The Leopard Princess Page 3

  Jahani turned back to Rahul.

  ‘I need to be the man to take you north,’ Rahul said. ‘The tribe travels too slowly and we don’t have much time.’

  ‘But if Muzahid and his men find us, they’ll kill you.’

  He answered her softly, ‘I will give all my fingers and my life for you if I have to. Whether you are this shehzadi or not—’ He lifted his hand and winced.

  ‘How can I travel alone with you?’ She knew they weren’t related now and Hafeezah’s face rose in her mind. Hafeezah would say it was ‘unseemly’. ‘I can travel by myself.’

  ‘You can bring Anjuli. I doubt you’d leave without her anyway.’

  She frowned. Something about Rahul had changed and it unnerved her. He seemed darker, more brooding. ‘But—’ she started.

  ‘Enough!’ he said. ‘You must trust no one.’

  ‘Not even you?’

  ‘Especially not me. This is my fault. I should have refused Muzahid in the beginning. Now I’ve seen you again, I know the things he told me about you are not true. He said if I found you, to hand you over. But someone has talked in the bazaar – Muzahid has as good a spy network as Dagar Khan. He knows you are here – I am sure of it – so we must flee.’

  ‘But what will happen to everyone? To the nomads? Won’t he retaliate when he knows we are gone? And he will follow us – how can we escape him? And you—’ She was about to say he wasn’t well enough, but the stormy look on his face stopped her.

  ‘We will do our best, but we cannot keep you here longer or he will do worse than what he did to us today. And I will not give you to him. He will use you in some evil plan.’

  ‘Could Azhar help us?’ She thought of his flying carpet. Perhaps she shouldn’t have been so hasty to refuse his offer to fly north, after all.

  There was a long pause, then Rahul said, ‘I know Azhar has been your protector, but he is also one you shouldn’t trust. He is not who you think he is.’

  ‘Who is he?’

  ‘I do not know for sure, but he also covets you for some reason. You should trust no one.’

  Azhar also said not to trust anyone. No, he had said to be careful whom she trusts. ‘Azhar told me I had to run because Muzahid wanted to kill me.’

  ‘It was wise counsel to run from Muzahid. But Muzahid mentioned Azhar today, too.’

  ‘Azhar?’ A long cold finger touched Jahani’s heart.

  The tent was silent while Rahul scrutinised her face. ‘We will ride north toward the Kingdom of Hahayul tonight and try to make it through Babusar Pass in under a week before the first snow. The snow comes early up there, well before the first moon of winter. Hopefully it will come after we are through, so Muzahid can’t follow us. Only eagles can enter the northern kingdoms once the passes are blocked.’

  With the mention of eagles Jahani thought of the carpet again. After all Rahul had suffered on her behalf, why was she still thinking of Azhar?

  4

  En Route to Babusar Pass

  Kingdom of Kaghan

  They fled that very night. Jahani and Anjuli rode Chandi, while Rahul rode his mare, Farah, with his hawk, Bibi, tied to the saddle. They departed the Kingdom of Kaghan much faster than when she’d travelled into it with Hafeezah and Azhar. She bit her lip. Most of her thoughts, now, seemed to involve Azhar and his enchanted carpet, but if all Rahul said was true, she must stop thinking of him.

  Anjuli turned to look at Jahani. ‘I didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye to my friends. We played such interesting games.’

  Jahani squeezed Anjuli as she held the reins. ‘I know, but Rahul said there wasn’t time.’ Jahani also wasn’t able to say goodbye properly to everyone and she couldn’t believe she was leaving yet another family.

  ‘How long will it take to reach the Qurraqoram Mountains? My back hurts already.’

  Jahani spoke into her ear. ‘Longer than the moon it took us to arrive in Naran. The terrain will be more difficult and there may be snow.’

  They rode throughout the night until Jahani feared she’d drop from the saddle. Rahul must have been exhausted, but when she called to stop, he ignored her. At least it was a clear night with the moon showing the way.

  Their horses climbed higher as the path wound upward into the mountains with a yawning drop of thousands of feet at their side. Jahani was thankful for Chandi’s sure-footedness; she powered up the path as though she were walking in a field of wildflowers, not even waking Anjuli. Azhar had said Chandi was a Zanskari mountain pony and a warhorse. It was now becoming clear to Jahani why Azhar had chosen her.

  Before dawn, Rahul reined in Farah. Jahani drew Chandi beside him as he unsheathed his sword with his left hand. ‘What is it?’ she asked. Anjuli roused and looked about.

