The Devil's armour

25

In the feast room of Ganjor’s modest palace, King Baralosus had gathered his family to greet an important guest. The great, low-lying table had been set with ceramic bowls, overflowing with fruit and flat breads and spicy sauces made from local peppers. Colourful pillows were arranged around the table, satiny cushions for sitting on the floor, the Ganjeese way of eating. The northern influence was weak in the palace. Though Ganjor was a city at the crossroads of continents, King Baralosus honoured the old ways, the ways of the desert people, and so his home was furnished thus, with golden urns hung from draping chains and elaborate mosaics of hearth-fired tiles. The smoke of sweet-smelling tobacco rose in pink plumes from water pipes. King Baralosus’ large family — the product of three wives — made the feast room swell with happy noise. Musicians picked at scalthi, the small guitarlike instruments of Ganjor, playing as bare-bellied women danced and twirled their silk garments to the clapping of men in long beards. It was evening in Ganjor, and this evening the city played host to a guest from the desert.

Princess Salina, dark of hair and dark of eye, greeted her father with a respectful bow. She had taken her time making her way to the feast, and now took her place at the table with the rest of her sisters. She was the fifth daughter of King Baralosus but had a better seat at the table than her birth order would normally allow. Lowering herself down on the carpeted floor, she sat directly across from Prince Aztar. Her father was already seated at the head of the table. At his right side sat Aztar. The desert man’s elevated station was not overlooked by the king’s advisors, whose solemn faces dotted the long table. King Baralosus leaned back on his pillows and glanced disapprovingly at his daughter. Prince Aztar, however, stared with admiration.

Salina remained circumspect. Aztar had desert eyes. Dark eyes, like all the Voruni. His people were a fierce lot, feared by most in Ganjor, including her father. The Desert of Tears was their home. It was, according to Aztar, his own kingdom, and for the past year he had been fighting to keep it pure. That was, in part, why he had come to Ganjor. Princess Salina feared the rest of his motives.

‘At last you come to see me, Salina,’ said Aztar. He watched her, forgetting all the other women in the room, even the sensuous dancers. His voice was a baritone, but he always tamed it when speaking to her. ‘Is there a message in your lateness?’

‘None at all,’ her father was quick to answer. ‘Salina has a love for mirrors, Aztar. Getting her away from them has always been a chore. See how pretty she has made herself for you?’

Salina pretended to blush, though her father’s compliments were tedious and not meant for her. In Ganjor, women did not speak as men did. They were too often merely adornments, but Baralosus had been a fair father, treating his sons and daughters mostly alike. He did, however, expect propriety from Salina.

‘Tell the prince you are happy to see him, Daughter,’ Baralosus urged. A servant knelt beside him and offered him some food. The king waved the man away.

‘I am pleased,’ said Salina. Tonight, they spoke in the old tongue of Ganjor, the only language Aztar recognised. He would never speak the mixed tongue, so popular now in the city with all its northern influence. Salina let her eyes drift towards his as she spoke. ‘It is always good to see the prince, Father.’

Satisfied, her father nodded. Prince Aztar smiled. A great deal of noise surrounded them. Laughter and music filled the room. Servants shuffled ceramic bowls, and the dancers pressed tiny cymbals between their fingers. Men around the table and scattered along the floor clapped and admired the dancers. Aztar’s fighters were among them, their long, curved swords sheathed and laid beside them. The prince had come with a sizable bodyguard, enough men to worry Salina’s father. They had, however, been respectful. But they were different, these men of the desert. They were Voruni. Some called them zealots. The folk of Jador called them raiders. Salina still did not know what to think of them.

But what did Aztar think of himself? To Salina, he seemed supremely confident. Clearly he was comfortable killing those innocents that crossed ‘his’ desert. She knew he did not think of himself as a murderer, though even the blood of children stained his hands. Because he could be so kind to her, she wondered sometimes if he was brainsick.

Aztar poured some tea from an urn and pushed his glass across the table toward her. Tea in Ganjor was a great prize, and sharing it a symbol of community. And, sometimes, of love. Aztar’s affection for Salina was plain enough; he had told her father of his intentions to marry her someday. But Aztar was not truly a prince. Though he had declared himself one, he still had to prove himself to the old, traditional Baralosus. Salina took the tea Aztar offered and sipped. It was very hot, and as she drank he smiled at her. He was an enormous man, and seeing such gentleness on his face was startling. As if catching himself, Aztar looked away. He straightened his great back, sitting up tall and proud.

‘Let us talk, Majesty,’ he said.

‘No,’ offered Baralosus. ‘Let us eat.’

Aztar pushed his plate aside. ‘The others may fill themselves fat. I have come for conversation.’

Salina stiffened. Her father — all of her family — knew why Aztar had come to Ganjor.

