haynee (hai-nee) noun
Expression of unknown origin common among the people of Tomesh; used to express shock, frustration, sadness, happiness, sympathy
***
The people of Tomesh may be wise, but they were ignorant of many things. They were too secluded from the rest of the world and understandably knew very little about the other lands. They were always curious about the ushas and the lands they came from. And so, when the first batch of ushas arrived, everyone was peering through windows and doors, others a little more shameless, ogling at the parade down the streets. Nascha, of course, was among them, eating baked brye sprinkled with sugar.
Her eyes were on the girl riding atop a horse. Her face was covered by a sheer white cloth, which made Nascha even more curious. The woman riding beside her was also covered in the same way. The younger woman's skin was brown, just a little lighter than hers. Her head was wrapped in the most beautiful golden cloth, which glimmered under the bright sun. Her back was erect, her head held high, looking straight and upward at the sloping village ahead. They were heading up there, near the House of Djozeh, where they shall hold camp.
Around Nascha, merchants were talking about their plans. They should pack and transfer to the camp and set up their kiosks. These ushas would need food and maybe clothes. Also trinkets. Or maybe a show to entertain them. Nascha's attention was drawn to the other riders. They, too, had their heads covered with colorful fabrics. And their horses dragged carriages covered with the same fabrics--yellow, blue, teal.
These people were from Achnus. Nascha had never been there, but she had heard stories. Their black stones were precious, but their land was not. It was dark there, they said. And it may not be true, but an aunt had told her that one of her friends from Kgosi said that Achnus was covered in ashes. Popping the last piece of her bread into her mouth, Nascha brushed her hands together and craned her neck to see more of the princess from Achnus.
"They say her name is Tia Turvass," said the woman beside her. "And that woman riding beside her is their queen, Yrlissa Turvass." Nascha turned and found old Gaera, wrinkled face crumpling as she squinted at the parade. Nascha, stepped back. She knew it was her fault that this woman's garden was ruined by scorpions, but she still detested Gaera. The old lady had nothing good to say to anyone, especially Nascha. Today was not an exception either, because as her eyes wandered to Nascha, she shook her head with disapproval. "Haynee! Your hair is turning white, dear," she said. "It's all that tugging. Your hair rings are not level. What would your husband think if he sees you?"
He did not say he dislikes it, nor did he say he likes it. She did not say the words. All she did was offer a tight smile and step back. Old Gaera looked away with disappointment, as if she bore Nascha into the world, fed her, taught her Tomera, and found her a husband only for all the hard work to not pay off. For this lady, everyone was a failure.
Meeting Gaera reminded her of her predicament. Karei was transferred to one of the prison cells in a nearby butte, far away from the king's tomb. The village chief was still deciding when they would take Karei out to the desert.
As she walked away, her thought drifted a little to Gaera's comment about her hair. She walked into the kitchen that morning to present the horror to her mother. "What happened to your hair!" her mother had cried out. "It's turning silver! It's all that tugging, Nascha! Go to your room now and don't come out without fixing those rings!"
Of course, she tried fixing the rings, but she did not bother to walk out her bedroom door. She climbed out the window and that was how she found herself watching the parade. And now, as her thought shifted back to the most urgent problem at hand, which was Karei's fate, Nascha spotted Kalesch from the other side of the street, looking around. He had a short wrap over his shoulders. His legs were wrapped in leather, secured by strings from his sandals. He looked just like every man in the crowd, but he stood out only because he was taller than most.
Nascha whirled on her heels and ducked under a kiosk selling red scorpions coated in caramel. And then she sprinted into a small alleyway. She was not avoiding him because they awkwardly parted ways five nights ago. He did not seem to believe her when she said he would die soon, while she could not even show him she was sorry he would, because how could she grieve for a husband she did not even know?
"Terrible, isn't it?" a voice asked.
"Yes," she absently nodded, thinking about her future as a widow in the Djozeh family. The Oracle Widow. What a terrible name.
