by Zamil Akhtar
“Well, most of you already know this,” Hadrith said, “except for Cyra…and Eshe. So really, that speech was just for you two. I hope it was plain.”
“What directed you to this conclusion?” I asked while staring at a wall carpet with a picture of a dragon breathing fire on its own tail. Hadrith had mentioned it was a gift the Sultan of Abistra bestowed on him during a trade mission.
“Mistress.” Sambal swallowed his seeds. “I have seen the bloodrunes in the palace. Well-hidden, but they’re everywhere.”
Bloodrunes? “I’ve seen one too,” I blurted out. “In the bath!”
“That’s not all,” Ozar chimed. “Someone is trying to make it look like I want war with your brother and his tribe. The man who stamped and wrote the payment for your sins letter was a former scribe of mine, whom I recommended to the royal office. And while I’ve been known to crush my competitors in the spice trade, I didn’t kill those Sylgiz traders.”
“Why?” I asked. “How would blaming you help them overthrow the Shah?”
Hadrith said, “That’s the final piece. Right now, the Sylgiz tribe is camped outside the wall. But what if, one night whilst we sleep, the gate was to suddenly open? Do you know who controls the defense of Qandbajar’s walls?”
“It would be the gholam, of course.”
Hadrith nodded. “One person connects all these events. One sinister, scheming upstart who has been rising in power and presence for the past year. That’s right, I’m talking about none other than Pasha Kato — commander of the Alanyan gholam by day, schemer and sorcerer by night.”
Honestly, I struggled to sew the holes. “So if it’s Kato, why did you have me place a new slave in Kyars’ harem?”
Ozar blew smoke strands and said, “Kato has help. In the harem. How else is he able to sneak in and write his runes there?”
“And what do these runes do?” I asked.
Eshe cleared his throat. “So now I see I wasn’t invited merely to sample your fruit and wine.” He sat up, chin high. “I assumed you were just another schemer making pomegranate juice without pomegranates. But now I realize you’re slightly more intelligent than you look, Hadrith.”
“It’s Pasha Hadrith to you. And I think my looks and intelligence a good match. Now, Eshe, what exactly do bloodrunes do?”
“What a bloodrune does depends on the kind of blood used. Without knowing that, I can’t say.”
“Kind of blood?” I asked. “You mean whether it comes from a human or animal?”
Eshe shook his head. “No. You can’t make bloodrunes with animal blood. Humans have different flavors of blood, each flavor only able to write certain runes, though some runes can be written with different flavors. But I’d have to see the runes to know what they do.”
“How is it some vulgar poet is our foremost expert on sorcery?” I asked.
“Poet?” Hadrith said. “My dear, you’re talking to a Disciple of Chisti, the protectors of Holy Zelthuriya itself.”
“Former disciple,” Eshe said, his voice muffled and somber. “But yes, in my former life, I studied all manner of sorcery, bloodwriting included.”
Blood…writing? How spine-chilling. “So what are we to do?” I raised my hands, palms up. “Tell the Shah?”
Ozar shook his head. “Oh no, absolutely not. Shah Tamaz does not trust a single one of us. Hadrith has never been in his good graces. And though I’m married to the man’s sister, Grand Vizier Barkam has made sure I’m no beloved of his either.” He turned toward Sambal. “A eunuch isn’t exactly…you know.” Then toward me. “You, my dear, are someone he cares for genuinely but might not trust in matters as extreme as this.” Well, that I didn’t agree with; the Shah trusted me plenty, but perhaps we needed more evidence before telling him.
“So here’s what we’re going to do,” Hadrith said. “Beyond the river bend, our good man here,” he gestured at Ozar, “has docked a small fleet, since they aren’t able to sail west anymore. What no one else knows is that waiting onboard this fleet are a thousand khazis, of Kashanese birth. They believe they’re being sent west to help free our shoreline from the infidel. But we’re going to sail those ships into the city and, with their help, arrest Pasha Kato.”
An unbelievably dramatic plan, surely. Resting on shaky evidence, too. Further, I’d heard Hadrith and Ozar mention their dislike for Kato long before. Was all this a convenient pretext, then, to lop off the head of someone who rivaled their power? If so, I wanted none of it. “When are you planning this lunacy?”
