Star of Cursrah (18 page)

Now Star’s mother lectured: “Your father has consulted the ancients and passed down a decree through his advisors. They and I have discussed your future for many long hours. As eldest daughter, on the first day of autumn you shall wed Samir Nagid of Zubat. His city has won the favor of Coramsh—”

“I don’t want to marry that prissy, perfumed fop,” Star sputtered. “I won’t.”

The sama’s plump face tinged purple. Pursing fat lips, she snapped, “Again!”

“No!”

Star tried to scramble to her feet to run, but she was too weak. The clammy hands of junior vizars grabbed fistfuls of hair and twisted, then pinned her slippery arms and hands. Hoisting her bodily, the sadists rammed Star’s head and shoulders into the pool so hard her nose bumped slimy tiles on the bottom. Furious, Star swore the bastards enjoyed this duty as a vizar mashed her belly against the pool’s edge. Bubbles of precious air spurted from her bleeding nose and clamped mouth.

Star had gotten some wind back, but not enough, and immediately her lungs burned, her brain throbbed, her face felt squeezed by steel bands. Pain ripped through her chest and head, crisscrossing and redoubling as if she’d been struck by lightning. Even her wounded calf, in dry air, throbbed as if lanced by a knife. Jolts of agony rippled through her nose and lips, making muscles sting until she feared swallowing water, or worse, blacking out, for darkness drummed against her blurry thoughts.

If she passed out, she would drown. Surely her mother wouldn’t allow that, but in her murky suffering, nightmare thoughts intruded. If Amenstar did die, even “accidentally,” her sister Tunkeb would become eldest daughter and obey her parents’ wishes. Could her parents coldly order her death, then stand and watch it come to pass?

Fright coursed through Star, chilling her blood, for she knew her parents were precisely that heartless. If Star opposed them they might kill her, same as they’d condemn any balky commoner to death. Water wormed into Star’s nose and mouth. She panicked and kicked and wriggled to no avail. Through a haze of pain, despair drenched her soul.

Yanked upward, Star shuddered like a breaching fish. Gasping for air, she instead drew the invasive water into her nose and lungs. Fresh pain stabbed her sinuses. Retching, howling, whimpering, she was dropped to the damp flagstones. Dribbling water and red strings from her nose and mouth, trying to sip air, wracked with pain, Star began to shiver, and though she hated herself savagely for it, she cried.

“Will you listen?” Her mother’s voice, hard as flint.

“I will, I will.” Star hated giving in, but she was too weak to resist. If submerged again, she’d be powerless to keep out the water. “I’ll be good,” she said. “I promise.”

Her mother snorted, called for a chair, and said, “It’s time, Amenstar, that you learned the duties of the eldest daughter. Your two elder brothers learned their place, and both of them journey abroad representing Cursrah’s interests. In these troubled times, everyone works for the city’s good, as will you. Your father, bearing the blood of genies, consults our ancestors and the very gods to foretell the future and divine our destiny. I and the other royal wives keep the kingdom on an even keel. Our vizars tend the dead while our chancellors and stewards oversee the living. Every noble in Cursrah pays homage and taxes to liege lords. Our judges maintain peace for the populace and punish conspirators. Scholars and seers at our college gather information for the glory of Great Calim. Young nobles master the military, and commoners are conscripted into the ranks as needed. The lowest dung shovellers and ditchdiggers bend their backs to their tasks, for every shovelful adds to Cursrah’s coffers and prestige.

“Here lurks in this royal compound,” Star’s mother rattled on, “one pampered parasite who contributes nothing! You, Amenstar, an empty-headed doll with no idea of the dangers that Cursrah daily faces. Spoiled and self-consumed, you fail to notice your surroundings. See how your father keeps at hand Mooncutter, the ceremonial war axe, a weapon signifying war and not the Serpent Staff of peacetime? Chaos has ruled Calimshan ever since Great Calim’s final battle. The land itself is in upheaval, and desert sand threatens to overrun Cursrah’s fields and the very streets. Every neighbor plots against us, and many would swoop upon us like vultures if we relax our vigilance for even the barest fraction of a moment.

“So, given that we live with crisis, your days of useless frittering are over,” the sama hissed. “Your marriage to Samir Nagid, and subsequent children, will bond us by blood to Zubat. Thus Cursrah becomes equal partners with Coramshan, a city that grows daily more powerful and looms over the land like the shadow of Great Calim. Your marriage will confirm Cursrah’s independence, and the whole of civilization shall know it.”

