Sandstorm (58 page)

"It is a more clever opinion than many have offered me," Shahjahan replied, smiling. He looked at the ambassador. "What say you?"

"A much tidier resolution than what some have been screaming for," the ambassador said dryly. "Myself, I still am voting to throw the nuisance to the sea for the dragons to snack upon."

Shahjahan and several others laughed. Fahima watched a moment longer, as the King lightly touched the shoulder of Nandakumar, before he was diverted by a comment from another guest.

She looked back down at her wine, and wondered if she would be getting in trouble.

"My Lady," a cultured voice said gently.

Looking up, Fahima was startled to see Nandakumar was the speaker - and holding out a wine dish. She recognized the pale blue glass as being one of the King's many wine dishes.

"For a clever answer," Nandakumar replied, and slowly Fahima accepted it. "Morning Tide, which I do believe you will like."

"Thank you," Fahima said, nodding to Nandakumar, then turning to Shahjahan - who smiled at her briefly, but did not divert from his conversation.

She sipped at the wine, and found she did enjoy the bitterness of it. It suited her mood just fine.

*~*~*

She woke because Gulzar moved, and saw the glint of metal in the firelight even as her maid let out a startled yelp when she was thrown to the floor.

Fahima sat up, prepared to pull a dagger herself - then firelight bathed the back of their attacker.

Only one man in the kingdom had a back so boldly marked.

"Cease," she said sharply to both of them, for Gulzar had hardly ceased to struggle. "You are Beynum."

"Yes," Beynum replied. "Tell your minx I mean no harm."

Fahima threw back the blankets and went to her maid, holding Gulzar close. "Perhaps, Lord Beynum, you should not sneak into rooms where you aught not be."

Beynum laughed. "I assure you, I would rather be in my own bed at this moment."

"Why are you here?" Fahima asked, letting a calmed Gulzar go to fetch her robe, pulling it on and cinching it closed, then pinning up her long hair. Feeling a bit more presentable, she returned to the fire.

"My King sensed you had something more to say than that which you did when extending your sister's apologies."

Fahima drew a sharp breath. "Yes."

"Then come and speak your peace, where no unwelcome eyes or ears will impede," Beynum said.

"I do not trust this," Gulzar replied. "He is too sneaky."

Beynum merely looked at her, face implacable in the wavering light of the fire. "I would never harm my King," he said quietly. "Come, if you wish to have your say."

Fahima nodded. "Wait one moment for me to change." She kissed Gulzar briefly on the lips to reassure her all was well, then vanished into her dressing room. She panicked briefly over what to wear - what was appropriate for a clandestine meeting that would likely end in her family being executed? - before rolling her eyes and deciding on a simple morning wrap, dark brown and only minimally adorned in blue, green, and yellow. Tidying her hair up, she slipped on a pair of soft slippers and took a deep breath.

She wondered if her morning wrap was doomed to become an unpleasant pun. Grimacing at herself, she strode back out into the bedchamber.

Gulzar remained by the fire, dagger still out, glaring at Beynum - but she dropped the dagger as Fahima drew close, and embraced her tightly. "Will you come back, my Lady?" she asked softly.

Fahima kissed her, fighting nervous tears that would only weaken her position. "I will do my best, darling." One last kiss, then she turned and strode to Beynum.

Beynum grinned and lifted a strip of cloth, and before Fahima could protest her eyes were bound. Then her hand was taken in a grip surprisingly rough - calluses on a man she would not have expected to have them.

"What is the meaning of this?" she demanded.

"Secrecy," Beynum said. "None may know these passages but his Majesty and those of us who protect him. Now be silent, lest someone hear you."

Heart in her throat, Fahima allowed herself to be led along, smelling damp and dust, smoke from torches - then suddenly the chill gave way to warmth, and the blindfold about her eyes vanished.

Her breath caught in her throat as she saw Shahjahan sitting at a low table - dressed casually in dark cream robes, the high collar of it fastened only halfway. He sipped a cup of tea. "Lady Fahima," he said. "Please, do sit. I hope Beynum did not give you too much of a fright."

