The City of Pillars (9 page)

“Omar,” said Melek, calling his lieutenant back for a private word.

“Yes, Captain,” he answered, turning around.

“For now, let’s end these displays.”

“What do you mean?”

“You sparring so many of our own is a great test of skill, I agree. However, it serves no purpose in the immediate future as our enemies will not fight like we do. If you want to fight multiple opponents, then do so in a way that will better serve our purpose. Have others in the Host try to mimic the styles of our enemy. And make sure such matches be set up for everyone, not only you.”

Omar wore an expression of shame and frustration. “Yes, Captain. I’ll see to it.”

Melek placed a hand on his shoulder. “Good. Go get some rest. You’ve earned it.”

Omar saluted and left, obviously unhappy with the aftermath of the sparring session.

Khalil walked up behind Melek. “He is trying to impress you. Though he trusts you as captain, he’s still bitter that he has yet to defeat you in a match.”

“I know,” said Melek. “And we can’t afford such a childish attitude. Especially now. Rather than seeking individual glory, his focus should be on seeking to glorify Hubul.”

We’ve already given up too much of ourselves not to.

CHAPTER 8

Rondel lay with his head upon a plush pillow. He stroked the hair of the young princess beside him, her blonde locks flowing over his bare chest. His other hand ran down her naked shoulder and upper back. She stirred in her sleep, the sound a seductive whimper.

A grin crawled across Rondel’s face as he thought about their night of passion. The grin faded as he looked toward the paned window to his right. The sky had lightened ever so slightly.

It was his turn to sigh. He’d need to leave. Servants would be coming along soon and it wouldn’t be fitting for the princess to be caught in bed with a minstrel.

He knew it wouldn’t be good for him either.

He kissed the top of the princess’s head, and slid out from beneath her supple body, easing her onto her pillow in one fluid motion. Years of practice ensured the girl remained asleep.

Rondel tiptoed across the granite floor, suppressing a shiver as the cool air drew goose bumps from his naked flesh. He moved to the forest green chair next to the dying fire where his clothes rested. He donned his leggings, then his tunic and boots.

He stirred the fire carefully and added another couple logs so when the princess woke she wouldn’t be cold. Carefully, he secured his pack over his shoulder and picked up his lute case.

He walked to the bed to gaze upon the princess’s beauty one last time. It was a habit he could never break. At first, he thought it had to do with admiring his conquest, but lately he wondered if there was something more.

Rondel let out a heavy sigh, one that lacked the satisfaction the princess’s had exhibited earlier.

He left without a sound.

* * *

Rondel drifted out of sleep slowly, carrying a heavy sadness.

Gods, where did that dream from?

He didn’t bother answering for he already knew. In his younger days, he had bedded any and every beautiful woman he had the opportunity to. He liked to tell himself that the women had used him as much as he used them, but he knew that had not always been the case.

Too many broken promises. Too many women hurt. All for a few hours of fun. In the end, was it worth it? It seemed like it then, but now?

In his youth, the idea of committing himself to any one woman was frightening. Even as an older man some of those fears remained.

Just look at how I reacted when Andrasta brought up the matter with Shadya. Cold fear.

Commitment had once meant settling down, and in his youth he had an entire world to see. But after seeing most of the world, he wondered if the tradeoff had been worth it.

Is that why I pursued mostly nobles, people above my station? Because I knew I could never be with them more than just a few nights. Certainly not long enough to build a life.

Is that why Shadya is so appealing to me now? Because our cultures would make it nearly impossible for us to be together?

What am I afraid of?

A whispered conversation jarred his thoughts. He opened his eyes, squinting as the first rays of dawn eked over the horizon. He slowly turned over.

Dressed in her familiar black abayah, Shadya squatted next to the sitting camel, talking. Though he couldn’t make out the words, the tone of her voice seemed odd. Many people spoke to animals. Andrasta certainly spoke to her mount, Jewel, from time to time.

But never with such inflection.
He chuckled silently to himself.
It’s like she expects Athar to answer her back.

