Page 6 of Sands of Atonement

Eshe

Lajal, Brestan

There was a tiny tinge of guilt at the bottom of my stomach when I stole a chunk of dried meat from the merchant, but it was so far deep that I paid it no more attention. I stuffed another carrot into my cloak’s pocket before I left the outdoor market, altogether feeling morally satisfied with my finds.

I kept my hood low to hide my feminine face and kept my stride masculine enough to deceive lookers. I was tall enough for a woman not to question my… manhood, but short enough for a man to think I was just a boy. It was easy to hide behind a man’s mask, as all I had to do was embody three things: confidence, arrogance, and take as much space as possible—physically.

I found acting as a man was more dramatic than being a woman. It took more energy than I thought. Being a woman was easy. All you had to do was shut up and smile.

A man, much like what I just described, pulled his young wife, in a yellow cloak, to his side, speaking in hushed tones. Her golden hair was braided away from her face, and purple skin marred her pale cheek. I could see clearly from where I leaned against a nearby marble column. The woman winced from the pain.

I popped a walnut into my mouth and contemplated what it would feel like to kill someone. I’d never killed a person, but the thought of doing so didn’t bother me as much as I thought it should.

It must have been all the meditation I’d been practicing over the last eight years with Salazar. He thought it was necessary after the incident. What an interesting combination, meditation and fighting. Seeing situations as they were and not being consumed by emotions of “what if.”

Once, I meditated for an entire week in silence.

I stepped toward the man and his woman and chewed on another piece of walnut. It tasted like heaven if it were real to me. I hadn’t had much food since I left Merha, and my only companion for eight years, two days ago. The weather was changing and becoming warmer the farther I traveled south. Nearing the desert, I could feel it, and my skin crawled with anticipation.

Home.

I followed the couple through the busy market, just far enough to avoid any skepticism. People filled the streets, scattering about, bargaining for this or that, and shouting when their offers weren't accepted. Salazar was in charge of organizing these types of markets, allowing specific travelers and rejecting others.

We passed an old traveling merchant attempting to make a sale of his wooden dolls to a school of boys and their teacher.

The merchant pressed the wooden dolls into their palms.

“We’re too old for this!” a redheaded boy shouted, pushing the doll back.

“Ah, but these are special, you see? Here we have the Qahl of Zyriah and his Qahless, the first prince…” The merchant pressed each doll into each boy’s hands. “And the Princess of Zyriah.”

The youths murmured.

“Where are they now?” Curiosity killed the snake. Poor kid.

“The family…” The traveler eyed the teacher, who gave him a nod. “They died in a fire many years ago. An attack against the royals.”

I stopped to listen for a moment while keeping one eye on the husband ahead. Damn my curiosity. I shook my head at myself.

“And the princess?” the brown-eyed boy who held the princess doll asked.

“Her body was never found… It is buried deep where the stones of the palace crashed inward, and after the ashes fell on the earth, she was never recovered.”

Ohs were heard. A few boys stepped back in fear.

“You see why these dolls are not just any dolls? Having this doll”—the merchant pointed at the one holding the princess doll—“will keep her spirit from knocking at your door. She is a bitter spirit, you see. She was never buried properly. She will haunt you if you don’t⁠—”

The teacher stepped in, “You all should have learned this by now.” The teacher frowned at all of them, including the merchant. “Tell me, who can answer what happened that night?”

“I can!” A boy about fourteen raised his hand. The teacher nodded. “Tehara and Zyriah have been at war with each other for centuries through family feuds. Tehara’s rulers deceived Zyriah’s into thinking they would end the wars through a marriage between the princess and the first Prince of Tehara.”

My brows furrowed, and I narrowed my eyes at the teacher, who had clearly taught the boys the wrong version of the story. I picked Casimir. Well… at the end. But that was beside the point⁠—

The boy continued, “But it is known that Tehara deceived them the night of the Princess’s birthday and the announcement of the marriage and killed them all.”

“Who rules Zyriah now?” the teacher asked.

“When that fatal night happened, Zyriah’s general Sebastian took over during that time until now. They have a Qahl. No one has been able to prove who killed the family, so no war was waged against any of the suspected countries. The Qahl is known for his peaceful negotiations and has been given the name of Paziel, meaning peace, the Great Qahl of Zyriah.”