Dark Empress

by S. J. A. Turney

  Ahead, the fog parted as the vessel reached the inner edge of the reefs. Lassos rose like the crown of a stone giant’s head cresting the water, clouds clinging to the higher rocks and birds of prey circling.

  “Very dangerous.”

  In which we are introduced to Lassos

  The Dark Empress bumped against the jetty for the final time as it came to a stop, sailors throwing lines and tying them off. Samir strode across to the rail and turned, gesturing at Asima.

  “First thing’s first: I need to present you to the council.”

  Asima frowned and, shrugging, followed. The captain waited for the plank to be run out to the dock and then trotted lightly down it. His companion eyed it suspiciously and took a tentative step. The plank bowed alarmingly under her weight, a fact which irritated her immeasurably. Gritting her teeth, she hurried as fast as she dared down the board and onto the relative stability of the wet, slippery jetty.

  Samir grinned.

  “I feel it is important that I explain a few things about Lassos to you. I’m sure my reasons will become apparent in time. It’s just as shame that Ghassan isn’t here too, but that can’t be helped for now.”

  Asima frowned.

  “You have become cryptic in your old age, Samir.”

  He laughed.

  “In my position, I am bound to keep some secrets and merely sensible to keep others.”

  She grumbled as she carefully picked her way along the drier patches of the wooden jetty until they reached the end and entered the ‘town’, for want of a better word. The whole community nestled in on the low slope from the port to the point where the hill became more mountainous and rocky and even then other buildings clung to the edge of cliff like the eyries of eagles, with tortuous paths leading to their doors. There were perhaps a hundred buildings in all, of many different styles.

  Most of the structures of the port area and the lower town were reminiscent of the architecture Asima was used to from M’Dahz and the borderlands of the desert. As the settlement ambled up the slope, however, the style changed notably. The buildings became larger and grander, and probably older. These would be the earliest remnants of permanent settlement on Lassos. The higher buildings were reminiscent of the architecture she had seen in books on the Empire and its great cities, all bricks and marble and columns and carvings. Others, higher still, hanging over precipices and looking out over the lower town were similar, but grander, with more marble and less brick; eastern, she had a feeling, like Germalla and its surroundings.

  “There is nobody in Lassos who is not a pirate” Samir said as he led her between various stacks of crates and equipment near the dock and toward what he probably considered a street. Asima had grown to adulthood in Akkad, with its clean boulevards. This looked more like the sewers that ran beneath that city but open to the air.

  “Then who lives in these buildings?”

  Samir shrugged.

  “The council of twelve are permanent residents. Also, there are only ever two or three ships out at sea at any time. One of the compasses goes out with them to guide them out and home, while the other stays on Lassos in case of any trouble. Years ago there were three compasses, but one went down with a ship in an Imperial naval assault. I suspect that there were once ten; one for each finger of whoever donated his hands…”

  Asima nodded.

  “So the crews of most of the ships live a relatively normal life here and occasionally the population changes when ships come and go? How many ships are there altogether?”

  Samir gave her a sidelong glance.

  “You sound suspiciously as though you’re probing me for information, Asima.”

  “Not at all. You suggested this, not me.”

  “Very well” Samir agreed. “There are actually only a dozen ships at the moment. The number goes up and down, but rarely. New ships and crews have to earn a great deal of respect and trust before they can get close to Lassos, and most of the captains settled here are good enough that the chances of them being caught by the authorities are minimal. So yes, the town is occupied and run by sailors during their shore time.”

  Asima frowned.

  “Then there are no women here? I am going to be rather conspicuous.”

  She was, too. Asima was becoming aware of the stares she was getting from people as they passed, some suspicious, others lusty. Samir grinned.

  “Oh there are women, but they all serve on the one ship. Most captains are very superstitious and don’t like a woman on board. Captain Rianna is different, being a woman herself.”

  Asima nodded in approval. It was a disgusting life of depravity and danger, living in squalor and filth, but it was good on some level to know that such awfulness was not purely the province of men.

  “And you say these pirates are not reasonable like yourself?”

  Samir laughed.

  “I wouldn’t announce that too loudly; some may take offense. There are two captains in Lassos that walk the path of mercy and reason; younger captains too and friends. I live in hope that one day the truly wicked men here will pass away and a new breed of pirate will be able to take control. Khmun, who was my captain, was the first of his peers to consider allowing an enemy crew to leave with their lives intact, but the idea is beginning to take root. Yes, two friends, to whom I shall introduce you presently. The rest you would do well to stay away from. Some of them may even consider rape and murder in public with a face and body like yours.”

  Asima shrugged. She had survived in places much more subtle and dangerous than this.

  “I have no intention of letting myself reach that position, yet I would be grateful if you would allow me to carry a knife. I had one for protection, but Ghassan took it from me.”

  Samir nodded.

  “When we return to the ship in a few hours I will find you a knife, but be careful what you do with it. The murder of anyone on Lassos brings about the death penalty, and even a non-fatal attack will likely see you chained at the bottom of the harbour.”

