The Sword Of Angels

9

A chorus of song birds greeted Salina as she made her way through the palace gardens. Already the sun had risen, but Salina’s mind still slept, and as she padded across the cobblestones she let out a long, unlady-like yawn. The brightly coloured birds who had risen with the sun ignored her outburst as they sang, clinging happily to the fruit trees in the garden. The first rays of sunlight shone through the green leaves, warming the small balls of sweet-smelling citrus. The palace itself was already humming with activity, but the garden remained blessedly quiet, and Salina took satisfaction in the silence. Tonight was the last night of Oradin, the week-long festival of the new year’s moon. That meant legions of revelers and a long night pleasing her father’s many friends, and Salina was already dreading it. When she was a girl, she had loved Oradin and the sweet-tasting moon cakes that came with the holiday. For a week she and her sisters would choose pretty clothes to impress the boys, painting their nails and polishing their jewelry until it sparkled. Of all the Ganjeese holidays, Oradin was not the most holy or important. It was simply the most fun, and for that reason alone the people or the city looked forward to it all year. But Salina took no joy in this year’s holiday, nor in the tedious task her father had assigned her for the morning.

Princess Salina of Ganjor was the youngest of five daughters, and often described by her father as the prettiest rose in his garden. Until recently, King Baralosus had indulged Salina, favouring her with liberties he had never granted her older sisters. She had been independent, able to make up her own mind as to her education, her friends, even her manner of dress.

Until now.

At the end of the garden, Salina glimpsed the woman who had come to the palace to instruct her. Her name was Fatini, and Salina had seen her around the palace many times before. Fatini was the wife of Toran, the silk merchant who supplied the fabric to all of the king’s tailors. She was a woman of great stature among the servants, certainly rich by Ganjeese standards, but when she came to instruct the king’s daughters she lost the haughtiness she displayed in her own shop. Salina slowed her pace, sure that Fatini had not yet seen her. Around the woman were wooden tables burdened with bales of fabric and tools. Fatini herself fiddled with tools, testing and arranging them as she waited for the princess to arrive. All five of Baralosus’ daughters had been instructed by Fatini, patiently taught how to make their own mejkith. Now, it was Salina’s turn. She was to wear the veil tonight, hiding her pretty face from all of the hungry male onlookers. Salina cringed at the thought, wondering how thunderously mad her father would get if she simply turned around.

A bird in the tree above Salina’s head began to sing, getting Fatini’s attention. Spotting Salina in the grove, Fatini smiled and urged her forward. Except for the two of them, they were alone in the garden. Grateful no one else had come to watch her, Salina reluctantly proceeded. Fatini had arranged their work area under a beautiful, wide-spreading orange tree. A carpet of fallen leaves softened the ground beneath the tables. Salina looked around, dazzled by the colours of the many fabrics Fatini had brought with her. The display softened Salina’s mood. She would be able to choose her own colour for her mejkith. The thought brought out the child in her.

‘Good morning, Princess Salina,’ said Fatini, rushing forward to greet her with a smile. Though many merchants and their wives spoke the tongue of the continent, Salina had never heard Fatini speak anything but Ganjeese. She had a practiced, aristocratic accent that made the language sound beautiful.

‘Good morning, Lady Fatini,’ replied Salina, giving the woman a slight bow. Even though she was a princess, she could still be intimidated by her father’s lordly friends.

Fatini reached out and took Salina’s hand. She had long, dainty fingers laden with rings that dug into Salina’s skin. ‘Look!’ she pronounced, making a sweeping gesture at the tables. ‘I’ve brought only the best for you, Princess. This is a special day for you. Your formal mejkith!’ She sighed dramatically. ‘I am happy for you, child. No, not a child! A woman.’

‘Yes, a woman,’ Salina agreed, though the distinction was not what it should have been. In Ganjor, becoming an adult was not the same for women and men.

‘Here, sit yourself down, child,’ said Fatini, steering Salina toward a chair near the largest table. ‘First we will choose a colour. Have you thought of what you would like?’

