VIPERS IN THE HOUSE
Chapter 1: A Penning for the Epic
After the assassins attacked the palace, we were forced to flee. I barely escaped with my life, thanks to my venerable uncle, the grand vizier. But in this writing, I am getting ahead of myself, and were it that I was not, I do not have the heart to write the words of this particular event in any case, nor do I have the knowledge about how to approach it with the skills of a scribe. Therefore, I have asked the high vizier to do me this favor. He has agreed, for his respect for me and want that I pen my own tales into the Epic are great. I still do not wish to write these words, but perhaps for posterity’s sake—and for the histories of my future reign over the empire, I will pen what I can with the help of my scribes as well as my uncle’s own hand, though I doubt my own ability in this regard, and must apologize to any who chooses to acquaint themselves with my adventures; for I suspect they will prove to be long and overdrawn and of little substance or value to anyone, least of all in adding them to the estimable tales of the Great Book—The Sword and Sorcery Entertainments of Ashahnai.
I... [fragment]
“What are you looking at?”
“I am only observing, Prince.”
“Then observe from over there.”
“Do not hamper Hamiz, young prince. He is here to pen our words.”
“I am not. He is too close! I can practically smell his breath, Uncle. And why should I have to write anything for the Great Book when he can simply do it for me?”
“Why should anyone pen their own tales?”
“Sir, that makes no sense. It reeks of arrogance.”
“And why does it not make sense? Prince—why is it arrogant?”
“Do you have to continue making that noise? As if the river is not loud enough, Uncle.”
“I am washing.”
“Let the servants do it further down the river.”
“Work, young prince—is a thing that brings humility, something I think you might do well to experience yourself.”
“What? Why do you speak to me so, sir?”
“It is only an observation, Arash, one connected to our most disagreeable circumstance.”
“And?”
“We do not know for how long we will be in such a state. We must prepare ourselves for an extended journey. I fear without a shift in your thinking, young prince Arash, you will have a harder time of it than needs be.”
“Nonsense. Those assassins will be killed and we will return to the palace soon after. What—do not just shrug like that, Uncle. Say something! What—nothing? Stop writing this down!”
“Disregard the young princes’ command, Hamiz.”
“What? How dare you, Uncle! I am the prince—“
“And… so am I. You forget, that I may be the great sultan’s grand vizier, Prince Arash, but do not let it slip by you that I am also his brother—and I am charged with your wellbeing and safety.”
“And so I must write in some stupid book?!”
“Write? I do not see you writing, Prince Arash—the scribe is doing it for you.”
“Ugh!”
“Please, most venerable young prince, do not belabor yourself with these needless frustrations. Pretend the scribe is not there… Now, there is no need to sulk. Let us speak, let us do chores and give thanks to the gods that we are alive.”
“Assassins are in the palace and you want me to give thanks? We do not even know if my father the sultan is alive or dead—much less my mother!”
“Oh, I am certain your father is alive, Prince. Your beautiful mother as well.”
“How? Stop that, do not laugh.”
“I am only expressing my happiness that your father is my brother—and I, young prince, know my brother. He is alive. No sulking.”
“I’m not sulking.”
“Do you believe to win the princess’ heart by acting this way—and during such a time as this?”
“How to you expect me to act any different, sir? I am wet, cold, I stink like the horses, Uncle—and I am on the run like a common robber while assassins pursue us!”
“Do not fear, Prince. Usharad well knows what is he doing, does he not?”
“Where is the Royal Protector, anyway?”
“Ah, do not worry.”
“Don’t shrug off the danger we are in like that!”
“We are not alone, Prince Arash. We have friends.”
“Servants and scribes—slaves. I see no friends among us.”
“Then we will make new friends. Ah, you do not believe it so?”
“Anyone is like to rob us and hold us captive as they are to help us!”
“Perhaps…”
“Explain. What are you doing?”
“I am drying my hands, young prince.”
“Do not bring out that book.”
“Would you prefer I dropped it into the river?”
“Stop smirking like a fool.”
“The book is a treasure, Prince, worth more than its weight in gold.”
“It is only a copy.”
“Ah, but every copy is different until the House of Learning can edict a most proper reading for all, yes?”
“Do not be morose, young prince. Yes?”
“Yes.”
“Mm.”
“We should not be here. We should be moving. We should go back to the palace, rouse the army and comb every corner of the Ancient City for traitors!”
“’For when the dogs of war are called, the enemy comes from without—‘“
“’…the shadows in full force’—Dauat, from the Book of War, Uncle—I know.”
“Then you know why we are here, next to this river below the mesa—safe from our enemies, at least for the time being. Do not cast your eyes down that way.”
“Why not?”
“It is unbecoming of a prince of Ashahnai to stare at the ground like a commoner.”
“Am I not allowed to be sorrowful, sir? Am I not allowed to feel the weight of my father’s kingdom crumbling around him? We were almost killed just last night.”
“And we are still alive.”
“For now.”
“We will strive to remain alive. Now move over and let us read from the great book.”
“I thought you wanted the stupid scribe to pen something for us?”
“Dot not load Hamiz with insults. He has done nothing to deserve them, and that he still bears the courage and resolve to put pen to paper in times such as ours, speaks to his great ability and honorable servitude to your father’s house.”
“Fine. I apologize for my rudeness, Hamiz.”
“Think nothing of it, my prince.”
“A story, Uncle? Really? Should we not leave this place?”
“Yes—and we will, Prince Arash. But first we must rest. The servants are fishing. We will eat, we will sleep by the fire, and we will begin our journey again on the morrow. Is it not just that we should rest of our aching bodies and our weary bones?”
“Assassins…”
“They are as like to catch us on the road as they are here. I may be so bold as to say they are more likely to catch us on the road, young prince, for should our whereabouts be seen by the common traveler, there are some who know the grand vizier and the prince by their visages. Word spreads.”
“Was it not you who said we needed allies? You are making my earlier point for me! And besides, we’re not traveling by the road.”
“Discretion, Prince. We will use our best discretion. For now, I will read from the Great Book, and later I will tell Hamiz what to write concerning the events leading up to this time.”
“But why?”
“For posterity. You are your father’s son, a prince—the prince of the greatest empire known to the world. Your story must be told.”
“Must it?”
“Indeed. You can find stories of your father here, and his father before him.”
“Truly?”
“How is it that you do not know this?”
“Stop that. I asked you not to laugh!”
“My most sincerest of apologies, Nephew. But I think you have spent much time wiling away your days in entertainments that have not filled your mind with venerable knowledge of our great empire. Your father has doted upon you, always as if—“
“Do not speak ill of the Great Sultan!”
“I am not, Prince Arash. Please, sit… Sit. Yes, good. I was only edifying my observations that the Great Sultan who is my very own brother, has allowed you to fill your days with whatever activities you wish. He has a great love for you, but I fear in that love he has been lax with your education.”
“Are you lecturing me now, Uncle?”
“Where are you going?”
“To be away from you!”
“Harad—Yusuf.”
“We will look after him, high vizier.”
“Stay away from me!”
“They have left earshot, my lord.”
“That is fine.”
“What would you like me to do?”
“Let us go to the tents, and after supper, we will pen the events leading up to now.”
“Very good, sir.”
Mihr, Day Nine—Hamiz Al Hubba, Scribe of the Sultan’s Court
