The Burning Wake

The world the characters exist in is critical. If the story occurs in a blank space, the stakes will be diminished, the writing would feel contrived. The fiction needs a solid place to manifest with people, places, to inhabit. And it must be one the characters can interact and quantify in the pursuit of their goals. 

The city of Crescent Peaks was the capital of Andhera, a green jewel against oranges and whites of the sand dunes and the blues of the nearby bay. The city was bordered, on the north and east, by the Argent River. The city was situated in a jungle, a half-moon crescent surrounding the bay. From the chariot, it seemed as if the city rose from the jungle itself, with buildings interspersed with tall trees and ferns. Only the tallest buildings were fully visible above the canopy of green, one of which was the Raj’s palace, a white monolith rising in the distance.  

As they approached the palace, Malini took in the new sights and sounds of the city from the view outside the chariot’s window. The outskirts of the city, the wings of the crescent was dominated by forest, trees, ferns, and other greenery, through which the city’s inhabitants had carve paths, workspaces, living quarters. The more one travels closer to the center of the city, however, the buildings dominate the landscape, turning the vivid greens into a more beige, plain look. However, even here, there were noticeable patches of stubborn green, where gardens planted on rooftops overflow with fruits and vegetables.

And yet, as much as Crescent Peaks existed in harmony with nature, Malini saw proof of another truth, one of advancement in industry and technology. Malini could smoke rising in copious amounts from large chimneys that occasionally peak from between the buildings and tall trees. The wealthier buildings were decor in vivid colors and built in strange, unusual patterns. In the bay, Malini could see large ships, bigger than any she had seen before, certainly bigger than those built in Parijatdvipa. Passing an intersection, Malini saw little children playing on a street corner, circling around a small toy soldier and winding it up with a key in its back, allowing it to march independently. Clearly, the reports of Crescent Peaks’ advancements in science and technology she read were not exaggerating.   

“I wonder what type of games they play in a place like this?” Narina wondered, watching the children try to stagger the marching soldier’s rhythm by throwing rocks and obstacles in its path.  

“How much different could they be from the games in the Empire?” Alori asked.

“I doubt there will be much time for such childish things,” Pramila sniffed, not bothering to look up from her Book of Mothers. “The mission is too important for that.”

Malini and Narina rolled their eyes at each other, but otherwise didn’t add to Pramila’s comment. There was no need. She was on a mission from the Emperor, nothing else matters.   

The palace was built in the northwestern corner of Crescent Peaks, on a small rise, allowing it to rise above all the surrounding buildings and forest. A massive pure-white structure of granite and marble, it consisted of five towers, four smaller towers at the corners, surrounding one massive one with a round dome on top.  The trees and vegetation had been cleared from the nearby area, accenting the massive structure even further from its surroundings. 

Their chariot rode into a large courtyard leading to the main entrance, passing well-manicured gardens along the path. An entourage of brightly-robed priests came from the palace to greet them, escorted by equally brightly-armored guards.

“Princess Malini,” said a turbaned man, festooned with a pale blue stone in its center, and a saber at his side, bowing his head to her as she descended from her carriage, followed swiftly by Narina, Alori, and Pramila. “I’m the Raj’s Chief of Arms, Commander Rahul. I will escort you. The Raj is looking forward to seeing. Especially you, Princess Malini.”  

The palace was a match for some of the most luxurious mahals in Parijatdvipa, all gilt and precious gems carved into stonework. Unusual lamps hung every few feet from the walls, keeping the interior well lit, even at night. Decorative artwork was etched into the stone of the palace. All to communicate the Raj’s wealth and power in this domain. 

However, Malini’s eyes were on the inhabitants of the palace, the man and the maidservants bustling through the palace’s giant halls. The level of activity and number of people gave Malini the impression of an ant-hill, a constant, unceasing mound of nearly unconscious motion. Yet, as Malini and her group passed, most of the servants skirted from them, darting down different hallways or entering different rooms. Those who couldn’t quickly move to the side and bowed their heads, eyes demurely turned downward. 

Even here, Malini thought absently, people of a lower stature are taught to be invisible.

They entered an elegant waiting room, complete with desk and settee. 

“The Raj is in an important meeting and will meet you for dinner afterward,” Commander Rahul explained. “I will escort you in when he arrives.”

“Understood,” Pramila said, stiffly nodding her head once. 

