The first punishers had been her parents, the highest authorities in the land. Being beaten by an army lackey only stoked her high-born anger.
Puffing, the officer caught a fistful of cornrows and jerked Star to her feet. She expected the captive to beg for mercy, but Star's dark eyes glowed with royal fire.
Despite red welts marring her cheek and neck, the princess hissed, 'You'll burn at the stake for this indignity. After your skin is flayed from your wretched body. I, Samira Amenstar of Cursrah, vow it!'
'Preposterous.' The officer let go Star's hair and said, 'As if a real princess would ride this far in plain clothes with only two ragamuffins for escort.'
In the pause, a cavalryman cleared his throat. The captain glanced, saw the soldier flick his eyes to Star, then nod small. Amenstar grasped his message. The man must have accompanied Samir Pallaton to the royal gala, so confirmed Star's identity. The captain gaped at the princess's grim smile then blanched. Shaken, the officer groped for her horse and mounted.
'You-you three. Mount up. We must-You'd be conducted to Samir Pallaton anyway, whoever you are…'
In silence, the troop formed three and three to bracket the captives and trotted off.
'I told you we'd be safe, no matter where we went,' Amenstar told her friends. She rubbed her bleeding ear and winced.
Tafir and Gheqet exchanged glances. They didn't feel safe.
9
The Year of the Gauntlet
'There are three of them, three friends, just like us…'
Hakiim and Reiver had been attacked by walking statues, spellbinding mummies, and a magical fear that still lingered to shred their nerves raw. On the verge of freedom, Amber had cried out and collapsed. Panicked, blundering in the darkness, they'd lugged Amber far from the palace floor into the shelter of a broken wall. Water and gentle shaking revived her, but her words rang strange.
'You're babbling, Amber,' Hakiim said.
Both young men huddled over her with worried frowns.
'I'm not crazy,' snapped the slave master's daughter. 'It's this tiara. When I reached moonlight, the moonstone cast its spell. It's a storytelling charm, I think. I saw it given as a present on the samira's sixteenth birthday. I saw the whole gala, the sorcerous entertainments, people throwing food, the princess nearly being drowned, then running away-everything.'
Hakiim pushed up his kaffiyeh to scratch his forehead, and Reiver urged, 'Keep your voice down. Is this another of your fables?'
'This thing shows the ancient life of that princess,'
Amber said. She tugged off the tiara and waved it in their faces. 'Don it yourself and find out.'
'No, thank you,' Reiver said, and both Memnonites leaned back. 'You dropped liked you'd been poleaxed!'
'It wouldn't work any way,' Amber realized. 'The moon has set. It's all true, though. Her name was Amenstar, and I saw this city when it was alive and thriving.'
Reiver stood up, stretched his arms and cast about the ruined valley. Nothing stirred but Calim's Breath, the last and only manifestation of the world's most powerful genie, now so impotent it couldn't blow out a candle. Taking the opportunity to rest and refresh, Reiver opened his bundle and munched hardtack and jerked goat meat. The thief's hands shook, for he hadn't fully recovered from the mummy-induced fright.
Too casual, he coaxed, 'Go on, tell us. I like a good story.'
'Damn you,' she said. Rattled herself, Amber stood, settled the tiara on her head to keep it safe, and pointed. 'This city is-was called Cursrah.'
'Never heard of it,' Hakiim said. He chewed dried apricots and gulped water, slopping because his hands quaked.
'Don't interrupt. Just listen-''
Amber froze. There'd been other visions too, she recalled. The mummy had touched her, bonded with her mind, and conveyed a nightmare of swirling images that had yet to settle. Amber needed time to think and sort the facts, but one imperative loomed clear. She couldn't tell her companions every detail; some were just too horrific.
'Listen to what?' asked the two.
'Uhh…' Amber hedged as she dug up neutral information. 'Cursrah was famous for its library, which stood… there. Those twin ziggurats braced it, and the college lay right behind. The Palace of the Phoenix had a moat…'
Reclining against a broken wall, talking to calm herself and her friends, Amber related ancient everyday details of Cursrah. Calim's Breath swirled around them as if to keep the travelers company. The breeze lifted Amber's voice and wafted it far in the cool night, until, out at the valley's rim, inhuman strangers with keen ears heard a pleasant drone and stealthily homed in.
The first hint of trouble was the scuff of leather on stone in the chill air. Hakiim jumped up and grabbed his scimitar pommel. Amber rolled the other way and shook free the noose of her capture staff. Reiver didn't hesitate, but pelted away from the noise, feet flying in the semi-dark.
Hakiim yelled, 'Come back, you coward. We mu-ulpl'
'Giants!' chirped Amber.
Looming at either end of the shattered wall were huge, blocky figures, one a head taller than the other. It was hard to judge in the colorless pre-dawn light, but the attackers' heads towered at least seven and eight feet into the star-washed sky. Wrapped in desert robes and headscarves, they carried nine-foot spears with wicked iron barbs. The long shafts sported fuzzy blotches just above the hand grips, and Amber wondered briefly what they might be.
Making no sound, working together, the raiders stepped wide and closed in. Amber saw the predicament immediately. Whether she and Hakiim ran along the wall or directly away, those nine-foot spears held sideways would corral them.
'What do we do?' Hakiim asked, pointed his scimitar at a closing giant.
These brutes could probably crush the humans with one foot, thought Amber. She had an idea, but no time to tell it, so said only, 'Get ready to run…'
Lunging, snapping her capture staff, Amber flicked the noose over a spear point. All in the blink of an eye, for Amber had done it a thousand times handling slaves, she yanked hard with her left hand to snug the noose around the shaft. Tethered to the spear, Amber skittered backward and leaned into her capture staff. For just a moment, as the taller giant shifted its weight, the spear swung toward Amber and opened the trap.
They're slow, thought the daughter of pirates. Good.
'Go, Hak! Run!'
Hakiim dashed through the gap. Lumbering, the giant slashed the air with a long spear point but missed the youth by a yard. As the giant turned like a bewildered ox, Hakiim ran rings around it, flung his scimitar far back, and sliced hard at bulky desert robes. Amber heard the raider hiss as keen steel licked its skin, the first sound the brutes had made. Now if Amber could just get herself free…
Scooting to her heels, snaking out line with her free hand, she flicked her staff like a fishing pole and flipped the noose off the spear point. She ducked, and the giant simply drove the butt of the spear straight at Amber's head. Hardwood smacked the ruined wall, and pebbles ticked on her headscarf. The giant was angry, Amber realized, and turning to attack Hakiim.
'Hak, run!' she shrilled. 'It's after you!'
'I won't leave you,' the man's voice quavered. He stood his ground and waved his scimitar like a dancing cobra, a simple tactic meant to distract an enemy.
Her friend was brave, loyal, and foolish, Amber thought. Meanwhile the second giant trundled at her. A head