Salina sat down, staring at the bales of fabric. ‘No. I have a green dress for tonight. A mejkith that is green should do fine.’

‘Oh, but this is your first mejkith. The dress you wear is less important.’ Fatini happily started going through the fabric. Like most Ganjeese ladies of means, she wore a dress of velvet, the colours slightly muted yet nonetheless beautiful. Silver and gold threads rounded the cuffs, all perfectly stitched. ‘You should choose a colour that makes your heart sing,’ said Fatini. ‘Something that will make men wonder about you.’

‘Lady Fatini, this is my father’s pride,’ said Salina. ‘I do not mean to be unkind, but I have not given this much thought.’

‘Then it is time you did think of it, child. You are a woman grown now, and tonight is a formal night. You cannot act like a little girl any longer. Consider what people will say about you, and your father. Always consider that, Salina.’

Salina nodded, concealing her anger. Everything she did was carefully considered so not to embarrass her father. That was the duty of all daughters — to make their fathers proud, and never, never to embarrass them. People like Fatini simply never noticed the contortions Salina put herself through to please her father. Still tired from being woken up so early, Salina felt her lips twisting in rebellion.

‘We’ll choose the best colour for your face,’ said Fatini. She had a large swatch of lavender silk in her hands, which she helped up to Salina’s face, just below the eyes. ‘Look how pretty this is. Do you think so?’

Salina shrugged. ‘It’s nice.’

‘Nice?’ Fatini seemed hurt. ‘Child, do try to understand what we’re doing here. The mejkith will give you mystery. It will mark you as a woman, ready for a husband.’

‘Husband?’ Salina shook her head adamantly. ‘No.’

The lady laughed. ‘Oh, yes. There will be many fine men at your father’s celebration tonight. Do not be surprised if one has his eyes on you.’

‘One already had his eyes on me,’ said Salina. She knew it was an open secret. The entire palace knew of Aztar’s interest in her. And now that Aztar was gone — maybe even dead — no other suitors had come forward.

‘Prince Aztar would have made a man for you,’ said Fatini softly. ‘Your father spoke of him often.’

Did he speak of Jador too? Salina wondered. Or how he simply bargained me away for it? She wanted to ask these questions with an acid tongue, to pin Lady Fatini down like a butterfly, but she did not. She simply pushed the lavender silk aside. She had already settled on green.

‘If Prince Aztar would have had me,’ she grumbled, ‘it was not my father’s place to speak of it. I am a woman grown — I should be able to choose my own time of marriage. And my own husband.’

‘That is northern nonsense,’ said Fatini. She looked at Salina gently. ‘Your father is very wise, Princess. Let him make these decisions for you. You will see — he will not fail you.’

‘But I do not wish it, Lady Fatini.’ Salina pushed herself away from the table. ‘I do not wish to be bartered as my sisters were, or share a bed with a man three times my age.’

‘That is how marriages are made, child. That is how I met my husband, and Toran is a good man. He has provided well for me and our children. He works hard to make a fine life for us all. Do not fret so. Your father will choose wisely. Your husband will have the means to make you happy.’

Salina glanced up at the woman. ‘We are so different, you and I,’ she sighed. ‘You take joy in the mejkith. I do not.’

Fatini put down a bale of silk she was about to unravel, pulling up the only other chair to sit beside Salina. She did not seem offended by the girl’s words, but rather confused. In the shade of the orange tree, she smiled the way a mother might, plaintively and without judgement.

‘Princess, if you were my daughter I would tell you things, about how a man shivers when he looks at a woman in a mejkith, and how he hungers, wondering what beauty lies beneath.’

Salina laughed, feeling her cheeks flush. ‘Fatini, please. .’

‘It’s true,’ said Fatini with a grin. ‘Men love mystery. You see? The mejkith is not a prison, Princess. It is a mighty shield! It gives you power. If I was your mother I would tell you these things.’ Lady Fatini sat back. ‘But I am not your mother, so I never told you that, did I?’

