I Shall Rewrite the Stars

Chapter 7

***

I look to Juba, unsure how to respond. For what can we say to this person? I have always known Indriran emissaries to be fiercely defensive of their empire, but for a common woman to draw a blade against strangers is absurd!

Or perhaps…perhaps this is just how an Indriran acts within the confines of their lands. Not everyone will be welcoming and hospitable, as the people of Kemet are…were.

“Why do we owe you answers?” Ptolemy demands. “Who are you to even ask for them? A jackal to your pharaoh? A loud-mouthed peasant who doesn’t yet know her place?”

“Ptolemy!” Helios snaps.

The woman’s smile bursts into a grin. “I will not take offense to the ignorance of a child. The rest of you, however, have less than ten seconds to give me a good reason not to end your lives, and haul that brat off to the Kshatriya for questioning.”

“The Ksha-what?” Ptolemy mutters.

“There is no need for that,” Juba says, pulling me along with him as we race forward. “We are not here as enemies or spies.”

“We were shipwrecked,” I say. “We are survivors—for all we know, we are the only survivors. For the Romasian’s have betrayed Kemet, and as such, we were forced to flee. Admittedly, we’ve no idea where we are right now. But if possible, we would like to reach the Indriran capital of Pataliputra.”

“What business could survivors of a supposed attack on Kemet, have in our sacred capital?” the woman asks.

I lift my chin. “We are children of Kemet, allied with the maharaja through an ancient bond of friendship. In this hour of peril, I would not seek to ask his assistance in avenging our fallen kingdom, but I would seek his guidance as to what we should do next.”

The woman’s eyes widen. “The very fact that you live and are here, if you speak the truth, could be enough to bring Roma’s wrath upon us. Why should the maharaja allow you to seek his wisdom? Why not finish you off before you can pose any further risk?”

“Because Roma has already set its sights on the Indriran Empire,” Juba says. “I am a personal servant to Emperor Gustavian. I’ve stood behind his high chair, listened to his plots. He never spoke of his plan to attack Kemet, but he has long plotted his attack on Indrira.”

“Are you serious?” Helios gasps. “Does he aim to take over the world?”

“Why would he speak openly of a plot to attack Indrira, but not Kemet?” I ask. “He couldn’t possibly have done it on a whim.”

“It would be like him to do just that,” Juba grumbles. “The man is insane. Wise enough to achieve his goals by any means necessary, but nevertheless a monster.”

“Look at me,” the woman commands, drawing our eyes. With a fierce glare, she lifts her chin. “Swear upon the high spirits—bet your eternal souls on your word and tell me honestly: is what you say the truth? Roma has conquered Kemet, and seeks to conquer Indrira next?”

In the Romasian fashion, Juba presses his closed right fist over his heart. Head bowed, he says, “It is. The pharaohs Cleo and Antonius have fallen, and Kemet now lies in the grasp of Roma.”

Sucking in a shuddering breath, the woman looks to me. “And you? What is your oath?”

I cross my arms so that my closed fists rest against my shoulders, and keep my chin high. “I am the eldest daughter of Pharaohs Cleo and Antonius: Selene, Daughter of Kemet. I swear upon the oath that binds our kingdoms, all we have said here, is the truth.”

The woman closes her eyes, takes in another breath, and sheaths her blade. Pressing her palms flat together in front of her chest, she bows her head. “I am the eldest daughter of Maharaja Ashoka: Raja, Rajkumari of Indrira,” she says. “At the risk of my own life, I shall take responsibility for you lot, and escort you to His Majesty.”

“Just like that?” Ptolemy marvels, flinching when Helios smacks the side of his head into her own.

“Apologize,” he commands. “You were too rude, Ptolemy.”

“How was I to know that she’s a daughter of Indrira?”

“It’s fine,” Raja says, flicking her hand in dismissal. “As I said, I take no offence at the behavior of a child. If she were grown, the situation might be different.”

Lowering my arms, I bow my head. “I will still apologize on her behalf. My sister has been deeply upset by the devastation of our homeland. Please forgive her for speaking out of turn.”

