Page 53 - Microsoft Word - FANG EMPIRE - NOVEL.docx

long arrogant strides. Even though he was fresh off the camel, there was a smart, rascal quality in

his boyish face and an artful twinkle in his eyes. He fumbled through a list.

“Many of the items on your list just aren’t available, my lord,” Kojo said, “Or have been

plundered by the soldiers.” He read from the list. “Sandalwood cream for shaving, lavender oil,

pomegranate wine, marmalade! I don’t know where to get these things!”

“Why did Judar even hire you?” Ramoth grumbled. “You’re useless!”

“I’m doing all I can,” Kojo said.

“All these damned civil servants and not one of them is doing anything worthwhile!”

Ramoth said as he looked around at the bustling bureaucracy.

“I can’t even get a decent fucking razor!”

“The merchants are complaining Timbuktu is just too remote to move goods in a timely

fashion, at least so soon after the invasion. When the natives were in charge things were different.

Most of the goods and services were homegrown.”

“I don’t need a history lesson, I am the fucking natives, remember, Mojo?”

“Kojo,” he cautiously corrected.

“I ran this place with an iron fist! You wouldn’t have lasted a day under my

administration!”

“Forgive me, lord. I am new at this. I’m doing the best I can.”

They reached an official-looking area guarded by armed soldiers. A bureaucrat sat like a

royal guard at a long table. He held a sharp quill pen. It was his mighty sword on the

administrative battlefield where the weapons of war were worthless. An inkwell and a large

registry book sat on the table in front of him. A makeshift sign that said, “CENTRAL OFFICE,

Judar Pasha, Governor,” made it clear whose gate he kept.

Ramoth strode through without checking in and the bureaucrat quickly unsheathed his

quill.

“Hold on! Who are you? What is your name?”

“I’m here to see Judar Pasha.” He continued walking without breaking his stride. Two