“Tomorrow,” Hadrith said, cheeks wide and satisfied. Precisely what I didn’t want to hear. “I’m telling you this, Cyra, because though we may arrest Kato, for the Shah and his family to truly be safe, we’ll also need to catch his agent in the harem. And you and that Crucian you purchased are well-placed to do that…for obvious reasons, obviously.”
Obvious reasons. Was this why Hadrith had included me in his intrigues all along? “So, wait, when you asked me to give him that paper,” I gestured with my head at Ozar, who was enjoying a lengthy puff, “you were—”
“Testing you,” Hadrith completed. “To see if I could trust you. And you passed. Oh, my father may despise Ozar, but I’m a more…practical man than he is.”
More practical than Barkam? Was that even possible? To be true, I wasn’t surprised at the deeper layer to Hadrith’s requests. And yet, I couldn’t sew these dreaded holes. Something underlying this conspiracy didn’t add up. “Why would Kato do this? He’s rich, powerful, and close to the Shah. He already has everything and more.”
Ozar snickered. “Somehow, you think that being rich and powerful makes you less ambitious? More satisfied with life? But it’s entirely the opposite, I assure you from my own experience. Power has gone to Kato’s head. He convinced Kyars to let him stay in the city, so he could strike while the heir and the army were away. He killed those Sylgiz traders and put a spell on that scribe, which is why the poor fellow can’t mumble more than a few words. He’s going to raise the gate, allow the Sylgiz to ransack the city, and then seize the throne during the chaos, probably with Kyars’ son as a puppet.”
Hadrith punched his palm. “We all have the same purpose here — to protect Alanya. To protect the Shah, who is father to all Alanyans. And to protect Crown Prince Kyars, a man as dear to me as my own flesh.”
How poetic. The pieces of this conspiracy started to resemble a whole. But I believed I had a better plan than putting a thousand khazis in the city. “What if I told you that peace with the Sylgiz was imminent? That it was already agreed upon?”
“It wouldn’t change everything,” Hadrith said. A serving boy handed him a teeth-cleaning twig, which he put in his pocket. Seemed he trusted his servants. “Kato wouldn’t rest his entire plan on the Sylgiz — he must have a backup. But if there is peace with your brother — certain peace — it would delay things, at least. He won’t risk taking over the palace without a pretext.”
Eshe said, “Wait a minute. Wait just a minute.” He wagged his finger. “You’re all making a very ill-informed and dangerous assumption about this Kato fellow.”
“Which is?” Ozar asked.
“That he’s also the sorcerer. From your description, he sounds like a military man. Sorcerers tend to be experts at only one thing — sorcery. Now, you said there were bloodrunes in the harem. What if the sorcerer is someone else? What if the sorcerer is his agent in the harem…a eunuch, perhaps? Then, even if you arrest Kato, the far more dangerous party will still be free…and worse, you’ll have exposed yourselves to him.”
Sambal made that satisfied hissing sound he always liked to make. “This fellow is very wise. But there are over sixty women in the harem and hundreds of us caretakers. Where to start?”
“He’s right,” I said. “If you arrest Kato but not the sorcerer, who knows what he…or she will do. Let me find out who’s helping Kato before we take serious action.”
“And I need to see those runes,” Eshe said, “or rather, taste them.�
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“Taste?” Ozar’s flat nose almost reached his eyebrows.
“They don’t call them flavors of blood for nothing. I’m going to have to…you know…” Eshe licked the air.
Ozar shuddered, then bubbled his hookah with a deep inhale.
“One recently appeared in the wine cellar,” Sambal said, “I can take you there.”
“So we’ll delay,” Hadrith concluded. “But I fear the longer we wait, the stronger Kato becomes. Cyra, you must find the traitor in the harem. Sambal, you must help her, no matter what it takes. Eshe, go…lick these runes and find out what they do. This country and its survival rests on each of us doing our jobs. Doing what’s right.”
I nodded. Watching Hadrith take charge like this, seeing how sincere he was to protect his country and shah, I can’t lie about the butterflies that fluttered through me.
