by Astrid Amara
But, with this new revelation, a part of Tarek’s heart softened toward Jandu. They had more in common than Tarek had originally supposed.
Keshan departed next, sneaking through the gate, Zandi bright on his shoulder. Not for the first time, Tarek wondered whose side Keshan was on. He clearly preferred Darvad’s politics, and yet he had taken a lover from the opposite camp.
Once they were gone, Tarek made his own exit, abandoning Druv’s party and deciding to walk the rest of the way home. He knew Darvad would miss him, but in all the wrong ways.
There was a peace there, in that temple, that could have washed away everything and left his heart healthy and whole.
But it was not meant for him.
Chapter 18
Jandu assumed Yudar would be angry with him for arriving back in Prasta at the last possible moment. Baram certainly had been. He’d almost punched Jandu for leaving, but Suraya restrained him, cautioning that a bruise would look bad at the formal ceremony.
Jandu got no chance to speak with Yudar the night he arrived home, as Yudar meditated in the palace temple. Therefore he sought Yudar the following morning, as his brother dressed into his formal wear alone.
“I’m glad you’re here,” was Yudar’s only comment. His expression showed the anxiety that an entire night’s meditation had not erased.
“Where are your servants?” Jandu asked.
“I sent them away. I wanted some quiet.” Yudar looked over at Jandu and smiled almost ruefully. “You aren’t the only one who occasionally requires solitude.”
“Do you want me to leave?” Jandu asked.
“No. Stay.” Yudar smiled at him. “I mean it, it’s good to have you here. I feel like I’m missing something precious when you’re not around.”
“Flatterer.” Jandu turned to Yudar’s full-length mirror and adjusted his breastplate. He wore full armor this morning in honor of the importance of the ceremony. Jandu’s heavy silver diadem already bothered him, and he’d only had it on for an hour.
“Did you have a pleasant journey?” Yudar struggled with the leather ties of his breastplate. He never developed the knack of tying knots out of sight.
“It was lovely,” Jandu told him. “There are places in Marhavad where no one cares what happens today.”
Yudar chuckled. “I wish I was there.”
“Let me help you.” Jandu took over tying Yudar’s breastplate and back plate. They stood together in amiable silence.
“Hand me your gauntlets,” Jandu said.
They were beautiful, gold and leather, with the Prasta crest of the sun emblazed across them, studded with a large black pearl. Jandu laced them tightly.
“Thank you, Jandu.” Yudar reached out and hugged Jandu to him. Yudar shook slightly.
“Are you all right?”
“Just nervous,” Yudar said.
“You’ll be fantastic,” Jandu told him, patting him on the shoulder. “You were born for this. You’ve been trained for this. No one could be a better king than you.”
Yudar expelled a large breath of air. “Well, let us hope that Mazar feels the same way.”
“Mazar is no fool.” Jandu raised the massive, jewel-encrusted diadem from Yudar’s table and placed it carefully on Yudar’s head. “This is going to give you a headache.”
Yudar smiled. “Some of us are used to wearing formal attire, Jandu.” He looked at himself in the mirror. Gold adorned him, head to toe. His red silk trousers shimmered with gold thread, and his gem-encrusted sword hilt glittered magnificently. Even his shoes bore elegantly embroidered suns. He looked like a god.
“Let’s go find out if I’m king.”
“Good luck,” Jandu said. He hugged his brother once more, and then followed him into the waiting entourage.
A procession of lords, ministers, messengers, soldiers, and relatives trailed Yudar as they made their way towards the large central garden. As Jandu walked, he tried to let the feeling of peace he acquired in Tiwari remain paramount.
But already, Jandu’s week in Tiwari faded like a dream. That glorious warmth and confidence and sense of belonging suffered under the tension that strangled the palace. Jandu found it ironic that he felt more like himself there, in Tiwari, than he did here, in his own home. With lords and ministers and priests surrounding him, Jandu felt trapped. Real life anxieties chewed away at the thin edges of Jandu’s memories.
Jandu’s body sparkled in the sunlight as the morning rays hit his armor of burnished steel and silver, decorated with small golden suns, protecting his chest, back, and upper arms. He wore matching silver bands on his wrists and lower arms. The metal grew hot, but for once Jandu didn’t care. Armor seemed like a wise decision on a day as tense as today.
