by Jean Johnson
The others mulled over her choice, and one by one they nodded, coming to an agreement. The lady of the exchequery summed it up neatly. “The books in Your Highness’s personal library are the finest in penmanship, illustration, and crafting I have ever seen. They are rare and costly, and would be valuable even to someone who does not read. I suggest you add a personal note or two in some of these books, notes requesting His Highness’s opinion of those of custom and history, and opinions of some of your favorites. Or at least a letter suggesting the opening of a personal dialogue between the two of you.”
“An excellent suggestion,” the chamberlain agreed. “If this is a prelude to a treaty, he will speak of matters of state more than of personal ones. If this is a prelude to a, well, a more intimate level of relationship, he will speak more of personal matters than of national ones.”
“It is subtle and strategic. I think this is good,” the general approved.
“Plus you will gain insight into the way how he thinks, by studying what he chooses to think about,” the chief enchantress added firmly.
“I shall consider carefully what to write in these notes soliciting Prince Kavi’s opinions,” Princess Ananya stated. “In the meantime, Chamberlain, please arrange for Merchant Hassim and his caravan to enjoy the delights of the palace. If he and this Wali Daad are the intermediaries between us and the Prince of the East, we should treat the messengers of His Highness with as much courtesy and hospitality as we would show His Highness himself.”
“You are indeed as wise as this Wali Daad has proclaimed,” the chamberlain murmured, rising and bowing to his liege lady. “It is an honor to serve and obey you.”
“AH, Hassim! Come and break your thirst at my well!” Wali Daad called out as the caravan approached along the road from the West. “I have fresh-cut grass for your steeds and some fresh-caught river fish for your friends! I was going to smoke it for preserving, but I can always catch more tomorrow.”
“Your hospitality is always a delight, and your offer of dinner shall not be turned down, my friend,” Hassim called back, reining in his horse so that he could dismount by the stone troughs.
Wali Daad craned his neck, peering at the strings of horses and camels, of baggage and handlers, before he returned his attention to filling the watering troughs. “You have no gifts for me this time?”
“Oh, the usual . . . but this time it is only a fraction for you. Do you wish to see any of it?” he asked.
“Oh, no,” Wali Daad demurred. “I am happy exactly as I am. Please send all of it to His Highness, save only for what you would like to keep for yourself from among the bits reserved for me. But what do you mean only a fraction of it is meant for me? I am curious.”
“It is an amusing thing,” the merchant informed him. “Her Highness seems to have the impression that these gifts you have been sending her are originally Prince Kavi’s idea, as a prelude to strengthening the ties between these two lands . . . and I have decided not to disillusion her. Now, as you are the wisest of men in all the world—or so I have proclaimed to the rulers of both lands—can you tell me why?”
Wali Daad thought about it as his callused hands hauled on the rope again and again. He hadn’t quite finished filling the six watering troughs radiating out from the well when the answer came to him. “Peace and prosperity! You think these exchanges of gifts are good for both lands, Hassim, for it makes each ruler think fondly of the other. Am I right?”
Hassim chuckled and clasped Wali Daad on the shoulder. “That is exactly right, my friend. I feel as much like an ambassador of peace as a man of business these days. I have been hosted very well by both Highnesses, and while I am very content with my life on the road, it is a delight to see I am spreading a joyful new friendship and a deeper understanding between these two nations, as well as bringing each side the finest goods the other has to offer. Only good can come of this, Wali Daad. Only the best of good!”
Equally happy, Wali Daad nodded his age-grayed head and made sure the last of the stone troughs was properly filled.
IT wasn’t until almost a full month after Merchant Hassim’s departure that Princess Ananya discovered the book.
She only discovered it because it was raining lightly and she wanted some solitude in which to think. That meant leaving her ladies-in-waiting behind to enjoy the much drier, indoor delights of the palace while she wandered the garden. Demurring to the need for an umbrella boy, she protected herself from the light pattering of rain with the end of her sari held over her head while she moved from gazebo to gazebo, lost in thought. Not until she reached the far pavilion did she find the book, and only because the rain was starting to come down heavier than the silk of her garment could easily have withstood if she’d tried to return at that moment.
Seating herself on one of the cushions to rest and think, she found herself sitting on something hard and lumpy. Puzzled, Ananya dug under the cushions and pulled out a jewel-crusted tome. A familiar jewel-crusted tome, with a cover worked in age-darkened silver, amethysts, and rubies. It was one of her favorite books of heroic tales, some of them based on historical fact and others embellished beyond all recognition of any kernel of an authentic origin.
It was also one of the books she had shipped off to His Highness.
This cannot be right; this is the book I tucked my letter into, inviting His Highness to consider discussing the contents of my personal favorites! I know I ordered this one packed. She looked out at the increasing rain beyond the carved stone and wood walls of the broad gazebo, and debated risking the hissing downpour it was becoming. The thought of the book in her hands—even if it was the wrong book—stopped her from leaving just yet. Books were too valuable to risk getting wet.
