Mara and Morok

7

Yarat has sprawled.

It is my first thought when we climb the hill and the city stretches out before us. Yarat sits on a plain on the north-west of Araken. But the city is growing and I catch myself thinking that in a few decades it will probably swallow the gulf port too. The heavy clouds are blocking sunrays and the city seems gloomy. High spires of temples and the gilded roof of the royal palace look duller. We are still far away and all the houses are tiny, like children’s toys, with the palace standing out against them. It has several storeys and it’s longer than it is wide. However, it takes up a huge area and the adjacent square looks enormous even from where we are standing.

I am used to the life of an isolated temple, so I’ve never liked big cities, let alone capitals. I’ve only been to the capital of Serat once. But even then, I didn’t have time for sightseeing, I dashed through the city and the only thing I had time to take note of was a somber palace faced in grey marble. I’ve visited Yarat a few times, and it leaves me unimpressed. But I’m sure this trip will be especially unpleasant.

I turn my gaze to the Quiet Gulf in the distance. Its waters are always calm thanks to the three islands in the bay that break any ocean waves.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Daniel trots up to me on his steed. Morok falls back, but only by a few feet.

They still don’t trust me. And they are right, of course. Moreover, I prefer Morok’s silent company to that of Captain Dariy, who snaps at me every few minutes or so because I am not being respectful enough towards His Highness.

“What? Yarat?”

“Exactly.”

I breathe in the cool, salty air and wrap myself tighter in my cloak.

“Just a city.” I say drily and turn to leave. When I pass Morok I swear I can hear him snort. I look up at him in surprise but his face is as unreadable as ever.

“I seem to have wound up raising the most impertinent of Maras from her grave,” Daniel says loudly with a wide grin.

When we finally enter the city, the sun is already setting and the sky is growing darker by the minute. We move unhurriedly through the streets of the capital, and I’m trying not to swivel around in my saddle too much, though I’m curious to see how much people and their lives have changed.

Many years back, when I was still alive, the houses were all made of wood; now the capital is full of stone buildings, two, three and sometimes even four storeys high. The facades are decorated: the poorer houses have folk-art carvings framing their windows (the legacy of traditional, wooden nalichniki), the more affluent houses however, are more ornate and plastered with stucco. Before, only the main roads were paved, but now I see stone everywhere, so people can get around the city pretty easily even after rain.

Merchants are covering their stalls and closing the shops, which signifies the end of the working day. Other citizens are heading home too, but as soon as they notice Morok, they speed up or just choose a different road to steer clear of the Shadow’s servant. I keep turning my head, trying to get a better look at all the devices people have come up with to prolong evening life in the city. Men are lighting candles inside big lamps in the main square and wide streets and putting burning torches into special sconces made of metal. The light allows the citizens to see the road and the outlines of most buildings and the horses can walk without stumbling.

The square in front of the palace is paved with big stone slabs, which makes it easier to ride on. The air is filled with the clatter of our horses’ hooves. The palace is a bit long but it’s completely symmetrical. It’s painted in white and sand and is richly decorated with gold, columns, and stucco. The palace is mostly three-storeys’ high, but the central and two parts on the sides are even taller. And if my memory serves me well, there should be beautiful gardens at the other end of it.

I take in the façade as we ascend a wide staircase leading to the grand entrance. The palace has changed, too. It has more extensions now and more ornaments. In my time, there was almost no gold on the exterior. The walls are now adorned with the silhouettes of firebirds, Araken’s coat of arms. You can see the golden image of this mythical creature against a crimson background on each flag in the city. But all this splendor does nothing for me. I was never susceptible to luxury and now even the mention of a royal family makes me nauseous.

“Are you going to drag me to the king in chains, Your Highness?” I ask Daniel poisonously.

We are almost at the entrance and I’m still in manacles. They put them back on when we were approaching the city and explained it away by saying it was just a way to reassure the citizens.

“It’s not every day that they can see a Mara, raised from the dead and walking the streets. Some still believe you are the stuff of myths and legends.” The prince had shrugged guiltily as the guards snapped the manacles back in place.

“You don’t say. I thought raising people from the dead was Your Royal Highness’s favorite hobby,” I’d grunted back.

“If they were all at least half as beautiful as you are, I would definitely think of taking it up,” he’d grinned, defeating me again in this word-fencing game.

This time at least they only handcuffed me, sparing my feet. But it was enough to remind me that I was no more than a puppet in their game. Daniel is the puppeteer and the others are my guards. I should never forget that.

So, I thrust my handcuffed hands under his nose again. I wonder if he’s really going to throw me to his father’s feet, chained and humiliated, like a trophy.

