by Nick Harrow
The wahket parted before the man, though they kept their eyes riveted on him as he approached. The cat women who flanked the room’s central aisle were also wary, and their spears tipped ever so slightly in the man’s direction.
I had no idea if the poor guy was dangerous, but I wasn’t taking any chances. I kept my khopesh at the ready, and my Hellish Rebuke spell could be unleashed in the time it took me to say its name. If this was some assassin or thug intent on doing me harm, his life was about to end very badly.
The ragman stopped ten feet away from my throne, dropped to his knees, and pressed his head to the floor. He said nothing as he waited for me to recognize him, but his shoulders shook and his head gave short little jerks from side to side as if he was not under complete control of his body.
Kozerek is dead, I reminded myself. This isn’t one of his meat puppets dancing on a string.
“Arise and tell me why you have come before me,” I said. I wasn’t sure if those were the right words, and I didn’t really care. I hadn’t planned on having office hours today, or ever, but I didn’t see any reason to be a jerk. These people were here because they had problems. If I could fix their issues, I might be able to make all our lives a little better and earn their gratitude in the process.
“Thank you, Lord Rathokhetra,” a woman’s surprisingly melodious voice said from beneath the dirty linen wraps. “I have traveled far to ask a boon of you.”
Oh, great. A beggar.
“Let’s hear it then.” I tried to keep the annoyance out of my voice, but I’m not sure it worked.
The figure before me stood with more grace than I would’ve imagined possible and uncoiled the linen from around her head to reveal a shock of platinum hair, its strands hacked off a few inches from her skin. The sides of her head were shaved down to pale stubble that was almost invisible against the pure white of her skin. Her eyes, too, were a shade of white that seemed to defy the idea that there were any other colors in the rainbow.
She was beautiful in a stark and unyielding way, and her chin was raised in proud defiance despite her humble station.
“I come before you as a humble wanderer, but I was not always so,” she said. “To reclaim my rightful place among the Order of the Winged Blade, I need ten thousand gold—”
“Wait, wait,” I interrupted. “I know this one. You’re a Nigerian princess, and to get your money out of the bank that’s holding it hostage you need me to give you ten thousand gold pieces. And you’ll totally give me half of your fortune when it’s back in your hands. Do I have that right?”
“I don’t know what a Ny-jer-won is,” the woman started, but her pride wouldn’t let her continue. She saw the scorn in my eyes, heard the titters of the men behind her, and knew she wasn’t getting any money out of me that day. “Very well. You have no reason to believe my story. I will return with proof.”
And then, before any of us could say another word, she turned away from the throne and headed for the door. By the time she’d reached the shield wall, she’d shrouded her amazing hair and alabaster face beneath the dusty rags, and a moment later she passed through the door and vanished as if she’d never been there at all.
I should have been relieved to have seen the beggar on her way with so little fuss, but I couldn’t help but feel that I’d just lost something. With a shrug, I marked the pang of loss down to a pretty face I’d never see again and turned my attention back to the crowd.
“Any other preferences?” Nephket whispered in my thoughts.
“Let’s see what goat boy wants,” I said. “And let’s hope the rest of these people aren’t beggars.”
After Nephket recognized him, the hoofed man made his way toward the throne. The wahket eyed him with open curiosity, but his fellows looked down their noses at him as if offended by his smell.
Which may not have been far off the mark. By the time he stopped a few yards away from me, a thick, farmyard scent had already reached my nostrils.
I’ll be honest with you. He didn’t smell great.
“What is it you seek?” I asked the bowed creature. I was ready to get this over with before it started. I’m really not cut out for this sort of thing.
“My Lord Rathokhetra,” he said, “I am a satyr. As I am sure you are aware, we have certain...needs...that must be met. I come before you to request that you allow me to open a business that will help me care for those needs.”
I’d heard of satyrs before, but I hadn’t expected to meet one. And if the old myths and legends I’d heard were true, his needs were of a particularly carnal nature.
