Dark Empress

by S. J. A. Turney

  “Shall I join you first?” the man asked of Samir.

  “Best not. You and the others will have to be ready, on the assumption that I return shortly. Just meet me later and make sure Orin’s aware too.”

  Faerus nodded and sketched a bow as the three passed him and began the interminable climb to the council chamber on the hill. The walk up the sloping street was familiar to her and, if anything, even less pleasant than last time. On her previous visit she had been unknown and had elicited mixed reactions of interest, lust and suspicion. Now, however, every face hardened as it turned to them. Matters were made all the worse by the painfully slow pace of the journey, hampered as they were by the wounded Ghassan.

  After minutes that seemed like hours, they reached the point where the street made a hairpin bend and marched off back across the hillside, through the upper tiers of the town. Here stood the council hall with its great marble columned portico, speaking volumes of the faded glory of the island.

  “Alright… this is it. I shall speak first, then it’s your turn, Ghassan. Are you alright? Definitely up to this? Your testimony is solid support, but I expect I can work them around myself if you can’t manage.”

  Ghassan shook his head. “Leave it to me. I’ll be fine.”

  With a deep breath, Samir turned to Asima and her guards.

  “Take her to Surafana’s house on the hill. If Faerun and Orin have been efficient, it should be empty, but provisioned, and there should be a good secure room for Asima. Don’t rely on the room though… I want at least two of you in full sight of her at all times.”

  Asima glowered at him as the large pirate next to her nodded and grasped her upper arm tightly.

  “We’ll keep her nice and safe, cap’n. You be there soon?”

  Samir nodded.

  “Unless the council have other plans, Ghassan and I will follow you up very shortly.”

  Asima continued to glare at Samir as she was turned away and marched in a no-nonsense manner up the slope in the opposite direction, doubling back behind the town.

  Samir turned to Ghassan and smiled.

  “Follow my lead, then.”

  Ghassan, concentrating on the task at hand and keeping close attention on his brother, whose shoulder he still grasped for support, entered the fortress of his enemies for the first time, as a willing visitor. In other days he may have taken a more keen interest in this place that had been so sought after by his superiors for decades. Instead, he merely glanced briefly at the interior as they passed through the grand entrance and the outer room.

  Making sure Ghassan’s grip was secure on his shoulder, Samir threw open the door to the council chamber and stood in the doorway, gazing at the ‘U’ shaped table arrangement.

  The seats were occupied by the motliest bunch that Ghassan had ever laid eyes on: mostly older, ‘retired’ pirates, they were suntanned and weathered like the faces of a sandstone cliff, displaying networks of scars, punctuated with jewellery and tattoos. Clearly the hawk-like, dry and emaciated figure occupying the central chair like an animated and mummified corpse was the most venerable member. Equally clearly he had no love for Samir.

  Glancing around, it surprised Ghassan that there was no one on guard either outside the doors or within the chamber, but then who, on an island of pirates, would dare to interrupt a meeting of their elders. Apart from his brother, naturally...

  There had been a heated argument going on within as they entered, Samir striding out front, while Ghassan dropped behind, closing the door after them. The last threads of the argument tailed off as the council regarded their visitors.

  The last voice fell silent as the twelve most powerful men on Lassos stared in astonishment at the nerve of the wayward captain before them.

  “Captain Samir? You have not been summoned… yet.”

  Samir nodded and smiled.

  “You have my apologies for the interruption, gentlemen, and I realise that I am currently not the Lassos’ favourite son, but I am afraid that this simply cannot wait.”

  An ebony-skinned man, pierced and covered in gold jewellery, narrowed his eyes.

  “Captain Samir, you are insolent. The council is deciding your fate and you should not be here until ordered.”

  Samir shrugged.

  “This council can pronounce any judgement they wish... enforcing it is another matter entirely, but please allow me to speak. I am not here to argue with you, but to present you with the opportunity you need.”

  Ghassan noted an almost instant polarisation among the faces of the councillors. The elder two thirds frowned and glared at the insolent young captain before them, while the remaining younger council members took on a thoughtful look, almost as if they had been expecting something of the sort. But then, Ghassan realised with a smile, Samir’s reputation for innovative action and careful planning would already have made an impression on these younger councillors.

  Ghassan muttered under his breath, just loud enough for his brother to hear.

  “Samir? Concentrate on the younger ones. They’re almost with you.”

  Samir gave an almost imperceptible nod as the aquiline elder growled at him.

  “This council has no wish to hear from you or your whore son brother.”

  “I’m not sure that’s entirely true, elder Halcar” Samir smiled.

  “Let him speak, Halcar” barked one of the younger men, dressed in crimson velvet and with a neat scar across the bridge of his nose. “Samir is one of the best we have. If he says he has something of use for us, only the short-sighted would do away with him before asking more.”

  “Thank you master Culin. You are insightful as always. I’m afraid this will not sound good at first, but I must ask you to let us finish before you pronounce any judgements.”

