The young man looked at his forearms. His arms, bare to the shoulders beneath a white sleeveless tunic, were neither rugged nor thick. But firm, fine muscles had developed, and his skin was tanned yet smooth. Two gold bracelets fitted snugly around his wrists. Beneath his clenched fists, the bones of his wrists stood out sharply, then disappeared.
The young man slowly opened his hands. They were well-seasoned palms. The places hardened by holding a sword, holding a spear, and holding reins were all different. Just as the fingers hardened by plucking a lute, wielding a brush, and holding a needle were all different. He knew why the many calluses on his hands had formed and how they were used. They seemed like his life itself.
The young man jumped down from the windowsill. He shut the window and drew the curtains. The garden disappeared. He liked the view of the garden from that spot. More precisely, he liked it because the divisions of the garden reminded him of the streets he had looked down on from the bell tower of an old cathedral in the country, long ago. Back then, those streets had been the greatest hope the young man possessed. He had dreamed of going there and becoming someone who tended horses. A stable boy, to be precise. Sarapot, a wealthy man in the city who owned ten magnificent horses, assigned a stable boy to each horse. Feeding and brushing the horses, and of course exercising them every day, were all the stable boys’ duties. That would give him opportunities to ride a horse in secret. Sarapot’s black horse, “Night Star,” had been given that name because of a white spot on its rump. The way it galloped with a thunderous sound resembled the black grasp of Adalnus, the god of vengeance. Because his mother repeated Adalnus’s name day and night, he was also the god most familiar to him.
The young man had never ridden Night Star. That future had vanished into a distant place. He did not know whether he would ever go there again. Most likely, he would not. There had been a time when the streets had looked so splendid, but now it was merely an ordinary provincial town with nothing worth seeing. Royalty did not go to places like that. There was not even a decent inn.
He crossed the room and opened the door, and his younger brother, who had been perched on the pedestal of a statue, brightened.
“Brother!”
The young man approached and slapped palms with his brother. His brother laughed. The young man said,
“If you got here first, why didn’t you come in?”
“No. When I looked at the door, I thought you’d be coming out soon.”
“You said you were studying with the sorcerers. Did you learn to see through things?”
“I wish. Well, if I knew how to do that, I wouldn’t be staring at your bedroom door.”
“Then what would you do?”
His brother chuckled. Mischief sparkled on his handsome face.
“Sorcerers won’t teach you the skills you actually need. If I could do something like that, even a boring banquet would be much more fun.”
The young man merely grinned. The two went down the corridor and out into a broad courtyard. The guards standing at the entrance quickly moved their spears aside. His brother walked ahead, then looked back with a mischievous smile.
“Even if you get the chance, don’t worry. Lady Thea will turn a blind eye.”
His brother quickly ran away, but the young man followed without enthusiasm and merely pretended to give his neck a light squeeze. Soon the two reached the stables. As they approached, the grooms came hurrying out in a fluster. An old groom, Habuni, bent at the waist.
“Prince Polytimos, Prince Pallasos, have you come?”
The name Polytimos still hung awkwardly on him like ill-fitting clothes. It was the name he had received at birth, but the young man had first heard it when he was nine years old. Until then, he had been Gene. It was a short, familiar name. When he was told he must no longer use it, he came to like it twice as much. His younger brother Pallasos knew that too.
“Bring my horse. My brother’s too.”
“Will you be going for a gallop? ‘Daylight’ and ‘Halfwit’ have eaten well and rested plenty. They’re full of energy.”
From behind him, a young groom came out leading two horses. Daylight was Gene’s horse, and Halfwit was Pallasos’s. Daylight shone white, as its name suggested, and Halfwit, contrary to its name, was a slender gray horse with nothing lacking. Pallasos always gave his possessions peculiar names, but when asked why, he only smiled.
“Shall we?”
