The Archer's Heart

by Astrid Amara

  “I can’t.” Jandu backed away further. “I’m busy.”

  “You are a servant of Lord Indarel,” Hanu said. “And I am an honored ambassador. I am sure the lord could see fit to order you to accompany me.”

  Jandu didn’t answer. He started back towards his family.

  Hanu followed him doggedly. “I know you are not married. And I am a very generous man—”

  “—Fuck off,” Jandu spat. He walked faster. Rani’s fine zahari impeded his movements. It was wrapped so tight around his legs that he could only take tiny steps.

  Hanu lunged and grabbed Jandu’s arm. He looked furious.

  “How dare you—”

  Jandu drove his fist into Hanu’s mouth. When Hanu cried out in pain, Jandu stomped on his foot and then dashed as fast as he could back to the arena.

  His heart pounded furiously by the time he got back to his family.

  He could be severely punished for punching an ambassador. Especially the Chandamar ambassador. The peace between Afadi and Chandamar had been on a knife’s edge for the last few years, and Jandu knew it wouldn’t take much to slice through the ruse of amicability.

  “What happened?” Suraya grabbed his hand, noticing the blood on it.

  “Firdaus’ brother just tried to molest me. I cut my knuckle on his tooth.”

  Yudar and Baram instantly glared at him.

  “What?” Yudar said.

  Jandu took deep breaths to steady himself. “The bastard! What did he think, I would just obey him?”

  Yudar fiddled with his turban. “Oh no. This is not good.”

  “It’s bad enough being a woman,” Jandu snapped. “Now I must endure this?”

  “Firdaus’ brother? Hanu, the Ambassador?” Suraya asked.

  Jandu put his fist to his mouth and sucked on his knuckle. “Yes. What are we going to do?”

  “You are going to stay out of sight, that’s what you are going to do,” Yudar said. “Chandamar and Afadi are on the brink of war. This kind of insult could ruin the peace Indarel has spent years developing.” He shook his head. “Everything is always difficult with you.”

  “Me?” Jandu asked angrily. “Why is this my fault?”

  “Couldn’t you just have politely said no?” Yudar asked.

  “I did. He didn’t accept it.”

  Baram hadn’t said a word. Jandu looked at him and now saw the rage in his face.

  “If he lays a hand on you, I swear I’ll cut his throat,” Baram growled.

  Jandu had the absurd desire to laugh. It was so surreal, the whole situation. Baram having to defend him against another man. Jandu had never feared anyone, other than Keshan, but that was for an entirely different reason.

  Yudar took a deep breath and looked at Baram. “You’ll both do as I tell you. Jandu, remain in the women’s quarters, and go out as little as possible. If Hanu doesn’t see you, then you’ll be fine. Hopefully he won’t ask Lord Indarel for your dismissal.”

  “And if he does?” Jandu let Suraya take his hand and wrap it with a cloth.

  Yudar sighed. “We’ll deal with that situation if we come to it.”

  Chapter 33

  FOLLOWING YUDAR’S ADVICE, JANDU REMAINED IN THE women’s quarters.

  If Hanu told anyone what had happened between him and Jandu, no one had heard of it. Jandu asked his most effusive source of palace gossip, Rani, but she confirmed that Hanu wasn’t saying anything about Janali or being punched.

  Rani was wide-eyed and thrilled with Jandu’s story, however. After the competition, she sat on Jandu’s bed with him and begged for a blow-by-blow of the attack and defense. And after that she asked Jandu to show her how it was done. They spent a cathartic evening punching pillows and stomping on imaginary feet. Rani’s expression when she practiced the moves Jandu taught her was so violent that Jandu wondered how many times she’d been in the same position but without his skill or training.

  Jandu indulged her, having grown fond of her companionship. Recently, Rani had found herself a lover, one of the grooms in the stable, and so she was gone much of the time, leaving Jandu alone and bored in his own quarters.

  Lady Shali, upon hearing that Jandu had sequestered himself, ordered a soldier to escort Jandu to and from his daily music lessons so that Abiyar could continue his studies. When Jandu heard about this, he felt he’d reached a whole new level of emasculation. He sought an audience with Shali to beg her not to go to such extremes for him.

