Slowly, ever so carefully, she manoeuvred the bow from behind her back so that it rested on her knees under the table. Every movement was kept tightly controlled and masked by innocent actions such as a scratch, a glance around or a yawn.
By the time she heard the activity at the front door, the weapon was securely held in both hands beneath the table. This next move required subtlety. She dropped her head dejectedly, apparently resigned to her fate and broken by captivity. Of course Samir wouldn’t fall for that for a second, but it might distract him from what was really going on. With someone as sharp as Samir, it was a matter of throwing enough signals and suspicious activity at him that he didn’t know which way to turn. Samir was sharp enough, but the iron bolt on her knee was sharper still and so was Asima’s aim.
“Faerus and Orin will be here any time now with the most trusted senior members of their crews. The next few days will be a time that both the council and the governor will remember for many years.”
Samir’s voice was light and betrayed a little excitement as he entered the front room of the house, helping Ghassan as he went. The taller brother was staggering wearily. Not a shock after what she’d done to him, but it still surprised and irked her that what was undoubtedly a killing blow seemed to have done such little to him. Next time the opportunity came her way, she would make it slower and considerably more certain. He may survive a single blow, but see how long he lasted with no skin.
“I’ll wait here, Samir” her attempted victim said in a tired voice. “I’ll have a drink while we wait, but I just don’t have the patience or energy to deal with Asima right now.
Samir nodded.
“I’ll only be a few minutes, then we can get down to planning.” He turned to one of the other crewmen in the room. “Jabir? Can you break out the drinks? I’ll have one in a minute when I return.”
Asima’s fingers tensed on the trigger as Samir strode toward the doorway. His face was a strangely unreadable expression. There seemed to be mixed hope, anger, irritation, desire and humour in roughly equal amounts. Despite some heavy competition, it won out as his most irritating look of all time.
“Asima…” he began as he turned and closed the door, leaving the two of them alone in the room.
She raised her eyes very slowly until her gaze met his. Her steely dark eyes held his as he squared his shoulders.
“As I’ve said, and I’m considered a man of my word, I will not harm you, despite everything you have done. When our business here is concluded, we will go our separate ways and, Gods willing, our paths will never cross again. I am bound by the promise I made when I took you back from Pelasia to try and help you achieve your goal.”
Asima shrugged.
“You are a liar, Samir. You veer wildly between vowing to help me on my path back to power and stealing me away whenever I get close, in order to save your precious ‘innocents’. Innocents are merely criminals that haven’t been caught yet, Samir. A man in your position should know that. Everyone is disposable… no exceptions.”
Samir shrugged.
“There are innocents, in relative grades, I’ll admit, but I know they exist. You, however, Asima, are unable to recognise them, since I now realise that you were never one yourself, even when we were carefree children. Ghassan believes that you have become this person because the world turned its back on you. I personally believe that you were always this person, but it took certain events to trigger your release from the prison of youth.”
“Enough talk, Samir. I recognise that I have a struggle ahead of me, but it will be considerably easier without you standing in the way.”
Purposefully and smoothly, like the most professional Pelasian assassin, she stood, the chair sliding back and toppling behind her as she brought the hand bow up in a graceful arc and pulled the trigger to release the bolt at neck level. It was a speedy, smooth, bold, and deadly accurate move, the weapon aimed precisely for the centre of the throat.
Unfortunately for Asima the result was a metallic click, a sad little ‘twang’ and the bolt rolled off the groove and fell to the floor. She stared in anger at the bow and then up at Samir’s grinning face.
No… that was his most irritating look of all time.
“I see you found the bow. Good. I would have hated to have gone to such lengths with no appreciable result.”
“Why?” she demanded angrily.
“To appease BelaPraxis, and to settle the matter in Ghassan’s mind. Your tongue is more twisted than any serpent’s and no word that slips from it can be trusted, but your choices; your actions, even, tell us what your heart contains, and yours, Asima my dear, contains only black emptiness.”
She cast the useless, sabotaged weapon aside and crossed her arms defiantly as Samir strode toward her.
“And now that you’ve eased your conscience, you can drop you’re the charade of your vow to help me and have me killed instead. At least have the balls to do it yourself and don’t leave the job to one of your underlings.”
Samir smiled that vulture smile again as he came close, face to face with her and a yard away.
“Hardly, Asima. I keep my promises.”
With a snort, she turned her back on him.
“Good,” Samir said with relief. “That makes it easier”.
His blow to the back of Asima’s head was surprisingly gentle, but accurate and strong enough to knock the consciousness from her. Samir’s only concession to his feelings was to let her fall heavily and painfully to the floor without catching her.
“Sleep well. All our worlds are about to change.”
In which the order is given
Samir opened the door just as the runner tried to knock on it, causing him to lose his balance and stagger a little. The young sailor was out of breath and quite red faced and Samir waited patiently for him to regain his feet and take a deep breath. The lad looked up to see Samir waiting with his arms crossed, the tall, pale and gaunt figure of his brother at his shoulder and a collection of powerful men gathered in the background.
“Captain Samir…”
“The very same. Take your time… I’m sure there’s nothing pressing?”
He smiled at the young man who flushed.
“Sorry sir. The council wants to see you. They’ve called an emergency meeting for all captains.”
“Now, I presume?”
“Yes, sir. Just the captains and their first officers.”
“Very well. We’ll be along presently.”
“Yessir. I think…”
His voice trailed off as Samir shut the door on him and turned to the other occupants of the room. Quite a crowd had built up over the afternoon and into the early evening, with the eight men from the Empress having been joined by Faerus, Orin and their senior sailors.
“Are we all prepared? We all know what to do?”
Faerus nodded, scratching his chin.
“Still not all that sure I like it Samir, but you’re absolutely right that it has to be done.”
Orin, a stocky, barrel-chested northerner with a forked beard and a surprisingly quiet and gentle voice, shook his head.
“I still wonder whether we could have done more.” He sighed. “But yes… we know what to do and we’re ready.”
“Then for the sake of Lassos and our continued survival let’s go and do battle. You’d best head down to the council. I’ll meet you there in a minute; just a few quick things to attend to here.”
The two captains nodded and made for the door, both stopping in the entrance to grasp Samir by the forearm in the age old gesture of comradeship. As they left, taking their men with them, Samir glanced around the room at the remaining occupants and then closed the door.
“This is a dangerous course we’ve embarked on, gentlemen, and into unknown waters. We all know we can trust Faerus and Orin implicitly. I have other allies unrevealed as yet that will change the way today unfolds. Then there’s the Governor; we have no idea yet what he has decided to do, so he is a random element in the game. And finally, the council are almost entirely untrustworthy and have only their own safety and glory in mind. I have no doubt that they would sell out or drown any resident of Lassos without a moment’s thought if they deemed it necessary. Today is an important day.”