by Astrid Amara
Tarek had to pull himself together. He wiped his eyes and stood again, although he still felt weak in the legs.
“Tell them…” Tarek swallowed. Tell them what? His father was gone. He couldn’t pass on any messages to the one who wanted them most. And now, with the war, he would not even be able to attend his father’s funeral pyre. “Tell them to cremate him in the honorable Triya tradition.”
Laiu frowned. “But my lord… your father was not a Triya, and they may protest—”
“—Tell them to do it!” Tarek shrieked, too upset to control himself. “Tell them to do it, and if they don’t, I will see them executed!”
“Yes, my lord!” Laiu fled the tent.
Tarek covered his face with his hands. He needed to be there. He needed to be with his father now, at least, in death.
“Tarek?”
“Oh for God’s sake, what now?” Tarek yelled.
Darvad walked in, eyes wide in surprise. “I’m sorry. Am I intruding?”
Tarek closed his eyes. “I’m sorry, Darvad. I didn’t realize it was you.”
“My chariot is ready to leave. I wanted to apologize, and…” Darvad narrowed his eyes. “Are you crying?”
Tarek looked at him wearily. “My father has died.”
“My God! I am so sorry!” Darvad reached out to touch Tarek’s shoulder, and then hesitated. “Tarek, what can I do?”
“Nothing. It’s all right. I’ll be fine.” Tarek sat down on his bed.
Darvad sat beside him. “What are you going to do?”
“What can I do?” Tarek snapped. “I’m going to war this very day. It’s a week’s journey to Dragewan.”
Darvad touched Tarek’s knee. “I will tend your father’s funeral pyre.”
Tarek blinked. “You will?”
Darvad nodded. “Of course. I am heading back to Prasta, to gather supplies before I go to Pagdesh. Before I leave, I will see your father put to rest.”
All of Tarek’s anger faded. He let his body go limp against Darvad’s. The two of them sat there in silence.
“Thank you,” Tarek said finally.
“He will have all royal honors,” Darvad promised.
“And I will find Kadal and Sahdin for you,” Tarek responded.
Darvad smiled weakly. “I wish I could be in both places at once.”
“Me too.” Tarek sighed.
“You will be magnificent on the battlefield, Tarek,” Darvad said. “Your father will be proud of you in heaven.”
Tarek’s heart melted slightly.
“Remember to bring Aisa to me,” Darvad asked.
Tarek’s heart hardened again. “I’ll try my best,” he said, lying.
Darvad put his arm around Tarek’s shoulder. “What a great joy it would be, to return having found the Parans, forcing them into three more years of exile, and to celebrate the memory of your father with a victory in Jezza and my marriage to the prettiest girl in Marhavad!”
“Yes,” Tarek croaked, “how joyful.”
Darvad let go of Tarek and left the tent. Tarek followed him outside to watch him jump into his chariot. The horses whinnied in protest. Darvad tapped his charioteer on the shoulder and they left.
Tarek turned to see his general. They bowed at each other.
“We’re ready, my lord,” the general said.
Tarek watched Darvad’s chariot disappear around a dusty bend. His family was dead. His only loyalty now was to the man driving from he battlefield. Tarek took a deep breath, steadied his resolve, and turned back to his general.
“Let’s go.”
Chapter 30
JANDU STRUGGLED WITH HIS HAIR.
He fussed in front of his mirror for almost an hour, but he still couldn’t force it into an attractive braid.
In frustration, he threw the ivory brush against the wall of his room, imagining the force would shatter the handle in two. Instead it limply smacked the white plaster wall and tumbled, unscathed, to the carpet. It didn’t even mark the wall.
“Fucking pitiful,” Jandu growled at his reflection. He examined his arms in the mirror for the hundredth time, both amazed and repulsed by their thinness, the frailty of his wrists, his tiny fingers.
He sighed and got up to retrieve his brush.
Jandu sat back down at the dressing table. His room was furnished with two small beds, two camphor chests, and several bright green sitting pillows on a plush green floor. He shared the room with another female servant, a young girl named Rani who had so many hair ribbons, brushes and accoutrements they poured out of the dresser’s meager drawer and littered the surface of the table. Jandu pushed aside her cheap jewelry, her pink ribbons, her brushes, and set to his own hair again, determined to get it into a braid.
