The Archer's Heart (4 page)

“This is not typical wedding attire,” Keshan pointed out.

Jandu shrugged. “I’m not a proponent of Triya fanfare when it comes to clothing.”

“I agree,” Keshan said. “When I’m home alone I just walk around naked.”

Jandu cocked his head. “Really?”

“No.” Keshan grinned widely. “I just wanted to see your expression when I said that.” Keshan grabbed Jandu’s arm, and led him over to his table. “Come, sit down with me and Iyestar.”

Iyestar didn’t look anything like his younger brother Keshan. Where Keshan was svelte and elegant, Iyestar was thick-boned and muscular. He had an impressive neck and his facial features were broad and kind. Jandu wondered how they ever found diadems to fit the circumference of his skull.

Iyestar was distinguished for being a heavy drinker, and the wedding had not been an exception. With eyes half-closed in inebriation, he held an entire jug of wine carelessly, spilling aromatic purple liquid out the top with each dramatic hand gesture.

Jandu felt uncomfortable sitting there, beside one of Darvad’s best friends while Yudar and Baram were left behind, laughing and celebrating with Suraya. It seemed almost treasonous. But then Iyestar reached out and pinched Jandu’s cheeks affectionately. “Hello there, little cousin.”

At six feet, Jandu rarely considered himself little. Acknowledging Iyestar’s height, he let the comment slide.

“Are you enjoying the festivities?” Jandu asked.

Iyestar burped in response.

“You’ll have to excuse my brother, he’s an animal,” Keshan said. “I don’t believe he inherited any of our mother’s grace.”

“At least I’m not a witch like you,” Iyestar commented.

Keshan rolled his eyes. He put his arm around Jandu’s shoulders and pulled him closer to whisper. “My brother thinks that anyone who has any sort of education is enchanted and, therefore, a witch.”

“You do have magical powers though, Keshan.” Iyestar pointed ineffectively at them both. “Don’t deny it.”

“I’m not denying it,” Keshan stated. “But I’m no witch.”

Jandu had the distinct feeling that he was listening to some long-standing fraternal argument, and chose not to say anything. Iyestar clumsily leaned over and refilled Jandu’s wine cup, splashing wine onto Jandu’s hands in the process.

“Your performance today was amazing, cousin,” Iyestar said. “You are a fantastic archer.”

Jandu nodded. “Yes, I am.”

Iyestar chuckled. “Oh, so that’s true, then.”

“What?”

“That you are also full of yourself.”

Jandu looked to Keshan for support, but Keshan simply grinned, leaning back in his chair. Jandu checked to make sure his brothers were doing okay without him. They both stared at Suraya dotingly.

Keshan followed Jandu’s gaze. “Do you want to join them?” he asked.

Jandu shrugged. “Four’s a crowd.”

Keshan seemed to watch him closely. “Are you angry that your brothers took your bride?”

“I don’t mind,” Jandu said.

“Really?” Keshan raised an eyebrow. “Surprising.”

Iyestar filled up Keshan’s cup from his jug of wine. “So what comes next? A honeymoon in the mountains?”

Jandu snorted. “Yudar won’t leave the capital, especially not during the festival. There is too much politicking for him to miss out on a moment of it.”

Iyestar nodded. “Darvad’s the same way.”

“And you?” Keshan asked. “What do you want to do, Jandu?”

“Honestly?” Jandu got the impression that Keshan was talking about something larger than his honeymoon. “Travel. Take on challenges worthy of my skills. Meet interesting new people. I’ve hardly gone anywhere. I can’t even imagine what some of the states of Marhavad look like.”

“Trust me, Prasta is the best city in the entire kingdom. You haven’t missed anything,” Iyestar mumbled.

But Keshan disagreed. “There are some beautiful places in this world, Jandu. Especially my capital, Tiwari. Perhaps I could take you there one day. We could walk the beaches together, and I could teach you how to fish.”

“That would be fantastic.” A warm, liquid happiness filled Jandu. He suspected the wine’s influence.

“Let’s plan on it then.” Keshan leaned over and placed his warm palm on Jandu’s shoulder. Something about Keshan’s touches, about the way he looked at Jandu, subtly affected Jandu. Perhaps Keshan’s half-Yashva blood had some magical effect? Jandu drew closer to Keshan, despite the fact that the feeling seemed dangerous.

