Author's Note: Sorry about the wait; I kept getting distracted by other stories. Thanks for your patience!
Kestral's legs wrapped tightly around the bare sides of her mount. She clung to her wiry black mane as the pony stumbled, then slowed.
Dutch was slogging through the sand as if it was deep snow, unable to move faster than a trot now that they were in the softer sand dunes. Kestral grimaced, urging her steed on in vain.
An amused chuckle came from behind her. "Not used to the terrain, Lady Kestral?"
She refused to turn around. She wasn't going to give the Janubian the satisfaction of seeing her frustration. "I'm coping fine, thank you, Lord Hakim," she said through gritted teeth.
A bay stallion came alongside her struggling mount, practically floating across the desert sands. The black-cloaked rider's face was arranged in a mocking smile. "The mare will adjust in time; but might I suggest acquiring a more experienced horse at Sabralant until she does?"
Kestral shook her head. "No thank you. Dutch and I will manage fine." She gave the mare a sharp little kick and hung on as Dutch began to jog down the sandy slope. At the bottom lay the Twanzur excavation.
Soon she was in amongst the walls and the hive of activity that was the excavation site. The ancient stonework contrasted oddly with the lively buzzing of the camp. It seemed as if the ruins were dead, swarmed over by flies seeking to profit from it.
But were they dead? Or just sleeping, waiting to be awakened by the revival of Janub?
She shook her head sharply. "You're letting Mr. Legend's enthusiasm infect you," she scolded herself in a whisper.
As if her thoughts had conjured him into being, Hakim brought his horse up alongside hers again. He nodded at one of the workers, who was looking up at them in awe. "Our arrival will soon be acknowledged, I expect."
Kestral murmured an agreement, looking around curiously.
A few tents, battered and brown with exposure to the elements, were scattered between the ruined walls. About twenty men, ragged but efficient, scuttled around between these tents and the largest of the ruined structures. It was like the base of a tower, or the foundation of an old fortification. One crumbling side was reinforced with timber planks.
Hakim followed Kestral's gaze. "That would be the tower from the legend," he said softly. She turned to him; his eyes were lit up and somehow dreamy all at the same time. As if a favourite childhood story was coming true. Which, she supposed, it was.
"What tower?"
His gaze snapped back into focus. "When the regalia was separated - shortly after the death of the famed King Dario - the three pieces were separated and kept hidden in the desert. The crown was looked after by a cloister, the orb buried in a mountain cave, and the sceptre -" he nodded towards the ruins - "guarded in a tower."
"According to the legend, of course."
He cleared his throat. "Of course."
A figure exited the tent and began to approach them. His head was enveloped in a white hood, rather like Hakim's. He strode purposefully, as if to say he knew exactly what he wanted.
Hakim half-bowed respectfully, still in the saddle. The man looked up at him critically. His hooked nose was held high. Kestral was reminded of Alandra during her worst fits of superiority.
He said something Janubian in greeting. His tone was harsh and accusing. Hakim responded in the same language, in much softer tones, and dismounted.
Kestral dropped to the ground, sinking up to her ankles in the soft sand. She hoped that none got into her boots - it'd probably never come out.
The two men conversed for a few moments in their own language. Kestral tapped on her leg impatiently.
"Oi, not to rain on your parade, but could you say something I actually understand?" she snapped. Hakim turned to her, eyebrows raised, but he complied. "This is Lady Kestral of the Darion Empire, Sabar. She is my associate in this venture."
Associate??? Kestral almost berated him, but resisted the impulse. She could tick him off later, when it was less likely to harm their mission. Janubian society viewed women as inferior and servile; a female commander would never be taken seriously.
Instead, she nodded slightly. Sabar returned her nod, but with a slightly sceptical expression. He turned back to Hakim. This time he spoke in heavily accented Westerlin.
"I fear that yours is the second offer we have received, Effendi," he informed them. "We must, of course, deliver the sceptre to the first bidder."
Hakim's eyes widened; he tensed. "Who made this offer, if I might be so bold as to ask?"
"I cannot disclose that information," Sabar said pompously. He paused. "But if you were able to make a more flattering proposal, I may be able to - shall we say - alter my previous bargain."
Every sensibility of Kestral's revolted at the thought of paying this snake off. This legend was deeply important to the Janubian people, and he was willing to sell the throne to the highest bidder.
"How much are you asking?" said Hakim stiffly. He probably felt the same way.
"One thousand gold pieces."
Kestral drew breath sharply. "You can't be serious!" she said, forgetting all diplomacy. "That would run a small city for a year!"
Sabar shrugged. "We encountered many costs during the digging. And we must make a profit."
"But that's just insane -" Before she could say more, Hakim grabbed her arm, pulling her a few steps aside. His tone was gruff.
"How much do we have?"
"Six hundred gold pieces. But we can't bid it all. What if we need to pay the others off as well?"
