The Leopard Princess Page 8

  Stones and scree flew as they slid down the bank.

  ‘Over here, Ali sahib.’ Lateef had found the body of a man behind a rock near the water.

  Anjuli ran over and fell to her knees beside the body.

  ‘Is the shehzadi here, too?’ Ali Shah looked around.

  ‘Nay. Just the young man. He doesn’t look good.’

  Anjuli had tears in her eyes as she looked up at Ali Shah. ‘Jahani must have fallen off the carpet.’ She looked back at the body. ‘Will he wake up?’

  Ali Shah didn’t answer. Instead, he turned to his men. ‘Send a search party to find the shehzadi. Tell them to look along the track and in the river, too. Take Anjuli with you. And send someone down here with bandages.’

  They ran off as Ali Shah and Lateef pulled the man up and leaned him against a rock. There came a moan and the man’s eyelids flickered.

  ‘My name is Ali Shah. What is your true name?’

  The man’s eyes focused on him with difficulty. ‘Do not separate my body and soul for no reason. I am Azhar Sekandar.’ His voice was little more than a gasp.

  Lateef laughed but Ali Shah silenced him with a flick of his chin. ‘Would that be Azhar Sekandar Khan, the true shehzada of the Kingdom of Nagir?’

  Azhar swallowed, then breathed his answer. ‘Awa.’

  Ali Shah bent closer, taking in the man’s bruised face. ‘You do have a likeness to the former mir of Nagir, but we were told the shehzada died in the massacre. Apparently the shehzada’s body was found with the ghenish’s.’

  ‘It was a servant’s body … my friend, Sayyid.’

  Ali Shah watched him cough, then wince. ‘That was quite a tamasha with the carpet. If not for that I wouldn’t believe you.’ He paused. ‘How did you survive the fall?’

  Azhar’s brow furrowed. ‘I’m not sure.’

  ‘Do you know where the shehzadi is?’ Ali Shah asked.

  Azhar’s eyes widened. ‘What do you mean? Isn’t she with you?’

  ‘The last time Anjuli saw her, she was on the carpet with you, Shehzada.’

  Azhar made to sit straighter and groaned. ‘She couldn’t have been with me. The carpet wouldn’t have fallen. She was flying it but I must have lost consciousness. That is all I remember.’

  ‘I can’t imagine her falling off a carpet,’ Ali Shah said.

  ‘Someone could have been lying in wait and captured her. She may have flown higher up the mountain … I have to find her!’ Azhar gasped as he attempted to rise.

  ‘You won’t be finding anyone for a while.’ Ali Shah narrowed his gaze at Azhar. ‘What is your interest in,’ he hesitated before saying her name, ‘Jahani?’

  Azhar glanced up at Ali Shah. ‘I want to see the throne of Hahayul restored to its rightful ruler.’

  ‘Who is?’ Ali Shah’s hand rested on the hilt of his sword.

  ‘Jahanara Ashraf Shaheen Khan, Shehzadi of Hahayul.’

  Ali Shah relaxed his fingers. ‘And Nagir? Is it your wish to see that kingdom restored as well?’

  ‘Certainly.’

  ‘Can I trust you?’ Ali Shah smiled without warmth. Who could trust anyone when power was in the balance?

  ‘Can I trust you?’ Azhar countered.

  ‘I am the commander of the Makhfi, the hidden army of the shehzadi of Hahayul,’ Ali Shah said. ‘We aim to restore the shehzadi to the throne, but we’ll succour you also.’ He grunted. ‘Though Dagar Khan would have sport should you fall into his hands.’

  ‘What are you implying?’

  ‘I’m sure you know that Muzahid Baig is intent on finding the shehzadi, apparently for Dagar Khan, but it’s obvious that he wants to keep her for himself. If Muzahid found out you were still alive – you would provide bargaining power with Dagar Khan, whom, I gather, Muzahid has betrayed.’

  Azhar frowned.

  ‘Don’t look so worried. You have fallen into my hands and it is necessary for me to keep you safe.’ Ali Shah laughed. ‘Does the shehzadi know who you really are?’

  ‘Bey ya, no.’

  ‘It may be best to keep it that way. There are many matters weighing on her at present. She has only just discovered who she is. Let her come to terms with her role as the shehzadi before you present your plans.’

  ‘What is your meaning?’ Azhar managed to lean forward slightly.

