“She prefers to avoid the company of Lord Firdaus, but asked me to convey her regards and an invitation to call on her at the Adaru townhouse,” Keshan said.
Jandu understood about half of every sentence.
Wife? What the hell was going on? He knew, abstractly, that Keshan had married. It had been the reason for his exile. Keshan abducted Firdaus’ bride. But this fact never truly sank in to Jandu’s awareness until now. A bitter ache filled him.
“Wife?” he blurted out. The rest of the table looked at him. Jandu turned crimson. “I didn’t know you had a wife.”
Yudar shook his head. “Of course you’ve heard of Ajani, don’t you remember? Five years ago she was supposed to marry Firdaus, and didn’t want to, so she wrote to Keshan and begged for his help.”
“I’m sure you carried her off just for her own good,” Suraya said with a smirk.
Keshan smiled back. “Only fulfilling my Triya duty.”
“That’s why Firdaus hates him,” Baram tactlessly blurted out. He shrugged and then started on his third plate of food.
Jandu felt like vomiting. He glanced quickly at Keshan, who looked at him oddly, like he was trying to tell Jandu something telepathically.
It wasn’t working. Unless Keshan was telepathically trying to make Jandu feel like he wanted to throw up, in which case it worked perfectly.
Jandu longed to flee the dinner, but it was too late now. Yudar looked at him often and fondly, and Jandu realized that Yudar needed him here, if only to symbolize the unity of the Paran household. So Jandu forced small bites of food down his throat, and followed the bites with vast quantities of red wine.
Keshan didn’t say a word to Jandu, and Jandu didn’t speak to him. After the dinner, the entertainment began. Musicians established themselves on the dais and accompanied a troupe of actors who replayed a scene from the Book of Taivo. The breeze cooled as night fell, but the garden remained warm with so many bodies.
Several other guests approached Keshan and Iyestar during the meal, and finally they both made their excuses and left the table. Jandu watched Keshan’s move through the garden carefully. Several times, he saw Keshan look directly at him and cock his head, as if motioning Jandu over. But Jandu remained rooted in his seat.
People began to dance, and soon only Jandu remained at the table of honor. Suraya and Yudar joined the festivities, and Baram laughed madly as he danced with Lord Kadal’s ancient mother. Jandu sullenly drank his wine and poked at the remnants of his rice with his spoon.
He saw Keshan approach, a look of anxiety clear on his face.
“Jandu.” Keshan’s eyes darted around. “Can I speak with you for a moment?”
Jandu’s tongue felt thick in his throat. He didn’t know what to say.
“There you are, Adaru!” Druv Majeo slapped Keshan on the back and then threw his arm around him. “Come over here, I want you to meet my second wife.” Keshan gave Jandu a strained looked and then let himself be led away.
Jandu tried to occupy himself by mingling with the crowd. He carried Zandi with him and explained to anyone and everyone who would stop long enough how he won her. He retold his short battle with Koraz in agonizing detail. He smiled often and laughed loudly, and secretly hoped each time he did that Keshan would hear him, and come closer.
Finally, his tactic seemed to work. Keshan maneuvered through the dancing crowd to Jandu’s side. He raised an eyebrow at Zandi but said nothing about it. Instead he lowered his voice.
“I need to speak with you.”
“I…” Jandu steadied his nerves. “I need to speak with you too. But not here. Come on.” He led Keshan out of the crowd and through a set of ivory trellises. A spiraling staircase took them up to the second floor, where they could watch the festivities from the balcony.
They walked over thick layers of red carpets onto the stone balcony. Jandu rested Zandi against the wall and then leaned over the edge of the banister, staring down at the noisy revelry below. Keshan joined him on the balcony, leaning close.
“You need to be careful,” Keshan whispered. He gazed intently at Jandu. “I think there may be a plan to assassinate you.”
Jandu scowled. “What? That’s what you wanted to say?”
