Cold Steel

It was hardly dawn when the sound of footfalls and clinking armour echoed in the halls of the harem. Normally the girls would rouse from their sleep in excitement or fear, anticipating the presence of a man, but they knew the rhythm of these steps, quick and strong with something to prove.

Princess Rayta strutted down the corridor, hand resting on the sheathed scimitar at her hip. A young eunuch followed close behind, walking almost twice as fast to keep up.

They turned a corner to see another eunuch hurrying towards them. When he recognized Rayta he skidded to a stop and bowed.

"Where are you rushing to so early in the day?" she asked.

He bit his lip, but answered, "To attend to the new lady, Princess."

She cocked an eyebrow, surprised by his answer, but then smiled as if she had remembered something.

"Is she doing anything special today?"

"Um, I planned to show her the glass garden..." the eunuch replied.

"Lead us to her chamber," she said, "I have something more entertaining in mind."

The eunuch's jaw almost dropped, but he reared his surprise in and complied without a word. Once they reached Khayzuran's room he meant to let himself in first to announce the Princess' arrival, but Rayta simply stepped past him. The royal concubine sat in a chair with her back facing the door, head stuffed in a book.

"Khayzuran sahiba," the eunuch stuttered, "It's–"

"Princess Rayta," Khayzuran said, and stood to face her, "Please sit."

The eunuchs excused themselves without being asked, while Maya had slinked away to her room behind the drawn curtain.

"I see you have settled in well," Rayta said, scrutinising the room for a moment then looking back at her, "I heard that Nina came to torment you yesterday, but you were nowhere to be found."

"Nina?"

"The fat girl at the hammam yesterday. She was seething, my attendants say."

Khaya's brows knitted in worry. "Will she try to come again?"

"She might, but once she sees you are in my favour she will stay away."

Khaya's surprise was plain on her face. You are in my favour.

"Thank you–"

Rayta abruptly stood, and her armour clinked. "Put on a veil and follow me," she said, and started towards the door, "I am sparring with Rehan today. It will serve you well to observe him."

Khaya opened her mouth, then closed it. She called out to Meia, who procured a dark green veil to match her qamis.

"Leave the bangle," Rayta said when Khaya emerged from the room. Zayan took it and slipped it into his robe for safekeeping, and the group of five departed the harem in silence.

§

The hall they entered opened into a courtyard on one side through a row of arches. Light streamed in, illuminating the pale bronze walls. At the far end Khaya made out the figure of Prince Rehan, wearing a black shirt, sturdy boots, and metal braces on his forearms. Behind him a group of people sat on cushions, mostly women and their attendants. The eunuchs stood in a row behind them.

Rayta stopped Khaya halfway and instructed her to sit by the adjacent wall so they faced the arches. "You will have the best view," she added, before heading off to greet the Prince.

He was pulling his hair into a knot as someone strapped a leather baldric to his chest. A pair of eunuchs rolled in a rack filled with weapons of all sorts; swords of varying length and shape, bows and arrows, and wooden swords. Excitement bubbled through the group of women as Rehan stepped forward to select his blade.

His fingers grazed their hilts and finally stopped on a double edged sword. He pulled it from the rack and twirled it with confidence. Khaya observed his movement, and suddenly she could hear the air tearing apart to make way for the blade. He stopped abruptly and handed it to an attendant. Rayta too had left her sword.

The Prince and the Princess stood in the centre, looking each other in the eye. Their profiles were cut like paintings against the open archway, radiating raw power.

"Rare of you to bring someone to watch," he said, nodding his chin to where Khaya sat, "A friend?"

"Perhaps," she said, "Today I will have the first strike."

"So be it."

They held each other's forearm, a greeting between soldiers, and parted. The hall held its breath.

Rayta pulled back her right fist and lunged for his shoulder, but Rehan dodged just as fast. Rayta did not hesitate, spinning around with her left elbow aimed for his head. Again he dodged, stumbling slightly. She swung her leg into his side, and this time he fell on his knees. The women let out a sigh of dismay, but Rehan was up just in time to grab Rayta's next kick, and their voices rose in a cheer.