  Ali Shah paused as a man approached with bandages. He gestured to Lateef. ‘Get that arrow out. He has to ride.’ He turned back to Azhar. ‘Everyone seems to have a plan for the shehzadi. I thought you might have one, too.’

  ‘If I do, it’s personal.’

  Ali Shah raised his eyebrows. ‘Is that so?’

  ‘I’m sorry I have nothing to ease your pain, my friend,’ Lateef interrupted as he broke off the arrow feather. ‘At least it missed your heart.’ He nodded to Ali Shah to hold Azhar. ‘Now, you need to relax.’ Lateef held the arrow shaft. ‘Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in …’

  Just as Azhar breathed out, Lateef yanked the shaft back through Azhar’s flesh.

  Ali Shah watched every muscle in Azhar’s body clench until he passed out again.

  12

  En Route to Fairy Meadows

  Kingdom of Gilit

  Jahani was hauled over the lip of the cliff and blindfolded from behind. Then she was lifted onto a horse and a man jumped on behind her. Within seconds her hands were also tied. ‘What is this sword at your side?’ the man asked.

  Jahani held her breath a moment. ‘It’s for decoration.’

  Her captor laughed. ‘Then you can keep it, my houri. A girl looking like you shouldn’t be able to use a sword.’ Then his voice lost its humour. ‘If you use it on me, you will regret it.’

  Who was he? One of Dagar Khan’s men or Muzahid’s? Or someone else with an interest in ruling the northern kingdoms? Even Ali Shah had an interest. She put that thought out of her head. Right now she had to concentrate on staying alive.

  Her captor thrashed his horse and soon it was galloping, travelling too fast for such difficult terrain. The horse sucked in air as if it were drowning. The path was rising so she guessed they were headed north. The river’s noise was fainter than before.

  Jahani’s back and legs ached from smashing against the rocks when she was hauled up the mountain, but she couldn’t move; the man kept squeezing his arms tightly against her as he held the reins. It secured her to the horse at least, though she was sure she’d have bruises from that, too.

  Her thoughts flitted to Azhar and she moaned inwardly. He would never have survived that fall. If only she’d gone with him willingly, maybe then he’d still be alive and she’d be safely with him right now.

  Why had she pushed him away? She’d never forget the confusion and disbelief in his eyes.

  Jahani woke to the blindfold yanking her hair as it was pulled off. It was almost dark; they must have travelled all afternoon while she slept. She could hear the river, so they must have descended again. The air was cold. At least she still had her woollen cloak. Except for that, Shamsher and the clothes she wore, she had lost her other possessions: her bag with Sameela’s quilt and the shield Ali Shah had given her.

  ‘We are not far from the town of Gilit,’ her captor said as he reined his mount to a stop.

  Jahani could see men at a checkpoint ahead. She wondered what would happen if she called out for help. But what if they were Dagar Khan’s men, or Muzahid’s?

  Her captor clicked his tongue and they moved quietly into a forest of tall pine trees, avoiding the checkpoint.

  For hours they walked through the darkness. Once the man knew she was awake, he kept up a steady monologue. ‘I am an excellent guide. I know this land as well as a nomad. I also could be called a Lord of the Mountains. Ha.’

  Jahani’s head throbbed so badly she wished he’d keep quiet. Then she realised she may find out who he was working for if she kept him talking. She hadn’t managed to see his face yet; it was impossible to turn in the saddle with her hands still tied. At least she could use h
er voice. ‘So, you come from these mountains?’ she asked.

  ‘Ah, from all over. I know them all – north, west, even the eastern ones in Qashmir. I know the best places to camp. I’ve even guided parties over the mountains – people who have never seen such terrain before. They were called Angrez, from a little island across the sea. You mark my words, we will see more of them. The Angrez say they want nothing more than to trade with the empire. But I saw the desire in their eyes.’

  He fell quiet and Jahani began to loll in the saddle from fatigue and pain.

  Finally he reined in the horse. ‘We’ll stay here. This is a charmed place – it is called the pari meadows.’

  She looked around in the darkness but couldn’t see a fairy field. ‘We’re in a forest.’

  ‘The meadows are surrounded by the forest. Tomorrow you’ll see.’

  She heard an animal howl. It didn’t sound like Yazan. ‘Are we sleeping out in the open, under the trees?’ she asked, though her true worry was being alone with him.

