The Archer's Heart (48 page)

The other soldiers were now upon them. “Left!” Jandu shouted at Abiyar. “Swerve past the left flank!” Abiyar’s frantic whipping got the horses off to a furious gallop. Their chariot wheels thundered along the ground. As they came within striking distance of the cavalry, Jandu closed his eyes and whispered another sharta, shooting the arrow deep into the ground and causing an explosion of dust to blind the soldiers and block the chariot from view.

Too exhausted to conjure any more shartas, Jandu took a deep breath and began to shoot arrow after arrow. His muscle memory returned, and he worked relentlessly, releasing a cloud of shafts into the dusty confusion. He heard screams and knew he had pierced the men even in the darkened chaos of the dust cloud.

The remaining cavalry circled to follow the chariot. Jandu turned to shoot behind him, aiming at the eyes of horses and the throats of men.

An explosion of pain blossomed in Jandu’s groin. He clenched his teeth to stop from crying out, and looked down, expecting an arrow wound. Instead, he saw that he was uninjured. He kept shooting, pain shivering through his body in agonizing waves, and he watched as his arms enlarged before his very eyes, his height changed.

Nausea washed through Jandu as the world shrank around him. “Straight ahead!” he yelled to Abiyar.

Every time Jandu fired his bow, his arms grew stronger. Zandi lightened in his hands. The armor slid loosely on his chest as his breasts receded. He realized that, by the end of this battle, if he survived, he would be a man again. He fired faster, exuberant in the battle.

By now the remaining men galloped alongside the rushing chariot. A lance sliced Abiyar across the hands. Abiyar cried out, but he retained the reins, jerking the horses to the right to find a gap amongst the cavalrymen.

One of the men punctured their chestnut stallion in the shoulder. The horse screamed in protest but continued to run, fuelled by fear, tied to his companion.

Abiyar brought the chariot back around, and as he did, they were assailed from all sides by the last half a dozen men left alive, who beat at Abiyar’s horses with maces and struck towards them with lances. One of the horses stumbled but they continued forward. The smell of blood filled the air.

A stabbing pain spasmed in Jandu’s shoulder, and he looked to see he had been cut. Jandu roared, and then spit out a curse word that he didn’t even remember he knew. Men all around him burst into ash. Only two cavalrymen remained.

Suddenly the rider to Jandu’s left leapt from his mount into Jandu’s chariot. Jandu was so surprised he let down his guard long enough for the man to push Jandu against the chariot’s central pole, his sword ready to plunge.

Abiyar swerved, and the two men tumbled to the floor of the chariot. The man fell on top of Jandu, his hot body lying heavy upon Jandu’s own, and Jandu reacted with total, absolute panic. He reached up and twisted the attacker’s head with all his strength, breaking his neck. Jandu scrambled from under the dead body, loathing crawling like bugs on his flesh.

“Are you okay? Janali!” Abiyar was screaming.

 Jandu focused on the last rider, who was almost out of range and galloping towards the hills. Jandu’s rage would not let the man live. Pulling together the last of his strength, he clutched an arrow to his chest as he whispered a long string of Yashva words. Nausea swirled through his mind as he spoke them. His hand hurt as the shaft expanded within his grasp, and he watched, amazed, as the tip of the shaft changed to a crescent moon, glittering with a liquid metal similar to that of Zandi.

Jandu shot his arrow at the fleeing rider. The arrow emitted a high-pitched shriek as it flew from the bowstring, and sighed as it hit its target. The crescent tip severed the man’s head.

“Stop the horses!” Jandu bellowed. It took almost a minute to get the frightened team to halt. Jandu was sick again, throwing up blood over the edge of the chariot, his stomach churning from so many magical weapons. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

Abiyar looked back at Jandu, his face a mask of dirt, gray and frozen in fear. “Janal—I mean, Prince Jandu?”

Jandu looked at the back of his hands. They were man’s hands. His body was that of a man. He ran his fingers over his face, feeling the familiar contours of his high cheekbones, his chin, his wide lips. He turned from Abiyar and touched the front of his zahari. He felt his penis there, and testicles, and he almost wept with relief.

