Breaking the Gloaming (10 page)

She had led them into this, and why? Wren knew it had something to do with the threat of war. She had messages for a high priest in Sunan. He had not pried enough about the details. He had tried to avoid matters of politics and faith, since Andor had regained the throne. Those were Andor’s job. Wren’s job was to trade and earn gold. Still, his own wife had not trusted him enough to tell him more. That hurt, especially now that he was stuck here, ignorant and alone.
 

The door’s lock clicked open. It was time for lunch, probably more salted fish. The Sunans had fine-tasting fish, he would give them that much. It was a welcome distraction.

The guards filed in as usual, but this time Ball was with them. The fat Sunan merchant stood just outside the door, behind the guards as if behind a wall. He held his hands out in greeting. Wren wanted to grab a spear from a guard and plunge it into Ball’s belly.

“Good day, Wren,” Ball said.
 

“Is it?” Wren fired back. “That’s hard to see from here.”

“I’ll explain,” Ball continued. “But my words will sound better on a long walk, after you have bathed.” He motioned for Wren to come. “You’ll have a traditional Sunan bath, fit for the mate of a princess, a princess who lives and has arranged for more freedom for you.”

For once, Wren just nodded and kept his mouth shut. He wanted freedom so badly that he dared not risk losing Ball’s offer by unleashing his tongue.
 

He followed the waddling merchant down a series of long halls and stairs. The guards stayed at Wren’s side. They eventually came to an open, steam-filled room with a huge pool. A handful of men were soaking in it, nude except for the distinctive Sunan tattoos at their temples. Deep blue tiles covered the ceiling, the walls, and the floor, lending a feeling of being underwater.

Ball led him to an alcove along the side of the pool, where a large, hairy man stood in nothing but a towel. He barked something in the Sunan tongue, which Ball translated as: “Strip and lay down on your stomach.”

Wren reluctantly obeyed. As Ball and the hairy man began to talk in the Sunan tongue, something with the weight and texture of a boulder pressed into his back and began to rub hard against his skin. Despite the discomfort, it helped dissolve his tension. After his backside was thoroughly scrubbed, powerful hands turned him over, threw a towel over his waist, and repeated the process along his front.
 

The scrubbing went quickly and the bear of a man growled words again and pointed his paw at the pool.
 

“Into the water,” Ball translated in an amused voice.

Wren walked down stairs into the blazing hot water. More tension evaporated. He sat a few moments with his eyes closed, trying to imagine himself somewhere else, before the bear growled again. When Wren stepped out of the pool, the bear rubbed him down with a towel infused with some fragrant oil. Ball handed him clothes of soft linen, which Wren slipped on with some relief. Valemidan men would never bathe in the same room like this.

“Well, how do you feel?” Ball asked.

“Spotless, shiny, and a little raw,” Wren said.
 

Ball shrugged. “Let your beard grow and get some sun. Then you might feel more like a Sunan.” The fat merchant paused. “Hungry? Ready for a stroll?”

Wren nodded. He had to be careful with his words.

“Good, we’ll visit the royal bazaar, like we did when you first visited Sunan. It will be just us and two of my personal guards.” Ball clasped Wren on the shoulder as if to say he could be trusted.

Wren would never trust the man again, but he followed him out of the palace all the same. Ball’s two guards replaced the sterner looking prison guards. They walked to Ball’s carriage, which was waiting outside the palace. It was a short ride to the legendary bazaar of Sunan. They got out of the carriage and began to walk along the bazaar’s main passage.

As large as the central square of Valemidas, the bazaar looked like a great place of trade. There were hundreds of merchants selling elegant rugs, fresh fish, exotic spices, weapons, and everything else under the sun. But Wren saw through the façade. He had enough experience with markets to know that this one lacked sufficient buyers. Nor was there a woman in sight. Men were not shouting out about their wares. They were not competing about their prices. They looked bored as they dutifully made transactions and recorded each sell on a uniform-looking ledger. The bazaar was not a market. It was a distribution center managed by a privileged few.
 

