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Dark Empress

Page 36

by S. J. A. Turney


  He was concentrating hard and his first distraction came when he was almost a third of the way across, as he heard the guard reach the end of the beam behind him and draw a deep breath. Without taking his eyes off the route ahead, Samir called out to his pursuer.

  “You should stop there.”

  “I imagine that would suit you” replied the man and Samir was surprised and pleased to note a hint of wry humour to the voice.

  “You really are very good. Where did you learn to run so fast and jump so well?”

  He smiled, his tongue stuck out of the corner of his mouth in concentration.

  “I used to run in the games, pirate.”

  “Call me Samir. And you are?”

  “Getting tired of chasing you. I will make it across and I will catch you. If you stop at the other side, I’ll make sure the captain goes easy on you, though.”

  Samir laughed. Two-thirds of the way across now. He’d had a couple of moments where he’d had to readjust his footing and his heart had skipped a beat, but he was sure of his abilities; knew himself and this beam very well.

  “I’m afraid I can’t do that, officer. You see, I have obligations to help people and I can’t do it while your captain uses me to blunt his knuckles.”

  He laughed again.

  “Gods, I wish you were on my crew. I could use a man like you.”

  “I’m sure the same could be said the other way around but, sadly, things are what they are, captain. Now… Whoa!”

  Samir bit his cheek and stopped for a moment, taking the dangerous opportunity to glance over his shoulder. The guard had almost slipped and was wobbling back and forth, regaining his balance.

  “That was close, my friend. I have no wish to see you shattered on the cobbles, so do be careful.”

  “Thanks” came the dry reply, and the two men began to step forward again. Samir sighed. He hated this with a passion, but there was no choice. He couldn’t allow the guard to follow him beyond the beam. There would be nowhere better than this to halt the pursuit.

  He clenched his teeth as he stepped from the end of the beam onto the edge of the flat rooftop, where the water channel continued to run in a narrow gutter and turned to face his pursuer. The guard really was good and had made it almost three quarters of the way across.

  “This is my last offer. Turn round and go back, officer. I can’t have you following me.”

  The guard shook his head.

  “You know I can’t do that, captain Samir.”

  “Then I apologise for what I have to do now.”

  Reaching down, Samir cupped his hands and collected a scoop of gritty, dirty water, swinging his arms forward and flinging the liquid across the beam. With a splash, the water covered the wood, becoming slick and reflecting the tiny, scudding fleecy clouds in the otherwise clear sapphire sky. As the guard frowned and slowed, reaching the edge of the slippery section, Samir bent and repeated the process twice more, soaking the beam thoroughly.

  “Turn round, for Gods’ sake. You can’t safely cross.”

  “I wouldn’t say I can turn round safely either. Get running. I won’t let a little water stop me.”

  “For fuck’s sake, turn round.”

  He grimaced as the guard took a step into the water, shaking slightly and wobbling back and forth. Another step. The man was managing to maintain his balance, but there was a long way to go yet. He’d never make it. Samir shook his head sadly.

  “Listen… I’m not a bad man and I don’t really want your death on my hands.”

  Another step and suddenly a slight slip to one side left the man teetering. Samir watched with dismay as the man rocked back and forth, picking up momentum. He was about to go.

  “Jump for the roof!”

  But before the man could get enough purchase, he slipped. Samir watched for only a fraction of a second before leaping into action, quite literally. As the man slipped, he did his best to push himself forward, his flailing arm launching him out from the beam at an angle. As he did so, Samir crouched, grasped the iron clamp at the very end of the beam, the searing heat here only slightly tempered by the water that flowed by and over it and the soaking he had just given it. As he vaulted out over the open space, feeling his shoulder jerk, he clenched the hot iron tightly. His other hand caught the falling man by the arm and the pair of them seemed to hang, suspended in the air for an eternity before the pull to ground began to assert itself.

  With agonising force, the pair swung down against the wall, Samir’s arm almost breaking where it held the clamp and carried the weight of two men. Below him, the guard slipped from Samir’s wet grip and, eyes wide, grabbed desperately onto the pirate’s leg, gripping tightly. Samir grunted, the pain intense.

  “I’m going to try and pull myself up. If you can find any purchase on the wall to take some weight it would be a great help!”

  The guard nodded vigorously and began to scour the plaster wall quickly. There were pits here and there; nothing that could be considered a handhold but, with some effort, he got his toes into one and pushed up.

  Samir felt a slight relief in the extraordinary weight of the big man below him. Gritting his teeth, he swung his free arm up and grasped the really rather hot iron clamp with both hands. Groaning with the strain and tearing muscles painfully, he slowly hauled the pair of them up to roof level.

  After a minute that seemed like hours he managed to get his elbows over the edge and used his powerful shoulder muscles to haul himself the last stretch. Once his torso was flat on the roof, his legs still hanging, he shouted down to the unseen guard.

  “Can you grab the edge of the roof now? There’s a very slight lip; it’s not much but it should be enough if you’re strong.”

