《The Knight Part 1: The Land of Predestined Cities》


 Chapter 0, The Fifth Seat

    How do they live? How do they toilet? Does one nearly adopt one and examine what they do? Why have none done so, and where could one find them? People, the humans, have often asked such questions as residents to their desert homeland of Ilivanmar. These dark skinned few had never thought highly of their estranged neighbours, the Tuleks, as they dub them, short for Tulekibo¡¯nomo .


    ¡°They are not very big, so they must be stupid,¡± one often might say.


    ¡°Even so, why do they do what they do?¡± a common reply may follow.


    These ape like creatures they speak of stand no higher than three feet at best. They have tails as longs as their outstretched arms, but builds that reflect the smallest of children. Their faces are bare, though some have sideburns, with noses flat against bright caramel skin. Their ears are pointed, but always arched downwards, while their eyes are wide and smooth facing forwards. They have bare skinny legs, with singly pointed feet, and wear strange little dresses in brightly desert colours. It is hard to differentiate a Tulek from a Tulekess, yet one may tell from its topknot or lack of said knot. A male Tulek always wear a topknot.


    The Tuleks have always been peaceful, minding about in odd hierarchies they construct. To which the humans have hunted, captured, and even attempted to train such creatures, still none have succeeded. Some say so because the Tuleks are merely wild animals. But that they are not. They build towns, lead lives, help weary travellers. And they, these wondrous creatures, the Tuleks, wobble about and start feeble little conflicts, each resolved and started with their own ¡®Tulek¡¯ tongue. No humans have deciphered this speech. It confounds such refined minds merely so with its mystical hubbub and jibber jab. Nevertheless people have tried, and people have failed. Thus, the mysterious Tulek have been so forth hailed.


    Sol read that in a book. Little had he known those Tuleks were last things he saw in the land of predestined cities. Young prince Solesio Gel¡¯Rav¨¦ edged about the desert soil, he was crouched low, lower still considering how short he was for his ten years of age.


    He had snuck away into a valley where the Tulek lived. Dirt and sand and shrubs littered his sides, and, not far off, he saw the first of Tuleki huts. He ducked as a Tulek, top knot adorned in a surly fashion, squandered towards a Tulekess, who bore no top knot, but rather long beads of greyish hair. The couple were nearby and he listened to their squabblings. The Tulek was dressed in a dark brownish full body skirt, with a bottle hanging awkwardly against the rim of his attire. The tulekess wore a maroon full body skirt, with many silvery rings apparent on each level of her skirt. The Tulek rose his extended arms to portray a furious gesture at the Tulekess


    ¡°Gi¡¯Na boo ik ba, Waaaanaaa!¡± it squealed.


    Young Sol giggled at this. The tulekess puffed an air of exasperation, ¡°E¡¯laaa ba NIK, WA PA.¡± the tulek snorted and turned expectantly towards the region where Sol was hiding in. Then the creature waddled about in his small tribal skirt with his tail flailing about in absolute rage. When he was within inches of Sol¡¯s hiding spot, he nudged at the bush besides the young prince. He then turned his head at the Tulekess ¡°Wa pa no eh?¡±


    ¡°Pey, wa pa lo,¡± signaled the Tulekess. The Tulek sighed, then side stepped to Sol¡¯s shrub. He extended one of his three fingers at the greenery, ¡°Wa pa nooo-- eh?¡±


    ¡°Tey, wap pa jo,¡± she spoke nodding her little head. The Tulek smiled, a splendid smirk, then reached into Sol¡¯s hideout. Sol edged from the Tulek¡¯s strange hand. The Tulek then placed his other hand in the bush and parted the shrub wide to peer into it. Sol shuddered. The Tulek saw him. ¡°Eek! Wa Pa nam!¡± It started.


    ¡°Ig?¡± queried the Tulekess


    ¡°Ma! Ig,¡± screeched her companion.


    The Tulekess shuffled to Sol¡¯s destination. She cooed at the sight of the young prince. ¡°Oh, Ba-to, Ig.¡±


    ¡°Ig? is that what you call us?¡± laughed the prince, ¡°Well I¡¯m Sol the Ig, happy to meet you.¡±


    A splattering of happy coos followed and the Tulekess waved her three fingered hand ¡°Ig mono rum?¡± continued the Tulek, brandishing the bottle about the rim of her skirt. Sol tilted his head. Perhaps the most curious object of fascination regarding these creatures was their familiarity of rum.


    ¡°Ahh¡± started Sol, ¡°Everyone tells me I¡¯m too young for that.¡±


    The Tuleks laughed, somewhat aware of his Galokinian speech. ¡°Ig no Ery,¡± dubbed the Tulekess upon Sol, ¡®mouse human¡¯. He had that in his notes. It had been a past time of his to translate that which had never been translated. If the people here could understand the tulek perhaps they would treat them better? Treat themselves better? He thought of his own country, Galokin. It would be muddled in conflict before long and all the people had to do to avoid it was to talk with each other, much like a certain Prince tried now with Tuleks.


    ¡°Beh ko, Ig no Ery,¡± motioned the Tulekess with her small hairless hand. Sol followed the two, swaying past the bush.


    ¡°Sol. Sol! What ya be doing?¡± shot out the voice of an Ilivanmari youth. Sol smiled the moment he recognized that baritone.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine! I¡¯m just visiting my new friends.¡±


    ¡°By da spirits, Sol ya be too foolish to lumber about with theseTuleks,¡± cried the voice, its body rearing just over the Cliffside which overlooked the Tulek village.


    The youth, maybe fifteen gazed upon the boy and his pygmy hosts, he rolled his crimson eyes, and formed a slight smile. His black hair, short, unkempt and uncouth, flicked a little in the wind. He had the makings of a soldier. Tight leathers hugged his skin, a loose splay of chainmail rustled at his chest and a heady brown jacket hung over top.


    ¡°But Cirin, they were so nice to me.¡±


    ¡°Ig no da¡± spat the Tulekess with her mad eyes locked upon Cirin. Sol was right, Tuleks would never hurt anything let alone humans, yet for royalty to be seen with such lowly creatures was a disgrace to the Gel¡¯Rav¨¦s and those guarding them. Cirin knew this, and was instructed to keep Sol away from the common rabble and Tuleks alike. Sometimes for the boy¡¯s reputation but mostly for his safety. It was Cirin¡¯s final promise to his teacher afterall.


    ¡°Alright then I be going down dere myself to get ya mon, perhaps when I¡¯m done more may wanna know about dis.¡±


    Sol flinched. He was scared. Even had he lied, Cirin would know. Those red eyes missed nothing.


    ¡°No wait,¡± pleaded the Prince. ¡°I¡¯ll come. Please do not tell on me.¡±


    Cirin laughed, ¡°Well den, come here quickly or I may be obliged to tell anyways.¡±


    Sol scurried to the top of the cliff face and in his rush he waved a hasty goodbye to his newfound Tulek friends. Surprisingly they waved back.


    Cirin spoke to him as the prince finished the last stretch, ¡°Alright Sol, ya be needing to eat.¡±


    ¡°But I¡¯m full.¡±


    Cirin helped the boy up the small cliff overlooking the Tuleki valley. ¡°Dat¡¯s just da spirits of hunger, dey be shy sa dey neva be telling ya when ya first be needing em¡¯¡±


    ¡°You sound more and more like Manama these day, Cirin.¡±


    ¡°Am I wrong dough?¡±


    Sol¡¯s stomach growled in approval. Cirin smiled, ¡°Da spirit of sound, however, be neva too shy to speak out.¡±


    Sol frowned at his traitorous gut. Any other Gel¡¯Rav¨¦ would not have known hunger. Sol hadbeen a stranger to his own family, he always would be. He was rather skinny for a Gel¡¯Rav¨¦, even a young one, and for some reason, he felt the need for more friends than enemies. Most of his kin were more apt to gain the latter.A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    ¡°Eeeeeeek!¡± roared a Tulek¡¯n scowl. Sol snapped to that direction. He spotted the cliff-face and slipped past Cirin¡¯s watch. Cirin stumbled as he chased the child, ¡°Wait Sol! Dun be foolish!¡±


    Sol ignored him, now fully focussed on the Tulek. He spotted the commotion at the top of the cliff. A dessert lion, still young by the look of his budding mane, had prowled into the tulek village. Tuleks screamed and scuttled to cover. Yet not all made it. Sol discerned one small Tulek who had lost his balance against the dry earth. He didn¡¯t wear a skirt, but instead a loin cloth, evident of his adolescence. The two teenage creatures circled around each other. One was eager, the other terrified.


    Sol didn¡¯t stay to watch.


    He leapt from the cliff-face and landed below to a running start. He peered at the young Tulek as it grew with distance. Cirin found his way to the cliff, drawn to commotion himself. By then Sol had reached the Tulek, now quivering against the rough soil. The lion was close. It growled, swaying his budding mane as if to say,stray away from my meal.


    With his arms stretched outwards and where he stood in front of the Tulek, Sol defied the beast. The lion lowered himself, ready for the pounce and Sol held his green eyes on the creature. He frowned sadly at its stare and gulped. The creature lunged, claws adorned. Sol stood his ground.


    But the two never met. Cirin did instead.


    Cirin¡¯s feet shifted against the weight of the beast. The youth had parried the cat in a wrestler¡¯s lock. The creature¡¯s claws sank deeply into Cirin¡¯s bare arms, yet the boy only stared back madly with his teeth clenched his, lips parted, sparkling white and unmoving. His crimson eyes challenged the lime ones of the lion while Sol watched in stupefaction. Cirin was no ordinary Ilivamari babysitter, no, there was more to him, more to his spirit. He was the reincarnation of something old and something splendid. He who protected with warmth of the desert and heralded its ire. He who was fire. The lion¡¯s swayed his head in an attempt to bite the youth¡¯s neck, but the youth saw through it. Cirin met the lion¡¯s skull in a headbutt.


    There and then the lion fell into a fit of dizziness. Cirin did not waste it. His elbow thundered down. Bloodied leather against lion mane.


    Sol edged away with the tulek following close behind. Cirin¡¯s eyes grew brightly crimson, and then he withdrew one of two swords from his back, brandishing it with his free hand. By the time the lion came to, it was too late. Cirin had plunged the blade into the beast¡¯s neck. Clean white steal dribbled in gore. It was over the moment Cirin stood straight.


    The lion convulsed, struggling for that last breath, then died with a flutter of eyelids. Its killer heaved and fell forwards on his knees.


    ¡°Cirin, are you ok?¡±


    Cirin smiled, still bearing the pain of his wounds, ¡°Better dan what I¡¯d be if that thing were to have gotten you instead.¡± The tulek behind Sol gave off a small coo to the prince. Sol spied at him. The small Tulek, maybe two feet in size, had light caramel skin, and a small patch of nut coloured hair atop his scalp. His brows were skinny, and oaky, while his eyes were remarkably orange. He seemed to have larger ears than most Tuleks. Except for that ¡®coo¡¯ the creature had been simply left speechless by those two acts of heroism. He was not alone.


    The other Tuleks emerged with all their little hairless faces stuck in awe. Cirin got up, his arms bleeding heavily. He hesitated, then stumbled. A couple Tuleks ran up to him and guided him towards a tent, he looked at them skeptically, but followed due to pain. Sol waited outside the doorstep, constantly easing in to witness the medical process. Despite their tribal appearance and odd utterings, the tuleks, were always a sophisticated people. In fact what they dubbed as medicine far surpassed any other form of medicine that existed anywhere else in the world. They mastered the art of long life and death prevention. Yes they were not shamans nor necromancers, but they possessed the practicality of nature under their little skirt belts. Some would even call their doctors druids, mystified with their mastery of the natural..


    By the time they were finished with Cirin, his arms had been covered with Tulek¡¯n bandages with no blood in sight. The night sky kissed the desert sands, and the air had gone stiffly cold. Cirin emerged out of the hut followed by his practitioner. The doctor held out a small package formed by leaves tied in a hair knot, his prescription.


    ¡°Ne, ilvebo ging ban tek.¡±


    Cirin smirked at his concerned medic, ¡°Ma, ban tek.¡± replied Cirin, mimicking the foreign tongue. The medicine man broke out a wide smile upon his caramel face then patted the youth on the back. Cirin swerved about and found Sol next to the orange eyed Tulek the young prince had saved. The two were sharing a well-cooked roast salad of types. Sol spotted Cirin almost immediately after the crimson eyes landed on his form, ¡°Cirin!¡± he started, dashing towards his caretaker.


    ¡°Zirink!¡± mimicked the Tulek, who Cirin supposed had had equal right to be happy about seeing him. The two shrinks embraced Cirin endearingly, and Cirin kneeled to accept the hugs. He then parted the hug early and motioned towards the star lit sky.


    ¡°Look Sol, we need be going, it be far too late as it is.¡±


    Sol nodded, and the two made for the cliff. Little did they know, a very appreciative pint-sized Tulek lagged behind.


    The path had always been a quick one. Peaceful to. But both the boys knew that would not last. Cirin winced under as the pain in his arms flared.


    ¡°Are you ok?¡± asked Sol.


    ¡°What dis? It be noting mon. Dose fangs only went half as deep as Taba¡¯s--¡±


    ¡°Not about the lion I mean.¡±


    Cirin relaxed his arms and studied the clear sky with his ruby like eyes. The soft sand crunched beneath them in a mixture grains and dry weeds.


    ¡°I know what ya meant. I¡¯m fine. Bot ways,¡± he said.


    A city loomed before them, tossing jagged shadows against the twilight sky. The city¡¯s outline proved lower and dome shaped near the recesses and taller near the center, all of it culminating in a spectacular monolith that conquered the night sky. So high in fact, the peoples of old called them and, by extension, the cities that followed stars. The name stuck. There were thirteen stars in in Illivanmar and the city of Lamanori was the last of them.


    Cirin tried his best to ignore it. It was both his home and a place he desperately wish to be rid of.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry I ran off, I was only hoping.¡±


    ¡°Dat you¡¯d distract me?¡±


    ¡°Got you smiling.¡± said the Prince.


    Cirin fought back a newly emergent grin and focussed on the lines of mud houses that closed by. ¡°That you did.¡± hummed Cirin.


    ¡°It was only a few days ago,¡± reminded the Prince. ¡°I¡¯m worried about you Cirin.¡±


    ¡°Says da boy who was nearly eaten.¡±


    Sol pouted, kicking the sand before him, ¡°That man, Hyrin. Cirin I don¡¯t trust him. He¡¯ll help you but¡­ but what will he ask in return?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about that, my prince.¡±


    ¡°But I do worry Cirin. What you¡¯re planning to do¡­ Azhar wouldn¡¯t want this.¡±


    Cirin sighed, turned and clutched the boy by his shoulders. He looked him the eyes. Red against green. They had known each other for eight years now. The prince was Cirin¡¯s charge since he was toddler and Cirin a young child. And since then, since that covenant, Cirin knew protecting sol was all that mattered. Until now.


    ¡°I know that,¡± he said with his gaze wavering. ¡°I know that. But he¡¯s gone, Sol. No point dwelling on the subject. Look,¡± he said with a nudge of his head at the town nearby, ¡°We¡¯re close and they¡¯re expecting us. Especially you.¡±


    Sol tilted his head low, ¡°I don¡¯t feel right leaving after all that¡¯s happened.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re royalty, Sol. Go change ya country in da way ya hope to and one day I be doing da same,¡± Cirin frowned as the prince kept his head low. ¡°We¡¯ll meet again ok? Afta dis is all ovah. Deal?¡±


    Sol lightened up for a moment, ¡°Alright.¡±


    Cirin nodded, releasing the boy and straightening to his full height, ¡°This¡¯ll be over soon. Promise.¡±


    ¡­


    They made their way through the quiet streets and the sporadic clusters of soldiers with ease. Cirin acknowledged his surroundings. It was once the ruins of the city that was his home, but now it was a staging ground.


    Sol stayed close. There was no hiding the intentions of a thousand some armed men nor that of the few their vaunted leader had summoned.


    Cirin was one of them.


    Minutes through the city¡¯s wide and barren streets and they arrived where he had been called. It was a run-down shack that grew from the base of the city¡¯s black tower.


    There were six seats inside. Two of them were empty, the other four were filled with faces Cirin recognized instantly and they him. But now, he could barely name them while his eyes remained fixed on one of the empty seats.


    Six seats. One for Hyrin, the strongest man in Illivanmar, and five for his lieutenants. Five. The fifth seat, the one meant for Cirin, was one he was undeserving of. Azhar was to sit there, but Azhar was no longer there.


    The others, the short, the loud, unclear and greedy watched him with a mix of emotions, most concerned. They would be. They all knew Azhar, but not in the way Cirin knew him.


    He could almost spy the man sitting there, yawning, stretching back lackadaisically and taunting the boy. There was a tug on his sleeve and he saw Sol there gesturing behind him. A turn and he saw what to. There stood the largest man he had ever known and the self proclaimed strongest in all thirteen stars. Hyrin.


    ¡°Cirin,¡± said a voice as low as thunder. ¡°Good den, we all be here. Welcome my gen-nah-rals.¡± the man stretched out his massive arms and trudged in, prompting all the ¡®generals¡¯ save one with golden eyes to stand. ¡°Welcome,¡± he continued un-phased by insubordination, ¡°To my war.¡±


    The generals seated themselves and Hyrin gestured at the empty chair.


    ¡°Go on, boy. Take ya seat.¡±


    Cirin spied at the wooden thing. It was empty. No more Azhar. Nothing. He took steps to it as Hyrin detailed the first of his many plans.


    But it did not matter. Nothing did. Perhaps fetching Sol back for his dinner was a distraction for his own hunger: Revenge.


    Hyrin spoke on about how everything would go as he had planned for and how it would only be possible with his generals¡¯ cooperation. He finished the last step until the chair was ahead of him and he remembered something Azhar had said years ago. His eyes went wide.


    He spun, and, as he did, wind gushed into the room from the open door. Hyrin slammed it shut.


    ¡°As I was saying,¡± he continued.


    ¡°I get it.¡±


    All heads snapped to Cirin. Everything he did. Everything the old mon trained him on made sense. He wished he could say the words there and then but not with Hyrin present. Instead he shook his head, waved Hyrin to continue and settled into his seat.


    The windows rattled in the desert wind. Hyrin¡¯s baritone rumbled the wood.


    But Cirin did not listen. He remembered.


    It had started five years ago.

 Chapter 1, The Black Feathered Man

    In a walled village on a cliff by the sea, there lived a clan with eyes of red. Among these people, a black feathered man was born.


    It was in this time that heinous men in blackened collars pillaged the lands around in much dishonour. The black feathered man did not stand for it. When he could hold a blade, he trained through and through. When he could wear proper plate, he wore more than its weight. He watched the captains go about their rounds and read all the annals on clan grounds.


    The black feathered man grew strong and true, with his blades of steel there was much he slew. Days turned to months and months into years. When all but one band of blackened collars remained, the black feathered man stood to earn his clan¡¯s highest rank, which he rightfully gained. Though to much the clan¡¯s initial displeasure, before he turned chief the black feathered man said he¡¯d beat all the bandits for good measure.This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    But there was more to it, the elders all knew, for the black feathered man had made a promise in lieu. Before he held a blade, before he thought fighting was wise, he¡¯d fallen in love, and love be his demise. The girl wagered to the boy who stole her heart, that she¡¯d much rather marry the chief than a lonesome heart thief. And should he pursue it, he¡¯d have to beat back all bandits, to make it the toughest of gambits.


    So the black feathered man ventured once more, with ten dozen men, and a personal company of four. They battled and battled and when all seemed won, by the time of their victory the deed had been done. The black feathered man had fallen, cowardly slain with a blade run through his back. Though all bandits were beaten, there was much that victory happened to lack.

 Chapter 2, Carts Dont Talk

    Cirin struggled forwards, drawing sweat as he finally finished the swing. The wooden sabre wasn¡¯t heavy, but having to swing it over a countless times made it weigh much more. Cirin glanced over his shoulder and cursed at the sight. Azhar was always this way. Always strict and unfairly so.


    ¡°Is dat all ya got mouse?¡±


    ¡°Go bodda someone else.¡± whined Cirin.


    Azhar puffed and leaned back, his hands thrust in his pockets, ¡°Ya telling me ya give up?¡±


    Cirin grit his teeth and swung again, feeling every bit of his fatigue only a hundred times worse. Again he wrought his hands around the pommel, ready for the next unimaginable swing. Azhar stopped him then, holding the boy¡¯s arm before he could lift it.


    The boy looked up at his worn master, the black curls of hair covering both of their faces. Cirin caught his breath before speaking up, ¡°Why did ya-¡±


    ¡°Ya failed, mouse.¡±


    ¡°What!?¡±


    Azhar yanked the blade from Cirin¡¯s tired hands and pushed the boy back with a tap on the forehead.


    ¡°Da test was ta know when ta give up and regain ya energy. If dis wa da real ting, ya be dead. And more importantly, so to would da prince.¡± Azhar pointed the blunt blade at the even younger boy a little ways behind him. The boy was pale with black hair and green eyes.


    Cirin let his head fall back before the boy stumbled to hide himself, ¡°Sol again? Why do I gotta protect such a weak ting?¡±


    Azhar swaggered to the far side of the garden where they trained, deciding that was that. ¡°Ya dun get it, mouse.¡± He said, his voice echoing in the distance.


    ¡°I never get anyting ya say, ya stupid old mon!¡±


    Cirin could not see Azhar then, but he knew the old man was shaking his head as he always did. There was nothing Cirin hated more than that condescending grin Azhar prodded about. Cirin sat up. Azhar did not get him. The old man proved incapable of acknowledging Cirin or his skill with the blade, despite how every other magistrate who saw him had nothing but compliments for him. A genius of swords they said. No better breed of warrior they insisted. Truly a spectacle to see when he got older. Yet his own teacher, the failure Azhar, had not once recognized what everyone else had. Cirin stood up.


    ¡°If it¡¯s because I¡¯ll be banished, den I do get it. I¡¯m strong!¡± said Cirin pointing at his chest, ¡°I can defend myself out dere. I can grow up ta become a mercenary, maybe a bandit, or a soldier. I dun need dis-- dis royal welp slowing me down!¡±


    Azhar paused his easing walk, ¡°No. Ya dun get it. Ain¡¯t na ting slowing down. Rest up and reflect. We¡¯ll be seeing how ya do on new sunlight.¡±


    Cirin kicked the ground in front of him, prompting a dust cloud in its wake. ¡°Stupid old mon.¡±


    ¡°Are you ok?¡±


    Cirin sneered at the boy prince, ¡°It be people like you I hate da most. Here, let me protect ya by giving ya advice.¡±


    The boy nodded meekly. He was young as was Cirin, but compared to the ten year old, the prince was only five.


    Cirin motioned for Sol to come close, and the lamb complied.


    ¡°Dis advice be simple.¡± Said Cirin with a step towards da prince, ¡°If ya want ta stay safe.¡± Cirin reached for the boy and lifted him by his collar, ¡°Stay away from me.¡±


    ¡°Y-you¡¯re hurting me.¡±


    ¡°Let him go, mouse.¡± warned a distant Azhar, staring back.


    Cirin lifted him higher and held him there. There were no words as he did so, only the meek squirming of Sol. Finally, Cirin released the boy, and let him fall on his bum.


    ¡°Go.¡± commanded Cirin, ¡°and if ya tell anyone, I won¡¯t let go next time.¡±


    Sol scrambled to his feet and was gone the next moment. Cirin spied at Azhar, he too was gone.


    Cirin kicked the dirt in front of him once more. Sol was meek even for a five year old, yet despite the difference in their strengths Sol had one common trait to Cirin. Just like Cirin, Sol never gave up. Cirin had known this of his would be charge for three years.


    Life had been good til he was seven. Days were full of free roam through the palace. He knew everyone then, and they him. It didn¡¯t matter of Al¡¯Azim was the son of a noble or Gizir was the soon-to-be cook in training, whatever their rank, they were still friends, still comrades at arms against the opposing children when they took part in the many bouts of the palace grounds. Until recently, no-one cared that he was the son of two criminals. No-one bothered wondering why the parents of an orphaned boy would even matter. Yet one day they did.


    Gizir went off to train with his father, Al¡¯Azim sent to another palace in another city. All the while Cirin was forced to meet a beady eyed toddler. When he was seven, Cirin became alone again. The students of Azhar knew his background well and decided not to talk to him. Cirin found himself lashing out in bouts of anger, made all the more worse by Azhar¡¯s training regimen. He spent most of days staring blindly at the ocean when he wasn¡¯t training. It all started then. Cirin had been in hell for three years.


    ¡°Keep running!¡± instructed Azhar.


    Cirin panted behind his dozen colleagues. They were almost finished as was he. The sweat stung in his eyes and his heart beat ravenously. Azhar had them run along the palace walls every morn and evening. Cirin¡¯s head bobbed as the first of the students passed the finish. Morning runs were easy. He squinted against the setting sun. It was the evening runs that tested the runner¡¯s mettle. A mettle, the boy knew he had proven time after time. Even though he was the slowest, he was also the youngest by far. To most it was impressive that he even finished the laps. Cirin slowed as he neared the finish line. That was when Azhar demanded the impossible.


    ¡°Cirin, ten mo laps!¡±


    The boy slowed even more to glare at his teacher. Lately, the man had become intolerable with his demands.


    ¡°Slow down even more and ya might as well stop. Ya giving up, mouse?¡±If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    To that, Cirin transformed his trudge into a jog. The cruel Azhar was keen on the boy¡¯s weakness. And so the boy kept pace lap after lap till the sky shed its blue for a black darker than ink, darker than the momentous tower looming over the city. Cirin found himself collapsed by the palace wall and heaving.


    ¡°Catch your breath mouse, I¡¯ll fetch da training blades.¡±


    Cirin rose a hand to protest, but his exhaustion fought him down. That was just like Azhar. Only a man as twisted as the slavers would appreciate the suffering of a child.


    ¡°Water?¡±


    Cirin looked up at the outstretched cup. He turned away from it, mouthing the words before saying it, ¡°Didn¡¯t I tell ya ta stay away from me?¡±


    ¡°Water?¡±


    Cirin spun to the prince and leapt to his feet, ¡°Ya thinkin I¡¯m an animal now, eh? Ya worked da cattle too hard and now ya need feed it?¡±


    Seeing the water still held out, Cirin quickly knocked it out of the boy¡¯s hand. ¡°Don¡¯t patronize me.¡± Scoffed Cirin.


    Sol tried to pick up the cup then, but Cirin kicked it away, ¡°You¡¯re a prince, ya best be acting da part.¡±


    Yet Sol went after the cup instead. Cirin balled his hands into fists. The training was tough, his comrades ignored him, and what little he had in the world had left him three years ago. But despite all of that it was Sol¡¯s demeanour that bothered him most. Sol was an exception among exceptions. He was a kind master.


    Cirin had lived long enough in the palace to know that such a thing could not possibly exist. The masters thrived on cruelty and like child to the parent, the servants mimicked that behaviour. Those who were strong lived at the expense of the weak. That was how it was. He knew his job would be a difficult one, yet it frustrated him just how much worse his charge would make it. Sol was weak, so defending him would be harder. Sol was kind, so his enemies would reasdily exploit him.


    Cirin fell back against the palace wall and rested his head against the cold limestone. For a moment he tried to think of something other than Sol. In spite of his training, the fact he was ignored, or what he had lost three years ago, it was the little prince put under his care that occupied his mind. He snapped his head back to the prince, who had picked up the cup and wandered into the palace. Cirin sighed. No doubt the prince was planning to get more water.


    Footsteps echoed in the corridor and once again Cirin stood up.


    ¡°We¡¯ll skip da swings today. I want ya ta try defending against me.¡±


    ¡°A spar?¡± brightened the boy.


    ¡°Heh. Not quite mouse. You¡¯ve a long way ta go before I grant ya da honor. Now den.¡± Azhar seized his advance and threw the boy a wooden blade. Cirin caught it just as Azhar withdrew his own, ¡°If ya don¡¯t stagger my hits, ya will be feelin it tammara.¡±


    Cirin nodded, weary of his trainer and widened his stance in preparation.


    Azhar charged and for the rest of the night the beat of wooden blades echoed like drums.


    Azhar backed off, holding the wooden blade in front of him as he spoke between breaths, ¡°Enough for today. Go, retire and reflect.¡±


    Cirin nodded, tossing the blade back to its owner. That usually signaled their exchanges at the end of daily practice, yet that night Cirin ventured a little further.


    ¡°Old mon?¡± He started.


    Azhar paused, his back kept to Cirin, ¡°What is it, mouse?¡±


    ¡°Why me? Why do ya train me harder den da others?¡±


    Azhar stayed silent for several uncomfortable moments until finally he let his words out, ¡°Because even if ya don¡¯t, ya¡¯ll train ya self and just as hard.¡±


    Cirin pressed his brows, ¡°And why would I do dat?¡±


    Azhar laughed before pacing away from Cirin. ¡°Cause ya have a goal, mouse. Even if ya don¡¯t get it. I do. Ya as simple as a door wit da contents written on it.¡±Azhar¡¯s voice faded into the palace grounds, ¡°But dat be no bad ting.¡±


    Cirin kept quiet after that, watching his master shrink into the distance. He had watched Azhar¡¯s back for a while now. The man carried two swords, but only ever used one. Though Cirin had scarcely seen Azhar even use that one.


    As the training continued, the days turned into seasons, and the seasons into years. By the time Cirin was twelve he had enough of the prince.


    Cirin pointed his blade squarely at the boy.


    ¡°I be telling ya everyday now. Ya got no guts to be a master needin¡¯ our protection. Ya don even try ta protect yourself so why should we bother?¡±


    ¡°Oi Cirin, dat¡¯s enough. Sol¡¯s a docile boy.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s weak.¡± Spat the twelve year old, ¡°And if he wasn¡¯t here we¡¯d be in betta guard positions. Betta paying, more respectable.¡±


    Cirin¡¯s fellow students who had oft quibbled against his treatment of the prince finally showed signs of unease of the situation. Cirin smiled, up until then it had been stark assertation that Sol was a charge worth protecting.  Now, as if an era had passed, Cirin was winning.


