Promise: Chapter 16

A Usurper's Son

Ibrahim's magical universities have been teaching magi for nearly a thousand years. Today these universities exist in every country in the world,

Rasif gazed out over the vast, desert expanse. A sandstorm was beginning to gather, a wall of hazy gray devouring the horizon, curling like smoke. It wouldn’t be long before it reached them. Already the air was dry in his throat, and the ground trembled slightly beneath his feet, pounded by the storm’s fury. Rasif folded his arms, trying his best to ignore the anxious pit in his stomach.

“Not here yet?” Melika asked him. He turned to the old woman. She was smiling, one hand holding the door open and the other outstretched toward him. “Come inside,” she told him. “There’s no need for you to fret out here in all this nasty weather.”

He turned back toward the storm. “Five more minutes.”

“They’ll be here,” Melika reassured him.

“But how do you know?” Rasif asked, frustrated. “It’s dangerous out there, and they’re already late. Who knows what they could have run into? We should be out looking for them.”

Melika shook her head. “A man is not likely to find them in this storm, I think. If you could, that would probably mean that they’re already on our doorstep.”

He kept his eyes fixed ahead. “We should have sent a search party out before the storm warning.”

“Maybe,” Melika acknowledged. “But perhaps, rather than looking only outward, a man might look inward, as well. Do you really trust them so little? That girl has quite a fine head on her shoulders, wouldn’t you agree?”

“She’s the most clever person I know.”

“Then, is it so hard to imagine that she’s clever enough to avoid the storm?”

“I suppose not,” he admitted reluctantly.

“Well then. Come inside and get some supper. All you’re doing here is torturing yourself.”

“It’s fine. I’m not hung-” He trailed off as his stomach began to growl loudly. His cheeks turned red.

“Not hungry, huh?” Melika chuckled, then turned inside. “Come on, then. It wouldn’t kill you to have a few bites of stew, I think.”

Rasif was about to join her when suddenly he spotted distant movement in his peripheral vision. He whirled around as a pair of tall, lumpy shapes appeared on the horizon. As they drew nearer he was able to make out two individuals, one man and one woman, each seated on their own camel.

“It’s them!” Rasif exclaimed. “They’re here!”

---

Ariana’s camel came to a stop before the great, stone palace.

“It’s bigger than I expected,” Vahid said, riding up from behind. He urged his camel to stop next to hers.

She nodded quietly as the two of them drank in the sight of the pristine construct: white and gold stone bricks layered to form a massive cube jutting out from the arid desert hills, stacked on top of gold-colored, metal scaffolding. It was surrounded on all sides by long, spiraling towers that served both as belfries and as nests for sentries. Atop the palace a golden dome refracted the afternoon sunlight, causing it to glow a rusty vermillion.

“It’s the same size as the royal palace in Babosar,” Vahid marveled. “You used to live here?”

She nodded again. “Every winter for six years.”

Vahid whistled. “Magi do well for themselves, eh? I could get used to staying somewhere like this.”

Ariana smiled. She’d admittedly been looking forward to bringing Vahid. She wanted him to see this part of her childhood, to see this part of her. Now that she was here, however, she was starting to feel apprehensive. What should have been a celebrated homecoming instead caused her stomach to twist in violent knots. Was she wrong to have come? Wasn’t she putting everyone in danger just by being there?

“Crown princess!” someone croaked.

She looked up to find a hunched, elderly woman smiling at her. The old woman had more wrinkles than Ariana could count, and skin nearly as dark as a karkadann’s. Her eyes glistened brightly, like two small suns shining in the vast, cosmic darkness. This was a woman of power; a woman of magic.

“Master!” Ariana exclaimed, beaming. She dismounted, then rushed into the old woman’s arms and embraced her. “It’s so good to see you!”

Melika wrapped her arms around Ariana’s head, holding her close. “Ohhh, child! It’s good to see you too!” She raised Ariana’s head and put a gnarled hand to her cheek. The old woman’s skin felt soft and brittle, like rice paper. “Aya, those cheeks!” Melika exclaimed. “So gaunt! You’ve lost weight since last I saw you. A girl is not eating enough, I think.”

“I eat a lot,” Ariana protested. “I just don’t grow.”

“I can confirm that,” Vahid chimed in as he dismounted from his camel.

Melika’s eyes settled on him. She studied Vahid for a moment, then sauntered over and bowed her head. “Welcome to Alcaraz Hall. You must be the young prince Ariana has written so much to me about.”

