by Astrid Amara
Keshan blinked. He reminded himself that he once thought Jandu shallow and stupid. And now look at him, Keshan thought. He’s turned into my hero.
“What?” Jandu looked at Keshan quizzically. “You’re looking at me funny.”
“Can you get me another one of those rolls for dinner?” Keshan asked, changing the subject.
“Anything you desire.” Jandu noticed that one of the untouchables nearby stared at them openly. “What about you? You want a roll?”
“M…My lord…” the man shrank back in line, as if he could step away from Jandu’s piercing gaze.
“I’ll bring enough for two,” Jandu whispered to Keshan.
Keshan just shook his head.
“What?” Jandu asked.
“You are not the same Jandu I fell in love with,” Keshan said.
Jandu’s mouth quirked up. “Is that a bad thing?”
“You are better. Wiser.” Keshan squeezed Jandu’s fingers softly. “And I love you more for it.”
Chapter 45
JANDU HAD NEARLY FORGOTTEN HOW BEAUTIFUL PRASTA WAS.
The city opened to his eyes like a fanciful childhood memory, the low stone walls and large marble temples, and in the center of it all, the sprawling red island of the palace. The monsoon had blessed Prasta where it had ignored Afadi, and now all the trees bloomed in brilliant color, their foliage thick, their bows laden with fruit. The fragrance of blossoms filled the air, and the ground was fresh and clean with the last of the rainfall behind them.
Jandu was home.
And it was a joyous homecoming, as thousands of citizens poured into the streets to greet their long lost Crown Prince. Jandu and his brothers feared what sort of support they could expect after the dice game. But it was clear that many were still loyal to the Paran family, and now flowers and silk cloths rained down upon their procession as wild cheers chanted Yudar’s name through the streets.
Yudar looked like a king once more. He was far skinnier than when he left, his hair streaked with gray, his eyes sunk, and still bruised from Baram’s rage, but he stood erect and proud, smiling and waving to the crowds serenely. Their progress to the palace slowed to a crawl as Triya lords in their chariots joined the procession, allies of Yudar riding alongside him and offering their blessings.
Jandu yearned to return to the back of the line. He wondered what Keshan was doing now. He wouldn’t be allowed into the palace. On Jandu’s insistence, they arranged a meeting location for later that night, so that Jandu could help him find lodgings. But Keshan’s absence now made the homecoming less sweet.
At the palace gates, former servants and courtiers for the Parans greeted them affectionately. Jandu smiled as men bowed before him and touched his feet. The attention flustered him. In the crowd, Jandu made out the silver hair of his Mazar, and pushed his way towards him. Mazar saw him at the same time and the two hugged.
Jandu dropped and touched Mazar’s feet, emotion welling deep inside of him. “Blessings upon you, Master,” he said.
Mazar looked too choked up to speak. He shook his head and lifted Jandu up.
“My dear boy! How I’ve missed you.” They hugged once more, and then Mazar greeted Baram and Yudar. He offered the sign of peace to Suraya and she touched his feet.
Jandu followed Mazar, his brothers and Suraya through the palace. Faces he had all but forgotten appeared. He was stunned by the opulence. They passed a chair studded with rubies, a statue of pure gold, miles of silks draped casually around the airy interiors. It was obscene. Jandu realized he could have fed the entire village in Pagdesh with one foot stool from this one corridor in the palace.
Darvad and his courtiers awaited the Parans in the reception hall. Jandu steeled his expression as he looked upon his rival.
Darvad purposefully wore the crown of Marhavad and sat in the throne. “Brothers. Welcome home.”
“Greetings, Darvad.” Yudar brought his hands together in the sign of peace. “We are pleased to return, after having served our three years of penance.”
Darvad smiled thinly. “Please, take a seat. Mazar, will you join us?”
Baram, Suraya, and Mazar joined Darvad on the dais. The room quickly filled with lords and courtiers. Jandu stood behind his brothers, leaning against the wall. They were all tired and dirty from their travels, but it was obvious that no respite would be had now that they returned. It was straight to business.