Khaya was staring wide eyed at them, movements flashing too fast to blink, recovering so seamlessly as if they had never been struck. Rehan pivoted himself around his position, while Rayta struck him from all sides, like a tiger circling its prey. Yet each time it seemed like she would gain the upper hand he countered and pushed her back out again.

Rayta feinted and aimed a jab at his jaw, but his metal braces blocked the move and, to Khaya's complete bewilderment, grabbed a handful of her hair and threw her over his shoulder. She flew across the room and landed in a heap, but no one moved to go to her aid. The women's voices chorused their approval, but Khaya was motionless. Rehan's expression was of indifference. Sweat dripped from his brow, colouring his brown hair a darker shade at the roots. He let out a breath and relaxed his shoulders. His eyes scanned the line of women, then turned and fell on Khaya. For a heartbeat they gazed at each other, and his expression shifted from idleness to curiosity.

That moment was enough to be his undoing.

Rayta had long since risen, and glided across the room to land a powerful kick in the centre of his chest, throwing him flat onto the ground. She wiped the sweat from her forehead as a bell sounded, concluding their first bout. She held out a hand and Rehan took it without acknowledgement.

They did not stop for a rest. The attendant stepped forward with their weapons, and the bell sounded again after they took their places once more. This time there was no first strike given, as they both leapt towards each other, sword arms pulled back. Their blades clashed, and the sound shook Khaya to the bone, though her gift had not surged this time.

A thought struck her.

Khaya focussed her gaze on the Prince's blade, willing all other sounds to cease. The women's whispering, the shuffling of their garments, the heavy breaths of everyone in the room, there were too many noises interfering. She squeezed her eyes shut and probed again.

As Rayta pulled her scimitar up to block Rehan's strike Khaya opened her eyes. There it was, the sound of the air making way for his weapon, like the cracking of a vicious whip. The blades struck, and Khaya flinched at the violence of the sound ringing in her ears. Meia startled, but before she could say anything Khaya put her hand up.

"I'm fine," she said, eyes glued to the warriors' movements. Rehan pulled his blade back and spun around to counter. Khaya listened to the singing of the air.

There, her ribs, she thought, and suddenly Rayta's braces were up to block the strike. Rehan twisted his wrist, bringing the other end of the blade down to strike her legs.

She will block it.

Rayta's sword met Rehan's, and again he moved to counter. Khaya's shoulders tensed.

Step back!

The arc of Rayta's next swing narrowly missed his knee, but she used the momentum to power her next attack.

He will block it with his left arm, and sure enough he did. Each prediction Khaya made came true just a fraction of a second later.

Rehan pushed Rayta back and posed to strike again, but Rayta made no move to block. Khaya wanted to shout, but did not dare. His attack was impossibly fast, but she heard the air cracking open. She knew where his mark was.

Rayta's heart.

Surely he will stop!? Khaya's eyes widened in horror when he did not. She squeezed her eyes shut the moment just before he would stab her.

A clang of metal on metal.

She opened her eyes.

Rehan had ripped a hole in Rayta's pale peach qamis. A shiny metal breastplate gleamed beneath it, moulded to the exact shape of her bosom. Rehan helped Rayta to her feet, then stepped closer as if to whisper something. Khaya heard it nonetheless.

"Must you always concede at the last second? You're ruining the fun of the challenge."

Rayta glanced over his shoulder at the women's watchful eyes. "You can't be seen losing."

Rehan scoffed, "You say that as if you know you will beat me every time."

"Just once is enough to discredit you."

He rolled his eyes, but knew she was right. "Thank you, then."

Khaya's eyes were narrowed in thought. She looked back at the Prince. So, she lost on purpose...

Rehan's idle eyes fell on her once again. She quickly looked at her hands, but could feel him still staring. A man entering the hall from the opposite side stole his attention, and Khaya let out a nervous breath.

"Commander Tahir!" Rehan's expression brightened and he spread his arms in greeting, "What a pleasant surprise, I was just about to put down my sword."