Ariana flushed. “I-I haven’t written that much about him!”

Melika chortled as Vahid bowed his head in turn. “It is my sincere pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lady. Ariana has shared many good things about you, too.”

“A girl is quite the gossip, I think, hm?” Melika noted.

“Hey!” Ariana exclaimed. “That’s enough of that. You two can stop trying to embarrass me, now.”

Vahid chuckled. “Just teasing a bit, love.”

Ariana rolled her eyes.

An attendant appeared and took charge of the camels as Melika began to lead Ariana and Vahid toward the front door. “Come, come,” she urged, waving the two of them over. “I am not the only one here to greet you. This one has been watching the horizon for you for nearly two days.” The old woman stepped off to the side to reveal a young man standing in the doorway.

Ariana gasped. “Rasif?!” she exclaimed, taking a tentative step forward. “Is that you?!”

Gone was the stringy youth she had spent adolescent winters with. In his place stood a tall, dark-bearded man whose face and body were sculpted as if they’d been chiseled from hard stone.

Rasif bowed his head. “Hello, Ariana.”

“I hardly recognized you! I mean, the beard alone!”

Rasif averted his gaze. “Does it look good on me?”

“Gods, yes,” Ariana replied. “You look like a completely different person.”

Rasif smiled sheepishly. “Thanks. You’ve changed a lot, too. You’re even more beautiful. I mean...” He trailed off, blushing.

Vahid cleared his throat. He stepped forward, hand outstretched. “Rasif?” he asked. “Pleasure. I’m Vahid.”

Rasif frowned, staring at the prince’s outstretched hand for a moment before shaking it. “It’s uh... it’s good to meet you, Vahid.” He cleared his throat.

The men nodded awkwardly at each other, as if unsure of what to make of one another’s presence.

Ariana face palmed. “Men,” she muttered.

Melika took a step to cut through the men’s handshake. “Come, let us go inside. There is much to discuss, I think.”

They strode into the palace through a set of stone doors peeled open to either side to permit them entry. The interior of Alcaraz Hall was exactly as Ariana remembered it.

The floors glistened with a lustrous sheen, bright sapphire marble so smooth it looked more like the still waters of a crystalline lake. The soft glow of dangling candle chandeliers was reflected in the cool surface, giving the floor a sense of bottomless depth. Countless fabled stories were painted upon the walls in pigments so vivid they seemed to leap out. The eyes of the many heroes and villains of those stories watched as the group of four traversed the palace’s mystical halls.

The walls were lined with rows of identical doors, some closed and some ajar. One slightly cracked door offered a glimpse into a large, wooden studio within which about two dozen young magi-in-training practiced basic spells. In this particular case, they seemed to be practicing Luminescence, the light-weaving spell. Ariana scowled, reminded of long nights bumping around ludicrously in the dark in order to fulfill the promise required to gain the spell.

Vahid cocked his head to the side for a better view, seeming to take interest in the exercise. “Are there always this many students at Alcaraz Hall?”

Melika raised her eyebrows. “This is only one class. In total there are over a hundred prospective magi here.”

Vahid frowned. “Are there really so many magi in the world?”

“Not all of these will complete their training, of course,” Melika said. “Many will die, and many more will fail out.”

Ariana shivered as she remembered what her own training had been like. Almost every week there had been a new death or dropout, sometimes multiple. As commonplace as magic was in the world, not just anyone could become a magus. To keep a singular promise was easy. To be bound by a vow or an oath, to have those rules hanging over one’s head long term, was another matter entirely.

“Obtaining new students has never been an issue, though,” Melika continued. “There are over forty noble families in this country, all of whom have children that are second, third, or even later in their lines of succession. Many of those children prefer the idea of learning magic to acting as some glorified servant to their eldest siblings, and what family doesn’t want a magus in its ranks? And outside of the lords caste, plenty graduate from school wishing to become magi. As many as one in ten from the commoner and merchant castes take the aptitude test to begin magus training when they are somewhere around seventeen to nineteen, I think.”

Vahid looked surprised. “I was told only lords could study in places like this.”

“A common misconception. Our magical universities take learners from all castes. Anyone who has completed five years of study in the Isles of Ibrahim can seek to continue their magical studies at a university.” She paused. “It is true, of course, that these programs are not cheap. We have limited space, and maintaining these universities requires gold. Lords usually have more gold, so their children have some advantage with acceptance.” She shrugged.

“Hm,” Vahid mused, scrunching his face as if deep in thought. “So there are other places like this in the Golden Empire?”

