Prophecy of Thieves [chapter 7]

The first thing Amani did upon entering her temporary rooms was change.

Clothes had been provided in the wardrobes, their sizes almost exact to her own. Though that fact sparked many questions, she didn’t refuse the free change of clothes. While the dresses supplied by Madame Bastelle were comfortable—being loose and flowing as they were—they were a mark of her status. Of who she was.

There was no doubt her companions now knew her profession. Amani shouldn’t have cared—she had forgone defending herself long ago—yet as she slipped off the thin pink gown for the last time, shame warmed her skin. Trading the marks of her profession for tunics and trousers didn’t change who she was. What she had done. But it was a start, she told herself as she tied on leather boots that felt foreign upon her feet. A start away from that life of masks and secrets and towards a life of honesty. Maybe not for her—that life had long since passed for Amani—but for Shadya.

Her sister, much like Amani, relished in the new clothes that hid her thin form. While they were far too large on her figure, she flaunted before the vanity, proud of the quality brown trousers and creamy white tunic she tucked in tight. It was enough to make Amani smile and push aside any feelings of shame.

There were far more important things than caring about the opinions of others. Far more important things that came in the form of an eleven-year-old girl.

Satisfied with her display of vanity, Shadya buried into the plush bed, her eyes drooping with exhaustion. Amani hadn’t rested since the guards had dragged her into the palace. Following her example, Shadya had remained awake throughout the painful hours of waiting.

Despite her exhaustion, Shadya looked to Amani for assurance of their safety before allowing herself to settle fully. Amani nodded. The deal that had been made secured their current safety. Although, Amani had still checked the doors and windows for nearby guards to reaffirm it.

Reassured, Shadya’s eyes fell closed and she was asleep in an instant. Amani once again double checked each exit, before seating herself upon a deep plum-colored settee placed in the center of the chamber. She glanced over her sister’s rosy cheeks, her usual harsh expression already smoothed with sleep. Shadya had always had the gift of falling asleep wherever and whenever she desired. Amani smiled gently as a small snore issued from her petite nose.

Turning back to the plain oak door of the rooms, the events only an hour before replayed in Amani’s mind.

So easy. It had been so easy to get the king to embrace her sister’s presence, which only meant he was desperate enough for her to accept.

Amani knew Arlan was devout. Temples were scattered throughout Reindale and citizens visited them daily for guidance and appraisal from their gods. It didn’t come as a surprise that this supposed prophecy was placed with such importance, but she pondered the king’s gain beyond gratifying the clergy.

Pushing away thoughts of the king’s end goal, she considered the quest itself. She had heard rumors of the Tome of Secrets, or the Majmet Al’ahasar in her language. It was stashed in the palace of Bahajad and said to contain the knowledge of the universe. To take it from the royal family of Bahajad would have the thief declared an enemy to the crown. A fate far worse than that of any other crime.

But with the gold that was offered, Amani couldn’t say no. Even if it was a journey possibly more dangerous than her current life already was.

Danger or no, Amani couldn’t deny that she was relieved to be out of the brothel’s opulent walls. Relieved that her sister was far from Madame Bastelle’s clutches. And with the gold she would receive upon fulfilling the prophecy… She and Shadya would finally be free. She could pay off her debts to Madame Bastelle and move back to Bahajad. She could buy a house along the coast and hire guards to protect her and her sister from the long list of enemies she had accumulated. She could change her name—her identity. She could be safe for the first time in years.

It was everything she had ever hoped for. The answer to her whispered prayers.

However, nothing came freely. She would first have to survive the journey and return before the solstice.

Her mind flitted to the scarred man, Zain Abdullah. He had secrets she needed to discover. Dangerous secrets. She knew there was no coincidence in his presence at the brothel, but was it only coincidence that he, too, was declared blessed by the Arlanian clergy?

She would need to keep her eye on him until she deemed his presence safe. No, not safe. No one could ever be fully trusted in that aspect. Rather, until he wasn’t a true threat.

Other than Zain, Amani was vaguely familiar with her other companions. Ren, of course, being the most notorious thief in all of Arlan. While he struggled to keep his identity a secret, secrets were Amani’s specialty. The other girl, Rieka, Amani had also heard of in passing, though never seen. She was said to be one of the best underground fighters—or at least, Amani had assumed so when men complained about the money they lost in her name.

And the prince. Ambrose Averen. Amani had met him once before and had gained a secret. She knew he recognized her the minute she entered and his face had paled.

