Dark Empress

by S. J. A. Turney

  “Until then…”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  Samir touched his forehead respectfully and had to hide his smile at the vaguely lustful glances the two bored guards cast at the retreating beauty as she turned and wandered up the road.

  “Trust me, lads. You couldn’t afford that one.”

  One of the guards laughed and then returned to his languid pose.

  Tapping his foot impatiently, Samir watched Asima trot up the street. Too soon. Wait just a little longer…

  He blinked as she disappeared down a side street. Damn it. Could she possibly be doing something else? Where was she going? He’d assumed she would go straight up to the governor’s complex to announce the presence and location of the Dark Empress and its captain. Could she actually have been telling the truth? Was she just going to disappear?

  No.

  Samir chuckled, raising interest from one of the guards. Ignoring the man, he set off up the street at a fast walk. No… she would betray him; it was in her nature. She was just going somewhere else on the way to the governor’s. Could she be heading to her father’s old house? Maybe…

  He slapped his forehead as he picked up his pace to reach the side street.

  Of course! He’d asked her to check on his mother’s house. He hadn’t expected her to actually do it, but perhaps he had piqued her interest enough that she could spare the time to go and check. After all, as far as she was aware, she was in no rush. She may even go and visit her father’s grave too after all.

  With a frown, he strode along the busy street. The port official had been right. There was so much activity one could hardly imagine this was the same town that had suffered and almost died beneath the rule of a harsh foreign invader. Colour and noise abounded and the narrow road was so crowded that Samir was forced at times to pause and wait for a gap to open up or to push through a resistant and inattentive bunch of ditherers.

  He had lost sight of Asima as soon as she had turned into the side street but now, convinced of her destination, he knew exactly where to go. Gritting his teeth as he pushed his way between half a dozen burly men with a ladder and roll of banners, he shook his head.

  Would their mother’s house still be standing?

  Moreover, did he really want to go there and dredge up all those old memories and feelings? There wasn’t much choice, though. He needed to be sure of Asima’s betrayal to adjust his own plans accordingly so, even if she walked into the jaws of hell, at this point he’d follow her.

  Taking a deep breath, Samir headed home.

  In which Samir goes home.

  The house looked the same. Somehow, Samir had expected either years of abandonment and neglect to have taken their toll and left a ruinous shell of a building, or for someone to have taken up residence and changed the place.

  And yet he suddenly felt eight years old, returning from buying juicy watermelon at the market to wait for the noon meal.

  Clearly someone had taken up residence, though. He could see a blanket and some clothes hanging out of an upper window; men’s clothes too. Asima had either not noticed this or did not care, though, for, as Samir finally came within sight of the front door, the crowd parting as he reached the outskirts and streets that were less busy, he spotted Asima. He’d almost caught up with her, and she stood looking at the door of the building with her head on one side before shrugging and reaching for the handle.

  Samir hurried along the street, keeping to the side and obscured from sight by a couple playing noisily with a dog. He ducked and, keeping his head low, waited until she had pushed open the door and entered before rushing along the buildings and pushing himself up against the wall of the house.

  It felt exceedingly odd to be sneaking up on the only permanent home he had ever known, the place that held the memories of his mother, brother, father and uncle. He heard a call of alarm in a woman’s voice, muffled by the thick, cooling walls of the building. He couldn’t be certain, but was reasonably convinced the voice would be Asima’s.

  Judging the location of the occupants from the level of muffling of the voice and his flawless memories of the building’s layout, Samir ducked into a side alley that led up the slope between the houses to a higher road beyond and hurried up the steps to one of the small rear windows of the building.

  The aperture, partially obscured by a damaged blind that had been in that state as long as Samir could remember, led into the kitchen where he and Ghassan used to help their mother prepare meals.

  Now there were two voices, becoming clearer as he approached the window; one male and one female.

  Stooping slightly, he put his eye to one of the small gaps in the blind and blinked in surprise. Ghassan stood at a ruined table in the kitchen, propped up on a broken chair. He looked tired, scruffy and badly-shaven. Samir nodded to himself. His brother must have been discharged from the navy. They wouldn’t countenance an officer in that state. As he watched, Ghassan flung his arms wide in an angry gesture as he fixed his gaze on Asima, standing in the doorway. To Samir’s surprise there was a bottle in his brother’s hand; one of the powerful spirits distilled by the northern tribes and quite hard to buy for a reasonable price this far south.

  “I don’t care what you’re doing here, Asima. Get the hell out of this house. You’re cheapening mother’s memory with your stink!”

  Again Samir blinked. Ghassan was taking it hard, but then the taller brother had always been the more sensitive, and the pungent brew would not be helping. Asima’s betrayals and deceit were easy enough for Samir to brush off, but Ghassan would feel wounded every time he saw her.

  For a moment, Samir’s heart went out to his broken brother.

