“Ghassan?”
The young man nodded, still staring at her. She suddenly became aware that the governor had stepped forward next to her.
“Captain? You know the lady Asima?”
Ghassan shook his head in wonder.
“I knew her many years ago, Excellency, yes.”
The governor nodded.
“Then if your ship is ready for the tide, you will have plenty of time to become reacquainted.”
Asima continued to stare as the ghost of her past formed up his men.
In which a journey is undertaken
Asima frowned as her eyes ran up and down Ghassan once more. It was so clearly him, and yet at the same time he had changed so much. The serious, tall, curly haired boy had grown into his look and suited the uniform of a naval officer, for certain. And while she couldn’t fathom what series of events had led him from the streets of occupied M’Dahz to captaincy in the Imperial navy at Calphoris, he was obviously born for this life.
He seemed at ease and had acquired that natural rolling gait of the practiced sailor. Moreover, he appeared to know every peg and rope on the ship personally and every man aboard, even those three times his age, looked up to him and treated him with respect and trust.
But then, she would have changed as much to his eyes.
She dropped her gaze to the aperture in the wooden hull and the water rushing past outside and chided herself for even beginning to get sentimental over her childhood friend. They had hardly had a chance to exchange a dozen words in these first few hours out of port, with Ghassan constantly occupied on duty. Now, however, he’d come back to the room set aside for her in the covered housing at the rear of the Wind of God, poured two glasses of high-quality wine and sank into the seat opposite, silently waiting for her to initiate conversation.
The problem was that she just had no idea where to begin; wasn’t even sure she wanted to begin. More than half of her life had passed since she had last set eyes on the brothers and she had changed beyond measure. In other circumstances, she might have considered reaffirming an old friendship, but not now.
Digging deep into the well of her being, she was a little surprised to find that the sudden appearance of someone once beloved from her past had almost entirely failed to move her. Once the initial shock had faded, rather than fascination or a desire to catch up, what she found herself wondering was how she could use Ghassan to her advantage?
The greater surprise had been that the realisation that she was truly that shallow and quite possibly now incapable of love, empathy or sympathy had not, in fact given her any cause for concern. Not only had her soul hardened to diamond, cold and impervious, but she was at ease with the fact. Life was a game and needed to be played to win.
Finally, uncomfortably, Ghassan broke the silence.
“I’m so sorry about your father.”
“Mmm?” Asima looked back from the sea, her wandering thoughts sharply reeled in and shut away where they could be contained and protected.
“I asked around and he’d lived well after you left” Ghassan continued. “He was looked after, but an illness of the gut settled in and the doctors could do nothing.”
Asima frowned again and shook her head, changing the subject.
“And what of you, Ghassan? Why the navy?”
The tall, curly haired captain shrugged.
“A series of unpredictable choices. Samir and I both vowed to free M’Dahz and kill the satrap, but I think Samir knew we wouldn’t agree on how. I went to join the army and then turn them on M’Dahz. Samir left me and ran away into the criminal underbelly of the town.”
He sighed.
“And now M’Dahz is free, and I wasn’t even involved. All my plans to launch a rescue for the town and its fate was decided by politicians a thousand miles away. I would feel deflated, but it’s just not the all-consuming goal it once was. The military’s given me purpose and, now that it’s part of the Empire again, it feels like I’m helping to build something.”
Asima nodded sagely while actually only half listening.
“And I’ve persuaded the governor of Calphoris to request extradition of Satrap Ma’ahd for his unwarranted invasions and executions. Given the alliance between us now and Ma’ahd’s involvement in the coup, I’m sure the new king will agree, and then I’ll go collect him myself and deal with him in public.”
Asima looked up and was impressed at the cold viciousness she could see in his eyes. Ghassan was about to be sorely disappointed.
“You may have a little trouble there.”
Ghassan narrowed his eyes.
“What?”
“I’m afraid Ma’ahd won’t be sent here. He is not imprisoned by Ashar. He never got the chance.”
The young captain stared at her and she sighed, putting on her most sympathetic mask.
“If it’s any consolation to you, I can tell you two things. One is that he died horribly. He suffered from beginning to end, and was never buried, but cast from the city walls in Akkad. His remains lay on the rocks by the sea until they were eaten by scavengers.”
She noted a certain satisfaction settle over him. This could easily play to her advantage.
“And secondly, it wasn’t during the civil war. He died at my hands in revenge for what he did to all of us. One of us did it, Ghassan. It wasn’t you, but it might as well have been.”
She smiled at him as she watched a mixture of disappointment and righteous satisfaction war for control of his face. It was a lie, of course; revenge had not even figured in her motivation. She’d have been quite glad never to set eyes on M’Dahz again, but it would have been a plausible motive, had she any use for morals and nostalgia.
“He died badly then?”
Ghassan’s voice sounded almost pleading.
“Very. In fact, if you wait, I have a gift for you.”
The young captain frowned and watched as Asima unfolded her legs and wandered across to her bags. She began to mutter to herself quietly as she delved into one and produced, after much rummaging, a small purple pouch of velvet and gold. Returning to her seat, she sat once more, crossing her legs, and clicked open the catch on the pouch.
Upending the container, she held her hand beneath to catch the two things that fell out, wrapped in silk and tied with a delicate gold ribbon.
Her face grave and serious, Asima passed over the two small parcels, one crimson and one aquamarine. Ghassan frowned at the items in his hand.
“Open them” Asima urged, pocketing the pouch.
Ghassan chose the smaller of the two parcels, gently untying the ribbon and unwrapping the blue silk. He stared down at the object within the folds of shiny material. A ruby the size of his thumbnail stared back up at him, cut, shaped and immaculate, and representing more than a year’s pay for anyone on board.
“What is this?”
Asima smiled and there was something about the expression that Ghassan wasn’t sure he liked.
“It’s a pommel jewel. I took it from the hilt of Ma’ahd’s sword when I’d finished removing his head with it. Call it a keepsake.”
Ghassan stared.
“This is worth a fortune, Asima. You might need this in Velutio.”
She laughed, but the laugh had an edge.
“Ghassan, you really don’t know me at all, do you? That is a bauble; a mere bead compared with some of the precious stones I liberated from their imprisonment in Akkad. I could buy this ship with one jewel, and not even the largest one.”
Her smile vanished instantly.
“Though I trust you will honour my wishes and keep their existence a secret?”
Ghassan frowned at her and then nodded.
“I think you’ll maybe like the other one more” she added.
His frown still in evidence, the captain began to unwrap the second parcel and almost dropped the contents as they fell into his hand, causing him to lurch in surprise.