We moved deeper and deeper into the city, and I could not help but marvel at the scene that lay before me. Goats, sheep, and camels pushed through the crowds without any reaction from the people. We passed by a bazaar dyed every color imaginable, carmine and chartreuse and aquamarine, tall stands swathed in fabric, merchants selling chunky metallic jewelry and beautifully embroidered dresses. Women draped in pinks and oranges examined the merchandise.
But though the city was a feast for the senses, I noticed the underlying want. Large bins holding dates, cashews, beans, and rice sat half- or nearly empty. Racks meant to hold plucked chickens and lamb legs stood without meat, even without flies. I did not know the exchange rate of Zareedian coin, but the price tags I saw in passing seemed very high. When I looked closer, I noticed the thinness of the children beneath their loose clothes and the weariness in their mothers’ eyes. We passed a well—I would not have noticed if Imad had not told me, for many people crowded around it, hiding it from view. These were a people in famine, men and women desperate for relief. They cast expectant glances at me—no, at Imad—hoping their prince had finally found a way to save them.
“Our granaries are empty,” Imad murmured beside me, swaying back and forth with the stride of his camel. “That is why I came to you personally. We need your help, Smeesa.”
I looked over the bronze-skinned strangers who surrounded me and nodded. “I will. As soon as we stop moving, the snow will come.”
He nodded but did not smile. I could tell the sight of his people’s suffering weighed heavily on him.
We reached the palace—that grand, three-tiered work of art in the mountains, even more beautiful close up—and dismounted. Imad helped guide my camel down, and I fled its saddle, not wanting to scare it. Lo barked orders to the soldiers, directing some to take positions in the palace, others to go home and report back in the morning. He rubbed his chin, which was now lined with a full but short beard, and waited for Imad and me to move ahead of him before following after us, keeping his quiet distance.
The grandeur inside the palace overshadowed that of the exterior. Great scarlet curtains draped from ceiling to floor; tiles embedded with what appeared to be mother-of-pearl lined the floors. A great stone staircase spiraled up from the center of that main room, its banisters matted with gold leaf. A giant wind chime, at least the height of a camel, hung from one corner—its chimes made from some sort of aged, hollow wood, its clapper a round disc of sandstone. It would take two men to ring such a thing. I could not fathom what its song sounded like, for we had nothing of its like in Euwan. In Iyoden! Everything about this palace—this country—was so unlike the world I had grown up in it took my breath away. And I had once thought my father’s turnery so grand . . .
Servants surrounded Imad, and he brushed most of them away, murmuring yes and no, shaking his head or offering thanks. He led the way up those great winding stairs—I ached to touch the railing but dared not for fear it would be damaged by my frost—and into a great throne room, larger than the last, its south and east sides letting in the bright sun through circle-top windows. I peered out of one of them and spied my white cloud hovering above us, shading half the city.
“Smeesa, would you like something to eat?”
I turned and noticed a servant carrying a tray of food had joined Imad. She was a middle-aged woman in a long violet dress and salmon head scarf, and she was regarding me with curious eyes. Lo had left, but two new guards stood at attention at the entrance to the throne room, wearing indigo garb that looked to have chain mail sewn right into the fabric. The serving woman’s tray was weighted down with quiche, flatbreads with hummus, raisins, and a strange-smelling wine.
I didn’t enjoy eating in front of the others, especially Imad, for it required me to chew and swallow swiftly in order to keep the food from freezing in my mouth. But I was hungry, and besides, I did not want to embarrass the prince by turning down his kind offer.
“Thank you,” I said, pulling my sleeve over my right hand. I took a piece of flatbread and, turning away, ate it as slowly as I dared. The simple bread tasted good on my tongue, even when it hardened and turned chewy in my mouth. I accepted a few raisins, which Imad placed directly in my covered hands, understanding the precautions I had to take.
