The Cult of Sutek Page 9

  “Jahi, I know you’re a smart child, but trust me, forget about cults and conspiracies. Leave that stuff to the adults.” He gestured to one of the younger dancing women. “Why don’t you spend your time talking to one of them? They might seem a bit old for you, but many would love nothing better than to catch the eye of a young, king’s son.”

  The boy started to protest again, but Rondel ignored him and walked away. He wanted no part in politics, and he sure didn’t want to become involved in rumored cults.

  “There you are!” said a high voice that caused Rondel’s shoulders to bunch.

  A large woman, half as wide as she was tall, waddled up to him and blocked his path. She wore a bright, single-strapped yellow dress, far too tight for her own good. Familiar orange bracelets adorned her wrists and forearms, clinging tightly against her where once they hung loose.

  Rondel cursed himself for staying too long in one spot but still managed to force a smile, and bow. “Jamila, it’s good to see you this evening.”

  She frowned. “I was beginning to think you didn’t recognize me.” She looked away. “I know I’m not quite as lovely as I once was.”

  An enormous understatement. “Nonsense, my dear. Your mere presence fills this room with light.”

  He chuckled to himself at the joke. Dressed like that, she looks like the sun.

  She blushed. “You always said the sweetest things to me.” Her gaze ran up and down his body. “I have been hearing about your trials. It’s a cruel thing what happened to you.”

  Rondel tilted his head in surprise. Others had made similar comments to him throughout the evening, but none with Jamila’s sincerity.

  “Yes, it was a . . . trying time.” He cleared his throat, changing subjects. “But please, tell me about you. Who is the lucky man to call you his wife?”

  She looked away, wiping at the bottom of her eye. “I-I never married.”

  Rondel blinked. How is that possible? She might not be much to look at now, but she was once quite beautiful. And more importantly, very rich. “I can’t believe you’ve had no suitors.”

  “I turned them all down. I’ve been waiting for you to return. Like you promised when you left.”

  Gods, that was what . . . nine years ago?

  “Oh. Well, I—”

  She reached out and touched his hand. “It’s all right. You don’t have to explain. I understand now that you just needed to finish your entertainment obligations like your note said. And then on the way back, you were imprisoned and unable to return to me.”

  “Yes, of course. But Jamila, you see—”

  Andrasta stepped between them, angry. “We need to talk.”

  She snatched Rondel by the arm and dragged him away, leaving a confused Jamila behind.

  He breathed in relief. “You saved me.”

  Andrasta ignored the remark. “When do we get paid?”

  “I told you when it’s time. There’s a certain decorum we have to abide by. We can’t just march over to Horus with our money bag open and ask him to fill it up.”

  “We gave him back his daughter.”

  “I know. It’s just—”

  “I don’t care. I am sick of all this talk about politics, alliances, and marriages. I’m even more tired of being looked down on for my race and my sex.”

  Rondel grunted. This hasn’t been what I expected it to be either.

  She gestured to Jahi who stood some distance behind Rondel. “And then there is the talk of cults. . . .” She lowered her voice. “I want the Jewel of Bashan, and this is not getting me any closer to it.”

  He sighed. “All right. Just let me do the talking so Horus doesn’t take our asking as a complete insult.”

  “Fine.”

  Rondel maneuvered his way through the great hall toward Horus. He paused several times to say hello to those he passed. He wanted his approach to appear casual. Marching over to Horus with a determined look and a warrior trailing behind him would only pique the interest of guards and likely cause a scene.

  Rondel slid in beside Horus while he spoke with two older gentlemen. Andrasta stood two steps behind. As he waited, he tried to gauge the mood for a natural break in the conversation.

  He cleared his throat.

  Horus turned. “Oh, Rondel, I’m sorry. I didn’t notice you come up.”

  He bowed. “My lord. I was wondering if we may have a small word with you in private.”

  “Is it serious?”

