Disclaimer: I don't own Tin Man. I'm just borrowing the characters for my own twisted ends. :D
Recommended Listening: "Becoming a Geisha" from the Memoirs of a Geisha soundtrack, then the "Heart of Gold Montage" from the Firefly soundtrack for the last part of the chapter
"I can't believe you're going off on an adventure without me," DG said mournfully, folding a dress and shoving it into a saddlebag.
"It's not an adventure, Deej, it's business," Az laughed from her desk, holding a glowing hand over a crystal pendant. "That should be enough. What do you think?" She slipped it over her head. Sitting in her place was a dusky-skinned woman with black hair and black eyes. "I'll wear a head cloth. People will think I'm some dishonored Vedu bride."
"You've done your research," DG said with approval, testing the glamour with her own magic and finding it solid. "It will seem like some delicate diplomatic matter, which would explain the presence of Glitch, Raw, and Jeb."
The woman removed the crystal and the real Az was revealed. "I've added some small magic to the cord," she murmured. "It shouldn't tear or unravel, and the glamour itself is undetectable to other magic. It shouldn't leave any sort of power signature."
"You've really put some thought into this."
"Yes well, I don't want to get into any more trouble than I'm already in." Her laugh was slightly bitter.
"Neither do I." DG's hand went over the pendant as well. "Extra cloaking spells," she said, catching her sister's inquiring look. "I really wish I could go with you," she sighed.
"I think Mother would have a fit. Not to mention Mr. Cain. It would be too risky to have both of us out there. Mother wouldn't allow it unless we had the entire infantry along with us."
"There's that," DG admitted. She looked at her sister out of the corner of her eye. "You're more worried about Jeb than anything else," she guessed.
Az rubbed her forehead. "He hates me," she muttered.
DG winced. "I wouldn't say he hates you...he has reservations about you."
"That's putting it lightly." She got up and began to pace, her pale nightgown swirling around her legs. "I don't exactly blame him, Deej, but it makes it difficult to work with him. I'm trying so hard to prove myself, and I feel like the Riders are my chance. I feel like he's so determined to just keep believing that I'm the witch, that it makes it easier somehow." She collapsed on the bed. "I'm not her."
"I know you're not, Az." She strode over and seized her hand, the Light glowing brightly between them. "This proves it."
"I know. It's just…the more people doubt me, the more I doubt myself. I sometimes wonder if they see things that I can't…" her voice trailed off.
DG seized her chin and forced her to look at her. "Az, do you know what I see? I see my older sister, the one who always loved me and tried to protect me. I see someone who endured years of imprisonment yet was strong enough to hold on and take action when it mattered. I see someone intelligent, kind, caring, with a heart bigger than the entire Outer Zone. I want you to see that Azkadellia. If you see her, maybe others will too." She plopped on the bed.
Az squeezed her hand. "Thanks, Deej." Tears prickled at the corners of her eyes.
"Yeah well, you better remember that speech. It's patented now, Dr. Phil kind of stuff." At her sister's raised eyebrow, she was forced to explain just who the psychologist-turned-television personality was. The explanation then dragged on as she extolled on the not-quite virtues of daytime talk shows.
Eventually, Az spoke. "He sounds like a…fraud."
"Oh, he's a total hack!" The two dissolved into giggles.
"I'll miss you, Az. Be safe and come back, okay?"
"I promise, Deej."
The two fell asleep, still hand-in-hand.
The deception began the next morning. Maja, one of the few female members of the Gale Force, was disguised as Azkadellia thanks to another glamour. Maja slipped into the palace as Az slipped out. Maja's orders were to stay as isolated as possible to reduce the number of people who saw her, which was fine since Az was a solitary person by nature. Maja would simply keep to Az's rooms, venturing out every once and a while to take a turn about the garden or have dinner with her "family."
That afternoon, Azkadellia appeared at the palace gates as a Vedu princess. News spread that this princess had been kidnapped by a Longcoat and forced into marriage. With the return of the House of Gale and the defeat of the witch her husband had fled, leaving her behind. She gathered her belongings and now asked for the assistance of the Queen, from one royal to another.
So it was no surprise to the idle (or not so idle) observer that two days later the Vedu princess left the Northern Palace with Ambassador Raw, the Queen's Advisor, and a colonel of the Royal Army (who, it was rumored, wished to purchase Vedu horses). An alliance with the Vedu was something few countries managed to achieve, and it remained to be seen if it would be valuable.
The party of four struck west, as per Azkadellia's instructions. Their path would lead them through the northern portion of the Great Kells and across the Vinkus, straddling the border between the Thursk Desert and the Thousand Year Grasslands. From there, they would cross the border of the O.Z. into the Great Desert.
