TWENTY YEARS LATER
The far western deserts were going through their own strifes.
The gasps of his wife in the thoroughs of love-making quieted as she tucked against him with a full-bellied stomach. It would be their first child and the first that would have a name his ancestor's hadn't written down.
"Are you scared?" His wife said. Her honeyed auburn eyes and dark hair tresses fell against her hibiscus skin like a sunset on the hottest evening. "We said our goodbyes and it's a worthy goal. To stretch peace across our kingdoms."
"It was never his plan." He said and pushed himself off the blanketed and comforting bed. He wrapped his silken robe against his skin and sighed. "This was the plan of the Empress and we know her ambitions have no bounds."
"If she had no ambitions, would our family be what it is today?"
No.
It was a resounding no.
So he said nothing but sighed again.
"You're sighing more out of love-making than you are while doing," his wife countered before flailing on her side of the bed as if to fall asleep. "Is there something we need to talk about?"
He laughed. "No, most certainly not. I have long since known my uncle would stay where he was but instead he took my cousin with him. She would've been more clever and gone farther had she stayed here."
His wife rolled her eyes.
"I'm going to sleep. Use that grumpy energy for something productive, like the accounts, " she said, and he knew that was the end of it.
When he opened his eyes, he found his bed empty of a body, fragrance, and the little things she used to leave behind.
His wife had been dead for years.
It was time to awaken.
The crowing sun fell over his house and the yellowed stones flushed with a writhing heat as the day began. He reached the lower levels of the compound housing to his cousin's where Kinya, his cousin, sat stewing in thought. The stoned walls and cleanly paved flooring gave weight to the distraction of his cousin.
There wasn't a bite of food in sight and the sun had already risen.
"You received the letter?"
"They're presuming that Lady Padma has agreed."
"I hear that she goes by Lakshmi now?"
Kinya scoffed and they both shared a laugh.
He slid to the seat beside his cousin and said, when his throat could finally speak again, "Although we are Sarakhs in name, we know who we are. Lakshmi is the same."
"We did not run off with the Empress' first heir at first sunlight."
"We do not know if that rumor is true."
Kinya huffed. "Fine, it doesn't matter either way. We will have to prepare the house for their arrival."
"And I will find news of when the Empress is taking congress. To give her news of a peace agreement."
"Is she not already?"
"She already has many omegas and many heirs," He said with a shrug. "She will eventually be too bored to do anything but work."
"And yet the land still flourishes," Kinya clicked his tongue in disapproval. He said, "If it is not our Empress and it is not our farce of a Prime Minister, not even those representatives from overseas. What is the magic she has been able to contain?"
"You mock her and her congresses but each omega she mates with has a political connection more powerful than half this city. She sleeps with them out of pleasure, yes, of course. But she also does so at the behest of our political balance."
"Thank the sun and the moon that our Empire relies on stamina."
His ears turned up to listen to other noises and movement but he heard nothing in his cousin's housing.
"Where are Kaara and Koloda?"
"Their mother is worried about Sokkari. I do not trust Lakshmi but she trusts her even less."
"Perhaps when they meet their old friendship can rekindle."
"Nothing good can come from female omegas intermingling," Kinya grumbled. "She may very well decide to divorce me for a newer, hotter version."
"Ah, but my brother is the best this city has to offer," he said humorously and then leaned forward. You are lucky there are only mean and angry old men here to compete with. I would worry if you were to let her visit two cities over. I hear the alphas there are rich, attractive, and single. Your daughter was whining about wanting to visit, now that I think about it."
He left the room laughing as his cousin stomped around the kitchen, searching for some way to make dinner so that his wife wouldn't have to leave two cities over. Part of him wished that this was the hardest part of his day—leaving the comfort of his home and family.
Traversing the dredges of the undercity, he passed merchants and peddlers, boat sailors, and fishermen delving in the dangerous edges of the river and then arrived at the unsavory sections of the city. His head peered through window after window, brandishing open doorway after doorway until he found his cousin's son, Koloda, wrapped in the embrace of Oshallah, the foreigner, again.