Jandu had attended his share of formal announcements, but he had never seen anything like this. The garden was wall-to-wall bodies. Below, on the banks of the river, thousands upon thousands of citizens lined the roads and parks, looking up to see whether the Paran or Uru flag would be raised. Jandu took his place behind Yudar, alongside Baram and Suraya, at the front of the dais. Thousands of people stared at him, him and his family, and he brushed self-consciously at the curl of hair sticking out in front of his ear.
Baram matched Yudar in gorgeous gold armor. His diadem, too, shimmered with sapphires and pearls. And Suraya spared no detail, her diamond nose ring connected to her diamond earrings by a beautiful stretch of silver and pearls, her eyes darkened with kohl, henna on her hands, her dress luxuriant purple silk and silver embroidery.
“You look sexy,” Jandu whispered in her ear.
Suraya smirked behind her painted hand. “Behave, Jandu.”
On the other end of the dais stood Darvad Uru, resplendent in his own golden armor, alone. Nearby, his friends Tarek, Druv and Firdaus hovered, but on the dais, Darvad looked overwhelmed by the Paran’s unity.
And between them, old and tired, was Regent Mazar.
“Today is an auspicious day, a day where God has granted me the wisdom to choose the best course of action for our beloved nation,” Mazar began. “It is no easy task, because all the sons of King Shandarvan are fine men, noble men, with excellent hearts and strong arms, the Shentari faith within their souls. Choosing between Darvad Uru and Yudar Paran is like choosing between night and day, water and earth. Both are needed to bring balance and wholeness to our world, both are equally valuable to the people, and to my own heart.”
Jandu stifled a groan. Just say it already. Just get it over with. Everyone is waiting on one word.
“I have had one long year to contemplate the repercussions of choosing one over the other, knowing that the wrong choice could lead to instability and war. Since the great battles of our forefathers, we have lived in relative peace under the banner of this palace, and I have no wish to darken the royal name or bring the wrath of God upon me by instigating a war. I have prayed for guidance, and this morning, God has taken me by the hand and shown me the path by which I must follow.”
The silence hung over the entire city.
Mazar rubbed his eyes. And then he looked out at the crowd. “Because I cannot choose between night and day, between earth and water, or between my heart and my soul, I have determined that I will not choose.”
Jandu’s breath caught. What the hell did that mean?
“I will split Marhavad into two kingdoms,” Mazar said. “And let both sons of Shandarvan share in the bounty, and grant us their wisdom.”
There was a stunned silence. And then, instantly, chaos.
Darvad’s face turned red and that vein in his forehead pulsed angrily. Even Yudar, who remained calm and controlled in public, seemed flustered by the announcement. He frowned and looked at his hands, as if God planted a message for him there.
“What total bullshit!” Baram exploded, fists raising. “If anything will cause civil war, this will do it!”
Luckily, Baram’s exclamation was lost in the overwhelming drone of everyone else shouting at Mazar. Boos echoed across the ga
rden. Lords shuffled and looked to Yudar or Darvad for support.
Jandu breathed heavily. He had no idea how to respond. He hadn’t even considered this an option. No one had. He looked up and almost had to laugh as the flag raisers tried to raise both Paran and Uru flags on the pole at the same time.
Mazar cowered as the volume of verbal assault increased, as shouts filled the air.
“Please! Let us all calm down! We must have peace!” Yudar held his hand up over the crowd, begging for order, but no one could hear him above the roar of outrage. It took both him and Darvad together to finally still the masses, and even then, their eyes turned cold on Mazar for even contemplating dividing the nation into two.
Yudar bowed respectfully to Mazar and brought his hands together in the sign of peace. “We will abide your decision, Master Mazar, and beg God’s blessings for this new chapter in the history of our beloved nation.”
Darvad bowed as well, although the vein in his head still throbbed.
Darvad helped usher the tumultuous guests to the adjacent garden, where the celebratory feast was ready and waiting. Few seemed in the mood for food. But the wine was immediately opened and passed, and everyone eventually took their seats, rage crystallizing in the icy silence.
