The Black Orb Page 3

  Queen Lia had ruled the kingdom with an iron fist for close to five decades. Under her rule, Ashuliya had prospered. The coffers of the palace, some said, were filled to capacity, but the ordinary people suffered. Harsh taxation was strictly enforced, and the wealth it generated bled its way up to the Queen's coffers.

  Some said she was a witch who used dark magic to control her subjects. Others called her a greedy woman who used cunning to further her power. There was no agreement on how she had risen to the height of her power. Still, everyone agreed that her control was absolute and no one ever dared to cross her. Those few who did never returned to their families.

  "The city seems to have quadrupled in size since I last saw it," Bikkar said as he finished his inspection and sat next to Aria near the fire. It was spring, yet there was a chill to the night air.

  "When were you last here?" Aria said.

  Before answering, Bikkar opened his satchel and took out a lump of cheese and the few pears they had purchased from the last village they passed through. "Oh, it was a good six decades ago. Lia was not Queen then. Her father, King Jiblar ruled the Kingdom."

  Aria reassessed her estimate of his age. If he had visited Azmeer more than six decades ago, he must be at least seventy. He did not look a day over fifty.

  "Give me your hands," he said suddenly.

  Surprised, Aria put her hands forward. Taking them in his own, he turned them palm upwards.

  She snatched them away.

  "There's no use hiding them," he said, clearly unperturbed by her reaction. "I got a good look at them when you were predicting my future in your crystal ball at the fair." He handed her a pear. "Do you want to know why your hands are thus?"

  Frowning, Aria put the pear aside and turned her hands palms up.

  Bikkar wet a cloth from his water skin and washed her hands. When her skin was clean, they both inspected her palms. Both were unlined, perfectly smooth.

  Aria kept the peculiarity well-hidden. Most people found it astonishing. Once an old woman at a village had seen her hands and had forced her to eat red chilies to ward off the devil. Ever since, Aria kept her palms caked with dirt in public. It was better to be thought of as slovenly than as a reincarnation of the devil.

  "Never in my life before I'd the honor of meeting someone without lines on her hands," Bikkar said. There was an odd smile on his lips. "It is said that the lines of our palms determine our destiny. They represent our fate, which the Goddess has fixed for us."

  "So why I don't have any?" Aria whispered.

  "It is also said that one without lines of fate on her palms is one truly in control of her destiny. For you are blessed with a clean slate. You've the power within you to chart your own path. It is a gift from the Goddess, a rare gift indeed, for wouldn't we all like to be masters of our destiny? I saw your hands and I knew that you're the only one who can do the task I wish you to do." He spoke in a near whisper as he stared down at her smooth palms.

  Aria pulled her hands back. "What is it you want me to do?"

  He smiled. "You'll know soon enough. Let's get some sleep now. Tomorrow will be a busy day."

  Annoyed by his evasiveness, Aria ignored him until she fell asleep. The night passed by uneventfully, as every night had up until now, much to her relief. Aria's initial fears had proved to be groundless. Bikkar had not made a move on her; something she had expected once they were alone in the wilderness together. Now in his presence she felt comfortable, although the dragger hidden in a belt on her thigh did much to bolster her confidence.

  Now that they were in Akba, she felt closer to Marcus already. It would not be an easy task to get him out of the prison, but it was also not an impossible feat.

  For her brother, she would do anything.

  At dawn the next day, among the hustle and bustle of the caravans that were leaving the city gate, the two of them slipped inside the gates quite easily. Their horses they left at the stable outside the gate.

  "We'll need some information first," Bikkar said, as he scratched the stubble on his face. "We need to know where the prisoners have been taken. I think we should go to the nearest tavern. They're a good source of information."

  Aria snorted. "Wait here." After fixing the headband tight around her hair, she held a whispered conversation with one of the shop owners near the gate. She smiled coyly before leaving him, despite her heart sinking at what she'd learned.

  "The new prisoners were presented to the Queen yesterday morning," she told Bikkar. "Next week they'll be moved to the training barracks on the far side of the kingdom. For now they are in the dungeons under the palace. It is the Queen's sixtieth birthday and there are preparations for the celebration going on in the palace. That's why they aren't being moved now."

