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Nikaros eyed the Lady Dasarai, confounded, fighting to hide his outrage. The woman had been made regent only a few breaths ago, yet she’d already begun to play royal games.
Did she believe he would stay if she dangled Araine as bait?
Admittedly Araine was the most tempting bait Nik could imagine, but did the Lady Dasarai enjoy having the power to command souls against their wishes?
He cut a sidelong glance at Araine. Her exquisite face, always as readable to him as an Eosyth cipher, revealed speechless shock.
And then humiliation. Blushing as crimson as her robes, she stared down at her hands. At the prophet’s branch and a tiny bejeweled box. Seemingly aware of his gaze she stiffened and protested, “Lady, I am your servant. But I am also the king’s servant. What will happen if he returns to us and finds that I’ve been given to another man after he has given me this?”
She lifted the tiny jeweled box—a meek, imploring gesture. “Won’t my lord-king be offended? Won’t he desire revenge? Perhaps even to the point of killing me and the son of Levos?”
Dasarai shrugged. “Your concern is of no significance, except that you are close to rebellion. One hopes you will consider the wisdom of not arguing with my decree.”
Nik listened, maintaining his composure. Araine, being a slave, would not be allowed to argue. But he could. He’d just been freed. If the day had been more pleasant and if his garments beneath his cloak weren’t stained with a good man’s blood, he would have celebrated.
He frowned instead. And in the style of one of Belaal’s free citizens, he bowed, not touching his face to the marble floor. “Lady, I am honored by all the king has commanded and by your own wishes. Nevertheless I request time to consider these matters and to ensure the king’s safety, as well as my friend’s health.”
He waited for her reply in a silence that stretched toward discomfort. At last the Lady Dasarai’s voice lifted. “One prays that you find our lord-king well and that you agree to remain in Belaal. Request the same of your two friends.”
Nikaros stood. “I’ll petition the Infinite for His will.”
“As you please, son of Levos.” But she briefly closed her lustrous eyes and then gazed up at the gold-leafed ceiling as if begging celestial patience from her own deity.
As he retreated Nikaros cast a brief glance at Araine. She did not look at him but remained motionless, holding the glittering box loosely, her expression distant, as if in another realm. Communing with the Infinite?
Comfort her, our Creator.
What would happen to her if he departed Belaal?
Nik’s own imagination expressed a possible answer—revealing himself, older, surrounded by his kindred and tribe, receiving news that her enemies had finally brought her down, killing her at last.
His throat and chest tightening, aching at the possibility, Nikaros stole a final glimpse at Araine. Her small straight back, her gold-streaked ashen hair shining against her muted blue robes, the vulnerable line of her delicate jaw... So admirable. So difficult to leave.
Inwardly he pleaded with his Creator, What must I do? How might I best serve You and my own people? Were my earlier visions and dreams indicators of Your will?
No answer entered his thoughts. Scowling Nik exited the antechamber then the caged gold entry. He snatched his bow and arrows from the attending guard and stalked through the palace corridors, their gold and blue marble columns tinged rose and violet by the lowering sunlight. All the guards inclined their heads to him as he passed. Doors opened. Voices hushed.
Lije, grimacing, his shoulder bandaged, stepped out to meet Nikaros, startling him. He’d forgotten about Lije.
But Lije was already talking, of course. “Well, you’re a mess, but I suppose it doesn’t matter. I’ve stopped bleeding for now. I’m commanded to rejoin you. With them.” He nodded over his shoulder at another company of men, some of Vioc’s archers, also armed with daggers and swords.
Nikaros nodded. “I have news for you. But first let’s find Josias.”
Silent and well-trained the soldiers merged behind Nikaros and Lije and followed them through the final corridor as if he were truly their leader.
A chill worked over Nik’s flesh akin to the onset of a fever—with the return of his dreaded, unwished-for dream of status in Belaal, granting him privileges he’d never sought.
Infinite, how should I serve You, and my people?
Nikaros motioned for Lije and the company of soldiers behind them to mute their steps as they entered the garden. Outside he scanned every sculpted hedge and the fringes of the small wilderness for Bel-Tygeon and then frowned at himself. Had he become so completely accustomed to servitude? What were his true options?
He led the men into the wilderness.
If he stayed then he must remain in Belaal for the remainder of his life. If he stayed... Nikaros gritted his teeth as he marched along the sodden wilderness path. No. He would reject the Lady Dasarai’s manipulative offer. He refused to treat Araine as mere property. To debase another human, to humble the woman he loved and keep her as his slave, struck against his entire upbringing.
Leaving Belaal would help him avoid this dilemma. He—
A man’s low voice hissed, “Son of Levos!”
Nikaros halted. Commander Vioc leaned from behind a tree and motioned to him furtively. “I’ve been waiting for you to return. Utthreates and the others are combing the woods for Siyrsun.”
