Ghassan nodded glumly and Jaral gave him a fatherly smile as they left the hall’s foyer and the doors were closed behind them.
“We’ll have to head back to the ship as soon as we’re done here and inform them of the change in status and orders. Then I’ll have to look for somewhere appropriate in the port to set up a headquarters; we can have staff and equipment sent to the ship in the meantime.”
“I presume, sir, that the crew will have a few days’ shore leave until the other vessels have all arrived and you’ve set their orders and are free to come back out?”
Jaral laughed.
“Hardly, Ghassan. I’m going to be a little busy from now on and, from what the governor said, we’ll need to get the ships out and patrolling as fast as possible. I’ll need to be on top of the situation at all times, with reports from every ship that comes in, changing the groupings and position of the navy as required. Gods, I may even need to put in a request to construct or buy more vessels.”
“But…”
“Ghassan, you’re more than capable of captaining the ship and you know it. Just make sure you follow the orders I give you and don’t go off on one of your personal crusades to hunt down Ma’ahd or your brother. There’s other things to be done right now.”
Ghassan shook his head.
“I’m not sure how the crew will take it, sir.”
Jaral smiled.
“I think you’ll find they’ve been expecting it for some time.”
In which events take a surprising turn
Things had been unsettled for some time in the palace. Asima had made the most of the last three years, but had been continually beset by difficulties. The satrap of Siszthad had taken no interest in the harem, finding his entertainment in less reputable directions. As a result, things had become static among the women. With no master or husband, the women were not required to leave their harem, were even forbidden to do so. In this stilted, lifeless situation, Asima had taken to playing games with her fellow inmates, turning them against one another and watching the resulting mayhem with interest.
Causing discomfort among her rivals was her only diversion, though, and even that had begun to pall after a few months. After all, she was at the pinnacle as it was, and playing the game repeatedly when you’d already won was no fun at all.
She had wondered whether, given Siszthad’s notorious preferences, one of the other two important satraps would come to the harem to take a woman, but they had not done so. On one of the rare occasions, half a year ago, when a guard had come to the building on a chore and had shown a little humanity to the women, Asima had quizzed him about the three satraps.
She had been surprised initially to learn that Siszthad had led an army across the sea to track down Prince Ashar and strike a deal with the Lord of Velutio. It had seemed strange for the little piggy hedonist to embark solo on such an impressive military campaign, but then it would have been the other two pushing him into it, and Asima was sure they considered their figurehead King to be thoroughly expendable.
The dark-skinned nomadic satrap apparently already had a harem of wives he had brought with him from the desert as he ‘despised’ the softer, lighter women of the coastal regions.
And as for Ma’ahd? According to the guard, Ma’ahd simply had no time for them. He was busy effectively ruling the country and planning expansion, and that left few hours for frivolities.
Life had become dull, but still Asima kept herself alert; on the edge. When things were quiet, in her experience, it was almost always a prelude to busier times. And, indeed, it would appear that busier times were arriving. This morning, one of the younger girls who was so far below Asima on the ladder that she felt almost friendly toward her had come with news that the palace was a hive of activity.
Asima, of course, had been blissfully unaware of this. Her apartment looking out over the sea meant that the only activity she ever witnessed in the palace were the guards patrolling the walls far below. The younger girls, though, desperate for excitement, had taken to hanging around the window that Asima and Yasmin used to frequent and others that were more readily accessible these days.
She had listened half-heartedly for a moment, reasoning that what the girl thought of as a ‘hive of activity’ could be anything, but it had appeared she was correct. The stables had apparently been emptied, the horses, camels and carts of the palace loaded up.
Asima had frowned and gone to her window. Sure enough, the guard had been changed. The common arrangement, to which she was now very accustomed, called for two guards to each stretch of wall, passing one another as they patrolled, with one more in each tower and more on duty below and out of sight. Now, however, there was one guard alone patrolling the two stretches of wall and three towers visible from her window.
That was why she now found herself standing like a sneaky child at the narrow window of the kitchens close to the harem’s main gate, watching as the guard were paraded back and forth, kitted out for a campaign. Whatever Ma’ahd and his crony were up to, it would appear that it would take them out of Akkad and that could be dangerous for him. Even in such seclusion as the women now suffered, the mood of the populace was common knowledge. The ruling triumvirate was not popular, it seemed. Hardly a surprise, particularly given the respect that had been accorded the God-King Amashir.
Asima frowned as her eyes strayed from the marching soldiers to the heavily-laden carts being marshalled in the gravel area between the public palace and the mausoleum. What in the name of sanity were they taking that weighed so many carts so far down?
Her frown deepened as two servants left the public palace, carrying something large under a sack-cloth covering toward one of the carts. As she watched in interest, one of them got their feet tangled in the cloth and it slide from their burden. The large, filigree gilded shutters that protected the God-King’s reliquary flashed in the sunlight.
Asima growled. Ma’ahd wasn’t going on campaign; he was simply leaving and taking whatever he wished with him. She scoured the grounds for more signs of the satrap’s greed and suddenly spotted the man himself with one of his officers striding toward the main door not ten feet from this very window. Holding her breath, she ducked back out of sight. The two were deep in conversation as they approached, but their voices were low and quiet. Asima strained to hear as the two men stopped outside the closed door.
“Will they leave the building, sire?”
“They’ll have to, Siva. See to it. Let’s make this quick. The storm approaches”
Asima frowned for a moment. Storm? It was a perfect day. There…
She adjusted her thinking to the likelihood of a metaphorical storm. Something so huge was about to happen that Ma’ahd and his men were leaving Akkad and raping it of anything valuable. She allowed herself a small crooked smile. Ashar… that had to mean prince Ashar. He was coming back for his throne.
Her smile slid a little. Things might be bad right now with that unpleasant pig on the throne and the two most callous satraps in the Kingdom running things, but at least they had no opinion of her either way. Ashar, on the other hand, had never made any secret of the fact that he distrusted and disliked her. It would appear that she was about to be delivered from an uncaring captor by one who actively disliked her. What sort of choice was that? Moreover, where were they being taken? Ma’ahd and his ally held no interest in the women of the harem.
As the great doors of the harem rattled and creaked open, Asima’s heart lurched and the colour drained from her face as she became sure of their fate. Ma’ahd was raping the city but had no interest in the women, so they would not take the girls with them. But he would leave nothing for Ashar. In the brutal world in which these satraps lived, a retreating soldier left nothing for the enemy.