The Archer's Heart (41 page)

◆◆◆

In January, as part of the New Year’s festival, Lord Indarel held an annual archery competition outside the city gates in the large open expanse between the city walls and the old cemetery.

On Rani’s insistence, Jandu dressed up for the occasion. Jandu’s roommate loaned Jandu one of her nicest zaharis, a purple cloth with an intricate pattern of peacocks along the fringes. The peacocks reminded Jandu of Keshan’s Tiwari standard, and so he loved it. He even gave in to Rani’s constant nagging and let her do his hair, tying his long black mane into an intricate braid and attaching a band of small silver jewels throughout it.

Because it was a special occasion, Jandu decided to also wear Keshan’s pendant. He had hidden the pendant long ago when he took it off Druv’s dead body, but now he wore it with secret pride, letting the light dance over the pearl and his pale skin, warming with the dark colors of his gown.

The youngest age allowed in the competition was sixteen, so this was the first year that Abiyar would participate. The entire city came out for the event, and a makeshift arena was set up in the middle of the field, complete with bamboo risers for the audience to stand and better view the action.

It was also the first time Jandu had been out of the palace walls since arriving in Afadi. He walked through the city and towards the competition with Suraya and Yudar and Baram, together as a family for the first time in almost half a year.

Jandu brimmed with excitement. He had shared no more than a few words with Yudar since arriving, and now the two of them clung to each other and shared stories as they walked slowly with the long, snaking crowd through the gates of the city to the open field. Musicians filled the air with songs and the smell of roasting meat wafted over the crowd as droves of vendors sold food from carts. Hundreds of people stopped and greeted each other and shopped and laughed as the celebration for the end of winter began.

“To think you didn’t even know how to braid your hair six months ago.” Suraya shook her head in amazement, then she leaned a little closer. “You look gorgeous and that’s a lovely pendant. Did Rani lend that to you as well?”

“No.” Jandu blushed.

Suraya’s eyebrow lifted. “Who then?”

Jandu didn’t answer, and was relieved when Yudar pulled Suraya away to show her some tapestries that local women had woven for the celebration.

Jandu and his family planned to sit up in the risers and watch the show with the rest of Afadi’s citizens, but upon seeing Yudar, Lord Indarel himself held out his hand and ushered the Parans to stand at the sidelines with the lord’s attendants. Lord Indarel and Yudar had become very close over the last few months, and now they seemed almost inseparable.

Jandu scanned the Triyas in the arena, looking for Abiyar, but he couldn’t see him.

And then, beside him, he heard someone whisper. “Janali.”

Jandu turned slightly, and saw Abiyar. He too was decked out in his finest jewels, his golden armor polished to a fine gleam.

Neither of them looked at each other, they stared at the competition arena and the current archer. Abiyar held his bow up slightly.

“Does this look okay?” Abiyar whispered to Jandu.

Jandu looked briefly at the string and then back at the competitors. “Your string should have at least six twists in it, Abi,” he whispered back. “That will round it better.”

Abiyar twisted his string as he stood beside Jandu. Jandu looked around the field. But no one was paying attention to them. Indarel fawned over his two older sons, Ramad and Parik, admiring their weapons and giving them hugs. He completely ignored Abiyar, about to compete for the first time. It was as though Indarel assumed Abiyar would fail. A fierce, protective anger flooded Jandu. He put his arm around Abiyar, angry that no one helped him in his first competition, that Abiyar’s master was nowhere in sight, and that the boy’s father wouldn’t bother to take the time to ensure his son’s bow was correctly strung.

“Remember to relax your fingers when you shoot, so your hand can act independently of your wrist,” Jandu whispered.

“All right.” Abiyar looked nervous.

Jandu smiled down at him, and touched his ornate diadem fondly. “I’m proud of you, Abi. You’re going to be great.”

“Sure I will,” Abiyar said. But the tremor in his voice gave away his nerves.

Abiyar’s time to appear was at the end of the archery competition, since he was the son of the lord. This meant he endured watching dozens of other Triya sons hit their targets. Some fared better than others. Jandu lingered towards the front of the crowd of guests, watching each shot carefully, judging each archer on their stance, the way they drew their strings, their focus.