  “But I have to, don’t you see?” Shali was having her hair done, and smiled coyly at Jandu as he stood in her doorway, awaiting her commands. “I don’t know what you have done to him, Janali, but Abiyar is absolutely enchanted with you. You are the only tutor Abiyar has ever had that he speaks of with reverence. He begged me to see to continuing his flute lessons with you.”

  The knowledge that Abiyar wanted to see him sent a warm rush of happiness through Jandu. He hadn’t spoken to him since the competition, and he worried that Abiyar was angry at him for some reason. Now Jandu bowed low and thanked Shali for her assistance in securing his safety.

  ◆◆◆

  Back in the music room, Abiyar had a strange grin on his face.

  “I’d forgotten how tiny you are,” Abiyar said.

  Jandu rolled his eyes. “It’s been a week, Abi.”

  “Such a sweet week,” Abiyar mused.

  Jandu smirked back. “I’d forgotten how rotten you are.” The two of them had taken to insulting each other lightly. Jandu briefly worried that his behavior might be construed as flirtation, but he always kept his distance from Abiyar, and just prayed the boy didn’t harbor any romantic intentions.

  Jandu patiently sat through a full flute lesson with Abiyar. Abiyar truly had a gift for music, unlike Jandu, and it was becoming painfully clear to both of them that the student’s abilities outstripped the tutor’s. Jandu remembered his own archery training under Mazar, and the day both he and his master realized he had surpassed Mazar. Jandu had felt a rush of pure pleasure, but also guilt that he’d hurt his teacher’s feelings. But Mazar had shown nothing but pride at his pupil’s abilities, congratulating Jandu on his achievements.

  Jandu thought of that now, as he listened to Abiyar play in a way that he never could. Jandu’s trills were flat and unenthusiastic. Abiyar manipulated the notes like they were puffs of air, blowing them in every direction, changing them, curving them around the rhythm. When Abiyar completed his song, Jandu clapped his hands.

  “Brilliant! Abi, that was fucking brilliant!” Jandu clenched his mouth shut. Cursing was definitely not lady-like. But once again, Abiyar ignored Jandu’s social transgressions.

  “I’m almost as good as you,” Abiyar said.

  “Don’t be modest,” Jandu scoffed. “You’re better than me.”

  Abiyar sat beside him, blushing nervously. “No. Janali, I meant…”

  “…It’s okay,” Jandu said. He put his hand on Abiyar’s shoulder. “I’m very proud of you. The truth is, my musical skills are limited. At the end of this year, I shall ask your mother and father to find you a more advanced music instructor who can take your training further than I can.” He smiled. “You truly have a gift, Abi.”

  Abiyar, who had turned slightly pink when Jandu touched him, now blushed bright red and fidgeted with his trousers. Jandu pulled his hand back as if scalded. He recognized the boyish enthusiasm on Abiyar’s young, shy face as he stared into Jandu’s eyes. Abiyar did have a crush on him.

  Jandu immediately changed the subject.

  “Has your weapons master, Devdan, returned to continue your weapons training?”

  Abiyar frowned. “He will be gone for another extended period of time. Until my father can find a replacement, I will be without an instructor.”

  Jandu shook his head. “For God’s sake, why isn’t your father getting you better training? What are you going to do if there’s ever a war in Afadi?”

  “I can handle it,” Abiyar boasted. But they both knew it was a lie.

/>   “It doesn’t make sense,” Jandu said.

  Abiyar shrugged. “Sure it does. My father doesn’t care if I die or not.”

  Jandu’s expression softened. “That can’t be true.”

  Abiyar looked resigned. “It is.”

  “Well I care,” Jandu said quietly. “You may be your father’s youngest son but that doesn’t mean you should get less training or be treated unequally. In war, you will be expected to defend your state and this kingdom as skillfully as your older brothers. You don’t have to be the heir apparent to love and protect your country.”

  “Of course I’ll defend Afadi,” Abiyar said. “But it doesn’t matter to my father if I die in the process.”

  Jandu hesitated. “You know how I told you I once worked in Prasta, for the Parans?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, Jandu Paran is like you. The youngest of three sons. But even as the youngest, he was given equal amounts of training by their weapons master, Mazar. Even though he was the third son, and fourth in line for the throne, it didn’t mean he was worth less than the others.”