  His companion nodded and fell silent, taking in her surroundings as they climbed the street ever higher, past bristly, sweating men performing menial tasks, who stopped and watched as they passed. As she walked, with Samir reeling off names and facts, her mind wandered; she’d learned what she needed from him for now and had to think quietly.

  The problem was that she was at Samir’s mercy and that rankled, but she couldn’t let it become an issue. Her plans had been shattered repeatedly, and Pelasia was further away than ever, but this was a temporary measure; an alliance of convenience. At least she was no longer bound for the north and Samir would take her back to M’Dahz, of that she was sure. She had to bide her time in the interim, stay low and cause no fuss.

  And yet, there was something about the way Samir was acting and talking that made her pause. He was up to something and he was far more subtle and inscrutable than his brother. She would have laid Ghassan’s mind open by now like the entrails of a sacrificial animal and be picking through his plans and motives. Not so with Samir. In time he would slip, or she would pry the information from him. She may have to sleep with him in time, but it was a small price really for his help and her continued safety.

  She turned to him and nodded, focussing once more on his conversation.

  “… and the captain of the Sea Witch took the last position on the council, and became the twelfth permanent resident of the island. He lives in that palatial place up there in the cliffs. Brooding, isn’t it?”

  “It is” she agreed, nodding as though she’d been listening to his drivel all the way up the slope. To her surprise, Samir stopped. They appeared to have arrived at their destination. A large building in the classic Imperial style, with eight white marbles columns fronting a grand portico, this must be the council that he’d spoken of.

  With no ceremony, he strode across to the door and pushed it open, stopping and gesturing for Asima to join him. She approached with a little trepidation and followed him through the
open door, conscientiously shutting it behind her. She was currently at the mercy of these people and would do well to try and get on their good side.

  The hall they entered was impressive, but plain. For some reason, given the architectural style, Asima had expected something more grand and decorative. The hall was constructed of white marble or, at least, she thought as she noted with some satisfaction a crumbled area of wall in one corner showing its core, it was built of brick with a veneer of thin white marble to give a more noble impression. There was no furniture or decoration in the hall barring a single small wooden chair and desk to one side and a rickety bench by the opposite wall.

  She had little time to ponder on the strangely disparate nature of the building, as Samir continued on across the room, gave a smart rap on the opposite door and, opening it, strode through, leaving it agape behind him.

  “Masters of Lassos,” she heard him say as she hurried to catch up. “I return with good news and a request.”

  A cracked and ancient voice answered quickly.

  “Your requests, captain, are always troublesome.”

  Samir was nodding as Asima reached the door and entered, closing it quietly behind her. There were three tables in a ‘U’ shape here with twelve impressive high-backed chairs at them. The floor space between the tables was occupied with a map of the Sea of Storms and its surrounding lands, constructed painstakingly accurately from different coloured marble and stone. Strange markings had been made in places, presumably noting the location of important vessels or the sites of some great event.

  Only three of the chairs were occupied. The speaker, a man of extremely advanced years, was clearly a Pelasian, a fact that took her somewhat by surprise. For some reason she had drawn a mental line that separated Pelasians from these people. The other two occupants were men in their late forties. None of them looked remotely pleased to see Samir or his companion.

  “This woman is an old acquaintance of mine and no friend of the Imperial authorities, who was being held captive by them and taken as a slave to the northern cities. I intend to return her to her home in due course and beg leave of the council to allow her to stay on the island until then.”

  One of the ‘younger’ leaders stood and slammed his hands on the table.

  “We do not bring outsiders here, captain Samir. You know the rules. You should have taken her elsewhere before returning. Now we should have to have her killed.”

  “That was not possible, I’m afraid, master Culin.” Samir smiled. “She was being held captive on the Wind of God and now that that vessel languishes on the sea bed, it would be foolhardy of me to go to close to the mainland. Half the world’s navy will shortly be searching for me. We can’t afford to lose a certain item in my possession, after all…”

  The three councillors fell silent and the speaker returned to his seat.

  “That is good news, Samir. I wouldn’t say good enough to offset endangering everyone by bringing her here, but good news nonetheless. The Wind of God was beginning to cause great concern to the council.”

  “Do I then have permission to allow the lady Asima to stay in Lassos?”

  The councillors shared hidden looks and the elder rumbled for a moment before looking down his nose at them.

  “She may stay on board your ship until the full council meets tomorrow. We will then decide her fate and consider yours. You are foolhardy, captain Samir. Khmun paid the price for your adventures, but rest assured that we will not fall in with your lunacy. Return to your ship and wait there until we send for you.”

  Samir bowed and, turning, grasped Asima by the arm, guiding her from the room. As the door shut behind them, she regarded Samir levelly.

  “Not over-friendly. I fear they will weigh down against me and you will pay the price for bringing me here. We may both die tomorrow”

  Samir shrugged.