  The man made an affirmative grunt and, clinging to Samir’s leg with one arm, began to search out a hold with the fingertips of his other. Samir watched with relief as the fingers gripped the edge and he felt a sudden release on his leg. Two hands now gripped the roof.

  Swinging his legs up and around, Samir climbed wearily to his feet and walked across to the dangling man.

  “Are you alright?”

  “I’ve been better, but I could be a hell of a lot worse.”

  Samir laughed.

  “I’m afraid I have to leave you now. I hope you manage to climb, but you’ll understand that I can’t afford to hang around.”

  The guard looked up at him.

  “Be assured that when I climb up, I’ll be after you again… but I think I may have twisted my leg in the fall, so I might be a little slower now.”

  Samir grinned down at him.

  “Get drunk tonight, officer. I think you deserve it.”

  “Jûn”

  “What?”

  “That’s my name: Jûn.”

  “I’ll remember that next time I get to the races” Samir laughed.

  With a node, he turned and ran off across the rooftops toward the palace complex.

  In which Asima seals a deal

  Samir took another deep breath as he made the penultimate jump. Many times and many years ago, he’d sat on this slight incline and stared across the gap at the walled complex opposite. He’d always meant to walk those roofs but had never expected it to be under such circumstances.

  From here the building that faced him was the residence of the local governor himself, or, at least, it had been when they were children. He had seen governor Talus standing at the ornate windows several times in the past. It was quite possible that the new governor had taken other quarters, but the chances were against it. These would be the best appointed of all the rooms in the complex.

  So long ago he had spent time studying the complex and, while he’d never had the opportunity to put his observations to use, now would seem to be the time.

  There was only one possible route to the roofs of the complex. It had made him too nervous as a child to even contemplate trying it, but he was a great deal faster and stronger these days. Of course, it was still life-threatening an
d a ridiculous proposition even for a grown man, but it was the only option if he wanted to get a step ahead once more.

  He watched for several minutes. There were figures moving around in the room, but they staying deep in the room and never came close to the window. One was tall and well dressed and Samir was prepared to put money on that being the governor. There were two or three other shapes that he could make out, but they were too distant and shadowy to identify. He couldn’t even tell what gender they were.

  Still, he had to try and that was the only window that seemed likely.

  Gritting his teeth, he offered up a quick prayer to whichever of Ha’Rish’s faces was currently keeping an eye on him and crossed the roof to the small, low pile of rubble in the corner. It had been over twenty years. Of course, rope didn’t rot and iron didn’t rust in the M’Dahz climate, but it could easily have been found and moved.

  Fumbling in the dusty rubble, he sighed with relief as his fingers closed on the curved iron. Moving a few of the heavier blocks aside, he extricated the grapple that he had ‘liberated’ from the docks more than two decades ago. Time had been kind to his little prize. The grapple, along with the thirty feet of thin cable coiled behind it, had lain in secret all these years, awaiting the day when Samir plucked up the courage to actually execute his plan.

  He frowned at the rope. Long ago he’d selected this specific rope as being light enough when coiled to carry across the rooftops while long enough to cross the gap and strong enough to hold his weight. Now, as an adult with a slightly more discerning eye, he was beginning to doubt whether thirty feet would be quite enough and whether the thin rope would hold his adult weight.

  Turning, he glanced over the low walled parapet. There was less than thirty feet between him and the building, but only just. Ah well…

  Carefully scanning the outer wall of the palace, he took in every window within his target area. None were occupied that he could see, though people could easily be close by within the shadowed interiors. The governor, if that was who he was, was occupied with his activity in the room. Of equal importance to him, the street was empty below. There would never be a better time… there may, indeed, never be another opportunity at all.

  Crouching, he located the heavy pitons that had been driven into the parapet long ago, onto which a huge cover could be hooked to provide shade on the flat roof, in the days when this building had been a more elegant residence. Nodding to himself, he tied the end of the rope to the piton, though not too tight.

  Standing, he took a deep breath, made sure the coiled rope was untangled, took the iron grapple in hand, and let the grapple slide slowly from his grasp until he gripped the rope around four feet from the metal. Starting small and slow, he began to swing the grapple, slowly picking up pace as the heavy object whirred past him ponderously. Gradually, as the speed of the spinning item increased, he let the rope slip out, inch by inch. Years of boarding actions aboard the Empress had trained him well.

  Finally, when he judged the swing was right, he clenched his teeth and let go, uttering a small prayer under his breath as he watched the grapple arc out over the gap. His heart skipped a beat as he watched it strike home against the wall opposite, close to the governor’s window, and then tumble toward the street. Grumbling, Samir hurriedly began to haul the rope back in.

  After a nervous moment, he had the grapple once more and squinted across the street. No one had appeared at a window. Lucky. Coiling the rope once again, he prepared for a second attempt. At least his failure had ascertained that the rope was, indeed, long enough to reach.

  Again, starting small, he began to swing, letting the speed build as he let the rope out slightly. Metal thrumming past his ear, he reached the optimal moment and released, watching with trepidation. The aim was true this time, though, and the grapple disappeared into the opening of the window to the left of the governor’s.