  If Marcus had already taken the fealty oath, would he be the same brother she knew? Or would he have changed already? She decided to cast aside her fears and concentrate on freeing him from the palace dungeons. Later she would deal with other issues.

  "What kind of preparations are going on in the palace?" Bikkar said.

  "Well, the man said that the palace vizier is looking for performers who can entertain the guests who will come for the celebrations." She nodded towards the shop owner. "Magicians, clowns, storytellers, performers, those kinds of people, I suppose."

  Bikkar stared at her. "That's a good way to get into the palace."

  "Is it? Ahh! I get it." Aria grinned at the thought. "You're clever. So what shall we be? A pair of storytellers? I can tell some good stories. How about fortune-tellers?"

  "I'll be a magician and you'll be my assistant," Bikkar said as they walked towards another set of gates. Akba was built in three concentric circles, the outer circle of streets contained the main trading markets, the inner circle contained the houses of the rich traders, healers and court officials and the innermost circle contained the Queen's palace, gardens and guard quarters.

  Insulted, Aria shook her head. "An assistant? It's not a status I'm happy with, you know. Why don't I be the magician instead?"

  "If you want to see your brother, you'll do as I say."

  "Fine," she huffed.

  Walking through the second set of gates, they entered the inner city. The streets here were cleaner, the houses bigger. Aria whistled as they passed a shop with yards of muslin and silk cloth spread on its floor. Two ladies sat on stools fingering the material and bargaining with the shop owner.

  "Perhaps, once we rescue Marcus, we could buy a few things for me. I didn't pack all my clothes, since we left in such a hurry," Aria said. "That silk looks expensive."

  She spied a gentleman standing on a street corner talking to another shop owner. "Hmmm, give me a moment." Gliding past Bikkar, she walked up to the man, stumbled, and dropped her satchel at his feet.

  "Oh, dear, pardon me." She looked up at him helplessly.

  He bent down as if in a trance and picked up her satchel. "It's my pleasure." He handed it to her.

  "Thank you, oh kind sir." Aria curtsied prettily. She brushed lightly against him as she walked away.

  Bikkar caught up with her in moments. "What was all that about?" He looked at her with narrowed eyes.

  "This is what it was about." Aria raised her hand and showed him the man's fat purse.

  Bikkar stared at her. Clearly he had not seen her dip her fingers, ever so lightly into the man's pocket as she brushed past him.

  She laughed at his bewildered expression. "Now will you let me be the magician?"

  "This...this is thievery," he sputtered.

  "And I'm a thief," Aria admitted. "Or did you not know it? Told you I wasn't a lady, didn't I?"

  "I'll go return this." He tried to snatch the purse from her hand.

  "Certainly not!"

  "How can you do this? Aren't you ashamed of yourself?"

  Aria stopped walking and pushed the purse deep into her satchel. "No. I'm not ashamed of what I do. It's how I earn my living. It was either that or become a harlot. People generally
don't give employment to young orphans. Marcus and I did what we could do to survive."

  "You could've done odd jobs. Maybe worked as a maid?"

  "Do you know how much that pays?" Aria placed her hands on her hips. "Not enough to live a decent life. So this is what I do. If you don't like it, go stuff yourself."

  "Do you have to talk like that?" He closed his eyes for a moment.

  "What is it that you've a problem with? My profession or my language? Well, allow me to clear this for you. You're not my minder, not my guardian, and certainly not my friend. So quit the lectures. You need me to do something for you and I need you to do something for me. That's all. Beyond that, what you do is none of my concern and what I do is none of yours. Understand?"

  Bikkar sighed. "Understood."

  "Good." Aria was not in the mood to hear his condemnation of her morals. If he could not deal with who she was and what she did for a living, that was his problem. Certainly, she did not need his approval. "Let's go."