It had taken only one experience crossing Afadi palace’s courtyard without one for Jandu to realize how many intricacies there were to being a woman. When he first strolled through the large palace courtyard, Jandu had been the instant fascination of every man in sight. For a fleeting moment, he had sweated horror—they all somehow knew he preferred men. The lust in their eyes was unbridled.
But then he had realized that the men stared because he was masquerading as an unmarried woman and walking around with loose hair and with a zahari top that was far too small.
This would be the only time in Jandu’s life that he could openly look at men around him. But Jandu didn’t have to be a woman long to understand the implications of his actions. Looking back at men expressed interest. And with his hair loose and his expression brazen, he was taking an unnecessary risk.
Jandu stared at his reflection as he inexpertly twisted his hair back. He had to admit he had turned into quite a catch. His body was petite and curvy. His breasts weren’t large but they were taut and perky, bursting from the borrowed zahari top in an attempt to proclaim their existence to the world. His face was thin, his hair framing his skin like ebony surrounding a pearl.
In fact, the only part of Jandu’s body that still showed the warrior inside was his eyes. They were the same intense, cold blue they had always been.
But he wasn’t a warrior any more, he reminded himself. He was a music teacher—a music teacher who had been summoned to meet Lord Indarel, his wife Shali, and the child who Jandu would tutor. And if he was going to have a royal audience, his hair had to be in order.
“Fuck this,” Jandu grumbled. He took a strap of leather and tied his long locks back like a soldier would.
A soft knock rattled his door, and Suraya peeped her head around the corner.
“Hello?” She smiled at Jandu.
Jandu dropped his brush and rushed to Suraya, pulling her in the room and slamming the door behind her. He yanked her into a forceful hug. It had been two days since he had seen her or any of his family. All of them had been dispersed to separate quarters throughout the palace.
“Jandu!” Suraya gasped, laughing.
“God, I’ve missed you,” Jandu said. He used to kiss the top of Suraya’s head when he felt affectionate. Now that he was shorter than her, he made do with pecking her on the cheek.
“How are you?” Suraya asked.
Jandu just grinned. He hadn’t realized how much he missed his family until this moment. He originally thought that solitude would be a welcome relief after the years of having his family constantly around him. But he missed Suraya and Baram like a physical pain. He even missed Yudar’s religious lectures. It was that bad.
“I’m trying very hard to keep a low profile. I’m worried someone will detect I’m an imposter,” Jandu said.
Suraya shook her head. “Not by the looks of you. No one will guess you are a man, Jandu. They may think you are strange, but you’ll be a strange woman. So don’t worry.” Suraya looked around his room. “Your room is nice. Ours is off the courtyard, it’s noisy.”
“It’s all right,” Jandu lied. Compared to the last two years, his room was luxury incarnated. Even as a servant, Jandu was entitled to quarters in the single women’s quarter
s of the palace, light and cheery, with white walls, a plaster ceiling, and large, open windows high on the wall to let sunlight in.
“Do you share this room?” Suraya asked, noting the extra bed and chest, and the plethora of brushes and hair ribbons on the dressing table.
Jandu nodded. “Her name is Rani. She’s one of the lady’s maids and spends most of her time in the laundry. She seems nice.”
Suraya frowned. “With a roommate to watch your every move, you are going to have to be careful.”
“It makes everything more difficult. I have to pretend all the time.”
Suraya narrowed her eyes at Jandu, suddenly taking in his appearance. “You are not going to meet Lord Indarel looking like that, are you?” She sighed. “Jandu, you have to put some effort into this.”
“I’m trying!” Jandu scowled. He looked down at his plain yellow zahari. “But what can I do? Your zaharis are too big, this one is too small, and I can’t make a pleat for shit.”
Suraya tried to hide her laughter. This just made Jandu angrier.
“Don’t laugh!” he yelled.
