Prince of Sands – Chapter Three
Potential cover for the book
Chapter 3
Antemenus sighed to himself when he heard the knock on the door. Nearly six months since he’d come to this dreadful city to act as Gelik’s steward and the fools still hadn’t learned. Barely a day went by without a messenger from a great house arriving with an invitation to some function or event. While the details of the local politics were still lost on him, it didn’t take a genius to understand that all of them were trying to drag Gelik into their machinations. He seen similar games carried out on a smaller scale among his own people. The tactics were different, but the price remained the same for any who fell short. His own father had become an unwilling master of the game. So, Antemenus wasn’t shocked at all that some invitations came from houses that were antagonistic to the royal house. A few invitations had come from families that Gelik himself identified as hereditary enemies of his family. After writing the first handful, Antemenus hired a scribemaster to craft a hundred generic, if politely worded, letters that declined such invitations. He was beginning to wonder if he should have another hundred made.
He was also beginning to wonder if he’d made a mistake coming here. Granted, he’d come both because his friend had asked him to do so and because honor demanded it, but he was not a creature of city walls. He no more belonged here than the nightwraiths or the mythical sand dragons. He yearned for the hidden places of his own people. He yearned for his wife and children. Ampella’s fourteenth birthday was mere weeks away, he realized with a start. A sharp burst of self-hatred seared him at the idea of not being there. After one last night with her family, she’d leave behind the trappings of childhood and enter into formal training.
He both dreaded and hoped that she’d be accepted into the Emchelan. Acceptance among those women would honor Ampella. She’d carry a status independent of her family. One that no one could ever take from her. On the other hand, Antemenus knew all too well what brutal training waited down that path, having undertaken similar training as one of the Kemsani. It was a prospect no father could entirely wish for a child. That self-hatred burned in him again. Yet, there was no other path he could follow. Abandoning Gelik to face this awful city alone was unthinkable. His daughter would have denounced him as a coward or, worse, a faithbreaker. He didn’t dare wonder what his wife would have done. There was no escaping it. For the moment, he would act in his chosen role. He stepped into the entryway and opened the door. He frowned slightly at the man who stood in the doorway. Marsas was one person on an exceedingly short list of people that Gelik had said should be allowed entry at any time. A beefy man with a goatee and a slender woman flanked Marsas, both in new looking uniforms and both heavily armed. All three of them looked uncomfortable.
“Yes,” Antemenus said in the driest tone he could manage.
“I need to see, that is to say, I’d like to see Prince Gelik. It’s royal business.”
Antemenus counted to five in his head, mostly to make it look like he was thinking very hard on the request, before he issued a sigh and stepped aside. “Your guards must remain outside.”
Marsas seemed confused for a moment before glancing over his shoulder at the beefy man. “Oh, yes, that’s fine. Wait here for me.”
The pair nodded in unison before they took up station on either side of the door, scanning the street with focused attention. Curious, thought Antemenus. He closed the door after Marsas stepped inside and gave the man a considering look. It seemed to Antemenus that Marsas had undergone some kind of promotion since Gelik first pointed the man out to him. His clothes were of too fine a cut and material for a simple city guardsman, even the captain. They were most certainly new because the man kept adjusting the collar in what looked like an unconscious gesture.
“Follow me, please,” said Antemenus.
Marsas fell into step beside Antemenus and glanced his way. “How did you come into Prince Gelik’s service, if I can ask?”
“He asked,” Antemenus replied in a neutral tone. “I accepted.”
“That isn’t what I meant,” said Marsas, his tone a mix of mild annoyance and tension.
“I know. It is, however, unseemly to ask into the employment arrangements of another man’s servants.”
Marsas blinked rapidly for a moment before he nodded. “You’re right, of course. I apologize.”
“Think nothing of it.”
Antemenus pushed open a door in the rear of the house and led Marsas into the back yard. Prince Gelik crouched near the back wall, tending to a garden filled with a number of small plants. Antemenus could name them all, but he doubted that the guardsman had ever even seen most of them. He admitted to himself that he envied Gelik’s seemingly magical ability with the plants. It was a gift he didn’t share. He cleared his throat and Gelik looked up.
“Prince Gelik, you have a guest.”
“Marsas,” said Gelik.
There was an echo of warmth in Gelik’s tone that piqued Antemenus’ curiosity. He had often wondered who Gelik had been before the desert changed him. He supposed he was seeing a ghost of that man in the scraps of warmth he displayed toward the city guardsman. The steward didn’t relish his next words, knowing it would drag that warmth back down into whatever grave it had sprung from.