To his right Nandakumar snorted softly, glaring at Beynum.

Beynum merely laughed. "I think her maid was the one to give me a fright," he said cheerfully, sitting on Shah's left. "Interesting maid, to sleep with a dagger beneath her pillow."

Fahima sat at the place indicated, across from Shahjahan. "Gulzar spent many years on the streets before she was taken in by a woman who raised her more properly. Old habits are hard to break, and she holds me as dearly as I hold her."

Let them think what they wanted, that she would 'dally' with her maid - Gulzar was always there for her, and would be until the end.

Shahjahan merely smiled and offered her a cup of tea, which Fahima refused.

"Now, Lady Fahima, what is it you so badly wanted to tell me earlier this evening? Unless I have called you here for some misunderstanding."

Fahima shook her head. "No, Majesty. There is something I must tell you, though..." She shook her head again, and stared at her hands, hating the cowardice but dreading more the look she would see in his face. "My sister is with child, Majesty."

Silence fell, heavy and thick and cold. She heard someone start to speak, but the words were cut off before they could truly form.

"I see," Shahjahan said, and the coldness in his voice cut like a knife. "Your family has been attempting to make a fool of my family, of Tavamara. Why do you tell me this?"

"My family is scared," Fahima said, slowly looking up, and the awful closed look to his face was all that she had dreaded. "My sister told my parents of her stupidity too late, and now they know not what to do."

Shahjahan watched her. "So why are you here? I sense you do not do this at the bidding of your parents."

"No, Majesty," Fahima said quietly. "My parents do not know I know - my sister told me herself, only a few days ago. I have been trying to speak with you ever since. In her way, my sister is trying to right things - she knew I would tell you where my parents cannot."

"It is certainly a fine mess you have brought to me," Shahjahan said coolly, and Fahima barely kept from flinching. "You have brought me the problem; did you bring a solution as well?"

Fahima frowned. "Majesty, it was all I could do to convey to you we must speak. That was enough of a problem, I cannot solve everything."

"Your family is responsible for this," Shahjahan replied. "If they had but called matters off before they progressed this far, it would have been troublesome but not difficulty it has now become. All firmly believe that in a week's time I will announce that yes, I will take your sister to wife - all other potential brides and negotiations have been called off. A promising candidate from a foreign nation was turned away and to return to it now would be humiliating in the slightest.

"I know, Majesty," Fahima said, and indeed she did. "Yet the penalty for such a thing is execution - to execute my family for treating the royal throne so would solve the matter entirely. No one can blame the King for actions of fools, and executing us will banish the worst of any humiliation."

Shahjahan brows went up. "You speak so casually of the execution of your family."

"The law is the law, Majesty," Fahima replied. "No one is exempt from it."

"It seems to me," Nandakumar said suddenly, "that the easiest solution is merely to exchange one sister for another." He cast a pensive look upon her, then slid it to Shahjahan.

"No one would be surprised in the least if instead of the older sister, the King found himself enamored of the younger. You have already caused two scandals with the men taken into your harem, Majesty, I think the council half expects you to cause some sort of ruckus with your marriage."

Shahjahan smiled briefly. "I'm certain they have placed bets on what manner of headache I will cause them with it, as so far I have been quite obedient. You are right, Nanda, as always.

It is the best solution."

Fahima kept her expression calm, but only barely. Had she heard correctly? Surely not. She was not fit to be Queen - she had been planning to become a priestess!

"What say you, Lady Fahima?"

"What am I supposed to say, Majesty? No?" Fahima stood, fed up with the entire affair. "This entire time, I have had no choice in anything, and I see no choice now. So be it, I will be my sister's substitute. To spare my family and to serve my King and Tavamara."

The silence was both gratifying and infuriating.

"Allow me to escort you back-"

"I do not need your help," Fahima snapped, angry and miserable and it was only made worse because she could not quite say why she felt so - or maybe she did not want to say. "Three rights, two lefts, and I will be back in my own rooms. I bid you all good night, and thank my King for his unexpected mercy." She threw back the tapestry that hid the door to the secret passage, and vanished into the dark hallways beyond.