“We need to fit you for some real clothes,” he said with a smile, accepting a glass of wine before dismissing the serving woman with a nod. “And some gloves and shoes.”
I looked down. My feet were still bare, as there had been no shoes to fit them among Imad’s traveling party. The tiles beneath me shimmered with frost. I feared I had made them rather slippery as well, for the serving woman stumbled on her way out.
Imad clapped his hands and called out to one of his guards. As I had already realized on our voyage, he made an effort to know the names of all who served him. “Aghid, would you find Kitora and ask her to take Smeesa’s measurements?” He spoke in Hraric and gestured to me when he said my name. “And provide any spare clothes she can wear in the meantime.”
The guard nodded and vanished from the doorway. A moment later Lo appeared to take his place. I was amazed at how Imad and Lo seemed unwearied from days of travel, for my own frozen body ached for rest.
Imad noticed and personally showed me to a room larger than my entire home in Euwan, with a bed fit for five women and draped with mustard-colored curtains. A chest of wood, which must have been expensive considering how few trees grew near Mac’Hliah, sat at its foot. A table holding water and a bowl for washing rested on the far side of the room. I even had my own bathroom, complete with a chamber pot and a porcelain tub. A round mirror hung on the wall. I turned away from it, pulled off my gloves, and touched its surface until it frosted over.
I could not sleep right away, however. Kitora, a serving woman about fifty years old with a slight hunch in her back, came to measure me. Either the cold didn’t bother her or she ignored it with great skill, for she went about her work without hesitation save for my countless warnings that she must not touch my bare skin. Taking in the sight of my dusty, ruined clothes, she insisted on drawing me a bath. I asked if it would be too much trouble for her to boil the water.
I bathed myself. Baths were a hard thing for me, and over the years I had started washing myself less and less often. Living in the wilderness, I didn’t bother to maintain much of a hygienic standard. I wrapped my hands, crouched beside the tub of steaming water, and dipped a rag in it, then scrubbed one part of my body at a time, starting with my face and working my way down. I worked with haste, wiping up as much dirt as I could. Once I was finished, I carefully worked my nails over the tiny flakes of ice that kissed my skin, shedding them one by one. They scattered over the floor like dandelion seeds.
When I stepped back into the bedroom, Kitora had laid out a pale blue wiptoa dress and matching head scarf on the bed, along with a pair of tan sandals, long pants, and gloves. I dressed slowly, marveling at the quality and beauty of the clothing. The fabric stiffened beneath my touch, but it fit well enough. I pulled on the gloves and wrapped the scarf around my neck, covering as much of my skin as I could. After braiding my hair over my shoulder, I lay down on the bed, instantly cradled by its softness. Even with my aching muscles, almost-numb fingers, and shuddering shoulders, I managed to fall asleep quickly and ignore my coldness for a little while.
When I awoke my room was dark, illuminated by a single half-melted candle at my bedside. The soft mattress of my bed had grown hard underneath me, and it held my shape when I sat up, the surfaces sparkling with ice crystals. Leaving the candle where it was—I did not want to put it out on accident—I walked to the first circle-top window and peered outside.
Soft, starlit feathers of snow fell in silence from my storm, crowning Mac’Hliah in silver and white.
CHAPTER 11
By morning my snows had cooled the sandy earth enough to stick to the streets, roofs, and mountains in clusters, making Mac’Hliah a white city in the midst of the burning gold that su
rrounded it. The contrast amazed me. I gripped the balcony of the palace’s third story with my gloved hands and leaned out as far as I could, marveling at the wonder of it all, thinking for the first time that the snow around me looked beautiful in its cascading silence. I marveled that my curse, created by one wizard, could so thoroughly disturb Mother Nature, one of the most powerful forces known to man.
Below I spied men and women scurrying about in coats that looked brand new. They must have been warned to prepare for the cold, but the snow may have outwitted them. They shoveled the streets with whatever they had on hand, including buckets, cooking sheets, and garden hoes. Others twirled and marveled at the never-before-seen snow; children laughed as they slid and danced and played. I smiled, feeling more peaceful than I had in years. My curse had become another’s blessing. How wonderful, to give this to them.
