Tyrant: Destroyer of Cities by Christian Cameron

Kairax said. ‘Fifty horses for the life of the man, twenty more for his goods.’
    ‘By the Heavenly Archer!’ the smaller man said.
    ‘That fuck wasn’t worth no fifty horses,’ said the bigger man.
    Melitta’s eyes strayed around the enclosure. Carpets – fine carpets – hung on three sides of her, blocking the chill spring wind, separating her deliberations from the riot of the market on the far side of the barrier, although all Sakje were welcome and several hundred of them crowded around, more than a few on horseback.
    Her wandering eyes crossed with Scopasis’, and she smiled at him – an automatic smile, as she was beginning to doubt the wisdom of taking him as a lover. He was brave – loyal – and deeply in love with her.
    She sighed inwardly, and thought about how easy it would be to be a bad queen; to ignore these petty cases, give quick judgements and be free to roam the booths, spending her riches on golden cones to hang tinkling at the edge of her caribou coat, or fine saddles—
    Drakas. That was the short one’s name. He’d been with her in the last charge at Tanais River when all the tribes became intermixed. But she could remember his ugly nose under his helmet, and his grin.
    ‘Drakas,’ she said.
    He stiffened. ‘Lady?’
    ‘Drakas, how many horses do you own?’ She leaned forward and pointed her mother’s sword at him. ‘How many?’
    ‘More than a hundred,’ he admitted.
    ‘And this lout?’ she asked. She didn’t really know his companion.
    The big man shrugged. ‘A dozen,’ he admitted.
    She shook her head. Drakas had enough horses to be treated as a nobleman, but his friend did not. She suspected that this apparent inequality had something to do with the killing – and she further suspected that Drakas’ success as a hunter and raider had something to do with the fact that Kairax was willing to see him punished. Rivalry? Jealousy?
    You’re like children.
    ‘Who struck the killing blow?’ she asked.
    Drakas shrugged. ‘I did,’ he admitted, pursing his lips. He spat. Among Sakje, that wasn’t a gesture of disrespect – she needed to remember that. Among Sakje, he was being contemplative and polite.
    ‘What was the actual value of the man’s goods?’ she asked Kairax.
    Kairax shrugged. ‘They say twenty horses,’ he said, and shook his head. He and Drakas exchanged a glance that suggested their relationship was even more complicated than she had guessed.
    ‘Bring me a merchant who knew this man,’ she said. She raised her head to Scopasis. ‘Who’s next?’
    He raised an eyebrow – an expression she loved. ‘Astis daughter of Laxan of the eastern Dirt People.’ He made a face. ‘Her father and brothers were murdered.’
    ‘Sauromatae?’ Melitta asked, suddenly interested.
    ‘Perhaps,’ Scopasis said. ‘A matter for your attention, anyway. I have heard her story and believe it.’
    ‘Have her brought,’ Melitta said.
    An eddy in the crowd announced the arrival of a pair of long-robed merchants – Syrians. They bowed to her.
    ‘They ask if we will use their interpreter,’ Kairax asked. He grinned.
    ‘Tell them I would be happy to use their interpreter,’ Melitta said. She grinned too.
    Their interpreter stepped forward. He looked sheepish, and they spoke among themselves for a moment.
    ‘How big was the dead man’s family?’ Melitta asked in Sakje, and the translator put the question to the two merchants in Greek.
    ‘No doubt she’ll use the size of his family to assess the total value of the judgement,’ muttered one merchant. Greek was not his first language, either.
    ‘So make it big. Eight children,’ said the other merchant.
    ‘Lady, the merchant says eight children,’ the interpreter said. ‘That’s what he told me to say, lady,’ the man added.
    ‘Ask him if he knows the family well,’ Melitta said.
    ‘Now what do I say?’ asked the second merchant. His Greek was better. ‘If I say I don’t know them—’
    Melitta