Author's note: I appreciate very much your reviews and I am grateful for your suggestions (because in this way I can improve my writing), but I would also appreciate if people paid more attention to the content rather than to the form of the story.
Perhaps it was wrong, but I thought it best to lay more emphasis on making the story accurate from every point of view (historical, mythological, linguistic and so forth) and develop a complex and believable story line.
Aside from that, the reason I intend to write excessive descriptions is that I want the reader to get the exact message and not leave room for misinterpretations. Nonetheless, I think you are right, Shian, and I will do my best to show instead of tell from now on.
Episode VIII : "Revelations"The woman took her time to recite the prayer using the proper intonation, as if this were a condition for whatever magic she was doing, to be efficient. When she finished, she slowly moved her hands away from her chest and brought them over the Prince's chest, holding them very close to his skin but without actually touching him. He watched her stay like this, with her eyes closed, for a short while, when all of a sudden he realized his pain had disappeared almost entirely. He found this quite odd and wondered whether it was because she had truly used some magic on him, or because he just forgot about the pain as he watched her intriguing ritual.
Then, the woman moved her palms above his wound and picked up the needle that had remained attached to the Prince's flesh, through the sawing thread, after he had abandoned his attempt to close his wound. She opened her eyes and with great care, she proceeded in finishing what he had begun. However, hardly had she pierced his skin with the needle, when he let out a short cry of pain.
"I'm sorry," she quickly apologized, sounding as if she was afraid not to be punished for her deed.
Once again she underwent a change of personality and the confident and defiant woman she had been before, turned into a frightened, shy girl. Strange as it may seem, it was the way in which she apologized that puzzled the Prince this time. He did not know when or where, but he had a strong feeling that he had heard the same voice before –for the woman's voice had been milder than usual when she apologized–, speaking the same words and displaying the exact same gestures. For the first time, he had a strange feeling of deja vu in the presence of this woman and yet her face appeared thoroughly unfamiliar to him. Realizing what she had just said, the woman understood his surprised stare, but unlike him, she knew exactly where he had heard those words before, and in a matter of seconds, memories of one of the most unpleasant events of her life flashed through her mind.
Six years ago …
There was a great feast at the royal palace of Babylon, as king Sharaman was celebrating his anticipated victory over the Indian kingdom he was planning to invade. The large dinning hall of the palace was crowded with a great variety of people: noblemen, men who held high positions at the court, foreign guests, slaves who performed various forms of entertainment and servants who were constantly refilling the tables with new delicacies. The king stood, of course, at a separate table, accompanied by his four sons. The Prince and his oldest brother stood on the king's right and the other two brothers on his left. Before the five members of the royal Persian family stood, at the opposite side of the table, five of the most important people in the kingdom, including general Markug.
Near the servants' entrance, an eighteen year old girl, holding a tray with several goblets filled with wine was looking frightened around, not having the courage to do what she was suppose to do. She was wearing an ankle long gray dress with multiple stripes in shades of red, blue and green. The dress made of a ragged material was quite loose, with long sleeves and almost no neck opening. She also wore a pair of worn-out leather sandals and a cream-colored veil that covered her black hair, which fell past her waist. Though she had pretty features, she did not know how to take care of herself and at a first look she could be mistaken for less than a slave, who were taken care of by their masters.
"Go on, don't be frightened," a plump and short, elderly woman, wearing more elegant servant's clothes and a veil over her head, urged the girl from behind. "This is your chance to prove that you can do much more than scrubbing floors. Come on, isn't this what you've wanted?"
"Yes, but I'm afraid. What if I do something wrong?" the girl asked shaking.
"Nonsense, you're a very bright girl. You'll do fine."
The woman gently pushed the girl and she started moving towards the king's table, trying to smile and ignore the mocking smirks of the more attractive and well-dressed servant girls. The girl walked slowly across the crowded hall, careful not to make a wrong move, as some strings of hair were hanging loose from under the veil, dropping right over her eyes and preventing her from clearly see where she was going. When she finally arrived at the king's table, she calculated her every move so that nothing could go wrong and with small steps she slowly approached, her heart almost bursting out from her chest. But faith is always cruel with the most wretched of all creatures and just as she was about to lay the tray on the table, her foot accidentally slid under the carpet beneath the table. This made her trip and drop the tray, which fell with a great thud on the table and the content of the goblets spilled in every direction, but mostly over the white outfit of the oldest prince.
