The Key to Creation (23 page)

Jikaris knew a few words of their language, but he had always pretended to not speak it in order to force his guests to use the Nunghal tongue. One of his companions had made two prior coracle voyages to Uraba and was more fluent in Uraban, so he served as translator. Jikaris nodded when his name was spoken, and the locals talked with one another, hurriedly discussing what to do. Apparently, their village was named Desert Harbor.

“Where is Imir?” Jikaris finally asked. “My friend Imir?”

After one of the Urabans responded at length, the Nunghal translated for his khan. “This is merely a place for the coracles to arrive. Their nearest capital city, Arikara, was recently destroyed in an earthquake. Their buildings collapsed. Many people are dead. I think he said Imir is there.”

Though distressed to hear this, Jikaris swelled his chest and struck his buffalo-hide vest. “Then it’s a good thing we have arrived. Have them take us to this Arikara. We will show them the way Nunghals help in a disaster.”

Khan Jikaris knew little about living in buildings, but he knew everything about living without them.

Ishalem, Main Urecari Church

Now that she was the ur-sikara, it was unseemly for Kuari to spend time grieving over the death of her husband. Even before the great building collapsed, she had been technically married to the church instead of the leader of Inner Wahilir. Besides, Huttan had been a pompous blowhard. Her followers understood implicitly that while the loss of the soldan was a sad thing, the far greater blow was the collapse of Urec’s church so close to completion.

Meanwhile, Kuari had work to do, much of it cleaning up the messes her husband had created. As ur-sikara, she considered it her duty, both in the name of Urec and the soldan-shah, to make Uraba strong again where cracks of weakness showed.

Leaving the defense of Ishalem in the hands of Kel Unwar, Omra had already sailed the
Golden Fern
back to his capital. Soldan Vishkar had departed on his mission to round up a makeshift navy to patrol the coast and protect the sacred city. When they arrived, their priority would be to guard the Oceansea mouth of the canal, so that the enemy could not penetrate into the Middlesea.

Kuari had her own ideas to set in motion here—ideas that would help consolidate Uraba. She assumed the soldan-shah would approve.

She had already sent word to Sharique, the official emissary to Yuarej and the First Wife of Soldan Andouk. Even during the endless war against the Aidenists, the five soldanates of Uraba squabbled with one another, annexing territories, sniping at their respective leaders. Kuari thought it was about time the female emissaries demonstrated a new way of solving problems—relying on wisdom rather than stupidity.

Kuari had chosen adequate quarters in the large, incomplete church: a spacious, well-lit set of chambers and an anteroom behind the main worship hall. The perennially exhausted Saedran architect was happy with Kuari’s easygoing manner, and quite accommodating to her ideas and needs. Sen Bira na-Lanis sent teams to refurbish the chambers according to her specific requests.

Kuari had never been overly fond of the trappings and treasures so often coveted by sikaras and soldans alike (the ambition never seemed to make anyone happier, as far as she could see). Her husband had always wanted more, even though he was the soldan of Inner Wahilir; the sikaras always wanted more, even though they commanded the faithful. Kuari had always put up with the foolish attitude—until now. As ur-sikara, she was as rich as she could imagine, and she could do as she wanted.

After receiving the ur-sikara’s summons, Sharique rushed to Ishalem. The lovely woman had a thin face and slight figure, her dark hair tied behind her head in an intricate braid in the style of Yuarej. She wore the finest silks, since her husband’s soldanate was the sole provider of the material across Uraba. Though quiet and intelligent, Sharique was a bit too meek to be a force in the government. She was also Soldan Andouk’s first and only wife. Their only daughter, Cliaparia, had married Omra with disastrous results, and they had never truly recovered from the shame.

Sharique performed an appropriate obeisance. “Ur-Sikara Kuari, I am honored to meet with you.” She seated herself on the cushions at the other woman’s invitation.

Kuari brushed aside the formality. “We need to talk, you and I. Our husbands have made a mess of things between their soldanates, and this is simply not acceptable. Uraba is at war with
Tierra
, not with herself. Soldans cannot be squabbling children.” She made herself comfortable, while her guest paled to hear her tone. “Let us fix it together and provide a good example for our people.”

