Harihn spent a good deal of time with the Mage, and in the course of their conversations, told her about the city-state of Taibeth, to which she had come. It was the capital city and northernmost outpost of the Khazalim, most of whom lived a nomadic life in the arid wilderness to the south of the great river valley, or dwelt jn scattered settlements to the west, farther up the river. “It is a difficult land,” he told her, “and the Khazalim are a difficult people—fierce, Warlike, and merciless to their enemies. My father is a good example of our race.”
With that, he went on to speak of his unhappy childhood. The Prince’s mother had been a princess of the Xandim, who lived far across the desert and were renowned for their legendary horses. She had been captured on a raid and wedded to Xiang, but her spirit had proved too proud and independent to suit the Khisu. When Harihn was a boy, Xiang had finally had his mother drowned in the river by assassins, claiming her death as an accident. Her son had spent his childhood roaming the Royal Palace, lonely and unloved, a constant victim of his father’s brutality. But the Khisu had never taken another Queen, and as sole royal heir, Harihn’s life had been preserved —until now.
Harihn, to Aurian’s dismay, refused to let go of the idea of somehow using Anvar to discredit the new Queen. “Truly,” he said, “your husband may yet prove to be a weapon for me against my royal father.”
“Now wait a minute,” Aurian broke in. “I’m not having Anvar put in danger because of this feud of yours.”
“Danger? Feud? Aurian, you do not understand.” The Prince leaned forward, his eyes intense. “Your husband is in the gravest of danger, if yet he lives. If the Khisu discovers the connection between this man and his new Khisihn, then Anvar’s life will not be worth a grain of sand. And what of the Khisihn herself? I saw her ruthlessness when she pleaded for your death. She would never leave your man alive to give away her secret! Nay, I must intensify the search at once. I would rather have this pawn in my hands as soon as possible, not only for your peace of mind and for my benefit, but for his own safety.”
Nonetheless, it was another four days before the search yielded .any results. Aurian, driven mad with impatience, had finally won the right to be allowed out of bed. Her persistence had worn down Harihn, the surgeon, and Shia, to the point where it had been decided that Bohan should carry her outside, and settle her on a comfortable chair in the lavish walled garden, with her injured Jeg propped up on a footstooJ. She was sternly forbidden to get to her feet, however, and the eunuch remained in constant attendance on her to see to her every need.
Well, it’s progress at least, Aurian thought glumly. At first she had badgered the Prince to remove those accursed bracelets and let her Heal herself, but he had told her that the secret of their unlocking had long been lost by the Khazalim. Besides, according to an ancient law, the freeing of a sorcerer within the bounds of the kingdom would result in all parties concerned being flayed alive. Though the Mage had grudgingly dropped the matter, it only served ’to increase her despair.
Aurian sat by the ormanental pool in the shade of a flowering tree, inwardly fuming. Shia, having utterly lost patience with her irascible friend, had taken herself off to sleep in the shade. The Mage was moodily shredding the waxy, perfumed, trumpetlike blossoms between her fingers and throwing the fragments into the pool, where they were instantly seized by the greedy golden carp—and just as instantly spat out again. But they kept trying, all the same. Stupid things, Aurian thought grouchily. You’d think they’d learn.
Just then Bohan, who had been sitting on the grass nearby, leapt to his feet at the sound of approaching footsteps, and hastily prostrated himself before his Prince, who came hurrying along the terrace, his face alight. “News, Aurian,” he cried. “I have news at last!”
Aurian tried to rise, but he pushed her gently down again into the chair. Pain lanced through her strapped ribs, but she ignored it. “Tell me!” she cried. Harihn dropped to the grass beside her, panting in the enervating heat, and poured two goblets of wine from the jug on the low table beside her. “We located the captain of the Corsair ship last night,” he said. “Naturally he was reluctant to admit to illegal trade in foreigners, but a brief sojourn in my dungeon soon changed that!” His eyes sparkled with a savage glee that Aurian found distasteful. Like father, like son, she thought. I ought to be more careful.
“It seems,” Harihn continued, “that he sold your Anvar to a notorious slave trader named Zahn. My men paid him a visit this morning. At first he denied all knowledge of the matter, but when offered a simple choice—a large bribe on the one hand, or a visit to his friend the captain in my dungeon on the other—he became most helpful. It is just as well,” he said, frowning. “Had I been forced to arrest Zahn, it would have attracted the Khisu’s attention. Zahn is his main source of slaves to build his summer palace. If my father had found out about your husband, things might have gone very badly for us all.”
“Never mind that,” Aurian prompted impatiently, not interested in any of this—a mistake, as she was later to discover. “Where is Anvar? What did you find out?”
“Try not to hope too much, Aurian.” Harihn’s face grew somber. “Zahn sold him to the work gangs building my father’s summer palace upriver. The Khisu only wants it finished, and cares not how many lives he wastes to gain his ends. I visited the place once. The brutality with which the slaves were treated made me sick.” He took hold of the Mage’s hand. “Aurian, your Anvar went there several weeks ago, and slaves die in that place like flies. And you Northerners have not the constitution for this climate. It is almost certain that he is dead, Lady.”
“No!” Seeing her stricken face, he went on quickly. “But I have readied a boat, and I will go myself, at once, to see.”
Instantly the old glint was back in Aurian’s eyes. “Good,” she said. “I thought I would have to talk you into it for a minute. How soon can we start?”
Harihn stared at her, taking in the strapping on her ribs that was visible through the gauzy white robe that she wore, the leg tightly swathed in bandages, and the left arm still in a sling to immobilize it as much as possible. Fading bruises lingered on her arms and her pallid face. “Aurian, you cannot go,” he told her firmly.^.
Aurian’s jaw tightened. “Would you care to wager on that, my Prince?”
At any other time, the journey upriver would have been very pleasant. Aurian and Harihn reclined on cushions beneath a shady canopy, the ever attentive Bohan fanning away the swarms of insects that hovered over the sluggish waters. Though Harihn had forsaken his extravagant royal barge for a plainer craft in order to attract as little attention as possible, there was an unmistakable air of luxury about the voyage. Fruit and wine had been provided, but the Mage was far too anxious to eat. She sat bolt upright, gazing upriver, willing the bargemen to row faster. Never in her life had she bitten her nails, but she was doing it now.
Harihn watched her, a frown on his face. “Aurian,” he said at last. “Must you fret so?”
“What do you think?” Aurian snapped. “How can I not fret when Anvar is suffering so badly? I blame myself for this.” Her voice was bitter.
“Aurian, what could you have done?” The Prince sat up and laid a soothing hand on her arm. “You take too much upon yourself. What’s done is done—remember how near you came to losing your own life. You might have turned your back on Anvar, as the Khisihn has done, but you did not. What more can you do? Whether we come in time or no, we will not come any quicker for your worrying.”
“I know,” Aurian said miserably. “I just can’t help it.”