  Moving through the cobbled streets, they soon reached the inner palace gate. The wall around the palace was three feet thick and twenty feet high. A battalion of guards was at the gate, checking everyone who requested entry into the inner premises. A queue of people stood outside the gates, waiting for entry. Aria and Bikkar joined the queue.

  "Why do you wish to enter the palace?" One of the guards asked when their turn came.

  Bikkar drew himself up. "I'm magician Hansik and this is my assistant Manya. We're here to show our talent to the Queen."

  "Write your name down." The guard thrust a paper and quill at him.

  Bikkar bent to write his name.

  The guard handed him a slip of paper. "Here, take it to the Grand Vizier Dilbaar. He's finalizing the entertainers for the big day."

  "Doesn't the grand vizier have more important tasks to do than to sit around and approve the entertainers?" Aria asked before she could help herself.

  The guard glared at her. "There's nothing more important than the Queen's birthday celebrations."

  "Of course, sir." Bikkar bowed his head. "My young assistant here is...a little slow. Please forgive her impudence. We'll take our leave now."

  He dragged Aria through the gate and into the courtyard. "That was stupid," he said. "Nothing's more vital to these people than the Queen's happiness and her well-being. Saying anything disloyal regarding the Queen can result in your head being on the chopping table. Do you understand?"

  "Fine," she replied, rolling her eyes.

  "Do you now understand the difference between fear and respect?" he asked, referring to their earlier conversation, as they crossed the paved courtyard and entered through another gate into the palace offices. "Perhaps it would be better if you didn't say anything from now until we leave the palace. I do wish to depart from here with all my limbs intact."

  Aria rolled her eyes again and resisted the temptation to stick her tongue out at him. "As you wish, sir."

  There was another queue at the main office. As they waited for their turn to demonstrate their talents, Aria looked around with interest. The Queen's palace was indeed grand. The main structure stood far away, separated by acres of gardens from the offices and the guards' quarters. The structure was built with red bricks and its roof was slanted with yellow shingles. At each corner of the roof was a huge statue of a lioness. Statues of lionesses also flanked the main palace gate where a contingent of guards stood at attention.

  "The lioness is a symbol of the Queen," Bikkar explained when Aria questioned him about the statues. "As the lioness is courageous in her ferocity, glorious in her beauty and proud in her agility, so is the Queen in all her magnificence."

  "Well-spoken, my friend." An oily voice broke through their conversation. "You seem to know a lot about Queen Lia."

  They both stared at the man dressed in silk green robes who stood in front of them. He was watching them with beady black eyes. His nose was crooked, Aria noticed, and his lips were thin. He was smiling but the smile did not quite reach his eyes.

  "Only what I've heard from others. I've never had the pleasure of gaining her audience, but stories regarding the Queen's glory and beauty abound in the kingdom." Bikkar bowed his head. "May I know with whom I've the honor of speaking?"

  "I'm the Grand Vizier Dilbaar." He looked down at them with the air of one who knew his own importance. "What brings you to the palace?"

  "I'm but a humble magician, sir, and wish to entertain the Queen with my magic on the auspicious day of her birthday," Bikkar said. "It's indeed a privilege for me to meet a man of your stature."

  "Indeed!" Dilbaar's smile held a hint of wickedness. "A magician, you say?"

  Aria noticed the rouged cheeks, the smoothness of his oily skin, the hint of color on his lips and his plucked eyebrows, and realized that the Grand Vizier was an eunuch. She had heard rumors that he had been made so by the Queen's father when he was just a boy.

  "Come with me." Dilbaar beckoned them to follow him. Taking them out of the queue, he entered a nearby office. Instead of stopping there, he waved the guards aside and, sliding a curtain aside, opened a door. Beyond was a smaller courtyard.

  Aria's hear skipped a beat when she realized they were now on the inner side of the offices, a step closer to Marcus. These were the private grounds of the palace. Huge gnarled trees provided a canopy of shade. The garden extended from beyond the courtyard to the palace that stood majestically behind.

  The Grand Vizier led them along a graveled pathway through the gardens lush with hibiscus and rose plants to a small side entrance. Two guards stood at attention there.

