The Cult of Sutek (11 page)

Rondel offered a slight bow, barely more than a nod. “It’s quite all right. I’ve suffered from such a character flaw myself.”

Thabit cocked an eyebrow as if considering whether what Rondel said was an insult.

Oh, it was, you pompous little prick.

Rondel might have cared what others thought of him when confronted in the middle of a large audience, but in private he would not accept someone belittling him.

Thabit took another sip. “Just so. A word of advice, and I mean this with the sincerest of hearts, I would refrain from asking people to declare allegiances. There is too much uncertainty for anyone to feel comfortable doing so, especially in light of Dendera’s return.”

“What do you mean?”

“It changes things. Some were ready to denounce their support of Horus, quietly and with tact of course, since it appeared that his alliance with King Kafele was negated with his daughter’s disappearance. Now, the marriage seems to be back on. People may have already reached out to Horus’s enemies, and now they must decide who will be the least offended at losing support.”

“No one wants to be on the losing side,” Rondel muttered.

“Well said.” Thabit seemed suddenly distracted. “If you’ll excuse me, I believe someone is looking for me.”

Thabit walked toward two men waving him over. They patted each other on the back like old friends.

Give them a knife and they’d be stabbing instead of patting without a second thought. How did I ever enjoy these events?

A ribbon dancer wrapped in blue silk and smelling of lavender brushed by Rondel. She threw him a wink on her way to Thabit’s small group. She began flirting with them immediately.

Ah, now I remember,
he thought wistfully, trying to suppress a grin.

Thabit slipped an arm around the dancer’s slender waist. She leaned into him.

I hate him.

“He is obnoxious, isn’t he?”

Rondel’s eyes rose at the comment. It was spoken louder than most would have dared. Horus’s son appeared next to him, arms crossed like a man twice his young age.

“I’m sure he has a few positive traits somewhere.”

Jahi snorted. “None that I’ve seen. I don’t know why my father invited him.”

“He needs all the help he can get. A man in your father’s position can’t afford to be picky.”

“I’d normally agree with you,” said the boy. “Except it is well known that Thabit is supporting Menetnashte. Everything he says or hears will go back to him. Father still thinks he can win Thabit's support if the alliance with Kafele is cemented.”

Rondel grunted, surprised to hear a boy so young speak like a man seasoned in politics. “You don’t think that’s possible?”

“No.”

“Too bad. Your father is a good man. I hope everything works out for him.”

“You could help, you know.”

“How?”

Jahi’s young face tightened as he guided Rondel off to the side. “The Cult of Sutek. Have you heard of it?”

“In passing. I’ve heard the name in a few conversations tonight. Your sister also brought it up while traveling.”

“It’s ancient, centuries old. It’s gained a great deal of power recently, and I believe it’s because my father’s enemies are using it to strengthen their position against him.” He gestured to where Thabit stood. “Some of those people are here even now.”

“Do you have proof of this?”

“Yes.”

“And have you presented it to your father?”

“I can’t. It’s complicated.”

“How can it be complicated? Either you have proof or you don’t.”

Rondel had heard the cult mentioned several times during the night, but it was all with the same dismissive tone.
Like it was nothing more than a fairy tale. Perhaps he is still a boy after all to be focused on such nonsense.

Jahi’s face tightened. “It isn’t that simple. However, if you and your partner will help me, we can—”

“Look, I know you mean well. But if this cult was any real threat to your father, he would have addressed the issue, regardless of what else he’s dealing with. The last thing he needs is for you to stir up more trouble for him. That’s what your sister did, and because of that he may have lost some of the support he was counting on. Start accusing people of working with a cult, and you might do more than cause them to switch sides. It might be the final push toward war.”

“You don’t understand. It’s growing stronger all the time. Hundreds of years ago, they ruled these lands by fear and strange powers that were said to come from Sutek himself. Even now since the cult’s resurgence, people like Thabit and Menetnashte and others who are connected to it have grown wealthier with greater resources at their disposal. The rumors of what this cult used to do to obtain its power would turn your stomach. If those things are going on now—”

“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.

Surely, 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.”