The Archer's Heart (14 page)

Firdaus stiffened. “Jandu threatened—”

“Enough.” Iyestar made the sign of peace to Darvad. “Prince, you have my loyalty. And the generous acts you engage in prove to me that you will be a worthy king. But I will not take part in any more deception. You have my secrecy on this matter, but not my complicity.”

Darvad seemed almost embarrassed. He reached out and touched Iyestar’s shoulder. “I am doing this only to guarantee that changes we all want are undertaken. You know this is for our vision. For your brother’s vision.”

“I know.” Iyestar nodded. “That is why you have my support. But do not involve me in these schemes any further.”

“Of course. Do only what you feel is right, Iyestar.”

Iyestar gave Tarek the sign of peace, and then departed. Tarek realized this was his opportunity to as well. To let Darvad know that being led by men like Firdaus and Druv would sully his reputation. To walk out as Iyestar did, still an ally and a friend, but not a conspirator.

But Tarek hesitated.

“My question is,” Firdaus dropped a few grapes into his mouth, “what was Keshan Adaru doing with Jandu in the first place? I thought Keshan was your ally.”

“Oh, give it a rest, Firdaus,” Darvad snapped. He sat down glumly, all of his joy from the morning evaporated.

Firdaus merely shrugged. He moved onto another helping of fried vegetables, and ate with his mouth open. Tarek remembered his mother smacking him on the side of the head any time he’d displayed such poor manners. Maybe Firdaus just needed a good smack.

“Do not worry yourself, Darvad,” Firdaus said loudly. “If Mazar chooses you, as he should, Iyestar will have no cause for concern. And if the dice game goes through, you will still end up looking like a hero.”

“How is that possible?” Tarek asked, unable to keep the anger from his voice. “Anyone with eyes will be able to see it for what it is.”

“But what kind of king would gamble his people away?” Druv asked. He raised his eyebrows. “We all know Yudar is addicted to dice. He will stop at nothing once he is on a losing streak. And with Firdaus on our side, he
will
lose. Once he has gambled the kingdom, it will be him that is shamed. People will not easily forgive a man who is so careless with his most valuable possessions.”

“I doubt that Mazar will idly sit by and allow the son of King Shandarvan to live out his days a penniless beggar,” Tarek said.

 “Do you recall story of the Prophet Sadeshar?” Druv asked Tarek.

Tarek shook his head.

“He disgraced himself by distrusting the word of God. In the Book of Taivo, his followers send him into exile. If found within three years, his exile would begin again. But if he survived with no help from God or man in those three years, he would be considered sinless and free to reclaim his place at God’s side.”

“So the price of losing the dice game is exile?” Tarek asked.

Darvad nodded. “I must appear magnanimous, after all. Turn it into penance, and forgive all after three years.”

“But will you?” Tarek asked. “Will you really give him the kingdom after his penance?”

Darvad smirked. “If I make sure he is found during his exile, I won’t have to.”

It was still a trick. Tarek stared down at his empty plate, debating what to do. The very idea of cheating at dice was so immoral, he should have walked out on principle, just as Iyestar had.

But then Darvad threw his arm around Tarek’s shoulder, smiling in such a way that infused his very being. Darvad was so handsome when happy. And, after all, wasn’t Darvad’s vision of a new Marhavad worth sacrifices? Tarek himself tasted the joy of Darvad’s vision that very morning. Wouldn’t the end of the righteousness of the Triya caste be worth a liberal interpretation of the dice rules?

◆◆◆

Tarek returned to his house in darkness. He quickly scanned the faces of the soldiers outside his home, but gratefully did not find the commander amongst them. Perhaps he went back to Dragewan so that Tarek would be spared having to face him.

Inside, sweet beeswax candles lit the house. His father sat upright in bed with his eyes closed, but he opened them as soon as Tarek entered. His thin lips parted into a weak smile.

“My son. There you are.”

Tarek dismissed the attendants, and sat in the chair beside his father’s bed.

“Father,” Tarek whispered, putting his mouth close to the dying man’s ear. “I don’t know what to do. I have sworn an oath to stand beside Darvad, but in order to keep that oath, I have to do things I don’t believe in.”

Tarek wasn’t sure if his father heard him. His father closed his eyes and coughed loudly. But then he gathered his breath and spoke.

“An oath is a terrible burden,” his father said. He weakly patted his son’s thigh. “But you must keep your oath above all. The honor of a Suya is found in obedience to the lord to whom he is oath-bound. Do as your Triya lords command and you will never shame yourself nor your family.”

