A month sailing the Affīyan Sea had been exactly what the doctor ordered. Freed from the constant intrigue, turmoil, and toil of the palace, S̆ams̆ādūr had finally had the chance to relax. There was no tingle of his damned necklace to summon him before the king, and no one listening to every word said looking for signs of weakness. It was perfect.
Well, nearly so. There had been a minor blip on the otherwise halcyon trip. When they sailed south, close to the isle of Affīya, they’d run afoul of pirates - pirates! Even a century ago, the empire would never have suffered such rapscallions to run free, but the durgū had dealt them with relative ease. The durgū may not have been known for their skill in sailing, but the powerful ballistae they’d mounted on the ship’s upper deck had punched enough holes through the pirate’s hull to make it look like miqqu cheese. The pirates had sunk beneath the waves before they even got close enough to attempt to board.
But all good things eventually end and S̆ams̆ādūr knew he had already pushed his leave longer than he was supposed to. His father would no doubt be irritated already, but if he tarried much longer, that irritation would slip over into true anger - and an angry King Halṣūtu was a durgu no one wanted to face.
Thus, with great reluctance, he’d given the order to back a few days ago. Standing at the prow of his ship, he watched as the harbor of Biranāti came into view. The ship rocked violently back and forth as the waves beset it - the weather had turned rough nearly a month before the usual summer storms took hold - and his fine clothes were thoroughly drenched by the sea’s spray, but he ignored it. His hands gripped around the railings so tightly his knuckles turned white as he stared at the grand fortress of his father.
I don’t want to go back. The thought almost surprised him. Biranāti was all he’d ever known. True his father was harsh, his brothers no doubt were plotting against him, and the perpetual intrigue of the court made the whole thing feel like a pressure cooker but still… He frowned. Why would I want to go back?
For a brief moment, he considered giving the order to turn around and sail away. But then he remembered the reasons he served. Sure his father was harsh, but he also had a surprising soft spot for his third-born son. And sure, the court was a hotbed of intrigue, but there were many in the courts he cared for nonetheless. And his brothers - well, they still sucked.
The blood returned to his hands as his knuckles unclenched. Home wasn’t everything it was cracked up to be, but it wasn’t that bad either. He’d had his fun, but now it was time to return to his duty. Maybe Father will let me go again in another few years. A faint hope flickered in his heart, but he knew it was unlikely. If his father started his war, there would be no vacations for years to come.
Two hours later, they reached the harbor. As the ship slipped into port, S̆ams̆ādūr noticed with surprise how quiet the dockhands tying the vessel down seemed to be. Due to his abilities, he wasn’t well-loved in court. Court was, after all, a hotbed of intrigue and a man who could steal the thoughts from your mind was a threat to any aspiring schemer. Thus, S̆amsādur had always gone out of his way to curry favor with those around him, and the usual shower of free drinks and generous tips had done much to endear him to the labor around town. But today their movements were stiff and rigid, and none of them seemed willing to meet his eyes.
Worried, he cast his spell as they waited to disembark. S̆alas̆īnu. A swell of random thoughts rose up to greet him like the briny waves of the ocean, and he sifted through them carefully. Most were irrelevant, but a few raised his hackles.
Poor bastard…does he know?…no more free drinks.
Perhaps he was just being egotistical, but S̆ams̆ādūr was pretty sure the dockhands were thinking of him. Know what?
Making a split decision, he turned to his friends and mistress. Most of them were still drunk, so when he suggested they remain on the ship and keep partying, he was met with cheers. The captain of the ship was not so easily deceived though.
“Is there something wrong, my prince?”
S̆ams̆ādūr shook his head. “It’s probably nothing, but…just keep your men ready to depart.” The captain nodded and S̆ams̆ādūr reluctantly walked down the plank, followed only by his two bodyguards.
The docks of Biranāti were a madhouse of activity; fishmongers and merchants, poor and rich rubbed shoulders there in one of the busiest markets on the Appīyan Sea, and above all loomed one of the oldest and most venerable establishments in the city, the grand auction hall of the Tamkāri clan. As the richest merchants in the city, though they might not have been technically nobility, the power they wielded was undeniable.
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
And as S̆ams̆ādūr passed by the hall, he picked up more concerning thoughts from the guards lined up outside.
Should we intervene?…might be nice to have a prince in our pocket…not worth the risk though.
The tension in his shoulders intensified, and his steps slowed. Did one of my brothers finally make a move against me? Their relationship was rocky at best, but the usefulness of his spell had always given him a certain amount of protection from their father. They might scheme to humiliate him but generally stopped short of harm. But if something had changed. He wondered for a fleeting second if his father had died while they were away, leaving his eldest brother to ascend the throne. He might want to rid himself of any competition but… He discarded the thought. News that big could not have been kept secret - even if his brothers had conspired against him, it would be in the minds of all the people around him. So what is it then?
