CHAPTER 11: The Great Southern Desert
The Great Southern Desert—also known as Fief Meron, currently led by Lord Martin of Meron—took up almost the whole southern half of Tortall, omitting only the Coastal Hills to the west, the Hill Country to the east, and the Southern Wall to the south. The sands homed the dark-skinned Bazhir tribesmen, only a fraction of whom swore loyalty to the northern king, leaving the majority troublesome renegades. Still, Alanna loved the months she spent there.
The dawn after her arrival in Persopolis in late October, she had just found a secluded fencing court when a Bazhir man strode up. Her breath caught—would he forbid her to practice?
He held out his hand. "I'm Ali Mukhtab, governor of the castle. You must be Alanna of Trebond. Jarinth told me you had an interest in fencing. I saw you practicing, and I was wondering if you wanted a tutor. I'm a fencer myself, you see, and I'm delighted that a girl such as yourself holds interest in the so-called 'manly arts.'"
Alanna stared at him in surprise. The Bazhir were renowned for their ability with weapons, and she could only benefit from having one as her teacher. "Yes! Yes, please! Thank you, sir!"
"It's just Ali, actually. I'm glad you've accepted. Let's return to exercises, because there are some new ones I want to show you."
What Ali referred to as "tutoring" was actually merciless torture. Lessons lasted three hours and took place every morning, and she always left taking small, agonizing steps. To her credit, her flexibility and strength improved, and weighted weapons resulted in rapid memorization of moves and, eventually, extra energy. After a month, Ali added riding and different weapons, like knives and the battleaxe, to her training. Despite all the time she spent schooling, however, her discrepancy caused three entire months to pass before others finally discovered it.
One of the most conservative Bazhir in Persopolis, Hudhaytah Ahmed, intruded on their lesson one day just in time to watch Alanna execute a perfect fencing form that she had learned weeks before, and he and his friends proceeded to throw a fit about a girl being trained in the marial arts. Ali calmly challenged Hudhaytah's fifteen-year-old son to a fencing match against Alanna to prove her right to train. The boy declined in rage, believing it a question of his honor that he had to confirm his talent against a mere northern girl. Another man—an enemy of Hudhaytah's—jumped at a chance to brave something that the Ahmed family refused, and his son, instead, accepted the challenge.
Suddenly, Alanna found herself in a fencing ring with Lightning in front of some strange Bazhir boy. A crowd of Persopolis citizens crowded around her, bellowing loudly. She only confusedly glimpsed Ali motion for the match to begin, and it was not until the boy had his sword flying for her head that her reflexes kicked in. The following proved a short fight: in two minutes, she had disarmed him. Then, to save their friend's honor, four other boys demanded bouts. She beat them all but the last, who fortunately turned out to be a good sport and, laughing, shook her hand afterwards.
By April, Alanna had proved herself a worthy opponent and was regarded as one of Persopolis' best young warriors. Also that April, Jarinth announced she was leaving—without Alanna.
"Duke Gareth has called me up to Corus to help him with some trouble we've run into with Tusaine," Jarinth explained hurriedly to an aghast Alanna while cramming clothes into her suitcase. "Lord Martin is coming also, to request more troops from the king. You'll stay here with Ali because you'll have more to do—you'll be bored sick in Corus. I had to go great lengths to get Martin to let you stay here, so don't step one toe out of line, or his men will lock you in the cellar. Don't cause any more trouble than you already have, and don't kill anyone—including yourself." She dashed out to the courtyard, where a hostler waited with a saddled Bella. She quickly strapped her pack to the saddle and mounted before turning back to Alanna. "Please understand. I know this is short notice and I'm just running off without you, but I'll be back soon with Lord Martin, or, if not, I'll have someone bring you north."
Alanna nodded. "I understand." She didn't really—in fact, she felt somehow betrayed, getting left behind like this—but Jarinth was too stressed as it was and did not have to know.
And then Jarinth was galloping off with Lord Martin.
---
The second Wednesday evening after Jarinth's departure found Alanna in a small westward room, staring at the bright sun sinking sluggishly into far-off sand dunes.
"The Sunset Room," Ali sighed contentedly, lounging on a nest of ornate cushions. "My favorite room."
Alanna had to agree with him. The Sunset Room proved the most fascinating place in Persopolis. Two pillars replaced the upper half of the wall facing outside, so a cool breeze accompanied the breathtaking sight of the sandy leagues stretching out before them. Inside, the walls, floor, and ceiling were blanketed in a bright masterpiece of mosaics depicting scenes of Bazhir history, especially a peculiar black city from one of the people's numerous legends.
"The Black City," Ali murmured. "You can see it, if you try hard, on the horizon—it's a small black dot. It's the history of the entire Bazhir race. Hundreds of years ago, in the time of the Old Ones, my people sailed here from the south—Carthak, we call it today. We found lush, rolling plains. Continuing north, we came upon a gorgeous palace built of marble and trimmed with countless precious stones. Inside we discovered ten beauties: gods, they called themselves. We know them now as the Nameless Ones. They welcomed and cared for us, asking us to farm the bountiful harvest there. So we farmed and were happy."
The air seemed to darken with Ali's voice. "But then, people began disappearing during the night. We set guards to watch, and we discovered that the ten beauties entered our villages and seeped like shadows into homes. When they came out, they looked fresher, more alive—radiant, like the sun. The houses they entered were found to be the ones who lost inhabitants. But there was no blood, not anything. There was not a single, simple sign of the slightest violence.
"The Nameless Ones were stealing our souls."
Ali sipped at his date wine and shrugged nonchalantly. "We, of course, rebelled. We attacked one day, setting their palace aflame, hoping it would disintegrate quickly so we'd never have to set eye on it again. Unfortunately, the Black City remains in its place, and the fields around it disintegrated. We were left with the Great Southern Desert.