Mazar fawned over the Parans and had servants bring tea. Indarel and his sons took seats in the hall, along with the other lords of Marhavad who were in the capital. Jandu caught Abiyar’s eye as he sat nervously beside his brothers. Jandu winked at him. Abiyar grinned back happily. Soon the room was filled to capacity, everyone expectant.
Mazar cleared his throat, and held out his arms to bring the room to silence.
“Great lords of Marhavad,” he began, “let me welcome King Shandarvan’s sons back from their penance. Their dedication to righting the wrongs of three years ago has served as a great example to the entire nation, and I look forward to a peaceful future with both Yudar and Darvad leading our country to peace and prosperity.”
Darvad coughed.
Mazar looked to him, annoyed. “Yes, King?”
“We have some issues which must be addressed before we divide the kingdom.” Darvad turned slightly to face Jandu. “But before we go into details, I must ask for a report from my Royal Judge.”
Tarek stepped forward. He looked weary. He embraced Darvad, and Darvad offered him a seat beside him. “Are the rumors I’ve heard true? Was Firdaus killed by Keshan for raping Jandu?”
Jandu wanted to sink into the floor and disappear as everyone in the room looked to him. Their snickers and heated whispers rankled. When he saw Darvad smile, he realized Darvad had said it for just that purpose.
Baram stood up in fury. “Leave Jandu out of this!”
“It is true,” Tarek said. He frowned at Jandu. For a moment, Jandu thought he saw sympathy in his eyes. But then Tarek turned to face Darvad once more. “Keshan assisted the Parans during their exile, and has been branded an outcaste and stripped of his Triya status.”
The noise in the room grew.
Darvad frowned. “That is very unfortunate. But it is the law.”
“However, no one else aided the Parans, and they have served out their three years in anonymity,” Tarek added.
Darvad gave Tarek a sharp look. “That isn’t for you to decide.”
“The terms of the dice game stated that my family and I would spend three years in exile as penance, as set forth in the example of the great Prophet Sadeshar,” Yudar interrupted. “We have done as we promised. And now we return to Prasta to fulfill the wishes of Regent Mazar, and claim our half of the kingdom.” Yudar stared hard at Darvad. “As you promised.”
Darvad shook his head. “I would love to honor your request, Yudar, but you broke the terms of the penance.”
“No we did not.” Yudar’s face flushed with emotion. “We have suffered greatly, and deserve forgiveness for my sins.”
“They have fulfilled the terms of the game,” Mazar repeated.
Darvad smiled. He nodded to a servant who came forward and handed Darvad an arrow. The tip bent awkwardly and the fletching was stained with blood. But Jandu still recognized it as one of his own arrows. He felt suddenly sick.
“Recognize this, Jandu?” Darvad said, holding out the arrow. “It was pulled from the throat of Druv Majeo, lord of Pagdesh. He found you on the mountain, and rather than start your exile over, you murdered him.”
Yudar and Baram turned and gaped at Jandu, the shock clear.
Jandu crossed his arms over his chest. “That is a lie. That arrow could have been collected anywhere, from any of the Chandamarian soldiers I killed. Or from an animal carcass.”
“I saw Druv’s body with my own eyes!” Darvad cried, the vein in his forehead pulsing. “You killed him!”
“It is your word against mine.”
“I have witnesses
!” Darvad screeched, his voice rising in his anger.
Yudar had been staring at Jandu with a look of pain on his face. He looked betrayed. Jandu thought he deserved it. But then Yudar reached into his pocket and pulled out Firdaus’ dice. “Whether or not that arrow was taken from Druv does not matter. The cheating began long before Druv met his end.” Yudar handed the dice to Mazar.
Mazar frowned. “What are these?”
“Enchanted Yashva dice,” Yudar said calmly. “Keshan Adaru took them from Firdaus. They were used at the dice game.”
Jandu was grateful his brother at least had the tact not to mention the other game they were used at.
“What nonsense!” Darvad said. “Those could be taken from anyone as well! Keshan himself may have enchanted them!”
Mazar shook his head. “So much deception. What hope has Marhavad, when its noblest sons cannot be honest?”
As the voices began to rise again, Yudar stood. “We have served three years, Darvad. I demand my half of the kingdom, as is my right.”
Darvad’s face was red with rage. “I will not give you Prasta!” Darvad shouted. “I will not give you anything! Not a fucking village! Do you understand me? Go back into exile!”
