Kamar and Budur
Translated from the original Arabic by Sir Richard Burton.
Condensed and retold by Joseph Green
A story of the adventures of Prince Kamar al-Zamán and Princess Budur, as told in the “Tale of Kamar Al-Zamán” in A Thousand Nights And A Night;
My son,” said King Shahrimán, “this morning I felt a flutter in my chest, and fear it was from the wings of the angel of death. I worry that my time draws near. You are nineteen, and my only child. I command that you marry without further excuses or delays, and provide me with grandsons. I have a suitable princess in mind.”
King Shahrimán ruled the Khálidán Islands, in the sea near Persia, from his capital city of Unayzah. He had reached his middle years without heir, and it was a matter of great rejoicing when his first wife at last presented him with a beautiful boy.
The king had summoned Prince Kamar to his breakfast room and invited him to sit and eat, but Kamar had declined. He did not believe the king, though elderly, was anything less than perfectly healthy. And he had been expecting this command.
“Honored father, I gladly obey you in all things, save this one. I have studied this subject in many books, and learned that most of the misery accorded to men results from their entanglements with women; in particular, wives. Their artifices are endless, their intentions perfidious and foul. I will content myself with concubines, and never take a wife.”
King Shahrimán had provided his son with the best tutors and arms-masters, watching over his growth and development with close attention. Kamar dutifully practiced with sword, horse and lance, but his heart had become enslaved to a love of books and knowledge. He fancied himself better educated than even his father, and the wazirs and emirs who served him.
King Shahrimán recognized his beloved son’s stubbornness as youthful folly, likely to be cured by time. But he could not brook such open defiance. The king ordered his Mameluke guards to confine the young prince in an abandoned citadel in the oldest part of Unayzah, until such time as he should reconsider his decision.
#
Unknown to the king, a dry well in the courtyard of the old citadel led to the underground hall of Princess Maymúnah, daughter to King Al-Dimiryát of the fiery Ifrit tribe, the powerful ruler of Arabian Jinn. Maymúnah rose through the well at midnight as was her custom, ready to fly upward and immerse herself in the light of the stars. But the bright moonlight revealed something unusual, a palace guard, wrapped in a cloak, lying asleep outside the iron-bound door to the tower. Then she noted light leaking past an edge of the door. Curious, in the way of Jinn, she flew up to an opening high in the tower and looked inside. Seeing a sleeping man on a newly installed couch, with lantern and candle burning at either end, she descended to the floor, folded her large wings, and approached him.
Princess Maymúnah was young, in Jinn years, and beautiful. She stood twice the height of a human woman, with long hair black as night and lustrous coal-dark eyes, red fire glowing in their pupils. Maymúnah wore harem silks that partially revealed the ebony loveliness of her slim form, so divinely made that all male Jinn she met lusted after her. She had spurned every suitor, preferring the freedom and privileges of a king’s daughter. When Maymúnah felt a need for the pleasures of congress, she assumed the form of a Nubian slave girl and enticed some handsome young soldier or merchant to her bed.
But Maymúnah was not prepared for the beauty of the young face lying on a pillow above the damask coverlet. Prince Kamar had cheeks of rosy red, eye-brows arched like bows, and a wide and noble brow. Intrigued, Maymúnah carefully drew back the cover, revealing a body, clad only in a thin sleeping shift, somewhat short in stature, but strong and perfect in form.
Seeing him thus, Maymúnah felt a stirring in her loins, a strong desire to change into her Nubian form; let this beautiful young man awake to find himself gripped in her strong arms.
But Maymúnah resisted the temptation. She was of the Jinn who believe, and rested her faith in Allah. Good conduct would be rewarded, and bad bring misfortune. Maymúnah knew by his beauty that this must be the lone child of King Shahrimán, imprisoned here for some unknown offense. She covered the sleeping youth again, resolving to keep him safe from harm, including the allurement of her own fiery embrace.
Maymúnah flew up and out of the tower, resuming her nightly journey to the lowest firmament of heaven. But she had scarcely begun her usual sojourn there when she saw below her another Jinni, a young Ifrit named Dahnash. Angered at being disturbed in her solitude, she swooped down toward him like a hawk on a pigeon. But Dahnash saw her coming, and fearing her might, cried aloud, “I beg you, princess, harm me not! And in return for your forbearance, I will tell you of a wondrous thing I have seen this night.”
Having already seen one wonder, Maymúnah was interested, and let Dahnash speak. “Know you that two hours ago I visited the city of King Ghayur, Lord of the Seven Islands. I found his daughter Budur, reputed the most beautiful maiden in all of Arabia, sleeping locked in a tower room. It seems her father had determined to make alliance with a neighboring king by marrying Budur to his son, but she refused his command. The princess said she would anchor a sword in the ground and fall on it before marrying a man she did not love. The king took away her privileges and imprisoned her high in the tower, to reconsider her decision.”
Seeing that he had captured Maymúnah’s attention, Dahnash went on, “For a full hour I gazed upon her as she slept, enraptured. I was tempted to steal her away and make her my own wife, but our king has decreed that any who take human companions without their consent shall be put to death. Budur is without doubt the most beautiful human who sleeps on the Earth this night. I love her dearly, and have made it my mission to keep her from harm.”
“You are wrong!” cried Maymúnah. “I have just seen a young man of incomparable beauty in the city below. Your princess can be but a shadow in the mist compared to him.”
“It cannot be so,” said Dahnash. “Come with me, feast your eyes on the beauty of Princess Budur, and you will change your opinion.”
“Nay, you shall come with me instead,” said Maymúnah. She ordered Dahnash to descend with her to the ruined tower, where they entered through the high opening in the wall. After gazing at the sleeping youth for a time, they flew outside again and into the sky.
“He is indeed a comely youth, my princess,” said Dahnash. “But still . . . Allah has decreed that true loveliness resides in the female form, and men cannot compare.”
“What nonsense!” said Maymúnah. “To the female eye, men are more beautiful by far. But I am willing to gaze on this young woman you think outshines my sleeping prince.”
Flying by magic rather than their wings, Maymúnah accompanied Dahnash to the tower where King Ghayur had confined his daughter. The night was warm, and Princess Budur slept under only a cotton sheet, her maid Ayesha asleep on a narrow bed nearby. After gazing for long on her beauty, Maymúnah whispered to Dahnash that Budur was indeed a flower of feminine perfection, but still no match for Prince Kamar. Dahnash stubbornly disagreed.
“There is a way to settle this,” said the Ifrit princess. “Bring her, and we shall lay them side by side and compare.”
Dahnash laid a spell of deep sleep on both women, then lifted Budur in his arms. They traveled quickly back to Kamar’s tower, where Maymúnah placed the prince under the same sleep spell before Dahnash pulled back the cover and laid Budur beside him. She was an unusually tall woman, and the two were almost of a height. The princess too slept in a simple shift, which revealed as much as it concealed of her young but fully-developed form.
The two Jinn earnestly compared the beauties of the young man and woman. Neither would yield to the other. Finally, in exasperation, Maymúnah said, “Very well, then. I will summon a third Jinni, by name Kashkash, to judge impartially between them. He is an evil creature, but one who suits our needs. In human form he enjoys male and female alike.”