I said, “I love Alanya, the Shah, and his family as much as anyone. I won’t let them be harmed. No matter what it takes — on pain of death — I’ll find this traitor, and then we can hang them together.”
Eshe and I left Hadrith’s palace at the same time. As we walked together on the sandy road that led to the thoroughfare, we spoke of idle matters — last month’s heatwave, the dearth of birds in the sky, the year-long demolition and rebuilding of the Garden District. I didn’t want my gholam escorts to become wise to any topic covered during the meeting, so I asked my question with a whisper, “You’re not Alanyan, are you? Why help us?”
He whispered back, “I’m curious about the bloodrunes, that’s all.”
“I thought being a Disciple of Chisti was a lifetime thing. Why’d you leave?”
“I didn’t leave. I was…removed.”
“What? How come?”
“Not your concern, lady.”
I stopped in the middle of the road and said, “But how can we trust you if we don’t know who you are?”
I envied his carefree smirk. “Listen — like I said, I just want to taste those runes. I’ll tell you what they do, and then I’ll go back to my brass throne. I’m not made for palace intrigues, petty wars, and what-have-you.”
“From a Disciple of Chisti to a vulgar poet.” I folded my arms. “Quite a fall.”
“From a starving girl to the jewel of the harem. Lat raises and debases as she wills.”
“How did you know I was once a starving girl? How would you even know a thing about me?”
He tapped his head. “Why do you think hundreds line up at my throne each morning? Insight is a powerful thing, lady.”
“My title is mistress, actually.” Tomorrow, it would be sultana, the second-highest station a woman could reach in Alanya. And when Kyars ascended the throne, it would be the highest: Sultana of Sultanas.
Eshe chuckled. “I had a title, once. A grand one. The people of Holy Zelthuriya envied me, and I basked in that glow. But I soon learned that titles are not who you are — they are given and can be taken. Remember that, Cyra.”
At the end of the sandy road, we parted ways. What a day this was turning out to be. Whether this whole thing was a power play or a genuine conspiracy, I hoped it wouldn’t get in the way of tomorrow. Once I became Kyars’ wife, I would have more authority and could help discern the truth. I hoped I could help everyone — the whole country — in ways only afforded to the Sultana of Sultanas.
Back in the harem, healers, eunuchs, concubines, and handmaidens crowded outside the large room at the end of the hall. Zedra’s room.
“What happened?” I asked Sambal, who too had recently returned.
He covered his mouth and said, “The sultana…she’s been hurt!”
“You mean Zedra?”
He nodded with a tremble. Oh no. This day was heavy enough!
I pushed through the crowd and slipped into the room. Zedra lay on the bed, surrounded by white-cloaked healers. Mirima glanced at me, sweat thick on her forehead. I approached my friend, my heart jumping.
“What happened?” I asked.
Mirima shook her head and softened her eyes.
“Is she…” I swallowed worry and tears.
“Her breathing is fine,” a healer said, a miniature water clock in his hand. “Her heartbeat is normal. No obvious wounds.”
“Why won’t she wake?” Mirima asked.
“It will require further investigation.”
Mirima took a deep breath. “Cyra, you’d spoken to her earlier. Was she feeling all right?”
I thought back on our conversation in the dancing hall. Zedra had seemed…somewhat angsty, though nothing unordinary. “She was fine.”
“I’d prefer if you cleared out this rabble,” the healer said, motioning with his hand at the crowd as if swiping at a fly.
“Everyone, out!” Mirima pointed to Sambal and me. “You two stay.”
Zedra’s complexion seemed…dull. Her mouth was open slightly, in a pained expression, as if she were screaming.
“Lat heal her,” I prayed.
Mirima ran her hand through my hair. “Dear, you have quite a day tomorrow. I don’t want this terrible incident to burden you further. Rest assured that we’ll do everything for your dear friend’s well-being.”
I nodded. Terrifying thoughts ran through my head. What if the sorcerer had hurt Zedra? What if he would hurt me next? This harem was no longer safe.
“Sambal.” Mirima turned to the eunuch. “My brother has tasked me with preparing our dearest Cyra for her ceremony tomorrow, so I’m tasking you with Zedra’s care.”
