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Daria Lafayette tugged the coarse cloak tighter about her body as she pushed through the noisy crowds in the mid-morning market. The sun was already high enough in the sky, streaming down through the tall spires of the Palace, that the heat was becoming almost unbearable for her. The voices in the market only reinforced her discomfort in the situation -- it was a reminder of how alien this world was to her.
She glanced in the direction of the palace, knowing full well that they probably noticed her absence by now. This would only be her second escape attempt in two weeks. The Palace was well-designed to prevent intruders from coming in, but escape from the gilded cage into the dirty city had never even been considered.
A large man bumped into her, casually pushing her to the side without a word of apology as he moved through the market. Daria resisted the urge to throw a punch to the man’s midsection; it would have brought too much attention to her. Instead, she bowed her head respectfully as the man passed by, before continuing on.
A deep, commanding voice came from behind her: “Stand aside! We are entering the market!”
Her heart quickened as she turned her eyes towards the sound. She could see the high feathers of the turbans of the royal guards. The crowd started to quietly obey, slowly ambling to each side of the plaza. It wouldn’t be long before they’d start a search amongst the people. There wasn’t much time.
Daria started to run. All pretence to being careful and subservient was cast aside as she started to dart through the crowd. She pushed past two men carrying a large basket of figs, sending the small fruits flying to the sandstone ground.
“Hey!”
She brushed past a tall, gangly man and knocked him off balance. She heard the smash of the ceramic hookahs as he landed on one of the tables set up for the local merchant’s wares.
“Sorry!” she shouted back without a glance and only half meaning it. Her eyes and her mind were trained on escaping the market.
She felt a beefy hand reach for her arm, but quickly slid out from the grasp. The cloak fell away in the clutching hands of the man as she slipped away, but it wasn’t important; it wasn’t going to help her at this point.
She jumped into one of the alleys, escaping down the narrow dirt road, the sun’s rays barely able to break in between the narrow buildings, giving the impression of twilight. Shadows danced in and out of the corner of her eyes, making her feel even more on edge now that she had escaped the crowds of the plaza. The gates were to the north -- that was all she knew. Hopefully that would be enough.
A figure stood at the end of the alley. Only a silhouette was visible in the distance. She couldn’t see his face, but she was certain who it was. She came to a halt, her breathing quick and shallow. She turned to run back towards the plaza.
A soldier advanced from the entrance, the feather on his turban shaking back and forth with each step. “You are to come with me,” the royal guard said with authority. As he approached, she could see the menace in his face.
Daria looked back towards the figure. He hadn’t moved and was still observing from the end of the alley. Was he underestimating her as much as his subordinate was? She couldn’t tell.
The guard reached forward to grab a hold of her shoulder. Daria slid her hand up to his forearm and gave a sudden twist that sent the guard crumpling to his knees with a cry of pain. He pulled back his free fist to knock away the slender girl’s hand, but she quickly brought her leg up against his face, sending him sprawling to the ground as his nose snapped under the pressure of her kick. His turban tumbled to the ground, soaking up some of the blood.
A hand slid onto her shoulder, digging it her collarbone. A deep voice, laced with concern, warned: “That is enough, my Lady.”
She hadn’t even heard him move closer. She turned and looked up at the owner of the voice. “I don’t think it is, Khalid.”
Khalid smiled brightly, the handsome face she had come to despise seeming so friendly. “And where did you think you were going?”
“Home,” she answered simply, the word filled with all sorts of suppressed feelings of longing.
“You are home. We’ll escort you back to the palace.”
“I’ll just get out again.”
“Perhaps,” he admitted. “But I will always catch you, my dear Lady. It is our destiny.”
She rolled her eyes. Khalid placed a hand on her cheek and Daria pulled away reflexively.
With a sigh the knight released his grip on her. “I do not understand you.”
Daria stepped back, her gaze narrowing. “And I don’t expect you to.”
She heard the footsteps of more of the Caliph’s guards over the sound of the whimpering guard on the ground. Several pairs of hands clasped onto her arms. She struggled only for a moment before Khalid placed a finger against her lips. “Now, now. My lady, you know I but do the Caliph’s bidding. Same as these men. They mean you no harm anymore than I could hurt you. Will you not just let them do their job, at least for now?”
With a sigh, Daria stopped struggling, her eyes turned to the dirt road. She had been closer this time. Next time she might even make it to the gate.
It was as though Khalid read her mind. “Escort her to her room, put a guard on the door this time. I’ll visit her later.” He glanced over to his subordinate who was struggling to get to his feet. “And have him see a physician. She did a number on his nose.”
Khalid watched with satisfaction as both Daria and his guard were carried off, back towards the palace. It struck him as so wonderful that he would be in love with such a girl.
And more importantly, that she so obviously loved him as much in return.