“You want my permission to open a whorehouse?” I asked.
“If you must use that indelicate term,” the satyr said. “I prefer hall of ill repute or house of pleasures, myself. But, yes, that is what I seek.”
Nephket bristled next to me, and I took that as sign enough that we would need to discuss this later. I didn’t have a personal problem with prostitution, but I didn’t much care for all the bullshit that came along with it. If this goat-hoofed hornball thought he could become head pimp of the oasis, he had another thing coming.
“No,” I said. “At least not now. Return in a week’s time and we can discuss this further.”
“But—”
“Your Lord Rathokhetra has spoken,” Nephket said in a voice that was simultaneously emotionless and commanding. “Begone before I have you removed.”
The satyr averted his eyes and backed away from the throne without raising his head. He bumped into the wahket as he retreated, then apologized profusely and raised his hands as if to show he meant no harm when they hissed in annoyance.
The next hour was one of the most frustrating of my life. The blue kilts belonged to merchants, the yellow to craftsmen. They’d all come together to bitch about the robed figures, who had been members of a nomadic tribe before they’d settled in the oasis. Apparently, camels were shitty neighbors, and the tribesmen hadn’t been very polite about the territory they’d staked out near the settlment’s center.
“I’m going to nip this in the bud,” I told them. “Camels and tents on the northeast side of the oasis, merchants on the southeast side, craftsmen on the northern side.”
The townsfolk and nomads all seemed equally pissed off at the division I’d proposed, which told me it was a good judgment.
“They’ll be back again to protest in a week, if not less,” Nephket said as the merchants and craftsmen left the hall. “And the tribesmen may just leave town altogether.”
“Fine with me,” I said. “People can piss and moan all they want, but I’m not going to let this place turn into a squabbling shithole. Anyone else lurking outside?”
Anunaset waited for the tribesmen to leave, then poked her head through the doorway. She didn’t pull it back for a handful of seconds, and when she finally turned to face me her olive skin had paled to ash and the vertical pupil of her cat-like eyes had widened to a black void.
“You’re not going to believe this,” she said.
“Send them in,” I said. “I’ll be the judge of that.”
It turned out that Anunaset was right.
I could not believe this fucking guy.
He strode through the open door of the audience chamber like he owned the place. He wore light, airy robes fastened over his left shoulder by a golden clasp as big as an overripe apple. He had a sharp, hawkish nose and piercing blue eyes to match. Those eyes stared openly at the wahket, taking in each one with a predator’s gaze before moving on to the next in line.
The asshole hadn’t come alone, either. A squad of six soldiers dressed in golden plate followed him at a respectful distance. They wore no helmets, but their black hair was tied back in an intricate series of thick braids held in place by a small fortune in golden pins. And while the men’s faces had been weathered from their time on the road, their armor had been polished to a spit shine and not a trace of sand or grit followed them into the audience room.
“Your soldiers come no
nearer,” I said to the man. “But you may approach.”
The haughty man stopped, tilted his head to one side as if considering my words, and then raised his hand above his shoulder. The soldiers came to an immediate stop in perfect formation and clapped their heels together as they assumed a guarded stance beyond the line of wahket.
“I mean you no harm, Rathokhetra,” the man said in a condescending tone that made me want to rip his head off with my bare hands. “And while I’m sure my simple guards are no match for the women who watch over you, if it sets your mind at ease they will wait where they stand.”
The man walked toward me as he spoke. By the time he finished his little speech, he stood with one foot on the first step up to my throne. He smiled at me with a hungry shark’s grin, and an icy drop of fear plummeted into the pit of my stomach.
Where it was met by a volcanic eruption of rage that I struggled to control. Part of the anger was Rathokhetra’s usual imperious bullshit, but an even larger part of the fury was property of my injured pride. Who was this asshole to talk to me like I was a child?
“Lord Rathokhetra,” I corrected the man through clenched teeth. “What is your name?”
