The Archer's Heart (8 page)

“Thank you,” she mumbled. She looked up at him with a nervous smile. Jandu felt slightly better.

Jandu heard Keshan laugh, and turned to see him surrounded by Suya citizens, smiling as they closed around him, congratulating him with dramatic bows. Keshan slapped the men on their shoulders without regard to their lower caste.

And then the people moved to Jandu, bowing to him, touching his feet, offering him sticks of incense, desperate in their gratitude. Almost immediately, temple attendants dragged the bodies from the road, starting a huge pyre to burn the corpses.      

Jandu cleaned his sword blade on a cloth and noticed his hands trembled with unspent aggression. Keshan was far more amiable with the survivors than he. He even hugged some of them. He listened with a sad face as they explained how these same men had terrorized them for more than a year.

Jandu excused himself, stepping down an alley and leaning against a cart. A goat tethered to the cart stared up at him placidly, chewing hay as though nothing had happened.

What the hell was he doing here?

Keshan found him before too long, approaching with a wide smile.

“You are fantastic in a fight,” Keshan said. He stood very close to Jandu.

Jandu could smell Keshan’s skin, coconut and sweat and wood smoke. Jandu suddenly longed to reach out and touch him, to transfer the smell to his own hands. Jandu turned away, embarrassed. Keshan quietly stepped behind Jandu and encircled Jandu’s waist, his hands clasped around Jandu’s stomach. Jandu’s embarrassment turned to relief. He leaned back into his cousin, enjoying how Keshan’s presence made his shoulder muscles relax.

Keshan turned Jandu around to face him. He didn’t move his arms from around Jandu’s waist. Keshan reached up and stroked the side of Jandu’s face. It was such an intimate gesture that Jandu was shocked. But it felt too good to pull away.

The sun had set over an hour ago, but the street blazed in the light of the spontaneous funeral pyre. Dozens of people gathered around to discuss the attack on the temple.          

What would those people think if they saw the two of them like this? Jandu shrugged Keshan’s arms off. Keshan raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

“Can we head back now?” Jandu asked. “I want to get away from here. I want to go somewhere clean.”

Keshan offered Jandu his hand and said, “Shall we take a short cut?”

Jandu frowned. “From this neighborhood, there are no short cuts.”

“You are very talented with shartas, so you should be able to do this.”

“Do what?” Jandu’s self-consciousness was slowly giving way to curiosity. He took Keshan’s hand, relaxing further. It felt natural to have his hand linked with Keshan’s.

“I’m going to show you a door. You already know the words. Now you have to craft them slightly so that they are less volatile.” Keshan closed his eyes, and stretched out his arms, palms upwards towards the sky. He began reciting words, shartic words, but they were different than the weapons Jandu knew. They lilted at the end, trilled. Jandu mimicked Keshan’s posture and repeated them, grateful that his mouth didn’t bleed.

When the sharta finished, Jandu opened his eyes. He was still standing with Keshan in the dark narrow street. But he felt different. Something about the light shifted, shadows had appeared as if the sun still shone.

“What did you do?”

“Opened the door.” Keshan grabbed his hand. “Looks the same, doesn’t it? But now…”

Something blurry passed in front of Jandu, and he tensed. He grasped the hilt of his sword.

Another shadowy image rushed by. He could distinguish the shape of a body, but it was much taller than a human’s, with shimmering blue skin, and the face was hazy, unformed.

“What was that?”

“A Yashva.” Keshan squinted in concentration. “This way.”

Keshan stepped into the air, pulling Jandu along behind.

Jandu blinked—

—and they stood in a field. An empty field, as far as he could see. In the distance, far away, Jandu made out a strange mountain range, the hills jagged and piercing in every direction, like thorns on a rose. The air was thick here, fragrant with flowers and something indefinably sweet, like rotting blackberries and rich soil. Jandu felt bathed in warmth.

“Where are we?” Jandu whispered.

Keshan laughed. “Where do you think? In the Yashva kingdom.”

Jandu gazed around him in amazement. “Really? But… how?”