"The sun is worse here in Tomesh," the voice added.
"Om miativ," she murmured, because that's how you should respond to ignorant fools who did not know their words may have angered the gods. Praise the spirits indeed for such fools, for they made the world a little interesting.
"I've heard that before," the voice continued to say beside her.
"I'm sure you did," she said with a scoff, only to stop walking, realizing she was having a conversation with someone not herself. Her head snapped to the right.
The man grinned, his lips stretching almost to his ears. Nascha thought she had seen him before, but could not point out where. He must be one of the ushas from Achnus, she deduced. "Hello," he said, looking over his shoulder at the road she came from.
"Why are you not among your people?" she asked.
"What does om miativ mean?"
She continued looking. "Praise the spirits."
"Ah, wonderful words." He sounded like someone who enjoyed anything. Even his body language said so. His hands were behind him, his gait easy, and he inspected everything with interest. He was dressed expensively, the fabric of his breeches glimmered with his movement. His leather sandals looked like they were from Han'ia where the best cows lived. "Were you watching the parade?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Did you see the princess?"
"Of course, but not her face."
He nodded. Then he stopped, grinning at her. "What has been bothering you?"
"Nothing."
"You have the same look my mother wears whenever she thinks something terrible is about to happen."
Nascha swallowed. This man must have been following her. Had he been following her? Kalesch warned her about ushas. Now that she may be the Oracle, anyone would want to take her away. As he said, she was a powerful weapon. "I should go," she murmured, making a sharp turn.
"I'm lost," the stranger said.
"Go back to the main road. Someone will help you. I need to go."
"Did I scare you?" the man asked.
"No," she lied over her shoulder before dashing away.
Where should she go next? Home?
Of course not. Hours later, her stomach was rumbling and she was listening to the same man talk about himself. She decided he was not a danger to her. He was not capable of hurting anyone because he loved everyone who could offer him praise and awe.
He said his name was Kulah, and he was from Achnus. He was not lost, but he was looking for someone, he said. His sister. She ran away from the parade earlier.
"Ah, I guess she's now at the camp," he said when she frustratingly suggested that they go straight to the village chief for help after hours of searching.
"Then I hope you can go back to your camp safely," she replied, turning to leave. But again, he ran up to her and asked about other things. How were the houses built? Where did they get their rocks? And then he back to talking about himself. He was an expert swordsman, and he was also good with the bow and arrow, but not so much because he missed three marks since he started learning.
Nascha looked around, no longer listening as her thoughts jumped from one problem to another. Kalesch and his lack of urgency in preventing his impending death, Karei's impending death, and the many more deaths to follow. Why did she carve too many deaths in that arnucc? Why not world peace? Why not gold and riches for her and her family? Why not a completely different future where she did not have to carve on stones, where she could just write stories in Tomera without them coming true?
"...and when she realized who I was, she fainted. Right there in front of me, at my feet, in front of hundreds of people. She still wears the bump in her head to this day..."
She groaned inwardly. Kulah should stop talking. Not only could she hardly understand his fast Kgos tongue, but she could not also—
Wait. He was talking in Kgos too fluently for someone who said he was from Achnus. As far as she knew, they used Achun. This man was a liar. He was not from Achnus. He was from Kgosi. And surely, that lady did not faint at the sight of his bare chest. And a head bump did not stay too long.
And that's when it clicked. Where she saw him.
She stopped walking and waited until he also did the same. She peered as he turned to look at her curiously. Oh no. She had been strolling around the village with the prince! Nascha looked around. They were almost alone on the side of the road that led to the Achnus camp.
"Do I have something on my face?" he asked.
Nascha shook her head. "No." She continued her walk, thinking about how she should act now. But why would she be intimidated by him? He was out pretending to be an ordinary man and she should treat him as one. And why was he following her? Was he interested in her? The thought almost made her slap herself. She and her fantasies!