Maymúnah smote the stone floor with her foot, and a moment later it split apart. Out of the chasm rose an old Ifrit of surpassing ugliness; missing one eye, humpbacked, and scurvy-skinned. Seven horns crowned his misshapen head, rising amid thick locks of twisted black hair. His form was deeply bowed, making him short for an Ifrit, though still taller than any human. He saluted Princess Maymúnah, and asked how he could be of service.
On being informed of what his king’s daughter required of him, Kashkash studied the sleeping youths for a long time, but still shook his shaggy head in wonder, and could only say that they were equal in physical beauty. “But I have a thought that may settle this dispute, my princess. Let us wake them by turns, and test their spirits. If one acts more honorably towards a helpless sleeping companion than the other, then that one is more beautiful on the inside.”
Maymúnah and Dahnash agreed to this. The three Ifrits made themselves invisible, and Maymúnah awoke the young prince.
Kamar sat up in bed, and in the ample light of lantern and candle, saw a beautiful young woman lying by his side. Astonished, he stared at the revealed face and barely hidden body, and felt desire rise in his loins. But the strangeness of her sudden and silent appearance was disconcerting. Kamar looked around the open chamber, seeking who might have brought her there, and saw no one. He suppressed his natural lust, instead grasping both shoulders to shake her awake. But nothing he did could arouse the young woman.
Eventually Kamar decided this was a puzzle best left for the morning. But fearful this vision of beauty might disappear as mysteriously as she had come, he decided to keep a token. He lifted one of Budur’s perfect hands and removed a small but expensively jeweled seal ring. Kamar slipped it on his left little finger, and lay down again. When his head touched the pillow, Maymúnah once more laid on him the spell of deep sleep.
Dahnash awoke Princess Budur, who sat up, rubbing her eyes. She gazed around in disbelief at an unfamiliar room, then looked down to see a young man lying by her side. In fright, Budur moved quickly to the edge of the bed. But when the stranger did not stir, only continued to breathe heavily in deepest sleep, she composed herself. Clearly magic was at work here. Some unknown entity, probably a mischievous, Jinni, had transported her to this man’s bed, for reasons she could not discern.
Budur shook the handsome stranger by the shoulders, but he could not be awakened. She was by nature a curious and passionate young woman, though the constraints of maidenhood had denied her expression of those feelings. Now she felt free to somewhat indulge herself. Unaware of the three invisible Jinn closely watching, Budur felt Kamar’s rosy cheeks, and ran her hands over his muscular chest. Then she lifted his shift, taking a long peek beneath it.
As she dropped the shift, Budur noticed her own seal ring on the man’s little finger. Her heart beat faster when she realized her bed companion had been awake, before unbreakable sleep enthralled him. Whether he had examined her hidden treasures, as she had his, she could not know. But of a certainty he had not tried to take possession of them, shaming her while she lay there helpless to resist.
Budur raised one of Kamar’s strong hands, removed his seal ring, and placed it on her left middle finger. Then she curled up against his side and composed herself for slumber. The morning would surely provide some answers to this mystery.
Dahnash again placed Budur in deep sleep, and the three Ifrits lifted their cloak of invisibility. “That was a good test, Kashkash,” said Maymúnah. “It comes clear that the prince behaved more honorably than the princess. He neither uncovered her, nor took advantage of her when he could have. She, though, violated his privacy.”
Dahnash sighed, and conceded the contest.
“Nevertheless, you helped provide me with an interesting night,” said Maymúnah. “Therefore go your way without penalty, after you return this young woman to her bed.”
Maymúnah turned to Kashkash, fixing on him a stern gaze. “And I thank you for your help, Oh old and evil one, but I also command that you forget what you have seen and done this night. Dahnash and I have extended our protection to these two, and should you attempt to take advantage of either in future, I will tear off your head and feed your hideous body to the dogs.”
Kashkash bowed, hiding his one good eye from Maymúnah’s sight. He knew she was aware he often assumed the form of a handsome Phoenician ship’s captain and went prowling through port cities. In the past he had at times become obsessed with some handsome young man or woman, and if unable to seduce that person, would take him or her by force. That had ended when the decrees of Jinn King Al-Dimiryát made the rape of humans a crime punishable by death. Nevertheless, he felt a great lust for Budur and Kamar alike. He had never beheld such beauty, and was determined to have both, if he could so by seduction or trickery.
#
When Prince Kamar awoke and discovered himself alone he went raging to his father, demanding to be married immediately to the lovely young woman the servants had slipped into his bed this past night. All his previous bookish convictions about the perfidy and treachery of women had vanished like desert sea-shore mists in the heat of the rising sun.
King and servants alike protested that nothing of the sort had happened, but Kamar knew his experience had not been a dream. When they began to think him mad, he pulled the new jeweled seal ring off his finger, showed it to them, and pointed out that his own ring was missing; obviously taken by the young woman.
“Now this is indeed a great mystery,” said a puzzled King Shahrimán. “But if it has caused you to repent of your decision never to marry, then good may come of it. Go you forth, find this woman, and bring her to us.”
Prince Kamar bowed, and went his way. He set out next day, knowing he would not rest by day nor sleep well at night until he found that most beautiful of women again.
#
Princess Budur awoke in her own bed, immediately checked for the seal ring taken from the beautiful youth, and found it on her finger. There was not a doubt in her mind that the night’s magical adventure had been real, and the exchange of rings proved it.
Budur silently resolved that she would marry no one but this most handsome and honorable of men, regardless of her father’s wishes. But she kept her peace, showing the ring and relating the experience only to her faithful maid, Ayesha.
That evening Budur sent for a favorite older brother, Prince Marzawan. She told him of her strange but wonderful adventure, that she had determined to marry the unknown youth, and asked that he find him for her.
The kingdom was at peace at the moment. Prince Marzawan, a renowned warrior, had become very bored with his mundane duties. He agreed to help his young sister. It happened that Marzawan had heard of the beauty of Prince Kamar, he living in a nearby kingdom, and thought at once of him. In any case, the Khálidán Islands seemed as good a place as any to start his search. Next morning he chose a small number of his best fighters to accompany him, requisitioned one of the king’s many trading vessels, and set off.
Prince Marzawan sailed to Al-Tayrab, the closest large port in the Khálidán Islands. He learned that Prince Kamar had arrived the day before, and was buying supplies for an expedition. This seemed to Marzawan more than a mere coincidence. He asked for an audience, identifying himself as a neighboring king’s son, and was at once ushered into Price Kamar’s presence.
“My lord, I am on a quest for a well-loved younger sister,“ began Marzawan. He watched Prince Kamar closely as he repeated Budur’s story. “Now this might seem nothing but a dream, save for the exchange of rings,” Marzawan concluded. “But she still has his, and I ask if you possess a similar ring that I can verify came from my sister’s hand.”
Prince Kamar removed Budur’s seal ring and handed it to her brother. Assured he had found his man, Marzawan informed him that his sister had been stricken with love, and had sworn to wed only him. Kamar likewise affirmed he had sworn to his father that he would wed no other woman.
Delighted by the quick end of what could have been a long and arduous quest, Kamar embarked with Prince Marzawan for the Kingdom of The Seven Islands. Marzawan obtained an immediate audience for them with his father. The king, happy to learn that his stubborn daughter had fallen in love with a quite suitable prince, acceded to Kamar’s request for her hand.
