Dark Empress

by S. J. A. Turney

  In which captains collude

  Ghassan shook his head once again and tapped the table with his index finger.

  “Nothing good can come of this, Samir.”

  “I think that’s blatantly untrue, Ghassan.”

  Again, the shaking of the head. The taller brother sat in a heavy wooden chair opposite his sibling in the captain’s cabin of the Dark Empress, swaying slightly with the motion of the ship through every dip and swell.

  “I don’t mean your plan in general. It’s a good plan. I have nothing against your plan. In fact it’s the sort of thing I’d have liked to have come up with myself and I can’t argue that I’m pleased you finally decided to take me into your confidence…”

  “So what’s the problem?” Samir grinned.

  Ghassan ran his fingers through his wild, curly hair, getting them caught in the salty locks. Irritably, he raked his hand free and sighed.

  “Actually, I can see a few gaping holes in your logic, though I can assume you’ve already spotted them and have some clever-arsed way around them. No. The big problem is Asima.”

  “I think that just being near her befuddles your mind, brother” Samir answered with a shrug. “You’re all over the place when it comes to Asima.”

  Ghassan gave his brother a hard look.

  “It’s true” Samir laughed. “You don’t trust her, but you still feel sorry for her. You agree that we can’t just leave her to go merrily cutting a swathe through the innocent population of Pelasia, but you also don’t want to confine or inconvenience her. You don’t want her free, but you don’t want her anywhere near us. You see what I mean?”

  Ghassan shook his head again.

  “You make it sound worse than it is.”

  “Enlighten me, then.”

  “What Asima has become is the product of what has been done to her. We remember her as a girl and she was one of us back then.”

  Samir’s turn to shake his head.

  “I think you look back with rosy vision. When I think back on her youth I can see her playing the pair of us time and again. I think all that’s happened has merely accentuated her selfish ambition.”

  “I hope you’re wrong. Even the most noble of people can be changed by events. Look at you. You’ve sunk ships, taken lives and robbed people, and we both know you were never that sort of boy.”

  Samir laughed.

  “Rosy vision again, I think, brother. I’m under no misconceptions that I was born anything other than a rogue.”

  Ghassan was starting to get irritated now.

  “Listen! We cannot just arbitrarily condemn Asima to anything without being sure that there is no other possibility. I live in constant hope that she will change and, while that doesn’t appear to be happening, we’ve done nothing to help either. Perhaps if we try to push her in the right direction, we can get the Asima of old back?”

  “You make it sound like I’m planning to have her executed. Alright, Ghassan. We’ve a little time yet. What do you want?”

  “I want to give her the chance; I want to try to help her. I agree with your plan, with reservations, but I want to be sure that it’s necessary first.”

  Samir nodded slowly.

  “Then for the sake of your conscience, I’ll give her the chance to prove to us that she can change; that she can be reasonable. Healing is the province of BelaPraxis and, as you know, everything with the ‘desert lady’ comes in threes. We’ll give her three chances, but only three. Agreed?”

  “Agreed.”

  “So,” Samir sat back heavily “what are your other reservations?”

  “Lassos, basically.”

  “And?”

  Ghassan sighed.

  “Samir, Lassos is the most infamous den of pirate iniquity in the world. Most criminals would be afraid to go there. As for us... well, I’m an ex-naval captain that’s probably still on the top of their list of enemies to disembowel. The only thing that might have knocked me off the top position is you overtaking me for what they likely see as betrayal and endangerment of the island. Neither of us is likely able to set a foot on that dock there without it being nailed to the timber by angry pirates.”

  He grinned.

  “There is a certain level of risk there, I’ll grant you. I’m just trusting that my dice roll is high enough to make them fold without rolling themselves.”

  “There’s still only one of you and eleven of them. If you’re wrong, the odds are going to be very heavily stacked against us.”

  The smaller brother leaned forward over the table.

  “I have other friends. Even if things go the worst they can, the odds aren’t as bad as you suggest.”

  “And what of the council? These are vicious old, hard-bitten pirates; they’ve only made it onto the council by being some of the most evil and remorseless bastards the world has ever known. They’re not likely to fold easily and even if they do, they’ll stay put at their table and leave it to us.”

  Samir’s grinintensified.

  “I’ve already got that worked out. Just trust me, Ghassan.”

  Ghassan sighed and then smiled a helpless smile.

  “I love the idea, Samir… I really do. I just hope you’re right and it all comes together.”

  The captain stretched and stood.

  “This has been years in the making, Ghassan. Things have been unfolding and I’ve been manoeuvring them for months now. Alright, there’s a way ahead of us yet, but you have no idea how much work I’ve already put in and what’s gone right so far. Everything now hinges on two things: our success or failure at Lassos and what the governor decides to do. The latter is out of our control, but at least we can take charge of the former and that’ll be at least as much down to you as to me.”

  The taller brother also stood, rolling his shoulders.

  “I hope you’re right and I hope we’re up to it. Well, what now?”

