Strange Days in Dulakhan

[Closed for the lovely AmandaAce]


A swimming haze of heat obscured the sun that hung over Dulakhan. In the jungles below, steam rose up and and was blown along on hot breezes smelling of musk and spice and the creatures that dwelt under the leafy green canopy. It was somewhat cooler on Cobra Peak. At the highest levels, a cold white shroud of perpetual snow clung to the rocks, though none but the sacred golden hawks would ever be permitted to come that high.

Below the central peak, the monks of the Immortal Sage quietly walked the cool, shady stone passageways of their ancient monastery, hoeing their fields, practising their meditations and performing their rites at the appointed hour. They had lived this way for almost three thousand years, showing little interest in the outside world. Dynasties had risen and fallen in Dulakhan, invaders had come in wave after wave, deeds of heroism and deeds of villainy had been performed -and the Cobra Peak Monastery still stood as it ever had. They had no treasures to steal, other than the treasure of the Scripture of Right Living, they were hundreds of leagues of jungle from anywhere significant and, although they were sworn to peace and universal compassion, every monk could fight like a rakshasha with hands and feet. This combination of factors preserved the monks' solitude.

Now, however, a small army was encamped across the mountain and around its base. White tents, all kept in immaculate condition, were neatly arranged in order -colourful banners of red, black, gold and azure fluttered in the breeze. Men stood at guard with spears and scimitars to hand, smiths hammered at metal, fragrant smells arose from where the cooks stirred their stewpots. If the presence of an army directly underneath them troubled the monks in any way, they gave no sign. Saffron-clad monks worked in the terraces below the monastery, not even giving a glance to the soldiers.

In the edges of the jungle, other soldiers were drilling or practising with their weapons. In one overgrown glade, a tall, broad-shouldered man stood stripped to the waist. He was leanly muscular, without a hint of fat anywhere on his body, and despite the intense heat of the day, he was not sweating. His face was fierce and hawk-like in its outlines, with high cheekbones and blazing dark eyes. It was the face of a passionate man, but at some point in its life it had been schooled to an absolute blank. Nothing gave away his thoughts or feelings. His smooth dark hair was cropped short, except for a slender cue falling down over his left shoulder, wrapped with red and green braids. In his right hand, he carried a scimitar. The blade somehow seemed to belong in his hand, as little more than an extension of it. The paler lines and crescents of scars along his suntanned body showed the places where enemy blades had touched him. He was perhaps thirty years of age.

"Captain Kasar"

He turned. A man, sweating and uncomfortable in the full, rich bottle-green coat and red sash of an officer of Dulakhan, saluted him from the edge of the treeline.

"The scouting party has returned. Her Highness is with them."

Kasar did little more than quirk an eyebrow a fraction, but the officer hastily corrected himself.

"I mean the soldier Sana is with them. Is one of them."

"Send them here for their report."

At the edge of the army camp, at a small stream in a grove of gula trees at the bottom of the mountain, a young woman sat and dangled her feet in the water. She wore the uniform of the Dulakhan army, but her coat and sash had been tossed on the grass. She was tall, bronze, and lean in the way of most Southern Dulakhs, but her eyes were a catlike gray. Her face was elegant, sharp, with dark eyebrows and full lips. There was something of the cat in all her features – she looked like a panther that had been turned into a woman. Her mane of black hair did nothing to dispel the comparison. It twisted and turned and rolled down her back like a midnight tidal wave.

Throwing her head back, she closed her eyes and luxuriated in the feel of the sun and the cool water.

“Sana!”

The words made her start. She sat up and looked around to see another soldier, a dark, stocky man named Udar, motioning to her as he hurried from the camp.

“What is it, Udar?” she asked, reluctant to move from her comfortable spot.

“Kasar is asking for you!” he hissed, and turned and fled back to the camp.

The name made her jump immediately to her feet and shove her arms into her coat. Fumbling with the sash, she slipped on her shoes and ran up the hill to the camp. Udar was standing there by the entrance, wringing his hands and glancing up behind him.

“He’s in the glade where he practices! Go, prin – go, Sana!”

Sana took off up the hill, careful to adjust her uniform as she neared the glade. Kasar stood there, waiting for her, as inscrutable as ever. She smoothed her hair back with her hands and approached him.

“Captain Kasar,” she said. He merely looked at her expectantly, and she inclined her head and dipped down into what was barely a bow. As she did so, she allowed the smallest smile to play around her lips. Everyone was scared of Kasar, of his intensity, of his almost godlike abilities as a soldier, but Sana knew him to be, if not a warm man, a fair and good man. And in this situation, she trusted him more than the entire Dulakhan army to keep her safe.

“I have my report, if you’re ready for it,” she said, and removed from her jacket a small scroll. Kneeling, she placed it on the ground and motioned for Kasar to come closer. He crouched down, and she unrolled the scroll. Across the crumpled scroll was drawn an extraordinarily detailed map of the jungle around Cobra Peak. Sana smiled proudly as Kasar began to examine it.

“You asked me to scout the terrain, so I thought a map would be the best way to show you. Is that alright?” she asked, looking expectantly at Kasar.

While returning her salute, Kasar noted with cool approval the neat state of Sana's uniform and gear -her sash knotted just under her full breasts, her tulwar slung on one slender hip and water-bottle on the other. She moved with her usual padding, catlike grace.

The first few days of her presence with the army had been an ordeal for many of the soldiers. They had been torn in several different directions. Their first instinct was to treat her with intensely deferential respect, as the sovereign ruler of Dulakhan. But this they were forbidden from doing. During the traditional period of time in which a new ruler of Dulakhan served with their troops, they were in theory to be treated no differently from any other infantryman. Everyone knew that this rule had often been virtually ignored -there had been rulers, in Dulakhan's history, who had done their period of military service inside the luxury of a cool tent just outside the capital, fanned by handmaidens and occasionally playing at swords. But both Princess Sana and Kasar had made it quite clear that Sana's service would not be of this sort.