King Baralosus sighed and splayed his fingers in surrender. He had an admirable way of allaying Aztar’s storminess. ‘The sands of time run quickly in your hourglass, my friend. We can speak of Jador now or later, I do not care which. But my daughters and sons have no need to hear our details.’

‘I would speak now, during your kind feast, Majesty, if it pleases you,’ said Aztar. ‘And I would prefer the Princess Salina stay. She has a love for the northerners that her siblings do not share. Perhaps our words will educate her.’

The king’s advisors seated nearby ended their chatter and toyed with their food, leaning almost imperceptibly toward the head of the table. Salina, annoyed at being talked about, turned icy and lowered her tea glass.

‘I will stay, Father, and hear the prince’s plans,’ she said. ‘I would like to know why he plots against a good land like Jador, which has never given us a moment’s distress.’

Aztar turned his dark eyes on Salina. ‘Come to my desert, girl, and you will see the distress they cause.’

‘I have seen them in our city, Prince, the ones you call defilers. They are kind and good. And they are infirm! They seek only the solace of Jador’s magic.’

The Tiger of the Desert leaned closer. ‘Like a plague they stream across my land, Princess. And they bring their ideas with them, and their cursed customs, and I cannot bear the stink of them in my nostrils.’ Aztar looked pleadingly at the king. ‘Majesty, why is the magic of Jador for these outsiders? Why do the Jadori allow it, when you of Ganjor have been their friends for so long? No, I understate it! You are kin to the Jadori! Look at our skins and say that it is not so.’

‘I cannot say so,’ said Baralosus. ‘When it is so obvious to everyone but my daughter.’

Salina frowned at her father, who had long ago sided with Aztar in the argument. ‘If Jador is to be the price for me, Father, then should I not have a say in the matter?’

‘Jador has gone from a quiet friend to a loud distraction, Salina,’ said Baralosus. His tone remained reasonable. ‘What will they become in the next year? A threat? Aztar has a right to the peace of his desert.’

‘It is not his desert,’ said Salina. This time she looked straight at the prince. ‘My lord, no man owns the sand. It does not belong to the Voruni or any other tribe.’

‘Girl, I lead the Voruni,’ said Aztar evenly. ‘Who will protect them if not me? We dwell in the desert. We must keep it free of disease and the mind infections the northerners bring.’

‘And I am so infected, yes?’ challenged Salina.

Prince Aztar nodded. ‘Yes. But you are young, and the young are foolish. With years you will come to see the truth.’

‘This is so,’ agreed Baralosus. ‘Salina, you will understand in time.’

Salina held her tongue, but knew she would never understand. She had already defied them both by secretly helping the northerners across the desert. Now, hearing of Aztar’s fearsome plans, she had no regrets about her treachery.

The feast stretched on into the evening, until at last the crowds tired of the food and music. Finally, Salina’s large family and all of their guests began to disperse. The princess herself was among the first to leave the gathering, longing for the quiet of the palace’s garden, a tranquil place of orchids and bubbling water. A winding stone walkway meandered through the garden, lit by posts bearing lanterns and, tonight, an abundance of moonlight. As Salina walked along the stones she picked an orchid bloom and twirled it in her fingers. She knew it would not be long until Aztar came. She looked forward to speaking with him alone, but also dreaded it. It had been a difficult evening; she had not meant to argue so loudly with her father. But she had already chosen her secret path. Even if she wound up wedding Aztar someday, she would continue helping the Seekers.

Somehow.

Salina puzzled over this as she smelled the white flower. So far, no one had detected her contacts with the Jadori. When she saw that Seekers were about to leave Ganjor for the desert, she sent her warning birds across the sands. It was all she could do, and she hoped that it had helped. The northerners weren’t the threat Aztar claimed, but she had not been able to help them all, of course.

As expected, Salina soon heard the footfalls of the beast. The Tiger of the Desert padded along the path behind her, stalking through the shrubs and flowers. Salina did not turn around, but rather let his eyes linger on her. Her silk garments clung to her shapely form, and the lust in Aztar’s gaze was always apparent. She twirled the bloom absently in her fingers, then decided to toy with the prince.

‘Come out of the shadows, my lord, please,’ she joked. ‘You are not as subtle as a real cat.’

The flowers parted with a rustle and Aztar appeared. She turned to see him looking splendid in the moonlight, his dark skin offset by his wraps of bright fabric. The gold bands on his wrists caught the lantern light. His slight beard parted in amusement.

‘It is a pleasure to admire you in quiet, Princess. I like you better when you are quiet, I think.’

‘So you want a silent wife, like my father’s wives. You would do better to look elsewhere for a mate, then.’

Aztar came closer, saw the flower in her hand and said, ‘Orchids are so beautiful, yet never make a sound. I do not think people would admire them if they gibbered like mice.’

Fencing with Aztar always amused Salina, but tonight her mood was different. His talk of war with Jador had soured her. He noticed her curdled expression and nodded.

‘It must be this way, Salina,’ he said. ‘My men are ready. I am ready. And your father is ready, he has given his blessing to this.’

