“Will you stop?!” snapped Anaya. “I’ve heard it enough times already. Just finish brushing so I can leave.”
Anaya picked up a makeup applicator and small mirror. She held the mirror close to her face, dipped the brush into a clay pot, and lightly blushed her cheeks with the shimmering pink powder.
“I will never give up on you and your destiny,” snarled Selexi.
Anaya rolled her eyes. “I don’t like it any more than you do, but what’s done is done. There’s nothing we can do about it. Miranda’s going to be our next Sultana. I don’t want to hear any more about it, ever again. Okay?”
Selexi composed herself, studied Anaya’s reflection and began pinning her daughter’s hair into a complex pattern.
“Yes, that is the law, my pet – The first girl born after the rise of the second moon shall rule the land.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know.”
Selexi paused, wanting the next part to have its full impact.
“But did you know that there is another law that will allow you to become Sultana and put Miranda out of the circle of power forever?” Selexi waited and watched as Anaya hesitated before putting the brush down. Good, I have her attention. Anaya was curious. She took in her mother’s image in the mirror, trying to read her facial expression.
“What are you talking about? What law?”
Selexi didn’t say a word, but a smirk spread across her lips.
Anaya spun around. Her eyes raptly fixed on Selexi’s. “Tell me. Now.”
Selexi savored the moment, taking her time to answer. She gently placed the hair brush on the vanity table and, laying her hands firmly on Anaya’s shoulders, looked at her reflection. “I’ve been waiting for the right moment to tell you. Now the time has finally come for you to hear the truth.” She turned and walked away. “Come with me, child.”
It was easier to pretend she didn’t care, but deep down Anaya did want to be Sultana. She had buried this desire all her life, and accepted that it would never come to be. Did she dare hope it could miraculously be fulfilled somehow? Or was her mother just up to another scheme that wouldn’t materialize?
It was too tempting to rule out the possibility. I’ll hear her out, then decide. She followed her mother down the hallway, past the sitting room, and into the library.
Selexi climbed the rolling ladder that straddled the enormous bookshelf near the bay window, and pulled out a large leather bound volume near the top. It was heavy, and Selexi lost her balance momentarily as it tumbled into her arms.
When she came off the ladder, Anaya helped her carry the book to a podium, which rested on top of a large carved wooden table. Anaya read the cover out loud, “The Laws of Zarada Island. We study parts of this at The Academy.”
“Not the part I’m about to show you.”
Selexi flipped through the enormous pages, found the spot she was looking for, and ran her finger along the passage. “Here it is.” Her finger stopped and tapped the page twice. “Come and read this and you will see for yourself.”
Anaya leaned in and read the words. “Regarding claims to the title of Sultana: If there is another girl born in the same moon cycle as the First Born who wishes to prove her superiority, she may initiate a challenge for the title of Sultana.”
Selexi watched for Anaya’s response, encouraging her. “You see? The throne is yours for the taking. And take it you will.”
“Why didn’t you tell me about this before?”
“A challenge is an enormous undertaking with many risks. I thought that Miranda would give you the throne out of weakness by now, and save us the trouble of declaring a challenge. And she may still do just that, especially when she finds out she has to openly compete against you. Even if she does accept the challenge, she has no chance against you. The throne is yours. All yours.”
Anaya, a look of smugness playing on her face, walked to the mirror on the opposite wall and stared at her reflection. Her eyes flashed with ferocity as the words fell from her lips in a low whisper, “I can be Sultana.”
Selexi came up behind her, brimming with malevolence. “You will be Sultana.”
The Sultana’s Revelation
The bondo viciously fought off other animals as it licked the last trace of moisture from a blade of brittle foliage. Its emaciated body, weakened by the effort of fending off the competition, crawled to a shady spot behind a bush, closed its eyes and sank into the parched moss to sleep the day away.
