3. Eshe
Eshe
Urnaz, Tehara
I thought about nothing.
Nothing.
Nothingness.
Emptiness.
I breathed in and breathed out.
I focused on the air that filled my lungs and let out a deep, long exhale.
My thoughts were of nothing, and I felt peace.
Peace in nothingness.
Breathe in, breathe out.
Though I fought hard to practice peacefulness every day, it never really seemed to settle. Perhaps it was because I was treating it as a challenge—a fight, something I had to win and accomplish.
But maybe peace had nothing to do with winning.
Or maybe it was because it was an illusion.
I pried my eyes open after an afternoon of silent meditation. The city before me registered once again in my mind. I unraveled my stiff legs from their cross-legged position.
I was in Urnaz, the capital of Tehara.
After almost three months of blistering feet, sandstorms, limited rations, and revenge being my only source of fuel, I’d finally made it.
It would have taken much longer if I hadn’t found a nomadic clan a month ago, from which I stole a horse.
They had multiple horses and could make do without one.
Okay, maybe I stole more than just a horse, but that was because they most likely stole it from another caravan.
That was how it worked in the desert. You stole and were stolen from. Nothing personal.
I stared at the white and tan-washed rooftops with busy dirt roads surrounding the city from where I sat on a hilltop with sparse trees and shrubs.
There were some roofs the color of trees laid out across the city—Tehara’s colors.
People were rushing through the markets, and merchants tugged on their donkeys that carried their produce and merchandise.
The city extended as far as my eyes could reach.
I had visited Urnaz with my father as a child. He had sought to find terms of peace between our two countries, but they couldn’t agree on anything. It was the first time they mentioned marriage between Ezra and me.
The feud grew heavy and tiresome for my aging father. Negotiating peace was a thorn in his side. He used to tell me quite frequently. I remember hoping that we would come to peace because there was something about this city that tugged at my heart. The air, the winds.
A delusional child I was for thinking peace was ever an option.
For years, I’d trained for this, and I was finally here. Tingles of anticipation flooded my skin.
I was more than ready.
Slowly, I removed the scarf I had around my face and stuffed it into my bag.
I tightened a red sash around my waist and dark linen pants.
At the gates, they would inspect everyone—they’d know I was a woman.
There was no reason to pretend otherwise.
I placed a black robe threaded with gold around my shoulders.
Unraveling the braid my hair was in, I straightened it.
The loose curls bounced around my shoulders.
Zyriah and Tehara were nearly identical in their religious beliefs.
They believed in the same God, the same cultural customs. But Tehara still upheld their religious traditions, whereas Zyriah was a bit more lenient.
But in general, most “proper” women wore modest clothing—dresses—while the common women would wear whatever was comfortable, even pants, like the Priestels.
Between both countries, wealthy women also adorned themselves with their marked silver and gold tattoos, a symbol of class in marriage.
The common people had their own God and worshipped differently. Two separate gods. Two separate people.
Taking a deep breath, I draped the cloak around my shoulders and lifted the hood over my head.
Swinging the bag over my shoulder, my boots pulled me down the hill toward the city that held those who had changed my life forever.
Those who became the reason why I fought to breathe every day.
Those who became everything to me. My existence's purpose centered on a family soon to be dead.
The desert winds whispered as I drew closer to the edge of the city. They spoke of a dark storm approaching, and I knew once I entered, there would be no escaping it.
As soon as I descended into the valley of sands and approached the outskirt walls of Urnaz, I lowered my cloak and waited in a short line to enter the city. The clay-colored walls hid the views inside.
Two women dressed in identical dark blue cloaks and a man in a black tunic ahead of me conversed. The silver threads in the dark blue sleeve nearly blinded me as one of the women spoke.
“—celebrations won’t be starting until a week from now. Do you think we’ll be able to find the Priestels’ performances anywhere else?”
“I heard on certain nights they open the doors at the Khraus? Oh! Or we can go to the arena to pass the time!” exclaimed the second woman, whose hair was in one thick black braid. Dark kohl painted her brown eyes.
The man, upon hearing the last words come out of the braided woman’s mouth, snapped his head at the two women. “You will do no such thing. Women attending the fights are forbidden, and those who do are nothing but commoners who break the rules.”