    Sol tossed his head about at his various defenders and quickly found himself shifting as uneasily as they did.


    ¡°Go den, defend yourself.¡± taunted Cirin.


    Sol stood quiet, almost shaking under the pressure of the around him. Finally, he managed a squeak so meek Cirin must have been the only one to hear, ¡°I don¡¯t know how.¡±


    Cirin lowered his brows and tossed his wooden sabre to the ground, ¡°This isn¡¯t worth it.¡± He declared, before storming past the boy. ¡°I¡¯m leaving dis palace and any of ya who tink demselves stronger dan dese mongrels ought ta do the same.¡±


    Cirin¡¯s fellows who had said nothing in the meantime stood dumbly looking about each other. Even after the instigator had left himself, the rest remained dead still.


    ¡°He¡¯s right ya know.¡± Started a man, ¡°There be no pride for us here, we¡¯re nothing betta dan slaves.¡±


    Another man, this one visibly older scoffed at the claim and stomped up to the first, ¡°Ya honestly believe dat urchin? Have any of ya seen da outside world?¡±


    ¡°Ofcourse we have.¡±


    ¡°Den you know why we stay here. You should be thankful for da protection dese walls give and da ease of protecting a child no one remembers. What be out dere for you, eh? Sandrats? Hah, if ya be lucky. You lot will be slaves befa ya know, captured by da Merid Dance Troupe no less.¡±


    One of the men from the back of crowd spoke up then, ¡°Even if he is an urchin, even if he be younger den us, he¡¯s still da most skilled.¡±


    ¡°A genius of blades.¡± Nodded another man, ¡°and not just dat, he¡¯s always been wise-headed for his age. As practical as a builder and as cynical as a miser.¡±


    ¡°Pah, look at ya all, praisin¡¯ a child who has yet ta break his voice.¡± The old man staggered between each man, looking each one in the eye, ¡°Dis isn¡¯t a matta of pride. Pride be getting ya killed. Look at me.¡± He beat his chest with his hands, both visibly stained with scars, ¡°Look at me and wanda why I be older dan all ya fools, is cause I used my head, I lived with dese walls and ¡®defended¡¯ whoever needed defending. If dat means protecting prince Sol den I don¡¯t care.¡±


    There was huffle in the crowd as a few of the men started whispering.


    Finally the man from the back said it aloud, ¡°Where be da prince, anyways?¡±


    ¡­


    Cirin craned his head to the gates high infront of him. He had stared at those doors for his entire life and yet he had never been on the other side. He clutched his chest and hung on to his shoulder. The thought of what lay on the other side filled him to the tip with unease. He had heard the rumors. Outside was dangerous. Bandits, cutthroats, and slavers all roamed the streets like rats in bird seed. Kidnapping was common, the most profitable resource of lamanori wouldn¡¯t have been slaves otherwise.


    ¡°Ya want ta leave, boy?¡±


    Cirin snapped to the guard at the top of the gates. The question seemed simple. From the moment the teachers could cram the rules of the palace within his curly black head, Cirin had known that there was no contract or obligation keeping him confined within palace grounds. He was free the moment he was born. Yet re-entry into the palace required direct permission from a palace authority, permission from people who would much rather pretend none below their status existed.


    Cirin nodded at the guard and the guard disappeared. The boy practised his breaths, deep and measured. Then the guard popped back and pointed curiously at the object besides the boy.


    ¡°Is dat da waste cart from da morn?¡±


    Cirin shrugged coolly, ¡°I tink so.¡±


    ¡°Looks like da lazy bastard Mafa got drunk again last night. Take dat wit ya, eh? If ya bring it close to da dumping grounds Mafa will pick it up.¡±


    Cirin tossed his eyes from the sodden wagon to the man above him, ¡°alright.¡± He agreed.


    Within moments the heavy door unhinged and swung inwards summoning a dense cloud of dust in its wake. Cirin shielded his eyes instinctively until the dust blew away and revealed what lay ahead.


    Cirin held his eyes wide. It was worse than the rumors. It was a wasteland. The green lushness of the palm trees hung in stark disarray over the abandon shacks.


    ¡°Go, before Azhar sees ya.¡±


    Cirin sighed, leaning down to pick up the wagon before venturing into the great city of Lamanori. As soon as the palace gates shut behind him, he knew he was alone. Or atleast he knew they thought he was alone. There was a bump in the cart and Cirin instinctively ¡®shh¡¯d¡¯


    ¡°Sorry¡± replied the cart.


    ¡°Carts dun talk, mon.¡±

 Chapter 3, The Land of Predestined Cities

    The land of Predestined Cities was what they called it. A strange name to be sure to any would be visitors. Most of the under-educated variety would rather dub it ¡®the land of slavers and too much sand¡¯. The scholar yawned as she creaked open the cabin door open. There was much hustle that morn, and more so than usual. She tried to stop one of the deckhands to prod him for answers, but the sight of the blinding dawn stopped her instead.


    ¡°Land ho! Land ho!¡± cried the watchman.


    She practiced a walk, careful to avoid unneeded contact, until she came upon the first open view of the ship¡¯s portside.


    It had been thirty ones days of nothing but fish and oranges and at last her destination stretched in front of her. This was a garden amidst a sea of white sand. Lamanori, the free city of the south and the east, the first of the king¡¯s stars. She wondered just how many lived there based on the spattering of sandstone houses that made the city¡¯s heart. Even their ship, the Blue Bass, proved to be just one out of a hundred now parked against the splintering docks.


    The gulls screeched and the ship creaked forwards. The bells rang distant and the sails ruffled. Finally, the Blue Bass managed past the last few clouds and there it was. The hubbub of deckhands seized, the last ¡®land ho¡¯ uttered.


    The scholar nearly strained her neck looking up. The garden was built around a pole, a pole which made the sprawling metropolis no more than weeds growing out the base of a lamp post. It was monumental, taller than the highest house in Galokin, wider than the fattest hill. Lamanori was said to be one the first cities built around the black towers of Ilivanmar, as were all Ilivanmari cities built thereafter.


    The scholar whipped out her notebook and started scribbling.


    Today I arrived in the land of Predestined Cities.


    The city itself reeked of fish and alcohol. The scholar pinched her nose as she sped to her contact. It reminded her of Syrindor and even Nesdiat to some extent, if Nesdiat were blistering hot.


    Unlike Nesdiat, however, the streets were straight and simple, not heavily inclined and snaking. It made her trip shorter to be sure, but she did not dare let down her guard. If even half the rumors were true, Lamanori was no more a den of thieves than a city.


    On the first road leading out of the docks she spotted a few shady figures looking her way, by the fourth a few more of those figures appeared to be following her. She reached in her cloak as she walked and produced an amulet. Two more turns later and the shady figures were gone. She sighed as she checked over her shoulder. Gone. It was emptier there, so perhaps the goons had nowhere to hide.


    ¡°Oh, you must be the scholar girl.¡±


    The scholar flinched, nearly dropping her amulet while she turned to whoever called her.


    ¡°Hm no mistake, I¡¯m usually right about these things.¡± The man wore a single piece jean blue robe and held a surprisingly dull face. Even in the land of Illivanmar where people wore robes upon robes, this man turned heads, and not in a good way. Stranger yet he was still a ways away from her when he called.


    ¡°Yes, and who might you be?¡± she trailed off. By now, a few denizens had been watching her with a simple shared expression of ¡®who are these people?¡¯. The scholar smiled dumbly at the onlookers and quickly paced to the man in question.


    ¡°You may call me Sir Marvus!¡± bellowed the man before she even got there.


    Again she smiled at the strangers who batted them eyes and snapped back to the man.


    She felt her own voice dim in volume as she neared him, ¡°Um Sir Marvus, was it? Could you perhaps be a little quieter?¡±


    Marvus cocked his head, his eyes completely avoiding hers, ¡°OH whatever do you mean, my girl?¡±


    The scholar pressed one hand against her brow for a quick second and motioned Marvus to follow her to a not so public alleyway.


    Once there, she fixed her cloak and made sure most of the onlookers had dispersed, ¡°I assume you are expecting me? From the association?¡±


    ¡°Quite right.¡± Nodded Marvus, still keeping to the same volume.


    The scholar eyed him for several seconds. She had sailed the seas for nearly a month with men who could not speak without swearing, undergone strict tutelage from one of Galokin¡¯s most esteemed and irrationally traditional instructors, and lived among the worst of the egotistical noble houses, yet this man in just moments of contact proved to the most inane.


    She let her head fall and sighed heavily.


    ¡°What a sigh! You must have had quite the inner monologue.¡±


    ¡°SIR Marvus.¡± Started the scholar, hand outstretched, ¡°As I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve been told, I¡¯ve come to continue you my term studying the Aragossin lore of this region. For king and country¡± she finished, waving her hands in gesture, ¡°You may call me Catherine.¡±


    ¡°Oh I knew all that.¡±


    ¡°Well yes, it¡¯s formality.¡±


    ¡°If all formalities are done.¡± He started, tossing his eyes to the end of the alley, ¡°We best go before those unsightly fellows down there rob us.¡±


    ¡°Unsightly? Oh.¡± A band of brigands, mostly hidden by the shade were giving them looks, which would glue most decent people to their shoes.


    Despite their gaudy audience, Marvus seemed un-phased, cheery even. ¡°Come along now, I shall show you to my abode and where you shall be staying for the remainder of your term.¡±


    ¡°Please.¡± Nodded Catherine.


    Luckily, their escape was a stone¡¯s toss. Marvus owned a small corner shop at the end of the street. Unlike most of the shops houses around it, Marvus¡¯s shop reflected his Galokinian speech and was made entirely of wood, well fashioned and sturdy. It reminded her of home. Catherine stopped before the entrance to read the sign above it.


    ¡°Marvus¡¯s Magical Hats?¡± she questioned aloud.


    ¡°Come inside, come inside.¡± Urged Marvus.


    Catherine followed through. Hats everywhere. Pointed hats, flat hats, tall hats, round hats and hats she never imagine could be hats lined the overflowing rows all along the walls and cabinets. She picked up the first hat she saw and examined it from stitching to folds.


    ¡°Where did you place the enchantment?¡± she quandered.


    Marvus stared her way, but not at her, and blinked, ¡°Why would I enchant a hat?¡±


    ¡°Your sign?¡± remarked Catherine, pointing behind her.


    ¡°Come now, less talk about hats and the matter. You must be tired. Grod!¡± He screeched.


    There was a bump from above them, followed by a series of heavy steps, and at last a large man dressed in the same robe as Marvus came into view. Catherine¡¯s brows dropped, but she tried to hide her expression under a weak smile. But now it was impossible.  He had the face of a beast and the eyes of a killer. Though upon seeing Catherine, he meekly rose his hands and tapped his fingers together.


    ¡°Yes master?¡± he asked in a hushed tone.


    Marvus replied in his same ear bending fashion, ¡°This is Miss Catherine from the association, show her to the guest room.¡±


    ¡°But master, the boy is there.¡±


    ¡°Boy?¡± questioned Catherine.


    ¡°Worry not. He is a guest as much as you are. Grod, show her to the other guest room then.¡±


    ¡°Yes master.¡± Nodded Grod. Grod then turned to Catherine and bowed in practiced formality, ¡°It is a mess right now, but I¡¯ll clean it up right away. If you¡¯d follow me.¡±


    ¡°Ofcourse.¡±


    Catherine matched Grod¡¯s pace as he trudged in through the first door and into a hallway that hosted two doors on the same wall and a stairway at the end.


    ¡°Your room is the first right from the stairs.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡± Spurted Catherine as she made for the room. The moment she passed the first door, it clicked and swung open, making her flinch for the second time that day.


    There were two steps and the figure of a boy with curly black hair came into view.


    ¡°A pleasure.¡± Nodded Catherine. Though she had never been fond of sudden changes to her routine.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know ya.¡± Spouted the boy, ¡°But if ya be from da palace.¡± The boy stepped forwards looking up to meet her eye from behind his dangling hair. She held her breath as his eyes came into view. They were inhumanly red. The boy frowned, ¡°I¡¯ll kill ya.¡±.


    ¡°Now now, master Cirin. She bears no connection to the palace and she¡¯s a guest from now on. Master Marvus¡¯s orders.¡±


    ¡°Cirin, was it? A pleasure to meet you. My name¡¯s Catherine, I hope we¡¯ll get along.¡±


    ¡°Still don¡¯t like ya.¡± Put the boy bluntly before shutting the door.


    Grod and Catherine stood there in silence.


    Grod rubbed his hands together and put on his best smile, ¡°He¡¯s just at that age, you see.¡±


    Catherine nodded slowly, moving towards her room, ¡°I see.¡± She said slowly before entering the open abode.


    The days after passed without much commotion. Catherine proceeded with her studies, often days spending long hours writing her papers in her room and sometimes by the front counter while she had to watch over the shop as per agreement.


    The hat shop proved quite pleasant. It had walls of dark oak and a floor stained to look even darker. The shelves the hats sat on stretched out so far that one could even sit on them if need be. But it wasn¡¯t that hats that entertained her thoughts when she was free to have. No, it couldn¡¯t be. It was the boy with rubies for eyes.


    While her first encounter with the boy revealed his reluctance to strangers, it became immediately apparent that he was still willing to venture outside. On every day she was assigned to watch the front, she would notice him pass at least twice in the day, once leaving early in the morning, and once returning late at night.


    She had learned from an early age about the dangers of questioning the habits of others, yet the red-eyed boy stole her fascination. According to Grod, the boy trained everyday, just as he had when he lived in the palace. As to why he was allowed to stay as a guest or what he did to stay in the royal Lamanori palace was not something Grod was willing to reveal, or rather Marvus forbade it.


    Marvus, despite his peculiarities happened to be a valuable font of ancient knowledge. He knew the old kingdom¡¯s edicts by heart and could name the seven star constellations on Lamanori¡¯s horizon without delay. Catherine needed three days just to transcribe all of what Marvus knew on the subject of the black towers. On top of that he loved Galokinian gossip, a matter with which Catherine was a master of herself.


    ¡°Yes yes, the courts were all a stir when the princess decided Ala¡¯hir to be her visit destination.¡±


    ¡°The same as the emperor?¡± gawked Marvus with glee.


    ¡°The very same!¡± squealed Catherine like a school girl. Catherine caught the telling stare of Grod as he made into the room and placed Marvus¡¯s morning tea in front of him. Grod, though normally the type to shyly agree with things, was very much the parental type when it came to subject matters that deviated from what Catherine and Marvus were supposed to be discussing.


    Catherine cleared her throat and tossed her eyes to a scroll she was clutching, ¡°So, in short.¡± Started Catherine, sitting on one shelf and tapping a quil to her chin, ¡°we know much about the nature of the black towers and their effect on the surroundings, yet know nothing about what lies inside of them?¡±


    ¡°Quite right.¡± Bellowed Marvus from behind the counter.


    Catherine threw the man an uneasy smile. Though she had grown accustomed to his lone and troublesome volume, she hadn¡¯t the courage to tell him its unfortunate effect on hat sales. She stared out the sole shop window that hugged the left corner of the store. It was raining outside. She wondered if Cirin would train even then. Spurred by the though she tossed her eyes to back door for the briefest of moments. As if he knew she would, the boy was there.


    His eyes were glued to the dripping window. His face revealed a myriad of emotions, clear and unfretted by the unruly hair, which covered half his face. Catherine read him as easily as a starchart. He didn¡¯t train because he had to, he wanted to, and now he couldn¡¯t.


    Then the boy turned to Catherine, taking her by surprise. They stared at each in near silence amidst the relentless melodies of rain.


    ¡°Why.¡± Began the boy, ¡°Why do ya talk like dat?¡±


    Catherine lowered her brows, ¡°My speech you mean? Is it so strange to bear a Galokinian accent? You¡¯re from the palace, you shoul-¡± Catherine stopped herself from speaking more. She wasn¡¯t supposed to know that.


    The boy cocked his head, ¡°I know Marvus an da northerners ought ta speak dat way, but ya be one of us.¡±


    Catherine found herself smiling at that comment. She pushed back some of her black hair covering her ear and leaned on her other hand. She had traveled to Illivanmar not just to study the Aragossins and their towers, but also to reunite with her own heritage. Still she had not once expected to be considered one of the locals. She dressed differently, she wore her hair differently, even the way she walked differed from the locals.


    ¡°I was raised in Galokin.¡± She answered at last, ¡°My parents left the northern city of Al¡¯Hatoki when I was just an infant and struck a deal with some nesdition nobles for safe haven. When I proved to posses certain¡­¡± Catherine looked away for a second, ¡°affinities, those same nobles insisted I¡¯d train properly with them and offered me both tutelage and a future.¡±


    Marvus stopped what he was doing and promptly joined in, ¡°You¡¯re still under that Tutelage, young lady.¡±


    Cirin stepped out from under the door way and jumped up for a seat on the nearest shelf. He peered at Catherine curiously, ¡°How old ya be, lady?¡±


    Catherine snapped back, ¡°How old are you?¡±


    Cirin produced a smug mouth and pointed at himself, ¡°Tirteen dis sorrow.¡±


    ¡°Then I am four years your senior.¡±


    ¡°Four!¡± Cirin nearly fell off, ¡°Ya ought ta stop acting so old, mon.¡±


    ¡°Old? I¡¯m merely practising the manors any lady of a proud house of Galokin would.¡±


    Marvus scratched his head, ¡°But¡­ you¡¯re not a noble?¡±


    Catherine pouted and looked away from the scholar, ¡°I¡¯m simply fond of that polished behaviour. Anyways, since I shared my background would you indulge us in yours, Cirin?¡±


    Cirin was quiet for a while after that, taking to kicking the air in front of him instead, ¡°I lived in da palace befa here. Around noble types, same as ya.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s it?¡± squandered Catherine.


    The boy tossed his eyes to the girl, ¡°There be nothing to add.¡±


    Catherine could not help staring back. In that moment she knew that he hid much more than his eyes and his motive. She pressed her brows down and sighed briefly before speaking, ¡°And what about your parents?¡±


    Cirin did not answer, instead he fixated on the window beside Catherine. She turned to face it, but her ears noticed it first. Silence. The rain had given up.


    Cirin leapt off the shelf and ran straight for the door, clearly not one to waste even a second. Once there he paused briefly, and eyed Catherine over his shoulder, ¡°Maybe ya be alright, miss.¡± He said before rushing out.


    Catherine took to her feet and paced to the window to watch him depart.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure what happened, but I think I made some progress.¡± She muttered.


    ¡°Wonderful.¡± Shouted Marvus in his usual gate, ¡°He¡¯s quite the odd one, I know.¡±


    Catherine wondered how she¡¯d respond to that, considering Marvus was the very embodiment of ¡®odd¡¯, ¡°Odd people come in all shapes.¡± She managed.


    ¡°Quite right. Such as yourself, young lady.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean, such as myself?¡±


    Before Marvus could answer, the store door creaked open and a man dressed in a dark cloak slid in. Catherine looked from Marvus to the man and tried her best not to stare. The man who had walked in was the spitting image of Cirin only older. He possessed curly black hair which covered his face, even the sharp cheek bones and dark charcoal skin Cirin had. The man nodded at her curtly and made straight to Marvus.


    He spoke in hushed tones, ¡°I saw him leave just now.¡±


    ¡°Indeed indeed, are you here for the payment?¡±


    ¡°Ya mon, I have it here.¡± The cloaked man reached inside his mantle and withdrew a linen wrapped package, ¡°This should cover da rent for da next two months.¡± He added before handing Marvus the cash.


    ¡°You¡¯re always ahead of me, Azhar.¡± Laughed Marvus.


    ¡°And he¡¯s still unaware to all dis?¡±


    The cross eyed knight straightened his wrinkled robe as best as he could and nodded with zeal, ¡°I am a knight good sir, and therefore I keep my word. He most assuredly still thinks he has run into an old acquaintance of his mother.¡±


    ¡°In some ways he be not wrong,¡± Azhar turned and smiled as he walked away, ¡°I need ta return to da palace. Remember, tell me first if dat boy does anyting stupid. When he does someting stupid.¡± Corrected Azhar.


    ¡°Noted.¡±


    The door opened and closed, leaving Catherine alone with Marvus once more.


    She paced back and forth and finally summoned the courage to ask him, ¡°Is he Cirin¡¯s..?¡±


    ¡°I know what you¡¯re thinking, and you are quite right.¡±


    ¡°So that¡¯s why he pays for Cirin.¡±


    Marvus shrugged, ¡°I would do the same for Grod.¡±


    Catherine found it inexplicably difficult to imagine any kind of blood relation between the giant Grod and whatever Marvus was, but she had seen stranger so she merely smiled and nodded back, ¡°Right.¡± She laughed.


    Still, she wondered about Cirin. Perhaps it was the norm to train so young in Illivanmar, or to live without one¡¯s parents.


    The days continued to pass by with little word from Cirin. He¡¯d greet her once in a while, but that was it. Until one day it rained again.


    Just as she predicted, Cirin arrived in the shop and waited there. Unlike before, Catherine noticed the boy acting aloof. Every now and then she¡¯d peak at him in between reading a book that she had borrowed from Grod. When the rain seized Catherine sighed and dug her head into the book, it seemed she had lost all progress with him. Minutes passed and she lowered her book. Strangely, Cirin was still there, sitting on the shelf as if he never left. No, the door hadn¡¯t moved, she would have noticed. He really had stayed. She couldn¡¯t help wonder why until he answered.


    ¡°Catherine.¡± He started off cautiously, ¡°I was wondering if ya could give me¡­ advice.¡±


    Catherine was taken aback by this unusual gesture. She smiled to Cirin and flashed a thumb¡¯s up to Marvus who for some reason waved back.


    ¡°Of course I¡¯ll help you.¡± Answered Catherine.


    Cirin looked down then up at Catherine, ¡°Maybe its best if I show ya.¡± His eyes snapped to the door as he said that. Catherine followed that sight and understood.


    The rain had stopped and he intended her to follow him.


    Her movements spoke for her. She sped to the door and waved to Cirin, ¡°Alright.¡± Conceded Catherine. Cirin was quick to his feet and managed to be at Catherine¡¯s back just as she turned the door knob.


    She opened the door and paused. Her eyes went wide and snapped to Cirin. He was gritting his teeth.


    ¡°Cirin?¡± said Azhar


    ¡°Why are ya here old mon?¡± said the boy stepping back.


    Azhar shifted from shock to calm in a mere instant, ¡°Saying I came for a hat won¡¯t work, eh?¡±


    Cirin shoved his hands in his pockets and stared the man with intent, ¡°I am not going back to da palace.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡± Noted Azhar carefully, ¡°Den dis shouldn¡¯t worry ya.¡± He lowered his head till his curly locks hung to his face and his dark brown eyes revealed themselves, ¡°We tried ta cover it up as best we could, but It seems we need ta branch out our search. Prince Sol be missing.¡±


    Cirin stood his ground, ¡°It seems ya esteemed guards be failin at ya jobs. So why ya bother askin¡¯ me, eh? I hated him more dan da udders.¡±


    ¡°Den ya truly don¡¯t get it. Sol had a connection ta ya.¡±


    ¡°but not I ta him. Now buy a hat or leave.¡±


    Azhar stayed silent. It seemed to Catherine that the man was vetted in dealing with Cirin. He was the boy¡¯s father after all. Then after what seemed to be an all too long of a silence, Azhar laughed.


    That put Cirin in unease, anyone could see it the way he bit his lip.


    Azhar¡¯s smile turned cruel and twisted as he spoke, ¡°A shame den, I had been hearing a few sandrats had learned of his location and were going ta collect da hit. Ta bad we cannot protect him.¡± Azhar swept back the left side of his bangs to reveal his angled brow, ¡°Eh, Mouse?¡±


    Catherine reared her head to Cirin, but the time she did, Cirin had already bolted past Azahr and through the door. In that moment her instincts took over and she too managed out the door. Her borrowed book hit the floor only after she had left.


    Cirin was fast for his age, yet she knew how to follow people more scrupulous than he. The boy ran through several streets and corners, and the girl hardly kept up. The flat roads she saw from the ship were simply a fa?ade. The moment Cirin cut into the western quarters, she slowed. Her feet felt it first. The ground had turned dry and burnt, the air ashy. She pinched her nose and tried desperately for the boy until she caught him in the corner of her eye, trailing yet another corner.


    She followed, unswayed by the distance, faster and faster without thinking. The houses were abandoned here. The stalls closed. Besides Cirin and herself, only the ashes remained. Yet by the abundance of it all she could tell there was once life here, as if Lamanori had lost a limb sometime ago.


    Cirin mad pace finally gave way in front of an abandoned palisade where he caught his breath, and ran inside. Catherine made to him, but surrenedered her chase.


    She had not realised until she stopped. Her head twisted slowly.


    If only graveyards were so beautiful. She had been running beside the walls to a palace the entire time. It was a burnt palace and no doubt once a castle of corpses.Left black to its foundations yet still bespoken of its former glory. It harped of a structure so wide it could have been the black tower¡¯s base. The air was thick with ash here and unto it various spear of light pierced above from the heavons. Lastly,  her eyes fell upon the gates the size of giants porched and scorched and curled in some exquisite fashion. She could not fathom it at the time, yet for some inexplicable reason she found it mesmerizing.


    She shook her head and found it trailing back to the palisade. Her feet broke back into rhythym. This was no time to sight see.


    Catherine nearly collapsed from the run the moment she made it close to the pallisade. Her heart drummed like a tap dancer. She had only been in the city for nearly a month, so she felt unfamiliar with its layout. Though she knew exactly where they were now. This was just one of many palisades littered among the outskirt of the city visible quite prominently from the sea.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    She wandered close to the shambling tower, careful not to step any of the debris spread around it. She froze the moment she heard voices.


    ¡°We need ta go.¡±


    Catherine balled her hands into fists. That was Cirin. Yet just she attempted to turn the corner, another voice tuned in.


    ¡°To somewhere safe?¡±


    ¡°Ya mon. Safest dere is.¡±


    The second voice was a soft one, it almost sounded like a girl¡¯s but it could have also been a younger boy¡¯s. Catherine shook her head and finally turned the corner.


    Two figures stared back at her. The familiar of the two spoke up, ¡°Ya followed me?¡±


    Catherine glanced at Cirin and then the owner of that second voice. He was a young Felian boy, dressed in a mess of tattered silk and commoner¡¯s clothes.


    Her eyes went wide for the second time that day. ¡°It¡¯s you isn¡¯t it? You¡¯re Prince Sol.¡± She gasped.


    The young boy smiled meekly. Before he could open his mouth Cirin stretched his arm infront of him, ¡°Sol, don¡¯t answer that.¡±


    Catherine stifled a laugh and even Sol giggled to it.


    ¡°Cirin, you blockhead!¡± teased Sol.


    Cirin looked dumbfounded for a moment then pressed his free hand against his forehead as he realised his blunder.


    Catherine got a good look at the prince as he continued to laugh at Cirin. He was the model felian. He had black hair and vibrant emerald eyes. Yet unlike the other noble children she had run into, Sol was a twig in human form. At first she thought it was due to the current circumstance, but by the way the his old silks fit him, it was clear he always bore that physique.


    ¡°Who else knows about this?¡± asked Catherine briskly.


    Cirin glanced down as he spoke, ¡°No-one. I couldn¡¯t risk it. I thought ya be da most unreliable cause of da way ya speak and where ya be from, but well.¡±


    Catherine smiled, ¡°You decided to trust me?¡±


    Cirin bit his lip and stamped his hand on Sol¡¯s messy head, ¡°I be not ta type ta trust people, but dis imp convinced me uddawise.¡±


    Sol shook off Cirin¡¯s heavy hand, walked over to Catherine, and held his hand up to hers.


    ¡°If you¡¯ll have me as an acquaintance, my name is Sol Gel¡¯Rave.¡±


    Catherine shook his hand, ¡°You may call me Catherine- hold on, did you say Gel¡¯Rave?¡±


    Cirin watched her, with his arms crossed, ¡°Ya undastand now, miss?¡± he said with some attitude.


    She looked from Cirin to Sol and back. ¡°This is bad.¡± She started, ¡°Very very bad. Indescribably horrid!¡±


    Cirin lifted a finger in expression, ¡°You just described it, didn¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Ah, I remember now. There was scandal about some failed assassination attempts on a boy no less! One who was sent to a gods forsaken city far south in Ilivanmar as far as you could go.¡±


    ¡°Yes, and dis be dat city.¡±


    Catherine began pacing, one hand placed below her chin and her lowered in contemplation, ¡°and the Ilivanamari lords have always been easily corruptible, it would only be a matter of time before they would be paid out.¡± Her speech became as flurried as her pace, ¡°And if they succeeded, well the whole murder could be used as an excuse to invade the northern most cities of Ilivanmar. And¡­ and if that were to happen, the people would support the invasion as a justified reaction! The seas would turn red. The sands into bloodstone. This could be the end of us all!¡±


    Catherine stopped pacing to catch her breath. More and more implications flooded into her head as she realised she too would be involved. So much so she had almost begun to pace again, if Cirin hadn¡¯t grabbed her arm. She looked to the boy. He held a calmness to him, much like his father.


    ¡°Dat won¡¯t happen.¡± He said sternly. He turned to Sol, who had been equally scared by Catherine¡¯s outburst, ¡°As long as I be here, no one will eva hurt Sol. Da prince be da same as you and I. He be breathing, he be feelin¡¯. Ain¡¯t no one deserve ta be treated like a device.¡±


    ¡°Cirin¡­¡± trailed Catherine.


    ¡°But we need ta move. Now.¡±


    Catherine looked at both boys and nodded. There were those who looked upon danger and fled. Catherine always knew that to be the way. But there were also those who made danger seem something to defeat as if it were merely an obstacle. That living life meant nothing if those obstacles never existed.


