The Crew by Sadir S. Samir

Author:Sadir S. Samir [Samir, Sadir S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Fantasy
Publisher: Sadir S. Samir
Published: 2022-11-28T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Clea slammed her hands down on the table, staring daggers at the people seated around her. “Well, say something damn you!”

The sudden news of Berenberg’s death had shaken Clea to her core. All notion of keeping her composure as a dignified ruler was thrown out the window. An emergency council meeting had hastily been assembled, everyone in her most inner circle present. The group sat around the circular, wooden table, fresh fruit and a jug of wine before them.

“Why am I the only one speaking?” Clea said. “We still need that loan from Farouk. I will have to travel to Nuzz myself, then.”

“I would strongly advise against that, Your Highness,” Erikz, the Royal Guard Captain said. If the news of Berenberg’s death had rattled him in any way, it was impossible to tell from his expressionless face. “It’s too dangerous out there. And if word gets out that you’ve left Akrab, your citizens might see that as a sign of you abandoning them during the crisis at hand.”

Khanon, the Army General cleared his throat. “Not only that, Your Excellency, but we now know for certain Edghar is somewhere in the city, plotting against you. The soldier who survived the attack against Berenberg was spared for the sole reason of delivering that message. You need to remain within the ziggurat at all times.”

“Then what am I supposed to do? Sit here and wait for them to come and kill me?” Clea said. “How hard can it be to find and capture Edghar? We know he’s right here in Akrab under our noses! And who is that damned man helping him?”

“I might be able to shed some light on the assassin’s identity, My Lord,” Vizier Tarkus said. But Clea was barely able to concentrate on the man’s words, because in usual order he was rubbing that damn lotion on his bare arms, chest and neck, the sweet smell making her dizzy.

“Could you, for once, not do that right this moment,” Clea sighed, rubbing her brow. “I can’t stand that smell.”

Vizier Tarkus had a smug look on his chubby face. “My deepest apologies, My Lord. But you know—"

“Yes, yes, your damn skin gets dry,” Clea hissed, waving her hand dismissively. “Forget it, just tell me who Edghar’s partner is.”

The wet, squishy sound from the salve acted as a backup choir to the Vizier talking. “It seems the silver-haired assassin is a former warrior-monk of sorts who has turned his back on his order. He has made quite the reputation for himself working as a sellsword here in Harrah.”

“They’re known as Educators,” Erikz said. “I came across them now and then back when I lived in Karkan. Religious types. And extremely dangerous. They are taken at a young age–”

“–I don’t care about a history lesson,” Clea snapped. She glared at the Vizier. “You promised employing the band of Dusters would take care of everything! But so far, they haven’t accomplished anything. And what about those dough freaks?”

“Still no word from the Baker on that regard, but I have faith they will come through,” Vizier Tarkus said.

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