Azariyah
A World Whisperer NOVELLa

Chapter 1

Queen Azariyah woke slowly, with a foul taste in her mouth and a sharp pain in her head. She had trouble opening her eyes. When she reached up to touch her aching head, she found that her eyelids were swollen and crusted shut. Her tongue felt thick, and her mouth was as dry as a desert. What under Nenyi's skies? Was she sick? 

She turned over carefully, stifling a groan. Then she froze. This was not her bed at the palace. These were not her soft sheets, her pillows. She patted her surroundings with one hand. She was lying on some kind of thin mat. Under the mat were little humps and divots that were unmistakably sand. Azariyah's breath left her in a rush.

She could hear men speaking in muffled tones somewhere nearby. Their rolling voices were unfamiliar, accents that were distinctly different from that of her people. From the murmuring, she recognized occasional words. She thought the men were from this side of the sea, not the continent across the sea, where the people spoke a dialect that was harder to understand.

But Azariyah knew that last night when she went to bed, no one near her had spoken with such an accent. She was not in her city. She was somewhere lying on a mat on the sand, in a place she should not be, and she still could not open her eyes. 

Azariyah's heart began to pound in a panicked rhythm. For a moment, she couldn't breathe, and she thought she would choke on fear, but she balled her hands into fists and forced herself to calm down. She bit her tongue hard, and suddenly her breath came back. Azariyah gained control over the blazing fear, but her thoughts were still coming slowly, too slowly. What was this pain in her head? 

Think, Riyah! she told herself.

She should be asleep in her room in the palace, her husband beside her, Amani asleep on the other—Amani! Azariyah sat bolt upright, forced her eyes open, and looked around wildly. It was dark. The air was an inky black. She couldn't see a thing, and when she tried to move, she discovered that her legs were bound with thick rope. What? What had happened? Where was Amani? A sob escaped her, and as the noise echoed in the space she couldn't see, she heard a rustle from somewhere beside her. Azariyah froze, terror battering at her mind again, forcing herself to investigate the sound. Her hand patted around on empty cushions until finally, she felt a tiny hand. 

The little hand flexed unconsciously and grabbed onto her fingers. Amani! Azariyah shifted until she was close to her daughter. She lay down again as she breathed in the sweet smell of her child, kissing the little face all over. Amani murmured in her sleep, so Azariyah stopped, not wanting to wake the tiny girl, only a year and a half old.

She stared into the darkness. If Amani was here, did that mean Simos was here too? Again, Azariyah reached out, patting the area all around her, but though she found the edge of the sleeping mat, she didn't find her husband. Another sharp sob escaped her, and she bit down on her lip hard to keep quiet. She wasn't ready to meet the men who were talking nearby. Their murmuring went on, too soft for her to understand what they were saying, but loud enough to catch individual words every so often. "Sleeping… soon… escape… near… long…"

Azariyah, think! she told herself again. What happened? Why can't you remember?

She reached into her memory, straining to find the last moments she recalled. Yesterday—was it yesterday?—had been beautiful; one of the early days of the cool season, crisp and fresh after the humid rainy season. The rains had stopped, and the whole world was green and shining. Azariyah and Simos left Amani with Simos's mother back at the palace and took the horses out to greet the world. The sky had been so blue, clouds like flowers scattered into the distance. They raced the horses down the dirt road, and Azariyah felt as though she was filled with light, sensing the coursing energy of all of creation. She could feel the way Nenyi, the Uncreated One, touched and encompassed it all. Nenyi felt close, as though Azariyah was not merely the conduit of Nenyi's love and power, but the target. 

And Simos, handsome and tall on his horse, had caught at her heart. They dismounted and sat by the river, holding hands and talking over the small things they needed to do, murmuring at the colorful fish that swarmed around their feet in the water. She had kissed him, overcome with love for him, and finally, they rose to return to the palace, called back to duty by the sun climbing across the sky.