Keshan frowned. “I am not sure who’s really behind it, but—”
“Who cares about that? I have something more important to talk about.”
Keshan scowled. “Like what, your Yashva bow? I already heard the story.”
“I’m sorry,” Jandu blurted out.
Keshan narrowed his eyes, but his voice went soft. “Pardon me?”
Jandu swallowed. He knew he was blushing, but he had to force himself through this. “I’m really sorry. About what I said that day in the forest.”
Keshan raised an eyebrow. “Are you saying this because Yudar made you apologize, or because you really mean it?”
How could Keshan read him so well? “I mean it. I’ve been thinking about you incessantly.” The second Jandu spoke the words he wanted them back. He closed his eyes and winced at his own stupidity.
“Jandu…”
“Look.” Jandu grabbed Keshan’s arm. He could smell the sweet coconut and salty scent of Keshan’s skin. “I was cruel and I apologize. Please don’t hold my actions against my brother or my family. Yudar wants your support and respects you. Please don’t let my behavior change your feelings towards him.”
Keshan’s entire countenance softened.
“Jandu, any feelings I have towards you have nothing to do with your brother. I’m sorry too. I acted rashly that day in the forest, but I spoke the truth,” Keshan said. “I couldn’t lie about how you make me feel.”
“Do you love Ajani?”
Keshan’s eyes narrowed in annoyance. “What has that got to do with anything?”
“I just need to know,” Jandu said.
“What do you want me to say? I care for Ajani. She’s part of my family, and one of my friends.” Keshan’s lips were close to Jandu’s face. Jandu could barely breathe. “But I don’t want her in the way that I want you.”
Jandu realized that he either just had to give in at this moment and kiss Keshan or turn away. He looked down at the party below him, at the couples drinking, laughing, and dancing. Then he noticed Yudar scowling up at him.
“I have to go.” Jandu practically ran from the balcony.
“Jandu, wait!” Keshan’s voice rose sharply behind him. “Stop!”
As he rushed to the door, Jandu felt a stranger’s hand grip his shirt. He jerked away but not before he felt something hard and sharp slash across the side of his throat. His assailant grabbed at his hair and Jandu struck out, shoving the man back, but also tripping over the leg of a chair. As Jandu fell onto the soft red carpet, he felt the wet heat of his own blood pouring down his neck. He cupped his hand over the wound.
His assailant loomed over him, knife bright in the dim light. Then Keshan was there, grappling with the dark-clad man. Just as quickly the assassin slipped Keshan’s grip. Jandu watched Keshan hit the wall with a heavy thud. Keshan slid down the wall. Jandu gained his feet in time to see the assassin jump from the balcony railing and land in the garden below. Jandu heard the shouts of surprise from the guests. Jandu rushed to the balcony, still holding his own throat, blood dripping down his arm. He caught sight of his brother, still seated at the dinner table.
“Yudar!” he bellowed down over the still-startled crowd. “Get a physician up here now!”
Jandu didn’t wait for his brother’s response. He rushed to Keshan. The assassin’s blade was buried in Keshan’s side, the tip breaking the skin through his back, just below his ribs.
Jandu gathered Keshan in his arms. He rested Keshan’s head on Jandu’s leg. Keshan was completely pale, but tried to smile weakly. “See? I knew I could get my head in your lap one day.”
Tears welled in Jandu’s eyes. He had been a fool to think he could just block out the way he felt about Keshan. And now it would be too late. He pressed his hands to Keshan’s wound, hoping to staunch the flow of blood.
Jandu bowed over Keshan, his short dark hair hanging over his eyes.
“Don’t die to save me,” Jandu whispered. “I’ll never get over it.”
“I won’t die today,” Keshan said. He closed his eyes. “But God, it really does hurt a lot.”
Jandu closed his eyes and tried to think of a sharta that would help heal his friend’s wound. But the shartic words he knew only destroyed, they did not repair. Nothing in his warrior heritage granted him the power to heal wounds, only to inflict them. Keshan was so pale, the only color left was a deep purple in his lips. He looked dead. Jandu wept, his tears falling on Keshan’s cheeks.