Lord Indarel’s party at the event grew during the course of the competition, and now dozens of honored guests lingered in the area reserved for Indarel and Shali, who sat in thrones, watching the event unfold with vague interest. Lord Indarel was constantly distracted by his guests, coming to discuss politics or business as the competition proceeded. His daughter Vaisha stood beside her mother, both of them greeting the guests formally, dressed in their finest attire.

As Jandu moved closer to the edge of the box to watch a small Triya man take aim, he felt someone touch his arm beside him. He looked up and was surprised to see it was not a member of his family.

“Fascinating, isn’t it?” The man, a Triya, spoke to Jandu with a glint in his eye.

Jandu immediately moved away from the man. “Yes.” He pretended to yawn. “But archery is so dull.” He hoped he hadn’t been watching the competition too enthusiastically.

The Triya beside him laughed. “I don’t believe you. I’ve been watching you. You look at the archers as though you wish you were with them.”

Jandu narrowed his eyes. “What an absurd idea.”

The man laughed again, his eyes hungrily raking down Jandu’s body. “You are as witty as you are adorable.” He brought his hands together and bowed low. “I am Hanu, ambassador for my brother, Lord Firdaus of Chandamar.”

The very mention of Firdaus’ name made Jandu flush with anger. He studied Hanu, and realized he looked like a younger, healthier version of Darvad’s friend. He was tall and had large shoulders, and also carried a noticeable belly. Triya warrior he might be, but Jandu immediately dismissed him as a threat.

His dark brown eyes locked on Jandu’s waist. Jandu took another step away from him. He looked around for his brothers.

“Nice to meet you,” Jandu mumbled.

“And you are?”

“Janali.” Jandu didn’t smile. “I tutor Lord Indarel’s son Abiyar.”

“Ah, yes,” Hanu smiled. “I heard there was a pretty young woman who managed to win Abiyar’s heart. You are the younger sister of Esalas, the lord’s dice partner, are you not?”

“Yes.” Jandu looked away. “Excuse me. I need to find my family.” He darted off to find Suraya and the others.

Jandu spotted Yudar and Baram just as the lord’s sons entered the arena to compete. When Ramad, Afadi’s heir apparent, stepped into the arena, a roar came from the crowd, and they chanted his name in pride.

Ramad was heavily adorned in gold armor and a full rainbow of colored silk, yellows and peaches and greens, his thick long hair tied back with leather, his diadem almost as large as his father’s. He turned and bowed to the crowd dramatically, and the cheers rose. Lord Indarel looked beside himself with joy. Ramad strutted to the center of the arena and flexed his muscles unnecessarily as he took aim.

“Asshole,” Jandu whispered under his breath. Of course, he had to remind himself that he did pretty much the same thing at his own archery competition back in Prasta. But he was a different Jandu back then.

Ramad shot a tight cluster of arrows at the center of the target. The crowd roared in joy. Jandu understood now that Abiyar did not have the same weapons master as his older brother did. There was no way these two boys were learning from the same teacher.

Ramad took his time. He had himself blindfolded and shot another volley of arrows. Many missed the bull’s eye, but they still hit the target itself, which was close enough to please the crowd. Although Jandu had once gloried in this kind of grandstanding himself, he now thought it tacky, and strategically pointless.

 Watching his older brother, Abiyar gripped his bow tightly, sweat breaking out across his forehead. His second brother Parik whispered something to Abiyar and Abiyar flushed in embarrassment.

Jandu gritted his teeth. These boys had no right to taunt Abiyar just for being the youngest. He tried to imagine growing up in a household where Yudar and Baram persecuted him. He couldn’t imagine it. Through thick and thin, he and his brothers had always been inseparable. Since the death of their father, Yudar and Baram had protected him.

After Ramad, Parik’s demonstration had less fanfare, but it was still warmly greeted by the crowds. They cheered the boy and flowers fell from the risers to his feet. Parik was not as good as Ramad, but he was adequate. His arrow groupings were accurate, although his stance needed work.

Abiyar, too, received cheers when it was his turn to compete, but many in the crowd watched him with more curiosity than reverence. This was the first time Abiyar would have to show his skills in front of his citizens. He strutted out to the middle of the arena, and from a distance, he seemed confident. But Jandu knew him well enough to see the tremor in his step. Jandu closed his eyes and prayed for his strength and courage.