Ball was one of the privileged. Every man in the bazaar lit like a lantern upon seeing the royal merchant. They would say something eagerly in the Sunan tongue, and Ball would nod and respond with an appreciative, condescending tone. By the time they had walked the length of the bazaar, Ball was glowing. Wren figured he had soaked up all the groveling respect.

They reached a long set of stairs overlooking the sea beyond. Ball sat on the top stair and motioned for Wren to join him. Wren sat and gazed over the water.

“Now,” Ball began, “this is a safe place to talk. I suspect you have questions for me?” No one was close enough to hear, especially over the cries of gulls above.

Wren swallowed the first three questions that came to him. The breeze felt good on his face. Even in the Sunan linens, his skin felt ablaze under the sun’s heat. Maybe it was an act of mercy that the Sunan men made their women stay mostly indoors, out of the sun.

Eventually, while staring at the fleet in the harbor, Wren decided to be direct with Ball. “When can Ravien and I leave?”

“A hard question,” Ball said. “You imply that you will leave, and that you and Ravien will leave together. That’s what makes you a shrewd dealer. I like that about you.”

Ball looked like he had not slept in days. He smiled at Wren, beads of moisture covering his face. Wren held his stare and tried to stay calm, waiting for an answer. Ball had not dodged his question.

“You and Ravien can leave,” Ball broke the silence, “rather, I believe you
will
leave when the Sunan army sets sail. It took great effort, great sacrifice,” he glanced down at his chubby hands, “but I convinced His Excellency that you may be released from your cell. The only conditions are that you will work with me, organizing our supplies for the journey, and you will, and—”

Ball stood suddenly and pulled Wren up. He nodded toward the bottom of the stairs, where three men were approaching them. Unlike most the Sunan men, they wore black instead of white.
 

“Those are Malam’s men,” Ball explained as he led Wren back into the bazaar. “Malam is one of His Excellency’s three advisors, and along with Ilias, one of the Sunan high priests. Malam opposed me when I requested your freedom. He extracted a heavy compromise.”

“What compromise?” Wren asked.

“Well, the other conditions for you leaving Sunan result from the compromise with Malam. You will not like this, so before I say more, I need some assurance from you. I have staked much on this.”

“Assurance from
me
?” Wren tried to stay calm, but Ball was the betrayer. He was the one who should be offering assurance.
 

“We can talk more in the carriage.” The merchant’s face was red as he continued leading Wren through the merchants. When they had reached the other side, Ball looked back. The three men in black were nowhere to be seen. “Let’s go.” Ball climbed into the carriage, and Wren followed.

“Do not let that happen again,” Ball demanded once they were inside. Wren had never seen the merchant so serious. “Never challenge me in front of my fellow Sunans. I assure you that unless you do exactly as I say, you will die before the sun sets, and your wife will be raped and ravaged until she submits. I am your only chance.”

Wren boiled inside but held it in. “I’m listening.”
 

“I am afraid we have little time,” Ball said. “We go now to visit His Excellency in the palace, and all will be better for you if you pretend you do not know Ravien when you see her.”

“When will I see her?” Wren interrupted.

“Probably soon, when you bow before His Excellency and declare your faith in him.” Ball hesitated, as if waiting for an answer.

“I can bow,” Wren said, “I can say words.” He remembered swearing to Tryst months before while meaning none of it. He was coming to this oath-breaking too easily, but whatever it took to protect Ravien. “What else?” He asked.

Ball took a deep breath. “Malam and Ilias have long vied for favor with His Excellency. They are both high priests, faithful to His Excellency, but their sects are very different. Ilias represents the sun sect of our faith. He believes in a god much like your Valemidas god, and he believes His Excellency is god’s appointed leader in this world. Malam represents the moon sect of our faith. He believes His Excellency and those before him are themselves god, or part of god. He holds to older, darker ways. I have long been a supporter of Ilias, not Malam. Our faiths—”

Ball paused as the carriage began to slow. “I will tell you more of that another time. I must tell you the other condition.”

“I’m still listening,” Wren said.

“I keep you under my watch,” Ball shrugged as if this was not his desire. “You see, Malam keeps Ravien under his watch. Ilias protested this. He wanted Ravien with him, and I think Malam did this to spite him. It is only a formality, though, because she seems to be staying close to His Excellency.”

