Sanctuary

Hakkam said, “We don’t know, Mighty Khan. The city gates have been shut, and the garrison mustered on the walls.”

Shobbat put a soft fist to his lips and coughed discreetly. His father roughly bade him speak up.

“Mighty Khan, the nomads obviously have come to make war on the laddad. Perhaps the Torghanists stirred them up.” Shobbat paused, assuming a thoughtful air. “The laddad Speaker sent an armed company to the Khalkist Mountains on a mysterious errand. They violated Weya-Lu territory, and it’s said they massacred two thousand women and children in their beds.”

The Khan snorted. “A lie. Only two hundred were killed, and it appears a sand beast committed that crime.” He turned to his general. “Hakkam, how many riders can you field?”

“Five thousand on short notice, Mighty Khan. More, given time.”

“Gather your troops. You are to drive the nomads back into the desert. How dare they bear arms before my city! When I’m done with them, they’ll think the sand beast a gentle pet!”

Hakkam bowed and was about to go when Shobbat laid a hand on his father’s arm, saying, “Wait, Mighty Khan!” Hakkam paused, and Sahim looked at his son as if he’d lost his mind. Shobbat released him, adding quickly, “Sire, don’t be too hasty! Perhaps this dire situation can yield a great harvest for Khur! Let the fight go forward. Whoever wins, Khur will be a better place for the loser’s absence.”

Sahim made a fist and knocked his son to the ground with a single blow.

“Idiot! Dolt! Fool! What are you thinking? I have given the laddad my protection! How strong will our neighbors think me if I allow the elves to be destroyed beneath the very walls of my capital, by those I am supposed to rule?”

When Shobbat was felled, activity in the courtyard and in the gatehouse ceased. Everyone halted to stare at the prince, sitting on the ground, his lips bleeding, his scarlet-clad father standing Over him like an avenging demon. The powerful voice of Sahim-Khan filled the courtyard.

“And Consider this, Wastrel! If the nomads lose, more will Come to avenge them. If the laddad lose, there will be no one left to pay for our repairs and your pleasures!”

Goaded beyond reason, the Khan drove the toe of his slippered foot into Shobbat’s ribs. “Don’t presume to offer guidance to me again! Get out of my sight!”

Doubled over in real pain, Shobbat got to his feet and slunk away. No one, not Sahim or Hakkam or those in the Courtyard, saw the strange look of triumph that passed quickly over his face.

“Go, General! Take your soldiers and drive the nomads back into the wastes!”

“At once, Mighty Khan!”

Sahim was still shaking with fury when he stalked into his private rooms. His son’s foolish Words had given him an outlet for his fears but hadn’t erased them from his mind. His Worry over the sudden appearance of the desert tribes so disturbed him that he didn’t notice the figure standing by the wall in the seam of two great hanging tapestries. Only when it spoke did he whirl drawing the short sword Concealed in his flowing robes. When he saw who accosted him, he uttered several choice curses.

“Such language!” said his visitor. “And from a king!”

“I’m in no mood for your tricks, Keth,” Sahim said testily. He tossed his sword onto a tiled tabletop and ran fingers through his beard.

Keth-Amesh was a distant cousin, a member of the same tribe as Sahim, and his private woman-of-all-work. While he dropped heavily into a chair, Keth poured herself a cup of his best wine. She lowered the dust veil from her face to drink. Long ago she’d lost an eye, and wore a tan leather patch over the empty socket. Her skin was tawny brown, like that of many nomads, but she had fair hair, wisps of which escaped from her headdress. She was a so-called ‘Yellow Khur,’ from the coastal lands of the extreme eastern part of Sahim’s realm.

“I found the mage, but not the priest,” she reported. She drained her cup then refilled it.

Sahim had set her to find Faeterus and Minok when his legion of soldiers, informers, and spies failed in that task.

“Where is he?”

“Below,” she answered, tapping a foot on the stone floor. She meant the system of caverns, natural and man-made, under the city. They had been enlarged by Sahim’s grandfather for use as cisterns, but the water proved brackish and undrinkable. The empty, noisome caverns were a perfect retreat for the hunted Faeterus.

“If you know where he is, go get him.”

Keth shook her head. “There’s not enough money in the world to get me down there.” When he said he would order her to go, she did something no one else in Khuri-Khan would dare do: She laughed at him. “I’m not one of your soldiers. You can’t order me anywhere.”

Sahim changed tack. “What of Minok?”

“No trace at all. He must be dead.”

“You haven’t earned your pay,” Sahim told her sourly. “I hired you to find both and bring them to me!”

She tossed a heavy purse on the rug at his feet. “Your money. Farewell, cousin. Call me again if you need anything—if you’re still khan, that is.”