Chapter 6: Banquet

The banquet festivities were enormous—and surprising even to the prince’s eyes. As usual, his father the sultan sat at the head of the table, flanked by Nousha, Arash’s beautiful mother.

            The Mountain Throne chamber was open, the curtains billowing slightly from the cool sea wind. The chamber was sunk with white marble steps on the edges leading to a raised platform. At the end of the chamber atop this platform and flanked from behind from large red-marble pillars, was the sultan’s table, situated in a position perpendicular to the elongated shape of the throne chamber.

Behind their table, and encircling the throne chamber as a whole, were lit torch braziers and ceremonial guards wearing their finest silk pantaloons and jackets with wooden toggles, their upturned shoes trimmed in thread of silver and their scimitars at their belts, each pinned with a red blue ribbon.

Bellow in sunken chamber massive wooden tables had been erected and placed within the chamber—as was done at most feasts with the tables arrayed two-by-twos. In between the tables were fountains where figures in Ashahnia history stood, pouring from chalices or wine carafes.

Plants had been brought into the chamber, giving the whole area an atmosphere of greenery and life, and behind the ceremonial guards on the raised platform bands of musicians played soothing with a base of drums beat to a subtle rhythm.

The tables were full of every food and drink of the empire—many of which had been shipped in and preserved by means of magical enchantment so that they would survive the voyage.

The courtiers were packed within the chamber and situated one the sides of the elongated room, taking up space on the edges of the tables and upon the steps. These courtiers included some of the satraps of the empire, come to visit the capital, dozens of emirs from various provinces, and all of their households, including family members, servants, slaves and their viziers and guards.

Among these imperial dignitaries were foreign dignitaries from other lesser places within the empire, including some travelers from Karnassus who stuck closely to their own, their desert garb and cultural style distinct among themselves. There were also some men and women from the Twin Cities—come from far across the sea to treat with the sultan on matters of trade, some Zambouli representatives from the southern jungles, no doubt with some grievance or other to make plain to them at the appropriate time. There were even a few oni individuals and not a few Abbasir men and their wives and households, come to beg assistance in their war.

Arash did not see any of their Urutai guests, or Princess Tamu and her brother, the the prince Dzhambul. He worried that they would not come.

Have truly made such a bad impression upon her that she would wish not to see me—even among all these guests?

He glanced toward the herald, who stood at the open doors with the guards like that of the many statues in the palace.

“Be patient, my son,” Nousha said, and she touched Arash on the hand. “The Princess Tamu and her people are due to arrive in the Mountain Throne shortly, but not before—or after it is time. That is how the Iizuhlian khanate behaves.”

“Truly?” he asked, glancing to his queen mother and his father on her right side, sitting in his illustrious throne. “I do not remember the Wind Steppe tribes coming to treat with us before. Do they truly honor us so?”

Nousha smiled and looked to her son. There was something in that smile, but she did not let on what it was, and Arash did not ask, for the sultan was with them and this function was not a private affair.

Behind them, the servants waited, ready to serve not just the sultans table—though his table would indeed be served first—but also the guests in the lower part of the chamber, of which there were hundreds.

What Arash did not know, was that the Iizuhlian khanate graced the sultan’s court. It was his privilege—one afforded him out of respect only, and for no other reason, for the Iizuhlian khanate—the most powerful khanate of the Wind Steppes ever did treat with the younger nations not as subordinates, but as show of good grace only.

“Ah,” said Nousha and she tilted her chin up slightly, “here comes your princess Tamu.”

“She is not my princess, mother.”

“We shall see, Arash.”

Below in the crowd, Arash spotted his friends, Bahktiar and Maraz accompanied by their palace guardians. Neither of them was with their parents, for they lived far from the capital.

“Enter!” shouted the herald so that all could hear, “Prince Dzhambul Asudai, and his sister, the princess Tamu Asudai of the Iizuhlian khanate from the Wind Steppes.”

The crowds murmured excitedly and heads swiveled toward the doors. Some people stood on their toes to get a look at the Urutai procession entering the Mountain Throne chamber heading by the prince, who held out his arm for his sister.