He wrapped his hand around Koloda's neck and yanked him to the ground.
"What have we told you?" His eyes searched for a rogue stick and snatched it as soon as it was found. He began swatting his cousin's son repeatedly on the shoulders and back. "This marriage is crucial to the Empire's progress. And what are you doing? Sleazing your way into people's bodies that you can't begin to support. And you!"
He turned to the huddled Oshallah, all pale-skinned and dark-haired. "He is to be married to two status baring spouses. Do you understand? If you are to be married to him, you should be begging on your knees to them and not this lump of nothing but seed. He is not dependable, and you will be left with nothing but more mouths to feed."
Halfway through his speech, he changed his tongue to his grandfather's and what was once his own father's tongue. The words must've shocked Oshallah, who grabbed their thin hemp robe and ran out.
"Ah! Uncle, why are you like this? Is there nothing in this world I can have?" Koloda said as he huddled on the ground, somehow weaker and smaller than even Oshallah was earlier. "I have never even met them. Why must you force me?"
"You're lucky then. Today you will be meeting them," he hissed and then grabbed him by the ears, lifting him up as they pushed out the cramped, cavern-like room. "You are even luckier that the merchants here turn the other way when you steal their rooms. People own these places. People rely on that money to survive. Taking a room without paying is stealing, and the Empress will cut your hands off if these words reach her ears. Leaving me only your partial carcass to feed to the river."
The narrow passages were straight, and yet, through every turn, the stairs would elevate. The heat was hotter, and the people were louder. Even Koloda, as loud a mouth and unrepentant a young man can be, lowered his head as they traversed the city to the highlands.
"The Empress finds me dependable."
"The Empress finds you refreshing," He said, and the young man perked up. "Because you are simple and easy to please. There is nothing more you want than the next pleasure."
"That is because the Empress and I are the same. Alphas who wish we could merely mate and sleep our days away."
"If that is what you think the Empress is, she has fooled you far better than she's ever fooled before."
It was a long walk before they reached a clothing shop in the highlands. He greeted the seamstress, who led them to Reviere, the foreigner from the north. His appearance was not much different from that of the East unless you knew what one looked like precisely. The foreigner had relatives in the military, but it was clear they never kept in touch. His people would've told him by now.
Fabric hung from the walls, tassels and strips of cloth with varying designs and colors just as eye-popping as the next. It was rare for a foreigner to appeal to the tastes of the highland city, and the skill of his labor inherited from the great Saavedras is nothing to laugh about.
"Lisib! My friend," Reviere swept into the room with a big grin and his green eyes shining. He was tall like the Imperial warriors and strong like the farmers near the rivers. "Is this the rascal you need to dress like a prince?"
"It is an unfortunate truth," he said and then shoved Koloda forward, who stumbled into a straight posture. "The boy will need to look like a man even when he isn't."
"I have been a man for two seasons!"
Both Reviere and Lisib ignored the shouts as one of Reviere's assistants ushered Koloda into the bathing room.
Lisib lowered his voice as he spoke, "I hear you are in your own conundrum."
"It is as true as you've likely heard," Reviere said as he sighed. "I have found myself two omegas and they are far, far out of my league."
"And they wish to share?" Lisib asked, then added pointedly, as if the answer eluded him, "You?"
Reviere laughed and then said, "It is true. Somehow, a Saavedra and an El Mahdy wish to marry me. I'm not poor or unknown by any means, but this is just a surprise to you as it is to me."
"Uh-huh," Lisib answered in disbelief. "I can give you my advice as someone who knows what this means for the Empire. And I suggest if you care for them to listen carefully."
Whatever lightness and brightness in Reviere's eyes dimmed, he brushed a hand across his face as if preparing for it to hurt. He nodded and said, "I must decline them. Perhaps I must leave and have my assistant manage this location. There are other places that will--"
"Reviere," Lisib cut in. "I suggest that you marry them. Both of them in equal status and respect. Make sure it's on the same day, and being that they both chose you, make sure they don't feel slighted by the other. I don't know how the rest of the marriage will go but that's on you and them."
The words surprised the rather talkative man into silence.
He said nothing.