Once Rahul had left, Pramila beckoned over to the settee, gesturing for her to sit down. She then motioned over a maidservant who rushed over, eyes pointed down, with a small wooden box in her hands. 

“I had this brought all the way from Parijat. It is important we present our best,” Pramila explained, lifting the smooth lid of the box. Out of it, she lifted a string of beautiful pearls from it, pure white orbs with a threadbare string attaching them to one another. Walking behind Malini on the settee, Pramila lowered the pearls and clasped the ends together behind Malini’s neck. The pearls sat bare against Malini’s throat, cold and lifeless. 

They should be flowers, Malini thought suddenly, her heart aching, a garland of flowers. 

And there were those strange intrusive thoughts again. Just where did that thought come from? Garland of flowers? For a wedding? For whom?

Even if Malini had…conventional romantic interests, she could not think of anyone she would garland, to claim her heart…

Narina and Alori were playing their fifth game of cards when Commander Rahul finally returned, through a pair of double doors.

“This way, my ladies.” He led into a long room centered by a long, dinner table, already stacked high with food, fresh and slathered with ghee. There were even many delicacies native to Parijatdvipa, such as spiced sabzis of Srugna. The servants who were serving the meal quickly left the room, leaving behind a sharp bearing man in a tunic and a buttoned shirt, coppers and silvers shining promptly from them.    

“Princess Malini,” he said, a smile brightening from under his goatee and thick mustache, welcoming them with open arms. He raised Malini’s hand, giving it a peck of a kiss. “I’m so glad you made it here, safe and sound.”

“Raj Yash,” Malini said, smoothly. “The trip was no danger or discomfort to me or my ladies. We’re glad to be welcomed so warmly, your highness.”

The Raj made similar welcomes to both Alori and Narina before grasping Pramila’s hands in a warm gesture. 

“I’m very glad that your father agreed for you to meet with me, Princess,” the Raj said measurably, waving his hand towards the table, welcoming them to take a seat. “I was worried that the journey would be too difficult for you to make it to Andhera…”

“On the contrary, Raj Yash,” Malini said, taking her seat at the table, “the voyage was very pleasant. Very uneventful.” 

“I’m so glad to hear,” the Raj replied genteelly, “These past few months we’ve been plagued by the worst sort of…bandits we’ve ever seen. I feared that such villainy would waylay on the road here.”

Malini kept her face impassive, but took great interest in this nugget of information. Bandits? she thought, I never heard about any sort of organized banditry in Andhera. Then again, I suppose if it's a recent occurrence, it’s likely we missed the news before we left on our voyage.

     She folded the information away to pursue at another date. “We were very well protected during our travels. We suffered no ill fortune on the road.”

“Good, good. I’m sure Commander Rahul will provide the necessary accommodations and protections to you during your stay in my country,” the Raj nodded his head toward the Commander, who was taking his own seat at the table as maid-servants served the meals. 

Commander Rahul simply nodded at the Raj’s proclamation, unsmiling, but made no other indication he heard. 

The conversation and the dinner continued in this manner, pleasant but unremarkable, at least that was what it would seem on the surface. What a common person might see as small talk was actually a careful dance or two players diligently positioning their pieces on a board. Seemingly innocent questions about agriculture, the tax on trade and goods, the price of bread and milk at the nearby market. Such questions can reveal, bit by bit, much about a country…and those who ruled it.

Andhera was once an impoverished fishing village, resting within the Crescent Forest and surrounded by the sands of the Silver Dune Desert. Neither the nearby Diwali Sultanate to the south nor the crusading Outremer states to the north had given this quarter-moon stretch of seashore and forest a passing glance in their domination of the region. 

It was Raj Shreyansh, the current Raj’s father, who discovered enormous deposits of precious metals and ore beneath the famed silvery sand dunes. Digging through the sand, obviously, proved a difficult task, taking so long that Raj Shreyansh only ruled for 5 years after the first ore was mined before his death. In his stead, Raj Rahul had ruled over the prosperity and wealth reaped by his father’s efforts. 

The man himself seemed up to the task of ruling over the burgeoning kingdom. He was eloquent, calm, precise. He answered her questions directly and was able to ask some of his own, carefully disguised as innocent queries. He even knew how to speak in court Dvipan, a fact the great pleased Lady Primila to no end.

“At least he knows a civilized tongue,” Malini heard her mutter under her breath. 