  ‘Certainly. There is a stream nearby. I have stayed here many a time. No one will find us.’

  ‘Wolves might.’

  ‘I’m an excellent shot.’ It sounded as if there was nothing he couldn’t do.

  She managed to dismount with her hands still tied, but her back and legs ached and she collapsed when she tried to walk. ‘I need to relieve myself,’ she said, holding out her hands. ‘Please untie the rope.’

  He paused a moment, his face bowed, before pulling out his dagger. ‘You must not run. You will only get lost and eaten by wolves.’

  He laughed as she stood and limped into the forest as far away as she dared. When she returned, he had made a fire. He gave her a warm chapatti and she sank to the ground. When she glanced over, her heart stilled. In the light of the fire she could finally see her captor’s face. He was the scout, Rabb, who Ali Shah had sent to check the road ahead for danger. He was one of Ali Shah’s trusted six men; did that mean Ali Shah had other plans, after all? She decided not to challenge Rabb and tried to act as though she didn’t recognise him.

  After eating, Jahani lay on the ground on the opposite side of the fire to Rabb, but she couldn’t sleep. For a start Rabb had tied a rope around her ankles. ‘Just in case,’ he had said. All night she kept one eye cocked in case he moved toward her. In the early morning, she couldn’t stay awake any longer. She dreamed of the mountains, but they were blackened and dying, moaning for respite and for someone to free them.

  The next day they continued travelling through the forest in the same manner: Jahani sat astride Rabb’s horse, her hands bound, with Rabb behind her. Mid-morning they crossed the fairy meadows. Moons ago Jahani would have found joy in the trees with copper, red and gold leaves, and the late wildflowers, but today they only reminded her of happier times spent with Hafeezah, Anjuli and Azhar.

  By dusk they had reached the Indus River. ‘Do we have to cross?’ she asked, watching the grey water rushing by.

  ‘Certainly, or you’ll never get to where you are meant to go.’

  Jahani frowned at his answer. She still didn’t know what his intentions were or who he worked for. ‘There’s no bridge,’ she suddenly said.

  ‘Do not fear, Rabb takes care of everything. Just you see.’

  He dismounted near a hut and whistled. A young man appeared and Jahani saw them both confer, then something changed hands. The young man then disappeared to the river’s edge.

  Rabb returned to Jahani. ‘Time to sail.’

  Jahani didn’t move. ‘If we are travelling by boat, you must untie me. If I fall in I won’t be able to save myself.’

  Rabb regarded her. ‘As you wish,’ and he pulled out his dagger to cut the rope. He grabbed her arm as she dismounted and she winced. ‘No tricks or I will throw you overboard myself.’

  He pushed her toward the river and she clambered down to the water’s edge where the young man waited for them in a boat. ‘What about the horse?’

  Rabb laughed. ‘He doesn’t like sailing. Never fear, I have another friend with a horse on the other side.’

  That was when Jahani realised her abduction was not just a whim. Someone else must be behind it, but who?

  Jahani clung onto the small boat’s sides as the young man hauled them across with a rope that was attached to posts on both banks of the river. When the wind blew stronger, Rabb lent his strength to assist with the pulling. The boat dipped dangerously against the current.

  Jahani closed her eyes; her stomach was threatening to spill. She hung her head over the side just in time. Both the men laughed.

  On the other side of the river, another man with a horse waited for them. Jahani mounted and her hands were immediately tied. She shivered.

  It wasn’t until the middle of the next night that they stopped in a bazaar in the town of Gilit.

  ‘I’ve arranged a place for you to stay,’ Rabb said. ‘But be careful what you say. Everyone is after you. There will be a guard watching the place, so don’t think of running or you’ll ruin everything. You’ll find out why later.’

  She frowned. Was he a traitor to Ali Shah or was this part of some larger plan?

  The bazaar was quiet; not a dog barked as Rabb tapped gently on a door. After a few minutes a woman opened it a fraction. ‘This is my cousin,’ Rabb said. ‘She needs a place to sleep.’ He pushed Jahani inside.

  The woman shut the door behind them and smiled warily. Jahani guessed she was Zarah’s age, but she was plumper. ‘My name is Nusrat.’ She spoke in Burushaski and Jahani stared at her in surprise.

  ‘You are understanding me?’ Nusrat asked.

