by Astrid Amara
Darvad didn’t seem to need words, however. He released Tarek and stopped at the door of his private rooms. “Join Iyestar and I for dinner.”
“Of course.” And just like that, everything was all right between them. If only the other parts of his life could be resolved so easily.
◆◆◆
To Tarek’s relief, dinner was a small affair. Darvad entertained Iyestar, Tarek, and Mazar in his own chambers, the men growing drunk and laughing together as Tarek and Mazar recounted their triumph.
Tarek spoke about Jezza proudly, but there was a sourness to the battle now. Even though he took great pride in his victory, and the thrill of battle sang in his soul, he had allowed terrible things to happen.
Darvad laughed. “I am so proud of you both! And jealous. I know my father taught us to love peace above all other things, but my body cries out for war. I want to fight again. I wish someone would openly challenge Prasta.”
Iyestar was very drunk. He slurred as he spoke. “No one is going to challenge Prasta, Darvad. It is too powerful.”
“Do you have any enemies you’d like me to dispose of?” Darvad asked him.
They all laughed. Iyestar shook his head. “If we did, Keshan would simply sweet talk them into forgiving us. My brother is the greatest weapon we have. Just put him in a room with a tyrant, and by the end of the hour, the man is Keshan’s best friend.” Iyestar closed his eyes and smiled. “Why fight when you have Keshan on your side?”
Darvad nodded politely. But Tarek saw the doubt in Darvad’s eyes.
“Has Keshan heard from the Parans?” Darvad asked.
Iyestar’s eyes shot open. “Why would you ask me that, Darvad?” He sounded hurt. “I don’t want to be in the middle of this. Leave me out of your family affairs.”
“I’m sorry.” Darvad touched Iyestar’s leg affectionately and Tarek felt an absurd sting of jealousy. “I know it is unfair of me to ask these things. But I worry about it relentlessly.”
“I took an oath on behalf of all of Tiwari not to help the Parans,” Iyestar reminded him. “That includes Keshan.”
“Your brother has a tendency to break rules when he feels like it,” Darvad pointed out.
Iyestar sighed. “True. But he knows the honor of our people is at stake. Above all, Keshan is extremely loyal to those he loves.”
Tarek wondered if Iyestar knew what kind of love was shared between Keshan and Jandu. To him, it had seemed blatantly apparent. But he was more inclined than others to detect such feelings between men.
Iyestar’s large head bobbed on his shoulders, and then snapped upwards as he started to pass out. He stood up slowly. Automatically, everyone else did as well.
“I should go to bed,” Iyestar said, yawning. “It is a long trip back to Tiwari.”
“Thank you for coming,” Darvad said. The two men embraced, and then Iyestar bowed respectfully to Mazar and Tarek as he left the room. Mazar made his exit as well. When Tarek turned to follow suit, Darvad stopped him, resting his hand on Tarek’s back.
“Wait a moment,” Darvad whispered. He shut and locked his door.
Excitement flushed through Tarek’s body.
Darvad turned to Tarek, a sheepish grin on his face. “I have a present for you.”
Darvad swayed slightly as he approached Tarek. Tarek realized Darvad was drunker than he let on. He was always good at holding his liquor.
Darvad stood so close to Tarek, Tarek could smell the wine on his breath. Every part of Tarek’s mind screamed for him to reach out and forcefully kiss Darvad with all his strength. He would push Darvad to the floor and drive his tongue into his mouth. Tarek was bigger and stronger than Darvad. He could have him if he chose to.
“When I was on my way to Pagdesh, I performed sacrifices at all the temples along the way to try and earn a boon,” Darvad said. His voice was low, quivering with excitement. His hair shimmered in the flickering lights of the lamps, it glowed almost golden brown. “I was hoping to win the Gods’ favor and to successfully catch the Parans in hiding, but they did not grant this to me.” Darvad stepped even closer. Their bodies were mere inches apart. Tarek felt his throat closing with the strength of his desire.
