Dastan's mind was a flurry of rapid images, glimpses of sand dervishes, storms, and dark, deadly figures. His heart jumped out of his chest as a viper sprang straight at his face, spitting venom from bared fangs.
"Sire, can you hear me? You're only having a dream."
The viper disappeared. Dastan's eyes snapped open. His surroundings were much brighter, highlighting an alabaster room with rich yet simple furnishings. One of the healers gripped his shoulder—that must have woken him. In the healer's other hand was a steaming bowl.
"I have some soup here, if you're feeling up to it. Build your strength a little more."
"Could I have some water first?" croaked Dastan. His throat felt like it barely worked, it was so dry. Within a few seconds an assistant joined them with the requested drink. The cool liquid made a world of difference.
They situated him a bit higher on the pillows. In this process his noticed the cut across his chest was gone. "What…how could it have healed so quickly?"
"It faded during the night," Tamina spoke up. She sat a little further back, next to a small table on which rested an aged text. "I've been searching through every record we have relating to the Sands and how they work. If this account is to believed, physical injuries sustained in the previous time are the most likely 'echoes' one might experience. I think we can confirm that part. They are real and illusion at the same time."
Dastan swallowed hard. "So they feel real, but just disappear in the end? What if the wound is more serious? Could…could a person still die from it, if the echo persists long enough?"
"I'm not…the manuscript isn't clear." Tamina paled at this, correctly reading into Dastan's unease.
"If we can prepare…perhaps we can treat future wounds diligently enough until they fade, just as we would any injury," the healer timidly offered. Dastan attempted a grateful smile. His appetite had evaporated.
"That may be the best we have to go with," replied Tamina. "The account also lacks any description of how long an echo lasts, or the time that spans between them. It stands to reason that perhaps the episodes would follow the same pattern as they occurred before, but the author refers to the process as a convergence, basically a collapsing of the previous time. I'm not sure we can do much more than wait it out."
A knock at the door jarred them all out of the grim discussion. Tamina waved for the visitor to be admitted. An advisor of the court bowed as he reached them.
"Your Highness, the Persian crown prince wishes to see his brother's progress for himself," said the wizened man.
Dastan pulled at the covers so that no stray traces of blood could be seen. "Just what I need, more hovering and questions."
"If you're not feeling up to it, I think we can all agree your wellbeing outranks anyone wanting to visit. The healers could step out and explain the…less pernicious symptoms," Tamina reasoned, worried.
"We can't begin to explain what we don't understand ourselves. They're only going to believe it's simply fever and dizziness for so long. What then?"
"What if you have another episode while he's in the room, how do we explain that? I am poring over every shred of writing that could yield clues, maybe give us a better premise for your condition, something they might find more believable. There is too much at stake to tell them of the Sands. Not if we can help it, no matter how much you may vouch for them."
"Nor would I have your sworn duty revealed unless you decided to allow it. He'll be worse if you turn him away. And more suspicious."
"Forgive me, can I truly take you at your word? What of your trust in family that the Persian throne values so highly?"
"It does. You may just have to trust me, as you apparently trust your advisors and healers not to speak of what they overhear."
Tamina glared back waspishly. For lack of further counterarguments, however, she nodded to the waiting man.
"Taking full advantage of the hospitality, I see," greeted Tus upon entering the room. "It almost begs the question whether this was all a ruse in order to gain some, shall we say personal attention, in light of your engagement. I know, I know, I mean it in jest," he disclaimed as the comment was met with nonplussed looks, "but really, how are you feeling, Dastan?"
"Overly mothered. Steadier than last night, at least," Dastan answered, cracking a smile in spite of himself. His brother took the response in stride.
"Any further indication what this might be?" Tus' gaze landed on the volumes Tamina had just tucked aside. When she reflexively shielded the open contents, he attempted to reach for them; Dastan grabbed his arm to stop him. The crown prince looked from one to the other, torn between incredulity and alarm. "Dastan, what's going on?"
"I wish we had more of an explanation for you, honestly I do—"
"It should pass with time, though it may ebb and flow before it fully resolves," Tamina cut in. Tus glared at her.
"You do know something, then, don't you? That's why you're still here when your healers sent the rest of us out," he insisted.
"This is my kingdom, Prince, and my prerogative as to how I handle serious concerns in my household," bristled Tamina.
"When it concerns a prince of Persia, any prince, then we have a prerogative as well! Or is the reason you guard your secrets so closely because they do play a part in the current situation?"
"Some matters are more difficult than that," Dastan countered. "There is no plot here, no intent to harm, nor any hidden danger waiting to spread. It's just not something one can easily convey."
"Yet it appears to be far from inconsequential, I can see it in your faces. I'm your brother, you know you can tell me anything," Tus practically begged.
Dastan couldn't mask his regret. "Please, I need you to trust me right now, as my brother. And I need you to not tell anyone else, not Father, no one. The fewer people involved, the less complicated, hopefully, it will be."
"Why do you speak like this…?" Tus studied them both very carefully, trying to measure his next words. "Does this still have something to do with Nizam, why he chose to target Alamut? There was more to his ambition than merely a throne for himself, wasn't there, or at least more to how you discovered his plans?"
This time he was the one gripping Dastan's arm.
"I can't promise that I'll be able to tell you everything. Not because I don't trust you…it's not my decision to make, and I have to honor that. I'm not exaggerating when I say there's much more at stake."
More silence. Tamina's expression was unreadable. Tus, however, exuded a clear struggle to wrap his head around the cryptic discussion. Meanwhile Dastan could feel the conversation beginning to wear on him mentally and physically. He had slipped down in the pillows a fair ways. Sitting back up proved arduous, which was not lost on the others. Tamina was on instant alert.
