Starless

by Jacqueline Carey

Zariya laughed, a clear, joyous sound, her dark eyes shining. “Yes, exactly!”

  If we had been alone …

  We weren’t, but one day we would be.

  Therin faded in the distance behind us; next we sailed past Granth. Remembering the attack that they had launched on the Therinian state-ship, I could not help but feel apprehensive, but the tall mountain where Droth the Great Thunder had made his home no longer trickled smoke, and no stink-lizards darkened the skies above us as we passed. I wondered if they were no longer bound to the Kagan’s service.

  Aiiiaii swam doggedly, towing our ship toward Zarkhoum and the uttermost east, aided by the great current and a following wind that filled our square sail. The temperature rose, and we shed layers of clothing. It was a matter of mere days before we spotted the tall lighthouse in Merabaht’s harbor. Although the Zarkhoumi had never been sailors, Merabaht had always been a significant port of call for traders, and it was strange to see the harbor empty of aught but small fishing vessels.

  It had not occurred to me that our arrival might be hoped for and heralded, but it was. But of course, King Azarkal and the Therinians would have sent word of what had transpired when we fled from the Granthian attack, encountered the wyrm-raiders, and answered the call of the Scattered Prophecy. It was likely that the guards and servants who sailed with us had returned, carrying their own versions of the tale. Many of the Zarkhoumi people were aware that it was prophesied that one of the Sun-Blessed would stand against the darkness.

  They knew that the children of heaven had ascended, they knew it meant that against all odds, their young princess must have succeeded.

  And it was very highly unlikely that anyone else would be sailing into the harbor on a wyrm-drawn ship.

  Fishermen setting out crab pots rose to their feet in shallow-bottomed boats and cheered as Aiiiaii glided into the harbor, her head held high, and I will own, my heart was gladdened at the sight and the sound.

  A crowd gathered on the quay. Interspersed among them were members of the City Guard, though not the City Guard as I remembered them, for they sported new crimson-and-gold-striped sashes over their white tunics.

  I felt grubby; I daresay all of us did. Zariya shot me a rueful look. “I was not expecting to arrive to fanfare, my darling.”

  “Neither was I,” I admitted.

  With graceful care, Aiiiaii guided our ship to a berth. Kooie and Tliksee set about securing the lines as Aiiiaii dropped the tow-lines and slipped free, angling out to deeper waters.

  On the quay below us, a guardsman with a gold collar of office around his neck stepped forward, his gaze respectfully averted from Zariya’s unveiled face. “Is it possible that I have the honor of addressing Her Highness Princess Zariya, Sun-Blessed daughter of the House of the Ageless?” he inquired.

  “It’s more than possible,” Zariya said dryly. “Who asks?”

  He dared a covert glance at her and offered a salute. “Captain Ranesh of the Steward’s Watch.”

  Zariya frowned. “The Steward’s Watch?”

  “Your own honored sister, the Princess Fazarah, was named the Steward of Merabaht by your brother Prince Dozaren.” He turned to one of his men. “Send word to her household and the palace.” Clearly, there had been change in our absence. “Ask the palace to send a litter for Her Highness,” the captain continued.

  “Actually, I’d prefer to ride,” Zariya said. “Bid him send mounts for my companions and me.”

  Captain Ranesh stole another glance at her, taking in her canes. “Is Her Highness quite sure?”

  “Quite,” she said firmly. Kooie whistled and signed. “Ah, although it seems the Elehuddin prefer to go on foot.”

  The crowd grew, but it was a peaceable assembly, staring at us with fascination. While we waited, we learned that Zarkhoum, too, had been assailed by a plague of the children of Miasmus, the attacks centering on Merabaht. But thanks to Princess Fazarah’s stewardship, the damage was contained and the prophets of Miasmus, the poor afflicted, had not succeeded in inciting a second uprising among the common folk.

  At length we saw a procession winding down the tiered streets of the city, a squadron of Royal Guards led by Prince Dozaren astride a handsome black horse. Khementaran had come upon him in our absence, the pulse-points beating in the hollow of his throat, visible at his wrists where he gripped the reins. We disembarked as he dismounted and strode the length of the dock, the guardsmen parting the obliging crowds for him.