Abiyar did not do as well as some of the other boys his age in the competition, and he paled in comparison to his brothers, although his performance was far from a failure. Lord Indarel barely noticed. Jandu still hadn’t seen any sign of Abiyar’s archery master and his anger grew when Abiyar returned to the royal grounds, and Lord Indarel did nothing to acknowledge his son.

Abiyar’s personal attendants rushed to take his bow and offer him drinks. Jandu’s view of his student was blocked by the sheer number of honored guests, but he caught a glimpse of Abiyar, and could see the disappointment on his face.

“I have to talk to Abiyar,” Jandu told his family. He followed Abiyar’s servants around the stands to a tent that had been set up for the lord’s family. Jandu hesitated at the tent flap, worried it would look suspicious if he went in uninvited. But there was no one under the risers, and he felt safe.

“Abi?” He peeped his head in.

Abiyar’s servant was stripping off the boy’s armor. Abiyar looked devastated. He glared at Jandu. “Go away.”

Jandu sighed. “Can I talk for a—”

“Go!”

Jandu swallowed, and left the tent. He bumped directly into a man’s chest.

Hanu stared down at him. Jandu could see the tremble of excitement in the ambassador’s hands.

“Janali! What a surprise.” He reached out to touch Jandu’s arm, and Jandu backed away.

“Come, don’t toy with me,” Hanu cooed. “I just want to walk with you.”

“I can’t.” Jandu backed away further. “I’m busy.”

“You are a servant of Lord Indarel,” Hanu said. “And I am an honored ambassador. I am sure the lord could see fit to order you to accompany me.”

Jandu didn’t answer. He started back towards his family.

Hanu followed him doggedly. “I know you are not married. And I am a very generous man—”

“—Fuck off,” Jandu spat. He walked faster. Rani’s fine zahari impeded his movements. It was wrapped so tight around his legs that he could only take tiny steps.

Hanu lunged and grabbed Jandu’s arm. He looked furious.

“How
dare
you—”

Jandu drove his fist into Hanu’s mouth. When Hanu cried out in pain, Jandu stomped on his foot and then dashed as fast as he could back to the arena.

His heart pounded furiously by the time he got back to his family.

He could be severely punished for punching an ambassador. Especially the Chandamar ambassador. The peace between Afadi and Chandamar had been on a knife’s edge for the last few years, and Jandu knew it wouldn’t take much to slice through the ruse of amicability.

“What happened?” Suraya grabbed his hand, noticing the blood on it.

“Firdaus’ brother just tried to molest me. I cut my knuckle on his tooth.”

Yudar and Baram instantly glared at him.

“What?” Yudar said.

Jandu took deep breaths to steady himself. “The bastard! What did he think, I would just obey him?”

Yudar fiddled with his turban. “Oh no. This is not good.”

“It’s bad enough being a woman,” Jandu snapped. “Now I must endure this?”

“Firdaus’ brother? Hanu, the Ambassador?” Suraya asked.

Jandu put his fist to his mouth and sucked on his knuckle. “Yes. What are we going to do?”

“You are going to stay out of sight, that’s what you are going to do,” Yudar said. “Chandamar and Afadi are on the brink of war. This kind of insult could ruin the peace Indarel has spent years developing.” He shook his head. “Everything is always difficult with you.”

“Me?” Jandu asked angrily. “Why is this
my
fault?”

“Couldn’t you just have politely said no?” Yudar asked.

“I did. He didn’t accept it.”

Baram hadn’t said a word. Jandu looked at him and now saw the rage in his face.

“If he lays a hand on you, I swear I’ll cut his throat,” Baram growled.

Jandu had the absurd desire to laugh. It was so surreal, the whole situation. Baram having to defend
him
against another man. Jandu had never feared anyone, other than Keshan, but that was for an entirely different reason.

Yudar took a deep breath and looked at Baram. “You’ll both do as I tell you. Jandu, remain in the women’s quarters, and go out as little as possible. If Hanu doesn’t see you, then you’ll be fine. Hopefully he won’t ask Lord Indarel for your dismissal.”

“And if he does?” Jandu let Suraya take his hand and wrap it with a cloth.

Yudar sighed. “We’ll deal with that situation if we come to it.”

Chapter 33

F
OLLOWING
Y
UDAR’S ADVICE,
J
ANDU REMAINED IN THE
women’s quarters.