“You aren’t returning to Tiwari right away?” Jandu asked, suddenly panicked at the idea that Keshan would leave as soon as the festival ended.

“I’ll be staying in Prasta for a while,” Keshan replied. “We should spend some time together. I think we might find we have some tastes in common.”

Again, Keshan seemed to be saying more than the sum of his words. Jandu tried but could not quite grasp the implication. Then Baram was calling him back to the table of honor and he grudgingly excused himself. Iyestar gave him a wine jug salute. Keshan only smiled.

Even though it seemed politically dangerous and almost disloyal, Jandu decided he couldn’t wait to spend time with his scandalous cousin again.

Chapter 4

The Palace of Prasta rose like an island of solid rock from the middle of the great Yaru River, its fortified red sandstone walls formed in the shape of an elongated spearhead. Inside, multiple courtyards and marble hallways connected the dozens of buildings, architecturally distinct from one another, creating a labyrinth of pathways. Over fifty separate gardens dotted the palace, each one blocked in by walls of rooms, some structures extending up several floors to form ornately carved stone balconies that peered over the gardens or the banks of the river.

The central throne room was the seat of power for the entire nation, overseen by the Regent Mazar. But the rest of the sprawling, circuitous palace was dotted with pockets of Yudar Paran and Darvad Uru’s influences. In the decade since King Shandarvan’s death neither group had managed to make a decisive claim on the throne. Darvad was the eldest son, born two months before Yudar, but Yudar’s mother had been the king’s first and more honored wife. Neither omens read by Draya priests nor the holy texts had offered a solution. In a year both Yudar and Darvad would be thirty and the Regent’s allotted reign would end. Mazar would have to appoint one or the other of the princes to be King.

As Keshan ambled through the palace grounds, he noted an architectural shift, years of careful crafting under either Yudar’s supporters or Darvad’s, changing the very appearance of the buildings. Keshan wandered, not minding the fact that he was lost. He hadn’t wandered the royal palace at Prasta since he was a little boy. Now that the outrageous Paran wedding festivities had finished, and most of the lords had returned to their own states, Prasta settled back into normalcy.    

Keshan wound his way through the western part of the palace, where Darvad held court, admiring the sculptures and brightly painted murals showing erotic images. Darvad’s world was sensual, full of images of wine and women, of peasant life and animals and great wars.

As Keshan moved east, the decoration sobered. The Paran quarters edged the eastern river bank, and stretched towards the southern gates that opened onto the vast royal forest. The Paran family artwork consisted of religious statues, and scenes from the holy Book of Taivo, displaying the multiple heads of God and the fiery shartic weapons of the Shentari prophets. The statues of prophets stared down at Keshan with what he interpreted as potent malevolence.

Several times, guards stopped Keshan, inquiring whether they could help him find his way. Some asked out of kindness. Others asked out of distrust, anxious to lead him away from more sensitive areas. In both cases, Keshan politely refused and moved on at his own pace. He liked the feeling of being lost here, here in the midst of such grandeur.

A gentle breeze blew through a carved marble hallway, which opened on both sides to stone gardens filled with fragrant orchids. Outside, another short but powerful monsoon downpour drenched the city. Safely sheltered under the marble hallway, Keshan felt the cool relief of the rain and smelled the sweet earthy scent of wet stone.

“Iyestar?” Keshan peered into one of the countless rooms. There were gold-leafed paintings of a forest scene on the plaster walls, and archery targets set up at even intervals. The targets suggested that archers would be found nearby. Following his instincts, he turned the corner down a long marble hall and nearly ran directly into Jandu Paran.

“Keshan!” Jandu dropped to the ground and touched Keshan’s feet. Keshan quickly urged him upwards.

“Please don’t do that. It makes me feel old.”

Jandu blushed endearingly. “Sorry.”

Keshan took a moment to just admire the beauty of his cousin. Jandu was Keshan’s ideal of a warrior prince, both handsome and powerful. His light brown complexion glowed, and enhanced the startling brightness of his blue eyes. Even dressed plainly, in a long blood red dejaru sarong and a simple white cotton vest, Jandu appeared bold and regal. His body was tight and trim, the contours of his abdominal muscles clearly visible under his open vest. Keshan couldn’t help the flutter of attraction he felt every time he looked upon Jandu’s delicious body.

“What brings you to the palace?” Jandu asked.

“I’m looking for my brother,” Keshan said. “He wanted to be informed when I finished unpacking.”

