“I know, now move that mule of yours.”
They kept up the conversation until the next checkpoint when the entire party fell silent once again.
The guard at this checkpoint seemed less bothered about his job. There was no checking of the cargo, just a flippant hand waving them through. The gateway was smaller but no less elaborate.
“The emerald arch,” muttered Zeb as he walked next to Fidel.
They walked at the front of their party. Fidel ignored a grumbled remark from Djeck about Zeb finally speaking of something other than the plan. Those two clearly didn’t get on.
The Laowyn ex-Captain looked up at the pointed arch covered in tiles the colour of the forest leaves. The more he looked the more he realised the colour was moving in slow swirls.
“The material comes from Castir, a gift from the child-Queen before she was deposed.” The elf was talking absently as if to himself.
Fidel felt the impulse to comfort him. He reached out a hand and touched the smaller man’s shoulder, just for a moment, and then took it away again. Zeb seemed finally to come into the present. He didn’t look at Fidel, but the Laowyn saw the lines on his face lessen for a few seconds. The elf nodded sharply, and then carried on as he was before.
Fidel knew he still carried the guilt of letting the Laowyn woman be taken. That was what he had recounted when he had regained consciousness, not that Ikara had believed him. Fidel thought with a certain degree of anxiety that soon the elf’s faith in Kiara would either be proved or else her alliance with the enemy race would be exposed.
The final checkpoint was manned by men with the same disregard for incomers. Of the two booths, theirs was manned by three guards huddled together talking in hushed tones. There must be so many intrigues going on in a place of this size, thought Fidel, eyeing the men who were throwing occasional furtive glances across the entryway.
The party continued and finally they were approaching the entryway to the harem marketplace. The crowds were far less here, the majority of the palace visitors heading to the courtiers’ domains where they might obtain patronage or sell far more valuable gifts. The group found a space among the sellers easily enough, Zeb getting the twins to unload their cargo just as if they were ordinary traders. Zephenesh and Fidel stood together behind the blanket on which their goods were being laid.
“Do you think she’s really here?”
“I have never doubted it,” Zephenesh smiled a little, “I felt the Great Spirit confirming it as soon as I heard of it, this cannot be a coincidence, Fidel. She has been placed here for a purpose, for such a time as this. It’s exactly as the elf has said.”
The courtyard was lined with a colonnade towards the east end. A door opened and several women entered the covered area, walking beside the columns and entering the courtyard. Fidel’s breath caught in his throat - no Laowyn women would ever dress like that.
He heard laughing from across the courtyard.
“I think you’re in the wrong place, giant!” called one of the guards who stood at the entryway to the marketplace. He elbowed the other guard in the ribs and pointed to Fidel whose heightened colour could be seen from a mile away.
The women who were browsing at the stalls looked over to the fair-haired giant, giggling and whispering amongst themselves.
“Their culture is different from yours, is it not Fidel?” Zeb said, his face clear of embarrassed colour and his eyes meeting both the women’s and the guards’ gazes with steadiness.
“If Ria dressed like this I’d skin any man who looked at her,” Jaik said darkly, his eyes entranced.
“I can’t…” Calev stuttered.
“It will become easier,” replied Zeb.
“Look at their faces,” Zephenesh advised, his face hard and calm.
“You sternly judge a nation you have chosen not to understand,” Zeb responded to Zephenesh’s harsh tone.
“Do you understand them?” asked Fidel, sitting beside the twins and Zeb who were now ready to receive patrons of their goods.
“I do not dislike a race based on cultural differences which are preferences, preferences that do not sit against my own beliefs, against the spirits which guide us all, just against my tastes. I refuse to wilfully misunderstand others.”
“Sometimes people’s tastes are right,” Djeck replied, the only one unimpressed by the Southern Elf’s speech.
“You realise your niece may no longer agree,” Zeb said, looking past Djeck to Zephenesh.
“There are more women coming out, she may be among them.”