  ‘We are close to a pass.’

  ‘Babusar?’ Jahani eyed his sword.

  ‘Nay, that is still a few days travel away.’ His voice was curt. ‘It’s a smaller pass, only a mile, but we must go quietly.’

  ‘Why?’ Anjuli asked.

  ‘The path goes between two mountain sides and is narrow, so there isn’t room to turn if we encounter trouble. We will also be exposed. It’s an ideal spot for an ambush.’ He glanced at Jahani. ‘Keep watch and draw your sword.’

  ‘Surely we won’t be attacked?’ Anjuli said as Jahani quietly unsheathed Shamsher. ‘There’s not a soul around.’

  ‘I hope not,’ Rahul replied. ‘But if I shout to run, go back immediately. Do not hesitate or stop for me.’

  Jahani pursed her lips when he glanced away. How could they leave him? She looked up, sniffing the cool, pine-scented air. Dawn light bathed the mountain tops in pink, but the eastern side was still in shadow, its rocky descent hiding secrets.

  Rahul threw his arm into the air and his hawk, Bibi, rose without a sound. ‘She will be safer in the sky.’ He scanned the cliffs as he moved Farah forward.

  Jahani urged Chandi to follow. In the low light Jahani didn’t see any place a man could hide and she breathed easier. But then, the terrain changed: two towering mountain sides loomed on either side of the path below. Jahani gasped as she took in the pass. Only a few trees grew from the rocky surfaces, and caves like black yawning mouths dotted either side of the cliffs. Chandi stumbled slightly as they began their descent through the pass.

  Danger! The thought dropped into her head just as Chandi skipped backward.

  Whomp! Anjuli shrieked as an arrow flew within a finger’s breadth of Jahani’s nose. If Chandi hadn’t moved … Jahani didn’t care to think what might have happened.

  ‘Run!’ Rahul’s shout echoed around the mountains as he disappeared ahead of them.

  Jahani urged Chandi into a gallop, protecting Anjuli with her sword as more and more arrows zinged past them. She looked up and saw men in the hollowed-out caves. Just then one dropped from a ledge. Anjuli shouted, ‘He’ll squash us!’

  Chandi swerved in time and the man landed in the dust behind them. ‘Not long now,’ Jahani called.

  Then suddenly the pass finished; they were through, but not with the danger.

  As they galloped out of the pass, Jahani could see Rahul in combat with three mounted men. They wore ­commoners’ clothes, not the grey uniforms of Muzahid’s men, and didn’t look like warriors. She thought of Rahul’s wounded hand. He wouldn’t be able to draw his dagger and fight more than one man at once. Holding onto the reins must be difficult enough. Regardless of what he said about riding on, he needed her help.

  Jahani didn’t dare let Anjuli dismount in case she were abducted by their attackers. ‘Duck down,’ she shouted and Anjuli lay on Chandi’s neck, gripping the mare’s mane.

  Jahani’s sword Shamsher thrummed in her hand as Chandi charged toward the men.

  The one on the right. Chandi’s instruction echoed in her mind. She raised Shamsher to engage the man about to strike Rahul. The man turned to find them bearing down on him. She slashed and her dupatta fell, revealing her face; the man gave an exclamation of disbelief. Like
the other times she had wielded Shamsher in battle, the sword slashed this way and that, almost of its own accord, until the man lost his weapon. With a bite from Chandi, he fell heavily to the ground, his head striking a rock. Chandi moved to assist Rahul, but he was winning the battle – one man had already fled, and when the second one saw Jahani approaching, he raced after his accomplice.

  ‘Anjuli? Are you all right?’ Jahani asked.

  The girl sat up and nodded, but she wouldn’t smile.

  Jahani’s own breathing was ragged as though she had run ten miles.

  ‘Do not relax yet.’ Rahul glanced at the unconscious man.

  Jahani hoped Rahul would spare his life. ‘Who are they?’

  ‘Badmarsh, bandits only. But they can still be dangerous. And there may be more.’ He scanned the mountains ahead. ‘We need to find a safe place to sleep.’ Rahul regarded Jahani and, along with fatigue, she recognised the same respect that she saw when she had battled the wolves. ‘Keep that sword in your hand until we do.’

  Bibi returned to Rahul’s arm. ‘Your hawk must think it’s safe now,’ Jahani said.

  ‘Ji, I hope so.’