King Ghayur summoned Budur. When she entered the audience room and saw Kamar standing with her brother, she gave a cry of joy and rushed to him. In the presence of her father and brother, she refrained from hurling herself into his arms. Instead she stopped and stood gazing into his eyes, then committed an impropriety by lifting her veil for a moment, to let him gaze on the full beauty of her face.
Even before the veil lifted, Kamar knew that he had found his intended. He removed her seal ring from his finger and held it out, saying, “Oh most beautiful of women, I journeyed here to find you, and return this ring. I have asked your father for your hand, but would never marry you against your will. What say you?”
“I say nothing could make me happier,” replied Budur, turning away to hide the tears of joy flooding her eyes.
#
Nothing seemed to stand in the way of true love. Prince Kamar al-Zamán and Princess Budur were soon married. On their wedding night Kamar took his virgin bride’s maidenhead, and for two weeks thereafter the two did not leave their chambers, having food and wine sent in.
Although the fires of love remained hot in both their breasts, Kamar and Budur eventually resumed some of the normal duties of members of the king’s court. But two months later Kamar had a disturbing dream, one from which he awoke with dread in his heart. It seemed that he had returned to his father’s castle, to find the King lying in bed sick in both heart and body. The old man lamented that he would die of grief if his son did not soon return.
Kamar slept no more that night, and when Budur awoke he welcomed her to the day with words instead of the warmth of enclosing arms. He told her of the dream, that he was certain it was an augur of death for his father, and he must return immediately to the Khálidán Islands.
Prince Kamar sought audience with King Ghayur that very day, told him of the augur, and asked permission to return home with his new bride. The King agreed, and arranged for a splendid entourage to accompany them, including many rich gifts for King Shahrimán.
#
Nothing seemed to stand in the way of true love. Prince Kamar al-Zamán and Princess Budur were soon married. On their wedding night Kamar took his virgin bride’s maidenhead, and for two weeks thereafter the two did not leave their chambers, having food and wine sent in.
Although the fires of love remained hot in both their breasts, Kamar and Budur eventually resumed some of the normal duties of members of the king’s court. But two months later Kamar had a disturbing dream, one from which he awoke with dread in his heart. It seemed that he had returned to his father’s castle, to find the King lying in bed sick in both heart and body. The old man lamented that he would die of grief if his son did not soon return.
Kamar slept no more that night, and when Budur awoke he welcomed her to the day with words instead of the warmth of enclosing arms. He told her of the dream, that he was certain it was an augur of death for his father, and he must return immediately to the Khálidán Islands.
Prince Kamar sought audience with King Ghayur that very day, told him of the augur, and asked permission to return home with his new bride. The King agreed, and arranged for a splendid entourage to accompany them, including many rich gifts for King Shahrimán.
#
The ship made an easy voyage to Al-Tayrab, where Prince Kamar sent the contingent of guards in their entourage back home, replacing them with men from the local garrison. He also purchased horses and camels to convey their goods and King Ghayur’s many gifts. Knowing it was a journey of two days to Unayzah, and there were no inns along this road, Kamar also bought a few tents. Next morning the party set out, and after a good day’s travel, established a camp for the night in a pleasant grassy meadow a hundred yards off the road.
Kamar awoke in the gray light of early dawn with an urgent need to empty his bladder. He donned his clothes, stepped outside the tent and walked to a clump of trees on the far side of the meadow, where the men had gone to relieve themselves the previous evening. As he left the trees to return to the still sleeping camp, Kamar met the old astronomer King Ghayur had assigned to his entourage. He exchanged greetings and continued on his way, but had taken only a few more steps when he heard the beat of immense wings, and looked up to see a great black bird the size of a roc swooping toward him. Before Kamar could run a storm of air swirled about his head, and great yellow talons seized him around the body.
The giant bird swiftly lifted Kamar into the sky. The grip of the huge talons was painful, but not life-threatening. Kamar squirmed around until he could look ahead, and saw the sea in the far distance.
Dread seized Kamar’s heart. This had to be a Jinni; no natural bird grew to this size. Kamar had read extensively on Jinn and their mischievous ways in his father’s books. Both male and female were notorious for changing into human form, and seducing or raping the most desirable of men and women. This had to be some evil Jinni who wanted the lovely Budur. If so, then he must have been behind the magic that transported her to Kamar’s bed that first night. But why had he not simply taken Budur then, while she was in his power? And why carry Kamar away now instead of killing him?
Kamar had no answer to these mysteries. Helpless in the bird’s grip, he could do nothing but wait. For an hour they flew with supernatural speed, all the way across the inner sea. A coastline passed below them. Minutes later their pace slowed, and then the bird descended, to hover over an open meadow. The talons released Kamar a short distance above the ground. He landed on his feet and suffered no injury, but then fell forward when his cramped legs would not hold him erect.
Kamar managed to turn on his back in time to see the great wings above him beat only once as the giant bird lifted up and away. In seconds it vanished back the way they had come, far faster than any real bird could fly.
Kamar lay still for a moment, letting his legs recover their strength. When he felt able to walk, he got to his feet and set off back toward the coast. Just before nightfall he reached the edge of a small port city, one surrounded by orchards and gardens. Hungry, he helped himself to some fruit from a tree as he passed by. But the owner of the orchard, an elderly bearded man, saw him and emerged from his nearby house to berate Kamar as a thief.
Having no coins, Kamar offered the jeweled dagger he kept tucked in his waistband as payment. The honest gardener saw that the jewel in the hilt alone would buy half his small orchard, and refused to accept it. Realizing he was dealing with a young man of good heart but little experience, he invited Kamar into his home instead, and fed him a proper meal.
The gardener inquired as to Kamar’s story. Weary after walking hard all day, but responsive to a sympathetic ear, Kamar told the old man of all that had befallen him, from the magical appearance of a surpassingly beautiful young woman in his bed to his present plight.
The gardener marveled at the tale, then said, “My son, it seems clear the evil one who brought you all the way across the Inner Sea is under some constraint that prevents him from directly killing you. Instead he separated you from your wife so that he may, by guile or trickery, assault her virtue. But I fear that for now she must fend for herself. A return by land would take a year and more. Our merchant ship that departs annually for the Ebony City in Arabia only recently returned. You must wait until it sails again. I have long needed an assistant, and you can work in my orchard and save money enough for your passage.”
Kamar saw wisdom in the old man’s words, thanked him profusely, and accepted the offer. He would be delayed by some months, but only death could deter him from returning to the warm arms of his young wife, and killing the evil Jinni who sought to replace him there.
#
Princess Budur awoke in the soft light of early dawn, to find her husband gone. She dressed, with the aid of Ayesha, and went looking for him. She saw the old astronomer at the edge of the camp, peering up into the sky, and inquired of him if he had seen Prince Kamar.
“I have, my princess, but hesitate to speak of what I saw, lest I be thought mad.”
Budur felt dread clutch at her heart, but admonished the old man to tell all. When he described the giant bird that had seized Kamar, Budur knew at once that magic had again entered their lives. It seemed clear that her husband had been taken away to leave her alone and defenseless. The several elderly retainers King Ghayur had sent to represent him to King Shahrimán’s court could not help her. And except for Ayesha, she was now the only woman in a camp filled with mostly lustful and foolhardy young men.
