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“I MUST RETURN TO BAYANGAN, Tuanku.” I kneel before Mikal’s throne, ignoring the weight of the watching audience. Maybe this is not the best time to do this, at an open court that anyone can attend. I try to shut out the murmuring in the background.
Why couldn’t I have asked him in private? During our morning spars? But no, I’d wanted to approach him as a petitioner on neutral ground, not a friend asking for a favour where the Majlis could accuse him of favouritism.
He gazes at me, eyes steely and jaw clenched hard. “No.”
I bow even lower, pressing my forehead to the ground.
“No, Yosua. If you return, they’ll murder you.”
I raise my body, keeping my head down, eyes fixed at his feet. I press my hands flat against my thighs to keep them from shaking. “I know. But for the sake of Bayangan, I must return. I will—I accept that death will find me.”
“What do you hope to achieve?”
“You named me once, Tuanku. You addressed us as equals. Do you now take that back?”
The thump of his fist against the wood of his throne makes me jump. “You come as a fugitive and an exile to my kingdom. I have taken you in out of mercy—you do not get to threaten me and make demands.”
A pit opens in my stomach. That’s all Mikal thinks of me. I’d hoped—I thought I meant something more to him. Maybe once. But not anymore. “Forgive my presumption, Tuanku. Ampun, beribu-ribu ampun.” A thousand apologies.
“Yos, I—why do you want to return? You yourself said that your life would be forfeit. You said you would never set foot in Bayangan again. Why the change of heart now?” His voice is almost...pleading?
I cannot bring myself to look up in his face. I give him the simplest answer I can. “Because my people need me.”
He doesn’t say anything, so I take that as a sign to continue. “The people of Bayangan suffer under the reign of Raja Jeffett. Jeffett takes too much from them, including their sons and their futures. They look for hope, they look for their lost prince to come and save them. I would not be true to myself and to Kudus’ calling if I did not go to them in their time of need. I do not know if I can save them. I do not know if I can wrest Bayangan back. I do not know if anything I do will make any impact at all against this coming war. But I must try, Mikal. I have to.”
There are gasps in the audience at my slip. I duck my head. I can hear rustling behind me, and I keep still, not bothering to put up a fight.
“How do you know the troupes are telling the truth?” Mikal asks.
Why have the soldiers not grabbed me?
“I trust them,” I say. “They are confident of this, Tuanku. They will submit to the Justices if you require evidence.”
Mikal mutters something. The soldiers behind me move and I tense.
“Leave me,” Mikal says.
That’s it. My chance is gone. I make obeisance, pressing myself to the ground again, and begin to shuffle backwards, when Mikal says, “Not you, Yosua.”
I look up in confusion. He waves the rest of the people in the audience room out. When only the two of us are left in the room, he stands, then throws his crown on the throne.
“Stand and talk to me, Yos.”
“Tuanku, I—”
He shakes his head. “Friend to friend. As equals.” He takes my arm and guides me to stand. “As you reminded me.”
“Are you—”
“Please.” There is that pleading in his voice again, echoed in his eyes. “For old times’ sake.”
“You told me once to find who I am,” I say.
He nods. “Have you?”
I shrug. “Does anyone know who they really are?”
A smile plays upon his face. “It changes day by day, from person to person. Do you really believe...”
“Apparently, I am the pure-hearted prince.” I pinch the bridge of my nose, run a weary hand across my face. “Held hostage by my evil enemy, but who will return to save my people from the false king.”
Mikal looks at me as if I have lost my mind.
“It’s the tale the troupes are spreading in the kampungs. Or rather—the tale my people are spreading amongst themselves, aided by the troupes.”
“Why would they do that?”
“Suraya believes many of them are turning against Jeffett. He’s conscripting again, pulling their sons from kampungs farther and farther from the city. The kampungs will not survive this, Mikal. They’ve struggled for too long, and now he’s making it worse.”
“They still exiled you.”
“The city exiled me. But Bayangan is more than the city.” Like Terang itself is not just this seat of power in Maha that he sits so comfortably in. He must understand that.
“But it is the city that holds power,” he insists.
“For now.”
“You really mean to return?”