Reviere's assistant walked out and said, "He's ready for measurements, Master Castillo."
The silence continued until Lisib sighed and clapped the man on the shoulders. Its suddenness broke the famous seamster out of his reverie, and he jolted into action, spinning his hands as he noted the shapes that best fit Koloda.
Koloda was fitted, and now it was time to dance to the tune of politics.
And hope that Koloda does not lead them into a war with his childish antics.
"Lisib," Reviere caught his shoulder before they could leave and asked lowly, "Are they in danger?"
"Not if they marry you."
The families of Saavedra and El Mahdy stood as the bedrock of their empire for centuries but as such drew the ire of the Empress. Their power spread across oceans and rolled off the tongues of merchants who only spoke the language of gold and not imperial power.
Marriages of such heirs to a foreigner could only bring relief to the Empress and ward off the Evil Gaze that surely would've taken their families into the maw of Ammut.
Reviere's hands dropped to his side and sucked in a heavy breath before twisting around with a wide grin on his face. "Review the orders of gold! The Prime Minister will have our heads if it's late!"
And under his breath, albeit a buzzing nervous energy was heard, said, "I will need riches enough to soothe both their eyes."
With a jostle and uneven step, Koloda knocked into his shoulder as they broke off the small paths into the main roads. One of his men had already been waiting with camels and the gifts needed for a proper introduction to an arranged bride's meeting. He smoothed the creases of Koloda's robes, situated his silken-skinned markoob on his feet, and his turban with the gold crest of their family blazing on its center.
Between tradition and family, oftentimes, the culture never changes. It transforms with a new exterior, a new language, and new clothing but their intents never do.
The swaying of the camels' heavy-footed steps led to a stolid, quiet sort of serenity. He turned to his nephew and said, "What do you know of the City of Hada?"
"The greatest of nobility live there," Koloda said with brimming excitement. "And if we follow the Path of the Lotus, we'll reach the palace where the most beautiful of our people reside. Most delicious of food! Most rarest of oddities and gems and jewels! There is nowhere more fantastical."
He laughed, and it boomed into the formerly quiet air and echoed, reminding them that they were still alone, with only camels and mute servants for company. And replied, "This is true! But beneath that, there is a politics that I hope you can avoid. Do not speak of the Malahi or the Malik. There is something bubbling there that is none of our family's business. If someone asks or diverts to those topics you--"
"Feign ignorance," Koloda shrugged. "But it isn't feigning if I truly don't know what the issue is. The Malahi are of lower status but a talented folk. And everyone knows the Malik is a band of thugs and criminals. How else could one of their own reach the Empress' chambers so quickly? Not much can even be said."
He resisted the urge to snatch the collar of his nephew and send him to a punisher for river labor, but he resisted again as his nephew continued to speak.
"The main consort is the only one worth any grain of real respect. Everyone knows these things."
The words settled in the air like the sand they pressed through. He knew his words had not stuck in his nephew's mind, but he hoped that at least he had the sense not to say certain things aloud.
So, instead, he said, "Do you know why Ai and Dai have become this way?" and pointed to the shuffling servants behind them, wrapped in rough hemp for protection from the sun.
"They took a vow of silence."
"Unwillingly."
His nephew went quiet.
So, he continued, "Koloda, when one is caught speaking poisonous words against the Imperial powers, they are arrested, put on trial if they are blessed, and then they have the choice between execution or having their tongues ripped out. Those who have their tongues removed take a vow of silence to dedicate themselves to a life of subservient labor."
"We are descendants of the Hawk," Koloda scoffed. "They wouldn't do such a thing. We are the devourers of the snakes."
"And so, what do you imagine would happen to our family if our eldest descendant were caught in such a crime?"
His nephew's face twisted and then pursed his lips but no words were spoken.
If such a thing came to pass, their bloodline would end as if it had never existed.
"You must remember, above all else, that the Imperial powers tell us who is the Wadjet and who is Apophis. We are servants to them but given the right of free will as a privilege not inherent. We mustn't use that free will for nothing less than what is right."
His nephew bowed his head and said, "I understand."
