Hatam-Ile, 2nd of Seventhmoon 3045
Sweat was pouring down Ren’i’s face in rivulets. He could tell the tunic had glued itself to his back under the breastplate. Heat was radiating off the metal, making him feel thoroughly uncomfortable, but he took it straight-backed and forced the same serene expression on his face that he’d carried for the past few months, though no one saw it beneath the helmet.
The Hytherlands sun beat down from a cloudless sky at a force that Ren’i and most of his soldiers had never experienced. Their water reserves had evaporated at a worrying pace after they’d replenished them in Meril-An, and the only riverbed they’d come across during their days of marching had been as dry and cracked as the clay-mixed soil under their feet.
They’d advanced slowly the last few leagues, passing the hottest hours of the day sheltering in their tents, journeying only during the cooler hours of the evening. The plains of Meril-An were, for the most part, a steppe lacking in trees with nothing to provide any shelter whatsoever from the sun, and the woods growing on the western side were a dense thicket, utterly unsuited for military units to pass through.
Dead ahead was a small forested area where low trees, weary from the drought, grew. There was still some of that much needed shade below them. Despite the heat the coniferous trees were fluffy with needles, and the leaf trees bore visible buds. The forest soil was a mix of red sand and clay, with no sign of any moss or undergrowth that Ren’i would have recognised. Behind the trees tall rock formations towered, reaching towards the sky like spires formed by wind and the seasons. Every now and then birds of prey circled above them.
Ren’i was not surprised to see that they were expected. Their messengers had spotted silhouettes of villages painted against the horizon just the night before, and if everything Ren’i had heard about akheri eyesight was true, they must have known about the army’s approach at least just as long.
He assessed the situation briefly. The akheris had assembled at the end of the plain, forming a single long rank, effectively blocking the way to the inhabited zone. Though they were armed, none of them wore armour or anything even resembling protective gear.
”Halt!” Ren’i shouted. He raised his hand in the air and stopped his koori. He heard the stomping of feet and cloven hooves behind him as the rest of the army followed the order regiment by regiment.
Ren’i dismounted as smoothly as his tired legs allowed. The Guard of Honour got down from their own steeds as if by command, and Ren’i gestured at captain Harm as soon as the man was on his feet.
”Take your positions,” Hamr ordered, the Guard taking their places immediately behind Ren’i. Hamr walked beside him, lowering his voice as they approached the akheris. ”Your orders, highness?”
In his mind Ren’i repeated the advice his father had given him while working on the fresh tattoo. Always listen more than you talk. Show respect towards local manners. Don’t question what you don’t immediately understand. Be humble, and don’t be afraid to apologise or correct misunderstandings. Better a weak agreement than a strong disagreement. He took a deep breath. He did not have Oerei’s experience or discretion, but he did know how to listen, and he would not disappoint his father.
”Stay alert, but do not take up arms. We must avoid violence at all costs.” Reni’s voice carried a hollow echo inside the helmet.
The captain grunted, but didn’t protest. ”What else?”
”I’ll leave reading the declaration to you. Let me handle the rest of the talking.”
”At your command, your highness.”
The akheris shifted restlessly as the soldiers dismounted. Hatam-Ileans glanced in the direction of their chief, but his mannerism remained as calm as ever.
”Here they come,” Ared said peacefully as the soldiers started marching towards them.
He watched the arrivals with a calculating, considering eye. Twenty tall soldiers in full Kishan style half-plate armour, as well as the commander, their face covered, marching ahead of the rest. The commander’s left arm was bare and patterned with tattoos. They could have stepped straight out of all the stories still told about demons of the ancient world. Sun gleamed off the metal, shining. The red cloak appeared dipped in blood.
The consuls waited on their kooris and kept the rest of the army under control, following the Guard of Honour with their eyes carefully. The akheris drew closer to one another and took a firmer grip of the few weapons they’d managed to gather – spears, bows, Om-Varian daggers and knives. Their numbers were no match for them, Hawk thought darkly, but the demons had better believe they were prepared to fight.
The akheris waited without uttering a word as the soldiers halted outside a shortbow’s range. Captain Hamr stepped forwards. He touched his throat, releasing his ashay with ease, and shouted in carrying tones, ”I have the honour of representing his imperial highness, the crown prince and heir to the ruby throne, Ren’i mar Oereinen!”
Even Ared tensed visibly when Ren’i pulled the helmet off his head and the akheris saw his face. Red hair, green eyes; the face, left otherwise pale by the long, northern winters, bore a faint olive undertone from the sun’s touch.