Once their awe wore off, the second natural instinct of the troops was to recognise and appreciate the charms of their ruler's mouthwatering, toned golden-brown body, pantherish grace and smoothly beautiful face. Even the most disciplined fighter in the officer corps found it hard not to let their eyes linger on those rounded buttocks and swaying hips as Sana made her way to drill in the morning, or on her breasts, outlined during sword practise as sweat plastered her shirt to her body. But the soldiers had to keep their eyes averted, because everyone knew that before he had become her commanding officer, Kasar had been captain of the princess' bodyguard -and his instincts were honed to an unsympathetic razor edge. A single, innocently speculative comment about how Sana's skills in unarmed fighting might translate to vigour in the bedchamber had landed Siwa with two weeks of extra drills. The soldiers just had to tread a fine line between the two pitfalls.

Now, Kasar knelt down to examine Sana's map. He had been reading battle-maps since first commanding in a battle himself, at the age of fifteen, and he had long ago learned the trick of taking in every salient detail at a single glance. Sana's neat, careful hand revealed in impressive detail every feature of the surrounding jungle, with special attention being drawn to places of potential ambush, places that would be easy to defend, potential campsites with their advantages and disadvantages listed in the margins. Any general of Kasar's acquaintance would be overjoyed to have a draftsman capable of producing a map like this among their scouts.

"Yes, that was appropriate and the map will do", was all Kasar said, though. He got to his feet, stretched and pulled on, one by one, his shirt, coat and midnight blue sash.

"Abbott Tripitaka of the monastery above has requested my presence there for a meeting. I wish you to accompany me"

His decision to bring Sana along had nothing to do with her royal status -something of which the monks would be unaware. It had been prompted by her map. Her powers of observation were obviously extremely keen and Kasar, puzzled by the abbot's unprecedented request, was curious to see what Sana might be able to notice about the monastery while he was occupied with the meeting. Close-mouthed as ever, Kasar felt no need to specifically command her to be on the watch. He took it for granted that any good soldier would always be intensely aware of their surroundings and noting all details that struck them.

Sana smiled to herself when she noted Kasar's approval of the map. He was a tight-lipped with his praise as he was with everything else, but she could tell by his tone that he was pleased with her work. Maybe even impressed. Many of the soldiers she had met seemed to be frustrated with this aspect of his personality, to claim that there was no pleasing Captain Kasar. Sana knew this to be false. There was pleasing Captain Kasar, but there was no way to make him show it if he didn't want to. Sana had known Kasar for a long time, and she appreciated this about him. In some ways he was very hard, but you could always be certain he wasn't trying to flatter you. As first the heir and then the ruler of Dulakhan, Sana had had more than her fair share of sycophants, and it got old quickly.
As he stood up, Sana gathered the scroll back up and stuck it in the small bag she carried at her hip. She fiddled with it for a few seconds, trying to make it fit without crumpling the delicate paper. When she looked up, Kasar was stretching, his head thrown back. Sana couldn't help but admire his extremely well-muscled torso and arms. Familiar as he was to her, she didn't often see him out of uniform. This unintentional show reminded her what a handsome man he was, and she quickly looked back down at her bag so he didn't see her blush.
When she looked back up he was pulling on his coat. If he'd noticed her looking, he gave no sign.
"Abbott Tripitaka of the monastery above has requested my presence there for a meeting. I wish you to accompany me," he said.
Sana inclined her head in a salute. "Yes, Captain," she replied. He said nothing else. She wondered what the monks could want, as they were only in the jungle on training exercises. She'd never actually been inside the monastery before. It would be an interesting experience.

Sana had been born in a palace, Kasar on a windswept steppe but they negotiated the treacherous paths leading up Cobra Peak with equal ability. Accessibility had never been a foremost concern of the monks, indeed they found it more appropriate to make the road of the pilgrims hard and demanding. Twice, the track simply petered out at a sheer rock face and the pair had to climb, another time they had to sidle out, Kasar going first, on a slender and narrow natural bridge of rock over a precipice.

All the while, Kasar was constantly scanning his surroundings, alert to the possibilities of ambush and sudden death every rock and crag held. He had lived this way since he was eight years old -in his homeland, violence was as ceaseless and inescapable as the howling winds themselves, but whenever he was with Sana, his instincts took on an inhumanly sharp edge. He was intensely aware of the slender, delicate-featured lovely girl at his side, his every sense attuned to anything that could possibly harm her or endanger her. During the training period, Kasar would have died rather than openly treat her as anything but another soldier under his command -but underlying that was ten years of service and protection. Without conscious thought, he would have died to protect her.

Finally, they reached the terraces, sown in bright shades of red and yellow, surrounding the monastery's plateau. The round-domed structure was built in the mighty shadow of the peak itself, made from hard grey stone in a time before Dulakhan itself existed. The monks working in the fields still gave them not a second look as they moved towards the monastery's gate.

Kasar paused to give Sana a rest on the rocky ground just before the entrance. He himself was not even breathing much harder from the exertion. Sana was in wonderful physical condition, as her lithe, slim body testified, but even she was a little flushed and taking deeper breaths after the climb. It only added to the beauty and charisma she radiated like heat. Despite her tight soldier's coat and breeches, she resembled nothing more the glorious princess she was, perched on the rock.