Wren did not fully understand Ball’s words, but the tone was clear. This would not be a good thing. There were risks in this compromise, even if he could not see them.

“What do you mean that she is staying close?” Wren asked. The carriage had stopped.
 

“You will see for yourself soon,” Ball answered. “She will be in the palace, and you must not overreact at anything. Ignore her, bow to His Excellency and declare your faith in him. That will buy you and me more time.” Ball pulled back the curtain of the carriage. “Come, we must go.”

As they stepped out and walked through the palace gate, Wren’s mind raced through what he had heard. It was true he had no leverage, but he also could think of no reason why Ball would risk pulling him out of his cell and giving him some measure of freedom. Maybe he could trust Ball, up to a point.

Ball did not say anything else until they were standing outside gold doors as tall as four men. The doors had a massive sun imprinted in the center. Just as the guards outside began to pull the doors open, Ball whispered: “Make this humble and simple. No smiles, no defiance. Follow my lead.”

The warning gripped tightly as soon as Wren saw inside. It was a cavernous throne room, with enormous columns, gold everywhere, and enough soldiers to wage a war. They were aligned in tight rows on almost every square inch of the golden marble floor. Their spearheads were like a field of ripe corn. A path between the men led to a throne. It was a chair of pure gold set against the far wall.

Wren followed at Ball’s heels to the base of the throne, and he bowed to the floor when Ball did. He then went to his knees as Ball did and looked up. The boy ruler was not quite so young as Wren had thought upon first seeing him. His face almost looked gentle and kind in that moment. But then he spoke.

“My bird?” The boy’s voice was petulant and arrogant.
 

A woman dressed in the full black Sunan coverings stepped up the stairs to the side of the throne. The coverings were a light fabric, almost translucent. Wren could see the woman’s body underneath, lean and assured.
 

He realized it was Ravien a moment before she turned to look at him. Her eyes were all he could see. They might have signaled something, but he saw only recognition and mystery in the instant before she turned away and took the boy’s hand.

“My bird tells me you are a wealthy merchant in Valemidas, and you funded her travel here.” The boy king pulled Ravien closer to him and kissed her hand. “I thank you for that service and for the beauty it has brought me.” Wren felt his heart sink. “Between my captive princess and my own royal merchant,” the king continued, “you have strong allies. Malam and my soldiers would have me kill a Valemidan before we set sail. Should it be you?”
 

The boy looked away from Wren and out over the hall. He shouted something in the Sunan tongue, something short and rhythmic. The soldiers responded in unison with a shout that sounded almost the same.

“Because you may be put to some use, I will find another Valemidan if you declare your faith in me as your ruler and your god. Am I not merciful?”

“Say the words,” Ball said under his breath.

Wren kept his eyes on the ground and muttered, “I declare my faith in His Excellency and in Sunan.”
 

“That was hard to hear,” the boy king said. “Say it louder, Valemidan. And Ball, translate it for the hall.”

Wren looked up. Everyone’s eyes were on him. “I declare my faith,” he shouted, “in His Excellency and in Sunan.” The boy’s smile wavered.
 

Ball translated quickly, calmly. The soldiers shouted something in their tongue again, and the boy responded in kind.

“You may live, foreign merchant. Serve Ball well, or I’ll give my princess the honor of slitting your throat.”

The boy grinned down, taunting. He stood and put his arm around Ravien’s waist. It almost looked like she drew closer to him, compliant. She whispered something in his ear. He smiled.

Wren rose to his feet and moved forward. Something held him back by the shirt. He turned and saw Ball large and round as a boulder.
 

Ball said a few words up to His Excellency in a light, mocking voice. The boy laughed and waved them off.
 

Wren found himself being dragged out of the hall by his shirt. Ball had not loosened his grip. The boy ruler began to speak to the hall in a commanding voice. The soldiers looked ready for war.

Doubts filled Wren’s mind as Ball led him down palace halls. He knew Ravien could have good reasons for placating the boy, for drawing close to him. But it was not her way, it had never been her way. Part of Wren questioned her intentions from the start. She had wanted to come to Sunan, and he had funded it.