‘No,’ chuckled Salina. ‘You never did.’ She reached out and took the fabric Fatini was about to show her, a rich silk the colour of sparkling emeralds. ‘Now, show me how to make a mejkith.’

Happiness flashed through Lady Fatini’s dark eyes. In the still cool air of morning, the merchants wife lined up her needles and cutting tools and began her teaching. Salina listened intently, still not wanting to wear the mejkith but not wanting to disappoint the sweet, surprising woman, either. She had misjudged Fatini, she decided, and cheerfully let Fatini guide her hands across the fabric, using a sharp blade to cut the delicate silk. The first would be only practice, Fatini told Salina. There was no need to worry about mistakes.

‘We have all day,’ said the woman.

Salina settled into her work, and after an hour she had learned to work the little tools. She was already an accomplished seamstress, a skill all the women of the palace learned from an early age. As she worked some golden thread into a long needle, Salina began to sing to herself. It was a glorious morning in the garden, too lovely to retain a foul mood. Then, from the corner of her eye, she glimpsed someone waving at her. Salina put down her sewing.

‘Nourah?’

Her friend and handmaiden stood a few paces away, partially hidden in the grove, staring at her sheepishly. Nourah gestured nervously for Salina to come. Salina frowned, surprised at the girl’s forwardness. Nourah was a close confidant, and smart enough not to interrupt unless something important had arisen.

‘Lady Fatini, your pardon, please,’ said Salina, getting up from her chair. ‘That is one of my maidens. She must need something.’

‘Of course, Princess,’ said Fatini, preoccupied with her own projects. ‘Do not be too long, though. You still need work.’

‘I won’t,’ Salina promised, then excused herself to go to Nourah. One of her youngest handmaidens, Nourah was nevertheless among Salina’s most trusted. Salina was closer to Nourah than to any of her sisters, and had confided her deepest secrets in the girl, who had kept them all safely locked away. Nourah’s brown eyes jumped nervously as Salina approached, obviously bursting with news. Anxiously she waved for her princess to hurry, keeping herself partially hidden in the grove.

‘Why are you here?’ Salina asked crossly. ‘Nourah, you shouldn’t have come. .’

‘I had to,’ Nourah insisted. She waited until Salina was well within earshot, keeping her voice to a whisper. ‘Salina, Kamag came to see me.’

Salina started at the name. She took Nourah’s shoulder and turned both their backs toward Fatini. ‘Kamag? When?’

‘This morning, when I was shopping in the market. He wants you to come.’

‘Did he say why?’

Nourah bridled at the question, bracing herself. ‘Salina, he said it was about Aztar.’

Princess Salina felt her heart race. She had not had news of Aztar for months, nor had she heard from Kamag, either. From his place in his safe little tavern, Kamag had helped Salina ferry Seekers across the desert, keeping them safe from Aztar as they sought Jador. Like she, he had risked his life to help the desperate northerners, always using Nourah as a messenger. Since Aztar’s defeat, there had been no need for them to talk, and very few Seekers who needed their help anyway.

‘Aztar. .’ Salina put her hand over her chest. The news had winded her. ‘What did he say?’

‘Nothing else,’ said Nourah. ‘But he wants you to come tonight.’

‘Tonight? I cannot come tonight! It’s Oradin!’

‘Kamag knows, but it is urgent. I told him of the gathering at the palace, but he insisted that it cannot wait, and that you would want to know.’ Nourah looked helpless, like the young girl she was. ‘I’m sorry, Salina. I do not know more.’

Salina simply wilted. ‘Aztar. I can’t believe it. .’

Nourah looked at her expectantly. ‘What will you do?’

‘What can I do? I have to be at that cursed gathering tonight.’ Salina felt exasperation rising like a cobra. ‘My father will skin me if I miss it.’

‘Tell him you are sick,’ Nourah suggested, ‘that you have your moon time.’