    ¡°So ya finally get it, mouse.¡±


    All three of them turned to the man watching them from above. Azhar was squatting on one of the many beams supporting the palisade roof.


    Cirin gripped Catherine hard and moved with her to Sol. He then pulled the boy by his hand and all three of them ran through the exit.


    ¡°No time to argue.¡± Spat Cirin as he turned through passageway.


    Catherine wanted look back, but she knew that she was a part of this now. For a moment she swallowed her doubts and ran.


    Just as they reached the exit, Cirin released the two and stepped behind them. There he withdrew a hidden dagger from his shoe and turned to the hallway where they came. He held the dagger with both hands, and spoke with his back to Catherine and Sol, ¡°Run to da hat shop. Tell Marvus everything. I¡¯ll hold da old mon here.¡±


    Catherine started, ¡°Cir-¡±


    ¡°Cirin!¡± cut in Sol.


    ¡°Go.¡± Shouted Cirin.


    Catherine stood her ground and placed a hand on Sol¡¯s shoulder. She gave him a smile then moved that hand to Cirin¡¯s shoulder.


    ¡°You go.¡± She whispered.


    ¡°What?¡± said Cirin over his shoulder.


    Catherine held her free hand in front of her as if in prayer, ¡°I¡¯ll keep him off. If you trust me, trust my ability.¡±


    Cirin lowered his dagger, nodded, and grabbed Sol¡¯s hand.


    Catherine took his place and took a breath. She was ready. Azhar appeared on the other side of the hallway.


    Time seemed to freeze as the man ran towards her. She lowered her forehead and focussed on his position. Her dark brown eyes shined gold for all but a second, for a second was all she needed. Magic was an unorthodox thing, something people dared not whisper in the darkest of alleys. She did not why it was so, just that it was and that a few nobles coveted it. Light shimmered at her fingertips and in a flash it was over.


    Where were Cirin and sol now? Had they left in those impossible seconds? She wondered and wondered as time stood still until reality took hold again.


    Catherine¡¯s eyes snapped open. Azhar¡¯s hand had pushed hers back, preventing her spell. He was close enough now that she could catch his faint breathing, even see the dark in his eyes directed at hers.


    Then, as abruptly as their encounter, the man sighed, ¡°Dat was close.¡±


    ¡°Catherine?¡±


    A horrible shock shot through her and she barely managed to turn her head. They were still there.


    Her speech was broken, ¡°W-why?! Why are you still he-¡±


    Azhar lowered her hand and passed by her and the two boys coolly, not so much as flinching as he brazed the tip of cirin¡¯s dagger and drew blood on his arm.


    When he was a few steps in front of the trio, he withdrew just one of his two blades on his back and held it with one hand in front of him.


    ¡°Sandrats, eh?¡±


    Catherine reached for sol and pulled him behind her. There were at least a dozen of them.


    The scoundrels of Nesdiat did not compare to their southern neighbours. These men all had the eyes of killers. Some of their weapons, ranging from mauls to saw blades were stained with the dark rust of blood. Catherine lowered her brows a she realised some of those men were the same bandits she had seen her first day there.


    They had been following her since then.


    Finally, a short man with a blading cap swaggered to the front of the pack. Unlike the others, he held a pair of brass knuckles and a demeanour suited for a typical boss man.


    ¡°Da boy¡¯s dog wanders outta da pretty palace. Ya went ta fetch ya masta? How loyal.¡± For an imp of a man, he had a menacingly deep voice, ¡°Da red eyed kid and da girl be no part of da deal. Ya give up with fighting and we¡¯ll spare dem. But you. I wasn¡¯t dere dat ngiht, but I be knowing what ya did. For Jafna¡¯s sake, I¡¯ll kill ya myself. ¡±


    Azhar whipped his sword to the ground and laughed in their faces, ¡°When I¡¯m done, you will surrender. Besides, should I believe a word of liar, Toftof?¡±


    ¡°Toftof?¡± whispered Catherine to Cirin.


    Cirin shot her an unimpressed look, ¡°One of da four lieutenants of da sandrats.¡±


    Toftof smiled from ear to ear, ¡°I only lie when I roll da die. If it be even I keep my word, if otherwise I go against it.¡±


    ¡°And what if I kill ya instead.¡± Taunted Azhar.


    Toftof motioned around him, ¡°I doubt even da dog himself could best me, but if da odds be in ya favour my men will finish tings off.¡±


    Azhar stepped forwards, making a few of the sandrats shift and whisper.


    ¡°How bouts we make a wager, Toftof?¡± began Azhar, ¡°You roll da die. If even you keep ya word, if odd ya do what ya will.¡±


    ¡°What be dis wager?¡±


    Azhar pointed his blade at the half man, ¡°Fight me. One on one. If I win ya men back off, If I lose, Sol be yours and da witch behind me won¡¯t kill ya.¡±


    ¡°Witch?!¡± cried one man.


    One by one, the men began to back off, merely at the mention of ¡®witch¡¯.


    Catherine rose a brow and pointed at herself in confusion, ¡°Witch?¡±


    Azhar shot her look, and Catherine understood.


    She placed her hands on her hips, ¡°Weeheehe Weeheehe,¡± she laughed as wickedly as she could, sending one man down, and another struggling to get up.


    ¡°Witch!¡± yelped one of the sandrats.


    Catherine smiled as confidently as she could. She had a prominence in spellcraft, yet whether it could take out twelve men whom she knew nothing about was another concern.


    Yet Toftof seemed un-phased. He narrowed his brows and motioned for the nearest sand rat to approach him.


    As that man gave Toftof a pair of die, Toftof lifted his other hand to calm is subordinates. ¡°Wager accepted.¡± Bellowed the lieutenant.


    In a movement worthy of any practiced gambler, Toftof the liar threw one dice to Azhar and tossed the other directly above him.


    Azhar caught it with ease and studied it intently at the same time Toftof caught his.


    ¡°Five.¡± Echoed Azhar.


    Toftof snarled under his breath and crumbled the other dice with his fist.


    ¡°One.¡± He spat as the dust hit the ground.


    One by one the surrounding sandrats backed away from Toftof. The combatants walked towards each other till they were a mere twenty paces apart. The battle had already begun.


    Toftof was the first to take up a stance. He held his left fist in front of his face while he kept his right fist in front of him. Azhar followed second, he held his lone sabre with his right hand till the center of the blade kept level with the center of his chest. Azhar then lowered his legs and kept them apart.


    While she knew nothing of either man¡¯s fighting style, there was no doubt who would attack first.


    Cirin peered at her over his shoulder, ¡°Catherine, if dis goes badly.¡±


    ¡°I know.¡± Catherine raised one hand in preparation, her eyes quick to study each and every one of the distant sandrats. If there were any bowman, she¡¯d have to take them out first. After a minute¡¯s glance she sighed when she realised that no bowman were present, only to reel to the deafening battle cry of Toftof the liar.


    Toftof was quick. Closing the distance in seconds, Toftof began with two quick punches and a kick. Azhar dodged the first, deflected the second with his hand and defended the kick with his shin.


    Toftof leapt back, watching Azhar¡¯s movements intently before relentlessly charging again. This time he tumbled forwards, caught himself on his hands into a handstand, and begun a flurry of spinning kicks.


    Catherine wondered why Azhar struggled to dodge and defend against these kicks, but it became more and more apparent that Toftof was a master at using his height to his advantage. Perhaps Azhar was not used to defending against kicks at that height.


    Then Azhar responded with his own acrobatics, somersaulting backwards with his sabre hilt between his his teeth. Once back on his feet with his sword in his hands, Azhar turned to the offensive. First he lunged at Toftof with a mid kick. Blocked. Followed by a sweeping low kick, which Toftof jumped.


    Azhar while still one the ground from the sweeping kick then thrust his sabre forwards. It was the perfect attack, quick and hard to anticipate. Even with the agility Toftof possessed, it was clear he could not dodge it in the air. So he didn¡¯t.


    Toftof clamped the blades with his fists mere inches before it pierced his throat and, having done so, he hoisted himself with incredible strength till his feet were above his fists. There, he pivoted his body forwards, and slammed Azhar¡¯s face with his feet, sending the man sprawling backwards.


    Toftof landed on his feet while his opponent managed to land on only a knee. Toftof scowled then, ¡°I¡¯ll avenge Jafna, ya bastard.¡±


    For the first time that day, Azhar flinched, yielding enough time for Toftof to somersault backwards and increase the distance between them.


    Azhar realised what the man was up to, and struggled to rise back to his feet, but the earlier kick left him failing back to his knee. Toftof did not waste the opportunity, instead he jolted into a full on sprint and followed up with a flying kick.


    ¡°Old mon!¡± cried Cirin before the impact.


    The two men met in an echo of boot against metal. Azhar had managed to block the attack with his sabre. Toftof leapt back, forcing Azhar to wield the weight of the blow. Azhar rose after that, but Toftof was quicker. Earning his title, Toftof, one of the four lieutenants, disarmed Azhar with a punch to the wrist and sent him backwards with a solid smack to the chest. Rough metal against unguarded skin.


    Catherine was too far to see the details, but she was sure that hit drew blood. Toftof jumped on Azhar a moment later, meeting the man with another swing to the face. Azhar tried to keep his head down, but Toftof lifted him up by his collar.


    ¡°Are ya really da man who slew Jafna!? Ya be not even worthy of his blade. Is dat why you don¡¯t use it, eh?¡±


    When Azhar failed to answer, Toftof punched him with his other fist.


    ¡°answer me, ya dog!¡± barked Toftof.


    Azhar coughed a couple times and finally managed to speak between breaths, ¡°Yea, I ain¡¯t worthy.¡± He coughed, ¡°I never will be.¡±


    Toftof rose one fist, ready to deliver the death blow.


    Catherine felt her stomach wrench by it all. Just that morning she was reading a book in a hat shop. She glanced at Cirin and knew instantly that whatever she felt was a mere fraction of his agony.


    ¡°I-I never will be.¡± Started Azhar. Toftof¡¯s fist began to waver, ¡°Because¡­¡±


    ¡°Because?¡± bellowed Toftof. When Azhar didn¡¯t answer, Toftof lowered his fist and re-clasped Azhar¡¯s collar, hoisting him up once more to pry the answer from him, ¡°Because!?¡±


    Catherine could tell the two shared a history deeper than their respective affiliations. It was written in Toftof¡¯s maddened eyes.


    ¡°Because¡­¡± started Azhar.


    A single heavy thud echoed across the ruins. Head against head. The on-lookers held their breaths. Even Sol peaked at the scene from Catherine¡¯s side.


    In one fated move, one man stood above the other. It was Azhar.


    He looked down at the shorter man, now on his bum and clutching his head.


    Azhar rubbed his own forehead, wiped his mouth, and inhaled deeply. Just as Toftof stumbled to his feet, Azhar shouted with all the energy he had left in his body, ¡°Because it¡¯s for his son!¡±


    Catherine felt out of place hearing that. Surely Azhar had a reason for shouting that out, though for the life of her,she had no idea why. That was when she saw Cirin staring motionlessly at Azhar, a line of tears streaming down his cheek.


    ¡°Cirin, you ok?¡±


    Cirin wiped his eyes, ¡°Ah, it¡¯s¡­ it¡¯s nothing.¡±


    Finally Toftof spoke, ¡°I really am a liar, eh?¡±


    Azhar took a few step backwards and fell on his bum. Toftof did the same.


    Azhar started to chuckle and so did Toftof, until both were laughing like fools with bruises littered across their faces.


    Catherine shook Cirin¡¯s shoulder, ¡°What¡¯s happening here?¡± she whispered.


    Cirin sniffed and somehow managed to smile, ¡°It¡¯s over.¡±


    Toftof¡¯s deep voice took on a hushed quality, ¡°Here I wagered my life, and I couldn¡¯t even do dat.¡±


    ¡°Ya almost took mine.¡±


    ¡°Ofcourse, cause I¡¯ve always been betta dan ya.¡±


    The two men laughed again, much to the confusion of the crowd.


    ¡° ¡®A sandrat may refuse a job if he tinks da job forsake his principles¡¯. You rememba dat?¡±


    Azhar had his eyes on the sky, ¡°I was never da idealist.¡±


    ¡°Well I never liked da idea of killing some kid, even if he be noble.¡±


    ¡°Den you know why I did Jafna in.¡±


    ¡°I tough dat was a rumor?¡±


    ¡°Ya still tink so?¡±


    There was a long silence.


    ¡°No.¡± Said Toftof simply. He eyed the trio a ways behind Azhar, ¡°We best be going den. Da mission be a failiure. Sandrats!¡± He bellowed loudly, ¡°Retreat!¡±


    There as an audible confusion amongst the watching bandits, yet it seemed as short lived as the command. The marauding Sandrats departed in packets, with two running to Toftof to help him up. A few of the brigands even threw Catherine telling glances that hinted of fear.


    Azhar was still sitting when Toftof turned to him, either of the imp¡¯s arms around the necks of his squatting assistants.


    ¡°I may have spared ya, but dun tink the udda lieutenants be sa kind. Hide da boy.¡± Warned Toftof.


    Azhar laughed and clutched his head a moment later, ¡°Which one?¡± he jested.


    Toftof threw his opponent one more smile and was gone the next.


    Catherine, Cirin, and Sol approached the man when all the sandrats had gone. The moment she could see his face, Catherine¡¯s gut knotted. His cheeks had turned into apples with a glaring cut below his left eye that reminded her of raspberry jam. Catherine shook her head. In times like these she could only think of sweet things.


    Cirin froze with his eyes to the ground and Catherine halted with him.


    ¡°Cirin?¡± she prodded, watching the boy carefully.


    Both had stopped ten steps before facing the man.


    ¡°Azhar,¡± Began Cirin, ¡°I get it.¡±


    ¡°Oi Sol. Ya mustn¡¯t do such tings!¡±


    Azhar struggled to his feet, but fell back on his bum, still clutching the reddened patch on his head. Catherine saw the prince then. While the two of them struggled to approach the man who had saved them Sol wasted no time to help him.


    ¡°Sol!¡±


    Sol bid the man no response, only treatment as the boy ripped the fine silk off his sleeve and proceeded to wrap it around the left side of Azhar¡¯s head.


    Cirin passed Catherine then, and at last came face to face with Azhar.


    ¡°Ya have many questions, I¡¯m sure.¡± Admitted the man, now ruffling the head of Sol and staring at Cirin, ¡°Ya been thru enough, but I can¡¯t ansah dose questions.¡±


    Cirin shook his head, ¡°No. I told you. I get it.¡±


    Azhar smiled at the boy, ¡°I know.¡±


    Catherine noticed the sky dimming by the horizon, ¡°I¡¯m sorry to hinder your father-son reunion, but didn¡¯t that brigand say to hide Sol?¡±


    A moment passed as both Cirin and Azhar stared at Catherine in complete silence.


    ¡°Catherine was it?¡± started Azhar, ¡°Dis mouse ain¡¯t my son.¡±


    ¡°And dis bruised up fool could neva be my father.¡± Asserted Cirin.


    ¡°Oi oi, enough wit dat. I¡¯m bruised cause of you, mouse.¡± Pushed Azhar.


    Catherine ogled at them. She had become the only fool there, ¡°But back at the shop, when I asked Marvus, he confirmed it.¡±


    Azhar stood up with Cirin¡¯s aide. ¡°Are you sure he confirmed dat? Or his own assumption of what ya said?¡± he quandered.


    Catherine slumped her head low, ¡°His assumption.¡± She sighed, ¡°But you two look so much alike. I couldn¡¯t fathom a complete lack of family ties.¡±


    Cirin laughed to that, yet Azhar froze up.


    Sol nodded, ¡°They do look alike!¡± he giggled.


    Azhar laughed awkwardly, ¡°Coincidence. Really. But you be right about hidin¡¯ da prince. Come, I know just da place.¡±


    Catherine couldn¡¯t help feeling that he had shaken off her remark. Yet it had been a longer arduous day then she had been accustomed to. Wherever he had in mind, it would offer her some rest.


    ¡°Here!?¡± echoed Catherine.


    ¡°Not so loud, girl.¡± Hushed Azhar.


    Catherine took a few steps then slumped against a shelf, causing a few of the hats to stumble off of it. To think the place she¡¯d have to stay in for the foreseeable future would become the refugee of royalty. It was unfathomable. Unthinkable! A definite risk if she¡¯d ever be so brave again.


    Then Marvus walked in and Azhar promptly shut the door before the man made any sense of it.


    ¡°Is that Sol!¡± he practically shouted.


    ¡°Marvus, please.¡± Responded Azhar.


    It took him a few moments, but even the cross-eyed hat salesmen knew it better to stay silent in these matters.


    Azhar eyed out the window cautiously and continued his instruction, ¡°I¡¯ll have a few of my men guardin¡¯ da outside tonight. Inconspicuous and da like. If all goes well, I¡¯ll be here tommora¡¯.¡±


    ¡°Can we atleast treat your wounds?¡± offered Catherine.


    Azhar smiled for a moment, ¡°Da prince did just enough for dat. I¡¯ll have da palace medicine men take care of da rest. For now, I best be off.¡±


    ¡°Azhar?¡± started Cirin. The whole room hushed when he spoke up. Cirin was not often the type to ask question especially not in the docile tone he had just employed.


    ¡°Yes, mouse?¡±


    Cirin puffed out his nose, pressed his eyes, and looked down then up, ¡°If dey come here, I¡¯ll knock em out myself.¡±


    Azhar pushed open the door and stood still a moment before he left, ¡°Den dey betta not come.¡±


    The door shut close after that, prompting a universal sigh amoungst three of the four residents.


    Marvus glanced in confusion, ¡°Why¡¯re you all so relieved?¡±


    Catherine half smiled and rose a finger, ¡°Actually-¡±


    ¡°We were about ta leave da hiding spot.¡± Cut in Cirin.


    ¡°And then mister Azhar appeared above us!¡± jolted Sol.


    ¡°We ran away from him tinking he was da enemy-¡±


    ¡°But sandrats surrounded us right at the exit.¡±


    ¡°Just when da day seemed lost. Azhar ran in front of us and challenged dere head commander.¡±


    ¡°It was horrible fight.¡± Entered Sol.


    Cirin leapt in front of sol and started shadowboxing as he spoke, ¡°But Azhar stood his ground, punch for parry. It was amazing til da sandrat got him low and almost did him in and then..and then¡­¡±


    Cirin trailed off at the last part while his enthusiastic shadowboxing died down to a few drunken swings.


    Marvus cared not however, now clapping at the duo¡¯s performance, ¡°Splendid! Splendid! And now we bear the presence of his majesty Solesio Gel¡¯Rave.¡± Marvus bowed in exaggerated fashion.


    ¡°Just Sol is fine.¡± Shied the prince.


    Marvus glanced from Sol to Cirin, ¡°Stay with Cirin then, I imagine after all you¡¯ve been through a pleasant rest is what you most desire.¡±


    As daylight faded the shock the trio had felt faded with it. Just as dim moon lit up the sand kissed city of Lamanori, a strange exhaustion took a hold of all three children alike. In a matter of hours they fell to the calling of slumber.


    When morning came Azhar kept his promise. Catherine, Sol, and Cirin lined up infront of him. Catherine wore a faded frown the moment Azhar cleared his throat to speak. This time he wore a proper bandage across his face, over his nose, and above his right eye. There lacked a trace of his previous reassuring demeanour as he bid them a constant frown and downdraught eyes.


    ¡°A week.¡± He started, addressing the three, ¡°Cirin, Sol, you two will leave wit me in a week¡¯s time.¡±


    Catherine felt the urge to speak up. She was a part of the trio and deserved just as much reason to leave with them. But the moment she shifted, Marvus¡¯s hand weighed down on her shoulder. She looked to him and caught him shaking his head.


    ¡°Before ya protest.¡± Continued Azhar, ¡°Dis be a matta of our kingdom¡¯s safety. Ofcourse, da prince may decline.¡±


    ¡°I will not.¡± Reassured Sol.


    Azhar nodded, ¡°Den Cirin ya have no choice.¡±


    Cirin cocked his head, ¡°Not dat I would leave Sol alone, but I still tink I be a free man.¡±


    Azhar pointed at the boy accusingly, ¡°Ya owe da palace for ya rent here. Even da amount ya haven¡¯t stayed for.¡±


    ¡°Rent?¡±


    Azhar scoffed, ¡°What ya tink, eh? Dey let ya sleep and eat here fa free?¡±


    ¡°But Marvus said he¡¯d take me in cause his knew my mudda¡¯¡±


    ¡°Cirin, your mudda was a women of fine breeding wit a head as big as ya. She¡¯d never associate wit a man like Marvus.¡± Azhar glanced awkwardly at the man in question, ¡°Er, no offense Marvus.¡±


    Marvus shrugged, ¡°None taken.¡±


    Cirin narrowed his eyes at Azhar. Catherine noticed a difference in the boy. The moment Azhar had mentioned his mother he had changed somehow.


    ¡°I¡¯ll go.¡± Said Cirin.


    ¡°Den it be settled. Now about da trip itself. Have any of ya read da newsprint today?¡±


    There was a shuffle before at last Marvus produced a crumpled yellow print from the first drawrer of his business table.


    ¡°Open it.¡± Instructed Azhar.


    Marvus did just that, yet the moment he did Azhar directed his hand at the first headline of the second page.


    ¡°Oh my.¡± Trailed Marvus.


    ¡°Aye.¡± Said Azhar.


    Catherine followed their example as she read the heading. She tossed her eyes to Sol a moment later.


    ¡°Prince Sol is dead?¡± she read aloud, ¡°But it¡¯s obviously not true. I mean, he¡¯s right here.¡±


    ¡°And dat is da problem. When da sandrats found out about Sol¡¯s hiding place yestaday, a few of da idiots mistook da information as confirmation of his death. Da sandrats are many in Lamaonori so dat rumor spread.¡±


    ¡°So then we just need to correct it.¡±


    Azhar nodded, ¡°Dat¡¯s why I need a week. Give me a week, and I¡¯ll correct it here. But afta dat, we need ta leave dis city and stop da rumor from spreading more. Da nobles dat need be convinced are stubborn folk, so dey¡¯ll need ta see da boy ta believe it.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s too dangerous!¡± warned Catherine, ¡°The moment anyone finds out that prince Sol is alive, they¡¯ll hunt him again. You were able to defend him because you knew the sandrats you fought here, but If you leave this city whatever may threaten Sol you might not be able to beat.¡±


    ¡°Dat is why I won¡¯t be alone.¡± Rebutted Azhar, ¡°Not just Cirin. In da weeks¡¯ time, I¡¯ll have a small yet suitable crew ready for da escort. Dey be tough reliable men.¡±


    ¡°No!¡± spouted Catherine, ¡°I won¡¯t accept this. This is just¡­just rash!¡±


    ¡°Then why not help them, Catherine?¡±


    Catherine turned to her mentor. This time it was Marvus who spoke up.


    ¡°You have a week as well if you think about it. Teach them all you know about the practices and policies of other cities. Even about the gangs associated with those cities. We have plenty of books on that, rather nasty, subject in the library.¡±


    ¡°But I won¡¯t be able to cover all that in a week.¡±


    ¡°Den write ta us.¡± Offered Cirin.


    ¡°We¡¯ll read them all, promise!¡± entered Sol.


    ¡°Sol, Cirin¡­¡± Catherine shut her eyes and then finally pried the open and sighed simultaneously, ¡°Fine. But whatever you do, don¡¯t die.¡±


    ¡°Promise.¡± Nodded Cirin.


    When Azhar left, Catherine began researching immediately. They had a week.


    Cirin had just awoken the day after, careful not to stir the fast asleep Sol. Though it was the first day, Catherine had not contacted him once. Cirin straddled into the hat shop with his arms above his head and a yawn drawn out from his lips.


    Catherine¡¯s quick stiff footsteps greeted him the moment he passed Marvus¡¯s table and the hefty slam of some heavy object followed. Cirin pried his tired eyes abruptly to the table and Catherine patted the heavy pile of books she placed there.


    ¡°This is for you.¡± She said smiling.


    Cirin pointed at himself in disbelief, ¡°Ya can¡¯t be serious, mon. Dis be more dan I read in my entire life.¡±


    ¡°Oh don¡¯t worry.¡± She assured him, waving one hand in front of her, ¡°I highlighted the parts you need to know the most. It should take you.¡± She tapped her chin as she worked out the numbers, ¡°Six maybe eight hours if you study dutifully.¡±


    Cirin nearly fell back, ¡°I rather be training dan dis.¡±


    Catherine sighed, ¡°I knew you¡¯d say that.¡± With a flick of her finger, Cirin¡¯s feet gave way and he fell back first on the ground. As he tried to stand up, the books Catherine had picked up started flapping and flying around.


    Cirin swung his arms about , ¡°Witchcraft!¡± he scorned the scholar.


    In the back, Marvus scoffed a laugh.


    Finally, Catherine snapped her fingers and one after the other the book neatly piled atop of each other. Cirin blinked to the maddened display, he was breathing hard.


    ¡°Read the one on the top first.¡± Instructed the scholar.


    Before Cirin cold protest, the book flipped open in front of him.


    ¡°Dis be da work of scholars and magic men, why do I need ta take part in it?¡±


    ¡°You agreed yourself. Now read.¡±


    Cirin felt his eyes twitching. He was powerless in front of her. Wearily, he eyed the door. It wasn¡¯t far, if he could just bolt to it while Catherine was unawares, maybe just maybe¡­


    ¡°Wow! Can you do that again?¡±


    Both Catherine and Cirin turned to Prince Sol standing at the hallway entrance. His face was a blush with awe, his mouth agape in wonder.


    ¡°Only if you study everything I need you to.¡±


    ¡°Deal!¡± agreed the boy happily.


    Cirin let loose a heavy sigh. Sol had fallen into Catherine¡¯s trap. Being a man of honor, he could not abandon his young charge. ¡°I guess I my choice be gone now.¡± He lauded.


    Catherine smiled, ¡°I¡¯m glad you see it that way.¡±


    With their course decided, the day trudged on and one day of reading soon became three. By then, even the big-headed Cirin had gotten used to Catherine¡¯s tutelage.


    ¡°And dis Rentrala¡¯far of Ezmir work unda three leaders?¡±


    Catherine nodded, ¡°From what was written about them five years ago, yes. They¡¯re a strong hierchal bunch with strict discipline as far as city-gangs go. If you ever run into them, the best way to scare them is with a simple trick.¡±


    ¡°A trick!?¡± beamed Sol.


    Catherine patted the prince on the head, ¡°Not the kind a prankster may pull. Rather a simple magical incantation.¡±


    Cirin looked to the scholar with a drawn out stare, ¡°Ya know we dun know any magic.¡±


    ¡°And you¡¯ll never be able to.¡± Said Catherine smiling.


    Even it were for a moment, Cirin felt just at the slightest bit insulted.


    Catherine reached into her belt pocket, speaking as she pulled a locket out a glinting locket, ¡°Considering Ezmir is your first stop, I prepared an enchanted locket in advance.¡± She handed it to Sol who sat across from her.


    Sol latched onto it and immediately started prodding it eying it from every angle.


    ¡°Flip it open and tap the bottom twice.¡±


    Just as Sol did that, the locket flared up and flash brightly, blinding Cirin momentarily. When his vision came to, he stared at the strange device in distain.


    ¡°Close your eyes when you use it by the way.¡± Informed Catherine, though notably a bit late, ¡°If you employ it against the Rentrala¡¯far, they¡¯ll think it a magical spell and hopefully not dare to fight you.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡± Nodded Cirin.


    ¡°This may also work against the Tanin gang of Gara and the Al¡¯zahar cultists of the Seventh Star. But from what I read, you mustn¡¯t rely on it against it the Black Necks.¡±


    Cirin glanced at his book entitled ¡®The Beginners Guide to the Seventh Star¡¯. He had not read anything on the Black Necks as of yet.


    ¡°I hope we don¡¯t see them.¡± Confessed Sol. Cirin pressed his brows together. Sol, though younger than his body guard, was adept in the scholarly arts. His piddling strength paled before his unnatural intellect.


    ¡°They- they scare me.¡± Sol looked down. Still, he was a timid boy.


    ¡°As they should!¡± retorted Catherine. She turned to Cirin, ¡°Listen, Cirin, as far as the city-gangs, the Black Necks are the one gang you must fear the most. They are ruthless. Yes, they are quite far from Lamonori in their city of Ibule, but if you must go there stray away from the Black Necks as much as possible. If they go after Sol, they will not hesitate in¡­¡± Catherine trailed as she avoided the prince¡¯s eyes, ¡°you know.¡±


    Cirin shut his eyes hard, ¡°I know.¡± He said slowly.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Cirin will protect me.¡± Again the young prince caught them both by surprise.


    Tears swelled to her eyes, but she rubbed them away as she noted the young prince. His unwavering faith was a thing of wonder, considering what Grod told her he¡¯d been through.


    ¡°Sol is a remarkable boy. He¡¯s been abandoned by his country, his family, all since he was just an infant.¡± Said Grod, ¡°but he never seemed to be bothered by it. Just the contrary, he appears to be a normal healthy child.¡±


    ¡°Maybe he was too young to understand it?¡± questioned Catherine.


    ¡°Maybe so, but understand that he has always been more appreciative of others than those his age. He¡¯s a genius that boy. Even Master Marvus thinks so.¡±


    Then she remembered the second part of what Grod told her. She turned to Cirin this time.


    ¡°Grod told me about you two and how you¡¯d always taunt Sol back at the palace. He said out of all the guards who hated guarding him, you were the one who openly expressed your distain. Why then? Why did you protect him so?¡±


    Cirin pushed Sol playfully then wrapped one arm around the prince, ¡°To tell ya da truth, I did hate him long ago. Always shying away from tings royalty should neva shy from. Making us guard him while da udders laughed at us fa doing so¡¯. Den one day when I was nine, two years after being assigned ta Sol, we were runnin¡¯ low on food, and being who we were, da feeble guards of an infant, dey decided ta feed us da least. Dey gave us so little, dat at nights I thought I be betta of eating da scarabs in da palace grounds. My gut growled like a lion every day, it became a pain I could not suppress. So when I had enough, I decided ta get back at da bastards who kept da food away from me.¡±


    Cirin let go of Sol, made his hands fists, and pressed them against the ground, ¡°So I stole from da storehouse.¡± Cirin looked away from them both, ¡°It was just one piece of bread, but as soon as dey found out, I was beaten and thrown in a holding cell for a day without food.¡±


    ¡°Cirin¡­¡± reached Catherine, but stopped short. She thought her tutelage had been rough.