“But one of the Draya priests at a temple near the Pagdesh border was moved by my devotion and gave me something else,” Darvad whispered. His eyes shone, bright and happy. He held out his hand, and then closed his eyes. His lips worked silently as he whispered a sharta under his breath. There was a noise—off in the distance, a sound like a thunderstorm cracking far away—and then out of thin air a small, golden spear appeared in Darvad’s hand.
Both the men stared at the weapon, awestruck. It was an unusual spear, only three feet in length, and thin, barely an inch in diameter. The metal shimmered and wavered as if it were liquid, as if the weapon itself were alive. The tip was so sharp and fine it seemed as if it tapered down into nothingness. Hundreds of ancient letters spiraled across the surface of the metal. Tarek had never seen anything so beautiful.
Tarek had to concentrate in order to speak. “What is it?” he whispered.
Darvad’s smile stretched from ear to ear. “It is a weapon of the Yashva demons, the Korazsharta. This spear is crafted with a Yashva curse, to fatally hit its target, every time.” Darvad used his free hand to grab Tarek’s own. Tarek felt like he had been shocked. The contact was so warm, so sensual. Darvad uncurled Tarek’s fist, opened his palm. He transferred the spear to Tarek’s hand.
“I want you to have it,” Darvad said.
Tarek’s hand trembled with excitement. Even though his hand twitched, the spear he held didn’t seem to move. Watching the irregular steadiness of the weapon hurt his eyes. Although the gold looked heavy, it weighed almost nothing.
“Darvad…” he began.
“…Take it,” Darvad urged. He squeezed Tarek’s other hand. Electricity seemed to pass between them. “I want you to have it, to defeat Jandu.”
Tarek swallowed. “You should keep it. I don’t deserve it.”
“Yes you do.”
“No. Darvad…” Where could Tarek’s confession begin? Anant’s broken face? Aisa’s terrified eyes? His father’s empty bedroom? His own, disgusting urges?
“You are my best friend. Only you are worthy of such a weapon. I thought of you the moment I saw it.” Darvad smiled.
Tarek gripped the spear. “Thank you,” he said, choking with emotion. “I wish I could have… brought you something as well.”
They were both silent, both aware of the regret and disappointment of Aisa. Darvad took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. “I want your friendship more than anything else.”
Tarek weighed the spear in his hand, testing its balance. “You will always have it. You know that.”
“I do.” Darvad smiled again, large and bright, and he laughed. “Isn’t it fantastic! I can’t wait to see Jandu’s face when you toss this at him!”
Tarek smiled as well. He looked at the spear. “How do I conjure it?”
“To get rid of it, simply drop it. It is a celestial weapon, so it will not fall to the ground.”
Tarek turned his hand over and let go of the spear. It disappeared before it hit the ground. He shook his head in amazement.
“Incredible.”
“To conjure it again, you must recite the sharta I learned from the priest.”
Emboldened by Darvad’s kindness, Tarek reached out and put his hand on Darvad’s armor. He let his hand rest there, on Darvad’s chest. He didn’t push, but the contact was there, and it made Darvad raise his eyebrows.
“Teach me,” Tarek said.
Chapter 35
“YOU EAT IT.” KESHAN PUSHED THE LAST PASTRY ON THE PLATE towards Ajani.
“No, you eat it.” She pushed it back towards him.
Keshan lifted an eyebrow at Iyestar, who sat beside him with his eyes closed. “You want it?”
Iyestar belched. The three of them sat in Keshan’s private courtyard for lunch, catching up on Iyestar’s visit
to Prasta. There was a storm brewing out at sea and large, menacing waves crashed upon the rocks below.
“Come on, Ajani,” Keshan urged. He grinned. “You need to get fatter.”
“Why, so you can make up more excuses to sleep around?” Ajani asked, smirking.
Iyestar cracked an eye open. “Hello. I’m here.”
“I see you,” Ajani chided.
“I thought I’d remind you.” Iyestar closed his eye again.
Keshan shook his head. “Fine, fine, I’ll eat it.” His loose hair blew into his eyes, and Keshan brushed his bangs out of his face. All three of them were dressed casually, enjoying a rare respite from governing for the day. Keshan reveled in the feeling of the wind rustling through his hair. He reached for the last pastry.
“You don’t have to eat it,” Ajani said. “I can call a servant to take it away.”