“No.” Yudar took a deep breath. His expression was resolute. “You force my hand in this, half-brother. But as we have fulfilled our end of the agreement, it is up to you to fulfill yours. Either I am given back my half of the kingdom or we declare war.”
There was a dangerous silence. The men in the room watched Darvad closely for reaction. The vein in his forehead bulged angrily.
“I will give you nothing.” Darvad hissed.
“Then it is war,” Yudar said, his voice shaking slightly now. He raised an eyebrow towards Mazar. “Master?”
Mazar had tears in his eyes, and was shaking his head. “Yudar… I swore an oath when Darvad became King to fight at his side. It is my fate!”
Jandu could no longer stay silent. “Has it ever occurred to you, oh great Master, that fate can be changed, if only strong men are willing to question it?”
“What are you saying?” Mazar asked.
“That you should follow your heart.”
“My heart and my vow are on different paths.” Mazar closed his eyes. “I cannot retract a holy oath. You know better than to ask me to do so.”
“You’ll fight me?” Jandu asked softly. “Fight us all?”
Mazar didn’t answer. He covered his face with his hands.
Darvad suddenly stood. “We should set a date at the end of the monsoons. You will rally your allies, and I mine.”
“Two months time, then,” Yudar stated. “Astrologers will identify an auspicious day. We shall bring our forces to Terashu Field.”
Darvad nodded. “Two months time, I will see you on the battlefield.”
Chapter 46
NIGHTS WERE CHILLY IN PRASTA AND WITHOUT A VEST OR even a harafa to keep him warm, Keshan shivered in the darkness.
He looked east, to the section of the city where his townhouse was, warm and full of comfort. Iyestar would be there, no doubt already into his second jug of wine. He wondered if Iyestar would let him stay there, if the servants would hide him.
A pair of Triya caste women passed by the alleyway Keshan stood in, and when they saw his dejaru and his brands, they scowled and crossed the street. Keshan withdrew deeper into the shadows. Night time was easier for the Jegora, and Keshan didn’t worry about his shadow crossing the upper castes, but it was still rife with potential insult that could get him killed.
The sound of a temple bell ringing out in prayer came from nearby, and Keshan wondered if he could find other Jegora outside, begging for food. He needed more clothing, badly, and they could help him. But he was supposed to meet Jandu here.
It took all of Keshan’s will power not to pick at his scabs, or focus on the filth around him, or think too much about being locked out of the Yashva kingdom. The future had become nightmarishly bleak for him, and the only way Keshan succeeded at his pretense of unconcern was by not thinking about it. But now, alone for the first time in days, huddling in the dark with no place to live and no prospects for dinner, Keshan was smothered in self-pity.
“Hey.”
Keshan turned, and restrained himself from running to embrace Jandu. The hours apart had dragged endlessly, and the fact that Keshan had no idea what was going on inside the palace rankled him.
Jandu looked tired. He carried a large pack on his back. “You’re shivering.”
Keshan wrapped his arms around himself. “I’m just cold. How did it go?”
Jandu gave him a hard look. “Two months, Terashu Field.”
Terashu Field was the traditional battleground of the great Triya kings of old, a large, grassy field about fifteen miles from the capital and hedged in by the Ashari Forest. “I suppose it was inevitable,” Keshan said.
Jandu shrugged. “What’s done is done. Come on, let’s find some place to sleep tonight.”
Keshan offered to take some of Jandu’s belongings. Jandu handed Keshan bowls of rice and fried vegetables, and another full of fruit. “These are for you.”
“Did you raid the palace pantries?” Keshan asked.
“They’re from my admirers,” Jandu said with a smile. “I was on my way here and women kept thrusting hot meals into my arms.”
“Little did they know they would be used to feed an untouchable scoundrel,” Keshan said, sniffing the warm food appreciatively. “I don’t suppose you brought any wine, did you?”
Jandu pointed to his pack and Keshan smiled.
Jandu started down the road and Keshan followed a step behind him. “Should we try the market district first?”
Keshan shook his head. “They barely tolerate having Chaya nearby. I’ll definitely be run out. Let’s go further south.”
