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Ramsis, Elishiba's father, was just as restless and uneasy about the visitors, but his worry manifested itself in different ways. Later that evening he paced behind Elishiba while she sat before her looking glass. Elishiba watched him while Elra prepared her for the banquet, applying kohl around Elishiba's indigo eyes.
"I have spoken with Sibias,” Ramsis told her. “He is the older man of the two advisors, and he is close to Hanrah and his mother, Mehmet. I feel it is to Mehmet that he owes most loyalty, however, for he has been with her for many years."
Elishiba frowned, she did not like the stories she had heard of Mehmet. She was a notorious empress who had ruled harshly beside her warmonger of a husband. “Is this Sibias as power hungry as his mistress?"
Ramsis paused, and laid a comforting hand over his daughter's shoulder. His eyes showed the doubt that echoed in his soul. The atmosphere of change was devastating to him—he felt weak, manipulated by an inevitable situation. He no more wanted his daughter to leave his side than she did. He squeezed her shoulder. “No, Sibias seems fair. So too is the other man, the one they call Amshazar."
Elishiba looked at her own reflection as she considered her father's words. Elra was painting her lips with precious dark red pigment from a tiny inlaid box. It offset the rich purple satin of the long tunic she wore; the opulent colors were like bright jewels against the ebony of her hair.
She had heard many strange stories of this man, Amshazar, whom some also called “The Nomad.” Officially, he came with Sibias to lead her and talk to her about her future role as Empress of Karseedia. Rumor had it that Amshazar was not Karseedian. He was said to be from a distant land and had strange powers, that he could read minds and win the trust of anyone through his sorcery. Somewhat reluctantly—for she was made curious—she reserved judgment until she met him, and reminded herself that whatever he was, he was, above all, annexed to her enemies.
"That is not all they say about him, Father, we must be cautious.” She leaned her head to one side, her heavy hair falling back as Elra hooked ornate lapis lazuli gems through her ears.
Ramsis glanced at her reflection in the mirror, his hand on his chest, where his breathing was labored. “Do not fear, my child, I will do my best to make sure that no harm comes to you. I have pleaded with the gods. I have asked for their intervention. They will send us a sign and grant us assistance."
He fell silent then, as if he wished to say no more, or feared that he had already said too much.
Elishiba caught the subtle inplication in his words, but did not press him on it. Her father's faith in the gods was fierce, unwavering. She prayed for the very same herself, even though she did not feel as sure as he was on the matter of the gods’ intervention. Who or what would they send, if they deemed the Aleemite plea just? She wanted no war, nor did her father. They wanted cooperation, peace in this time of unrest. They wanted protection for their people. What manner of assistance would enable them to achieve this?
Her father looked wistful and then he smiled, and she knew they shared the same curious thoughts in that moment. His long graying hair fell about his noble head in waves, as if its strands were gentle thoughts emerging from his mind.
She smiled back and turned to him after Elra finished settling the collar of gems around her neck. “Come, let us go to the banquet and I shall judge these two envoys for myself."
She rose to take her father's arm. Together, they walked through the palace, and across the central courtyards and elegant gardens toward the banqueting hall. A trail of servants walked alongside them, carrying long torches to light their path. The night was warm, the air palpitating with the scent of the jasmine that trailed over the walls of the court; the sky looked mellow and almost plush with hazy moonlight.
Despite the heavy weight on her shoulders, Elishiba entered the banqueting hall with a sense of anticipation. She was keen to meet the guests. It was an important occasion and extensive efforts had been put into the evening's entertainment for them and their visitors.
The banqueting hall was the largest room in the palace, gaunt and majestic. Its ancient walls were hung with heavy embroideries from around their province. Each depicted images of life in the region, from as far as the mountains that surrounded Aleem. As Elishiba and her father walked the length of the great hall, she glanced, as she always did, from image to image. She felt as if she were traveling amongst the villagers who had taken the time to depict their lives in woven threads for Ramsis and Tala's wedding. Her mother, Tala Ekana, had died when Elishiba was young, but she had chosen the arrangement of the tapestries and Elishiba always felt she knew her mother better through them.
Chimes heralded their entrance. The warrior guarding the door alerted the inner guests to their host's presence and Helena, her father's musician, stilled her fingers against her stringed harp and rose from her cushioned stool. She bowed her head as Ramsis and Elishiba passed her by. Ramsis looked fondly at Helena, his concubine, as he passed.
Elishiba also exchanged smiles with the woman, with whom she fared well. Often she would allay her deepest fears for her people by reminding herself of Helena's young son, Tariq, her half-brother. If good fortune did not choose to reward Elishiba and her father, Tariq would become emperor, and as he grew, he would surely fight for the people of Aleem in their place.
As they approached their places at the long, low table at the head of the room, Elishiba noticed an older man there, a stranger.
He was standing, awaiting their arrival. Her father whispered that this was the Karseedian they called Sibias. He wore loose trousers with a belted shirt, a big man, heavily set, with silvering hair and a ringleted beard streaked with white.
"I am honored to meet you. The Daughter of Ramsis is as beautiful as we have heard.” He bowed his head low before her when introduced, as custom demanded, but his words held a false note that she didn't overlook.
Sibias watched her through narrowed eyes as she merely nodded in response to his greeting, and moved on past him to take her place at the table. She had no intention of trusting this man, despite her father's more positive attitude toward him, and her instincts were not without good cause.
She nestled into the large, silk-bound cushions beside her father's place, at the center of the long and low feasting table. Despite her steely determination to make the plan work, rebellion had a grip on her at that moment. Whilst Ramsis spoke quietly with Sibias, she listened instead to the musician, watching Helena's delicate movements appreciatively, and nibbled on savories—roasted ostrich and goose, braised meats bound in tender pastry nests. The flavors enticed her taste buds, each in turn. She lingered, before indulging herself on each morsel.
The conversation between Sibias and Ramsis occasionally reached her. They spoke of the trade routes, how they might be expanded and made strong through the union of their lands. Their
conversation was staged and polite and she felt little interest in it. Instead, she tried to focus her mind, sure in her heart that somehow this dreadful union could be averted.
As her gaze wandered, she saw Xerxes across the room, seated with several of his men. A dark maiden in scarlet robes sat by his side and Elishiba looked at her with curiosity. This had to be his woman, and she was a beauty. The woman looked proud to be by his side. And why wouldn't she be? Elishiba mused, sadly. Whilst she found that a certain sense of regret invaded her, she was also pleased to see he had honored her request to bring his woman to the event. When he caught her eye, she acknowledged him with an approving smile and a nod of her head.
The court poet recited three new works. Ramsis had risen and moved amongst his guests in the background, chatting to the families of the officers of The Immortals, and court officials, scattered at tables, greeting them. Elishiba watched him fondly.
When two flute players joined Helena, the dancers took the floor to move in brightly colored weaves of movement, following where the music led them. Elishiba allowed the sensual pleasures of the occasion to relax her, supping on the plum-colored wines, breathing the aromas of perfumed sweetmeats before tasting them.
It was with surprise, then, that she felt a dramatic shift in the room's atmosphere, as if a powerful vapor passed through her mind and captured her attention, as if it had entered her body and touched her very soul. Her skin was suddenly alert; her senses no longer relaxed, but keen and focused. That is how she became aware of the sudden presence of the other man at the table: Amshazar. She had neither seen him arrive, nor had she seen him take his place to her left, on the other side of Sibias.
He was just suddenly there.
This must be the man they call The Nomad, she thought to herself, for she had known it was Amshazar before she had even turned to look at him. His presence in the room had altered it completely.
