A Lady Called Isan

For over the last ninety years, Baybar had enjoyed an unprecedented period of peace and prosperity. Thanks to the earlier Pirate War and unification of the clans with the establishment of Sabaah, the dangers of travel had been greatly reduced, and with that, trade was booming.

Cities and towns were flourishing and growing, merchant ships and caravans laden with goods were a common sight, as were men dressed in lavish robes and women bedecked with fabulous jewellery. The air was rich with smells of wine, spices and cooking meats, along with music and laughter. Everyone wanted more, but everyone also seemed to have enough to be content.

The city of Nuba, the heart of Baybar's prosperity, seemed rather small when compared to the other cities. But everyone knew that the hands and heads responsible for Baybar's continued good fortune resided within the walls of the small city.

Everyone knew of course about the man called Hayreddin. Everyone knew the story of how he had grown up in poverty in Nuba, of how he turned the impoverished village into a thriving trade hub, of how he created peace amongst the warring desert tribes. Everyone knew the story of how he led the the coastal cities of Baybar in the Pirate War, of how he established good trade and diplomatic relations with the nations across the sea.

Everyone knew the story of how he had brought good fortune to Baybar despite suffering great personal tragedy. How his parents had been murdered by religious fanatics. How, at the end of his diplomatic tour across the sea, he lost his entire expeditionary force in a freak storm. Among those lost was his closest and dearest friend, the famous warrior Ravenna.

The story of the man called Hayreddin is known to everyone in Baybar. It is a story told again and again, countless times until it had become something of a legend.

Especially since Hayreddin himself had not been seen in public for nearly four decades.

Yet thanks to the stories, everyone knew what he looked like.

He was a tall man, taller than any in Baybar. His build was lean, almost slender, yet he possessed great strength and skill of arms. He was also a man of great beauty, with skin as pale as the desert sands and long curly brown hair that shone in the sun. His eyes were said to be such a deep shade of brown that anyone looking into them would find themselves drowning in his gaze. His voice was said to be sweeter than the sweetest music.

It was also said that he was blessed by the spirits themselves, for he did not age the way mortals did.

These were the legends that surrounded the man called Hayreddin.

XI XI XI

But for those seeking to do business or sought counsel in Nuba, they found they had to deal with a different sort of legend.

If Hayreddin was the unseen ruler of Baybar, in Nuba, the city was very much in the iron grip of the woman known as Isan. She was the city's matriarch; a formidable ancient woman who possessed great knowledge and razor sharp wits undimmed by her great age. Anything worth knowing in Nuba or anywhere else in Baybar, Isan already knew. She had eyes and ears everywhere and was rightfully feared and respected.

In addition to her already lofty status, she was also fabulously rich. Her son was one of the most powerful merchants on Baybar, owning businesses from the farthest ends of the desert to the farthest ends of the sea. Her grandson was one of the most renowned admirals in Baybar, and was largely responsible for enforcing the peace that Hayreddin had brought at the end of the Pirate War.

Above all, the woman called Isan is one of the few people who knew Hayreddin personally, and was one of his earliest followers.

She was a legend in her own right.

XI XI XI

The administrative palace of Nuba was a massive structure of granite and marble. It had five wings; the North Wing, which was used to host the constant stream of diplomats entering Nuba, the East Wing for finance regulations, the South Wing for legal administration and the Central Wing for the all the day-to-day running of Nuba and all of Baybar. The North, East and South Wings were shaped like mastabas, and each had ten floors, a labyrinth of rooms and corridors flooded with people going about their day-to-day business. The Central Wing, a ziggurat-shaped complex, was larger still, with twenty floors and an even more intricate network of rooms and corridors.

The West Wing however, was an opulent mansion. Like all the others, it was connected to the Central Wing. But unlike the others, the corridor leading to it was guarded by a thick wooden door, which was in turn guarded by twenty fierce warriors from the city of Sabaah. No one was allowed into the West Wing without leave.

It was the home of the Lady Isan and her family, arguably the most powerful family in all of Baybar.

It was also rumoured to be the current home of Hayreddin.

XI XI XI

The halls of the mansion echoed with the patter of little feet. A boy, no more than four, hurried up the grand staircase as fast as his little legs would allow, his cheeks red from the exertion.

As he ran through the corridors of the top floor, he noticed the golden beams of sunlight pouring through the windows. The boy paused to look.

Outside was Nuba, winding down after a long day. Beyond that was the sea, turning gold as the sun dipped lower.

It was beautiful.

The boy hurried on toward the end of the corridor, where the last set of stairs in the entire mansion awaited. Huffing a little, the boy ascended to the last floor of the mansion.

Compared to the rest of the West Wing, or indeed, the entire administrative palace, the last floor of the mansion was rather plain. A set of couches and tables occupied one corner. One doorway led to a modest but comfortable-looking bedroom. Another led to a library. But at the centre of the room was an ornate table, with carvings on its surface that the boy knew depicted all of Baybar.

A tall, hooded figure in brown robes was poring over the table, making notes and moving pieces around the surface. It turned as the boy drew closer, and though the hood obscured most of the figure's face, the boy could see the smile underneath.