The group traveled swift and light, riding alongside the Gillikin River to the Northern Pass. They camped at the foot of the Great Kells, which climbed, purple and majestic, into the sky. The horses were watered and groomed, a task that was overseen by Az, before the camp was made. It was Glitch who cooked, testing a recipe for trail rations.
A packet of dried noodles, vegetables, and herbs was dropped into a pot of boiling water for a quick soup. Jeb caught a long-tailed hare as well, completing the meal. It was surprisingly good. The noodle packets, Jeb declared, would be perfect field rations for the Queen's Riders. Dinner was a mostly quiet affair, with Jeb and Glitch discussing further ideas for field rations. Az and Raw ate silently, keeping their thoughts to themselves.
"We need to decide who will take what watch," Jeb said briskly as they cleaned up after dinner. "Glitch, Raw, if you two could take two shifts along with me, we should-"
"I am perfectly capable of keeping watch, Commander Cain." Az's quiet voice sliced through the darkness. "There's no need for anyone here to take two shifts."
He blinked at her, and part of her mind observed that he had incredibly long eyelashes. "Your Highness, it is not necessary. You are not expected to keep watch." Nor do I want you to. The words unspoken hung in the air. She smiled wanly. Obviously, he believed that she would try to do something devious while they slept.
"I am part of this group, Commander Cain. I will do everything that is required of me, princess or not. I do not shirk my duties." Her gaze met his, glamour-made brown to jolting blue, over the fire. Glitch patted her knee and Raw rumbled approvingly. She felt her resolve strengthen in light of their support.
"Fine," Jeb said eventually. "In that case, Highness, I suggest you take the first shift. I will take the one after you."
"Raw can go before me," Glitch yawned, stretching lazily. "I'm a morning person, myself."
Az nodded. "Is everyone finished using the latrine? I will put up the protections." She got to her feet, unwinding the headscarf she'd worn all day.
Jeb stood as well, eying her warily. "What protections?"
"A protective barrier," she said, trying not to bristle. "No one will be able to see or hear us or get into the camp, but we will still be able to see and hear everything around us." She began walking a wide perimeter around the camp, making sure to give the horses plenty of room. She chanted softly under her breath, white fire falling from her fingers to mark the boundary in the soil. When she closed the circle, the fire sank into the ground.
The young commander walked over and put out his hand. His palm flattened against the air as though they were surrounded by a structure of glass. "This is good," was his grudging admission.
"I'm glad you approve," she muttered under her breath as she removed the crystal pendant from her neck. With no prying eyes or ears, she wanted to be herself. Her lips flattened into a bleak line when she saw the way Jeb's entire demeanor stiffened at the sight of her face. "You should all sleep." Her serene voice betrayed nothing.
Glitch was already crawling into his bedroll. "Night!" he said cheerfully.
Raw put a paw on her shoulder. "See Azkadee in morning."
"Goodnight, Glitch. Goodnight, Raw." She glanced over to where Jeb was bedding down. "Goodnight, Commander Cain." He grunted in response.
Az knew very well that he wasn't going to sleep during her shift. For once, she was grateful for his distrust. It was comforting to know that someone would be awake with her. She didn't quite trust the wilderness; it would be all too easy to hear the witch's voice on the wind with no other sounds to block it.
She sat down by the fire and began to write letters to DG and her parents. Tutor had shown them a simple sending spell that worked for light objects. The palace would not be lacking in reports and her family would have peace of mind.
When it finally came time to trade shifts with Jeb, Az all but collapsed in her bedroll, falling asleep the moment her head hit the pillow. As she slept, she dreamed – not of the witch, but of memories long past and long forgotten.
She wasn't going to sulk. Princesses did not sulk, especially at her age (an especially dignified thirteen annuals). Az plopped down at the spring behind the sheikh's scarlet attar, straining her ears to catch any information from the meeting. Her lower lip stuck out in indignation when she found she couldn't hear a thing.
It was infuriating that her mother wouldn't let her sit in on the diplomacy meetings with Sheikh Jaasir Abd al Ati of the Red Fox tribe and his advisors. There was nothing for her to do in this desert camp because no one would take her exploring and DG was back at home with Father. She missed them desperately.
Why couldn't she be there at her mother's side? She was sure that she could understand most of the things they were talking about. It was only two annuals before that her governess turned her over to Sir Ambrose's tutelage, stating that she had taught her all that she could. It was the perfect partnership: she loved the search for knowledge just as much as her mother's advisor. Just before their trip to the Vedu, he'd made sure to go over politics and foreign policy.
Besides, if she was going to be Queen one day, she needed to know how such things went.
But her mother had forbidden it, saying that it might offend the sheikh to have such a young child at such important meetings. They were treading on eggshells with the sheikh as it was – he only barely accommodated their request for an audience and negotiations for a possible alliance. At least, that's what Sir Ambrose told her.
