bowed slightly and parted to clear the jetty.
“Please, captain, after you.”
Samir nodded and, arm still held out for Asima to grip, strode from the jetty onto dry land. Once they were safely out of earshot, Asima took a deep breath.
“Dangerous, offering your hold to search.”
“Openness and honesty is often rewarded, even if it’s faked. Much more dangerous to appear cagey and unwilling.”
“Well” she said, squaring her shoulders, “I think you can safely leave me here, Samir. You don’t want to go too far into the city.”
Samir shrugged.
“I’ll escort you to the edge of the docks and to the town itself. Such would be expected of your escort.”
The pair strode on for another minute, he leading her through the port as though she were unfamiliar with it, rather than knowing each stone and plank from youthful games. Presently, they reached the edge of the docks, where a delimiting stockade marked the beginning of the town proper. The gate stood open jammed with crates and was apparently rarely closed now, even at night. The pair of guards standing to either side of the gateway appeared bored to the point of stupefaction.
Samir smiled. He had no intention of spending his time in M’Dahz lounging around on the ship, but what he was going to do depended at least partially on Asima’s next course of action.
As they approached the gate, Samir fished in his jacket and withdrew a small pouch.
“Here. Take this. It’ll hardly buy you a palace, but it’ll make your journey considerably easier.”
Asima smiled and stopped, reaching out and grasping and pocketing the pouch.
“Thank you, captain. I hope all goes well for you here and that when you return to your home port you achieve everything you dream of.”
“I’m sure I shall, lady. Perhaps our paths will cross once again someday.”
“Perhaps.”
She gave him a warm and very forced smile, showing just a little hint of her desperation to depart.
“Until then…”
“Yes ma’am.”
Samir touched his forehead respectfully and had to hide his smile at the vaguely lustful glances the two bored guards cast at the retreating beauty as she turned and wandered up the road.
“Trust me, lads. You couldn’t afford that one.”
One of the guards laughed and then returned to his languid pose.
Tapping his foot impatiently, Samir watched Asima trot up the street. Too soon. Wait just a little longer…
He blinked as she disappeared down a side street. Damn it. Could she possibly be doing something else? Where was she going? He’d assumed she would go straight up to the governor’s complex to announce the presence and location of the Dark Empress and its captain. Could she actually have been telling the truth? Was she just going to disappear?
No.
Samir chuckled, raising interest from one of the guards. Ignoring the man, he set off up the street at a fast walk. No… she would betray him; it was in her nature. She was just going somewhere else on the way to the governor’s. Could she be heading to her father’s old house? Maybe…
He slapped his forehead as he picked up his pace to reach the side street.
Of course! He’d asked her to check on his mother’s house. He hadn’t expected her to actually do it, but perhaps he had piqued her interest enough that she could spare the time to go and check. After all, as far as she was aware, she was in no rush. She may even go and visit her father’s grave too after all.
With a frown, he strode along the busy street. The port official had been right. There was so much activity one could hardly imagine this was the same town that had suffered and almost died beneath the rule of a harsh foreign invader. Colour and noise abounded and the narrow road was so crowded that Samir was forced at times to pause and wait for a gap to open up or to push through a resistant and inattentive bunch of ditherers.
He had lost sight of Asima as soon as she had turned into the side street but now, convinced of her destination, he knew exactly where to go. Gritting his teeth as he pushed his way between half a dozen burly men with a ladder and roll of banners, he shook his head.
Would their mother’s house still be standing?
Moreover, did he really want to go there and dredge up all those old memories and feelings? There wasn’t much choice, though. He needed to be sure of Asima’s betrayal to adjust his own plans accordingly so, even if she walked into the jaws of hell, at this point he’d follow her.
Taking a deep breath, Samir headed home.
In which Samir goes home
The house looked the same. Somehow, Samir had expected either years of abandonment and neglect to have taken their toll and left a ruinous shell of a building, or for someone to have taken up residence and changed the place.
And yet he suddenly felt eight years old, returning from buying juicy watermelon at the market to wait for the noon meal.
Clearly someone had taken up residence, though. He could see a blanket and some clothes hanging out of an upper window; men’s clothes too. Asima had either not noticed this or did not care, though, for, as Samir finally came within sight of the front door, the crowd parting as he reached the outskirts and streets that were less busy, he spotted Asima. He’d almost caught up with her, and she stood looking at the door of the building with her head on one side before shrugging and reaching for the handle.
Samir hurried along the street, keeping to the side and obscured from sight by a couple playing noisily with a dog. He ducked and, keeping his head low, waited until she had pushed open the door and entered before rushing along the buildings and pushing himself up against the wall of the house.
It felt exceedingly odd to be sneaking up on the only permanent home he had ever known, the place that held the memories of his mother, brother, father and uncle. He heard a call of alarm in a woman’s voice, muffled by the thick, cooling walls of the building. He couldn’t be certain, but was reasonably convinced the voice would be Asima’s.
Judging the location of the occupants from the level of muffling of the voice and his flawless memories of the building’s layout, Samir ducked into a side alley that led up the slope between the houses to a higher road beyond and hurried up the steps to one of the small rear windows of the building.
The aperture, partially obscured by a damaged blind that had been in that state as long as Samir could remember, led into the kitchen where he and Ghassan used to help their mother prepare meals.
Now there were two voices, becoming clearer as he approached the window; one male and one female.
Stooping slightly, he put his eye to one of the small gaps in the blind and blinked in surprise. Ghassan stood at a ruined table in the kitchen, propped up on a broken chair. He looked tired, scruffy and badly-shaven. Samir nodded to himself. His brother must have been discharged from the navy. They wouldn’t countenance an officer in that state. As he watched, Ghassan flung his arms wide in an angry gesture as he fixed his gaze on Asima, standing in the doorway. To Samir’s surprise there was a bottle in his brother’s hand; one of the powerful spirits distilled by the northern tribes and quite hard to buy for a reasonable price this far south.
“I don’t care what you’re doing here, Asima. Get the hell out of this house. You’re cheapening mother’s memory with your stink!”
Again Samir blinked. Ghassan was taking it hard, but then the taller brother had always been the more sensitive, and the pungent brew would not be helping. Asima’s betrayals and deceit were easy enough for Samir to brush off, but Ghassan would feel wounded every time he saw her.
For a moment, Samir’s heart went out to his broken brother.
“Things will be better, Samir”… the words Ghassan had spoken to him on that day when so many innocent