Budur commanded the old astronomer to remain silent on what he had seen, and returned to her tent. She no longer felt safe, surrounded by these strangers. But after some thought, she devised a stratagem that would bring her safely to the court of her husband’s father. King Shahrimán had magicians and sorcerers in his employ who could help her find and defeat the Jinni who had assumed the form of a giant bird and stolen away Prince Kamar. She vowed that only death would stop her from finding the man she loved, and freeing him if he had been made captive.
Budur informed the steward waiting to prepare their tent for travel that Kamar had slept late, and she would arouse him. She told Ayesha of her plan, and helped the maid don her own clothing and veils. Then Ayesha drew a cloth band tightly across Budur’s breasts, to press them flat, and helped her dress in clothes from Prince Kamar’s chest, including riding boots and turban. Budur drew the end of the latter across her face below the eyes, a common practice when riding the dusty road. She hung Kamar’s sword about her waist, then stepped outside and told the steward to proceed, deepening her voice and speaking in the manner of Prince Kamar. Since Budur and Kamar were almost of a height, no one detected the change.
The servants broke camp, and the party proceeded on toward Unayzah. Ayesha rode in Budur’s litter, while Budur mounted Kamar’s Arabian horse and rode with the men; easy for her, because she loved horses and had been riding since a child.
Now assured of safety at the end of the day, Budur felt at peace. But after two hours the captain of the guards leading the way rode back to the one he supposed to be his prince, much puzzled. “My lord, I have ridden the road between Al-Tayrab and Unayzah a hundred times, and know the lay of the land as I know my first wife’s buttocks. But something strange has happened. The familiar road on which we embarked this morning has changed, becoming one I know not at all. Yet we could not have taken a wrong turn, for no other road runs through here.
Princess Budur felt a cold touch of fear. Now she was certain she had guessed rightly; some powerful Jinni desired her young body. First he had stolen her husband away. Then he had moved them to a different road as they traveled, to prevent their reaching the safety of King Shahrimán’s court.
“Now that is passing strange,” said Budur to the guard captain, using her husband’s voice. “But since there is only the one road, I will not turn from it. Press on, and see what we may discover before dark.”
Dark came, and the towers of Unayzah had not appeared on the horizon. They made camp, and Budur huddled in her tent with Ayesha. The two women held a long discussion, and agreed it best to continue the deception until they reached some place of safety.
Next morning they resumed their journey, and rode on for two days, through a barren and deserted countryside. Although eating only sparingly, they ran out of food and went without breakfast on the fourth day. But before noon the road led them past a series of farms and small settlements to the gates of a city, its buildings and walls alike painted a forbidding black. Budur recognized it from descriptions by her father, and understood why they had been diverted here.
The gate guards stopped them from entering, and inquired as to their provenance. On learning that Prince Kamar al-Zamán of the Khálidán Islands led the party, the guard captain sent word to King Armanus, the elderly ruler of Ebony City and its surrounds.
As they waited, Budur quietly advised her guards and attendants not to mention the presence of Princess Budur, or her recent marriage to Prince Kamar. A long-standing enmity existed between her father King Ghayur and King Armanus. The princess would remain hidden in the entourage, disguised as a maid.
Concealed from view in the litter, Ayesha quickly doffed the fine garments of a princess and resumed her normal clothing. Budur, with a wrap of the turban across her lower face as usual, was admitted to the audience chamber of King Armanus. She went to one knee, as was proper when a prince met a king. But Armanus stepped down from his small black throne and raised her to her feet, welcoming someone he perceived to be a fine young man from a nearby kingdom. He offered the hospitality of his palace to the supposed prince, and commanded that the others in the party be lodged in his guest house.
Thus they abode for a day, resting from the ordeals of their travel. Then King Armanus summoned the supposed Prince Kamar al-Zamán to his audience chamber. Budur again donned the turban which concealed her face below the eyes, and the king and court accepted this as some foreign custom with which they were unfamiliar.
The old king informed Budur that he was desirous of retiring, due to ill health. He had been seeking a suitable husband for his only child, Princess Hayat al-Nufus. “Though we have not met, I think of King Shahrimán as a friend,” Armanus went on. “I would bind our kingdoms more closely together. It is my wish that you marry my daughter, after which I will crown you King of the Ebony City and retire to the countryside, where I can live out my remaining days in peace and quiet.”
The proposal was so unexpected that Budur felt stunned. She bowed her head, gazing at the feet of the old king while trying to think. To refuse was to risk his wrath; he had clearly set his heart on this marriage. But to accept meant that her true sex must eventually be revealed.
One choice at least delayed the inevitable. “My lord, I am honored,” said Budur, raising her head and meeting the King’s gaze. “I accept your most generous offer, and ask only one consideration. Bring forth Princess Hayat al-Nufus, and ask of her if she will willingly marry me. I would not force a young woman to wed against her will.”
“Now that is a generous thought, and confirms that you are of good character,” said King Armanus.
Princess Hayat had been waiting in an adjoining room. She entered when summoned, and stood before Prince Kamar. Then she did a bold act, reaching up and unfastening her veil.
Budur gazed with admiration on the young face so revealed. Hayat al-Nufus had skin two shades darker than her own milky white, with hair of midnight hue and long black lashes hovering over sharp green eyes. High cheekbones slanted down to wide, full lips, above a strong chin. The princess stood two palms shorter than Budur, but what she could see of Hayat’s body indicated she was fully grown, though of still tender years.
Any hope Budur had that Princess Hayat might refuse the supposed Prince Kamar, and thus save her from eventual discovery, died when the princess quickly agreed to the union.
King Armanus set the marriage for three days hence, and the investiture of Prince Kamar al-Zamán as King of Ebony City the day after. Budur returned to her quarters, where she summoned the old astronomer and consulted with him and Ayesha, the only two who knew her true identity. Neither could see any way to escape this trap.
The wedding was a magnificent affair, but all too soon night came, and the palace chamberlain escorted Budur to the private quarters of Hayat al-Nufus. She had learned that the princess was well-liked by her people, generous of spirit, kind and considerate of those who served her.
Instead of removing her garments, Budur sat on the edge of the carpet bed and gazed down at the lovely young face looking attentively up at her in the light of a dozen candles. Budur reached out and gently caressed the smooth cheeks of her new bride, then lightly fingered the delicate ears. On an impulse she removed her turban, for the first time exposing her full face, then bent down and kissed Hayat on the soft wide lips. Hayat gasped, but tried her inexperienced best to return the caress, her first real kiss.
Then Budur sat up, and said, “You are as lovely in spirit as in face and form. I must throw myself on your mercy, and beg your indulgence, and forgiveness.” In the middle of this speech she let her voice return to its normal soft tone, a woman’s voice. “I am not Prince Kamar al-Zamán but his wife, Princess Budur of The Seven Islands; the daughter of a king your father holds in enmity. Kamar was stolen away by a Jinni, and I assumed his identity to keep myself safe from other men. But some foul power intervened as we traveled toward the safety of my husband’s city, and compelled us here instead.”