It wasn't so bad, Az thought. Sir Ambrose would tell her everything later and they would discuss it together, looking for something that might help. He told her that she was an excellent problem solver and strategist – and that wasn't just because she beat him at a game of chess for the first time.
Az got to her feet, adjusting her headscarf. If she couldn't sit in on the higher politics of the Vedu, perhaps she could see the day-to-day politics, provided that she remained hidden and discreet. The Vedu were a fascinating people. They seemed cold and aloof, but she'd heard the sounds of their music and celebrations late into the night. They were a mystery, and she wanted to know more about them.
Movement from the attar caught her attention and she darted behind one of the many date palms that dotted the Red Rocks camp. A tall, lanky figure exited and strode down one of the paths. From the color of his scarf – a blood red that was so dark and rich that it was almost black – she knew it could only be Rajah Abd al Ati, the sheikh's only son.
She instantly started after him. The Vedu "prince" was a person of interest to her, and not just because he was so handsome.
She blushed. He really was handsome. His black eyes were sharp and piercing, his entire visage seemingly carved from marble. She'd found a romance novel in the library once and snorted at the descriptions, but if anyone had a noble brow, it was he. He was the very epitome of a romantic hero to a thirteen-year-old girl, especially since he was only four years older.
But that wasn't the only reason why she thought he was so interesting. He never spoke a word, but she was sure that he did what she had been trained to do – observe, and then report back to someone, perhaps an advisor or even his father. She had no doubt that beneath his silence was a mind to match her own.
This was the perfect opportunity to observe him more. She forgot all about watching others in the camp and followed after him, trailing him as he made his way down the path. Eventually, he came to a halt, where a groves of date palms cleared.
Az's eyes went round and she darted behind one of the palms. She'd never seen this part of the camp before – the trees must have been cleared for this area, which looked like a wide, grassy plain. The plain was filled with horses.
There were dozens and dozens of them, the most beautiful ones she'd ever seen. These were the Windrunners and the Cloudrunners, the horses that defined the Vedu as a people. She'd only seen a few in the camp, and never this close. Words could not describe the delight she felt as she stared at the creatures in front of her. It was easy to distinguish the two horses: the Windrunners were taller, more gracile and noble, their coats glossy and solid in color, ranging from white to black and every shade of brown, red, and gold in between. The Cloudrunners were shorter, stockier, and brightly patterned in all sorts of colors. However, both shone with the distinct fire and intelligence that epitomized a Vedu horse.
Now, Az loved her Quoxian, Mara. She had trained her herself. But Mara paled in comparison to these beauties that seemed to almost glitter with spirit and life. She was swamped with envy – she would give anything to ride a Vedu horse, especially one of the Windrunners. However, Outlanders were forbidden to ride them, according to some old tradition. She'd have to ask Sir Ambrose again. But a Cloudrunner – perhaps she could ask someone. The grooms back in the O.Z. were never going to believe this.
The prince – Rajah – strode into the clearing and whistled sharply. A blood-red bay stallion came galloping up. He tossed a saddle on its back and quickly buckled it before vaulting up. Az's eyes widened. He hadn't used stirrups – there were no stirrups with that saddle, or bridle. He said something in Vedu, but she was too far away to hear the command. However, she saw the way the stallion's sides rippled, his muscles tensing and bunching before he galloped off. She watched them go wistfully.
The trek through the Northern Pass was long and treacherous, as the area was known for banditry. Az's protections kept them safe at night, when they were in the most danger. There were several close calls, but Jeb guided the small party around bandit traps and camps. Eventually the Northern Pass gave way and they began the next leg of their journey across the Vinkus, land of the Winkies. It was Glitch's ancestral homeland, and he still had distant relatives that lived deep in the heart of the Thousand Year Grasslands.
Az spent much of the ride educating (and reeducating, in Glitch's case) the group on Vedu culture and etiquette.
"The Vedu have a very strict code of honor," she said one day. "One's honor, sharaf, is held sacred above all else. It is not easy to maintain and easily lost. Once lost, it is nearly impossible to get back."
"What does this code of honor entail?" Jeb asked.
"The usual virtues," she murmured. "Honesty, charity, respect, rectitude, loyalty, wisdom, hospitality…"
"I remember that!" Glitch said suddenly, startling his horse. Even though the two halves of his brain had been reunited and the zipper removed, the advisor wasn't quite whole. He no longer "glitched", but memories were tenuous, so he could not always recall the things he had once known. His personality often shifted between Glitch and Ambrose as the two sides of his brain struggled to reconnect. "Hospitality…they always serve you tea and you can never refuse. You can't refuse gifts either, because they'll be very offended."
Az nodded. "Yes, they regard hospitality and generosity very seriously. Within the tribes, everyone takes care of each other. In extreme cases they even take care of their enemies, providing them with food and shelter."