“I told Lady Shali your chest of belongings was stolen on the way here,” Suraya said. “She will send her tailor to have a few zahari tops made for you.”
“Thank God.” Jandu squeezed his breasts. “I think they’re going to pop out any moment.”
Suraya blushed. “It’s the style these days, dummy.”
“Yeah, well, it’s gross.”
“We should go,” Suraya said. “I’ll give you a quick tour before we go to the reception hall.”
Jandu hesitated. “Oh… Suraya?”
“Hmm?” She paused at the door.
Jandu stared at the floor. “Can you show me how to…”
Suraya waited while Jandu remained silent.
“Uh…” Jandu blushed.
“Jandu, are you menstruating?” Suraya’s eyes grew wide.
“Ew! No!” Jandu scowled.
“So, what?” Suraya smiled coyly. “Having difficulty peeing?”
“Well, yeah, but that’s not what I was going to ask you.”
“What?”
“Can you show me how to braid my hair?” Jandu’s voice was a girly whisper.
Suraya laughed. “Good lord. You can’t even do that?”
“I’m a warrior!” Jandu made two fists. The henna on his hands made his fingers look even more delicate.
“Oh, so tough,” Suraya mused. She came behind him and ran her hands through Jandu’s hair. “Sit on the chair, warrior, in front of the mirror.”
Jandu sat back and let Suraya run her hands through his thick hair as she stood behind him.
“Your hair is so pretty,” she said. “I wish you would keep it long once you switch back.”
“Long hair gets in the way when fighting,” Jandu said. He closed his eyes and leaned back into Suraya’s hands. Her fingers on his scalp felt wonderful.
“It doesn’t bother Baram,” Suraya said. She let go of Jandu’s hair and reached up to undo her own braid.
“Baram fights with a mace like an animal,” Jandu said. He watched Suraya in the mirror. “I fight like a god, with a bow. Hair is distracting.”
Suraya snorted. “I don’t know any animals that fight with blunt objects.”
“Baboons.”
“You’re calling your older brother a baboon?”
“Among other things.”
Suraya laughed. She positioned herself next to Jandu, and showed him how to braid her hair, and then his own. The sweet smell of the champak blossoms outside his room, and the soft ray of sunshine mellowed him to the point that his muscles felt like warm butter.
When Jandu’s hair was finally in a tidy braid, Suraya led him out of his room and through an open walkway to the main courtyard.
Like Prasta, Afadi’s palace consisted of numerous separate buildings, clustered around a large paved courtyard with a fountain in the center. The lord’s suites were in a sculpted marble building on the east side of the courtyard. Stone buildings to the north and west housed the palace staff, one for married couples and the other for all of Lady Shali’s endless young female servants. Jandu’s building and the lord’s suites were protected by quiet Afadi guards who huddled in the shadows of stone awnings to avoid the sunshine.
The fourth building around the courtyard, to the south, was the public reception hall. It was the only structure built directly into the great white walls of the palace grounds, allowing access to the city outside.
Suraya shook her head as she watched Jandu. “You need to work on your walk. You move like you’re stalking something.”
Jandu shrugged. “I’ve been walking like this my whole life. I can’t change now.” But he slowed down his pace, and tried to mimic Suraya’s body movements.
“Well, try to be more lady-like.” Suraya pointed to a smaller building behind the main servant’s quarters. “Those are the kitchens. That’s where Baram is.”
“Have you seen him?” Jandu asked.
Suraya nodded. “I saw him preparing lunch when the lady asked me to bring her some lemon water.”
“Does he look happy?” Jandu frowned at two men who watched his and Suraya’s passage through the courtyard with wanton interest.
Suraya shrugged. “Not really. I think he works really hard.”
“And you?”
Suraya smiled. “I’m working like hell, but I don’t mind. It’s still better than washing your blood-stained clothes in that freezing lake with no soap.”
Jandu smiled and put his arm through Suraya’s. “Sorry.”
“Well, don’t be,” Suraya said. “Besides, I think you have your own work cut out for you.”
“Why?”
“Wait until you meet Lord Indarel’s children.”
Jandu halted. “What? Are they horrible?”