“Ceremony?” Sambal said with a bewildered smile.
“Cyra is to be wed.”
Sambal’s jaw dropped as he turned to me. “Mistress, I’m so happy for you. I pray this dark cloud not rain upon your most auspicious day.”
“You won’t be calling her mistress anymore. She’s a sultana, now.”
Sambal clapped like the little monkeys in Laughter Square. “By Lat, this is an extraordinary day. I’m so excited for you, sul-ta-na! Who is this most fortunate and blessed man?”
Mirima caressed my cheek. “This lovely one will wed the Crown Prince.”
Sambal shrieked. “The Crown Prince!” He covered his mouth to hide his shock. “I would jump for joy. I would fly to the moon itself. I would grab the stars and shower them upon all in sight.” He turned to Zedra, his joy suddenly vanishing. None of us, it seemed, knew whether to laugh or sob. Mirima smiled somberly. And in my mind, the weight crushed me. I wanted to cry and pray for Zedra, and also to try on every jewel and dress Mirima was no doubt picturing on me. How to juggle two opposing emotions that have been thrust upon you?
“I’d like…to rest for a while,” I said, my head heavy.
“Of course, my dear.” Mirima hugged me. Though a cold woman at times, whenever she was caring, it so made me miss my mother. “Take all the time you need. I’ll come see you later, all right?”
I went to my room. Vera was there, sitting on my bed. A bit too familiar for my liking, as that bed was a rather intimate space. She stood when I entered, then said, “Sorry, mistress.” Her eyes were red and leaking. “I just…the sultana was so kind to me. I can’t bear the thought of her hurt.”
She stood there crying, head down and shoulders slumped.
“Could you please leave?” I said. “I want to be alone.”
Instead, she charged and put her arms around me, then bawled into my armpit. “I found her like that, in the closet, her eyes stuck in terror. Someone hurt her!”
Oh Lat. Someone could only be the sorcerer. But I had to be strong. “I’m sure she’ll be fine.” I patted Vera on the back a few times, though I was as unsure and rattled. “Mirima will be coming to see me later. You can join her, all right?”
Vera looked up with the eyes of a lost stray, then thrust her lips toward mine. I backed away.
“Not now. I told you I want to be alone.”
But she kept crying, then pushed against me even harder.
“Stop!” I didn’t want to be firm, but how else to make
her leave? “Please leave!” As if I were scolding a clingy stray.
She rushed out, tears trailing across her cheeks. Scolding her added to the pile that weighed on me, and made my eyes water. But I could apologize later.
I crashed onto my bed, barely able to think. More had happened in one day than in the last eight years. I hoped — I prayed — that tomorrow would be better.
6
Zedra
The cliff at the edge of time. That was what he called this mountain. It was as if you’d climbed the tallest peak and arrived at a sad, barren vision of heaven. An endlessness persisted in all directions; below the cliff’s edge, there was nothing but black. Above, a band of light lit the sky, as if a cut made by a god-sized sword on the drape that covered the world. “It’s a ring,” he’d told me. “We can only see one side of it. That’s why it seems flat.”
No cold or warmth here. No wind. Just a stillness, a silence, a lifelessness.
A man stood at the cliff’s edge. He’d been standing there a thousand years. Waiting. Watching. Hearing.
“I..” as soon as I spoke, I gasped. Such a crumbling voice, as if a thousand holes covered my throat. I felt my face — creviced and rock-hard. Hair so wispy and white, I wasn’t certain if it was real. As I walked toward the man, the weight of my body burdened my worn knees.
“Father,” I said.
He kept his back to me, refusing to even look in my direction.
“Father.” I dropped to my knees. How they cracked.
“No, Zedra.” His voice came from the sky. “You don’t have the right to call me that.”
My hands would not cease trembling, as if a sudden frost found life in my veins. “What happened to me?”
“Do you know how sad it makes me that our survival depends on you? I’m not at all surprised you failed.”
“I…failed? But how? I don’t…I don’t remember.”
“I told you to bind your emotions. Fanaa. To work from a cold, careful plan. But, sadly for us, for everyone, you weren’t capable. How terrible is this fate — my holy Children, ended by your inadequacy. Your weakness.”