He turned back and smiled at Abiyar. “Are you hurt?”

Abiyar swallowed. His voice was scratchy and hoarse. “I couldn’t see when you took up your arrows, when you fixed them on the bow string, and when you let them off. I couldn’t see you move. You were so fast.” He brought his hands together in the sign of peace.

“You saved Afadi.” Abiyar started crying.

“And you were the finest charioteer I have ever seen,” Jandu said. He felt choked with emotion. His body shook with the leftovers of adrenalin and the intense usage of new muscles. But he didn’t have a chance to relax. The Royal Judge would be in the city now, negotiating a peace. They needed to know that Chandamar had broken their treaty and invaded. He had to inform Lord Indarel of Chandamar’s treachery.

“Abi, we need fresh horses. I have to tell your father Chandamar has attacked.”

Abiyar turned the horses back towards the retreat. The stallions breathed heavily, their coats white with frothy sweat.

“Let me come with you,” Abiyar shouted above the noise of the chariot. They rode back over the scorched ground, the wheels creating parallel lines of blood and gore across the parched soil.

“It will be dangerous,” Jandu said. He leaned against the chariot’s central pole, his body shaking with exhaustion. “We could step into a war.”

Abiyar turned to face Jandu, his eyes misted over. “What do I have to fear with you beside me?” He turned to whip the horses. Jandu stared down at Abiyar, his heart flooded with affection. It made him sad to realize that their time together would be over soon. But Abiyar was better trained than when Jandu first met him. Jandu took great pride in Abiyar’s achievements. He reached down and touched Abiyar’s shoulder.

“All right.” Jandu smiled. “But stop calling me lord.”

Abiyar turned and beamed Jandu a smile.

As soon as they were close enough to see the gates of the summer house, Jandu heard the cheers from the women inside. They had watched the battle from the walls. Abiyar slowed the chariot at the gates. He turned nervously to Jandu, speaking in a low whisper. “Lord Jandu?”

“Jandu’s just fine,” Jandu told him.

 “You aren’t… you aren’t going to tell anyone that I kissed you, are you?”

 “No. Of course not.”

“Because I really thought you were a girl,” Abiyar said quickly. “I am not a faggot or anything.”

The insult shot an icy tremor up Jandu’s spine, but he covered up quickly with a weak smile. “I
was
a girl when it happened. But no, I won’t tell anyone.”

Abiyar looked relieved. He turned back to urge the horses through the summer house gate.

Inside, women assailed them from all sides, throwing flowers and offering water. Lady Shali rushed towards them and fiercely pulled her son into her arms. Suraya embraced Jandu, looking him over proudly.

“Look at you! You are back to your old self!” She walked with him back to his room. “I’ll see if I can borrow a set of men’s clothing from Lord Indarel’s wardrobe, while you wash off that blood and dirt. ”

“We won’t be staying,” Jandu said. “Abi and I will ride for the capital as soon as we change horses.”

“I’ll just get the clothes then,” Suraya said, nodding.

Jandu caught her arm. “Fetch one more thing,” he said.

Suraya raised an eyebrow. “What?”

Jandu held out his pony tail. “A pair of scissors.”

Chapter 42

T
HE LATE MONSOON RAINS LEFT THE CITY OF
A
FADI SHROUDED
beneath a mushroom of dust. Tarek had never been to the city before, but he saw glimpses of white washed walls and realized that, normally, the city was beautiful and bright.

But today, as Tarek made his way past thousands of garrisoned soldiers, both the buildings and the atmosphere of Afadi were tense and ugly. In the palace itself, more soldiers stood in formation, eyeing Tarek’s banner and his contingent of soldiers warily.

Lord Indarel Lokesh greeted Tarek at the gate and ushered him into the reception hall personally.

“We are honored to have you with us, Royal Judge. This whole business has been very sad indeed, and we look forward to a rapid resolution of this crisis.”

Within the marble reception hall, Tarek saw Afadi soldiers lined along one wall. On the other side of the room, the black crane banner of Chandamar and dark red uniforms of the Chandamar soldiers stood guard around their new young lord, Ishad Trinat, son of Firdaus.