After a short pause, they made their way through the door. They plunged from the blazing sunlight outside to a cool, dark hall lined with deeply polished cedar wood and fragrant with hints of incense. It took Kasar's eyes a few moments to adjust -moments in which he had instinctively placed a hand on the hilt of his tulwar, before he saw a saffron-robed monk standing before them, hands raised in a calm gesture of welcome. He might have maintained that pose throughout their entire climb up the mountain, so still and at peace did he seem.

"Welcome, Captain Kasar. Welcome to your soldier"

The monk looked at him, then at Sana. Kasar could not shake a sudden conviction that those dark, penetrating eyes had somehow identified her in an instant, as impossible that would be. He said nothing, though -merely motioned towards a steaming pot of tea and two delicate porcelain cups on a tray behind him.

"Would you care for some refreshment before you meet the abbot?"

Kasar nodded, wary of giving offence. As the tray was passed to him, he seemingly naturally took the cup that seemed closest to Sana and relied on her not to drink from the one she took just yet. Kasar's father had died from poison.

The tea was cool and refreshing and tasted of mint. Kasar let slip the slightest of nods to Sana.

Although the trek up to the monastery was difficult, Sana felt no fear. Had she been alone, her attitude would have been quite different, but with Kasar she simply walked up the mountain as though it were a flight of stairs, completely secure in the knowledge that he simply wouldn’t let her fall. It was a testament to her fitness, though, that she was able to reach the top without much help.
As they reached the terraces Sana sneaked a small glance at Kasar’s face. It was a calm blank as usual, but there was something behind his eyes. He gestured for her to sit down and rest, and as she did so, shaking out her hair and adjusting her jacket sleeves, he stood, scanning the area around them with his usual military precision.
They remained there, quiet, for some minutes. She allowed her gaze to play slowly across the working monks, the brightly colored fabrics, and the huge garlands of gula and sanjiri flowers that draped the arches and doorways. Slowly, her gaze returned to Kasar. He was looking at her with the same cool expression he always wore -- his handsome face as cold and hard as a diamond. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking, but after ten years she had learned that he would speak when he was ready. He kept no secrets from her. Sana inhaled deeply and stood up.
Kasar moved next to her immediately as she did so, and they entered the cool, fragrant dimness of the Cobra Peak monastery together.

"Welcome, Captain Kasar. Welcome to your soldier"

The person who spoke was a small monk, welcoming them with outstretched hands. As his gaze met Sana’s, his eyes seemed to take her in and categorize her in an instant. She felt somehow that he knew who she was, although that was completely impossible.
She glanced at Kasar again. He wasn’t looking at her.

"Would you care for some refreshment before you meet the abbot?"

The monk indicated a tea service behind him, and they arranged themselves around it. Sana did want some tea, it smelled delicious, but she had to wait for Kasar to give her the go ahead. He was a bear on the subject of poison, and would not let her eat or drink any food given to her by strangers until he tasted it first.

She watched him take the smallest sip, then he inclined his head slightly. She took a sip of the tea. It was quite good, and very refreshing.

“Thank you,” she said to the monk, pressing her palms together and nodding to him as a sign of respect. He did not answer, simply nodded back, and took their cups.

A second monk, almost completely indistinguishable from the first, entered the hallway and gestured to Kasar and Sana.

“The Abbott would like to speak with you now,” the monk said, and they were ushered deeper into the cool dark monastery, the monk first, and Kasar and Sana side by side behind.

"Should you meet the Immortal Sage by chance, kill him"

-- The Scripture of Right Living

The Immortal Sage was not any one man or woman, just as the Immortal Sage had not lived just one life. The Immortal Sage, his disciples said, was a pattern of events throughout a history, a series of extraordinary teachers and moments of enlightenment from Dulakhan to Far Aman, from the primordial ages to the far future.

But was the Sage one spirit, theologians from other faiths pressed? Had one soul been born and reborn throughout history into the bodies of all these great teachers? Followers of the Sage would reply that since the Sage is one with everything, the question was without meaning. Or they would say that the question was of no importance, since the Sage came to free the people, not to satisfy their curiosity on abstract questions regarding their chains. Or they would simpy smile and shrug and say nothing at all. You would never get a real answer from them in any case.

It was one of many religions tolerated throughout Dulakhan. Some worshipped Ya the Great God, some worshipped Mazte or Al-Shehu, Preserver and Destroyer, or the Three as One: Anu, He Who is Like Anu and the One Who Walks Alone. The grim Polidu of Green River viewed all the world as a trap and the senses as snares, the Saratreans voluntarily gave up their free will to their own deliberately absurd clown-god. A personal pantheon watched over Dulakhan's royal family; each royal heir was given the secret name of his or her own personal deva in a coming of age ceremony. It could be shared only with one whom the heir trusted absolutely, generally also the person they loved above all else.

Kasar himself was a man with little interest in religion, but he still made offerings to Tamusz, fierce wolf-god of the steppes.

The abbot's chambers were of no greater level of comfort or ornamentation than any of the many cells they had passed on the way to it. Their only distinguishing feature was their location, at the very top of the monastery, reached by a narrow and winding stairway.

The abbot was very, very old and his skin had taken on the wrinkled, faintly transparent quality of age. Despite his evident fragility, he was seated in the lotus position on the hard stone floor. Obeying a polite gesture, they sank down to the floor in front of him.

There was a long silence, then he looked at them. His eyes, set in that yellowed parchment face, were as deep, cool and bottomless as the western oceans.

"Are you familiar with the story of Prince Temea?"

Kasar shook his head. He was not particularly surprised by the abrupt question in lieu of any explanation of their presence here. Followers of the Sage were notoriously indirect and mysterious in their ways -the abbot would reach his point in time.

