The Wings of Ashtaroth

Prologue: Children: Section III: Dashel

Dashel: Qemassen: The Throne Room

Dashel stood scrunched between perfumed nobles on the packed mezzanine of Qemassen's throne room. The competing scents of qyphi, rose, and lily clouded in the air around him until they were sucked inside his nose, dizzying.

In his own plain cotton tunic, sweat-soaked from his day in the hot sun with the royal children, Dashel was out of place. But Moniqa wanted him here, to spy for her, to see things she might miss. No one would question his presence.

He gripped the railing with damp palms, surveying the courtiers below. They milled at the rounded end of the great hall, framed by huge, arched windows behind them. The court hadn't been so packed in weeks, and it was hard to spy on the Semassenqa with the room so full.

Moniqa's cousin—tall, muscled, and imposing—was easy to spot. The exiled Indan prince, Shaqarbas, pushed his way through the crowd to stand at its head. He stopped a few feet ahead of the rest of the Semassenqa.

The merchant Qanmi looked him up and down before whispering something to his brother Sabeq. The two shifted subtly till they were flush with Shaqarbas. Even from Dashel's spot on the mezzanine, the gold of Qanmi's earrings glinted in the light, reflecting off the polished onyx floor.

Qanmi was always the most ostentatiously dressed at court—like he thought he was a prince himself. He wasn't a prince at all, just rich, and no friend to Samelqo. There wasn't much point in watching him.

The Ajwata ambassador was close behind them, but the Anata ambassador from eq-Anout and the Lora ambassador were both missing. Dashel scanned the crowd for their faces. They definitely weren't here. It seemed odd, but maybe they'd tired of Samelqo's pronouncements of doom.

At the head of the room, not so far from Dashel's vantage, Qemassen's queen and king—Moniqa and Eshmunen—sat upon their thrones, each seat resting on a tiered dais. The third throne sat empty.

Where was Samelqo? His throne stood to the right of Eshmunen's, on the lowest tier of the dais. The lowest, even though everyone knew Eshmunen was only a puppet. Samelqo was Qemassen's real king. It was him Moniqa needed Dashel to watch. Moniqa was sure he was plotting something against her.

A minor noble nudged Dashel's side as though to press past and get a better view, but Dashel was tall and strong for a man of fourteen. He planted his feet firmly apart and nudged the noble right back before gripping the railing again. He'd promised Moniqa he'd be here for her tonight, promised her he'd stand at the edge of the gallery so she'd know where to find him. It was all worth it, because Dashel was needed.

It was worth missing his last night with Isef.

He ran his tongue over his lips, remembering Isef's kiss this morning. Dashel's skin still tasted of olives, just like Isef's.

Isef's mother had arranged a marriage for her son—a pretty girl from Lorar. Usually Isef's mother hated anyone who wasn't a real, Qemassen-born Erun, but apparently an Eruna girl from Lorar counted as long as she got Isef away from Dashel.

Well, that was fine. Dashel still had the memory of his lips. He gripped the railing tighter, shifting his attention from Isef and back to what he was supposed to be doing.

Moniqa's many-hued skirts spilled from the dais to the floor in front of her—expensive silks traded from distant lands, displaying her wealth and power to everyone assembled. It was a perfect gown in which to stand up to Samelqo.

Today was her first day at court since the royal twins had come screaming into the world. A sweat had gripped her until five days past, and Dashel had spent most of that time at her side, or with Aurelius, or attending court as her eyes and ears. Samelqo's underlings had tried to bar his entry, but Moniqa had put a stop to that with a word to the king. Dashel wasn't sure how good his reports had been, but Moniqa always thanked him, and paid him, and smiled.