Ishad looked like a healthier, more vibrant version of his father. He had Firdaus’ piercing black eyes and broad shoulders, but his black hair was kept slick and short, and his body was fit and trim. Ishad stepped forward to greet Tarek, and Tarek offered Ishad the sign of peace.

“Blessings upon you, Lord of Chandamar,” Tarek said.

 “And upon you, Royal Judge,” Ishad said.

“My condolences for your loss,” Tarek said. “I knew your father well.”

Ishad bowed. “Thank you.”

Indarel ushered Tarek to a seat at the front of the room, in a semicircle with Ishad and Indarel. Courtiers, servants, and Indarel’s son Ramad stood around them at a polite distance. Only when seated did Tarek notice someone was missing.

“Where is Keshan Adaru?” Tarek asked, searching the faces in the room.

“I am here, Royal Judge.”

Keshan stepped out of the shadows, smiling at Tarek. Keshan bowed before Tarek. Tarek smiled at his friend and hugged him in return.

“How was your journey?” Keshan asked politely.

“Long and dusty.” Tarek smiled at Keshan. “How is your health?”

“Good, thank you.”

Ishad glared at both of them angrily. Tarek motioned to a servant. “Bring another chair for Lord Adaru. I believe he had an important part to play in what happened.”

Keshan raised his eyebrow at Tarek, but other than that small gesture, Tarek could read nothing of Keshan’s complicity on his face. Keshan looked tired, Tarek realized, his eyelids drooping, but otherwise, he appeared as nonchalant as always.

Ishad glared with open hostility as Keshan took his seat.

“Now,” Tarek began, looking at the men around him. “What happened?”

“Keshan Adaru murdered my father and uncle whilst they stayed in Afadi under Lord Indarel’s protection!” Ishad exclaimed.     

Tarek held out his hand to silence the boy. He turned to Indarel. “Is this true?”

Indarel looked nervously to Ishad. “It is true that Keshan killed Firdaus and Hanu Trinat, as well as another companion.” Indarel’s expression darkened. “But it was his right to do so, Judge. He was defending a woman, one of my servants, who was being dishonored by these men! To assault her within my own house is a grievous insult against me and the State of Afadi!”

Tarek turned to Keshan. “Is that what happened?”

Keshan’s finger beat out a nervous staccato rhythm against his thigh with his fingertips, but otherwise, he looked composed. “They beat her. She was screaming for help. It was the right thing to do.”

Tarek felt sick even discussing it. He knew Firdaus, knew he was guilty. It sounded like something he would do. And it was too unlike Keshan to simply murder another lord, even a lifelong enemy, on a whim.

“Your father committed a crime,” Tarek told Ishad.

Ishad stood angrily. “No! It was my father’s right to claim her! He won the servant in a dice match!”

Tarek frowned. “How do you know this?”

“Indarel’s dice teacher admitted it!” Ishad pointed to a thin, frail looking man in the corner.

“Come forward,” Tarek demanded.

The man who stepped forward was nicely attired in clean cotton, with a yellow turban on his head. His beard was trim and tinged with gray. But he had a nasty-looking black eye and a split lip, and his expression was filled with remorse.

“Greetings, Royal Judge,” the man said.

Tarek froze. He knew this voice. He looked into Esalas’ eyes. How could no one else see who this was?

At that moment, Tarek understood why Keshan Adaru was here. He had just found Yudar Paran. Darvad would be thrilled. Regardless of what happened between Afadi and Chandamar, Tarek would triumph.

But then Tarek looked to the giant man beside Esalas, saw it was none other than Baram, and realized it had to have been Suraya who Firdaus had tried to rape. 

“None of this has anything to do with Afadi,” Indarel stated. “This is a matter between Keshan and Firdaus. We had no part in this, and we beg the judge to see Afadi is blameless.” Indarel pleaded with Tarek. “Keshan defended his wife! It is his own private affair, not ours!”

Tarek narrowed his eyes at Keshan. That, at the very least, was a lie. “
Your
wife?”

