Safar was sorry he'd spoken. The place he had in mind was a private retreat where he went to nurse the wounds of youth. Many a tear had been shed there in solitude and many a dream conjured.
'Maybe later, he said. The snow is still too deep just now.'
He hoped his friend would forget, but each day the sun shone warmer, the streams swelled with the melting snow and Iraj pestered Safar to take him to his secret place. Finally, the next time it was Safar's turn to watch the herds he agreed to take Iraj with him.
At first Gubadan fussed about letting his charge out of sight for the weeks the boys would be gone.
'What will Iraj's family say, Khadji, he protested to Safar's father, if something should happen to him?'
'They'll be just as angry with you if he drowns while swimming in our lake, Safar's mother broke in. Despite her first suspicionsnatural to the cloistered people of Kyraniashe'd warmed to Iraj and now even defended the orphan prince to the others.
'The mountains are as natural to Kyrania as that lake, she said. Let the boy go, Gubadan. Herding goats is not so dangerous an adventure.'
'It's knowledge, not danger I'm after, Master, Iraj put in. I want to see for myself where the great Alisarrian crossed these mountains.'
This argument won the day and soon the two young men set out for the high pastures. They were overly laden with supplies, thanks to Gubadan's concerns, and they had to take a llama to carry all the clothing, blankets and food stuff pressed on them. Stirred, no doubt, by romantic dreams, Iraj took along the scimitar his uncle had given him when he left home. He was also laden with a short bow, an ample supply of arrows and an ornate dagger he said his father had bequeathed to him.
Safar carried his sling, a small shot bag of clay missiles made in his father's kiln and a sturdy staffall he'd need to stave off the occasional pack of hungry wolves intent on goat flesh. He laughed when he saw Iraj struggling under the burden of so many weapons. There's only trees and rocks up there, he said. But if they should attack we'll be ready.'
Iraj grinned, but his eyes were serious. You can never tell, was all he said.
The skies were sparkling when they set out, the lower ranges green with new life. Safar picked up handfuls of fallen cherry blossoms to brighten their tea when they camped that night. The boys tarried for awhile at some of the higher huts, clustered among a grove of arrow trees, exchanging gossip for almonds and fat pheasants. The people were glad to see them and it was apparent to Safar that from the way they stared at Iraj they were more interested in this strange youth than in news from below.
One of the girls walked with them for a time, eyes shimmering in admiration of Iraj's tall sturdy figure and handsome looks. She turned back when they reached the trail leading to the pasture where the goats were grazing. She called after them to stop by her home when they returned, promising her mother would feed them well.
'I think she loves you, Safar teased. If you had asked she'd have crept into the bushes with you and let you pull up her dress.'
'I was tempted, Iraj admitted. It's been too long since I hip-danced with a woman.'
Safar was surprised. The other village boys boasted frequently of their conquests but he knew their claims to be lies. He'd heard his sisters and mother joke about young men who were foolish enough to think any well-raised Kyranian girl would lessen her bridal price by dallying with themunless marriage was the intended result. Sometimes a caravan would be accompanied by prostitutes bound for distant pleasure halls. But their carnal interest was stirred by fat men with fatter purses, not poor, skinny-legged boys.
But when Iraj spoke Safar knew it was no empty boast.
'Are your unmarried women in the habit of bedding anyone who asks them? he asked. No offense intended. It's just that such things are frowned upon in Kyrania. The only reason that girl would have gone with you is she thinks you're rich, as does her father. And if you'd opened her legs her father would soon be talking to Gubadan about a wedding date.'
'I suspected as much, he said. That's why I kept my sword in its sheath. And no, our women are not of easy virtue. It's just that I've always had serving maids around to tend my needs. My mother saw to it there were always a few comely slaves about. Among my people it's considered unhealthy for a young man to be denied such pleasures.'
'I wish my mother were so concerned for my health, Safar said. But what if there are children? What do you do then?'
Iraj shrugged. After they're weaned we usually sell them, he said. It's cheaper to buy new slaves than to raise one to a useful age.'
Safar was shocked. How could you sell your own child? he asked.
Iraj looked at his friend as if he'd gone crazy. I've never thought of them as my own, he said. I might as well claim the blanket lint in my bed as children every time I make love to my fist. Besides, even free women have no more of a soul than say, a camel or a horse. They were put here by the gods for our pleasure and to birth more of us. I'm only making the use of them that the fates decreed.'
Safar bit back a heated reply. To hear someone say his mother and sisters were nothing more than brood mares and whores angered him. But he said nothing, thinking Iraj couldn't help how he was raised.
The two continued climbing and soon came to the vale where the herds were grazing. Safar relieved the boys tending them, gathered the goats and drove them higher into the mountains.
The hills were in full springtime bloom, flowers and tempting grasses rising from every flat spot and crevice so he set a slow pace, letting the goats and the llama stop and nibble whenever they liked. The young men made camp early, setting the herd loose in a small meadow and bedding down in a grotto shielded from the night winds. They roasted the pheasants and filled the left over hollows in their bellies with toasted almonds, cheese and hard breadwashed down with milk from the goats. The sunset was brief but spectacular, turning the meadow and grotto into a dreamy, golden landscape. Then the moon and the stars winked into life. Safar and Iraj gazed at them for a long time, silent as acolytes at a temple ceremony.
Then Iraj said, Did you know my star sign was the same as Alisarrian's?'
Safar shook his head, although it suddenly came to him that he'd known all along. He tried to make a joke of it, saying, Does that mean you have sudden urges to go a conquering?'
Iraj didn't laugh. His eyes glittered as if the remark had struck an unintended target.
'I'm sorry if I offended you, Safar said. It was a silly thing to say.'
Iraj nodded. After a moment he asked, Don't you sometimes imagine you have a destiny to fulfill?'
'Only as a potter, Safar said.
Iraj pierced him with his gaze. Is that what you truly think, Safar?'
'What else would I be? I'm a Timura. Timuras make pots.'
Iraj shrugged as if to say, claim what you like but I know better. Then he said, I told you I dreamed of a fellow named Safar, did I not?'
'When we first met, Safar answered.
'I was surprised you never asked me more about it. Most people would.'
Safar didn't reply, remembering the vision of the king on the white elephant.
Iraj stared at him for a long moment. If I tell you a secret, will you promise not to reveal it?'
Safar promised, relieved that the conversation seemed to have taken a less dangerous turn.
'If you break the vow, Iraj warned, I will most certainly be killed.'
Safar was taken aback. At that point in his young life he'd never encountered a secret with such a penalty attached.
'It's the reason I'm living here with you, Iraj continued. My father, you see, was lord of our tribe and I was to succeed him.'
'Did your father die recently? Safar guessed.
'He caught a fever a little more than year ago, Iraj said. It took six months for it to suck out his life. During that time my family quarreled and became dividedwith some favoring me as a successor, while others backed my uncle, Fulain. When my father died the break became permanent.'
Iraj went on to explain that at first the tide was in his favor because more family members supported him. One of his cousinsa much respected older man who was rich in land and horseswas to be appointed regent until Iraj came of age and could take up the ruler's staff.
'But Fulain made a bargain with my father's most hated enemy, Iraj said. An evil man named Koralia Kan who