  “No, not at all. Just something that we haven’t had a chance to discuss. I promise it won’t keep you from your guests for very long.”

  Horus turned back to the two men and gave a curt nod. “Excuse me, gentlemen. We’ll pick up our conversation shortly.”

  The older men bowed at Horus, but gave Rondel a slightly perturbed look as he and Andrasta followed Horus from the great hall, through the dining hall, and into a nearby study. Two armed guards followed.

  When the door to the study closed, Horus collapsed in an armless wooden chair decorated with swirling patterns of gold leaf. The wicker seat rustled as he got comfortable. He offered the other chair to Rondel rather than Andrasta.

  He doesn’t like her.

  Horus cleared his throat. “Since we’re in private, I wanted to tell you I was sorry about your imprisonment. Like most everyone else, I heard you were dead.”

  “I felt dead. And you have nothing to apologize for. The error was mine.”

  “Just the same. You were always a good friend to me and regardless of your error I would have seen to your release from Duke what’s his name’s custody.”

  “Engren.”

  “Yes. Him.”

  “I truly appreciate that, my lord, but I doubt the duke would have released me under any set of circumstances.”

  “I bet a thousand swords at the border of his tiny tract of land would have done the trick.”

  “You would have threatened war for me?”

  Horus nodded.

  Rondel blinked in shock. His throat tightened. “I-I don’t know what to say to that. Thank you again.”

  Horus waved off the gratitude. “Now, what can I do for you, old friend?”

  “I wanted to talk to you about returning Dendera.”

  He smiled. “I hope you understand how much that meant to me. Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to show my appreciation as completely as I should have to either you or your . . . friend. But please know it feels like a part of me that was once empty here,” he said, pointing to his chest, “has returned.”

  Rondel relaxed. “It pleases me to hear you say that. Girga was always a favorite place of mine to visit and that was mostly because of my respect and admiration of you.”

  Horus nodded once more, but said nothing.

  Does he expect me to ask? Why is he making this so difficult?

  He looked at Horus’s smiling face and saw the tension present behind his eyes. He’s too stressed with countless worries. Probably never even considered how to compensate us for our trouble. Yes, that’s it. In normal circumstances, Rondel might have taken the hint and waited for a more opportune time to press the issue. However, he couldn’t do that. Andrasta was right. They needed to be moving on.

  “Andrasta and I won’t be able to stay long.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “We were wondering if you’d be so kind as to . . .” Rondel’s voice trailed off as he searched for the right words.

  Horus coughed. “Compensate you for your troubles?”

  “Yes, my lord. I admit I’m a bit embarrassed to even bring the matter up.”

  He waved a hand. “You have no reason to be embarrassed. One moment.” He gestured for one of the guards to come forward. The man bent down and Horus whispered something in his ear. The guard quickly left the study. “Abubaker will be but a moment.”

  Abubaker returned with a dark, medium sized chest, metal clinking around inside. Rondel’s heart quickened when he thought about the contents.

  Sur
ely, he isn’t going to give us everything. Of course Horus has always been generous. . . .

  Horus positioned the chest so the lock faced him. He unlocked it, opened the lid a couple inches, and withdrew a small pouch. The lid thumped shut as he held the pouch out to Rondel.

  Maybe it’s filled with rare jewels. Before he could grab the small bag, Andrasta snatched it from Horus’s hand.

  “Andrasta,” he snapped. “Are you trying to insult our host?”

  “It’s all right,” said the king, voice weary.

  Andrasta peered inside. A moment later she looked up and growled. “I say it’s an insult to be paid such a small reward for the return of one’s daughter.” She threw the pouch in Rondel’s lap. “Twenty silver senyu? Even the whore in the market offered us twenty-five for the girl.”

  Horus’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t look at Andrasta, but stared daggers at Rondel. “You’ve gone too far.”

  Rondel couldn’t meet the gaze, embarrassed. But when he picked up the pouch and felt its weight, he found himself siding with his partner.

