Probably Lord Krarim. Sending a message via proxy, so he could deny any involvement in the message, was something Lord Krarim was likely as not to do. But there was no way to prove it. “Maybe I’ll find out when I read it,” Nalini said.
Emilio nodded. “Also, I was thinking-”
“Ouch,” she interjected, grinning. “Don’t hurt yourself.”
Emilio saw the humour in that and chuckled. “Yes, quite,” he said, dryly. “But, anyway… Would you like to go for a walk in the gardens later? Some fresh air cannot hurt.”
Nalini inhaled deeply, closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. Just as she had begun to think that her husband had some wits under his messy mop of caramel-blond hair, he had proven himself a fool once again. “Emilio,” she said, with as much patience as she could muster. “I barely have a moment to sit and eat with our son. Do you really think I have time to go for a walk?”
“Well… if you don’t have time for a walk, can we sup together? You have been at this desk day and night recently; and that doesn’t include the months you spent, quite rightly, by your father’s bedside. We have not spent any time together for longer than I can remember, and… I would quite like to have an evening with you.”
How lovely. “We’ll see,” she said. “For the moment, though, I need to get back to work. Thank you for bringing me this letter.”
Emilio chewed on his cheek and looked away. It was something he did when he was hurt. “All right,” he said. “I am here for you if you need me.”
And with that, he left Nalini’s work chamber, closing the door behind him. Nalini shook her head. Couldn’t Emilio have just gone after handing her the letter? He would’ve shown himself useful and intelligent then, and she wouldn’t have had to reject him or send him away either. Why did he always have to linger too long and undermine himself?
Nalini broke the blank, green seal and unwound the scroll. “His Majesty,” she read, “has written a decree that will significantly increase taxation for heretics and heathens within the Kingdom, with punishments to include loss of property, confiscation of merchant goods, banishment, and even death in major instances.”
Nalini’s blood heated. She pursed her lips and scrunched up the letter in her fist. What was Razilan thinking? Did he want the shortest reign in the history of Al-Jaraba? Because he was going about it in the right way if he did. The Kingdom existed in a delicate balance and a law like this would antagonise the many non-Rakimists sects and other non-Believers into rebelling against Sultan Razilan as their father had done to Sultan Jashan the Fanatic, and it would deter merchants from all over the world.
Nalini marched out of her work chamber and walked down the corridors to speak with her brother. She passed windows with curtains as green as grass, to symbolise agricultural prosperity amidst the desert. Nalini noted that the curtains had a frown that matched her mood. She had never noticed the shape of the drapes before. Now, it seemed, the fabric of the curtains was as concerned for the fabric of the Kingdom as she was.
“I demand to speak with His Majesty!” Pallab shouted at Egemen and Peder, the two guards on duty, blocking the doors to the Council Hall. “My brother will never consent to this decree!”
“His Majesty has just returned from the port,” Egemen said, contemptuously. “He is busy at present.”
“I don’t give a rat’s arse where he’s been or what he’s doing! His Majesty should bear in mind that he would rather deal with me before word reaches Lord Nahmet. And the sooner he sees me the better!”
Nalini frowned as she approached the Council Hall. Razilan and Pallab had had a frosty relationship since Razilan had undertaken a strict adherence to the Rakimist sect of Abyar. Since then, Razilan had treated Pallab with disdain and Olella with disrespect for being heretics of the Gautamist sect, neither of which Pallab had not accepted.
Now, though, Sultan Razilan had sunk their relationship to new depths and was undoing their father’s work in the process. As Gautamists, Pallab and the rest of House Bazak would be penalised under Razilan’s new decree. “I wish to speak with His Majesty,” Nalini told the guards. She then turned to Pallab. “With your approval,” she said. “I will do what I can to arrange a time for you to speak with His Majesty. Then, you can raise your concerns with him.”
Pallab hissed out a lungful of air. “Please do, Princess Nalini,” he said, his anger in no way receding. “I have much to say to His Majesty.”
Subsequently, he stepped back to allow the guards to open the doors. Nalini then walked past them and entered the Council Hall. Sultan Razilan sat at the long, rectangular Council Table, stroking his short, wiry beard with thought as he read some papers.
That was until he realised that Nalini stood on the other side of the table. “Ah, Sister,” he said, jovially. “In case you were wondering what I was doing at the port, I had heard rumours that the marketplace has been demoralised since Father’s death. So, I went to raise the people’s spirits. Apparently, there is nothing like a visit from His Majesty to give people cheer. Don’t ask me why.”
Indeed. When the decree was executed into law, those same people were likely as not throw rotten fruit or stones at him. “No doubt you went to visit the people before they learned of your new decree,” she said, folding her arms to emphasise her displeasure. “Do you really think the same people who did not support Sultan Jashan’s madness are going to back yours?”
“Don’t be silly, Nalini. I am merely implementing Abyar’s laws, as they should be implemented, in their purest forms. Which Believer could argue with that? Besides, we need an increase in tax to help fund the war.”
“War with our neighbours or war with our fellow Al-Jarabans?”
Razilan shivered as if a wintry wind had blown through the hall, despite the summer heat. “I intend to declare a holy war,” he said. “This Kingdom should have been preparing for war the day the Zufans seized Zenith. Now, we are forbidden from visiting, from taking a pilgrimage to Abyar’s most sacred city. It is time we forced the heretics out and restored Zenith to the glory of old.”
Nalini’s muscles twitched. A thousand thoughts swirled round her mind like a whirlpool, and it began to pound. Somehow, she had to convince her brother not to go ahead with this fanatical idea. “You are risking the wrath of Lord Nahmet,” she said. “He will most probably rise up as Father did to-”
“Lord Nahmet will be fighting skirmishes against the Al-Yutams for a while to come,” Razilan interrupted. “I’ll make sure of it. Trust me, Lord Nahmet has no interest in being under Al-Yutamite control, even if they are heretics like him. Whatever increase in taxes I decree, it is nothing compared to the religious dogma he would be subjected to under Sultan Raham.”
Nalini pursed her lips. She had to come up with another idea, one that would make Razilan think again. “How will you logistically reach Zenith?” she asked. “The city is a five hundred leagues east of Date-Palm and with few places to replenish food and water.”
Razilan shivered again. “It will be hard, but Zenith has been taken before,” he said. “If Abyar desires for us to retake the holy city, He will enable us to find a way. Of that I am confident.”