God is kind, he thought with a smile on his lips. Contented with the way things had turned out, he started to walk back towards the plaza and the market.
SHO’OUHGUI: CHILDREN OF FIRE AND ICE
I-I: UNDER THE TWIN MOONS
* * *
The Gii Empire, stretching across the expanse of the Known World’s Southern Desert, is composed of many different sorts of people - just as any Empire will be. The large cities, most notably the Great City of Alu'ohgii, are the homes of the wealthiest and most decadent of the Empire's citizens. Alu’ohgii, as a city of cities, is a place that does nothing by halves. It has the most water in the Empire. It has the most gold flowing through its powerful merchant and noble clans. It is clothed in the most brightly coloured fabrics. It has the most opulent parties at which there is the most alcohol. The streets have the most extreme poverty and beggars. The poor have the most disease and the rich have the most slaves.
Outside, in the desert, are the semi-nomadic tribesmen. They are the remnants of the clans that were first conquered by the First Emperor whose name has long (and purposely) been forgotten to history. These tribesmen are bound by their own particular code of honour, which is both strict and harsh, and also by exceptionally strong blood ties. They live as feudal servants, nominally to the Emperor, but each is truly dominant by his clan's King who leads them based on his own personal combination of wisdom and power.
The Tribesmen look down on the Urbanites as creatures to be pitied. The City-Dwellers see the Nomads as barbarians.
Both have a story that tells of a young, handsome and wealthy member of the merchant class from one of the few cities that dot the landscape. He fell in love with the beautiful daughter of one of these nomad Kings. They met at the wall to the city just before the dawn, kissed, and declared their undying love for one another.
"I love you more than the taste of pure water after a day's thirst," he said in perfect honesty, the story tells.
"And I love you more than the evening breeze after a day's travel," she answered in the quaint style of the tribesmen.
"We shall have children," he said, seeing the future for the two of them, holding her shoulders in his hands.
"Yes," she agreed happily, her eyes brimming with happy tears. "And we shall raise them along the edges of the desert wind."
He coughed at the statement, registering his disapproval. "I would think that we would raise them in a proper home; certainly not in some tent. They can play in the garden and enjoy all that life has to offer them."
She made no reply, dropping her gaze to her feet. She thought to offer him an apology, but instead remained silent as she stabbed him with the long serrated blade she always kept on her person. Silhouetted against the rising sun and watched over by immaculate Anahita, she walked sadly back to her father; her dead lover's blood seeping into the land by the city gates.
Both sides feel with absolute certainty that this story adequately supports their view.
The sun had set hours ago. The two sister moons were full and clearly visible in the sea of stars. The red moon, Qadesh, was just setting over the Western horizon, while the white moon of Anahita was sitting high, overlooking the city.
Two moons. Both of them smaller than the moon she was so used to. It felt so wrong. As pretty as they were, their presence only made Daria long for a familiar sky even more.
She had rarely seen the night sky so clear back home as could be seen from her in room in the palace. Alu’ohgui did not have the pollution, the clouds, or the modern city lights to block out the stars. They seemed so out of place. Looking at the sky from the balcony it seemed so unnaturally perfect in shades of black and deep blue. She just wanted to find at least one constellation she would know. She would have been unable to name them at home, certainly none of the real ones. Maybe Orion’s belt, and she knew the big dipper and the little dipper, but Jonathan had pointed out they weren’t real constellations.
Jonathan.
She felt a slight pain in her stomach as she thought about her friend. It had been two weeks since they had arrived. Two weeks since the whole group of them had been brought to this world--where ever it was. Two weeks since...
“Daria?” A voice called out tentatively from the doorway.
“Hello Soraya,” Daria said, resting her chin on her hands as she let her eyes drift down to the quiet city below. A few lights still burned in the capital city of the Caliph’s Empire. It was a massive city by their standards with nearly one hundred thousand people, but it felt so much as though it could have all been nothing more than a dream. “Did you come to spring me from my prison? Or to help the guards keep me in here?”
“That was a dumb thing to do today,” her elder sister admonished, walking slowly through the mess of fabric and colourful silk throw pillows that dotted the room. “You could have been seriously hurt.”
Daria didn’t bother to look to her sister. It hadn’t been an answer to her question and that was probably answer enough. “Maybe. But what did you expect me to do?”
“Be more careful.” She paused, considering what to say next. “I hear you broke a guard’s nose today.”
Despite her best intentions, a half-smile pulled at the corner of Daria’s mouth. It wasn’t something she knew she was supposed to take enjoyment in, but still... “Yeah.”
“How’d you do it?” Soraya asked slowly, almost afraid of what the answer could be -- everything else was so strange here, it wouldn’t surprise if it was taking hold of them as well. “After all, you’ve never even show in an interest in anything outside of dancing before.”