"Revan," greeted the hooded figure.

Revan's lips split into a huge grin and he all but ran into the figure. "Uncle!"

The boy shrieked with laughter when Uncle effortlessly picked him up and spun him around.

"How was school?" asked Uncle, setting him down.

"We learned about the seawall fortress you built during your early years," answered Raven eagerly. "About how it helped provide Nuba with...with security and that led to pros...prosperity."

Uncle laughed at how pleased the boy was for remembering the rather difficult words. "And did they teach you how it led to that?"

Revan nodded. "It kept pirates out, and that made Nuba safe. With Nuba safe, that let business grow."

"Straight to the point, very good," said Uncle, nodding. "When you get older you'll learn a lot more about it."

"Can I hear more stories, Uncle?" asked Revan eagerly.

"Which story would you like to hear?"

"About you and great-grandfather's adventures!"

Uncle laughed. "Haven't you heard enough?"

"Never!" cried Revan. "There's got to be more! Tell me something I haven't heard yet."

Uncle smiled and sat on the floor, Raven followed suit eagerly.

"So, I'll tell you about the time your great-grandfather Ravenna and I sailed to the lands..."

Outside, the sun continued its descent.

XI XI XI

The light streaming in through the balcony doors had turned to a reddish-gold as the sun dipped lower and lower.

Revan had fallen asleep, his head resting on Uncle's lap. The elder stroked the boy's hair gently, watching the sunset. His ears could pick up the sounds of familiar footsteps coming up the stairs, but it was also accompanied by the sounds of shuffling feet, followed by the steady thuds of a cane.

He turned to see Jerod, Revan's father, emerging from the stairway. He was guiding an elderly woman with him. She was breathing heavily from the climb.

Uncle gathered the sleeping boy into his arms and rose to his feet. "You should have summoned me if you wanted to see me," he admonished gently, striding over to them. "You shouldn't be climbing such steep stairs at your age, Isan."

"Then move into one of the rooms downstairs," snapped the old woman, taking deep breaths.

Uncle smiled and passed the sleeping Revan over to Jerod.

"More stories about grandfather?" Jerod asked with a smile.

"It's all he wants to hear about," answered Uncle.

"Like me when I was his age," chuckled Jerod. "If there's nothing else, grandmother, I'll leave first."

"Yes, thank you dear," said Isan.

"I'll make sure she gets home safely," assured Uncle.

Jerod inclined his head. "Good evening, Uncle. Good evening, grandmother."

Once Jerod left, Uncle moved over to Isan, offering her his arm. She took it and they moved slowly towards the balcony.

"He looks so much like Ravenna," said Uncle quietly.

"He's almost the same age too," said Isan. "But better looking, not so pruned up."

Uncle helped Isan down into a chair on the balcony before taking a seat beside her. He lowered the hood that obscured his face, revealing a beautiful young man. His curly, golden-brown hair blew in the wind, and his eyed gleamed like copper-brown pools in the sunlight. There was a deep sorrow in his youthful face, one that made him seem older, but it also made him even more beautiful.

Despite his looks, Hayreddin was barely a decade younger than Isan; yet from appearance alone, Hayreddin could have been mistaken for her grandson.

"How are you feeling?" asked Hayreddin.

Isan cackled. "Everything aches, I can't move the way I used to, my vision's getting worse...in short: old."

Isan coughed a little. "You'll get a taste of it soon enough."

Hayreddin smiled.

Both of them lapsed into a comfortable silence, looking out at Nuba. The sun was dipping lower and lower over the horizon. The watchmen were already lighting the night fires.

Hayreddin turned to Isan. The woman's skin was wrinkled and as brown as dried parchment. Her hair, once a lustrous black, had turned white. Despite the old crone she had become, Hayreddin could still see the beautiful young woman she had been decades ago. Especially in her eyes.

Despite what she said, Isan's eyes were as clear and as sharp as they had ever been.

As were her wits.

Over time, Hayreddin had withdrawn from public life and Isan had taken over as the public 'face' of Hayreddin's rule. She was no figurehead though, she ran the day-to-day affairs of governing with ruthless efficiency, leaving Hayreddin free to formulate policies shaping Baybar's future. As she had gotten older, her sons had gradually shouldered more responsibilities of governing, Kazan in particular, and as they had gotten older, their sons had also begun taking on the burden of ruling.

The young taking over from the old, that was how it should be.

Looking at Isan's ancient face, Hayreddin felt a pang of sorrow. So many people that he had known in the past had passed on. The Elders of Ain: Nebud, Abrah, Koza and Kazo had passed away long ago. Nebud's death in particular had been hard; the old man had been one of Hayreddin's closest advisors and staunchest allies.

The chieftains who had sided with Hayreddin had also passed away, their great-grandsons now ruling their respective tribes. But Hayreddin remembered their names and faces, especially fierce Berkhan and Horun, and the wise Kazanah.

After the death of his father, Nebud and Kazanah had been like father figures to Hayreddin and their deaths had been difficult.

