’s expression was wary.
Darvad offered his half-brothers the sign of peace as he walked by. Jandu accepted the gesture with a slight bow, but he scowled at Firdaus. Everyone suspected who the culprit behind Jandu’s attack was. And yet no one would come out and accuse Firdaus of the crime.
Jandu did briefly smile at Iyestar, who looked weary and sad. And then Tarek turned the corner, and the Parans, and all the turmoil outside the palace, were out of sight.
In Darvad’s suite, Tarek enjoyed a meal of tea, fried cheese and vegetables, and roasted mango sandwiches. Druv’s wife left them and the conversation turned back to politics. The attempt on Jandu’s life along with the numerous challenges that Tarek had fought had alarmed Mazar and the regent had banned all further duels until the official announcement of the new king. Tarek expected Darvad to be angry with this. But this morning, he merely shrugged. “Mazar fears duels will exacerbate hostilities between traditionalists and moderates and could lead to open war. It’s causing too much instability in the court.”
Tarek couldn’t help his sigh of relief. The challenges had left him feeling rotten.
Tarek noticed that Iyestar had said barely a word all morning. He had handed out gifts with the others, but now, in the tranquility of Darvad’s rooms, he sat stiffly and barely touched his food. Tarek had seen Iyestar look poorly on many mornings, usually the result of wine. But this morning, Iyestar was particularly frosty, and he refused to even acknowledge Firdaus.
Firdaus seemed oblivious. He ate with both hands, his long gold necklace dangling precariously close to his plate of food.
“What do you propose to do now?” Tarek asked Darvad. “Will you wait for the announcement as planned?”
Darvad grinned. “I always like to have a contingency plan. Druv and Firdaus and I met earlier this morning to discuss what would happen if Mazar chooses Yudar over me.”
A bolt of anger shot through Tarek at being excluded. Darvad frowned. “Don’t be angry that you weren’t there. You were too busy playing nursemaid to your father.”
Tarek bristled. How could Darvad ask him to choose between himself and his father?
“It was a very boring meeting,” Darvad assured him. “But we now have a strategy that will take care of all of Mazar’s possible choices.”
“Surely such gestures as the one today will win you support among the common people,” Tarek said.
“The support of the common people doesn’t mean shit to Mazar,” Darvad replied. “He only cares about which lords will support me, and whether enough will do so to prevent a civil war.”
“If Yudar takes the throne we all know the lower castes will revolt. Keshan has seen it happen.” Druv poured everyone another round of sweet jasmine tea. “So we came up with a last challenge should Mazar make the wrong choice. It’s amazingly simple, really.”
“Simple because of my skill,” Firdaus interrupted and Druv nodded in agreement.
“If Yudar becomes king, we offer a friendly celebratory game of dice,” Druv said.
“And then we win the kingdom back from him.” Firdaus smiled.
Darvad and his friends gloated in silence as Tarek absorbed the meaning of their words. They were going to cheat at dice. They were going to steal the kingdom from Yudar through gambling. The idea was so appalling that Tarek didn’t even have a reaction.
But Iyestar did. Apparently this was the first he had heard of the plan as well, for he immediately stood.
“That’s it.” He threw his green harafa scarf over his shoulder and glared at the men. “I am leaving. I will have no further part in trickery.”
Darvad instantly stood to console him. “Iyestar, old friend, don’t—”
“No!” Iyestar stepped backward. “Your last foolish plan almost killed my brother! Death still hounds him. And for what? To ingratiate yourself to Firdaus so he can cheat for you?”
Firdaus stiffened. “Jandu threatened—”
“Enough.” Iyestar made the sign of peace to Darvad. “Prince, you have my loyalty. And the generous acts you engage in prove to me that you will be a worthy king. But I will not take part in any more deception. You have my secrecy on this matter, but not my complicity.”
Darvad seemed almost embarrassed. He reached out and touched Iyestar’s shoulder. “I am doing this only to guarantee that changes we all want are undertaken. You know this is for our vision. For your brother’s vision.”
“I know.” Iyestar nodded. “That is why you have my support. But do not involve me in these schemes any further.”
“Of course. Do only what you feel is right, Iyestar.”
Iyestar gave Tarek the sign of peace, and then departed. Tarek realized this was his opportunity to as well. To let Darvad know that being led by men like Firdaus and Druv would su
lly his reputation. To walk out as Iyestar did, still an ally and a friend, but not a conspirator.
But Tarek hesitated.
“My question is,” Firdaus dropped a few grapes into his mouth, “what was Keshan Adaru doing with Jandu in the first place? I thought Keshan was your ally.”