In the castle, Anaya awoke and shook off the covers. Throwing a robe over her sleeping gown, she got up, peeked into Selexi’s room to make sure that her mother was sleeping soundly, then silently tiptoed out of their quarters.
She walked briskly through the cavernous, dimly lit hallways, passing cooks, housemaids, and guards who took no notice of her. She arrived at her grandmother’s wing, pausing a moment before knocking on the door, which was flanked by two guards.
The Sultana sat at her desk, writing. She heard voices coming from the outer hallway, and had a good idea who her early morning visitor was. A minute later, there she was, only grandchild, standing impatiently in the doorway.
“It’s Anaya,” announced Raina.
The Sultana kept her focus on the letter she was composing. “Come in.”
Anaya ventured closer.
Without looking up, the Sultana asked, “What brings you here, my dear?”
“Well, I came to see how you’re feeling,” Anaya lied.
The Sultana stopped writing and peered at her granddaughter.
“What are you cooking up, you and that mother of yours? She hasn’t allowed you to visit me in many moons,” mused the Sultana. “She must want something.”
“It’s not my choice, you know. I would come more often if I could. I had to sneak out to be here now.”
“That’s a pity.” The Sultana signed the letter. “I hear you’re a great warrior in the making. How are your studies coming?”
“It’s true. I’m good with a sword. And I’m the strongest Young Warrior by far,” she boasted.
“Physical strength is only one kind of strength. Not the most important, as you’ll find out.”
“It’s the only kind that matters, in the end.”
The Sultana was too tired to argue. “What’s on your mind, child?” she asked. “You never pay a visit to me without an ulterior motive. What is it this time?”
“Don’t you want me to be the next Sultana?” Anaya blurted out.
The Sultana sighed. “I’ve told you before. I don’t have an opinion about it. I didn’t choose to be Sultana, and neither can anyone else. I obey the laws of Zarada, whatever they may be.”
“But it doesn’t make sense. Miranda doesn’t want to be Sultana. She will have the most powerful voice on the island, but have nothing to say. I do want that title, I have something to say, and I will be voiceless like everyone else. I’ll be a nobody, living in a common cottage, scratching away for my living.”
“Your words reveal your heart, my child. Being Sultana has nothing whatsoever to do with power. There are many others whose voices must be heard and weighed when making decisions that affect us all. It’s up to the Sultana to understand individual needs as well as the needs of the whole community. And besides, the things you have to say – they wouldn’t be influenced by your mother in any way, would they?”
She could tell by the look on Anaya’s face that she didn’t want to answer that. The Sultana rose with great difficulty, took her cane and hobbled about the room, touching the objects of her past; a bone, a rock, a sculpture. “What does power really mean to you?” she asked, without looking up.
Anaya went to the window. She felt the dryness in her throat as she gazed out at the empty riverbed. “Controlling outcomes, making things go my way.”
The Sultana made her way toward Anaya, placed a loving hand on her face, and smiled wisely at the naive youth. “You have been misled. Being Sultana means giving up all aspirations, especially those of a personal nature.”
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“But that’s not what mother says.”
The Sultana turned toward a photo on the mantle. There she was – young and alive and full of ideas. “Believe it or not,” she continued, “I was young once, like you. I had my own concept about how things should be.”
Anaya couldn’t imagine her grandmother as anything but the shriveled old woman she saw before her.
“I wanted to change everything – the laws, the rules, and the ways of this island. The High Council at the time was very old fashioned in my eyes. I was married to a fool of a man. He was supposed to rule with me, but I convinced him to go with the others on their adventures over the ocean. He was a big brute, built for the world of the sea, not for life on land. And he certainly didn’t understand how to rule this island.”
Anaya laughed.
“Besides, I was in love with someone else.”
“Really? Who?”
“After Selexi was born, my husband left on an expedition. He died on his first trip out. Fell into the mouth of a tarwox. He wasn’t the brightest star in the sky. So I was alone, and many times lonely. I gave up my desire for companionship and became married to my role as a leader when the man I secretly loved wedded another.