Daniel looks me up and down and turns to Morok.

“Do you think we should expect any surprises from our dear Agatha?”

“I don’t think so. But I would have a guard at her side at all times while she’s in the palace. Someone you can trust.”

“Right…” The prince is contemplating the suggestion and I’m shivering in the chilly air, looking from one man to the other. Whatever they decide, I wish they would do it soon. “Thank you, Morok, you may go.”

Morok nods, turns around noiselessly and goes back down the stairs. He takes the bridles of my white steed and his own black mount and leads them away, to the stables, I suppose. It dawns on me that he’s not going into the palace with us. That realization makes me anxious. Morok is scary but I’ve gotten used to having him around. He’s the only one among all my guards who has similar powers to mine and does not belong to this world. And now I’m completely alone, again.

The moment I step over the threshold, through the enormous wooden gates, a wave of old unwelcome memories washes over me. I can see the richly decorated halls of another palace and other heavy gates that became the last obstacle between me and my revenge. The obstacle I couldn’t overcome. Fear and fury rise up in me and are about to take over but I make myself breathe in, breathe out, and return to the present.

Immediately past the entrance, we find ourselves in a gigantic hall. The doors on the left are locked but there is a suite of rooms stretching before us on the right. I can also see another marble staircase covered with red-velvet carpet, leading to the second floor. The walls are painted in gold and crimson with little silver elements here and there. The columns are adorned with grapevines, also made of gold. And when I look up, I see the ceiling decorated with stucco and massive, gilded chandeliers that seem to be pressing down on you, even though they are many feet above your head. Everything looks too expensive and oversized.

The prince interrupts my thoughts. “You’re right, Agatha, it would be wrong to drag you to my father in chains. Come along.”

I follow him upstairs. On the second floor, the prince turns right into a long corridor. It’s darker here as there are no windows, but there are enough candles mounted on the walls to be able to get around. We walk the whole length of the hall and stop in front of a carved, wooden door which is no different from the other five we’ve just passed.

“This will be your room.”

I don’t have time to answer as he flings the door open and I find myself squinting, expecting it to look like a prison cell, apart from the gold on the walls. But to my surprise, when I peek in, all I can see is a simple room in deep green shades. There are just a few gold touches, but that much I can take.

“No red?” I arch an eyebrow and turn to Daniel.

“Sorry, Agatha,” he smirks, “we didn’t have time to create a room especially for you, but you will find plenty of red in your wardrobe. I will send you maids; they will help you wash and change. I will be back in an hour.”

He takes off the manacles, somewhat reluctantly, and nods.

“But please don’t go telling the servants you’re dead, you’ll just scare them off.”

“I don’t believe I’m able to unscrew my head and stuff it under my arm.” I roll my eyes remembering the rumors he’d shared with me about Maras.

Uncharacteristically, the Prince doesn’t smile, just shoots me a searching look, turns on his heels and leaves. Now I can look around properly. The room is not big, but there are two large windows opposite the door. They reach almost to the floor, so the room must be bathed in sunlight during the day. In the middle of the room stands a massive four-poster bed. Next to the bed is a dressing-table, and a little further, a wardrobe. A huge, crystal chandelier hangs from the ceiling and I am careful not to walk right under it as I’m afraid it will crash down and pin me to the floor. I walk up to the wardrobe and the doors creak open with a sense of foreboding. I’m right, of course, Daniel did go wild. I browse through brand new cloaks, gowns, trousers and shirts, all in scarlet, black or white. I shut the doors and make a mental note to tell Daniel that a Mara can wear other colors too.

As promised, Daniel sends me two lovely girls, Inna and Marina, who help me take a bath and make me look presentable. I’m not used to being waited on, so I try to refuse their help. They just smile respectfully and help me anyway, ignoring my feeble attempts to do everything myself. I suspect they haven’t been told who I am as they do not ask questions or cringe when they touch me. They actually are a lot of help, but I manage to at least talk them into letting me take the bath on my own.

“M’lady, there’s a strange spot on your back. Would you like me to call a healer?” Marina asks me while she’s helping me with the corset.

Inna comes nearer too and examines my back.

“Maybe you would like to put on another dress?” she suggests.

Marina answers before I can say anything. “No, His Highness wanted this particular dress.”

“So, it was His Highness who ordered you to clad me in this revealing dress with open shoulders?” I turn to them indignantly.

My maids lower their eyes.

