Dark Empress (14 page)

Asima nodded sagely. Whatever the satrap would secretly have liked to do with the white-clad Imperial guardsmen, he would not dare risk it. Even with the Empire in chaos as it was said to be, Ma’ahd would not push his luck any further. The Emperor had abandoned M’Dahz, but these soldiers were citizens from the north.

Likely their presence in M’Dahz was an ongoing impediment to the satrap. Perhaps that was even the reason Ma’ahd had had the governor take his own life? She blinked as she realised the implications of all of this. No governor meant no guards, but it also meant no sanctuary; no protection. The satrap’s men were here because they were commandeering the mansion. They would then eject the occupants at the very best. At the worst…

That just did not bear thinking about.

She frowned at the vizier.

“May I enquire as to why the satrap has sent for me?”

Jhraman shook his head and sighed.

“I believe your father mistook the request I made. You are not to present yourself to him, child, but to me.”

An alarm went off deep inside Asima, but she maintained her composure, her frown still aimed at the small man before her.

“Master Jhraman?”

The vizier cast his eyes back and forth furtively. They were practically alone, with the few soldiers nearby busy and at the edge of earshot.

“His Majestic and Imperial Highness, the God-King himself is, I fear, displeased with the manner in which the satrap has conducted this affair. I have advised my master that a gift, or donation, to an appropriate value will buy the satrap his majesty’s support for the coming year.”

“I am to be a gift?”

Asima mentally chided herself. Such an outburst was hardly productive, and she had almost shrieked like a fishwife. Several of the guards glanced in their direction and she blanched at the look of displeasure in the vizier’s face.

“Be quiet and calm, child, or I shall have to discipline you.”

His shoulders relaxed a little as the guards went about their business once more.

“His majesty is a good man with a strong appetite for… healthy young women” he concluded, colour rising in his swarthy cheeks.

Asima blinked.

“You mean…”

“Yes,” the man replied with an embarrassed smile. “You and three other young ladies of my choosing will be sent to Akkad, to the harem of the God-King. By Pelasian law no girl of less than thirteen years of age may be taken to a man’s bed, but rest assured that it will take at least two years for you to learn the ways of the court.”

Asima found she was shaking her head.

“You have no choice in the matter, Asima. Accept it and be pleased. Whatever you may think of this now, be assured it is a good thing. You will be taken from this barren cesspool and to a place of unimaginable wonders and delights.”

He smiled a very genuine and warm smile.

“And your father, being the father of someone so potentially important, will be well looked after. I will see to it myself.”

Asima stared at the man before her.

“When do I leave?” she asked in a small voice.

Jhraman pursed his lips.

“Tonight. Take a few hours to say your farewells and gather anything of personal value. Travel light though, as many of your things will be inappropriate and, upon you arrival, you may be made to discard them. An hour before sunset a caravan will leave, accompanied by cataphracti and soldiers. The journey will take many days but, with the consignment being so delicate and valuable, you will travel only in the late afternoon and evening time and early in the morning, when the sun is still cool. Pelasian way stations will shelter you for the nights.”

Asima found she was shaking her head again, thought not in denial. Already, her lightning mind was racing ahead, planning the coming days. She would not be alone. Three others, who would very likely all be beauties and probably wealthier and higher-born than her. But they would not be as bright or as cunning. By the time the caravan reached Akkad, they would be to her as crows are to eagles. She must be, as her father used to say, ‘the best thing on the menu’.

Akkad had best prepare itself. The Pelasian capital held many of the great wonders, but it had never tried to contain someone like Asima.

In which childhood ends

Samir sat by the low table in the common room of what he used to think of as their family home.

“I couldn’t find her, Ghassan.”

The taller of the two boys shrugged.

“That’s probably a good thing, brother. I want to remember her as she used to be, not as how the jackals and buzzards have left her.”

“She needs to be buried.”

Ghassan’s brow furrowed and his eyes took on a hard edge.

“She needs to be avenged, Samir, not buried.”

Samir sighed.

“Vengeance is hollow, brother. Survival is important. That is the lesson she taught us; the last lesson.”

The two lapsed into silence for a moment. Something here felt wrong. It had been days since the horrors that had ended their mother’s life and any hope for a free M’Dahz. The dynamic between the brothers felt strained and odd. Their whole life there had been a third person. Oh there had been occasions when the two brothers had been alone, for certain, but not for a length of time, and never with important decisions to be made. Their father had been there, and then their mother, and uncle Faraj, and even Asima. But now they were utterly alone.

“Do you think Asima will return?”

Samir blinked at his brother’s question.

“Would you?” He sighed. “No, Asima will not return to M’Dahz. The important question, and the one that we seem to continually dance around, is what we should do now.”

Another uncomfortable silence followed as the brothers met each other’s gaze.

Since the deaths, the boys had grieved in their own way, and subtle changes were now evident in Ghassan, who had become quieter and more serious than Samir had even known him and his eyes held an iron resolve that worried his brother. Samir swallowed nervously. This had to play out exactly right.

“Whatever we do, we will need to do it soon, Samir. The supply of food is dwindling and we will not be able to afford to eat in a few days. I have no intention of surviving the invasion and the horrors of Ma’ahd’s reign just to die of starvation in a back alley.”

Samir nodded.