    ¡°Dat stupid old mon, Azhar, was off on some mission dat week. Can ya imagine? When I need him most. I though dey were goinna kill me. No nine year old should have ta tink like dat. It was dark, cold, noting but rats scurrying in da distance. And den, dat night when I could barely move, my cell door creeped open.¡± Cirin smiled at Sol, ¡°And dere he was, dis imp, with butta¡¯d bread in hand. He was skinnier dan me, yet he told me ta have it. Azhar came back da next day, scolded da guards real good, but if it wasn¡¯t for Sol, I¡¯d be dead.¡±


    ¡°So that¡¯s why.¡± Said Catherine.


    ¡°Well, dat¡¯s what started it. It was from dere dat I started paying attention to what da prince did. I need ta decide if he was worth protecting.¡±


    ¡°And your answer?¡±


    Cirin smiled, ¡°Da same reason you be helping us now.¡±


    Catherine lowered her head. If even a little, she understood their bond. With little delay she rose her hand and signaled the beginning of a quiet reading session. Now, more than ever, she felt a deep desire to help those two succeed. Not just this week, from there on in she¡¯d put all of herself into researching the dangers of Illivanmar. She gripped her book hard, Cirin and Sol would come back alive, she would make sure of that.


    They days past without much respite until Catherine finally let up on the day before the last. With the last day they had before their departure, Sol and Cirin would prepare by resting.


    ¡°All ready?¡± prompted Azhar.


    Both the boys nodded.


    ¡°Den we¡¯ll leave immediately. Say ya goodbyes.¡±


    Sol ran up and hugged Catherine by the waist tightly, leaving her to awkwardly pat him on the head, ¡°I¡¯ll miss you to.¡± She laughed.


    When Cirin approached her, she eyed him and extended her hand to meet his hand held out.


    ¡°A pleasure, Miss Catherine.¡± Shook Cirin.


    ¡°A pleasure.¡± She responded.


    It was barely dawn when the three of them left. The streets were still empty. Marvus, Grod, and Catherine watched them go, silent all the while.


    In a way, Cirin would accomplish something Catherine had hoped to do herself. He¡¯d see more of them, the towers. Catherine eyed the one lumbering behind her. For nearly a month she had been in Lamonori, yet this seemed to be her second time truly admiring the monolith. She wondered just what it was and whether there truly existed thirteen of them. She looked onto the dawn Cirin had disappeared into. Maybe Cirin would find out.

 Chapter 4, The Choice of Black Feathers

    Where the tales of the black feathered man ended, the true story began. When the slain man awoke once more, he found himself before a council of four.


    Four seats of shears monstrosity awaited before him, though one of was empty. The three that remained gazed on. One giant seemed pale, white and skinny, dressed in all black with eyes of liquid silver. The second giant proved steadfast and burly, shimmering and bronze and covered in fine silver plate. The last of the three was fat and golden, a head always smiling, a chest bare but emboldened.


    The white one spoke first, ¡°A second chance we offer you, but in the form that only one of us will decide.¡±


    ¡°I will listen to your offers and with one I shall abide.¡± Agreed the black feathered man.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    The white one spoke again, ¡°I offer you a place where you must want all the world.¡±


    ¡°I refuse.¡± Stated the black feathered man.


    The gold one second, ¡°I offer you a place where the world must want you.¡±


    ¡°I refuse.¡± Repeated the black feathered man.


    Finally, the bronze giant spoke up, ¡°I offer you a place where you must defend another.¡±


    ¡°Is this another whom I should love?¡± asked the black feathered man.


    The bronze giant lowered its massive head till its beady brown eyes met the black feathered¡¯s red, ¡°The one you must defend will be your king.¡±


    ¡°My ruler? My chief? Or is it a symbolic thing?¡±


    ¡°Decide.¡± Roared the bronze one abruptly, ¡°Or be stuck in damnation for all eternity.¡±


    The black feathered man shuffled and walked, all around him a peculiar darkness stalked.


    ¡°Have I died?¡±


    ¡°Decide.¡±


    The black feathered man halted then quite quickly. He knew his options, yet each one seemed prickly.


    ¡°I choose to defend.¡±

 Chapter 5, Ezmir, the Second Star

    Cirin shielded his eyes. The winds were picking up.


    ¡°Oi, Sol cover ya eyes more, mon!¡±


    Cirin reached for Sol¡¯s scarf and pulled it down over his face.


    ¡°I can¡¯t see this way, Cirin!¡± complained the prince.


    ¡°Dere be notin¡¯ ta see.¡± Retorted Cirin. And it wasn¡¯t because of the blinding sands either.


    All around their company, a sea of tannish sand stretched from horizon to horizon. The further they trudged the more it seemed to engulf the world.


    The skies were murky behind the scores of dusting sands. Besides the winds and idle chatter all Cirin could hear was the sliding of their giant pack snake, which carried a small sand sled as well as their supplies. Cirin eyed it uneasily. The snake was a fat but short thing, it looked more like a slug with scales that sometimes stuck its forked tongue out.


    ¡°Not a fan of snakesss?¡± slithered the lone woman in their company.


    Cirin pouted and looked away from her.


    ¡°Mother Manama can tell ya be having a fear of em.¡± She continued, ¡°Mother Manama can tell ya a story about Toftof ta cheer ya up.¡±


    ¡°Mana, mind telling him about your own stories, eh?¡±


    Cirin glanced from Manama to Toftof, still at awe that Azhar had managed to conscript the bandit, ¡°I dun want ta hear eider of ya stories.¡± Started Cirin.


    ¡°Tell me! Tell me!¡± jumped Sol at the offer.


    Manama chuckled, letting a few more of the numerous beads and metal rings attached to her hair jingle than usual. She weighed her head on one tattooed hand as she began, ¡°Lets see. Do ya want ta know how I got this piercing?¡± She spun her supporting hand and pointed at one of the two piercings on the bridge of her nose.


    ¡°Dat one? Tell da boy how ya got your udder piercing.¡± Teased Toftof.


    Manama smacked Toftof on his balding head, ¡°No wonder ya never grow talla¡¯. Ya still be acting like a child.¡±


    ¡°Oi, I can beat men twice my size!¡±


    ¡°Only at fighting.¡± Added Manama.


    From the front of the pack, Azhar let out his own chuckle, inciting the already furious Toftof into a bright tomato, ¡°Shuddup, both of ya, I ratha hear da winds dan listen to dis nonsense!¡±


    ¡°So the piercing?¡± asked Sol.


    ¡°ah yes dat. It all began¡­¡±


    Cirin let the voices mull into the background as he stared into the desert. He had heard about the endless sands his entire life. How most of their country was just sands and nothing else. Every so often he¡¯d see a dune towering in the distance, well swept and shifting. He¡¯d wonder when the very sands would swallow him up.


    Then in the distance, he spotted what looked to be three dark furred slender creatures, much like the otters by the palace waters. The three of them were diving in and out of the sands in the same direction the company was heading.


    ¡°Azhar, what are dose?¡± He questioned his master.


    Their soft steps continued a little further and Azhar halted abruptly. He calmed the pack serpent as Cirin turned towards him.


    Azhar¡¯s eyes were fixated on the sand-ferrets.


    ¡°Sand seals.¡± He said simply.


    Mother Manama let out a short gasp and Toftof walked up to Azhar.


    ¡°Think, we should get on da snake?¡±


    Azhar did not answer. He watched those three ferrets until they dove into a sand dune and did not return.


    ¡°No. We keep going.¡± Ordered Azhar. Cirin tensed. Azhar¡¯s voice had taken on a deeper commanding quality. He had only heard him like that a few times before, ¡°Cirin, Sol. If ya two spot any of dose creatures again, tell me.¡±


    Cirin nodded and so did Sol. In times like those Cirin learned to just listen to what Azhar said.


    The company continued as they had for the day, and when the cold desert night came, Azhar had Sol and Cirin bundle up and on the cart while the three adults would take turns resting as well. Yet, no matter what, they did not stop moving.


    The next day, the winds cleared and re-emerging sun played a blistering spell upon them. Sweat kissed their skins underneath the layers of fine silk and cotton, soon it became almost unbearable. It was hard, but it was nothing compared to the days he had to train for hours outside. Cirin remembered those days well. At first he languished it, but little by little it became the norm. Azhar said it was the young age in which he started that let him do that. Train when the body is yet a softened clay, and the training shall mold it. Azhar was the worst poet even at the best of times.


    The five them walked and walked for the rest of the day, and at times Azhar offered Sol a seat on his shoulders that made Cirin the slightest bit jealous, though he dared not show it.


    Finally at the top of a peculiarly tall dune they saw it. Cirin could not take his eyes off it. He had seen Lamanori¡¯s every morning he trained yet this one, though exactly the same in every way, was immediately different. The black Tower of Ezmir lumbered in the distance.


    There was no sea here. No screeching gulls or rocky cliffs, compared to Lamanori, Ezmir was its own entity. As they moved ever closer, Cirin squinted at the base of the tower, noting the shimmering sandstone palace and then the various houses that grew shorter as they strayed away from the base of the tower.


    They arrived at the entrance in a little under an hour. A line had formed there with a dozen pack snakes and companies. Each company had its own banner representing the city they came from, and each company had its own style of resident. Some had head clothed merchants, covered in fine silks from neck to toes. Others hosted armored mercenaries not so dissimilar to the sandrats back home. And yet another gathered white robed men with golden piercings and black tattoos all over their heads.


    Azhar leaned down to Cirin as those particular men shuffled to the gate guards, ¡°Towa priests.¡± He whispered.


    Cirin narrowed his brows, feeling uneasy knowing there were those who worshipped the towers. From what little Catherine waged on about the towers, he knew there was not much good that came about them.


    At about the time they were next in line, Azhar tapped Cirin on the shoulder. Cirin paid him due attention and paused at the weapon Azhar held out in front of him. It was the wooden sabre he had trained with that year.


    ¡°Hold onto this, Mouse. Remember what I told ya and use it wisely.¡±


    Cirin grasped the blade from both ends and nodded to the man.


    At last their turn came to arrive at the gates. One of the two guards their lowered his spear before they entered and the other walked up to them.


    He was armored in typical royal guard mail with a pointed chain hat and a blue-gold tabard. His crest had a fish with an arrow through it.


    ¡°Reason for coming here?¡± asked the guard.


    ¡°Royal visit.¡± Said Azhar cooly.


    ¡°Royal?¡± The guard gave his companion a look then spun back to Azhar, ¡°Where is this royalty? And why wasn¡¯t it announced?¡±


    Azhar sighed, ¡°I was afraid my courier would not make it. It be a matta of urgency and it be a visit from dis boy here.¡± Azhar waved a hand at Sol, ¡°I present ta ya, Prince Sol Gel¡¯Rave.¡±


    ¡°G-Gel¡¯Rave!? Ah yes, yes. Show me da paperwork.¡± Azhar handed him a clean piece of beach tree paper from his coat pocket, ¡°Ok I see. Tank you. Wait in da guardhouse inside, we¡¯ll have escorts for ya right away, ah ya majesty.¡±


    The speaking guard bowed awkwardly, and the other followed suit.


    The waiting room was a little cooler with mud lining outside absorbing the heat. Ten minutes in and a fat and heavily sweating magistrate burst into the guardhouse. His nervous face was immediately upon Cirin¡¯s company the moment he could look up from panting.


    ¡°Prince Sol? I¡¯ll be your escort.¡± He spoke between breaths.


    Cirin, Sol, Azhar, Toftof, and Manama along with their pack snack followed the magistrate who late introduced himself as Ade down a deliberately pleasant looking path. The sandstone buildings that lined the sideways were large enough to be mansions, and every so often they¡¯d pass a bridge with a rushing canal underneath it. Cirin even noticed a blooming greenery in between the spaces of the sandstone path.


    Ade nervously explained the sudden life of the place, ¡°It¡¯s always been like dis in our fine city. Dere be well springs well beneath us and near da tower. So da closer ya get to da tower da more watta dere is. It be no Gin dough.¡±


    ¡°The great oasis of the desert.¡± Noted Azhar.


    Cirin glanced about as they walked. There were little people here to. Strange, considering how valued an oasis was to any desert resident.


    ¡°Not much people here.¡± Caught on Azhar.


    ¡°Well yes dat. Ofcourse!¡± asserted their guide, ¡°Most of the nobles who live in dis area are visiting da palace today.¡±


    Azhar exchanged glances with Toftof and Manama, ¡°I tought our visit was unannounced?¡±


    Their guide slowed as they neared a large, closed gate. The guide disappeared for a while to the gate house and returned to the sound of the gates opening. The company of five entered the luxurious courtyard, well equipped with crystalline waters and an assortment of exotic flowers. Yet as soon as they entered the doors behind them slammed shut. Cirin scanned the courtyard again. For a so called party, it seemed strangely empty save a stout man dressed in a black suit and fisherman¡¯s hat by the gates.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    A straight path separated the gate way from the palace doors, and cherry trees blossomed in rows on either side of the path. As they neared the palace doors, chatter could be heard within.


    ¡°Apologies. I forgot ta mention we had udda guests of import today.¡± Spoke Ade, ¡°Now, if you¡¯d follow me. Ah.¡± He stopped tersely and motioned at the reins of the pack snake Azhar was carrying, ¡°Leave ya pack snake here, will you? I¡¯ll have da attendants see to it.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me.¡± Queued the voice of the stout man.


    ¡°A friend of yours?¡± asked Ade staring at the man with the hat.


    Azhar shook his head, ¡°We¡¯ve neva met.¡± He said cautiously.


    ¡°If you¡¯d like I can escort dis man out of da premise.¡± Added Ade.


    ¡°I need only a moment wit your guests, good sir.¡± Bowed the man in extravagant formality.


    Ade glanced at Azhar, who lazily shrugged back.


    ¡°Alright.¡± Conceded Ade, ¡°I¡¯ll be awaiting ya presence inside.¡±


    Ade bowed to the company, creaked open the door, and slipped inside.


    There wasn¡¯t so much as a hiss from the snakes as the heavy doors slammed after the man.


    ¡°So?¡± started Azhar, with a gesture of his head, ¡°What is it ya want?¡±


    ¡°And be brisk about it. I smell something fine in dere.¡± Warned Toftof.


    ¡°I¡¯ll endeavour, Sir.¡± Noted the stout man. With that, he reached in his pocket and withdrew a single card. He handed it towards Azhar with a flick of his white gloved hands. He twirled his curled mustache with his other hand and hoisted his head high. His slight tanned skin glistened red in the setting sun.


    ¡°A murder businessman?¡± read Azhar aloud, ¡°Is dis some foul prank?¡±


    The stout fixed his coat and guffawed in a simultaneous motion, ¡°Not at all, I assure you. It is the truth, Sir.¡± He fixed his beady eyes on the Prince, prompting Azhar and Cirin to step in front of the boy.


    ¡°Let me explain.¡± Started the murder businessmen, ¡°My name is Gorat Katar. I specialize in finding high priority targets, the kind I predict to fetch the highest bounties for veritable employers, and dispatching them.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re an assassin?¡± spat Azhar, with all but his hand on his favorite blade.


    The stout man held up one hand, ¡°Practice patience, my good sir. I am no assassin. I am simply¡­¡± He waved that clothed figure, ¡°A middle man so to speak. I pay you, the guards, a sizable sum to forfeit your duties and I commit the deed. Then I take back proof of the kill for auction.¡±


    ¡°A foul business.¡± Scoffed Manama


    Azhar spat a ways in front of the man, ¡°And let me guess. Ya target be day boy behind me, eh?¡±


    ¡°Prince Solesio Gel¡¯Rave.¡± Noted Gorat, ¡°Precisely. How much did your benefactors pay you? Five Irs? Ten? I¡¯ll triple it.¡±


    ¡°Look around ya, mista Katar.¡± Growled Azhar, ¡°Ya see any of us flinchin at da notion?¡±


    Gorat tossed his eyes about and frowned, ¡°No.¡± he admitted.


    ¡°Den ya know our answer.¡± Concluded Azhar.


    Gotar sighed, fixed his coat once again, and bowed, ¡°Good day, gentlemen. Madam.¡± He nodded at Manama, before taking his time to go around the company. Cirin chased the man with his eyes. For portly man he was a fast walker.


    Azhar shook his head, ¡°Dis world be mad if men like dat exist in it.¡±


    Manama laughed as the man pushed open the heavy doors, releasing an orchestra of pompous chatter.


    ¡°When was it eva sane, eh?¡± she mused.


    Bare in proper attire and expectations, the five companions continued into the palace. For once they entered, they came upon a ball of sorts.


    That much was to be expected considering that¡¯s what nobles almost always did when they gathered. This particular ball was a masquerade. All attendees wore spectacular masks of various animals and desert spirits. Ade motioned the five travellers to follow him. As they did, the crowd of nobles parted to let them through, until an ornately dressed man came into view.


    He had light chocolatey skin and wavy locks with sharp and refined features. He had the posture of an athlete, as straight as an arrow, while an oversized fur scarf hugged his neck.


    By the time Cirin¡¯s company approached him, he had already been speaking to another group of visitors.


    Cirin¡¯s eyes expanded as he remembered those few. They were the Tower priests Azhar had told him about.


    ¡°As long as you make da rounds, my people will appreciate dat ta tower be taken care of.¡±


    ¡°As you wish, honourable lord.¡± Bowed a priest.


    The other priests shuffled and bowed in unison. By then Cirin¡¯s group stood side by side with the priests, and Cirin was able to make out each of the priests, including a young boy who looked much his age but with brilliant golden eyes, light caramel skin and a similarly covered neck to the lord¡¯s.


    The golden eyed boy arched his slender eyebrows and narrowed his angled eyes until they were slits. He glanced ever so slightly at Cirin. Cirin returned the gesture, he felt a strange animosity from the priest.


    Ade brushed past both groups and quickly whispered into the lord¡¯s ears. The lord threw open his eyes and stood up with haste.


    ¡°Gel¡¯Rave!¡± he declared in voice that could¡¯ve been quieter. Though the moment he uttered the royal name, he had become the loudest voice among them all, for all the voices had gone still.


    ¡°Ah, where be my manners.¡± Continued the lord, bowing graciously before the prince, ¡°I am Zanzabara, lord of Ezmir. I had not expected ya presence dis day. My advisor.¡± He shot Ade a deadly glance, ¡°Failed ta notify me.¡±


    ¡°It be not his fault, my lord.¡± Interjected Azhar.


    The lord lowered his eyelids halfway and frowned at the man, ¡°And who would ya be?¡±


    ¡°Personal guard and escort to da Prince, my lord. Azhar be my name. Though some would rather call me the Dog of Lamanori.¡±


    After a moment of silence, the lord snapped his fingers and tapped his head, ¡°Ah! I¡¯ve heard of ya. It seems da young prince be needing proper protection. From what I pray ask?¡± The lord studied Manama, then Cirin and finally Toftof. The moment he saw Toftof, he made for the man and made a point studying him from top to bottom, ¡°Short, balding, hands dat bear a propa bruising. You be dat sandrat lieutenant.¡±


    There were whispers when he said that. Cirin shifted, ominous whispers. Scared whispers.


    ¡°You know what he be needing protection from and ya know why he be here. Look at him. All of ya!¡± Azhar gestured at Sol and swept the room with his eyes, ¡°Solesio Gel¡¯Rave is well and alive and he won¡¯t be dying anytime soon. Tell ya friends, ya family, any visitors ya may have in ya manses and all ya servants and all ya servant¡¯s friends.¡±


    ¡°Now now, Dog of Lamanori, ya suggest da young prince be in mortal peril. Yet, among ya guards ya bring wit ya a boy, not much older dan da prince, and a woman. Tell me, do dey hold any repute even I have not come across?¡±


    Azhar smiled underneath his curls, ¡°Not at all.¡± He said simply.


    Cirin felt a little underrated by that comment, though he knew full well the benefits of keeping one¡¯s strength a secret.


    ¡°Is that so? So be it den. Shame to, I be so very fond of surprises.¡±


    Cirin narrowed his eyes, he could have sworn the lord had glanced at the golden eyed boy just then.


    Azhar glanced at a few of the on-lookers, ¡°We¡¯ve done what we come here ta do. Tanks for da audience.¡± Said Azhar. He bowed then, and turned the moment his back straightened.


    Toftof followed Azhar with a yawn, while Manama tugged Sol and tailed the man. Cirin glanced briefly at the golden eyed boy and he did the same.


    ¡°Leaving already?¡± uttered the lord. Azhar answered with his footsteps and those of his companions. By then they had already traversed half the hall, ¡°It be dangerous in da dark, ya know.¡±


    Azhar spoke as he continued walking, ¡°We come from Lamanori, my lord, we¡¯re not afraid of any shadows.¡±


    The lord puffed and clapped his hands twice, issuing a bard in the far corner of his hall to begin the music. It was a joyous piece played on the Illivarin viola and accompanied by drums. The masked nobles, dressed in spools of cloth and oversized hats, began to dance and converse to that, soon covering the path Cirin¡¯s company had crossed.


    At the door, Cirin ran up to his master. ¡°Old mon, was dat really necessary?¡±


    ¡°We were in luck, mouse.¡± Said Azhar. ¡°I tink dose priests already had da lord call all da nobles. We did what we came here for wit out having ta gather dem.¡±


    Azhar pushed open the heavy doors, holding it open for only the prince and Cirin. Manama left last.


    ¡°Mother Manama tinks so to. All does nobles dere. Such fat purses and hats, and so little attention.¡±


    Toftof gave her a look of disgust, ¡°Oi you didn¡¯t¡±


    Manama smiled and rose a brow, soon flashing a brilliant ruby brooch from the rim of her sleeve.


    ¡°A Sandrat questioning a theft?¡± scoffed Azhar.


    Toftof bounded to the taller man, ¡°We¡¯re bandits wit morals!¡±


    ¡°But bandits all da same. You can murder, kidnap, extort, and ransom, but stealing be above ya, eh?¡±


    ¡°Mother Manama say most tings be above him.¡±


    ¡°Oi!¡±


    That queued a laughing fit from Toftof¡¯s tormentors. Their acrid laughs bounced about as the gate doors swung open for them.


    Azhar waved at a bowing Ade on the other side of the barred gate. Before long, they had completely escaped from an eyeshot of the palace. Now the distant song of water flow could be heard as their feet played the chorus.


    It had been so long since his feet had been on solid ground rather than sand. Cirin relished every step. Then, he felt a drop of sweat roll down his temple and it wasn¡¯t because of the heat. In fact. He looked up to the dimming sky, Zanzabarra was right. Even here, the rules of the desert remained and so the simmering day had given way to the shivering night.


    Another bead of sweat formed on his temple as they walked. His arms itched. Azhar had told him about something similar a while ago. It was after a long day of training and that old mon had finally let him rest. When Cirin sat down to do so, Azhar surprised him by sitting next to him. While Cirin looked up to him, Azhar¡¯s eyes sat glued to the brilliant palace pools in front of them.


    That was when he spoke.


    ¡°Ya be sweating. Good. Remember ya sweat. Remember dat feeling. It be ya body crying when ya soul won¡¯t give up. Though Sometimes ya gotta listen ta dose tears. It¡¯ll cry when ya work too much, when ya be getting too hot, when ya be in some place dat be making ya nervous. But most important of all¡­¡±


    Cirin halted his stride and tossed his head in each direction, instantly remembering what Azhar said last.


    ¡°It¡¯ll wail real hard when enemies be close.¡±


    His hands reached for the wooden saber. Sol was the first to notice.


    ¡°Cirin?¡± he hushed.


    By then, the three adults stopped too.


    The red in Cirin¡¯s eyes had become a buzzing fly. They spat in each and every direction and his iris expanded five times as he spotted them.


    ¡°Five. Surrounded.¡± He said aloud.


    Azhar¡¯s blade rasped, Manama pulled out two daggers, and Toftof cursed.


    ¡°Spirits, Just when we leave da noble grounds.¡± Managed Toftof as he adorned his knuckles.


    Azhar ran behind Cirin, and stood with his back to the boy. ¡°Da nobles need not hear da messy bits, sa try not ta be loud.¡± Teased Azhar, ¡°Manama, Toftof defend from da sides and stay close. Sol, Cirin, keep in da middle. Do. Not. Move.¡±


    Cirin gripped his blade hard and scowled. He had spotted them first, yet the old mon refused to acknowledge even that. He could defend himself. Even his wooden sabre could cut with the speed his used he used it with.


    They had just passed the bridge in a residential district when they stopped. One canal parted their side from the other, yet stout and domed sandstone houses hugged either side of the main road and covered the rest of the land behind the first row of houses in close proximity.


    There was next to no light save the dim shattered moon and its ominous reflection on the rushing waters.


    A single palm tree stood on the other side of the bridge on the left side. The sound of rustling leaves roused Cirin to it.


    ¡°Six.¡± Alerted Cirin. ¡°Three be on da udder side. One on da tree, two beside da first house on da right. One on da roof first house to da left on our side, and two in da right alley.¡±


    ¡°Well done, mouse. We be handling it from here.¡± Azhar flashed his blade in the open light, then flicked it to the side in lightning speed, ¡°We see all of ya now!¡± He bellowed, ¡°So let us end dis now.¡±


    One by one the attackers complied. And one by one Cirin¡¯s deductions proved true.


    When all six assailants stood in the dim moonlight they acted upon another surprise. All six of the bandits dropped their weapons.


    Toftof began to lower his fists when Azhar snapped at him, ¡°Dun lower ya guard! It may be trap.¡±


    ¡°It be no trap, sir.¡± Began one of the bandits. He was a lean man with a bald head and a lone goatee. From where he was on the other side of the bridge he held up his hands and walked slowly to the bridge¡¯s apex, ¡°If Zanzabara let ya outta dere alive, it means ya people eider be on his side or ya be strong. Please.¡± He stopped at the bridge and lowered his head, ¡°Help us.¡± He pleaded.


    That made Azhar lower his weapon, queuing his companions to do the same.


    ¡°We¡¯re not on his side. Dough, It is not often dat bandits seek strangers for help.¡± Stated Azhar.


    ¡°We know dat. But dis be worse dan even da Rentrala¡¯far can handle¡­ atleast what be left of it.¡±


    Azhar stepped forwards, ¡°What ya mean what be left of it?¡± he asked slowly.


    The lean man looked up, his eyes were tired and his mouth a permanent frown. ¡°We six be all dat¡¯s left of our honored clan. Four days ago our men found all three of our leaders murdered in deir tents. Four days ago Zanzabarra arrived.


    His honeyed words poisoned our former brutha¡¯s minds when dey were most vulernable. We had no leada so he arrived just when we needed him. Told us we¡¯d be da rulers of Ezmir if he followed his plan. A plan dat he kept secret til one of our men, our former seventh, said he¡¯d spy on dem and figure it out.¡± He pushed his brows down, ¡°Zanzabarra had him killed and made it look like da nobles did it. When we found da man¡¯s corpse, we saw da words ¡®Our leaders, Zanza killed em¡¯ written into his flesh.¡±


    ¡°Hold on, Zanzabara isn¡¯t da lord?¡± added Azhar.


    The bandit shook his head, ¡°Da lord is dead. Zanazabara killed him as he had our three leaders. Da devil den posed as da lord, and kidnapped all da nobles unda da pretense of a party.¡±


    ¡°I knew something was not right.¡± Cursed Azhar.


    ¡°Please.¡± Stressed the lean bandit, ¡°Help us.¡±

 Chapter 6, A Duos Double tale of Two

    The courtyard was empty when they got there. Though the hustle of the party had vanished. Azhar eyed the shorter man over his shoulder.


    ¡°The climb a little tough for ya, old imp?¡± teased Azhar.


    Toftof puffed, rolling one shoulder, and cracking the other, ¡°Hey, I¡¯m only one year older dan ya.¡±


    ¡°Ya got ya die?¡±


    Toftof smiled to the younger man and flashed two die wedged between three of his fingers.


    Azhar smiled back, then reverted his eyes back to the palace doors. The once cheery palace took an ominous look under the dim-lit cherry blossoms and blackened water.


    ¡°Lets go.¡± Beckoned Azhar.


    ¡­


    ¡°Stupid old mon!¡± cursed Cirin. His voice echoed in the sandstone house they were in. It was an empty place. All it had were four chairs and a lone window one the opposite side to only exit. He was pacing madly.


    ¡°Why must he go, while we wait here? I can fight. I can beat Zanzabarra.¡±


    Mother Manama chuckled from where she leaned by the door, ¡°Mother Manama tinks ya be too quick to dat conclusion. Ya don¡¯t know who dis man is, and ya be forgetting why our Azhar wanted ya ta stay here.¡± Her many bracelets jingled as she flicked a hand at Sol, who had been sitting in the chair closest to the window, his great green eyes were plastered to the thing. ¡°Protect da boy. A simple task Manama tinks.¡±


    ¡°Ya don¡¯t get it Mother Manama. Sol will be fine, but will Azhar? Dat stupid old mon can¡¯t handle whatever Zanzabarra has with him not even wit Toftof. Da bandits said he had atleast a dozen men!¡±


    Mother Manama started to chuckle again, ¡° ¡®Ya don¡¯t get it¡¯ eh? Ya sound just like Azhar, boy.¡±


    Cirin quit his pacing and balled his hands into fists, ¡°I need ta get some air.¡± He spouted, already to the door.


    Manama stopped him with a hand outstretched across the door.


    ¡°I can¡¯t even do dat now?¡± complained Cirin.