There were no more words spoken before their arrival.
The El Mahdy residence was more of a small oasis town than it was a single housing. As the dunes of sand shrunk and the land began to even out as jagged mountains cut open into the City of Hada where the plains were green, the fabrics were opulent colors, and the houses were carved of sparkling marble or granite. The colorful stone paths winded and twisted breaking off into smaller but equally large residences. This entire plot of land in this section of an already expansive city was solely owned by the El Mahdy.
It took them quite a bit longer to reach the residence itself as Ai and Dai took the camels and met with the El Mahdy servants waiting patiently by their petal fountains. Even the water smelled of light herbs and freshness as the snap of fabric sounded.
The matriarch Alpha El Mahdy was old. She carried a stick at her side for balance and had long since retired out of politics. She greeted him lightly with a tight grasp on his elbow.
"Ah, the Hawks arrive bearing gifts," she said humorously and then laughed. "My son waits inside, young Sarakh. Our servants will lead you to meet while I conversate with your uncle here."
Koloda tossed him a wary glance but he brushed him off. Whether he was or was not in danger, the boy was better off doing something simple and straightforward either way. Those servants waved Koloda through the translucent curtains of the main halls and left only the matriarch and him.
"I was surprised to see such an offer," He said.
The matriarch barked out a hoarse laugh and tapped her walking stick twice. She returned, "I doubt that. We have nearly met on multiple occasions. But you have saved me the trouble of finding someone else of a similar class to marry my son off to. Although the Saavedras may not agree."
"We are both in worrying positions."
"You are right," the matriarch sighed. "Follow me, and I will tell you what I know."
"And I will do the same."
The two of them strode past the petal fountain carved of pinks, blues, and florid bright stones to the main paths leading between the smaller housings on their residence. Servants and distant family members greeted them by the wayside.
"I gambled that the Empress was not so enamored with my business as she was with my political prowess," the matriarch said. Her braids and gold links tinkled as she shook her head. A frown settled on her face. "I was wrong. She did not like my former position as soldier then priest, but it appears my business dabblings overseas have also drawn fangs to my neck. The birth of my young alpha daughter did not help matters. She could no longer relish the end of the main line of the El Mahdy family."
"I hear that the people of Zhuxia are sending a representative for peace talks, mostly from the Zhuong. They're splitting from the main Empire of Jiaozhi," he said, but was unwilling to divulge how much was known. "You could help move that along. Perhaps promote more connections towards the way of the Empress. Gain us more allies."
"And be accused of treason? No. The best thing I can do is arrange my family's marriages and hope my children and their children will survive these turbulent times."
Their well-paced and measured steps tapped against the fragmented granite walkways with their distorted reflections peering back. Each tap tap of Matriarch El Mahdy's stick was like the slow looming shadow over the obelisk as time breathed.
"We are now in the same river," He added. "Wherever it flows, we will both be pulled along its current. I think that there is no point in fighting against it, but I hope that you will support the opportunity to hurry along its movement."
The matriarch stopped and pounded her walking stick to the pavement. Servants that had been trailing behind fell to their knees with heads held to the cold stone ground and hands held over their ears. This elder said, "And what do you mean by that?"
A hush fell over the surroundings.
He leaned forward in a similar subservience as the servants and said, "My family overseas has spent blood, tears, and sweat to broker the trust of Eastern Imperial powers. Our family here has done the same for the Molokhiyya lineage. There is no shame in endeavoring for widespread peace."
"So that's what they call it now."
The matriarch's tapping continued as he trailed behind her, circling the rest of the residence. An open door led to a large living space with plush carpets, servants with fans, unfamiliar fruits, and patterned pillows. The matriarch gestured for him to sit as she sat in a chair that appeared to be made just for her—curved arms, equally plush pillows at the seat, and iron bars along to hold it.
He asked then, "Can I count on your alliance?"
"You wish to take their power."
"Yes," he admitted. "And no."
"No?"
"I wish to de-marquee their power."
The matriarch sniffed. "You are around that foreigner too often."