“Such a drab you are, brother.” The braided woman crossed her arms. “This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”
“And you, Linah, are sixteen years old. You need to present yourself properly if you’re going to be marrying into a respectable household—”
“Deagal! No talk of prospects. You promised!” the taller woman, seemingly the older sister, cried out.
“The arena is off-limits, Sativ. You know that.”
Sativ eyed Deagal. “There is an event scheduled for today at the arena. Are you planning on going?”
The small group took a few steps toward the gate. There were only five people ahead of them. I followed behind, pulling the hood over my head. It wasn’t proper to be wandering about without an escort. My black boots shuffled a bit closer to them.
“That’s none of your business,” he grunted, focusing his attention on the gates.
“But Deagal, if you’re going, you must take us with you!” Sativ whined. “You can’t expect us not to explore the city of Urnaz—”
“It’s forbidden, and Father would be furi—”
“Please, Deagal,” Linah pleaded, pulling on Deagal’s cloak. “I heard Qahl Ezra goes from time to time, and I would so love to see him!”
Ezra? My heart stopped. Qahl Ezra? He should be twenty-nine by now, not the Qahl, unless his father died. And also, what kind of taste in men did this child have?
Deagal clicked his tongue with a shake of his head. “Oh, Linah.”
“I want to be part of his harem one—”
“Linah!” Sativ hissed at Linah, grabbing her by the elbow.
Oh, God. I was going to throw up. Mostly common in desert countries, a harem was for wealthy men and Qahls, where they would acquire beautiful women from around the world for their own pleasure. Typically, the more wealth the man had, the more women he had.
“It’s filled with savages and even the…” Deagal lowered his voice for a moment, leaning toward the girls. “Atrove. I heard they’ve been seen in the area.”
The gasps of the girls echoed. From where I stood, I could see the profile of Sativ’s face go pale.
We inched forward again. The guards asked Deagal questions about their intentions for their visits. After answering their questions, Deagal, Sativ, and Linah continued, and I followed closely behind, flashing a smile at the guard to my left as the last member of this little family.
The guard didn’t question it. In fact, he was distracted as his cheek flushed a bit, and it wasn’t because of the blistering heat. I shot him a wink as I passed him. He turned beet-red, and his eyes fluttered to the sands.
I scoffed.
“Now that Ezra is Qahl, he’d be accepting prospects from bordering countries, and I—”
“Get those thoughts out of your head. If anyone is going to get the attention of Ezra, it’ll be—”
I slowed my steps behind the small group. I was sick. The attempt to not make a gagging face failed.
As soon as I walked through the gates that made me crane my neck, I trudged straight ahead into the busiest streets of Urnaz.
A scrawny boy of my height sprinting through the crowd ran into my shoulder. I threw my hands up at him, and he stumbled beside me with wide eyes.
“Stop him there!” a voice shouted from behind him. A merchant with dangling purses around his thick middle rushed toward us. “He stole my bird!”
I sidestepped, my black cloak following my movements, and continued through the crowd.
The road was narrow and surrounded by tall, whitewashed buildings with thin linen coverings above the road to combat the relentless desert sun.
I felt the difference as soon as I walked through the open markets.
The cool breeze carried the scents of spices and dried meat.
I knew I was in the lower part of the Urnaz because not one woman was wearing an inked mark around her wrist, and most of the women were wearing open-slit, thin linen dresses or pants.
Their styles were so intriguing. They reminded me of the Priestels we used to watch as a family in Crahst. The people here seemed happy enough, and there weren’t as many beggars in the streets as I remembered.
After browsing through the lower streets, I ascended a steep staircase leading further into the city center, and the atmosphere changed slightly.
Men dressed in long, open tunics and linen pants shared pleasantries with women in fine, colorful dresses while they dined outside, sipping on kava.
Kava was a popular but bitter beverage known for its relaxing qualities.
As I stared, I thought about the way kava tingles on the tongue and down the throat, making my nerves excited.
Laughter filled the cool air under the thin coverings as the people enjoyed their beverages.
My eyes caught on a couple speaking to a merchant, pointing at his paintings plastered on the cobblestones. I flipped a coin to a vendor nearby for a small bag of nuts.