“Am I worthy of such an honor?” the samira asked. “To save Cursrah single-handed?”

Star’s usual sarcasm was creeping back, and she felt a stab of panic lest she be drowned again. She hugged her arms across her wet breasts. Despite the day’s heat, she was goose-bumped and freezing.

“No, you’re not worthy,” Star’s mother shot back. “It’s only your position, not your personality, that makes demands. As eldest daughter of the first sama, you’ve inherited the largest wing of the royal house, the most personal wealth, the greatest number of maids—and been spoiled the worst, I’m afraid. Now having reached the age of sixteen, you inherit the greatest responsibility. You’ll marry well, be a dutiful wife and mother, bring peace and trade to Cursrah, and dampen the avarice of restless neighbors.”

More politics, Amenstar noted with disgust, but she didn’t dare argue, so she tried wheedling.

“If I’m not worthy to serve Cursrah,” she said, “perhaps I should step aside as eldest daughter, and let Tunkeb—”

“Do not presume to negotiate with me,” her mother spat. “You have no concept of the forces arrayed against this family, nor the thousand factors that need to be juggled. Everyone has her place and task, even you—”

“Not if I die!” Star shrieked. Cold terror gave way to white-hot anger. “I’ll kill myself and spoil your plans, I’ll take poison, or cradle an asp to my bosom.”

“Poppycock and piffle,” the sama replied, then flicked a hand to her retainers, a signal to depart. “You’re too well-guarded to even consider suicide, if you had the nerve. You’ll do your duty as royal blood demands, and before your wedding day you’ll learn manners, poise, diplomacy, and obedience. Once you’re cleaned up, you can be escorted to the library to hear The Book of Dutiful Daughters.”

“Knees of Khises, I hate those wretched tales,” Star said. The maudlin stories of addlepated daughters who fulfilled their parents’ bizarre wishes and quests, and so lived happily ever after, had been drummed into her since birth. “I won’t listen. I’ll vomit!”

“More likely drown,” the sama said, gesturing toward the pool. “One thing Cursrah has in abundance is water.”

The royal parents swept from the small courtyard with retainers parading before and after. The shivering princess was left with sodden vizars and brainless maids who peeped wide-eyed through the tall windows.

Amenstar snarled at the priests, “Get out of my sight, you gutless ghouls!”

The clerics trooped away, and the maids scurried to their chores, but her tiny authority was bitter comfort to the miserable princess.

” ‘… and so Serenia was finally reunited with her parents, who forgave her with open arms. On bended knee the devoted daughter apologized for her strong-headedness, saying, “Truly it’s a wise child who knows that wisdom comes with age …” ‘ “

I will vomit, thought Amenstar. She squirmed on her chair. Star had been preened and pressed, her hair brushed, her body draped in a simple blue shift, and her moonstone tiara adorned her brow. She was dressed up for nothing, a prisoner in the musty Royal Library of Cursrah.

The clerk’s creaky voice droned like cicadas on a hot summer day. Her royal bodyguard had commandeered and blockaded this wing of the library so only the princess, six guards, and the clerk occupied a dozen tables and raised desks whose pigeonholes bristled with yellow-gray scrolls. Sun slanted through the windows, dust motes dancing. In the street below, commoners laughed and called and cursed and argued. As the princess’s mind wandered, she heard another buzz nearby. Captain Anhur stood ramrod straight, spear upright, fast asleep. Not surprising, thought Star. The clerk could bore an owl to sleep.

Another buzz intruded, so low Star barely heard it. Someone hissed. Amenstar turned her head slowly so as not to alert the other guards.

Six feet away, Gheqet’s dark face grinned at her. His chin was level with the floor, framed by the legs of a spindly rack from which hung a tapestry of a bakkal spearing a lion. Pretending to rub her nose, Amenstar saw Tafir’s smug head pop up in the same square hole. Star smiled back, wondering what they planned. It was no great surprise to find them in the library, for Star had first met the two here.

Normally a royal princess was sheltered from commoners and even nobles, who were mere mortals. According to custom, and to maintain lofty airs, the lower classes only glimpsed royalty as they paraded by in sedan chairs or gave speeches from balconies. Very rarely, a brave or noteworthy citizen was personally commended by the palace chancellor representing the bakkal.