Salina rolled her eyes. ‘He is wise to that one. So is everyone else.’

‘Think of something else, then. Eat a bad fish or some spoiled milk.’

‘I don’t want to really be sick. Seriously, now, think. .’

Salina turned back to Lady Fatini, who waved at her impatiently. Salina waved back with a face that begged indulgence.

‘I have to get back,’ she groaned. ‘Nourah, I have to see Kamag tonight.’

‘I know,’ Nourah nodded helplessly. ‘We will get you there. Stay at the gathering as long as you can, then be ill. I will say you’ve gone back to your room. Everyone will be too busy to look for you. By the time they do, you will be back.’

Salina considered the plan, confident it would work. Her father always got too drunk on Oradin to notice anything unusual, and with so many people to entertain, it was certain she would not be missed.

‘All right,’ Salina agreed, smiling nervously. ‘Go now. I’ll be done here when I can.’

Salina squeezed her maiden’s shoulder, then turned and walked back to Fatini and her table full of fabrics. Over the next hour she struggled hard to concentrate on her work, but her mind was a thousand miles away, over Aztar and what fabulous news Kamag might have for her.

Just past midnight, Salina found herself in the streets of the city, surrounded by revelers still celebrating Oradin. Overhead, the moon that was the holiday’s namesake glowed a brilliant ivory, lighting the avenues of Ganjor while men and boys moved between the shrana houses and played card games, enjoying the parades of brightly garbed women as they too enjoyed the merriment. At her palatial home, Salina had managed to convince her father of a sudden illness, excusing herself from the gathering even as hundreds of guests still stalked the palace’s halls and banquet chambers. King Baralosus’ guests had come from miles, paying him tributes of gold and spices and enjoying his famous kitchens and wine cellars. Salina had endured the night gracefully, wearing the mejkith she had made and doing her best to please the young men her father introduced, smiling just enough not to encourage them. It had been a tedious function, and Salina was glad to be gone from it. With Nourah’s help, she had slipped out of the palace in the dress and sandals of a commoner. Because she was the king’s daughter and seldom allowed out of the palace, almost no one in the city knew what she looked like, making it surprisingly easy to walk the streets anonymously.

Kamag’s shrana house lay in a dark and quiet corner of the city’s marketplace. Normally, there were few people in this part of Ganjor so late at night. Tonight, however, the streets were filled with happy people and market stalls that had stayed open for the holiday, selling sweet and spicy foods that filled the avenue with aromas. Salina’s head swam with excitement as she hurried toward the place. To be out so late at night, without a chaperone to pester her, was a rare treat she always savoured. So far, she had managed to keep her meetings with Kamag secret and rare. It had been months since she had spoken to him.

Salina tugged the fabric of her head wrap closer around her face. Normally, women were not permitted in shrana houses unless escorted by a man, but tonight was Oradin, and that meant the holiday would give her cover. She pressed passed the inn’s beaded curtain, hiding her face from a pair of men who were leaving. Entering, her eyes scanned the busy house. Kamag was having a good night, indeed, for every one of his tables were full. Luckily, she spotted Dahj darting about the place, taking orders from the patrons. Another of her confidants, Dahj often worked for Kamag to earn much needed money. He was a young, friendly man, and brave like Kamag, too. Both of them had risked much to aid the Seekers. When Dahj glanced in her direction, Salina waved. Dahj quickly dropped his tray of shrana cups on a nearby stool and hurried toward her, pushing his way through the crowd.

‘Princess,’ he whispered, not smiling and not wanting to draw attention.

Salina nodded, holding her wraps high against her face. She was pleased to see Dahj, but had no way of showing it. ‘Kamag?’

‘Waiting for you.’ Dahj looked around. ‘Busy tonight. Be careful.’

Salina understood, careful to avoid the stares of others. She followed Dahj through the busy inn, keeping her eyes low. Dahj moved quickly to the back of the tavern, toward the hall that lead to the upstairs sleeping chambers. A few other servers darted past them with trays of steaming shrana and the popular moon cakes. When they reached the hall, Dahj paused.

