Chapter Ten: Yearning for Answers
Early the next day, Garsiv met with Asoka and soon the plan to flush out the spy was set in motion. Garsiv gathered a few of his uninjured men and set them out into the slums of Alamut. Holy city or not, they still had small pockets of the city where the local rift raft resided. They would wait until midday before ridding out into the city to create the distraction. The years of battle strategy and the countless victories under Garsiv's leadership gave them insight into every possible scenario of this secret attack, that was planned out. Garsiv left no room for error. After a devastating battle with the Hassansins, victory or not, and the several days of helplessness that followed, Garsiv was out for blood. He might not have the slightest clue on how to help his adoptive brother with his dark mood, but he had every intention of ridding the world of anyone that was in league with his treacherous uncle.
Tus was led to one of the highest temples located in the city. Unlike Garsiv, Tus took prayer very serious, a good habit that he had learned from his father. He was well aware that this trip to the temple frustrated his brother, as Garsiv did not bother to keep his thoughts to himself. But Tus knew that before he took any further actions, he needed to spend time in prayer and thought. This issue with Dastan was something the Crown Prince had never faced before, and he needed all the wisdom and guidance he could gather. As his father, the King, told him, he needed to listen to his own heart. And that was something he could only do during prayer. He would speak with the Princess and his younger brother only when he felt he had his thoughts in order.
It was on the second full day since they arrived in Alamut, that Dastan finally awoke. He slowly moved to the edge of the bed, looking out the opened window at the blue sky. He wondered if Garsiv had located the second spy that he had overheard them talking about. Dastan gingerly stood up, testing his weight on his right ankle. A small smile tugged on his lips as he felt no discomfort. He still might not be able to scale any buildings, but at least he could get around without any help. Dastan walked over to a small table by a closed window that held a platter of different assortments of fruit. Grabbing an apple, he opened the detailed carved shutters allowing the morning light fill the chambers.
Dastan leaned against the side of the window, the sun warming his back, and took a bite of the apple. Some of the juices trickled down his chin that he used the back of his hand to wipe it away. His eyes locked on to the leather sack that held the individual bags of gold coins. There were still many families that he needed to seek forgiveness from. Dastan set the half eaten apple on the window's ledge and walked across the room where the sack was located. He knew that it would not be long before Tus would want to head back home and no doubt make him come with them.
Without a second thought, Dastan got dressed, grabbed the sack long with the scroll with the names and headed out into the streets of Alamut. His memory took him to one of the homes that he had visited already, hoping that the widower would know where to find the next person on the list. Dastan was pretty sure that a city like Alamut, families of the army supported each other. He was sure he would find them.
Garsiv reclined on one of the many plush couches in the main hall, watching without much interest as the servants served the evening meal. The hunt for the second spy was too easy, as the traitor had already been captured. Garsiv was hoping that the hunt would have had lasted longer, for now he was once again left with nothing to do. His older brother was in a temple somewhere praying, while the other one slept, and here he was doing nothing but drinking. There was nothing more Garsiv despised than to be left idle when there was a problem to be solved. At the very least, the wine was good.
He lifted his goblet in the air and a young servant boy came and quickly filled it with more wine. A frustrating sigh escaped Garsiv as he understood, yet still did not like, Tus' need to think; to really think things over, important and delicate matters, especially since this whole disaster had been brought upon them by their own Uncle. He was a man of action and he knew that he would never want the crown of the Empire.
Garsiv looked at the dark red liquid and saw a small smirk in the reflection. Yes, he was the bronze, Tus the mind, and Dastan the heart. He felt his smile stiffening. His little brother had lost his heart and it all came down to Nizam. Garsiv needed someone to blame, and in his mind this whole madness started with his traitorous uncle yet the man's punishment had come too swiftly. His hand grasped the goblet tighter. Oh how he wished there were still men who were in league with Nizam, that way he could take his frustrations out on them.