Small conversations took place, speculations, but the main table where the Parans and Darvad sat along with Mazar was about as far from the Adaru’s reckless and delightful dining experiences as Jandu could get.
Jandu knew his old master well enough to recognize the strained grimace on Mazar’s face. Once, when Jandu was just a boy, Mazar gave him a leather ball to play with. Jandu managed to toss it into the river less than half an hour later. Jandu tried to retrieve it and fell into the water instead, nearly drowning. Mazar discovered him and helped Jandu to shore, where he then beat Jandu mercilessly, shrieking at him for being so careless with his own life.
But what Jandu remembered most about the incident was the way Mazar looked about ten minutes after beating him. He’d worn a haunted expression of remorse and sick self-reproach.
The same sick apprehension enshrouded Mazar’s expression now, as the uncomfortable official celebration slunk into its second hour. Mazar should have made a choice. And he didn’t. Rather than alienating half of Marhavad, he had estranged everyone in one fell swoop.
The stilted conversations, whispers, and anxious glances between lords grew into an unbearable level of tension.
“I cannot bear this any longer,” Darvad announced suddenly and loudly, standing up dramatically. He put his hand on Yudar’s shoulder. “Yudar, you are my half-brother, and now my co-leader in this great nation. Let us put aside our differences and work together, in the spirit of cooperation.”
Yudar returned Darvad’s smile. “My feelings exactly, Darvad. I wish you no harm and look forward to working with you.” Yudar stood and the two embraced. A nervous applause broke out.
“Come, let us celebrate the proper way. May I challenge you to a friendly game of dice, to show the good will between us?”
Yudar’s eyes glinted. “Wonderful!” He clapped his hands.
“I don’t want to play alone,” Darvad told Yudar. “With your permission, I’d like to invite my friends to join me.”
“Of course,” Yudar said. He turned quickly to Jandu and Baram. “Both of you, come with me.”
Jandu almost protested. Yudar knew how he felt about gambling. But Baram violently shoved Jandu in Yudar’s direction. “Shut up and do what you’re told, for once,” Baram mumbled.
Outside, the spectators crowded around, following the two kings through the garden and into the gaming room at the edge of the courtyard. Those at the feast got up and practically ran to the gaming room as well.
Baram was still spitting in rage, but Jandu’s anger had turned into a coil of apprehension, sitting cold and slick at the bottom of his stomach.
Servants prepared the room for the impromptu game. Someone fetched Yudar’s own exquisite gaming board.
Jandu sat down cross-legged alongside his brothers on one side of the board. Yudar’s pieces were carved of ivory, and Darvad’s were made of ebony. A lone pair of dice lay on the board.
Jandu leaned forward to speak to Yudar from behind the great blocking girth of Baram.
“Yudar.” He kept his voice low. “I have a bad feeling about this game.”
Yudar sighed. He leaned forward to whisper into Jandu’s ear. “I cannot refuse a challenge; you know that.”
“But —” Jandu was interrupted by applause as Darvad himself entered the room. He quickly sat across from the Parans, flanked on either side by his friends Tarek, Druv and Firdaus. Darvad handed the long dice to Firdaus.
“Firdaus will roll for me,” Darvad said. Just the presence of Firdaus made Jandu’s skin crawl. Firdaus had overdone even his own usual opulence, wearing a garland of carnelians over his armor. Amber studded his diadem so thickly that the heron emblazoned across the gold surface was barely visible. A playful expression lit Firdaus’ dark skin, and lifted his drooping moustache.
“And Jandu will roll my dice,” Yudar said, already entranced by the sight of the board.
Jandu frowned. He didn’t want to have anything to do with the game.
“Please take the first turn.” Darvad offered Jandu the dice, then positioned his own ebony game piece. “I stake one hundred gold pieces from my share of the royal treasury.”
Yudar nodded at Jandu as if to reassure him. “And I will stake the same.”
Jandu felt the uncomfortable intensity of hundreds of eyes upon him. Lords and courtiers jostled each other to squeeze into the small gaming room. Already the warmth of their bodies coupled with the summer heat to make the space feel almost stifling. Jandu threw the dice.
“Five!” Yudar declared.
