Dakkoul

He averted his eyes from the bruises on Malek and strode off down the drafty hallway, only stopping when he saw Pipsqueak scrubbing the floor and whistling a cheerful tune. How mischievous he looked with his snub nose and twinkling light green eyes. Dakkoul maintained his serious expression. "Working hard?"

"Always, Hattavah," Pipsqueak said with a grin. "I've the whole hallway to finish."

He always did work hard. Dakkoul had a sudden desire to give him a break. "Give him a hand Malek."

With good grace Malek plonked down and divided up the hallway into sections. Dakkoul let himself unbend enough to say go and make it a race, openly betting on Pipsqueak. Malek went for speed over accuracy, sloshing water all over and generally splashing himself as he tried to beat the younger, more experienced Pipsqueak who seemed to polish and clean even faster than usual. It came down to the last section, a patch in the middle. Pipsqueak got the first half done and began the second when Malek just started his corner. In his haste to catch up, Malek went for the bucket just as his left foot slipped on a wet patch. He skated forward, knocking the bucket over as Dakkoul declared Pipsqueak the winner. Pipsqueak beamed all around as a sheepish Malek tried to wring the water from his tunic.

"And it's all done, except for that bit in the middle. I can help you Malek," Pipsqueak said, dropping to his knees. "The Tasker won't believe I finished so quickly."

Dakkoul clapped his hand on Pipsqueak's shoulder. "You tell the Tasker you're coming with me for the day."

"Yippee," said Pipsqueak, jumping around. "Really Hattavah? You mean it?"

"We must ride for Tunis. I want you with me."

"And Malek will come too?" Pipsqueak asked, his eyes glowing.

"Only because I have no choice."

Malek gave an exaggerated sigh. "He doesn't like me at all Pipsqueak and all I've done is serve him well and tell him the truth."

Pipsqueak giggled and bounced up and down. "He just takes a while to warm up to people. I had to be friendly to him for a whole year before he'd say anything back to me."

Dakkoul crossed his arms against his chest. They were having far too much fun at his expense and they had a serious task to perform for Lord Rustavan. He stopped their grins with his orders to Pipsqueak to meet him at the stables in ten minutes.

Pipsqueak arrived out of breath and with his help, Dakkoul chose a more suitable mount, avoiding the skinny mare from before. Malek took a much more wild horse that rolled his eyes and tried to pig-root on his way out of the stables. Malek calmed him down, and sat on him as erect and proud as a warrior prince. Dakkoul secretly groaned. He disliked riding and the horses always seemed to sense it. The last thing he needed was his so-called brother gloating over his ineptness.

Pipsqueak came beside him and stroked the neck of his hazelnut brown horse. "She'll be good for you. Just speak gently to her."

He tried, but already he was longing to be in Tunis talking to his contact from the palace.

"I can lead your horse if you wish, Hattavah," Malek said with a barely disguised smirk.

"I can ride perfectly well," he retorted. "I just don't like it."

And they were off, Malek taking the lead even though he didn't know the way and twice Dakkoul had to send Pipsqueak after him to redirect him. He never looked repentant. On the horse he seemed to come alive, his head flung back, his face full of fire and courage so different from the people-pleasing slave that Dakkoul hardly knew what to do with him and contented himself with listening to Pipsqueak's chatter instead. Once they hit the open road, Dakkoul ordered a canter, but Malek urged his horse on to a gallop kicking up the dust as he went streaking towards the hill that Tunis was on. Then he wheeled his horse back, beaming with joy to say to Dakkoul, "I've missed this. Thank you Hattavah," before taking off again at high speed.

Dakkoul felt like a granny tottering only with the aid of a slave so he made his horse go a fraction faster than he liked. The fresh air, the enthusiasm of the Malek, even the almost nervous sounding chatter of Pipsqueak, all combined to lift his spirits.

Halfway there when the sun was overhead, he ordered a halt at an insignificant-looking alehouse by itself on the side of the road. Dakkoul tossed a silver coin to Malek. "Go and order three apple buns. I want the change back."

Malek took the coin and rubbed his fingers around the rim. "I think I was sold for twenty-five of these Hattavah. This must be worth ten of my fingernails."

"And your big toe," said Pipsqueak flashing his teeth in a wholehearted smile. "At least that."

"And my eyebrows," asked Malek, "They're sparse, not like your bushy fox tails Pipsqueak. I think the coin should include them too." 

Pipsqueak grinned and turned to Dakkoul.

"What do you think, Hattavah? Eyebrows, a big toe and some fingernails? Is that what the coin is worth?"