"And, as if to make matters worse, our children continued to disappear. Today, they disappear. They are called to the Black City, to be feasted upon as our ancestors were. That means our masters are still alive. If they consume enough of us, they will escape. So we built Persopolis to watch them. We will hold our vigil forever. At the moment, the Nameless Ones' spirits are trapped within the Black City by the ashes that ring it, since they fear fire. We await the arrival of the Night One and the Burning-Brightly One, who will truly set us free."
A thoughtful silence reigned over them for a few seconds, and then Ali ruined the moment as he groaned and hoisted himself to his feet. "Until that day, though, I'm off to bed, and I suggest you do the same. I got word earlier today from Lord Martin that he's arriving tomorrow with the troops. Jarinth is not with him—she's bogged down with work up at the palace." Alanna's face fell, and he sent her a consoling glance before continuing, "You'll return with Myles of Olau in about two weeks."
Alanna started. "Myles is coming tomorrow, too?"
"Didn't I tell you? His Majesty has sent the squires, including His Highness Prince Jonathan, with Myles to come study the Bazhir, since apparently they'll be fighting each other in the near future. There will be a celebration honoring their arrival tomorrow evening, and, yes, you are obliged to attend. They're going to want to see a civilized face among all the southern savages."
She stared at him, aghast, and then squeaked, "Does that mean I have to wear a dress?"
"I'd appreciate it if you did. We'll dig up one of Lord Martin's wife's. And it would also be very polite of you to give the squires a tour, so they can learn their way around."
She sighed, grudgingly agreeing that she had a duty as a northern lady to act the ambassador. "A dress and a tour. Dear gods, help me."
---
The next day at noon, Lord Martin returned with the king's troops and, as Ali had promised, Myles and the squires. The Prince, Raoul, and Gareth all agreed eagerly to a tour, and two other boys—the dark-skinned one quickly introduced as Alexander of Tirragen, and the small blond as Francis of Nond—simply grumbled sullenly, glowering at her. Alanna groaned inwardly: apparently, unlike their friends, they still clung to their old hatred of Trebonds.
The afternoon followed through with the tour, ending with the Sunset Room. Once inside, she could only laugh as their jaws dropped at the tiled walls.
"We heard nothing about this," Gareth murmured in awe. "Only the Black City."
"As for that—" Alanna leaned out the paneless window and squinted at the horizon. "There it is. That black speck, right in front of us—"
The boys all dashed to the window and almost simultaneously gasped.
"Have you told them the legend, Alanna?"
They turned to find Ali standing in the doorway, watching them with amusement.
"We've heard about the power there. It's strong and dangerous," Jonathan murmured as he continued to stare at the black speck.
"The Nameless Ones," Ali specified. "They haunt a grand portion of our legends, and my lord Martin calls them little more than foolishness, but even he will not go near the City."
"No sane man would," Jonathan agreed. "The Bazhir seem to have so much wisdom in their legends. I would learn everything I could from them. It's a pity there's not a manuscript on their history. I would find it most fascinating."
Alanna watched curiously as a thoughtful expression fogged Ali's face. "There are many northerners who would not agree with you," he pointed out impassively.
"Many northerners will not be king someday, with half of his people living in an almost unknown culture."
"It takes great power to realize something like that. I will see if such a text could be written."
"I would be delighted to read it. Thank you."
Ali bowed politely and then turned to Alanna. "You need to go get dressed."
She nodded. "Well, Your Highness, my lords, I hope to see you again soon."
As if their moves were choreographed, the five of them turned and bowed simultaneously. She managed to jerk an awkward bow in reply, waved to Ali, and then bolted for her room.
The celebration that night was horribly eventless, and though she managed to stay awake for its entirety, she only just made it to her room and undressed before collapsing on her bed, fast asleep. She awoke two hours before dawn the next morning, completely refreshed, and decided to head out to the riding yard to warm up before Ali came out to torture her.
To her surprise, though the stable torches remained unlit, a man could clearly be heard saddling his mount. Confused, Alanna held up her hand and called upon her Gift to form a lamp. It illuminated none other than Prince Jonathan.
She stared at him in bewilderment. "Why—?"
Jonathan chuckled. "It's my job to rid the desert of its evil, and no one would allow me to go to the Black City—"
"The City!" Alanna gasped in horror. "Your Highness, you can't—"
He looked amused at her shock. "Who says I can't?"
"I do," she hissed. "If you go, you'll die. You should know that. Tortall can't have that."
"My cousin is perfectly capable of succeeding my father—" he began.
Throwing protocol to the wind, she interrupted, "Screw your cousin! If you get yourself killed now, there will be no talking the Bazhir out of their idea that northerners are conceited pigs."
Alanna winced as Jonathan stiffened, but he shocked her by murmuring quietly, "So what, precisely, do you suggest I do? I'll be their king someday. I won't be able to sleep peacefully in my featherbed back at home knowing children are in so much danger here. Ali told us last night after you left that they are still hypnotized by the Nameless Ones and either lose their souls or go mad and die. I can't allow that to continue. They're my people, Alanna. I have to stop that which destroys them. There's a mystery there, and I'm going to find it. It's my job."
Alanna's mind raced. She would not be able to talk him out of going, and there was no time to fetch help to hold him back. "Fine," she snapped. "Then take me with you. It's much more likely two will go and come out than one."
Surprisingly, Jonathan smiled. "I was hoping you would see reason. Now let's get going. We've wasted enough time here."
Alanna quickly saddled Moonlight, thanking the gods she had been planning to practice fencing that morning, so Lightning was already clipped to her belt. Then they set off down the road together, bribing the keeper to let them through the city gates. After that, they felt civilization drop away as they struck out into the desert.