“Oh, it was painful at first, but in the long run it was right. I was the Sultana, and my first obligation was to the people and the land. That was more pressing than my personal happiness. The High Council members were much older than I, and they shared their wisdom with me. They stopped me from doing many silly things.” She chuckled softly.
“I was never one to abuse power, but I had ideas, so many new ideas. I was going to change everything! They would tell me to take it easy; changes take time. They even discussed finding me another husband so I would spend less time working. But I was determined to make being Sultana the cornerstone of my life. And if I couldn’t have the man I loved, I didn’t want another.”
Anaya thought about what she had just heard. There were lessons there, but she was more concerned with her own fate, so she went cold and pushed it out of her mind. Any threat to her momentum to gain the throne had to be treated like a deadly disease – and like a tumor, cut out with the knife of resolve.
A Grandmother’s Warning
Selexi woke up and listened for sounds from her daughter’s room. “Anaya?” she called out. There was no response.
She knew what the silence meant. Every so often Anaya would run to her grandmother, who would fill her head with all varieties of tall tales that confused her thinking and punctured her nerve. She jumped out of bed, threw on her cloak, and ran out into the palace corridor. She raced through the familiar labyrinth of passageways, knocking down a servant with a tray full of food in her haste.
Leaving behind the clatter, and bypassing Raina as soon as the door was opened, she stormed in, startling Anaya who, like a thief caught in the act, cried out in surprise, “Mother!”
Selexi frowned. “I knew it. What did you think you’d find here? All you’ll hear are lies.”
Anaya avoided her mother’s stare, but the Sultana met Selexi’s angry gaze dead on.
Raina rushed in behind her, gesturing apologetically. The Sultana indicated for her to leave and close the door behind her.
Selexi’s eyes pounded into Anaya’s. “What garbage have you been fed this time?”
Anaya shifted. “I ... just wanted to....”
“Tell her the news?” Selexi butted in.
“Uh, I didn’t get to that yet,” Anaya admitted.
Selexi walked across the room to Anaya, placed her hands on her daughter’s shoulders, and turned her to face the Sultana.
“You are looking at our next Sultana, Mother,” she announced.
The Sultana had been both anticipating and dreading this moment. She casually ran her fingers over a stone sculpture. It had been a gift from the elves on Sarona. It was a darpon, made of azurial metal, smooth and cool to the touch. “So you discovered the challenge clause. I expected you would, eventually.”
“Of course I did. We apparently couldn’t count on you to tell us about it,” snarled Selexi.
“I will not allow you to challenge Miranda,” asserted the Sultana.
Selexi laughed. “You can’t stop us. Besides, Anaya is clearly the better choice between the two. Anyone can see that. That girl is a sniveling, timid, poor excuse for a Young Warrior. It’s clear she has no ambition whatsoever. Why, she can barely lead her camion. Did you know she treats it like a pet, not a warrior’s beast ready for the battlefield?” She waved her hand as if she were shooing away a biting insect. “Pathetic.”
The Sultana leaned on her cane. “I have given my life to this island. I will not allow you to destroy all I have worked for.”
“But Grandmother, Miranda wants me to take over,” said Anaya. “She doesn’t even want to be Sultana. She told me that herself.”
“She might not want it now. But it is her destiny,” said the Sultana. “That clause you’re referring to was designed to keep the mentally and physically incapable from having to bear the responsibility of being the leader they could never be. It was not created for petty feuds.
“Miranda is perfectly capable and so she will become the next Sultana. Being a highlyskilled warrior is the least of the requirements for being a good Sultana. I was decent with a sword, but nothing more. She will grow into the rest, just as I did.”
Selexi’s anger rose as she took a step closer to the Sultana, and pointed a finger in her face. “If you take that position, you are betraying your only granddaughter.”
Anaya blanched. How could her grandmother abandon her so easily?
