Princess of Dhagabad, The
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters,
organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either
products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Copyright © 2000 by Anna Kashina
Cover art by Stephen Hickman
Design by Olga Karengina
Published by Dragonwell Publishing
ISBN 978-0-9838320-0-3
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted
in any printed or electronic form without permission in writing
from the publisher.
First hardcover edition published in 2000 by
Herodias, Inc.
I. Mistress
Chapter 5. The Essence of a Stone
Chapter 7. Beyond the North Wing
Chapter 8. The Will of the Gods
Chapter 11. The Cult of Release
Chapter 13. A Look into the Past
Chapter 16. On the Bank of the Great River
Chapter 17. The Heir to the Throne
Chapter 23. The Princess and the Djinn
The bronze bottle sits heavy in the old
sultaness’s lap, gleaming with its elegant ancient carvings. She
runs her finger up the curve of its slender neck, toward the
tightly shut cork. Among the riches that surround her, this bottle
is her most cherished possession, the source of her power, the tool
that could make her invincible and smite her enemies into oblivion.
But even this bottle cannot help her to overcome old age, to gain
eternal life and eternal youth.
Her mouth twists into a smile as she sets the
bottle on her bedside table and leans back into the pillows. She
knows that she is about to die and that in preparation for this
event her son and heir has already ordered his magnificent
coronation robes. He is not worthy to inherit her throne, but she
is not troubled by that. Men are too fleeting and powerless in her
dynasty to take them seriously. She is thinking of his firstborn
daughter, the one his young wife has just borne him, the one who
will become his heiress in due time. She will leave this girl her
most cherished possession—the bronze bottle—and thus make this girl
her true heir, who can continue what the old sultaness has
started.
Let the world remember the incredible power
this girl will wield, the power that can shift the balance, the
power that will enable her to create or destroy, if such is her
whim…
Let the gods have mercy on her.
PART I.
MISTRESS
Chapter 1. White Robes
The rock in her hand shines and sparkles in
the sun with all the colors of the rainbow. An ordinary piece of
gravel, but the princess imagines it to be a priceless treasure
that holds a mystery in its gray depths, a mystery that she as a
mere mortal will never comprehend. Little specks of mica that cover
the stone gleam in the sun like tiny windows into the unknown.
Perhaps the rock traps someone’s immortal soul? And each of its
rough curves, so precisely fitting her palm, conceals a magical
tale…
The princess starts, hearing distant
voices.
“Alamid told me the princess was playing in
her favorite corner of the garden.”
The voice belongs to Airagad, the youngest of
the princess’s nannies. She is always being sent on errands that
involve fetching the princess from places that lie far away from
the palace.
The princess recognizes the other deep and
soft voice that answers Airagad:
“The sultaness wants to see her in half an
hour.”
Nimeth. A slave woman from the desert land
Aeth. Her mother’s best friend. According to rumors whispered in
the palace—a witch…
“Over there, behind those bushes,” Airagad
says.
The princess hears the rustling of footsteps
on the gravel. Why can’t they leave her alone? This is, after all,
her free time. And she is already practically a grown-up! She will
be twelve in a week, and they still seem to think she is a little
girl. Why would her mother send for her at this time? As far as she
knows, the evening prayer is not due for a while.
Moving as noiselessly as she can, the
princess crawls deep into the thick, sweet-smelling jasmine bushes
that surround her favorite corner of the garden. Through the
intertwining branches she can easily see the curve of the path
running around a giant boulder, covered with an elaborate
gray-green pattern of succulent plants.
The two women emerge from behind the boulder
and stop before an empty glade.
“I don’t understand,” Airagad says with
dismay. Her round childish face frowns, and a little vertical line
crosses her forehead. “Alamid came back to the palace, and just
before, they were playing here together.”
A barely visible smile appears on Nimeth’s
dark thin face. The princess knows this smile all too well. It
means Nimeth is very sure of herself, and nothing the princess can
do will trick her.
“It seems we’ll just have to leave,” Nimeth
says matter-of-factly.
“But…” Airagad turns her face to Nimeth and
meets the look of her slanting dark eyes.
Nimeth runs her hands over her unusual outfit
that the sultaness lets her wear in spite of Dhagabad’s
traditions—a long, dark dress trimmed with silver along the
neckline and the hem of the skirt. Her thin arm moves to straighten
the hair that cascades down her back in a mass of thin braids, and
the metal bracelet on her wrist—the sign of slavery—gleams in the
sun. Airagad’s arms, bare up to the elbows, have no bracelets on
them. Nannies are appointed not from the slave women, but from the
free servants.
“I am certain the sultaness wouldn’t mind
going to the bazaar in the lower city without the princess,” Nimeth
says, slowly and deliberately.
Bazaar! Lower city! Countless hours has the
princess spent gazing into the barely visible colorful mass of the
lower city from one of the higher balconies of the palace.
Countless times she dreamed that a wizard from her favorite tale
would appear beside her, and with a mere wave of a hand transport
her into that, as she thought, center of life, the focus of all
miracles. She has often begged her mother to take her along on one
of her usual trips to the bazaar. And every one of those times she
had to clench her fists to hold back the tears at the usual
response: “You are too young.” But today, finally, her dreams are
coming true! It couldn’t be any other way—she is almost twelve now,
and no one, not even the sultaness herself, would dare to say she
is too young anymore.