That was all she could remember. She dug deeper. No, there was more. A shift in the air as they returned to the palace. Azariyah had reached for her circlet as it gave a tiny flash of heat. Her staff leaned beside her throne, glowing dully. She felt itchy; something was off. It wasn't a strong feeling, like an attack poison. As queen, Azariyah could identify most poison from the Great Waste. She put a lot of effort into fighting off the Desert King, who continued to try to encroach on their lands. This was different, though, and the off-ness teased at her. She paused and frowned as she settled on her throne. Simos knew by her face that something was wrong.

"What is it, Riyah?" he had asked. 

"I don't know," she told him, gazing up at the high arches of the room as though she could find an answer there. "Something is… I don't know how to describe it. It's like poison, but it… oozes. It is strange to me. I don't recognize it."

A nurse brought Amani to her, and Azariyah kissed and nursed her baby, before sending her back to Simos's mother so she could hear petitions, as she did every day. Petitions was the time for people to come to their queen for help with all their disagreements and problems. The requests were rarely difficult to answer unless the Desert King was causing problems. Maween was a stable and good land; abundant and protected by herself: Azariyah, queen of the Maweel, the World Whisperer who connected her people to the Shaper, the Uncreated One. 

Azariyah was lit from within by her connection to the Shaper. The queen's magic held her people in the circle of the light of Nenyi, who was neither male nor female, not a person or tree or animal, above all and different from all.

Azariyah was joined for Petitions by some of the elders. There was Zibel, her dearest friend and neighbor in the palace, and Ephad with his son, Ivram. Ivram was training to replace Ephad when he retired as elder. Ephad had been an elder since Azariyah's father was king. Ivram was only a teenager, but he was already wise. Azariyah smiled at him.

"Hello, friends," Azariyah greeted the other elders. "Happy cool-season day." 

She was met by a dazzling smile from Zibel and a quirked eyebrow from Ephad. 

"Is it a new holiday you've given us, Lady?" Ephad asked.

"Hmmm, should I?" she asked with a smile. "No, it's just that the air is so clear, not wet, not hot. Don't you feel it? Like the Shaper has blown the heat away."

"I'm sure the gatherers and their knowledge can explain it better than that," Zibel said. "But how sweet that you love it so much." 

"Simos and I spent the morning riding around in this clean air." 

At Simos's name, Zibel's face shifted a bit. Her smile dimmed. Azariyah felt a nudge of discomfort. 

Zibel's husband Fari had left after a difficult battle with the Desert King, a few years back. During the fight, the Desert King had attacked the minds of the Maweel rangers, and Fari had been hard hit. One morning, Zibel woke up, and Fari was gone without explanation. The rangers had searched for him after he disappeared and tracked him as far as a ship headed for the continent across the seas. Now Zibel was raising her young son Andar on her own. 

Zibel and Fari had been very close to Azariyah and Simos. The three remaining friends tried to comfort one another, but Azariyah felt deeply for Zibel's loneliness and sense of betrayal. Fari had chosen to abandon Zibel, and the betrayal poison attacked her when she was weak or tired.

Sometimes Azariyah tried not to show how happy she was with Simos, feeling as though it was cold water in Zibel's face, but Azariyah loved her husband with her whole heart, and it was hard to hide it. 

She glanced over at him now. Simos sat at a table in the corner, head bent over a stack of papers. Almost as though he felt her gaze, he straightened and looked at her. His skin was a deep, dusky brown. He had a face that grew more handsome with each passing day, and the kindest eyes Azariyah had ever seen.

Sometimes she thought it couldn't be easy for Simos to be married to the World Whisperer. She was the one the people revered, who needed to fly quickly to help people in distress. Often she had to leave for days at a time to regain strength in the wilderness after a trying season. 

But Simos, her king and partner, was constant. He was always kind, strong in his own way, and brilliant of mind. Simos tackled the hardest jobs, going over reports that seemed to multiply like flies, looking into the depths of the treasury to work out expenses and contracts. He spent hours with the people of the land when Azariyah was needed in battle. All of this, even though he was a scholar. Simos would have preferred to be in the library reading, writing poetry, and hunting for the ancient songs and mentions of Nenyi that were scattered through the literature of the known world. 

Azariyah looked back at Zibel and found that she, too, was looking at Simos. Zibel glanced quickly up at Azariyah, and her smile reappeared. 