‘Wait here,’ he directed. ‘I will bring Kamag.’

Dahj disappeared quickly back into the main room, leaving Salina alone in the hall. The servers ignored her, too busy with the work to pay the girl much notice. Salina shifted uncomfortably, anxious to see Kamag and hear his news. Overhead, she heard the boards creak from the rooms upstairs, obviously rented for the evening. Salina smiled beneath her wraps, imagining the romance going on above her head. A minute passed, and then another, but before too long Kamag appeared, alone, skidding into the hall and beaming when he saw Salina.

‘You came,’ he pronounced happily. ‘I knew you would.’

‘Nourah told me it was important,’ said Salina. ‘What is it? What’s happened?’

Kamag came closer, tossed a glance over his shoulder, and said softly. ‘Princess, someone has come. He is upstairs, waiting for you.’

Salina trembled. ‘Aztar?’

‘No,’ said Kamag. ‘But someone with news of Aztar. A young man from Jador.’

‘Jador? I don’t know anyone from Jador,’ said Salina. Though she had sent the Jadori doves warning them of coming Seekers, she had never met any of them. ‘This young man — he knows of Aztar? He has seen him?’

Kamag waited for one of the servers to pass before answering. ‘He was with Aztar in the prince’s camp. He said he had a message for you.’

‘Take me to him,’ said Salina. ‘I want to see him.’

The top floor of the house had about a dozen small bedrooms patrons could rent for the night. Salina had never spent much time in any of them, except to meet secretly with Kamag and give him money to help the Seekers. Knowing the way, she followed Kamag up the stairs toward the landing, where the first beaded curtain was drawn closed, light spilling out between its braids. Kamag went ahead and parted the curtain. He spoke softly to someone inside, then held the curtains open for Salina. When Salina stepped past them, she noted the tiny room, dimly lit by a few well-placed candles. A young man seated on the bed rose stiffly to greet her. Dressed as a northerner, he had the red complexion of sunburn, with sandy hair that fell into his eyes and a curious, trusting expression. His left hand dangled at his side, palsied into a club. A heavy, strange looking boot surrounded his left foot. A slight smile crept over his boyish face when he saw Salina.

‘Hello,’ he said, shuffling forward and staring. His eyes went to their host. ‘Kamag?’

‘This is she, Gilwyn,’ said Kamag. ‘Princess Salina.’ Kamag gestured toward the stranger. ‘Princess, this is Gilwyn Toms, from Jador. He has come to speak with you.’

‘I do not know you, Gilwyn Toms,’ said Salina. ‘Nor have I ever heard your name. Yet Kamag tells me you have a message for me, and news from Prince Aztar. Tell me, please.’

‘I should go,’ said Kamag. ‘Princess, you will be safe with him. Keep your voices down, yes? When you need me, come downstairs.’

Salina said nothing as Kamag left, wanting only to hear from the stranger. The young man named Gilwyn Toms offered her the only chair in the little room, which Salina declined. ‘Please tell me,’ she asked. ‘I want to know about Aztar.’

‘Aztar is alive, my lady,’ said the stranger. ‘I was with him just two days ago in his camp.’

‘He sent you here?’

‘No,’ said Gilwyn. ‘Not really. I’m from Jador, my lady. I was heading home to Liiria. A man named Lorn told me to ask for you when I got here to Ganjor. Do you remember him?’

‘Lorn? Yes, I remember,’ said Salina with a smile. ‘Lorn of Norvor. He made it to Jador, then?’

‘He did, my lady, and he says he has you to thank for that. He wanted me to see you, to thank you for helping him and his people make it across the desert. They’re all safe, my lady.’

‘That is good news,’ sighed Salina. ‘I did not think they would all make it alive, especially the little one, the baby.’

‘You mean Poppy?’ Gilwyn Toms laughed. ‘She’s well, too.’