Tus walked down the elegantly handcrafted hallway towards the guest room that Dastan was occupying. After spending the last day and a half in prayer and in thought, Tus felt the aggravation of Dastan's distance from him fade away. Something had really shaken his little brother to the point of isolation, and Tus realized that he needed to stop his frustration from growing on this matter. He would go talk with Dastan, and hopefully the young prince would finally open up to him. Tus did not want to more people to know about Dastan's plight, for respect of his brother's privacy, however the time of secrecy was now over. This was Dastan's last chance before Tus would go to Tamina and to whomever else who could help bring his brother back from this darkness.
The Crown Prince knocked on the door and waited a moment to see if Dastan would open the door, yet it did not happen. Tus opened the door expecting to see him still sleeping only to find the room without an occupant. He walked deeper into the room and noticed an apple sitting on the window's ledge. It had one huge bite taken out of it and the exposed inside was dark brown and tiny gnats flew all around it. Tus felt his frustration start to grow in him once again, but tried to remain calm about the fact that his brother, who had been dead to the world the last two days, was now gone from his room.
Tus quickly exited the room and headed straight for the main banquet hall. Maybe Dastan awoke and was finally hungry. On his way he spotted one of the servants that had been assigned to Dastan.
"Have you seen Prince Dastan?" Tus asked.
"Your majesty, I have not seen Prince Dastan since I had brought a platter of fruit to his chambers this morning."
Tus thought for a moment before giving orders to the servant "I want you to gather a few other men and search the rooftops for him."
Tus left without thought of possibly explaining that order a bit more clearly. The servant stood there for a moment confused. Prince Dastan seemed to be missing, yet Prince Tus wants him to search the roofs? The servants of Alamut were not as familiar with Dastan's habits as Nasaf's servants were.
The banquet hall was filling up with more people as night went on. Tus stood under one of the grand archways scanning the massive room for any signs of Dastan. This was the last place that his brother would be. The baths were completely empty, and the servant had reported that Dastan was not on the roofs. The young servant asked if he should check other places within the palace, but Tus waved him off. This was Dastan. He wouldn't be found in stables calmly brushing a horse's mane, or in the gardens sniffing the flowers, or in the libraries reading scrolls. It was official.
"Dastan is gone." Tus told Garsiv.
"What?" Garsiv exclaimed as he sat up from the couch and slammed his goblet on the table. He quickly stood up and expertly hid the fact that he felt the room spin from the countless number of wine glasses he had had.
Garsiv followed Tus out of the banquet hall in searched of not Dastan but Alamut's Princess. However the two brothers did not go far until they ran into Bis.
"Have you seen Dastan at all?" Tus asked his brother's best friend.
"I have not seen him since he left the baths the day we arrived here," Bis answered. Sadly he was all too familiar with the looks he was now getting.
Garsiv did not try to hide his inebriated frustrations. "Where in the jackals ass is Dastan!"
Bis thought for a moment, "He might be out in the streets of Alamut—"
"In bimani ast!"
"Garsiv!" Tus sternly said, silencing his hot-headed brother so that Bis may continue.
"Dastan has been visiting every family that had lost someone in the siege, asking for forgiveness and offering gold for compensation. He is trying to repair the damage that Nizam had caused to this city."
Tus ran a hand over his face, pinching the bridge of his nose as he let out a deep sigh. Why do you feel like you must fix everything by yourself, Dastan? "It is time we speak to Princess Tamina."
The sun was starting to set behind the Holy city as Dastan slowly maneuvered through the lower streets of Alamut, searching for the next house. He paused at a crossroad as he recalled the directions that the last widower gave him. His body screamed for rest. Every step caused pain from his ankle to shoot up his leg and his right shoulder was on fire and felt as if he still had the Hassansin's spikes imbedded in his arm. Taking a deep breath, he pushed himself to continue on. Turning left, he counted the homes until he reached the seventh door and knocked. It was a few moments until the wooden door creaked open reviling an old woman, who was no younger than seventy.