Hawk gripped his bow, knuckles white. So it was true; the man truly was the crown prince. This was no ordinary army if the demons had sent their imperial heir. Why, that he didn’t even dare to guess at, but it was clear as daylight that it boded ill for them. He stole a glance at Ared, but his attention was only on the prince.
Captain Hamr gathered his ashay once more, touched Ren’i’s armoured shoulder, and let the force flood into him.
”Who among you is the highest ranking leader?” the prince asked, gaze travelling across the akheri ranks. Though he spoke in a normal tone, the spell strenghtened it to carry effortlessly, reaching every listener present.
”I am,” Ared said and stepped forth, hands clearly visible. He carried no weapon, not even a knife. An akheri chief was never meant to raise a weapon, not even to protect his own life. He was short, skinny and dark; copper skin gleamed under the burning afternoon sun and the hair, black as night, had been fashioned into three long braids. ”My name is Ared. I am the chief of the city of Hatam-Ile, and the chief of chiefs among my people.”
Hawk gnashed his teeth. He could tell from the demon prince’s expression that he didn’t even see Ared’s three long braids, marking him chief, or the cloak hanging from one shoulder that bore Hatam-Ile’s colours.
”Easy,” Onniar muttered next to Hawk.
Ren’i bowed, both arms crossed over his chest. ”Chief of chiefs, this is a great honour to us. I bring with me the word and the will of the Kishan ruby throne, and I hope that you’re willing to listen.”
”And what does the empress of the ruby throne want to say to the people of the desert? Why have you brought your army to a land that has not raised its weapons against you?” Ared replied. He did not return the bow, and though his voice was calm Hawk could read tension into his words.
If the question had offended the prince, he didn’t show it in any form or manner.
”Our forces are not intended as a threat towards you, chief, but an enemy. We have not come to fight with your people, quite the opposite.”
Ared took his time considering the crowd of soldiers spread out on the plains. ”And yet there’s no denying the threat of war rides with you, my good prince. I find it hard to imagine that you’re here just on a friendly visit with a whole army at your heels.”
”Allow me to speak frankly. Our old enemy is gathering its forces in Seiye—”
”We know the Liqaris are coming,” Ared spoke over him.
Ren’i fell silent, just for a moment.
”Perhaps that is for the best. I’m not eager to be the harbinger of ill news.” He handed his helmet to Yurau, looking alert as she hovered on his left, and crossed his arms behind his back. ”For too long have the Hytherlands been left without imperial care and attention while bearing the heavy burden of fortifying the southern border. I have the great pleasure of bringing you a message of relief. Captain, if you please?”
He nodded at Hamr. Hundreds of eyes followed as the captain took out an envelope, unfolded a sheet of paper, and began to read out loud.
”’By the order of empress Ellerram the Fourth, Her Imperial Majesty, it shall be thus’,” he began. ”’The commander-in-chief of the imperial army, crown prince Ren’i mar Oereinen, shall from this moment onwards be named the steward of the region known as the Hytherlands, ranging from Meril-An to the Cape of Mists. He is to take command of the Hytherlands and fortify its southern border and its people against the threat posed by the enemy. Behind his banner you are to unite, his orders you are to obey as if they were my own. This is the will of the ruby throne and the bloodline of Quan’.”
No one moved a muscle. Ren’i schooled his expression to not waver as he answered Ared’s and his akheris’ stares, though he felt sweat pooling on his forehead and sticking his hair to the nape of his neck.
”I will say this just once, your highness,” Ared finally said, breaking the long silence. ”We obey the law of the desert, and the law of the desert is unambiguous. This land belongs to no one – not to us, nor to you. It can be claimed by none, not on grounds of any threat.”
”Chief, you don’t have the power to stop the Liqaris alone.”
”And you’d offer to protect us, wouldn’t you?” There was an unusually sarcastic echo to Ared’s voice, and the smile on his face did not quite reach his eyes.
”No. We can do it together, your people and mine. As proven by the amendment signed by the empress, anyone who wants to join is welcome among our ranks, regardless of heritage.” He gave Hamr a sign, and the captain pulled out another message from his pocket. He read the amendment to the listening akheris, and once he was finished Ren’i said, ”spread the word to every city and society in the region. We’ll train all volunteers to fight – make proper soldiers out of them. Together we have the strength to push the Liqaris back to Seiye permanently.”