  “That was Mazar,” Abiyar said. “This is Indarel. My father. If it isn’t about Ramad or Parik, he doesn’t care.” Abiyar smiled sadly. “I’m not saying that to make you feel bad for me, Janali. I’m just stating a fact. Everyone knows it. Why pretend it isn’t true?”

  Jandu looked at the floor, trying to come up with something positive to say. He didn’t notice Abiyar get up, but when he heard the boy cough, he looked up, surprised to see Abiyar holding his bow.

  Jandu narrowed his eyes. “What’s this?”

  Abiyar smiled. “Well, I think it’s about time I take matters into my own hands. Until my father finds me another weapons master, perhaps you could teach me some lessons. You have admitted, after all, that my musical abilities have surpassed yours. But your archery skills still exceed mine.”

  Jandu frowned. “Abi, if anyone finds out, I could get in a lot of trouble.”

  “It will be our secret,” Abiyar promised. He walked over and locked the door.

  Jandu sighed. “And what are we going to shoot at? The wall?” He shook his head. “It will never work.”

  “We won’t shoot,” Abiyar’s expression was almost pleading. “You can just help me with my stance and draw, that’s all.”

  Jandu looked to the door. “There are guards outside. Don’t you think they are listening?”

  Abiyar’s diadem came askew and tilted on his head. Frustrated with it, he took it off and tossed it onto the settee. His hair looked rumpled and shiny.

  “Who cares what they think? My brother Ramad says the guards are ignorant Suya caste who have nothing to offer the world.”

  “Your brother should shut his mouth about things he knows nothing about,” Jandu said. Not for the first time, he recognized the rage he felt over a lower caste insult, and realized how much he himself had changed from the days he had been a young brash prince living in a grand palace. There were times when Jandu used to tattle on sleeping guards to get them flogged. Now he went out of his way to make sure the guards in Afadi’s palace didn’t get into trouble. His whole perception of caste had changed through poverty and insult.

  “Look, stupid, smart, whatever—the guards are going to hear us talk,” Jandu said, lowering his voice. “And they are going to wonder why there is no music.”

  Abiyar smiled. “So we’ll take turns playing the flute while you help me with my stance.”

  A thrill of excitement rushed through Jandu.

  “Well?” Abiyar grinned at him, his bow held out. “I can’t do much worse than I did at the competition. How about helping me improve?”

  Jandu looked at the door, Abiyar, and the bow. A slow, dazzling grin spread across his face.

  “Okay. But you do everything I say.”

  “I will.”

  They began their practice.

  ◆◆◆

  It was another season before Lord Indarel finally chose another weapons master for Abiyar. During their lessons together, Jandu had perfected Abiyar’s stance and the way he held his bow. But he knew his assistance was limited without being able to see Abiyar shoot. When Abiyar’s new instructor Eshau arrived, a specialist in swordplay and archery and former general from the State of Jagu Mali, Jandu optimistically hoped Abiyar would at last receive the instruction he needed.

  What he hadn’t counted on was how seriously Master Eshau took his job. The first day he met with Abiyar, Eshau informed the boy they would practice several hours every day, and that this time was to be strictly limited to weapons training.

  Abiyar missed several flute lessons before Jandu was finally irritated enough to hunt Abiyar down, intending to have a word with him about responsibility. Of course, he was also dying to meet this new weapons master, and see Abiyar shoot.

  As Jandu came around the corner of Abiyar’s private courtyard, he spied Eshau, a fierce-looking man, assessing Abiyar’s archery skills.

  Abiyar’s aim had vastly improved in the months since the New Year’s festival, and he struck the target close to the bull’s eye, pride radiating from his lanky body in almost visible waves. Jandu smiled, allowing himself a moment of simple happiness, seeing this boy, whom he had grown to love like a little brother, perfect the basics of Jandu’s favorite sport.

  When Abiyar saw Jandu, his face broke into a boyish smile. “Janali!” He motioned to Jandu. “Come watch me shoot.”

  Master Eshau swiveled, and glared at Jandu. Jandu stuck his chin out, straightening under Eshau’s withering gaze. Jandu might have been wearing pink, he might have horrid, glittery flowers embroidered on his zahari top and a white ribbon in his hair, but he still had some small shred of pride. He returned the truculent man’s challenging glare.