Rondel sat up. The camel nudged Shadya’s shoulder as she turned in his direction.

“Ah, you’re up,” she said, patting the camel’s head and rising to her feet. She walked over.

Rondel stood, rubbing his eyes. “I hope I didn’t disturb anything,” he said, looking at Athar. The beast’s right eye opened and closed. It almost looked as though the animal had the slightest of smiles tugging at its thick gums. “Did he just wink at me?”

“Of course not. Camels cannot wink.”

“You talk to him a lot.”

“I picked him up after my sister died. Until now, he’s been my closest companion.”

Until now?

He cleared his throat. “Where’s Andrasta?”

“She said she was going to look for meat. She needs more than fruit and bread for breakfast apparently.”

“Well then I’ll just eat hers. After what we were stuck eating the days before we reached your apartment, I could eat fruit and bread for the rest of my life and be happy.”

She grinned. “A man of simple means then?”

“Now. Yes.” He paused and took a small bite of bread. “But not always. I was quite the pompous fool many years ago. Put a lot of emphasis on things that really don’t matter.” He snorted. “Some might say I still am pompous. Just older and more worn.”

She frowned. “I wish you would quit doing that.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re too hard on yourself.”

“It’s usually good for a cheap laugh.”

“Well, stop doing it around me. I didn’t know the old Rondel but the one I’ve spoken to these last few days, I’ve enjoyed very much. Far more than I imagined I would. It’s actually taken me a bit off guard. I hadn’t expected to speak so easily with someone of your kind.”

Rondel tilted his head to the side.

“I mean, well, a foreigner, I guess. And for the record, you’re much too intelligent to resort to the cheap laugh.”

He kept waiting for a smirk or a grin. Perhaps even a small shift in Shadya’s gaze. Something that might clue him in to how much of what she had said was truth and how much wasn’t. He saw nothing.

Either she’s really good or . . .

His palms began to sweat. He stood and started brushing off his pants. “Andrasta should be coming back soon I would think, right?”

Shadya gave him a curious look. “No telling really. This is not the land it once was. There’s little to be hunted in this part of Erba.”

“There is always something to be hunted. You just need to know what to look for.” He spun as Andrasta appeared at the top of the rocky slope which led to their camp. The woman walked toward them carrying a thick, three-foot-long snake. She glared at Shadya.

“Is that a horned viper?” Rondel asked.

“Yes.”

“Are they safe?”

“Only when they’re dead.”

Rondel clicked his tongue. “Now you decide to joke. I meant are they safe to eat.”

Andrasta walked to the back of the wagon and laid it lengthwise on the bed. “As long as you clean them properly.”

She withdrew her knife, flipped over the headless body so it was belly side up, and began cutting under the skin.

Is there anything that woman doesn’t know how to do?

Moments later, she tugged the brown scales away from the pink flesh. Andrasta asked, “Will we continue down this road to Thaj?”

“No,” said Shadya. “I only came this way to avoid suspicion from anyone that may have followed us. I performed a divining earlier. Hubul’s Host is heading toward the southern coast.”

“You look confused,” said Rondel.

“I expected them to head toward the center of The Empty-Hand Desert.”

“Isn’t it barren?”

“Very.”

“Then why would you expect them to go there?”

Shadya opened her mouth, thought better of it, and shook her head. “I’m not quite sure yet. But we’ll follow them to the coast.”

“Are there any cities along the way?” Andrasta asked. “We have food and some water, but not much else. We’ll need to make sure we have everything we might need to steal your mask back.”

“There’s a small town called Hegra along the way,” Shadya said.

Andrasta lifted the skinned snake from the back of the wagon and examined the prize. “Good.”

Rondel asked. “How are you going to cook that? We don’t have much in the way of wood.”

“We’ve got that,” she said, nodding toward a pile of dry camel dung. It was a common fuel for fires in the barren desert.

“Great,” Rondel muttered. “Breakfast of camel crap infused snake. Sounds delicious.”

* * *

Melek finished dressing, taking his time with shirt, trousers, boiled leather, and lamellar armor. Adjusting the straps that held his armor in place, he caught a glimpse of the silver circle, the full moon adorning his sleeves. He lowered his hands to his side.