  Tense, Samir ducked behind the low parapet and watched for almost a minute. There was no sign of activity and, slowly, he released the breath he hadn’t realised he was holding. Reaching down, he untied the end of the rope from the piton and began to pull slowly. The rope came in by almost three feet and then jammed tight. Just to be sure, he hauled on it a few times. It was solidly fastened and he nodded approvingly as he tied it once more, much tighter this time.

  “Here goes” he said quietly to himself, as he made a last check of the façade opposite, the complex’s outer wall presenting an aperture-free surface for fifteen feet, with the palace windows above, surmounted by a gabled roof. In the old days it was that roof that had fascinated him. Not so, now.

  Gripping the rope, he slowly lowered himself over the parapet, wincing. The rope held so far. Offering up his third prayer of the hour, an activity he had long foregone, he began carefully and smoothly to cross the gap, hand over hand along the thin rope, his lower lip between his teeth as he went.

  There was an alarming moment almost half way across when the rope gave just a little; perhaps a foot. Possibly the grapple had attached itself to something badly-secured in the room. Samir shifted a little from his slow and careful technique, picking up speed to cross as fast as he could. The fall from here may not kill him but, if not, it would seriously injure him and almost certainly lead to a life of imprisonment or a death sentence.

  The notion of swinging, bulge-eyed before the public at the port as a warning to would-be pirates spurred in him an extra turn of speed and he crossed the remaining length of rope at an almost dangerously unsafe speed.

  Finally, blessedly, he reached the window and slowly pulled himself up to the lintel to look inside. The room was empty and, while reasonably decorative, devoid of furniture. Some kind of ante-chamber it seemed.

  Glancing left, he smiled. The wall here was decorative and the rows of bonding-tile jutted slightly, making a handy ledge for both fingers and toes. Holding his breath, he shuffled along, edging ever closer to the window of the next room.

  Over the general background noise of M’Dahz, he could hear voices in the next room. Concentrating as he shuffled slowly closer, he tried to block out the ambient sound and pay attention to the activity in the room. One of the voices was female and he would be willing to bet that it was Asima, particularly given the dark and unpleasant tone of the man’s voice. Asima seemed to have that effect on people these days.

  Hurrying as much as he could, Samir closed on the window and finally, as he reached it, grasped the lintel with his fingers and drew himself close enough to peer over the edge.

  There were four people in the room. The governor was clear, a tall man with a sour face, dressed in neat and expensive clothes. The other two men were clearly a senior officer in the town guard and some sort of advisor. The last, of course: Asima. He was momentarily disheartened to see that he was too late. The woman was leaving. As he watched, she nodded to the governor and, turning, walked from the room.

  Samir wondered momentarily whether he should give this up now and move onto the next step, but shook his head slightly. This was important. He had to know what she’d done.

  As the door closed with a click, the other two men approached the governor’s desk and he sat back heavily.

  “What do you think, gentlemen?”

  “She’s telling the truth as far as we can confirm. Ghassan is in custody and is being taken to the tower now, awaiting your decision. Samir is definitely somewhere in M’Dahz, but the men lost track of him on the rooftops. All the gates are being watched, as is the port. His ship’s been taken and is under guard and a part of his crew are being detained in the guard station at the docks. Whatever Samir plans, he can’t escape and we have his ship.”

  The governor nodded and Samir mentally urged them on in the silence that followed. How far had she gone and what had they granted her?

  “Do we stop her at the gate, or are you really intending to let her go, Excellency?”

  The governor shrugged.

  “She’s Pelasia’s problem now. Her information is well
worth the fee she asked and the issue Prince Ashar will raise with me. The important thing now is to find captain Samir and drag out of him the location of this ‘compass’ thing. Then we can put an end to Lassos and the pirate threat. Ashar will forgive a great deal for that… the pirates prey on his ships too.”

  Samir heaved a sigh of relief, grateful that he’d not overestimated her.

  “Perhaps we could start hanging his men until he shows up?” the aide offered hopefully. He was greeted with a cold stare from the governor.

  “Coro, we are civilised people. The crew will get a trial and, if they are to be hanged, it will be with the knowledge that it is for the good of the people, and not out of anger, revenge, or deceit. Samir cannot stay here forever. Sooner or later he will make a move and we will catch him. Likely it will involve his brother, his men or his ship, so have the guard pay a great deal of attention in the next few days. I want Samir.”

  Nodding with satisfaction, Samir glanced around. This trip had served a second purpose that he’d also hoped for: he now knew what the governor looked like and what sort of man he was and he appeared to be a reasonable man, which would be very useful shortly, when the time came to take the next step.

  Smiling, he noted that a couple of ladies were standing chatting thirty feet below him. He contemplated just dropping from here, but a broken leg would seriously ruin his plans. Instead, he lowered himself slowly and carefully down the wall below the window, using the small hand- and footholds he could find until he reached the bare surface of the defensive perimeter wall. With a smile, he let go and fell the last fifteen feet, landing lightly with bent knees.

 

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