    ¡°I¡¯ll go wit ya.¡± Manama tossed her head about and leaned towards Cirin. When she was only a breath away from the boy, she flicked him in the forehead, ¡°To make sure ya dun run off.¡±


    Cirin stepped back with a hand on his head, ¡°Fine.¡± He retorted.


    Manama stepped out first and Cirin, glancing at Sol briefly, followed shortly after. As soon he passed the open door, a frigid desert wind rush past him, revealing his ruby red eyes to the world for the briefest of moments.


    ¡°As red as blood.¡± Humored the fortune teller.


    Cirin grasped his hair to cover those eyes as fast as he could. When he was sure they were covered he eyed Manama now leaning against a fence overlooking a maize field.


    Manama pulled out a pipe from her baggy clothes.


    She spoke as she prepared the device, ¡°How much ya know about dis city, eh?¡±


    Cirin paced to a similar fence and leaned against it. He studied the fortune teller. She seemed familiar with Azhar and Toftof, though he wasn¡¯t sure he could trust her. Out of all of Azhar¡¯s companions she seemed the most peculiar. Now this question caught him off guard. What would she gain from it? Was it a test? He decided to answer.


    He pointed at the black tower to the north, ¡°I know dis be a towa city. Dere be a pool of watta by da towa dat let all da farmers here use dere lands. Da nobles control it, but da people can live off of what dey make so dey need no help from da empire.¡±


    ¡°A free city.¡± Puffed Manama from her pipe, ¡°Manama say ya know mo dan ya show.¡±


    Cirin coughed at the excess smoke she was breathing. Waving the smoke away, he continued, ¡°A friend of ours made sure we learned about it in Lamonori.¡±


    ¡°So da young prince be learnin¡¯ all dis to?¡±


    Cirin pulled his blade out and weighed it in front of him. He closed one eye and let the other trace the length of the blade, ¡°He¡¯s learned it betta dan I have.¡±


    Manama puffed once more, ¡°Has he always been so quiet?¡±


    Cirin lowered the blade when she said that. He had been so distracted by Ezmir, Zanzabarra, and the bandits that he had not paid the prince much thought, ¡°No¡­¡± he trailed. Sol hadn¡¯t said as much as a word since they entered.


    Cirin coughed at the smoke engulfing and finally pinched his nose to it. All at once, the urgency he felt before returned.


    ¡°What is dis?¡± he coughed.


    ¡°Ah dis?¡± Said Manama holding out her pipe, ¡°One of Mother Manama¡¯s many tools. Any who inhale da smoke let da smoke calm dere nerves.¡±


    Cirin narrowed his eyes and immediately set them upon the direction of the palace.


    ¡°Azhar!¡± he spurted his nose pinched tone.


    Manama had deliberately used a spell to calm him down, and if it couldn¡¯t have gotten worse just when Cirin regained his sense he heard ruffling within the field.


    It was clear Manama heard this to, for she quickly doused her pipe and withdrew one dagger then the other.


    ¡°Go in da house.¡± She commanded.


    Cirin held his blade in front of him. ¡°I won¡¯t run away to dis.¡± He was already facing the fields.


    The rustling soon multiplied. Little by little it got louder. They were close.


    ¡°Cirin. Rememba ya job in dis. Protect Sol.¡± Warned Manama.


    Cirin did not budge.


    Then came the war cries, one after the other.


    ¡°Rentrala¡¯far!¡±


    ¡°Rentrala¡¯far!¡±


    ¡°Rentrala¡¯far!¡±


    Manama sighed heavily. She spun her daggers nimbly in both hands, and charged into the head high maize field. Though it was faint, Cirin could hear the metal clashes emanate from within followed by the death wail of Manama¡¯s first victim.


    Cirin backed away then, feeling her words sting him more they relapsed in his mind. He didn¡¯t want to run, not in the slightest. But even more so, he reviled the idea of losing Sol. The mere thought made him quiver. He shook off that pailing chill, turned heel, and ran into the sandstone house.


    He wish he had sooner.


    The window was open. Sol was gone.


    He tossed his head back as the thought of telling Manama occurred to him, yet revealing that much would risk telling the bandits as well. Unless the bandits were behind Sol¡¯s disappearance. Cirin shook his head at the awful idea. The wind whistled from the back of the room. Cirin snapped to it.


    The window was open from the inside. Sol, the docile prince he had always known, had run off on his own.


    ¡°Sorry Manama.¡± Said Cirin as he ran to the window and climbed out of it. Cirin scanned the fields up ahead, noting the trampled maize trail left behind. Sol was his charge and he alone would see the prince safe.


    ¡­


    The heavy palace doors swung open with a menacing creak. The sunswept interior had been completely erased, and its wake a set of candles lit the cavernous halls every few feet. Azhar withdrew one blade, and Toftof adorned his fists. Though the little light that was there was more than enough. Zanzabarra had been busy.


    The masked nobles were masked no more. Their hands and feet were bounded, and the faces were revealed, most tear drenched and sullen. For every five nobles there was an armed thug patrolling, at least two dozen thugs in total.


    Finally, one man, the only familiar amongst them, stood arrogantly at the throne with one leg resting on the knee of the other.


    The moment the impetuous duo had entered, all eyes had turned to them. That was to be expected. Their entrance was not the most inconspicuous.


    Azhar rested his sword cleanly over his shoulder, and tossed his eyes from one side of the room to the other, ¡°I was told ya would have a dozen men with ya. Looks like ya brought more.¡±


    Zanzabarra laughed from the other side, ¡°Naturally!¡± he roared, ¡°I am cautious man, Dog of Lamanori. When I saw ya and da Liar enta my newly acquired manse, I knew I had to make precautions in case ya decided ta be noble and help da fools here of Ezmir.¡± He flicked his hand in villainy fashion, ¡°I suppose my caution was in good spirits. Can ya see my face from dere.¡±


    Azhar squinted. ¡°Unfortunately.¡± He yelled back.


    To that, Zanzabarra stood up tossed his to the side of his throne.


    Toftof stumbled forwards, ¡°A Blackneck!?¡± he spurted.


    Zanzabarra¡¯s entire neck was tattooed with the intricate markings the Blacknecks were famed for.


    ¡°As you can see,  ya have no chance of winning. Be a good dog and run to ya masta, be da rat you are and scurry back to ya hole.¡±


    Toftof looked to Azhar. Azhar nodded.


    ¡°Alright.¡± Said Toftof. ¡°I¡¯ll roll my die. If it be odd, we¡¯ll kill ya men but only capture ya.¡±


    ¡°IF it be even.¡± Continued Azhar, ¡°Ya all die here.¡±


    Zanzabarra started laughing where he was, prompting his men to laugh with him.


    ¡°Is Lamanori famous for it¡¯s jesters now?¡± He chuckled.


    Toftof threw the dice and laughter dimmed more and more until the die landed in Toftof¡¯s balmy hands.


    The imp looked at his hands and produced a toothy grin, ¡°Ya die.¡± He said simply.


    That prompted a silence that made even Zanzabarra retract his smile.


    ¡°Kill dem!¡± He barked, ¡°Kill dem now!¡±


    The two dozen men roared and charged the duo from all over the hall.


    The duo did not wait for them. Instead they charged as well, fist and sword at the ready.


    Azhar had a large reach with sword, but Toftof was faster. When the first man neared him, Toftof quickly felled the bugger with an uppercut to the chin and a round kick to the gut. Azhar sidestepped this clash and slammed the flat of his blade against the second man to fight, then quickly elbowed a third man in the chest.


    One after the other, the duo traded places until seven men had fallen. By then they were surrounded. Azhar had his back to Toftof. The two took up stances.


    Azhar looked above his blade, ¡°Is dat all?¡± he taunted.


    ¡­


    Trampled maize plants littered the path ahead. Cirin had been running through the path Sol made for a while now. He could feel his own chest thrumming. Coming across a patch of empty dirt he strained his eyes hard for the remainder of the path. The darkness of night made it that even harder, yet he knew he had to find the prince before the Rentrala¡¯far did and worse, before Zanzabarra¡¯s men did.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    Finally, he spotted a pair of broken stems in the corner of his eye and made for that patch. It wasn¡¯t long before the path led to the end of the maize farm and the beginning of Ezmir¡¯s housing. Even here the streets were empty of denizens wishing to evade the night¡¯s chill.


    Cirin stopped to catch his breath. Tracking in the city would prove harder than in the fields, since here those who passed left little to no indication of where they left. Three paths lay ahead of him.


    One to the left, one to the right, and one more straight through. Even then each of the streets would eventually diverge into even more streets.


    Cirin cursed under his breath as the thought of finding Sol became even more daunting. No. He shook his head. He would find Sol, it was all an issue of time. Slowly he rose to his full height and he snapped his shoulders to stretch. He considered Sol¡¯s position then. Where would da prince go in a city he hardly knows? Cirin blinked, then rubbed his eyes madly. One structure towered above the rest. Truly there was only one place either of them would think to go.


    Cirin centered his vision on the three roads now ahead, only the straight road led to the tower. Cirin inhaled deeply and started running. Dat has to be it He thought madly. It couldn¡¯t be anything else.


    At every turn the boy looked up to the tower and took the path that seemed closest to it. He did this for five different streets and eventually he came upon the noble¡¯s district.


    There, upon the same bridge he had passed earlier that day, stood Sol staring directly at the tower looming in the distance. The prince then tossed his head from side to side, and proceeded to go back  across the bridge and towards the former street.


    Moments before Sol passed him, Cirin stepped out from hiding and in the way of Sol.


    Sol almost crashed into the boy out of shock. ¡°C-C-Cirin.¡± He stuttered.


    Cirin stood still for several moment and at last reached out and knocked the younger boy on the head.


    ¡°Ya idiot!¡± scowled Cirin, ¡°Did ya know how much I looked for ya?¡±


    Sol managed a smile as he rubbed his head, ¡°I was going to come back.¡±


    ¡°Come back dead? Didn¡¯t ya say ya had me ta protect ya. Ya damned fool! I mean if ya died¡­¡±


    Cirin stopped his rant, feeling his throat catch on the last word. He took a breath, ¡°If ya died, ya¡¯d breaking our promise to Catherine.¡±


    ¡°But I had to.¡± started Sol weakly. ¡°You saw them, didn¡¯t you? The golden eyed one. He looked sad, very very sad.¡±


    ¡°Da towa priest?¡± Cirin shook his head, ¡°No. No no no. We can¡¯t do stupid tings like dat. I¡¯m sure he looked sad, but tink how sad everyone would be if ya got hurt in all dis.¡±


    ¡°But Cirin!¡±


    ¡°No mon.¡±


    Footsteps echoed from across the bridge and Cirin snapped to. It wasn¡¯t just one pair of step but many. Cirin grabbed Sol¡¯s arm and turned to the nearest wedge between houses but he could hear steps coming from the other side of the street as well.


    The same sweat he felt before crept upon his brow. He turned his head.


    Thugs. A lot of thugs. Across the bridge and on the other end of the street, bandits lined up in scores. They carried clubs, swords, and daggers and there was no mistaking their intent to kill.


    ¡°Rentrala¡¯far!¡± they cried out unison.


    ¡°Rentrala¡¯far!¡±


    ¡°Rentrala¡¯far!¡±


    Cirin forced Sol behind him and backed into the center of the street. There was nowhere to hide and the horde of bandits would reach them in seconds.


    ¡°The locket, Cirin!¡± cried Sol.


    Cirin eyes went wide. How could he forget?


    With moments to spare, the boy reached in his back pocket and produced Catherine¡¯s locket. The first group of bandits had already crossed the bridge and the second had stopped five paces from the duo.


    Cirin flipped open the locket, held it high with two fingers and tapped it twice with his thumb. Just as before, the locket swelled with power and flashed so brightly the day turned to night.


    When the light had faded the encroaching bandits slowed and froze. One yelped in fear and pushed past the rest and soon all the bandits started running for dear life in each their respective directions.


    Cirin swallowed and ogled the locket in awe, ¡°It worked.¡± He trailed, ¡°It really worked.¡±


    Finally the last of the bandits, who had fallen on his bum cried out in Cirin¡¯s direction with his finger held out and pointing a little ways above Cirin, ¡°Monsters! Magic wielding demons, y-ya be da death of us all.¡±


    After that, the man scarcely got up and ran as fast he could.


    Sol tugged on Cirin¡¯s sleeve and pointed up. Cirin squinted at the gesture, utterly confused by it, until he followed Sol¡¯s hand and realised what he was pointing at.


    On the roof of the house behind Cirin and Sol stood the golden eyed tower priest, and above him lumbered an enormous floating rock twice the size of the house he stood on. It blocked out the moon.


    Cirin¡¯s instincts made him want to warn the boy of such a rock, but he soon realised that the rock rested on the boy¡¯s upstretched hand. Almost as he was lifting it.


    The boy snapped his fingers with his free hand and the rock shattered into a million pieces revealing a hollow center. The pieces then shattered into millions more and spun into a lifelike sand.


    Again the boy snapped his finger and the sand formed a carefully crafted set of stairs that led him to the base of the house.


    As he walked down, he stared forwards in complete indignation.


    ¡°Thank you for saving us.¡± managed Sol. The boy did not respond. Instead he finished his trip down and made for the nearest path to the tower.


    Cirin narrowed his eyes at the boy. He was thankful Sol was saved, yet the idea that someone else did that made him uneasy, especially the way that someone did it. Cirin looked to the young prince, who was fidgeting nervously, and sighed.


    ¡°Go.¡± Said Cirin as he pushed Sol towards the boy.


    Sol glanced back at Cirin nervously, gulped, then puffed his chest, ¡°Thank you!¡± he bellowed.


    Finally the boy stopped his empty walk and turned to them.


    ¡°If I were you, I¡¯d leave this city.¡± His voice was soft like Sol¡¯s, but seemingly trembling. It was a rusted sword. Cirin balled his fists. But this blade spoke much of its master.


    ¡°I dun really care.¡± Started Cirin, ¡°But my charge here seems ta think ya need help.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s laughable. I saved you.¡±


    Cirin snarled, ¡°Hear him out will you?¡±


    The boy tossed his eyes to the prince, ¡°Speak.¡± He said in imperial fashion.


    Sol nodded, ¡°Join us.¡± He said simply. Catching both the boy and Cirin off guard, ¡°We¡¯re going to travel the whole country. See all the cities! It¡¯ll be a lot of fun.¡±


    ¡°See all the cities, huh?¡± uttered the boy. He tossed his golden eyes down for a moment, ¡°It¡¯s too bad den. Come tomorrow dis city will be no more.¡±


    Sol stomped forwards, forcing Cirin to catch up to the prince and hold him back. ¡°Why?!¡± questioned the prince.


    ¡°Because.¡± The boy reared his head to the tower and continued, ¡°I will destroy the tower there and with it Ezmir will shrivel into da desert and die.¡± He returned his gaze to the duo, and pulled down the collar covering his neck.


    Sol and Cirin were taken aback. The tattoo was detailed, black, and it covered the whole of the boy¡¯s neck. He was a Black Neck.


    ¡°I am bound to dis fate. But you two can choose ta leave.¡± Said the boy.


    Cirin hated hearing that. Until then he didn¡¯t care. If Ezmir did shrivel up, then what? It meant nothing to him. Yet here was someone who had given up to what other had labeled them as, just like Sol had before Cirin had met him, just as Cirin would have been had he never met Azhar.


    Cirin red eyes locked with the boy¡¯s gold, ¡°No. I will stop ya.¡±


    The golden eyed boy released his collar and rose both his hands. His mouth was frowning as he spoke, ¡°Ya be too late.¡± The boy snapped his fingers on both hands and he vanished into a cloud of sand and smoke.


    Cirin furrowed his brows and began pacing to the street Sol had been heading before. He stopped as he spotted a blade dropped by one of the bandits. He reached to pick it up, it was rusted thing, heavy and barely usable, but he wagered he¡¯d need it. He placed it on his back, crossing the blade he already had.


    ¡°Cirin.¡± Started Sol.


    ¡°I know, Sol. I¡¯ll save him to.¡±


    ¡­


    ¡°Eleven.¡±


    ¡°Twelve!¡± boasted Toftof, ¡°Why dat surprise ya? I¡¯ve always been betta dan ya.¡±


    Azhar rubbed his head, ¡°You beat eleven too, remember dat one fool I kicked in the teeth and you punched in da gut?¡±


    ¡°Ay, I landed da last blow, so it goes ta my count.¡± Asserted Toftof.


    Azhar sighed loudly and pointed his blade at the last quivering man, ¡°Tell ya what. I¡¯ll best dis man here and we¡¯ll stake da bet on Zanzabarra.¡±


    Toftof snickered and lept towards the final, ¡°Not if  I do him in first!¡±


    Just moments before Toftof landed his blow, Azhar blade went flying and collided with the man¡¯s head, hilt first. The man fell forwards dumbly and the sword landed in between his legs.


    ¡°Twleve- twelve.¡± Stated Azhar proudly, walking past Toftof to pick up his weapon.


    ¡°Ya damned bastard.¡± Swore Toftof.


    All the while Zanzabarra stood in front of his throne.


    ¡°How?¡± he blurted, ¡°Twenty four men, and just two of you. HOW?¡±


    Azhar shrugged and picked up his blade, ¡°Twenty four be just a numba if all twenty four happen ta be idiots.¡±


    Zanzabarra pressed two fingers against his forehead, ¡°Fine. Fine! I will best you lamanorins myself. At arms.¡± He commanded.


    Zanzabarra took two steps and withdrew a skinny pointed blade. Just as Azhar stepped forwards, Zanzabarra placed his own arm behind his back posed with his body facing the side and his blade held in front of him.


    Azhar rose a brow and managed a smile, ¡°A shifting sands user, eh?¡±


    Zanzabarra began circling the two of them, keeping his distance from Azhar and especially far from Toftof, ¡°I¡¯m surprised.¡± He started, ¡°Ya know dis style?¡±


    ¡°A good friend of mine was a masta of it. Some pirate from Galokin, ya probably neva heard of him.¡±


    ¡°hmpf. As if I¡¯d associate myself wit da nortern scum.¡±


    Azhar held his blade facing the man as he circled him, ¡°Oh? ya have a dislike for our esteemed neighbours?¡±


    ¡°If It¡¯s da boy you be wondering about. Yes, I did want ta kill him. If ya were any no-name guards, I would have killed him where he stood.¡±


    Azhar craned his head, ¡°Dat be problematic fa me den.¡±


    ¡°Too much talk!¡± roared Toftof. The liar split into a running start.


    ¡°You impatient fool.¡± Cursed Azhar.


    Toftof reached his man with a set of swings, heavy yet fast. Though Zanzabarra proved more nimble than he looked, dodging each of the hits with practised ease. Zanzabarra lunged. Toftof dodged.


    Only moments had passed but it became apparent that neither would land a hit. Perhaps Toftof was the first to notice this, because after his first set of attacks he shifted his feet and started swaggering about.


    Azhar puffed, ¡°A new stance?¡±


    Totof lifted his fists up near his chin and began weaving his body down and inwards. Zanzabarra responded by leaping back in kind, his eyes buzzing about trying discern the sudden change.


    Toftof did not let him. As he weaved forwards, he stretched out with his right, forcing Zanzabarra to dodged the hit and try and get at the imp¡¯s left.


    Azhar smiled. Toftof was a fool, but when it came to combat he was an upstart genius.


    Toftof dodged the lunge, but only by letting his body fall as if he had tripped. This caught Zanzabarra of guard, for the next moment, Toftof gripped Zanzabarra¡¯s lunging hand with his left and twisted his body up until he met his taller opponent with a solid kick to the chin.


    Toftof somersaulted backwards, while Zanzabarra stumbeled back gripping his chin.


    Zanzabarra regained his balance a moment later, spitting out a glob of blood as he repostured himself.


    ¡°Come.¡± Taunted Zanzabarra.


    Toftof scowled and rushed his opponent again. That was a mistake.


    Just as Toftof had shifted his stance, now Zanzabarra began slashing. Toftof managed to evade the first slash, but barely escape the third as it drew blood from his cheek.


    ¡°switch!¡±


    Azhar pushed Toftof back with his free hand and went at Zanzabarra.


    They met with a clash of blades held steady by their palms. Both sides pushed back and engaged once more.


    Azhar fought like a dancer with wide swings and numerous twists of an ankle while Zanzabarra played the stalwart noble, and met each of the attacks with a flick of his wrist.


    The two fighters could be no more different, yet the way they met each other¡¯s blows made it seem as if they had fought each other for years.


    Zanzabarra snarled and stepped back on his right foot to brace for another attack. Azhar smiled to this, as he stepped in and delivered a clean cut to retreating man¡¯s shoulder. His left shoulder.


    Zanzabarra nearly dropped his blade from the shock of it, but managed to keep his cool long enough to leap back a few paces.


    ¡°You insolent wretch.¡± He roared at Azhar, ¡°My defence was impeccable.¡±


    ¡°No it was quit pecable.¡± Rebutted Azhar.


    ¡°You Cur!¡±


    ¡°If you would shut ya mouth fer a second I¡¯d tell ya.¡± Laughed Azhar.


    Zanzabarra swung his blade at Toftof then Azhar, then lept back once more and move his blade to his mouth. He bit his handle, ripped his sleeve with his free hand, and began tying the wound tightly.


    Azhar flicked his blade to the side, ¡°Ya let ya guard down.¡± He started.


    Zanzabarra grunted in outrage.


    Azhar pointed his blade at Toftof, ¡°I¡¯d admit ya defence would have been impeccable if ya were to fight each of us alone. But ya decided to fight one of us while da udder watched.¡±


    Zanzabarra¡¯s eyes shot wide.


    ¡°Ah, ya see now, eh?¡± taunted Azhar, he point his blade at Zanzabarra¡¯s feet, ¡°Ya fighting style put emphasis on ya dominant hand and side. So every time, ya retreat and engage on da same foot. It¡¯s meant to make ya opponent focus on dat side. Tho a true masta would make up for it. Ya still have a long way ta go.¡±


    Zanzabarra spat out his sword and caught it with his right, soon reassuming his first stance. He had finished tying the now reddened sleeve cloth.


    ¡°Why would ya tell me all dis?¡± He quandered.


    Azhar shrugged, ¡°Call it a habit of an old teacher. I see potential and I try ta grow its wielder. Weder dat be on my side or da enemies.¡±


    ¡°Oi Azhar.¡± Warned toftof.


    Azhar¡¯s cool expression shifted with his brows, ¡°I know.¡± Once more he took up his stance. Toftof did the same.


    Zanzabarra stepped forwards, ¡°Dat habit will be ya downfall.¡± He said as he charged forwards.


    This time he fought differently. The moment he met his two foes, Zanzabarra began deflecting each of their hits as he turned his own body, forcing them to do the same.


    Azhar had step back multiple times to stray from Zanzabarra¡¯s onslaught. Somehow, he managed to fight both Toftof and Azhar at the same time by shifting his fighting style at a remarkable rate between the two. He¡¯d practice long stabs to sway Toftof away while spinning his heel towards Azhar to make Azhar dodge every time Toftof swung back in the mad fashion that he did.


    Azhar then tried his best to step behind Zanzabarra, but again to no avail. Zanzabarra had become a spinning top in the way he always forced Toftof to be between them no matter where Azhar stood.


    Azhar disengaged completely. Fighting him together was proving fruitless, and beyond that. He glanced from side to side. The nobles who were still confined were becoming restless. He¡¯d need to enact his plan and do so now.


    Azhar tossed his eyes to Toftof then the far right corner of the end of the hall, ¡°Toftof! Now!¡±


    Toftof jumped back and ran a little ways to the far corner, stopping only to engage Zanzabarra. He did that two more times until they managed to bring Zanzabarra near the darkened corner. There was an open doorway there, just as the renegade rentrala¡¯far had told them.


    Toftof baited the man til he had his right side facing the doorway.


    ¡°Switch!¡±


    Zanzabarra turned to his next opponent instantly, only to have that dubious enemy focus entirely on his injured left side.


    Naturally, the weary Zanzabarra strayed from his attacks as much as possible, retreating to his right foot everytime, until eventually he found himself standing at the doorway leading out the great hall.


    Zanzabarra¡¯s eyes went wide as he realised this and swung madly at Azhar, making the man jump back in response. He had already stepped back into the exit by then.


    ¡°We¡¯ll continue dis on an udda occasion, Dog of Lamonori.¡± He scowled.


    Azhar and toftof stood shoulder to shoulder and watched the man as he backed out of the exit. It was a narrow passage, so neither of the two get close enough without being slashed.


    Azhar smiled when Zanzabarra was gone.


    ¡°Ready?¡± he asked Toftof.


    Toftof looked astounded, ¡°I didn¡¯t tink dat would work.¡±


    Azhar walked into the exit, ¡°My plans always work.¡±


    Outside, in the dim moonlight, stood Zanzabarra and with him, four familiar Rentrala¡¯far bandits. They had him surrounded.


    Just when Zanzabarra turned for the door. Azhar and Toftof emerged from the shadows.


    ¡°It be ovah, Zanzabarra. We have two men inside who should be freeing da nobles. Ya ploy and all ya tried to do here will be settled by tommora mornin¡¯.¡±


    The lean bandit from before stepped towards Zanzabarra with rope in his hands, ¡°Come quietly and ya can still be spared.¡±


    Zanzabarra stifled a laugh and dropped his weapon, ¡°Da wise snake hunta digs two holes: One ta draw dem out, and an udder to catch dem.¡± He reached in the collar of his cloak below his tattooed neck.


    Azhar realized it too late, taking only two steps before Zanzabarra pulled out an onyx necklace and vanished into a cloud of smoke.


    The four Rentrala¡¯far seemed thoroughly shaken by that.


    ¡°Magic.¡± One gasped.


    Azhar pushed back his locks and squeezed his brows, ¡°Damn it.¡± He cursed.


    ¡°If we run inta him again, we need ta remove dat necklace.¡± Noted Toftof.


    ¡°We¡¯ll run inta him again.¡± Said Azhar, ¡°I¡¯d bet my spirit on it.¡±

 Chapter 7, The Black Tower

    It was truly a frightening thing. He had lived his whole life near one, yet now was the closest he¡¯d ever been to one. Cirin¡¯s eyes trailed to the glowing entrance at the base of the beast, and at end of a set of stairs. To think he¡¯d dare enter one would have been no more of a bad dream had he considered it days ago.


    Sol tugged on Cirin sleeve, prompting the older boy to look down at him.


    ¡°I¡¯m scared.¡± Said the prince.


    Cirin breathed hard and lowered his chin to the tower, ¡°I know mon.¡± He hadn¡¯t the heart to admit his fear. Not now when they were so close. He was the older one as well as the boy¡¯s protector. He started marching.


    Little by little, as the monster grew impossibly darker, the duo crept upon it¡¯s abominable trunk. Cirin found comfort staring at the glowing precipice. Though the closer they got, the more its brightness hurt his eyes. When they were close enough to consider it fully, Cirin realized it was not a spectacular thing as the magical sort tended to be. It was simply a rectangular cut through the abyss.


    Cirin shut his eyes and forged forwards, Sol latching on to him by the skin of his shirt.


    The moment they entered, Cirin nearly tripped to the sight of it.


    It was glorious. It was as if the very sun had been funneled into a tube. All around, the wall were made of glowing golden crystals and a beam of heavenly light ran from the flawless white bottom to the infinite stars above.


    A spiral staircase of the same golden crystals stretched along the length of the beam to it¡¯s core and a set of five aureate stones surrounded the base of the beam in equal distances.


    Though he had not noticed immediately, Cirin felt a very faint thrumming eminent from the tower¡¯s core. In fact, the whole room reverberated with each pulse. It made him feel at ease, it made him at awe. It was beautiful yet terrifying.


    ¡°Cirin.¡± Tugged Sol.


    Cirin snapped out of his trance and managed to take note of the prince.


    ¡°Are they ok?¡± pointed Sol.


    They were not alone. A little ways from them, a row of priests were on the floor, unconscious and bound.


    Cirin flinched, they were the same priests who had accompanied the boy. Again he started. The boy.


    His eyes flicked to the top of the stairwell. He didn¡¯t know why. He just knew.


    A small figure, just barely visible by the blinding light, stood with his back to Cirin at the top of the towering stairs.


    ¡°I doubt anyone will be coming here.¡± Said Cirin. He looked down at his charge, ¡°Stay by da entrance. Do not move.¡±


    ¡°But Cirin!¡± protested Sol.


    ¡°I told ya didn¡¯t I? I¡¯ll save him.¡± Assured Cirin.


    Sol stared at him for a while then finally rested his brows and nodded.


    Cirin smiled, that was the approval he needed. Taking a deep breath, Cirin reached for his wooden blade, drew it and broke into a sprint. He was at the base of the stairs in a minute. At last he began the long run up the stairs.


    The run was foreboding itself, as these stairs had no railings to rely on. He had to be quick, yet careful, something Azhar had drilled into his head multiple times before.


    Halfway to the top, he started noticing a black line streak across the holy beam. The more he progressed that seemingly endless path, the more the crack appeared to grow thicker and thicker, as if it would snuff out the light of the tower if left unchecked.


    Cirin gripped his blade as ran, his heart thumping louder and louder until it drained out the beat of the tower.


    On the last couple steps he slowed drastically, he could see the boy now. The golden eyes had his arms raised as if in prayer, and his back to the entrance. Ahead of him grew a painfully black ring which convulsed strands of black lines that made the beam darer and darker.


    Cirin narrowed his eyes. It was as if the world him was dying and its would be murderer stood ahead of him. Golden Eyes was the source after all.


    ¡°It¡¯s true den?¡± barked Cirin.


    The boy spun to him instantly. His face a mess of contorted brows and uncomfortable grin. Even then, Cirin could see the pain in those golden eyes.


    ¡°Ya should have left!¡± roared the boy.


    Cirin lifted his blade then lowered it as he saw the boy meekly trying to raise his nearest hand to defend himself. Whatever he was doing, it required a lot of focus.