Sultana faced Selexi. “You are trying to turn Anaya into a jealous, heartless brute like yourself. If you succeed, she will make nothing but enemies. Even if she were to become Sultana, she would not survive long. In a matter of a few moon cycles, she would be voted out. You forget that provision in our laws.” The Sultana, exhausted, limped back to her desk, crumpled into her chair, and closed her tired eyes.
Anaya, despite her unshakable determination to challenge Miranda, still had a soft spot for her grandmother. “Let’s go, Mother. She’s not feeling well.”
Selexi ignored her daughter. “Nonsense. Anaya will work with the High Council … enough to satisfy them.”
The Sultana drew in a breath with effort and slowly opened her eyes. “Becoming Sultana has always been determined by the law of nature. Nature cannot be defied.”
“We shall see about that,” seethed Selexi.
The Sultana closed her eyes again and sighed. Anaya wanted to go to her, but Selexi, seeing this, swiftly grabbed Anaya’s arm, and firmly led her out the door.
Quest for Red Larimar Stones
Dosha, head of the High High Council, held the highest authority on the island after the Sultana. Nominated by the Sultana and voted in by the majority of the High Council members, it was a lifelong appointment. The islanders could start a petition if they disagreed with the choice, but that rarely happened. Dosha had served the people well.
She sat on a violet silk pillow in her office chamber, meditating before an altar. Incense smoke painted grey swirls through the air. Rays of light projected out from her third eye into the middle of the room, and slowly faded outward before being replaced by fresh beams.
The knock on the door didn’t startle her. She took a deep breath and her eyes fluttered open as she drifted back to worldly reality.
“Yes?” she said.
A messenger entered and handed her a small parchment roll. Dosha unfurled it and read it silently, obviously not pleased with its contents.
She dismissed the messenger and rose from her pillow, a furrow forming on her forehead as she tried to suppress her outrage. That Selexi is causing trouble again, she thought. She has been a problem from the time she was a small child. And now she is threatening the well being of the entire island. There was nothing she could do. It was within Selexi’s rights to exercise the challenge clause.
She
pulled on her High Council robe, opened the door and stepped into the hallway where the other High Council members were pouring out of their rooms and heading toward the chamber. She joined the throng to attend the emergency meeting, and took her place.
The High Council members sat in raised rows, forming semicircles. They faced the dais, where the Sultana sat on her throne. Selexi, also a member of the High Council, waited in her place, relishing the commotion she had created. The members looked agitated, as she had predicted they would. Anaya and Miranda stood to the side. Their presence was required in order for the challenge to be approved.
Dosha stood up and banged the gong to start the proceedings. “Selexi’s daughter, Anaya, has announced she is a challenging Miranda to the throne.”
Hushed murmurs circulated around the room. The Sultana sat sternly in her place, breathing with effort and glowering in disgust.
Dosha continued. “The book of our foremothers indicates that the two girls must embark upon a quest of the Sultana’s choosing. Since we are facing certain drought, the Sultana has decreed that the two girls will travel to Sarona to retrieve Red Larimar stones. They will leave tomorrow at sunrise.”
Selexi immediately bounded to her feet in protest. “This is outrageous! They can perform a quest right here on Zarada.” She looked at her mother. “You wouldn’t risk the life of your only granddaughter. Or would you?”
“Silence, Selexi! Sit down or you will be escorted from the room,” said Dosha, who had no patience for the upstart.
Selexi considered her choices, then acquiesced. She sat back down.
The Sultana slowly rose, her body weighing heavily on her cane. “We will not survive beyond the next season without rain for our crops. If we do not procure stones, there will be no inhabitants on the island to rule. Miranda and Anaya are both highly accomplished Young Warriors, and our only hope for replenishing the Red Larimar supply. If they fail, we will perish. However, if they succeed we will have life again!”
The Larimar Quest (Island Of Zarada Book 1) Page 6