  “There are events set in motion, Asima, of which you know nothing. The council will almost certainly sentence you to death and exile me. These things needed to be done. Now we must stop in and see a few friends before we return to the Empress and I need you to be as charming as possibly and preferably drop a few hints that you are full of very useful information. I am far from foolhardy. There are reasons for everything I do.”

  Asima narrowed her eyes. She was sure of that… oh yes.

  In which the Empress breaks out

  Asima woke with a start. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep at all, let alone as deep as that, but the hours spent at Captain Faerus’ lodging had been warm and inviting and she had been ‘encouraged’ to drink considerably more wine than was good for her. It had taken every ounce of her self-control to hold her tongue and keep her secrets while playing the part Samir had asked of her.

  The house had been prepared to celebrate the return of Samir. As soon as the Empress had appeared at the dock, Faerus had begun to crack the barrels of drink and sent one of his men out to gather their compatriots together. By the time Samir had arrived with Asima and a few chosen crewmates in tow, the alcohol was already flowing and more than a dozen men were laughing and singing.

  The reaction to her presence was curious, with initial surprise giving way to suspicion. Then Samir had explained who she was, embellishing certain aspects of her history, such as her repeated captivity and her dislike of Imperial authorities. In Samir’s words, she appeared to be a troubled rebel repeatedly surviving the hardships brought down by one government or another. Asima was once again impressed at the subtle ways the young captain’s mind worked. When she thought about it, he had told no lies and left out few facts, while bending the truth to appear as he needed it.

  To the other occupants of the room, she quickly became a figure of respect and would appear to have knowledge of the Pelasian navy and access to people in higher positions in both there and the Empire.

  It had taken only moments for her to realise what he was doing. In the morning, the council would meet and Asima would be condemned to a watery grave as a danger to the security of Lassos. Samir may receive the same punishment or, at the very least, would be exiled from the island. However, by the time these decisions were announced, those who were already sympathetic with Samir and his politics would be aware that he had heroically removed the single greatest threat to the captains and their ships: the Wind of God. He would be a hero to them, which means the council would be condemning a hero to death.

  Moreover, Asima was now known to have helped take down the ship by crippling her rudder. When combined with the impression that she was herself an outlaw with information that could be of great use to the folk of Lassos, the death sentence pronounced on her would likely create equal outrage.

  Samir had used her to turn some of them against their own leaders. It was a masterly stroke, along the lines of things Asima had done herself.

  The downside, of course, was that those who were outraged by all of this would still be vastly outnumbered by those who were loyal to the council and no great friend of Samir. He may have turned some pirates to his cause, but not enough to prevent their death once the announcements were made.

  And that was obviously why mister Ursa, the bald and tattooed first officer, was gently shaking her awake now.

  “Captain wants ya on the command deck, miss.”

  Asima blinked wearily. This hardly seemed the same man who had glared and grumbled at her as they had first arrived yesterday afternoon. But then, Ursa had been present last night; had learned what the others had of her somewhat exaggerated past. By the middle of the evening he had begun to smile when he looked at her and, by the end, he’d been the worst of all culprits for force-feeding her the strong wine.

  She had tried to tell Samir that all this alcohol was a bad idea, but he had insisted that it would be abnormal and unseemly to reject Faerus’ hospitality.

  Rubbing her bleary eyes and trying to ignore the insistent thumping in her skull, Asima stood and stretched. With a grin, Ursa draped a blanket over her shoulders.

  “Col
d out there, miss. Fog’s in thick tonight.”

  With a nod, Asima grasped the blanket and, pulling it tight around her, exited the cabin and walked the short distance to the ladder that led to the command deck.

  She frowned as she eyed the deck.

  There was a more activity that she thought there should be at night. The few visible crewmen moved silently, in much the same way as they had through the rocks. Ropes were being coiled and crates lifted aboard. The sight was made all the more eerie by the thickness of the fog that enveloped them all. She could barely see the bow of the ship, let alone the town. The jetty marched away on legs of oak into the blanket of white.

  Turning, she climbed the ladder. Samir sat on a low wooden bench near the rudder.

  “Ah, Asima.” His voice was soft, almost lost in the fog that settled creepily around the ship. “It would seem that the Gods of weather are feeling kind.”

  She tried to keep the sneer from her face and was only partially successful.

  “You need fog?”

  Samir smiled.

  “It wasn’t a necessity, but very useful, nonetheless. Makes things considerably easier”

  Asima frowned, turned and cast her eyes across the rail. Sure enough, the jetty was slowly slipping away from them. Even in the moment she watched, she saw the end, jutting out welcomingly, disappearing into the all-consuming white.

  “We’re underway? I never heard a thing!”

  Samir smiled.

  “Just ten oars. Enough to get us moving but not enough to make a loud noise, particularly in the fog. With any luck, we’ll be almost out of the harbour before we’re noticed.”

  Asima shook her head.

  “What are you doing, Samir?”

  The young captain smiled.