by Sarah Dalton
I ball my pretty blue robe into my fist as I try to control my temper. “It does exist. We have scrolls to suggest it is stored in a Sihran temple beneath the Anadi Sands.”
The sultan stops laughing and clears his throat. He leans forward across the table and points to me. “Do you know the real name of the Ember Stone? That’s what the northerners call it, what you call it. To us it is the Ansarintante—the stone of ashes. The Queen of Fire owned that stone. It was a gift from her lover, a prince of the north, who left her for a northerner. She was so angry that she burned it to ashes. But her rage smouldered through those ashes, turning it into something else. A stone possessing more power, more magic, than anything before or after. The Queen of Fire destroyed herself in the process of creating the Ansarintante. She lost her powers and threw herself out of the highest tower of the Jakani palace. The stone perished in the ransacking of Jakani from the north. You see, her precious Prince tried to grind us into the dirt.” The sultan’s eyes burn with passion. He turns to Cas, who flinches and looks away. “Leaving us with this story to tell our children centuries later. A story to remind us that Jakanis and northerners can never be friends.”
There is silence around the table as the sultan continues to stare at me. I unclench my fist and place my palm on the cool marble table top. “Centuries,” I say in a quiet voice.
“What?” the sultan snaps.
“You said it yourself. It was centuries ago, and yet you still hold a grudge.”
“The king does nothing for us except borrow money. He promises friendship and then builds an army behind our backs. I should have known not to trust a northerner, and I never will again.”
“I’m not a northerner,” I say in a calm voice. “I’m not a southerner, either. I am the craft-born. You have two choices, sultan. You can fight the king without the prince’s men, or you can fight them with his men.”
The sultan’s eyes flash before he breaks out into a smile. “Come now. I was never going to turn down your offer. I was simply sharing a precious story, something that is just a story, Hada-Ya. Of course you have my men. I want the king out of Aegunlund as much as you do.”
“And you still maintain that the Ember Stone is not real?” Cas asks.
The sultan’s expression turns hard. “The stone perished with the Queen of Fire long ago.”
“There is one condition for this alliance,” Cas says. “You must help Mae travel over the Anadi Sands so she can find the Ember Stone.”
The sultan turns a ring on his finger and shrugs. “If that is a condition then so be it. I can spare a dozen men for a few weeks as our soldiers prepare for war. But I guarantee you will find nothing. The little Hada-Ya is on a fool’s errand.”
I stay and listen as the sultan, Mushtan, Allerton, and Cas talk war politics, soaking in their words and strategies, learning more about politics than I ever have before. And all the time I sit and listen to them, I know. I know that the sultan will try to steal the Ember Stone. I know that he does not care a fig about the king. His main focus is getting the black diamond—the Ansarintante—as he called it. He has tried to throw us off by claiming the Ember Stone is destroyed, but I can see the truth. He will betray me, and I cannot let that happen.
Chapter Fifteen – The Preparations
I’m up before the sun. My feet take me to the balcony of Mushtan’s mansion, where I let the warm Jakani air whisper at my neck. Today is the day we leave the safety of Jakani and travel into the unknown lands of the Anadi Sands. Throughout most of the night Allerton told me of the dangers, of the creatures that dwell there—poisonous scorpions, desert snakes, vultures—the heat of the sun, the possibility of sand-storms, the lack of water. And then there are the desert people, packs of nomads living outside the city; banished criminals; bad people who would kill us for one copper penny.
We leave with a dozen of the sultan’s men, a dozen of Allerton’s best Borgan fighters, and then my friends—Sasha, Treowe, Ellen, Mushtan, and Cas. I close my eyes shut and squeeze my hand into a fist when I think about Cas. He should be in the north with the general, fighting against his father. But he gave up that opportunity to stay with me. He abandoned the idea of revenge to stay with me. If I want any more proof of his love I won’t find it. I’m the one person who understands how hard it is to abandon revenge, how hard it is to move on when your parent has been killed. I know what he has done for me.
