"That is good. Your coming here, it is a sign." His eyes gleamed. His voice was compelling. "It has always been my dream to see my people united, to see us come once more to our former glory. It is no chance that brought you here. Will you help us?"
Ella felt she was in unfamiliar waters. This man expected her to somehow rediscover their lost lore. How would such a thing be possible? There was a war going on. Her people were dying. She needed to renew the Lexicon. She needed to get away!
"If I help you, will you let me go? Will you guide me back to my people’s lands?"
"Yes, yes. Of course. So you will help us. Good, I am glad."
He called out, "Haruth!"
One of the guards poked his head inside the opening. "Yes, My Prince?"
"I need a messenger. Someone fast. Marhaba. Send him in, quickly now."
He turned back to Ella. She had no idea what was happening. "Now, tell me of your people."
"What do you want to know?"
"Is it true you are ruled by one man, a High Lord?"
"Yes. He administers our realm, along with our lords. He works closely with our High… with me. We trade our artefacts with other houses, and oversee the training and deployment of our armies."
"Salute! May I enter, My Prince?" a voice came from outside the tent.
"Enter," said the Prince.
A small, wiry man entered. He had a leather thong over his head, and a patch covered one eye. It gave him a rakish appearance.
"Marhaba, I need you to go to my father. Tell him, I need the prize. Can you remember that?"
"Yes, My Prince. You need the prize."
"Excellent. Thank you, Marhaba."
The man bowed and left the tent.
"Now, where were we?"
The Prince continued to ask Ella question after question about Altura and the other raja. She answered him as best she could. She found that although he knew little of life outside the desert, he had a quick intelligence. He probed her about intricate elements of court life, and she found herself having to think hard in order to respond. His voice was warm. She decided she liked him. He saw things in simple terms. He was candid, and expected others to be open in turn.
Eventually he asked her to leave.
"Jehral will fit you with a dwelling. It will be humble compared to what you are used to, I am afraid."
He had become quite impressed when she’d told him of the High Enchantress’s role in Altura. He seemed to think it was a form of nobility.
"I will summon you again, Evora Guinestor."
Ella nodded and stood, then went to the entrance of the tent, where one of the guards was holding the fabric open for her.
"Oh, and High Enchantress?" Ella turned. "My name is Ilathor Shanti. Prince Ilathor Shanti of Tarn Teharan."
Ella nodded again and left the tent.
49
With a guiding light, all obstacles can be overcome.
— The Evermen Cycles, 16-18
AMBER picked up a withered apple and turned it over. She thought about its juicy flesh. The sweet taste. There were two on the wooden table.
An old woman hobbled up to the table and picked up the second apple. She chomped on her gums and handed a coin to the vendor.
The same coin would have bought a dozen apples, not too long ago.
Amber reached into her apron for a coin. She felt a tugging at her elbow. A young boy, no older than seven, stood looking at her forlornly. He held a coin in his hand.
Sighing, she handed the boy the apple and moved on through the markets of the Poloplats.
As she did so she looked at her hands. They were blistered and calloused. Worn like her heart. Like her spirit.
She worked as an enchantress from an hour before dawn until sunset, and then she had a short break before she began work at the collective. This gave her just enough time to get some food for her and Igor’s supper. As a master, he was even busier than she was.
"Amber Samson!" she heard a voice. Turning, she saw Lorna Donwright, Enchanter Corlen’s wife, standing with her two young boys. Amber frowned when she heard the name. Her name. She still wasn’t used to the change. Her expression darkened even further when she saw that Lorna carried a bag of fresh vegetables. She even had a piece of meat!
"Lorna," she said.
"Well, how are you? You aren’t looking too well. Are you eating properly? You and Igor are always welcome at our table, you know that."
"I am fine, Lorna. Just fine. Just worried, that is all."
Lorna nodded with sympathy. Somehow rather than being kind, the gesture served to further irritate Amber.
"My Corlen, he said Igor left early today."
"He did?" Amber said.
"He said it was strange."
Amber shrugged. "I have to go, Lorna," she said. She didn’t have the energy to be polite.
She turned and left, hurrying from stall to stall, finally settling on some cabbages and two small rabbits some boys had caught.
She knew Igor would need a meal. She didn’t know how she could hate him on one hand, and on the other she tried to do her duty by him. There was also one other unresolved matter. Something she needed to talk to him about.
Trepidation like a stone in her stomach, she headed for home.
~