Tahir bowed. "Do not stop on my account, Sayyidi," he said.

His dark skin was sun-burnished, greying hairs peeked out from beneath his turban, yet he stood tall and sure. A seasoned soldier's posture. His qamis was ochre, cut shorter than most, and he wore a bright red sash with gold embroidery. There was no sword at his hip, nor any other weapon in sight.

He opened his mouth to speak but Rehan silenced him with a hand. "I insist on duelling with you. It has been months since we last had a proper fight."

"Sayyidi there is no time–"

"Nonsense," Rehan said, twirling his sword, "Besides, you know how much I hate politics before breakfast time."

"But–" he sighed, "As you wish, Sayyidi. May I have some braces?"

"Take mine," Rehan said, and beckoned an attendant forward with two fingers. He brought a set of gleaming braces fitted with retractable blades. Tahir strapped on the ones handed to him over the long sleeves of his qamis. He had no other weapon. Rehan on the other hand had the braces and his double edged sword.

Rayta gave her sword to the passing attendant and began unknotting her hair. "Do not exert yourself too much, husband," she said, then made her way to Khaya's side and sat down. She stank of exhaustion mixed with rose water, her bronze skin shining with sweat. Her eunuch immediately handed her a jug of water.

"What did you observe?" she asked.

"You lost on purpose," Khaya said.

Rayta jerked her chin, staring at her with disbelief. "How did you know that?"

Khaya mentally slapped herself. She had slipped so easily. "I– I just..."

The bell sounded, and Rehan's expression tightened. Tahir remained relaxed, arms by his sides. A pause, and Rehan lunged.

Khaya found the edge of the blade with ease this time, and traced its path to Tahir's ribs. At the last possible second Tahir dodged with a simple sidestep, a mere hairsbreadth away from the blade's edge. Rehan did not hesitate, turning and aiming to jab with his hidden blade at Tahir's cheek. He tilted his head back, again dodging by finger-spans. Khaya looked on, horrified by what she heard and saw.

Rehan's expression was different from before, colder and intensely focussed. Each of his strikes cut through the air with the speed of an arrow and the power of an axe. Now he was not fighting to win.

He was fighting to kill.

Tahir blocked, but was pushed back easily by Rehan's blows. The sounds of their strikes echoed so loudly in Khaya's ears she could hardly take a moment to breathe.

The next strike drew blood.

Tahir stepped back and raised a hand to his wounded shoulder, but his expression was blank as ever. He had hardly flinched.

Rehan dropped his sword and let out a grunt of frustration. "You are not even trying."

"Forgive me, Sayyidi. You gave me no time to warm up."

Tahir shot forward with alarming speed, arm pulled back for a punch. Rehan sidestepped but lost his balance. Tahir spun around to strike him with his elbow, exactly as Rayta had done before, but Rehan blocked and punched with his hidden blade, this time drawing blood from Tahir's cheek. Instead of stepping back, Tahir jabbed him in the ribs, pulled him over his shoulder, and threw him to the ground.

Just as Rehan had done to Rayta.

The bell sounded, signalling the end of the match. Rehan closed his eyes and laughed. Tahir extended a hand to him as the attendants rushed forward with water and towels. Even Rayta stood and approached them. Rehan had been beaten but had the widest smile on his face, while Tahir remained stoic. Khaya scrutinised his face, and her brows knitted.

His wound had disappeared. There was a stain of blood wiped off on his sleeve, but no cut. The splotch of red on his shoulder had not increased in size at all either.

What is going on?

She rubbed her eyes and looked again. She was sure Rehan had cut Tahir's cheek, yet there was no physical indication of it.

Khaya shook her head. "Zayan, who is that man?"

"That is Commander Tahir al-Barmaki," Zayan said, "He is a highly regarded soldier."

Al-Barmaki

They were engrossed in their discussion, which Khaya easily overheard but decided to ignore.

"Tell Princess Rayta I am taking my leave," she told the young eunuch.

Meia and Zayan escorted her out of the hall in silence.