"And so she comes to us."
Asha looked up from where she was kneeling to stare at the feet of the King. Gold slippers on his feet, a deep, sonorous voice – the right kind of voice for a king, she thought. A commanding voice. Hearing this voice, it wasn't difficult to imagine the thousands of people who sang praises in his name. Her father moved to adjust his robe as he sat on the cushion. Men sit, women kneel, she remembered from her lessons.
"The other arrived from Azgabarah two days ago. I am sure that they will be close companions. So different though! I can see that immediately. Sit up, girl."
Asha looked up slowly to meet the eyes of the king, then dropped her gaze again as a mark of respect. She had seen enough. A curly beard over a torso that was still tightly muscled – that was evident from the neck of his robe that was open to just below his breastbone. He was perhaps forty years old, a few years older than her father. A handsome man, with large dark eyes and thick hair underneath a tall, jewelled turban. She could almost hear him appraising her.
"Yes the other is very different. She is a desert bloom, but you can see the spikes in the dark pools of her eyes. That one is very spirited. Yours is different – a year or two younger I fancy, she's more like a fruit – softer and more predictable perhaps."
Asha blazed silently with indignation. She noticed her father shifting nervously; wondering whether this was an indication of the king's displeasure. Her status as a Caged Bird was by no means secure – she could still be sent home with the scent of disgrace hanging about her.
"But very welcome all the same. And you may be sure that she will be well looked after and given the best education possible in all areas of court life."
"I realise and thank you Sire."
"Thank you Lord Yahdz. You and your daughter may retire for your farewells."
Asha and her father retreated backwards, bowing all the while until the curtains that separated the throne chamber from the rest of the Great Hall closed, hiding the King once again. Aids ushered them into an antechamber decorated in ivory and precious woods. Incense burned next to a water jug and goblets. Her father poured water for them both, putting the expensive ice in carefully with serrated tongs. He handed it to her as she sat carefully on a stool, and watched as she sipped it.
"This is our last minute together."
"Yes."
"I know that this cannot be easy for you. But it is your –"
"Duty. I know."
He laughed shortly, and put a hand to her cheek. It was still cold from the bucket of ice and the tongs. He left it there a moment too long, and a tear spilled over and trickled down her face, muddying the powder that lies there. He wiped this away and left a scar of wet powder across her cheek.
"This is not easy for you. And it's not easy for us either."
Liar, she thought. But she didn't believe herself. She could see his heart breaking as loudly as hers in his eyes.
"You will have many of your things with you. And letters can be exchanged between us, which is a blessing. We will write to you and you can write back to us. Remember that you have been chosen, and that your beauty is prized not only by your mother and I, but by the highest in the land."
"Should that satisfy me? Knowing that my beauty is the only thing that has brought me to the palace? Why can't I make my way to the palace in some other way?"
Her father looked puzzled "What other way is there for women? I don't understand what you mean. These are our last moments together, let us spend them better than this."
"Yes."
"Tell me what you feel. It is not often men ask women to be honest, and certainly you will not be asked to be so in the future."
Another tear rolled down her cheek, and this time he left it, accepting her unhappiness. It would speak more than she could, but she would try anyway.
"I feel betrayed. I feel lost. I feel disconnected. I feel robbed. This is everything that I feel. Yet I still feel love; for you and mother, and for the King and the gods and their laws. I know that my duty is to be above my feelings, but I can't separate how I feel and what I have been promised for."
He kissed her hand fiercely then. "This is what I expected. You are so sensitive and beautifully intelligent. The king is wrong about you. You are no fruit, flawless as you are. You are indeed a caged bird, and I am sorry for this."
More tears spilled over then "I love you both so much! I would tear down this palace for you both!"
"Hush. We love you with all our hearts. When it was announced that you were chosen; that was both the best day and the worst of our lives. Knowing the honour that attaches now to us is to be bought with you leaves the most bittersweet taste in our mouths."
She wished that he could draw her to him and take her back to her house and her cat and everything familiar. But instead he stooped for a kiss, and she did so lightly on his cheek near his ear. It left a faint red outline which was masked by the sweep of his long black hair as he stood back up.
"You cannot make us any more proud than we are. We will love you forever. Maybe one day you will return home to us."
She was grateful for his false promise. She knew it was impossibility, and that there was every chance that they might never speak again, but just to hear the idea of home lit a candle of love in her heart. On cue, an aide came into the room. Her father at once retained the lordly bearing that he had been trained in from birth. He bowed to her, gave her one longing glance and left. The aide watched him go, and then a secret door in the wall opened behind her. Asha froze – she did not like the idea of someone else listening to her and her father's conversation. In the doorway was a little fat man who watched her as a snake watches a mouse. But unlike a mouse she stared back into those little black eyes.
"Come here child." She rose and walked over to him, and even at her age she was an inch taller than him.
"Welcome to the palace. The passages within these walls are merely the means that the servants use so they are not present within the king's chambers. These tunnels run all over the palace, and you will use them so that you gain an air of mystery – this is essential for any concubine. You will be seen in one place and seen again in another almost instantly. Like that!" he snaps his fingers "You are not currently in the Palace of Caged Birds. To get there you may follow me."