‘So that you may remove a problem and fill his pockets further,’ said Salina. Not in the mood to curb her tongue, she continued. ‘Do you not see how he uses you, my lord? My father is a good man, beloved by me. Do not think anything else. But to him you are a hired sword.’

His grin widened. ‘For a good price.’

‘Yes,’ sighed Salina. ‘He bargains me away for whatever magic you might find in Jador.’

‘I do not seek their magic,’ said Aztar adamantly. ‘I want nothing from Jador but their silence. So they make me pull out their tongues, but when I am done they will stop inviting invaders across my desert.’

‘They do not invite them. The Seekers come because they must, because they are hopeless. .’

Aztar waved a ringed hand. ‘Stop, now.’

‘No,’ Salina insisted, ‘I must make you understand. These people, the Seekers — they are sick and broken people. Desperate people. They go to Jador only to be saved.’

‘I have seen them. I know they are sick. Would you have them bring their diseases into my home? Pollute my desert?’

‘You will not be able to stop them, my lord. They will keep coming, because the myth of Mount Believer is strong with them, and because they know the Bronze Knight dwells in Jador. Kept alive by magic! How can you blame them for being pulled by that?’

The mention of the Bronze Knight made Aztar’s handsome face tighten. ‘The Bronze Knight is a northern devil, and when I finally face him I will kill him. When he is dead and all the world knows it, the Seekers will stop coming to my desert.’

‘Ah,’ said Salina, understanding. ‘You mean to attack Jador to kill the Bronze Knight.’

‘I mean to attack them because they harbour everything bad about the northern lands. Hiding the knight is just one of their sins.’

Salina turned slowly away from him. The flower in her hand dangled uselessly. She tossed it aside. ‘How can I get over this wall around you? How can I make you see?’

‘You are like so many of the young,’ Aztar countered. ‘Blinded by the baubles of another world. But the north is not your world, Salina, and its people are not your people. Your people are here. That is where your loyalty must be.’

‘To stand by while my father lets you kill any people. .’ Salina shook her head, unsure of what to say. ‘You ask too much of me, my lord. I may be your wife someday; I accept that because I must. But I will never hold my tongue. Beat me if you will — I will not stay silent.’

Prince Aztar grimaced. ‘Is that the kind of husband you expect me to be? I have no wish to ever harm you, Salina.’

‘But you will attack Jador?’

The Tiger put his hand to his gilded sword pommel. ‘Yes.’

‘Soon?’

Aztar nodded. ‘Soon.’

Princess Salina decided to ask no more questions. She already had all the details she needed, for Aztar had been very vocal at the feast. She looked at him, and for a moment regretted betraying him. Misguided as his intentions were, they were unquestionably sincere.

‘Will you spend some time with me tonight?’ she asked.

‘That is why I have come here,’ said Aztar. He looked up into the sky. ‘We shall enjoy the moonlight together.’

‘And can we talk no more of war and battle?’

The prince’s hand slid from his pommel. ‘Avaldi,’ he called her, an old desert term of love, ‘there is so much more I can talk about than battle.’

Then, further surprising her, Aztar took her hand and led her through the garden, reciting a Ganjeese love poem from memory.

It was very near dawn when Princess Salina at last returned to her room. Grateful for the remaining darkness, she hurried to prepare her note. Like all of Baralosus’ daughters, Salina had her own chamber in the palace, with all the privacy she required. The rooms were stately; large enough for several girls. Tall arched windows offered a splendid view of the desert beyond. The largest of these archways led onto a great stone balcony. From there, high in one of the palace’s spires, Salina could watch the thriving city and enjoy her many doves, which came and went happily from their open cages along the balcony.

First, though, Salina went to a small writing desk. Parchment and a quill pen — a gift from a northern diplomat — waited for her. From one of the sheets she tore a small square of paper, just large enough for all her words. There were no servants about but Salina worked quickly, hurrying to finish her note before the sun rose. Not really sure who was receiving her messages at the other end, she simply addressed it to her ‘Jadori friends. .’

And to these unknown friends she told of Aztar’s plans.

When she was done and satisfied, Salina rolled the parchment into a tight tube, found a bit of silk thread, and went through the open doors of the balcony. She was very high up, and below her the city yawned to life. In a great, full-length cage she located one of her doves, a small but reliable female named Kalia. In Ganjor, the word meant ‘secret’, but she never told others that she named her birds.

‘Kalia, sweet one,’ she cooed, putting her finger into the cage and letting the bird hop on. ‘I have an important job for you.’

The bird made no protest as she carefully tied the note to its leg. Then she held the dove aloft.

‘Now, beautiful, go and be well,’ she said. ‘Make all haste with my message.’

Taking flight, Kalia leapt from her finger and winged skyward. Salina watched as the dove flew over the city, lit by the coming dawn, then disappeared with her secret note.