"He is to be your son-in-law soon enough," He said. "Castillo has told me of pavilions much like ours where the royals and nobles meet. But unlike the temples, the hierarchy is not decided only by power or money but by the spoken word."
"We have the same, the Wagadugu," the matriarch waved off. "They are no better."
"It is one and the same, but there is one small difference that changes all things important to all things irrelevant," He said again. "There is law that not only the nobility but the ruler too must follow."
Matriarch glanced at him in disbelief. She frowned and then replied, "Impossible. No royal would allow such an opportunity for betrayal."
"They do. And I wish for the same here."
"Through peace talks?"
"Both Empires wish for amnesty to gain wealth and prosperity. But are we not already wealthy? Do we not already prosper? The only thing that can be gained is mistrust."
"War, you mean."
"War cannot be fought without soldiers at their beck."
The words that fell out of his mouth were nothing less than rebellion, treason, betrayal, and all the things he warned his nephew not to espouse. There was only one difference between them. This had been his grandfather's plan for a century past, and after all this time, it was now the era of shifting powers.
It was time to remove the Imperial Powers and replace them with the people's.
"I no longer wish to fear whether I am too much or too little," the matriarch thoughtfully said. "But, I cannot say that even what I have done will save us much. One generation may escape but will the second? The third? I do not believe so."
The elder sighed heavily and then slowly nodded.
"The future of the El Mahdy rests in your hands."
Lisib Sarakh had done many things in his life. Learned three dead languages to learn three living ones. Re-inscribed the teachings of their ancestors in a language for their descendants to read. He even joined the militia, which elevated him to such a position that promotion to Priest was not so unbelievable.
But ending the rule of a five-thousand-year-old empire may be the most important thing he or any other being may ever hope to try.
They each toasted with wine.
A promise was made that would only end in violence and blood.
Koloda was not foolish or a child like his uncle suggested. He waited with tapping feet and nervous jitters as he was led towards the El Mahdy brothers.
Because earlier this season, he had done something he knew he shouldn't have.
It was in the dead of night. The stars above him were like the ocean around them, sparkling as the arid air tickled his throat. He clutched a cloak around himself and huddled past the housings further down and around the ports where the brick tunnels were. He snuck in where sharp-toothed crocodiles snarled in the distance, and his sandals snapped in the low water as the humming and candlelight brightened at the tunnel's end.
Each fortune teller sat beneath a hovering cloth, and his eyes briefly peered into each one by one until he found the right sting. He was told that fortune tellers are like temples. You didn't build a room without the right stone. You couldn't use a stone that wasn't the right cut. And you didn't cut a stone in a way that hadn't already been mapped.
He felt it was all a waste of time. Why follow the boring rules of people lacking imagination? He didn't believe in perfection, but fortune tellers were special. He knew well enough that meeting the wrong one could build you up into a king or break you down into a pauper.
Three times a season with the waning moon, and now he was soon to be married, this was the last waning moon before then.
The fortune tellers sat in these ancient brick tunnels dressed in bent gold and faces covered in beads with yellow anella powder staining their skin. One by one, he passed by, and then he reached one of the fortune tellers with black, blue eyes peering up at him. His skin shimmered no less than the night sky above, and he slid to face these black, blue eyes with lashes spread. Those midnight eyes reflected the candlelight of the table with shells, crystal stones, and marked pearls. This fortune teller was no less beautiful than what he imagined the omega princes, and even omega princesses, of the kingdom to glow.
"I wish to hear how my marriage will be," Koloda demanded of the omega. "Is it doomed to fail?"
The fortune teller's eyes flickered from him to the candlelight. He pulled a small wooden bowl from beside him from where Koloda couldn't see and poured sand in it. Then, he scooped the shells, crystals, and marked pearls into it until the sand covered them all. Shaking the bowl, the fortune teller said, "Put out your hand, like this, palm out," and then poured the sand over Koloda's open palm.
Koloda thought he was clever and splayed his fingers open as if to catch as many of the pieces as possible. Instead, the marked pearls fell through his fingers just as the crystals did.
He frowned as his palm caught three shells and a single blue crystal stone.