  “So you did it,” Dozaren said in a wondering tone, gazing at his youngest sister. “You actually did it.”

  “We did it,” Zariya said.

  “Oh, my heart!” He folded her in an embrace, then wrinkled his nose. “By all the fallen stars, you stink to the heavens.”

  “It’s been a very long and arduous journey,” I said.

  “My sister’s shadow,” Dozaren said in acknowledgment. “I owe you a vast debt of gratitude.” His gaze took in Jahno and the Elehuddin. “I suspect we owe you all a vast debt of gratitude.”

  Tliksee clicked in wry agreement, making us laugh: gallows laughter with a shadow of pain and loss beneath it. It struck me again that no one outside our company would ever, ever understand what we had endured.

  Prince Dozaren, I think, was shrewd enough to realize that this was the case. He offered a salute. “Welcome home, my dearest sister and her shadow, and allow me to welcome your companions to Zarkhoum. Let us offer you hospitality, and then let us gather in the Palace of the Sun to hear your tale.” He raised his brows at Zariya. “My sister, do you truly intend to ride through the streets of Merabaht bare-faced and brazen?”

  She lifted her chin. “I do.”

  Unexpectedly, he laughed. “It’s a bold choice. I like it.”

  FIFTY-NINE

  Merabaht had changed.

  There were fewer people in the streets and no beggars in the squares. Although some of that was due to losses suffered, there was a sense of order and purpose, and I sensed Princess Fazarah’s hand in this.

  Mindful of the fact that the entirety of Zariya’s riding experience consisted of traversing the Caldera on donkey-back, I kept a careful eye on her. It was fortunate that there was a mounting block in the harbor yard high enough that I’d been able to lift her into the saddle with a reasonable measure of decorum, and she had been sensible enough to allow one of the guards to lead her mount.

  Zariya sat tall and proud in the saddle, her head held high. Her unveiled face was bare of cosmetics and her unbraided hair hung lank down her back, but if she did not look like a pampered and sheltered Zarkhoumi princess, she looked every inch of what she was: a heroine. Folk lining the street gazed at all of us in wonder—especially at the Elehuddin, whose people had never set foot on these shores—but it was Zariya to whom they offered heartfelt salutes, tears in their eyes.

  “You’ve not remarked on Father’s absence,” Prince Dozaren observed. “I confess myself surprised.”

  “I am well aware that our father is aiding the coursers of Obid,” Zariya said. “Our paths crossed on the return journey, and indeed, I bear a message for you. In turn, my brother, I confess myself surprised to find that you have appointed Fazarah to the stewardship of Merabaht.”

  Dozaren gave her a look. “Ah, yes. Well, my hand was somewhat forced. It seems our sister was in possession of some potentially damaging information and an interesting plan of action did I not accede to her will. Threats were made.” Zariya’s eyes narrowed and my hands went to my hilts. “Peace, sister mine.” He turned out one palm, showing the pulse of khementaran at his wrist. “In hindsight, it is one of the wisest choices I made. We are changed, my dearest. The House of the Ageless and its endless intrigues is no more.”

  Eyeing him, she drew in a sharp breath. “Khementaran came upon all of you?”

  “All of us,” he agreed. “But not you.”

  Zariya shook her head. “No.”

  I wondered what it meant.

  We wound our way up the tiered streets
of the city to the Palace of the Sun, dismounting in the courtyard. Zariya leaned over trustingly in the saddle and I lifted her down, acutely conscious of the length of her body sliding against mine. She gave me a secret smile that brought a flush to my cheeks. Kooie bowed and presented her with her canes.

  Captain Tarshim of the Queen’s Guard saluted her. “Allow us to escort you to the women’s quarter, Your Highness.”

  Zariya’s delicate nostrils flared. “No.”

  He blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

  She propped herself on her canes. “I am not returning to the women’s quarter, not now, nor ever. My people and I will take lodging in the royal ambassadors’ suites.”

  The captain looked scandalized.

  Prince Dozaren smiled broadly and snapped his fingers, enjoying this breach of propriety. “It shall be so.”

  So it was done.

  One suite of rooms was given to Jahno and the two Elehuddin; another, to Zariya and me. After so long, luxury was a strangeness, as strange to me now as it had been when I first came to court. Veiled handmaidens brought refreshments and an array of clean attire to our suite while the bathing chamber was made ready.