They were both wearing the most stunning gowns of blue silk and stitched with white floral patterns, their wide cuffs hanging low and trimmed in grey fur. The hems of their garments were trimmed in thread of gold and prince Dzhambul wore black pantaloons and upturned shoes, somewhat in the Ashahnai fashion, yet distinctly Urutai all at once. His sister, Tamu Asudai wore a famine tunic dress of similar colors and was sashed with white, her hood pulled back and her hair hanging at the sides of her face, braided and beaded with pearls and gold and black crystals and her face was done up in delicate paints to accentuate some of her features, her upper eyelids glinting in metallic silver.

Prince Dzhambul approached the throne and put his foot upon the last step—a think that was not permitted, and though it would have been a sign of disrespect, the sultan afforded the honor to the prince, as the Iizuhlian khanate of the Wind Steppes was a most venerable guest, and that the princess Tamu might marry into his family line through his son—might afford the weakening empire a powerful ally.

This sole purpose, had been discuses between Cyrusar All Hamiroon, the sultan, and his son, prince Arash—and had been agreed upon, for the sultan was ever loving to his son, and Arash, the good son and prince, would never do a think against that of the will of his father.

And yet as he had dreaded marrying a strange woman, his heart beat a little faster as he glanced down at Tamu from below the dais.

Prince Dzhambul put his hand to his chest. “It is an honor to be with the sultan of Ashahnai,” he said, and bowed ever so slightly. “I thank you on behalf of my father for inviting the Iizuhlian khanate to treat here with you in the Mountain Throne of your Ancient City, and though my father sends his formal apologies for not being able to attend this treat, as he is occupied with maters of state and of war, I have been sent in his stead, along with the princess Tamu, my sister, that she and your son may have a chance to know one another. Should they both ascent—and should the gods wish it, we will accept an alliance between our great houses.”

The sultan, a powerful man simply by his bearing and countenance, nodded his turbaned head, the blue jewel at its fore glinting in the light of the chandeliers containing magic crystals above.

“And I thank you for responding to my invitation—even if only by proxy,” the sultan said. “I look forward to our future together, should our great and estimable houses be united in marriage. Please look upon my wish, Nousha, Queen of Ashahnai and my son, the Prince, my only hair, Arash.”

“It is a pleasure to treat with you,” said Dzhambul with a respectable bow.

Up until now, Princess Tamu’s features had been set, though friendly, she did not react very much.

The prince continued, “May I formally present the princess to you once again.” Then he stepped back and princess Tamu came forward.

She smiled, bowed like before with her fist clasped by her hands. “My father has ordained that I may marry for love, and though I am much honored and pleased to be here to treat with such a powerful house, Sultan Cyrusal Al Hamiroon, it is the prince for which I have come and wish to treat with. May my heart be taken by him if the gods will it.”

The sultan and the queen nodded, and Nousha welcomed her. “Be seated, prince and princess.” She said the words while gesturing to the table with an open palm.

Together the prince and princess were escorted up to the table as the courtiers watched. Prince Dzhambul was seated to the sultan’s right, with princess Tamu at Arash’s left.

The five members, three of the house of Al Hamiroon and their two guards from the Wind Steppe were the only people at the massive table, as this function was one less of state, and more concerning the personal feelings of Prince Arash and Princess Tamu. Should they be married, then and only then could matters of state persist between the Iizuhlian khanate and the House of Al Hamiroon.

Dinner was served, first to the sultan and his queen, then to Prince Dzhambul, who was the head of the Iizuhlian patriarchy come to treat with them, followed by Arash and Tamu.

Then the high vizier arrived. Uncle Sahar, looking as old as Arash’s father in his white beard and black jacket, steps to the front of the table and clapped his hands. “Let dinner be served to the gusts,” he said. Then happily he added, “And give ups music!”

The musicians began and the chamber was filled with all manner of delight and feasting and wine, the music setting a wonderful backdrop that soothed them all.

  “I was worried,” said Arash.

My heart is beating like a drum.

Tamu turned to him and smiled. “Worried, my prince? Whatever for?”

“I thought that you would not come to the banquet,” he admitted, and as the words came out of his mouth he worried how he sounded to the princess.

As she listened, she smiled and was satisfied that he was being open with her. She laughed then and said, “To arrive at your palace and then not attend your father’s banquet would be most insulting to our host, I would think.”

She meant the words to console him, but she was not certain they did that.