  Should I just roll over and accept this because he expects me to? I might have long ago. But not anymore.

  Still, there is a better way to handle this.

  He took a slow breath. “I understand that you’re upset, my lord. And though we would never have dreamed of selling Dendera to a whorehouse,” he said, looking at Andrasta out of the corner of his eyes, “you have to understand things from our perspective. We risked our lives saving your daughter. Your reward for our efforts will barely sustain us for a couple weeks.”

  “The Rondel I knew would never have questioned me as you’re doing right now.”

  “The Horus I knew would never have thought to take advantage of that Rondel either.”

  Horus glared at Rondel for several moments. The former minstrel felt the weight of those dark eyes. He refused to look away.

  Horus let out a massive sigh and rubbed at his bearded face. He shook his head and spun the chest around so the latch now faced Rondel. “Open it.”

  Rondel hesitated.

  “Go on. It’s not a trap.”

  When Rondel didn’t move, Horus grew tired of waiting.

  “Fine,” he huffed and flipped the lid. Rather than the jewels and coins Rondel expected, the chest contained metal shavings and worthless trinkets.

  “I don’t understand.”

  The king laughed. It held no joy. “I’m broke. Well, I’m not completely broke. I can continue running my estate, and hopefully once the taxes come in from the festival, I’ll be able to refill at least a portion of the coffers, but overall my wealth is a shadow. I apologize for insulting you with that,” he said, gesturing to the bag. “But I’m afraid I have little else to give without making matters worse for me.” He looked down in shame. “I’m a proud man. I had hoped to take advantage of our past friendship rather than expose myself to you.”

  Wow. That’s so unlike him. It’s worse than Dendera thought.

  Andrasta snorted.

  Horus gave her a look of annoyance. “Believe what you want. But my word has always been good. I didn’t have to admit what I’ve just said. I could have just had my guards kick you out of my home without anything and no one would be the wiser.”

  Rondel nodded. “How did this happen?”

  He eyed Andrasta. “Can your friend be trusted?”

  Rondel looked over his shoulder, understanding Horus’s concern. “She won’t say a word.”

  Who would she even tell? She has no friends and anyone dumb enough to seek information from her would get a knife to the gut.

  Horus hesitated a moment longer while staring at Andrasta. Rondel thought he’d end their conversation. However, it seemed like his old friend needed to say what was on his mind. “Two nights ago when the festival began, someone broke into my private treasury and took everything. This party you see tonight was actually never meant to happen. I threw it together to keep all the likely suspects in Girga while my most trusted guards scoured the city looking for culprits. I had to sell several family heirlooms to fund the blasted celebration. I was already low on funds before the theft.”

  “I take it you haven’t had any luck?”

  “None. There’s only so much I can do without creating more problems. If I begin to search houses without cause, I may not find the money, and I could end up insulting the very people whose allegiances I’m trying to gain.”

  “And even if they overlook that, once they find out why you’re searching homes, you’ll lose their support anyway.”

  “More problems I can’t afford to have with the threat of Menetnashte hanging over me.” He shook his head. “You know I’ve thought about sending an assassin to solve all of this. Killing Menetnashte would be the quickest way to solve most of my problems.”

  “Or create new ones. An assassin doesn’t sound like something you’d do.”

  “It’s not. Just a desperate man considering desperate things.” He waved a hand. “Besides, it would end up being a wasted effort. Others have tried to throw assassins at Menetnashte to no avail.”

  “How has he survived?”

  “His bodyguard, Nizam, never leaves his side. As solid as a hippo and quick as a striking snake. Nizam apparently is unequaled with a sword, though he didn’t need it to take out the assassins. Killed all three of them with his bare hands.”

  Andrasta grunted as if unimpressed.

  “I’ve been hearing rumors of urilaudium,” offered Rondel.

