Chapter 2 - Princess Yasmina
Perhaps we should take this moment to discuss Princess Yasmina. She was of course the impetus behind our tale. Alidar loved her deeply I think. Perhaps even as soon as the first time they met. Of course actions mean more than feelings and Alidar, if legend has it right, did more for her than any other man before or since. By all accounts she was well worth it nor could anyone say that she did not reciprocate his love. Young she might have been at their first meeting but already she was brimming with intelligence and was in process of having it tempered by wisdom. By the time he returned to seek her hand she was his match in every way. Of course her beauty was unquestioned, every retelling makes mention of it. She outshone even her own sisters, it is said. The Sultan, I believe, was quite proud of her.
Scribe of the Sands, 1446th Chol of the 3rd age
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"YOU DID WHAT?!!!"
Yasmina flinched at her father's thunderous roar. She had, of course, been caught as she re-entered the palace by distraught guards who had promptly taken her to her father. She came clean to him about her time in the market with her guards and he seemed mad but not angry at her until she came to Alidar, her time with him and the subsequent giving of her name to the young man. The angry man before her bore little resemblance to the jolly, loving father she had always known. Her eunuch guards were arrayed around her and had been since she entered the palace. Each one had sworn their lives to hers when she was just in the cradle. All seven of them stood guard around her, ready to defend her against any threat, even if that threat was the Sultan. Rajah, the captain of her Hasharri, stepped forward.
"She was in no danger of harm, my lord. Alidar El'Iren did not ask for the name nor was he ignorant of the great honor it was. He knew of her identity or at least suspected and did not behave in any manner warranting your wrath. I do believe the young man didn't cease smiling until he had returned home." Rajah stepped back into formation as the Sultan's anger ebbed. He didn't say what he truly wanted to, despite the pleasure it would give his mistress. 'He treated her better than any of those princely bastards you have brought in as suitors for her sister. At least his attraction was more on her brilliance and desires, than on her body.' The thought of the princes made him want to spit in disgust. 'Dung beetles the lot of them. Too much time and not enough discipline.' A hand on his arm forced him from his thoughts. Yasmina calmly stepped forward and nodded to her father.
"I'm not sorry I went to the marketplace. I saw more of the state of our city than I ever did from my window. And I learned more about the state of our people than I ever did from my tutors. They paint everything in a rosy light. Nothing could be further from the truth. People live hard lives in our own city while I live in luxury. How can that be fair?" The Sultan's gaze softened and he stepped forward to hug his daughter. He looked down at her, speaking softly but firmly.
"I'm afraid life isn't fair though I try to be as just in my rulings and laws as possible. There are those who are born into a lower station of life and do not have the talent or ability to climb higher. Yet there are those who, by the Maker's blessing, receive abilities and talents to become more than their birth station. The ability of a ruler is not measured in days, my precious one, but in decades. Our station is to lead and Dasir has grown wealthier with each passing decade. My job as Sultan is to see that the wealth reaches the lower class and not just stay in the hands of the wealthy. It remains until after my time to see how well I have done. Isn't that right my vizier?" He turned then to his left where a tall man stood off to the left awaiting his Sultan. The man bowed in acknowledgement. Foreign in appearance he had eyes of gold that glittered like sands in a sandstorm, ever moving. He hailed from Lochos, a city kingdom far to the southwest, past Orinth, and situated in the midst of the great black sands. It was said that those with golden eyes could cast spells by thought, bewitch men and women, and glean their thoughts by sight. But Fajar El'Iria was a kind man, if prone to bouts of melancholy, often staring off to the southwest with a longing gaze. He was sharp tongued and witty and his place at the Sultan's side was established by his wisdom and tact in political matters.
"You are correct indeed my Sultan. I beseech you not to punish the princess too harshly. I myself gained much wisdom by observing those less fortunate than myself. Perhaps the wisdom itself is both boon and curse enough."
The Sultan smiled at his vizier. "Perhaps you are correct although I fail to see how wisdom could be a punishment or curse."
Fajar bowed his head and only Yasmina caught the undercurrent of melancholy that passed through his expression before it cleared. "Forgive me, perhaps I meant knowledge without wisdom might be a danger to the one in possession of it." He rose and gained a far off look in his eye for a moment before deferentially motioning to his Sultan. "My Sultan, I believe it's about time for Prince Alonso to leave. We should not miss his departure despite his failure to 'win' the Princess's hand in marriage." The ironic twinkle in his eye was missed by the Sultan but was caught by the princess. Yasmina smiled at him when the Sultan turned his back to her and nodded to his Vizier.
"Very well Fajar." With a sigh he turned to Rajah. "Please take my daughter to her quarters." He gave his daughter one last hug before motioning to his vizier and departing out the broad doors. His own Hasharri followed him like ghosts, their various powers working to keep their presence as invisible as possible. Rajah turned to his mistress and motioned towards the door. Yasmina sighed.