Amani had promised silence in regards to the secret she held, not even giving it to Madame Bastelle when the woman had ordered. She had been beaten for her failure, but she hadn’t regretted it.

The last companion, Kaimbe Summers, Amani only knew from rumors. They were vague whisperings that were rarely mentioned, but like most things, Amani remembered. He was said to be an orphan, dropped upon the king’s steps. Taken in as a bastard son, he was raised in the palace. It explained his guard uniform and surname. Bastards and orphans were always named after the season of their birth.

A light snore issued from Shadya’s nose, drawing a small smile from Amani. That smile fell as she thought of her sister accompanying her on the perilous journey.

Shadya was not weak. In fact, she was stronger than Amani in many ways. However, she was young and inexperienced. The thought of putting her in any kind of danger repulsed Amani, but leaving her to the mercy of the king was out of the question.

If anyone discovered what laid in Shadya’s blood, she would be enslaved and forced into unspeakable acts. Nothing Amani could do would free her from those chains.

Secrets. It always came down to secrets. Others or her own.

A knock at the door alerted her to a maid, and the slight woman padded inside, a silver tray bearing two meals in hand. She bowed once before setting it upon the smooth, wooden coffee table just before Amani.

As she made to leave, Amani said, “What is your name?”

The woman paused and glanced over her shoulder. She brushed her delicate hands upon her yellow-tinted apron, lining them carefully with her dull skirts. “Tyla, miss.”

“Thank you, Tyla.” Amani nodded to the food. “I wanted to ask something of you if that is okay?”

Relaxed by Amani’s kind words, the maid nodded, her small, rosebud lips easing their tension, erasing any lines about her cheeks.

“My sister’s presence was not expected. There are no clothes that fit her. I was wondering if you could receive some for me?”

Tyla nodded again, a small smile at her lips. “Of course, miss. It would be no trouble.”

“Thank you.” Amani placed a hand to her heart to show her gratitude. “Have you been a maid here long?” she asked before Tyla could hurry out.

Tyla paused once again, her hand flying nervously to the brown kerchief hiding her hair. “No, miss. Only a month.”

“My name is Amani.”

“Nice to meet you, Amani.”

“And you, Tyla. So, do you enjoy your work here?”

Tyla’s thin brows furrowed, her lips pursing. “It is an honor to work for the royal family.”

Amani arched a brow. “You can tell me the truth. As you can see, I am not Arlanian.” She thickened her accent slightly to emphasize.

Tyla looked over Amani’s face as though reaffirming her heritage. “It is… difficult work. And the pay is not good.”

“Work is hard to come by these days,” Amani commented off-handedly.

Tyla nodded furiously, her eyes widening. She took a seat across from Amani, leaning forward on her elbows. When she spoke, her voice was hushed. “I fear I won’t keep this position for long.”

Amani’s brows furrowed in concern. “Why is that?”

“The head maid is a very strict woman. She is quick to dismiss new maids she doesn’t approve of. And just yesterday, I accidentally spilled wine upon a rug in one of the guest rooms.”

Amani reached out a hand to comfort Tyla. The girl’s hand was dry and shriveled from overuse. “I’m sure it will be fine. It was your first mistake, no?”

Tyla nodded, her blonde brows reaching for her hairline.

“Then you must be careful from now on, and she will have no reason to dismiss you. Keep your head down for the time being so as to not draw attention.”

Tyla nodded again. “I will. Thank you.”

“Life is hard enough for us women, especially without friends.”

Tyla gave Amani a tentative smile. “I must hurry back. But I will get those clothes for your sister.”

“Thank you again. Take care of yourself, Tyla, and I hope we can speak again.”

Tyla gave Amani one last smile before sweeping out of the room.

Leaning back in the cushioned chair, the tightness in Amani’s chest eased, if only slightly. Because now she had an in. A friend with eyes around the palace.

…

The next day, Tyla again arrived with breakfast and a pile of fresh clothes. Shadya took them with thanks and went to change in the bathing room while Tyla and Amani chatted.

“I heard you are here because you are blessed by the gods. That you are a part of a prophecy.” Tyla’s eyes were wide with awe at the prospect.

Amani shrugged. “That is what the king claims. I am to leave tomorrow.”

Tyla’s brows rose to her hairline. “Tomorrow?!”

“There are others meant to accompany me. Have you heard of them?”

Tyla nodded. “The other maids didn’t know what to think of your presence here. We do not know much in regards to this prophecy. I’ve been tasked with serving you and the other girl.”

“Rieka.”

“She never told me her name.”