  The hoarse, older man at the centre with the parchment-thin skin and the aquiline face glared at Samir.

  “You presume to order your elders around, Samir? Be very careful.”

  Samir bowed slightly.

  “No insult intended, master Halcar, but this is very urgent and very important.”

  “Go on” the one called Culin urged.

  “The time has come, masters of Lassos, to conclude our business with the Imperial navy of Calphoris. As we reached the reefs on our way here, a fleet of Imperial daram with Pelasian support was close enough to breath down our necks. Even now they will be encircling Lassos, blockading us and effectively ending our time as a free port of non-aligned … raiders, if you will.”

  The effect of the news was fascinating. The men of the council exhibited half a dozen different expressions on a theme of shock, anger and panic… all but Culin, who nodded sagely. Ghassan was interested to note no sign of surprise in the man’s features. There was a strange pause for a second or so in which the room filled with an oppressive silence and then suddenly the council exploded in argument.

  “Please, gentlemen…” Samir’s voice cut across the noise. The arguments tailed off as the councillors turned back to the speaker.

  “I am going to leave you to decide on the course of action when I have finished. I believe the only sensible choice is for the fleet of Lassos to arm up, crew up, and sail out en masse to meet the forces of the Empire. However, I realise that this sounds insane, so let me lay a few things on the line first.”

  He spread his arms dramatically.

  “For the last few years, Imperial control of the sea has been tightening notably. With Pelasia as an ally now, all the military have really had to occupy their time is making life difficult for the captains of Lassos. Our activity and takings have fallen dramatically in this time, and rarely do our captains manage an engagement without having to run for safety at the end. Things are becoming untenable unless we take back control of our sea. We are facing the extinction of Lassos lest we fight back and that is a painful conclusion to have arrived at, but I have been trying to find a solution for years now.”

  A feeling passed among the audience. The council may not like h
earing this, but there was no denying the truth of Samir’s words.

  “In addition, I see no other course of action as feasible. Lassos is not an abundant island. The vegetation here will support life, but only just. While people could live here indefinitely, their diet would be extremely dull and the food quantity would support only a handful at most. Our survival here has always relied on our takings, which are now too meagre to support the population. Our supplies may last a few months, but in the end we will be forced to take action against any blockade. We would be better dealing with it now, before they are set in and comfortable rather than later when they are fully prepared and fortified against us.”

  “And why are they here, captain Samir?” the elder growled. “Why have you brought our enemies to us?”

  Samir sighed.

  “Quite simply we were betrayed, and I allowed it to happen in order to bring us to this point.”

  There was another explosion of blustering and arguing. Samir stood back and crossed his arms, waiting for the noise to die down. As it did, Culin being the first to calm, the young councillor waved his arms.

  “Samir asked us not to judge until he was finished. Let’s hear him out.”

  Samir nodded and looked over his shoulder.

  “Ghassan?”

  The taller brother stepped forward, still leaning heavily on Samir.

  “You are all, no doubt, aware who I am. You may not, however, be aware of my current situation.”

  There was a tense silence and the ebony skinned pirate lord nodded quietly.

  “Culin has informed us that you are no longer employed by the military of the Empire.”

  Culin laughed.

  “More than that Saja. He’s actively a wanted man. My people have been seeing wanted posters going up all over the coastal cities. There’s a bigger price on his head at the moment than Samir’s, though they’re both sought after. I gather the pair of them blew part of the city wall to pieces in M’Dahz.”

  Samir nodded, impressed.

  “Your information is remarkably up-to-date, master Culin. That happened only just before we left to come here.”

  The council members nodded, each involved in their own thoughts on the brothers before them.

  Ghassan cleared his throat.

  “A young woman named Asima who was here recently with my brother later took the opportunity to visit with the governor in M’Dahz. She sold out not only Samir and myself, but the location and details of Lassos… even the existence of the compasses you use. It is Asima who has brought the fleet here; I was in M’Dahz at the time and spoke to Asima myself and I can confirm the truth of this. Samir’s only part in that is to allow her to do so.”

  “That alone is enough to hang him, captain.”

  Ghassan nodded.

  “I imagine so, but Samir believes that you can fight the fleet and win. I am, I must say, considerably more sceptical over the matter, but when my brother is sure, he is usually correct, as I’m sure you’re all aware. I myself am here for two reasons: firstly to give my evidence, as I just have, and secondly to seek sanctuary and safety with my brother, since I have nowhere else to go.”

  Culin stood as Ghassan stepped back and frowned.

  “I have no doubt that Samir and his brother are telling the truth, gentlemen. As you know, I have men in every port and some even hidden in places of authority in M’Dahz and Calphoris. Everything I have heard supports this story. The fact remains, however, that whether his intentions were good or not, Samir has brought our enemies to us. For that he should by all rights be put to death.”

  Ghassan winced at the comment, but Culin was already going on.