Arash said nothing.

“Please do not think,” Tamu said, “that I don’t wish to be here, Prince. I very much enjoyed the tour you gave me of the”—she was going to mention the Great Dome of the Sultans, but instantly thought better of it. “—of the palace.”

He looked at her then and smirked, her reaction much the same as his. So far what they had done had been their little secret, and Arash doubted the guard would say anything for fear of being reprimanded—or beheaded.

The physician on the other hand…

“A tour?” said the queen as she leaned over her plate of illustrious and succulent food. “Arash? Giving tours of the palace? How surprising. I can scarce get him to call upon me in my apartments, Princess.”

Tamu laughed. “Truly?”

She glanced at Arash and he felt a tinge of annoyance.

Why are mothers so?

“Truly an overstatement, mother,” he said. “You can ever come to call upon me should the inclination arise at any time.”

“Indeed?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said.

Tamu said nothing, but she smiled, watching and listening to Arash speak with his mother, who, surprisingly, was embarrassing him in front of this beautiful princess he knew not but less than a day now.

To change the subject, she said, “You have a wonderful garden here in the palace.”

“Which one, dear princess?”

“Um…”

“The west wing central courtyard, mother.”

“Ah,” she said with a nod. “You should see the lower gardens. They have a view of the sea and it’s simply breathtaking at sunrise.”

Tamu smiled. “I will be certain to see it, my lady.”

“You speak the common tongue very well.”

Tamu smiled. “All of the Urutai noble houses learn it growing up.”

“Really?” asked Arash. “I don’t see why you would.”

“We do have dealings with those of the world below quite frequently—especially my own house. That is why we learn your languages.”

“Do you see us as lesser than you?” asked Arash.

“What?” Tamu asked in surprise. “I don’t see you that way.”

“Then why do you call us the ‘world below’?”

“Because that’s what you are, my prince. Your world is below mine.”

“I don’t understand,” and he truly did not. “Can you explain to me?”

Something flicked over her features, but Arash was not certain. “The Wind Steppe,” she said.

“What of it?”

“It is in the sky… Prince Arash.”

He laughed. “Surely not,” he said. “Those are fairy tales, yes?”

She blinked and Arash flinched. Looking to his mother, she nodded and couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He bent over the table to see how his father had reacted, but he was in conversation with Prince Dzhambul. Turning back to Tamu he laughed. “No.”

“I assure you, prince, the Wind Steppes are indeed within the sky. They are formed from the remnants of an ancient empire called—“

“Then how did you get here?”

Attempting not to overreact in such a way that would embarrass the prince, she looked at her foot for a moment, but a smile appeared on her lips that she could not hide.

“Are you laughing?”

“No—Prince Arash I—“

“My son,” said the queen. “You were not at their reception?”

“Did you not see me there mother?”

“No, I did not.”

“It is because I want not.”

“Where were you?”

“In the lounge.”

“Then it is settled,” Tamu said.

“What is?” asked Arash.

“I will take you to see our pegasi after the banquet.”

He laughed. “You jest with my, princess.”

“I assure you that I am not jesting with you prince.”

He did not know how to react then, but nodded, willing to make himself the butt of this joke—but should she be playing in jest, he thought he might become angry with her.

“I do not wish to be the punch line of your joke, Princess.”

“If you find yourself as such,” she said, “then I will submit myself to any amount of verbal reprimand that satisfies you.”

“In front of the court.”

She swallowed, but nodded, and she wondered how this prince of the Ashahnai empire—the most powerful empire in the world, could be so unknowing of the world. She forced herself to smile as she took a bite of her excellent food.

The queen seemed to notice her mild distress and made comment on the food.

“Is it true that to preserve it, magical enchantments are put upon it?”

“A rare thing,” said Arash quickly. “Most of these foods are fresh from the empire—right here. What isn’t shipped to the capital.”

But Queen Nousha said nothing, which, by Arash’s reckoning, he had said a think that was not accurate. Nousha was a good woman and rarely criticized Arash, but when she disagreed with him, she often said very little in response.

“My prince,” Sahar said from behind. “Are you enjoying the meal?”

“Yes, uncle. It is very good.”

“I observed the chefs myself to make sure they did their finest work.”

