Destiny

The dome of Condortal’s hairless head glistened with sweat.

Sahim knew it was not merely the heat of Khur’s climate that troubled him. The khan’s recently-enacted protocol required Condortal to leave his personal retainers outside, and the knight felt naked without them.

An anxious visitor was an incautious visitor, so Sahim had kept them waiting, stewing in each other’s company in the overheated hall. Sahim himself had worn his lightest robe, of fine red silk. Embroidered in white and gold, two rampant dragons, the symbol of his own tribe, faced each other across its chest.

He did not bother to acknowledge the salutes of his soldiers or the bows of his visitors but crossed the floor with a deliberate tread, enjoying the immensely satisfying sight of the throne that awaited him. It was his people’s greatest treasure, hidden from the dragon overlord Malys during her occupation of Khur. The tall, heavy chair was covered in sheets of hammered gold. Its fan-shaped backrest was set with two star sapphires, each twice the size of Sahim’s fist and known as the Eyes of Kargath, for the Khurish god of war. Raised panels on the gilding depicted glorious events from the reigns of Sahim’s predecessors.

Once he was seated and his robe arranged to his satisfaction, Sahim acknowledged the holy lady first.

“Great Khan,” she said immediately, “the followers of Torghan are again harassing my priestesses in the city. Today alone, three were accosted in the Grand Souks.”

“Assaulted?”

Sa’ida firmed her lips. “No, sire. Manhandled, but not molested. The goods they carried were struck from their hands and trampled underfoot.”

“Deplorable. Wouldn’t you agree, Lord Condortal?”

“Deplorable,” repeated the distant Nerakan, “but hardly my affair, mighty Khan.”

“No?” Sa’ida turned toward him abruptly, the tiny brass bells braided in her hair clashing to underscore her anger. “It is said the Sons of Torghan take money from Neraka.”

“A vicious rumor, started by our enemies, the elves.” Condortal bowed to the outraged priestess, but there was no deference in his voice. As usual, he spoke much too loudly, and Sahim was glad he stood so far away. “Mighty Khan, is this why I was summoned? Crime in the city is not the concern of my Order. I will take my leave—”

“I have not excused you.”

Condortal, half turned toward the doors, halted, and turned back. The khan’s mask of royal composure had not altered, but his voice was imperious.

Shifting tone, Sahim assured Sa’ida her concerns had been noted. The City Guard was on watch for Torghanist activity. “These provocations are aimed at me, not your temple, holy lady, and I will deal with them. Several Torghanist leaders have been taken.”

He did not have to add and quickly executed; that was understood by all. The followers of Torghan the Avenger, the Khurish aspect of the god Sargonnas, reviled Sahim as a tyrant and a nonbeliever more interested in accepting foreign treasure than in keeping Khur pure of outside taint. Once mainly confined to the nomads of the desert-renowned for their distrust of all foreigners, by which they sometimes meant city-dwelling Khurs too-veneration of Torghan was spreading in the cities. The god’s small shrine in Khuri-Khan was seeing a steady increase in activity. That this might be due to Nerakan influence was a worrisome notion-not surprising to Sahim, but certainly worrisome. A cynic, he believed Nerakan money a far greater spur to Torghanist boldness than religious fervor.

“You both were called here to receive news,” he went on. “The laddad have reached the Valley of the Blue Sands. They prevailed against the nomads that dogged their journey from Khuri-Khan, and entered the valley ten days past.”

The news likely came as no surprise to Condortal. His Order had spies and informers everywhere. The priestess’s face displayed a series of emotions-surprise, relief, and curiosity. She asked what the event meant.

“It means the laddad are beyond the borders of my realm.”

That surprised Condortal. “Surely, great Khan, this valley is Khurish land.”

“It is no man’s land. If the laddad remain there, they are no matter for Khur.”

Silence reigned as Sahim refreshed himself from the brass goblet placed into his hand by a waiting servant. His visitors pondered the news he had imparted. Although both had heard the same words, the interpretations each placed upon them were very different.