If Hanu told anyone what had happened between him and Jandu, no one had heard of it. Jandu asked his most effusive source of palace gossip, Rani, but she confirmed that Hanu wasn’t saying anything about Janali or being punched.

Rani was wide-eyed and thrilled with Jandu’s story, however. After the competition, she sat on Jandu’s bed with him and begged for a blow-by-blow of the attack and defense. And after that she asked Jandu to show her how it was done. They spent a cathartic evening punching pillows and stomping on imaginary feet. Rani’s expression when she practiced the moves Jandu taught her was so violent that Jandu wondered how many times she’d been in the same position but without his skill or training.

Jandu indulged her, having grown fond of her companionship. Recently, Rani had found herself a lover, one of the grooms in the stable, and so she was gone much of the time, leaving Jandu alone and bored in his own quarters.

Lady Shali, upon hearing that Jandu had sequestered himself, ordered a soldier to escort Jandu to and from his daily music lessons so that Abiyar could continue his studies. When Jandu heard about this, he felt he’d reached a whole new level of emasculation. He sought an audience with Shali to beg her not to go to such extremes for him.

“But I have to, don’t you see?” Shali was having her hair done, and smiled coyly at Jandu as he stood in her doorway, awaiting her commands. “I don’t know what you have done to him, Janali, but Abiyar is absolutely enchanted with you. You are the only tutor Abiyar has ever had that he speaks of with reverence. He begged me to see to continuing his flute lessons with you.”

The knowledge that Abiyar wanted to see him sent a warm rush of happiness through Jandu. He hadn’t spoken to him since the competition, and he worried that Abiyar was angry at him for some reason. Now Jandu bowed low and thanked Shali for her assistance in securing his safety.

◆◆◆

Back in the music room, Abiyar had a strange grin on his face.

“I’d forgotten how tiny you are,” Abiyar said.

Jandu rolled his eyes. “It’s been a week, Abi.”

“Such a sweet week,” Abiyar mused.

Jandu smirked back. “I’d forgotten how rotten you are.”  The two of them had taken to insulting each other lightly. Jandu briefly worried that his behavior might be construed as flirtation, but he always kept his distance from Abiyar, and just prayed the boy didn’t harbor any romantic intentions.

Jandu patiently sat through a full flute lesson with Abiyar. Abiyar truly had a gift for music, unlike Jandu, and it was becoming painfully clear to both of them that the student’s abilities outstripped the tutor’s. Jandu remembered his own archery training under Mazar, and the day both he and his master realized he had surpassed Mazar. Jandu had felt a rush of pure pleasure, but also guilt that he’d hurt his teacher’s feelings. But Mazar had shown nothing but pride at his pupil’s abilities, congratulating Jandu on his achievements.

Jandu thought of that now, as he listened to Abiyar play in a way that he never could. Jandu’s trills were flat and unenthusiastic. Abiyar manipulated the notes like they were puffs of air, blowing them in every direction, changing them, curving them around the rhythm. When Abiyar completed his song, Jandu clapped his hands.

“Brilliant! Abi, that was fucking brilliant!” Jandu clenched his mouth shut. Cursing was definitely not lady-like. But once again, Abiyar ignored Jandu’s social transgressions.

“I’m almost as good as you,” Abiyar said.

“Don’t be modest,” Jandu scoffed. “You’re better than me.”

Abiyar sat beside him, blushing nervously. “No. Janali, I meant…”

“…It’s okay,” Jandu said. He put his hand on Abiyar’s shoulder. “I’m very proud of you. The truth is, my musical skills are limited. At the end of this year, I shall ask your mother and father to find you a more advanced music instructor who can take your training further than I can.” He smiled. “You truly have a gift, Abi.”

Abiyar, who had turned slightly pink when Jandu touched him, now blushed bright red and fidgeted with his trousers. Jandu pulled his hand back as if scalded. He recognized the boyish enthusiasm on Abiyar’s young, shy face as he stared into Jandu’s eyes. Abiyar
did
have a crush on him.

Jandu immediately changed the subject.

“Has your weapons master, Devdan, returned to continue your weapons training?”

Abiyar frowned. “He will be gone for another extended period of time. Until my father can find a replacement, I will be without an instructor.”

Jandu shook his head. “For God’s sake, why isn’t your father getting you better training? What are you going to do if there’s ever a war in Afadi?”