I bite at my lip, summoning the courage that had first propelled me to this audience with Mikal. “Suraya’s troupe will not be able to re-enter Bayangan, but Han’s troupe is entirely Tawanan. And Han has been pushing me to go. They’ll take me in to the outlying kampungs to get a feel of what’s going on now. There, if I manage to gather enough support, I’ll be able to move against Jeffett. If I don’t, they will smuggle me out again and I’ll have to find a new life. Somewhere. Maybe here. Maybe in Suci.”
“You’d live the life of a priest?”
“Don’t be silly. I have the Strength, not a paderi’s powers.” A cynical laugh escapes me. “But I’d live the life of a pilgrim, a penitent.”
“Why can’t you just stay here, where you are safe?”
Anger flares up, sharp and bitter. “You would ask me that, Mikal? Would you stay in safety if Maha was threatened?”
“I would rather you be safe and whole here than dead by your uncle’s hand there,” he argues.
“And why would I be safe here?”
He lays a hand on my shoulder. “You grew up here, you know us. And we know you. Here, you have your connection to the Temple, you have access to the Strength, you’ll be able to carve out a place for yourself. A name for yourself.”
“Forever living under your largess, dependent on your grace and your mercy.” I pull away. His hand falls. “You would have me beholden to you forever, a slave in practice if not in name. I cannot, Mikal. That’s not how I would choose to live my life.”
We face each other, fists clenched, faces red. This is not what I wish for my final audience with Mikal. I do not want to part from him angry and frustrated, more enemies than friends. But I cannot find any words to defuse the atmosphere, cannot find the old placating phrases I’d once practiced to calm him. It’s not my duty anymore.
He snaps his gaze away, moving to stand by the large bay window that overlooks the bay. His shoulders heave but eventually settle. He doesn’t turn back to look at me.
“You trust what the troupes say,” he says, “but how do you know that they themselves are not deceived? How do you know this is not some deception planned by Jeffett himself to lure you back to Bayangan and kill you? After all, he’s already tricked you once.”
It’s something that has crossed my mind before, but refused to let root, so angry am I at my uncle’s deception and confused as to how I should respond. “Han and Amanah have paid in blood for this.”
“But what if everything is a lie?” He leans heavily on the windowsill as he asks.
“Then I would go to my death mistaken. Because if it’s true, and I do not go, I would have condemned my people because of my own cowardice. I cannot keep running away, Mikal. I have run for too long. Please.”
It’s a long while before he answers, voice heavy. “I understand.”
I study his silhouette, framed by the light and Maha in the distance. His hands press against the sill, head hanging. “Do I have your blessing?”
He turns sharply, a huff on his lips. “I cannot help you, you know that. My hands are tied as it is. Terang cannot be involved in Bayangan’s battles—”
“I am not asking for your permission, Mikal.”
A look of confusion crosses his face. “You—”
“I ask for your blessing. As a friend. Not for your permission as your vassal.”
“Oh.” He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, I—”
Disappointment gouges me. “That’s fine. I’ll—”
He lays his hands on my shoulders. “You misunderstand me, Raja Yosua. You have my full blessing. Go and do what you must. Terang cannot be involved, but I will lend you my Strength where I can.”
“Thank you. Oh, my Sultan, thank you. This means more to me than you can ever imagine.” My voice chokes up with tears.
“Hey now, who’s the Saltwater Sultan?”
“That’s still you, Sultan Mikal. I am merely a Raja, the Renegade Raja.”
A chuckle escapes him. His hand is soft against my cheek, his thumb swiping away the moisture that’s leaking.
I gaze into his light brown eyes. “I believe this is why my people think that we are lovers.”
He looks amused. “Do they say that?”
“They say that we are closer than two men ought to be.”
“And what do you say?”
I step away from him, turning to the window that looks out over Maha. “I say that you are truer than a friend, closer than a brother. But my path is not your path and neither will yours be mine. There is no future that will entwine our journeys again. When you left Bayangan, you took with you a piece of me and I do not—will not—begrudge you that.” A shutter falls on my heart. A path closed.
He stands beside me, staring out at the city as well. I wonder if he sees what I see. If he sees home and longing, a dream that is always out of reach. No, Maha is the dream that is out of my reach, but it is his past, present, and future. There is no future for me here, only the past.
“You’ve always been the older brother I wanted to impress,” he says. “I hope you will always be that, no matter where our paths lead.”