  The room they entered was large and spacious. A chandelier hung in the centre of the ceiling. Sparkling mirrors decorated the walls. The Grand Vizier went to the chair in the middle of this room and seated himself.

  "Well, now," he said. "You intrigue me. A magician, you said? I haven't had the pleasure of seeing one perform for decades. Why don't you show me a few of your magic tricks?"

  "Certainly, my lord." Bikkar motioned for Aria to stand aside. Taking off his satchels, she handed them to her. From the pocket of his robe, he pulled a green silk handkerchief.

  "Observe there is nothing under it." He flourished the handkerchief. As he waved his arm, from beneath the handkerchief, he brought out a red rose. "For you, my lord." He presented the flower to the Grand Vizier.

  "Well done!" Dilbaar applauded and accepted the rose.

  Bikkar raised his arms, brought them down quickly, and clapped his hands, making the handkerchief disappear. Next he produced a gold coin from his robes. He waved his hands in an intricate dance and the coin disappeared. Stepping over to Aria, he produced the coin from behind her ear. "Behold!"

  "Indeed!" approved the Grand Vizier.

  "And now, for a grand trick..." Bikkar bowed deeply.

  Before he could demonstrate his next trick, a guard entered. "My lord. The Queen has asked that you visit with her as soon as possible."

  The Grand Vizier stood and dismissed the guard. "Come with me," he told Bikkar and Aria. "You'll get to perform before the Queen right now. Let's hope your 'magic' pleases her or else..."

  Aria wondered what would happen if the Queen did not like Bikkar's simple tricks? Would she kick them out of the palace before they got a chance to search for Marcus?

  Or would they be thrown into prison for wasting her time? She was certainly not known for her mercy.

  Whatever happened, at least they knew the layout of the palace. Now, all they had to figure out was a way to gain entrance to the dungeons.

  It would not be an easy task--but for the safety of her brother, Aria was willing to risk anything.

  Chapter Four

  The three of them walked through the palace's corridors, passing huge rooms set on all sides, filled with intricately carved chests, mahogany tables and divans. Aria longed to take a closer look at the riches that were displayed everywhere--vases as tall as her, exquisite paintings adorning the walls, breathtaking m
urals decorating the ceilings--but the Grand Vizier did not give them time to pause and admire the beauty that surrounded them. Instead, he led them to a cavernous hall, empty save for a gilded throne set in the center, surrounded by chairs on three sides. The throne was empty.

  They passed through another door and entered a room in which six palace guards stood at attention. Slipping past a curtain, they walked into what was clearly one of the Queen's private rooms. The space was lit with candles held in tall, heavy wrought-iron stands along the walls. There were no windows, no sunlight streaming in. Against one wall was a divan, and reclining among many silken cushions was the Queen herself. Robed in a gown of ruby red, she was resplendent. The gold crown on her head was encrusted with diamonds, rubies and emeralds.

  "My Queen." The Grand Vizier bowed low.

  Bikkar followed suit. Aria dropped into a curtsey, humbled to be presented to the Queen. Was this really happening to her, she wondered? She'd never imagined that one day she would be in the presence of royalty. It was an overwhelming feeling.

  "It seems to me, Dilbaar, that the King of Liasgar has rejected our proposal." The Queen's voice was low and throaty. With a wave of her hand, she motioned for one of the guards to hand a papyrus roll to the Grand Vizier. "Your earlier suggestion that we not seek his alliance is now our only option."

  Dilbaar opened the roll and read, a frown on his smooth forehead. "We don't require any alliances, your majesty. Your army is strong enough to withstand any assault."

  "Hmmm...that is true." The Queen smoothed her gown with a white hand, weighed down by a ring, embedded with an emerald the size of a pigeon egg.

  Her beauty had not been described adequately, Aria realized. The Queen certainly did not look her age. At sixteen, she had ascended the throne. By that calculation, she was sixty-seven. The woman sitting on the divan looked to be no more than thirty. Her white skin glowed in the soft yellow light of the candles, her hair was still as black as a raven's feathers, her clear eyes, a piercing green, were outlined with kohl.