Treading softly Nikaros crept directly toward the tree and leaned against it then asked, “Is everyone well?”
“Reasonably, Sir. Though we glimpsed the king—a piteous sight. Glory brought so low.”
Sensing the king’s presence even without Vioc’s subtle prompting glance, Nikaros peered around the tree. Bel-Tygeon lurked in the feathery undergrowth beneath a low wild gum tree. Beast-wary, staring about, he lifted his head, clamped his teeth on a mottled gum leaf, and chewed.
Nik muted a grunt of dejection. Could a mortal male survive a diet of leaves? What about the coming autumn and winter? They’d have to leave food for the king to forage. Dried fruit. Shelled nuts and seeds.
But why should he plan the king’s care and feeding? He’d be leaving Belaal soon.
Beyond them a twig snapped, causing Bel-Tygeon to freeze then bolt like a hunted stag. Commander Utthreates emerged from a nearby thicket, clearly disgusted with himself, grumbling, “Now we’ll have to track him down again!” He glared at Nik. “Son of Levos, how long will he be in this weakened state? Even after we vanquish Siyrsun, we’ll need an entire company of men permanently assigned here.”
“Take authority and assign them, Sir,” Nikaros told him. “I am sure the Lady Dasarai would agree to promote you to Siyrsun’s rank as Lord-General.”
Utthreates paused as if considering the implications and hazards. Then he nodded. “Petition her on my behalf.”
“I will, but there is a chance I’ll be leaving Belaal.”
“You’re needed here,” Utthreates said, authoritative as if he were already Belaal’s supreme general. “You actually work for my men and me, and the king trusts you, as the Lady Dasarai must. I am sure that Ebatenai is a fine, honest bureaucrat, but he and his sort have never been interested in matters that concern the military. Son of Levos...” Utthreates leaned in closer as if fearing he’d be overheard. “...the Lady Dasarai has never held power over the entire realm. True she has the prophet to advise her, but she also needs calm and honorable administrators, and you are my first choice.”
“Commander, I...” Nikaros paused, glimpsing Commander Seir threading toward them through the trees with Josias. Nik straightened. “It’s best that I recite my news only once.”
Utthreates motioned for the others to hurry. The instant Josias halted before him and Lije, Nik said, “We’ve been freed. We can return to our families. However the Lady Dasarai requests that we stay and—”
Lije shook his head. “No. I’ve endured enough! Whatever she requests or promises, I’m leaving while I’m alive. Everyone in Belaal seems joined in a conspiracy to torment and kill me.”
“And me,” Josias added. “Besides we belong in the mountains; we are our lord-fathers’ heirs.”
His tone as grim as his harsh-cut features, Commander Axiyn Seir nodded and then growled to Nik, “This is true. You are also your lord-father’s heir. You should return to him as well. Somehow we will find another clerk to serve as our voice before the crown.”
Before Lije could blurt out the truth, Nik offered it. “Commander, I am not my lord-father’s heir.”
Utthreates’ eyes widened and he actually spluttered. “You...you lied?”
Nik forced his smirk into a respectful smile. “I protected the innocent by not volunteering information. You’d never met my older brother, Commander. He was there the day you captured me. But you and your men simply presumed my status because I served with my lord-father in Parne, and I wasn’t about to betray my brother.”
“Who else did you protect?”
Nikaros answered with another smile. Nothing would induce him to speak of Tsir Andris’s defenseless little son, Ayden. Instead he changed the subject. “Let me consider what you’ve said, Commander. But first let’s find the king and attempt to encircle him for the night.”
He had a theory to test.
Utthreates nodded. “Very well. We settle in for the night. Then at dawn we form lines and comb through this wilderness again to flush out Siyrsun and cut him down.”
***
ARAINE ENTERED HER rooms and paused.
Jemma and Inae were briskly sorting and folding garments then tucking them into carved, brass-inlaid clothing chests that had been dragged away from their usual places against the walls. Multiple pillows had been stacked together, and their sleeping pallets and mats rested in neatly tied, puffy cylindrical rows near the chests.
But Araine’s assortment of spices herbs and oils and ointments were clustered together in an uncertain heap, some of the oil vials precariously near the Books of the Infinite. Araine set down her prophet’s branch and the bejeweled box then rushed to secure her belongings.
Before she could say a word, Jemma huffed, “We’ve been ordered to gather everything and move. Just that quickly! No explanation and no warning.”
Araine placed her precious scrolls inside a clothing chest and shut its gilded brass clasp with a heavy thunk. “Nothing else goes in here; I declare it filled. Jemma, I know this move is sudden, but we are slaves. Nothing more. We do as we are told.”
Bel-Tygeon and Dasarai had certainly made matters clear to her today.
“She is my slave,” Bel-Tygeon had snarled. “Mine to do with as I please, to love or to kill! I rule her; she does not rule me.”