  Master Eshau shooed Jandu out of the courtyard. “No, no, no! We are training. No distractions!” He pushed Jandu toward the gate.

  Jandu wanted very badly to hurt him. “Get your hands off me.”

  “Janali is all right,” Abiyar said quickly. “She used to be Jandu Paran’s charioteer.”

  Jandu cringed internally. Of all the excuses Abiyar could have made, this was the worst.

  Eshau burst out laughing. “What lies have you been telling, little girl? I know Jandu Paran, and he would never have you for his charioteer.”

  Jandu studied Eshau’s face, but he did not recognize him. “How do you know him?”

  “Get out of here,” Eshau said. “Abiyar, it is bad luck to practice archery in front of women.”

  Jandu looked at the man like he was insane. “What? Where did you get that bullshit? I’ve never heard anything more preposterous—”

  “—Out!” Eshau shoved Jandu all the way through the gate, and slammed shut the iron metal door.

  Jandu glared at him a moment longer before swearing and walking away.

  “He doesn’t know the first thing about Jandu Paran,” he mumbled under his breath. “Name dropper. Asshole.” He was so focused on his anger he didn’t see Hanu crossing the courtyard at the same time.

  Jandu froze, but then realized that Hanu would never assault him in front of so many witnesses. Not that Hanu didn’t look like he would like to try. He watched Jandu’s cautious movement back to his quarters with malice and lust.

  Right before Jandu slipped into his building, he lifted his foot slightly in Hanu’s direction, showing him the sole of his sandal. It was a childish insult, insinuating that Hanu was worse than excrement that Jandu would scrape from his foot. The effect of the insult was instantaneous. Hanu ran towards him. But Jandu was safely back in the women’s quarters before Hanu could get to him.

  ◆◆◆

  The next morning, Abiyar met Jandu at their regularly scheduled time, but rather than carrying his flute case, Abiyar came with a bright, slightly lop-sided bouquet of pink cassias. After anxiously handing Jandu the flowers and pacing the room several times, he told Jandu that Master Eshau had officially cancelled Abiyar’s music lessons.

>   Jandu could not hide his disappointment and this caused Abiyar to pace more furiously, running his hands through his hair, looking like he was about to cry. “I tried to tell him these lessons were important to me, but he won’t have it, Janali! He says that flute is for girls and if I am to be a true Triya warrior, I should dedicate all my spare time to weapons, and nothing else.”

  Jandu gripped the flowers tightly and took a deep breath. His role in the palace had just been made irrelevant. Abiyar went on, stating that he was sure his new weapon’s master would allow Abiyar time to take up flute with Jandu again, once he had improved his fighting skills.

  Jandu sat on the couch and watched Abiyar work himself into a frenzy of guilt about ending their lessons. He felt a distant sense of loss. He had been passing on his knowledge of archery for months, and took tremendous pride in Abiyar’s achievements. Now, suddenly, he had been replaced, and no one would ever acknowledge the work he had done.

  Abiyar sat next to Jandu nervously, and looked into his eyes.

  “Are you angry with me?” Abiyar asked.

  Jandu sighed. “No. I am angry with Eshau, but I understand.” He tried to smile. “It is for the best. You have to improve your battle skills. ”

  Abiyar was very still. He stared at Jandu strangely.

  “And, if your father allows it, I will stay here in the palace until you need me again,” Jandu said. He hoped Lord Indarel wouldn’t kick him out. Less than two months of their exile remained.

  “Of course he will!” Abiyar said. “If he doesn’t I’ll—I’ll—”

  “It’s all right, Abi. Thank you.”

  Abiyar suddenly leaned over and clumsily, awkwardly, kissed Jandu.

  Jandu jerked away. Oh no.

  A sinking, hot liquid dread filled Jandu’s gut. Embarrassment burned through him.

  “I’m sorry.” Abiyar covered his face in his hands. “I’m sorry.”

  Jandu swallowed, feeling sick. “Look. Abiyar. You’re a great kid. But…”

  Abiyar stood, looking both ashamed and desperate. “I must go, but I swear you will always have a place here.”

  The boy rushed from the room before Jandu could even reply.