Any other time the knowledge that such secret passages existed would have fascinated and enthralled her - but now she could only focus on angrily scrubbing away her tears.

An exchange. A substitute. That's all she was. Merely the next best thing, for which Shahjahan must settle. Not best for Tavamara, not what anyone really wanted - she was merely what they must endure.

Leaving the secret passage, Fahima threw herself into Gulzar's waiting arms and cried until she at last fell asleep.

*~*~*

Fahima walked around numbly. Two days later and her misery had only increased. She kept expecting her usual resignation to assert itself, that she would accept and make the best of the situation.

After all, she was going to be Queen of Tavamara. She could take Gulzar into her harem, and have at least one friendly face. Finally she would be in a position to support the temples as much as she'd always wished. Her family would leave her in peace.

The easiest solution is merely to exchange one sister for another.

Rumors were already being whispered about the palace that the King seemed more interested in one sister than the other. Two days was all it had taken for Shahjahan to subtly but quickly begin to change things. In five more days, her fate would be sealed.

Bells tolled the hour and Fahima grimaced - dinner was six hours away, but she dreaded it.

Only a couple of days ago had been the night everything had fallen apart, but before that terrible meeting had been the dinner. The King had asked her a question, and expressed his pleasure over her answer by way of wine from one of his own dishes, handed to her by his concubine.

Though it had stirred her jealousy, the meager bit of attention when Shahjahan had no reason to give it had made her happy.

Now he spoke to her plenty, and encouraged her to try many wines and dishes...and all she could think was that such things were actually intended for her sister. He did not mean any of it for her.

She dodged a rowdy group of men in the market place and turned down a row that was filled with stalls selling finer things - jewels, expensive fabrics, incense, slightly more exotic foods."

She paused idly at a stall filled with jewelry, mostly hair pins, decorations for a head scarf or cloak, broaches.

A broach made to resemble a moon orchid caught her eye. Pink sapphire made up the petals, set in delicate silver. She picked it up and smiled briefly, wishing she could give in to such an indulgence.

Then she realized she was going to be Queen, and would be able to buy more jewels than she would know what to do with - and never would she have to go to the market for them. It should have been a smile-worthy thought, but instead it ruined the smile briefly drawn out by the moon-orchid broach. She set it back down.

"Does the pretty lady see something she likes?" the stall clerk asked.

Fahima looked up, and dredged up a laugh - it was not the merchant's fault she was in a bad mood, after all. "Much that I like, good sir, alas my father and beau both are too smart to give me money enough to buy such trinkets." She smiled. "Still, I am to be married. Perhaps I will convince my husband to spoil me."

"A wise husband always spoils his wife, especially one as beautiful as you - for beautiful women can have their pick of men, no?"

She laughed. "I'm afraid I did not get much choice in the matter, though certainly I could have no better beau." Beau, hah. She wondered if the gift for the bride from the King had already been chosen. Jewels to match her sister's pale eyes? Silks to compliment her skin? Some trinket she would adore?

With an effort she swallowed the choking bitterness, and returned to chatting lightly with the merchant until she could escape. Giving the orchid broach one last look, she finally moved on through the crowd, browsing aimlessly and generally avoiding life by losing herself in the chaos of the Tavamaran market.

If her parents knew she was here rather than at temple, they would either pass out or spend the rest of the night bellowing. Her sister would tell her horror stories of what befell a young woman who wandered alone in such a place - Fahima found that vastly entertaining.

Finally she heeded the chiming of the bells, for it would soon be dark and even she was not that reckless. Tucking away the tea she had purchased, as well as a charm for Gulzar to wear, she began to hurry back to the temple and her waiting palanquin.

Back in the palace, she ignored her parents and all but bolted for her room. Stripping quickly, she moved to the bath and settled into it, numbness growing as Gulzar helped her wash and dress, fixed her hair just so.

Gazing in the mirror, all Fahima saw was a pale imitation of her sister - a substitute. She wondered what the price difference between them would be, were they wares in the marketplace.