“Lexios Talenjin, gatherer of coin, servant of King Selician of Kyth,” he said without the slightest acknowledgment of my correction.
“Speak your business.” I tried to look bored, but I was so pissed it was damned near impossible to unclench my jaw.
“My journey from the capital has been long and wearisome, Rathokhetra.” Lexios coughed to clear the dust from his throat. “Perhaps one of your slave girls could fetch me a goblet of wine? Iced, if you have ice in this pitiful excuse for a village. The heat here is unbearable.”
The wahket’s eyes flashed to me and I felt the fury of Delsinia and Zillah like a pair of dark stars as they descended the stairs behind the throne. For once I was glad Kezakazek was tucked away in our stolen library because I was fairly certain that Lexios the Fucknugget would’ve sprouted an acid-lined hole in his forehead if she’d been in the room to hear his comment.
“That is twice you’ve misspoken my name, Alexa,” I said with an intentional dig right back at him. The dead dungeon lord at the back of thoughts raged at the disrespect, and it was a struggle to keep old Rathokhetra’s anger from turning my voice into an enraged shout. “Where I’m from, that’s called two strikes. You get one more chance to tell me why you’re here, and then you’re out.”
“Oh, my.” The asshat’s fingers fluttered at his chest and his eyes opened wide. “You’ve threatened me? That is unwise. I am the gatherer of coin, Rathokhetra, and my word is the law within all the lands my master controls. That includes this postage stamp of a parcel upon which this fetid sinkhole rests.”
This guy was on my last goddamned nerve, and old Rathokhetra had the rage throttle pushed all the way to the floor. The longer this conversation continued, the harder it was to keep his anger in check.
“You’re here to, what, take over?” I asked. “Because that’s never, ever, ever going to happen.”
The man grimaced at my words and shook his head as if I’d just asked him if he’d enjoy a steaming hot cup of diarrhea to wash the road dust out of his throat.
“Take over?” He looked around the audience chamber like he’d just seen it for the first time. “Oh, no. I have no desire to live out my days in exile amongst the villagers and beast bitches you’ve gathered here.”
“Then what?” I demanded. The old Rathokhetra filled my head with a very explicit desire to split this fucker’s skull with my khopesh, and it took most of my willpower to keep my ass on the throne. There was something about Lexios that warned me killing him would buy us more trouble than I could afford.
“Why, Rathokhetra,” the man said with a sly grin. “I’m here to collect the taxes that you owe to my lord and the kingdom in which you reside.”
The idea that I’d pay fealty to some asshole I’d never even heard of pushed Rathokhetra right over the edge. His regal fury ignited a powder keg of rage, and I decided it wasn’t worth the effort to fight its detonation.
“Third strike. Get. The. Fuck. Out!” I roared. My voice boomed like thunder inside the audience chamber and the tax collector’s guard detail flinched.
Lexios bowed low to the floor, his arms spread out to his sides.
“As you wish,” he said. “But be aware that your debt does not decrease because you shouted at me. Seven thousand gold coins is what my master is owed, and before I leave, you will be happy to give it to me. I shall return, and I hope you will have reconsidered your position by that time.”
Chapter 3 – Bloody Bones
LEXIOS LEFT THE AUDIENCE chamber, his minions in tow, while I squeezed my khopesh’s handle so tightly I thought I might snap it in half. I didn’t breathe or move until Lexios was out of my sight and the urge to cut him in half had subsided to a dull ache in my gut.
“We can afford the taxes,” Nephket said as she softly stroked my forearm. “I can arrange for payment from the treasury, and the wahket will deliver it. That would get him out of our way so you can continue your work.”
Rathokhetra’s rage was still a white-hot poker shoved straight into my adrenal glands’ collective asshole, and I had to work hard to stuff it down. It was far more difficult to shut him the fuck up in this case, partly because I agreed with him wholeheartedly. That fucking tax collector had come into my territory, into my actual house, and demanded that I cough up well over half of my total wealth.
Fuck. That. Noise.