“Please, please, Keshan, stay alive for me!” Jandu felt the remorse that had been building since the moment he had repudiated Keshan. “Please forgive me for what I said to you that day in the forest. I didn’t mean it.”
“I know.” Keshan smiled weakly. “I know you didn’t mean it, and I know you didn’t know that you didn’t mean it.”
Jandu frowned. “What?”
Keshan’s eyes fell closed.
Jandu heard voices in the hallway and was relieved to see the royal physician rushing towards them, flanked by attendants. The four men carefully lifted Keshan onto a stretcher and carried him toward the palace hospital, a set of quiet rooms tucked into the foreboding defense wall of the palace.
Jandu followed. As he ran, one of the royal doctors attempted to tend to Jandu’s neck, but Jandu shoved him away. He already knew the wound wasn’t deep; if it had been he wouldn’t still be standing. He tried to follow Keshan into the surgery, but the royal physician firmly pushed him away, closing the doors in his face.
Yudar arrived, looking grim, followed by Suraya and Baram. Iyestar burst into the room and had to be prevented from entering the surgery, just as Jandu had. Soon onlookers crowded the hospital doorway, lords and courtiers and their wives. It seemed the entire party had moved from the banyan garden to the hospital. Finally, Mazar appeared, commanding all but Keshan’s brother and Jandu back to the garden where they would not hinder the physicians in their work.
Hours passed in silence. Word came that the assassin had been caught and killed, though his identity remained unknown. Jandu allowed one of the assistant physicians to tend his wound. Iyestar sat across from him on a stool, looking sick and whispering something that sounded like a prayer.
Toward morning the royal physician summoned Iyestar and a few moments later, Iyestar returned to Jandu’s side.
“How is he?” Jandu asked.
“If it doesn’t get infected he should live,” Iyestar said. “He wants to talk to you.”
Jandu bowed and touched Iyestar’s feet respectfully, and then entered the surgery. He slowly approached the bed where Keshan lay.
Keshan still lay on the marble operating table, the bloody remnants of his clothes wadded on the floor. Two assistants busied themselves bandaging Keshan’s abdomen.
Jandu went straight up to Keshan and held his hand. His heart beat so quickly he wasn’t sure he could slow it down long enough to get words out.
“Keshan,” he said quietly.
Keshan opened his eyes. “Jandu.”
Jandu’s eyes burned from tears. He gripped Keshan’s hand with all his strength. He could think of nothing that he could say in front of the physicians without arousing their suspicion, so he simply raised Keshan’s hand to his lips.
The physicians looked at each other. One of them shrugged.
Keshan smiled so sweetly, Jandu thought his heart would break at the sight of it.
“I can’t wait until I’m better,” Keshan whispered, and then he winked.
Chapter 12
Tarek opened his eyes and looked at the dark hand on his shoulder.
He turned his head slowly, not wanting to wake the person in bed with him. His memory of the night before was foggy. One of the commanders of Dragewan’s army slept soundly beside him. The man couldn’t have been more than twenty, Tarek decided, studying his masculine features as he slept. He had curling black hair and thick black eyelashes. His lips pursed like a girls, but his face was already rough with dark stubble. He wore no clothing.
Tarek was immediately aroused, but also disturbed. Tarek rarely indulged in wild evenings and never woke up with strange men in his bed.
Along with a blinding headache, the truth smacked him in the temple. Of course. That was what happened last night. He got drunk with Darvad.
Depressed by the travesty of the attempted assassination against Jandu Paran, Tarek started drinking early. He obviously had too much. But then what?
God.
Tarek sat up slowly, holding his head, regretting each new revelation. Did he really say those things to Darvad? He had told Darvad that he loved him. Darvad had responded by pulling Tarek into a drunken embrace and kissing him on the cheek.