The hills rising outside the palace’s north gate were where the brothers liked to ride. People often went there deliberately because they could see the two princes riding up and down the hills as though competing. There were young women, children, and old people. Though they were far away, when the two princes appeared, people sometimes applauded or waved handkerchiefs. The palace had let this scene, which had begun several years earlier, continue without stopping it. The more they loved the princes, the more they would come to love the king. Those who remembered the anxious days when not a single prince had been born liked the two princes all the more. Tall and outstanding, the two princes, aged twenty-one and seventeen, were like symbols of Epherium’s prosperity.
Everyone knew that the black horse, though its face could not be seen from a distance, was the elder brother Polytimos’s, and the gray horse was Pallasos’s. They also knew that the elder brother was always faster. They all said it was only natural, since he was four years older, but in quieter voices they whispered that the younger brother could not match the elder, that the younger was good too, but the elder was so exceptional that there was no helping it. Such things could not be said openly, because there was a great difference in the two princes’ births. Though Gene was the elder, his mother had been a lowly dancing girl, while Pallasos was the legitimate son born of the queen herself.
At first, they rode at an easy pace. The weather was fine. In this season, the wind coming down from the hills made not only riding but anything pleasant. Soon, when summer came, merely being pressed against a horse would make them hot. So before spring passed, there would be chariot races, outdoor plays, and festivals. When summer came, banquets would be held only at night. Since the previous year, Gene had been able to attend the adults’ banquets, where they stayed up through the night drinking wine sweetened with honey, but Pallasos could not yet.
“Brother, I heard you’ve decided to join the expedition against the Jandana?”
Pallasos asked when their horses slowed for a moment. When Gene nodded, Pallasos turned his horse a little ahead and looked back at his brother.
“Will you be all right? It’s your first battle, and you’re going somewhere so far away.”
“I’ll be twenty-two next month. Is there anywhere in this world I can’t go?”
“They’re supposed to be pretty fierce.”
“The Jandana have been friends of princes for generations.”
According to Epherium’s unwritten law, a prince who had come of age had to go to war at least once and render service. The stated reason was that a true king had to demonstrate ability not only on the throne but also in a field tent, but no king wished to send a prince who had only just reached adulthood to a dangerous battlefield. Joining a force sent to suppress a provincial rebellion was appropriate enough. Living on Epherium’s southern frontier, the Jandana caused trouble every few years, but after fighting the punitive forces a couple of times, they quieted down readily. That made them ideal opponents for princes experiencing their first battles.
“That’s true. Father once told us he fought the Jandana too. Though he didn’t say whether it was his first battle. Then will I do that too?”
“If, when you come of age, the Jandana happen to decide they want to expand their trading rights, or need new hunting grounds, or believe they were chosen by the heavens and born with the destiny to rule Epherium.”
Pallasos burst out laughing.
“Maybe they even get a message? A new prince has come of age. Come and give him a good thrashing so he can become a real man, something like that?”
“If the prince returns safely from battle, perhaps they send a few jars of gold in thanks.”
As their conversation took that turn, Pallasos’s expression lightened, as though his tension too had eased.
“Then go and give them a gentle pat. Don’t go charging around just because you’re fast.”
“If I charge around, I might make it all the way to Jandanizi.”
Jandanizi was a city in the forest known as the Jandana’s royal capital. Judging by the Jandana’s standard of living, it might have been closer to a village than a city. In any case, none of them had been there.
“What could there be worth using in a backwoods place like that?”
“They say there’s liquor that can take you to heaven with a single sip.”
“Wouldn’t that just be something like poppy juice?”
Pallasos stuck out his lower lip, and Gene chuckled.
“I’ll tell you when I get back.”
Gene suddenly picked up speed. Pallasos followed excitedly. They rode along a gentle ridge, then abruptly changed direction, leaped over a thicket, and entered a slope with rocks jutting out on all sides. Daylight ran without slowing, skillfully stepping only on places with footing. Gene preferred adventurous routes like this to riding on level ground. At such times, Gene, pressed close to the horse’s back, and Daylight, like a white arrow, seemed to be one body rather than rider and horse. They were like this even on difficult paths, and when they raced over flat ground, they were terrifyingly fast.
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