That was too much. Hawk stepped forwards at once and drew his bow, the arrow pointed directly as Ren’i.
”Liar!” he yelled, disregarding Onniar’s hand on his shoulder, trying to pull him back. ”We know what you call us in the north. The war is just an excuse to wipe us off the map!”
”Hawk,” Ared said in warning tones. Slowly, Hawk lowered the bow, but he did not back up nor avert his gaze.
Ren’i’s attention shifted from Ared to Hawk, who was still glaring at him with unmasked hostility. He’d seen the same look in many crowds and felt the unbridled rage radiating off of them a countless times before. The worry and restlessness coming off the akheris was palpable – the same fear that Ren’i had witnessed in Hol Saro the day he’d read the amendment on the square had taken root in their eyes. It was reflected from every single one of them, with one exception. The bowman met his gaze with all the defiance of a warrior facing down an enemy on the battlefield, ready to fight, and there wasn’t an ounce of fear in him.
”Fight by our side if you wish. The choice is yours,” Ren’i spoke, meeting Hawk’s gaze unflinchingly. ”I have my orders and we will remain here to carry out our mission, regardless of what you decide. You may join us, leave peacefully, close your doors and stay at home, or get crushed between two armies. So long as you acknowledge the reality: a war is coming, and it will pass right through the Hytherlands, whether we want it or not.”
The silence stretched on while both parties awaited the other’s reaction, but no one dared to make the first move. Finally, Ared sighed and shook his head wearily.
”I can tell that you are exhausted from your long journey,” he told Ren’i. ”You may set up camp on the plains, but I’d ask for your consideration towards our people. Do not come too close to our homes and leave the wild game alone.”
”Would it be at all possible to discuss my proposal in more detail at a more suitable time?”
”The decision is too big for I alone to make here and now. As the chief of chiefs I speak for my people, but I do not have the mandate to choose for them on my own. The council of elders – that’s the highest governmental body in Hatam-Ile – must discuss the matter among themselves.”
”I understand,” Ren’i answered, and he truly meant it. ”I can direct the proposal to your council in person, if that is considered appropriate.”
”That depends on the will of the council. I can speak to them, but I cannot turn their heads if they’re not willing to listen.”
Ren’i nodded. He had seen the same dynamic play out between his father and the senate numerous times, and though he had a hunch that akheri politics differed from their Kishan counterpart, he was certain that the chief was being truthful. His father was a prince and therefore outranked the members of the senate, but that didn’t mean he could simply bend them to his will at his slightest whim. He had to do it like any other senator: through the means of diplomacy, bargaining skills, and sheer charisma.
”You know the customs of your people better than I do, chief, and I will do as you and your council say. I have not come here as a conqueror but as a negotiator, and I will prove it to you, if I just can.”
It was a clever little speech, and Ren’i was rather proud of himself. He’d listened to his father’s speeches all his life and tried to absorb even a hint of those talents himself.
He glanced at his Guards. ”Sava, you’re in charge. Make sure the soldiers stay at camp and leave the locals alone. We don’t want to scare their children or their game.” Then he looked back at Ared again and asked, ”honoured chief, is there a place nearby where we might refill our water supplies? We’ve not found running water since our departure from Meril-An.”
The words caused something in Ared’s expression to shift. A strangely amused glint appeared in his eyes. ”Do I understand correctly? You want to ask us for water, your highness?”
Ren’i nodded again. ”I’d be in your debt if you could aid us. Our current supplies won’t last for many more days, and this heat has proven a heavy burden.”
His words had a strange effect. Akheris all around Ared glanced at one another, whispering among themselves in low voices, every now and then peeking at their chief, then at Ren’i as if waiting for them to show some reaction.
”How peculiar,” Ared said, stroking at his perfectly smooth chin. ”This representative of the ruby throne is proving to have unusually good manners for a demon.” He clapped his hands twice and declared in a carrying voice to his listening citizens, his tone somewhat amused, ”as proven by all witnesses, the Kishan crown prince has asked the akheri people for water, and as we know there is no declining such a request. The law of the desert is the law of the akheri, and we share our water with those who ask for it, as we’ve always done.”
Nightsong and Hawk shared a stunned look. The whispering grew even more intense as they put their weapons down. They stared at Ren’i, who stared back with a questioning look on his face. He had a feeling the akheri chief was smirking at some private joke of his that he was not going to share with Ren’i.
Onniar scratched at his messy beard thoughtfully. ”Water, huh. Well, I guess that settles that.”
