"I can't see anything from this stupid cowl," Elika complained sotto voce. "This kind of defeats the point of sightseeing."
Silence was the only answer she got.
"And I can't help but notice that you are relishing in my distress."
"I'm a sad, twisted shell of a man. What vexes you delights me, Princess," said the Prince with mock-humbleness.
He trailed a step behind her, on her right, each of them dressed for their roles. She wore a long, wide blue shawl (another addition to her mysteriously growing wardrobe) with zigzagging white lines on the back, and under it her finest (and once-again, brand new) linen blouse, bleached blinding white, and swishing, ankle-length skirts richly embroidered with multicolored geometric patterns on a green base.
While his lover's interest in clothes was at best passing, the Prince could not say the same about jewelry. She had a muted taste, but his thief's eye approved of the pieces she picked; they accentuated her beauty instead of distracting from it. Silver bracelets tinkled on her wrist, and a she wore an ivory choker carved with waves and whirls that reminded him of the patterns of her magic. Her shoulder-length hair was pinned up by a golden gazelle-clasp, hidden by her scarf. The jewelry all came from the last bag of his loot; the one he kept for "personal purposes".
Though in the past he used to spend more gold on carousing and less on house rental, it was a small comfort that at least some of his ill-gotten gains ended up on women. Well, one very specific woman.
When dressing in the morning he simply went for "clean," with "untorn" as a bonus objective. White linen shirt, check; dark linen pants, check; comfy leather sandals, check. Instead of his colored scarf, a simple ribbon held his hair together. The only distinctive feature was his-ever present sword, and the long scabbard it rested in.
They achieved the look they aimed for; a young noblewoman out on a stroll with her bodyguard. Richly dressed and well-adorned, but not outrageously so. Someone who could afford to pay the hefty "donation" asked at the gates to the Hanging Gardens, but not someone that is worth any extra attention.
"I could never imagine a place like this existed, so verdant, so bursting with life. A far cry from the gardens of the Royal Palace." True amazement rang in her voice, and its sincerity twisted the corners of the Prince's mouth upwards. These bursts of innocence, of wonder, were growing scarce as Elika sank deeper and deeper in the quagmire of duplicity and intrigue that was their lives, and that made them even more cherished. "This is what I imagine a jungle would look like."
"Far from it," said the Prince. "It started off as an imitation mountain-forest, but it turns out that high altitude trees don't deal well with the summer in Babylon, even if you water them plenty. Yeah, heads were lost on that one. So, the next head gardener switched to a more southern flora. If you want to hear more, you should ask Agastya about it. Though it's kind of a touchy subject; he has a long rant prepared about how the whole thing is completely unauthentic, and barely more than a hodgepodge of random plants from around the world that just happened to survive the local conditions, and he enjoys rattling it off immensely."
"I can imagine that."
"But I think the best way to realize that we haven't been magically transported thousands of miles south-east is the complete lack of exotic diseases, poisonous snakes, swarms of insects, and deadly heat." They stepped under another arch formed of creepers, and began the ascent to the next level of the terraces.
"I would not call this weather temperate by a long shot," said Elika, and pointedly wiped the thin film of sweat gathering on her forehead. She wore more clothes than she was used to, and while hiding her features at least partially was a necessity, the shawl was still an unwelcome burden under the noon sun. The free-flowing streams and small cascades that dotted the Hanging Gardens took the edge of the heat off, but out in the city it was oppressive.
"Not all of us had the luxury of a pocket kingdom with perfect microclimate while growing up."
Ignoring his remark, she asked, "So you have been to the jungle?"
He shook his head, even though he was walking behind her and couldn't see him. "No, I never made it to Aryan lands, or far upriver on the Nile. I have been all around the Babylonian and the Medean empires, and spent some time in Lower Egypt, visited the Phoenician city-states on the coast of the West Sea, but only heard stories of lands beyond."
