26

Jask Persia Safavid Empire

Azhar waited until he knew Jahani would have reached the camp, then took the chance to visit Kifayat. Much was filling his mind as he encouraged the carpet to rise higher. He flew as high as the eagles, even higher than when he flew with Jahani. The wind currents were smoother up there, almost allowing him to float and glide, like he had done when he was a child in Kifayat’s garden pool. Kifayat had grown a Persian garden in Jask, too. Azhar smiled as memories from his childhood in Persia came to mind. He had mastered many princely skills like carpet flying, swordplay, archery and swimming. ‘There must be no room for slipups,’ Kifayat had said. ‘A man who cannot swim can be defeated in battle when he is trapped in a river.’

Now there was too much discontent in the kingdoms, like an evil mist rising, and the time for learning had passed. There were so many warriors, the kingdoms were clanging with their armoury. No one was safe; if anyone withheld a favour from Muzahid or Dagar Khan, their men cut off heads and killed children.

Jahani was the only person who could make him forget the horrific things he had seen. Azhar was desperate to tell her who she was. When he was with her, the words rushed into his mouth and he ached with the desire to tell. But what if she didn’t believe him?

When Azhar saw the sea glistening pink under the setting sun, he gradually lowered the carpet to alight on the roof. He let himself into the rooms, expecting that Kifayat would be writing at his desk. It was a shock to find him speaking with a man by the window. Azhar was about to turn to leave, but something seemed amiss; the other man was talking too intensely. Was he threatening Kifayat?

Azhar strode into the room. ‘Is everything all right?’

His father looked up and the other man stepped back.

‘Pesar, come and join us,’ Kifayat said. ‘We were discussing the politics of the Qurraqoram kingdoms.’

Azhar let out a breath that he didn’t know he was holding. Politics was always a dangerous subject.

‘This is Bilal Abdul,’ Kifayat said, introducing the other man.

Azhar greeted the man warily, and Bilal, in turn, stared suspiciously at Azhar.

‘Bilal, this is Azhar Sekandar.’ Bilal’s sudden surprise was swiftly masked as Kifayat continued. ‘I am Azhar’s foster father.’

Bilal said, ‘Even though we rarely agree, I have come to Kifayat for advice since he was the wazir, the chief advisor to the mir of Nagir. There is more trouble brewing in the northern kingdoms. Even talk of the lost shehzadi being sighted. And I have heard rumours of an army amassing and it is not Dagar Khan’s like we expected.’

‘The war lord, Muzahid Baig’s?’ Azhar asked.

‘Bigger than his.’ Bilal touched his beard, deep in thought, before addressing Azhar directly. ‘Kifayat has finally just told me the shehzadi survived and you know where she is.’

Azhar glanced at Kifayat; his father seemed unusually quiet. Perhaps ‘extracted information’ may have been closer to the truth. He searched the man’s face suspiciously. ‘May I ask what is your interest in this matter?’

‘The same interest you have, I suspect.’ The man’s eyes brimmed with sudden amusement. ‘I was the wazir, chief advisor to the tham of Hahayul, twelve summers ago.’

Kifayat broke in. ‘Azhar, you can tell Bilal all you know. It is important now that we work together.’

Azhar gasped, understanding at last. ‘Were you in Hahayul when the massacre happened, hazoor? We heard everyone in the fort was killed that day.’

Bilal shook his head. ‘At the time I was in the Kingdom of Qashmir on the tham’s business. It was too difficult to return once I’d heard, as Dagar Khan’s army was occupying the land.’

‘They would have assassinated you,’ Azhar observed.

Bilal inclined his head. ‘I thought I could be of more use from afar as Kifayat has been. I have been searching for the girl in case those rumours were true. My search has led me here to Kifayat.’ He paused before he repeated, ‘Are you sure it is she?’

Kifayat sat on the divan and poured green tea into Persian glasses. ‘Let us sit and we will tell you what we know.’ He glanced at Bilal. ‘Perhaps you have already heard much of this story, but Azhar has only recently heard the significance of the events we’ll relate. I will ask Azhar to start our tale.’

Azhar began. ‘When Dagar Khan’s forces attacked the palace in the Kingdom of Nagir, I was six summers old, living with Kifayat. We quickly left and travelled as peasants to warn the tham of the Kingdom of Hahayul of the attack.’

Kifayat added, ‘But Dagar Khan had split his forces that day to make simultaneous attacks on both kingdoms. Hahayul’s army revolted under Dagar Khan’s leadership and the damage was done before we reached the Kingdom of Hahayul.’

Azhar continued, ‘When we arrived we slept in the bazaar and heard the gossip: at the funeral, the body of the two-year-old shehzadi from the Kingdom of Hahayul was missing and Dagar Khan’s men were abducting little red-headed girls in order to find her. By then they were calling him the Demon King; he had conquered the Kingdoms of Hahayul and Nagir and began his cruel occupation.’