“A handful of others. Each university specializes in a different kind of magic, so learners who have completed their time in Ibrahim will choose where to go next based on whatever suits their aptitudes and taste.”

“And there are places like this in every country,” Vahid said, more as a statement than a question.

“Yes. All seven nations have at least one. There are four in your home nation, in fact. One of these is close to your home in Babosar, I think.”

“Hm.” Vahid stroked his mustache, still wearing that pensive expression. “I’ve never been to the one near Babosar, nor to any of the magical universities in the Scarlet Kingdom.”

“A woman is surprised,” Melika said. “Ariana told me that you are well traveled. How is it that a man has never visited such prestigious destinations?”

Vahid shrugged. “I never had the opportunity. Most of my life since fifteen I was away at war. The empire is fortunate that the only conflict it has had in the last half century was inside its own borders. In the Scarlet Kingdom, we battled external enemies for decades - consequences of the greed of my father’s predecessor.”

As the others were talking, Ariana’s gaze drifted to one of the many paintings adorning the walls. On the right, the painting depicted Azhi Dahhak at the peak of his power: the giant, three-headed serpent that had laid waste to the world. His scales shimmered with an eerie, dark luminescence, and his eyes, three pairs of them, burned with a malignant hunger. On the left stood the hero Darius, standing tall in armor that glinted like starlight and wielding his magical trident and shield, forged from the heart of a meteorite.

“Is it true that the Scarlet Kingdom no longer follows the caste system?” Rasif interjected.

Vahid hesitated before answering. “Yes. We have realized that the caste system is not a sensible way to worship - too many abuse their positions to hoard magic and wealth for themselves. In the Scarlet Kingdom we believe that everyone is equal. Rather than worshiping a single god from a caste arbitrarily assigned by birth, we strive for balance. Every citizen worships all of the gods.”

Rasif knitted his eyebrows. “What about the truthless? Are they your equals, too?”

Ariana couldn’t help but notice that when Rasif’s brows were so close together they slightly resembled a small caterpillar. She suppressed a chuckle.

“Of course!” Vahid exclaimed, seemingly surprised by the question. “It would not make sense to treat them differently simply because they lack magic. Ahura Mazda has a plan for everything and everyone, no? Even the truthless.”

“Interesting...” Rasif nodded, though he didn’t say anything more.

Ariana felt a smile begin to creep up her face as Vahid’s words made her chest feel warm inside. She tried to turn away so no one would see, though in her peripheral vision she caught Melika smirking knowingly at her.

She turned her eyes back to Vahid, making a point not to look at the elderly magus. She watched his back as he walked ahead of her, admiring the sight of his noble posture. So different from Kazem. So regal, despite having been born outside of the lord caste. Even after weeks scouring the sand with Vahid, it was strangely surreal to be in his company, like she’d wake up from a dream at any moment.

They turned into a different training room and were abruptly greeted by the sight of two shirtless, sweaty men tangled on the ground. The men were locked in a fierce struggle for dominance, one on his back, legs wrapped around his opponent’s torso. The other was pounding down on the first man’s face, attempting to wrench himself free of the entwinement.

Melika cleared her throat. The two men froze, turning toward her. Their eyes widened as they caught sight of Ariana standing by her old master’s side.

“I would say this is embarrassing, but the princess has caught the two of you doing worse, I think,” Melika said.

The man on his back chuckled, then disentangled and slid away from his grappling partner. The men hoisted themselves to their feet, bowing to Ariana.

“Princess,” the man who had been on his back greeted. He was the larger of the two, middle-aged, and wore a black beard thicker and longer than Rasif’s.

“Master Saeed,” Ariana returned his greeting. She bowed in turn to each man. “Master Abbas.”

“You grace us with your visit, Princess Ariana,” Abbas said tersely. Something in his tone put Ariana on edge.

The second magus was at least a decade older than Saeed, his beard graying and head kept bald. Despite this, he was the largest of the men in the room, at least a hundred kilograms of sheer muscle. Ariana made a conscious effort to keep her posture straight, though she wanted to wilt beneath the heat of his disapproving glare. His gaze drifted to Vahid, and his scowl deepened further. Vahid approached the two magi and bowed low.

“You must be the scarlet prince that our young Ariana is so taken with,” Abbas said.

Vahid smiled. “And you, Abbas Miri. It is an honor to meet the legendary Shadowslayer.”

The older man raised his eyebrows. “You’ve heard of me.”