    Cirin sighed, ¡°If it¡¯s true, I dun care if ya do it. All I want ta protect is Sol and Sol tinks ya be worth saving.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± shifted the caster. He lowered his outstretched hand then lifted back immediately, ¡°I won¡¯t fall for ya loaded lies. Not yours or dose words of da prince. Ya be here to stop me, ya pitiful peasant. Try den and regret it in gen.¡±


    Cirin took a deep breath and lowered his body. Time stalled as Azhar¡¯s apprentice clasped both hands on his weapon. Cirin charged. There were ten paces parting the swordsman from the caster, yet the caster grossly underestimated the time he had to defend himself.


    Cirin had become a gust of wind on a silent day. In a moment he had ducked the golden-eyed boy¡¯s arm and closed in on his chest, he was quick, unseen, and a force to reckon with.


    Cirin¡¯s upturned hilt stamped into his opponent¡¯s gut, sending him sprawling to the little ground he had behind him. Just as the golden-eye boy managed to look up, Cirin slammed the sabre against the boy¡¯s chest.


    This time the golden eyed boy struggled to get up. He was on all fours as Cirin prepared another hit.


    ¡°Enough.¡± Coughed the boy. He reached one hand up to Cirin¡¯s blade, seemingly in self-defence. Cirin surrendered his attack seconds before impact. He had noticed the way the boy had positioned his fingers. Snap. Cirin stepped back, yet before could avoid it, a sharpened stone swung past his forehead.


    Cirin stumbled back, gripping his head with one hand. Slowly, he pried his hand off his head and quivered at the sight of his own blood. He flinched. It stung.


    The boy was already back on his feet by the time Cirin lifted his eyes from his hands.


    ¡°Die.¡± Hushed the boy as he swung one arm back and pointed the other at Cirin.


    Cirin jumped back, nearly falling off the edge as another rock, slightly larger than the first, came rushing his way.


    He dodged the first yet a second slammed into his sword hand. Then a third dug itself deep into the same shoulder.


    Cirin let a howl and dropped his weapon. He glared at the golden eyed boy. His opponent was strong. Magic was strong. He hadn¡¯t ever faced anyone who possessed such powers, yet he had heard the stories. There were those who could burn entire villages in a night, those who could drown their enemies in the sands, and those who cut their foes with blades of air. Those were all stories until now. Tales made to scare the young from wondering to far from their masters. There was a reason that every bandit gang south of Gara were afraid of magic users.


    The golden eyed boy stared back in emptiness. He flicked his hand and snapped it again. This time more rocks appeared out of nothingness and floated around him.


    Cirin¡¯s eyes snapped to each. Five rocks, five possible hits. He swallowed hard as his shoulder stung. His eyes trailed to the wounded arm and he glanced away immediately. He couldn¡¯t use his sword to defend himself. If anything he¡¯d have to dodge.


    Another stone spiraled towards him and he narrowly dodged away from it and the edge.


    He reached for his blade with his free hand, yet a moment to late. The golden eyed boy waved his hand at the blade and two stones plummeted against it, shattering it in an instant.


    Cirin realised it then and laughed, ¡°Ya be holding back.¡± He taunted the boy.


    The boy narrowed his eyes, ¡°Are you mocking me?¡±


    ¡°If ya threw those rocks as fast at me, I¡¯d be dead by now.¡± Noted Cirin, ¡°Ya dun really want ta do dis, do ya?¡±


    ¡°Silence!¡±


    The fourth rocks zipped through the air and crashed into Cirin¡¯s already beaten arm. Crack. Cirin choked on his own voice. Tears formed in his eyes and the feeling in his fingers parted. He wanted to howl, yet in that moment he had forgotten how. The rock had broken bone.


    His other hand lowered as he accepted his fate. He had to run. There was no choice now. For all his life he could only fight with one hand, his right, and now that hand lay shattered. He had to run. Sol was still down there. They could still escape the city. He managed to his shaking feet and started to turn when the golden-eyed boy spoke.


    ¡°Zanzabarra was right. I-I am too soft.¡± Said the golden eyed boy.


    Cirin had never feared another as much as did now. His eyes were wide and his entire body cried in pain. He wondered what his soul was saying now, for his heart screamed ¡®run¡¯. Still, against it all, perhaps to sate his miraculous curiosity, he flicked his eyes to the boy who had inflicted so much pain upon him.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    Golden eyes was looking at his palm. Cirin gulped to the sight of one more sharpened rock, no bigger than a head, floating menacingly behind his attacker.


    ¡°I never killed anyone, ya know? Zanzabarra tought dat I¡¯d need to in order ta do what she¡­¡± Golden eyes shook his head furiously, ¡°¡­did before me.¡± He continued, ¡°Hah! I refused, and looked what it got me!¡± He held his palm high, ¡°My hands wouldn¡¯t stop shaking. But now I see. Yes I see it clearly. Hurting you has given me peace. Seeing ya blood spill out of ya and hearing ya bones crack. Dis is real. Zanzabarra was right. I¡¯ll kill ya, and complete da task da emperor has asked of me. You should¡¯ve run¡±


    Cirin stopped shaking. He breathed hard, ¡°And what of da prince? What¡¯ll happen to him if ya succeed?¡±


    Golden eyes lowered his palm, ¡°He¡¯ll die.¡±


    It hurt. It hurt so much, he would¡¯ve bitten off his own tongue to redirect the pain. But the thought of losing Sol, innocent Sol, stung much more than a wound ever would have. Cirin rose to his feet, his broken arm swinging next to him like a puppets¡¯.


    Golden eyes had one rock left him, and Cirin had one more sword. Cirin reached for the rusted sabre on his back and held it out in front of him. It was heavy. More so, he felt clumsy as he held it. His left arm was always his weakest.


    Sweat rolled off his brow and blood trickled out of his wounds. He stumbled once and lifted his eyes to the remaining rock. He would only have to deflect that. Focus. He told himself. Focus.


    He raised his blade and took two steps before freezing well into his charge. Snap. Snap. Snap. Golden eyes glowered at Cirin. Now four rocks all larger than the last hovered around him.


    Cirin¡¯s blade arm fell limp. Magic was strong indeed. If only he had learned about it earlier.


    A shaman, huh?


    Cirin¡¯s eyes went wide he glanced about madly.


    ¡°Who said dat?¡± He asked bluntly.


    He dared to look behind him, yet just as before they were alone.


    Golden eyes turned his head to the side at Cirin, ¡°going mad just before your death?¡±


    There¡¯s a trick to fighting shamans, pig.


    ¡°Who are you?!¡± yelped Cirin.


    Listen and lift up that blade.


    Cirin was stunned for all but seconds, and finally obeyed.


    Now throw it.


    ¡°Are ya mad?¡± spat Cirin.


    Just do it.


    Cirin gripped the blade hard, lifted it above his shoulder, and aimed at Golden eyes.


    Golden eyes looked at him curiously, ¡°What are you doing?¡±


    Cirin flung the blade then, prompting Golden eyes to move three of his stone to his defence.


    Now charge pig.


    Just as instructed, Cirin followed up with a shouldercheck underneath the rocks and into golden eyes.


    Head butt.


    Cirin forced golden eyes down with his weight, and slammed his forehead on to the caster¡¯s.


    Again.


    Cirin breathed hard and repeated the action. As soon as he raised his buzzing head, he noticed the remaining two rocks fall to the ground.


    See that rock next to you? Pick it up.


    Cirin noted a serrated fragment of one the rocks laying beside him. He grasped it with his able hand.


    Finish him off.


    Cirin paused and shook his head, ¡°I can¡¯t.¡± he protested.


    Do not argue. Do not falter. Pick it up.


    Cirin shook his head, his crippling pain returning to him, ¡°No.¡± he managed.


    ¡°Get off of me.¡± Cursed Golden eyes.


    The dread of it all soon caught up to him. Golden eyes began thrashing. Cirin managed to hold down one arm, but his inability to hold down the other let golden eyes grasp his neck hard.


    ¡°I¡¯ll kill you.¡± He repeated, his caramel face had become redder than an apple, ¡°I-I¡¯ll complete my mission. The emperor trusted us to dis, and I, count Taba, will obey his command.¡±


    Taba released Cirin, and Cirin fell back trying to catch his breath.


    Once more, Taba stood, only this time his reddened face had subdued in color.


    He snapped his fingers repeatedly.


    ¡°Die.¡± He cursed as over a dozen rocks manifested around him.


    Cirin glanced at the darkening beam and then at the edge of the platform and sighed.


    ¡°Strange voice.¡± He started, ¡°Ya seem ta see what I see, so do ya know what¡¯ll happen to da light beside me if I kill him?¡±


    I¡¯m no expert, child-pig.


    Cirin scoffed at the addition of ¡®child¡¯.


    Yet if this boy you fight is a shaman, then the spell should end with him.


    Cirin reached behind him to support himself up and found the blade at his fingertips. He smiled sadly and picked it up. He held it high.


    Oi, pig. What are you doing?


    And once more threw it. Yet this time he threw just so it missed Golden eyes, making the boy look over his shoulder on instinct.


    It was all or nothing. Cirin charged again, and again leaned in low to tackle Golden eyes. He prayed against all odds, that it would work, and somehow it did.


    The two boys met in a solid tackle and Cirin directed what momentum they had towards the edge of the platform.


    Taba took three steps back and fumbled off the platform with Cirin attached to him.


    Cirin smiled and shut his eyes. It would be over in seconds.


    Cirin thought about all those who had helped him in his short life. Tears streamed out of his eyes. He hadn¡¯t realised there had been so many. Azhar, Sol, Catherine, Marvus, Grod, perhaps even the mysterious voice he hardly knew.


    Golden Eye¡¯s voice shot through all his thoughts and Cirin snapped to.


    ¡°Fool!¡± bellowed his hushed voice.


    Cirin glanced all about. They had been falling for far longer than he expected. The wind brushed passed his overgrown locks and revealed his ruby red eyes.


    Just then, he let go of Taba, and finally found the ground approaching unnaturally slowly below him.


    Cirin gasped as he realised it. Taba had his hands outstretched. The caster had conjured magical winds in the last instant.


    They landed with two hollow thuds a fair distance away from each other.


    ¡°Cirin!¡± cried out Sol.


    Cirin lifted himself up on his able arm and winced as the pain of the broken arm got him. He looked down at his traveling shirt. It was thoroughly soaked in dark red blood.


    Cirin instantly snapped to the beam lumbering behind him as Sol¡¯s steps grew nearer. The darkened scar was still spreading. He glanced at Golden Eyes, and chill ran through his spine.


    ¡°What happened?¡± muttered Cirin.


    The voice did not reply.


    ¡°you fell!¡± croaked Sol, feebly managing to speak despite the well of tears forming on his lids. ¡°You fell really quickly, and then slowly! It was very cool, but um you¡¯re hurt!¡±


    Cirin managed a laugh, despite his injury, ¡°Worry about me later, mon. You need ta leave. Now.¡±


    Sol shook his head furiously and began piling his hand on Cirin¡¯s shoulder wound.


    ¡°Sol. Gah!¡± Winced Cirin. He understood what Azhar had gone through the day he fought Toftof, ¡°You mustn¡¯t stay here. Save ya self, mon!¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s already dead.¡± Scowled Golden Eyes.


    Both Sol and Cirin turned their attention to the approaching black neck. Only this time he was different. His pain had been replaced by a sinister resolve. He snapped his fingers.


    Little by little, fragments of rock popped into the air around him and swarmed the grip he had made with his other hand until a flawless blade of stone formed in his hand.


    ¡°My magic is limitless.¡± He spouted, holding the blade high. He snapped his fingers once more, and the blade doubled in size, ¡°Cirin, is it? I will slay ya, not fa resolve but because of what ya did to me.¡±


    ¡°Did to you?¡± said Cirin dumbly.


    Taba paused, blinked madly, and tossed his head to the side in imperial fashion, ¡°You know, you dared lay ya hands on me! You dirty low class peasant.¡±


    ¡°Ya tried to kill me!¡± bellowed Cirin as he tried to rise. He fell back on his arm as his injury proved too much to handle.


    ¡°Run, Sol.¡± He moaned. Cirin shut his eyes again. Taba continued walking. Each heavy step the scholar took filled him with dread. Now that voice before had gone silent to. ¡°Run.¡± He repeated.


    Then, all at once the footsteps seized.


    Cirin looked up, and trembled.


    Sol had not run. Instead, he stood between Cirin and the encroaching Taba with his arms held out to either side.


    ¡°No.¡± asserted the prince.


    Silence and Cirin began to hear the pleasant thrumming of the room. Just as he heard it, a blinding light flashed through the room and forced him to glance at the beam once the sudden light had faded.


    His brows rose higher than they ever had before. The black scar within the beam was receding. Immediately, he turned to Golden Eyes and asked aloud.


    ¡°Why?¡±


    Golden Eye¡¯s blade shattered into a million pieces and he lowered his arm.


    ¡°It-it was just like last time.¡± He hushed.


    ¡°Last time?¡± questioned Cirin.


    ¡°Tell me, little prince, why stake ya life to protect such a trifling servant?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s not my servant!¡± puffed the boy, ¡°He¡¯s my friend.¡±


    Cirin fell on his back and slammed his hand on his mouth.


    ¡°Cirin?!¡± yelped Sol, once more returning to Cirin¡¯s side, ¡°What¡¯s wrong? Cirin?¡±


    Cirin shook his head and kept his hand on his mouth, ¡°Nothing Sol.¡± He mumbled. In truth Cirin did not want to show the prince what lay underneath his hand. He could not dare show him the smile he had then.


    Golden Eye¡¯s gasp brought their attention back to him. He was standing where was before, yet now he held a reverberating necklace in his hands, its midst an onyx black.


    ¡°Zanzabarra¡­¡± trailed Taba.


    He breathed deeply before re-addressing Cirin and the Prince, ¡°It seems I must retreat fa now.¡± He squeezed the necklace hard and his body began to vanish into a mixture of sand and shadow, ¡°Pray we never meet again, prince.¡± He turned his narrowed eyes to Cirin, ¡°Degenerate.¡±


    Cirin struggled to his feet once Golden eyes had vanished. ¡°Degenerate?¡± he questioned.


    By the time they left the tower and out the incline leading to it, the sun had already risen.


    ¡°Easy.¡± Warned Cirin as the tiny Sol tried his best to support him.


    ¡°Dere ya be!¡± yelled a familiar voice.


    Sol squinted to see who amidst the blinding light, but Cirin knew that voice all too well.


    ¡°Hey, old mon.¡±


    When the old mon came to view,it became apparent that he to had undergone a brawl, though  nowhere near as bad as what Cirin had gone through. Toftof and a flustered Manama were with him, as well as a collection of unfamiliar guards.


    Their greeting was short, painful, and filled with excuses from both sides. As soon as Azhar saw his apprentice in the shape that he was, he had Cirin rushed to the nearest inn for treatment.


    The inn was a cozy thing. Though it was a mudhouse, it boast three different floors, imported Garin carpeting and food and mead to make a guardhouse happy.


    Azhar paced uneasily by the foot of the door by Cirin¡¯s room.


    ¡°Next time, I¡¯ll guard da boys.¡± Snapped Azhar.


    ¡°Mother Manama did protect dem, she swears. Tree came in. Zip, snap, spwat, she finished em quick but da time she returned fa dese two, dey were gone!¡±


    Azhar sighed, ¡°And why did ya two idiots leave exactly?¡±


    ¡°To save a wizard!¡± blurted Sol happily.


    ¡°It was a bit more complex den dat.¡± Added Cirin before wincing.


    ¡°I dun want ta hear it. As soon as ya get betta, I¡¯ll personally pummel ya so ya dun do anyting so stupid again.¡±


    Cirin glanced to the side while Manama finished apply the splits to Cirin¡¯s broken arm, ¡°Stupid old mon.¡± he cursed under his breath.


    ¡°What was dat?¡± towered Azhar above Cirin¡¯s bed, ¡°Mana, prepare two more splits. He¡¯ll need it afta I¡¯m through wit him.¡±


    ¡°Oi, Azhar, be a little easier on da boy eh?¡± suggested Toftof of all people.


    Just when Azhar was undoubtedly about to rebut that comment, Cirin spoke up, ¡°Azhar can we talk?¡±


    Azhar stared at the boy for a while, and finally nodded. He motioned the other three out of the room with a tilt of his head. Toftof left first, followed by Manama, and eventually Sol. Azhar shut the door behind them.


    ¡°What is it, mouse?¡±


    ¡°Da one who did dis to me.¡±


    ¡°da one you won¡¯t name?¡± shot Azhar.


    ¡°He used magic.¡±


    Azhar seemed taken aback by that. He had nearly turned to a statue by the way he completely seized his movements.


    ¡°Where? Why? HOW did ya end up fighting someone wit magic?¡±


    Cirin scratched his head with his free hand, ¡°Dats not da point. I want ta know how ta fight like you.¡±


    ¡°Not happening.¡±


    Cirin sat up in his bed, ¡°If I can fight in ya style, I can prevent dem from casting.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not teaching ya.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve seen ya fight.¡± Argued Cirin, ¡°Ya use ya fists as well as ya blade. When I fought da¡­ wizard, it seemed all I had ta do ta beat him was close the distance and fight wit my body.¡±


    ¡°I said no.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    Azhar stomped on the floor, ¡°I can¡¯t tell you why.¡± He fumbled.


    ¡°Is it because of my father?¡± started Cirin. Azhar woke up to that, ¡°Is it because he used da two blade style? Dat won¡¯t work fa me! I¡¯ve only eva been able ta ya use one handed styles like ya, old mon.¡±


    Azhar sat on the end of the bed then looked Cirin in the eyes, ¡°No means no, mouse.¡± He took a breath then and crossed his arms, ¡°If it were up ta me, I¡¯d rather not have ya fight at all. It be a stupid ting, fighting.¡±


    ¡°Ya dun enjoy it?¡±


    Azhar glared at the wall away from Cirin, ¡°Once when I was young, den I learned what fighting meant and how dangerous, yet how fragile we be. Look at ya self, mouse. It hurt didn¡¯t it?¡±


    Cirin looked away from his arm.


    ¡°Now tink about dose you have ta hurt one day.¡± Continued Azhar, ¡°Its just how it is. If dis world were a safe one, no one would have ta fight. But it isn¡¯t. Da style I be teaching ya is a kind one. It is meant to defeat ya enemies without making dem suffer, and ta defend ya self with da fury of ya attacks. But it may only work when ya use both ya hands. I saw ya carrying a blade with ya left by dat damned towa.¡±


    ¡°Dat was necessary!¡± cried Cirin.


    ¡°So ya telling me ya give up den, mouse?¡±


    Cirin balled his one good fist, shut his eyes, and snapped his head away from Azhar.


    ¡°Neva.¡± He said simply.


    ¡°Den one day, I¡¯ll tell ya da reason.¡±


    Cirin smiled instantly, ¡°Really?¡± he said to an empty room and an open door. Cirin glanced down in frustration. For once, he really didn¡¯t get it.

 Chapter 8, Of Wizards, Trees and Lost Cities

    The five of them decided to depart the next day, despite the celebration a few of the more grateful nobles insisted on throwing them.


    In a strange turn, once they found out Zanzabarra had abandoned them, the remaining Rentrala¡¯far swore loyalty to the noble houses and the six Rentrala¡¯far who aided the strangers.


    As a show of thanks, the same nobles rewarded the brave five with another pack snake, this one specifically to aide Cirin travel as he recovered.


    A little ways to the northern gate, Azhar split from the group and swore he¡¯d be right back.


    ¡°It¡¯s been an hour.¡± Complained Cirin.


    ¡°He knows what he be doing.¡± Hushed Toftof.


    ¡°But-¡±


    ¡°If ya be so impatient, why not go fa ya self?¡± Cut in Toftof.


    Cirin peered the way of Manama who shrugged and said, ¡°go, he¡¯s not dat far. Down da street and to ya left. Look for an open front tavern named da ¡®Dune¡¯s Rest¡¯.¡±


    Toftof sighed and stepped in, ¡°I¡¯ll go wit ya.¡± He added


    By the time the two reached the ¡®Dune¡¯s Nest¡¯, Toftof became alert and signaled Cirin to hide to the side of the tavern by the open bar.


    ¡°Dey be close by.¡± He warned.


    ¡°Why hide?¡± whispered Cirin, mimicking Toftof¡¯s cautious tone.


    ¡°Ta tink dat man would be here.¡±


    ¡°Dat man?¡± Cirin felt estranged to it all, despite having known Azhar for nearly half is life.


    Toftof lifted a finger to his mouth, ¡°Shhh.¡± He hushed, ¡°Dey seemed to making deir goodbyes.¡±


    Cirin listened in.


    ¡°So it was da emperor, huh?¡± that voice was Azhar¡¯s.


    ¡°You dun seemed surprised?¡± spoke a deep, unfamiliar voice.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been doing dis fa too long, I can¡¯t afford ta be. So, what does da Love fool of a king want wit a couple of free-cities?¡±


    ¡°What else?¡±


    There was a silence.


    ¡°Its¡¯ destruction?¡± coughed Azhar.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid so.¡± Confirmed deep voice. ¡°You know da emperor be no friend of mine. If dis plot doesn¡¯t prove how flawed da system be I dun know what will. Da imperial army be too strong as it is now. I need ta prepare. I need good people on my side. I said it before Azhar, I¡¯ll offer again, join me.¡±


    ¡°Da answer be da same as it was ten years ago when ya first asked me.¡±


    ¡°Stubborn as always.¡± puffed the man.


    ¡°So how will dey do it?¡±


    The voices hushed down so much so that Cirin could only make out the word ¡®tower¡¯ and ¡®neck¡¯.


    ¡°So dat mouse wasn¡¯t lying¡­¡± sighed Azhar.


    ¡°Jafna¡¯s kid?¡±


    A sordid chuckle was his response. Cirin lowered his brows, Azhar¡¯s laughter was the same everywhere. ¡°You won¡¯t get him. Dis I swear.¡±


    ¡°Humpf, it¡¯s you I want not da second generation.¡±


    ¡°A shame den, da second generation will be a lot stronger.¡±


    ¡°Is dat so? Den maybe I¡¯ll reconsider it.¡±


    ¡°Ova my dead body.¡± Laughed Azhar.


    ¡°They¡¯re getting up.¡± Shot Toftof. Cirin nodded. That was the que to leave.


    When Azhar returned to the group he found a curious pair of imps breathing hard as if they had just run a race.


    ¡°Training.¡± Said Cirin, ¡°Just running though.¡±


    Azhar shook his head and balanced it on one hand, ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡± He said.


    By noon that day, they left Ezmir.


    Cirin leaned back on the pack serpent carriage. If breaking his arm had one benefit, it was the free seat it gave him.


    ¡°Nice up dere, eh?¡± began a weary Toftof.


    ¡°Break ya arm and ya can join to.¡± Poked Azhar.


    Toftof gave the taller man a vicious look, ¡°I was talking to da boy.¡±


    Cirin glanced at his own bandaged arm that was now supported by his neck in a makeshift sling, ¡°Dis is nothing.¡± He bluffed, ¡°I could walk if da old mon would let me.¡±


    ¡°Hey hey, I¡¯m supposed ta be da liar here.¡± Chuckled Toftof.


    Cirin sighed and fell back until he had his head held back and his eyes behind him. The world had become an upside desert. As if the sky had turned to sand, and the sank a pillow white. That seemed far more comforting than the blistering wasteland they were trekking through.


    It had been hours since they left Ezmir, and by then the only scenery too be seen were nothing but dunes upon dunes, with odd rock face jutting out of the desert.


    ¡°Mouse.¡±


    Cirin tilted his head to Azhar, who led the pack. The man had a letter held out.


    ¡°Take it. It¡¯s from that friend of yours.¡±


    He reached for it with his left. It was a simple thing. Not that Cirin had seen much letters in his lifetime. All letters from Illivanmar were folded into triangles and sealed with Concava gum in its midst, a syrup from the concave trees that grew plentiful in the southern reaches.


    Cirin ripped open the seal with his teeth and carefully unfolded it. He squinted at the tiny letters. Catherine¡¯s writing was unmistakeable.


    Greetings Cirin and Sol,


    I¡¯d imagine you two are quite surprised to receive my letter so early. I¡¯ll send plenty more, so do be expecting them. How have you two been? I worry since I¡¯ve heard from Grod that you were traveling with that unscrupulous fellow. You know the one, short with a pair of dice and a bad temper. To the point. I¡¯ve researched some more on Black Necks, gods forbid you may run into them, and have come to conclusion that they are a relatively new gang made from the remnants of a much more prominent gang, the Black Daggers.


    Now, the Black Daggers hail from an offshoot of the fabled Black Flight. See a pattern? A part from the ¡®Black¡¯ in all three, each one is just a splinter from a larger branch. Yet what they all have in common is the root of the tree. The annals say the Black Flight has defended the Emperor¡¯s rule for generations, while it is common knowledge that the Black Daggers served as unofficial henchman to some of the emperor¡¯s more un-lawful of compatriots. So, I have no doubt that the Black Necks are in some way connected to the emperor.


    Which brings me to my last point. Be careful. I trust Azhar has already read this, and if he hasn¡¯t by some off chance, show this to him. If I am correct, and I always am, dealing with the Black Necks means dealing with the Emperor himself. You don¡¯t need a scholar from Galokin to remind you how bad that is. The Emperor is second only to the king of Galokin, and even that is debatable.


    There was some space before the last bit.


    ¡­If you do run into them though, run the other way. And if you can¡¯t run, say these words:


    By Kisdaman¡¯s mercy spare me, my sister, my king.


    Bare me no hatred, no blade, nor sin.


    I have died already.


    It may sound odd, but I¡¯ve done quite a lot of reading on it, and I¡¯ve asked my own fair share of questions. I¡¯ll explain later. Just remember those words.


    Kind Regards,Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    Catherine


    Cirin folded the letter and looked to Azhar. If Catherine only knew what he had seen. For one thing, Azhar already knew. Perhaps he knew even more. He glanced quickly at Sol who had been happily chatting to Mother Manama by the other pack snake, a few paces behind the first. He used his left hand for support as he started to get up. Yet as he did, his eyes caught the shape of something peculiar shifting out of the sands.


    He tensed.


    ¡°Azhar, I see dose creatures again.¡±


    Cirin turned to Azhar to have him staring back. His master¡¯s mouth had formed a frown and his hand had already steadied the pack snake.


    Within moments the snake slowed to a halt and the one behind them seized its slithering.


    ¡°What be happenin¡¯?¡± asked a startled Manama.


    Azhar¡¯s voice was terse and commanding, ¡°Get on ya snake.¡±


    That command was followed briskly. Whatever the reason, the adults knew it well enough not to complain.


    ¡°Why we doing dis?¡± prodded Cirin.


    Azhar leapt on the pack snake while he answered, ¡°Keep ya eyes peeled even if da sand get in.¡±


    ¡°Aye, ya dun won¡¯t miss dis.¡± Confirmed Toftof as Azhar helped him up.


    The moment all three were on board, Azhar closed the back hatch of the pack snake, and shuffled to Cirin side.


    ¡°Look dere.¡± He pointed down past the other snake.


    As Cirin did so, there own snake started to slither again, prompted by Toftof¡¯s whipping.


    ¡°I still see da creatures, but I dun see anyting besides dat.¡±


    ¡°Look at da sand, mouse.¡±


    Cirin squinted and held his breath a moment later.


    ¡°It¡¯s moving.¡± He said breathlessly.


    Just as the second pack snake reassumed movement, the sands in the distance churned. It was minute at first, barely noticeable under the desert sun, yet only moments later the moving sand erupted into a violent swirl. What was once a twitch in the sand became a monstrous thing, as big as a city. No bigger. The silent sands had become a roaring ocean. And in this ocean, the place where the ands started shifting had become a grainy maelstrom, the eye of the storm, a blackened abyss.


    By then the sound of it began enticingly apparent. It reminded Cirin of the crashing waves by the city shore. Only this was louder. It proved deafening at first, but slowly quieter as their snakes slithered away.


    His eyes trailed down to the sand below their serpent. The sand was moving there as well.


    ¡°What ya see is da start of a sand flow, mouse. Dese snakes and da creatures ya saw, be da only tings dat can swim in sand flows.¡±


    ¡°What about dat center?¡± Cirin said pointing at the swirling eye.


    Azhar pressed his brows and looked well into the distance, ¡°A sand flow can form anywhere in da desert. Dese sands be alive, mouse. But dat also means if a flow formed beneath us, so to, would da eye.¡±


    ¡°And if dat happened?¡± asked Cirin.


    Azhar gave him a weary look, ¡°We¡¯d die.¡±


    Toftof slapped the boy the shoulder and made him wince.


    ¡°Uh, Sorry.¡± Laughed Toftof, ¡°I meant ta say, cheer up. Da fact dat we made it out of dat damned city means we be alive now. Dere be no betta feeling dan dat, eh?¡±


    Cirin nodded slowly at Toftof, ¡°Catherine¡¯s letter said to be weary of you.¡±


    ¡°Catherine? Who dat be?¡±


    Azhar rose a brow at Toftof, and Toftof leaned back, crossed his arms, and sighed, ¡°Well, I did try ta kill ya, eh?¡±


    ¡°Not a good first impression.¡± Noted Azhar.


    ¡°Let me start ova.¡± Declared Toftof. He uncrossed his arms and held one hairy hand out to Cirin, ¡°My name is Toftof, your- uh- ex-assassin, a pleasure ta make ya acquaintance.¡±


    Cirin tossed Azhar a glance, only to find Azhar smiling nudging his head at Toftof.


    Cirin shut his eyes and tossed his head aside. If Azhar wasn¡¯t there that day, Toftof would have killed Sol.


    ¡°I¡¯m not shaking ya hand.¡± Spat Cirin, ¡°If ya want ta start ova, do so wit Sol.¡±


    Toftof lowered his hand and leaned back, ¡°Tough kid, eh?¡±


    ¡°Da Toughest.¡± Said Azhar. Cirin tilted his head slightly towards Azhar. For a moment he sensed a hint of pride from that. Cirin shook his head. As if Azhar would ever acknowledge him.