  “However, if he is right, we have an opportunity here and in that case, we really need any man we can get, and certainly one as wily and lucky as Samir.”

  He turned to the brothers.

  “I am tempted toward leniency, Samir. Convince us we can win.”

  “Very well, Master Culin. Let me give you the full tale. I have been looking for a way to break the growing naval control of the Sea of Storms ever since I first took command of the Empress. Asima, while believing she has been playing me has, in her betrayal, been the very linchpin of my plan.”

  He stepped forward once more under the suspicious gaze of the councillors.

  “I had to find a way” Samir continued, “to bring the governor’s fleet to battle with our own on favourable terms and this was far from easy, given the number of ships available to them, compared with our twelve. I could never have persuaded you to launch an assault on Calphoris, so I had to bring them here to provide you with no alternative. Once we clear the sea of the governor and his fleet, we can retake what is ours, and perhaps even more.”

  The hoarse, wicked-looking old chief councillor snorted and pointed at Samir.

  “We still have twelve ships, Samir, while they still have scores! What you have done is exterminated us, not saved us!”

  Samir smiled.

  “Not quite. What the governor does not currently know is just how many people I have placed in prime positions on board his ships in the last few years. Some of my less savoury friends from M’Dahz have been serving on board the Imperial darams for years, awaiting this very opportunity. As you know, I always plan things well in advance.”

  In the silence that followed, a light voice chuckled and then began to laugh out loud. Master Culin leaned forward, steepling his fingers.

  “Captain Samir, I would really hate to play you at dice. You have just answered for me one of the greatest mysteries of the past year.”

  The other councillors looked at him in surprise. Culin laughed.

  “On no less than four occasions in recent months documents have come into my possession that made no sense; documents referring to the hiring and transfer among the Imperial coastal forces of people that I wouldn’t trust to open a door for me without stabbing me in the back and stealing my purse. I could never figure out why the governor was putting such dubious and dangerous people in such important positions.”

  Samir smiled.

  “I am a little disappointed in my associates leaving a paper trail, but you are correct, master Culin. If my moves have all paid off, the odds will be considerably improved. Several of the enemy ships should be in a position to switch sides and join us, and a number of others will find themselves the victim of sabotage. I do not like leaving things to chance.”

  He noted the thoughtful looks on the faces of a number of the councillors.

  “We have a chance. We have needed this chance for months, and now it is before you. It is up to the masters of Lassos as to whether they take it. We have a few hours; possibly even days, before we have to move against them, so we will go to Surafana’s house, which lies empty, and settle in there until you reach a decision. You know where to find us.”

  Samir turned and sauntered casually through the door and out into the entrance hall, Ghassan following close on his heels and closing the door behind them just as a loud debate began to kick in around the table.

  Ghassan frowned as they stepped out into the fresh air and looked up the road toward their destination.

  “That Culin seems to be supporting you, but I think you’ll need to watch him. He’s clever.”

  Samir nodded.

  “He is clever… very clever and very well informed too, but that, Ghassan, is exactly what I’m counting on. Now come with me and I shall introduce you to the supporting cast in my little production.”

  In which BelaPraxis is honoured

  The house of the former head of the council, the recently deceased Surafana, was more an eyrie than a mere home. A grand residence constructed on a narrow ledge, much of the building was held up by great supports formed from the boles of trees, driven at an angle into the cliff. The approach had taken Asima’s breath away, partially from the sheer impressiveness of the structure and its positioning, but also with the thought that this house that looked to be held up against impossible conditions was about
to be her home at least for a few hours.

  It was not that she feared heights, or at least she’d never realised that she did, but this was something else; like being dangled over an immense drop with nothing to cling on to. Samir had chosen well. The only remotely safe exit from the building was the route by which they entered and there was no way she would be leaving without permission. Equally, of course, if things went badly at the meeting, this was clearly the most easily defensible position on the island.

  And so she had been bundled into the house with no ceremony, waited while the pirates chose a room for her, and was then escorted to a very secure chamber with only one door and a window that looked out onto a precipitous drop to the roofs of the town more than a hundred feet below.

  The escort had left the door open and one of their number sat on a chair opposite, his eyes locked on the makeshift prison cell. For the first five minutes of her incarceration, Asima had sat in one of the three chairs at the single table in the room and stewed over the situation. Once again, as so often in the last few years, she felt largely helpless and that aggravated her. Not being in control set her teeth on edge. Of course, her plans had now changed once more, so things were still quite uncertain.

  Whether the old crone in the desert was right with her uncanny sight and her prediction of Asima’s rise to power or not, Asima was sure in herself of her future. Even if Gods and fate had nothing to do with it, she would make damn sure it happened. And now Samir was about to put her in a position to make it happen without realising it. She wasn’t sure exactly what she would need to do, yet, since that depended on how events unfolded. However, when they went back out to sea, she was sure she could find a way to sell him out to the Imperial fleet and deliver him to the governor.