Suraya grinned mischievously and led him into the public chambers.
Jandu entered the reception room and bowed low, along with Suraya. He looked up to study his new masters.
Lord Indarel was older than Jandu expected him to be. He had a neatly trimmed gray beard and thinning hair tucked behind a small but ornate diadem, complete with gold-encrusted images of the Shentari prophets.
Beside him sat Lady Shali, many years younger than him. She was not pretty, but she was elegant, with a refined nose and piercing brown eyes. She held her head high, her chin jutting out in challenge. Jandu wondered how such a small neck could support all her hair, rife with jewels pinned in every lock. “Come closer,” Lord Indarel commanded, beckoning Jandu towards him.
“Azari recommended Janali, her sister-in-law, to teach music to the children,” Shali said.
“She taught children in Prasta,” Suraya explained. “She is a wonderful tutor.”
Indarel studied Jandu carefully. Jandu felt himself flushing under the scrutiny. He looked at the floor, worried his indignation at being examined like a piece of meat would show in his eyes.
“Look at me,” Indarel ordered.
Jandu looked up. Indarel caught the smolder in Jandu’s eyes, and he frowned.
“Do you want to work here?” Indarel asked.
“Yes, my lord,” Jandu said. He looked down at his hennaed feet.
“What will you teach them?” Shali asked.
“Flute, my lady,” Jandu said.
Shali smiled. “Lovely! I’ve always thought flute refined a person.” She settled back into her chair. “Let’s hear you play something.”
“Yes, my lady.” Jandu steadied his breathing as he reached down to the pouch on his belt and pulled out Zandi. The metal warmed in his fingers, as if Zandi expected his caress.
Jandu closed his eyes, and concentrated on the song Keshan taught him on their last day together. It had been the most complicated of all the songs Keshan taught, and it captured a variety of emotions through its sweeping notes. Jandu played the song well, letting his mind toy with the sounds as he thought of Keshan, the smell of his hair, the taste of h
is skin, the deep, red softness of his lips.
“That was beautiful.”
Jandu opened his eyes, and saw that Indarel and Shali were both smiling down at him, their enthusiasm clear.
“You should teach our daughter, Vaisha,” Indarel said.
“No.” Shali shook her head. “Vaisha has no interest in music. But Abiyar does. Perhaps she can teach him?”
Lord Indarel did not seem pleased with the idea of his youngest son learning flute. But he also appeared to be completely under the power of his wife. “As you wish,” he said to her.
Shali smiled in triumph. “Good! Then you will instruct Abiyar. Please stay with us and tutor him.”
“Of course, my lady.” Jandu bowed. “Thank you.”
Suraya led Jandu out of the reception hall, and then took him to the servant in charge of Indarel’s three sons as well as his young daughter, Vaisha.
Jandu met his student later that afternoon in one of the palace sitting rooms, a small room stark of color but lavishly furnished with plush couches and pillows.
His student, Abiyar, was fifteen years-old and strutted in as if he were King of Marhavad. He dressed like a noble hero, but his bravado contrasted dramatically with his scrawny, teenaged frame. His body was thin with lanky arms jutting out from under his armor like stalks. There was a fire in Abiyar’s eyes, a soft burning, that showed both his intensity and his ultimate sincerity. His slightly slanted black eyes, long black hair, and excessive jewelry made him seem almost feminine in his young male beauty.
After introductions were made, the servant in charge of Lord Indarel’s children excused himself and left Jandu alone with Abiyar and a guard. Abiyar’s demeanor changed slightly. He nervously drew himself in and sat down shyly.
Jandu smiled at him. “Have you played any instrument before?”
Abiyar shook his head.
“The lord said you enjoy music,” Jandu said. He took out his flute.
“I like music,” Abiyar said quietly. His voice was soft. “But I’ve never learned to play any. My father says that men should learn the art of war, not music. Music is for girls.”
“Not true,” Jandu said. He pointed to the boy with his flute. “I know a Triya prince who has conquered at many battles, and is braver than any warrior I know. And he is very adept at playing the flute.” Jandu held out the instrument.