Tarek nodded. He sat silently by his father’s side until it appeared he had fallen asleep once more. Tarek leaned down and kissed his father’s leathered cheek.

“I’m very proud of you, son,” his father spoke so softly, Tarek could barely hear him.

Tarek squeezed his hand again and fled the room before his emotions overcame him.

Chapter 13

Jandu met Keshan’s wife, Ajani, for the first time the day following the attack. After waking, Jandu practically ran to his friend’s room, terrified that Keshan had died during the night.

Keshan slept soundly, but a plain-looking woman sat beside him and held his hand.

“Who are you?” Jandu asked.

The woman appeared affronted. “I’m Lord Adaru’s wife!”

Jandu smiled charmingly to cover his mistake.

“My apologies,” he said, bowing low to her. “I’m sorry to intrude. I’m—”

“—Prince Jandu Paran.” Ajani’s face was perfectly round, with large dark eyes and thick lashes. But her colorless lips lent no sensuality. Her hair was tightly pulled back into a nondescript bun. Jandu wondered how Keshan could marry her—he had his choice of any woman in Marhavad, and he had chosen this plain one?

She did have enormous breasts, he noted.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Jandu said. “Keshan and I are cousins but only met recently—”

Ajani smiled thinly. “I know. All Keshan ever does is talk about you. Day in, day out. It’s quite tiring.”

Jandu decided he didn’t like her.

“I can sit beside him while you have your breakfast, if you like,” Jandu suggested. He raised his voice slightly, hoping Keshan would wake up enough to kick his wife out.

“No, I’m fine, thank you,” Ajani said. She stared at Jandu pointedly. “I’ll stay with him.”

Jandu nodded. “All right.” He took his leave of her.

Bitch.
Jandu went off to sulk by himself.

He really shouldn’t resent her, he thought. She was probably nice. She was an old friend of Suraya’s. When he saw the two women laughing and walking the palace grounds together, he knew there had to be something appealing about Ajani. But he didn’t see it at all.

Keshan recovered quickly. He claimed it was Baram’s frequent gifts of turtle soup and hot buttered milk. But Jandu also caught Keshan mumbling strange prayers in the Yashva tongue. He watched letters of ice burst from Keshan’s lips and disperse like mist over his wound, melting into his flesh. It was the first time Jandu had seen Yashva magic work to heal rather than to injure.

He wanted to sit by Keshan’s side and ask him about this, and a thousand other things, but the one thing he wanted seemed impossible, because Keshan was never alone.

Every time Jandu attempted to sit with Keshan, Suraya was already in his room, or Baram arrived carrying another medicinal meal, or Darvad and his entourage were there to visit, or Yudar lay prostrating himself, thanking Keshan again for saving Jandu’s life.

Someone always beat him to Keshan’s side. He tried arriving early in the morning, before the sun rose. But Mazar was already there, discussing philosophy and ethics with Keshan. In the afternoon, Iyestar visited, reviewing Tiwari politics. And every evening, Keshan’s world filled with women. Especially his wife. And it was soon very clear she didn’t like Jandu any more than he liked her.

Thanks to Keshan’s Yashva skills, he could walk by the end of the week, although he remained pale and moved cautiously. To celebrate he joined the Parans for breakfast on Yudar’s balcony, which overlooked the river.

The wind stirred up the surface of the Yaru in frothy swoops, and gulls dove down at dangerous angles to seize spawning fish. Jasmine bloomed in pots scattered around the balcony, lending the air additional sweetness.

Jandu did not arrive fast enough to sit next to Keshan, so instead he picked at his food and glared at Ajani, who sat holding Keshan’s hand the entire meal.

“He was so brave!” Ajani declared. Jandu tried to ignore Ajani retelling the epic tale of how she met Keshan. Again.

“We had only met once previously, at my sister’s wedding competition,” Ajani said. She smiled widely at Keshan. “But I sent him a letter anyway, praying to God that he would rescue me before I had to marry Firdaus.”

Servants brought orange juice and lentil pancakes with sweet mango chutney. Jandu ate them without pleasure.

“Why didn’t you tell your father you disapproved of the arrangement?” Yudar asked. He had won big at the previous night’s dice game and now he brimmed with joy.

 “You don’t know my father. Firdaus’ forests are more valuable to him than me.” Ajani shook her head. “An alliance with the lord of Chandamar would have greatly helped my father, but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t give up my heart to a man who has none.”

Keshan said nothing as she spoke. He had his eyes half-closed as he always did when he tried to hide his emotions. But Jandu knew him well enough now to recognize the little smile on his face. Keshan wanted to say something and held back.