The sight of Hubul’s crest made him question his decisions.
Am I doing the right thing? Am I being selfish?
He had spent another restless night awake. The weight of command bore down on him more each day. His hands opened and closed.
No. It must be this way. I’ve learned from my predecessors and I will be better than them.

“Captain?”

“Enter, Khalil.”

The tent flap opened, but Melek refused to face the sorcerer. He didn’t want his stress seen.

Khalil cleared his throat. “She reached out to us again.”

“And?”

“She’s left the city.”

Melek half-turned in surprise.

“She’s heading toward us. In no big hurry,” continued Khalil.

“Not surprising. She still has time before the alignment.”

“She’s not alone.”

“Who?”

“No one I recognized. The wards protecting her were too strong to listen in on their conversations. They were foreigners. A woman and a man.”

Melek turned completely. Stress no longer occupied his face. He was confused. “A couple?”

“Doubtful. The woman isn’t what one would expect. She’s dressed as a warrior.”

“Interesting.”

Does she really think she can succeed with only two people?
He paused.
Don’t dismiss them, fool. Don’t let arrogance cause you to make another mistake.

“What are you thinking, captain?”

He rubbed his beard. “Send for Omar. We need to find out more about the two she’s traveling with.”

* * *

Time on the road with Shadya did little to alleviate Andrasta’s concerns about the woman. Rondel and their employer used every opportunity they had to talk. Andrasta learned a great deal about her partner, things far back into his past before ever striking out as a minstrel, things he had not yet shared with her.

A part of her resented the fact that this stranger coaxed so much out of him. She realized that she had never really taken the same interest in his past that Shadya did. It actually made her question whether the woman did care about Rondel.

Have I been too hard on her?

But something kept changing her mind, a phrase or joke just a little too perfect. A look that showed too much interest. It all seemed so . . . .

Rehearsed.

That revelation jarred her. Despite the almost constant conversation with Rondel, Shadya had revealed little of herself.

The two were amusing themselves again when Andrasta’s voice cut through the mirth.

“Tell us something about you, Shadya.”

Both turned to her in the wagon’s bed with identical odd looks.

“Did you have something in mind?” she asked.

For the first time since meeting the woman, Andrasta heard her voice tighten. “Not really. Just trying to make conversation.” She ignored Rondel’s raised eyebrow.

He doesn’t think I care. I didn’t realize I did.

“Do you have a favorite food?” asked Andrasta.

“Not really.”

“Nothing at all?”

“Not anything that immediately comes to mind.”

“There must be something.”

“No, I—”

Andrasta cut her off. “A childhood memory?”

“What’s gotten into you?” asked Rondel.

“Nothing has gotten into me.”

“It’s all right,” said Shadya. “Now that I think about it, I do enjoy cardamom biscuits.”

“Mmm, those do sound good,” said Rondel.

“They are. Perhaps we can find someone in Hegra to make us a batch.”

“Did your mother make them for you as a child?” Andrasta cut in.

Shadya frowned.

“The biscuits, I mean. Food often holds some sort of sentimental value.”

“I . . . Yes, she did.” She looked away. “I’d rather not talk about her though. If I do, I think about that night she and the rest of my family were killed.”

“I see.”

Shadya’s excuse was a valid one, but also convenient. Few people would press someone who had gone through such a traumatic experience

A perfect excuse.
She felt a twinge of guilt.
I could be wrong.

After a few minutes of awkward silence, Shadya and Rondel began another conversation. Andrasta decided not to intervene.

Not that she had given up on pressing Shadya. She had decided that if Rondel was going to play the role of the comforter, then she could be the opposite.

* * *

The Undis River ran adjacent to Hegra, allowing for the growth of more vegetation than Rondel had seen since coming to Erba along the northern coast. Dozens of date palms and the occasional acacia towered over smaller olive trees. Beneath the trees grew a wide mix of shrubbery, too many for Rondel to recognize with the exception of white jasmine and purple lilac.