Letting out a breath, Arash smiled.

Thank you for coming to my rescue, uncle.

“I understand,” said the high vizier to Princess Tamu as he came to her side, “that you have a particular fondness of the Epic Sword and Sorcery Entertainments.”

“Oh yes!” she said, her smile brighter than any Arash had seen yet.

Does she truly like it so much? But why?

“May I ask,” he said, “where did you first discover the epic?”

“My handmaiden, good sir. Upon first discovering that my father might make an alliance with your empire, I asked her to procure for me your most famous tales and fables.”

“Ah,” Sahar said in satisfaction. “And there are quite a few tales. Which is your favorite?”

“I must apologize,” she said, “for I have only finished half of your venerable book.”

Sahar laughed. “There is no need to apologize, Princess. That you have read even half shows your great and genuine interest for our culture and history.”

“Why are you so surprised?”

“Why would I not be?”

“The tales,” she said in way of answering. “They are quite astounding. Every night I have Bayarmaa read to me from the book.”

“That is wonderful,” he said with a smile. “I find that as exciting as my own culture is, I should always temper myself when handling my own expectations of others.”

He glanced toward Arash, and he couldn’t help but think his uncle was saying something—but was he saying something to Arash himself, or to the princess? Either way it was annoying. Just say what you want, old man.

“My prince,” said Tamu excited. “Please, before I inform the high vizier of my favorite tale, could you please tell me which is your favorite? I feel I have left you out of our conversation and I wish to show my sincere apology for doing so.”

Sahar smiled, and Arash glanced to him, hoping his uncle would once again rescue him, but the old man said not a word. Arash almost wanted to gnash his teeth at the old fool for being so unrealizable an uncle.

“I…” he said.

“Yes?” asked Princess Tamu.

“I do not spend my time reading fables, Princess,” he said. “I am sorry to say, but a man of the empire must be practical and invest his time in skills that may better suit his future reign.”

The look on his uncle’s face—a quick flicker of… was it panic?

“I see,” Princess Tamu said. “Very well, prince.”

But it was clear to him that her smile was forced. What is the matter with them? Why are they acting like they just discovered a horrid malformity upon my face?!

Sahar cleared his throat. “Princess, it would very much please me to see your pegasi when you go to show the prince after the banquet.”

“Uh—oh, of course! But did you not see us fly in?”

Arash listened…

“I did,” he said with bright excitement on his face. “I never tire of watching the Wind Steppe riders atop their pegasi. It is a sight to behold, Princess.”

She laughed nervously. “Why thank you, high vizier.”

“Prince,” said Arash.

She looked at him. “Prince Arash?”

“The ‘high vizier,’” he said, almost contemptuously, is Sahair Al Hamiroon, Prince of Ashahnai.”

Princess Tamu looked to the bearded old man so fast her braids swayed about her face. “Truly?”

Sahar laughed, and with a shrug, he said, “Yes, well—the duties of a prince are far from how I can best serve my brother the sultan, so I prefer to be addressed as ‘high vizier,’ Princess.”

In her astonishment she couldn’t help but look upon the gentle older man quite different. “I shall endeavor to remember, Princ—I mean, high vizier.”

Sahar laughed, nodded and put his hands behind his back as he stepped away, ever watchful and ready to serve as the lesser viziers of the court came to him time to time to whisper things into his ear. He nodded, sending them off, or sometimes stalking out of the hall altogether with them.

The rest of the meal was filled with idle talk and pleasantries, and remained that way, for Princess Tamu feared another misstep with the prince, who seemed to lack a knowledgeable view of the world as a whole.

In fact, his ignorance was quite… stunning.

And… sadly to say, unattractive.

She felt guilty for even thinking such, as the prince was not a bad young man. Certainly he should have been more well versed in the cultures of the world and how things were done—even something so simple as magically enchanted foods, which Tamu had read about at length. It was a very common thing in the world below.

Am I shallow?

She caught him looking at her from the corner of her eye, and she smiled. He smiled as well, eating of his meal, which, though he seemed to be quite busy with, he had actually barely touched his food—much like her.

She swallowed, hoping the dinner banquet would pass quite quickly.

It did not.

Perhaps things would be different when they were alone.

At least I would not embarrass him in front of his own mother so much…