"You're neither a scholar, a scribe, or a noble," the fortune teller's soft cadence wisps through the air. "Your family was born into royalty but--"
Koloda hushed the fortune teller and then leaned forward. He pressed, "I only need to know of my marriage."
The fortune teller blinked.
"You can do that, right?"
"You asked me if it was doomed to fail."
"The marriage. I asked if--"
"I must've missed that part," the fortune teller sighed before rubbing his temple. His short braids and beads sparkled in the light again. "Let me try again," and reached for the shells.
"Wait--!" Koloda held tight to the objects in his hand and asked, "What fortune did you get? You owe me."
"I don't know you," the fortune teller retorted and then sighed. He lifted his eyes up and said, as if speaking to himself, "I would much rather be on the boats along the southern inns. All you people are ugly and boring."
Koloda nearly snapped around to check the tunnel. Who on the gods' given land could he be talking about? "Do you even know where you are? The capital of textiles and shipped--"
"If you want your fortune, you're going to have to stop talking first," the fortune teller said before snatching the shells and singular blue crystal out of his palm. He raised the shells and stone up to the candlelight and then hmm-ed before looking over at him.
And then he laughed before covering it up with a more demure cough.
At this point, Koloda wondered if he should've chosen a different fortune teller altogether. He asked, "What?" His voice decided to crack at that moment, and he had to straighten his spine and stare the fortune teller down in such a way that his ancestors would hear his pleas.
Sheltering him from embarrassment.
"Nothing, it was just something odd," the fortune teller added. "You see, these three shells mean that your family will prosper, and your lineage will grow strong. Rare for someone of your bloodline."
Koloda waved off the slight on his bloodline and said, "And the laughing?"
"Oh, well," the fortune teller poked the blue crystal and then cracked a smile. "It seems you and I have intertwining fates."
"Right--" Koloda stood up and remembered his uncle telling him that fortune tellers were unreliable. Great for political scheming but awful for realistic support. His back had turned when he said, "I have no need for more fortunes."
The fortune teller sighed. "Good."
Koloda paused.
His eyes could see the sliver of the outside. All he had to do was walk forward and out into the starry skies where he could be back cradled into his lover's embrace before the morning sun.
But, he turned back around.
"What do you mean good?"
The fortune teller opened their mouth but snapped it shut.
Not unlike one of the crocodiles in the distance.
He felt they were calling his name.
"What's your name?"
"I can't see how that's--"
By this time, the others in the tunnel had turned their attention from their tables and their fortunes to look at them. The two guiltily sat back down and hunched forward with whispering voices.
"You said we have intertwining fates," Koloda hissed.
"I said it seems that way. Fates can shift like sand," the fortune teller hissed back. "You can leave and never come back. Fate over."
"What's wrong with my fate that you want to cut yourself out of it?"
"Nothing!"
The fortune teller slid their seat back and then began haphazardly, roughly picking all their things up. Knocking the cloth down, folding the wood pieces, and stuffing it all in a sack to be carried on his back.
Koloda shifted from one foot to the next as the fortune teller sped further and further away from him. The clinking beads quieted, and the brief sparkle of the fortune teller's gold face covering out from the corner of his eye reminded him more of scaled armor. As the light around him dimmed, he rushed behind the fortune teller.
He barely reached the outside of the tunnel, where he found the omega fortune teller readying his camel—a camel of obsidian with its own set of gold-scale armor. This was no normal fortune teller.
He tried to speed up, but the windy dunes swept up, and his foot sunk into a loose pile of sand. With another step forward, plonk, he sunk into another pile of sand as the fortune teller sat upon the camel.
He wouldn't reach in time.
"You still haven't said your name!" He shouted.
The fortune teller looked over with a stony look and then, with only a pause between, looked back again. His camel clicked over with heavy but even footsteps to where Koloda sank into the sand and the fortune teller reached out his hand.
Koloda grinned and grabbed the outstretched hand, hopping onto the camel. Clutching the hips of the cameleer's, he leaned forward as if to speak but was cut off.
"Goshiyya, son of the demoness Zamora Nchama," the fortune teller said with a backward smile. "Pleasure to meet you."