It was an ambitious plan, and almost certainly doomed to failure.
Faraj had been assigned to the navy and had embarked on a ship named the Pride of Serfium, heading out to his new career with a sad wave at the children standing at the port with their mother, jostled by the crowds of desperate folk seeking a safe way out of M’Dahz.
Already the markets were empty and many doors and windows hung open, the buildings abandoned as the inhabitants fled the perilous border region for the relative safety of the provincial capital of Calphoris. In just two days the life had left M’Dahz.
Asima hammered on the door of her father’s study. There had been a great deal of crashing and thumping half an hour ago and then the house had slid into an ominous silence.
“Father?”
It had taken some time for Asima to pluck up the courage to knock. Her father was a serious man, disapproving of his child when she spoke out of place, but now she was worried.
“Father, are you alright?”
Her heart beating fast, the young girl leaned close to the door and placed her ear by the lock. The key was in the door at the other side. She could perhaps push the key out, but there was no gap at the bottom of the door, so that would hardly achieve anything.
She could hear no noise from within; just the background sounds of the town coming in through the room’s only window, sounds of despair and desperation. But gradually, as she listened, she could pick out other sounds; faint sounds from within.
“Father?”
Snuffles and wheezes. Her father was crying; crying and scribbling desperately on paper at his table.
“Father, please let me in. I’m frightened.”
There was a long pause; true silence now. And finally the sound of a chair scraping back. Quiet, slow footsteps and then the turning of the key. Asima stood back expectantly, but the footsteps retreated once more and there was a further scraping of chair legs on the flagged floor. The girl stood for a moment at the top of the stairs, uncertain of what to do, and then finally took a deep breath, chewed on the inside of her cheek and reached out for the door, turning the handle slowly and swinging the door open as quietly as she could.
The scene within was a chaos that echoed the state of the town outside the window. Had they not been on the third floor in a locked room, Asima would have assumed that a brawl had broken out in her father’s study. He sat at the table opposite, with his back to her, shaking slightly and occupying the only surviving chair; the other two were among the splintered and fragmented furniture scattered across the floor amid the general mess. Her father had clearly spent some time destroying his study.
“Father?”
Gingerly, she approached, stepping carefully between the debris. A bulky man, her father sat hunched over something on the table. He made no effort to acknowledge her presence and once more Asima’s heart skipped a beat. Slowly, but with a determined gait, she stepped to one side and, reaching the end of the table, stood quietly.
The man looked up sharply and Asima’s heart threatened to break. Her father had never been a man given to open displays of emotion, and even less so since her mother had died, but the last time she had seen grief like this assail the quiet man was on that day when her mother had been bound in linen, placed in a casket and buried, feet-downwards in the Pelasian manner in the cemetery of M’Dahz.
“Father, what is it? Please talk to me?”
When the man spoke, he voice was hoarse and cracked, his shaky hands gripping the edge of the table hard enough to whiten the knuckles.
“Asima… my dearest, darling girl. The light of my life and the song in my soul. You are your mother in all things and it breaks my heart to see it.”
“Father?”
“Asima, I just don’t know how to tell you this; how to explain.”
The young girl bit her lip nervously.
“Whatever it is father, we can get by. You know that. We are strong.”
“You are strong, my love.”
He sighed and leaned back in his chair, his fingers detaching themselves from the table and sliding away the pen and the ledger over which he had been hunched.
“Asima, I have nothing. We have nothing.”
“I do not understand, father.”
“My business, Asima. My business is as a factor for a Pelasian trader. But I have received word that, with the withdrawal of Imperial support, the market in M’Dahz has collapsed and my esteemed colleague will no longer trade across the border. He has no further use for me. I had other interests with Imperial traders, but they have now fled across the sea to the north, taking their business with them.”
Asima shook her head.
“But father, you have stores of goods still in M’Dahz. Your wares will keep us until you can find new sources.”
The tired-looking man shook his head sadly.
“I believed so, but the boat I have a part interest in has been commandeered by the militia with no recompense, the traders at the oasis that owe me small monies will not venture close enough to the town to see me, and my store of fruit and perishables that is still worth a small fortune has been looted and devoured by the mob of waifs and strays at the port. There are no guards there to protect such interests now. I have been through all of my logs for import and export. I have nothing, my dear; only what is in this house. We have no more than those people who stole my food. We cannot leave M’Dahz. I cannot pay passage anywhere and we have nowhere to go.”
Asima stood stoically, her jaw set firm, and folded her arms.
“You are seeing only disaster, father, but remember this: we are both alive and healthy. We have a good house and clothes. You have possessions that are beyond the means of many that we may be able to sell, given enough time and investigation. You still have a solid reputation, and the future is not set in stone. Who, apart from the Gods, knows what lies around the corner? In a few days, a new Emperor could appear and bring peace and prosperity once more to M’Dahz.”
Her father stared at her. Such insolent words went against everything he had taught her. And yet it was sense; it was also precisely what her mother would have said to him had she still lived. Without a word, he reached across and wrapped Asima in a bear hug that almost crushed the wind from her.
“You are brave, my little jewel.”
Asima laughed.
“I was not looking forward to Calphoris anyway, father. The boys there are said to be pigs.”
He pulled his head back for a moment and stared at her in surprise. Then, suddenly, in a burst of unexpected and rare emotion, he burst into raucous laughter. As he laughed, he rocked back and forth, still gripping her tightly. Slowly the mirth subsided and he released her and sat back in his chair.
“Very well, my dear. I can see that in recent months while I have been chasing gold coronas with open hands, my little girl has grown wise and strong. Where I have failed alone, we shall now succeed together. If we are to make a go and survive in M’Dahz, we will have to work hard and I shall need you.”
Asima nodded thoughtfully.
“Do you trust me, father?”
For a moment the man’s brow furrowed as though he failed to understand the question. Finally, he nodded and smiled.
“I have always trusted you, Asima. Enough to allow you to make your own entertainment around the town without my supervision. But now? For certain, I trust you more than ever, my girl. What have you in mind?”
Asima gave an enigmatic smile.
“It is time to work out what we have; an inventory of everything.”
Her father nodded.
“I shall do so…” he raised an eyebrow at his daughter.
“I, too, have my sources” she replied.