They stayed there for the rest of the day, managing to sell some of their stock, but unable to see Kiara. She did not venture into the courtyard, and when the Harem Master finally came through to usher the rest of the women back inside they knew that they would not see her that day.
They were packing up, Fidel wondering whether they had been wrong all along, when Zeb intercepted the Harem Master.
“My lord,” he bowed his head, his hand touching the elbow of the bald man. He clearly carried much authority in this section of the palace.
Fidel saw a look pass over Zeb’s face as he touched him, as if understanding something, and then the elf spoke.
“The fair-haired one, the Prince’s Favourite, we have come to see her.”
The Harem Master made to turn away, clearly bothered one too many times by people interested in the court gossip.
“I entreat you, her uncle is here.” Zeb gestured to Zephenesh who stood beside Fidel, watching with the others the conversation taking place. “We mean to cause no trouble, I only ask that you tell her we are here, that we will come back tomorrow, her uncle wishes to see her, if only once.”
The man’s eyes softened at the mention of a relative of the Favourite. He looked over to Zephenesh, and Fidel saw the uncertainty in his eyes. He looked back to Zeb, his face still undecided, and then without saying anything in reply he left, herding the last of the women through the door and shutting it behind him.
Zeb watched after him and then turned back to the party.
“We will come back tomorrow.”
Chapter 19
When Johan entered the favourite’s room, he saw Coscian talking to the fair-haired woman. He was explaining that a trip to the harem market could be beneficial because of all the excellent perfumes on offer. He was rather firm with her, explaining the approval she would receive from the Prince if she were to wear perfumes brought from the provinces of Castir. Johan wondered how much more approval was needed - he knew his friend had kissed the woman, and that he was planning to bed her too.
She seemed less than interested however. As Johan stood in the doorway he saw the fingers she was tracing over her lips and the far-off look in her blue eyes. Trevisian didn’t know he was here, no doubt he might comment upon it when he heard of it later, but Johan felt a need to speak to the woman his friend clearly felt deeply for. He wanted to know he could trust her.
He knocked on the doorframe. “I’d be more than happy to accompany you, my lady.” He bowed, the lengths of his Tao-style hair falling either side of his muscular neck. He threw the lengths of knotted curls back over his shoulders. Kiara looked a little startled. “We have not been formally introduced. My name is Johan, bodyguard to my Lord Prince.”
“I… er…” Her blue eyes flicked over to Coscian whose implacable countenance remained unperturbed by the interference.
“I am sure she would appreciate your company, Johan.” In the Harem Master’s hand was a bloodied towel. “Perhaps you could escort her back here afterwards too?”
Johan’s quick eyes took in the cut which had freshly sealed itself on the woman’s forearm. “I will.”
Coscian moved towards the door. “I shall see you later then, my lady.” He slid from the room silently as though he had never been present.
Johan turned back to find her watching him cautiously. Her frame was rigid, the injured arm now tucked protectively behind her body.
“My lady,” he bowed again, s
weeping an arm towards the door to allow her passage.
She took the opportunity immediately, breathing easier as soon as she was out of the confines of the room.
“You are not Reluwyn.”
He caught a furtive glance cast sideways at him. A chuckle rumbled up his chest. “Direct. The Prince said you were.”
His step paused a moment so that he could turn and display his back to her. Whilst he wore a leather skirted loincloth, his upper half was covered only by a sash of animal skin, the fur yellow and dotted with dark black spots. A desert wild cat, a vicious creature whose fur could take on the colour of its surroundings. Johan had killed it beneath the shade of a waterfruit tree.
Either side of the sash, the Radichi’s pale tattoos could be seen covering his torso. Reluwyn men tended to be swathed in billowing silk tunics, and Johan was the only man of court who remained in tribal attire at all times.
“I am a Radichi warrior from the Tao desert in the south.”
A line had appeared between Kiara’s brows, and she looked as though she was working out a sum. She began to speak and then stopped, refocusing upon her surroundings. Johan filled in the blanks.