Amani nodded, and glanced around the room, eyes skimming over the unadorned, yellow walls and the gilded windows. She leaned closer to Tyla, meeting the girl’s blue eyes. “Do the maids gossip a lot?”

Tyla nodded furiously. “They gossip almost as much as the noblewomen. We see more than they do, as we are not often noticed around the palace.”

It was exactly what Amani wished to hear. “Have you heard other rumors? About the prophecy?”

Tyla pondered that. “I know Prince Ambrose is the focal point of the prophecy along with his friend, the guard. More clerics have been patrolling the halls than usual, recently. But… I haven’t seen much else until you came. The maids say you were all destined to save Arlan. To restore its strength.”

“That is what the king said.”

“Do you not believe it?”

Amani thought through her words carefully. “I believe in a different set of gods than those in Arlan. If it is Arlanian gods that proclaim my fate, I am hesitant to believe it.”

The door to the bathing chambers opened before Tyla could comment, and Shadya came prancing out, dressed in new clothes.

“Oh, they fit!” Tyla said, clapping her hands. “I was worried I had grabbed a size too large.”

Shadya smiled and thanked her, taking a seat beside Amani on the plush settee.

Amani turned back to Tyla. “Do you know anything about the others in the prophecy?”

Tyla shrugged. “The girl, Rieka, is very surly. She tried kicking down the door when she was first brought here.” Amani’s brows rose. She had known of the girl’s violent profession but hadn’t seen her as a threat. Perhaps that opinion should’ve been changed if what Tyla said was true. “I don’t know much about the others. Well, one of the maids is serving the Bahajadi man.” Amani’s interest piqued, and she suppressed the urge to lean forward. “She said he was scary, in a way. When she came in, he was very still and just stared. She said he looked like he was contemplating murder.” Tyla shook her head and chuckled. “Silly. I know.”

Amani laughed with her, waving away any threat, but her apprehensions were only further confirmed. She glanced sideways at Shadya, her look conveying her warning. Shadya nodded.

After a few more questions, Amani discovered Tyla didn’t know much regarding the prophecy, but the brief conversation was a relief from the boredom of being caged within her rooms. She soon left to return to her duties, claiming a celebration for the prince’s birthday had all the maids in a hurry. Amani wondered if the others knew of the prince’s birthday celebration. She could only guess at the girl, Rieka’s, reaction to being locked up while the prince feasted. It was their birthdays too, after all.

But Amani was glad for the peace. She and Shadya spent much of the rest of the day playing games in their room and talking. There wasn’t much to do besides that.

Shadya began to whine with boredom by noon. It wasn’t uncommon for her to be locked away for long periods of time, but she had never fully grown accustomed to it. As for Amani, she relished the boredom. It was rare for her to have such uninterrupted moments. The impending journey had no effect on her peace. She was quite used to dangers lined along her schedule, so taking those all away and replacing it with a single affair was like weights being lifted from her shoulders.

Despite their supposed importance to the clergy and king, they had no visitors besides Tyla. She had expected more rituals to bless them and their quest, but she wasn’t dismayed by the absence of the clergy. It felt wrong being blessed by gods that were not her own.

The next morning, Tyla came one last time to deliver their breakfast and see them off. Amani gave her a parting hug, thanking her for her help, and Tyla shed a tear, sad to lose a friend.

When Tyla left, at last, Amani knew she had a long-lasting friend within the palace walls should she ever need. The thought was more comforting than many she had had in the past few days.

A guard came to collect them when it grew time to leave. Rather than being led to the throne room, they were brought into an open garden settled between the palace and the palace walls. Stables bordered one of the walls, though there was no sign of workers within. The garden was merely a field of grass, hedges, and a stone path leading to a gate that opened into the city of Reindale. The prince was already waiting before the stables, his spine erect and his chin lifted. His eyes settled upon her face and he looked away instantly, pink tinging his cheeks.

He hadn’t known she was among the prophesized. That much was clear upon his reaction to her arrival. Had the king and clergy chosen to keep that information from him or had they found it too pointless to even mention? She supposed with her status, the king would have forgotten about the time a year ago when she had met the prince.

Six horses were already saddled and prepped, the saddle bags bulging with supplies. The king was nowhere in sight, but a cleric had presented himself, dressed in his white robes lined with gold. The elderly man straightened his small cap that labeled his status. He fidgeted nervously as the other companions approached, guards surrounding them.

Amani found the precaution pointless. They wouldn’t have guards to protect the prince when they left the palace grounds. And knowing the reputation of half the gathered party, the gold offered would divert any desire to harm Prince Ambrose.

