The captain was crestfallen as Asima swept past, awash with annoyance, and made for the stairs. Behind her the guards closed ranks once more. Asima chided herself as she climbed. It had been petty, but it made her feel better. When events beyond one’s control threatened, it was always satisfying to make someone feel less than oneself. In a strange way it passed a small amount of control back.
At the top of the stairs, she noted with satisfaction the second line of soldiers guarding the entrance to the main apartment complex. The men parted once more to allow her in and she wondered briefly whether to repeat her admonishment, but decided against it.
Opening the door, she stepped inside and Bashi, the God-King’s chief manservant greeted her in the corridor.
“Lady Asima? I am surprised to see you here?”
Asima bowed her head. Bashi had a great deal of power and influence and, should tonight turn out well, she would need to remain on his good side.
“Master Bashi. As soon as I discovered what was happening I rushed to my Lord to be by his side and to offer him support and comfort should he require.”
Bashi nodded.
“This is good. The master is tense, my lady. Please attend just a moment.”
Asima stood in the entrance chamber and examined her nails as she heard Bashi enter the apartment and announce her. She also heard the strain and slight sound of relief in the God-King’s voice when he asked the servant to admit her. By the time Bashi returned, she was already walking toward the main room. He smiled and passed her to go about his business.
The God-King, resplendent in his plain black, with the circlet on his brow and his jewelled sword slung at his side, smiled at her, though there was a sadness and a hollowness to that smile.
“Asima, I am grateful you came. Surprised, but grateful.”
He reached his hands out to her.
“Surprised, my lord?”
The God-King laughed sadly.
“You are ever the game-player, my dear. Ashar warned me about that from the start. But for all your wickedness, life here would have been duller without you.”
Asima frowned.
“Majesty, you speak as though the game were already lost.”
The God-King sighed and sat heavily on the couch.
“For your own good, you would do well to leave. I have already sent Ashar to collect the twins and ferry them to safety. I have seen the red stars from the observatory. My grandfather saw them the day before his death, you know.”
He sighed.
“Several of my satraps have risen against me with armies and fleets they have constructed in secret and I have not had enough warning to pull in allies. My fleet is lost on the sea floor to a surprise attack and most of the walls of Akkad are now under their control. The noose tightens around my neck, Asima, and if you are here when they come, you may well hang alongside me.”
Asima shook her head.
“You are a God, my love. They cannot kill you.”
A true laugh.
“I am well aware of my simple mortality, Asima, and I do not think that you believe in any God, regardless. No, I shall die tonight and I would have you away somewhere safe, but I am glad that I saw you once more. You would have won, you know? I just cannot resist you. You would have been Goddess and Queen had I lived. How sad.”
Asima found that she had a genuine tear in the corner of her eye.
“I shall go nowhere, my lord. I shall be by your side when they come.”
The God-King Amashir IV, absolute ruler of Pelasia and divine power smiled sadly.
“Then let us sit and drink wine while we wait.”
In which the wheel turns again
Asima gripped the arm of the chair so tight that she felt her nails cutting their way through the delicate satin cover, her knuckles turning white. A few feet away, the God-King sat with a sad, stoic calmness, his legs crossed and his gaze firmly affixed on the door. The sounds of vicious combat at the entrance to the palace had died away only moments before and the echoes of steel on steel still rang around the corridors of the residence. There was a pregnant pause as Pelasia held its breath.
“The time is upon us, my dear. Time to go.”
Asima shook her head and dug her nails ever deeper into the chair arm.
“It is no use making such a noble gesture, my love. I appreciate the thought, but there is no need now; your death would be pointless. Find somewhere to hide.”
Again, Asima shook her head, her face pale. She was wracked by uncertainty. This was exactly what she’d planned, when she entered the building, to do in these very circumstances, though she had also considered several alternatives. It was a calculated risk that, if the attackers succeeded, she would appear noble and loyal enough to stand out above all the other women who hadn’t come here. It was all about raising her profile before anyone else had the chance. But now there were feelings of regret and real loyalty creeping in and she hadn’t felt these emotions since the days of her youth in M’Dahz.
She sighed as the God-King turned to her.
“Consider it a last royal command if you must, Asima.”
It was almost worth arguing. Her profile was… something in Asima’s subconscious flashed her images of a potential future. She could see how clearly impressive she would look once the usurper had felled her master and she strode calmly from behind the curtains, looking regal, stunning and entirely unfazed by the horrifying events around her. If anything it would be all the more impressive.
With a sad smile, she reached out and grasped his hand. As she did so, the fresh sounds of battle broke out on the stairway and landing outside the apartments. The God-King squeezed her hand lightly, smiled once, and then turned back to face the door.
Asima stood and made her way across to one of the drapes that hung as a divider, separating the more intimate lounging area from this formal reception room. Her choice was hardly random. She had selected it as a possibility when she’d first entered the room twenty minutes ago. There was sufficient dark, heavy material to hide a full person thoroughly, with enough light, wispy, netted areas for her to be able to watch events unfold whilst unobserved. Moreover, given the drapes’ position between the two rooms, it was quite reasonable for one of the concubines to be in the intimate chamber rather than the reception room. With a quick glance at the door, she ducked behind the material and held her breath.
The wait was not long. The fighting at the head of the stairs was over almost before it began. Asima swallowed and kept herself still as she heard footsteps approaching the door.
There was a rattle and then a creak. From this position, she could just see the door’s edge as it opened and was so surprised at the sight that unfolded before her that she almost laughed. The satrap of Siszthad!
The satrap, one of the more powerful and yet certainly one of the least popular at court, had been absent from the seat of government for over two years, following an unfortunate incident involving a serving boy. He was, to Asima’s mind, one of the most thoroughly unpleasant and repulsive creatures the Gods had ever let loose in the world.
The man who made his way into the room was more than a head shorter than the God-King, so rotund that no armour would go round his bulk. He waddled more than walked and his complexion was oily and sick, his eyes small, dark and beady. In essence, he was everything the God-King was not. Siszthad jerked his head to one side, his neck making an unpleasant cracking noise and his top-knot swishing like a horse’s tail over his bald, shiny head.
