The streets of Torlac were arranged in a neat grid, with the central street from the main gate built wide to allow wagons to pass in both directions. The town had escaped the battle mostly unscathed, leading Ella to believe the Hazarans' plan of attack must have relied largely on stealth. With their rediscovered lore enabling them to confuse the eyes, Ella's intuition told her the theory was probably correct.
With their swarthy skin, drab clothing and red, flat-topped hats, the Petryans were easily distinguishable from the darker Hazarans. Ella saw a Petryan carrying a broom shy away when a rider's path took the rider close to him. Ella hoped the Hazarans were being held in check and wondered what the prince's plans were. She hadn't seen a single woman among the desert warriors who guarded the gates and patrolled the streets — the Hazarans certainly didn't look like they were here to stay.
Still, the Petryan common-folk who walked the streets seemed to have recovered somewhat from the battle — either that, or they were still in shock. Ella was heartened to see some old Petryans smoking redleaf from long-stemmed pipes and veiled local women buying fruit and vegetables from one of the numerous markets. Whatever the tides of war, life went on.
Ella again looked at Shani, but her friend's expression was inscrutable.
Ashnar and his men led the three travellers from the market district through several wide streets to an expansive square. In the centre of the square, a great marble statue of a man had been toppled down. Ella raised an inquiring eyebrow at Shani.
"High Lord Haptut Alwar," Shani said.
Jehral moaned and shifted in his saddle, Ella again reached out to steady him. "He needs help," Ella said, frowning at Ashnar.
"No!" Jehral said, although his words were obviously an effort. "I need to see the prince."
A square, red-brick building opened its gates onto the square. From somewhere within the brick walls, a tall tower rose high above to dominate the square and the rest of the town. A dozen Hazarans stood guard, casually leaning on their scimitars.
"It's the old barracks — the biggest building in Torlac," Ashnar said, almost apologetically, looking at Jehral.
White-faced, Jehral straightened in his saddle, looking at Ashnar but not replying.
As they pulled up outside the gates Ella looked down at the guards from the height of her horse. Her eyes widened as she recognised a Hazaran: one of Prince Ilathor's men, a thick-set warrior who had taken an instant disliking to her.
"Rashine," Ashnar said, "look who it is."
Rashine looked them over, his eyes catching on Jehral. "Jehral!" He then saw Ella and frowned, before returning to Jehral. "What are you doing here?"
Jehral smiled weakly. "Salute, Rashine. Take us to Prince Ilathor. Please."
Rashine looked at Ella and Shani, finally tilting his head at Ashnar, who nodded.
"Jehral of Tarn Teharan, I will leave you here," said Ashnar.
"Thank you, Ashnar of Tarn Bohta," Jehral said.
Ella looked on with consternation as Jehral kicked his feet out of the stirrups, slipping off the side of his horse and wincing as he hit the ground.
"This is madness, Jehral," Shani said.
"Come on," Jehral said.
"You heard him," Rashine growled. He prodded Ella in the back as he and three other guards formed a barrier around them. Ella glared at him.
Jehral, Ella, and Shani were led into the massive building. It was more functional than beautiful, with sharp angles and bare walls. Dark-skinned men walked by in small groups, heads clustered together and wicked scimitars at their sides, and the sound of crashing steel could be heard echoing through the stone.
They were taken up a wide set of stairs, and Ella's concern grew when she saw how slowly Jehral took each step. Rashine and the other warriors ignored Jehral's plight — the proud man who was the prince's right hand would never accept assistance.
A second, narrower staircase took them higher still, and soon even Ella was feeling exhausted. Finally the staircase opened onto a landing, where two more guards stood outside a heavy wooden door. Ella realised they must be at the top of the tower.
"The prince cannot be disturbed," one of the guards said, holding up his hand.
Jehral sucked in his breath, and then with a bellow that Ella would never have expected him to be capable of, Jehral shouted.
"It's Jehral, Prince Ilathor of Tarn Teharan. You left me with the women at Agira Lahsa, but by the Lord of Fire, you'll see me now."
"Jehral?" the voice came through the door. "Enter and be welcome, my friend."
The desert warriors exchanged crooked smiles and one of the guards opened the door.
Prince Ilathor Shanti, son of the Kalif and war leader of the Hazaran desert tribes, stood looking out the open window of the chamber he'd chosen, high above the streets of Torlac, in the town's tallest structure. Ella followed his gaze, realising he was staring into the distance at the steaming waters of Lake Halapusa and the Petryan capital of Tlaxor centred at its heart. From every turret of the tiered city below, the teardrop and flame raj hada of Petrya flew tall and proud. The Petryans were far from conquered.