“You’ve always known how, Jandu. Every time you use a sharta, you open the door between worlds. You just haven’t ever stepped through that door.” Keshan peered into the distance. “Come on.”

The field, which had seemed endless, now moved in front of Jandu as if he were flying. Perception warped here, and he felt dizzy.           

“I can’t feel my feet touching the ground,” Jandu admitted.

Keshan nodded. “That’s because, technically, they aren’t touching ground. This is all illusion.”

“So how do you know where to go?”

“It’s my illusion. Every Yashva has a different interpretation of this space.” Keshan cocked his head as if thinking hard. “Think of it as your rooms back in the palace. An empty space for you to decorate how you will. You would prefer to have targets on the walls. Yudar, no doubt, has holy scrolls and paintings of the prophets. It is the same in the Yashva realm. Each Yashva has a different world, but we can interact here as well.”

As the field flew by, Jandu caught sight of more Yashvas. They were taller than him, with lanky, thin bodies, shimmering blue skin, and dark, swirling eyes. They were beautiful, but strangely immobile, their faces like expressionless masks.

“Are they upset with me being here?” Jandu asked self-consciously.

Keshan shook his head. “No, merely curious. It says a lot about you, the fact that you are even here. You have a great deal of power. Most people cannot wield shartas, let alone summon the concentration required to enter a Yashva’s home.”

“It’s beautiful.” The field gave way to a flowing stream of rushing water, and on the other side, a collection of buildings, their exteriors pearly and turbulent in the soft, unnatural light. The fact that this was all Keshan’s world, his mind, made the entire sight even more beautiful and intimate.

“Prasta’s palace is right here,” Keshan said, stomping the ground. The gesture produced no sound. Everything was muffled, echoed and distant. “We can go back, or we can have a drink here, where I stayed during my exile.”

A giddy excitement filled Jandu. This was Keshan’s private world. No one else had seen this but him.

“Let’s stay. I want to see everything.” Jandu let go of Keshan’s hand and spun around, lifting his arms, breathing in the thick, fragrant air. His body tingled, every pore vibrating with the strange newness of the place.

“If you’re going to dance, Jandu, dance with me,” Keshan said.

“Offer me wine first,” Jandu replied coyly. “That’s how it’s done.”

“Oh, is that how it is?” Keshan’s voice was low, almost syrupy smooth. His lids had lowered slightly, and he looked suddenly wanton and husky. “Well come on then, brave warrior. Let me get you a victory cup.”

Keshan took Jandu’s hand once more and gently pulled him towards the buildings. They zoomed into focus jaggedly, and Jandu struggled with his sense of perspective. Walls loomed at exaggerated angles as if the world had been sketched in watercolor.

The strange opalescent walls of Keshan’s home glimmered and  swirled in pastel colors as the eerie endless daylight played over their surfaces. The floors were laid with richly layered silk carpets in persimmon and royal blue, and dozens of silk pillows banked the walls.

A tall blue Yashva servant brought them drinks, her face blank and unreadable, her eyes blazing and seemingly shifting in her face. Jandu felt dizzy staring at the Yashva, and finally had to look away.

They drank. They shared a bottle of honey wine. Jandu couldn’t tell if it the alcohol, or the sweet air which intoxicated him.

“Can I ask you a personal question?” Keshan asked.

“I guess,” Jandu said.

Keshan sipped his wine. “Do you mind sharing Suraya?”

Jandu shrugged. “Not really.”

“Many would find that unbelievable,” Keshan said.

Jandu smiled. “I’m utterly righteous. That’s how I can share my wife with my older brothers without issue.”

Keshan laughed.

“I wonder if they feel the same way,” Keshan mused.

Jandu finished his wine and stretched up, yawning as he did so. “We set firm rules after the wedding, and one was that we wouldn’t talk about our romantic relationship with Suraya. And if anyone accidentally walks in on another brother when he is with Suraya, he has to go on a pilgrimage as penance.”

Keshan whistled. “That seems harsh.”

Jandu nodded. “It would be harsh enough just to catch Baram or Yudar screwing anyone.”