“No, I feel bad for it.” Keshan put the pastry on his plate. “It’s lonely, all by itself on a big empty plate. We ate all its family members. He wants to join them. He is sad.”
Iyestar shook his head. “You are insane, Keshan.” He stood up slowly, stretching his long arms as he did so. “Are we going to practice or not?”
Keshan bit into the spicy pastry, closing his eyes as he did so. It was no longer piping hot as the first few had been, but it was still delicious.
Keshan looked to his brother. “I thought you would be tired of practicing mace after dueling Darvad all week. ”
“I’m not talking about maces,” Iyestar said. “I want to practice swords, remember? We discussed this last night.”
“I wasn’t paying attention to you.” Keshan winked at Ajani, who laughed.
Iyestar sighed. “Some day I’m going to prove to the world how evil you really are. Just wait.”
“We shouldn’t exercise right after eating,” Keshan said.
Iyestar closed his eyes once more and tilted his face up to catch the hot July sun. At times like this, Keshan’s older brother resembled a big cat.
“I’ll carry you if you get a cramp,” Iyestar said.
Keshan smiled. He picked up the last bite of pastry in his hand and popped it into his mouth.
Suddenly, his vision went blank.
Jandu cried out. A man’s fist smashed into Jandu’s face. With a dull crack, Jandu’s nose broke, spurting blood across the bed.
Keshan spat out his food. The blood drained from his face.
Ajani noticed. “Keshan? What’s wrong?”
He tried to smile. “Nothing.”
Jandu choked as a man gripped his throat with both hands and strangled him.
Keshan stood so quickly that his chair fell backwards. Iyestar reached out and touched Keshan’s shoulder. “Are you all right?”
Keshan looked at Iyestar, trying to control his panic.
It always happened like this.
Whenever Keshan had visions, at first they made no sense, consisting of nothing but a jumble of images and sounds. Keshan needed to meditate in order to clarify the order of events, understand what would happen.
“I need to rest a bit,” Keshan lied. He saw the understanding on his brother’s face and the confusion in Ajani’s.
“Go then,” Iyestar told him.
As Keshan made his way to his room, he heard his wife following him, so he locked his door. He sat on the floor and tried to calm down as he sat in lotus position.
A shadow fell over Jandu’s face. He looked terrified. Jandu shut his eyes as someone jerked his head back by his long hair.
Keshan had to reach farther back in time. He had to see what had happened before.
The pink blossoms of a cherry tree blew loose across a white courtyard. Men walked past guards, led by a thin man in a turban.
Dice rolled. Someone begged forgiveness. Others laughed.
Keshan scrunched his eyes closed, concentrating on the images he saw, the sounds he heard. The vision shifted.
There was a stark but finely crafted room, with a marble floor and white down pillows. A man in a dark yellow turban set up a dice board. Three other men entered the room. One of them studied the man in the turban curiously.
“You are Esalas?” he asked.
The man in the turban nodded. “Lord Indarel is on a hunting trip with his eldest son, and his wife has asked me to entertain you until his return. Would you like to play a game of dice?”
The guest smiled. “Of course.”
Keshan recognized the man immediately as Firdaus Trinat, lord of Chandamar. It had been years since Keshan last saw him at the palace, and Firdaus gained weight. His black hair now hung in a long ponytail down his back, his face rough with a beard.
Keshan also recognized one of Firdaus’ companions. Hanu was the lord’s younger brother, ambassador to Afadi. The fact that the two men appeared in a vision where Jandu was hurt did not surprise Keshan as much as he thought it would.
But the servant in the turban also looked familiar. Keshan closed his eyes and focused. He could feel like he was there if he concentrated hard enough. He relaxed his body into a trance-like state, until he could no longer feel his limbs, hear the sound of the ocean through his windows, or smell the incense of his own room. He concentrated on the white room in his vision, and on the man in the center of it.
He was thin and had a dark beard, but his eyes shone clearly with intelligence. Under the turban, it was hard to see the details of the man’s face, but it was Yudar Paran, much changed from his years in exile, but still recognizable if one knew what to look for.