”They don’t even know what that means,” Hawk hissed at him.
Onniar shrugged. ”Whether they know or not doesn’t matter. Law’s law. Even demons need to drink.”
”The River of Mists flows behind Hatam-Ile. You may refill your containers there,” Ared told Ren’i in much more amiable tones as the crowd started dispersing. ”I’ll guide you to the city. You and your representatives may follow along. I’ll show you where you may fetch water without disturbing our citizens.”
Ren’i gesticulated at his captain. To his Guards he said, ”aid the captain and Sava in ensuring that everyone gets started on setting up camp. Yurau, Linnee, you two come with me.”
Hamr glared at the akheris suspiciously. ”I think we all ought to follow you, if you want my honest opinion.”
”They’re not going to hurt me.”
”You can’t trust these empty-bloods.”
”They have much more to lose than us, captain. If anything were to happen to me, they’d have our entire army breathing down their necks,” Ren’i reminded him.
He said it like a statement, without a hint of boasting, and as much as it disgusted him Hawk realised that the prince was right. He had no need to lie or feign self-confidence. He could be certain of his immunity, because the undeniable truth was that he was a smaller threat to them alive than dead.
The akheri crowd separated into smaller groups and set out through the thicket, each towards their own homes. Though some still watched the soldiers with mistrust, most of the unrest had vanished after Ared’s declaration, and most locals vacated the spot. Ared waited for Ren’i to finish giving orders to his soldiers, then waved for him to follow.
”Is your city far away, chief?” Ren’i asked as they began striding side by side down a path that took a sharp right, then went straight down the dusty hill.
Hawk followed them at a slight distance with Onniar, Nightsong and other Hatam-Ileans, noting immediately that the prince instinctively mimicked Ared’s pace. His two soldiers copied him in turn, marching to the same beat accompanied by the clanking of iron.
Ared smiled at Ren’i. ”You may call me Ared. Who shares our water also shares our names.”
Ren’i looked perplexed. ”Is that quite appropriate, sir? I wouldn’t want to offer you insult by doing something disrespectful.”
”You won’t. We don’t speak formally to anyone we know by name.”
Ren’i lowered his head to signal his understanding. The custom was strange and at odds with everything Kishans were raised to, but his father’s advice was still echoing in his mind. Don’t question what you don’t immediately understand. He was a stranger on their lands, and his customs were not theirs.
Ren’i chose his words with care when he at last replied, ”this is a great honour, Ared. My full name is Ren’i mar Oereinen, but you may call me just Ren’i.”
Yurau and Linnee exchanged frightened looks with each other. Though keeping one’s emotions in check at all times was part of Kishan manners, it was obvious to Hawk that their prince’s words had shaken the two soldiers.
”You seem surprised,” Ared said.
Ren’i finally dared to answer his smile. ”We are brought up to expect a certain level of formality. I’m afraid it’s rare for someone in my position to have the pleasure of being on a first name basis with anyone.”
”I hope you can forgive me if I’ve offended you somehow.”
”There’s nothing to forgive,” he said decisively, glancing at his soldiers from the corner of his eye. ”I have to admit I’m rather taken aback by your hospitality considering the circumstances, if that’s all right to say.”
It was Ared’s turn to look puzzled. He shared a look with Onniar and Nightsong, who looked just as confused as he did.
Ren’i coughed self-consciously. ”Apologies. I think I said something wrong.”
”Idiot,” Hawk burst out, and Ren’i turned to look at him. Below the dark, thick brows his eyes were hard and cold as stone. ”When you ask for water we can’t just decline.”
It had been a good idea to leave Hamr in the camp after all, Ren’i thought privately. He would have thrown a hissy fit at the man’s tone of voice, which ranked among one of the rudest Ren’i had ever heard. Which was saying a lot, considering he’d witnessed a most impressive scale of subcategories of rudeness whose existence had previously eluded him entirely when listening to the senate.
Ared sighed again. ”Calm down, Hawk. He doesn’t know our customs. Hawk here is trying to say that the law of the desert binds us, regardless of who it is that asks to share in our water.”
”I’m still not sure I understand,” Ren’i admitted.
”Those who ask for water are our guests and cannot be turned away. The desert is a ruthless place,” Ared said. ”No living creature can survive here without water or shade. We don’t turn away anyone who asks for them, be they friend or foe.”
Hawk showed no sign of having heard his chief’s words, but remained glued to his heels the whole journey, bow hanging from his shoulder in silent threat.