“What is a Southern warrior doing in Emril Palace?”
She nodded.
“I was taken captive during the re-conquering wars of the Reluwyn and kept at the palace as a kind of exhibit of the Southern Nomads.” He noted the curl of her lip. “I grew up with the Prince, became his bodyguard, his friend.”
Her fine brow rose.
“Is the…” she hesitated.
“Generally, people call him my Lord Prince,” another rich chuckle rumbled out. “Though I know you’ve had choice names for him before.” He looked down at this woman who barely came up to his shoulder. “I am not come to fetch you to him. He has not called for you yet.” He saw a look akin to disappointment fleetingly cross her face.
“You know you’re not like any other.” His voice had dropped low. “That cut proves it, and the others know it.”
“I don’t understand why.”
Johan’s mouth curled upwards, a gentle smile taking over. “Put your hand upon my arm. No one will harm you when you are with me.” He saw reassurance rush over her face.
“I can see why the Prince likes you.” She smiled then, her eyes sparkling with humour.
“Because I hold his hand too you mean?” Johan laughed, stepping out into the sun and guiding her toward the first of the market-sellers.
She looked at each of the stalls but was not convinced by any of the wares to part with the purse of coins Coscian had given her. When she came upon a stall in the corner, a blanket laid on the ground spread with bottles of perfume and piles of spices, she paused once again.
Until now she had not interacted with any of the market sellers. Johan had greeted each one, exchanging a few pleasantries, particularly with those he already knew from other markets that took place within the palace walls.
“Good morning.” He greeted the small gathering of men.
A few sat back against the wall but the elder among them remained just behind the blanket with another man. The second man was as tall as a tree and broad, rivalling Johan in stature. He was fair too, responding in a steady voice to the greeting. He bid the Radichi good morning but his eyes were on the woman on Johan’s arm.
At the sound of the man’s voice Johan felt her hand grip tightly. The older man offered a greeting, and the grip became tighter still. She stepped back and then sideways, all the time holding onto Johan.
“Are you well, my lady?” Johan looked down at her, seeing the shock etched into every feature of her face. She couldn’t reply.
Johan looked back to the merchant party and saw that every pair of eyes was upon her, though none of the men had moved. The tension was finally broken by an elf, who now stepped towards them.
“My lady, a bottle of perfume for you? Only 10 reels? It is from the heart of Castir, the provinces with the best Occia trees.” He picked up a purple bottle from the blanket and thrust it forwards.
The woman took it, looking dumbly at the perfume and then back at the seller. Johan’s heavy brow was furrowing slowly. Was that recognition he had seen? His measuring gaze was cast back over the traders. Their dress was that of the Great Forest and he glimpsed a few Laowyn badges in the folds of their cloaks. Then there was the elf who’d come forward, his dress more akin to a Southerner near Johan’s home.
Johan looked back down at the Favourite. His words carefully chosen, “My lady? You do not have to buy it, are you wishful to return to your quarters?”
“I…”
“Your lip,” Johan jutted his chin in a gesture towards the blood on her lower lip.
“My lady, please take this silk for no extra charge.” It was the older man who stepped forward now, coming out of the trance that the rest still seemed stuck in. He offered the silk and she took it. In doing so she dropped the perfume bottle, the delicate object shattering on the tiled floor. A heavy floral smell rose up, the liquid dripping into the cracks of the floor. The whole courtyard stopped and turned to look at the upset.
The Favourite wiped her lip carelessly, the blood smearing. The sounds of the courtyard slowly filtered back into place. As they did so, she looked away with great effort, muttering something Johan did not catch. Suddenly her voice raised,
“Coscian!”
“My lady?” He frowned. His eyes switched several times between the blue eyes of the old man and those of the woman.
She tried to hand back the silk.
“A gift, my lady,” the old man affirmed, his hands remaining by his side.