At the sight of golden slippers before me, I lift my eyes to Raja’s—or at least, I try to. Leaning in close, she stares at my forehead with a deep frown.

“I’d thought this a bindi of some sort, but it looks more a faint remains of henna,” she says.

“Excuse me?”

“It wasn’t there before today,” Juba says, drawing my eyes. “There’s a faint crescent moon between your brows, Selene. Its points are directed toward the sky.”

I raise a hand, feeling nothing but skin beneath my fingers. “How strange. It must be a sign of the moon spirits blessing-”

“You were blessed by the moon?” Raja gasps. “I have heard that all members of the royal family in Kemet, receive blessings upon adulthood.” At my nod, she huffs a sigh. “You are fortunate then, and I am jealous.”

“You have not yet received a blessing?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “I have not received the honor. But my son will, someday. If he survives long enough.”

“You have a son?” Helios asks. “You don’t look any older than we are.”

Raja laughs outright, a sly smile lifting her lips. “My, what a charmer you are. I shall accept your compliment.” Then over her shoulder she shouts, “You may join us, Mrunal! I believe them to be safe enough!”

From behind a large stone to the left, a man emerges from the shadows. Sheathing a curved sword, he lifts his head high, his dark eyes weary beneath a tuft of curly, deep brown hair.

“Are you certain, Highness?” he asks, crossing his dark arms over an emerald green tunic -much the same as Raja’s-, and shifting his weight from one black-cloaked leg to the other.

“Are you questioning me?” Raja asks teasingly. “I am far too busy to play games, you know.”

Mrunal smiles. “I suppose so. Given this surprising development, am I to assume that we will be returning, early?”

Raja’s shoulders sag. “What choice do we have? Our attempts to find a cure have reaped a poor result. We’ll have to try searching in the east next time.”

“Are you ill?” I ask, noting the weariness in Raja’s gaze when she looks at me.

Pursing her lips, she seems to consider her words before she speaks. “As a fellow Rajkumari, I believe you will understand the deep secrecy surrounding what I am about to reveal.”

“You do not have to say anymore.”

She nods. “I know, but I will regardless. Perhaps upon hearing my story, you might propose a solution I have yet to discover.”

“I will say now, that I know little of medicinal arts,” I admit, looking to my right. “But Juba might.”

At that, his lips press into a line. Does it bother him that I know of his medical interest? I wonder. Probably so. In my visions, he did tell me it was a dangerous hobby of his, to sneak medical scrolls from the royal library and study them in the night.

“I know a bit,” Juba says after a minute, to which Raja hums.

Glancing away, she presses a hand to her stomach. “My son is the yuvaraja, the crowned prince, who will one day rule as Maharaja of Indrira. However, he is only three years old, and has fallen gravely ill. I fear for his life if a cure is not found soon.”

“Was he born frail?”

Raja shakes her head. “He was born strong as a lion! But this past spring he began to weaken. His balance failed, and he toppled over when walking. His pupils became large and he cringed away from the light. Now his headaches rage and he can hardly move from his bed and-”

Raja pauses, her eyes and teeth clenched tight. Mrunal sets a hand on her shoulder, squeezing till she opens her eyes again.

“It sounds like a common form of poisoning in Roma,” Juba says, his words jarring me back into a vision.

In a small room of damp stones that reeks of mildew, I lie on my back, breathing heavily and delirious. Though I know she is long gone, I see Mother kneeling at my side, her golden eyes teary with worry.

When I blink, she is gone, and Juba sits in her place with a damp cloth in hand.

‘Curse Octavia,’ he seethes, setting the cloth across my brow. ‘To use Belladonna of all things—has she no shame?’

‘It is not the first time,’ I whisper, barely clinging to the waking world. ‘If not for the illusions of Mother, and the vile dizziness, I would not mind this so much.’

Juba grits his teeth. ‘Do you not understand that you might die? You—oh, save your breath, Selene. You must focus on recovery. Alright? Do not dare die on me!’

I smile as my eyes fall shut. ‘As you wish.’