  Samir shrugged.

  “We’re still a way from Lassos and even then we’ll have to loiter around for a while until we’re sure of the path ahead. In the meantime, perhaps it’s time we checked on our passenger?”

  Ghassan nodded and the pair strode across to the cabin door, opening it and blinking as the fresh, salty air wafted across them.

  Two cabins down, the doctor’s cabin door remained firmly closed and locked, a specially selected man with no sense of humour standing beside it.

  “Duro. We’re here to see the lady.”

  The big man nodded and withdrew a heavy key on a large iron ring from his belt. Reaching to the lock with it, he inserted the key and then paused to knock heavily on the door.

  “People to see you. Step back from the door to the opposite wall of the cabin and there’ll be no trouble.”

  There was no sound from within.

  “She never replies” the big man shrugged “but she’s probably done it, cap’n. She’s missed two meals from being difficult and disobedient, but she let us deliver the last one, so I think she’s learning.”

  Samir shook his head.

  “I wouldn’t be too sure about that, Duro, but we can handle her. Open up.”

  The pirate nodded and turned the key in the lock. Stepping to one side, he turned the handle and pushed and the door swung inwards.

  Samir ducked and Ghassan stepped lightly to one side as a fork, still covered in stew, hurtled through the doorway at eye height and bounced off the wall opposite, scattering away down the corridor with a metallic clatter.

  “Asima, you’re aim is improving.”

  Samir turned to his brother as he spoke.

  “Does that count as one? BelaPraxis is listening.”

  Ghassan gave Samir a hard look, causing the smaller man to grin impishly as he turned back to the room and approached the doorway, the cabin’s occupant out of sight around the door.

  “If you’re going to throw anything else, don’t forget to adjust for height. I’m coming in first.”

  Still sporting his cheeky grin, Samir stepped thr
ough the door, his hands wide and open in a conciliatory gesture.

  “Good afternoon, my dear. The stew not to your liking?”

  Asima sat on the bunk, fingering the handle of the knife on her plate thoughtfully.

  “Have you come to gloat over your prisoner? Or perhaps to take advantage of me? I’ll warn you Samir: men have tried that before. Some of them stopped being men that very day.”

  Samir’s grin widened.

  “We’re just here for a little chat, Asima.”

  The woman on the cot opposite sat back and gestured to her surroundings. The doctor’s room had been converted into what was, in effect, a prison cell. The many drugs and herbs and pieces of sharp or dangerous equipment had been removed, along with all the furniture barring the bed, a rickety chair and a small desk. The room was somewhat oppressive with just so much bare and dark wood. Moreover, the plank that had been nailed thoroughly across the exterior of the window, preventing its being opened, cut out around half of the light, making the interior dim and depressing.

  “You can dispense with the pleasantries, I think” she grumbled.

  Samir and Ghassan entered and stood opposite her as the door was closed and locked by Duro outside.

  “We’re trying to decide how best to proceed with you, Asima.”

  A sneer greeted that comment.

  “You’ve made it abundantly clear how you will do that: you kidnapped me and prevented me from going home. Now you have three choices: kill me, free me, or imprison me for the rest of my life. Neither of you has the strength of character to kill me, and neither of you has the guts to free me. I just wonder how you will go about imprisoning me, and where you think could possibly be secure enough top contain me. Neither of you is very popular on either side of the law.”

  Ghassan shook his head and opened his mouth, but Samir spoke first.

  “Nothing has been decided yet. I have made certain potential arrangements, but I have yet to decide what to do about them. However, what you said does deserve a response.”

  His smile turned cold and feral.

  “I like to consider myself a good man, despite everything, but don’t mistake good for weak. If I decide that the world would be a safer place with you at the bottom of the sea, believe me that I will cut your throat and drop you overboard myself. Ghassan is a better person than I, but I doubt that even he would stop me.”

  He raised an eyebrow at his brother, but Ghassan said nothing, his expression unreadable.

  “Also, do not think for a minute that I do not have the nerve to free you. No matter what you have done to us in the past, Ghassan and myself know who and what you are, and I have no fear of you, Asima. The reason I took you away from your Pelasian dream is far from personal… let’s say it’s my little contribution to the peaceful relations of Pelasia and the Empire. To allow you to return to your games would be akin to setting a wild cat free in the famous royal aviary.”

  Asima sneered and sat back, still fingering the knife.

  “So you have no real decision to make.”

  Ghassan stepped a pace forward, frowning.

  “You say Samir prevented you from going home, Asima. You may be half Pelasian by blood but you were born and raised in M’Dahz. You are one of us, whatever you’ve come to believe. Do you truly feel no kinship to your hometown?”

  The sneer turned on Ghassan, but its owner said nothing.

  “Your father was a good man;” the tall brother continued quietly, “a man of the Empire; and he lies at rest in M’Dahz. I’ve visited his grave. Have you?”

  There was no change in Asima’s expression as she raised her head slightly.