“I can handle it,” Abiyar boasted. But they both knew it was a lie.

“It doesn’t make sense,” Jandu said.

Abiyar shrugged. “Sure it does. My father doesn’t care if I die or not.”

Jandu’s expression softened. “That can’t be true.”

Abiyar looked resigned. “It is.”

“Well I care,” Jandu said quietly. “You may be your father’s youngest son but that doesn’t mean you should get less training or be treated unequally. In war, you will be expected to defend your state and this kingdom as skillfully as your older brothers. You don’t have to be the heir apparent to love and protect your country.”

“Of course I’ll defend Afadi,” Abiyar said. “But it doesn’t matter to my father if I die in the process.”

Jandu hesitated. “You know how I told you I once worked in Prasta, for the Parans?”

“Yes.”

“Well, Jandu Paran is like you. The youngest of three sons. But even as the youngest, he was given equal amounts of training by their weapons master, Mazar. Even though he was the third son, and fourth in line for the throne, it didn’t mean he was worth less than the others.”

“That was Mazar,” Abiyar said. “This is Indarel. My father. If it isn’t about Ramad or Parik, he doesn’t care.” Abiyar smiled sadly. “I’m not saying that to make you feel bad for me, Janali. I’m just stating a fact. Everyone knows it. Why pretend it isn’t true?”

Jandu looked at the floor, trying to come up with something positive to say. He didn’t notice Abiyar get up, but when he heard the boy cough, he looked up, surprised to see Abiyar holding his bow.

Jandu narrowed his eyes. “What’s this?”

Abiyar smiled. “Well, I think it’s about time I take matters into my own hands. Until my father finds me another weapons master, perhaps you could teach me some lessons. You have admitted, after all, that my musical abilities have surpassed yours. But your archery skills still exceed mine.”

Jandu frowned. “Abi, if anyone finds out, I could get in a lot of trouble.”

“It will be our secret,” Abiyar promised. He walked over and locked the door.

Jandu sighed. “And what are we going to shoot at? The wall?” He shook his head. “It will never work.”

“We won’t shoot,” Abiyar’s expression was almost pleading. “You can just help me with my stance and draw, that’s all.”

Jandu looked to the door. “There are guards outside. Don’t you think they are listening?”

Abiyar’s diadem came askew and tilted on his head. Frustrated with it, he took it off and tossed it onto the settee. His hair looked rumpled and shiny. 

“Who cares what they think? My brother Ramad says the guards are ignorant Suya caste who have nothing to offer the world.”

“Your brother should shut his mouth about things he knows nothing about,” Jandu said. Not for the first time, he recognized the rage he felt over a lower caste insult, and realized how much he himself had changed from the days he had been a young brash prince living in a grand palace. There were times when Jandu used to tattle on sleeping guards to get them flogged. Now he went out of his way to make sure the guards in Afadi’s palace didn’t get into trouble. His whole perception of caste had changed through poverty and insult.

“Look, stupid, smart, whatever—the guards are going to hear us talk,” Jandu said, lowering his voice. “And they are going to wonder why there is no music.”

Abiyar smiled. “So we’ll take turns playing the flute while you help me with my stance.”

A thrill of excitement rushed through Jandu.

“Well?” Abiyar grinned at him, his bow held out. “I can’t do much worse than I did at the competition. How about helping me improve?”

Jandu looked at the door, Abiyar, and the bow. A slow, dazzling grin spread across his face.

“Okay. But you do everything I say.”

“I will.”

They began their practice.

◆◆◆

It was another season before Lord Indarel finally chose another weapons master for Abiyar. During their lessons together, Jandu had perfected Abiyar’s stance and the way he held his bow. But he knew his assistance was limited without being able to see Abiyar shoot. When Abiyar’s new instructor Eshau arrived, a specialist in swordplay and archery and former general from the State of Jagu Mali, Jandu optimistically hoped Abiyar would at last receive the instruction he needed.

What he hadn’t counted on was how seriously Master Eshau took his job. The first day he met with Abiyar, Eshau informed the boy they would practice several hours every day, and that this time was to be strictly limited to weapons training.

Abiyar missed several flute lessons before Jandu was finally irritated enough to hunt Abiyar down, intending to have a word with him about responsibility. Of course, he was also dying to meet this new weapons master, and see Abiyar shoot.