In astonishment Hayat sat up in the carpet bed. She gazed into the lovely face of Budur, now clearly that of a woman, and saw the anguish, fear and uncertainty there. For a moment she felt angry that her first kiss had been by another female, but that emotion quickly faded.
“Now this is a strange way to spend my wedding night, but you must tell me the whole story,” said Hayat. She pushed the coverlet down, inviting Budur to join her. Then she watched as Budur doffed her outer garments, noting how her large woman’s breasts rose up when she removed the tight band binding them. Budur got into bed with the princess, sitting upright beside her. Then she told Hayat the whole strange tale, from the time she had awakened in the sleeping Prince Kamar’s bed to the present.
“Now I fear my husband, a man you would love as I do if you but knew him, is held captive somewhere far away,” Budur concluded. “It is my mission to rescue him, and so I pray for your mercy and forgiveness, and beg that you do not betray my true identity to your father.”
“Why, this is the most wondrous and romantic story I have ever heard!” declared Hayat. “I will tell my father nothing, and help you in any other way that I can. My only regret is that I must remain a virgin, and now cannot give my father the grandchildren he so longs for.”
“Now as for grandchildren, that must wait,” said Budur. “So must the surrender of your maidenhead. But as to the rest of your wedding night, my husband taught me ways of making love that do not require a man’s equipment. I will show and share some of these with you, if you so desire.”
Hayat lowered her eyes. Her voice choked a little when she said, “Well, I know nothing of this, but if you will lead the way . . .”
Budur shed the rest of her clothes as Hayat slipped off her shift, then took the beautiful young woman in her arms. She gave her a second and far more delightful kiss, one of only many to follow. Hayat proved a quick learner, and was soon returning intimate caress for caress. When they finally fell sleep as dawn neared outside, both were happily satisfied, and Hayat still a virgin only in that she retained an intact maidenhead.
The palace servitors let the newlyweds sleep till noon, but then the chamberlain summoned them to the king’s audience chamber. Hayat arose, pricked a finger, and sprinkled a little blood on the front of her shift. Then she left the garment on the bed and dressed herself, not calling for a maid as was her usual custom.
Hayat helped Budur tightly bind her breasts, then quickly cut her long dark hair to man’s length and style. They improvised a veil from a fold of the turban. The court had grown accustomed to seeing Prince Kamar with his face covered; the change from turban to veil should attract little notice.
When the two women joined King Armanus, they saw that he had summoned the nobles of his court. In their presence he formally transferred his kingship to Prince Kamar, declaring him King of Ebony City and all its accompanying lands. With his own hands Armanus removed his crown, after first seating Budur on the throne, and placed it on the younger head. Then he departed for his retirement home in the countryside.
King Budur declared the rest of the day a time for feasting and jollity, and ordered forty of the royal wine kegs broached and served to the people. And later that night, both a little unsteady from too much wine, all inhibitions fled, the two married women returned to the carpet bed and resumed the education and explorations so well begun the night before.
But next morning Budur arose soon after sunrise, leaving Hayat still sleeping. She breakfasted, then made her way to the king’s audience chamber and began fulfilling her obligations as ruler of the city. All day she gave audience to those who came before her. As a king’s daughter Budur had been well educated. She put that knowledge into practice by dispensing justice and rendering judgments with fairness and generosity to all.
Budur longed to start searching for Kamar, but could not in good conscience escape the bonds with which she had willingly bound herself. This small kingdom had been neglected as Armanus grew weak, and she had years of work ahead to restore it to health and prosperity. And though nothing could adequately replace the strong arms and manly equipment of Kamar, Budur did find solace in Hayat. The young princess, who knew nothing different, responded with zest and joy to Budur’s lovemaking.
Unable to leave The Ebony City, Budur could do nothing but wait, and hope Kamar made his own escape. Thus she spent her days, and her nights.
#
As to the real Kamar al-Zamán, he composed himself in patience and abode with the kindly gardener as the months crept slowly by, until at last he was informed the time had come; the ship sailed tomorrow.
Kamar had some money left after paying for his passage, and that evening took the gardener to a farewell dinner at a good inn. They celebrated his imminent return home with several glasses of wine. Musicians and a dancer appeared, and Kamar wanted to linger, but the old gardener protested that it was well past his bedtime and left.
A tall Phoenician, who had been sitting at a near-by table, approached Kamar and saluted him. “I see that you sit drinking alone, as am I. Would not the evening be more enjoyable for us both if we had someone with whom to converse?”
Kamar eyed the man warily, noting that he wore the regalia of a ship’s captain and was both unusually tall and unduly handsome. But the wine had made him mellow, and despite some misgivings, Kamar welcomed the captain to join him.
The Phoenician proved a generous companion, ordering wine in plenty and insisting on paying for all. The flutes and tambourines played, and the dancer strutted and twirled across the small stage, hips swaying, hands weaving a lovely fantasy. The Phoenician, who introduced himself as Captain Kash, had a deep, rich voice, and Kamar found he very much enjoyed his company. He continued to drink until pleasantly inebriated, but did not fail to keep in mind that he must be on board that ship early in the morning.
The dancer and musicians left the stage, and Kamar decided to go. He thanked his companion for the wine, and started for the door. But the tall man also rose, and said he would accompany Kamar for a time through the now dark streets. Robbers roamed the city at night, and he had his long sword at his side.
Kamar had his jeweled dagger, but that would be of little use against men with swords. He agreed, and they set out along the dark road that led to the garden just outside the city.
Kamar found his feet stumbling on the rutted street, and his companion put an arm around his shoulders to steady him. A moment more and the arm had slipped around his waist. They walked on for a few steps, and then Captain Kash stopped, turned Kamar to face him, and pulled him close for a kiss.
As the other man’s lips came toward his, Kamar came fully to his senses and turned his head. The lips brushed his forehead as he pushed hard against the tall man’s chest. He broke free and stepped back, hand going to his dagger.
But the Phoenician captain had been kind to him, and Kamar did not draw his weapon. Instead he said, “I fear you have misinterpreted my friendliness for acquiescence to activities in which I do not indulge. I pray you that from here you go your way in peace, as I shall go mine.”
Captain Kash stood silent for a moment, then said, “It were better for you all around if you accompany me to my place instead. I desire you, and if you wish ever to see your wife again, you will accommodate me.”
Kamar felt a thrill of horror course his spine. This was the Jinni who had abducted him! Here in human form stood the powerful being who sought to replace him in Budur’s arms. And even worse, Kamar now understood that this Captain Kash futtered man and woman alike; that he himself was the object of unholy and unnatural desires.
“I would plunge my own dagger into my heart before I would lie with another man,” said Kamar, and turned and walked away.
Captain Kash made no further effort to impede Kamar’s progress toward home. And next morning Kamar arose in plenty of time to board his ship.
On arrival at the Ebony City Kamar soon learned that the land was now ruled by King Kamar al-Zamán, who had married the king’s daughter and ascended to the throne when King Armanus retired a year ago. The old king had since died.
Kamar decided the wise course here was to keep his name quiet until he could discern the lay of the land. Calling himself Omar, he took a room at an inn. Over several cups of wine bought for locals that evening, he listened to tale after tale about the new king.