Hakim appeared to be considering this question. Before he came to a conclusion, another thought popped into Kestral's head. "Wait a mo'. We haven't seen this sceptre yet. For all we know, he's lying and he hasn't found it yet." If it's even there, she added silently.
Hakim nodded. "You are right." He turned back to Sabar. "I hesitate to insinuate deception, but could we see the object in question before committing to a course of action?"
Sabar bowed. "Of course, Effendi." He turned to the throng of curious observers and snapped out an order. Two men raced off towards a nearby tent.
A moment later they returned, one of them bearing a long stick-like object wrapped in tattered white cloth. Sabar took it brusquely, turning to Hakim and holding it out. "Inspect it if you wish."
Hakim hesitated for a long moment, then reached out, taking the bundle. He weighed it in his hand, then slowly unwound the cloth. Kestral watched, tense. She'd mentioned asking for proof of the sceptre because she believed the regalia didn't exist. But if that was the actual sceptre -
The fabric fell away, revealing a gold staff. At the top was an intricate carving of a lion, studded with precious stones. The more rational part of Kestral's mind told her it had been polished by the excavators, but she couldn't help but think that magic had kept it clean all these years so that it shone in the sun now.
Kestral dragged her eyes away from the sceptre to Hakim's face. A mixture of childlike wonder, awe, and triumph glittered in his eyes, though his other features remained impassive. For a moment, she was irritated. Why was he getting so excited? Sure, it was beautiful, and probably extremely valuable, but ...
But nothing. If she had something to believe in - a cause that she cared about - she'd be excited too.
Sabar held his hand out. Hakim returned it reluctantly.
"So," the white-cloaked Janubian said coolly. "Do you wish to pay?"
"We will pay you five hundred gold pieces."
Sabar laughed derisively. Kestral's heart sank. "That is most amusing, Effendi. The previous offer was much higher."
Fantastic. "That's the most we're giving you," she snapped. "Who is this other mystery person, anyway? I think you're just making him up to get us to bid more."
He shook his head with a wry grin. "No, Lady Kidrel."
"Kestral."
"I apologize. But my offer stands. If you will not pay the money, then I must send the sceptre to your rivals."
This time it was Kestral's turn to pull Hakim aside. "Are there villages near here? We could get them to raise the money, help pay -"
"There is a village near here. But I doubt that a full ransack of the place would yield more than fifty gold pieces."
Kestral groaned. "So we're stuck." She looked apologetically at Hakim. The mission was over before it had even started. She didn't care so much for herself - she had no emotional stake. But Hakim did.
To her surprise, he did not look disappointed. There was a glint in his eye. "No, we are not. I do have one more card to play, as Lord Thordal would put it."
"What? We take it by force?"
He frowned slightly. "This is not a matter for levity, Lady Kestral."
"I was serious."
He ignored her. "I had hoped I would not have to do this. But if we have no choice -" His gaze drifted to Sabar - no, to the sceptre in Sabar's hands. Abruptly he strode back to their bargaining opponent.
"May I speak to you in private for a moment, Effendi?"
Sabar inclined his head, gesturing towards the tent. The two men walked over towards it. Kestral went to follow them, but Hakim turned and frowned at her, shaking his head.
"Fine." She folded her arms and waited sulkily outside. Despite her best efforts at eavesdropping, she couldn't make anything out. They were probably speaking Janubian anyway.
How could Hakim treat her like this? She was a Knight of Darion as well - had been for longer than him, in fact! And he'd still be rotting in a prison in Narlind if it wasn't for her. Just because this was his country, he thought he was in charge. Well, he was mistaken. Kestral wasn't beaten yet.
The two men emerged. Hakim's expression was unreadable. Sabar was staring at him with an expression halfway between awe and fear.
"We have reached an agreement," Hakim announced in his usual clipped tones. "Five hundred gold pieces. If you would be so good as to bring the gold, Lieutenant," he said over Kestral's shoulders, where Refec was standing waiting. Kestral had been so buried in her own thoughts she hadn't even seen her men arrive.
Refec saluted and marched off to one of the newly arrived carts, barking orders. The men began to unload the chests.
Kestral stared at Hakim, mind whirling. "How ... ?"
Hakim shook his head briefly, before turning back to Sabar and speaking to him cordially in their language. Kestral's cheeks burned. He was doing it again! She silently promised herself that if he did it again, she'd thump him.
The exchange was quickly made. Hakim wrapped the sceptre carefully and placed it in the cart with his own hands, securing it amongst the supplies so it did not slip as the cart moved. Kestral gathered her saddle and bridle and tacked Dutch properly. The little mare had been standing patiently where Kestral had left her, sweating in the hot sun. Kestral realised that she was too - the heat burned against her bare shoulders. She'd be bright red in the morning.
Not that that was her concern right now. She had a few words to say to Mr. High and Mighty first.