His paranoia only grew as they neared his father’s fortress. The busy docks were left behind for the quiet streets of the residential district, and then the base of the mighty acropolis on which the palace was seated, loomed above him.
“S̆ams̆ādūr!” A voice echoed from a side street, calling his name, and he craned his neck around.
A large man with a thick black beard and eyes as dark as coal waved from the shadows. Abnāel. Instinctively, S̆ams̆ādūr stepped away from his eldest brother.
The man’s eyes darkened. “Now S̆ams̆ādūr!” He commanded imperiously.
Glancing at his bodyguards, S̆ams̆ādūr whispered for them to be prepared before heading toward his brother. Surely he won’t brazenly attack me in the open, he consoled himself, although he couldn’t help but notice that the streets were more empty than normal.
“What is it Abnāel?” He snapped irritably.
The man pursed his lips. “Shamsha’s light, you really are an annoying little snot. You know that, right?”
He just shrugged.
With a sigh of annoyance, the man pulled a letter sealed in wax out of his breast pocket and, drawing on a chain around his neck, yanked free a gleaming signet ring.
S̆ams̆ādūr’s face froze. That’s my father’s signet. But then…. He tried to keep his calm as he glanced up at his brother. “What’s in the letter?”
“Oh, this?” The man waved it in front of his nose. “It’s a warrant for your arrest, little brother. You screwed up big time.”
“What!?” S̆ams̆ādūr couldn’t keep the shock out of his voice as he stared at the warrant. “What could I have possibly done to upset father so?” He asked in genuine confusion.
Abnāel snorted. “Word around court is that you paid a visit to a certain strythani queen. Whispered a few words in her ear - words that our father told you not to say.”
“He didn’t tell me not to speak to her,” S̆ams̆ādūr spluttered. “He just wanted to give up on the possibility of an alliance. I thought it couldn’t hurt to warn her of the treachery in her midst - earn some goodwill, if nothing else.”
“Earn some goodwill.” The man replied mockingly. “What you actually did was incite a slaughter. When good queen Naqmah learned of her vassals' true feelings, she decided to deal with the discontent lords by offing them.”
“So? Why would that upset father? She’s a stronger ally now, and should be grateful to us.”
Abnāel laughed. “No, what she is is dead now. You know the strythani don’t have a hereditary monarchy. The rest of their nobles cut off her head and now a new, very angry lord is on their throne. And can you guess where his anger is directed?”
S̆ams̆ādūr had a sinking feeling he knew, but he held his silence.
“Us, that’s right,” Abnāel replied to his own rhetorical question. “With her in charge, the strythani might have helped us against the empire, but at worst, they were going to stay neutral on the sidelines. Thanks to your blunder, we have a new enemy at our doorstep.” He tapped the warrant of arrest against S̆ams̆ādūr’s chest. “Brilliant move there, little brother.”
His mind raced. Can I escape in time? His eyes drifted to his bodyguards whose bodies had grown stiff and rigid. Or will they turn against me? Trying to buy time, he bowed his head in apparent submission. “I guess you finally got your wish, Abnāel.”
The prince just sighed. “Honestly, S̆ams̆ādūr, for a durgu with the ability to read minds, you’ve always been painfully obtuse. Yeah, you’re an annoying little snot, but you’re still my brother.” His eyes narrowed. “If I thought you had any intentions on the throne, I wouldn’t hesitate to cut you down, but that’s not who you are, is it? Chasing skirts and chugging beers is all you really want to do.”
S̆ams̆ādūr looked up with genuine surprise. “You don’t want to kill me?”
“Not right now. And frankly, I don’t think father does either. But you know him. Right now he’s so angry that if I take you back to him, you might just lose your head. And then, once he’s cooled down and come to regret it, he’ll blame me.”
Abnāel stuffed the letter back in his pocket. “So here’s what we’re going to do. You and your bodyguards are going to beat us up and make a break for it. You’re going to hop back on that ship of yours and sail far, far away before I have recovered enough to raise the alarm. Understand?”
“Will someone send for me when it’s safe to return?”
His elder brother shook his head. “I said I didn’t want to kill you. That doesn’t mean I want you hanging around and giving Father any ideas about changing up the order of succession. And Duppussû probably really does want to kill you. Do what you want, but for your own health, it would be wise to stay away.”
For the first time, S̆ams̆ādūr looked at his brother in a new light. He's letting me go? “You know…thank you, for this.” He said hesitantly, unsure how to respond.
A spark of emotion flickered in the durgu’s eyes, but he shrugged the thanks off casually. “Let’s just get this over with,” he replied, waving the three forward. “It’s time to lose a fight.”