“Incredible,” Imad said, walking across the snow-strewn balcony to join me. His breath clouded in the air, and soft snow melted into his hair. He laughed. “Look at this, Smeesa! Already I feel we’ve collected enough to return fertility to our ground.”
“It is no effort on my part,” I admitted.
“But it is incredible nonetheless,” Imad said, rubbing his arms. “And it is terribly cold!”
I grinned. For a moment, I had almost forgotten.
Imad clasped me by the shoulders, startling me. “Smeesa, you must go to the other villages and do the same.” He pulled his hands away, my dress providing too little protection between my skin and his, but he hid the wince. “You must go to Kittat and Ir and Shi’wanara and bring them water as you have done for us. And then return! Smeesa, with you around, my people will never go thirsty. Please say you’ll do it.”
He asked me so earnestly, and the thought of spreading more laughter through the streets of this beautiful city and providing more relief to the weary made me nod without the slightest hesitation. Imad clapped his hands.
“I will send my best guard with you. You are the jewel of this desert, Smeesa. I will see to it that you are well protected.”
I hesitated, combing through his accented words. “You will not come with me?”
He shook his head and peered out over his city. “I have been away a season already. My people need leadership, and with my father confined to his bed, I must be the one to give it to them. It will be hard to start up the farms again, to feed the . . . rhatar, how you say . . .”
“Economy,” I said, surprised I had the answer.
He nodded. “Economy. But you will be taken care of; I will see to it. I will send Lo with you; he knows these mountains well.”
A fortunate shiver hid my disdain for the idea. Lo, with his cold eyes and silent disposition, was not a companion I desired, but I would not express such ill feeling to Imad, who had done so much for me.
“Will Eyan come along? And others from our journey?” At least that way I would have friends.
Friends. How sweet that word tasted to me.
“I will tell Lo to include them,” Imad said with a firm nod. “And you will stay here for the day and night, yes? Until I cannot see the houses for the snow!” He laughed, exuberant.
“Of course. Anything you need.”
I returned to the rooms Imad had lent to me, surprised to find two new sets of clothes on the bed. Kitora must have stayed awake all night to make them. They looked much like the belted dresses I had seen the women in the city wearing, one fuchsia and the other mustard. I had two braided belts, both brown but with different weaves. Instead of sandals, I found two pairs of soft slippers with hard soles, one gray and one brown, both with high cloth legs that reached just below my knee. I had two scarves as well, one white with maroon stripes, the other orange with a scarlet fringe. I picked up the fuchsia dress to wear and discovered three pairs of gloves beneath it, two pairs to match the dresses and a third made of the same striped fabric as the first scarf. I touched them and bowed my head, so grateful for the kindness I had found in this place I thought I could burst. After changing—I wore the fuchsia gloves, gray slippers, and orange scarf draped softly over my head, as I had seen other women wear it—I took my old, stained, and tattered clothes from my schoolbag and threw them in the tweed basket near the bathroom, meant for garbage. I almost felt like a new woman, and though my beautiful clothes offered me no warmth and stiffened around my icy form, I cherished them.
“Don’t you look thoroughly foreign.”
My slow-beating heart quickened at the voice. I spied Sadriel near the window, pulling aside the curtain to look down at the falling snow.
He grinned, that sly, wide grin that rarely left his face. He looked me up and down. “At least someone’s found a use for you, hmm?”
I smoothed my stiff dress, urging myself to calm. “They have. It seems such a small thing, but I can help these people.”
“But what,” he asked, pacing the length of the room, his black cloak fluttering behind him, “will you do when they no longer need your help?”
“I’ll leave.”
“Back to our old home in Iyoden.” Sadriel almost sung the words. “But I don’t think my queen of the wilderness will be so willing to be dethroned now that she’s found a place in a palace.”
