The Cult of Sutek (12 page)

“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.

But Rondel disagreed, and though he wanted to leave as badly as Andrasta, he needed to do something first. It was his way to repay Horus for the favor from earlier when he had saved Rondel from complete embarrassment at dinner.

Then I can worry about trying to convince Andrasta to continue to trust me. Twenty senyu is still more than we had before.

He hustled through the hall and darted toward Dendera.

Rondel realized that he had ignored her completely since their arrival. A guilty conscious had much to do with it. Whether the marriage to Kafele was the right thing to do or not, he still felt sympathy for her.

Dendera stood next to King Kafele, looking bored, disgusted, and dismayed. Kafele spoke with another lord that Horus hoped to gain support from. The count occasionally glanced down at his much younger bride-to-be, lingering at the hint of cleavage peeking out of her top. A tiny smirk, absent of several teeth, shone between his thin lips.

Kafele noticed him approach and raised an eyebrow. Rondel forced a smile. “Excuse me, King. My partner and I were just about to leave, and with your permission, I would like to say good-bye to your future wife.”

“Well, I would rather—”

“Thank you.” Rondel cut the man off as he pulled Dendera aside.

“What is it? Making sure I marry that shriveled old man isn’t enough?” she hissed when out of earshot from anyone else.

He let go. “I just wanted to say that I really am sorry that your father wants you to marry that man. However, you have to promise me you won’t run away again.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your father needs this marriage. Far more than you realize.”

“Did he say something to you?”

“Yes. But it isn’t for me to tell. Just don’t mess this up.”

Rondel turned on his heels and left before Dendera could argue with him. He knew that if the girl wanted to run away again, she could. His last minute plea would probably mean very little to her, but he couldn’t leave without saying something.

Across the hall, Andrasta waited in front of the double doors that led out of the hall. Horus walked in front of her, blocking Rondel’s view of her disdainful expression. The king and a southern noble standing near her began talking in earnest.

Rondel looked back to his partner just as she straightened. Sniffing the air, her arm went down to the sword at her waist.

What?
He smelled it too.
Like a rotting corpse.

The great hall went dark.

Swords clashed, people screamed, and chairs and tables clattered to the floor in the pitch black chaos. Rondel drew his own sword and dropped to the floor, not wanting to be a casualty in the mayhem.

He didn’t have to wait long as the hearth, candles, lamps, and even the torches of the fire-eaters all re-lit themselves as quickly as they had been extinguished.

Screams continued as people pointed toward the doors. Andrasta stood over the prone bodies of King Horus and two of his guards. Blood dripped from the edge of her sword.

She looked down and then across at Rondel, confused. Guards surrounded her and demanded she drop the weapon. She scowled at Rondel as if it were all his fault.

What did she do?

“Dendera! Where is my Dendera?” came the shout of an old man’s voice. “By the gods, not again.”

Heads turned toward a panicky King Kafele. “She’s not here.” His eyes drifted to Rondel. They widened as he pointed. “He was with her last. Arrest him!”

Rondel cursed while thinking of the look Andrasta had given him.

We should have left when we had the chance.

Chapter 6

Rondel thought his heart might jump out of his chest as the beats matched the flickering torchlight dancing off the limestone walls of Horus’s dungeons.

Twice the guards struck him across the back of his head, threatening far worse. His head throbbed from the blows, but the pain was nothing compared to the fear gripping him. He tried to remain calm, taking deep breaths, but he could not inhale or exhale slowly enough to ease his anxiety. Each echoing footfall along the walls of the cool, underground dungeon brought back jolting memories from the hell he had once known.

“Gods, look how scared he is. Is he going to make it?” one of the guards asked.

“Who cares if he doesn’t? They’re bringing the other one behind us,” said another.

“She’s tough though,” whispered the first.

“They all
think
they’re tough.”

Rondel’s tongue felt as thick as a pillow and as dry as a harsh desert. The meaty hand squeezing his arm urged him to take a right at a fork in the dim corridor. It looked darker that way and Rondel’s feet refused to move.

A curse sounded from behind at his hesitation. Something struck him across the shoulder. He cried out while being yanked in the intended direction.

Gods, I can’t live like this again. I’ll kill myself first.

The guards stopped in front of iron bars. One fumbled with a set of keys until the tumbler turned. The cell door creaked open.

They threw Rondel inside. It smelled of mildew and piss.

He careened to the floor, turning his shoulder so it took the brunt of the fall. Andrasta followed him in.

Guards dragged them to opposite walls of the cell. They were chained to thick, metal rings hammered into the rough limestone.

“You’re not going to loosen these?” asked Andrasta.

Head down and staring at the floor, Rondel didn’t see the slap that struck his partner, but he heard it. Andrasta spat and cursed. He looked up as a guard backhanded her again.