"I should really go home," she told him.
"Let's go to the Achnus camp," he said instead. "Aren't you curious?"
She looked around again. If something happened to this man, she would be in trouble. It was enough that his father died because of her.
"Nascha!" someone called behind them. Her sister, Hashek, was running toward her, eyes wide. "They're taking Karei out tonight," Hashek said breathlessly. "Mahl and the others are pleading her case. Will you come and join us? What happened to your hair?"
Nascha's eyes went to the prince, then back to her sister, who was also now looking at him with a frown. "I'll go there. And my hair's fine, just too much tugging," she hastily said, turning her sister to face her. "Go ahead."
Hashek stepped closer. "This is not Kalesch. You can't spend time with other men if your husband is in the village."
"He's lost," she lied. "I'm taking him back to the camp."
Her sister's eyes glimmered with interest. "He's from Achnus?"
"Yes."
Hashek stole Prince Laku another glance. "He looks familiar."
"He has a very common face," she murmured under her breath. "Go. I'll join you later."
Hashek nodded. "Yes. The more the better. We can't let another woman die."
When her sister walked away, the prince turned to her with interest. "Who's dying?"
An idea came to Nascha. This was the prince. He had power. "A woman in the village was accused of witchcraft."
"A witch?"
"But she's not," she said. "An old neighbor who hates her accused her. And now they're sending her to die in the desert."
"That's horrible."
"I know." She continued to lead him to the camp. "Someone should do something about it."
"You're joining them tonight? To appeal her case?"
"No," she said. "I'm going to rescue her."
"Rescue her? How?"
"I don't know. I'll find a way."
He fell silent, and the longer he was, the more she was losing hope. Maybe she shouldn't have told him of her plans.
"Do you need help?"
She contained her excitement. "Are you offering one?"
He shrugged. "It sounds fun."
"Not if I get caught."
His eyes glimmered with excitement. "We won't," he said, grinning from ear to ear.
***
Laku did not think he would enjoy his stay in Tomesh, but he was starting to. He just met a good friend, a woman who seemed to be completely amazed by him. She listened to his stories intently, not because she knew he was the prince, but because he was interesting.
He should be praying with his mother, but he was too restless to be in one place for hours. His father was not going anywhere. However, a woman needed his help. As the prince of the empire, he needed to save her. And what was the best way to show his greatness but by rescuing this woman as an ordinary man without using his power as prince?
Again, that night, after saying he was not feeling well and needed to rest, Laku slipped out of the grand tent set up by the royal servants behind the butte of his father's tomb. It was far enough from the village, and most definitely far from the people of Achnus who just arrived today.
On the cover of the night, he easily escaped the evening prayer. By the time he reached the village, he rearranged his wrap over his shoulders and whistled his way to the meeting place. He did not know his new friend's name, but he intended to change that tonight. He should know his comrade if they were to go on this mission together.
She was already waiting, still in the same wrap she was in earlier, and her hair was still as messy with the silver strands poking here and there. Did she even go home? She looked surprised to find him. Did she think he had no honor?
"Well?" he asked, looking over his shoulder. "The talk with the chief did not go well?"
"No," she replied with a shake of her head. "As expected."
"Then should we rescue your friend?"
"She's not my friend."
"Then why are we rescuing her?"
"Because it's my—because she is not a witch. There's no such thing."
He smiled at her. "You don't believe in magic."
She looked away. They were at the bottom of the stone stairs that followed the slope of the village not far away is the camp of the Achnus people.
"Are you sure you're coming?" she asked.
"Of course."
She still looked unconvinced. "If we get caught, you will do anything in your power to keep us from trouble?"
"Of course!" he said. He could do that. He had escaped many troubles in the past because of who he was. This one was no exception. He just wondered how long he would last as Kulah, the ordinary man. The last time he ventured alone, his guards found him within an hour.