Next morning Kamar waited outside the palace gate until the guards admitted the day’s group of petitioners. From the rear of the large room he studied King Kamar al-Zamán. Seated on a modest black throne, the young king dispensed justice and rendered judgments with equality and fairness to all. Though the hair beneath the crown was short, and she concealed her face below the eyes with a thick veil, Kamar immediately recognized his wife.
Budur spoke in a deep voice, displaying a gravitas and depth of knowledge Kamar had not known she possessed. The stratagem she had devised to protect herself in his absence seemed clear. But the part Kamar could not grasp was how Budur had married Princess Hayat al-Nufus and, from more than one account last evening, provided for the young bride so well that most of a year later her face still shone with happiness and her eyes sparkled with the joy of living.
Kamar remained at the rear of the room without speaking, then returned to the inn. He was unsettled in mind, with no idea of his best course of action. Budur had somehow made herself king here, and he had to be careful not say or do anything that might expose her.
But unknown to Kamar, Budur had spied him at the rear of the room. Recognizing her husband despite his poor clothes and humble bearing, she had a courtier follow him when he left the palace. And that night she sent three Mameluke guards to seize the traveler, blindfold him, bind his hands, and bring him to her.
Not knowing what was happening, Kamar at first feared for his life. But the guards only deposited him in a chair, tied his hands to its arms, and left.
As the door closed Budur, still dressed in a king’s clothes but without her veil, removed Kamar’s blindfold. Then she kissed him, so long and thoroughly that both were left gasping for breath.
When their lips parted, Kamar said, “Words cannot express the joy with which I gaze on your face, beloved. But now release me from these bonds, that I may hold you in my arms.”
But Budur only smiled, and drew back a little. “In time, my husband. But first we must come to some terms. And we are still in considerable danger, from which you must relieve us.”
Budur went on, “In your name I have married the Princess Hayat al-Nufus, and been granted the throne of The Ebony City. If you agree that I have acted rightly, then tonight you will relieve the virgin princess of her maidenhead, and make her your true wife. Tomorrow I will announce that the long enmity between the courts of The Ebony City and The Seven Islands has ended. I, King Kamar al-Zamán, will accept the Princess Budur as my second wife. In three days she will arrive with a small entourage, and you will marry her. If you agree to these conditions, I will release you.”
Kamar gazed with disbelief into the face of his beloved. “You want me to marry a woman I have never seen? And pass the first night after our long separation with her, not you?”
“Unless you disavow my actions taken in your name, you are already married to her. And since Hayat has gone far too long without her due, you will not sleep in my bed until after our marriage, three days hence. My love, we owe Hayat more than we can ever repay. She sheltered me, kept our secret, and preserved my life. I have come to love her as I do you, and we will be sister-wives and closest of friends until death parts us.”
Kamar somewhat reluctantly agreed to the terms outlined, and Budur cut his bonds. As she did so Hayat entered from the next room, where she had been listening, and shyly approached her husband. Kamar gazed on her unveiled young beauty, only a little less than that of his beloved Budur, and felt desire stir in his loins.
Budur retired to the bed in the next room, but left the door ajar. A little later she heard the soft cry of pain when Hayat at last lost her maidenhead, soon followed by low sounds of joy.
After tonight, Hayat would well understand that the comforts women could offer each other were nothing compared to the gifts nature had provided a loving man. And by agreement between the two women, Kamar was never to know that they had found solace, and a measure of joy, in each other’s arms.
Next morning Budur made certain arrangements, sending out couriers with messages to a few people she trusted. At court King Kamar informed his ministers that the Ebony City had settled its long enmity with the King of the Seven Islands, and the new friendship was to be ratified by Princess Budur becoming his second wife, three days hence.
Well before dawn two days later Kamar, Budur and Ayesha secretly left the palace on horseback and rode north. An hour before noon they saw the sea ahead, and a screen of trees hiding a little cove. The three, hooded and veiled, were to meet a small boat that would convey them to a large ship waiting offshore. On arrival at the Ebony City it would be revealed that the Princess Budur, her maid and a eunuch guard had been secluded on board for the entire voyage.
They were a little early, and the horses were tired and thirsty after the long ride. Kamar halted at a small pond, in a grassy meadow a few hundred yards inland, to water the animals.
As Kamar stood chatting with Budur and Ayesha, the air suddenly filled with the sound of great wings thrashing, and a strong wind buffeted them. A gigantic black bird settled to the ground a dozen yards away, between themselves and the cove.
Budur and Ayesha gazed with fear and awe at the giant creature barring their path. Kamar had told them of his adventures, and they realized this must be the roc-sized bird that had flown him so far away.
As it folded long black wings onto the immense body, the bird spoke. Kamar recognized the deep, strong voice of the tall Phoenician, Captain Kash.
“You thought to escape me so easily? Nay, you shall both suffer for spurning me! This time, Kamar, I will carry you to a land so far away that a whole life’s journey will not bring you back to your beloved. Thus may you suffer, and she pine, for the rest of your miserable lives!”
The great bird took a long step toward them, balancing on one leg as it raised the other foot. But instead of waiting to be seized Kamar ran toward the creature, drawing his sword. He stood no chance in a fight, but even death was preferable to again being separated from Budur, and the sweet young woman with whom he had spent the past three nights.
Kamar ran past the grasping talons and beneath the towering feathered breast, out of the bird’s sight. He stopped beside the scaly leg, thick as a pine tree, and stabbed upward as far as he could reach. His sword penetrated the soft feathers and went two palms deep into the body. He quickly withdrew the blade and thrust again and again, a flurry of stabs that brought pain, even if not deep enough to kill.
The black bird squawked, a deafening sound, settled back on two feet and stepped away, trying to bring Kamar into view. But the creature’s size made it clumsy, and betrayed its intentions. Kamar ran with it, kept out of sight, and when it stopped and stood searching for him, resumed his attack. Blood started dripping from the new wounds.
The avian giant screeched in rage and took several steps toward the sea, covering more ground than Kamar could quickly cross. The huge black body wheeled around and the yellow eyes fastened on Kamar, still running toward it. The pointed beak drew back to strike, rage and pain having overcome all restraint – and again great wings beat the air, the wind from them almost throwing the humans off their feet. Two huge Arabian woodpeckers settled to the ground on each side of the black bird, folding in their wings.
The new arrivals had low head crests of dark red feathers, above bright yellow eyes and long sharp beaks. The black bird tried to spread its wings and fly, but the smaller woodpeckers were too quick for it. One savagely attacked the dark body; the other stabbed into the throat. The giant screeched again, a dreadful last sound. The bird attacking his neck thrust so swiftly and repeatedly, like a woodpecker hammering out a hole in a tree, that it quickly cut off the head. The one attacking the body already had its dark red intestines spilling out.
The dying giant fell, an impact that shook the ground. As the last shudders of its death agony passed through the beheaded form, the two woodpeckers strutted around it in triumph, flapping their wings and bobbing their heads.
The three humans, watching the short fight in fearful wonder, saw the black bird begin to change after it died. In seconds the body shrank as it transformed, became that of a monstrous Jinni. Stunted black wings grew out of its back, on both sides of a very large hump. A multitude of horns rose out of the severed head, with two yellow teeth extruding from the upper jaw down over the chin. One dead eye glared out at them, the other already long dark and sightless . . .