Dakkoul shrugged allowing the corners of his mouth to move upwards. "Not fingernails. They are too good for scratching in a fight. Toenails." 

Pipsqueak let out a peal of laughter that accompanied Malek as he went and bought the buns. They were fresh from the oven, hot and spiced with cinnamon and nutmeg and dripping with butter. Soon all that could be heard was the sound of eating.

When Pipsqueak licked his fingers clean, he launched into a long, detailed story of the last time he'd eaten his mother's apple honey cake. He was just giggling through the ending when his words abruptly shut off.

They had reached a rise that overlooked the valley. In the distance was a crossroads. Malek let out a yell and raced towards it. Pipsqueak sucked in a noisy breath and slowed his horse down to Dakkoul's pace. "That road over the hill goes to my village."

Something seemed to stick in Dakkoul's throat. He coughed before saying, "I remember". He remembered other things too that he preferred to forget. He glanced down at Pipsqueak's face, the yearning look in his eyes.

"I don't even know if my father lives."

"I was only trying to stop him as ordered," Dakkoul said. "He was the one that kept fighting."

"He's always had a temper," Pipsqueak acknowledged, "And a fierce love for his children." He twisted in his seat so that he could meet Dakkoul's eyes. "I hate not knowing if he is alive. Hattavah, do you really need me in Tunis? Can't I go home just for a few hours?"

Home. The home he had taken Pipsqueak from. Hardly a village really, just a cluster of wooden tiled huts huddled together in the lee of the mountain with the unhealthiest crops he'd ever seen. Even the cows had looked thin. Lord Rustavan had joked they were doing the families a favour, taking away some of their mouths to feed, but Pipsqueak's father hadn't seen it like that at all.

He chose to forget not regret, but he secretly he was sorry he had captured Pipsqueak. He had been searching through the mandarin trees when he saw a rustle of the leaves from an unusually tall one. He could have ignored it. Instead he looked for the leg, and hauled him out of the tree. When he realized what a scrawny kid he was, it was too late to put him back.

"He'll do for a Fox-dance sometime," Lord Rustavan had called out and he'd hauled him in, an easy task with such a weakling.

Fortunately the Fox-dance he was finally chosen for had not gone as planned and Malek had protected Pipsqueak and several others.

"Please," Pipsqueak begged. 

"It'll be risky," Dakkoul said, pointing to Malek who had diverted from the road and was now jumping a low stone fence with a joyous cry.

"I don't think Malek will tell."

"How would you know?" Dakkoul countered. "You'll only find out when I'm ordered to punish you."

"I don't care," Pipsqueak said with resolution. "Anything I have to suffer will be worth it."

It wasn't only Pipsqueak that would suffer. He would too. Lord Rustavan was right. He was growing soft and that could only end in disaster. Still the urge to do something right for Pipsqueak prevailed.

"Go then," Dakkoul said gruffly. "Be back before dusk, at the crossroads. We'll meet you there."

With a cry of joy, Pipsqueak cantered off reaching the crossroads in seconds before galloping down the road to his village. Malek powered after him and Pipsqueak had to direct him back. Malek rode back to Dakkoul with raised eyebrows.

"He's doing something else." That was all Malek needed to know.

It took them until mid-afternoon to reach the imposing walls of Tunis, grey and solid with patches of green moss. The question now was would they be allowed in the gate? Since the incident the House of Lavilyn had been banned. His contact had said he'd arrange for the guards to let them through.

Dakkoul cloaked himself up and told Malek to do likewise. The guards seemed to recognize him, removing his sword and dagger before letting them through.

"You're only permitted at the alehouse," the captain of the guards said. "After the meeting, you must come straight back."

All of Dakkoul's lightness of spirit vanished at those words. Something strange was afoot. At least he'd left Pipsqueak behind.

The alehouse was still there, the sign more faded, the clientele more disreputable. The barmaid saw him, nodded and directed him to the upstairs room where he and Will had often met before the incident.

"You stay here," he said to Malek with an odd desire to protect him from any danger upstairs.

"I must go with you."

"No," Dakkoul said, his eyes flashing.

"Lord Rustavan commanded it."

Dakkoul grimaced remembering Malek would have to report about their trip afterwards. He grunted and marched off aware Malek was behind him. As soon as he got to the door, he knew it was a mistake to come. A cloaked figure sat opposite him. Behind him were a group of tough looking soldiers. Even if Malek stood with him they could not take them all.

The cloaked man removed his hood and the Prince stood before him. The Prince who had a well-deserved grudge against him. Dakkoul sank straight to his feet, his heart thundering. Behind him Malek did the same.

What do you think will happen next? Thank you for continuing to read on.