Free The Cult of Sutek by Joshua P. Simon

spear, flanked either side of the two great, cedar doors. They wore smooth breastplates that shone as though they hadn’t seen a single moment of use. Metal skirts of thin steel shaped into what looked like feathers protected the waists and upper thighs. Leather covered both shins and forearms.
    The guards interrogated everyone wanting entrance to the city.
    “Shouldn’t we push up to the front?” asked Rondel.
    “Why?”
    “Because we have the king’s daughter,” he whispered. “That should count for something.”
    “Do you think they would believe us?”
    “Why wouldn’t they?”
    “Because they’re gate guards. I doubt any of them have been within a hundred feet of the king, much less his daughter. They might think we’re lying and arrest us for suspicious activity. We say nothing until we reach Horus’s residence. His personal guard will recognize the girl.”
    “Good idea. However, there is one problem.”
    “What’s that?” she asked, frustrated by the smugness of Rondel’s tone.
    “What’s to stop her from messing this up for us?”
    She grunted again, not wanting to admit he had a point.
    “I’ll handle her,” Andrasta said as she moved her horse next to Rondel’s.
    With one arm, she grabbed Dendera around the waist and lifted her off Rondel’s horse. The mount whinnied. She set Dendera down in front of her. Andrasta withdrew a thin blade and pressed it into the small of the girl’s back. “You say nothing.”
    The girl whimpered briefly, then nodded.
    She clenched her jaw, agitated with all the delays.
    Just keep thinking of the money this will bring. With it, we’ll be much closer to the Jewel of Bashan.
    * * *
    The sun set just as they entered the city. It had taken longer than Rondel would have liked to reach the main gate, but they managed the guards with no hassle.
    Merchant wagons rolled past, wheels banging against the uneven, cobbled road as he inhaled the city’s smells.
    Dirty. A monsoon would do wonders for improving that. It appears the time in small villages and the open road has spoiled me.
    The last light of day danced off the tall, tan buildings of sun-baked brick and limestone. Large painted columns supported the front walls of each structure. Adorned in various colors, greens and yellows dominated the spectrum.
    Statues of current gods and past rulers, marked the edge of the main road. Occasionally, a sculpture of startling proportions stood out among the rest. Those people depicted were often adored more than the gods themselves, legendary heroes from Iget’s most memorable histories.
    Rondel smirked. As a minstrel he knew that many countries boasted similar tales with heroes and villains barely discernible from their neighbor’s. Sometimes the only difference was a change in name. He had brought that observation up to a prince once and vowed never to do so again.
    I thought I’d have to pry my lips from the man’s backside by the time I was done smoothing things over.
    Even without the sun, the streets were well lit with star-shaped lamps hanging from ropes that crisscrossed buildings on either side of the road.
    “I don’t remember Girga being lit like this.” He looked to Dendera.
    She frowned. “We only do this for the Festival of Nut.”
    “As in the food?” asked Andrasta.
    “No,” snapped the girl. “Nut is the goddess of the sky who protects us from the harsh rays of the sun and the worst of the rainstorms. The lamps are shaped like stars as a way to honor her. They hang above our streets just as the stars hang in the sky to light our path at night.”
    “I never got a chance to visit during the festival,” said Rondel. Dendera’s frown deepened. “What’s wrong?”
    “It’s just . . . I didn’t think father would hold the festival with me gone.”
    Andrasta laughed. The sound caused Rondel to jump for he had never heard more than the rare snort or chuckle escape the woman’s mouth.
    “What’s so funny?” asked the girl.
    “You run