Hatam-Ile turned out to be much larger than Ren’i had expected, so large that it was rather a small city than a village. The gates were framed by stone statues, the streets criss-crossed between different neighbourhoods, and hundreds of sandstone houses in mixed hues of red and yellow seemed to form a loose circle around the great square and its tall buildings right at the centre of the city. Between the houses hung thick, colourful fabrics that cast shadows on the alleys and the streets.
The foundations of the houses were tall, the streets covered in cobblestones. The buildings looked as if they were growing straight from the soil, having stood there immobile since the very dawn of time. In many places the walls were smoothed by the touch of seasons. Few were taller than two stories, and their walls were sturdy, their windows tall, much taller than those of any houses in Hol Saro. Ren’i had pictured shacks and stick houses in his head, and felt shivers travelling down his spine as he walked after the akheris through the city’s narrow, zigzagging streets. Open windows and doorways were covered by thick swathes of cloth that swayed in the wind, beautifully dyed and skillfully embroidered with careful stiches, and he felt as if he’d stepped back in time.
The square was at least as big as the main square in Menushe, and it was lined with Hatam-Ile’s only properly tall buildings, which were, quite surprisingly, plainer than the ordinary houses. Wide stairs encircled the square on two sides, and after staring at them for a second Ren’i recognised them as stands of some design. The great tournament arena in Meril-An where his army had rested for a short time was encircled by something similar, though many times taller and cruder.
The square was not empty, even if the streets were. They were expected. In front of the tallest building stood some thirty akheris, whom Ren’i supposed were the elders Ared had mentioned. The name was fitting, and Ren’i couldn’t help staring at them. Their features were as varied as those of the taivashi, skin tones ranging anywhere from pitch black to the pale colour of sand, but the ears framing their faces were round and smaller than any taivashi ears. That wasn’t what he was staring at, however. The faces in the waiting crowd were creased, the hair of their heads gray with age. The taivashi did not age as other species did, rarely showing any external signs of age before reaching several thousand years in age. Despite their years the akheri elders carried themselves in a manner befitting any soldier, and even those whose eyes were dim with old age followed the movements of the approaching taivashi closely.
Ren’i straightened, already formulating a new speech in his head as he marched towards the elders. He jolted as if zapped by an electric current when Ared suddenly grabbed his arm and stopped him.
”Wait here. Guests are not allowed in the circle until the elders have learned their names,” he said and pointed at his feet. The cobblestones were gone. Enormous stone slabs had been set in the sandy soil, and on the slabs there were carvings; patterns and writing. The patterns seemed to form a circle around the entire square.
Ren’i did not react fast enough. In an instant Yurau and Linnee had unsheathed their swords and positioned themselves between Ren’i and Ared.
”Do not touch his highness!” Linnee yelled, her face red.
Hawk stepped in front of Ared just as quickly, bow drawn and arrow out of the quiver. Ren’i had trained Kishan bowmen himself, yet did not recall ever having seen anyone react so promptly. Hawk looked just as furious as the soldiers, and the mouth drawn into a snarl revealed a row of sharp teeth.
”One more move and it’ll be your last mistake,” he said between gritted teeth.
Ren’i stepped in front of his soldiers at once. He managed to shove Yurau and Linnee backwards.
”Put down your weapons, you two. Now!” he roared when the two didn’t obey instantly. They sheathed their swords, expressions speaking of reluctance, and Yurau didn’t take her eyes off Ared or Hawk as she backed off.
”Hawk,” Ared hissed sharply, and Hawk finally lowered his weapon, though just as reluctantly as the soldiers.
”I am so incredibly sorry, Ared. They don’t know your customs yet. I promise to see to it personally that this won’t happen again,” Ren’i said. The breastplate creaked as he bowed deeply, ignoring the fact that Hawk still stood between him and Ared. Linnee and Yurau bowed with him, looking unenthusiastic.
A thin akheri elder stepped out from the crowd and said, ”Ared, you have brought these nameless from the north in front of us. Why?”
The speaker was a tall, pale woman whose round akheri ears were clearly visible against her completely gray hair. It was obvious that she was very old. Her face was covered in creases and wrinkles, and a white, milky film covered her eyes, but there was nothing fumbling or uncertain in her movements. The gaze she fixed at the taivashi spoke volumes.
Ren’i backed off from the circle and gestured for Linnee and Yurau to follow his example.
”He has asked to share in our water,” Ared announced. The elders’ expressions tensed.