And then—Tarek did the unthinkable. He kissed Darvad on the lips.
It was a friendly enough kiss, nothing sensual about it. And Darvad laughed it off, hiding his surprise with a chuckle.
But that kiss deeply affected Tarek. Because he wanted that kiss more than anything. Now he craved Darvad more than ever.
Burning with unspent sexual desire, Tarek had taken a chariot ride home. He called this commander up to his rooms late at night, and after he had offered the young man a few drinks, talked him into bed. Tarek could always detect which men would respond to his advances. And, from his sketchy memory, he recalled that this commander acted in ways to suggest that Tarek was far from being his first male lover.
Tarek stepped out of bed, careful not to wake the young commander. He pulled on his trousers and a golden vest that his servant had left out for him the evening before. As he dressed the man in the bed yawned and opened his eyes.
He looked around him in surprise. And then he spotted Tarek. His eyes widened.
“My lord!” The man stumbled out of bed, knocking his toe against the wood frame and causing him to buckle over in pain. Tarek admired the man’s back side, and took a moment to look outside to see how late it was, and whether he could convince the commander to stay for a few more minutes.
“I’m late,” the commander said. “I’m so sorry, my lord, I—“ He stumbled as he gathered his clothes from the cold marble floor. “I slept later than usual.”
“It’s all right.” Tarek yawned. “Take your time.”
“The general expected me at dawn,” the commander said.
Tarek raised an eyebrow at the sun. “Well, if there are any problems, tell the general you were with me.”
The commander’s eyebrows knotted. He clearly didn’t understand.
Tarek sighed. “Tell the general I asked you to meet with me at dawn instead.”
“Oh! Yes.” The commander blushed. “I understand.” He finished wrapping his pale blue dejaru and put on his shirt and armor. As he rushed towards the door Tarek handed the man his helmet.
The commander turned to Tarek and blushed. He wouldn’t look him in the eye. “I… thank you… I mean…”
“You’ll be even later if you stand here talking,” Tarek said. “Go.”
“Yes, my lord.” The commander bowed low, and fled the room.
As soon as the man was gone, Tarek dropped to his bed and held his pounding head in his hands. What had he been thinking? He never slept with people he knew. That could prove to be a terrible mistake.
On the other hand, part of him didn’t care. He was destroying his conscience for his best friend Darvad, why not destroy his reputation as well?
Tarek still couldn’t remember all the details of the last evening, but he felt confident he hadn’t performed his evening prayers. Tarek washed and then knelt down to pray.
As Tarek prayed, he begged for guidance. His life felt out of control. He loved his friend with such overwhelming obsession he knew he was blinded. But he also couldn’t refuse it. He prayed harder.
His morning ablutions completed, Tarek finished dressing and then walked through the wide, airy corridors of his home to check on his father.
Tarek’s father had arrived earlier the day before, and now Tarek’s own physicians tended him. His father’s proximity relieved some of his anxiety.
Tarek gave his father the largest of guest suites, with windows that opened to a spacious balcony and allowed breezes from the river to drift up and cool the air. But at this early hour, the heavy curtains shrouded the city from sight, and only a small candle provided illumination at his father’s bedside.
Tarek approached quietly. His father still slept. A physician sat at his bedside, reading a religious scroll. The physician stood and bowed low to Tarek. Tarek put his finger to his lips.
His father’s skin was thin and dry, and his breathing labored. He slept fitfully. Tarek reached down and squeezed his father’s hand, but received no response.
Someone knocked on the doorway. Tarek scowled at the messenger, who bowed low in submission. Tarek left his father’s side to whisper to the servant in the hall.
“What is it?” he asked curtly.
“An urgent message, my lord, from Prince Darvad.” The messenger kept his head low. “He requests your presence immediately at the western gate of the royal palace.”
“Damn it.” Tarek looked back to his father. Couldn’t he find just a few hours away from the palace for once? “Are you certain it is urgent?”
