Prince Tarik — Age 5
The day it began was a day of firsts—the first time I rode a train, the first time I saw the sea. The first time I felt fear, the first time I felt power.
The first time I felt the meaning of hate.
It was a warm day in my fifth summer, and the great steam train had carried Mother and Father and me to the port city of Ridgemark to see the newest ship in Father’s fleet. Sailors and officers in enormous hats and brass-studded coats swarmed the docks around us, their shouts carrying over the creak of ropes and the cry of gulls. The wood planks stank of salt and fish, and men with mops and brooms scrubbed and scrubbed, but they couldn’t drive away the stench.
My nanny sniffed and pressed a lace kerchief to her nose. We stood side by side watching the endless blue sea, dazzling under a warmer sun than we ever saw in Brinmark. I craned my neck, trying to see the little tug boats and the seabirds that swooped at the trawlers’ decks until Nana relented and led me along the quay wall. I wanted to walk on top of the low stones, but my guard Zagger would never let me—or even if he did, Nana would surely kill him. He stayed a few steps behind me, tall and silent in his long black trencher, grumbling every time I stepped too close to the wall.
“Do you see that, Your Highness?” Nana asked, nodding toward the dock. “That’s the new steamship.”
I frowned up at the ship looming in its berth, a floating blue and white fortress so big it made its own clouds.
“What are those red tubes for?” I asked, and counted them off, one to five.
“Those are called funnels. It’s how the steam gets out of the engines.”
The cool wind sent the steam coiling toward us, smelling of burnt coal and paint. As we walked toward the huge ship, I watched the sailors hurrying around the wharf, some in loose green shirts and billowing pants, some in smart white Naval uniforms. I thought I looked just like the Navy sailors, in my crisp white shorts and shirt and blue-striped tie. A knot of them moved aside as we passed, tipping their hats to me. I tipped mine back until Nana rebuked me.
“A prince doesn’t tip his hat to the ratings,” she said.
“I think they’re swell.”
She clucked. “Delightful. Or possibly admirable. Not swell, Your Highness. That’s vulgar.”
“Admirable,” I mumbled, and thought it an ugly word.
I glanced back at Zagger and made a face. He grinned, until Nana turned and he blushed. He towered over her, and I thought he must be as strong as twenty other men, but my nanny could make any man blush when she glared.
“Will they sail the ship?” I asked Nana.
“Not today,” she said. “There’s a bad wind blowing.”
“What’s a bad wind? I thought the steamship didn’t need the wind,” I said, proud to remember what my best friend Griff’s father had told me.
Griff’s father was the Defense Minister. That wasn’t as important as being the King, but I never told Griff that.
“They won’t sail in this wind, no matter what. It’s not natural.”
Nana let go of my hand to settle her little round hat on her head, because the naughty wind had nearly blown it off. Finally free, I took my chance and bolted to the wall. Zagger swore and Nana whacked him with her parasol and sent him running after me.
“Your Highness, please come down off that wall!” he called. “Don’t make me pull you down.”
I laughed and skipped away from him, watching the sea foam slap the slimy stones far below. The wind picked up, and I stood still. All around me the air twisted and moved, creeping like a living thing. It snaked around my ankles, and circled round my neck. Fingers of wind tangled my hair, pushing my head…pushing me forward…
“Zagger!” I shrieked.
The wind unleashed against me and I stumbled. Zagger’s arms flashed around me, pulling me away from the wall, away from the wind. I clung to him. He didn’t set me down but brought me back to Nana, who tsked and scolded, her words blurred with tears.
I twisted in Zagger’s arms, wild for a glimpse of Mother and Father, desperate to see that the wind hadn’t stolen them away. Their guards knotted close around them, keeping Mother from running to me. But Father didn’t seem to care about the weather. He was a great tall man, fine in his naval uniform with its rows of ribbons and medals, scowling a scowl that could silence the strongest winds. Nothing could scare him. I lifted my chin, because I could be just as brave.
I squirmed and Zagger set me down, but he didn’t let go of my shoulder till he’d looked me long and hard in the eye. I edged a bit further inland under that stare, shying away from the wall.
“Is the wind magic?” I whispered.
“What do you know of magic?” Nana asked, sharp.
“Griff told me all about the Jixies.” I bit my tongue when I almost told her about Griff’s friend, because Griff had said it was supposed to be a secret. I would never tell a secret, not like Griff. Instead I tossed my head, saying, “He told me some of them can change the winds.”
She drew herself up. I imagined horns and wings sprouting all over her, and fire coming from her nose.
“That’s quite enough talk of Jixies, Your Highness! Magic is not a topic of polite conversation, and you’d do well to remind young Master Farro of that. And Miss Von. I know how the three of you go on.”
“But Samyr doesn’t—”
She tutted and held up a nger. “No buts, Your Highness. It’s not becoming.”
My father beckoned to us then, so I didn’t get to argue with her any more. We joined him and Mother as the biggest man I’d ever seen marched up to meet us.
“Captain,” my father’s chief guard said. “What’s your report?”
The captain saluted smartly to my father, brass buttons glinting. A hundred wrinkles lined his face and a bushy red mustachio blanketed his lips. He didn’t wear a naval uniform like my father, because he captained a passenger ship that carried people all around the world.