  “Things will be better, Samir”… the words Ghassan had spoken to him on that day when so many innocent people had been cast to their death from the town wall. And right now, things were better for Samir. Not so for Ghassan, but then the taller brother was unaware of Samir’s plans for the future.

  The small, handsome brother smiled at the window.

  “Things will be better, Ghassan” he said under his breath.

  Asima had entered the room now and levelled a finger at Ghassan across the table.

  “Don’t be blind and petty, Ghassan. If you don’t listen to what I have to say, you’ll sit here and wallow in your own filth and drink yourself to death, and nothing good will come of this for either of us.”

  “Go away!”

  Samir was surprised once again as Asima rounded the table and grasped Ghassan by the forearms. The bottle fell to the surface, where it tipped onto its side and began to spill its expensive and corrosive contents onto the wood. He hadn’t realised how bad things had become. His brother was either truly drunk or a broken man.

  “Ghassan, you have a chance here to make everything right and I ask for very little in return!”

  “Whatever it is, Asima, the price is too high. Whose life or liberty are you selling now?”

  Asima smiled and Samir couldn’t believe how horribly feral that face had become.

  “I can give you your honour and your career again. How much is that worth to you?”

  “Less than it’ll cost.”

  Asima pushed Ghassan and the slightly inebriated soldier fell back into the chair behind him.

  “Wake up you idiot. Samir’s in M’Dahz. He’s brought me back and he’s in port as I speak.”

  Ghassan sat up straight and Samir suddenly wished he could see his brother’s expression.

  “Samir’s days of piracy are numbered” she went on, jabbing an angry finger at the seated man. “I was on my way to turn him in to the governor but I made a side trip out of curiosity.”

  Despite everything, Samir had to smile to himself. There was a certain point of untrustworthiness and deviousness where a person became as predictable as a straight and law abiding citizen. He peered down at them. Ghassan was shaking his head.

  “What have you got against Samir? I thought your quarrel was with me, Asima.”


  Samir raised his eyes to the heavens. It wasn’t that Ghassan was slow or stupid, but he had trouble seeing the dubious side of anything, even of Asima. The alcohol had likely blinkered him a little too.

  “Ghassan! I need to return to Pelasia, and I prefer to do it legitimately, with power and finance. A good step to doing that would be to have the governor on my side, and possibly even a reward.”

  “Then why come to me?”

  Asima laughed.

  “Happy accident, Ghassan. I came here on a whim at Samir’s suggestion, just to see if the building still stood. But there are advantages to coming to you rather than the governor.”

  The seated man greeted this with an empty silence, so Asima shrugged.

  “The governor may not agree to see me… I’m not precisely in his favour, as he only wanted to send me away. Even if I do get to see him, he may not believe me, and that just leaves too many uncertainties for me. Then there’s the practicalities too. If the governor sends troops to the port to take him in, Samir may well get away with his ship before they can board. If not it’ll likely end in a fight and, again, the outcome’s too uncertain for my liking. No, we need to capture him alone, and I can’t really do that on my own.”

  Ghassan nodded and cleared his throat.

  “It so happens that the notion of the capture of Samir and his ship has been knocking around in my head for a while now. I’ve not had my judgement decided by the provincial governor yet, but if I can deliver Samir, it would go a long way to solving my problems.”

  He stood once more, with only a slight wobble.

  “I am not happy at all with working alongside you, Asima, but if you can deliver Samir to me I give you my word that I shall speak to the governor and ask him to grant you permission to stay and at least a portion of the reward.”

  Asima smiled.

  “Just what I had in mind.”

  “And then I never want to set eyes on you again, for as long as either of us lives. Is that clear?”

  Asima nodded with a nonchalant shrug.

  “Once I am on the road back to the Pelasian throne, I care not a jot for what you do, Ghassan.”

  Samir listened for a moment to them finalising their deal and then stole away from the wall. He would have to see where she went from here: the governor’s compound or the port? The pirate captain was sure of three things:

  Asima would not leave Ghassan to glean most of the glory and profit from this. She was spiteful and greedy and would want everything for herself. She needed every ounce of support if she was to try and return to her place in Pelasia.

  Similarly, Ghassan had no intention of letting Asima take her portion of the glory. She had dishonoured him, committed crimes against the navy and the Empire, at which the tall captain would take great offence, and had personally betrayed and insulted him. Samir was convinced his brother would turn her over after they succeeded.

  And yet, he was also sure that neither of these things would come to pass. Asima must be stopped for the good of the world at large and the brothers specifically. Under no circumstances should a woman with that kind of mind be any closer to power than she was now. Moreover, Ghassan had to be made to realise that he was wallowing and drifting when he should be working with Samir and Asima would have to betray them for him to have any hope of convincing Ghassan.

  Samir suddenly ducked back into the shadow of a wall as Asima strode from the front door of his former home. He held his breath as she looked up and down the street and then walked off down the slope from whence she’d come. Nodding to himself, Samir disappeared into the crowd and rushed ahead until he reached the point where this street joined the main thoroughfare up the hill through the town. There he waited in a doorway, watching.