I’ll never forget it.
I turn back to the room, standing between soft, floating drapes. I still have a relationship with Cas, but it cooled a little after his proposal. Then, on the journey to Jakani, we found it difficult to be apart again, and our bedrolls would end up closer and closer each night, until my hand found his, and our fingers entwined as we slept. It seems strange for him not to be with me now. I long for us to lie side by side with nothing but clothes and body heat between us. When he sleeps close to me, my nightmares are gone. I long for another stolen kiss. I close my eyes and replay our kisses in my mind.
It’s too late now. I have things I need to do. I wash, dress, and begin to pack the scrolls and the rest of my belongings. Then I take them down to the reception of Mushtan’s home and sneak into the kitchen. It’s there that I hear the clearing of a throat and turn around in surprise.
“I thought this might happen,” Allerton says, folding his arms into the sleeves of his green robes. He tilts his head towards me. “Going somewhere?”
I place my pack on the floor and sigh. “It’s not what you think.”
Allerton moves so quickly that I take a step back. “Is it not? Then you’re not planning on running off to the desert without the group? You’re not planning on going it alone?”
“The sultan wants the Ember Stone,” I whisper. “If we go with his men, they’ll betray us.”
Allerton’s eyes narrow. “Do I look like a fool to you? Do I sound like a bumbling idiot? Don’t you think I know that you cannot trust the sultan?”
“Then you agree I should go alone?”
Allerton exhales loudly through his nose. “Don’t be so ridiculous. What are you going to do in the desert alone? How would you even survive?” He grasps me by the arm and pulls me into the shadows. “Listen to me, girl. Listen fast. Yes, we know that you cannot trust the sultan’s men, but you and they have the same goal. You want to find the Ember Stone. You will do anything to get it. They will help you so long as you both have the same goal. You need to use them until you reach the Sihran temple.”
“And then what?” I ask.
“I’ve already instructed my men,” he says, not meeting my eye. “The sultan’s men will be dealt with.”
I stiffen. “You’ve ordered them to murder the sultan’s men?”
“No, to defend themselves.”
“The sultan’s men will have the same order. It’ll be a blood bath. I can’t let so many people die.” I turn to leave but Allerton grasps me once more.
“Mae, when you’re queen, you will have to make decisions like this and worse. There are necessary evils in this world, and if you cannot face them, you cannot rule. What do you think the sultan will do if you disappear into the night? Do you think he will abandon his idea of getting the ultimate power and secret to living forever? Don’t be a nincompoop, of course not. He will send men to find you. He will imprison us. Then, if he cannot find you, he will kill us.”
“Cas,” I whisper.
“Cas he will no doubt use as a bargaining tool with the king.”
“The king would make him suffer,” I say, my skin growing cold.
Silently, I pick up my pack and place it on my shoulder. I wrap my arms around my body as I retrace my steps up to the guest room where my silver prince lies. He’s awake when I get there. Without a word, he accepts me into his arms.
“No matter what I do, people are going to die,” I murmur against his shoulder.
“I know,” he replies.
“Is this what it’s like to be a ruler? Because I hate it.”
; “You’re supposed to,” Cas says, stroking my hair.
*
In the morning, the sultan arranges a breakfast for the leaving party. He calls it “a show of good faith and the beginning of a prosperous relationship”. I call it “giving us a false sense of security”. Nevertheless, it offers us an opportunity to discuss the maps of the Anadi Sands, and gaze over Beardsley’s scrolls again.
There are a few possible locations for the hidden Sihran temple, but Allerton feels that there is one spot, deep in the west of the Anadi Sands, that is most likely. He has cross referenced Beardsley’s scrolls with texts from early craft-borns and he believes he is right. I stare deep into his amber eyes and believe him.
“And you won’t come with us, old friend?” Mushtan asks.