“Agreed, but the question is: what? There’s nothing in M’Dahz we can do, short of crime, and those folk who fled to Calphoris are probably as poor and hungry as we are. If Faraj was still alive…”

Ghassan nodded in silence.

“We have to leave M’Dahz though, Samir.” His eyes darkened. “We need to avenge mother, whatever you say.”

“Survival, not vengeance, Ghassan.”

“Both.” The taller brother straightened. “I’ll bet the Imperial army is still functioning in Calphoris. We can sign up with them and protect the rest of the Empire against Pelasia; possibly even drive Ma’ahd back out of M’Dahz in time.”

Samir shook his head.

“Even if the army is still in Calphoris, if we signed up, they’d send us to the other side of the world where the men are all pale with fair hair and it get so cold the water becomes solid. But Calphoris will have lost Imperial support by now, brother. The Empire is so far away and crumbling. Calphoris will be on its way to becoming what M’Dahz is now.”

Ghassan shrugged.

“Perhaps that would be better still. They will still have a militia and will be watching the satrap carefully. And their militia will be far larger and stronger than ours, as Calphoris is a big city. And if it’s the militia we can probably lie about our age easier.”

Samir was still shaking his head.

“That’s not the way, Ghassan. To sell ourselves into military service? It’s a waste of our talents. There will be other paths that will open to us.”

The taller brother shrugged.

“We have to leave M’Dahz. That is clear, Samir. South into the deep desert is unthinkable. Neither of us has the slightest idea how to survive there. West is Pelasia and, given our current situation, I do not think that would be an advisable choice. No ships that dock here travel across the sea to the north and, anyway, the north is cold and their water turns solid and chills the bones. That just leaves east to Calphoris. Whether you think the army or the militia are a bad idea or not, there is now simply nowhere else to go, my brother.”

Samir sighed and nodded.

“That much is true, yes, though I would rather try to make my fortune there than become a soldier and die in a border war for someone else’s good. We are clever and enterprising, Ghassan. We saved Asima’s father from poverty.”

They lapsed once more into an uncomfortable silence. The subject of Asima’s father was a touchy one that neither brother felt comfortable dealing with at this point. They had become aware of Asima’s fate when those who had been under the governor’s protection found themselves suddenly without support. A few had disappeared without trace, presumably having fallen foul of the satrap for some reason, but the rest had been forcibly ejected from the complex into the town, their more valuable belongings impounded beforehand, to make their way as ordinary citizens.

The boys had spoken to a group of survivors, eager for news of the friend of whom they had seen nothing in so many months. The fact that Asima and the other girls had been sent to Akkad for the God-King’s pleasure was something that neither brother had so far allowed themselves to ponder on. Still, this meant that she was safe, at least. Her father, however, had been found by the satrap’s vizier and had last been seen disappearing into Ma’ahd’s palace.

“Very well.” Ghassan stretched. “We can agree that whatever we do next, we need to do it in Calphoris?”

Samir frowned and bit his lip. The idea of abandoning everything and committing to the provincial capital for the future felt like a betrayal and, though Ghassan’s logic was unassailable, Samir had his plan. Finally he nodded.

“We head east. Have you given any thought to how and when?”

Ghassan shrugged.

“As soon as possible. And on foot, I suppose. It’s not as though we can afford camels or horses.”

Samir smiled and reached behind him, rummaging in his pack. A moment later, he withdrew a small hessian bag that was clearly heavy and which clinked when he dropped it to the table. Ghassan stared.

“That’s money?”

Samir nodded.

“From where?”

“It belonged to Asima’s father. I doubt it will do him any good right now wherever he is.”

“You stole from Asima’s father?”

Outrage pushed Ghassan’s voice up a notch and the question ended in almost a squeak.

“After a fashion. They had already gone to the palace when I found this. Their house had been turned upside down by Pelasian soldiers, and I can assure you that they took everything he had that was of any real value.”

“So how did you find that?”

Samir gave a cheeky grin.

“I’ve known where he kept his emergency fund for a long time, Ghassan.” He straightened. “And this is an emergency.”

Removing two pouches from a nearby cupboard, he neatly divided what looked to Ghassan like a small fortune, dropping half into each container. With a nod, he slid one pouch across the table to his brother and tied the thongs of the other to his belt, tucking the pouch down into his pocket for added security.

Ghassan frowned.

“Why are you splitting it now?”

For a moment, Samir flinched slightly. Then he smiled. “Just in case. One man carrying too much money is asking for an unfortunate accident.”

He straightened once more.

“We will need to leave tonight, while it is dark. In fact, if we wait until the early morning, we can leave when the moon passes to the underworld. That should give us almost two hours at this time of year to get past the walls and out along the coast before sunrise.”

“That seems sensible” Ghassan agreed. “We should leave as far from a gate as we can. The port is out of the question, though, as I’ve heard Ma’ahd is having shipping watched and searched now.”

Samir nodded.

“There’s a place not too far from the eastern end of the port where the walls are very close to a number of warehouses. We can get into the warehouses before the moon rises fully and wait out the night there. We’ll need some rope to get down the other side of the walls, but then we can be half a dozen miles away from M’Dahz before the sun comes up.”

“About ten miles along the coast is a village with an animal market. Asima’s father used to trade with them. I’ve never been there, clearly, but I suspect his name will carry some weight there.” He picked up the pouch in front of him and tied it to his belt. “And now we can afford a horse.”