"One of the incarnations of the Immortal Sage. He was born into great power but he was wise to the dangers of that power. He knew that every action must have unforeseen consequences, and that the actions of those with power have many more unforeseen repercussions than others. He saw the tragedies that wicked kings and queens had inflicted on the world but he saw too the yet more terrible troubles that truly good monarchs had brought, trying to improve the lot of humanity. Temea knew that no-one who exercised power, even those who exercised it in order to reject it, could remain pure. And so when he was crowned, he sat down on the floor of the throne-room, and he remained perfectly still, without moving or speaking, without gesturing or sighing, without doing anything at all, from that day until the day of his death. What, I wonder, do you think of that?"

Kasar considered a diplomatic answer, but it was not his habit to lie.

"I think the prince was a coward," he said. "He abandoned his people because of his own fear and selfish desire to be something more than human in goodness."

The abbot gave a small gesture which neither accepted nor rejected Kasar's interpretation, then he turned his powerful gaze on Sana. Following his line of vision, Kasar felt an uncharacteristic chill of foreboding and fear for the future as he looked upon the beautiful young princess, sitting with perfect ease on the floor with her slender arms folded under her firm rounded breasts. She had somehow never seemed more beautiful, more regal or more vulnerable to him.

"What do you think of Prince Temea's action?", the abbot asked her.

Under the abbott’s gaze, Sana felt stripped bare, trapped, examined like a bug on a pin. She ducked her head and furrowed her brow for a moment, her arms crossed. Kasar’s eyes were on her, as usual, she could feel them, and she knew that a great deal depended on the way she answered the question. The abbott knew who she was, he had to – why would he tell the story otherwise?

She knew the story of Prince Temea, had heard it as a child from her old amma. Although when Jaliya told the story, she had called him Raf Asurkhan, the prince who turned to stone.

Sana lifted her head after what seemed like hours of thought. Kasar and the abbott were still waiting for her answer.

“I think,” she said, “I think Prince Temea was wrong, but not for the same reason as Captain Kasar. It would take a great deal of bravery for a prince to give away his rule for what he thought was right. So I don’t believe he was a coward.”

Here she sneaked a glance at the Captain. She didn’t want to disagree with him in front of the abbott, but something told her that whatever was to happen next hinged on her answer, and she was determined to tell the truth. Kasar’s face gave her no indication of what he was thinking.

“I think he was wrong because it is the duty of a prince to rule his kingdom. And duty is a blessing and a curse, but the fulfillment of that duty it’s own blessing. It is true that many wrongs have occurred in the world because of an abuse of power. But this is the way of the world. A young child may step on a beautiful apayo bug, he may crush it with his hand, and that is an abuse of power. It is unintentional, but the child has power over the bug. Do we tell the child, do not go out into the street, do not touch the apayo bugs, do not touch anything, do not experience the world? No. We tell the child, be careful. So I would tell Prince Temea, in order to truly rule, to truly be good, a Prince must not be silent. A Prince must be careful.”

Sana took a deep breath as she finished her speech. She looked up at the abbott and waited for his reply.

As she began her explanation, Sana shot a side-glance at Kasar -gorgeously luminous grey eyes under dark brows lighting up her face. He understood her thought -there were times when a subordinate simply could not publically disagree with their commander, but he made no motion. This was not such a time. He listened with interest to her interpretation -due to a mixture of upbringing, inclination and natural aptitude Sana had always been far better at understanding the riddles of religion and philosophy than he. He had on many occasions accompanied her to the places by the river where philosophers, gurus and holy men liked to preach and debate throughout the warm summer evenings.

At first, many of them had treated their gorgeous princess with an unwanted and even condescending deference -clapping fatuously when she made the slightest point and falling over themselves to recant if she disagreed with them in any way. Only one cantankerous guru, a nut-brown and stick thin old man from the south named Duleep, had dared to actually engage her in debate. Naturally Sana had been more than capable of holding her own and earning Duleep's respect. Once they saw that Kasar had not been ordered to strike off Duleep's head the first time he disputed Sana's points, the others had joined in with genuine enthusiasm. Before long, they seemed to have almost forgotten Sana's high status altogether and treated her as just an unusually talented new student.

Kasar had not understood much of the debates but he liked to listen to Sana's melodious voice, competing with the ripples of the river.

The abbot nodded at the end of Sana's answer.

"Many think as you do. They feel that Temea's aims were noble but that his methods were incorrect and led to imbalance, which the next manifestation of the Immortal Sage had to redress. Others admire him, and hold him as a model for the brethren today. This is how Cobra Peak Monastery has functioned for millenia. But all things must come to an end."

Kasar frowned, the ominous feeling recurring again at the abbot's words.

"You have heard of the Anufaun?"

The Anufaun lived a long way west of Dulakhan's borders. They worshipped the Three as One and were said to be fierce fighters. For the past couple of centuries, they had been locked in a series of bloody wars with the Azral Empire. The Azral also worshipped the Three as One, but they held that He Who is Like Anu was actually He Who is Of Anu. Or perhaps it was the other way around. The distinction had never interested Kasar. He had always listened for travellers' tales and spies' reports on the progress of the Anufaun wars, but they had never been a major concern. Dulakhan had more pressing problems, such as raiders from the steppes and increasingly aggressive Imperial forces at their eastern borders.

"The Anufaun have called a truce with the Azral Empire. They've equipped a fleet and landed on Dulakhan's western shores two weeks ago."

Kasar instinctively repressed the shock he was feeling, as well as an urge to ask how the abbot could possibly know such things, so many hundreds of leagues from the western sea. The disciples of the Immortal Sage simply had ways of knowing, not that they had ever before used them to benefit any one nation.

"They captured the capital five days ago. The army is shattered -the largest part of the survivors have retreated to regroup in the north."

The abbot was now looking directly at Sana.