  A minute later he caught sight of Asima’s face among the crowd as she reached the main street. Again he held his breath as she looked up and down the hill.

  Governor or port?

  Squaring her shoulders, she turned, a determined look about her, and strode back down the hill.

  Nodding, Samir moved off ahead of her among the crowd, making directly for the port gates as fast as he could. She’d not been to see the governor, then. What on earth was she up to? He needed her to do something wicked to help him with Ghassan.

  Sighing, he made his way down the hill, through the docks and up the plank to the ship that wallowed in the water by the jetty. Two of his men nodded respectfully at him as he came aboard. Quickly, he looked himself up and down; a little dusty, but fine, really. He brushed himself down and strode across to his cabin, entered, poured a drink and waited for his visitor, relaxing in the chair.

  The wait was not long. Two minutes he had counted when there was a knock at the door and it opened a little.

  “The lady’s back sir, and asking permission to come aboard.”

  Samir nodded.

  “By all means. Show her in.”

  He smiled as he took a sip of the good wine he kept in his cabinet and then looked up, feigning mild surprise, as Asima entered and the sailor shut the door behind her.

  “Asima? Back so soon? I thought you’d be on your way to Akkad by now?”

  She shook her head. There was a look of despair, or possibly sadness, on her face. Both expressions seemed so alien in that environment that Samir had trouble identifying it. What was she up to?

  “Samir… I don’t know how to tell you this…”

  He frowned.

  “What are you talking about, Asima?”

  She fell silent. A tear rolled down her cheek and a slight wobble began to affect her lip. Samir didn’t know whether to laugh or be impressed. The show was well and truly underway.

  “Samir, it’s your brother…”

  Got to play it right, he thought, as he threw the most perplexed and cautious expression he could manage across his features.

  “Ghassan? He’s here?”

  “After a fashion…”

  “Asima?”

  More tears now. It really was quite impressive how she did that.

  “He’s dead, Samir!”

  There was a momentary hoarse catch in her throat and then she threw her hands up to her face and began to sob. Samir blinked in shock and stood suddenly, clambering wildly round the desk to grab her by the shoulders. Gritting his teeth, he shook her a little so that her head jolted back.

  “What are you talking about?”

  She burbled and wiped her eyes.

  “I went to your mother’s house to see if it still stood. It was empty and quiet, so I went in to have a look, and there he was… oh, Samir. It’s horrible.”

  Samir frowned. She was good. How could he resist this?

  “What happened, Asima?” he barked, his voice on the edge of feigned panic.

  “He… oh, Samir. He’s been attacked… beaten… knifed.”

  Samir smiled inwardly. It was perfect, but now he had to play his part in the drama with equal skill. Settling his features into a grim determination, Samir addressed her through clenched teeth.

  “Take me there!”

  In which plans are laid and undone

  Samir followed Asima through the crowded dock. He wondered for a moment whether he should have suggested taking a few sailors with him. It would be inconvenient, though a natural thing to do, but in the end he decided to forgo that and head out with her alone, trusting she would put any lack of caution down to shock or the necessity of speed.

  They passed through the dock at a fast walk; a run would attract far too much attention for either of them and, at the far side, Samir almost walked into Asima’s back as she slowed near the port gate. What was she up to?

  Surreptitiously, while keeping his head lowered, Samir scanned the area and almost smiled as he noticed the gate guards. The military were not noted for their subtlety and these two were no exception. One kept his eyes averted from the pair of them while the other gave a barely perceptible nod to Asima. Samir’s eyes strayed a little and noted that the man’s grip on his spear tigh
tened, the knuckles whitening.

  That was it then. She’d not needed to go to the governor because she’d already sold them out to the town guard. It was a dangerous play, given the likelihood that the guard might just be eager enough to capture him that they’d go ahead and ruin whatever plans she had.

  He frowned as they passed the guards and entered the street leading up the hill, repeating their earlier journey precisely. The soldiers weren’t trying to take him at the gate, so she must have told them to come to the house. It would have been easier to capture him here, so they must be intending to take Ghassan at the same time. But why? Separately would have been so much easier for them.

  Quickly, they hurried up the street toward the turning that led toward the west gate and their house. Samir worked through every conceivable angle and motive as he rushed along behind her. They were trying to get both brothers together and that meant that some extra evidence was afforded by them being in the same place.

  He almost slapped his head as he realised.

  Ghassan could very easily be accused of complicity in the whole affair. From a legal standpoint it was not unrealistic to assume that the naval officer had delivered both Asima and his ship to his brother for a cut of the profit, through some familial obligation, or myriad other possibilities. To find Ghassan in apparent collusion with Samir would likely damn them both and leave Asima with a cloak of innocence.

  Once more, Samir considered just how dangerous Asima could be if she managed to get her hands on real power. She was more trouble than a thousand Pelasian invaders.