Excerpt: Last of the Esharim

As soon as the gangway settled on the docks, Sethuur Munieri turned and nodded to the captain of the Sea Sprite, who smiled tightly as he gestured in something of a half-hearted salute.

Nurisa giggled in Sethuur's mind. Awfully glad to be rid of you, isn't he? I can't say I blame him, though. Wouldn't you be?

Why don't you pretend for once to be a well-behaved horse, Sethuur sent back, and try to keep yourself quiet a little longer? I need to pay close attention here.

None of the other passengers made a move to descend to the Port of Palenside, until Sethuur was halfway down the broad gangway.

Sethuur glanced to his left to watch dock workers and sailors struggling to maneuver a broader, heavier gangway into place to begin unloading cargo, a crane swung out from the dock over the side of the Sea Sprite to unload cargo from the hold, too, but the larger livestock would be herded down that big gangway, and Sethuur's warhorse, Musafeer, would be among them.

Before Sethuur's left boot touched down on the docks, Governor Caerilwyn's guard pushed their mounts through the throng to reach him.

"Sethuur Munieri?" the officer called to him.

Nurisa giggled. Uh-oh, she said in Sethuur's head, this one is definitely determined to get off to a bad start, isn't he?

Sethuur seemed not to have heard the officer. He casually slung his saddle bags and his bridle across his left shoulder, and then shifted the blanket and saddle from his right hand to his left. Not a man among the guards failed to notice that the saddle was a knight's saddle, specially built for a man who would fight often from horseback. They also noticed that Sethuur handled it so easily that it seemed to weigh nothing.

"Lord," Sethuur said, still turned away from the guardsmen to watch as Musafeer was being led down the gangway by a Tultkali wrangler, who appeared to be an older man, tall and wiry. His face clearly showed that he recognized the quality of the horse he led, and his pride in the opportunity to handle such a fine black stallion.

While you're paying close attention, make a note of this guy here. I could do much worse than trading him for you. He's a man who knows how to respect a fine horse like me.

Noted.

"Good," the officer said, "We've orders from His Excellency, Governor Kairn Caerilwyn. You are to come with us, sir."

"I was not politely acknowledging your noble birth, Lieutenant Gavrilwyn," Sethuur said, "I was politely correcting you."

Sethuur had still not turned to face the lieutenant, but instead watched as the wrangler stopped a sailor to ask where he was to deliver the horse. The sailor pointed to Sethuur and hurried off to handle his own tasks. Another man, one who may or may not have been another dockworker, intercepted the wrangler and tried to take possession of Musafeer, but the wrangler calmly backed the man down and continued in Sethuur's direction.

"Sir?" The lieutenant seemed as confused by the fact that Sethuur already knew his name as he was by the sudden turn in the conversation.

"You will address me as 'Lord Munieri.' I will not deal with you as mildly should you ever again make it necessary for me to correct you a second time."

Lieutenant Gavrilwyn's face reddened and he squirmed uncomfortably in his saddle, his embarrassment not helped a bit that a few bystanders had by now turned to watch the confrontation.

Ah, poor baby. You're not used to being spoken to so bluntly, eh, whelp? Well, get used to it. He has no time to nursemaid piss-ant little noblefarts the likes of you.

Sethuur tried to ignore her, but Nurisa liked to make sure she got her word in, even if he was the only one who could hear her.

"Shall we begin again, Lieutenant?" Sethuur said. "I believe it is your move. Please choose wisely."

Every guard could clearly see Sethuur's right hand rested lightly upon the hilt of his scimitar. They shifted restlessly in their saddles, their hands suddenly finding resting places far from the hilts of their own swords. They were intently watching their lieutenant for their cue, but each had one eye on Sethuur Munieri as they fervently prayed that Lieutenant Gavrilwyn would not do anything stupid.

The lieutenant had to gulp air several times before he could find his voice again. "Yes, sir... My lord," his voice cracked and he reddened more brightly, cleared his throat and tried again. "Yes, Lord Munieri," he finally managed to drag out of his mouth.

The guardsmen breathed a collective sigh of relief, but not a one missed the fact that Sethuur's hand had not yet moved away from his weapon.

"Guardsman Marolin," Sethuur said, still without turning. The guardsman leading the spare mount frowned and looked at Lieutenant Gavrilwyn.

Yes, he knows your name, too. He knows more about you than that, in fact. And about all of you, not to mention easily half the crowd milling about all around on the docks at this moment.

"Yes, Lord Munieri?" Guardsman Marolin finally found his tongue to answer.

"You will continue to lead the mount you brought. I have no need of it. As you can see, I have had my own horse transported with me."

"Yes, my lord."

The wrangler leading Musafeer stopped before Sethuur and bowed. "Lord," the wrangler said in heavily accented Abellinid, "your horse." As he handed the lead rope to Sethuur, their eyes met briefly.

Sethuur saw that the man was even older than he had thought, and in the man's eyes he saw the shadow of a proud desert tribesman, but the man suddenly remembered where he was and, in that moment, Sethuur also saw him forget again who he was. Those dark eyes darted quickly to Lieutenant Gavrilwyn and his guards, and grew hard and wary. He ducked his head and started to back away quickly.

Sethuur stopped him with two words in the Tultkali tongue; the first of which he knew Lieutenant Gavrilwyn should recognize to mean "wait," though he probably often misused it to mean "halt."

The wrangler stood nervously on one bare foot with his hands behind him, head bowed slightly, as Sethuur unsnapped the lead rope and returned it to the wrangler before removing the halter and also handing it to him. All the while the wrangler carefully watched the guardsmen out of the corner of his eye. Sethuur then dug into the purse at his belt and extracted a small silver coin which he gave to the wrangler and thanked him in the Tultkali tongue.

The wrangler replied cheerfully in Tultkali and bowed much more deeply and respectfully than before. He did not back away as he left this time, but smiled at the guards and instead turned to walk away, his head high and back straight, and his fist closed tightly around the rare and precious silver.

That was very nice of you. I think I may keep you after all.

Thank you. Now, keep quiet, please.

Lieutenant Gavrilwyn shifted uneasily in his saddle and cleared his throat. "Lord Munieri?" he said, "Governor Caerilwyn is expecting you at the palace."

"I should expect he is, lieutenant," Sethuur said, carefully examining the bit before slipping the bridle over Musafeer's nose and setting the bit in his mouth. "But I do not rush when saddling my horse. The palace is not going anywhere and, unless you seven are the entire complement of his personal guard company, neither is Governor Caerilwyn."

Sethuur forced the increasingly impatient lieutenant and his men to wait while he carefully smoothed the saddle blanket across Musafeer's back and settled the saddle in place, adjusting it slightly several times before bending to tighten first the cinch and then the back cinch until he was satisfied that both were secure but not too tight for Musafeer.

He didn't need Nurisa to tell him when he had it just right, but she kept a running commentary going in his head throughout the whole process.

Then he tied his saddle bags in place behind the saddle. He double checked Musafeer's tack one more time before he finally swung up into the saddle and gathered the reins.

'Now, lieutenant," he said with a broad smile, "my horse is ready to ride."