"You two should go on a journey soon," Zibel said. "Get away from all your duties and sit in the air you love so much." 

Azariyah scratched her arm, feeling that itch again, as though something strange was buzzing under her skin. 

"Perhaps," she said, but her mind moved on to the people gathered in the room for petitions. There weren't too many people with problems for her to solve today. A couple of farmers had questions over land boundaries. They wanted a gatherer to come and help them with water redistribution. Azariyah sent them to the gatherers' guild to ask for help. 

Next, she spoke with a woman who had a sewing shop. The woman felt misused by the builders next door. 

"They're noisy all day," she said. "I can't feel my gift when I'm surrounded by noise."

The builders needed to limit their work hours. Azariyah sent a message asking them to give the woman the afternoons and evenings to work without noise. She was pleased with the outcome of the day, and her people left with smiles and bows, but Azariyah still felt uneasy. Tiny bits of poison continued to tease at the edges of her mind, and she couldn't find a source for their warning buzz.

Later that night, she and Zibel sat on Azariyah's balcony and talked over the day, as they often did, while Amani and Andar played at their feet. Amani was far younger than Andar, but she toddled around and talked with Andar in her swiftly growing vocabulary. Amani was the delight of the palace, learning new words and putting longer sentences together every day. They played with small wooden blocks, Andar building towers; Amani knocking them down and giggling as they crashed to the ground. Azariyah hadn't thought she could ever love anyone as much as she loved Simos, but that had been before Amani was born. The queen's heart swelled with love for her daughter, more every day.

Azariyah relaxed against the back of her chair, drinking the wine Zibel had poured for her, the frustrating unease still with her. What is it? she asked Nenyi, but Nenyi didn't answer. 

"I've had the strangest feeling all day," she told her friend. "Almost like a warning for poison, but it itches like a rash or an annoying bug. Nothing huge, but persistent. I don't understand, I can almost always identify the source of poison."

Zibel glanced up at her over the rim of her mug. 

"How strange," she said. "But you are exhausted. It must be that. Where is Simos this evening?"

"In the outer lands. He received a note saying that there was trouble on the western border, so he rode out right after we were in the receiving hall together."

"So quickly? But I suppose it's nice sometimes to have a little break from each other."

"I always miss him," Azariyah said, or at least she thought she said it because suddenly it was hard to move her mouth. She tried to shift in her chair and found that she was heavy. Very heavy. That was all she remembered.

Dawn approached in the strange place; at first, just the faintest smudge of purple and blue, but enough for Azariyah to see that she was in a tent. The tent was small but distinct: a large cloth hung over a tall cross beam, the beam etched with markings. The queen had studied every nation in the known world, and she knew she was in a tent belonging to the Gariah, the desert people. She drew in a breath. The Gariah were ruled by the Desert King, her greatest enemy.

The voices grew louder, drawing closer to the entrance of the tent. Two men, Azariyah realized, and she shuddered.

"What did he say to do with her?"

"We are to bring her to him."

"What does he want with a Maweel witch?"

"We don't question. You know that. You think I asked him to tell me what he planned?"

"But what do you think?"

"I don't know… another wife for the harem, perhaps? I only obey."

The voices faded as if their owners were walking off, and Azariyah stared at the tent roof in disbelief. They were foolish, so foolish, to think they could hold her. The sooner she got back to Maween, the better.

She reached for her magic, ready to break herself and Amani free. Then she reached for it again. What was this? The closest thing Azariyah had been able to explain to others was that her magic was a cistern, a deep well of power that went on forever. It was easy for her to access her magic. She was full of it. But now it was as though the cistern was empty. She had been so busy puzzling through the events of the previous day, she hadn't noticed the worst thing of all: she was scraped clean of magic.

She reached for Nenyi then, for Nenyi was mysterious but never failed her. But, no, she crashed into a block or a wall. Something blocked her, separated her from Nenyi's touch. She couldn't find the Uncreated One, couldn't hear the Shaper's voice. What? Where are you? There was no answer.

She was alone, frantic and disbelieving, more frighteningly alone than she had ever been in her life. She lay feeling paralyzed, staring at the tent roof, terrified.