Which makes me even madder that someone should hide it here, of all places. Covered by a pillow, yes, but otherwise exposed to the weather. But . . . who would do such a thing? And why? . . . And where is my letter? she thought suddenly. Without the letter, Prince Kavi wouldn’t know these books were not just a personal gift from her, but a chance to open a dialogue between the two of them, to hopefully draw the two rulers closer in understanding and perhaps even into a friendship. Peace between their lands was good, but peace was always fragile without more ties than just a treaty or two to strengthen it.
By the time the downpour had eased, Princess Ananya was confident the letter was not in the pavilion. She had turned everything upside down that could be turned upside down, moved everything from one side to the other and back, and worked up quite a sweat in the process. The exertion was good, since it kept her warm in the rain-cooled air, but it left her disheveled rather than composed. Doing her best to repair her appearance, she straightened the folds of her sari. Lacking a mirror, she was checking her neatly braided and bejeweled hair with her fingertips when the chamberlain approached, two umbrella boys in tow: one to shelter himself and the other clearly for her.
“Your Highness,” he said in greeting, bowing along with the teenaged boys. “I would not disturb your meditations, but it is nearly time for the afternoon petitions to be heard.”
“Yes, of course,” she agreed, doing her best to shift her mind from the mystery of the book to the needs of her people. Except she couldn’t quite let it go. “I have a task for you. This is one of the books that should have gone east with the merchant Hassim, the one acting on behalf of Wali Daad and Prince Kavi of the East. It was the book that had my letter of correspondence hopes tucked within it, yet I cannot find the letter, and I should not have this book in my hands here and now. Would you please find out what happened for me while I attend to the requests of our people?”
“Of course, Your Highness—I am as puzzled as you,” he added, “for I thought I saw this very book being placed into the chest when I checked on the maids, which was just as they finished their packing.”
“I will trust you to be thorough in the investigation and to bring all of your findings to me,” Ananya instructed him, smoothing a wayward wisp of dark brow
n hair behind her ear. Her maidservants would tell her if she needed a moment more to look presentable, but if the chamberlain had come personally to fetch her, then the hour of petitions was very near. “We will hold off any punishments until we know why this has happened, as well as how. Right now, mostly I want to know how.”
THE truth was revealed shortly after supper. Bowing himself into her presence as Her Highness sat in consultation on a point of taxes with her lady of the exchequery, the chamberlain brought with him Princess Ananya’s cousin, Pritikana. He pushed the younger woman to her knees before Her Highness with a heavy hand upon her shoulder.
“This is the one who took the book, Your Highness.”
Pritikana tried a smile on her cousin. She was not nearly as wise or as learned as her cousin, but she was sweet by nature. “I meant no harm by it, dear cousin. It was just a book! And I made sure to put another book in its place. I even tucked your letter into it, because I figured you wouldn’t want that to be left behind.”
Feeling the beginnings of a headache coming on, Princess Ananya frowned at her cousin. “Why would you take a book—one which I had personally selected for His Highness to read—and keep it for yourself?”
“Because I hadn’t finished reading it, of course! But it’s all right, for I just put in another book of tales,” Pritikana offered. “You were going to give one book of tales, so I figured another one would be acceptable. And I made sure it also had a cover of silver and rubies, so it would be just as pretty.”
Sitting back, Ananya calculated which of her books of tales were bedecked with silver and ruby gems. There weren’t many on the list, but there were enough to need it narrowed down a bit more. “Do you remember which book of tales it was?”
“It was the one I didn’t like, but which you did,” Pritikana replied blithely. Her smile slipped a little as her royal cousin frowned. “Er . . . the one about the very strange people. With the story of the princess on the glass hill? Only it wasn’t a glass hill, but the moon, and they were talking about many strange and boring things which I couldn’t understand.”
In the entire of the Her Highness’s collection there was only one book with a tale about a woman who lived on the moon . . . and yes, it was a book that she did indeed like. A lot. Ananya was glad she was already seated, for she would have fallen down from shock as all the blood left her head in horrified realization. Dizzy, she felt the lady of the exchequery patting her face and bathing her wrists with water from one of the goblets on the table.
“Highness, Highness, please. Surely it isn’t that bad?” the lady of the exchequery asked her as she roused out of her half swoon. “Is your cousin wrong? Is it a book you hated?”
“No,” Ananya croaked, throat dry with trepidation. She reached for her own goblet and had to steady it with both hands in order to take a drink. “No . . . that isn’t the case. I liked that book for other reasons. My fool of a cousin never got past the first few pages and never read the rest of each story. Did you?”
Pritikana shook her head, her brown eyes wide with confusion. “It was full of strange words and concepts—you know, the sort of thing you like to read about. With strange sciences and wild speculations, and a very bizarre way of life. I didn’t like it at all. But I thought that, if you liked it, and you’re very smart, then His Highness might like it, for he also is reputed to be smart. And I knew you wanted to send him books that you yourself liked, to see if the two of you had anything in common. I also knew you really like reading that book at the end of a long day, for I’ve heard the maids mention how they’ve found it on your bedside table many a time in the mornings.”
Ananya felt the blood rushing back into her face. “Pritikana . . . you should not have been named for ‘a little bit of love’—you should have been named Piki after the cuckoo bird! That was a book of erotic tales! Very erotic tales!”