“Your Majesty,” he said, “my deepest apologies, but we’re not going to put to sea this morning. The maiden voyage will have to be postponed. The wind…the wind’s not behaving.” His mustache twitched, and his eyes shifted down to me. “You’ll understand why I say no more. The Ridgemark police are searching the area.”
I glanced at Nana and thought she looked rather smug to be proved right, but fear flickered behind her eyes and Zagger looked almost sick. My father held up his hand and the captain saluted and retreated, while the guards closed in around us.
It had to be magic. Did they really think I wouldn’t figure it out? I tugged free from Nana and ran to my mother.
“Are there Jixies here?” I whispered. “Jixy Winds?”
“Nonsense, Tarik. What a thing to suggest! Come along.”
She took my hand and I jumped, because when she touched me, a fuzzy prickle chased up my arm. Her face turned terribly pale.
“What’s wrong, darling?” she asked, crouching beside me, her sea-green hat shading my eyes. “Are you well?”
Nana stopped at my shoulder, but Mother shot her and Zagger a stern glance, sending them away where they couldn’t hear us.
“What’s wrong with the child?” my father asked.
“It’s nothing, love,” she said. “Leave him to me.”
After Father left with his guards, I shivered and rubbed my palms. “When you touched my hand, it felt so odd. Like little ants crawling around inside.”
I’d never seen sadness like the sadness that lled her eyes. But she simply kissed my head and took my hand, and together we returned to the train. My father waited for us outside the passenger car with his chief guard at his shoulder.
“There must be more than just one out there,” the guard told him as we arrived.
“The boy doesn’t need to hear this nonsense. Carry on.” The guard withdrew and my father smiled down at me, ruffling my hair. “Did you like the steamship?”
“It was enormous!” I said. “And it smelled. I loved it.”
He laughed and we all followed him onto the train. The guards must have told the engineer to drive the train home that very minute, because as soon as we were on, the doors shut and the whistle blew, and the floor shifted and swayed beneath my feet. The train station crept away, and the seaside swept away, and we came into the rolling hills and the inland rain.
Mother and Father sat in the plush velvet seats to one side of the passenger car, a heavy curtain falling across half the door of the booth. Nana knitted stockings at the back, and Zagger sat at a table across from her with Father’s guard detail. Father’s guards were all much older and crosser than Zagger, but I knew he felt important to sit with them, so I didn’t mind even if it left me all alone.
I took out the wooden steamship Griff’s father had given me and lay on my belly under the window bench, setting the boat to sail on the vast waters of the plush carpet. I imagined I was a ship’s captain, with a big black mustachio and a fearsome scar skipping right over my eye.
My face tingled.
I leaned my head on my arm and whistled like the wind as my boat crested massive waves. A mirrored band of steel along the bottom of the cabin wall reflected my ship, so I sent the steamer on a collision course with the enemy boat…
…And saw my own face.
I had a big black mustachio, and a fearsome scar skipping right over my eye.
My teeth chattered. I peered closer, and the mustachioed face peered closer. I pulled away, and the scarred face pulled away. With one hand I clutched my steamship, and with the other I tugged on the ends of the black whiskers. They were real. I had real whiskers, just like a grown-up man.
I backed out from under the bench and ducked past the red velvet curtain.
“Papa, look!” I whispered. “I’m a man!”
Mother clapped a hand over her mouth, her face ghostly.
“What the devil!” Father hissed, squinting at me through a scowl black as thunder. He pulled me toward him, taking my chin in his hand. “What the devil! What is this trickery?”
“I did it,” I said, confused. Why was he so angry?
He released my chin. I breathed out, but too soon; his hand flashed out and struck me in the face. I stumbled against my mother’s legs. The world blurred and rocked, and my face stung like a nest of bees.
He’d never hit me before. Never. He wouldn’t do that.
Mother pulled me into her lap, covering my face.
She said it so quietly I barely heard her. I glanced at my father, but the anger twisting his face terrified me. He said nothing, only stared at Mother, while Mother stared at him, hardly breathing. Her hands turned to ice.
“Trabin. Don’t hurt the child. Don’t blame him.”
“You.” His breath snaked out. “You lied to me, Elanar…” The anger faded, and turned to stone. “Why?”
“Why are you mad at Mummy?” I asked, gulping through my tears. “She didn’t do anything wrong. Please don’t be angry with her! I didn’t mean to make you angry.”
I buried my head in my hands and felt the whiskers disappear, leaving my own face just as it belonged. Father leaned forward and gripped my arm, so hard I gasped.
“Don’t ever do that again,” he said, his voice a terrible growl. “Don’t speak of it to anyone. Not to your nanny, not to Zagger, not to any of your friends. No one. Do you understand me?”
His fingers flexed and I winced, sobbing, “I understand.”
He released me and xed his fury on Mother. “You and I will talk later.”
I felt Mother’s tears coming before they fell and threw my arms around her neck, shaking all over.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I whispered. “Why did my face do that? What’s wrong with me?”
She pulled me close, her hand on my head, kisses in my hair. I didn’t want to look at my Father again, but I couldn’t help peeking at him through my fingers. For endless long moments he watched us, cold and quiet. Then he got up and pulled out a cigar, and strolled from the booth.