“I don’t really know,” she answered honestly. “It surprised me and didn’t at the same time. It just felt right. You know what I mean?”
“Yeah,” her sister answered, though it was clear she didn’t.
“Where’s Em?”
“Emily’s in the soldiers’ barracks again -- drinking again.”
“That worries me.”
“She can take care of herself.”
“I meant for the soldiers,” Daria replied dryly. “I don’t think they have the tolerance to keep up with her.”
“Maybe,” Soraya agreed with a laugh.
“It seems like everyone is so busy ‘playing’. Em’s having a grand time away from her family, Amir has the harem he’s always dreamed of -- it’s as though none of them seem to realise how serious this is.” Only one person of the remaining group had been forced to see the serious side of this world yet, she added with a mental sigh. But Daria would have much preferred it had been someone other than her.
“We’ve only been at the Palace for ten days,” Soraya said as she approached her sister. She ran a hand through Daria’s long, black hair. “Aren’t you being a bit hasty?”
“Ten days or a hundred, it isn’t going to make much of difference. They don’t want us to go.” She looked her head and looked sideways to her sister. “And I worry that no one else seems to be eager to get out of this little fantasy world.”
Soraya smiled sadly. “Not all of us adjust at the same pace to reality. They’ll be ready to go soon. Just give it time.”
Daria pushed off from the balcony railing and away from her sister’s touch. “Right. Give that pompous ass time to breathe down my neck more.”
Soraya sighed. “Khalid is not so bad.”
“Right, that’s because you’re not ‘destined to be his bride’ or some other nonsense,” she answered disdainfully, her voice deepening as she mimicked Khalid’s voice. “What do you see in that moron? It certainly can’t be for his mind.”
A knowingly wry smile tugged at the corner of Soraya’s lips. “It’s purely chemical.”
“I’ll bet. You guys should just exchange chemicals and leave me well alone.”
Soraya said nothing, looking instead to the strange cityscape that could have been stolen from a poorly researched movie about Scheherazade and the Sultan. She gave a gentle pat to her sister’s shoulder and started to walk back towards the doorway.
“Soraya,” Daria said quietly. “I’m sorry.”
“I know,” Soraya answered gently as she opened the door to the hallway. “I know.”
* * *
“She looks up and says ‘You really think so?’” Abraham said with a sly smile on his lips and a mischievous look in his eyes. “So then I answer: ‘Yeah, I do. But I’d like ‘em even better out the window.”
The small group around the table erupted with laughter. It was an old joke, but everyone appreciated the telling -- especially after the amount of alcohol they consumed. They were alone in the bar. It was late and most of the royal guards were either at evening devotions, on patrol, or sleeping for their shifts. The room was lit by dozens of small oil lamps casting their flickering flames into the hundreds of dancing shadows. The large stock of alcohol was unmanned, with only a collection box set aside based on an honour system of consumption. It wouldn’t have worked amongst the regulars, but the Royal Guard was convinced of its superior morality in addition to its skill at protecting the royal line.
“I don’t know, Abe” Emily (only her mother called her Emilia) Roman said with a thoughtful look. She took a deep drink from the mug of beer. “Bet it’s all talk, big promises, and no delivery.”
Abraham leered across at the table’s only female occupant. “Care to find out how true the big promise is?”
Emily batted her green eyes playfully, leaning over in a seductive manner. Men were men no matter where one went, she thought and was always delighted by it. “Now Abraham, let’s not quibble over small things.”
The six other men chuckled at the soldier’s expense. “Better be careful, Abe, you’ve only got an ego to bruise. Think about what her mistress did to poor Ramiro.”
Emily tilted her head to one side. She had noticed that the normally gruff and brooding presence of Ramiro was absent. She had assumed that he was off on duty. Over the course of the last week she had grown uncommonly fond of the drinking area of the barracks and the company she kept. “What happened to Rami?”
Abraham arched a bushy eyebrow. “You didn’t hear? Got his fool face smashed up quite well. Nose flattened so much you’d think he was a Sho slave painted dark.” He looked over at Emily, noticing her pale skin and shifted his body uncomfortably. “No offence meant to present company, of course.”
“You think my nose is flat?” She covered her nose, trying to make light of the statement. After a little over two weeks in this strange world, she still had not adjusted to the outright slavery and open warfare against the so-called ‘barbaric’ tribes of the north. From living in her native Swansea in Wales to her home for the last seven years in Ottawa, she had always been in the majority. She had been more aware of it than most other Caucasians--she had always known that being White meant there was a transparency that other backgrounds lacked. For the first time, however, she had started to feel the isolation. It was a large part of why she spent so much time down here amongst these new friends.
