The Tears of Kas̆dael

“So tell me again about this Kabāni.”

S̆ams̆ādūr noticed the flicker of irritation that flitted across the Corsythian’s face at the question but ignored it. He knew the soldier, one of the men Amrû had assigned to keep watch over the convoy of exiled dwarves, was getting tired of answering questions, but the durgu prince didn’t care.

When he’d fled his father’s capital, he’d honestly expected to be greeted with a message of reprieve before he even reached the borders of their southern enemy, but the assassins his father had sent after him in Dūr-Sebe had shattered such illusions. Corsythia was to be his home now - if not permanently, then at least for some time - and as they sailed down the great River, S̆ams̆ādūr had quickly come to realize how little he truly understood of the ailing empire. It was time to rectify that.

“King Kabāni is the ruler of Sappīya. The province of Stryn, directly across the River is constantly pressuring them, but Kabāni has done a good job of keeping his nobles united. Most of the population of Sapīya was wiped out in the last of the Fey Wars, so the middle of the province is largely abandoned. The only heavily populated areas are the strip of land between the Kabāni’s capital, Yas̆peh, and the fortress of Birnah on the western side of the River, plus small areas of settlement around the two remaining eastern cities of Gis̆-Izum and Ikkarim.”

“Yes, yes, I know all that,” S̆ams̆ādūr replied dismissively. “But that is not what I’m asking. Who is this Kabāni? Is he a strong warrior, a wise sage, a cunning rogue? How has he and his predecessors kept the superior forces of Stryn at bay for so long?”

The soldier reached his breaking point. “Is that all you want to know, my lord? Perhaps you’d care to know about his favorite dish? Or maybe the freckles on his ass?”

S̆ams̆ādūr smiled thinly. “Do you talk to your commander this impertinently?”

“No, but you’re not my commander,” the Corsyth curtly replied. “And the information you’re asking for is impossible. I have never met King Kabāni, nor do I know anyone who has.”

“But how?” S̆ams̆ādur asked exasperatedly. “He’s an important noble of your realm, isn’t he?”

The man smiled humorously. “It seems you still don’t grasp the size of the empire, my lord. I hail from the western shores of Celestia. We’re as far north of your father’s little kingdom as we are currently south of it. I have never been to Sappīya and if not for being forced to accompany you, I never would have gone.”

S̆ams̆ādūr suppressed his frown. He’d known, of course, that the empire was far larger than Birānāti, but the sheer scope of its expanse had never really registered until he’d been forced to flee. They’d been sailing down the river for nearly two months, and had barely charted a tenth of the empire’s length on the map. The fact that large portions of it were entirely empty these days made it a bit less impressive but, still, he had to admit he had underestimated them. “Fine, maybe I am asking too much, but is there really nothing more you can tell me about this king? I don’t like going in blind.”

The soldier grimaced but seemed to ponder his question. “I guess, there is one other thing I’ve heard about him.”

“Yes?”

“Kabāni is currently married to a daughter of the Lord of Birnah, but from all accounts, it’s not a happy marriage.”

S̆ams̆ādur didn’t know a lot about Sapīya, but he did know that Birnah was the heavily fortified city that served as the province’s bulwark against Stern’s aggressions. “I assume he was essentially forced into it.”

“That’s what I’ve heard; supposedly, he had a daughter before the marriage from one of his lovers, and there’s bad blood between the two families. That really is all I know,” he added with a warning glance.

“Fine, you’re dismissed.” S̆ams̆ādūr freed the man with a wave of his hand and, leaning against the rails of the ship, pondered the information he’d been given. The soldier might not have seen its significance, but the story revealed much to the durgu prince.

It told the story of a man who placed duty above his own thoughts and desires. Honorable, perhaps, if you had a martyr complex, but not the sort of man the prince admired. His father too valued “duty” and “honor” above all else - except for greed - but the prince had always thought that those ideas were little more than a convenient excuse to ignore the needs of the people you were supposed to take care of. Maybe if his father had cared less about "honor," S̆ams̆ādūr would have had a childhood.

That wasn’t all it told him though. Kabāni may have been a dutiful leader, but he had been forced to marry under pressure. The unity of Sapīya was not as secure as it seemed, and the Lord of Birnah likely wielded more power than he ought. It wasn’t much of an insight into the man’s character, but it was better than nothing. And the rest, I’ll just have to skim straight from his mind.

With the matter resolved to the best of his abilities, the prince finally allowed himself to examine the city emerging in the distance. They’d split off from the main course of the River more than a week ago, and with every day they’d journeyed down the tributary - might in its own right - the weather had quickly changed. The sun-scorched plains of Stryn had been left behind for steaming jungles, and this afternoon was no exception. The sun had been downright sweltering until a mid-day downpour. Rather than give relief, the rains had only made things worse, leaving the air so muggy that the prince thought a talented water mage might just be able to swim through it.

But Yas̆peh was finally in sight. Rising above the dense jungles, the city sprawled across a series of barren hills that made it visible from a great distance. The city was almost entirely white, perhaps to keep out the heat, and two mighty walls encircled it completely, save for a small strip along the river where hundreds of ships were crammed into a bustling harbor.

The city was more beautiful than he’d expected, with dozens of massive domes and high towers peaking above the inner walls, but it was the extent of fortifications that surprised him. Sapīya was not a province known for its military strength, but then again, Yas̆peh had been one of the few places in the province to survive the depravations of the Fey Wars. I suppose there’s a reason for that.