“So you’re not jealous at all, are you?” Keshan asked. Jandu could tell now, by the flush of Keshan’s cheeks, that he was pretty drunk. Jandu himself was feeling heavy in the head.

He wanted to talk about things he knew he probably shouldn’t talk about.

“The truth is, I think I’m in love with someone else.” Jandu closed his eyes.

Keshan didn’t reply. Jandu opened his eyes again, and saw Keshan staring at him sharply. He leaned in close to Jandu.

“Who are you in love with?”

Jandu smiled slowly. “I’m not telling.”

Keshan kept a level gaze on him. Again Jandu felt that warm rush of blood whenever Keshan looked at him that way.

“Come on. You can tell me. We’re friends,” Keshan said.

“No.”

Keshan stared at him a moment longer, and then broke eye contact. He stretched upwards, his hand brushing casually against Jandu’s as he did so. Jandu felt electrified by his touch.

“Fine then, be that way,” Keshan said, shrugging. “But does Suraya know?”

Jandu dismissed the question with a wave of his hand. “Who knows what women know? Maybe she’ll find out when it’s my year to be married to her. I don’t have to deal with that for another two years.”

Keshan raised his glass. “Good for you. Put off your problems till another day.”

Jandu raised his empty glass, and clinked it against Keshan’s. “I feel like I did my Triya duty today. I’m allowed a few failures of character in regard to my wife.”

Keshan nodded. “Of course you are. You’re perfect in every other way.”

Jandu flushed. The fabric beneath him was warm and cocooning. He felt as though he could sink inside of it and sleep forever.

“I don’t want to leave here,” he suddenly admitted. He lay back. “I want to stay in here, with you, forever.”

Jandu suddenly sat upright, panicked that he had said that aloud.

But Keshan did not chastise him. He watched Jandu with a strange, liquid expression.

Jandu cleared his throat. “We should probably get back to the palace, or Yudar will notice I’m gone and start to worry.”

Keshan still stared. Stared hard at Jandu’s mouth.

Jandu stood. His body resisted and he almost collapsed in the effort.

With a sigh, Keshan stood as well. “Fine then. I’ll take you home.”

 Jandu suddenly wanted to touch him. Not knowing any other way to do so without being disrespectful, he reached down to touch Keshan’s feet. Keshan stopped him halfway, as he had when they first met.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to do that?” Keshan said, his voice almost a whisper. He didn’t pull his hands from Jandu’s arms. “You’re almost the same age as me.”

“It’s traditional,” Jandu reminded him.

“It’s too formal a gesture,” Keshan said.

Jandu smiled. “All right.” He brought Keshan in for an embrace. He would hug him like he hugged his brothers.

Keshan hugged back tightly. Jandu’s heart beat faster. Their bodies drew even closer, and Jandu could feel Keshan pressed against him, could smell his hot skin. Their embrace went on several seconds too long. Suddenly embarrassed, Jandu let Keshan go, wanting to get as far away from the other man as possible before he made a fool of himself.

“Good night, Adaru,” Jandu said.

Keshan looked at him with the sweetest grin.

“Sweet dreams.” Keshan leaned forward, as if he would kiss Jandu on the forehead. Instead, he whispered strange words as he gently laid a hand on Jandu’s chest and gave him a slight push.

Jandu fell but not far. He shook his head to clear it. Outside, it was dark, and the air stank of manure and sweat and rotting hay. He looked around, and realized that Keshan had just dumped him behind the palace stables.

Chapter 7

Word of Jandu and Keshan’s triumph over the temple robbers spread quickly. By morning, lords, courtiers and their wives accosted Jandu, pressing him for details, desperate for gossip. Baram and Yudar congratulated Jandu on his bravery, and Suraya appeared quietly impressed.

Throughout the day, the tale of Jandu’s defense of the temple grew in scope. Before noon, he had only killed twenty bandits, but by dusk, the ranks of defeated robbers had swelled to forty. And Jandu had killed them with his bare hands. Jandu corrected no one, choosing instead to bask in the sudden fame.