Asha followed the man along the passages lit by fine iron lamps. The passages were hardly small; every so often they passed through halls where several flights of stairs met to access different parts of the palace. Finally they reached a new door that opened into a loggia a little like the one that surrounded her courtyard at home. But unlike her simple two story townhouse this one was built much more richly on four stories, and gardens and fountains filled the courtyard below.
"You see the analogy with a cage?" the man asked her "You can see that this square loggia around the courtyard is a marble and wood cage which holds our pretty birds. But they don't go out into the city, and they only leave their cage to go to other parts of the Palace for certain ceremonies and performances. I will show you to your apartment and then I must leave you."
As they walked around the loggia, Asha noticed that the different sides of the building had different names. There was the House of the Calligraphers, the House of the Blossoming Blooms, the House of the Beloveds, and each took up one side of the loggia, the rooms beyond comprising the houses. The fourth house was the last to which they arrived; the House of New Strings. The man took her to a door marked with a complicated set of letters that Asha hardly had time to read before she was ushered inside. "This is where you will live," said the man "I will send your new maid along immediately." And that was it. He shut the door and left her.
Asha looked around the room. It was a fairly large one, with a low central table and four seating cushions around it. Beautiful artwork and writing decorated the walls, and vases of flowers stood on delicate side tables. Two arches branched off into corridors, and as she stood there, wondering what to do, she heard someone coming from the right hand one.
In swept another girl, older and taller and strikingly different from her. This one had the slitted eyes and high cheekbones of the people from the east of the Kingdom, and her clothes were different – her robes were not patterned in red and gold and orange, but in blue and purple and black. The sleeves were different also, long and trailing rather than round and tied in at the wrist. Asha hadn't seen a Khishani person before, and the girl looked at her imperiously.
"Who are you? Are you a servant?" she sneered. Her voice sounded strange, although what she said was perfectly comprehensible.
"I am Asha Ghulgani; I am one of the Chosen Flowers of this year. Are you the other?"
"Oh. I did not expect that you would be here so soon."
Asha was confused. Traditional court etiquette said that it was impolite to carry on a conversation after a question until the question had been answered. The girl looked at her and sighed impatiently "Yes, I am the other. I am Bazan Duloszha. I arrived here several days ago."
"It is a pleasure to meet a fellow Flower," said Asha, bowing slightly. Her fellow Flower made a face.
"Do you know, my things still haven't arrived from Azgabarah yet. The camel train is lost in the desert, I shouldn't wonder. Where are you from?"
"I live in the capital. I expect my possessions will be arriving shortly."
"Oh. You're a local girl then."
"Yes. Where is Azgabarah?"
Asha already knew that, but it seemed polite to take an interest.
"Don't you know anything? Azgabarah is in the eastern-most province of the kingdom and borders the Khishani lands; my mother is a Khishani tribal princess."
"Do you like that?"
"My mother knows nothing! She knows nothing about tradition or ritual! She didn't understand why I was being chosen, she doesn't understand how much honour it brings to the family!"
"So does she mind that you have left?"
"I don't think she cares. At least my father knows what an honour it is. But my mother is just an ignorant barbarian. I'm tired of questions," Bazan said rudely "The left-hand suite is yours. I'm going to bed." She flounced out of the room and down her own corridor.
Asha was left in the room listening to Bazan's retreating footsteps. There was a pause as a door slammed, and then the one behind her opened. Two other girls of about eighteen or nineteen stood there, dressed in ordinary white robes and with their hair in a simple style.
"Good afternoon, Flower of the Most Perfect Garden. Are you Asha Ghulgani?"
"I am. Are you my maid?"
"I am indeed Flower. And this is the other Flower's maid."
"Ah," Asha addressed the other girl "Bazan has gone for a rest. I do not know whether she wants to be disturbed."
The girl bobbed a curtsey in thanks and retreated into the right hand passageway. The remaining maid took Asha's hand and led her to the left hand passage. "These are your apartments Flower. There are two bedrooms, a dressing room, a bathroom and a drawing room, all for your personal use. No one but you and I will come here unless by your invitation. This," said the girl, opening a door "is your bedroom. There are some robes in the adjacent dressing room for your use until your luggage arrives, although I gather that that shouldn't be too long. My bedroom is through that door," she said, pointing at a door on the other side of the room and bowing low "I am entirely at your service. My name is Hanami."
"Thank you Hamani. I shall take a moment to appreciate this. 'We must always take a moment to realise the perfection within it'." Asha quoted.
Hanami smiled. "I see my lady has been studying her Dalzeer. It would be excellent if every Flower were so studious." Asha felt that this was aimed at Bazan in particular. "I will leave you then."
The door closed carefully, and Asha looked at her surroundings – at the comfortable bed and low chest of drawers. There was a desk for writing letters and a pen stand and inkwell, and a scroll stand. There was space for the two compulsory musical instruments that every concubine must learn, and there were some beautiful paintings on the walls. But there were no windows, and this was what Asha missed most of all. For without even the breath of the wind and the kiss of the sunshine, she truly felt as if she was in a cage.
