The Killing Moon (Dreamblood #1)(24)
Niyes set his teeth and smiled back. “When the safety of the Prince and his family are at stake, I take no chances.”
“As you should not,” the Prince said, turning away from Wanahomen to gaze at both men. There was a hint of censure in the Prince’s face; Niyes knew he detested strife among his soldiers. He bowed over his hand in silent apology, Charris did the same, and the Prince inclined his head in acceptance. Then he added, “As no doubt Captain Charris takes no chances, even here within Kite-iyan’s walls. We will trust his guardianship now, Niyes, and that of the men under his command. Tell your soldiers to relax and avail themselves of my wives’ hospitality until we leave.”
Niyes inclined his head obediently; Charris did too at the corner of his vision. So Niyes turned and gave quick orders to the men to stable their horses properly before taking their unexpected recreation, and then he followed the Prince and his family into the palace.
In the courtyard many more people waited—some of the Prince’s other wives and children, the staff and servants. The Prince moved among them without hesitation, offering smiles and greetings as he walked. Niyes tensed, uncomfortable as always to see Gujaareh’s ruler unguarded amid such a large crowd—but then he noted the scattering of soldiers’ uniforms among the gowns and forced himself to relax.
“Come, Niyes,” the Prince said, pausing at the archway that led into the palace’s heart. “You’ve never been here before, have you? Though you knew Charris…”
“We trained together, my Prince,” Niyes said, moving to join him.
“You’re not friends, I gather.”
The crowd was sparse here at the arch; Charris was still in the courtyard, giving orders to his men. Niyes cleared his throat. “No, my Prince. He is zhinha.”
The Prince laughed, then led him forward into wide, airy halls of high ceilings and artfully arched windows. “Forgive me for laughing, old friend, but you must realize the rivalry between shunha and zhinha has always been amusing to those of my lineage. Look.” He took Niyes’ hand, lifting their hands together to show the contrast: river-earth black and desert-sand brown. “I have the same amount of gods’ blood in my veins as shunha, zhinha, or even Kisuati sonha—leaving aside the fact that as Hananja’s Avatar I hold godly status of my own. And yet because I am a few gradations paler in shade…”
“It is more than that, my Prince,” Niyes said stiffly.
“Yes, yes.” The Prince smiled and released Niyes’ hand. “You’re always so serious. We’re here for leisure—although we must discuss one bit of business first. Come, let me show you around.”
Kite-iyan was a women’s palace; its walls were of rose marble threaded with occasional veins of gold. Troughs lined the hallways at intervals, abloom with flowering plants. Pictographs of Dreaming Moon and her children abounded in the decor, drawn from the more pleasant tales of the heavenly family’s life. They also passed wide chambers devoted to women’s interests—libraries and sculpture halls, practice rooms for stick-fighting and dance. A few of these were occupied, Niyes noticed, as not all of the Prince’s wives had deigned to interrupt their routines for his visit.
“Things are very different here from my youth,” the Prince mused, nodding to women or children as they walked. “In my father’s day, this place was a flower-strewn prison. He took any woman to wife who caught his eye, regardless of her feelings on the matter. They were brought here, permitted no visitors or holidays, wholly cut off from the world beyond the gates. It was just as bad for us children, though we were at least permitted to visit the city from time to time. Beyond our lessons there was nothing to do but compete for status and our father’s favor, and that we did with a will. Poisonous, all of it.
“Since I began my own marriages I have striven to do better. My children are permitted to know their maternal relatives. Their mothers may continue to manage their own separate households and businesses, and they can come and go as they please. And you see that I take no great care to keep men away. I saw a few of the younger wives considering that sloe-eyed archer of yours. I hope he’s strong enough to endure them all.” He shrugged and grinned as Niyes looked at him in astonishment. “It takes a great deal to keep two hundred and fifty-six women happy, man; your soldiers are doing me a great favor, believe me! Any children who result only add to my glory, after all.”
Niyes nodded slowly, more unnerved than amused by this reminder that the Prince missed nothing. “The highcastes have been discussing your marital reforms, my Prince. Many find the changes… disturbing. But then we shunha have always revered our women in the old ways.”
“Believe it or not, Niyes, I agree with the ideals of the shunha.” They began to climb a staircase that wound in a gentle upward spiral; sunbeams from narrow windows slanted across it like wheel-spokes. “Gujaareh has been influenced far more than it should be by ill-mannered savages who bore holes through their skulls to cure headaches. It’s disgraceful. I cannot marry fewer wives, but I can remember that they are human beings, not broodmares. I treat my children like the treasures they are. You were watching my son Wana. Were you surprised that he loves me?”
Niyes blinked in surprise. “Yes, my lord.”
“You expected antagonism. The young lion, sizing up the leader of the pride. But we are not animals, Niyes. We are not meant to scrabble over scraps of power, pulling one another down like crabs in a barrel. My father followed that model. So did I, to succeed him. I killed most of my siblings and their mothers. I killed my father, for that matter—sent him to the Throne of Dreams with my own hands. He deserved no less honor.”