"It's still amazing how much of the world you have seen." They continued to talk as they walked, now side-by-side in the relative intimacy of the Gardens. They crossed a small stream on a yellow brick bridge with a faience balustrade. The green lions stood proud on the pillars, their wings tucked away neatly on their backs.
The path led them in a great circle around the structure before it would take them to the next level. "Terraced Gardens" would have been a more appropriate name. Level after level rose, embedded in the side of a natural hill, and walking paths forced the visitors onto a prescribed route. Dark-barked trees grew all around, pruned and twisted into pleasing shapes by a small army of highly trained servants, but no shear could really tame the wild growth. Wrist-thick vines hang from above, and questing roots struggled to push up the bricks of the path. The sound of water running was ubiquitous, and the breeze carried a fine spray on it. The terraces were ten feet high each, and three layers rose above the walled gardens below. At carefully chosen spots small waterfalls carried the life-giving water to the lower levels. Stone benches, imported at great cost, were placed in strategic locations, and it was on one of these that the couple sat down to rest a spell.
"What's amazing is how much more is out there. For the traders of the Zhu, Agastya's homeland is only halfway to Babylon, and yet you see them on the market, peddling silk for twice its weight in gold. To the west, the Phoenicians found the end of the West Sea, a narrow strait, and sailed through it, into wilder, greener waters than anybody has ever seen." The unmasked excitement in his voice as he talked of distant lands was not unknown to Elika: he sounded exactly as she had once, and the way his eyes had glazed over, lost in imaginary vistas was hauntingly familiar from the complaints of her tutors.
"You would rush off to see them all, if you could, wouldn't you?"
"Walking through strange lands, meeting new people, and getting chased by them, that's the stuff of life."
"I've always dreamed of seeing what's out there, though admittedly my fantasies played on a much smaller scale than yours."
"Tell me more about these "fantasies" of yours, they sound intriguing," the Prince said, smirking.
"One track mind much?" she asked wryly.
"Like you are any better," he said.
"Wasn't saying that I am.' she smiled, 'But my dreams in the City were less carnal than they have been recently, before your vile, corrupting influence took hold in my soul. I had been a sweet, innocent girl back then, hoping to one day roam the wide world and see all its wonders."
"Good to know that we have a common hobby for when we will be done with Ahriman," the Prince remarked, and bit his lip at his blunder. Elika noticed, and chose not to go down that road; she wouldn't let their enemy cast a shadow on their last allotted rest-day.
"Oh, so I'm not just your end-of-the-world fling? Should I be planning long-term?" Elika asked coyly.
"I don't know how it could get any more long-term than "till the end of days and beyond"," the Prince pointed out, and Elika had no witty comeback for that.
They strolled for a while longer, Elika marveling at the richness of life around her, the likes of which she had never seen before, and the Prince watching Elika. They passed by others enjoying the gardens, couples and groups of friends, even a class of scribes listening to their master as he pointed at each plant and pressed the stylus into a tablet of wet clay, spelling their names.
But all good things must come to an end, and the tranquil gardens were rather limited in size; the path soon led them out to the North Highway, near the Royal Palace.
"Where to now?" asked Elika.
"Well…" began the Prince, scratching behind his ear. "I have taken the liberty of setting something up."
There was something in his tone that made butterflies flutter in Elika's stomach. She raised an eyebrow, prompting him to continue.
"Would you like me to lay out the evenings plans, reveal all my scheming, or would you rather be surprised?"
"You are actually giving me a choice?"
"Well, not really, because I'm pretty sure you will pick being surprised?" the tail of the sentence flicked, turning it into a question.
"And by explaining this to me, now I either have to admit that you know me too well, and allow you to blatantly manipulate me into doing what you want me to do, or I have to ruin the surprise. So, by your own twisted definition you win either way."
"Ah, you know me too well," he said, full of self-satisfaction.
"Damn you." she said.
"So, which will it be?" he asked.
"Just lead the way, will you? You, and your sick power games," she grumbled.
"As you wish, my Lady," he bowed, but there wasn't an ounce of respect in it.