All day he waited for Keshan to appear and share the adulation, but Keshan remained absent that day and the next. Jandu even went so far as to casually find himself at Keshan’s townhouse only to be told by the servants that the master had not been home. Had he stayed on in the Yashva lands? Why? How could he contact a man in another world? He could not remember the words to open the Yashva door.

Worse yet, could Keshan be with Darvad and his friends? Jandu imagined him talking about his mission while Darvad nodded in agreement, the Suya Tarek, like a dog, at his side and Druv smiling that knowing little smile of his—all of them sharing Keshan’s vision of the future.

Yudar took advantage of Jandu’s current popularity by asking him to entertain a party of influential gold and silversmiths, hoping that Jandu’s new reputation as the defender of the people would smooth over the occasionally factious relations between Prasta’s artisan guilds. Jandu agreed. He thought assisting Yudar

would help him become a more well-rounded person like Keshan, a person who could not only fight but also make peace.

But the conversation of the artisans focused entirely on money and quickly bored Jandu. Money talk irritated him, and discussing how to form strategic alliances in order to make more of it, appealed to Jandu almost as much as chatting about methods of cleaning the latrines. He endured a joyless week of excruciating diplomacy before he finally faced facts. He would never be an effortless statesman like Keshan. After falling asleep in the middle of conclusive deliberations, Yudar politely asked Jandu to stop helping.

Although relieved to be spared more meetings, Jandu wished he could have proven himself to be more than just a warrior. And this thought, in itself, depressed him. A week ago, Jandu had been the proudest Triya in the nation. But now he was suddenly aware of all his shortcomings. He wanted to be more.

He realized it all had to do with Keshan.

Keshan was so perfect. He was funny and clever and compassionate, he was a fantastic statesman and a flirtatious guest, a skilled warrior and a musician. He knew the religious texts by heart, he remained current on all the local gossip, and he dressed to kill.

What could Jandu possibly offer such an admirable companion? Jandu could shoot a bow and look handsome doing it. That about summed him up.

Finally, seeking any diversion, he found himself sorting through storage chests from his childhood. He remembered some of his old fascinations. He found several scrolls full of sketches of falcons and eagles. He used to find birds of prey fascinating, and would draw them for hours. He found other scrolls covered in letters. He had practiced penmanship devoutly as a boy. He had loved wooden puzzles, piecing them together and even designing his own, which he would order one of the servants to build for him.

But he had given up all of these interests once he started formal weapons training at the age of ten. His artistic abilities, his interest in science, his curiosity had been abandoned in his single-minded pursuit of Triya weapons mastery. And now he realized with sudden disgust that he knew how to kill people. And that was all.

Jandu threw one of his puzzles back into his chest and kicked the entire box across the marble floor.

“Burn it,” he told the servant. He slumped against the wall.

He wanted Keshan to think he was educated and talented and the kind of person Keshan would spend his spare time with. But Jandu could think of nothing to offer Keshan in return. It was an unequal friendship. And it made Jandu mad at himself for giving up all the childhood interest that could have made him a more attractive companion.

Until now, Jandu had rarely engaged in introspection. He had no experience even thinking about the kind of doubt that plagued him. So he tried to consider it in terms of something he did understand: archery.

Baram once asked Jandu how he could strike every target he aimed at. Jandu reminded his brother of the lesson they had all learned from Mazar, years ago when they were children.

Mazar had a stuffed sparrow placed on a tree branch, after which he turned to the four boys before him. Because Darvad was oldest, Mazar called on him first. He instructed Darvad to take aim, and then asked Darvad what he saw.

“I see the bird, and the branch, and the tree trunk. I see the sky behind the bird, and the grass at the base of the tree.”

“Sit down,” Mazar instructed. Darvad looked disappointed to have let down his master, but he took his seat.

Next came Yudar.

“What do you see?” Mazar asked again.

Yudar cleared his throat. He narrowed one eye. “I see the bird, and the tree trunk, and the tree. I see leaves blowing in the wind.”

“Sit down,” Mazar said once more.