When they stopped before the cleric and prince, Amani shot a glance at the other companions. Zain met her eye and she cocked a brow, scrutinizing his expression. He turned away before she could gain anything of importance.

“Today is the day the gods declared Arlan would be saved,” the cleric began in a mystic voice. Amani noted Rieka bristling. “Eighteen years ago, the gods spoke of a prophecy that would restore strength to our land.” He pulled out a small scroll of parchment and began to read.

“Six lives granted on the full moon of late summer,

six stories brought to Arlan to solve the great hunger.

On this day of darkness and blight,

with a prince, We have granted you this single light.

On the eighteenth year, journey beyond to fix what was broken.

Restore Arlan’s faith and good fortune.

We bless these six lives and proclaim them as saviors,

to upon the winter solstice, return Our stolen gifts and win Our favor.”

Rieka snorted at the prophecy, and when Amani glanced her way, she saw both the Styrkish girl and Ren were snickering. The cleric reddened, his eyes narrowing in anger.

“This is the word of the gods I speak,” he sputtered. “You disrespect it so?”

“Sorry, old man. But I’ve stopped believing in gods a long time ago,” Ren said.

His face turned from red to purple, and Amani stepped in to prevent any further havoc. “Pardon, sir. This is a dangerous journey ahead of us, and you must excuse any ill behavior. For the gods to present such a difficult task with heavy expectations, you must understand our anxiety. Please continue in your blessings.”

The cleric nodded at her appreciatively, and Amani didn’t fail to notice the disgusted glare Rieka sent her way. “Whore,” she muttered under her breath. Amani straightened her shoulders but kept silent.

The cleric stepped forward and repeated his ritual of wine upon their brow, muttering his scriptures. When he stooped to bestow the same blessing upon Shadya, Amani’s sister stiffened and took a step back.

Amani put her arm before her. “She is not declared in the prophecy.”

The cleric’s brows furrowed. “I have been informed. But for her to accompany you on your holy journey without a blessing is asking to provoke the gods. After much contemplation and prayer, the clergy has decided to bless her as such.”

Shadya’s thick, overgrown brows furrowed. “I do not believe in the Arlanian gods,” she commented, her voice hard. “Why should I be blessed by them?”

Amani tapped her sister’s foot with her own in warning, but Shadya’s eyes were set. “She will accept your blessings,” Amani said.

The cleric nodded, not noticing the glare Shadya sent her. Whether or not the clergy needed her for their prophecy, the contract she had signed had been strict. It would do her well to stay within the lines the clergy had drawn as to not provide any opportunity for them to rescind the money the king had offered. A dangerous game and one Amani had full intentions of winning.

The cleric drew a line of wine upon Shadya’s brow, and she scowled, glaring straight ahead as he recited his scriptures. When he finished the rituals, he stepped back and bowed to them—to the gods and their word.

The prince stepped forward, his expression pinched in anxiety though he tried to conceal it. “I have mapped out our course of action, and should you have any suggestions as to easier travel, they can be posed for consideration.”

“You aren’t planning on just taking lead without any of our input, are you?” Rieka blurted, her arms crossed over her chest. Though she was shorter than Amani, her shoulders were broad, muscle etched into her figure. She looked every part the warrior she was rumored to be.

Prince Ambrose’s cheeks flushed. “Of course all ideas will be considered, but—”

“I think we should each get a vote. I’m not risking my chance of gold by blindly following you.”

The prince stiffened at her mocking tone. “I suppose each person should get a say—”

“Should? You aren’t even Crown Prince. You can’t order us around like a king.”

Kaimbe’s hand darted to his sword, drawing Amani’s eyes to him. He looked as though he may engage in combat with the Styrkish girl if she spoke any further. Amani stepped forward. “Why don’t we listen to the prince’s plan before immediately going against it,” she said softly, though firmly.

“I don’t see why we should listen to you, either. Unless you want to teach us how to please a man,” Rieka spat.

Shadya stepped forward, rage bright in her dark eyes. If one looked close enough, they would notice their shade was a deep crimson.

Amani held her sister back. She was used to insults and had long since lost reaction to them. “It was you who said we all deserve a vote,” Amani pointed out.

Rieka’s pale eyes narrowed in a glare.