“Of course!” Vahid exclaimed. “You are the saviour of Babosar. Every child born in the last forty years there knows your name. Tell me, how does one successfully slay a djinn?”

Abbas shrugged. “Fire magic.”

Vahid seemed perplexed by the magus’s answer. “Not any fire magic I’ve ever seen.”

“Forgive me, I know you two have only just arrived,” Saeed interjected. “However, perhaps Master Abbas and I could have a word alone with Master Melika?”

Ariana nodded hurriedly. “Of course! Please don’t let us keep you from official business.”

“Rasif,” Melika said. “Perhaps a man could show these two to their rooms?”

The young magi bowed his head. “As you wish, Master.”

Melika approached Ariana and took her hands. “Welcome home, child. Please stay for as long as you would like. A girl is always welcome here.”

Ariana bowed her head low. “Thank you, Master.”

“Perhaps we might catch up further over dinner tonight? A woman would relish the opportunity to scare your lovely companion a little.” Melika nodded toward Vahid with a mischievous smile.

Ariana beamed. “We’d like that.” Her reply earned a raised eyebrow from Vahid. Ariana’s smile widened.

It was so good to see all of these people again. She’d dearly missed them all, especially Rasif and Melika. In many ways Alcaraz Hall had felt more like home than even the royal palace of Tel Kellah. She had been free here in a way she never be beneath her father’s heel.

“Come on,” Rasif said. “Let me show the two of you around.”

Ariana, still beaming, grabbed Vahid’s hand and scampered after her old friend.

---

“He likes you, you know.”

Ariana sat up straight, tossing water over the edge of the tub. “Who?”

“Your magus friend,” Vahid replied. “Rasif. He likes you.”

She smirked. “Are you jealous?”

Vahid shrugged. “Rasif is a good looking man, and on his way to being an influential magus. I’d be a fool not to be.”

Ariana shrank back into the comforting bubbles of the warm water. “Perhaps I ran off with the wrong person.”

“Perhaps.” Vahid studied her for a moment, then approached the tub. “Perhaps not.” He slid his arm into the water.

Ariana gasped, biting down on her lower lip. “What are you...!”

“It’s possible that I was the one who made the mistake,” Vahid said. “Perhaps I should be pursuing the magus.”

She giggled, then leaned her head back and closed her eyes, exhaling softly. “Mm... In Tel Kellah that would be such a scandal,” she murmured. “A commoner with a prince.”

“My brother is with a former commoner,” Vahid noted. “Since the revolution, love is not so discriminating in our kingdom.” His arm sank deeper into the water.

“That sounds nice.” Ariana gasped again. Her shoulders began to tremble slightly as she felt a wave of electricity wash over her, from her chest to her toes.

Vahid pulled his arm out of the water and stood, causing her to look up expectantly. “He disapproves of me...” the young prince murmured.

“Rasif?”

He turned from her and began to pace. She couldn’t help feeling a bit disappointed.

“He looks at me the same way as the lords and foreign dignitaries from other countries, seeing only a usurper’s son.”

Ariana fidgeted uncomfortably. She’d seen the look in Rasif’s eyes, too, and not just his. “He’s very traditional,” she said, choosing her words with care. “He worked hard to get where he is. Rasif is the first in his family to leave the commoner caste, and he believes in the system that helped raise him up.”

Vahid nodded absentmindedly, stopping in front of the hearth and gazing into the flames. “Is there a reason we are choosing to stop here?” he asked. “It would have been more prudent to find a guide in Makhun and continue all the way to Jar’Akai."

Ariana stood and stepped out of the tub. The wooden floor was pleasantly warm beneath her feet. She walked over to the corner and grabbed a silk robe off the rack, throwing it on. “We can’t go to the port city yet,” she said quietly.

“So you’ve told me, yet you still won’t say what we’re doing here”

She pursed her lips. “I’m sorry. It’s only for a few days. Please, believe me.”

Vahid turned to her. The movement of the fire cast dancing shadows over his face. “You know I would do anything for you.”

She crossed the room, coming within inches of the young prince. “I know you would.”

“I charged into Tel Kellah for you, Ariana,” Vahid said. “I risked my life for you. Doesn’t that mean anything?”

Ariana reached up to cup his face in one hand. “Thank you,” she said. “Truly. I will tell you eventually. I just... right now I can’t.”

“Why?”

“I just can’t.”

Vahid moved her hand away. He turned back toward the fire. “I understand.”

Ariana curved her head around his shoulder, trying to read his expression, yet all she saw in his eyes was the glow of fire.

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