"I am Prince Dastan, son to King Sharaman of the Persian Empire, and I am here to offer my deepest regards to the loss you faced during our siege against your city."
The old woman studied his weary features, her lined face softened and a smile warmed her face. "Please, come in." She stepped aside and motioned in.
Dastan quietly walked inside and took notice of the simple layout of the one floor room. Despite its aged look, everything was clean and created a warmth ambiance. Dastan turned around and was taken aback at the compassion that filled the brown eyes that studied him.
"I have gold to offer you for compensation for your loss." He said as he went to untie the sack around his belt, suppressing a wince of pain from the movement. "I know it does not make up for-"
"How long since you've eaten?" She asked.
Dastan blinked back the confusion from her unexpected question. He was taken off guard that he answered truthfully. "I cannot remember."
"I'll make you something to eat," she said as she moved to the small corner that was her kitchen.
"It is a kind offer that I regret to refuse."
The old woman stopped and faced him. "You regret a great deal, don't you?" Her dark eyes pierced him. "Have a seat." She gestured to a wooden chair that matched a table that showed years of use, before she continued to make some food.
"You do not need to go through the trouble of making me food, I am not hungry and I have-"
A soft chuckle filled the room, "Well I am, and a noble young man, like yourself would not deny the chance to offer some company to a lonely old woman, now would you."
Dastan tried to come up with a response, but he could think of none. And there was something about this aged woman that he could not help but do what she said. With a sigh, he ran his hand through his hair and sank down at the table. He wouldn't admit it, but it felt good to sit down and get off his feet. There was silence that made Dastan feel almost uncomfortable, causing him to pick at the ends of the small cloth pouch that held the gold. However, soft humming came from the kitchen that chased away the awkward silence. The melody was a bit rough, as it came from an aged body, yet it was filled with such peace that Dastan could not help but get lost in it.
Tamina looked at the three men before her, taking in what Prince Tus had just reported to her. Her stomach twisted with the confirmation that something was terribly wrong with Dastan. The accounts from his two brothers and best friend strengthened her own observation of the Prince a few days ago. Since she had looked upon the broken man, Tamina had been trying to figure out what about that nonexistent past had been the trigger for this real turmoil and how to fix it.
She knew that the three Persian men were waiting for her to respond, to somehow give them the magic remedy to bring back the Dastan they all knew. But she knew that it was not that easy. Dastan is living between two timelines, lost in a sandstorm of time and it seems that he has buried his head in the sand like an ostrich. Until he lifts his head, all their calling would not get him to move. Tamina wished she knew more about the man she is to marry, in hopes that she could better understand him and help him. Yet these three men all shared a bond with Dastan that she hoped one day she would have as well.
It became apparent that there was only one thing that would save Dastan from this storm, and in order for that to happen, these three men of Persia would have to understand this type of storm.
"If you honestly desire to know what has caused this darkness upon Dastan, I will tell you. However," she added to stop the voices of each man as they were about to answer, "if word gets out, if anyone learns about this, I will kill you myself. This should not be taken lightly. What I will reveal to you all is something you will have to keep a secret for the rest of your lives. Your loved ones can never know. Not even your father, the King. This knowledge would be something you would have to forever live with. I don't expect an answer now. Truly think about these consequences and conditions. If you are still willing come morning, meet me in the high temple at first light tomorrow. There I will tell you what you need to know and how to help Prince Dastan."
Dastan's wondering mind was brought back to the room when the old woman placed a wooden bowl of heavy gruel in front of him. The aroma of the warm meal made his stomach growl. Dastan saw the smile as she pushed a basket towards him and uncovered the bread it held.
"Eat."
Dastan slowly grabbed a piece of bread, broke it and dipped a portion into the gruel. After one taste, he gave into his hunger. She filled a clay cup with wine and put it before him. When his bowl was empty, she filled it again, then sat down and watched him eat. She slowly ate the small portion that she had ladled out for herself. When she was finished, she noticed his empty bowl.
Her brow slightly rose as she smiled. "More? I have plenty."