The woman’s face was still turned towards Ren’i, as if she could somehow see him. Ren’i had an unpleasant feeling that he stood under the scrutiny of some predator that could smell him leagues away, and remained as still as he could on pure instinct.
”The law of the desert is clear. He may share in our water,” the woman said. Though she was clearly addressing Ared, she did not turn towards for a moment. ”That’s not all, however. Many turns of Merenos have passed since the demonkin last defied the desert. Tell us, Ared, who is he and what has he come to demand of us?”
”The Kishan heir to the throne, Ren’i mar Oereinen, has given us his name, and approaches us with a proposition,” Ared answered. Some of the elders inhaled audibly. ”To fight alongside them as part of their army, so that we may repel the Liqari attack.”
”No way in hell,” one of the elders, a short man whose skin was the same coppery tone as Ared’s, shouted. He wasn’t the only one. Many others, too, yelled and muttered protests, but the woman standing in front of them silenced them with one sharp glare.
”Enough. The council shall address every request it receives with due professionalism, regardless of how dubious the request may be.”
”Be it as the council wills,” Ared said.
The look Hawk shot Ren’i’s way spoke in clear words that the council’s answer would likely not be in his favour. The council members turned and started heading towards a large, three-story building to leave. Their body language told Ren’i immediately that they deemed they’d heard enough, and signalled to all witnesses that they had been dismissed.
Ren’i took a deep breath. Oerei was a diplomat and a negotiator; his words had swayed the senate’s will many times in circumstances where it had seemed impossible. Ren’i couldn’t call himself his son should he let the opportunity get away from him so easily.
The old woman was already turning to leave with the others when Ren’i cleared his throat and spoke loudly. ”Respected elders, please wait just a moment!”
The look on Hawk’s face bore all the signs of a rising storm. Ren’i could tell from Ared’s expression that he was testing the boundaries of their newfound companionship, but he pushed it off his mind and stepped closer, careful to not cross the circle.
”The council will now assemble to discuss the matter, Ren’i mar Oereinen,” the woman said in tones that told him she did not tolerate others talking back to her. ”We have nothing to say until we’ve reached our decision.”
”I understand your point of view, respected and honoured elder,” Ren’i said. He wasn’t sure what form of address was proper among akheris, and found himself once again imitating the style his father favoured when speaking with senate members when they couldn’t reach an agreement in some dispute. ”If you’ll allow me to speak, I’ll present my case concisely to spare your time and my own.”
”This is not Hol Saro, and we are not the senate. We do not deal in threats or demands.” The woman was not smiling.
Ren’i went down on one knee, placed both hands across his chest, and bowed as deeply as his armour allowed. The sweat-dampened ponytail almost brushed against the dusty earth as he lowered his head.
”I bring you a proposal, not a threat,” he said, head rising. ”If you’ll allow your forces to join us, we will fight by your side and help you repel the Liqaris for good. Your warriors will be granted full upkeep and the same wages as any other soldier of the imperial army.”
”Sweet words with a bitter echo. We know what the imperial house does to those whom it cannot bend to its will. Who are you to promise us anything?”
”I am commander-in-chief of the imperial army, the empress’s voice and will. The blood of Quan’s line flows in my veins as surely as it flows in the empress’s,” Ren’i replied, back straight as an arrow, gaze unwavering. ”My word is the word of Kisha. That I vow upon my honour.”
He bowed again and did not get up.
The woman was silent for a long time. ”Here in the desert honour must be earned, princeling. None can demand it without proving his worth first.”
Ren’i kept his gaze on the ground. ”So let me prove it. Tell me what I have to do to earn my honour, and I’ll do it.”
When he dared to lift his head he saw the elders bent towards one another, discussing in low voices, much too faintly for him to make out a word. He waited patiently, kneeling, until the woman finally turned and addressed Ared.
”Ared, the choice is yours. Can you guarantee the sincerity of this nameless one?”
Ared looked pensive. ”He made the same request to me. He sent his bodyguards away, apart from these two, and entrusted his given name to me, though such is not the custom among his people.” He shrugged. ”Perhaps there’s deceit in his heart, perhaps there isn’t. If there is, he can hide it well.”
”Get up,” the woman said to Ren’i, and he did.
”Are you sure about this?” Ared asked him.
Ren’i nodded.
