Rashine grunted. "Take her bag."
Ella held her breath. The Alturan Lexicon was in her satchel. So much had been lost to recover it, and she still desperately needed to renew it. Her thoughts constantly turned to Miro, imagining his armoursilk fading as some horrific creature impaled him with its sword.
"I’ll make sure the Prince gets it," Jehral finally said. He looked at Ella expectantly.
Ella gave Jehral the bag, at the same time pulling away from the big man’s grip and walking towards the tent on her own. As she stepped onto the carpet she looked down. She realised that what she had taken for yellow in the weave was actually gold thread. It had been woven through the highest-quality silk, shimmering and luxurious. Ella realised it was the finest carpet, better than any she had ever seen. The material lining the ropes of the tent was also real gold. It lent a strange combination of opulence and austerity to the surroundings.
The guards made way for her and she entered the tent.
It was surprisingly spacious. Ella could have lifted her arms above her head and still not touched the ceiling. The interior had been divided into smaller areas. Where she stood was the largest, with more private chambers to the sides and the rear. Cushions littered the corners of the room, along with low tables. The carpets lining the floor were even finer than those outside. With a start Ella realised the light came from nightlamps, the best quality, made by Alturan enchanters.
Ella breathed in through her nose. It was cool and comfortable. There was a pleasant odour to the air, sweet and pungent; ahead of her, she heard a strange gurgling sound. As her eyes adjusted to the soft light she saw the figure of a man leaning against some cushions, holding a piece of flexible hose to his lips. As she watched he removed the hose and exhaled a stream of blue smoke, an expression of pleasure on his face.
His face was beardless, his skin smooth and unblemished. He wore his hair very long, past his shoulders, tied back behind his head with a golden clasp. He wore an earring of amber and gold in his left ear and around his neck was a chain of gold with a curved turquoise triangle. With a shock, Ella realised he was her age, perhaps only a year older.
In front of him was a low table with cushions on the opposite side. He gestured. "Please, take a seat."
Ella wasn’t sure how to respond. He was a prince after all. She touched her fingers to her lips and forehead in the Alturan manner, bowing her head.
"It is my pleasure to meet you, Your Highness. I am Evora Guinestor, High Enchantress of Altura."
"Yes, yes. So Jehral tells me. Will you not sit down, young lady? Or are you preparing to enchant me?" he smiled.
Blushing, Ella sank to her knees, unfamiliar with how to seat herself on the cushions. She eventually settled. The Prince simply smiled.
He took another long draw on the hose, the bubbling sound coming from a glass vessel on the ground. He blew the smoke into the air.
"If you were a man, I would offer you the waterpipe," he said. He then shrugged, "But you are not a man."
Ella didn’t know how to respond.
He looked up at her, suddenly revealing a steady, intelligent gaze and piercing eyes, half-green and half-brown. Contrasting with his smooth dark skin, it gave him an exotic appearance. He was undeniably handsome.
"You see, women in our lands are not allowed to ride horses. They do not smoke, or curse, or fight."
"What are they allowed to do then?"
"They raise the family, teach the young ones, they feed and clothe us."
"Why are you telling me this? Will you let me go?"
He simply raised a finger. He did it with such aplomb, so used to authority was he, that Ella fell silent.
"Your people, we know they are very quick to talk. Quick to anger. My people prefer to think long and hard before we follow a particular path. Be patient, High Enchantress Evora, there is purpose to my dialogue."
He took another draw on the waterpipe. His chest rose, and then fell as he exhaled. He looked at her.
"Before the decay of our culture our women had another role. They were the custodians of our lore," he looked into the distance. "We raised storms to confuse our enemies. We led them over cliffs. Our horses came thundering out of nowhere. One moment, there was nothing. The next, a thousand, ten thousand riders came out of the dust," he sighed. "But that is no more. The in-fighting amongst the tribes has seen to that. Only a few women remember, and their knowledge is fragmented. Do you understand, High Enchantress Evora?"
"I… I think I do."