All of this knowledge Malini knew she could use, to investigate, to harness, to twist to her own ends. After all, that was the task her father, Emperor Sikander, had sent her to Andhera to accomplish, was it not?

“Make an ally of the Raj of Andhera for the Empire,” he had told her in the imperial court, “or put someone in place who could be.”

All this, the insights of the Raj and his kingdom, the state of affairs, the people, the places, she could use to her ends. She can fulfill the purpose her father had set out for her. And all Malini wanted to do was to scream.

It was partly out of her wish to distract herself from this strange inner disquiet, and partly out of curiosity, that her mind returned to that strange book binding she discovered in her chariot.  

“Raj Yash?” interrupting his monologue about grain imports, “I’ve come across some of the works of a local writer and I was wondering who he might have been.” 

“What is this writer’s name?” asked Raj, curious. 

“An…Aahan Wakim, I believe,” Malini supplied, feigning half-forgetfulness. She didn’t want to tip her hand to their hosts of the depth of her interest in this writer. Could lead to…unnecessary complications best avoided. 

“Aahan Wakim…Aahan Wakim,” the Raj swirled the name in his mouth as one did with wine in a glass. “Where have I…I’m certain I’ve heard that name before. Commander, does the name seem familiar to you?”

“I believe he had worked in our employ, Raj,” replied Commander Rahul, his perpetual frown still etched across his face. “However, I can hardly recall his time in the palace, your majesty nor his actual occupation within it.”

“Aaah, I’m afraid my memory has failed me on this particular matter, Princess, but be rest assured, I would make a full inquiry into this Wakim writer.”

“Nonsense, Raj,” Primila piped in. “Surely, looking into a matter as frivolous as a writer would be a waste of your time.”

But Raj merely waved Pramila’s concerns away.

“Not at all, not at all, my fair Pramila,” he said. “In truth, my curiosity had been provoked by this. If I had a writer of any worthy renown in my employ, I would have thought to be able to recall him. I wish to investigate this discrepancy within my memory.”

Upon finishing dinner, they bid the Raj and the Commander good night and were shepherded to their rooms. Much to Malini’s relief, she, Narina, and Alori were sharing a dormitory, though they had separate rooms, each large enough to house a family of four comfortably. Maids and servants busy themselves, arranging their personal effects, unpacking their clothing in their appropriate place. 

Pramila had essentially taken over the entire unpacking process, ordering the poor beleaguered servants, constantly asking a certain luggage or clothing or even piece of decorative or furniture to be arranged and rearranged constantly, seemingly on a whim. The shared living room Malini shared with Alori and Narina didn’t look the same as it did when they first walked in, merely a few minutes ago. 

“Your mother seems…animated today,” Alori whispered to Narina, over their resumed game of cards. 

“I suppose that means she thought the meeting went well,” Narina supplied, pausing from selecting a card from her hand. “If she didn’t think it didn’t, we would have been yelling at us instead of the servants.” 

“I just hope your mother isn’t taking it for granted that the alliance with the Raj is a sure thing,” Malini said dryly, watching as two servants try to maneuver a small table through the door.      

Narina stopped in mid-move to look at Malini. “You thought the meeting with Raj went poorly?”

Malini shook her head. “Not exactly, just…” She searched for the right words. “...not as insightful as I would have hoped.”

Malini had learned many things about Andhera and its people, but its leader remained somewhat enigmatic to her. And, most worriedly to her, so were his goals. She had to admit that it slightly alarmed her; she had deeply prided herself on being able to read people. The Raj struck her as exuberant, giddy, clearly proud of the small fiefdom he controlled on this distant shore. And, yet for all his talk about “forging closer ties with the Parijatdvipa Empire”, he hardly talked about what he had to offer for such. Her father made it clear he wanted the alliance, but it wasn’t something to be given away for nothing.

Alori listened, a critical look in her eye, before saying, “It’s still early. No doubt he is still weighing his options. Trying to cast Andhera in a more favorable light before seeking a formal alliance.”

“Perhaps…” Malini trailed off, watching a maidservant, trying to, in vain, organizing the contents of a drawer of linens, only for her efforts to be undermined by Pramila’s mercurial demands, forcing the poor woman to pack and unpack the linens in different drawers constantly. 

Malini made a note to herself to interrogate the servants and the maid-servants when she has the chance. The perspective of a person of a lower status can provide the important perspective of an employer or a situation. How did the average person view the coming-and-goings of the palace and Andhera in general?