Firdaus asked Yudar what they would gamble. Yudar protested that he had nothing of value, and would play without staking anything. In response, Hanu opened a large chest of jewels, offering these to the dice teacher.
“I have nothing to offer in return,” Yudar protested.
“Yes you do.” Firdaus smiled. “I hear from my brother than you have a beautiful sister.”
Yudar stiffened. He backed away from the dice board.
Firdaus smiled thinly. “My brother has not stopped talking about Janali since he first laid eyes on her.”
“What are you suggesting?” Yudar whispered.
Firdaus shrugged. “Wager her. Just for one night. Me, Hanu, and my friend would like the comfort someone like her can provide.”
Yudar blanched. “Impossible.”
Firdaus said nothing. He and his friends watched Yudar expectantly.
“Are you mad?” Yudar looked like he was about to be sick. “Do you think I would let my sister sleep with you?”
“I mean no offense, Esalas. I just want to play dice, and I know you have nothing else to your name. And in return, I offer a great amount of wealth and jewels, which would honor your own wife.”
Yudar stared at the dice board. He was calculating, considering the odds. In his mind, he could not lose. And so he risked nothing.
“We play by Prasta rules,” Yudar stated firmly.
Firdaus laughed, and pulled out a set of ivory dice from his pocket. “Excellent!” Firdaus, Hanu, and their companion sat around the dice board.
Yudar looked at the men, and then steadied his resolve. He grabbed his dice. “I’m first.”
Keshan’s rage distorted the vision and in a moment it was gone.
He paced his room, letting the salty breezes of the ocean wash over his bare arms and chest. He angrily ran his hands through his hair. He stared at his bed for a moment, remembering the nights he had made love to Jandu under those sheets. Jandu had been so proud then, so full of life, strong and witty and brave. He thought of Jandu’s brother, a man who was supposed to protect his younger siblings, gambling Jandu away like he were silver. Keshan wanted to kill Yudar. Keshan stuck his head out the window, watching his emotions reflected in the angry sea below, churning relentlessly in the storm, crashing upon the city’s cliff like a purposeful assault.
If Keshan was going to see the rest of the vision, he had to calm down.
Keshan breathed deeply, slowly. He lit more incense, an
d sat on his bed, cross-legged. He listened to the waves, to the sound of his own household, the laughter of someone in a room below his, the clanking of plates, the distant whinnying of horses, and let the familiar and comforting atmosphere of Tiwari rock him into a lull, let him forget anger and fear, until he found his center of concentration again.
He closed his eyes, and imagined Yudar. The vision came flooding back to him, jagged and piecemeal. They were like images from a new memory.
Yudar held the dice.
The smell of lotus filled the air, and sweat from the men.
The sun streamed in from a high window.
Keshan focused.
Yudar was losing. Firdaus’ pawns moved across the board, weakening Yudar’s position. Firdaus rolled a six and the game ended.
Yudar’s face was void of color. He stared at the dice board in shock, looking like a man who has been shot through the heart.
“It was a lucky throw,” Firdaus said with a frown.
“No…” Yudar covered his face with his hands.
“That’s the problem with dice,” Firdaus said, stretching. “You can have all the skill in the world, but it means nothing if you run out of luck.”
“No.” Yudar’s entire body began to tremble. “Please,” Yudar croaked. “Forgive me! I can’t bear it. Janali, she’s—she’s very special to me.”
Firdaus’ friend smirked. “You should have thought of that before you wagered her.”
Yudar glared at him. “Shut your mouth, servant!”
“What are you, a Triya?” The man shot back. “Go ahead and retract your promise—we’ll see what Lord Indarel has to say about it.”
Yudar moaned, curling in on himself as if he were going to be sick.
Firdaus stood and stretched once more. “We’ll be decent about this, Esalas. We won’t tell anyone. There will be no shame on her, or on you.” He put on his shoes at the door, and his companions followed him. “Will you show us to Janali’s room?”
Yudar looked like he was choking, terrible retching sounds coming from his throat.
“Esalas?”
Yudar stared at the floor.
“Esalas?” Firdaus raised an eyebrow. “That is your name, isn’t it?”