  I had assumed that Zariya and I would bathe together, as was the custom in the women’s quarter, but she surprised me. “Given that you have quite literally helped me piss in a bucket, there is precious little mystery left between us, my darling,” she observed. “But now that we have declared ourselves to each other, I would at least preserve the semblance of some.”

  I inclined my head to her. “You are as wise as you are beautiful, and there are things about you that will always be a mystery to me, Zariya. I cannot fathom the source of your courage and determination.”

  She laughed a bit self-consciously. “Are you quite sure, my shadow? For I owe the greater part of it to you.”

  “No,” I said to her. “It was always there. It has been there since the beginning, when the gods joined our fates.”

  Zariya slid her hand into mine and squeezed it.

  Since there was but one bathing chamber for royal guests, I went to join the others in their suite while Zariya was bathed and plucked and oiled, massaged and painted and braided by assiduous attendants.

  Tliksee and Kooie were immersed in a game of clatter-peg, having brought the board with them. After the innumerable games all of us had played on the ship, I’d have thought they never wanted to see it again, but there it was. Jahno, poring over silk tunics and breeches, gave me a shrewd look. “She has banished you while she makes herself ready, yah?”

  I sat cross-legged on the carpet. “So it seems.”

  He set aside a striped tunic. “Tonight you will be alone together for the first time in many months. And although you are both very young, Zariya has waited a very long time for this, I think.”

  I shrugged, not ready to hear it stated so openly. “How long will you stay in Merabaht?”

  Jahno whistled a query to the Elehuddin; Kooie clicked and signed in reply. “Only tonight,” he said. “We will set sail on the morrow. We are anxious to be home, all of us, and especially Aiiiaii.” His silvery gaze was gentle. “Will you come find us one day?”

  I nodded. “Yes, I believe so. I don’t know how yet, but we will find a way.” I gave him a rueful smile. “You ought to know that Zariya may ask you to be the father of her children.”

  His lips parted in surprise, and he ran a hand through his hair. “Oh! It would certainly be an honor.”

  “I can think of no one better,” I said honestly. “The two of you are so alike, I thought…” I shrugged again.

  “Zariya could have been Koronian,” Jahno said in acknowledgment, and it was clear that it was high praise. “She has a keen and curious mind, yah? In that we are alike. But it has always been you that she loves, Khai. I have seen it; we have all seen it.” His voice took on a somber note. “You may be young in years, but none of us can ever truly be young again after what we have seen and endured, can we?”

  I shook my head. “No.”

  Leaning forward, he laid one hand on my knee, his eyes grave. “Lirios had fewer years upon this earth than any of us, and he saw it clearer than anyone. Seize whatever joy the world yet affords you. Do not let the mayfly’s sacrifice be in vain.”

  I swallowed hard. “I won’t.”

  Twilight was falling over the city of Merabaht by the time we were summoned to the Hall of Pleasant Accord, all of us now scrubbed and scoured and shampooed, anointed with fragrant oils and attired in fine silk garments.

  Zariya glowed.

  It was said that the fire of Zar the Sun ran in the veins of the Sun-Blessed, and tonight I believed it. Her brown skin glowed, and her dark, lustrous eyes glowed with fierce assurance. Far above us the stars emerged one by one, and their silver-bright light was reflected in the intricate patterns traced on her right hand and forearm, her grip firm and determined on the handles of her canes.

  We entered the Hall of Pleasant Accord, and it seemed almost a quaint thing; this place, these people. The royal women peered over their veils, eyes wide at the sight of the bare-chested Elehuddin, necklaces of pearlescent shells shimmering against their greenish-brown skin; at the sight of Jahno, a strange human man in their midst; at the sight of Zariya, unveiled and unabashed. They came forward to embrace her in wonder and dismay, and her mother, Sanala, fell weeping on her neck.

  “Oh, my daughter, my darling daughter, what have you endured?” she sobbed. “We thought you lost to us!”

  Zariya slipped free of her mother’s grip. “You shall hear all in time,” she promised. “But come, will you not meet our guests? We have journeyed to the end of the world and back, and they are as family to me.”

  The gathering was a strange one.