"They have also produced a girl they claim to be Princess Sana. They have married her to their leader, King John, and they claim all of Dulakhan for themselves by right of the marriage."

"They have also produced a girl they claim to be Princess Sana. They have married her to their leader, King John, and they claim all of Dulakhan for themselves by right of the marriage."

Sana had been silent up to this point, listening to the abbott’s report with widening eyes, but at this she gasped sharply. She looked from the abbott to Kasar and back again. Dulakhan under siege by the Anufaun, of all people?

The abbot was looking at her. She glanced at Kasar. He’d sat through the abbott’s speech without saying a word, until the abbott mentioned her name. At the news of the impostor princess, Kasar’s posture had changed, and looking at him now Sana could see that he was furious.

The facts hit Sana like a ton of bricks when she saw Kasar’s face. If the Azrals were passing off one of their females as Sana – and it had to be the Azrals, the Anufauns looked nothing like Dulakhs – they had to get rid of the real Sana as quickly as possible. That meant her life was in danger from this moment on. Without waiting for Kasar’s say-so, Sana turned to the abbott.

“You know who I am,” she said quietly. “So I must ask you one question. How have they done this? How have they performed such trickery? I have the caste mark on my neck, I am the only surviving member of my family and the ajuggar who tattooed me is long dead. No one can copy this mark.” At this, Sana tugged her jacket and kurta aside to show the caste mark on her collarbone. The tattoo was small, but intricate in its design. A half-moon topped by three mandalas, the purple ink used was as vivid as the day it had been done, when Sana was a baby. The abbott raised his eyebrows but said nothing.

“Every person in the capital city has seen my face, yet they accept her as me? How is this possible?”

She looked pleadingly at the abbott, then back to Kasar. “There is more to this than mere trickery, there must be.”

Kasar's impassive face did not change but to anyone who knew him intimately, rage was coursing through him like wildfire. The thought of the barbarian Anafaun in the royal palace, smashing and looting the treasures of one of the world's great civilizations... and most of all, parading their ersatz princess through the streets, placing the Diadem of Jade and Ivory on her head and letting her and her pale king disport themselves in the royal apartments, on the royal bed... Kasar knew he would shed blood over this in days to come, but in the meantime, the princess' security could be his only concern.

Sana had peeled back her coat and kurta to show the intricate caste mark on the bronze skin of her neck. Just below, a tantalising glimpse of the upper curve of her perfectly smooth and round breast was revealed. It made Kasar's heart clench with a potent mixture of emotions, chief of them being the desire to let no harm and no greedy lustful Anafaun near the princess. For a moment, his eyes just traced across the expanse of smooth cool flesh.

The abbot, apparently above worldly things, had given no reaction to the wonderful sight he had just been offered besides a slightly raised eyebrow.

"They don't believe it's you", Kasar grated. "Parliament is just frightened of Anafaun blades."

The abbot hesitated, then spoke.

"Perhaps," was all he said. Kasar turned to him. Although he had given them valuable -vital, even, information, he was in no mood for Cobra Peak games.

"What?"

"Her highness had a cousin once, with the same marking..."

Kasar slowly nodded. Princess Kali, third in line to the throne, had disappeared on a journey through the Cloud Mountains. Everyone assumed her slain by the same bandits who had killed her parents and their retinue.

"And there are other possibilities."

Kasar raised an eyebrow himself, but the abbot shrugged.

"You are a man of steel and horses, Captain Kasar, and this is a game of smoke and mirrors. If I venture to say much further, I do not know how you would react."

Sana almost fell over when the abbott spoke of Kali. She was Sana’s first cousin, the daughter of her father’s sister, Aniya. It was true that they resembled each other physically, especially around the eyes, but their personalities couldn’t have been more different. Sana cared about other people, but Kali’s only care was for herself. It had been that way since they were children, and when she disappeared Sana had been almost relieved. To hear that she could be back now, impersonating Sana – the idea was shocking.

She opened her mouth to speak, but the abbott and Kasar were still talking.

"And there are other possibilities,” the abbott said. Sana saw Kasar raise an eyebrow at this. What could he mean? There were no other cousins, no more family. Who else could be behind this if not Kali?

"You are a man of steel and horses, Captain Kasar, and this is a game of smoke and mirrors. If I venture to say much further, I do not know how you would react." The abbott sat back and regarded them both with a solemn expression.

Sana turned to Kasar. When their eyes met, there was a brief flash of something in his face. It was too fleeting to catch, but Sana had seen it before. It had been clear to her for some time that the relationship between them was becoming fraught with some kind of tension. She had not missed the look on his face when she pulled back her kurta, and she was sure he hadn’t missed the look on hers back in the clearing. They were going to have to be very careful with each other.

She cleared her throat. “With all due respect, abbott. Captain Kasar may be a man of steel, as you say, but I am not. Tell us all you know, and have no questions about how I may react. My duty is to this land and to the people in it, and I am not going to sit by while the Anafaun take over my country. If stealth and misdirection are required in this case, then that is what we will use. Tell us what you know. Please.”

Kasar, uncharacteristically uneasy, looked away from Sana's intent gaze. He felt an electricity between them now which had not been there before. He knew he had looked for just a moment too long at her bared shoulder, that the hot thoughts that leapt into his mind were dangerous. He also remembered the flush there had been on her face in the clearing before. Had she been looking at him? The thought again brought too complicated, confusing a set of emotions for Kasar to disentangle.

The abbot watched them impassively, and Kasar again had an uneasy feeling that he had been aware of every thought that had just passed through his mind. If that was so, he made no comment, instead answering Sana's question.

"There is a breed of men among the Anaufan who are called alchemists. Alchemists know many strange things: they know the stars, poisons, the names of Anu's six thousand saints and angels, herbs, philosophy, history and geography. Often, they're spymasters and advisors to kings. They pursue five disciplines: five impossible feats that they believe alchemy is capable of."

