“I have a proposition for you, governor.”
“Go on…”
“I am aware that you know a certain young lady by the name of Asima?”
“Of course.”
“Asima is, as you may or may not know by now, one of the most clever, deceitful and generally wicked people you may ever set eyes on. I know her of old.”
The governor nodded; no sign of surprise or denial. Once again, Samir was impressed by this man.
“Well,” he went on, “her accusations regarding my brother are entirely fictional. I am quite openly, and even proudly, responsible for the sinking of the Wind of God. I was aided in the most unexpected way by that same young lady, when she sabotaged Ghassan’s rudder and left him helpless.”
He grinned.
“I apologise for the mess I made of your town walls yesterday, but my brother is innocent and, moreover, I need him for a while.”
The governor frowned.
“This is all very well. I can’t confirm or deny any of it, of course, although I’m sure you’re right. But this information is currently valueless. Asima is gone from here on her way back to Pelasia, with a purse of my money and an escort until she’s safely at the first Royal way station in their country and as far as possible from me. Ghassan, on the other hand, is now with you, as we’re well aware. So what in the name of the Imperial raven is your proposition? What could you possibly offer that would be worth more than me, as you so succinctly put it, ‘simply shooting you or calling for the guards’?”
Samir laughed lightly and reached into his tunic.
“I’m afraid I have no intention of staying right now. I have so many things to do and so little time, you see. If you listen very carefully, your Excellency, you’ll hear the commotion down at the docks where my crew have been freed. I’m fairly certain that by now the Empress will be back at sea and making for open water. You’ll have your hands full in the morning, if you intend to take us again.”
He withdrew a folded and tied paper from his tunic and tossed it across to the bed, where it landed on the governor’s knee. The older man glanced down at it with interest, though his hand never wavered and his aim remained true. He looked up at Samir again with a raised eyebrow.
“That’s my offer; my proposal. I don’t expect an answer right now. You’ll have to think it over and you may even need to consult with your superiors. I give you my word, though, Excellency, that until we meet again and I have your answer, I will forego any opportunity to take on one of your ships. I believe that’s as plain and as fair as I can make it.”
The governor smiled.
“I have to admit that I’m intrigued. I’m just not sure whether I’m intrigued enough to let you go, rather than having you taken into custody and then perusing your proposal.”
Samir answered with a grin of his own.
“Then I will just have to take my chances, Excellency. I’m on a tight schedule, you see.”
Standing and noting how the governor’s weapon kept track of his movements even while the man gazed down at the paper in his lap, Samir turned his back, strode across to the window and began to climb out.
“I shall see you soon, sir. Have a good night.”
With a last smile, Samir clambered down from the window, climbed as far as the end of the bonding tile layers, and then dropped lightly to the street.
In the dark room, the governor put down the weapon and, standing, wrapped his robe tightly around him. Taking the paper and untying the ribbon, he placed it on the shelf while he lit the oil lamp and then retrieved and unfolded the note, and began to read.
As he neared the bottom of the text, his eyes sparkled.
The guard on duty outside the governor’s apartment started in surprise at the sound of deep laughter ringing out from his Excellency’s chamber in the middle of the night.
In which another journey begins
Asima stopped at the gate and listened to the midnight bells echo away.
“Move along, miss” the cavalry sergeant said quietly.
“Just a moment.” She turned and looked back up at the town gate, with its heavy towers to either side and battlements above. She was outside once more, away from the narrow, teeming streets in which she had grown up. M’Dahz should feel like home really, or at least it should have some vague connection for her. Instead, as she looked at it, the town of her birth, home to her father’s grave elicited no emotion from her at all.
With a raised eyebrow, she realised she’d not gone to see his last resting place after all. She’d left her father there so long ago in the knowledge that, by going to Pelasia for the satrap, her father would be safe. Curious how she’d hardly even thought of him after that. Had she always been this way, or had Pelasia changed her?
The sergeant, commander of the unit of a dozen Imperial cavalry that were to escort her back to the neighbouring kingdom, cleared his throat and smiled sympathetically.
“Sad to be leaving, miss?”
“Hardly!”
With a sneer, she spat once in the direction of the town and turned her back on it, hopefully for the last time, this time.
The guard stepped away, taken aback a little by her display. His face hardened and he gestured forcefully to the staging post a few hundred yards ahead where the coach, along with the baggage cart and the horses, waited, tended by her cavalry escort.
“Get in the coach, miss, and we’ll get you away from here.”
Asima nodded sourly as she strode over toward the small settlement. Staging posts now existed outside each of the city’s gates, growing gradually into villages in their own right. The new governor had banned unlicensed work animals and vehicles from the town. The administration claimed that it lowered the chance of accidents and trouble in the steep and narrow streets and made the city cleaner and safer. This was certainly true, though the more cynical also noted that the licenses were a good source of revenue also.
And so these small settlements were springing up; corrals with animal traders and stabling facilities to take advantage of the new laws, traders to take advantage of the high turnover of travellers, desert nomads come close to the city to sell their own wares and purchase goods unavailable in the hot sands, and finally the inevitable beggars, homeless and hopeless.
The coach and its escort stood at the edge of the small settlement, the guards keeping a watchful eye over the vagrants and nomads in their makeshift shelters nearby. Asima barely noticed them as she strode past, her nose wrinkling at the smell, toward her transport to Pelasia.
A few yards from the coach, one of the scarecrows in tattered black, lounging cross-legged beside a dancing fire, stood and, her curved back giving her a slight stoop, shuffled toward them on a course of interception. The sergeant began to steer Asima to the side away from the woman, gaunt and dark and haggard, but the desert-dweller changed direction and homed in on them once again.
Asima’s sneer was still in full effect and the old woman cackled, grinning, as she approached.
“Want to hear your fortune, lady?”
Asima shook her head, irritably.
“A toothless desert hag has less idea of my future than the stars, let alone myself. Get back to your tent, crow-woman.”
The sergeant frowned at her. He may not approve of beggars and vagrants, but these people had broken no law and served a purpose, no matter how small.
“Here,” he said, dropping a few copper coins into her hand as he reached out to grasp Asima’s wrist and arrest her forward motion. As she jerked to a halt, her eyes flashing angrily, the sergeant turned to her.
“I’ll pay to hear your future, just to be sure that in no way am I in it, lady Asima.”
His charge glared at him as he turned and smiled at the old woman with the dishevelled hair.
“Tell her and I’ll double your money when we leave.”
The old woman smiled a cracked smile and reached out gently for Asima’s hand. The young lady recoiled in disgust, but the sergeant, his hand still on her wrist, pushed her hand out so that the fortune teller could reach. This she did and, with narrow, leathery fingers, she caressed the top of Asima’s hand.