The woman spread her arms and spoke. There was a commanding tone to her voice that seemed to carry effortlessly from one end of the square to the other without any magic. ”The Kishan commander-in-chief has come to demand honour from the akheri people, and he is to seek his honour according to akheri law. The law of the akheri is the law of the desert, and the law of the desert is honour or shame.”
”What do I need to do?” Ren’i asked.
”Step inside the circle of nine moons. You’ve promised to earn your honour, and we will grant you an opportunity to prove you’re worthy of your words.” The woman’s tone told him she didn’t believe a word he’d said. ”These are our conditions: confront our chosen opponent as an equal, without trickery, weapons or magic, akheri against demon. All you may carry into the circle is your own strength, and with that alone you’ll confront your opponent’s strenght.”
Ren’i glanced at the sky, which was clear without a hint of clouds. His mouth felt as dry as the wasteland itself. ”Right now?”
”Right now.” The woman smiled coldly. ”Sun, drought and thirst don’t treat us any more gently than it treats you. Any volunteers?”
There was movement in the nearby houses’ windows as the locals pushed back curtains to see what the commotion was all about. Citizens had gathered on shadowy streets to watch.
Hawk stepped forward before anyone else had the chance to step forth, long black braid swinging behind him. Fire burned in his eyes when he said, ”I volunteer.”
”I thought you might,” Ared said, sighing. ”All right, then. No weapons, no equipment. You’ll confront each other in the circle, aided only by your own strenght and wits.”
Hawk lowered the bow and handed it to Onniar along with his quiver. Ren’i took off his gear piece by piece: pauldrons, couters, breastplate, poleyns. His sword and belt fell in the sand with a metallic clang. He pulled the armoured boots off his feet, and, after a glance at Hawk’s bare feet, took off even the sweaty socks he’d worn underneath. The sand and the stone slabs burned the soles of his feet, but the warm breeze felt a touch more comfortable without the heavy equipment.
”Rules demand the combatants be searched to ensure a fair fight. I’ll search you, Ren’i,” Ared said and continued, ”choose one of your soldiers.”
”Yurau,” Ren’i said, deciding not to provoke Linnee’s temperament any further.
He stood still with his arms spread as Ared patted him down lightly, ensuring that he wasn’t hiding anything underneath his clothing or the collar of his shirt. Yurau did the same to Hawk, the look on her face revealing that she’d rather be doing just about anything else. Hawk didn’t look any happier about the procedure while Yurau felt even his thick plait carefully.
Ren’i saw the quizzical look on Ared’s face and replied, ”a Kishan soldier has to suspect anything and everything. They say that even the tips of the 10th Age emperors’ hairpins were dipped in poison, and that a single stab was enough to kill an adult taivashi.”
The elders had taken their places on the stands while Onniar and Nightsong followed the situation from a shadowy corner of the square, looking concerned. When Yurau and Ared pronounced the combatants ready, the gray-haired woman sat down in the lowest row in front of the other elders.
”Step inside the circle once you’re ready,” she said and pointed at the pattern carved on the slabs.
Ren’i’s eyes went wide as he stepped closer and saw what the pattern depicted. What he’d taken for decorations turned out to be an enormous star chart. In its centre stood Melkem, the orbits of its moons forming a circle around it. Constellations and distant stars speckled the space between the moons and the planet.
Ren’i’s lips moved silently as he tried to decipher the names of the moons, fumbling. The writing was very old, much older than the characters used in modern Daqanese. Some of them resembled the current alphabet only distantly, and it took him some time to recognise them.
”There’s Quan,” he mumbled. ”Kauarin. Merenos. Naral and Onerin, who cannot be seen on the night sky.” He looked at the four moons whose names he couldn’t recognise and frowned.
Ared took his place in the seats, exactly in the middle of the elders, and straightened his cloak. The way he looked at Ren’i spoke in no uncertain terms that he knew exactly what Ren’i was thinking about. ”What your eyes see on the night sky isn’t everything there is in the universe. Perhaps one day you, too, will find all nine of Melkem’s companions.”
Ren’i felt goosebumps breaking out all over his skin. Suddenly, he felt small and insignificant, just a speck of dust in the desert wind. If he’d been an outsider in Hol Saro, it was nothing to what he was here.
Hawk strode inside the circle opposite of him, and it was only then that Ren’i really, properly looked at him for the first time. He was tall for an akheri, some centimetres taller than Ren’i himself. His skin was the same copper brown hue as Ared’s, and his long braid was lustrous and raven black, reaching all the way down to his lower back. He had high cheekbones and a strong hooked nose. He was undeniably handsome, or at least would have been had it not been for the pure hatred radiating off of him.
