Fyskar

Chapter 14

"Arash died in his sleep last night, father," a mild voice echoed in the void, the rich accent dripped into the darkness.

"Have his assistant take up his position then, son," a lower, scratchy voice snipped at the other.

"Bahman was mortally wounded falling from a cliff not four nights past in reaching his family's village before his wedding ceremony," the first voice returned, a sound of annoyance and despair worming its way through the inkiness.

"Then find another physician, Mirza!" the lower-pitched man demanded impatiently.

"Golnar does not want anyone other than Arash to see to her. She will be difficult to manage without the old eunuch," voiced the younger man.

"She is your responsibility. Last year, I gave that to you when you decided you wanted to prove you were a capable prince of this palace. Trying to outperform your brothers isn't your place here. Fourth in line. You deal with it. I am in a hurry," the older man croaked, done with the conversation.

"As you wish, father," the man conceded quietly.

Eoin hadn't slept. The cell was cramped and smelled foul. The inmates in the compound were restless. Children cried out for their mothers. He had exhausted himself emotionally. Regret and terror swamped him. Surely, he could have pulled his boys out of the building and run. As they had walked through the city, Eoin had noted many potential hiding places. They couldn't speak the language, though.

Questions seeped through his misery and roiled in his empty gut. What if the people came after them for being so different? What if the people, like the Daleroch, persecuted "witches" and would burn them?

He would end up waiting in that rat and bug-infested building for more than a fortnight, with barely enough food or water spared for the three of them. His gleaming hair turned coarse and sticky with sweat and body oil. Inactivity and the dark confines contributed to a general state of lethargic despondency. His children were a shade darker, with the sand of the cell sticking to them. He had made a nest of their shrouds to help them sleep off the floor, though it was not much of a barrier.

Blinking into the predawn light one morning, Eoin was surprised when Masud eventually pulled them for their cell. The slaver had them all, as he had promised: Amina, Tau, Callum, and Albin, chained but together. Eoin and his small family loaded onto a donkey-led cart. A burlap bundle lay shoved up against the bench boards.

Masud muttered and mumbled in the seat next to the driver, but none of his unwilling passengers understood his words. Eoin took the time he could to explain to the four what was happening. Amina and Tau, old enough to understand repercussions from actions, sat quietly in the cart, absorbing their fate. Eoin apologized multiple times during the trip. Amina waved them away.

Variable landscapes passed by day after day. Eoin slept on and off as the sun rose and set, and the donkey was changed at different stations along the rocky path. He had never seen land like this. Towering mountains, vast swaths of scrub brush and outcrops of palm trees. Sheepherders called to their flocks in the distance.

Eoin dearly wanted to find out from Masud where he was taking them, but the man kept well clear of the village doctor's grasping fingers. The shrew stopped several times to enter tent camps and sit to drink with the men when the group in the carriage broke bread and guzzled water that timid women left for them.

It was in the early morning of some day, Eoin didn't even know any more how many days they travelled, when the heights of a mountain capital rose up in front of them. He peered into the dark crevices and the shimmering glints of white where the sun touched down. Masud exclaimed with joy and pointed at the mountainside, pressing his driver to get their beast of burden to hurry.