“Funny. I thought I was the servant you were trying to annoy to death.”
“That, too,” he says with a grin.
“I...I have things to prepare. And you have the business of ruling to get back to.”
“Yes. Come to me before you go.”
I incline my head then take my leave.
“If you need the Justices, if you need to be sure, just ask. I don’t want you walking into a trap,” Mikal says just as I’m about to open the door.
I pause, hand on the knob, turning back to him. “You do not trust Han and Suraya?”
“I do, but the Justices might find something in their memories that they themselves have not noticed. It serves well to be cautious. You should also make sure you can trust everyone in your troupe.”
They might notice if all this is just another elaborate deception, I supply what he doesn’t say.
“All of them?” I’d only thought of subjecting Han and Suraya to the Justice’s mind-reading powers.
He clasps his hands behind his back. “Yes, all of them. Just to make sure that there is no traitor amongst those you travel with.”
When I don’t immediately reply, he continues, “Jeffett plans for the long-term. He planted Relka with you long before any of this started. We now know that he has no qualms about killing his own family if it serves his purposes. We do not know how far his hand reaches, or who may be his spies. I would rather some people be inconvenienced now than for you to be betrayed again where I can no longer help you.”
“Yes, Tuanku. It will be done.”
––––––––
IT TAKES THE JUSTICES two weeks to sift through all of Han’s fourteen troupe members to ensure their loyalty. During this time, I continue training with them, with renewed purpose. It chagrins me to discover that Han assigns me the role of pure-hearted prince.
“Isn’t this rather heavy-handed?” I ask one night after a long day of rehearsals.
Han chuckles. “It makes it authentic, don’t you think?”
“What if they recognise me?”
“What would it matter if they do?”
I roll my eyes at him. “I thought the point of going in with the troupe was to remain undercover.”
He shrugs. “The common villager has little knowledge of what this pure-hearted prince actually looks like. They have ideas of you, big grand ideas of who you are and the role they wish you to play in Bayangan, but no real information of what you look like.”
“The portraits—”
“Jeffett had your portraits destroyed the moment he moved against you. He didn’t even wait until you were sentenced.”
“He was that sure—?”
“The sentiments of the people, especially his own soldiers, surprised him. It surprised even us, and we thought we had a close ear to the ground. Your friend Che Azman is more respected and influential than we thought.”
Azman. A grimace forms on my face. “I hope I haven’t condemned him as well.”
“He is doing well for himself, the last we heard.”
“Does he still support me?”
Han shrugs.
I push away thoughts of Azman, returning to my argument. “Still, someone may remember my likeness and recognise me.”
“Tuanku, the point you’re not getting is that every kampung that requests this tale is sympathetic to you and your cause. You want them to recognise you and rally behind you.”
It seems obvious when he puts it that way, but what if he’s wrong?
“Besides,” he turns a critical eye on me. “You hardly look like those portraits.”
“What do you mean?”
“The Raja’s Portrait is always done to make the raja look more noble and lordly than he really is. When they did yours, you were a fresh-faced, optimistic young prince. Now you’re a haggard, hardened troupe member with a past. No one’s going to make the connection.”
“Do I really look that bad?” I ask in horror.
“I am a teller of tales. Do you believe everything I say?”
I sigh. “Fine. So be it.”
“Trust me, Tuanku.”
Kudus help me, I do.
I still spend the wee hours of the morning in the Temple, begging Kudus for direction.
You said to stand in the gap. I still don’t know what it means, I find myself pleading again and again.
Uskup Daud doesn’t have any advice, but he kneels beside me in prayer more often than not. Still, whilst no clarity comes, peace starts to creep into my heart.
Peace is a certainty that says, keep to this path, do not falter. It is the clasp of the paderi’s hands as they bless my coming and my going. It is the nod from Han after each successful rehearsal. It is the shared meals with Mikal that drops formalities and ushers in acceptance.
I am who I am. I am the son of Garett, a descendant of Baya. I am Yosua, raja of the outcasts and the misfits and the tawanan, child of both Maha and of Bayangan and yet of neither. I am called of Kudus.
Then all my troupe members are cleared, and we have nothing left to rehearse, nothing left to pack. We are ready. Han books a boat for the next morning, telling us to say our goodbyes and to settle our affairs. Tonight, we will board in preparation to leave with the dawn.