Kasar frowned. These alchemists sounded something like gurus, who could also perform many superhuman feats -although no true guru would involve himself in politics.

"The first of these, the universal solvent, was discovered long ago by an unknown alchemist. The second and third disciplines, the love philtre and the art of turning lead into gold, were discovered by the greatest alchemist of the past four centuries: Johannes. The fifth discipline is that of immortality and it has never been discovered. Neither had the fourth discipline, the means of creating life, but if an Anafaun alchemist has done it..."

The abbot looked at them. "They could create a woman like yourself, highness, in every detail."

Sana listened intently to the abbott’s answer. Her brow began to furrow as he spoke of things she had considered to be impossible. Kasar was frowning as well – this type of science was unknown to them. When the abbott was finished, Sana spoke immediately.

“I do not pretend to know much about this subject, but this is what I think. I know nothing of alchemy, but I know that it is impossible to create life from thin air. This – thing in my place – whatever it is, it is made of something, and it can be undone. But there are two things that worry me. Does the impostor have my memories? This may sound strange, but there is a reason for my question.”

The abbott thought for a moment. “I do not know the answer to that. It seems – unlikely.”

Sana thought for a moment. “Kasar knows the reason that I ask this question. If the, I don’t know what to call her, the other Sana knows the name of my deva, that could be problematic.”

Kasar started at this. She saw him begin to consider the implications of her statement.

“I was under the impression,” the abbott said, “That you had already given the name. You are old enough that this should have been done.”

Sana blushed. “I have not. The Parliament had asked me to wait until after my service, as I had not found anyone….suitable.” She could not help herself, she stole a tiny glance at Kasar. He seemed to be lost in thought.

The abbott saw her discomfort and regarded her kindly. “And your other question?”

She drew a deep breath. “The Parliament – the entire capital is aware that I am away performing my service. They know I am with Captain Kasar. How do they explain his absence? “

Abbott Tripitaka took a heavy sigh. “She has told the Parliament that Captain Kasar is dead.”

It took all of Kasar's formidable powers of self-control to keep his face impassive as Sana touched upon the name of her deva, and the dangers that the impostor might possess it. He had always dreaded the day she gave that name to another -gasped it out between moans of ecstasy like so many of her ancestors had, while he stood guard outside. He had been training himself to withstand that day, trying to deal with the ferociously angry and possessive thoughts that welled up the moment he thought of his slender, lovely princess writhing and panting in the arms of some other.

But now there was an even more horrifying possibility. The Anufaun's impostor might know the name. She could tell it to King John; she could shout it from the rooftops if she had a mind. Such an act of blasphemy could break the kingdom and end the royal line once and for all -no Dulakh would be ruled by a monarch whose deva's name was known. It would be seen as being ruled by a whore, a beggar or an Invisible.

The abbot shook his head. "I am afraid I have no way of knowing. The art of creating life has never been accomplished up until now -would they come into the world like a newborn baby, knowing neither language nor reason, or would they know all things their mirror parent knew, like Tirasu the Wise Child?"

Kasar was thinking calmly and methodically. The Anufaun's false princess would not publically reveal the name, except as a last resort -it would destroy Sana's ability to rule Dulakhan but also her own. The one thing that might press the Anafaun to such a desperate move would be Sana and Kasar appearing to challenge their version of events. Such an appearance would more than likely split the nation in two in any case -the Anufaun would unquestionably denounce them as impostors the moment they showed themselves.

Kasar excused himself from the abbot and drew Sana after him, standing close by her in the shady corridor outside. He realised the pose he was drawing, trying to stay close and shield her slim body, as though that would protect her from the dangers coming closer and closer every day.

"As far as Dulakhan is concerned," he whispered quietly, "You are in the Summer Palace in the capital, and I'm dead. The Anafaun know better -but their version of events has to remain unquestioned for now. Our forces are too small and we don't know enough about the situation yet -if we tried to return now, the Anafaun could claim us as impostors and cut us to pieces."

He frowned.

"We need to muster the forces of Dulakhan and we need to rally the army, but we need to do it quietly, one headman or rajah after another"

Kasar smiled sadly, and plucked at the lapels of Sana's neat, tight-fitting uniform.

"You were just Sana the soldier while we were on training exercises. Highness, I'm afraid you must remain just Sana the soldier for many days to come."

Kasar was right, their lives were in grave danger – his more than hers, for while there was still one Sana, there could be two. But there was no way he could even sneak into the capital. He was far too conspicuous, everyone knew his face, and he was as different from the Dulakhs in the capital as an Anafaun.

"We need to muster the forces of Dulakhan and we need to rally the army, but we need to do it quietly, one headman or rajah after another.” She nodded, trying to ignore his mouth, his eyes, and his body so close to hers. He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. When she looked up at him, he was smiling sadly.

"You were just Sana the soldier while we were on training exercises. Highness, I'm afraid you must remain just Sana the soldier for many days to come."

As she stood there, an idea came to her so quickly that it was almost out of her mouth before she bit her tongue. Why didn’t they just leave? They could just go – there were countless places where no one knew their faces. She could be Sana the soldier, and Kasar could be Kasar, and even if they had to leave everything else behind, they would be together.

She opened her mouth to speak, to offer to remain Sana the soldier for the rest of her life if he would be with her, but she closed it again almost immediately. It was not her nature to turn her back on her duty, nor was it Kasar’s. With some effort, she forced the idea into the back of her mind.

Sana took a deep breath. She motioned Kasar closer to her, and when he bent down, she spoke into his ear. “I will be Sana the soldier for as long as need be, Captain. Shall we go and take our leave of the abbott? We have many things to do.”

