Someone Else's Kingdom, BOOK I - Chapter 55

Prince Aralak arrived in the Upper Desert with his usual swagger. As he walked through the colourful bazaar, with the two guards his father had sent to accompany him, he stopped before one of the stalls, and bought a white headscarf. The most expensive the market seller had, which he then wrapped around his head with panache; partly to shade his head and neck from the blazing heat, but more to fulfil the dashing image he'd envisioned on the sea journey there. As he strode past the stalls the dusty sand skipped up off the ground with each step, and the scent of peppers and spices filled the air. Through this aromatic haze he watched the crowds of people as they passed. In particular, the beautiful women, dressed similarly, covered from the tops of their heads, shaded from the heat. Their eyes peeping out mysteriously; their hair loosely hanging beneath their head coverings, almost indistinct from the folds of material.

Thirsty with the heat, he headed towards the centre of the bustle. The Upper Desert, like the Middle and Lower Deserts, had just one major city. Which, organically, had blossomed around the small nearby port, the main route in and out of the territory. To outsiders the city was simply synonymous with the region itself, and the term Upper Desert was used interchangeably to refer to both the city and the wider land. To those who lived in the Upper Desert it was simply called The City though.

As the bazaar blended into the interior the market stalls were gradually supplanted with thickset stone buildings. Along with numerous tent-like dwellings. Prince Aralak, followed by his two guards, entered one of these tents and sat down for a drink. He had plenty of time to indulge himself. He would be heading beneath the desert the next day, and luckily, the journey to the entrance itself was just a short distance. He also had the fortune of not having to think too much, as everything, as it often was in his life, was prepared for him. He would be spending the night at the Palace of the Upper Desert. This was the main residence of the official consul, whose job it was to administer the region, by appointment of the King of Tunid. From there he would then be escorted to the entrance by royal guards, likewise loyal to the King of Tunid, who guarded the sacred entrance at all times.

As Aralak ordered a drink he again looked around, soaking up the exotic atmosphere. The drink - a mildly alcoholic, but cold and refreshing lemon drink, served in a long tall glass - was brought over by a petite serving woman. Under the canopy of the tent, and shaded from the blistering sun, she had her hair uncovered, and tied back in a middle-parted ponytail. The jewels strung along the waistline of her dress glinting in the sunlight that was peering through the open doorway. His two guards were ordered the same, and dehydrated from the midday heat they quickly drank them down, before ordering more. Prince Aralak lounged back in the soft-cushioned seating as he listened to the two guards make idle chit chat to each other. He then removed the expensive white headdress, which by now was beginning to itch with the heat, and tossed it to one side.

In the far corner musicians played. A female tambourinist; a drummer; and two exotically dressed, but slightly rotund men playing pipe instruments. The shrill sound pervaded the air and carried into the distance well beyond the confines of the tent. Aralak didn't particularly like or appreciate the harsh cacophony, but its effect, along with the dancing girls that moved to its rhythm, was mildly hypnotic. As he reached the bottom of his second drink he ordered another. His guards, mindful of their wider duties, declined the offer of a third. As the afternoon cooled into evening, Prince Aralak had a fourth, then a fifth, then a sixth.

Seeing this zest for indulgence, and the money the prince was eagerly spending, a man, who had also been sitting watching the girls dance, wandered over. Looking not unlike the market traders that had sold and plied their wares earlier that day, he had a well worn and faintly hunched appearance; coupled with vigorous eyes and a quick, avaricious energy.

"You like the girls I see."

Aralak nodded in agreement.

"There are more. Even more beautiful than these, if you can imagine that. I can take you to them if you'd like."

By now Aralak was eager to satisfy the desires that had been stirred in him, and needed little encouragement. He rose, slightly unsteadily on his feet, and followed the gentleman out of the tent; into the moonlit city. His guards rose in turn and followed in tow.

As they reached the nearby destination he realised the man had not lied to him. There were many women, each seemingly more attractive than the next. Aralak understood the situation only too well, and with price not being a concern, he cast his eye over the various alluring bodies and faces before him. Each hungry for his custom. As he surveyed the options one in particular arrested his attention. A woman, standing across the road, separate from the rest. Her saucer-like, orange-brown eyes, reflecting the street lamps in the encroaching darkness. The gentleman, seeing Prince Aralak's gaze averted from the beauties before him, tried to usher him back in their direction, but it was little use. Aralak confidently wandered over to the woman and summoned his charm.

"And what's your price?"

"I don't do that," laughed the woman dismissively. She then began to head back inside the nearby tent she'd previously emerged from, the inner candlelight adding a soft silhouette to her face as she turned.

"What do you do then?" persisted the prince, ever more allured.

"It will cost you five silver ingkhs to find out ..though I doubt it's the sort of thing you're looking for."

Aralak followed her into the tent and dropped the silver ingkhs on the wooden table that was down in front of him.

"Sit down."

As he sat he noticed other things on the table: a perfectly round and clear crystal ball; various stones and coloured crystals; and, to the side, a chalk white human skull, that in the darkness looked artificial, though he wondered if it was real. The woman, who now appeared less beautiful to the prince's pining inspection, took her time to prepare herself. She then finally sat down in opposition and pulled out a pack of cards. As he realised he was being conned by a simple fortune teller, a smug look of dismissal became visible on his face. Mirroring how he felt when he'd witnessed the rituals of his initiation just weeks earlier.

The woman pulled out some cards from the deck and placed them face down on the table. She then turned over the first two. The Desert Nomad and The Bird.

"You've been on a long journey, I see," she noted inquisitively.

The prince looked on nonplussed, more focused on her face and eyes than the cards, which had now lost more of their allure and mystique. As his thoughts returned to the other women waiting outside she focused intently on her reading. Another card was overturned: the One of Arrows. Followed by the Prince of Leaves. She considered this for a while, then began scrying over the large crystal ball on the table. Her brown-orange eyes now looking like stones of polished amber. "I see a vision," she stated, her wrinkled skin shrinking back from the glass before her, "..poppy fields and blood. A storm, a tempest ..a flood." She then turned over the last card: the Circle of Fire.

"You should return to the mainland, stranger," she implored. Her now aged looks breathing a smoky dread into the dim-lit air.

"I'll stay," quipped Aralak, unimpressed. The fortune teller shook her head with disrelish, and snatched her silver ingkhs from the table. The orange candlelight again flickering off her face.

"Is that it?"

Aralak got up and left the tent. As he called his guards he headed over to the array of women he'd foolishly abandoned in favour of the crystal gazer. He chose two with little fanfare and headed back to the Palace of the Upper Desert. The gentleman with the quick and beady eyes gratified with his payment.