As Jandu came around the corner of Abiyar’s private courtyard, he spied Eshau, a fierce-looking man, assessing Abiyar’s archery skills.

Abiyar’s aim had vastly improved in the months since the New Year’s festival, and he struck the target close to the bull’s eye, pride radiating from his lanky body in almost visible waves. Jandu smiled, allowing himself a moment of simple happiness, seeing this boy, whom he had grown to love like a little brother, perfect the basics of Jandu’s favorite sport.

When Abiyar saw Jandu, his face broke into a boyish smile. “Janali!” He motioned to Jandu. “Come watch me shoot.”

Master Eshau swiveled, and glared at Jandu. Jandu stuck his chin out, straightening under Eshau’s withering gaze. Jandu might have been wearing pink, he might have horrid, glittery flowers embroidered on his zahari top and a white ribbon in his hair, but he still had some small shred of pride. He returned the truculent man’s challenging glare.

Master Eshau shooed Jandu out of the courtyard. “No, no, no! We are training. No distractions!” He pushed Jandu toward the gate.

Jandu wanted very badly to hurt him. “Get your hands off me.”

“Janali is all right,” Abiyar said quickly. “She used to be Jandu Paran’s charioteer.”

Jandu cringed internally. Of all the excuses Abiyar could have made, this was the worst.

 Eshau burst out laughing. “What lies have you been telling, little girl? I
know
Jandu Paran, and he would
never
have you for his charioteer.”

Jandu studied Eshau’s face, but he did not recognize him. “How do you know him?”

“Get out of here,” Eshau said. “Abiyar, it is bad luck to practice archery in front of women.”

Jandu looked at the man like he was insane. “What? Where did you get that bullshit? I’ve never heard anything more preposterous—”

“—Out!”  Eshau shoved Jandu all the way through the gate, and slammed shut the iron metal door.

Jandu glared at him a moment longer before swearing and walking away.

 “He doesn’t know the first
thing
about Jandu Paran,” he mumbled under his breath. “Name dropper. Asshole.” He was so focused on his anger he didn’t see Hanu crossing the courtyard at the same time.

Jandu froze, but then realized that Hanu would never assault him in front of so many witnesses. Not that Hanu didn’t look like he would like to try. He watched Jandu’s cautious movement back to his quarters with malice and lust.

Right before Jandu slipped into his building, he lifted his foot slightly in Hanu’s direction, showing him the sole of his sandal. It was a childish insult, insinuating that Hanu was worse than excrement that Jandu would scrape from his foot. The effect of the insult was instantaneous. Hanu ran towards him. But Jandu was safely back in the women’s quarters before Hanu could get to him.

◆◆◆

The next morning, Abiyar met Jandu at their regularly scheduled time, but rather than carrying his flute case, Abiyar came with a bright, slightly lop-sided bouquet of pink cassias. After anxiously handing Jandu the flowers and pacing the room several times, he told Jandu that Master Eshau had officially cancelled Abiyar’s music lessons.

Jandu could not hide his disappointment and this caused Abiyar to pace more furiously, running his hands through his hair, looking like he was about to cry. “I tried to tell him these lessons were important to me, but he won’t have it, Janali! He says that flute is for girls and if I am to be a true Triya warrior, I should dedicate all my spare time to weapons, and nothing else.”

Jandu gripped the flowers tightly and took a deep breath. His role in the palace had just been made irrelevant. Abiyar went on, stating that he was sure his new weapon’s master would allow Abiyar time to take up flute with Jandu again, once he had improved his fighting skills.

Jandu sat on the couch and watched Abiyar work himself into a frenzy of guilt about ending their lessons. He felt a distant sense of loss. He had been passing on his knowledge of archery for months, and took tremendous pride in Abiyar’s achievements. Now, suddenly, he had been replaced, and no one would ever acknowledge the work he had done.

Abiyar sat next to Jandu nervously, and looked into his eyes.

“Are you angry with me?” Abiyar asked.

Jandu sighed. “No. I am angry with Eshau, but I understand.” He tried to smile. “It is for the best. You have to improve your battle skills. ”

Abiyar was very still. He stared at Jandu strangely.

“And, if your father allows it, I will stay here in the palace until you need me again,” Jandu said. He hoped Lord Indarel wouldn’t kick him out. Less than two months of their exile remained.