She turned to Johan, a look of anguish on her face which she rapidly forced into a smile. “Please, Johan,” she said in a voice lighter than her body language would suggest. “Will you take me to Coscian? I have just remembered something I forgot to speak to him about this morning.”
Johan looked between her and the traders. Both remained silent under his scrutiny and he doubted very much he would obtain an answer from the woman in this public place. “Very well. My Lord Prince will see to it that you are reimbursed.” Johan nodded to the broken shards of bottle that still lay at the Favourite’s feet.
“Of course, my lord. Perhaps we may see you again, my lady.”
She made no answer, turning away with Johan and retreating to the shade of the colonnade. It was not until they re-entered the harem that Johan felt the small hand finally relax upon his arm. It turned out that the Favourite had a past after all, and Johan guessed that it had just found her.
Kiara was so agitated that she barely looked at the silk that her uncle had pushed into her hand. Once Johan had left, she had paced her room for some time. Her fingers now touched her lip, not to remember the Prince’s kiss, but to feel where she had bitten down on it in the market. If she had given anything away, everything would change.
Did she not want it to? Was she happy that Zephenesh was here? That Zeb had come for her? Zeb was alive! She had thought him dead, but there he had been, handing her a bottle of perfume as though he was any normal market seller.
Why were they here? Zephenesh’s look had not been one of joy she was sure. Relief had been in his eyes, but those eyes had also taken in her Reluwyn dress, her exposed skin, her hand on the arm of a man equally half-dressed. What had he thought?
Her pacing distracted her, hiding the sound of the door opening and shutting. She turned to retrace her steps for the hundredth time almost colliding with Coscian who was holding a tray of fruit. He placed it on the table before facing her again.
“I…” she looked into his eyes. He had encouraged her to go to the market, yet usually he encouraged her to keep secluded, to keep protected. “Coscian…” How did she address this?
“Yes.”
“Why did you…” She continued to pace. “Why did you encourage me to go to the market? What was the purpose?”
She saw it! The flicker of guilt that manifested itself in the pursing of hi
s lips.
“For perfumes, my lady, to entice the Prince. Do you care for some fruit?” He picked at some dates, chewing them without pleasure.
“You’ve never called me ‘my lady’.” Her blue eyes were like fire, her shoulders shaking. “Tell me the truth Coscian.”
He looked conflicted.
“I know nothing of the goings on in the market place. Except that one party requested to speak to you yesterday. They seemed determined… are they who I think they are?”
She began pacing again.
“You must be careful, rumours are quick to ignite the court’s forest.”
“Johan saw them, I… I tried not to be shocked, no thanks to you,” she shot it at him and the barb hit its mark. “Oh!” She cast her hands up. “I do not mean to… it’s just… it’s all so complicated now.”
“He told me.”
So Johan had guessed, for her uncle had been wearing the symbol of the Laowyn. Damn his pride! And yet with such bitter sweetness she had looked upon him – after all, she had never thought she’d see him again.
“Johan’s no fool.”
“No.”
“If he tells the Prince I…” she drifted off again.
“He won’t. Not yet. I am told the Prince favours you highly.”
“Everyone said that from the beginning.”
“True, but has there not been a change in his attentions?”
She coloured then.
“Johan?” she asked a little helplessly.
Coscian nodded. He moved towards her now stilled figure. His hand lay on hers for a moment.
“You have to tell him on your own terms.”
“Why do you protect me?”
Coscian removed his hand, smiling wanly. “Johan seems to think you two suit.”
“Suit!?” But Kiara had no arguments left. She had nothing left after arguing for so long, battling every feeling, trying to escape every attention. Something in her had changed, as if something had grown, and it would never be the same again.
“But you must be the one to tell him. No one else must hear of this until he knows, Laowyn prejudice it running high in the court and…” His colour was heightened. He grasped for the next words but they failed to come.
The Edict (The She Trilogy Book 1) Page 20