“Oh, give it a rest, Firdaus,” Darvad snapped. He sat down glumly, all of his joy from the morning evaporated.
Firdaus merely shrugged. He moved onto another helping of fried vegetables, and ate with his mouth open. Tarek remembered his mother smacking him on the side of the head any time he’d displayed such poor manners. Maybe Firdaus just needed a good smack.
“Do not worry yourself, Darvad,” Firdaus said loudly. “If Mazar chooses you, as he should, Iyestar will have no cause for concern. And if the dice game goes through, you will still end up looking like a hero.”
“How is that possible?” Tarek asked, unable to keep the anger from his voice. “Anyone with eyes will be able to see it for what it is.”
“But what kind of king would gamble his people away?” Druv asked. He raised his eyebrows. “We all know Yudar is addicted to dice. He will stop at nothing once he is on a losing streak. And with Firdaus on our side, he will lose. Once he has gambled the kingdom, it will be him that is shamed. People will not easily forgive a man who is so careless with his most valuable possessions.”
“I doubt that Mazar will idly sit by and allow the son of King Shandarvan to live out his days a penniless beggar,” Tarek said.
“Do you recall story of the Prophet Sadeshar?” Druv asked Tarek.
Tarek shook his head.
“He disgraced himself by distrusting the word of God. In the Book of Taivo, his followers send him into exile. If found within three years, his exile would begin again. But if he survived with no help from God or man in those three years, he would be considered sinless and free to reclaim his place at God’s side.”
“So the price of losing the dice game is exile?” Tarek asked.
Darvad nodded. “I must appear magnanimous, after all. Turn it into penance, and forgive all after three years.”
“But will you?” Tarek asked. “Will you really give him the kingdom after his penance?”
Darvad smirked. “If I make sure he is found during his exile, I won’t have to.”
It was still a trick. Tarek stared down at his empty plate, debating what to do. The very idea of cheating at dice was so immoral, he should have walked out on principle, just as Iyestar had.
But then Darvad threw his arm around Tarek’s shoulder, smiling in such a way that infused his very being. Darvad was so handsome when happy. And, after all, wasn’t Darvad’s vision of a new Marhavad worth sacrifices? Tarek himself tasted the joy of Darvad’s vision that very morning. Wouldn’t the end of the righteousness of the Triya caste be worth a liberal interpretation of the dice rules?
◆◆◆
Tarek returned to his house in darkness. He quickly scanned the faces of the soldiers outside his home, but gratefully did not find the commander amongst them. Perhaps he went back to Dragewan so that Tarek would be spared having to face him.
Inside, sweet beeswax candles lit the house. His father sat upright in bed with his eyes closed, but he opened them as soon as Tarek entered. His thin lips parted into a weak smile.
“My son. There you are.”
Tarek dismissed the attendants, and sat in the chair beside his father’s bed.
“Father,” Tarek whispered, putting his mouth close to the dying man’s ear. “I don’t know what to do. I have sworn an oath to stand beside Darvad, but in order to keep that oath, I have to do things I don’t believe in.”
Tarek wasn’t sure if his father heard him. His father closed his eyes and coughed loudly. But then he gathered his breath and spoke.
“An oath is a terrible burden,” his father said. He weakly patted his son’s thigh. “But you must keep your oath above all. The honor of a Suya is found in obedience to the lord to whom he is oath-bound. Do as your Triya lords command and you will never shame yourself nor your family.”
Tarek nodded. He sat silently by his father’s side until it appeared he had fallen asleep once more. Tarek leaned down and kissed his father’s leathered cheek.
“I’m very proud of you, son,” his father spoke so softly, Tarek could barely hear him.
Tarek squeezed his hand again and fled the room before his emotions overcame him.
Chapter 13
Jandu met Keshan’s wife, Ajani, for the first time the day following the attack. After waking, Jandu practically ran to his friend’s room, terrified that Keshan had died during the night.
Keshan slept soundly, but a plain-looking woman sat beside him and held his hand.
“Who are you?” Jandu asked.
The woman appeared affronted. “I’m Lord Adaru’s wife!”
Jandu smiled charmingly to cover his mistake.
“My apologies,” he said, bowing low to her. “I’m sorry to intrude. I’m—”
“—Prince Jandu Paran.” Ajani’s face was perfectly round, with large dark eyes and thick lashes. But her colorless lips lent no sensuality. Her hair was tightly pulled back into a nondescript bun. Jandu wondered how Keshan could marry her—he had his choice of any woman in Marhavad, and he had chosen this plain one?