Yudar bowed slightly. “Yes, master.” He sat cross-legged beside Mazar.

Baram tried as well, and met with the same response.

 “Jandu, your turn.”

Jandu had stood and readied his stance. He pulled back the bowstring and took aim.

“What do you see?” Mazar repeated.

The world darkened. “I see the bird’s eye,” Jandu said. The eye was in the light. Nothing else mattered.

“What else do you see?” Mazar inquired.

“I see the bird’s eye,” Jandu repeated.

“Then loose your arrow.”

Jandu released the string. It slapped painfully against his arm, but the arrow stayed true to the target. The bird tumbled to the earth. Mazar retrieved the target, and held it up for Jandu’s brothers to examine.

“Learn from Jandu,” Mazar told the others. “Learn that an archer sees nothing but his target. The rest of the world is lost in shadow.”

Now when Jandu put his eye to a target and drew back his bowstring, the world contracted until only a pinprick of sight remained. His target. Fragments of sound, doubt, fear and desire: everything melted into the dark. Jandu would release the string, and claim his prize.

But for the first time, Jandu needed to direct his focus towards something other than archery. If he wanted to befriend Keshan, he would have to think of himself as a hunter stalking prey, rather than just a student aiming at a target. He must lure Keshan to him, take aim and fire. But he was at a loss as to what he could use to ensnare Keshan.

Jandu’s family was far too busy to indulge his self-assessment. He got Baram alone for an afternoon and went on and on about how he would never be an intellectual. Baram responded by standing up, poking Jandu in the eye, and then walking out. Jandu then tried discussing his qualities as a human being with Yudar. Yudar listened, as he always did. He sat cross-legged in his chambers and smiled benignly at his brother, nodding as Jandu spoke as if Jandu were the center of the universe. But it seemed that Yudar had planned other activities. As Jandu described the different opportunities he had as a youth to better himself in the arts of medicine, he noticed Yudar frequently looking askance at Suraya, a blush forming across his face.

Jandu stopped talking when it was plain to see that Yudar had become aroused, trousers bulging, and it was probably not from Jandu’s fourteen-year-old medical ambitions. Jandu slunk away, feeling worse when the door shut behind him and he heard Suraya giggle.

As a last effort, Jandu invited Master Mazar for a private lunch. He had servants bring tea and plied his teacher with sweets.

“I heard about your success in the temple,” Mazar said. He was a glutton for sugar, and had his mouth filled with candied pastries before he completely sat down at the low table.

Jandu pushed his own plate towards his master. He himself had no interest in sweets.

“I am very proud of you,” Mazar said. He smiled widely.

Jandu nodded. “Thank you.”

“You are everything I have trained you to be,” Mazar said.

 “But I wonder—am I nothing but a warrior?”

Mazar scowled. “What?”

Jandu spoke quickly. “I just mean, shouldn’t I have studied the finer arts as well? Like painting, or music?”

Mazar stared at Jandu as if he had just grown another head. “Don’t be absurd,” he spat. “You are the finest archer in the world. And you want more?”

Jandu shrugged.

“Do you think there is no art in using shartas?” Mazar said. “I have taught everything you know to your brothers as well. And yet they cannot control the weapons like you can. None of them have your focus or concentration.” Mazar grinned. “Remember the bird’s eye?”

“I remember,” Jandu said, sighing.

Mazar threw down his honey pastry with unnecessary force. His white eyebrows drew together. “Tell me what this is really all about.”

Jandu flushed. He hated being so transparent.

“I just…” Jandu looked at his feet. “I want to befriend a person who has little interest in war and I don’t have anything else to talk about.” The silence hung between them. Jandu felt the gravity of his own words, and wanted to curl up in shame from it all. There could be nothing more embarrassing than this.

Mazar remained silent for so long, Jandu had to look up to make sure he hadn’t simply left the room. Mazar stared at his pupil with a soppy smile.

“Oh, Jandu,” Mazar said, shaking his head. “This girl you desire will love you even if you don’t have anything smart to say to her.”

Jandu frowned.