“No, no,” Enriq said with smile and a poorly hidden look on his face that practically showed his crush to the world. “I guess you got some of the traits from the midlands in you as well. I especially like your red-hair. I’ve seen never seen anyone with hair like sunset.”
Emily blushed at the attention. She was not, by nature, even close to shy. She had always found Canadians to be a repressed lot, but the sort of attention young Enriq always lavished on her was a bit too much.
“Nor will you again, I’d bet a half week’s salary,” Khalid said as he stepped into the bar. All the men stood to attention as the Captain strolled in.
Emily smiled as she spotted the Captain of the Caliph’s Guards. As far as she was concerned, Khalid was gorgeous in a lacking-any-depth sort of way. The type of guy she’d willing snog, but wouldn’t want to consider having to wake up next to. It didn’t hurt that the tall, dark-skinned warrior preferred to walk around topless and had a smile that made a girl melt.
Or want to have strong babies. It was one or the other.
Khalid gave the men a dismissive wave and the crestfallen look on Enriq’s face was enough to nearly elicit a giggle from Emily. The men filed out, offering quick good-byes in turn until only Khalid and she remained.
“Can I help, you Sir Knight?”
“Perhaps,” Khalid said casually, straddling the chair beside her. His soft brown eyes met hers. “You can advise Her Highness to stop these ridiculous games.”
“Daria does what she wants to,” she answered casually, taking another pull from her beer. “Maybe you should get Amir to talk to her, not me.”
“His Divine Highness,” Khalid corrected firmly, “is often busy with matters I consider important. Namely his women. I realize that going through a Sho servant, even one touched by the Gods, is unusual, but I do not think she is getting the message.” A pained look crossed his face. “You don’t think that she might prefer His Divine Highness?”
“Amir?” Emily asked, purposely avoiding giving her friend any sort of dramatic titles. Prince Amir, indeed. “Could be. There’s something there, babe. That is, if this poor set of ‘servant’ eyes sees correctly, of course.”
“You think she is unimpressed by me?” Khalid asked as he flexed his upper body. A distraught look suddenly washed over his face. “Am I not as handsome as I once was?”
“You’re delicious, luv, but history is history.” Emily ran her tongue along her suddenly dry lips. “If you get my meaning.”
“We are destined to be together, she and I.”
“So you keep saying. Maybe you should tone that down a bit--Daria has this fear of commitment thing and you could be coming on a bit strong.” She finished the last of her beer and pushed the empty ceramic mug across the table. “Just a tad, at the very least, with the destiny stuff.”
Khalid stood up from the chair. “So you think I should ask His Divine Highness to intercede on my behalf to let her wake from this fool craziness of hers and see the fortune she has to be engaged to such as I?”
“Yeah, something like that,” she answered, stifling another giggle. “More or less.”
Khalid nodded appreciatively. “Of course, with a descendent of heaven singing my virtues, she will certainly not try this again. And I will follow soon after His Divine Highness and she run to my arms, apologizing for such fool-headedness.”
Emily nodded, biting her laugh back. “Without a doubt.”
Khalid nodded his head to the young red-head. “Thank you, girl. You have given some clarity to what I shall do tonight.”
“Oh, and Captain my captain?” Emily sang out pleasantly, tugging on own of the stray curls of red-hair that drifted down across her forehead. “As you’re leaving, would you be a dear and send the boys back in? There is still time for another round of beer.”
* * *
He had a name, but struggled to remember it. He had been summoned to the world night before and given his task. His obedience would earn him the chance to return home and there was the promise to return his name. He was not sure he was even gendered as a ‘he’, but the language that the Master had instilled in him only had the male or the female, and he was too proud to be an ‘It’.
It had taken him a few hours to adjust to the physics of his body. To move and jump within the fleshy confines. To understand the long fangs that extended from the mouth and to totally comprehend the limitations and uses of his visual orbs. He fought down the disdain for the form, for as inferior as it was, it was still physically more impressive than the Master’s -- and yet the Master had been able to call him, confine him, and steal his name. A lesson worth remembering.
He climbed higher along the sheer stone surface of the palace walls. His target would be somewhere inside the massive complex. He was mortal in this form, however, and could not afford to tear each room apart in his search. Best to use his sense of hearing to find the voice imprinted on his mind.
He saw the light shining out from one of the small balconies. Most of the rooms were dark and there was little sound of activity, other than breathing; both heavy and light. A voice was coming from the room. It was higher than the Master’s. A female gendered human, he decided without much confidence. He had only heard the one’s voice at his capture--another one of the Master’s kept. This voice was different, but closer than to the Master’s or the target.
A second voice replied. He would have grinned had he the knowledge how to or the use of such an expression. The second voice matched his target. The one who was to die if he was to retrieve his name and go home.
The voice belonged to Crown Prince Amir.
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