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Authors: Astrid Amara
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Baram.”
Jandu sat beside his master and stared out across the empty practice field. It had once been a large citrus grove but now, the soil torn and scarred by shartas, only weeds thrived.
Jandu leaned back on his elbows, content to sit in silence with his master for a moment. The two of them rarely found time to train together anymore. “Yudar is losing his supporters in the east,” Mazar said suddenly. “The lords of Bandari and Penemar are turning toward Darvad.”
Jandu kicked at a clump of dirt but said nothing.
“At last night’s dice game, I heard Darvad promise the lord of Bandari substantial tax benefits if he became king,” Mazar said.
“What did my brother say?” Jandu asked.
“Yudar wasn’t there.”
Jandu raised his eyebrows. “My brother missed a dice game?”
Mazar laughed. “I know. I think it must have been the first time he has missed an opportunity to play dice in ten years. That Suraya has surely worked a spell upon him.”
Jandu snorted and laid back down. He thought it impossible to distract Yudar from gambling. This marriage was really turning out to be good for him.
“It’s a shame he missed that particular game, however,” Mazar continued. “A lot of discussion took place between the lords in attendance.”
“I’ll tell him.” Why was it so hard for everyone to recognize the fact that he did not want to discuss politics all day? “But I’d rather not talk about it right now.”
At this, Mazar sat upright and glared at him. “Don’t be so childish, Jandu. You cannot pretend as though it does not matter. This is the most important decision since the formation of Marhavad!”
Jandu cast his eyes downward. “Yes, Master.”
“What makes it even more difficult is that both Yudar and Darvad know the Pezarisharta!”
“I know the Pezarisharta too,” Jandu commented, but Mazar continued regardless.
“Anyone who has the power of the Pezarisharta can destroy the world. The entire world, Jandu. This is no idle power. Whoever I choose as king must be the kind of man who will take that responsibility seriously.”
“I know, I know.” Jandu had been drilled, day in and day out, for nearly a year in order to learn the ultimate weapon. Just reciting it took ages, and each word had to be uttered perfectly, in precise order to complete the sharta.
The Pezarisharta set fire to every living creature. It burned earth, sky and water alike.
“I can’t speak for Darvad,” Jandu said, “but I know Yudar does not even think about the Pezarisharta anymore. He once told me he purposefully tried to forget it. He doesn’t believe any man should have such power.”
“He is right.”
“And yet you taught it to all of us.”
“It is your birth right, as princes.” Mazar stared blankly out at the dusty field.
Jandu studied his teacher. Although Mazar moved swiftly and dangerously for a man his age, the years as Regent of Marhavad had changed him, added lines to his dry face, creased his brow. Jandu’s father had thrust so much responsibility on the man, trusting Mazar with both the education of his sons, and maintaining his kingdom.
“Are you thirsty?” Jandu suddenly asked. “Would you like me to fetch you something to drink?”
Mazar turned to gaze at Jandu fondly. “Jandu, if I need something to drink, I’ll ask one of the servants. You do not have to fetch for me.”
“I know.” Jandu blushed. “But you are my teacher. It is my duty to respect you.”
“You are very good at fulfilling your duty, Jandu. It is one of the traits I most admire in you.”
“I thought you most admired my modesty.”
Mazar shook his head and Jandu laughed.
“Come on, let us practice once more,” Mazar said, standing. “This time, I want you to initiate a sharta. Remember to concentrate. Do not lose your focus, or I will out-speak you.”
Jandu stood as well. “Which should I use?” He did not like practicing such weapons on his master. Most were fatal.
“You
Jandu sat beside his master and stared out across the empty practice field. It had once been a large citrus grove but now, the soil torn and scarred by shartas, only weeds thrived.
Jandu leaned back on his elbows, content to sit in silence with his master for a moment. The two of them rarely found time to train together anymore. “Yudar is losing his supporters in the east,” Mazar said suddenly. “The lords of Bandari and Penemar are turning toward Darvad.”
Jandu kicked at a clump of dirt but said nothing.
“At last night’s dice game, I heard Darvad promise the lord of Bandari substantial tax benefits if he became king,” Mazar said.
“What did my brother say?” Jandu asked.
“Yudar wasn’t there.”
Jandu raised his eyebrows. “My brother missed a dice game?”
Mazar laughed. “I know. I think it must have been the first time he has missed an opportunity to play dice in ten years. That Suraya has surely worked a spell upon him.”
Jandu snorted and laid back down. He thought it impossible to distract Yudar from gambling. This marriage was really turning out to be good for him.
“It’s a shame he missed that particular game, however,” Mazar continued. “A lot of discussion took place between the lords in attendance.”
“I’ll tell him.” Why was it so hard for everyone to recognize the fact that he did not want to discuss politics all day? “But I’d rather not talk about it right now.”
At this, Mazar sat upright and glared at him. “Don’t be so childish, Jandu. You cannot pretend as though it does not matter. This is the most important decision since the formation of Marhavad!”
Jandu cast his eyes downward. “Yes, Master.”
“What makes it even more difficult is that both Yudar and Darvad know the Pezarisharta!”
“I know the Pezarisharta too,” Jandu commented, but Mazar continued regardless.
“Anyone who has the power of the Pezarisharta can destroy the world. The entire world, Jandu. This is no idle power. Whoever I choose as king must be the kind of man who will take that responsibility seriously.”
“I know, I know.” Jandu had been drilled, day in and day out, for nearly a year in order to learn the ultimate weapon. Just reciting it took ages, and each word had to be uttered perfectly, in precise order to complete the sharta.
The Pezarisharta set fire to every living creature. It burned earth, sky and water alike.
“I can’t speak for Darvad,” Jandu said, “but I know Yudar does not even think about the Pezarisharta anymore. He once told me he purposefully tried to forget it. He doesn’t believe any man should have such power.”
“He is right.”
“And yet you taught it to all of us.”
“It is your birth right, as princes.” Mazar stared blankly out at the dusty field.
Jandu studied his teacher. Although Mazar moved swiftly and dangerously for a man his age, the years as Regent of Marhavad had changed him, added lines to his dry face, creased his brow. Jandu’s father had thrust so much responsibility on the man, trusting Mazar with both the education of his sons, and maintaining his kingdom.
“Are you thirsty?” Jandu suddenly asked. “Would you like me to fetch you something to drink?”
Mazar turned to gaze at Jandu fondly. “Jandu, if I need something to drink, I’ll ask one of the servants. You do not have to fetch for me.”
“I know.” Jandu blushed. “But you are my teacher. It is my duty to respect you.”
“You are very good at fulfilling your duty, Jandu. It is one of the traits I most admire in you.”
“I thought you most admired my modesty.”
Mazar shook his head and Jandu laughed.
“Come on, let us practice once more,” Mazar said, standing. “This time, I want you to initiate a sharta. Remember to concentrate. Do not lose your focus, or I will out-speak you.”
Jandu stood as well. “Which should I use?” He did not like practicing such weapons on his master. Most were fatal.
“You
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