  They travelled further as daylight broke over the mountains, all of them watching for any sign of ambush, but there were no more incidents. The silence was disturbing, as if the badmarsh were watching but not showing themselves. Finally Rahul spotted a cave, off the track and up the mountain. ‘Our horses will manage the climb, but we’ll need to walk them up,’ he said, dismounting.

  The cave was large enough to fit their horses. After they were settled, Jahani changed the bandage on Rahul’s hand. Then they ate the flatbread and dhal that Yasmeen had prepared. Anjuli fell asleep as soon as they finished. Jahani wished she could, too; the last two days had taken their toll. She felt she could sleep for moons, but she couldn’t settle.

  Rahul was restless, his face dark and forbidding. Jahani could see he was also overtired and wouldn’t sleep immediately. She wished she had some of Hafeezah’s healing thyme tea for him to sip.

  ‘Yasmeen told me about her vision,’ she said to keep his mind from his missing finger. ‘She said that a red-haired girl with a leopard would bring peace to the northern kingdoms without war.’

  ‘Aunty ji’s prophecy must be just a dream,’ he said wearily. ‘Only bloodshed has created empires.’

  Jahani nodded. She had thought the same. She couldn’t be this shehzadi, this princess. She had felt no lurch of recognition inside her heart when Yasmeen told her the story.

  Jahani was just drifting off to sleep when she heard a noise and drew herself up straighter to listen.

  Rahul unsheathed his sword and rose unsteadily, just as Yazan loped into the cave, lifting his great white head at Jahani. ‘Hie, a leopard!’ Rahul raised his sword.

  A low rumble began in Yazan’s throat.

  ‘Stop!’ Jahani jumped and grabbed his arm. ‘He is my friend. His name is Yazan.’

  Yazan walked toward Anjuli’s sleeping form, staring at Rahul with huge unblinking eyes.

  ‘It looks like a mountain lion,’ Rahul said, but he sheathed his sword. ‘I thought Azhar was jesting about the leopard when he brought you to us. But you do have one like Aunty Yasmeen’s prophecy.’ He gave her a curious stare as Yazan settled near Anjuli and began to groom his coat.

  Jahani watched Rahul lean against the cave wall and sink to the ground, mesmerised by Yazan, until his eyes finally closed.

  She lay next to Yazan, stroking his fur. She was enjoying his peaceful warmth and purr and drifting off to sleep when a thought pierced through her exhaustion. What of Azhar? He would return to the nomads and find her gone.

  The carpet flew through the air. She felt the exhilaration of the wind on her face and could see so far it was as if she were an eagle. Azhar sat with her, smiling, his hand over his heart, calling her Shehzadi. But then he was falling – his arms outstretched. He plummeted toward the river below.

  5

  Jask

  Persia

  Safavid Empire

  Azhar touched the carpet to veer to the south-west. This night he would visit his father, Kifayat, in Jask. He hardly noticed the dark shapes of the Afghan Mountains below him or the woolly smell of the carpet he loved. He sighed and a corner of the carpet curled toward him to caress his foot.

  ‘I know,’ he murmured, ‘I mustn’t lose heart.’

  Usually flying calmed him, but not this evening. A few weeks ago, Jahani had flown with him. She had marvelled at how fast the carpet soared, how beautiful it was with its many colours and images of animals and birds, but she had refused to go north with him to the Kingdom of Hahayul.

  What could he do but follow the nomads from afar to ensure Jahani remained safe? As he rode his stallion, Rakhsh, behind them, keeping hidden in the forest, he had tried to convince his heart to respect her wishes to learn about her identity from the nomads, but it was difficult when he knew otherwise. He only hoped the nomads would tell her the truth. He had wanted to do it himself at the right time, so she wouldn’t be overwhelmed by the sudden realisation of who she truly was when she finally found out.

  But then, Azhar had discovered Jahani was gone from the nomad camp. So was Chandi. And Yazan wasn’t in the forest watching over her as usual.

  Fearing the worst, Azhar had spoken with Tafeeq, but the chieftain had been tight-lipped about Jahani’s whereabouts, though he’d said Muzahid had attacked their camp and tortured Rahul. Then Tafeeq had stared at him as if it were Azhar’s fault.

  Azhar had galloped night and day to Babusar Pass, believing it was the only way out of the Kingdom of Kaghan to the north. He hid Rakhsh behind rocks and watched the men at the border checkpoint. They wore the grey uniform of Muzahid’s men and were checking parties that included women.

  He approached a traveller. ‘What are the men looking for?’