  Jahani inclined her head. ‘Are you from the Kingdom of Hahayul?’

  ‘That I am.’ Nusrat busied herself stirring a bubbling pot. ‘But Hahayul is not the happy valley it used to be. Many of us have left, seeking asylum. We stay here in Gilit hoping for change, for the shehzadi to return.’ Nusrat glanced at her, a shrewdness in her eyes. ‘What is your name?’

  Jahani regarded her a moment. Was Nusrat complicit with Rabb or just a woman making a living? She decided to tell the truth. ‘Jahani.’

  ‘Ah, there were many girls called Jahani, Jahanara and the like, fourteen summers ago. Even now some use the name for remembrance.’ Nusrat spooned food into a bowl and Jahani’s stomach rumbled.

  ‘Here, eat this curry. Only vegetables, but it will do you good.’ She held out the bowl and Jahani took it gratefully. ‘Sit here.’ Nusrat sat on a charpai and indicated a space beside her.

  Jahani sat down and blew on a spoonful of the curry; she was ravenous.

  Nusrat regarded her as she ate. ‘Dagar Khan is like a demon. He destroys everything, and all because of unrequited love. But true love gives life; it doesn’t destroy it. He had an obsession only.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Dagar Khan, that mighty general, loved the ghenish, the queen. She was tall, elegant and had red-brown hair. She was a beauty.’

  Jahani stared at Nusrat in alarm.

  ‘It is true he could have married her. He was her relative, though distant, but handsome Ashraf with the blue eyes was chosen for her.’

  ‘How do you know Dagar Khan had these feelings for the ghenish?’ Jahani asked.

  ‘I worked in the fort kitchen – it was common knowledge there. Perhaps he never meant the ghenish to die … but then perhaps he did. We will never know. Once a man like that is spurned he takes revenge in evil ways. I suppose you heard about the massacre after he was banished?’

  Jahani didn’t feel hungry anymore; she put the bowl on the floor.

  ‘Are you travelling north?’ Nusrat asked.

  ‘I’m not sure—’

  ‘You be careful in Hahayul, especially in the town of Baltit where the fort is. I believe Dagar Khan is waiting for the shehzadi, like everyone else, even though he says there is no such thing. But still he offers a reward for red-headed girls. It’s a fortune – two thousand mohurs.’

  Jahani drew in a
breath.

  ‘Awa,’ Nusrat nodded at Jahani, looking her up and down, ‘and he likes tall girls, too.’

  Jahani stood, keen to escape from Nusrat’s gaze. ‘I’d like to go to my room now, please. I’m tired.’

  ‘Certainly, it is just above us. In this old bazaar there is no space for a second room on the ground so we build up.’

  Jahani followed her outside, up bricked steps and through an open doorway. This room was smaller than the one below, but it was big enough to fit a charpai, woven with rope.

  ‘Have a restful night. You are safe here.’

  Jahani glanced at her sharply.

  But Nusrat merely smiled and shut the door behind her.

  Jahani sat on the charpai. There was so much to consider. Was Nusrat even now telling others that she was there, and that she looked like the murdered ghenish of Hahayul? She caught her breath at the thought of her mother being assassinated. It was difficult to take it all in when Ali Shah had told her the tale, as if he were talking about a stranger’s family. But hearing Nusrat speak of her mother tonight brought it nearer to her heart.

  There were so many people to mourn: her natural parents, others like Bapa Baqir and Zarah, Sameela and now Azhar. She let out a sob; she felt as though her heart was breaking.

  She stood to look out the tiny window at the top of the wall. All she could see was the night sky. She knew she should try to escape, but she was too depleted and full of sorrow to even try. If she had the carpet right now, she’d fly south to see if Azhar was buried. Then she’d fly north straight into Hahayul. No one would see her. She thought of Azhar saying the carpet looked like an eagle, for that’s all people expected to see in the sky. She should have been kinder to him. He had been loyal when he was young and when he protected her in Sherwan. Still, there had been something odd about him. He never looked like a guard, especially with that embroidered kamarband. And he had given her Shamsher.

  She returned to the charpai and thought of Yasmeen and the nomads. She had been happy with them; it was sad to lose that feeling of belonging to a tribe. Strange, she may not be a nomad by blood, but she still felt like one, travelling through so many different places but with no one place to call her own. She felt like Rumi’s reed; how it sang of separation after it was cut from the reed bed.