His arrogance, combined with Dasarai’s chilling rebuke, was enough to nearly crush her spirit.
Your concern is of no significance, except that you are close to rebellion.
Indeed, she’d been close to rebellion. Now fatigue and futility numbed her senses, at least toward Belaal. Infinite, my only Father, You alone matter.
And Nikaros, her mortal love... Let him remain safe!
A brisk metallic tempo of bracelets chiming against bracelets summoned Araine from despair. Zaria, perfectly healed, her dark eyes afire with outrage, entered Araine’s rooms as if she owned them. “I’ve heard we’re all banished. Is it true?”
Araine plugged a carved wooden stopper more firmly into a rare blue glass vial of rose and amber essence, gifts from Bel-Tygeon. “Yes, Zaria. It’s true. I saw the document bearing the king’s seal. The Women’s Palace is to be emptied.”
Zaria knelt and leaned forward. “Is it true the king has gone mad?”
“He’s not mad.” Araine tucked the blue vial into a small wooden box, offered by the avid Jemma. “He’s simply gone, and I pray he returns.”
Zaria stood, bracelets jangling and veils fluttering around her exquisite form. “Well, Prophet, remember: when he returns to Sulaanc, I shall return to him. Do not think you can compete with me for his favor!”
“I won’t compete with you for his favor if he returns, Zaria. I’m a danger to him.” Smiling a bit, Araine studied Zaria’s bright eyes and clear skin, admiring her energy. “For a woman who swallowed poison last night, you look remarkably healthy. Any witnesses would believe your poison was ineffective. Chalk or flour, perhaps.”
“I vow it was the purest poison—powdered extract of witches’ moss. But you, with your sorceries, rendered it useless.” Zaria knelt again. “I can’t say I’m entirely angry with you for saving me. I took it on impulse because I was so hurt, so humiliated. However now that we’re both banished from the Women’s Palace and I know he might return, I have some hope again.” She shrugged. “Why did you save me?”
“I didn’t save you. The Infinite did. He heard my prayers and allowed you to continue living. Zaria...” Araine hesitated then said, “Don’t squander your Creator’s gift with more wild impulses, please. Only consider His love and turn to Him before you truly destroy yourself.”
Zaria actually smiled. “We shall see. If we meet again.”
A discomforting twinge made Araine straighten. “If we do meet again, it will be because you have disregarded excellent advice. Don’t scorn your blessings, Zaria. You’re now a wealthy woman. Return to your family and build a good life.”
“Thank you, Prophet. I do intend to have a good life!” Her blue veils fluttering, bejeweled bangles chiming, Zaria flitted from the chamber.
“She’ll reappear,” Inae sighed. “And bring fresh trouble.”
Araine smiled at her young maid. “Inae, you’ll be a prophet yet.”
The girl’s eyes widened. “No thank you, Lady! I’d rather live.”
“We’re safe enough for now. But pray for the king and the son of Levos and his friends.”
Infinite, bless them! Guard them all with your eternal warriors!
***
NIKAROS STARED INTO the darkness, praying with all his might. Around him, hidden in the misted shadows throughout the small wilderness, the king’s appointed archers waited, listening for the king and for Siyrsun.
Lije leaned closer and muttered beneath his breath, “We’ve lost them.”
Had they? As Nik gazed ahead into dark mist, a path cleared to him. Infinite?
Testing his earlier theory, much as he feared it, Nik stirred quietly from his hiding place and stepped onto the path, praying. Guide me, my Creator.... Hardly daring to breathe he crept down the path, threading his way through the trees.
An image of the upcoming path formed within his thoughts, revealing Bel-Tygeon a short distance ahead, dirtied and beast-wary, pausing to listen in the darkness.
Catching his breath Nik quickened his stealthy pace. Just as the path conformed to the image, Bel-Tygeon appeared then dashed away. Infinite!
Nikaros followed, praying against Siyrsun and his snares, all lurking in the darkness. Bel-Tygeon darted into view among the trees then hunkered down. Nik paused to catch his breath and wait. Within a breath the royal beast fled, and Nikaros closed his eyes, watching Bel-Tygeon, sensing him as if his spirit ran alongside the creature-king. Or was he ahead of Bel-Tygeon in a different realm, seeing events before they happened?
Low frantic voices called Nikaros to mortal reality again. Josias and Lije caught up to him, and Lije dragged at his arm. “Nik! How did find him so quickly? Again!”
His mortal senses spinning with the shift to reality, Nik lifted a hand to his head. “I saw the path and the king through the Infinite’s will.”
The transference between spiritual and physical realms settled, and he saw his two friends outlined in the darkness, quite normal.
Now he understood his intended task, his purpose, designated by the Infinite.
Why, then, did he feel as if he’d just stepped off a cliff?