Keshan stared back at Tarek unflinchingly. “Yes. Esalas had no right to claim her.”

“Why did you not make a formal protest? Inform Lord Firdaus that he was molesting your property?”

“I had no time. And I think we both know how unlikely it is that Firdaus would have stopped just for me.”

“Lord Adaru is right, I had no claim to Janali,” Yudar said, falling to his knees. He held out his hands in supplication. “Please, Judge, spare Lord Adaru. If anyone is to blame for what happened, it is me. Blame me. I am the one who endangered her.”

Keshan stared down at Yudar with a look of pure loathing.

This was getting complicated. Tarek rubbed his hand over his face. “What is the date?”

No one said anything and the silence hung over the large hall. Tarek looked to Yudar. “What is the date?” he asked again, but in his mind, he already calculated the months.

Yudar frowned. “I’m not sure, Judge. It is close to the monsoon season.”

“The monsoon season has already begun,” Tarek said. “Your three years are over.”

The silence stretched.

Yudar stood.

“I don’t know what you mean—”

“Prince Yudar,” Tarek said tersely, “perhaps you would like to explain truthfully what happened so I can make a fair judgment.”

Yudar pulled off his turban. Men in the room gasped loudly. Indarel looked about to faint.

“Esalas… Esalas is Yudar Paran?”

Baram moved to stand beside his brother.

“Why don’t you tell me who Janali is,” Tarek said, already knowing the answer.

“Janali is my youngest brother, Jandu,” Yudar said.

The room exploded with noise as men spoke simultaneously. Tarek’s mind reeled. This was not what he expected.

Keshan remained sitting quietly, staring at Tarek expectantly.

“The Parans!” Ishad pointed at Indarel. “You have harbored the Parans under your care, against King Darvad’s wishes!”

“I did not know!” Indarel stood as well. “I did not know they were the Parans! They were in hiding! And how was I to know that Jandu was a woman?”

“Lord Indarel has broken no oath,” Yudar said. With each word, his voice gained confidence. “We fulfilled our exile in all accordance with the rules of the dice game. Indarel thought he hired servants, nothing more.”

“Jandu is a woman?” Indarel’s eldest son, Ramad, who stood beside his father, shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

“Jandu used a Yashva curse to transform himself for one year,” Baram said. His voice boomed through the audience.

Ishad turned to Keshan. “You claimed that Janali was your wife.”

Keshan’s calm expression did not change. “Yes.”

“But that is a lie.”

“I could not tell the truth, or else I would have endangered Indarel’s oath not to protect the Parans.”

“But
you
knowingly helped them,” Indarel stated carefully. Keshan said nothing.

“Then Keshan has broken the King’s oath!” Ishad crossed his arms.  

“No!” Baram bellowed. “It was your father who acted dishonorably toward my brother!”

“Regardless, Keshan Adaru broke his oath and should be branded an outcaste and disgraced,” Ishad shouted. “If King Darvad expects Chandamar’s continued support, he must stand by his own laws!”

Tarek’s throat felt tight. He looked to Keshan, who seemed less assured than he was a few moments ago.

Was Tarek really going to brand Iyestar’s brother an untouchable? Cast him from the noble Triya heritage that Tarek had only just gained himself? Tarek knew first hand what humiliation and poverty faced Keshan. And being an untouchable was ten times worse than being Suya. Keshan would no longer be able to suggest laws, make changes, even enter any Triya household. Tarek would be destroying one of his closest allies, one of the few men he respected and admired.

Tarek believed in Keshan’s vision of a new world. How could he, in good conscience, destroy it all because the man had defended his lover?

Tarek looked behind him, to the tight unit of Dragewan soldiers that stood along the wall. Anant was there, staring blankly forward, but he made eye contact and Anant’s mouth curved up in a slight smile.

What if someone had raped Anant? Wouldn’t Tarek forego all oaths to protect the man? What if it was Darvad, instead of Anant? Without a second’s thought, Tarek would have broken all the laws of the world to save him, and pay any consequences later.

Keshan loved Jandu, and now he was going to pay for it. Sickness welled inside of Tarek. He didn’t want to do this.