Sana's deep brown eyes held an intense, unfamiliar light. They made uncertain contact with Kasar's gaze and her lush, full lips parted as though she were about to say something. Kasar suddenly felt a terrible constriction in his heart. He had an instinctive knowledge that what his princess was about to say would tempt him as nothing ever could. There was a slight, delicate throb at her throat, just in the shadow of her coat's high collar, and he watched it, hypnotised. He had to repress a sudden lunatic urge to grab her slender shoulders and draw her to him, kiss her eyelids and her nose and her cheeks and finally, lingeringly her lips...

Sana took a deep breath. "I will be Sana the soldier for as long as need be, Captain. Shall we go and take our leave of the abbott? We have many things to do," was all she said.

Kasar gave himself a mental shake. The tension and precariousness of their situation was giving him outlandish ideas. He assented.

The abbot gave them a sad smile.

"I wish you luck."

Kasar could not resist one last question.

"Why warn us?"

Tripikata shrugged.

"All things change," was all he said.

"Even the Immortal Sage?", Kasar pressed.

"All things, Captain Kasar."

Was it just his imagination, or did the abbot look meaningfully at both of them as he spoke?



"I think we should make for Lake Aleph", Kasar said, as they began the long trek back.

The sacred river Aleph was Dulakhan's primary waterway, its fertile basin running the entire enormous length of the land, from its source high in the snowbound northern mountains, through the vast jungle territories to drain into the sea south of the capital. It was said that all forms of life had originated at its source, emerging from the unplumbed, endless caverns that lay beneath the fogbound lake at the end of the river. Many priesthoods and many hermits chose to live in the proximity of the sacred, forbidden caves -waiting for the next new life to come out from the sunless sea said to lie below them.

Lake Aleph had also long been the last refuge of Dulakhan's royal line. Every surviving soldier still loyal to the real Sana might be expected to be making their way there now, and it was the ideal place to launch a resistance.

Sana and Kasar made their way down the steep paths of Cobra Peak, Kasar in front, completely alert, Sana behind, deep in thought. He reached back occasionally to take her hand and help her down a particularly tricky path or across a small ledge. She let him guide her, barely looking at her feet, stepping lightly over the stones as though in a trance.

“All things change,” the abbott had said, and certainly things had changed drastically for Sana, and in fact for the whole of Dulakhan. But what else had he meant by that statement? She couldn’t guess.

She remembered Lake Aleph and the sacred caves, the cool, bubbling water in the underground caves. It had been years since she’d seen it, and despite the circumstances, Sana was happy to make the journey back. There was a certain cave where it was said, if one sat quietly and meditated, one might see their deva in the flesh and ask a boon from them. Sana intended to attempt this as soon as they arrived. If there was anytime she needed a boon, it was now.

They continued on in silence for some time, lost in thought. As they reached a ledge, Kasar reached back to help her along, glancing back at her to make sure she was behind him. He turned back around, his arm still out, waiting for her to grasp his hand. She didn’t notice – she was thinking about how he had looked at her back in the monastery – and stepped forward without grabbing his hand. Her foot missed the ledge, and with a cry, she fell. Several feet down, she hit another ledge, hard, knocking the breath out of her, and began to slide. She grabbed wildly for purchase and was able to hook her fingers into a crevice in the rock and balance her foot on a small outcropping. Hovering over a still unimaginable drop, Sana took a deep breath and shoved her fingers into the cliff.

“Kasar!” she shouted, holding on. There was no way she could pull herself up, and she couldn’t hold on forever.

Kasar was as intensely aware of his surroundings as ever, but he also felt an intense thrill of pleasure whenever, at a difficult moment, Sana thrust her delicate hand into his.

It was by a ledge that she missed her step and for a moment, Kasar's heart simply stopped as his princess fell. He raced over to look down -fully prepared, if she had fallen all the way, to throw himself after to expunge the shame of his failed duty. Instead, he saw Sana clinging to a narrow crevice a few feet down, the stone crumbling under her fingers.

Without even waiting for her cry, Kasar had begun to descend. He moved as fast and agile as a hunting cat down the vertical surface of the rock, instinctively finding handholds and footholds in the apparently sheer surface. He had climbed higher peaks than these, often in the coldest of climates or pursued by men with bows. He thought nothing of the drop below or the slippery stone beneath his fingers -concentrating all of his senses on Sana's ragged breathing.

At last he came level with her, holding on to a precarious position just above the same overhang. He would not be able to remain there very long -already, the rock was beginning to crack under his weight. No sign of tension crossed his impassive face. He looked across, directly into Sana's lovely face.

"You're going to have to come across a little and climb on to my shoulders, highness," he said calmly. "Are you able to do that?"

Sana, holding on with all her might, watched Kasar climb down the cliff as quickly as she herself had fallen down. He descended with an impressive grace, working his way down until he was right beside her. He turned to her, coolly, his face calm.

"You're going to have to come across a little and climb on to my shoulders, highness," he said. "Are you able to do that?"

“Yes, of course I can,” Sana replied. She felt no fear, only frustration at the situation. How stupid and preoccupied she had been to fall! And now look where they were, dangling off the side of Cobra Peak like so many monkeys. She sighed in disgust and looked around for a foothold.