“...and Princess Malini?” Pramila stopped her aggravation of the servants to address Malini, surprising them all.

“Yes?”

“May I speak to you…alone…in your room?”

Though phrased in Pramila’s proper manner and couched as a question, Malini had the distinct impression that this was less a request and more of an order. Regardless, Malini followed Pramila into the room set aside for her, curious about what Pramila had to ask of her. 

Malini’s room was not as expansive or large as her own room back in Harsinghar, but it was no less luxurious. A maid was busying herself, folding the heavier blankets on the end of the bed. Pramila made a small cough from her throat and the maid quickly bowed before leaving through the door. Pramila followed her to the door before shutting the door, latching it locked, and turning to face Malini.

“I hope you found your meeting with the Raj…satisfactory, Princess Malini,” Pramila said, in her formal, stiff tone. “He seemed a valuable person to be made an ally of the Empire, even if,” she gave the opulent surroundings a disdained look, “they are lacking in more refined tastes.”

Malini had to resist the urge to roll her eyes. The room could have been gilted in gold and decorated with pearls and somehow Pramila finds it lacking in some manner. 

“The Raj was…amendable,” Malini said in the most neutral manner, “maybe not remarkable, but Andhera holds some promise as an ally of Parijatdvipa.”  

“Indeed,” Pramila sniffed, moving past Malini to light a lamp on a pedestal near the bed. Outside the window, the sky was becoming ever-darker, the last of the sun’s rays fading over the horizon and the shadows in the room were growing longer, deeper, especially with the door closed. “The Emperor thought so, too, though there were some…concerns to be had.”  

Hearing Pramila speak of her father by his title sent a chill down Malini’s spine. A note of suspicion entered her mind.

“And what,” she said slowly, dreading the response, “concerns did my father have about Andhera and the Raj?”

Pramila didn’t immediately answer, instead focusing on striking the match and igniting the wick, allowing a low, diffused light fill the room, before turning to face Malini again. The light only showed half of Pramila’s face, leaving the half turned away from the light in shadow. It was a very frightening appearance, the shadows dancing across Pramila’s face, bringing the lines into sharper relief, aging her into the frightening visage of an aged crone from some sort of child fairy tale.

“Before we left Parijatdvipa, the Emperor sought me out and confided in me about his concerns about Andhera,” Pramila said haughtily, barely concealing her conceited pride in being a person her father would confide in, “and he gave me a letter outlining them,” she reached into a pocket in her sari, extracting aged letter, emblazoned with the royal seal, “as well as instructions…to you…on how you may address them.”

She lifted the envelope between two fingers and Malini, heart in her throat, unable to speak, took it. She moved past Pramila, toward the lantern light, in order to read the letter as well as prevent Pramila from seeing how much her hands were shaking. 

She opened the letter and read it…and read it again…and then re-read it, the ink transcribed words of her father’s strict handwriting. And felt all emotion bleed from her, leaving Malini an empty, hollow husk of a person. She knew, of course, coming here, to Andhera, was official Imperial business. 

Of course she knew she was expected to act as a representative of the Empire while in the Raj’s court. But, she honestly, for once, had hoped that Andhera would be a reprieve from the bloody work of the Empire, not be the sharp-edged arbitrator of Imperial will, of her father’s will. She thought…

But, oh, what did it matter what she had thought or hoped? It didn’t matter. She had a task to do in Andhera, beyond the forging of good will between kingdoms. And she will see it done.

 She looked down at the lantern, the frosted glaze of the glass causing the flame within to be diffused. She began to gently lift the glass surrounding the flame of the lantern, careful not to touch the parts already heated by fire.

“So what will you do to allay the Emperor’s fears?” Pramila asked her, not even turning to look at her. 

“What is expected of me, of course,” Malini said, monotone in order not to allow any emotion bleed into her voice.

“Of course,” Pramila said as if it was the most logical conclusion. 

Malini folded the letter back up again, slowly. Then, she lifted it until one corner of it was dipped in the flame. She watched as the letter, like her hopes, were reduced to ashes in front of her eyes before replacing the glass over the flame.

Pramila would be right, of this being the correct course of action. She was a Princess of Parijat, a vessel of Imperial will and power, yet never to wield it herself for her own benefit. To serve at the Emperor’s beck and call. She had been ordered, and so she will obey. 

After all, what other future could there be for her?