  The man answered, ‘Haven’t you heard? A beautiful girl has been abducted from her marriage and her lovesick bridegroom is searching for her.’

  Even though Azhar knew the answer, he asked, ‘Who is this bridegroom?’

  ‘The war lord, Muzahid Baig.’

  Azhar let out a breath; Muzahid mustn’t have her. He turned away, deep in thought.

  ‘Azhar? Acho? Is that you?’

  He swung around to find Hafeezah, Jahani’s foster mother, standing before him, with her mare, Sitarah. He took in her familiar figure. She was dressed, as always, in an embroidered cap and white dupatta, and a warm shalwar qameez and shawl. He smiled and kissed her hand. ‘Kaka, dear older sister, it is you. What are you doing here? You are not alone?’

  Hafeezah shook her head. ‘I am heading north. It has been ten summers since I have seen my father and my home in the Kingdom of Hahayul. The commander, Saman Abdul, has allowed me to ride with his troop for safety.’

  Azhar frowned. ‘You mean Baqir Abbaas’s troop? Why have they left Naran?’

  Hafeezah suddenly looked tired. ‘Awa. I have ill news. Muzahid murdered Jahani’s adoptive parents.’

  ‘Both Baqir and Zarah?’

  She inclined her head.

  Azhar stilled at the news, and they fell silent for a moment. Then Hafeezah asked, ‘Have you heard from Jahani?’

  Azhar paused. He didn’t want to worry her unduly. ‘When I saw her last she was happy with the nomads.’

  Hafeezah’s face wreathed into a smile.

  ‘I have a favour to ask,’ Azhar said.

  ‘You know I’d do anything for you, acho.’

  He gave a low whistle and his horse appeared. ‘Will you take Rakhsh north with you? It is his home, too.’ Azhar took down his carpet from Rakhsh’s saddle.

  ‘Why? Don’t you need a mount?’

  ‘I cannot explain now. Please, keep safe, kaka.’ He kissed Hafeezah’s hand to take his leave and walked away behind the rocks.

  When it was dark enough, Azhar flew his carpet back and forth along the mountain track searching for Jahani, but it was as if she had disappeared li
ke mist in the night.

  Now, his heart in agony, he travelled toward Jask watching the moon rise and sparkle on the Persian Gulf. The sight usually rejuvenated him, but this time the beauty only made him fear for Jahani.

  ‘Neechay jao, descend,’ Azhar whispered as the minarets loomed ahead. The carpet alighted on the roof of Kifayat’s house and curled toward him, caressing his hands as he rolled it up. The carpet never ceased to amaze him; it was trying to comfort him. He sighed. ‘Mamnoon,’ he whispered. ‘I must keep hoping.’

  Even so, after he’d gently leaned the carpet against the wall inside he raced into Kifayat’s writing room. He stopped short when he saw Bilal, the former wazir of Hahayul, with his father. He inclined his head to the older man. ‘Hazoor, a pleasure to see you here again.’

  Bilal smiled at him. ‘Your father and I have much to discuss with the recent movements in the kingdoms.’

  Azhar nodded distractedly and turned to Kifayat. ‘I can’t find her, Pedar. Tafeeq, the nomad chieftain, won’t tell me where she is. It was as if he didn’t trust me. The nomads are moving south, now, but Rahul wasn’t there, nor was Anjuli. What if Rahul has taken them somewhere?’

  Kifayat stood up from his desk. ‘Aziz Pesar, my dear son, no greeting? Not how you have missed me? Come, you look as if you have been awake for days.’ He put an arm around Azhar’s shoulders and led him to the divan. ‘Does it matter how she arrives as long as she does?’ He sat and patted the space beside him.

  Azhar couldn’t sit; he paced the room. ‘I’m afraid Rahul may have influenced her in some way. Surely she must know by now that she can call me and I will come. But there is nothing. I heard Rahul was captured by Muzahid and I suspect he’s risked his whole tribe for Jahani.’

  ‘Wouldn’t you risk all for Jahani, knowing who she is?’

  ‘Certainly.’

  ‘Then perhaps he knows she is the shehzadi,’ Bilal said. ‘But why would a nomad prince care? What’s in it for him?’

  ‘He may be taking her to Dagar Khan or maybe Rahul wants her for himself.’ Azhar swore under his breath. ‘I should have taken her the day I saw her last. We were already flying on the carpet! I could have flown her to the north.’ With a slight moan, he said, ‘But she wasn’t willing.’