Maymúnah felt a thrill of exultation as she bobbed and strutted in wide circles around the body of Kashkash. This was her first kill. She had kept her promise to tear off his head if he disobeyed her. The ugly old Ifrit had in secret acted to compel both Princess Budur and Prince Kamar to his bed. An enemy who hated Kashkash had only recently made her aware of this. On learning the full extent of the troubles his designs had brought on the young lovers they had vowed to protect, she had informed Dahnash and enlisted his aid. They went seeking Kashkash, arriving in time to see him attacking Kamar on the ground below. Maymúnah and Dahnash then transformed themselves into huge woodpeckers, birds capable of fighting the black giant.
Maymúnah felt a distinct warmth coursing through her bird’s body, a feeling mingled strangely of heat and lassitude. The killing of Kashkash had awakened the eternal need to reproduce, replace the life now departed. She looked at Dahnash, still strutting and bobbing, and felt certain he was experiencing the same strong urges. Maymúnah surrendered to the primal demand, turned her back to Dahnash, and waited . . .
Kamar, watching in fascination, saw one huge woodpecker turn its back to the other, in the way female birds issue an invitation. Immediately the other giant ran to her, hopped on her back with surprising agility, and bore her body to the ground. The male bird grasped the neck of the female in his beak and vigorously treaded her, flapping his wings to maintain his balance.
Kamar watched the two unnaturally large woodpeckers mating. Their congress was brief, in the way of birds. The male finished and hopped off the female’s back, crowing in triumph and joy. Then he shrank in size and changed in form to a tall Ifrit, more than twice Kamar’s height. Dressed in warrior’s clothes, seemingly young, and handsome as Ifrits go, he looked nothing like the dead Jinni on the ground. He did have the same coal-black skin, and two white teeth extending from the upper jaw down to the bottom of the chin. Unlike any human, red fire burned in the pupils of both dark eyes. He smiled down at Kamar in apparent friendliness.
The second bird also flapped its wings and shrank, turning into a lovely female Ifrit dressed in revealing harem silks. No long tusks protruded to mar the beauty of a large but very human-looking face, though the lustrous dark eyes did have the same red fire burning in each pupil. She too smiled down at Kamar and the two women.
“You are safe now, my prince,” said the female, her voice deep as that of a human man, yet undeniably feminine. “The designs of the evil one on Princess Budur and yourself have brought him to his end.” . . .
Maymúnah turned to Dahnash, who had somehow become far more handsome and appealing since he treaded her back as a bird, and spoke in the language of the Jinn. “I have never yet invited anyone to my private hall, nor held congress with a male in our natural forms. But now I feel a need, and you have proven yourself an honorable and worthy choice. Let us leave these humans to their own affairs and retire to my home, from which I think we will not emerge again for several years, as they see time.”
“Nothing could bring me greater joy,” said Dahnash. He pulled Princess Maymúnah into his arms for a long embrace. The heat internal in both grew stronger, smoke curling from where their lips met, the sod charring beneath their feet . . .
Kamar watched as the two Ifrits separated and moved somewhat apart, making room to expand their large black wings. They rose into the sky and flew away, their tremendous speed taking them out of sight in seconds. He had not understood the words they exchanged, but somehow knew he would not soon see them again.
#
After several days of observing Budur in court, Kamar donned the king’s clothes and took her place, maintaining the habit she had established of wearing a thick veil. Such was the resemblance between the two that no one noticed the change. After another month King Kamar appeared without the veil, and people wondered why he had earlier chosen to hide such a handsome and manly face.
King Kamar al-Zamán ruled the small kingdom of The Ebony City and its surrounds in peace and amity, collecting taxes and dispensing justice during the day, and alternating nights with his two wives. He quickly learned to love Hayat as he did Budur. Well content, he took no concubines into his household.
A year after her second marriage Queen Budur gave birth to a son, a babe of surpassing beauty whom his proud parents named Amjad. A week later Queen Hayat gave birth to a son, as comely as his brother, whom they named As’ad. King Kamar sent word to King Shahrimán that he had fulfilled his father’s desire for grandsons. Continuity of rule for the Khálidán Islands was now assured.
Amjad and As’ad grew into well-trained and splendid youths, the ties of brotherly love strong between them. The siblings reached the age of seventeen, inexperienced but now lustful young men, and . . .
The End
had served brief sentences in such dungeons, for the petty crimes of his young adulthood. His present accommodations, however, were of a wholly different order. This cell was aired, roomy enough for nearly eight extensive strides along its length; he had charcoal and walls to draw on; the water was clean and the food tolerable. Perhaps most lavishly, he had a sweeping view through the barred window of the city of Lakya-ris, Ghremoin’s capital.
Originally he had buried the murder weapon in the sandy plains, after he’d stolen a pedaled biwheel–his first theft–in the town proper of Miinrolah and raced frantically northward, jouncing on the contraption’s seat and barely keeping his balance.
He stood on a shadowy side street in Nurm. The day had long since waned. There was mud underfoot. In the North one often found oneself standing in mud. Nurm’s structures were hut-like, made of native materials. Srahund wore rough anonymous clothing. He drew little attention. Bartenders ignored him; women rarely gave him a second glance. He used this lack of visibility to his advantage, of course, snatching up any loose unguarded thing of worth he chanced upon. But he always felt that exclusion, like a personal affront.
intrigued. He had seen other magicmakers since his school days, since gaunt Dorbalo. Westerners were fairly common by now. They dwelled in the North, just as they did elsewhere in Ghremoin, so he’d heard. Srahund wasn’t the only person to harbor apprehensions about the practitioners. Others shared his views, though this was never a source of bonding for him with anyone else. The magicmakers encountered their share of intolerance and difficulties. Served them right. They were bringing their deceitful practices to places that had never seen such skills before.
hat old magicmaking woman, there was nothing to compare with actually being outside again. Or so he told himself. Really, secretly, it seemed no more or less real to him than those journeys he had made into his past. Still, what a joy to free! To walk the capital’s streets, to take a meal when he wanted, to ogle women–these were great treats for him. He relished what he’d earned for himself.
After upwards of an hour, D’Ahid came to a passage that curved to the left; and at that curve shadows danced on the wall. He tip-toed forward. Someone had anchored a sconce to the rock, and set a lit torch within it.
Lord Tragh holstered his weapon, and regarded Katral’s body. He’d come a long way to see Kestor’s corpse, only to find that an uncomfortable journey had wasted his time. Then that coward had unleashed a litany of blubbering excuses for his failures. Worse, Katral had let the outlaws escape with Kestor’s body. The fool should have executed him in public.
Governor Garn leaned back in the plush velvet seat of the gold-plated, horse-drawn carriage and frowned. How could civilized people travel in this manner?
into the beginnings of a nation-state,” Garn had told him. “That nation-state fell apart after his death, leaving the scattered city-states of today, but he remains their greatest leader. One legend claims he never did die.”
owned out the carefree tones of families gathered in the school yard to sing the Songs of Remembrance. From out of the shadows four masked riders bore down on parents, children and teachers.
impersonated Kestor and did that. He also murdered several children.”
rder by sundown. Even so, he’d pause in his labors to witness the execution in an hour’s time.