Dastan shook his head. "Thank you, but I am fine." He said simply.
"Young man, you cannot fool an old woman. Although it looks like you got some of your color back from eating."
A small smile formed on his lips. "It was quite good. It has been many years since I had such a-"
"Simple meal?"
"I mean no offense. It brought me back to my childhood."
"Before you became a Prince of Persia?" The old woman laughed at his shocked expression. "When you are as old as I, you know a great deal."
Dastan put both hands around the clay cup on the table before him and stared at the dark wine.
"Tell me young prince, why are you seeking forgiveness from us?"
"My actions caused-"
"If the rumors around the city are true, it was your Uncle that convinced the Crown Prince to attack us. That it was you that found a way to breach our walls and end the battle quickly sparing thousands of lives. And that it was also you that stopped your brothers from taking control of our city and unveiled your Uncle's evil plot. Now why must one man carry this sin alone, when clearly he is not the one to be blamed for every single death? Unless you are holding onto this guilt so you do not have to feel something else. So tell me, what is really bothering you."
"How do you live with knowledge that you cannot share?"
"It's simple, you cannot." The woman said bluntly. "They fester like an infected wound that slowly spreads across your body. To heal you need a physician, correct? And to live with such a heavy secret you need at least one person to help carry it, maybe more."
"It is not that simple."
"I never said it was."
Dastan brought the cup to his lips and drank some wine before returning to his original position.
"Tell me, when was the last time you were all on your own? When there was not a single soul that you could go to for support."
"I don't know. Bis and I were close friends as long as I could remember."
"Then you were adoptive into a family with a loving father and two older brothers."
"I guess I have always had someone. I mean until-" Dastan caught himself before he could speak of the timeline. He looked at the old woman and noticed something in her brown eyes. It was like she knew what he was about to say. But that could not be possible.
"Then why are you trying to unravel yourself from a tight cord of love ones that have wrapped around you? Why are you letting thoughts orphan you?"
Dastan just stared uncomprehendingly at the old woman. How could such an old Alamutain, whom he had never met before, know so much about him? Was he so translucent that she could see straight through him?
"It is well known across the land, that the bond of family is something that the Persian Empire holds high. Your brothers trust you so deeply that your claims against your Uncle, claims against your own family, were not cast aside. Your older brother loved you more, for he took the life of a man that shared the same blood. Yet you distant yourself from him, distant yourself from those who love you, why?"
"Because I know how they would react. And it is better this way." Dastan stood up from the chair, leaving the small pouch of gold on the table. "Thank you for the meal." He turned and started to walk towards the door. He was about to open the wooden door but the woman's voice stopped him.
"No matter how much you might think you know the outcome, every situation is different. One tiny moment can change a person's view. It might look like events are the same, but they never are."
Dastan turned around and found that the old woman was standing right by him with a smile. She grabbed his hand and placed the small leather pouch in it. "The home you are looking for is on the right."
Without another word, the old woman walked back to the table to clean up the bowls. Dastan stared at the woman before slowly turning around and leaving the house. As he stood in the street, he looked back at the door wondering what just happened. Dastan glanced down the dust covered street to the row of homes that apparently had the correct home. His eyes moved up towards the star-studded sky, it was too late to visit anymore families, and with the conversation he just had, he was done speaking to anyone.
As Dastan made his way back to the palace, his thoughts were on what the old woman had spoken to him. Maybe she was right. Maybe he should give his brothers more credit.
'One tiny moment can change a person's view.' The woman's voice echoed in his mind.
Perhaps he should be more open to his brother's help rather than pushing them away. Why was he trying to go it alone? His fear of being alone had somehow caused him to feel like he had to be alone in order to not lose anyone.
A soft curse came from his lips from that last train of thought. It was so confusing that it sounded so ridicules to even himself. It made no sense, yet he was letting it happen. He collapsed on his bed, his mind too tired from trying to digest the old woman's words to come up with any answers to the many questions that plagued his mind.