Agony: Twelve

The palace of Bahteel had stood for more than eight hundred years. In that time it had grown from farmhouse to caravansary to fortress to palace of three dynasties. Each new master reshaped the house, adding walls, expanding wings, using the once-grand apartments of their predecessors as chambers for their servants or places to shelter animals—or hold prisoners.

It should be no surprise that the passageways away from their cells wound back and forth, turning in labyrinthine complexity. Sabit and Verdandi stumbled their way through the poorly-lit passageways until they feared they might see the underworld before ever glimpsing the light of day once more.

Sabit caught the sharp scent of lye on the air and staggered toward it. Pushing open a creaky wooden door, the two stumbled into the palace’s laundry. As the dinner bell had rung some time before, the great room was empty of people, filled only with great vats of water, large copper kettles, and heaps of soiled clothing.

Rummaging through the heap, Sabit found two long, hooded robes, burnt orange in color.  Donning the garments, Sabit and Verdandi no longer looked like escaped prisoners, marks of their beatings plain to see. They were two more figures attending to their own business in the busy palace. They hurried up the winding staircase into the light.

The courtyard of the palace of Bahteel was warmed by the reddish glow of twilight. To Sabit, the dim evening light was like a shaft of hope sent straight from heaven after her eternity in the dungeon.  Seeing that the main gate was still open, the two robed figures made their way across the courtyard. Lest they arouse the attention of the dozen armed guards that stood attentive at the corners of the courtyard, or the half-dozen more that watched over the palace gate, they moved with the unhurried speed of those on an errand, even as their hearts cried out to flee like a hunted rabbit.

From a side passage a short woman burst into the courtyard, wearing the plain dress of a chambermaid.  A voice boomed out behind her, “Baya, my sweet, I only want to describe the missing necklace in detail. Come back to my chamber and I will describe its every link to you.” Six steps behind the maid  came Kehnan, a goblet of wine in his hand, his cheeks already ruddy from the bounty of the goblets he had already drained.

The chambermaid’s path of retreat led her right past Sabit and Verdandi. She shouted back at her drunen pursuer. “I mean no disrespect, Lord Kehnan, but I have many duties to attend to. I’ll be whipped if I’m late.”

“No overseer would dare whip a favorite of Lord Kehnan,” he said. Charging forward, he caught Baya’s shoulder. She stopped.

Right in front of Sabit.

Sabit gripped the stunted remains of her spear tightly beneath her robe. Kehnan turned the chambermaid to face him, all his attention focused on his quarry. His back was exposed. Sabit could see just the spot where her iron spear tip could slide between his ribs and pierce that cruel heart. He had butchered Sabit’s people. He had dispatched her to murder a virtuous woman opposing an evil king. He had tricked her into driving away Qaansoole and Allamu. With a single thrust of her arm, Sabit could make sure he never hurt anyone again.

Verdandi laid her hand gently upon Sabit’s shoulder. The older woman did not need to say a word. Sabit knew where the guards were. Eighteen armed men in less than two dozen paces. Unnumbered more would be summoned with a shout. Sabit’s own muscles tembled with both fury and fatigue. It was miracle enough that Verdandi could still walk. Sabit wasn’t sure how much longer either of them could remain on their feet.

If she stabbed him quickly enough, he might not even have a chance to scream!

Kehanan grabbed the chambermaid’s face and crushed his lips to hers. His stooped back was open and unguarded, barely two paces from Sabit’s iron spear tip.

 

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Photo by Martins Krastins from Pexels https://www.pexels.com/photo/cave-with-hole-at-the-top-photo-826490/

 

Wayfarings of Sabit: Agony is copyright (c) 2018 by Michael S. Miller. All rights reserved. New chapters post every Thursday (and the occasional Monday). You can support this and other stories on Patreon: https://patreon.com/michaelsmiller Find more sword and sorcery fiction at http://ipressgames.com/fiction/.