"Alright let us go." Letting Rajah lead the way, she followed after him making sure to keep her posture and countenance regal as befitting a princess. That did not stop her from smiling and nodding to the servants she passed in the halls. As she arrived at her chambers she let Rajah go in first before following with the rest of her guards. Moving to a couch she flopped unceremoniously onto it. Her guards hid grins and moved about doing their job. With a compilation of clairvoyance powers and other detection abilities it wasn't long before they declared every room clear. Yasmina sighed when the inspection was over and went to take a bath. After all, the marketplace for all its wonders was still a dirty place.
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Fajar watched the pompous brat of a Prince waltz off with his entourage. Out of habit he checked to make sure his mental barriers were in place. He caught himself and shook his head sadly. There was rarely a need. It had been a long time since he had lived in the city of his foremothers where the black sand ran like water and its powers flowed through the people, rich and poor alike. These heathens would never understand. He blinked to clear those unworthy thoughts. Heathen they may be but the Sultan, his family, and the people of Dasir were worthy people. 'Unlike other heathens.' He thought as he watched Prince Alonso depart in a huff, as rejected as every other suitor for the princess Celina, the eldest princess. Once again he checked that the thought hadn't been read by those around him only to sigh at his reaction. There were no Lochos here, only a tired man past his prime whose talent with the gift had seen him abused terribly before being cast aside. He was happy in Dasir. He held a position of power and one that used his considerable mental prowess for something other than the complicated political mind games of his own people. He watched as the Sultan turned aside and began walking back into the palace. He followed him at his motion and fell in beside him as they walked together.
"So my friend? How did you find that one?" Asked the Sultan softly, indicating the privacy of counsel. Fajar sighed before answering.
"Too pompous and arrogant. The princess has a sturdy mind on her shoulders, despite her obsession with her looks. She knows what she needs and what the people need. She does not suffer fools." The Sultan glanced over at him and raised an eyebrow but said nothing else for a time.
"Do our neighbors see US as fools to mock us so? Has the mark of royalty fallen so low that these are the best of our neighbor's royal line? I fear for the future relations between our kingdoms if that is the case." Fajar just chuckled in response.
"I believe they are sending their youngest princes out to gain wisdom at the expense of our princess's patience and grit. They are being taught that just because they are princes doesn't mean they can gain everything they want by a stint of their royal blood. I believe we shall begin seeing their best soon enough. Perhaps by the time of the Festival of Light and the Great Games. Tales of Celina's beauty will draw them and the need to exemplify the proper image of royalty is sure to be pounded into their skulls." The Sultan sighed but nodded.
"I hope you are right my friend. Yasmina will follow Celina in due time and I would hate to see her married to a prince that looks down on her and treats her ill."
"Indeed my Sultan, though I suspect her hand will be harder to win than Celina's. She is brilliant for her age and much too curious to agree to a gilded cage no matter how pretty." He gained a far off look in his eye before continuing. "I do believe the cook has just finished our twilight repast. Shall we continue this discussion over tea and kafta my lord?"
The Sultan nodded. "I know you explained your powers to me before but I'm continually astonished by its accuracy. Yes, let us adjourn this conversation until tea. We also need to discuss the peace accord with Kalim…" The two men continued in hushed tones, discussing much deep into the night.
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Yasmina, with flickering candle lights casting shadows across her face, wrote in her diary. She sighed as she thought of the bazaar, with its many smells, textures, and sounds. She blushed as she wrote of Alidar and blushed even harder when she remembered the strength of his figure when he stepped in front of that angry man, Hakim. She had been too dazed by the danger to take stock of it but now in the fantasy of her mind Alidar became a fortress, a stronghold of protection against evil. The more rational side of her mind tried its best to dismiss the more fantastical elements but she was young and Alidar was vibrant, mysterious, and surprisingly intelligent. She had not expected a young man from the streets to be so well learned or well spoken. It increased her estimation of him. 'If only he was a prince.' She shook her head at the rogue thought. Alidar was quickly taking on more of a princely image in her mind than any of the suitors that had come for her sister Celina. In two years she herself would come of age and then the suitors would come for her. She shivered at the thought, even as she put her thoughts down on the pages of her diary. Perhaps they wouldn't be all bad but she couldn't help but remember their leering looks at Celina or their arrogant discussions and expressions.
Again her thoughts drifted to Alidar and his surprising courtly manners. She wondered idly how he came by them. 'Perhaps he is a prince in disguise.' She flushed at the thought before admonishing herself. Alidar had too much street knowledge for someone bred in a palace and she knew it came from years of experience living everyday within the crowded sprawl of the city. It did not stop her mind from entertaining rogue fantasies of Alidar in ivory silks, a sword at his side in the courtly manner of young Dasiri noblemen. She smiled shyly at the thought of him asking her for a dance or a walk in the gardens. She rose quickly and went to splash rose water on her face before climbing into her lavish bed of silks. Regardless of her fantasies Alidar was not a prince and her heart filled with melancholy as she gave up her new found fantasies. After all, she had only met him once and a young heart's first crush is quite easily broken by the realities of the world.