    Off in the distance the sand flow had reached its zenith. The turbulent sand eddies had run so fast that now they looked almost still in their constant movements. Even the messiest of things found a way to be clean.


    The thrashing screams of sand and stone had become mere whispers of pebbles. Cirin¡¯s eyes trailed from it to the snake behind them.


    Mother Manama seemed to have enthralled Sol in some form of story. She had her arms splayed in several movements as she told whatever fantastical spell she had on the prince.


    ¡°Wonderin¡¯ what Mana be saying?¡± said Azhar.


    Cirin balanced his head on the rim of the cart.


    ¡°Not really.¡± He lied.


    ¡°Mana was always obsessed wit da tales of dis land. She must be telling da Prince about da giant serpent unda da sands.¡±


    ¡°G-g-giant serpent?¡± croaked Cirin.


    ¡°Aye¡± laughed Azhar, ¡°A big one. Only a tale though. Da old ones tell of a giant serpent who upsets da sands wherever it stirs. Her name be Ipin, mudda of all sand snakes. Dey say she spans all ova desert, a snake so big she could choke da world. But she have one weakness.¡±


    Cirin narrowed his eyes. He could only think of one thing more foreboding than the thought of a giant snake.


    ¡°Da black towers.¡± Hushed Cirin.


    ¡°Ah so ya know dat much.¡±


    ¡°Just a tale though.¡± Snapped Cirin.


    ¡°Aye¡± humored Azhar after some time, ¡°Just a tale.¡±


    The sands calmed by night time, but just as before they kept on their travels. This time, they tied the snakes together at night, so two of the adults could rest at any given time.


    By the time Cirin caught his first yawn of the day he noticed the land had already begun to change. Gone was the endless scenery of sand and sand dunes.


    ¡°Green¡­¡± He managed in a groggy tone, ¡°Are dose trees?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re up, mouse?¡± Azhar was the first to greet him.


    Cirin rubbed his eyes and stared at the miraculous color. It was well in the distance, but there were many of them dotted about in little islands amongst a sea of sand.


    Like mesas in the Cliffside of Lamonori, grew patches of stone bedding that stuck out of the sands and carried a variety of green shrubbery and trees along with it.


    There were palms, willows, and even an odd baobab towering here and there.


    ¡°We¡¯re in da stone forest, mouse.¡± Continued Azhar, ¡°As soon as we pass dis we should be near da salt plains an den da metropolis of Gara.¡±


    Azhar was walking by the pack snake. Beside him, a yawning Manama followed by, and a bright-eyed Sol lingered behind.


    Manama tossed her head from side to side, making her many beads rustle in the wind, ¡°Mother Manama say dis be holy place, so dun tink we¡¯d be stopping here.¡±


    Cirin stared behind their pack snake and found Toftof unhappily trudging with the second pack snake by himself.


    ¡°And how long should dis take? Ta pass dis forest I mean?¡± poised Cirin.


    Azhar stared at him from the corner of his eye, ¡°To pass dis and da plains? Two weeks.¡±


    Cirin fell back, instantly nauseated by even the mention of a week.


    And so two weeks passed by. By then, the strange stone forest that had so captivated him, had become a part of the mundane. Somehow, it had made him long for the desert. The salt plains proved no more different than the stone forest as the same grey mesas repeated there as well.


    Between All the while between Manama and Toftof, Sol and Cirin found no shortage of tales regarding the wonderful city of Gara. They spoke much of the vast apple orchards that grew around the city, so much so that in spring time, that part of the desert appeared to be more of a forest rather than a city.


    Meanwhile, Cirin found himself more and more able. Azhar even let him walk for once as they crossed the salt plains.


    ¡°We should be reaching Gara within the day.¡± Declared Azhar by the end of the two weeks.


    ¡°Mother Manama tink it be time ta tell ya two about why dey call it Gara.¡±


    Sol jumped at the prospect of hearing another of her stories. Cirin sighed, always one to keep an eye on the prince, the fortune teller had done better to capture Sol than any had done before. And she needed only her wit and her words.


    ¡°Listen closely, children.¡± She started with her usual swagger, ¡°And let ya mouths water. Fa Gara be da center of all tings delicious. Many years ago, when da first cities were being founded, dere was a lone adventurer lost and starving. Dis traveler wondered da desert fa days witout food and one day he found a single desert flower growing in da middle of nowhere.


    Now usually, a lost and starvin¡¯ man would not stop for a flower no matta how strange it be, but dis flowa had a fruit growin¡¯ upon its bud. When da adventurer reached for it, all ravenous and such, a spirit made entirely of wind appeared before him.


    Dis spirit said to da man, with words as quiet as whispers, ¡°Hail man of flesh and soul. Dis be my fruit, my gold if noting mo¡¯


    ¡®hail O¡¯honourble spirit¡¯ replied the man, fa he knew his manors if noting else, ¡®What must I do eat ya gold.¡¯


    Da spirit ¡®hm¡¯ed¡¯ and ¡®huh¡¯d¡¯ until finally it snapped its spectral finga¡¯s and proposed to da man, ¡®Eat da apple, but keep da seeds on ya. Den only den, ya plant da seeds one thousand steps from here.¡¯


    ¡®But I be not very godo at counting¡¯ confessed da man.


    ¡®Den plant one fa every two hundred and fifty steps ya take.¡¯


    Ofcourse da man agreed. He devouvered da apple, and collected da seeds, for which dere were four. Da apple was the sweetest in the world.


    He walked da first to hundred and fifty steps and did as da spirit commanded. Den he did so da second and finally arrived at da third. Though by den his stomach growled hungrily.


    Ofcourse da man had been walking for some time so he thought, ¡®well maybe da spirit be gone now¡¯ afterall dat was seven hundred and fifty steps ago. So he happily swallowed both seeds in one go. Da seeds were as sweet as honey.


    When da man reached a thousand steps, he noticed he had come to da exact base of one of da black towas. Though dis one had no city by it yet.


    Den da spirit he had met before appeared out of da sand and asked of him expectanly, ¡®now dat ya be here, plant da seed and complete our bargain.¡¯


    Da man struggled and ¡®uh¡¯d¡¯ until finally he blustered and told da spirit da turh, ¡®I ate da last two seeds.¡¯


    ¡®I see¡¯ said da spirit ¡®ya broke my promise.¡¯


    Know what happened den?¡± Manama lowered her eyes expectantly at the two listening.


    Cirin shrugged and Sol clamoured for more, ¡°What? What?!¡±


    Manama lowered to Cirin¡¯s height and held her arms well above them, ¡°Da spirit turned da man into an apple tree!¡±


    Sol eyes went wide and Cirin shook his head.


    ¡°Da man¡¯s name was Gara, so da city built dere was named afta him.¡± Concluded Manama, ¡°Ya neva break a promise to a spirit.¡±


    ¡°Yes if dey were real, you wouldn¡¯t¡± entered Azhar.


    ¡°Dey are real.¡± Asserted Manama.


    ¡°Have you seen one?¡± questioned Azhar.


    Manama¡¯s mouth kept quivering, but no words left her lips. She had lost the ability to speak.


    ¡°Da city was named afta da first emperor¡¯s envoy ta visit da towa. Not some cursed apple tree.¡± Scoffed Azhar. He lowered one hand to the pack snake and bid it to stop. ¡°Though Gara be known fa her apples. Sweetest in all twelve of da stars.¡±


    ¡°I liked Mother Manama¡¯s story more.¡± Asserted Sol.


    ¡°Den believe it instead.¡± Yawned Azhar, ¡°Ah, we should be seeing da city soon.¡± Azhar pressed one hand over his brows as peered up ahead, ¡°Dat¡¯s strange. Mana, do ya see what I see?¡±


    ¡°Ya mean no spirits?¡± she snapped scornfully.


    ¡°No, look.¡±


    Manama mimicked Azhar¡¯s brow cupping and stared into the distance.


    ¡°Maybe we lost pace somewhere?¡±


    ¡°Impossible.¡± Shook Azhar. He pointed at an oddly shaped Messa closeby. It had a sharp jutting and two downset enclaves on its face almost like that of a human head, with a nose and two eyes.


    ¡°Dat¡¯s a landmark I go by.¡± Said Azhar, ¡°We should see da towa by now.¡±


    By then Toftof had approached them from his snake.


    ¡°What happened? A Sand flow?¡±


    ¡°Worse.¡± Answered Azhar, ¡°We seemed to have lost a towa.¡±


    Despite it all, the company resolved to move closer. Azhar had been adamant about his direction, much to Manama and Toftof¡¯s objections. Though Cirin understood why they objected. It was one thing to trust and follow a man who traveled the desert countless times, it was another to accept that one of the great towers could disappear.


    As they got closer, the hopes of spotting the tower became as dim as the setting sky. Until, by the peak of sunset when the sands became a lustrous alloy of gold and fire, they saw it.


    The mere sight gave pause to both the company and the snakes. Even the beasts knew something was awry. The tower had not sprouted legs and walked away. Nor had it vanished in some magical phenomena. It had crumbled.


    Cirin could never forget what Azhar said once he saw it.


    ¡°Black Necks¡­ They¡¯ve doomed us all.¡±

 Chapter 9, Apples in the Desert

    It was nothing like the stories.


    Remains of trees scattered the far reaches of the once great orchards. No leaves decorated the withered branches upon them, nor did a single ruby red apple glisten as their solemn party passed by. The sands consumed all.


    ¡°Do ya tink anyone stayed?¡± posed Manma.


    Azhar dug his hands into his pockets and sighed even louder than usual, ¡°People always stay.¡±


    The moment they came across the first collection of ruined sandhuts and tree huts, Azhar was proved right.


    Here and there, what could be called vagrants at best huddled and scurried amidst the wasteland. The desert winds whistled by as Azhar halted by the street¡¯s entry.


    ¡°Toftof, I have a feelin¡¯ dat dere be enemies here.¡± Warned Azhar.


    Toftof caught up to the rest at his mention, ¡°And what be dis feelin¡¯ based on?¡± he puffed.


    ¡°My sweat.¡±


    Cirin eyed Toftof who had been walking the other pack serpent. He appeared to be in great difficulty for his hands were balled and his teeth out and clenching.


    ¡°Dese people are not yours, ya stupid imp.¡± Azhar tossed his head from side to side, ¡°Dey be desperate.¡± He stopped at a particularly skinny trio of children, ¡°Starving.¡±


    After a while, Azhar nudged his head at the company and continued walking.


    Azhar lowered his voice, ¡°When we be at our lowest points, it dun matta how smart we were, we become no mo dan beasts. Ya undastand?¡±


    ¡°Ya dun have to tell me.¡± Hushed Toftof.


    Cirin made sure to pull Sol close as they trudged brazenly through the street¡¯s center. The eyes of the depraved locked onto them and did not let go. There presence was strange, and made stranger still by the small felian among them. Cirin felt the same sweat form on the back of his neck. He knew from Ezmir, that sweat did not lie.


    And lie it did not, for the instant they reached the street¡¯s midpoint Cirin caught the particular scrap of several footsteps echo behind him. He turned just as Azhar did, yet where Azhar drew his blade, Cirin faltered at what lay before him.


    A crowd formed there, not of motely bandits desperate for money, but of regular people, desperate perhaps, but desperate for their lives.


    And old man quivered in front of the much younger members of the crowd and lowered himself to his knees. Azhar kept his blade up and his eyes narrowed.


    The old man, whose arms were bones and clothes tattered, pressed his meek hands together and prostrated himself there.


    ¡°The generation before mine is dead.¡± The old man¡¯s voice was broken thing, it was just as tattered as his clothes. Cirin noticed what the old man meant then as he stared at the members of that particular crowd. They were young. The oldest among in their early twenties. More so, they all looked like walking bones. Many even appeared as pale.


    ¡°Please.¡± Continued the elder, ¡°Save the remaining few.¡±


    Azhar lowered his blade after sometime and sheathed it a moment a later. He turned without so much an answer and walked a few steps.


    ¡°Sorry.¡± He answered as he walked away.


    Cirin felt his gut wrench. He turned after his master and shouted, ¡°Old mo-¡±


    ¡°We must help them.¡± Cried Sol.


    Azhar stopped a few paces away, ¡°We came here to tell da people you live, not ta save anoda city. We¡¯ll find some lodging tonight and leave tommora.¡±


    ¡°But.¡±


    ¡°No arguing, my Prince. Ya safety is my highest concern. And dis be no safe place. Not now.¡± Azhar tossed his head to a nearby alley way, then snapped back to his front and continued walking.


    Manama and Toftof both apologised to the elder before tugging the pack snakes along with them. Cirin sighed and grabbed Sol by the arm.


    ¡°Come on, Sol. I dun like it eider, but we gotta listen to da old mon about dis.¡± Tried Cirin. Sol nodded back, he tended not argue with Cirin. Yet Cirin could tell the boy hated turning away from those people. In fact, as Cirin jogged to Azhar with Sol in Tol, Cirin hated it to.


    He felt powerless, feeble, someone who could not even lift a sword. He glanced painfully at his broken arm, in a way he was powerless. The fight with the golden eye boy proved that. It made him wonder why he was even there. Azhar¡¯s pet project? No. He was a means to keep the prince in check.


    Even as he walked away, he could hear the pleas for help emanating from the dying crowd.


    Each voice was different.


    ¡°Help us.¡± A girls.


    ¡°Help my family.¡± A man¡¯s.


    ¡°Help, please. Save us. Wait.¡± A woman¡¯s


    ¡°Wait.¡±


    Cirin stopped. Every voice had a body, and some voices spoke more of their bodies than others. This wasn¡¯t a starving voice, and that made Cirin turn. As it did for Toftof, Manama, and even Azhar.


    Azhar brushed passed Cirin. He met the owner of that voice halfway between the remnants of the crowd and their own company.


    ¡°A green eyed boy, as pale as dey come? And a collection of notable guards? You must Prince Sol and his escorts.¡± Said the man. He was middle aged, dressed in fine silk, and had a finely cut head of hair that spoke of his wealth.


    Azhar and the man greeted each other with a half bow, ¡°And who you be?¡± asked Azhar.


    ¡°A friend.¡± Said the man as he bowed to the remaining four behind Azhar. He tossed his walnut brown eyes to Azhar, ¡°I am Uhatu. Lord Uhatu, and a former noble of Gara. I overheard your objections to da prince and I can be a means to what ya need.¡± He pointed to a hillside manse near the base of the fallen tower, ¡°Stay at my manse tonight.¡±


    ¡°Den we¡¯ll take you up on dat offer.¡±


    The two bowed to each other again and joined the other four as they traveled down the road.


    They reached the manse by nightfall. The house was not a particulary large one, yet it held the most common of Ilivanmarin manse essentials. It had the two man high walls, a cared for garden and most importantly a grand view of the tower.


    Cirin scrutinized the walls as they entered through the gate. There were cracks on those walls and strange stains on the surface. Moreover, the tips of the walls were finished with spikes. Cirin had never known nobles to be a warlike people. Especially not the wine loving officiates of Ilivanmar.


    ¡°Come in, come in.¡± insisted Uhatu.


    Manama, Azhar, Cirin, and Sol followed Uhatu into the lavish manse as Toftof split off with a stable hand to handle the pack serpents.


    ¡°We have guest rooms on da second floor.¡± Motioned Uhatu to the stairs on his left, ¡°You may rest dere tonight, while I have my people prepare dinner.¡±


    ¡°Most appreciated.¡± Nodded Azhar.


    ¡°Uh, I can arrange a separate room, for my lady.¡± Said Uhata as he turned to Manama.


    Manama chuckled and nudged her head to the door, ¡°Eh? Mother Manama will be fine sleepin¡¯ wit da snakes.¡±


    ¡°My-¡±


    Azhar laughed and patted the noble on the back, ¡°She be a little strange. If I were you, I¡¯d let her do as she wishes. We be gone tommora anyway.¡±


    Uhatu¡¯s plastered on my smile fell then and his tone plummeted with it, ¡°Right¡­¡± He said slowly. He clasped his hands and mimicked Azhar¡¯s laughter, ¡°We¡¯ll prepare the finest of bathes to make up for it.¡±


    Azhar patted Uhatu on the back again, much to the noble¡¯s displeasure, ¡°Tank ya for da trouble.¡± He yawned.


    He was gone up the stairs shortly after, while Manama took the door to her own retreat. Cirin lowered his head at the noble, ¡°Tell me why.¡± He started.


    ¡°You must be anudda of da prince¡¯s guards.¡± Said Uhatu, ¡°I see you be asking why I have given you lodging-¡±


    ¡°Not dat.¡± Hushed Cirin. He glanced at Sol, who had his little eyes on Uhatu the entire time. ¡°Why did da people stay behind? Even if dey be starving?¡±


    Uhatu lowered his brows and blew a drawn out sigh, ¡°Oh how da young be foolish. Walk wit me.¡± Just as sol started to move. Uhuta held out one hand, ¡°Not you, my Prince. Please join your guard on da uppa level. Dis be a chat fa ya friend here.¡±


    Sol turned to Cirin and Cirin nodded at Sol. Sol latched onto Cirin¡¯s sleeve, ¡°Tell me, ok?¡± pleaded the prince.


    Cirin ruffled Sol¡¯s ebon hair, ¡°You need not eva worry about dat.¡±


    Sol smiled before departing the next moment. Once he was sure Sol was gone, Uhatu took Cirin on an immediate tour through the houses facilities, choosing to remain silent as passed the first sitting room.


    ¡°Dis manse has four sitting rooms, a kitchen, three blaconies and six bedrooms. Do you know what dat means?¡± Uhatu paused shortly for Cirin to answer.


    ¡°You¡¯re rich?¡±


    ¡°We were rich.¡± Corrected Uhatu, ¡°Dis manse was second only to da royal house in Lamonori in da free cities when da tower still stood. Now it has lost all value. All we have left is da clothes on our backs, what food we have left in da storehouses and a dozen pieces of papers sayin¡¯ we own da grand majestic orchards of Gara.¡± Uhatu made a particular play with what he said last, making sure to exaggerate his ¡®r¡¯s¡¯ as he said ¡®Gara¡¯.


    They had just passed into the final sitting room when Uhatu spoke again. This room was full of old paintings of towers and apples trees. It stank heavily of oil and liquor.


    ¡°When da towa fell, no one knew what would happen. Or radda.¡± Uhatu paused, ¡°We didn¡¯t want to know what would happen. People are da same you see. Weder pennyless or rich, dey love deir homes. Dose of us who refused ta leave in da first week were too late ta do it in da second. Everyting was gone da moment we decided to stay.¡±


    ¡°But it isn¡¯t gone.¡± Protested Cirin, ¡°Why not help da people down dere? If you help each udder you may still survive.¡±


    Uhatu gave Cirin a discerning look, ¡°Dere are only two types of mean who defend strangers. Dose dat are kind, and dose burdend wit remorse. You speak as if ya shoulder da blame for dis. What is it dat weighs on ya mind I wonda?¡±


    Cirin balled his fists and kept quiet.


    ¡°No matta.¡± Continued Uhatu, ¡°It is not dat simple, child. Da moment we open our stores to dem, dey will take everyting.¡± Uhatu stopped in front of the final doorway and let Cirin passed him into the room. It was the kitchen.


    Cirin had only seen the royal kitchen a couple times, yet this one reminded him of a smaller version of it. It was clean, loud, and above all busy. Atleast ten cooks rushed from facility to facility, chopping, stewing, dicing and yelling.


    ¡°Dese few are da only ones we can support andi n return dey help us keep our formr lifestyle da way it is.¡±


    ¡°Papa!¡±


    Cirin turned to the collection of three small children as they rushed Uhatu, rushing to his leg and jumping to grab his attention.


    He lifted the nearest and smallest of the three children, a small toddler, and held it high as a middle-aged woman with wavy black hair crossed the sitting room.


    She was dressed in a red one-piece with a golden river lily imprinted by her hip.


    The moment she got to Uhatu, the two leaned in and pecked a kiss.


    ¡°Uhatu, is dis one da guests?¡± she asked quaintly.


    ¡°Yes, my dear. He is da prince¡¯s youngest guard at present. I was giving him a tour.¡± Uhatu turned to Cirin, ¡°I hope it was to your pleasing?¡±


    Cirin noted the three children as well as the workers in the kitchen, he couldn¡¯t help but feel sorry for these people, even if he knew they were living the way they did while others starved on the streets just blocks away.


    ¡°It is.¡± Said Cirin.


    ¡°Den I insist you rest fa now in da rooms above, da food will be ready shortly.¡±


    Cirin left the family and made to the upper floor with his left hand in his pocket. Uhatu was right about one thing. He was guilty. Guilty of being weak against the golden eyed boy. When Azhar found Cirin that night in Ezmir, Cirin had learned that Zanzabarra had escaped mere moments before the golden eyed boy had chosen to. From that, and from how the boy mentioned Zanzabarra before leaving, Cirin concluded that the boy¡¯s departure was based purely on Zanzabarra¡¯s retreat. If Zanzabarra had not left, Ezmir would have been lost and Sol along with it.


    Cirin slammed his hand against the wall. Had the boy been here? He wondered. Had he been too late?


    The doro closest to where he had hit the clicked and crept open. From it, Sol¡¯s small head peeped out. He turned his head fro mside to side until he saw Cirin and eyes went a lit.


    ¡°Cirin!¡± he beamed, pushing open the door fully and stumbling to his guard.


    Cirin pushed back Sol with his left hand until the prince was an arm¡¯s length away.


    ¡°Uhatu says da people stay cause dey love deir homes. No udda reason. Same with Uhatu¡¯s own family. Dey¡¯re not bad people.¡± He concluded.


    ¡°I knew that.¡± Smiled Sol.


    ¡°Den, if none of dem are to blame, who do ya point ya blade at?¡± asked Cirin. He shut his eyes and smiled sadly as he realised he was asking a seven year old boy philosophical questions.


    ¡°No one!¡± shouted the seven year old boy, ¡°If everyone smiled and shared, everyone would be happy? Wouldn¡¯t they? Cirin.¡±


    Cirin flicked Sol in the head and laughed a little, ¡°I guess you¡¯re right, ya imp. Is da old mon here?¡±


    Sol nodded furiously, stopping only briefly to rub his injured head, ¡°Down the hall.¡± He pointed, ¡°The biiig door, right there.¡±


    ¡°Thanks mon.¡±


    Cirin made to the biggest door just as directed and opened it without so much a knock. Azhar never gave him much privacy either.


    Inside the brightly painted suite were two ornate drawers on either side of a queen size bed. And on the bed, aside from the priceless linens, laid an unceremonious slob of a man on his side who , quite promptly, scratched his bum as soon as Cirin entered.


    ¡°Oi, old mon.¡± sighed Cirin.


    Azhar glanced at the boy over his shoulder, ¡°Oh, it¡¯s you, mouse. What¡¯s wit dat face? Haven¡¯t seen a man try ta rest afta traveling da desert fa two weeks?¡±


    ¡°Didn¡¯t say I wanted to.¡± Confessed Cirin.


    ¡°Well? What is it?¡± yawned Azhar as he turned over.


    ¡°I want ta try training now.¡±


    Azhar blinked once and turned over, ¡°Impossible.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s been weeks!¡±


    ¡°Give it a rest, mouse. And give me a rest.¡±


    Cirin stomped in, shoo¡¯d Sol from the door, and slammed it loud enough to wake a whole house full of sleeping Azhars.


    Azhar sat up and ran his hand sloppily across his face, ¡°Do ya want ta train dat bad?¡±


    Cirin tensed his shoulders, ¡°Yes.¡± He said sternly.


    ¡°Ya have ya blade wit ya?¡±


    Cirin reached for the rusted blade on his back, ¡°Aye.¡±


    ¡°Den¡­¡± Azhar lept from the bed, swiped his foot under the bed frame, and kicked his blade out from under it. He hooked the blade with his foot, then knocked it up in the air into his grip. ¡°Fight me.¡± He said as he cracked his shoulders.


    Cirin had no time to question the absurdity of it. Nor did he want to. There was something he wanted to test.


    He drew his rusted sabre out with his left hand and swished it in front.


    Just as Azhar took up his usual stance, Cirin proceeded to mimic it. First he lowered his knees, and second he held the blade pointed to the ground. Finally he tilted his body til it was directly parallel to his masters¡¯.


    Azhar shook his head, ¡°I told ya not ta copy me.¡± He started.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    Cirin lowered his chin and lunged forwards only to have Azhar dodge it with ease.


    ¡°Dis is da only way I¡¯ll get stronger!¡± grunted Cirin whilst attempting another swipe.


    Azhar dodged that swipe and finally parried the third. From there, the man pushed all his weight onto the press of his blades until Cirin was forced to fall back.


    ¡°Ya tink ya can even hit me while ya left handed? Pah. Ya be betta dan dis mouse.¡±


    Cirin charged. Azhar dodged.


    Turning on his heel, Cirin swept the blade in a wide arc at Azhar, who just as easily ducked the attack, and had it cut the tapestry behind him.


    The two circled each other. Once Cirin had him facing the door way, he swung low, determined this time, only to have his master meet the attack with his own downwards facing blade. The blades rasped against each. Rust against finely tuned steel.


    ¡°Ya give up, mouse?¡±


    Cirin scowled and jumped back. He stabbed the empty air ahead of him to keep the man at a distance.


    Cirin shook his head furiously. It was the only way he could think to calm himself. ¡°Ya words won¡¯t work on me, mon.¡±


    Azhar held his blade to the side and lifted his free hand towards Cirin. He motioned the boy to come at him.


    Angrily, Cirin flicked his blade to the side and ran headfirst.


    Azhar needed only to step to the side to avoid the assault, while Cirin dumbly stopped a few step behind his master.


    The tow turned to each and leapt back.


    Cirin puffed, ¡°Ya grown soft, old mon. You¡¯d have me bruised and on da ground by now.¡±


    ¡°Look Cirin.¡±


    ¡°No wonda ya only be a dog.¡±


    ¡°Cirin.¡±


    ¡°Maybe I¡¯ll have dat Zanzabarra train me instead.¡±


    Azhar shut his eyes and lifted his free hand to his face as he sighed into it.


    Cirin lowered his chin again and charged. This was his chance.


    Closing the gap, Cirin reached Azhar in half a second, yet Azhar¡¯s blade knew he would come. The moment Cirin was within the reach of Azhar¡¯s blade, Azhar twisted Cirin¡¯s blade out of his hand knocked him back with a kick to the chest.


    Cirin¡¯s blade flung passed the boy until it lodged itself through the aforementioned priceless linen sheets.


    Cirin blinked, ¡°How? You weren¡¯t even looking.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t need ta.¡± Said Azhar, ¡°I knew da length of ya blade and I knew da sound of ya footsteps. A careless swordsman makes more sounds dan he needs ta. A swordsman be only careless once he forsakes da beauty of his style. Listen, mouse, my style requires complete control of my state of mind while da style I be teaching ya thrives on ya passion.¡±


    Cirin go up to his feet, wincing once as his right arm began to throb. ¡°I¡¯ve lost ta ya every time wit dat style.¡±


    ¡°hmpf.¡± Puffed Azhar, ¡°Ya will never beat me, mouse.¡±


    Cirin looked down, ¡°I¡¯ve lost to him because of this style.¡± He cursed under his breath.


    ¡°Mouse?¡± quandered Azhar.


    Just then, the door flung open, and a red faced Uhatu sumbled in, his eyes immediately thurst upon the murdered sheets and butchered tapestry.


    ¡°D-d-do you know how much dese are worth! Spirits- I.¡± Uhatu shook his head and swallowed hard as he composed himself. Behind him, Cirin saw a frowning sol, who looked more distraught than Uhatu.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I couldn¡¯t stop him.¡± Admitted the boy who was almost in tears.


    ¡°Mister Azhar.¡± Started Uhatu.


    ¡°Yes?¡± said Azhar awkwardly, now facing the man fully.


    Uhatu puffed again, raised his finger and began to outline the finer details of rare Ilivanmarin silk, including the lengthy colouring procedures and its many many links to ancient Ilivanmarin culture.


    Yet Cirin drowned it all out. He had been listening to a different voice.


    Your master speaks the truth.


    Cirin was whispering as quietly as he could, whilst Azhar was distracted, ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    His style fails you. This other style is the right one. Practice that instead.


    ¡°My right arm is broken.¡± Snapped Cirin, ¡°I can¡¯t even if I wanted to.¡±


    But you left is fine. That was your weak arm wasn¡¯t it? Take this as an opportunity to train with it.


    ¡°How long have you been watching me.¡±


    Your entire, miserably short, life.


    One of Cirin¡¯s eyes twitched. He hated being watched. To think some strange voice in his head had been doing so¡­ For a moment he wondered if he was going mad. Cirin shook his head. By all accounts, hearing and communicating with a voice inside one¡¯s head was the definition of a mad man. Still, he hadn¡¯t heard the voice for two weeks. He thought it was gone entirely, he evne thought that it may have been an illusion. Yet now, after he had resolved to see if a psar would bring it- and now that it did- he didn¡¯t know what to think. Only ask.


    Cirin peered at Uhatu, and thanked the spirits for the man¡¯s obsession of bed sheets. He spoke so passionately on the matter that it had fully engrossed both Sol and Azhar, though Cirin was sure that only one of those two were truly encapsulated.


    The boy lowered his chin once more, ¡°Who are you?¡± he whispered.


    I have a theory, but I do not like it.


    ¡°Tell me about dis teory.¡±


    No. I can stay silent if you¡¯d like. I might as well if I¡¯m reduced to answering the questions of a lowly pig.


    ¡°Ok.¡± Puffed Cirin, ¡°First ting we need ta clear. What must I do ta earn ya respect?¡±


    The voice was silent for a while, though Cirin could feel it listening. It was as if a stranger was constantly looking over his shoulder.


    Never lose again.


    ¡°What?¡± hushed Cirin.