Firdaus scooped up the dice, rattled them in his hands, and then blew on them gently. He threw them down on the board.
The dice rolled a four.
Yudar’s mouth was locked in a small, non-descript line. The intensity of his stare was the only evidence of his excitement. Whispered speculations rose through the crowd. Jandu could hear them placing their own wagers on the outcome of the game.
Still, the game went well for Yudar. Darvad’s bets grew in size, but he continued to lose. He scowled when Yudar won his ruby collection, and Firdaus even had the decency to look embarrassed when he rolled a two, forfeiting Darvad’s newest prized possession, a white stallion from the great stables of Chandamar.
Mazar joined the spectators, seating himself to Yudar’s left. Anxiety still lined his face, but as the game progressed he seemed to relax slightly.
Baram laughed and taunted Darvad. Yudar sat stiff and still, but Jandu could see the thrill building in his eyes.
Every time Firdaus blew on the dice, Jandu thought he saw tiny flashes of light in the corner of his eye. Jandu looked around him, but no one else seemed to notice it. Jandu recalled that Firdaus was part-Yashva and his nervous tension grew.
Yudar only lost a few wagers toward the end, but he won the overall game. The spectators cheered him on. Jandu saw courtiers whose own fortunes hung in the balance of this new, precarious friendship watching the game closely. When Darvad asked Yudar for another round, and a chance to win back his horse and his rubies, Yudar agreed.
“Let’s stop while we’re ahead,” Jandu whispered. He did not like Firdaus’ flickering fingers, even if they hadn’t helped Darvad win.
“We’re just getting started,” Yudar replied, smiling calmly. He put the dice in Jandu’s hand. “May the prophets continue to bring good fortune to your hand!”
This second round, Yudar did worse. He soon lost his prizes from Darvad, as well as his own collection of precious onyx statues of the prophets. He lost their family’s cloisonné pottery, their formal saddles, their silver and diamond-studded bridles, their chariots.
Each roll, Yudar did not hesitate to up the stakes. He won back the chariots and Darvad’s mace, but he then began to lose agai
n, losing more.
Yudar’s expression did not change, whether he won or he lost. His eyes glazed over and he mumbled out stakes in a low voice.
As Darvad continued to win, Firdaus’ expression grew euphoric. He grinned with every roll of six, and Darvad and Druv cried out happily, laughing at each new triumph. Only Tarek sat still, his grim face mirroring Jandu’s own.
Firdaus rolled a six.
“The dice are loaded,” Baram said. He glared at Firdaus.
“Such a claim is an insult to me,” Firdaus stated loudly. “But if you feel so, we will switch to yours.”
Baram grabbed the dice from Firdaus’ hand and slammed them next to Jandu. He pushed Yudar’s dice over to Darvad’s side of the board.
The room grew hotter in the afternoon sun and the water in their glasses sweated profusely, but Yudar did not stop. By the time another hour had passed, Yudar had spent every penny he had.
Jandu had never seen Yudar like this. The stakes had risen so quickly, so quietly, that everyone seemed taken by surprise. It felt surreal, except that the room was too hot and the smells of sweating men too strong for it to be a dream. Yudar gambled all the time, but he rarely lost control like this.
“I stake all of my weapons and my armor,” Yudar said quietly.
“Maybe you should stop,” Baram told him.
Yudar refused. Jandu knew he would not stop because he understood how Yudar thought. His brother honestly believed he could win it all back, that all he needed was one lucky break. One bad throw of Firdaus’, and then Yudar could use his skill to gain back his fortunes and more. Jandu suddenly realized that Yudar would not quit until he lost everything.
“We have to stop now.” Jandu resolutely placed the dice on the board.
“No.” Yudar’s eyes never strayed from the board.
“I won’t throw the dice anymore,” Jandu hissed to Yudar.
“Fine, I’ll roll myself.” Yudar picked up the dice and cast them out on the board.
Yudar won, and relief swept through the room. Jandu swallowed to try and regain moisture in his throat. His body ached with tension. Darvad conceded all of his armor, and then staked some of Yudar’s possessions back to him. When Yudar lost again, his confidence waned slightly. A sheen of sweat formed on Yudar’s forehead.