The messenger looked up nervously and then back at the floor. “Yes, my lord.”
Tarek sighed. “Very well. Inform him I’ll be there shortly.”
◆◆◆
It took longer than usual to cross the bridge to the palace. Since the attempt on Jandu’s life, palace security had been fortified and now every visitor was checked for weapons. Tarek’s name was on a list of cleared guests who could approach the palace armed, but this took further clarification from one of the soldiers.
Hundreds of citizens thronged the palace gates. They were the poorest of people, dressed in the ragged cotton clothing of the Suya and Chaya castes. Tarek had no idea what the commotion was about. He pushed his way through the crowd, grateful for his heavy breastplate, which repelled the flailing hands and the press of bodies.
Tarek saw Darvad a moment later, standing within a circle of palace soldiers alongside Firdaus, Druv, Iyestar, and two ministers who Tarek did not recognize. Darvad laughed expressively as he flung small cotton bags of coin to the masses. Druv distributed bread, and Druv’s young wife Mishari handed out bolts of white cloth to the gathered women.
Tarek finally pressed his way to the line of soldiers.
“Tarek! Let him through!” Darvad shouted, reaching through the wall of military bodies to yank Tarek within the circle. “We’re celebrating the end of Asherwar in a new way!” Darvad laughed as more hands reached skyward, fingers waving to catch additional coins.
Tarek watched the proceeding chaos until Darvad handed him a heavy sack of coin bags.
“Here!” Darvad shouted above the crowd. “Tarek Amia, lord of Dragewan, is one of your own people, a Suya who has proven that skill and honor are more important than birth and blood! His generosity overflows to you all on this auspicious day!”
Darvad tossed more money into the air. The crowd surged towards Tarek, and he warily stepped back as the wall of soldiers flexed inwards. He reached into his sack and began to throw coins to the expectant crowd. He smiled as a young boy and his mother snatched a purple sack from the air and cried out his name in a blessing. A slow, tingling euphoria built within him as he breathed in the positive energy, the magnanimous happiness of everyone there. Darvad and his friends laughed and spoke with the people. The crowd cried out their gratitude and their names in devotion. Only the soldiers protecting the lords seemed somewhat disgruntled by Darvad’s radical new tradition.
When the last of the gifts were gone, Darvad apologized to those left empty-handed, and promised a month of such gift-giving once he was king. The gathered crowd chanted his name and the prayer for his health and longevity.
Druv led the slow extrication back into the palace walls. They walked backwards, the soldiers protecting them from the grasping, thankful throngs until the palace gates could be shut. Even after the gates were closed, people continued to cry out Darvad’s name and clasp the iron bars.
Darvad laughed, his face transformed by merriment. Tarek smiled back at him, love radiating through him. He was so proud of his friend, so honored to be part of Darvad’s revolution.
“Whose idea was this?” Tarek asked.
Darvad smiled. “Mine. I thought that the Parans did a fine job honoring Asherwar in the traditional fashion. But if I am going to truly change the nature of this nation, I thought that Asherwar should come to represent something more. Something new. Yudar can honor the lords at a feast, but I will honor the people instead.”
“It was brilliant,” Tarek said. He looked at Darvad, and then hastily looked away, suddenly worried that the love he felt must be conspicuously obvious. Only last night Tarek had told Darvad he loved him. He would have to watch himself, or else Darvad might fully understand the terrible nature of that love.
“I hope you saved some of that bread for us,” Firdaus told Darvad. “I’m starving.”
“I have a celebratory feast awaiting us back in my suites,” Darvad replied, slapping Firdaus on the back. “All of you, come with me.”
They strolled along the labyrinthine palace walkways, speaking loudly. Inside the palace, Tarek could feel the heightened tension resulting from the attack on Jandu. Soldiers stood at every building, warily watching them pass. Their joy seemed insular, surrounded by sobriety.
