The Silver Sparrow

An Easy Target

The sun was low on the horizon. Lasura shifted his weight as he sat atop a nondescript bay colt waiting for the trackers' return, trying to find the best position to save his behind from this torture device of a saddle. He had been trained on military and traditional Shakshi saddles, both of which offered more comfort for a long ride. That afternoon's ride may not have been considered long, but after two hours, Lasura decided he would find out the person responsible for its creation and see to it that the prick sit on this thing for three days straight.

Next to him, Azram seemed to be suffering no discomfort on his white stallion, or he was but had been too used to enduring such instrument of torture. Azram's saddle— complete with gold studs and stitchings as if the pain of sitting on hard, embossed leather wasn't enough—was a display of status more than anything else a saddle was supposed to be. Status was everything in the Black Tower. As far as Azram was concerned, no son of the salar should ever be seen riding on anything less, especially as a part of his grand entourage. And so, thanks to his kind regards and thoughtfulness, Lasura had also been made to ride on this princely thing that was going to make him sore for the next two days.

At least mine doesn't come with studs, he thought wryly. You have to be thankful for the little things, especially if you were born into his position.

The summon had come without a warning shortly after midday. The instructions had been precise, demanding him to show up at the royal stable within the next half hour—an amount of time that didn't allow one to do much considering the distance from one point to another in the Black Tower and the steps to be climbed between them. He'd simply put on a robe and a pair of riding boots, grabbed himself a bow and a half-empty quiver and went. The mounts had already been picked and saddled by Azram's stable boys when he arrived, and there had been no time for him to have the horse or the saddle changed to his liking, not that he thought Azram would allow it in any case.

It had been done deliberately, however, if not planned well in advance. The obvious difference in his more subtly designed saddle and Azram's extravagant black and gold was there to differentiate, to bring attention to the right son. With rights to the throne being fair game, one did what one could to gain the attention of the salar by trying to stand out one way or another, and discrediting competitions was one of them.

The ridiculous thing about it was, that he wasn't even competition, not where the throne was concerned. It just so happened, that to the public's eyes he was the son of his favorite Shakshi wife and therefore an obvious target above which other sons should try to rise. Still, such attention had remained manageable until the day the salar decided to tag Lasura along during one of his a hunting sessions two years ago. He hadn't done that often, but the fact that he'd so far taken no other sons but that of his Shakshi wife hadn't gone unnoticed by the princes or their mothers.

Which was likely why prince Azram, the only son of the salahari, had demanded that he join the hunt that afternoon in the Black Desert mountain area near Sangi fortress where the salar had been expected to pass through on his way back to Rasharwi. Many advantages could be gained from this event if all things were to go as planned. A fox hunt that deep in the desert, if successful, would give him a chance to offer their father a rare and exquisite trophy of ringed-tailed black fox only found in the area as a welcome home present. It would also prove Azram a capable hunter and a friend to his father's favorite son, giving him a chance to be included in future hunts where other sons might not. Hunting sessions were the only opportunity where one could spend almost the entire day with the Salar, getting to know him, or being recognized by him—the most direct path to the throne, so to speak.

A brilliant move for the prince, he had to admit, so brilliant that Lasura wondered if it had been his or the salahari's. Azram, with his wrong choice of saddle and garment to prove it, would have never been observant or thoughtful enough to come up with such a plan. It would be interesting to see if he could carry it through, and even then, no one in the Black Tower had been able to predict with any certainty whether an attempt to impress the salar would end up being considered impressive or manipulative. The latter usually meant being thrown off the Tower that same evening, princes included.