To be honest, the dress is gorgeous. The color is more crimson than scarlet. The hem of the skirt and the sleeves are embroidered with real gold thread and delicate lace and the corset is embellished with pearls and rubies. I don’t remember ever wearing anything as beautiful, or as revealing, for that matter. The cleavage is at least a few inches too low for my liking and my shoulders are completely bare, which makes me want to cover myself with my hands. I look like an expensive doll and the fact that Daniel ordered me to wear this dress feels humiliating. The anger is bubbling up inside of me again but something touches the skin on my back and I start.

“I am sorry, my lady,” it was Inna, “but that spot…”

“What about it?”

I turn my back to the mirror and crane my neck to see what is so strange. What I see is a dark, almost black, spot on my shoulder blade that looks like the palm of a hand. Shadow’s touch. A sign that marks my connection with Morok. It’s the spot where he touched me when he was reviving me. The thought sends a shiver down my spine but I turn back to the maids and try to look reassuring.

“Oh that. It’s just a birthmark, that’s all. I can cover it with my hair. Could you help me brush it back?” I ask sweetly.

The girls look at me with a hint of suspicion in their eyes but they do not dare to pry further. They brush my hair so that it falls down my back in a waterfall, though a smaller and lighter waterfall than it used to be. They also line my eyes with stibnite, powder my face and paint my lips. There are so many jars, flasks and tiny bottles on the dressing-table that I’m afraid to even touch them, having no idea about their contents or purpose. But the girls seem more competent, they swiftly pick up this jar or that bottle and apply colors that match my dress. In the end, when I open my eyes and see my reflection, it’s not an unpleasant sight.

“You are breathtaking, m’lady,” Marina says with a shy smile.

“Thanks to you.”

“I meant m’lady is breathtakingly beautiful even without the dress or the makeup. I am sure His Highness will appreciate your beauty.”

“His Highness can shove…” I glimpse a startled look on my maids’ faces and check myself. I put on my best smile and force myself say: “I hope he will be satisfied.”

The prince seems to be into collecting beautiful things. And he must be considering me a new object in his collection.

As soon as the thought forms in my head, the door to my room flies open. It is not the prince who strides in though, it is four guards.

“Excuse us, my lady. We have been sent to accompany you to the Great Hall.”

Four fully armed men, and I am not even allowed hairpins, let alone weapons. Maybe Daniel fears I might kill someone with the hair comb he gave me.

In an act of desperation, I actually cast a quick glance at the dressing-table, but my hair comb is not there.

“Lead the way.” I sigh, standing up and hitching up the hem of my dress. Two guards are walking in front of me and two more are bringing up the rear.

It takes us at least five minutes to get to the Great Hall, though it is situated on the same floor. We weave through corridors and passages, in and out of halls till I completely lose my bearings. But the guards finally stop in front of heavy doors and throw them open. I straighten up and fold my hands somewhere in front of my belly, the way women do at court. I enter the hall, the clicking sound of my heels against the polished floor loud in my ears. Apart from that, it’s almost silent, there are only a few people speaking in hushed voice somewhere in the distance. I was expecting to find a crowd gaping at a living Mara, but the hall is almost empty.

I take a look around and see that the hall is indeed enormous and spacious, I guess it is where all royal balls and events are normally held. The walls are flickering with gold, a line of sculptures stretching along each of them. The ceiling is covered in frescos, which I can see even at this dark time of the evening due to hundreds of candles lighting the room. There are a lot of windows, too, and by day the hall must be dazzling, with all the gold reflecting the sunlight. But now the windows are dark and I can’t even guess what is beyond them.

I spot a table to the right, laden with dishes for the evening meal. On the left, there’s a throne, elevated on a platform and towering over the hall. In the throne sits the current King of Araken, Dmitry Rakhmanov. One glance at the king is enough to see that the demanding task of ruling the country has taken its toll on his health and hasn’t left him many years to walk the earth. His hair must have been the color of gold before, but now it is almost completely silver, and his thinning beard and mustache too are peppered with grey. I can spot a few bald patches on his head despite the servants’ best efforts to hide them by brushing the hair to one side. He must have lost a lot of weight, too, because his red and gold caftan is too baggy, making the king look even older. His hazel eyes are clouded and his whole body speaks of his fatigue. He’s resting his head on a hand, propped on the armrest. Next to the king’s throne, there are three smaller ones, probably for his heirs. One of them is occupied by a pretty, young woman in a powder-pink gown. Her golden hair falls in a thick braid down her left shoulder and loose locks frame her face, making it even more charming. Behind the throne, I can make out Daniel, absorbed in conversation with a dark-haired man. The prince is wearing a spotless crimson doublet, he has clearly had a bit of time in which to clean himself up too. The dark-haired man is dressed in a simple, black caftan. Though they are of more or less the same height, in every other sense they look like complete opposites.