As they drew closer to the city, seven ships glided out of the harbor to meet them. Their sides bristled with hundreds of oars, and on their docks, the shields of a thousand warriors gleamed. This too told S̆ams̆ādūr something about Yas̆peh’s rulers. While his ragtag fleet had continued to swell with dwarven exiles as he continued down the river, it posed no threat to the city’s welfare - but the squadron that advanced to meet them spoke of a cautious ruler.

Once again, S̆ams̆ādūr found himself oddly grateful for the escort Amrû had insisted on sending. Sure, they weren’t exactly there to do him a favor, but they had nonetheless.

He let the Corsyths pull ahead, leaving it to them to explain the situation to the city’s fleet.

His intuition about the ruler proved correct; despite their escort by the Empire’s ships, it took nearly three hours before the city fleet finally allowed them to enter their harbor. Even then, the king had not given permission for anyone but S̆ams̆ādūr and a few of his men to disembark until they had met with him, and guards lined the docks, preventing the tethered boats from unloading.

Returning to his cabin, S̆ams̆ādūr prepped himself as best as he could. His unexpected exile had left him little opportunity to gather worldly possessions, but his yacht had a few outfits fit for the court, and he put one of them in, scouring himself in the washtub as best as he could manage with the slightly muddy waters of the river.

When he stepped off the boat, the prince learned something else about the king. A finely dressed noble stepped forward, inclining his head in respect. “Prince S̆ams̆ādur, I am Lord Eṭulni, heir of House Damūq. Lord Kabāni sends his greetings and grants you welcome to his courts.” So the king cares about appearances.

It irritated S̆ams̆ādūr to be forced to incline his head in turn to the Corsyth, but he did it anyway; a Corsyth didn’t deserve such honor in his opinion, but if the prince was to be stuck living amongst them, it was best to get off on the right foot. “I can only accept your lord’s gracious offer, though I fear I have no gift to bring.”

Ẹtulni seemed unconcerned by the lack of a gift and gestured for S̆ams̆ādūr to join him. Flanked on either side by guards, and with a few of his men trailing behind, the two departed for the palace.

As they passed the first set of walls, S̆ams̆ādūr had to admit he was impressed. Thick enough for ten men to walk abreast, the white wall’s crenelated top glistened in the mid-day heat, a haze gathering over its towering ramparts. From what he could see, the city streets were clean and well-kept, though the noble seemed to be leading away from the busiest parts of the city. Is he really that distrustful?

Unlike in many cities, the second set of walls was equal to the first, with the only exception being that the many defensive towers were clustered even closer together. In the upper city, Eṭulni couldn’t hide as much of the town from him. They walked past a row of magnificent temples, barracks for the army, and even a guild for the Imperial Guard before they reached the palace.

It couldn’t hold a candle to his father’s - few, indeed, were the cities that could boast such an impregnable acropolis as nature had afforded Birānāti - but Yas̆peh was impressive in its own way, with an absolute dedication to a white and blue color scheme that was truly eye-catching.

Based on what he knew of the king, S̆ams̆ādūr had expected to be led inside, taken to some grand throne room where Kabāni would try to intimidate him, but his expectations were subverted.

When they reached the palace gates, the king was waiting for them. A half dozen nobles had accompanied, along with a substantial force of guards, but the king met them with less pomp than he’d expected, sitting on a shaded bench beneath an old oak tree.

S̆ams̆ādūr studied carefully as they approached, taking in every detail. The simple but elegant clothes. The deep lines on his face. The touch of grey in his chestnut hair. A long scar on his forearm, with a twin on his neck, nearly hidden by a meticulously trimmed beard.

The man was older than he’d expected, not quite at the end of his life-span, but likely in his second or third century which, unless he had considerable heritage from the elves, meant he had lived more than he had left. The scars indicated he’d been a warrior, not just a king who’d fought from the back row, but the prince guessed that was all long in the past. A warrior past his prime, trapped in an unhappy marriage, bound by a sense of duty. He could work with that.

He inclined his head respectfully as he approached, though he was unwilling to humble himself enough to kneel.

“Lord Kabāni, I believe you have received my message but if not, let me repeat it. I come seeking sanctuary, shelter from my father’s realm.” He didn’t mention the assassins that were often; there was enough time to reveal that - after the king had accepted them.

Kabāni was slow to reply, staring down at the prince in silence for several minutes before he spoke. “I see you’re capable of refraining from your ‘gift.’”

“I would not dream of using it on you, my lord,” he responded carefully. It was a total lie, but fortunately he hadn’t used his ability yet - he hadn’t realized the king was capable of detecting it. Either that, or he’s trying to spook me.

Kabāni frowned. “Do not lie to me, durgu. I know who you are, and I know how your father used you. I will grant you entrance to the city, but only if you swear not to use your powers on me or my nobles. We will know.”

S̆ams̆ādūr swallowed a grimace. He’d had every intention of using his abilities to worm his way into the good graces of the court; without them, he was a blind man wandering alone, but the king had him over a barrel. Where else he could go?

“I accept,” he gritted out reluctantly.

He didn’t miss the glimmer of victory in the king’s eyes, but the Corsyth fortunately didn’t gloat. Rising from his seat, he extended his hand to the prince. “Then I give you sanctuary. Welcome to Yas̆peh.”