And there was Ravenna…

But that was something that he avoided thinking of. He had never told anyone of the circumstances of Ravenna's death, preferring to remember the man he was, rather than what had happened to him in the end. But it still haunted Hayreddin the few times he slept. He poured himself into his work to keep it away.

"You've done a wonderful thing, Hayreddin," said Isan suddenly.

Hayreddin looked at her questioningly. Isan pointed out at Nuba. "There's not a lot of people alive who remember it, but you turned Nuba from a backwater slum into this."

As the shadows grew longer in the setting sun, the lights were coming on. The bells were tolling in the harbour, signalling closing time. In the distance, the last few ships were coming in to make port. The watch was changing shifts on the great seawall fortress that bore his name.

"And then there's what you did for all of Baybar," continued Isan. "Your parents would be proud of you. Ravenna would be proud of you."

"I had help," answered Hayreddin, smiling as he took Isan's hand. "My Iron Lady."

Isan cackled. It was the unofficial title that had been bestowed upon her due to her fierce temper and iron will in ruling.

"Iron Lady, eh? Well, the iron's rusting away. I don't think I have much time left in this world."

"Isan...you have many years left," said Hayreddin gently. "You can't leave me yet, I need you."

"I'm over a hundred now, Hayreddin," said Isan. "I'm on borrowed time. Ravenna's been calling to me in my dreams."

Isan leaned her head wearily against Hayreddin's shoulder. "Sometimes I think I've only lived this long because I got all the years Ravenna would have lived if he had made it back."

Guilt twinged in Hayreddin's heart.

"I'm not worried about Nuba or Baybar, because I know my sons are ready to take over from me, and their sons will be ready to take over from them. Nuba and Baybar will be in good hands when I'm gone."

Isan chuckled. "I know because you'll be there to watch over them."

"Isan, I'm as old as you are," said Hayreddin quietly. "I can't be around forever."

"Maybe not forever," acknowledged Isan. "But for a very long time. Look at yourself, Hayreddin. You haven't aged a day in the last ninety years. You have to admit, you're different from the rest of us."

Abruptly, Hayreddin could hear Beduin's hateful voice whispering over the gulf of years.

Daemon…

He swallowed.

Isan seemed to know what he was thinking about.

"Don't you go thinking that's a bad thing now. Look at everything you've done; it's the work of a great man. Don't you think any different."

Isan yawned wearily. "I only wished there was someone to look after you when I'm gone."

"You said it yourself, Isan. Your sons will be there."

"No, not to help you run Baybar," snapped Isan. "I mean...someone who'll take care of you, just talk to you...make sure you're happy. A wife. I wished you'd marry one of the girls I suggested."

Hayreddin laughed. Isan had tried in the past to play matchmaker for him, but he had gently rebuffed her efforts. He had never desired a wife, nor would he ever.

"You and your family are all I need, Isan," said Hayreddin.

"But you need someone to love you and love you back," answered Isan. "Someone who'll give you children of your own. Your own family. It will be a lonely life without someone to share it with."

"I'll be fine, Isan," assured Hayreddin. "If I'm as long-lived as it seems, I'll have plenty of time to find someone."

Isan harrumphed irritably. "Yes but I would like to meet this person, make sure she's good enough for you. You're like my little brother, you know? I want to make you sure you have only the best."

Hayreddin laughed again and Isan joined in. After a while, they both lapsed into silence once more, watching the sunset over Nuba and enjoying each other's company. However, Hayreddin couldn't help but notice that Isan's breathing was laboured, and that she was leaning very heavily against his shoulder as though she could no longer support her own weight.

"Isan...you know I mean it, right?" said Hayreddin quietly. "Everything I've accomplished, I could only do it because of you, Ravenna, Nebud, Kazanah, Kazan, Jerod...Atta and Umm."

Isan smiled, but said nothing.

"So you can't go yet, Isan. I have so much left to do. I'd be lost without you."

Isan took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

"Your mother told me how she found you, you know?"

Hayreddin started; that was unexpected.

"A gift from the spirits, that's what she told me. But thinking hard about it...I think that...someone sent you here, Hayreddin. Maybe somewhere in this vast world there are others like you and that they sent you to us...and maybe one day...they'll come to take you back. Your true family."

"Isan, you are my family. All of you."

"If you're going to live as long as I think you are...please be happy," said Isan, her voice growing softer. "Please find someone who'll love you. It would be awfully lonely to live long without love. Promise me, Hayreddin. Promise me you'll be happy."

Hayreddin squeezed the elderly lady's hand gently. "I promise."

"Good, good. You know I love you, right?"

"I love you too, Isan."

Isan took a deep breath. She sounded like she was going to sleep.

"Ravenna's calling…" she murmured.

Hayreddin stayed with Isan as the sun turned into a blood-gold line across the horizon. The old woman's eyes were shut as her head rested against his shoulder. There was a peaceful smile on her wrinkled lips.

She could have been sleeping.

Tears, glinting like rubies in the dying sunlight, fell onto her white hair.

Hayreddin gently pressed his lips to her brow.

"Go to him, Isan," he whispered.