Jeb looked mildly derisive, a corner of his lip curling up in a smirk. "What is that, some skewed version of keeping friends close but enemies closer?"
"No." Az shook her head. "It's not about that. It's all about honor and treating everyone, even one's enemies, with respect."
"Then why are they so hostile to Outlanders? Why do they let so few of us go through their land?"
"Those are extreme cases, as I've said. And why should they treat Outlanders with respect when we barely extend them the same courtesy?" she asked angrily. "The Vedu have always been considered barbarians, but-"
"You forgot to mention courage, Azkadee," Glitch interrupted.
She glanced at the head case. He smiled back at her, all innocence. "Courage is one of the major components of the honor code," she said slowly. "I don't just mean plunging blindly into battle, though there is a time and place for that. It can also mean enduring great physical or mental pain. But for the Vedu, courage is knowing the danger to come, preparing for it, and seeing it through to the end, no matter what."
"Vedu intense people," was Raw's input.
She smiled. "Yes they are."
The ride to the border continued along that vein. Despite the week of travel in close company, the group's dynamic never really changed. Though Az never did anything suspicious, Jeb's doubts seemed to compound instead of abate, which affected everyone's mood. Az was alternately enraged, saddened, and homesick. Raw, who easily picked up her emotions, was moody. Even Glitch seemed more subdued.
The only one who seemed happy was Freeheart. The stallion grew more and more antsy with each day. It grew harder for the three Quoxians to keep up with him, and when he was not running, he danced impatiently and snorted often.
"What's wrong with your horse?" Jeb said irritably as they approached the border of the Great Desert. "Can't you control him?"
Az remained silent. She knew, as few people did, that Freeheart could smell the desert on the wind. He knew that he was coming home.
As was she, in a way. The desert was one of the few places that truly felt like home to her. Such was her awareness that she knew the exact moment they crossed the border into the desert. By this time, all three of her companions were sporting headscarves that blocked the relentless beat of the sun and the sting of the wind, protecting the face.
She removed the crystal pendant, slipping it into the pouch on her hip.
"What are you doing?" Jeb yelled over the wind. "People will see you."
"I don't need it anymore," was the simple reply. "And I will do the talking."
"To who?" he demanded. "There's nothing but desert all around us. How do you even know where-"
A particularly strong gust of wind that smelled of magic and spices blew up around them, stirring the sand into a miniature sandstorm. The four covered their faces.
When the sand settled, they found themselves confronted by four other riders. They were dressed in white, a sharp contrast to their swarthy skin and black eyes and hair. They wore long, wickedly curved swords on their hips, and their horses…
These were the Vedu Windrunners, the soul of the Tribes. They were built along strong, graceful lines, standing tall at sixteen to seventeen hands. Their bearing was noble, with heads and tails held high. Their entire frame spoke of strength, speed, and endurance. Their eyes gleamed with intelligence and fire. Each stallion – for they were stallions – was a different color. One was copper red, one pure white, one night black, and the last gleaming bronze.
Az thought she heard Jeb sigh with envy.
"Strangers, you trespass on Vedu land," said the rider of the bronze stallion in heavily accented Standard. "What business have you here?"
Az urged Freeheart closer, dropping his reins. "We mean no harm. We merely request a guide to the Red Fox tribe of the east."
"We do not open our camps to foreign devils, stranger." This came from the rider of the black stallion. "Who are you to demand this of us?"
"The rider of Freeheart demands this of you."
Az's companions stared. The border guards stared. For suddenly, it was plain to see what Freeheart truly was – a Windrunner, equal to any of the horses standing before him. Jeb wondered how he'd missed this. Freeheart really was something different.
"You dare," the black rider snarled. He drew his sword, pointing it at her. "You dare sully a soul of the Tribes with your tainted Outlander blood!"
Despite himself, Jeb tensed, his hand going to his pistol. Raw growled and Glitch tensed, ready to spring from his horse if need be. Az held up a hand. "No," she said, steeling herself. "I will handle this. Once, the Red Fox tribe called me Aesha, the sha'at sheba. Sheikh Jaasir gave both names to me." And Freeheart, she suspected, but she kept that to herself. "Who are you to deny me passage to him?"
She looked like a queen as she claimed that strange title. That thought hovered in the edges of Jeb's consciousness as he eyed the border guards. Somewhere between the Northern Palace and the edge of the desert, she'd transformed into someone else, someone completely different from the witch or the timid princess.
He didn't know what to make of it.
Please review!
I am so, so ecstatic at the response this story is getting. Each and every review makes my day. You're all so wonderful!
On a side note, I'm going to be making up words for the Vedu language, and I'll put the translations here, at the bottom of the chapter. Az's title, sha'at sheba, will be explained in the next chapter.
Attar - the largest style of a Vedu tent, reserved for the sheikh and his family. It is similar in construction to a very large Bedouin tent.