He followed her into a dark alleyway. "We're going to shadow them up to where they'll take her. Then we'll take her back."
"And after?"
"What do you mean?"
"Where are you going to keep her?"
She paused. Goodness, she had no plans.
"It's fine. We'll take her to the camp of my people."
"You'll take her home with you?"
"She will not survive hiding in this little village," he said. He could take the woman to Kgosi. She could be one of the servants if she wished.
"You're right. And you're very generous."
He grinned. "I am, am I not?"
She smiled and nodded.
And it was so that they found themselves hiding behind a big rock not far away from the butte where the said witch was being kept. There were people outside, talking. His comrade was frowning at the scene.
"What's the problem?"
"Alika. She's a priestess," she said.
He narrowed his eyes and saw a woman dressed in white. "And?"
"I don't know. It's strange."
"Are you here to witness the killing of the witch?" a voice asked behind them. Laku and his comrade whirled around to find a beautiful woman staring at them with the most charming smile he had ever seen. Her hair was wrapped in a blue silk cloth, her brown skin shining like copper under the gleam of the moonlight. She was perfect, he thought. "I heard there's a witch killing tonight."
"Who are you?" Laku's comrade demanded.
"Oh, forgive me. I'm Zaria of Achnus," the girl said, giving them a slight bow, a giggle bubbling out of her mouth as she did so.
"Where did you hear about the witch?" Laku's friend asked, obviously unhappy to have an intruder.
"The man who sold me the fried scorpion with caramel," Zaria said, brown eyes wandering to him. And stayed. She flushed and bit her lips. "Hello."
"Hello," he greeted.
The comrade turned to him. "You know each other?"
"No," he said.
"But you are both from Achnus."
Zaria's brows lifted in amusement and curiosity. "We are?"
"Y-Yes," he lied. "We are." Clearing his throat, he held his shoulders back and offered the woman a bow. "My name is Kulah."
She just nodded, staring at him in wonder. Well, maybe he did not look ordinary, after all, he thought. But then Zaria turned to his comrade again and asked, "And yours?"
The woman lifted her chin without a smile, looking at Zaria suspiciously. "Nascha."
"What a beautiful name," Zaria said.
"So is Zaria," Laku said, stepping closer to the woman. "But we should hide."
Zaria blinked. "Why?"
"Because we can't—"
"We should all go back," Nascha interjected, giving him a sharp look. Was she irritated because he was paying Zaria attention?
"Will you walk me back to our camp then?" Zaria asked him, batting her eyes.
"Of course," he said.
He turned to Nascha, who was staring at the priestess standing outside the manned chamber again. "We can still follow them after I escort her back to the camp," he told her under his breath.
She shook her head and turned away from the butte. "It was a crazy idea, after all."
"But—"
"You should go," she said, stealing Zaria a look. "Take her back to the camp."
He nodded and watched her walk away. His eyes wandered back to the butte and at the priestess. Then he faced Zaria again, smiling down at her. She knew he was not from Achnus, but she still invited him to her camp. Ah, what a lucky night, he thought. Far better than going after a condemned witch.
***
Tia woke up to the sound of the local merchants offering their goods. Her sisters had their arms around each other, still much asleep. Their tent was large enough for the three of them, but their mother had to stay in another.
She felt like she had not gotten enough sleep as she dragged her feet to the washstand. There, she splashed water on her face, wondering where Zaria or Nym went to last night. She was certain either of them sneaked out.
Moments later, as she wrapped her head in white and gold cloth, her mother walked in with a servant, also with turbans around their head. Back home, it protected them from the ashes. Here, they did not have to wear them, but it felt strange not to. It was part of who they were, a reminder of the land that waited for them.
"Perfect. It matches your dress," her mother said, gesturing at the white and gold dress hanging over the servant's arm.
Tia threw her silent question with a frown. The queen was dressed as grand as the dress the servant held. "It's time, my daughter." Walking over, her mother fixed her turban. "The prince has finally asked to see you."