”Crown prince, huh,” Hawk hissed between gritted teeth. He seemed satisfied that Ren’i started at the sight of his sharp-edged teeth. ”Titles do not matter here.”
Ren’i couldn’t help smiling at his tone, not quite knowing why. The man would not make an easy opponent. The bare arms and loose-fitting, knee-length trousers were enough to reveal a strong body honed by a physical lifestyle, and he paced lightly, without making a sound, like a panther just waiting for a suitable moment to pounce at his prey. They revolved around one another inside the circle for several long moments, each measuring his adversary with his gaze.
Hawk saw the skin around Ren’i’s eyes creasing as he smiled, and realised he hated the man so much that bile churned inside his stomach. He’d never wanted to beat the smirk off someone’s face so badly – never, not from anyone, except him. He was everything Hawk despised down to his red hair, freckles and the damned pointy ears. Hawk dashed towards him suddenly, and Ren’i managed to avoid the assault only at the last second.
Hawk was fast and gave Ren’i no time to breath between kicks and punches, but he was forced to admit the prince wasn’t bad, not bad at all. He caught on to Hawk’s pace quickly and tried to keep him at an arm’s length, preventing Hawk from utilising his kicks as effectively. Ren’i’s movements may have lacked an akheri’s grace, but he read Hawk’s body language with ease, finding his weak points and striking at them without holding back.
Hawk dived under Ren’i’s arm and punched at his ribs, lightning-fast. Ren’i staggered backwards, but didn’t keel over. He found his balance again and pranced – there was no other way to describe it – outside of Hawk’s reach, laughing.
Hawk snarled out of frustration when Ren’i evaded him at the last moment and stepped aside, almost throwing him off balance. Their eyes met for an instant. One corner of Ren’i’s mouth sported a bruise and there was blood trickling down his nose, but he was smiling, smiling all the way to his eyes as though enjoying himself to the fullest.
”Not bad,” he laughed, breathless, and dodged Hawk’s fists with all the agility of a gaselle. Hawk parried his punch, then another, turned around and targeted another kick towards Ren’i’s ribs. Ren’i blocked the strike easily and backed away before he could try again.
The longer it went on, the more Ren’i realised he was in trouble. The long weeks on the road had pushed him to his limits physically, but he was not made for the merciless sun of the Hytherlands. In the cool northern air they might have been equals; here, he was forced to fight tooth and nail just to remain standing. He was breathing harder and harder by the minute, growing slower as he attempted to match Hawk’s attacks. His arms gleamed with sweat, palms so damp that he could barely grab a hold of his opponent, but Hawk wasn’t slowing down. He moved like the wind, just as quick and unpredictable, and Ren’i had no time to do more than spin around before Hawk had kicked him in the stomach and sent him flying on his back.
He lay sprawling on the ground, gasping for air for who knows how long, until Ared’s voice rang out.
”The match is over. Hawk, your victory.”
Ren’i could feel the result in his bones: he had nothing more to give. He wouldn’t have protested even if he’d managed to get his voice going. It was with some effort that he crawled back up to a sitting position, dusted off the worst dirt, and glanced at Hawk, who was still glaring down at him with contempt. A fresh bruise marred his face and his arms were just as covered in dust and scrapes as Ren’i’s, but he was barely out of breath.
Ren’i got to his knees laboriously, pressed both palms against his chest and bowed deeply, despite the movement aggravating the sore spot at his midriff.
”I admit my defeat. Congratulations.” He was completely serious when he said it, but Hawk’s face tensed. He threw one more withering look at Ren’i, turned at his heels, and stormed away without uttering a word.
Ared came to Ren’i’s aid and offered him a hand. Ren’i grabbed it and said as he got up, ”well, that about settled that, I guess. I haven’t gotten my ass kicked so thoroughly in a while.”
He made sure to avoid looking anywhere near Yurau and Linnee. It was embarrasing enough to get a beating in front of the entire akheri council like some rookie at his first practice, not to mention in front of his own soldiers. Hamr would spend the rest of the evening scolding him when the word spread, and it would spread soon, that much he could tell from the bursts of laughter from the akheris who’d gathered to watch on the streets and at the windows. He felt his visage turning red at the mere thought.
”Well, he might have won, but admitting one’s defeat isn’t completely without honour, either,” Ared said and smiled. ”All right, then. How about I show you where to fetch that water now?”