The vision ends and I blink fast, taking in a breath. “He’s right,” I say. “Belladonna does seem the most likely culprit.”

“I’ve never heard of it,” Raja says, hissing the word, “Belladonna. Are you certain? Do you know of a cure for it?”

Juba frowns. “There’s a small chance we might use the seedless Calabar Bean to cure your son. But understand this: Belladonna is a highly toxic poison. Prolonged exposure can kill a grown man in mere days. I cannot make any guarantees about so young a child as your son.”

Raja huffs, and the curved tip of her golden shoe stamps down in a gray puff of dust. “I am not foolish enough to pray for miracles, Romasian boy. I seek chances—in this case, a chance to save my son. If you are the passage to such a chance, the first I have come across during all my long months of searching, then I will follow you to whatever end.”

Patting his amulet, Juba releases his breath in a resigned sigh. “I keep on my person, vials of antidote to a number of poisons. Just in case. And in the event that the Calabar Bean does work, initially, then you will have to send someone to gather more for further treatments. Know now that it will be no easy task, given that the bean can only be found deep with the borders of Kemet.”

Mrunal tsks. “If your cure works for the yuvaraja, His Majesty might just swear allegiance to you lot, and offer his hand in reclaiming Kemet.”

“He might,” Raja agrees. “What an odd chance of fate, that we’ve all met here today. The great spirits must be on our sides.”

I glance back toward the sea, then the darkening sky, where the faintest sliver of moon has begun to glow. “Perhaps they are,” I say.

“Well, if that’s all settled, then can I ask you something?” Helios asks, over the rumbling growl of his stomach. Pink-cheeked, he lifts a hand to the back of his head and asks, “Is there anything on this island to eat? I’m starving!”

Laughing, Raja walks past me to take Helios’ cheeks between her hands. “A straightforward man,” she beams, turning his head side to side. “I like it.”

Helios’ face burns scarlet, his lips fumbling in indiscernible mumbles and arms flailing at his sides.

Stepping back, Raja looks left to right. “There’s nothing on this slip of an island, I’m afraid, but there is food on our ship. So come. We shall cast off without delay, and if the winds are with us, we will arrive at the southern port city Chennai with the next dawn.”

“Should I escort you, or run ahead to prepare the crew?” Mrunal asks.

Spinning around, Raja nod forward. “Prepare the crew with all due haste. Then set to packing our belongings, Mrunal. I would like to be home again within a fortnight.”

“A lofty goal,” he snickers, as he turns and runs without another word.

“Let us be off, then!” Raja cheers, thrusting her fist into the air.

“What an odd girl,” Helios grumbles.

“The oddest,” Ptolemy agrees.

“She may have become kinder since our introductions, but she’s still a daughter of the maharaja,” Juba warns. “This is not Kemet, and your titles mean little without your kingdoms strength to bolster them. Show some discretion—or at the very least some humility.”

Helios frowns. “A Son of Kemet bows to no one save for his pharaoh’s.”

“A Son of Kemet will act in the best interest of Kemet,” I remind. “If you must bow your head to a foreign pharaoh in his own empire, and ask for his help, then you will do so. All three of us will.”

“I will only bow if the man proves useful to us,” Ptolemy swears. “Elsewise, it’ll just be an act to humiliate me.”

“Your childishness will be your ruin,” Juba mutters under his breath.

“Aren’t you coming?” Raja calls, already several feet ahead. “We’ve a fresh catch of lobster on the ship! If you don’t get to it before it’s gone, it shall be your loss!”

“Coming!” Helios shouts, all seriousness lost on him as his stomach overtakes his brain.

I smile as he breaks into a run, jostling Ptolemy who clings to him with stuttering demands that he slow down or else leave her behind. At my side, Juba watches with a small smile of his own. The sight warms my heart, easing my worries to the back of my mind.

We have been through so much in so short a time. I know better than to hope that this stroke of good luck will last. But for whatever time it does, I will be grateful and savor each and every moment.

“Shall we?” Juba asks, offering his hand.

I take it, squeeze lightly, and together we follow the trail of footsteps across the sand, and Raja’s bubbling laughter.

***