She had been waiting for this moment, but it still sent a shiver up her spine, coursing to the tips of her fingers. This would be the first time she would meet her betrothed, and she had to make a good impression. If only she could summon Zaria's charms, she would, but the woman was nowhere around at the moment.
After being dressed in white and gold, and after her lids were painted blue and gold like a butterfly's wing, Tia walked out of the tent and into a small open carriage, which was basically just a chair sitting on two long rods for the servants to carry. She was not covering her face today. Her people, the ones who went with them, all stared. So did the people of Tomesh, their faces filled with awe and wonder as they gazed at her beauty. The servants carried her gently down the streets and farther out of the village. Her mother was close behind in another.
They passed the butte where King Amatif was laid to rest. Treasures were outside the stone door, all waiting for more. She looked over at the distant slopes of sand dunes and wondered when the other ushas would arrive and what they would bring for the king's tomb.
The journey to the royal camp was faster than she had anticipated. And by the time she and her mother were ushered through various tents, she was breathless. However, she held it when they finally came to a stop in front of the largest tent. It towered over them, casting shadow against the sunlight. It was white, the flaps adorned with gold and blue paint. On either side stood poles that held the Kgosi flags, also gold and blue.
A servant whose chest was bare save for the open half-wrap over his shoulders, turned and walked into the tent. From outside, they heard their names being announced. Her mother reached for her hand and squeezed it before she stepped forward, hiding Tia from view. Her servant made a quick fix of her white and gold wrap, her turban, the gold earrings and the cuffs around her arms.
The Kgosi servant came out and held the flap open for them, eyes cast downward. Then her mother, gracious as ever, stepped forward. In her shadow, Tia did the same. She did not feel nervous, nor was she anxious. She just felt strange.
"Praise the sun god for this momentous moment, Your Majesties. The people of Achnus are saddened by the king's passing, but we are hopeful for a bright future once Prince Laku is king," her mother greeted in Kgos with a bow of her head, giving Tia a quick view of the queen and prince of Kgosi who were both sitting in the middle. Servants holding gigantic fans were in harmony as they moved them up and down; others were still as rocks, holding trays of drinks. The inside of the tent was covered in blue and gold carpet with sheer white curtains to separate other spaces: one with large yellow pillows, another large wooden tub filled with water, and on the right, a giant bed in red and gold.
"We are glad you have arrived safely, Queen Yrlissa. Has your journey been well?" Queen Yarah asked in Achun. Her voice was thick, strong with Kgos accent.
"The desert god protected us, Your Majesty," her mother retorted, adamant to use Kgos.
"I understand you came with the princess." This time, it was a man's voice. He sounded excited, but also a little... condescending? He had the right to be, Tia thought. He was here to put his father to rest, not to have his future wife be forced onto him.
"Yes, Your Majesty," her mother replied, finally stepping aside.
Tia did not bow. She looked straight, right at the queen, who was looking as pleased as the people in the village earlier. Then her eyes veered to Prince Laku, her future husband, the man she would have to kill to save her people. He was already standing, eyes wide, mouth open in wonder.
"You," he said, pointing at her. "Zaria!"
Her mother stiffened. So did Tia.
Zaria, you stupid girl. What have you done!
Within, in one of the three corners of her mind, Zaria's giggle echoed. But it was another voice that answered. "She made you sleep again and met the prince," Nym said in a very irritated voice. "I wanted to play last night, but she took over!" the little boy's voice whined. Zaria only chuckled in response.
Tia's hand balled into a fist. Shut up, the two of you. I'm on the spot now. "Go to sleep," she murmured under her breath.
Zaria and Nym did as she ordered, stepping back into their corners, but Tia could still feel their presence. She gave them a silent warning not to come out. They promised, but as always, Zaria always broke her promises. And now, like always, Tia had to fix her stupid mess.