“It sounds as though the course is clear,” Indarel said softly. He would not look at Keshan. “I hope that if the Judge takes action against Keshan, then Afadi will remain blameless in the eyes of both Chandamar and Prasta.”

“You want me to do this?” Tarek asked him.

Indarel looked embarrassed. “If it will save Afadi from war.”

“Will this please Chandamar, and will they cease all threats against Afadi’s boundaries if this happens?” Tarek asked.

Ishad sat back down. “We will consider it just retribution for what happened. And we will continue to stand by our King proudly.”

Tarek looked to Yudar. The man seemed on the verge of tears.

“Do you have anything to say, Prince Yudar?”

“It is not Keshan’s fault. It is mine,” Yudar said quietly. “Punish me, Tarek.”

But, as much as it would have pleased Tarek to do so, he had no legal grounds. “You fulfilled the terms of the exile,” Tarek said. “Keshan did not.” Tarek turned to the man in question. “Keshan?”

Keshan was now quite pale, but he smiled. “Yes, Judge?”

“Do you understand what this means?”

Keshan nodded.

“And do you acknowledge your guilt?”

Keshan’s stare pierced through Tarek. “I would do it again if I had to.”

“Look what you have done now!” Baram growled at Yudar. “You have ruined two lives!” Yudar flinched.

Tarek stood, his knees cracking with fatigue. “We will reconvene in the courtyard in one hour.” He hesitated, but then turned to Indarel. “Bring a branding iron.”

“Yes, Royal Judge,” Indarel bowed low.

Tarek took three steps towards the exit, then turned back and signaled to Anant. “Come with me, commander.”

Anant inclined his head. “Yes, sir.”

The two of them made their way through the reception hall and out into the palace’s courtyard. Afadi servants had set up a room for him in the guest quarters of the palace. Tarek immediately excused them, and then shut the door so that he was alone with Anant.

Anant relaxed, his broad shoulders loosening as soon as they were alone. He put his helmet down on a desk. “My lord?”

Tarek looked at him. What kind of person was Anant? He knew what Darvad would do in this circumstance. Despite being friends and allies, Darvad would have Keshan branded in a heartbeat. Darvad’s hatred of the Parans made all other interests, even those of reform, those of friendship, secondary.

“I don’t want to do this,” Tarek said.

“No one wants to see their friends outcaste,” Anant said.

“Do you want to know a secret?”

“If you’d like to tell me, my lord.” Anant appeared worried.

Tarek ran his hand through his hair. He leaned forward to whisper. “Keshan Adaru and Jandu Paran are lovers.”

Anant’s eyes widened as he understood the implications. “Are they? Then Adaru really was defending his wife, so to speak.”

“And now I am to punish a good man for defending his lover,” Tarek said. “I want to tell Keshan to run.”

“What would happen if you did that?”

It was an interesting question. “Chandamar would likely attack Afadi, and declare Darvad unfit as King. Darvad would be angry, possibly relieving me of my position. He would pursue Keshan. And the Parans would still represent a threat to Darvad’s rule.”

”Would Lord Keshan run if you told him to?”

“I don’t know,” Tarek said. “But I would let him if he did.”

Anant moved closer. He smelled warm and salty, like sunburned skin. He touched Tarek’s shoulder. “I think you should listen to your heart. What you do today will ruin a friend of yours. Stripping his caste can only be reversed by a king, and it sounds as though King Darvad will not do so.”

Tarek turned from Anant. “You think I have a heart. But I don’t. I’m going to do it. I promised Darvad I would serve him, and this is what he would want me to do.”

“What has he done to deserve such unwavering loyalty?” Anant asked.

Tarek whirled on Anant. He was out of line.

But then Tarek realized it wasn’t an unreasonable question. Tarek looked at Anant, and saw that he
was
a better person. Better than Darvad. Better than Tarek himself. Anant lived true to his own conscience, was not ashamed of who he was, or afraid of his own feelings.

Tarek shook his head. “I’m not like you. I took a vow. Even if my actions go against my conscience, I must stand by Darvad.”