After a beat of tense silence, the prince cleared his throat and continued. “I propose,” he said delicately. “That we journey first to Styrka by horse. After recovering the Sword of Strength, we can book a ship across the open waters to land in Bahajad. The Tome of Secrets is said to be in the capital centered between the Yamut Desert and the Azim Steppes. We can then cross the Boala river and journey to the Forest of Spirits, where the Tree of Life grows.”

Silence met his generalized plan. He spoke as though he were reciting his list of tasks for the day. Simply stated as though the travel between borders was not risking their lives. Each environmental factor they were intended to battle was putting them in peril, not to mention any issues they encountered of the human variety.

Ren began to clap slowly, his eyes wide. “And there we have it, folks. The master plan.”

Prince Ambrose blushed down to the roots of his auburn hair. “It is only a vague outline of the path we will take. There will obviously be much more planning in regards to recovering the artifacts themselves.”

“We have a long journey ahead of us,” Zain spoke for the first time since arriving at the palace. His cool voice rolled with a slight Bahajadi accent. “What are we waiting for.”

He stalked to a tall, black stallion, mounting it with ease. Rieka shrugged and moved to pick a horse of her own. She stopped before the saddle, glancing back at the prince. “What about weapons?”

The prince paused, then cleared his throat. “The king has denied any weapons being removed from the armory.”

Rieka raised a pale brow. “He has one.” She nodded to Kaimbe, the bastard guard.

The Larabosi man stiffened. “That is because I earned it as a royal guard.”

“And have I not earned a weapon as gods-blessed?” she crooned, her Styrkish accent sharpening her words like a knife.

Zain didn’t speak up in agreement, and Amani glanced his way. He was perfectly at ease atop his steed, his hands loose upon the reins. Being a part of the prophecy, he was eighteen, just like the rest of them, but he looked older as he stared down his crooked nose. Perhaps it was the scar.

Regardless, with the violence no doubt written in his history, she found it odd for him to not demand a weapon. Unless, of course, there was one already on him. Amani filed the suspicion away.

“Should the need arise, we will buy weapons further on in our journey. As of now, Kai’s sword is enough,” the prince said firmly.

Rieka scoffed. “Fools, the lot of you. Of course, we will need weapons. You want to steal the Sword of Strength.”

“We are not stealing it,” Kai argued. “We are returning it to its rightful owner.”

“Bullshit.” Rieka pulled herself atop the white horse and flipped her braid over her shoulder.

The rest of them mounted their horses, though it took Amani, Shadya, and Ren several attempts. She and her sister hadn’t ridden horses in years, and with the leather saddle digging into her tailbone, she knew her muscles would be barking in pain before the day was through.

As they began to lead their horses from the stables and towards the open gate that surrounded the palace, Amani pulled her horse close to Shadya, tugging them towards the rear of the group. Despite her attempts at avoiding an unguarded back, Zain discreetly pulled his horse so it was situated near her. She shot him a glance, but he remained staring straight ahead.

Amani suddenly agreed with Rieka, feeling the absence of a weapon on her person. She would’ve had no clue as to how to wield it, but at least it would provide some sort of protection for her and Shadya. She supposed Shadya was protection enough though Amani hoped it never came to that.

When they made it through the gates of the palace, eyes followed them as they led their horses through the streets of Reindale. Despite the prince’s plain riding clothes, he was recognized instantly, and citizens called out to him in greeting. Some even bowed—not in reverence to a royal, but the gods. It was a religious dedication that tied them to him, not respect.

Some treated Amani and the others with the same blessings, but most only stared. If any recognized Amani as a common whore, they didn’t announce it.

The streets seemed to clear for them, and Amani suddenly wondered if the time of their departure was purposeful. Being several hours after dawn, the streets were packed with vendors and daily shoppers who tried to beat the noonday sun. Many called out, hoping to gain some of the prince’s considerable coin as he journeyed through.

The prince led them towards the outskirts of the city, avoiding the slums as was wise. The further they went from the palace, the fewer people stared, too busy going about their business. It was a relief to have their eyes away from her face. A ghost was not meant to be seen.

As they approached the bridge that led out of Reindale, Amani held her breath. She had entered the city over six years prior; thin, beaten, and afraid. With Shadya clinging to her arm, she had been terrified of what was to become of her.

Not once since then had she left the confining walls of the capital. Not once had she let herself imagine a day that she would.

The distance between her and the brothel was a physical thing—a thread pulled taut as her mare’s hooves clopped on the wooden platform of the bridge. No more revealing gowns. No more pretend touches and sultry words meant to con.

When her and Shadya’s horse stepped off the bridge and onto the long dirt road before them, Amani felt that thread snap.