“So you are here for good? In Prasta?” Jandu’s voice betrayed his enthusiasm.

Keshan smiled at him. “For at least the next few months. Iyestar may have to return to Tiwari, but I am free to stay behind.”

Jandu smiled back. “Come on, I’ll take you to him. He’s practicing archery in the stone garden, with Darvad and his gang of thugs.”

Keshan laughed, but he didn’t miss the obvious distaste in Jandu’s comment. It would be awkward, befriending Jandu. Darvad would not like it. But Keshan had never been one to obey the whims of anyone else.

“So how is married life?” Keshan asked.

Jandu shrugged. “Not my turn for another two years, thank God. But it suits Yudar. He and Suraya were staring in each other’s eyes all during breakfast.”

The hallway terminated at a large courtyard, surrounded by a waist-high stone wall. The cobblestones were under a good inch of water as the monsoon storm continued to pour down around them.

“We can walk around this way,” Jandu said, pointing to the left, “or we can take a short cut through the courtyard, which would be a lot more fun.”

Keshan grinned. “I don’t melt in water.”

Jandu didn’t hesitate. He vaulted the wall and dashed into the downpour, hooting as he did so, his long legs striding widely as he ran. Keshan’s silk trousers were immediately drenched but he didn’t care. The water felt luxurious after the morning’s sweltering heat, and he laughed along with Jandu as they both scrambled over the wall and skidded to a halt in the cool stony corridor of another building.

Jandu shook his head, sending sprays of water droplets everywhere. Keshan ran his hand through his own, pushing back his damp locks.           

Jandu smiled at him. “Your diadem is crooked.” He straightened it, and then pulled back with a frown. Jandu turned and led them down another hallway, his sandals squeaking against the stone floor.

“I notice you don’t wear one very often,” Keshan said.

“I think they’re showy,” Jandu said.

“Like you can talk,” Keshan said back.

Jandu laughed. “I don’t know why I have such a reputation for being vain. The only thing I brag about is my archery and I have earned the right to be proud. I am the best archer in the kingdom and I know it. What’s wrong with saying so?”

If the statement had come from anyone else, Keshan would probably have disliked him. But Jandu’s self-assurance seemed charmingly honest and Keshan found it attractive. Jandu wasn’t compensating for some failing or insecurity by bragging. He truly believed he was the best.

They walked in silence for short distance. Jandu fidgeted slightly. His eyes darted to Keshan.

“You realize that Firdaus Trinat is probably going to be with Darvad and your brother,” Jandu said.

“So?”

There was another pause, as if Jandu gathered courage to continue. “Doesn’t it bother you? Your brother is friends with the man who had you exiled?”

“I don’t hate Firdaus. My exile was just and not hard to endure. Firdaus is no threat to me now,” Keshan replied. “And Iyestar is friends with Darvad so meeting Firdaus is unavoidable. I would understand if you don’t want to see him, though. He’s bound to be angry with you.”

Jandu didn’t respond. He stared ahead, and Keshan could tell he debated saying something. After years of living with the Yashvas, who were so hard to read emotionally, it was a pleasant change to spend time with men, with their feelings so clearly displayed.

“Does it bother you that I’m Yudar’s brother?”

Keshan thought of telling Jandu the truth, that it
did
bother him. Yudar represented everything that Keshan had spent the last ten years of his life fighting against. But this was harmless, Keshan told himself, this innocent flirtation. It wasn’t Jandu’s fault that his brother represented the traditionalists.

“I’m not interested in who your brothers are. I’m interested in you,” Keshan said.

Jandu blushed, and moved forward once more, walking at a faster pace.

“Besides,” Keshan added, “my political interests have nothing to do with who should be king. I am more concerned about the plight of the lower castes, and whomever can support me in improving the equality of this nation deserves my gratitude.”

“Equality? Between the Triya and Suya?” Jandu grimaced in distaste.

“Between all the castes.”

“All of them?”

Keshan sighed. “I know that is not your belief or the belief of your brother, who holds tradition above humanity.” Keshan had the sinking feeling that his flirtation with Jandu might be nearing its unsatisfying end. It was too bad, since he’d been so sure Jandu was attracted to him.

“Why do you care so much about the lower castes?” Jandu asked. Keshan heard no malice in his question, only curiosity, so Keshan answered him truthfully.