She found one, just close enough that she could stretch her right leg over to it. She did so, carefully, her left foot still balanced on the small rocky outcropping she had fallen onto. Sana, who had taken dancing classes for years, had no trouble shifting her weight onto her right foot, and then gracefully swinging her left foot over to meet it. As she did this, all her weight rested on her fingers, jammed into the rock. Ignoring the pain in her fingers, Sana adjusted her feet until she stood completely on the second foothold. Slowly, she walked her hands across the cliff until they found purchase on a tiny ledge directly above Kasar’s head. He was watching her intently, no doubt ready to try to grab her if she fell again. Using her arms, Sana pulled herself up, inch by inch, until she had enough leverage to swing her leg over Kasar’s back. He caught her foot immediately with his hand, and she was able to slide the rest of the way down, until she rested, trembling with exertion, across his back. The rock cracked loudly as her weight settled, and they both froze.

“Go,” she panted, locking her arms around his neck. “Go, Kasar, now.”

Kasar had never felt anything as good as Sana's slender weight on his back, her arms locked tightly around his neck and legs straddling his waist. It was not just the intense pleasure of feeling her soft firm breasts pressed against him. It was not the sweet, clean, womanly scent to the princess and her breath tickling his cheek, so close that he would just have to turn his head and they would be kissing. It was knowing she clinging tight to him now, and it was in his power to restore her to safety.

The climb up was harder -as light as Sana was, it was not easy even for Kasar to carry her and climb the sheer rockface at the same time. Twice, rock cracked beneath his foot and he had to awkwardly fumble for a new foothold.

Finally, they reached the narrow ledge from which Sana had fallen. Kasar let her scramble off first to lie on the ledge and regain her breath, before hauling himself up in one clean movement. There was barely room on the ledge for both of them and so they sprawled, closely entangled. Kasar's strong arms were locked so tightly around Sana that it was though he never intended to let her go. They were face to face, Kasar lying on top.

The climb back up the cliff took about five minutes in real time, but to Sana it seemed like hours. Draped as she was over Kasar’s back, there was nothing she could do but cling to him and pray they would be able to make it to the top. She rested her head against his neck, her eyes closed, and held onto him as hard as she could.

When they finally gained the ledge, Sana lay there, gasping, eyes closed, as Kasar held on below. He pulled himself up onto the ledge after a moment, and Sana felt him settle his muscular body next to her. Actually, he was mostly on top of her, the ledge being as small as it was, and he slid his arms around her and held her tightly. She drew a deep breath and opened her eyes.

Kasar’s face was less than an inch from her own, his dark eyes searching hers. Sana looked at him for a long second. She raised her hand and touched his face, running her fingers over his cheeks and lips. He did not move, only continued to look down at her with that same searching expression.

Powerless to resist any longer, Sana reached up and pulled him down to her. She wrapped her arms around him tightly and kissed him hard, crushing her full lips against his.

Kasar was acutely sensitive to the feel of Sana's fingertips running over his face, longing to kiss them as they brushed over his lips. His eyes were locked hungry on her heartstoppingly lovely face. He felt he knew what would happen next and burned for it, even though a part of him knew that it should not happen. He was the princess' guard, not her... lover.

Simultaneously with the thought, Sana's eyes opened wide as though seeing something for the first time, and she reached up and pulled her head to hers. She kissed him hard and passionately, her sweet warm lips claiming more and more with each single kiss. Kasar drew upon all of his iron willpower. His cock was hard and erect and all of his body was screaming to feel more of the warm, soft firm flesh beneath him.

He broke the kiss and breathed "Highness..."

Kasar had the best of intentions but the sight of Sana's flushed face and of her lustrous grey eyes lit on fire with incredible lust was too much for him. His self-control evaporated. A moment later, he had slammed his body back on top of the princess and was kissing her roughly. His tongue slipped between her parted lips and he kissed her until she was gasping for air, and then he kissed a trail along her bronzed cheek down to the hollow of her neck. He kissed and sucked at the tender, delicate skin around her throat, giving every section of it passionate little attentions.

They were on a tiny ledge on a high mountain, entering the worst crisis Dulakhan had ever seen, and Kasar could not stop kissing and caressing the royal princess.

Sana gasped with pleasure as Kasar planted burning kisses along the line of her neck. His mouth was soft and warm as he moved over her skin, and she arched her back, allowing him to pull her closer. She could feel the huge hard length of him against her thigh, and she wanted nothing more than for him to have her, now, in this impossible situation. Her hands ran across his broad shoulders, then under his jacket and kurta. Kasar’s chest was rock hard and rippled with muscle, and Sana could feel him tense as her hands touched him, tracing the lines of his flat stomach.

She wanted him more than she could bear, wanted to kiss his beautiful bronzed body all over, to lie beneath him and whisper the name of her deva in his ear. But they could not do that here. Now that they had finally succumbed to their feelings, Sana intended to have him beside her forever, but now they had to go. They had to make for Lake Aleph in the morning, and out on this precarious ledge they were vulnerable.

Taking his head in her hands, she drew him back up to her and kissed him gently.

“Kasar,” she said. “We have to go. I’m sorry. We have to get back to camp.”

Sana's hands roamed over the hard lines of Kasar's body. All he could think of was losing himself inside her, plunging into her velvet wet warmth again and again until she reached the heights of ecstasy. She was almost sobbing with pleasure between their hot, hard kisses, arching her spine so as to push her generous breasts against him. He could only imagine his erect cock nestled there in the softness between them.

Reluctantly, she broke the embrace with one last lingering kiss. Fierce lust flared in his eyes, and then was instantly under control.

"Highness", he said, bowing.

But things had changed. Now he walked the way with one arm around her, guiding and protecting, as he had always secretly longed to do. He let himself appreciate the wonders of her body -her high proud rounded breasts, her swaying catlike strut, the sinfully tempting curve of her buttocks, perfect to cup a hand on and squeeze. He could only anticipate the pleasures that body would later bring them both.

They were approaching the camp. Kasar looked to Sana, reluctantly exchanging his thoughts for more problematic concerns.

"What of the news the abbot gave us will you tell them, highness?"