The two strangers looked at each other. Salina shrugged helplessly.

‘I am desperate for news, Gilwyn Toms,’ said Salina. ‘What of Aztar? Is he well?’

The young man seemed reluctant. ‘He lives, my lady,’ he said gravely. ‘But he is not well, no. You warned us in Jador about the battle. .’

‘Yes,’ said Salina. ‘What happened?’

‘Aztar was hurt. . badly.’

Salina felt her legs go weak. She went to the chair Gilwyn had offered and sat down, unraveling her stifling face wraps. Gilwyn Toms stood over her, concerned. It took a moment for Salina to find her voice again.

‘Tell me more,’ she said softly. ‘Tell me everything.’

‘There was a fire during the battle,’ said the young man. ‘Aztar and his men were pushing their attack. They were winning. They would have overrun us.’ Gilwyn’s face darkened. ‘Something had to be done.’

‘You do not need to make apologies,’ said Salina. ‘Some of Aztar’s men came to Ganjor after the battle. They told of the magic fire.’

‘So your father knows about it too, then?’

‘Yes,’ replied Salina, confused. ‘What does that matter?’

Gilwyn shrugged if off. ‘Maybe it doesn’t mean anything,’ he said without explaining. ‘But Prince Aztar survived the fire. We didn’t think he did, but he managed to escape.’

‘But he was burned,’ said Salina. ‘Yes?’

Gilwyn nodded gravely. ‘He has trouble walking sometimes. He is in great pain. He hides it, but I know he suffers. The fire burned much of his body. He probably looks nothing like you remember, Princess Salina.’

The statement shattered Salina. She tried to speak, but her throat constricted and her voice died. The joy of simply knowing Aztar was alive fled in an instant, replaced by a horrible guilt.

‘It’s my fault,’ she gasped. She could barely bring herself to look at Gilwyn. ‘I warned you of his coming. I sent him to this fate.’

Gilwyn Toms came closer, falling to one knee in front of her. ‘He knows that,’ he said gently. ‘Aztar knows you warned us.’

‘You told him?’

‘I did. I told him what I knew about you, my lady, and how much you’ve helped us, and helped the Seekers.’ Gilwyn gave an encouraging grin. ‘He knows all about it, and he isn’t angry. He just wanted me to come and see you.’

Salina gaped at him, stunned. ‘He is not angry? That is unbelievable. .’

‘He’s not what I expected, that’s true,’ said Gilwyn. ‘He took care of me, made sure that I was well enough to travel before I left camp.’

‘Yes, tell me about that — you were in his camp? That I do not understand.’

‘It didn’t make sense to me either at first,’ said Gilwyn. ‘I woke up there, after being attacked by a rass on my way through the desert.’

He went on to tell her about his time in the camp, waking up from an illness that nearly killed him. Aztar’s women had cared for him, he told Salina, nursing him back out of a sleep that had lasted for weeks. Then, finally, Aztar himself had come to see him. Salina listened intently, watching Gilwyn’s face in the candlelight, amazed by his tale of Aztar’s kindness. She had always thought there was a part of Prince Aztar that could be gentle; she had even glimpsed it on occasion, when he came to visit her with flowers or quoted Ganjeese love poems. It broke her heart to hear it.

‘When I told him I was coming here, it saddened him,’ Gilwyn went on. ‘I told him I was coming to see you if I could, because I had been told by King Lorn that you would help me. He loves you, Princess. He wanted me to tell you that.’

Sitting in her chair, Salina felt like a little girl, all alone and wanting to weep. Aztar had loved her from the moment they had met, and she still didn’t know why. Then, when her father had tried to bargain her away to him, she had resisted because she wanted only independence for herself and the chance to choose her own husband. Yet Aztar’s memory tugged at her, always like a little bird on her shoulder, chirping and reminding her that he cared for her.

‘Even though I betrayed him,’ she whispered darkly. ‘Even still he loves me.’