Keshan’s eyes flickered briefly to Jandu. Jandu smiled at him, his whole body warmed with relief at even that little contact.

“So you wrote to Keshan,” Suraya said, smiling at her friend. “And he came for you.”

“Yes.” Ajani grabbed Keshan’s hand tightly, forcing him to relinquish his hold on his pancake. “I waited for him in the Prophet’s temple. He rode in on his chariot and whisked me away. My father’s entire army went after him for kidnapping, but

Keshan never faltered.” Ajani leaned over and kissed Keshan on the cheek. Keshan gazed at her, and then pinched her nose.

Jandu pushed his breakfast away.

“So how does living by the ocean suit you?” Suraya asked Ajani. She rolled a pancake for Yudar and put it on his plate.

“Tiwari is magnificent, you must come and visit,” Ajani said. She sipped at her orange juice and toyed with her long brown braid. “I was really nervous about it at first. It was during the great move, when half of Tiwari left the capital near Jagu Mali and started the new city from scratch. Moving was so unconventional, and yet Tiwari went with the decision, knowing Keshan would never let them down.”

“That’s not entirely true,” Keshan said, the first time he spoke that morning. “Half of the ministers in Tiwari opposed the idea.”

“But you convinced them,” Ajani said.

Keshan shrugged. “No, they felt compelled to go since my brother agreed with me.”

Yudar nodded. “It was a wise decision, Adaru. Unconventional, but wise.”

Keshan laughed. “Iyestar was so angry at me! For weeks he said history would call us cowards for running from the skirmishes with the Jagu Malians. But I thought, who cares? Better history calls us cowards and there be a Tiwari people than to all die out as noble corpses. If war can be avoided, it should be, at all costs.”

“It’s just another example of how practically you see the world,” Ajani said, patting her husband’s shoulder. “You defied tradition and changed the rules. It is what we all love about you.”

An uncomfortable silence hovered as Jandu and Baram looked to Yudar for a response. Yudar did not love Keshan’s tradition-defying antics, and apparently everyone except Ajani knew it.

Keshan smoothed over the comment with a shrug. “Time will show whether or not it was a smart decision. Regardless, Tiwari now has a stunning new capital on the coast. It really is a sight to see.” Keshan looked to Jandu pointedly.

The sun rose high across the river bank, and the full morning heat was upon them all. Jandu immediately began to sweat.

“Just because the Triya have rules for war does not mean that we should seek war,” Yudar said. He nodded to Keshan. “And it is this that I admire about you, Adaru. Even the Prophet Bandruban recognized that war is an undertaking to be engaged in only at the closure of all other avenues of reason.” Yudar had that tone that Jandu dreaded, the lecturing tone. Jandu rested his face against his palm and slowly shoved a ripe tomato into his mouth.

Yudar went on lecturing on the subject of war and bored the table senseless as he recited his favorite passages from the Book of Taivo. Suraya seemed to sense that the minds of her guests were wandering, and leaned over to whisper something in Yudar’s ear.

Yudar’s speech ended immediately.

“If you will excuse me,” Yudar said, a pink tinge coloring his cheeks. He stepped away from the table. “I promised to look over some household expenses with Suraya.” The two of them linked arms and fled the balcony with record haste.

Keshan smirked as they left. Baram didn’t seem to notice, busy with his fourth helping of pancakes.

“It is hotter than fresh blood out here,” Baram commented between bites of food.

“We should go swimming.” Keshan looked directly at Jandu as he said it. Jandu’s heartbeat quickened.

“That’s a great idea,” Jandu said. “I know just the spot.”

“Oh, let’s go, it will be fun!” Ajani cried.

Jandu speared his pancake with a knife.

“You can’t, Ajani,” Keshan said quietly. He rested his hand on the top of her hair. “Remember? You promised Suraya that you would accompany her to the cloth market. I overheard her discussing how much she is looking forward to it.”

“Yes.” Ajani frowned. “I suppose I did promise.”

Keshan smiled. “Trust me, you are missing nothing. I’m sure I’ll end up having to rescue Jandu anyway. What kind of swimmer can he be with such long legs?”

“Hey!” Jandu scowled. “I’m an incredible swimmer.”

Baram burped. “You can’t even dog-paddle Jandu.”

“Shut up. Don’t listen to him, Keshan. Let’s leave him behind.” Jandu stood. Hopefully, if they took their time getting to the water, Jandu would summon enough nerves to jump in.