Mazar reached across the low table and touched Jandu’s shoulder. “You have a great heart. And you shouldn’t underestimate the appeal of a warrior to a woman.”

Mazar smiled, and Jandu smiled back at him. Mazar didn’t understand the situation, but it felt good to get the compliment nevertheless.

Mazar seemed satisfied with his own answer as well, and quickly swallowed the rest of Jandu’s sweets.

That afternoon, Jandu decided he would go for a walk. The sun hung low over the banks of the lazy Yaru River, and Jandu wandered along the water’s edge, singing to himself. He plucked at the bushy tops of high grasses as he walked, closing his eyes to the sun in his face.

“Jandu.”

He turned quickly, surprised to be discovered so far from the palace. Keshan Adaru came up to him, his smile enchanting. Nervous excitement coursed through Jandu.

“What are you doing here?” Jandu asked.

Keshan pulled a blade of grass from beside him and started munching on the end. “I wanted to find you.”

“Oh.” Jandu hoped Keshan couldn’t tell how fast his heart was beating.

“I was at the palace, discussing changes to the law with Darvad and Iyestar.” Keshan noticed Jandu’s wince, and grinned sheepishly. “Sorry, I forgot. No politics.”

“I’m just tired of hearing about it all the time.”

“Really?” Keshan said. “How relieving. That’s why I sought you out. I need to rest my mind for an hour or so.”

Jandu frowned. “So spending time with me is the equivalent of resting your mind? Am I an idiot or something?”

Keshan’s left eyebrow quirked up. “Did I say that?” He munched on his blade of grass thoughtfully, then said, “I enjoy being with you. You are what you are, and I find that refreshing.”

Jandu still felt slightly insulted, but he let the comment slide. “Surely you don’t talk about politics with your brother all the time, do you?” Jandu asked.

 “Iyestar and I don’t really talk, we bicker.” Keshan hooked his arm with Jandu’s. “And you are far more pleasing to look at than my brother.”

Jandu’s pulse raced every time Keshan touched him. They walked together in silence until they rounded a bend in the river and approached the edge of the royal forest.

“There is a clear patch in the woods there where I used to practice archery as a boy,” Jandu said, motioning with his hands to the nearby woods.

“Show me,” Keshan said.

Jandu led the way through the tall grass, passing into the cool shade of the forest.

“Only Mazar knew about this spot,” Jandu said. “Once he followed me here, assuming I was up to no good, sneaking off away from the others to lurk in the forest by myself. He was surprised to discover I just came out here and practiced.”

“He probably expected to catch you jerking off.” Keshan laughed.

Jandu looked at Keshan, startled. “What?”

Keshan shook his head. “You Parans. You’ve been raised in a tower of purity. You really need to travel more, get out in the world.”

“I would love to see Tiwari one day,” Jandu said. He led Keshan through a gap in the tree line and towards a glade.

Keshan stopped Jandu by putting his hand on Jandu’s shoulder. Jandu’s shoulder heated where Keshan’s skin touched him.

“Promise me you’ll come, then,” Keshan said, staring deeply into Jandu’s eyes. “I would love to show you the city.”

Jandu felt his whole body stirring with the look Keshan gave him.         

“I promise,” Jandu said weakly.

Keshan smiled widely. Then he continued his way into the forest.

Jandu followed a step behind, blushing furiously. Being alone with Keshan almost felt shameful.

But why should he be ashamed? They were just men going for a stroll together, talking about visiting each other in the future. Jandu forced himself to calm down.

“Is this it?” Keshan asked, stopping in an oval clearing in the middle of the forest.

Jandu stood beside a scarred tree trunk, punctured over and over with weathered and broken arrow shafts. He grinned. “Yes. I haven’t been here since I was seventeen.”

Keshan came towards him. “I like it. There’s a homey Jandu feel to the place. This is more personal than your rooms.”

Jandu pointed up at an abandoned heron’s nest. “I used to talk to the bird that lived here. She made a horrible racket every time I practiced, but she’d never leave. She became a companion of mine.” Jandu smiled to himself. “I haven’t thought of her all these years.”