As they passed by the central garden, Tarek caught sight of Jandu himself, speaking with his brother Baram. Both men looked up, startled, at the approach of Darvad’s friends. Baram failed to hide his rage, lips curling in anger.
Jandu just watched them pass. Tarek saw the jagged cut below Jandu’s jaw, the red flesh and black silk stitches standing out against Jandu’s light brown skin. Tarek and Jandu made eye contact for a second. Jandu’s expression was wary.
Darvad offered his half-brothers the sign of peace as he walked by. Jandu accepted the gesture with a slight bow, but he scowled at Firdaus. Everyone suspected who the culprit behind Jandu’s attack was. And yet no one would come out and accuse Firdaus of the crime.
Jandu did briefly smile at Iyestar, who looked weary and sad. And then Tarek turned the corner, and the Parans, and all the turmoil outside the palace, were out of sight.
In Darvad’s suite, Tarek enjoyed a meal of tea, fried cheese and vegetables, and roasted mango sandwiches. Druv’s wife left them and the conversation turned back to politics. The attempt on Jandu’s life along with the numerous challenges that Tarek had fought had alarmed Mazar and the regent had banned all further duels until the official announcement of the new king. Tarek expected Darvad to be angry with this. But this morning, he merely shrugged. “Mazar fears duels will exacerbate hostilities between traditionalists and moderates and could lead to open war. It’s causing too much instability in the court.”
Tarek couldn’t help his sigh of relief. The challenges had left him feeling rotten.
Tarek noticed that Iyestar had said barely a word all morning. He had handed out gifts with the others, but now, in the tranquility of Darvad’s rooms, he sat stiffly and barely touched his food. Tarek had seen Iyestar look poorly on many mornings, usually the result of wine. But this morning, Iyestar was particularly frosty, and he refused to even acknowledge Firdaus.
Firdaus seemed oblivious. He ate with both hands, his long gold necklace dangling precariously close to his plate of food.
“What do you propose to do now?” Tarek asked Darvad. “Will you wait for the announcement as planned?”
Darvad grinned. “I always like to have a contingency plan. Druv and Firdaus and I met earlier this morning to discuss what would happen if Mazar chooses Yudar over me.”
A bolt of anger shot through Tarek at being excluded. Darvad frowned. “Don’t be angry that you weren’t there. You were too busy playing nursemaid to your father.”
Tarek bristled. How could Darvad ask him to choose between himself and his father?
“It was a very boring meeting,” Darvad assured him. “But we now have a strategy that will take care of all of Mazar’s possible choices.”
“Surely such gestures as the one today will win you support among the common people,” Tarek said.
“The support of the common people doesn’t mean shit to Mazar,” Darvad replied. “He only cares about which lords will support me, and whether enough will do so to prevent a civil war.”
“If Yudar takes the throne we all know the lower castes will revolt. Keshan has seen it happen.” Druv poured everyone another round of sweet jasmine tea. “So we came up with a last challenge should Mazar make the wrong choice. It’s amazingly simple, really.”
“Simple because of my skill,” Firdaus interrupted and Druv nodded in agreement.
“If Yudar becomes king, we offer a friendly celebratory game of dice,” Druv said.
“And then we win the kingdom back from him.” Firdaus smiled.
Darvad and his friends gloated in silence as Tarek absorbed the meaning of their words. They were going to cheat at dice. They were going to steal the kingdom from Yudar through gambling. The idea was so appalling that Tarek didn’t even have a reaction.
But Iyestar did. Apparently this was the first he had heard of the plan as well, for he immediately stood.
“That’s it.” He threw his green harafa scarf over his shoulder and glared at the men. “I am leaving. I will have no further part in trickery.”
Darvad instantly stood to console him. “Iyestar, old friend, don’t—”
“No!” Iyestar stepped backward. “Your last foolish plan almost killed my brother! Death still hounds him. And for what? To ingratiate yourself to Firdaus so he can cheat for you?”