  “Are you finished boring me?”

  Ghassan sighed.

  “I believe so. Perhaps Samir was right about you. BelaPraxis has closed one of her eyes.”

  A trace of uncertainty passed suddenly across Asima’s face, but disappeared in an instant, to be replaced by yet more disdain and disgust.

  “Get out and leave me to eat this filth in peace.”

  Samir and Ghassan exchanged a look and then turned to the door.

  “Duro! Open up.”

  As the key was jangled in the lock, a low and determined voice from behind them said “Bear in mind, both of you, that I have been enslaved, imprisoned, exiled and sentenced to death and I have walked away free and unharmed every time. There is no power in the world that can contain me. It is my destiny to reign. Even the Gods have acknowledged that; and when I do, I will shake the world until it spits the pair of you out at my feet.”

  Samir turned as the door opened and sketched a mock bow.

  “Then, since I have no wish to anger the Gods, I shall do everything in my power to make sure that you achieve your goals, your magnificence.”

  The gravy-spattered knife hit the door and dug deep with a wooden ‘thunk’ just as the lock clicked shut.

  In which Asima rails against fate

  Harus had joined the crew of the Dark Empress six years ago. Caught stealing food, he’d fled the guard in Calphoris, found himself at the docks and hid aboard the first vessel he could find, since when he’d never looked back. Even those first months after he’d been discovered stowing away, when the crew had been extremely harsh on him and he’d had the worst jobs they could throw his way, he’d been grateful beyond belief. It may have seemed to the rest of them that they were putting him through hell but the plain truth was that the worst they could dream up was heaven compared to life as a homeless beggar in the city. His muscles might ache, but his belly was full.

  Six years of slowly clawing his way up from that inauspicious beginning, of forging a career as a sailor, learning the ropes in quite a literal manner, and of gaining the respect of his crewmates. Six long years of struggle, and it had to end like this, staggering against a doorframe, staring down at the blood gushing from his chest.

  Harus felt like crying at the unfairness of it all, but the pain and the horror paralysed him. Was he dead? Was that it? He stared down at the tin bowl, its meaty, juicy contents spattered across the wooden floor. He was only delivering food! Could he do anything to prevent what seemed inevitable now? At least he could scream… that would bring help, and perhaps warn the others…

  The cry died in his throat as Asima’s dining knife came in for a second attack, slicing neatly across his windpipe and artery. With a wheeze and a sigh, pumping blood like the grand fountains of Calphoris, Harus slid down the doorframe and slumped to the floor.

  Asima tutted irritably and brushed at the droplets that spattered the hem of her dress. Reaching down, she wiped the knife on the boy’s tunic, cleaning the viscera from it so that it gleamed silver once again. Edging close to the door, she peered left and right. The corridor was empty and dark, the faint moonlight tempered by scudding clouds and not penetrating this far into the cabin section’s interior.

  Clearly Samir’s cabin would be the one at the end. On the assumption this daram was organised the same as Ghassan’s military one had been, the room opposite would be a social room for the more senior crewmen, while the four between here and the captain’s cabin would be those of the first officer and the three other most senior crewmen. The nearest two to her would be less important, which meant that Ursa and Ghassan would be behind the two doors that flanked the captain’s cabin.

  Briefly she paused, wondering for the hundredth time since she had settled on this course of action whether it might have been better to steal a lifeboat and try to make for land; but she was no sailor and had no idea how far they were from shore now, so such an act would be reckless.

  The old crone had told her not to fight against her fate, but that was assuming that there was such a thing as fate. Asima still struggled with the concept but, logically, if something were fated, then anything she did was already written and therefore she was following the path and not fighting it whatever she tried. That logic, when it had come to her this afternoon, had eased her tensions and helped her justify whatever needed doing.
>
  This was a gamble, of course. The crew had no reason to support her, even though Ursa had been on good terms with her during their last brief stay at Lassos.

  But this was the only real path left open now. In the navy it would be dealt with harshly, but among pirates it was said that strength ruled, and strength was something that Asima had in abundance. Realistically it should be Samir first. The way you killed a serpent was to cut off its head. Ursa could be last; he was clearly the least important.

  But the more she thought of Ghassan and his self-righteous attitude, the more the thought of him pinned to the bulkhead with his eyes rolled up into his skull appealed to her. Samir could wait. Ghassan might just have to go first… call it a practice run.

  Still pausing, Asima held her breath as she listened. The sounds from outside were muted in the night as the ship relied on sails, the oars shipped for the duration. The creak of timber was faint and, if she listened extremely hard, she could hear the distant murmur of low conversation between duty crewmen. There was no sound from the room opposite; presumably any eating, drinking and carousing they had planned, they’d done earlier in the evening.

  Taking a quiet gulp of air, she stepped out into the corridor and padded silently deeper into the darkness. The wooden beams creaked gently under her feet, but the sound was lost amid the normal squeaks and groans of the ship’s timbers.