I kneaded my fingers out of habit, trying to soften their knuckles. How the cold seemed to claw at me then, with Sadriel so close.
Straightening, I sucked in a deep, cold breath. “Do you need something?”
“You know what I need,” he said.
A knock sounded on the door, and a new serving woman poked her head into the room. She averted her eyes from me, but I knew she could not see Sadriel.
“A meal for you,” she said, setting the tray on the floor. I tried to thank her, but she left too quickly, closing the door behind her.
Sadriel crossed his arms and patted his shoulders. “Too soon dethroned,” he repeated. “But when you are, I’ll be waiting. My palace is far grander than anything mere mortals can devise.”
He faded to nothing. I tried to ignore his words, but they gnawed at me as I crouched by the tray, too heavily clothed to frost the floor. The wine froze in my mouth after one swallow, and I had to peel its frozen petals from my lips. The grains of rice were small enough that I could swallow them with little chewing: little drops of ice washing down my throat. Even through the bite of the cold I tasted the strong spices, and though they made me cough, I didn’t mind.
It tasted so much better than frog.
CHAPTER 12
My storm clouds made dawn seem early. The first serving woman I met in the palace—Aamina—woke me, dressed in several layers and multiple scarves. She had more clothes for me from Kitora, meant to keep me warm, she explained. I thanked her without correcting her.
Outside, my personal troop of soldiers also wore multiple layers. Coats had been unheard of in Zareed before my arrival, at least ones thick enough for a Northland winter. All of the men wore indigo as their top layer, and their peculiar animal helmets were either held under arms or fastened to saddles, their scales and feathers unseen. I noted that the camel prepared for me—the one with the most blankets—was the same beast I had ridden in on. Imad no doubt hoped the animal would not shy from me a second time.
I spied Lo near the head of the animal line, his goat-horned helmet—Imad had mentioned it portrayed a beast called an ibex—nestled in the crook of his elbow. He had shaved his beard, save for the dark hair around his mouth. Besides one other soldier, he was the only one in the group with any facial hair. Most Zareedian men, I noticed, wore their faces clean shaven.
Lo shook snow from his hair and noticed me from the corner of his eye. He pointed to Eyan and directed him to the front of the line before approaching me, his strides heavy as he waded through snow.
He looked especially tall and dark, a shadow, and it took all my willpower not to cower in front of him.
“We will ride in a diamond formation, with you in the center,” he said, and my mouth parted in surprise. He spoke to me in f
luent Northlander, his accent crisper even than Imad’s, his voice deeper. “First we will go north, to Kittat, then around the range to Ir and Shi’wanara. Are you prepared to leave?”
I nodded, dumbfounded and shivering.
He said nothing more, only turned from me and jogged to the front of the line, pulling his helmet over his long coils of hair as he went. I bit my lip. I couldn’t imagine surviving a long journey with him at the helm, and I had no idea how far these strange-named cities were.
“Don’t let him frighten you too badly,” Eyan said in Hraric from his camel as he rode up beside me. The scorpion on his helmet watched me from his pommel. “He can be hard, but he’s fair. We’ll be back before you know it.”
I swallowed against my cold throat and approached my camel, my old, tattered schoolbag slung over my shoulder. A serving woman had offered to replace it, but threadbare as the bag was, I couldn’t bear to part with it. The animal shifted uneasily as I approached, but she let me board, and with a little encouragement from Eyan, who was quick to help with some gesturing and tongue clicking, the camel stood without throwing me off her saddle.
Soon after we left Mac’Hliah, the snowfall lightened, and our camels once again trod upon sand. The storm subsided, content to hover above us as we made our journey north to Kittat.
Eyan pulled up beside me and gestured to the mountains. Speaking in Hraric, he said, “Even if we get separated, you won’t get lost. We’ll follow this range to each city and back again.”
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