“He’s here on royal business.”
Gelik’s eyes went flat and his expression became one of blank indifference. “I see. Am I commanded to make another appearance at the palace?”
Marsas looked deeply uncomfortable, but he shook his head. “No, it’s nothing like that. Your parents, The King and Queen, they think you’re too exposed here.”
Gelik stared at his old friend, saying nothing, expression fixed in that awful, blank indifference.
Marsas waited for far longer than necessary before continuing. “They made me your protector, Gelik.”
A real expression cracked through the indifference. Gelik looked confused. “My protector? You aren’t a…”
Antemenus watched in rapt fascination as Gelik trailed off, his face shifting from confusion to shock and, finally, to dawning horror. It was more emotion than the man normally displayed in weeks.
“Tell me they didn’t,” said Gelik, his voice low and angry.
“They made me a knight,” admitted Marsas.
Antemenus eyed the newly minted knight and felt his own unease surface. While he might not understand all of the local politics, yet, politics was always inherently dangerous. Court intrigue was venomous and often lethal, even for those who imbibed it with mother’s milk. Those who found themselves elevated by marriage or deed into the nobility worked at a brutal disadvantage. Marsas struck him as a straightforward man. That would leave him doubly disadvantaged against noblemen and noblewomen who wielded words like weapons.
“Damn them,” said Gelik.
“Your highness,” said Marsas in stunned objection.
“Damn them to the burning sun and pitiless winds,” Gelik seethed through clenched teeth, his fists closing into hard balls.
Marsas didn’t notice, but Antemenus had to force down a warning as he saw what was happening at Gelik’s feet. A warning would only serve to draw attention. Antemenus eased a hand around the hilt of a small blade he kept hidden up an intentionally voluminous sleeve. He watched Marsas’ eyes for even the slightest downward flicker. If the man looked down, Gelik’s friend or not, Antemenus would have to take matters into his own hands for the good of all. After a few tense moments, Gelik mastered himself and the unusual burst of emotion. The disturbance at the man’s feet subsided as he regained control. Antemenus heaved an inward sigh of relief as he released the hilt. He hadn’t wanted to kill Marsas. Nor had he relished the idea of devising some plausible tale that might explain why Prince Gelik’s steward had murdered the new royal bodygaurd. Antemenus wasn’t sure that such a story existed. Gelik resumed his neutral expression as he regarded Marsas, though Antemenus thought he detected a hint of compassion in the Prince’s eyes.
“Very well, Marsas,” said Gelik. “Assign your people as you see fit. Provide Antemenus with the details and I’ll see to their pay.”
“The Queen has already seen to that,” said Marsas, his expression a mixture of confusion and apprehension.
“No, old friend. I won’t tolerate divided loyalties. Their pay will come from me and they’ll know it. Use my mother’s money to outfit them, arm them, or provide them additional training. There must be a few bored weapons or combat masters somewhere in the city who want a new challenge. Secure their services. If I must endure the presence of guards, they can at least be well-trained guards.”
“I helped train those people. My men and women would die to protect you,” barked Marsas. “Don’t mock them!”
Antemenus found himself reaching for the hidden blade again on instinct, but arrested the movement when he saw Gelik’s calm demeanor.
“You misunderstand me, Marsas. I don’t doubt that they’d bravely sacrifice themselves for me. I just don’t ever want any of them to need to do it. The more training they get, the fewer of them will die when one of the Houses inevitably send their killers. Sooner or later, one of the High Lords will decide that my death will open up an opportunity for a new line of succession. I don’t want your people getting killed when that fight begins.”
Marsas digested that speech in silence before he nodded. “I expect you’re right. I’ll provide your man the details and see about hiring on some new trainers.”
“Very good.”
“I’ll see myself out. I’ve left two on guard for the moment. They’re solid. You can trust them.”
Gelik nodded and then watched as Marsas left. Antemenus pondered the conversation for a moment before he snorted in mild amusement.
Gelik cocked an eyebrow at him. “Yes?”
“I think I’d pay actual money to see you fight with these House assassins. It’d be entertaining.”
“It wouldn’t be. They’re too dangerous for anything but an immediate, lethal response.”
“You’d know best. What about Marsas? Will he be a problem?”
“No,” replied Gelik with a hard look. “He and his people are a minor complication. We’ll work around them as necessary.”
“Isn’t complication another word for problem?”
“Don’t you have linens to count?”
Antemenus shrugged and said, “Why in the world would I do that?”