Servants packed a lunch basket for them and prepared a chariot. They traveled along the northern path of the royal grounds towards the Ashari Forest. Now that Jandu finally had Keshan alone, he was nervous, and said little along the way. Keshan made small talk, discussing the different plants and animals they passed by. As they both gripped the central pole of the chariot car, Keshan’s fingers accidentally brushed against Jandu’s, and the sensation was strong enough to burn through the core of Jandu’s body. The chariot bounced over the rutted dirt trail along the river, and Jandu found himself looking forward to the bumpier patches, places where he could reach for the pole and touch Keshan’s hand instead.

Jandu stopped the charioteer near the location of his confrontation with Koraz. The charioteer laid out blankets. As soon as he finished unharnessing the team of horses, Jandu sent the charioteer home, promising that he and Keshan would take good care of the team and their car. The charioteer was new, obviously proud of his position, and appeared reticent in leaving the two Triyas alone with his prized responsibility while he walked the long distance in the midday heat.

By the time the charioteer finally left, the sun was at its zenith, and the air stopped moving altogether. It sat upon Jandu like a burning ember.

Keshan leaned back on the blankets by the water’s edge and grabbed a cracker. “The Yaru always reminds me of my childhood. I grew up playing in this river.”

“Then let’s praise it by getting in it,” Jandu said, throwing caution aside. The temptation of the cool water was greater than his fear of drowning. He stripped off his vest, took off his jewelry, and lastly, removed his dejaru.

Jandu slowly waded until the lazy current lapped at his waist. Turning, he saw Keshan running naked toward the water. Keshan dove in headfirst, plunging recklessly and hooting as he emerged for air. “It’s so cold!” he cried, delighted.

Jandu waded up to his neck and then slowly swam with his head out of the water. Keshan came up behind him and placed his wet hands on Jandu’s shoulders.

“Are you truly a bad swimmer?” Keshan asked.

“Let’s just say I’m not the best swimmer.” Jandu turned and smiled at him.

“So I shouldn’t dunk you?”

“Not if you don’t want me to hit you again.” As soon as he said the words, he wanted them back. How could he have mentioned such a sore topic?

But Keshan just laughed, and ran his hand down Jandu’s arm.

Jandu’s heart raced. My God, was Keshan going to kiss him? Here? In the middle of the river?

Keshan brought his arm down on the water’s surface, sending a sheet of water straight at Jandu’s face. Then, grinning, he lunged backward, out of Jandu’s reach. Jandu launched himself at Keshan, catching the other man around the waist and dragging him underwater. Suddenly aware that their naked bodies moved together, Jandu released him. Keshan gained his feet, sputtering, pushing wet hair back from his face.

“I was sure I could escape you,” Keshan said. “I must still be feeling my injury.”

Jandu shrugged. “No one is perfect, not even you.”

Jandu climbed up the bank and collapsed back on the blankets. Now the sun felt marvelous, heating his cooled skin. He leaned back and closed his eyes.

“I think you are,” Keshan said. “Well, other than being full of yourself and too conservative.” He collapsed beside Jandu, wincing slightly as the movement pulled at his stitches.

Jandu snorted. “And you’re too much of a troublemaker.”

“I haven’t even started making trouble yet.” Keshan smirked. “And speaking of trouble, what’s that Draya doing in your private forest? Does he belong to the royal household?”

Jandu looked to the direction of the palace. A man approached them, wearing the traditional purple robes and long unkempt hairstyle of a priest. But Jandu did not recognize him. His face seemed sunken and waxy. 

“I don’t think so.” Jandu retied his dejaru and pulled on his vest and jewelry. The metal of his bangles burned in the bright heat, but he didn’t want to appear unclothed before a priest.

Jandu furtively watched Keshan dress as well. Keshan’s body was sleek and dark, and Jandu felt a deep, pleasant ache through his groin at the sight of him.

Keshan tied his trousers and pulled on his vest. As the Draya approached, Keshan’s eyes suddenly narrowed. Jandu followed Keshan’s gaze to the priest. For a flicker of a second, the image of the priest faltered. It shuddered in and out of Jandu’s vision. He blinked as the priest grew blurry.

“I don’t think this is a priest,” Keshan said in a hushed tone. He took a step back.

“Blessings to you both.” The priest’s voice was jagged and harsh, and heavily accented. “Yashva Keshan, I need your service.”

Keshan knelt. “My lord, how may we help you?”

Jandu stared at the priest, whose torso took on a bluish radiant tone. Blue flame burst out in a halo around his head.