‘He does,’ Gilwyn echoed. ‘And he’s changed. He wanted me to know that and tell the others in Jador, too. He claims he’s not our enemy anymore, that he’s been changed by Vala and that. .’ Gilwyn stopped himself, looking unsure.

‘What else?’ urged Salina. She could tell he was holding back.

‘Aztar thinks Vala’s punishing him,’ said Gilwyn. ‘He thinks Vala made the fire to teach him a lesson.’

‘What lesson?’

Gilwyn finally rose from his knee and made his way to the edge of the bed. There he sat contemplating his words.

‘Aztar told me about the bargain he made with your father, Princess Salina. He said that if he conquered Jador for him, your father would give you to him for a bride.’

‘That is true,’ Salina admittedly sourly.

‘But Aztar didn’t tell this to his god. He didn’t tell Vala he was attacking Jador to win your hand. That’s why he thinks Vala punished him, because he spilled innocent blood for his own lust and desires. He’s convinced of it. That’s why he won’t leave camp, not even to go to Jador to explain himself. He feels disgraced.’

Salina got up from the chair and went to the room’s lone, dingy window. Outside the small square of glass she could see the streets of Ganjor filled with people. Beyond Ganjor, the Desert of Tears loomed, dark and lonely. A spike of despair impaled her as she thought of Aztar, tortured and confused, sure that the god he loved so mightily had struck him down.

All for her.

‘That’s why you asked about my father,’ Salina surmised. ‘Because you knew about his plans for Jador.’

‘That’s right,’ said Gilwyn. ‘Pardon me for saying so, Princess Salina, but I do not trust your father.’

‘Nor should you.’ Salina turned from the window to face him. ‘My father is a good man, mostly. But he is a Ganjeese king, and there are always jackals around him. He needs to stay strong, and do what he must to grow his power. I do not hate my father for the plans he laid against Jador, or even for trying to bargain me away. I am a girl, and in Ganjor that does not mean much.’

Pity flashed through Gilwyn’s eyes. ‘I’m sorry for you, Princess. I’m sorry I had to bring this news to you. But Aztar is still alive. That should bring you some comfort, at least.’

‘It does. But then I think of him burned and pained and lonely. And then. .’ Salina turned hopelessly back to the window. ‘Then I do not know what to think.’

She saw Gilwyn’s reflection in the glass, slowly approaching her. ‘My lady, I cannot stay long. I have things to do in Liiria, and I am so late already it may be too late.’

‘Do you need my help?’ asked Salina.

Gilwyn shook his head. ‘No. Aztar gave me money and a good horse. I should be able to make the rest of the trip on my own. I only stopped to tell you his message, and to thank you for the help you gave Jador.’

‘That help has cursed me, Gilwyn Toms. I saved strangers at the cost of someone who cared for me.’ Salina turned to look at him. ‘I want to go to him, Gilwyn. I want to see him.’

‘You can’t,’ said Gilwyn. ‘He made that clear. He doesn’t want to see anyone, especially not you.’

‘But he loves me. You said so yourself.’

‘Aye, he loves you, my lady, but he’s convinced his love for you is what brought down his punishment from Vala. Don’t you see? He thinks his love is a curse, and that Vala had forbidden it.’

‘That is madness,’ hissed Salina. ‘Love is never evil. Never.’

‘It’s what he believes. He won’t leave his camp, and he won’t have any more contact with you. He only wants you to know that he’s alive, and that he still cares for you.’

‘And that is all? That is why you came here?’ Salina stormed across the room, feeling trapped. ‘You bring me this message, then expect me to do nothing. Am I to live with this guilt forever, then?’

‘I don’t know,’ Gilwyn admitted. ‘I only wanted you to know that he’s alive.’

‘Yes, alive. Alive and burned and hidden from the rest of the world. And all because of me. Well, I cannot live with that, not without seeing him.’

‘He won’t see you, Princess,’ Gilwyn insisted. ‘He has already told me that.’

‘Tell me where to find his camp. Please, that is all I am asking.’