“It reflects poorly on the ruling class when the people of this nation struggle under such tyranny. In a society where three-fourths of the people live burdened by religious law that prevents them from equality merely because of who their parents are, everyone suffers. Only in a truly egalitarian society can all of us achieve the greatness that the Shentari faith claims to strive for.”

“But you are Triya,” Jandu said.

“Only because my father was Triya, and his father before him. We need to change, to herald in a new era where a person is judged on his actions, not on his blood. It is what God wants for us.”

Jandu scowled. “How can you be so certain?”

“I have seen it. In a vision.”

Jandu stared at Keshan as though Keshan were slightly mad.

Keshan just smiled, accustomed to this reaction.

“Say that again?” Jandu said.

“I have visions of the future. Prophecies, some may call it, although where they come from or why I will never know. Maybe it’s my Yashva blood. But my entire life, I’ve been able to see glimpses of the future. And the future I see is one where caste no longer dictates righteousness.”

Jandu looked at him oddly. Keshan felt almost intimidated by the intensity of Jandu’s stare. But then the corner of Jandu’s mouth quirked up and he grinned.

“You are one weird guy,” Jandu said. He continued to lead the way down the hallway. “Powers of prophecy? Were you the one who predicted Suraya would marry three warriors?”

Keshan fell in beside him once more. “No, I wish my power was that useful. I wish I could predict the weather or know what will be served at the royal dinner tomorrow.”

“That’s easy. It’s always butter chicken on Wednesdays.”

Keshan laughed.

“What do you see?” Jandu asked.

“Just images, really, and sometimes accompanying sounds or smells. Often faces are blurred, or other details that seem meaningless are crystal clear.

“Sometimes I see an entire scene, and then weeks later, it happens. Or I’ll catch images of something, disjointed and unfocused, and then later on I’ll recognize them from a past vision. There is no pattern, and I have no control over them.”

“Can you change what you see?” Jandu asked. “If something breaks in your vision, can you intercede to stop it from breaking?”

Keshan shook his head. “Half the time I don’t know what I’m seeing.”

“But how can you be sure these visions are telling you that everyone should be equal?” Jandu asked.

Keshan didn’t miss the disapproval in Jandu’s tone. “I’ve had a vision of the future, and of a great battle where the Triya are defeated by peasants. God chooses against us.”

Jandu stayed silent for a long while. Keshan assumed Jandu to be considering this, but then Jandu suddenly asked, “Have you had any visions of me?”

Keshan almost laughed. Here he tried to explain his destiny, a mission he had from God, and Jandu only wanted to know if he had a starring role.

“No. Can’t say that I have, unfortunately. Visions of you sound very appealing.”

Jandu blushed again.

Keshan wanted to explain more, but he realized that his words were probably wasted on Jandu. Jandu’s interest in Keshan’s prophecies extended only as far as they concerned him, so he wouldn’t care to hear the more personal details about why they fuelled Keshan’s mission.

But ever since he could remember, he had a recurring vision of himself, beside a man who declared the end of all castes. The two of them were armed, fighting for a new world. And although the details were hazy, and Keshan could never see the man’s face, he was almost certain that man was Jandu’s half-brother, Prince Darvad Uru.

Darvad Uru had openly befriended a lower caste man. In speeches, he praised the workers of Marhavad, calling them the greatest strength of the nation. He asked that merit be based on deed rather than blood.

Keshan admired Darvad’s will, his disregard of tradition, and his promise to make changes to the old ways of Marhavad once he became king. Iyestar had assured Keshan that Darvad’s ambitious nature was fueled by the desire to see a new world replace the atrophied one that surrounded them.

In all likelihood, Jandu would become one of Keshan’s political enemies. The Paran brothers had been raised in the pious shadow of their father, and their belief in Triya superiority was unlikely to change.          

But Jandu was handsome. More than handsome. Gorgeous. It had been many years since Keshan had felt such reciprocal longing from another man. Clearly he trailed this young warrior through the palace not because of his mission to change society, or to propel his own political career forward, but for desire. His body took over, flirting with this brash young warrior, and it wasn’t going to do anyone any good.

“Here we are.” Jandu led him through a gate into the stone garden. The downpour had stopped, and now everything steamed, baking in the hot sun.

Darvad aimed at a target across the garden that had been affixed to a bail of hay. Sweat slicked back Darvad’s hair as he worked in the intense humidity of the afternoon. Beside him stood Tarek, Druv, Firdaus, and Keshan’s brother.