"I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry," she repeatedly apologized, almost crying and trembling with fear.
"What is wrong with you?" the Prince shouted, jumping from his seat the minute the wine started flowing across the table, in his direction.
The girl did not dear to look at him and kept her head bowed the whole time, while she apologized between sobs and tears, as she attempted to clean the mess she had made. Even though, to her surprise, the oldest prince, whose clothes she had ruined, proved to be most kind and offered to help her clean up, the king took the side of his youngest son.
"Take this clumsy woman out of here immediately," he commanded and the girl looked alarmed behind her to see two brutal looking guards approach her.
"Your Majesty, please, this is all my fault ……," the elderly woman rapidly intervened, but the girl could not hear what the woman was saying, the only sounds that rang violently in her ears being the deafening laughs of both guests and servants. The next moment she found herself dragged out of the room by the woman, after the king had considered the subject too meaningless to give it further importance.
Present time …
"Is something the matter?" the woman finally asked, seeing how the Prince had been staring at her for quite a while.
"What the hell was that?" he demanded, remembering what had determined him to cry out in the first place.
"What do you mean?"
"The pain. What's with the pain?"
"Well, one usually feels pain when a sharp object pierces one's flesh."
"Then all the babbling from before was for nothing?"
"You though I was casting spells that would heal you at the snap of a finger?"
"Give me that, you're wasting my time," he demanded the needle from her.
"Lay down," she commanded, pushing him back as he tried to raise from the pillows, "What I did earlier was not in vain. You will notice the effect later on."
"And what if I don't?"
"You will, if you have faith."
"Faith in what?"
"You do not have faith in anything in your life?"
"I have faith in my sword."
"Well …… the gods are, nonetheless, merciful …… with any mortal."
Turning her attention back on the Prince's wound, the woman picked up the needle and was about to finish closing his wound when he interrupted her again.
"What …… ," he wanted to ask what she had meant earlier but the woman quickly cut him off, annoyed by his constant interference.
"Smell this," she said, holding out to him a small plate on which there was something that looked like burning incense. She moved the plate one time, from left to right, in front of his face and he inhaled the smoke that was constantly rising, without even realizing it. The fragrance was a most delicate one, but the Prince had little time to enjoy it or make any more comments, as his eyes slowly began to close. In mere seconds his head fell back onto the pillow, and he sunk into a deep sleep.
The woman laid the plate back on the tray from which she had taken it, the one she had brought in earlier, and proceeded to sew the Prince's wound.
The following day …It was almost noon when the Prince woke up from his slumber. At first, he felt a bit dizzy and confused, but then he remembered everything and what amazed him the most was that he felt no pain at all, not even from the wound he had received in battle. He pulled the covers off him, curious to see if his wound was still there, and he discovered a thick, white cloth, the kind that was usually used as a bandage, tied around his waist, covering the place where his wound was. At the same time, he remembered the burns on his palms and turned them around. Though they didn't look as nothing had happened to them, like he had hopped, there were no severe wounds. His palms were simply of a more pinkish color and the skin was slightly thinned and wrinkled.
Seeing the scars on his palms made him think back once more at what had happened the night before, trying to find some answers. He started getting out of the bed when he was suddenly pulled out of his thoughts, as his feet, which still had the rough and dirty boots on, hit something soft, at the foot of the bed. He quickly looked down and saw the woman sleeping, curled up on the floor, between the candles whose light had been extinguished by a soft breeze coming from outside.
The Prince got up from the bed, stepping over her and for a short while he just stood there, staring down at her. On the one hand, her attitude had been quite arrogant and defying, taking in consideration that after all, he was the Prince of Persia and she was just a subject whose duty was to obey, and she had also rendered him unconscious. But on the other hand, she had healed him in an extraordinary manner and she did not try to escape, though she had had the opportunity. Finally, deciding he could not just let her lie there, the Prince lifted her up and laid her down on the bed, after which he put his armor back on and left the tent.