Yeah right. Their medallion burned against my chest. I tried not to wrinkle my nose. Who knew how many of those foul creatures had caressed the ruby with their hands. Its heat soothed me, and my muscles relaxed. The swish of satin brought me out of the trance.
A pale white form materialized in front of my eyes in a cyclone of wind. Her sharp teeth glistened in the moonlight, their sharpness punctuated by beady black eyes that stood out against white skin and hair. She traced my face with a long finger, her skin hard as marble. I tried not to wince as her nails scratched against my cheek, hot blood blooming from the scrapes.
reached the umpteenth level of bad timing. The dust sparkled. I let my mind delve into my magic reserves, but they were empty. I had used it all up on that stupid rock. The glittering specks settled on Aaron and enveloped him in black mist. Moments later, they disappeared just as the ashes from headquarters had blown away in the wind.
is thumbnail. He was a head taller than me and probably twenty years older. Thin, short scars decorated his face.
could feel my body freezing, my feet rooted to the floor. Don’t panic, I said to myself. A male Specter floated inches away from me. I watched warily as his twisted lips curved into a grotesque smile.
around his shoulders, his soulless eyes the same pale color of his skin.
“Melody, stop,” Aaron whispered next to me. I shook him off and stared straight into Erik’s silver eyes.
“Melody!” Aaron screeched.
“I told you not to lose it. To bring it to them,” he panted. He opened a gritty palm. The ruby floated a few inches above his hand. “Take it,” he gasped. “I cannot be here. They cannot see me.” His skin was charred beneath the garnet. I snatched the gem from him and his eyes closed.
The doors to the chamber opened and my breath caught in my chest. Erik stood in iron chains, his face still bloodied, his clothes torn. I made to rise from my seat but a hand pressed me back into the cushion. Two guards led him to the center of the room. His shoulders hunched forward, his eyes refused to meet mine. A hush fell over the Circle and Sergion stepped forward.
“So how, exactly, am I supposed to get in there?” I looked down at the gaping black hole. “Jumping into abysses isn’t quite my thing.” Sergion stood above where Erik and I sat at the edge. I intended on making the Head Mage’s last few moments with me his least desirable.
“Melody. We’ve been waiting for you for so long,” the man said. He had wrinkles that made some of the three hundred year-old dwarves I’d seen look like youngsters. He glanced at Erik. “Welcome back, our child. We knew you would return eventually.”
Peg was tucked snugly in bed in the coma ward, but the blankets itched. They felt heavy too, like they were pushing down on her, pinning her to the mattress. A nurse buzzed around the room at a dizzying pace, hooking up monitors and re-arranging equipment. Peg knew they would try to get this part over with quickly. “Under ten minutes from scan to snooze” was the gold standard.
stained-glass windows. She hadn’t been able to reach any of her so-called friends. Although, to be fair, they hadn’t exactly expected her to be available tonight. But she still pictured them, each taking one took one look at the In-Between alert, and ignoring her. Assholes.
After we finish serving scones we’ll just put both Sunshines under again and fix the mistake—do as we should have the first time—incinerate Sunshine’s brain and put the syn in her body. No harm, no foul. Right?” He took a deeper breath and punched his words. “Am I right?”
She flipped over and pushed herself up, brandishing her sword with her right hand and flinging the extra pillow with her left. A dark figure leaping at her from out of the shadows collided with the pillow.
Saulius shrugged and shoved the last bite of his pastry into his mouth, licking black currant preserves off his fingers.
“Ahem. ‘Let it be known that as the twentieth year of his most glorious reign approaches, the Divine Emperor Valtseharu Tahevas the Fifteenth, Incarnate Avatar of the Lord of Heaven, High Priest and Intercessor, Savior and Defender of Mankind–‘” Lida glanced over to see whether Saulius’s recitation of the Emperor’s titles and attributes was having any effect on Merolliay, whose people rejected all divinity including the Emperor’s. But if Merolliay was aggravated he was not letting it show. “–et cetera, et cetera . . . ‘let it be known that the Divine Emperor, may he live forever, has chosen to swell the ranks of those permitted to serve him in the Imperial Guard, to bask in his holy radiance and the light of his countenance.’ Et cetera. ‘Therefore, anyone who wishes to serve in this way shall wait without the East watch Gate of the Imperial Compound before sunrise on the last day of the tenth month of this, the nineteenth year in the reign of the Emperor Valtseharu Tahevas.'” The tenth month in the Imperial Calendar ended three days after the fall equinox; today was the thirteenth day of the tenth month.
Outside, men in identical rough gray tunics and leggings were lifting the assassin’s body into an ox-drawn wagon of unplaned wooden boards. The sides of the wagon were high enough that Lida could not see the contents as she passed by, but the rising stench suggested that the assassin’s was not the only corpse. One of the men in gray watched Lida and the others as they started off down the street coming out of a house from which a body had been thrown, but he didn’t say anything. None of the corpse gatherers were armed, and Lida had never seen City Watchmen in this district.
Some sentiments didn’t require words. At one point the woman turned to Lida, looked her up and down as if she were a goat at the market, and sniffed disapprovingly before speaking again. Lida crossed her arms and scowled. Men were condescending enough about her choice to live the life of a swordsman, but the contempt she earned from other women was in a different realm entirely.
Another rapid series of bangs, each punctuated by a shout from the crowd and a cloud of smoke, made further discussion impossible. Lida caught a glimpse of the two men at the head of the procession turning the corner onto their street pulling a small cart. One of the men marching alongside the cart reached in for some object that he handed off to another. People were in the way, all pushing to see, and even though Lida was unusually tall for a woman, she could only see a bit of what was going on here and there past the heads and shoulders of everyone between her and the middle of the road.
There was no lamp on their table, only a couple of squat smoky tallow candles. Lida watched Merolliay in the dim light, watched it reflect off the angular planes of his face and short neatly-trimmed beard. She watched him lick the juice from the cabbage parcels off his fingers. She had drunk too much to worry that he would notice her staring at him. He was like Andraikos sometimes, quiet and thoughtful, as if considering some great mystery that he believed only he could understand. But I might understand, if you only told me, Lida used to think then and thought now.
It was painful, which she had heard it would be, and awkward, which she hadn’t. She wasn’t afraid of pain, though, and few things in her life had ever not been awkward. In the moments after they finished she thought she had never been more content lying close enough to Merolliay to feel the heart beating in his chest, feeling the whisper of his breath against her cheek.
Merolliay brooded all the way back to the house, sick with longing for all that had been left behind in Liban. He wasn’t sure his countrymen even realized all the ways they had been corrupted by the Imperial City. He knew all the men at that meeting employed paid servants for menial work in their houses, instead of hiring the near-adult children of friends and neighbors to teach them the value of hard work. Even worse, despite Filipe’s complaint about the exclusion of women from Guilds, Merolliay had yet to see a female face at one of these meetings. The real meetings, not the university rallies or the lectures in cafes. Even at those, the women and girls attended primarily to meet young men, rather than taking an active role in planning and organizing.
“Because I’m not a member of the Guild!” Lida said, the rawness in her voice betraying her emotion. And no wonder; Andraikos Dareshna had given Lida that sword.