Jandu’s expression hardened, but he led the way nevertheless. They walked together for over an hour, searching for lodgings. The first half a dozen places they tried greeted Jandu with obsequious obeisance and then rejected Keshan on sight, more afraid of harboring a Jegora than they were of offending a Triya. They moved even deeper into the city, to the parts where the lower castes resided, but even the Chaya would not give lodgings to a Jegora. At last they found a seedy-looking hostel on the fringe of the city. It wasn’t clean or convenient, but the owner was willing to provide Keshan a room, as long as Jandu paid in advance and Keshan didn’t enter through the front of the building.
Keshan’s heart sank with every passing minute, but he tried to make light of his new environment. He didn’t want Jandu to feel bad for him. The room was narrow and dark, with a mud floor. It was next to the building’s outhouse and the smell wafted in through the small slit window near the low ceiling.
“At least the smell outside overwhelms the smell inside.” Keshan held up a stone water pitcher, and noticed the pitcher was cracked.
Jandu unrolled the bed mats on the floor, and shuddered as fleas and bed lice jumped from the blankets. “This is worse than the forest.”
Keshan yawned. He sat down on the mud floor, ignoring the bugs. “As long as it’s soft, it will do.”
Jandu unpacked his gifts. He laid out a cloth and put before Keshan a basket of fruits, bread, and cheese. He pulled two stone cups from his bag and decanted a large jug of wine. Jandu held his cup up to Keshan, a smile lighting his face. “To our success in the war.”
Keshan raised his cup as well, and then quickly drained it. The wine was sweet. He closed his eyes and savored the taste in gratitude.
Keshan noticed that Jandu had bathed, and his skin had a slight red flush, suggesting that he had been drinking back at the palace as well. His short hair curled slightly at the edges from the humidity, and his clothes smelled like cardamom. He looked stunning in the light of the butter lamp, his skin a golden hue, his eyes striking blue and bright.
A year’s worth of longing flooded him, and a need to have someone touch him, treat him like he was used to. Keshan
lunged, pinning Jandu to the bedroll. Jandu’s wine slipped from his hand.
Jandu smirked up at him. “Feeling a little frisky, are we?”
Keshan didn’t bother to answer. He kissed Jandu’s throat slowly, his tongue lingering along his skin.
“Aren’t you hungry?” Jandu whispered, his voice shaking. He leaned back further to expose more of his throat.
“The food isn’t going anywhere,” Keshan said. He held Jandu down by the shoulders and pushed his mouth forcefully on Jandu’s. Keshan moved carefully, afraid of bumping Jandu’s nose. But Jandu’s fingers dug into his flesh, his teeth fiercely, carelessly, grazing and nipping at Keshan’s face, and all gentleness fled from Keshan’s mind. He wanted to claim Jandu as his own again, scrape his initials on Jandu’s body.
Keshan kissed Jandu deeper. As his weight settled over Jandu, Keshan noticed Jandu suddenly squeeze his eyes shut.
Keshan paused, staring down at Jandu’s face. “Jandu?” He pulled back and shifted his weight so he laid alongside Jandu, not on top of him.
Jandu opened his eyes. “It’s nothing.” But Keshan could see fear there, lurking in his expression.
Keshan cursed his own selfishness, and slid further away from his lover. “We don’t have to do this.”
“I want to.” Jandu took a deep breath and reached for Keshan again. Keshan kissed him more tenderly this time, letting his tongue play loosely along Jandu’s mouth, caressing his lips. Keshan could feel the tension in Jandu’s grasp, but the sensation of Jandu’s heated skin against his own was too good, he couldn’t stop. He laid down on Jandu to feel every part of his body, and thrust his erection into Jandu’s thigh.
Jandu bolted upright.
“I’m sorry!” Keshan froze.
“I—”
“It’s my fault, Jandu. I’m sorry.” Keshan crawled off the bed roll.
Jandu threw himself back down on the bed and draped an arm over his eyes. Keshan shook with unspent sexual desire. That bastard Firdaus was ruining their lives even from beyond the grave. Jandu slammed his fist against the bedroom wall.
“We’re going too fast,” Keshan said. “We have time. Besides, I’m hungry.” He smiled weakly.