Gheqet’s master, an official city architect, regularly inspected the tunnels connecting Cursrah’s center. Once, of many times, Amenstar had been marched to the library for “instruction,” but she had slipped away and peeked down a hole, where she’d discovered the dark skinned apprentice. Gheqet, not realizing Star was royalty, chatted and flirted as with any pretty girl. Amenstar, who only met family members and menials, found Gheqet’s easy conversation, clever wit, and honest laughter filled a void in her protected life. For the first time, the princess knew true friendship as an equal. The enchanting sensation, entirely new, sent her tripping back to the library for more “instruction.” Surreptitiously she met Gheqet and his lifelong neighbor and best friend Tafir of the bright curls.

That first meeting had happened a year ago, and Star still drew pleasure at seeing her only—and forbidden—friends. The library-bound princess smiled at their two faces, one light and one dark, that grinned like a pair of egg-stealing meercats plotting mischief.

Hiding one hand, Star made a flicking motion at the tapestry stand. The fellows squinted in confusion, then goggled and raised eyebrows to signal “Are you sure?” Star nodded vigorously. With a collective shrug, the men tilted the legs of the tall tapestry frame.

“Look out!” yelled a guard.

Captain Anhur jerked awake, but not quickly enough. Star whooped as the towering tapestry flopped toward her escort. Guards shouted as the huge, heavy rug billowed and flounced over them. Captain Arthur’s ready spear punched a hole, but the heavy material pressed her to the floor. Other guards were enveloped or jumped clear, upsetting desks and spilling scrolls. Captain Anhur cursed colorfully and uselessly as she punched the tapestry.

Prepared for disaster, Amenstar had slithered off her chair. A thick bar along the tapestry’s lower edge spanked her calf so her recent wound throbbed like fire. Still, she scooted to Gheqet and Tafir, who stood neck deep in the floor.

“My heroes to the rescue,” Star laughed.

She plumped down and swung her legs into the hole.

“Halt in the name of the bakkal!” barked Captain Anhur.

Helping hands whisked Star down the hole. The fellows balanced on a narrow catwalk in the library’s cellar. Easing Star to the floor, Gheqet and Tafir tipped a footworn slate up through the hole, twisted, and dropped it in place.

An oil lantern lit the low cellar. Shelves were heaped with moldy scrolls, broken statuary, and other junk. Jumping off the platform, Gheqet caught the lantern and pointed to a raised doorway.

“That way leads to the street,” he said.

“Wonderful,” laughed Star. “I can stand the company of real people. Hurry, before my guard finds the stairwell.”

Popping through the exit, Tafir held the lantern while Gheqet bolted the tiny door behind them.

The cadet asked, “Won’t you get in trouble for skipping out of the library?”

“No,” Star told him. She held the hem of her blue dress as she skirted a runnel of water in the tunnel. “My mother will yell, but she always does. It’s her only exercise. How did you know where I was?”

Bringing up the rear, Gheqet called, “The marketplace buzzed about your food fight. Most everyone thought it was great fun, so people talked when you were escorted under guard to the library. Taf fetched me. We poked up floor tiles till we spotted you, but, uh, can we get in trouble for helping you escape?”

“Of course not, silly. You’re friends of the eldest samira. You can’t be punished, no matter—” She stuttered and shivered, for the smell of water and memories of almost drowning sent a twinge of panic through her frame.

Tafir lifted the lantern and asked, “Are you all right, Star?”

“Y-yes. I’m just cold.” Amenstar rubbed her arms. Not wanting to recall the punishment, she pushed it from her mind. Stopping at an intersection lit by storm drains above, she asked, “Which way lie the tunnels to my wing?”

“That way.” Gheqet pointed. “Are you going home already? You just got free of your guards.”

“I have plans.”

The princess hopped over water and turned down a tunnel.

“What plans?” asked both, but the princess pushed ahead, so they could only follow.

Star tugged aside the mosaic wall in her privy chamber and listened.

A maid dusted Star’s bedroom, humming a folk tune. Waiting until she moved on, the princess tiptoed to her armoire. A saluqi raised its long head and yipped, but Star shushed her. Yanking clothes from hangers, she donned a riding outfit: yellow trousers wrapped front and back, a tunic of watered silk in bright plum, thin riding boots with open toes, a yellow neck scarf, and a green hooded cloak hemmed with mother-of-pearl buttons. Star eschewed a veil, which would cover her new tiara. From a drawer she took a large leather bag that she stuffed with jewelry: strings of pearls, jade bracelets, rings of amethyst and sapphire, pendants of sheet gold and electrum on silver chains, and more.