In which the council sits
By the time the Empress touched the jetty, the hull bouncing away several times before settling and men jumping off to tie ropes, a crowd had already gathered at the far end. A twitch crept into Asima’s eyelid as she watched from the relative safety of the command deck. Down on the main deck, Samir stood with a sailor she didn’t know, supporting the sagging figure of Ghassan. Her erstwhile victim had glanced at her only once in the few minutes since they had emerged from below decks and his expression might have been unsettling had she cared more.
The port was chaotic, with people flocking to the jetty, despite being involved in a thousand petty tasks of their own. Cargo was stacked everywhere and, Asima had noted, eleven other jetties were occupied, which meant that every ship based at Lassos was currently berthed here. It seemed unlikely that Samir had managed to engineer a situation where everyone was in port, so it could be pure luck, but then Samir, like her, made his own luck.
Asima heard the man behind her clearing his throat meaningfully and, as she glanced at him, he gestured that she should descend the steps and join the captain. Her bulky escorts gathered around as she moved forward and kept close pace with her as she climbed down and strode, head high, to the place amidships where Samir and Ghassan were watching the boarding ramp being run out to dock.
From here she had a better view of the crowd on the jetty. As she’d fully expected, their faces were not the smiling visages of those come to welcome their compatriots home. The word ‘mob’ better fitted the situation. In the old tales, she could have imagined this lot brandishing farm implements and shouting. Before she was roughly manhandled into position next to the brothers, she did note the striking and attractive features of Captain Faerus, Samir’s friend, among those waiting. Faerus looked nervous.
The plank slid home onto the jetty and Samir and the other man helped Ghassan down. As soon as they reached the slippery timbers of the dock, though, Ghassan waved the man away and continued, wobbling slightly, on his own, his fingers locked round Samir’s arm for support, and tensing every time a badly-placed step sent a shock up his back. The large sailor behind Asima nudged her toward the plank and she tottered carefully down it to join the brothers.
“Stay with us all the way up the hill. This is not a good time for you to play games. A wrong step or word now could get us all killed before I can do anything.”
Asima nodded at Samir. Her time would come later, when he was less on guard.
Slowly, allowing for Ghassan’s careful gait, the three of them walked toward the mass of angry looking people at the end of the jetty, half a dozen burly sailors from the Empress following up and surrounding Asima, cutting off any path of escape. Samir came to a halt a few yards from the crowd and raised his voice.
“I need to call a meeting of the council, immediately.”
Faerus, shaking his handsome head, his jet black, long and straight hair whipping back and forth, filled the uncomfortable silence that followed.
“Too late, Samir. The council went into session the moment your sail appeared among the reefs. I expect they’re busy right now deciding how many pieces to cut you into.”
A humourless smile crept across Samir’s face.
“Good. Their timing is auspicious.”
He raised his voice to address the whole group.
“Let us through! I have to address the council, Faeurs, but you had best get to it as well. The time we spoke of is upon us. I will meet you as planned in the safe house.”
Faerus frowned.
“So soon?” He paused a moment and then thrust out his arms, heaving people aside.
“Get out of the way and let captain Samir through to address the council!”
The force with which he pushed caused a few spectators to stumble and fall, and the crowd quickly parted to allow them passage. Asima gave the tall pirate captain an appraising look. She recognised him in a vague way from the night she had spent in his lodgings on her last visit here, but the alcohol had dimmed her senses a little that night and she hadn’t realised at the time just how enigmatic and attractive the man really was. Strikingly handsome, clean shaven and with immaculate hair, Faerus wore grey silks from the eastern lands beyond the Empire. He was in excess of six feet tall and had a powerful, smooth voice, like liquid honey. She had the feeling that if Faerus ordered them to, even the rocks would move out of the way.
“Shall I join you first?” the man asked of Samir.
“Best not. You and the others will have to be ready, on the assumption that I return shortly. Just meet me later and make sure Orin’s aware too.”
Faerus nodded and sketched a bow as the three passed him and began the interminable climb to the council chamber on the hill. The walk up the sloping street was familiar to her and, if anything, even less pleasant than last time. On her previous visit she had been unknown and had elicited mixed reactions of interest, lust and suspicion. Now, however, every face hardened as it turned to them. Matters were made all the worse by the painfully slow pace of the journey, hampered as they were by the wounded Ghassan.
After minutes that seemed like hours, they reached the point where the street made a hairpin bend and marched off back across the hillside, through the upper tiers of the town. Here stood the council hall with its great marble columned portico, speaking volumes of the faded glory of the island.
“Alright… this is it. I shall speak first, then it’s your turn, Ghassan. Are you alright? Definitely up to this? Your testimony is solid support, but I expect I can work them around myself if you can’t manage.”
Ghassan shook his head. “Leave it to me. I’ll be fine.”
With a deep breath, Samir turned to Asima and her guards.
“Take her to Surafana’s house on the hill. If Faerun and Orin have been efficient, it should be empty, but provisioned, and there should be a good secure room for Asima. Don’t rely on the room though… I want at least two of you in full sight of her at all times.”
Asima glowered at him as the large pirate next to her nodded and grasped her upper arm tightly.
“We’ll keep her nice and safe, cap’n. You be there soon?”
Samir nodded.
“Unless the council have other plans, Ghassan and I will follow you up very shortly.”
Asima continued to glare at Samir as she was turned away and marched in a no-nonsense manner up the slope in the opposite direction, doubling back behind the town.
Samir turned to Ghassan and smiled.
“Follow my lead, then.”
Ghassan, concentrating on the task at hand and keeping close attention on his brother, whose shoulder he still grasped for support, entered the fortress of his enemies for the first time, as a willing visitor. In other days he may have taken a more keen interest in this place that had been so sought after by his superiors for decades. Instead, he merely glanced briefly at the interior as they passed through the grand entrance and the outer room.
Making sure Ghassan’s grip was secure on his shoulder, Samir threw open the door to the council chamber and stood in the doorway, gazing at the ‘U’ shaped table arrangement.
The seats were occupied by the motliest bunch that Ghassan had ever laid eyes on: mostly older, ‘retired’ pirates, they were suntanned and weathered like the faces of a sandstone cliff, displaying networks of scars, punctuated with jewellery and tattoos. Clearly the hawk-like, dry and emaciated figure occupying the central chair like an animated and mummified corpse was the most venerable member. Equally clearly he had no love for Samir.
Glancing around, it surprised Ghassan that there was no one on guard either outside the doors or within the chamber, but then who, on an island of pirates, would dare to interrupt a meeting of their elders. Apart from his brother, naturally…
There had been a heated argument going on within as they entered, Samir striding out front, while Ghassan dropped behind, closing the door after them. The last threads of the argument tailed off as the council regarded their visitors.
The last voice fell silent as the twelve most powerful men on Lassos stared in astonishment at the nerve of