  Our Seeker, Jahno, told our tale while we enjoyed a repast. I would have sooner he told it to the fishermen in the harbor who cheered our return, for I daresay they would have relished it more. Here in the Palace of the Sun, far above the streets of Merabaht, they were so very sheltered from the events that had nearly destroyed the world, I am not sure most of them credited it, save for Prince Dozaren, Princess Fazarah, and Sister Nizara, who was the only one of the lot I was certain was wholeheartedly glad to see us. Prince Elizar, pardoned for the crime he hadn’t committed and freed from the royal dungeon, could do nothing but glower at the news that his precious Teardrop had played a role in determining the fate of all existence, although Jahno was careful to note that no one knew how the Seer had obtained it.

  “Peace, brother,” Dozaren said in a warning tone. “Be glad the world yet stands and let the matter drop.” He turned to Zariya. “It is a wondrous tale, my sister. But you said you bore a message from our father?”

  “I do.” She glanced at her sister Fazarah. “Do you say that Dozaren has governed wisely and well in Father’s absence?”

  Princess Fazarah smiled wryly. “Not without some strong encouragement, my dear, but against all odds, yes, I do say so.”

  “Then I am to give you this with our father’s blessing.” Zariya removed the signet ring that hung loose on her forefinger and handed it to Dozaren. “In turn, he decrees that you give me aught that I require.”

  Surprised and awed, Prince Dozaren slid the ring onto his own finger, admiring it. “And what is it that you require?”

  “A ship,” Zariya said firmly. “Nothing large, but small and sturdy and agile. I require a ship with which to sail the world, a captain to sail it, a crew to man it, and sufficient funds on which to survive.”

  Her brother laughed. “Is that all?”

  “Very nearly.”

  “It will take some time,” he said. “We Zarkhoumi are not exactly shipwrights and sailors.”

  “There is time,” Zariya said. “Khai and I mean to journey into the desert. For that, we will require mounts and supplies.”

  Prince Dozaren inclined his head to her. “Those you shall have.”

  “I don’t understand,” her mother said fretfully. �
��You’re home and safe! Why do you seek to abjure your family? Why do you forsake all modesty? Zariya, I should think you of all people would honor Anamuht the Purging Fire, and not venture bald-faced into the world!”

  Zariya gazed at her mother. “Do you believe that Anamuht the Purging Fire veils her face with flame?” she asked gently. “You are wrong. And that is a thing we failed to understand, all of us.” Lifting her right hand, she opened it with a graceful gesture, and sparks of blue-white lightning danced in her empty palm. “The very essence of Anamuht is fire.”

  I caught my breath.

  There was no rhamanthus seed; there was only Zariya, the sparks reflecting in her dark eyes. Kooie gave a soft trill of awe and appreciation in the startled silence that fell over the Hall of Pleasant Accord.

  Now, they believed.

  Sister Nizara cleared her throat. “To that end, I bear a gift for you, my youngest sister.” She brought forth a coffer and opened it, revealing hundreds of star-bright seeds shining like diamonds. “The last of the rhamanthus seeds.”

  Zariya closed her hand and the lightning vanished. “For what purpose?” she inquired humbly.

  The High Priestess of Anamuht shook her head. “I do not know. I do not even know if these changed rhamanthus will continue to bestow the gift of longevity. Only that you are the living avatar of the Purging Fire herself, one of the last vestiges of the Sacred Twins to walk the earth, and these belong to you.” She gave us a slight smile. “It is well that you’re bound for the desert. Perhaps Khai’s truculent Brother Yarit will have some counsel for you.”

  “If the Brotherhood of Pahrkun yet stands,” I said, thinking it might have already disbanded.

  “The Sacred Flame yet burns in Anamuht’s temple and the Brotherhood of Pahrkun has not abandoned the Fortress of the Winds. Brother Yarit is the Seer,” Sister Nizara said. “If he has Seen aught that might aid you, he will abide.”

  I hoped so.

  It was a relief when the interminable gathering ended, and we were escorted from the Hall of Pleasant Accord. We said our goodnights to Jahno and the Elehuddin, promising to see them to the harbor tomorrow that we might bid them and Aiiiaii a final farewell until we met again. In our own luxurious suite of chambers, a veiled maidservant bustled around, turning down sheets and lighting lamps.