I thought for my little series of character studies from The Flame Before Us that I would use the interview form. It’s a bit of fun, and something of a departure for me, so let’s see how it works out.

Today’s interview is with Tadugari and Anilat, formerly of Ikaret. It is a warm autumn evening in Shalem, shortly after the Feast of New Wine. They have been living in the city for around half a year. We are relaxing under the shade of some fruit trees, looking west. Nearby, several slaves are gathering fruit, and tending a large bread oven built on to the outside of the house.

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Anilat gestures to an open straw basket of flatbread and a pottery juglet of olive oil.

“You must try some, sir. On that long weary journey from Ikaret I craved bread like this.”

I take a piece, so as not to insult my hosts.

“Your life must be very different now.”

They look at each other, and Tadugari answers.

“I am still not accustomed to it, sir. In Ikaret I attended the king every day. The great and the noble of the city came to my house, and in the audience chamber I mediated great decisions and agreements.”

Anilat laughs and rests her hand on his.

“And spied on their secret words when they thought themselves alone in a corner.”

“That too. How else could we negotiate such favourable terms?”

A look of grief crosses his face, and his hands clench. She leans forward, anxious and attentive, obviously keen to avert some habitual emotional plunge.

“Those days will come again, husband. Why, even today you were telling me about the border dispute south of Ayn Shams which you resolved. The king of the city here knows your name, and he has given you a position of trust among his own great ones.”

She turns to me.

“The king’s minister, Abdi-Teshup, is an old friend of my husband’s. On the same day that we arrived he remembered his friendship, and made sure that we had a place to live.”

She gestures around her, at the house and the garden. He snorts.

“How well I know it. Everything we have is his.”

“Not so, husband. It was his provision on that first day for sure, but you have since earned it many times over.”

He nods, his features relaxing again and his voice reverting to its normal measured tones. He stands and looks north.

“But we are exiles, Anilat. You, who are my sweetest love, must live forever in the wilderness and never go back to the verdant plain of Ikaret, nor see the great sweep of the bay that washes it.”

She shrugs, her gaze still on him.

“This is good enough for me. Much better this than to be caught up in the ruin of the city.” She turns back to me. “We both lost so many people who were dear to us in that ruin. Friends and family alike. I consider us fortunate to have escaped with our own children alive.”

He sits again and eyes me shrewdly.

“On good days I look for my former home to rise from the ashes and be restored to greatness. On bad days I think it will never live again, and that the great ships will never drift again into the bay, nor dock at the harbour. It is as my wife says: our home is here, as exiles, needing each day to prove our worth to this city.”

I try to think of a subject that might be less controversial.

“Have your children learned the ways of this city?”

“My daughter, Haleyna, she is pleased with the move.” She looks across at the house. “A Mitsriy scribe, a man we met on that first day here, keeps visiting us. He wants a pledge of marriage, but we have not yet decided. Of course we supervise him: many of the Mitsriy cannot be trusted, and I do not know him well enough to be sure.”

“We already had agreed a lad of Ikaret for her, these last five or six years. But we are almost certain he did not survive. We will wait until the winter for news of him, and we will make this scribe wait for our decision until then. My two sons are being taught war by one of the king’s generals. War has changed since I learned, and the old ways failed us at the city walls. I will have them trained in the new ways.”

“If you had these last few months all over again, what would you do differently?”

He looks down at the table and his voice quavers.

“I would have remained firm of heart for Anilat and my children, instead of losing myself in despair. Or if I could not do that, I would have stayed in the city to die. What came over me was worse than death, and I brought us all so close to ruin before I recovered myself.”

“I would never have let my daughter know that I learned how to kill her.”

I must have looked surprised at the starkness of their answers. Anilat took a deep breath. Tadugari remained silent.

“I thought, just as my husband thought, that death would be better than capture and dishonour. My error was in allowing Haleyna to know of my plan. It should have been my own burden, and I made her share it as well.”

She takes his hand, squeezes it.

“But we are here, all of us together. Ikaret is lost to us, but we keep something of her traditions alive in this house. The outside is that of Shalem, but the heart is Ikaret.

He nods sombrely, then pours me another drink with his own hands, waving away a slave who had approached to carry out the task. We turn to easier subjects, and they entertain me with Kinahny stories until the sky darkens and only flickering oil lamps shed light on us.

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Next time – Nikleos and Kastiandra of the Sherden people.