The Queen's Blade (Book 1)

Chapter 2

The news of Shamsara’s arrival in the Queen’s city provoked great excitement, and vast crowds flocked to see him. The capital city of Jondar, far from the border and therefore spared the savagery of war, prospered in a broad vale patch-worked with farmers’ fields. The Queen’s most ardent supporters and greatest dissenters populated the bustling metropolis in a cauldron of political intrigue that sheltered within its tall grey walls. All were united in their reverence for the Idol of the Beasts, however, a living emissary of the great god Tinsharon and harbinger of the Age of Beasts. He alone could bond with any animal and resembled none. His birth seven centuries ago had signalled the end of the Age of Trees and ushered in a new aeon.

The Idol of the Beasts rode a mighty grey stallion without rein or spur, a wolf trotting at his heels, a hawk perched upon his shoulder. His garb, made up of many skins and feathers, hid a number of smaller friends, some of which peered out at the sea of humanity. The crowd threw flowers in his path and chanted his name. Mothers held their children up for his blessing. The Idol of the Beasts rode with dignified calm, occasionally raising a hand in a vague gesture of acknowledgment.

Arriving at the palace steps, he dismounted and walked within, a bevy of advisors, who bowed and vied for his attention, surrounding him. Shamsara followed a royal attendant, who led him through the immense audience hall and into the Queen’s private chambers. The doors closed in the advisors’ faces, and the Idol of the Beasts entered a room hung with silks and tapestries. Rich carpets woven from the wool of rare antelope and piles of embroidered cushions covered the floor. Jade and crystal ornaments graced carved tables. Huge diamond-paned doors opened into park-like gardens, and pale blue curtains billowed in the breeze with a whisper of silk. The fragrance of puffwood and smoke tree blossoms rode upon it, along with the city’s distant sounds. He met the unblinking gaze of a sand cat, which lolled on a pile of cushions. The wolf at his side sat down, and the hawk ruffled its feathers.

Shamsara smiled at the cat and allowed his gaze to wander on, lingering on a pool filled with flowering water lilies. Here was tranquillity and happiness, a sense of serenity he found most pleasing. The sand cat stretched and purred as a slender, petite woman brushed aside a silk hanging and strolled in. Ink-black hair framed a fine-featured face with slanted, long-lashed blue eyes. Her creamy skin seemed to glow in the soft light, and her lips curved in a slight smile. Her graceful movements and air of contentment confirmed her cat kindred, and he would have known it even without the over-large familiar.

“Shamsara.”

He inclined his head. “Minna-Satu.”

“Welcome. Sit, if you will.” She sank onto a pile of cushions, arranging her skirts about her in a fall of turquoise silk. Gold gleamed at her neck and wrists, surprisingly little adornment for a queen. As he sat down, a handmaiden brought a tray upon which rested an assortment of goblets. He chose water, and the Queen selected a pale wine. As soon as the maiden left, the Queen set aside her cup and folded her hands.

“I am glad you spared me the journey to your home, Shamsara.”

He shrugged. “It is not as fine as yours.”

“I would like to see it one day.”

“Curiosity killed the cat.”

She laughed; a husky, gilded tone. “Not this one.”

The wolf lay down with a sigh, resting his muzzle on his paws. Shamsara sipped his water, savouring it as a connoisseur might before setting it aside. A brown field mouse crept from his sleeve to sample it before retreating into its sanctuary again. The Queen started as a slender yellow viper slid from his hair and coiled around his neck. Its presence would startle most, for it was the deadliest snake in the world, and cat people disliked them, he knew. Shamsara smiled, his ageless countenance wrinkling along well-used lines, for he smiled often.