For a brief moment, there is a soft, almost vulnerable slackening of his jaw, and a watery expression of regret in his eyes. “If only. I am too old and too fat for this journey. Make no mistakes, Mushtan. I know my own limits. And I know when I would hold you back.” He glances at me. “This is an adventure suited for those made of hardier stuff than me. No matter how much I long to see the ancient temples of the Sihrans.”
It hits me hard hearing the loss in his voice. Allerton has spent his entire life researching the Ancients, and now he is within a whisper of discovering something precious—something remarkable—and he cannot come with us. He is doing the right thing, and I respect him for it, even after everything that has happened.
“Hello, Hada-Ya.”
I turn to see Aliyah dressed in loose trousers and a tunic. She carries a small pack and has her hair pulled back and tucked under a scarf.
“Aliyah, are you coming with us, too?” I ask, surprised that one of Mushtan’s servant girls would want to embark on such a dangerous journey.
“All my life I have wanted to see the Anadi Sands. Mushtan is a good master, but he knows nothing of women. He thinks we all enjoy washing his clothes. So I told him that I am coming on this journey, and that I will play my part in this mission.”
I can’t help but grin at her. With her defiant chin, and stern expression, she reminds me of the girl I was in Halts-Walden. “Then I am glad to have you with us.”
Before we leave, I pull Allerton to one side. “Can I trust Mushtan?”
Allerton nods with approval. “Mushtan is one of my oldest friends and I trust him with my life, but no, you cannot trust him. You cannot trust anyone, especially those close to the sultan. You do not know what a desperate man will do if his family is put in danger. I’m not saying they are, but you know as well as I that the sultan is aware of Mushtan’s family home. It saddens me to say it, but no, you cannot trust him.”
It saddens me too. I long to get closer to Mushtan, to find out more about the Haedalands, to fill a hole my father left in my heart. Allerton seems to notice my sadness because he pulls me into a hug I’m not ready for.
“Be careful, Mae. Use your head. Use your powers. If there’s one person I can see surviving this—and pulling their people through it unscathed—it’s you. I know you cannot trust or see me as a father because of everything that has happened, but you are a daughter to me.”
The words penetrate something, a hard casing around my heart. I built a wall just for Allerton, for what he did to my father, and those words have chipped a tiny crack in that wall. I brush away a tear and pull back.
“Take care,” I say.
I join the group of riders out in the courtyard, trying to shake away the emotion that makes my fingers tremble. Cas is soon by my side, dressed in breeches and boots, but with a wrap to keep his head cool. We’re all required to wear them, and I have learned the name of the garment, it is called a she’em. The Jakanis wear white cotton tunics that hang down to the knee, and below that, they wear baggy trousers. They carry swords at the belt and regard me with neutral dark eyes. They seem regimented, cool, and collected.
Mushtan walks forward with one of the humped beasts. I take a step back as it snorts all over me. Cas’s body shakes with laughter as I observe the camel with disdain.
“Meet your ride, Hada-ya,” Mushtan says with a knowing grin.
“I’m not getting on that thing,” I reply.
The camel opens its mouth and a great heaawwww comes from it. The Jakanis break into laughter as I leap back away from it. Sasha takes great delight in pointing out that the mare she gave me doesn’t seem so bad now. I clear my throat and adjust the straps on my metal hand.
“Fine, help me on it, then,” I say to Mushtan.
Mushtan says something loud and harsh in his tongue, and the camel lowers itself to the ground. Then he motions for me to climb atop. I gingerly step into the saddle and swing my leg over its back. Almost immediately the camel is up, and I’m higher than I ever was on Anta.
“How is it up there?” Cas shouts.
I can’t speak, I’m using all my concentration to hold the camel one handed. Its neck is impossibly long, and its ears are strange and fuzzy.
“Don’t worry, Hada-ya, it will follow the pack. You won’t even need to steer,” Mushtan says, patting the camel on the neck. “Its name is Adil.”
I lean forward and stroke its shoulder. “Hello Adil. You have a nice name. Let’s work together, or this journey is going to be unbearable.”