‘And how will you get there? Just coming here tonight was difficult for you. I know; Kamag told me. You won’t be able to ride off into the desert.’

Salina wanted to scream, because his logic was unassailable. How could she go to Aztar? Without her father’s blessing it would be impossible, and that was something the king would never give. She slumped.

‘You are right,’ she conceded. ‘But if there is a way — any way — I must try. Please, Gilwyn Toms, for all that I have done for you, do this one thing for me. Tell me where to find his camp.’

‘My lady. .’

‘I have not much time. If I do not return to the palace soon they will miss me.’ Salina gave him her best, imploring pout. ‘Please. .’

Under her onslaught, the young man buckled. ‘I’ll regret this,’ he sighed, flopping down on the bed. ‘The camp isn’t hard to find. It’s two days ride from here. I can draw a map to make it easy for you.’

Salina went over to the bed and touched his clubbed hand, which was dangling off the edge of the bed. ‘Thank you, Gilwyn Toms.’

The young man stared up at the ceiling. ‘I am leaving in the morning,’ he said.

‘For your business in Liiria?’

‘Yes. And if you don’t mind, I’d like to keep that to myself, at least.’

He wasn’t joking, and Salina didn’t laugh. She knew she had forced him to betray a confidence. She squeezed his hand in thanks.

‘Be well on your journey, Gilwyn Toms. If there is anything you need, tell Kamag and he will get it for you.’

Gilwyn sat up, smiling at Salina. ‘My lady, you are very kind. If you do try to find Aztar, take care of yourself.’ He laughed. ‘I know now why Aztar cares for you so much. You really are beautiful.’

The young man’s words made Salina blush. She had spent an entire night being admired by men, and was surprised by her reaction to Gilwyn’s compliment.

‘I hope we see each other again someday, Gilwyn Toms. And thank you for my message.’

‘Good-bye, Princess Salina,’ said Gilwyn. He rose and walked her to the beaded doorway. ‘And good luck.’

Back out in hall, Salina let the beads shower closed behind her. Quickly she covered her face with the wraps, then scurried down the stairs to make her way home.

The next morning, Gilwyn breakfasted in the shrana house, sitting alone at a table near the back and enjoying his last bit of friendly comfort. Being close to dawn, the house itself was empty, allowing Gilwyn precious quiet in which to think and plan his long trip north. Now the Desert of Tears was behind him, he felt closer to Liiria than he had in years, but he knew that he still had weeks of travelling ahead of him. The black stallion that Aztar had given him waited for him outside. His few possessions had been packed and his pockets bulged with gold the desert prince had provided for his journey. It had already been weeks since he had left Jador, and Gilwyn had spent most of those in a ghastly, feverish slumber. Now, though, he was refreshed from his time in Aztar’s camp and his brief sojourn in Ganjor, and he was anxious to at least be on his way. As he sipped at a hot cup of shrana, he wondered what had become of Baron Glass over the past weeks, and whether or not Kahldris had corrupted his old friend. Considering the possibilities made Gilwyn fearful.

Finishing his food, he left some coins on the table and headed for the beaded doorway. He had already said his good-byes to Kamag the night before. As he stepped outside, the desert air greeted him warmly. Gilwyn took a deep breath of it. In the cobblestone street outside the shrana house, the great black horse waited for him, easily shouldering the packs strapped along its flanks. With his clubbed hand and foot, it was difficult for Gilwyn to mount the stallion, but the intelligent beast had already grown accustomed to his handicaps and so stayed very still while his master mounted.

By the time Gilwyn had ridden an hour, he was already on the North Trail, the well-worn trade route connecting Ganjor to the rest of the continent. Ganjor itself fell away behind him, looking smaller and smaller as the vast Desert of Tears seemed to devour it. Gilwyn tossed a look over his shoulder to say farewell. He could see nothing of the shrana house where he had spent the night, and could not know that men from King Baralosus had come that morning — shortly after he’d departed — to arrest Kamag.