  Horus actually chuckled at that. “You’ve been listening to Maskini. Don’t. He’s a good man, but ill-informed. This rumor of urilaudium, that he started by the way, is the one thing I don’t need to concern myself about.” He sighed. “What I need is money to buy troops. Money I don’t have. Money I wish I could share with you because you’ve not only warmed the heart of a father by returning Dendera to me, but also given hope to a ruler. Dendera’s marriage to King Kafele is even more crucial than before if I’m to support an army.” His head sunk in his hands. “Gods, I hate having to do this to her. I know she hates me. But what other choice do I have? So much hangs in the balance.”

  He rubbed his eyes, took a deep breath, and sat up. “She’s been so good to me after my Salama died. It’s an awful way to repay that.”

  “The decisions of someone in your position aren’t easy to make.”

  “No, they’re not.” He stood, face returning to the cheerful mask he had worn the rest of the evening. “Come, the longer I’m away from the festivities, the more people will begin to wonder.”

  * * *

  Dendera looked around the celebration in her father’s great hall, wishing she was anywhere but beside King Kafele.

  At least he stopped holding my hand.

  She began rubbing her palms absentmindedly, suppressing a shiver while thinking of the old man’s clammy skin.

  This is the reward for all that I’ve done.

  After her mother died, Dendera asked for nothing, determined not to be a burden to her father in his time of mourning. She had sacrificed so much to keep him happy and worry free. When he was drunk, it was she who made sure Jahi was fed, bathed, and rested. When her father overslept after a night of weeping, it was she who entertained important guests while servants quickly got him ready to greet them.

  Even when her father finally ceased mourning her mother, she remained at his side, trying to be as supportive as her mother had been for him. Taking care of her father and her brother had consumed her.

  But she hadn’t cared.

  She loved them, and it had been rewarding in its own right to step into her mother’s role. That’s why it had meant so much to have a say in who her husband would be. She wanted her hard work and the responsibility of running another household to be for someone she loved, or at least did not despise.

  Her father didn’t see that going back on his promise to her was like a knife through the heart. It was the one request I made to him. Sacrifices she’d made seemed to
mean little. She hadn’t even allowed herself the chance to mourn her mother properly. Pushing aside years of emotions, wishes, and desires was worthless.

  “How are you holding up?”

  Jahi’s voice startled her. She looked over at her smiling brother and then glanced back to Kafele. He was engrossed in another boring conversation. Dendera decided it would be safe to step away.

  “Sorry,” Jahi whispered after a few steps. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “It’s all right. I’m just trying not to be sick. The liver spots look worse than before I left.”

  Jahi chuckled. “Maybe I can buy you paints for a wedding present. You can turn the spots into shapes on your wedding night to help pass the time.”

  Dendera cuffed him in the arm. “That’s not funny.”

  “Ow. Yes, it is.”

  “I guess it is a little funny.”

  “I missed you.”

  “I missed you too.”

  “And though I hate that you have to marry Kafele, it’s good to know you’re safe again.”

  “I guess there is that.” She paused. “I saw you talking to Rondel and Andrasta earlier. What was that about?”

  “I was trying to get them to help me uncover more information about the Cult of Sutek. Father still doesn’t believe me.” Frustration undercut each word.

  I’m not surprised. Even I don’t believe you.

  Cold hands wrapped around her arm. “What are you doing over here?”

  Her stomach flipped at Kafele’s voice. She turned toward him, trying to put on her best face. “Just speaking to my brother in private. I didn’t want to disturb you.”

  Kafele gave her a disappointed look. “Enough of that. I want you at my side tonight. Come.”

  * * *

  “Where are you going?” hissed Andrasta. “The exit is behind us.”

  “I know,” said Rondel. “I need to do something first.”

  Andrasta muttered something behind him which he ignored.

  Horus had already returned to the great hall. Rondel and Andrasta had the option to follow him back inside or leave. He knew that Andrasta didn’t believe what Horus said about his finances. He could tell by the scowl on her face and the set to her shoulders that she thought he was lying.