“Oh, my!” the lady of the exchequer gasped, paling.
The chamberlain clutched at his silk-clad chest. “Gods in Heaven, preserve us!”
Ananya set the goblet back on the table before her hands could shake out its remaining contents. “If His Highness wasn’t contemplating the thought of anything more than peace and prosperity between our two lands before this point . . . he will be now! Particularly since my thoughtless, selfish cousin put into that particular book the very letter inviting him to discuss its contents with me!”
Pritikana buried her face in her hands, hiding from Princess Ananya’s glare.
“It has been too many days to send anyone after that caravan, even at the pace of heavily laden horses and camels,” the chamberlain murmured, still rubbing at his tunic-clad chest. “We cannot stop the book from arriving . . . but maybe we can have our chief enchantress contact his chief wizard? Maybe he hasn’t received the book yet?”
Ananya found herself shaking her head before her thoughts caught up with her subconscious instincts.
“No . . . no, we will not mention this unless he mentions this,” the ruler of the West explained, reasoning it out aloud. “If His Highness is interested in a marriage possibility, to deny the book we sent him would be seen as a discouragement and possibly an insult. If he is offended that it was sent at all . . . how he reacts in his offense will tell us much about his character and reveal much about how any deeper treaties between our two lands will be handled. And if he is offended, we will plead our ignorance that it was sent, explain how it came to be sent at all, and apologize profusely at that time. Not before.
“No, this is a monsoon we will simply have to endure.” Her gaze sharpened, focusing on her kinswoman, who was still hiding her face. “In the meantime, cousin . . . I shall have to punish you. Your selfish act of bad karma, wanting to keep and read a book which I had specifically set aside for someone else, will have to be balanced. You are hereby assigned to the city hospice, where you will report to the sisters of the goddess of compassion. Under their orders and instruction, you will bathe and feed and tend to the needs of the crippled and the ill, and you will spend your days comforting the dying, until such time as we know the fallout from this trouble you have caused.
“If I did not know you are a sweet creature at heart as well as a silly one, I would have had you locked in the dungeons. But I would rather find a better use for you. Be gone from my sight!” Flicking her hands, which were bedecked at the wrist with the same pearl-encrusted bracelets the wise man Wali Daad had first sent, Ananya dismissed her cousin.
Sinking back in her chair, Her Highness prayed that Heaven had given Prince Kavi of the East a high tolerance for honest mistakes, and a very healthy sense of humor.
PRINCE Kavi was so aroused, he couldn’t stand. Which made it a good thing he had decided to save reading this book—after skimming its pages and realizing its true content—until the end of the day. Lying on his side in his bed, with one hand propping up his head and the other fondling his loins, he reread the first of the stories contained in this astounding tome sent to him by the equally astonishing Princess Ananya of the West.
Some of the trade goods this time around had been spices and fruits, some of them minerals and gems. Rare oils and perfumes from far-off lands. Included with such mundane items had been a collection of books on various aspects of Western life and land. Some of the tomes on religion and custom, history and law had contained notes penned by Her Highness, offerings to discuss any differences and similarities between their two nations in the effort to “get to know our dear Eastern neighbors that much better, in order to cultivate a greater peace and understanding, and to emphasize the many things we have in common as fellow human beings.” A smaller number within the proffered selection consisted of books which Princess Ananya apparently enjoyed reading for pleasure and relaxation, not merely for information.
This book, one of the books in the chest designated for Her Highness’s personal favorites, had contained a note as well. An invitation for the two rulers of the East and the West to “get to know each other on a personal level, to se
e how much we might ourselves have in common as two fellow intelligent, learned humans having renowned interest in exploring the many facets of thought and understanding, from the factual to the fanciful. I hope you find yourself enjoying this particular book as thoroughly as I myself do. After all, at the end of each day, we are human beings as well as rulers of mighty nations . . .”
Well, I certainly fancy her way of thinking, Kavi thought, eyeing the sensual descriptions of the lovers enjoying an intimate interlude in their strange, science-heavy universe. Too many noblewomen think they must be prim in order to be proper, and this throttling of natural feelings leads them to be stiff and formal in their private lives as well as their public ones.
That was one of the leading reasons why he hadn’t married yet. Kavi wanted a wife who was his intellectual equal, who understood the burdens of leadership, who could share those burdens, yes to all of that. But he also wanted a wife who could be a wife as well as a queen, as he wanted to be a husband in addition to being a king. Women who were prudish because they thought it was the proper thing to do weren’t going to make the kind of wife he wanted, and women who were passionate weren’t always capable of being proper in public. On top of these considerations, he needed a woman with the level of education necessary to be his equal.
I will not settle for anything less than an equal, unless I have no other choice, he repeated silently, enjoying the stroking of his fingers. A smile curled up the corner of his mouth. It seems as if Heaven is smiling upon me, for here is a woman whom all report to be as cultured as she is wise . . . yet she clearly has a passionate nature deep inside . . . and a requirement for the same in me, to have asked me to discuss her favorite book of tales with her . . .