The other woman looked down and away. “My husband sent repeated complaints to the soldan-shah about the illegal new settlements on our borders. I don’t know what else to do. Andouk doesn’t want to go to war with Inner Wahilir.”

“And thus you look weak! Doesn’t your husband understand that?” Sharique was surprised by the rebuke, and the ur-sikara continued. “Yuarej must
appear
to be willing to defend its territory. Huttan moved retired soldiers to your frontier where they built homes and took your land, since you didn’t care enough to fight for it.”

“We wouldn’t spill the blood of other Urabans!”

“Then we’ll have to find another solution.” Kuari sat back, flushed. “The recent disaster in Arikara provides a tremendous challenge for us—and a way to resolve our difficulties.”

Sharique was curious now. “How so?”

“The people of Arikara have a great need, with so many injured, so many buildings destroyed. They require food, shelter, and workers to rebuild the devastated city.” Kuari tapped her fingers on the low table that held pastries topped with jellied fruit; not bothering with ceremony, the ur-sikara picked up a pot of steaming coffee and poured for both. “We must hurry, though—and not only because of Arikara’s desperate circumstances.”

Sharique sipped the bitter coffee. “Is there another reason to hurry?”

“Soldan Huttan is only recently dead, and his replacement has not yet been chosen. We need to do something before politics can get in the way. As ur-sikara, I will announce a call to action. All the soldanates must help our brothers and sisters in need.”

Sharique understood immediately. “My husband is gathering a shipment of fresh silks to be used for tents and garments. He is ready to contribute.”

“Not good enough.
Everyone
should contribute. Let me give you a list of silk merchants who have been taking bribes from Soldan Huttan while also paying taxes to Soldan Andouk. By playing both sides, they mean to place themselves in a favorable position, whichever way the conflict is resolved.”

Sharique scowled, not knowing how to answer, but Kuari smiled. “Your husband should confiscate their silk and use
that
as his donation. How can the merchants complain when it’s going for such a good cause? I’ll write a formal letter expressing my personal gratitude to the merchants, and then how can they say no? While they are whining about the expense, your husband can quietly inform them that he knows of their duplicity. They’ll realize that they are getting away with a rather light punishment. That is the way politics is played.”

Sharique laughed. “Andouk would never have schemed like that. What about the new settlers who have built their homes on our lands? That is the sore point.”

“Hmm, think about it. Delivering all those supplies to the refugees in Arikara will require a long and difficult journey. Your husband can assign the expedition to those new colonists, have them carry the silk packets all the way down to Arikara. If they serve Urec and Ondun properly, I will grant them the special blessings of the church. And when they return from their journey, Soldan Andouk can welcome them as new citizens of Yuarej, and they will of course pay taxes to Yuarej. After all, with Huttan dead, they have no loyalty one way or another.”

“Won’t Inner Wahilir feel cheated?”

Kuari had considered this, and she let out a long sigh. “It’s too bad you have no other daughters that could be married to the new soldan.”

Sharique hung her head, still stinging from the fallout of Cliaparia’s marriage to Omra. “I’m not certain anyone would
want
one of our daughters, if Cliaparia was any example.”

“Then there’s another solution. Maybe your husband should take one of Huttan’s remaining wives as his second wife, just to seal the alliance, create stronger ties between the soldanates.”

Sharique swallowed hard and looked dismayed, but forced herself to give a stoic answer. “I will…make the request.”

Kuari wondered why the other woman would look so distressed, until she remembered that Soldan Andouk’s preference was to be monogamous. She had thought it an odd affectation for a soldan, but now seeing Sharique’s hurt and jealousy, she realized that he truly loved this woman! Given the history of her own marriage, Kuari hadn’t even considered the possibility. Nevertheless, the need was greater than a bit of infatuation.

She gave Sharique a reassuring smile. “Now, don’t look so heartbroken. Just because he marries her doesn’t mean Soldan Andouk has to love her—or even
make
love to her. Huttan and I certainly did not share a bed for years. This would just be a political formality. Now that I think of it, I doubt any of my former husband’s wives will complain about the arrangement.”