She did have enormous breasts, he noted.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Jandu said. “Keshan and I are cousins but only met recently—”
Ajani smiled thinly. “I know. All Keshan ever does is talk about you. Day in, day out. It’s quite tiring.”
Jandu decided he didn’t like her.
“I can sit beside him while you have your breakfast, if you like,” Jandu suggested. He raised his voice slightly, hoping Keshan would wake up enough to kick his wife out.
“No, I’m fine, thank you,” Ajani said. She stared at Jandu pointedly. “I’ll stay with him.”
Jandu nodded. “All right.” He took his leave of her.
Bitch. Jandu went off to sulk by himself.
He really shouldn’t resent her, he thought. She was probably nice. She was an old friend of Suraya’s. When he saw the two women laughing and walking the palace grounds together, he knew there had to be something appealing about Ajani. But he didn’t see it at all.
Keshan recovered quickly. He claimed it was Baram’s frequent gifts of turtle soup and hot buttered milk. But Jandu also caught Keshan mumbling strange prayers in the Yashva tongue. He watched letters of ice burst from Keshan’s lips and disperse like mist over his wound, melting into his flesh. It was the first time Jandu had seen Yashva magic work to heal rather than to injure.
He wanted to sit by Keshan’s side and ask him about this, and a thousand other things, but the one thing he wanted seemed impossible, because Keshan was never alone.
Every time Jandu attempted to sit with Keshan, Suraya was already in his room, or Baram arrived carrying another medicinal meal, or Darvad and his entourage were there to visit, or Yudar lay prostrating himself, thanking Keshan again for saving Jandu’s life.
Someone always beat him to Keshan’s side. He tried arriving early in the morning, before the sun rose. But Mazar was already there, discussing philosophy and ethics with Keshan. In the afternoon, Iyestar visited, reviewing Tiwari politics. And every evening, Keshan’s world filled with women. Especially his wife. And it was soon very clear she didn’t like Jandu any more than he liked her.
Thanks to Keshan’s Yashva skills, he could walk by the end of the week, although he remained pale and moved cautiously. To celebrate he joined the Parans for breakfast on Yudar’s balcony, which overlooked the river.
The wind stirred up the surface of the Yaru in frothy swoops, and gulls dove down at dangerous angles to seize spawning fish. Jasmine bloomed in pots scattered around the balcony, lending the air additional sweetness.
Jandu did not arrive fast enough to sit next to Keshan, so instead he picked at his food and glared at Ajani, who sat hol
ding Keshan’s hand the entire meal.
“He was so brave!” Ajani declared. Jandu tried to ignore Ajani retelling the epic tale of how she met Keshan. Again.
“We had only met once previously, at my sister’s wedding competition,” Ajani said. She smiled widely at Keshan. “But I sent him a letter anyway, praying to God that he would rescue me before I had to marry Firdaus.”
Servants brought orange juice and lentil pancakes with sweet mango chutney. Jandu ate them without pleasure.
“Why didn’t you tell your father you disapproved of the arrangement?” Yudar asked. He had won big at the previous night’s dice game and now he brimmed with joy.
“You don’t know my father. Firdaus’ forests are more valuable to him than me.” Ajani shook her head. “An alliance with the lord of Chandamar would have greatly helped my father, but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t give up my heart to a man who has none.”
Keshan said nothing as she spoke. He had his eyes half-closed as he always did when he tried to hide his emotions. But Jandu knew him well enough now to recognize the little smile on his face. Keshan wanted to say something and held back.
Keshan’s eyes flickered briefly to Jandu. Jandu smiled at him, his whole body warmed with relief at even that little contact.
“So you wrote to Keshan,” Suraya said, smiling at her friend. “And he came for you.”
“Yes.” Ajani grabbed Keshan’s hand tightly, forcing him to relinquish his hold on his pancake. “I waited for him in the Prophet’s temple. He rode in on his chariot and whisked me away. My father’s entire army went after him for kidnapping, but
Keshan never faltered.” Ajani leaned over and kissed Keshan on the cheek. Keshan gazed at her, and then pinched her nose.
Jandu pushed his breakfast away.
“So how does living by the ocean suit you?” Suraya asked Ajani. She rolled a pancake for Yudar and put it on his plate.
“Tiwari is magnificent, you must come and visit,” Ajani said. She sipped at her orange juice and toyed with her long brown braid. “I was really nervous about it at first. It was during the great move, when half of Tiwari left the capital near Jagu Mali and started the new city from scratch. Moving was so unconventional, and yet Tiwari went with the decision, knowing Keshan would never let them down.”
