Free Harvest of Gold by Tessa Afshar Page B

they portrayed a variety of images. Thus the coins Darius had found brought them one step closer to the mastermind behind the plot. The man who had planned to kill the king had likely paid his assassin with local coins.
    “Phoenician?” Lysander guessed.
    “I’m not sure. Sarah will know.”
    “Your wife?”
    “Yes. She was the queen’s senior scribe before she married me and is a fount of astounding information.”
    “Ah. I look forward to meeting this paragon. You have kept her hidden far too long. Let us finish our search, collect our corpse, and head to your house. Is there any food to be found in that great mansion of yours? Dead bodies make me hungry.”

 

SPRING, SUSA
     
    The satrapy of Beyond the River,” Sarah declared as she examined the coins. “If I had to guess, I would say these were coined in Damascus, the principal city of Syria.” They had gathered in the dining room and settled themselves on comfortable cushions around a low, silver and gold table. Tantalizing wafts of herbs and spices filled the room. Sarah, preoccupied with her exploration, forgot to offer to serve the men.
    When she lifted her head, she found Pari, always more aware of social necessities than her mistress, filling the gap by heaping mouthwatering food on golden plates for Darius and his friend. She smiled at her handmaiden before returning her focus to her husband and Lysander.
    They had come in directly from their grueling day, sparing no time to change. Both wore ragged, ill-fitting clothing that must have once belonged to other men. The ripe smell clinging to the folds of threadbare fabric suggested that the original owners of the robes had not been too particular about cleanliness. Sarah tried to ignore the bloodstains on Darius’s knees and chest, knowing they belonged to the dead assassin.
    In spite of their gruesome costumes, the sweat that clung to their dirt-covered faces, and the general air of disrepute with which they had arrayed themselves, the two men still presented a striking picture. Darius’s olive-skinned, masculine beauty contrasted with Lysander’s blond comeliness. Where Darius was tall and rippled with narrow muscles, Lysander was of average height and massive. Beneath the trappings of their disguise, and the deeper physical power that rags could not cover, Sarah noticed that they were bone weary.
    “So you now have a name and a location. That’s a good start,” she said.
    “He may have given a false name,” Darius said. “We need more specific clues than that if we are to find the identity of one man. How about the seal? Did you find anything promising connected with it?”
    Sarah looked down. “It’s been a disappointment, I fear. The whole purpose of a seal is to reveal the identity of the sender, thereby establishing the authenticity of the message being sent. In this case, you would think they had created a seal to cover their identity. It is entirely anonymous as far as I can make out.”
    “Meant to be recognized by only a few, no doubt. A secret group who would know the sender by his secret seal.” Darius set down his cup.
    “Precisely. I found a tiny fragment of lapis lazuli in the cavity of the wax, suggesting that is what the seal is made of. Not a rare enough material to point us to a particular location. But they do use lapis seals in Damascus, which supports the location. The style of the palm trees is also a good match. I think we should begin our search there.”
    “You had better return the seal to me if you are finished with it. The king can send agents to Damascus to try and unearth the artist who designed it.”
    Lysander reached for another piece of roasted venison. “We know this plot has its origin in high places. The fact that our assassin would be bearing gifts to the king on New Year’s Day suggests that the plan to kill the king might have originated with a governor or even someone as high as a satrap. Who is the satrap of Trans-Euphrates these