Adil responds by lunging forwards and chewing on the sparse grass outside Mushtan’s front gates. Behind me comes the inevitable sound of laughter. The prickle of embarrassment heats my face. This isn’t exactly the kind of start I wanted. How am I supposed to lead these people when they think I’m something to laugh at? Somehow I manage to rein Adil back to the group and the others are soon on their camels. We have a huge amount of water split into containers and strapped onto the backs of the two camels without riders. They are led by some of the younger men in the group. We have already planned out a course that takes us west via a small but—hopefully—friendly isolated village in the valleys beneath the Red Peak Mountains, so that we can collect more water at a well. With the sultan on our side, the people will have to comply, but it will be a big inconvenience for them.
Mushtan rides ahead, taking us through the streets of Jakani and out into the desert. Young children run alongside the camels, their leather shoes slapping against the dusty ground. I don’t need an interpreter to know that they are shouting where are you going? The curiosity is all over their faces. They know something is happening. They know that something is stirring in the belly of the world.
Cas rides beside me. “Are you ready?”
“I want to be,” I admit.
He nods. We both know this will not be an easy journey. It won’t be long until the laughter stops. There is much to achieve, much left unknown, and I must be ready for it all.
Chapter Sixteen – The Yellow Sands
As bizarre and uncomfortable as it is to ride a camel, they are useful creatures. They work tirelessly, and they barely eat or drink. Adil bounds along beneath me, as loyal to his pack as I am to my friends. Soon enough, I begin to feel affection towards my strange, humped beast.
Jakani sits on the edge of the Anadi Sands, so it’s barely half a day before we are surrounded by nothing but barren land, with the bright sun beating down on us. Sweat trickles down my temples, but I always resist the urge to remove my she’em. Mushtan and the others warn us of sun sickness, of letting ourselves become too exposed to the heat and growing weak. With that knowledge, I keep a close eye on Ellen, Treowe, Sasha, and the other Borgans. None of them are used to this climate.
Mushtan and his men ration the water carefully. At the beginning of the journey we were all given a canteen along with strict instructions about how long they will need to last. After that time has passed, our canteen will be filled again, but not before. We stop for food when the sun is at its highest, eating nuts and dates in the shelter of tents. Our group remains quiet and focussed.
I find it difficult to stop staring at the terrain. There is something about the stark, yellow landscape that forc
es you to respect our world. This is bleak country. It is fight or be killed. Even the Waerg Woods gave us something; shelter from the rain, sustenance from plants. The Anadi Sands give nothing. Instead they suck you dry. They suck the sweat from the pores, and the energy from your body. By the end of the first day I am relieved to find the night cooling down my hot body. But it’s not long before I’m shivering.
The Jakani natives build a fire, and heat small round disks of bread. Everyone else huddles around the fire, rubbing their arms and legs.
“The temperature drops in the night,” Mushtan explains. “Blistering hot days, freezing nights. If you thought you would find respite when the sun goes down, you were wrong.” He sits on a colourful blanket of woven ribbons with his arms resting on his knees. In the flickering shadows of the fire, I notice the lines carved into his face, and wonder how many times he has travelled over the Anadi Sands. Mushtan sees my gaze shift to the blanket. “My children made it for me. They told me it would protect me on my adventure.”
I avert my eyes, flinching at the thought. How many other men have families? I dare not ask. I am too afraid to even learn their names.
“Do not feel guilty, Hada-ya. The world is built on the sacrifice of brave souls. Never feel guilty for giving a man the opportunity for greatness. If I die, I die in hope of a better world, a world without a weak king as its leader. Perhaps I will do enough to leave a better place for my children.”
“But what if you’re wrong? What if the alternative is worse?” I mutter.
“Is that what you believe?” he probes.
“No,” I answer without hesitation. “Nothing can be worse than the king. He’s an arse.”
Mushtan laughs. “What a queen you will be, little Hada-ya.”