“We could pay him,” I said to Neph. “This time. But once you let a man put his boot on your neck, you’ll have a hell of a time getting him to step off.”
“The boss is right,” Zillah said. “I didn’t catch the whole conversation, but I heard enough. Fuck this guy and fuck his king. They want a single copper piece out of us, they can come try to take it.”
“I believe we are already at the come-and-take-it part of the game,” Delsinia said with a wry smirk. “But we have the upper hand. We have a dungeon lord.”
While Delsinia’s enthusiasm and confidence in my ability to defend the settlement filled me with pride, there was a lot of shit I needed to find out before I stuck a knife in the tax collector.
“Have you ever heard of this Selician dude?” I asked Nephket. Lexios hadn’t bothered to use my title, so I sure as hell wasn’t going to give his boss that honor.
“I have not,” Nephket said with a frown. “But I haven’t been outside the oasis in a very long time. Whoever Selician is, he’s had centuries, at least, to build an empire that I would never have heard about.”
“First things first, then. We need solid intel on this guy.” I pointed at Delsinia and Zillah. “Find where Lexios is camped. I want to know where he sleeps and how many men he brought with him.”
I cursed myself for not giving Lexios and his bodyguards the dungeon lord’s eye to size them up while they were right in front of me. My Dungeon Speaks ability worked just fine in the settlement; there was no reason to believe my other dungeon lord abilities wouldn’t have worked as well. I couldn’t afford to make mistakes like that when I was staring down the barrel of this kind of trouble.
“We will find the tax collector and his men. Their secrets will become yours to do with as you wish,” Delsinia said with an evil smile that twisted the corners of her green lips up so far I swear I could count her molars.
“How many of them can I eat?” Zillah asked, and then clarified, “His men, I mean, not his secrets. I doubt those would be filling.”
“Zero,” I said. “For now, you’re after information, not blood.”
“Booooring,” Zillah said. She hooked an arm over Delsinia’s shoulders and turned the soultaker away from me. It was good to see that Kezakazek’s sour attitude toward the soultaker didn’t seem to have affected Zillah’s feelings. “Let’s go for a walk, Del. I want you to show me that knife trick again.”
Nephket chuckled as the guardians left a
nd then leaned back against me. She nuzzled my neck and traced the line of my jaw with her clawed index finger.
“And what would you have me do, Lord Rathokhetra?” she asked with a distinct emphasis on the title.
“Get the wahket out to patrol the city. A third of them on duty at a time, broken into pairs,” I said. “If they run into trouble, they’re to call for help. I don’t want Anunaset trying to battle a whole army by herself. Or eavesdropping on her boss.”
“I wasn’t eavesdropping.” Anunaset stuck her tongue out at me from the bottom step where she’d positioned herself to hear my conversation with Nephket. “I was paying attention.”
“Awesome,” I said. “You’re attentive, so you get the night watch.”
“But—”
Nephket slid off my lap, descended the stairs, and snapped her fingers to bring the wahket into a tight huddle around her. Her voice was calm but firm as she laid out her plan.
I would have liked nothing more than to hang out for the rest of the day with Nephket, but I still had a guardian to check on.
“I’m off to see the sights and check on Kez,” I whispered into Nephket’s thoughts. “I’ll be back before long.”
“Have fun.” Her laughter tinkled through my mind like crystal wind chimes on a spring morning.
She knew this wouldn’t be a fun trip for me. Kez was only a little snarkier than normal, and she turned up around bedtime every night for a little something something, but since we’d taken stock of Kozerek’s fortress on the other end of the Solamantic Web, she’d changed. The sorceress was driven now, borderline obsessed with her quest for vengeance in her family’s name. And while I knew my guardian would help me deal with the tax collector, it would interrupt her studies.
She would not be pleased.
“Her pleasure is not your concern,” Rathokhetra grumbled from his warren at the back of my thoughts. “You are the master, she, the servant. You must never forget that.”
“I bet the chicks just loved you,” I thought back at him.