Sharique let out an uncomfortable sigh that might have been relief. “As I said, I will raise the matter with Andouk and try to convince him. If that is the way to ensure peace, he will accept it.”

The ur-sikara was happy to put the matter to rest. “I’m glad that’s settled. We have plenty of Aidenists to kill. Why shed good Uraban blood?”

Calay Castle

After his night with Anjine, Mateo slipped away, moving as silently as he could. He wasn’t sure if he should stay, if he
could
stay. His thoughts were a whirlwind, and he searched for some moment of calm.

Anjine
was the calm, the center. She was also the hurricane.

Mateo couldn’t remain here in Calay. It was not fair to him, to her, or to Tierra.

The room was still dim when he left Anjine sleeping. Her maidservant would notice that the queen hadn’t returned to her royal chamber during the night, but right now Anjine looked so peaceful, so happy. As she pulled the pillow up against her head, rumpling her hair, the expression on her face was innocent and free of care…just like the young girl with whom Mateo had spent so much time, loving her unconditionally as only childhood friends could. Even back then, he had never thought of her as a sister, but as a part of himself. He knew that Anjine felt the same way.

But now it had brought them to this. The experience seemed as unreal and dreamlike as any of the blinding tragedies he had endured.

In a separate room down the hall, in the dimness of approaching dawn, Mateo put on the light, fitted body armor that Vicka had given him from the Sonnen forge.
Vicka
…the very thought of her stung him with grief and guilt. Her loss made him feel as if he had stepped off the edge of a roof and never stopped falling.

The armor felt cold in his hands. Each time he returned from his battles, even before they were married, she had helped repair the damage. “Don’t worry about a few nicks and dings,” she would say. “That shows the armor is doing its job. I’d be embarrassed if you suffered a fatal wound due to some flaw in the armor.”

Driving away thoughts of her, and of Anjine, Mateo took his sword, grabbed his cloak, and crept out of the castle into the first streaks of dawn light. He left by one of the castle’s obscure side entrances that he and Anjine had used for slipping away from their teachers in order to roam the streets of Calay as normal children. Carefree days…

He felt confused and distraught, shamed and elated. He needed to escape these dangerous emotions, and to free Anjine from inappropriate concerns. If he stayed here, they would both be harmed, and the queen wouldn’t be able to rule as she needed to. Mateo was a loyal soldier and brave enough to do what he must. He could not let himself become a liability to the queen in this time of war.

Yes, he had loved Vicka deeply—and he had always loved Anjine in ways that he didn’t know how to measure. But right now Aiden had placed an overriding responsibility upon them all. Mateo had no time for longing thoughts or soft caresses. He would throw his energy into winning the war, putting so much concentration into that one duty that he hoped he could forget about his feelings.

Reaching the Military District amid the bustle of soldiers gathering for departure, Mateo presented himself to Subcomdar Hist. The leader of the Tierran army directed the cavalry to saddle their horses for riding out at daybreak. “Good to see you joining us, Subcomdar Bornan,” Hist said, red-faced and sweaty. “We’re already an hour behind the schedule I had in mind.”

“I’ll do what I can to help you move out as soon as possible.” Mateo joined an intense-looking Jenirod and an exuberant Destrar Shenro, both of whom would join the vanguard on the march.

Surprised to see him, Jenirod broke into a wide grin. “I never expected you, Subcomdar Bornan, but you always seem to arrive where you’re most needed.”

“I needed to go,” Mateo said, meaning his statement in two different ways. He felt awkward standing before Jenirod, the man who had once been betrothed to Anjine.

Within an hour, the first group set off on the road heading south. Mateo risked one last glance back at Calay Castle high on its hill before facing forward once more and focusing his thoughts, and his heart, on the enemy ahead.

When Anjine awoke, she felt both wonderful and adrift. She found herself still in Mateo’s old quarters, but she didn’t see him. She whispered his name, hoping he would respond, but the room was silent. She was alone.

Sunlight seeped through the windows as the sun rose, and Anjine climbed out of bed. Her heart ached and thrummed with joy at the same time. She clung to her memories of the night, reliving each touch, every time Mateo had stroked her hair, kissed her lips. She could not imagine any sensation so wonderful, and she knew it would not have been the same with any other man she chose as her consort.