"Are you still feeling all right? Do you need anything?" she asked quietly.
"I've pressed you too long," fretted Tus. "This complicated matter you speak of, you're sure there are no other connections to it outside this room? Nothing we might need to see to?"
Dastan shook his head. "I would never hide that from you. The threat itself is over, everyone can rest easy."
"Except in your case, apparently. I will rest easy when you're recovered, as I know you will. Your stubbornness alone should prove that."
"I suppose it does come in handy."
"You know Garsiv and I admire that about you, even when you're flying in the face of orders. In the end we wouldn't have you any other way. Father knew what he was doing."
"There had to be some reason you kept me around."
"Like a stray pup."
They both chuckled good-naturedly. Tus composed himself first. "Well, I'd best not get you too worked up. Until you're on your feet again, the rest can wait for another time. I will keep your silence. Just promise me if there is a more serious turn, for better or worse, you won't leave us completely in the dark. Take care of him, Princess." Tus gave Tamina a respectful nod, and took his leave.
A beat of quiet passed.
"What did he mean, your father knew what he was doing?" Tamina spoke up.
"We joke with each other all the time about who's really family, it's what brothers do," shrugged Dastan.
"The two of you respect your father far too much to mention him lightly, that much I do know. I also know the pressures of being born and raised with strict expectations. The life of a royal family isn't all banquets and riches."
"My life wasn't always that way. I wasn't born into any of it. The only home I knew for years was the slums of Nasaf…orphaned, trying to survive day by day, until the king happened to be riding through the market one day. A gang of soldiers had caught a friend of mine who had done nothing wrong, and I tried to stop them. The king witnessed the whole thing. For whatever reason, he decided then and there to…I don't know, adopt me."
Tamina stared at him in mild shock.
"Many people, including Nizam, questioned that choice. I was old enough that I had my own opinions, my own ways of doing things, which has been a thorn in quite a few sides at times. But my loyalty has and always will be to the family that saved me." Dastan realized he had talked himself into a headache. The fever seemed to be making a clammy resurgence as well.
"So before, in the previous time," Tamina said slowly, "it must have been very hard to see your father die, to have your own court think you were the murderer."
"To my shame, I thought Tus was behind it at first—being next in line for the throne, and the one who suggested I present the robe to our father, only to not be at the banquet that night. I also believed my uncle was the sole person I could trust, so I had to get to Avrat, where the king's funeral was to be held. Um, could I have some more water?"
Tamina gestured to one of the healers' assistants, who nodded and fetched the drink. Dastan's head really did bother him now. "Anyway, things really didn't go according to plan."
"Sneaking into a Persian city on high alert? Imagine my surprise," snickered Tamina, though not cruelly.
"Not much help from you at the time, either. I needed the dagger as proof that the attack on Alamut wasn't what we thought it was. You, of course, wanted to get the dagger back and leave me behind any way you could. Let's just say it was an eventful battle of wits across an impressive distance—that's a story of its own."
"You're just going to skip all of it?" Tamina's amused smile was a greater medicine to Dastan than any tincture the healers could come up with.
"The whole series of misadventures is kind of beside the main point. Probably good for a laugh, though, maybe I will tell you someday," he shrugged. "In the end you made off with the dagger, which might have actually been for the best, as it turned out Nizam was the architect of everything, in order to get to the Sands."
"He was the second born, wasn't he? What good would turning back time do him?"
"As a boy, he saved my father from a lioness, she stalked them while they were hunting one day. Not only did he prevent himself from becoming king, he had to be reminded of it for years. It was—is—my father's favorite story. A shining example of family being the strongest bond you could have."
"Your uncle jealously sought the Persian throne, that was his reason?"
Dastan bowed his head, a feat that took little effort given his posture in bed and how drained he felt. "I told you all of this when I finally caught up to you in the desert, and you told me the truth about the Sandglass. Together we made for the sanctuary in hopes of keeping the dagger safe."
"I take it that didn't go as planned," sighed Tamina.
"We ran into some trouble along the way. First we encountered some old, ahh, friends from the aforementioned misadventures—"
"You're really going to keep dancing around the subject, aren't you?"
"Okay, I might have decided to cut through the Valley of the Slaves—turns out it's not what either of us expected. You managed to take me by surprise, knock me out, and leave me for the slavers, I made a deal with them to catch up with you…anyway, we didn't leave on the most amicable terms."
"The great 'Lion of Persia,' bested by a woman half his size?" Tamina raised an eyebrow, laughing quietly. "Must have bruised your ego somewhat."
"I got my retribution, I promise you. But they were the lesser of our concerns. Nizam sent Hassansins to track us down, take back the dagger. Unfortunately, they also knew of the sanctuary, and ambushed us there. Garsiv and his patrol tracked us as well. I had only just begun to convince him of the truth when he was killed in the skirmish."
"First the loss of your father, then one of your brothers? All in the name of one man seizing the Sands of Time for himself, it's unthinkable. And on top of that, employing Hassansins against his own family."
"They weren't even supposed to exist anymore. My father had them disbanded years ago, an order my uncle clearly ignored." At this moment Dastan's head gave such a throb that his breath hissed. Tamina set about trying to make him more comfortable.
"I shouldn't have let you carry on for so long. Try to relax a while, the remainder of the story can wait."
"But there's still—"
"Not if you talk yourself to exhaustion, the way you're looking right now. I'll tell you what, if you're still awake in an hour—a quiet hour—we can pick it up again. The healers and I will try to keep close watch for anything that doesn't seem right."
Tamina emphasized this with moving back to the table with her research. The healers, on the other hand, closed in with their medicines and trappings. Dastan wasn't left with much of a choice.