Bilal sat forward. ‘But how did you find the shehzadi at such a time?’

‘We didn’t, not then,’ Azhar said. ‘Whenever we heard stories of an adopted child we visited the family, but it was never her. Then we heard the nomads found such a child. We decided to follow them. When we discovered them on the move south, Kifayat offered his services as a master of horse.’

Bilal raised his eyebrows at Kifayat.

‘He was good enough with horses and has taught me all he knows as well,’ Azhar said in explanation. ‘I doubt the nomads needed another horseman, but they allowed us to travel with them. We saw the child. She was only two summers, but knew her name was Jahani, spoke words of Burushaski and wore a northern silver taveez to ward off evil.’

‘It had to be her,’ Kifayat said then. ‘I had seen the shehzadi that day the treaty between the kingdoms of Hahayul and Nagir was signed.’

Bilal nodded, obviously understanding. ‘She was beautiful even at two summers, like her mother.’

Azhar glanced up sharply at his tone.

‘She was certainly engaging as a child,’ Bilal added.

‘She still is,’ Azhar said.

Both men looked at him intently and then at each other. A look passed between them, but Azhar ignored it and carried on with his tale. ‘At the time I was too young to know of her parentage. We lived with the nomads for two summers until the child was adopted by a landowner in the Kingdom of Kaghan. Kifayat again offered his services as a master of horse to the landlord and so we watched her grow for a summer. When there was another attack on her life, her adopted parents hid her and her ayah in an outpost of the empire where they thought no one would find her.’

‘Did these people know who she was?’ Bilal asked quickly.

Kifayat shook his head. ‘I don’t believe so. They thought she was in danger because of her fairness and Dagar Khan’s obsession with red-haired girls.’

‘It would be good to see her again,’ Bilal said.

Azhar didn’t comment; rather, he turned to Kifayat. ‘I need to tell her who she is. As Bilal sahib says, “Trouble is brewing”, and while she doesn’t realise her background she is defenceless. It seems that not only Dagar Khan’s men are searching for her.’ He turned to Bilal. ‘They have been abducting fair girls Jahani’s age for summers, but now there is another contender for the kingdoms.’

‘The war lord,’ Kifayat said flatly.

Azhar tilted his head. ‘I believe he has discovered why Dagar Khan wants to kill Jahani and he has decided to claim the northern kingdoms for himself. He can’t do it without her.’

‘And neither Dagar Khan nor Muzahid Baig knows of your part in this?’ Kifayat asked.

‘Only we know,’ Azhar turned to Bilal, ‘and now you also. I am a phantom only for, as far as anyone knows, I died in the Nagir fort when Dagar Khan attacked it.’

Bilal looked at him oddly.

Azhar smiled ruefully. ‘My friend of similar age and height was found dead in the arms of my mother, the queen. Anyone who knew his true identity had been slaughtered. He was buried as me – the Shehzada of Nagir.’

‘So, you are the true Azhar Sekandar?’ Bilal said wonderingly. ‘This is astounding news indeed.’ He paused, thinking. ‘But to tell Jahani the truth could be dangerous,’ he added slowly. ‘What if it frightens her into madness? She could flee from such a burden or ally herself to the wrong people. Is she strong enough to accept her birthright?’

‘Indeed,’ Kifayat said. ‘Will she be able to take up the call and give her life to the people of the Kingdom of Hahayul? See them from a ruler’s perspective?’

‘I’m sure she will and, undoubtedly, she’ll have some perspectives of her own,’ Azhar said drily. ‘You do not know her.’ He stopped, searching for the right words. ‘She is strong and feels a pull to the north. I fear that if I don’t tell her soon she will not trust me and, once lost, her trust will not be easily regained. Already I believe she is being influenced by the nomad prince.’ His mouth tightened.

Kifayat frowned at him. ‘Rahul? Why would he do this? When you were children he cared for her as you did.’

Azhar tilted his head, thinking that even a worthy man would do all he could to win a girl of such beauty. And if Rahul had guessed Jahani’s true identity, that would be even more dangerous.

‘And you care about her trust?’ Kifayat asked with no hint of teasing. He glanced at Bilal and both men leaned closer to hear his answer.

‘Baleh, yes,’ Azhar said simply.

Kifayat and Bilal regarded him thoughtfully. Then Kifayat said, ‘Tell her all and prepare her as best you can. It is time to take Jahani north.’

Bilal added, ‘There is a house near Baltit Fort in Hahayul where her grandmother still lives. Fortunately, Dagar Khan never considered the grandmother a threat. That may be the best place to go. You’ll need to arrive by night as the town is heavily guarded by Dagar Khan’s cavalry.’

‘In the meantime,’ Kifayat said, ‘it is best you both sleep here tonight and stay another day. We have much to plan and discuss.’