    You heard me, pig. IF you intend to earn MY respect, become strong. You want advice on how to do it? If my theory is correct, then the answer is simple. Use both your arms, and use them well.


    Cirin had been quivering with rage while the voice spoke. It¡¯s arrogance had no bounds. Whatever it was, it knew exactly how to rouse him. He was about ready to tell the voice off when he felt it¡¯s presence vanish. He turned around immediately, swiping at nothing when he realized the room had gone quiet.


    ¡°Mouse?¡±


    Cirin spun to the sight of three people staring at him.


    ¡°You ok, mouse?¡± asked a concerned Azhar.


    ¡°Yeah.¡± Nodded cirin slowly, ¡°I¡¯m just tired, da pain of my arm is getting to me.¡±


    Uhatu clapped his hands, ¡°Well den, join us for dinner and rest afterwards. Ya all earned it afta ya travels.¡± Uhatu motioned them all to follow him as he made out the doorway and through the hall.


    ¡°Oh and mister Azhar.¡± He said cooly, ¡°Please refrain from sparring in da bedrooms.¡±


    ¡°My bad. My bad.¡± laughed Azhar.


    A feast awaited them at dinner table. It took the breath out of both Azhar and Cirin, who both owned the stomachs of giants, while it gave the prince of inadequate diet a shrug.


    All across the long rectangular table sat bowls of various scents and wafting steams. One by one, the kitchen staff revealed the plates as all five of the guests took the respective seats. Uhatu took the other furthest seat while he inducted his wife and three small children to the seats closest to him. Sol ,as per custom, sat on the furthest side of Uhatu.


    The bowl of apple scented curry took Cirin¡¯s attention first. Cirin never imagined something as sweet as an apple could be used in what appeared to be a neatly plated dish of cutlet pork strips and grainy brown rice. Next, his eyes drifted to the plates topped with flaky flat bread that also smelled of apples. Near that, rested a pitcher filled nearly to the brim with a bubbling apple cider, while several sauce trays glistening in every color of fall teased him by.


    Then, a rather burly cheff, with a braided beard and mustache, presented the dining party with a platter of diced and glistening brown meat. That to, smelled of apples.


    ¡°Da finest sand otter meat.¡± Ushered Uhatu from where he sat across from the table, ¡°A Gara delicacy.¡±


    ¡°Dat be an awful lot for a delicacy.¡± Noted Toftof, who had already been feasting on an entire chicken with his barehands.


    ¡°Dis be a special occasion.¡± Uhatu¡¯s words struggled to leave him as he bore witnessed to sand rat savagery. He cleared his throat, ¡°Eat! The rest of you eat. Ya must be hungry from ya travels.¡±


    Cirin sat closest to Sol while they ate. The aspiring swordsman had nearly consumed half his bowl of curry when he realised his charge had barely touched the dish offered to him.


    ¡°Sol, a gotta eat, udderwise ya gonna stay as skinny as dese skewers.¡± Cirin lifted his eating skewer in expression.


    Sol looked away and pouted.


    ¡°Is it da hungry people dat be boddering ya?¡± said Cirin. He looked from head to head and turned back to Sol when he was sure none of the adults were listening, ¡°It bodda¡¯s me to, okay?¡±


    Sol glanced up, ¡°Really?¡±


    ¡°Ya mon. But we can¡¯t do anyting about it. Dose people chose ta stay, and dey chose to accept what dat meant. We can only hope dat fortune finds dem some day.¡±


    Sol picked at his food with his skewer, ¡°What happens, when people don¡¯t eat, Cirin?¡±


    Cirin took bite out of his pork slice and drowned it with a sizable gulp of his cider. He placed the cup on the table slowly and sighed, ¡°Dey go to a betta place.¡±


    Sol¡¯s eyes bounced from his plate to Cirin and finally to his own hands, ¡°Is there lots of apples in this place?¡±


    ¡°The best.¡±


    ¡°And kind people?¡±


    ¡°the kindest.¡±


    ¡°But then, why don¡¯t everyone go there?¡±


    Cirin placed his skewer down. ¡°People love deir homes.¡± He quoted slowly.


    To that, Sol clasped his hands and kept silent for an uncomfortably long time. Soon the sound of idle chatter of adults, the clinging of cutlery, and happy squeals of Uhatu¡¯s three children washed into the absence of the two boy¡¯s conversation. The more cirin fixated on Sol¡¯s statue like expression the more he felt aware of what happened around him. He could even make out the frantic panging within the kitchen.


    The screech of Sol¡¯s chair thrust Cirin out of his waking dream. In fact, it silenced all but the panderings of the three children on the other side.


    ¡°Prince Sol?¡± questioned Uhatu first.


    ¡°Sol?¡± added Azhar.


    Sol smiled and held his head to the side, ¡°I¡¯d like to eat up stairs. Is that fine?¡±


    Azhar looked uneasy, yet Uhatu played a smile that spoke well about the indifference of nobles.


    ¡°You are a guest and, furthermore, royalty. You may eat whereva ya please.¡±


    Azhar raised a hand to silence Uhatu, then turned his eyes to a Toftof in mid bite, ¡°Toftof, go with him please.¡±


    Toftof sighed vividly, placed down his chicken, and swaggered to the boy, ¡°By all means, ya majesty.¡± He offered, his face a mess of grease and sauce.


    Sol bowed his head to the man, as Toftof as well as a two servants packed his food in white cloth. A moment later, the usual noises returned.


    Cirin threw a look at Azhar, yet Azhar shook his head the moment he saw the boy. The instruction was clear. He had to stay while Toftof escorted the prince. Cirin scarfed down the last of his pork slice angrily. He still couldn¡¯t trust Toftof, especially not with Sol.


    The moment he finished and began to rise, a servant wisped by and placed a heavenly platter of diced otter meat in front of him. Cirin¡¯s lip twitched, and his mouth watered. He sat down abruptly. After dis he convinced himself.


    When all Sol and Toftof were gone, a loud clang returned the former silence. All eyes turned to Uhatu, with his spoon held just at the tip of a glass cup. His autumn brown eyes fell upon the one man who stood as tall as him.


    ¡°I shall tell ya da truth now.¡± Began the noble.


    Cirin swallowed the last of the cubes.


    Uhatu closed his eyes and exhaled deeply, ¡°A couple days ago, a few of da remaining citizens attacked my manse. No one was injured, but  I fear da worse. Ya saw dem didn¡¯t ya?¡±


    Azhar nodded, ¡°A few. Not many, though it be enough if dey organise well.¡±


    ¡°My family can¡¯t run.¡± Said Uhatu motioning at his three small children and his wife beside him, ¡°We missed our chance and eva since we¡¯ve been biding our time here. I took da biggest risk finding ya company dis evenin¡¯ because I have a proposition for ya.¡±


    Azhar placed his skewers down, ¡°I refuse.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll pay ya.¡± Pressed the noble.


    ¡°No, my lord. I refuse ta spill da blood of dose people.¡±


    Uhatu ran his hand across his mouth and tapped the table nervously, ¡°Ya undastand don¡¯t ya? No matta what dey will attack us. Blood will spill no matta what.¡±


    ¡°Whose hands do ya want da blood ta be spilled on? Dere were children out dere.¡±


    Manama turned to Cirin then and motioned a servant to come by. She had been sitting quietly all the while next to the two boys. That was strange of her in and of itself.


    ¡°Mudda Manama tinks ya dun need ta hear dis, eh?¡± she looked up to the servant boy who arrived at her request, ¡°Caramel apple slices.¡± She ordered, ¡°For da two boys.¡±


    The servant nodded and left at once.


    Before Cirin could speak, Manama pressed a finger against his lips, ¡°Take da slices to Sol and eat wit him tonight. We won¡¯t let anything happen to ya two while we¡¯re hear. Trust us.¡± Manama removed her finger and winked one tattooed eye lid.


    Meanwhile Azhar and Uhatu were embroiled in the midst of a contest of words, Cirin stood up from his seat, accepted the dish given to him by the returning servant, and made his way out of the room.


    Cirin found himself smiling as he trekked to the stairs. Azhar did care. Even if he refused to help back then, it must have been begrudgingly to himself. He looked up the spiraling stairs and became engrossed in the thought of the secrets he had been hording as he traversed the lavish steps. Azhar was shrewd man, no matter how dumb he made himself look at times. He would learn everything eventually. And what then? Would he call the boy mad for having a voice inside his head? Would he try and hunt down the golden eyed priest who injured his apprentice so? Would he scold his own apprentice for hiding such things?


    Each time he asked himself a new question on the issue the boy became more and more weary of letting Azhar find out.


    He stopped in front Sol¡¯s door and knocked on it once. To his surprise, the door creaked open, releasing the light of the flickering lamp within it. Cirin nearly dropped his apples slices.


    Sol was gone.


    He ran inside the room and tossed his head aobut in panic. Not just sol, Toftof was gone to. Cirin grasped his head. His fears were correct. Maybe Toftof had accompanied them to get to Sol. It was a ruse. It had to be. Toftof was a liar after all.


    ¡°Dey¡¯re gone! Dey¡¯re gone!¡± bellowed Cirin as loud as he could. He shouted that three times more as he ran down the staris.


    Azhar was already there, his chest pounding and his face contort.


    ¡°What do ya mean gone?¡± He puffed.


    That was why a search party in the middle of the night formed.


    Cries for Sol echoed across the manse grounds and into the surrounding manses that had been abandoned.


    One of the servants from the dinner party slowed to a halt by the gates of Uhatu¡¯s manse.


    He tossed his eyes from Azhar to Manama to Uhatu and shook his head as he caught his breath.


    ¡°Dat was da last manse.¡± Cursed Azhar.


    ¡°I-I dun know how dis happened.¡± Stammered Uhatu.


    Azhar ran one hand through his hair, turned, and grasped Uhatu by the collar.


    ¡°Uhatu!¡± yelped his wife as she reached for Azhar. Manama stepped from behind her and pressed a dagger to her throat.


    Azhar lifted the til the tips of his toes touched the ground, ¡°Da prince is missing, most likely in da town, and ya just told me dat very town be full of people who be clamoring fa noble blood.¡± Azhar shook the man as he grasped for breath, ¡°If anyting happens to dat boy, I¡¯ll give dat town enough noble blood ta paint everah dead apple red again.¡±


    The man gurgled madly as Azhar held him even higher.


    ¡°find him.¡± Spat Azhar, as he finally let Uhatu go.


    Manama did the same with Uhatu¡¯s wife, who promptly rushed to the man now on his bum.


    Cirin scanned the city scape while those threats were uttered. It was dark. Too dark to see most anything, except¡­ His red eyes narrowed on a particularily bright point in the city.


    ¡°Old mon, look at dis.¡±


    Azhar walked to where cirin was squatting and lowered to his height.


    ¡°A light... a light!¡± guffawed Azhar.


    Uhatu was rubbing his throat, ¡°must be a gadering.¡± He squawked.


    Azhar tossed his narrowed eyes at Uhatu, ¡°You come wit us.¡±


    ¡­


    Azhar ran fast when he was mad. His pace made Cirin beg for breath and Uhatu struggle to keep up. Manama, however seemed at ease with it.


    Azhar slowed to a stop at the first signs of a gathering. Manama stopped second, and Cirin third. Several moments later Uhatu arrived, his hands plastered to his knees and his breaths long and labored.


    This gathering was much larger than the first they saw earlier in the day. It was clear by the outline of heads against the piddling light that there were at least fifty or so people gathered there.


    Azhar began a slow walk, which evolved into a quick trot and finally sprint towards the gathering. When he was nearly there, a shadows collided against him and drew him to the side.


    Cirin, Manama and Uhatu were quick to catch up.


    Cirin held his breath as he the face of the interceptor. No doubt Azhar was in a similar state of shock as he stared the imp of a man.


    ¡°Toftof?¡± he spouted.


    ¡°Aye. Now calm ya self.¡± Toftof tilted his head at the gathering, ¡°Come, dere be something ya need ta see.¡±


    Toftof began walking towards the gathering with Azhar in tow.


    ¡°Where is he? Where is he?¡± echoed the walking Azhar.


    ¡°Be quiet and look.¡± Barked Toftof.


    The first of the people they met at the gathering bowed and opened a way immediately.


    Azhar, despite all he had been through quit his thrashing instantly.


    Cirin brushed passed the man to see why. The reason left his motuh agape and his eyes quivering.


    The light revealed of three lamps held by three different vagrants revealed it all. It was Sol. The boy had been sitting on his heels as he reached for the meal besides him. He grasped a large chunked of meat and rice and held it to one of three children clamouring in front of him.


    ¡°Ahhh.¡± He giggled, as the smallest of three children happily swallowed the rice and smiled. The other two laughed in tune and portions of the crowds began to laugh to.


    Cirin looked them then, they weren¡¯t all laughing. Some were crying. Some were silent. Yet despite who they were, everyone there was smiling. Sol fed another of three children. It was apparent he had been doing so for some time, since all three had sauce stains by their mouths. All three children were about his age, but Sol didn¡¯t show it. At that time he had become their protector.


    ¡°He¡¯s so skinny.¡± Hushed a woman within the crowd.


    ¡°Is he truly a prince? I can¡¯t believe it...¡± whispered a man.


    Uhatu made his way to Azhar¡¯s side.


    ¡°Those three children he¡¯s feeding.¡± Uhatu wiped his eyes as he spoke, ¡°Dey- dey remind me of mine.¡±


    Azhar crossed his arms and nodded, ¡°When we came here, da eldest among dese people told me da generation before his had died. Dose kids are most likely orphans.¡±


    Cirin gripped his jerkin. Sol was five years his junior, yet he had something Cirin had not. He had courage. Perhaps it was the world he saw through his little eyes, or perhaps it was a longing Cirin did not quite understand. Nobles, royals, starving, or fattened, the prince who was hated saw through it all.


    ¡°I¡¯ll become strong.¡± Cirin said under his breath. Azhar glanced at the boy, but the boy¡¯s eyes remained on Sol, ¡°I¡¯ll lose to no one, so I¡¯ll neva have ta lose Sol.¡±


    ¡°Well said.¡± Nodded Azhar. ¡°What are you planin?¡±


    Cirin looked at Azhar and noticed he was talking to Uhatu.


    ¡°What I must.¡± Said Uhatu.


    With that the noble walked into the middle, much to the displeasure of the crowd, whose smiling faces soon turned to scowling ones.


    ¡°People of Gara.¡± Began the noble, ¡°I-¡± Uhatu looked to the ground to find the words, ¡°I was afraid. Afraid of da starving people I once called my own.¡± His eyes bounced between every person there, ¡°I¡¯m sure you hated me. I kept my food to myself and my family. It was selfish. It is selfish. I tought dat if I gave up my food, my own family would starve.¡±


    ¡°Oi Uhatu, it seems da crowd isn¡¯t happy bout hearin dat.¡± Warned Azhar. Many of the on-lookers had balled their fists, some were about ready to pounce.


    Uhatu held his hand up to pause Azhar.


    ¡°That is how I tought. However! Seeing dis young boy, as skinny as a twig, feeding dose poor children, I know how foolish I have been. Some of you know dis boy¡¯s name. And if ya don¡¯t I shall tell ya.¡±


    Prince Sol reached for the food only to find it empty. He reared his little eyes at the man who was talking then. The man pointed at the prince.


    ¡°He is Prince Solesio Gel¡¯Rave!¡±


    There was a hustle amongst the crowd as what they suspected was confirmed.


    ¡°He is of higher rank dan any noble in dis kingdom. He has da potential ta change everyting. I see my own folly when I see his kindness. And I know now what I must do.¡± Uhatu rose his hands on either side of him, ¡°Startin tommora no one will go hungry.¡±


    The crowd gasped in unison.


    ¡°I shall share what I have.¡± Said Uhatu with a sigh his voice dropped low after that, ¡°For dose who wish me dead, spare my family if you can.¡±


    There were whispers within the crowd until finally a parting appeared on the other side and three men with curved swords walked through it. The Tanin gang of Gara were known for their curved swords.


    Uhatu shivered for a moment then lowered to his knees as he accepted his fate. Uhatu bend his neck low, ¡°Do it quick. Tell my wife, Delialah, I love her mo dan when we first met. Tell my daught-¡±


    ¡°Quit yapping Uhatu.¡±


    Uhatu turned his solemn head back at a crossed armed Azhar. Azhar unfolded his arms and pointed a head of Uhatu.


    Just as Uhatu turned to confront them, his face gained back its color.


    One after the other, each man dropped his blade and bowed. Then, the crowd, like a wave in an ocean all bowed their heads to.


    ¡°Why?¡± stuttered Uhatu.


    Da man in the middle of three armed men answered with a voice as rough as the sand, ¡°You stayed behind.¡±


    On that night, a pact was made between the people of Gara and its last noble. Gara was its people and a town no more.


    By morn, a long line of men carrying food supplies filed out of Uhatu¡¯s storehouses from behind his manse.


    Uhatu stood outside his gate, his wife Delialah by his side, and his three children clinging to his legs. The cries of Gara¡¯s denizens could be heard as orders were barked to ratio the food.


    Unlike when they first came into town, Cirin noticed a considerable amount of chatter and even more laughter. Gara had died and come back to life in less than a day. Cirin¡¯s ruby eyes trailed to the one boy who had done the impossible, though he seemed quite un aware of himself as he ran amoungst the children he had befriended the day prior.


    ¡°How will ya survive?¡± questioned Azhar.


    Uhatu shrugged, ¡°We¡¯ll ratio till da traders come.¡± Uhatu looked to his wife and back at azhar, ¡°We¡¯ve also been tinking about becoming nomads. Not just us, but all of Gara.¡±


    ¡°nomads, eh?¡± mused Manama, ¡°Den da sands blessing to ya.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll need it.¡± Laughed Uhatu.


    ¡°Uhatu.¡±


    Uhatu snapped to Azhar nervously, cuffing one hand around his neck as he answered, ¡°yes?¡±


    Azhar balled one hand then clasped it with the other, held it under his chin and bowed to Uhatu. Uhatu paused for a moment and did the same.


    ¡°An honor.¡± Said the noble.


    ¡°I must ask one of ting before we go.¡± Started Azhar, ¡°When did da towa fall?¡±


    Uhatu looked to the tower, and furrowed his brow in an uncomfortable manor, as if remembering another unpleasant memory, ¡°Four weeks ago.¡± He said.


    Azhar lowered his chin onto his thumb and index finger, ¡°Do you know how?¡±


    Uhatu nodded slowly with his eyes closed, ¡°I suppose I should show you. Tis is da least I could do.¡± He admitted.


    Azhar tilted his head, ¡°Show us?¡± he said.


    Uhatu guided their company of five down a narrow pass to the lower end of the hill. From there he snaked passed several abandoned manses, and had the five traveller follow him across the edge of a dry reservoir.


    Finally, he arrived at a long, cobblestone path that led to the base of Gara¡¯s tower. Cirin noted the wide ditches on either side of the path.


    ¡°Dere used ta be watta dere.¡± Said Uhatu as he noticed the boy¡¯s curiosity.


    At the base of the tower Uhatu looked to Sol and shook his head.


    ¡°Fa what I¡¯m about ta show ya, I¡¯d suggest leavin da boys outside.¡±


    Azhar grabbed Cirin by the shoulder and thrust him forwards, ¡°Cirin goes wit us.¡± Said Azhar. He nudged his head to Toftof, ¡°toftof stays outside wit Sol. If I tink he needs ta see it, I¡¯ll call him in.¡±


    ¡°Alright.¡± Said Uhatu. ¡°Come wit me.¡±


    The four of them traveled inside the ruins of the tower. Somehow the bottom part of the entrance survived the cave in.


    Cirin was the last to enter the ruins as each of the adults disappeared below as soon as they entered. Yet when Cirin got there, his heart stopped.


    ¡°Spirits.¡± Hushed Manama.


    Azhar was already running towards it.


    ¡°Dun touch anyting!¡± warned Uhatu, who by that point knew better than to rush after Azhar.


    ¡°Is-is she dead?¡± wavered Cirin.


    There, where the central beam would have been, a single figure of a woman stood crucified and petrified in stone atop a million spikes of jagged rock. The spike all converged on what would have been the lower half of her body.


    Cirin wanted to vomit.


    Uhatu¡¯s voice could be heard echoing from he stood, ¡°We suspect she broke da towa. A servant of a good friend of mine said he saw what happened when it was too late. Dere was a man here to, as well as a child.¡± Uhatu turned to Cirin then, ¡°About his age and bald.¡± He turned back to Azhar, ¡°With golden eyes.¡±


    Azhar pointed at the crucified figure, ¡°and da girl?¡±


    ¡°Dead.¡± Confirmed Uhatu, ¡°She was seen hours before in da city before she was found here.¡±


    After that, Manama changed places with Toftof who promptly ran out and proceeded to vomit. Cirin looked away from Toftof when he did that, only to spot a tree growing just out the base of the tower. As they made towards the manse to reunite with their packs snakes, Cirin noticed the tree was dead as were all the others, yet one apple still glistened off its branches.


    The company left after that. Uhatu, out of gratitude for the prince, gifted the travellers with a basket of apples.


    ¡°Remember us.¡± Were Uhatu¡¯s parting words.

 Chapter 10, Three Weeks

    The ruins of Gara glinted in the distance as they trekked away. Cirin bit an apple and reared his eyes away from the dwindling sight. He wondered if he¡¯d ever come across those Gara again. He swallowed the cold bite, and licked his lips. It was tart and sweet in all the right places, it was as cool as a desert night and as refreshing as a summer swim. If he did run across those few survivors, he¡¯d have try those apples once again.


    Cirin turned his eyes to the over-active Sol.


    ¡°No more?¡± he clamoured against a less than enthused Azhar.


    ¡°No more.¡± Confirmed Azhar.


    ¡°But they were so sweet! Lets go back and get more!¡±


    Azhar halted his march and lited the small prince by his back, not unlike a mother pup would with her pup. Azhar stared the boy in the eye, ¡°We need ta keep moving, my prince. We have a mission rememba?¡±


    Sol pouted, ¡°Fine.¡± He stretched.


    Azhar put the prince down and continued to walk along the packs snakes. This time, it was mother Manama who led the rear snake. While Toftof, Sol, and Azhar walked along the front snake.


    Once more, Cirin was confined to ride the pack snake. He looked to his broken arm. It seemed it would stay broken forever.


    ¡°Oi mouse.¡± Started Azhar.


    Cirin reared his head to the man, only to find him reaching within his own longcoat. Finally, Azhar slipped a sealed letter from his coat pocket and paused to read the inscription on its front.


    ¡°Anodda letta fa ya.¡± He said briskly.


    Cirin took the letter from his masters hands, then returned to the carriage with his back against the carriage wall.


    The seal and the cover were the same as before. Though even without it being so, he could think of only one person who send him letters.


    ¡°Catherine¡­¡± he sighed under his breath. He slit open the letter.


    It¡¯s been awhile, Cirin,


    Cirin squinted against the text as he noticed it was addressed only to him.


    ¡°Was dis da only letta?¡± asked Cirin.


    Azhar scratched his head before he answered, ¡°No, dere was anodda fa Sol.¡±


    Cirin frowned and turned back to his spot. He continued reading.


    You left three weeks ago, and yet have not responded since! Do you understand how worried I was? If not for our delightfully polite mutual companion, I would have assumed you were dead. And might I say you are far too young to be at risk of that.


    Cirin formed a line with his mouth and lowered his brows. He never had a letter dote about him so.


    Your absence of any written response aside, how have you been? Sol, despite his apt ability to reciprocate when asked to, lacked any further detail when he wrote, ¡®Went to Exkmir, had lots of fun, Cirin got hurt but he¡¯s better now!¡¯.


    You were injured? How so? Was it the Black Necks? I fear the most if it had anything to do with magic and by the way Sol described the ¡®glowy light room¡¯ I strongly suspect you ran into magic.  Remember, my job is to act as your basis of knowledge on your journey. I am quite apt at discerning magic as well. You will do well to ask of me what you do not understand so ask away.


    On to more not so pressing matters. If you are reading this, then you have most likely passed Gara. I hope you evaded the Tanin gang there well. Oh and do write back about those apples, I heard they are simply delightful! Anyways. If you have passed Gara, then your next stop shall be the Oasis of Gin. Unlike Ezmir or Gara, you may rest easy there. Even the plains leading to Gin are said to be safe from Sand flows, so you should find much comfort being able to rest on steady ground.


    There are no gangs in Gin, not since the Basilisk Gang was wiped out, and the few noble houses located there are completely entwined with the affairs of traders. The Oasis of Gin is also an imperial city, so the protection of the prince is also assured. While you are there, try visiting the famous blue pool of Gin. It is said a water spirit who grants wishes resides within it, yet it only appears in the presence of those who lost their love. Strange isn¡¯t it? But, maybe you are too young for that. Anyways, I have rambled on for far too long. Write me back. Or else I may way very well cross the desert myself to scold you.


    With love,This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    Catherine.


    Additional note, A.N for short,


    Imperial Cities means slaves and slaves mean slavers. There is a particularly nasty slaving company that has been garnering fame as of late. They are called the Merid Dance Troupe. Do not be fooled. They are not a dance troupe. They are dangerous slavers. Just be on guard.


    Again, with love,


    Catherine.


    Cirin refolded the paper and sighed. He glanced at one of the many satchels beside. He opened each one, until on the third satchel he found a roll of papyrus, a quill, and some ink. Spreading the papyrus across the floor, he rebounded back into a cross legged position, with his injured arm held steady to to the sling. Dipping the quill in ink, he struggled to consider what he¡¯d write first. The oscillations of his pack snake made it even harder to concentrate.


    He sat up once he thought of it then lowered his back as he wrote on the papyrus. He started with the words ¡®I¡¯m sorry.¡¯


    After what seemed an eternity of scribbling and scratching, Cirin held out two letters to Azhar.


    Azhar had scarcely noticed the two, when he turned to Cirin¡¯s call. One was the letter Catherine had sent, while the other was a completely new thing. The edges were crumpled and the seal was hastily slapped on.


    Azhar held the latter letter right against the bridge of his nose.


    ¡°Ta Kay-ter-ynne?¡± He read mockingly.


    ¡°Ta Caterine.¡± Puffed Cirin.


    Azhar lifted one brow in disbelief as he tossed his muzzle towards the boy, ¡°Ya wrote, mouse?¡± He blurted, ¡°It looks like a damned Tulek scribbled dese lettahs.¡±


    ¡°Oi!¡± snapped Cirin.


    ¡°Makes me curious what else dat Tulek wrote.¡± Said Azhar as he made to open the seal.


    Cirin nearly leapt off the carriage as he swung his good arm at Azhar, ¡°Stop.¡± He roared, reaching for his letter.


    Azhar held the letter well a ways from the boy and finally shook his smiling head, ¡°I won¡¯t read it.¡± He assured the boy, ¡°Ya seem so desperate, I wouldn¡¯t dare embarrass ya by reading ya love letta.¡±


    ¡°Love letta?¡± said the boy coolly. He sat back as he tossed his eyes to the desert sky. It was clear and blue, it was the reflection of an ocean. ¡°Ya should read her udda lettas. I dun know why but she always be worrying about me. As if at any moment I be doing something stupid.¡±


    Cirin caught Azhar laughing then. ¡°What?¡± he demanded of the man.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯m sorry.¡± Said the man, ¡°She be more of an olda sister it seems.¡±


    ¡°A sister?¡±


    ¡°Aye, I admit I hardly knew da girl, but da way you describe her reminds me of a doting older sibling.¡±


    Cirin studied the man curiously and rested on the edge of the cariiage with his elbows crossed. He lowered his head on his arms.


    ¡°Do you have a sister, old mon?¡± asked the boy.


    Azhar¡¯s smile faded and he remained quiet for some time.


    ¡°I did. A long time ago.¡± He said slowly.


    Cirin looked down. He found himself asking the inevitable question, ¡°She died?¡±


    ¡°Aye.¡±


    Cirin dared not prod any further. Azhar was a man who barely spoke about himself. He never even told Cirin so much as a story of his exploits.


    The days swept by as the company of five continued through the desert. Slowly, the desert sands transformed around them as day turned to night, and night into day. The sands gave way to dry plains where large stretches of ankle high grass crept from the desolate earth.  When nearly a week had passed they came across what Catherine had described in her letter. What they trekked through could no longer be described as a desert, rather it was an amalgamation of dry spurts of lands and yellow plains.


    Here and there, various trees with little leaves grew in clusters among the grass sea. On the seventh day, the company did the unthinkable. They stopped.


    Cirin was the first to ask, ¡°What about da sandflows?¡±


    ¡°Ya see any sand here, mouse?¡± said Azhar,¡°Dese be da plains of Gin. From here till da oasis city we can rest at night.¡±


    Manama had the packs snakes resting before sundown, while Toftof and Sol went out looking for dry wood.


    Cirin sat by the would be fire as Azhar attempted to spark it to life.


    ¡°Now watch closely, mouse. I¡¯ll have ya do dis next time around.¡±


    Cirin nodded. With his eyes stern and still, he studied Azhar¡¯s procedure. The procedure in question involved smashing two flint stones together until they produced a spark.


    ¡°three weeks.¡± Said Azhar amongst the various clanks of flint.


    Cirin blinked, ¡°What?¡± he asked as a small glimmer of flame sprang to life.


    Azhar¡¯s dark eyes glimmered beneath his tangled hair, ¡°I said three weeks, mouse. Dat¡¯s how long we will be in dese wilds for.¡± Azhar grunted as he threw a bundle of sticks into the hungry flame, ¡°Until den, you will train wit ya left.¡±


    Cirin face lit up as much as the much as the flame. Azhar held up a hand.


    ¡° ¡®I¡¯ll lose to no one¡¯ is what ya said. Do ya mean dose words, mouse? Or ya some liar like Toftof?¡±


    Cirin nodded stoutly, ¡°My words always move forwards, so I need not ever go back on dem.¡±


    Azhar¡¯s smile grew long and dimpled, ¡°Good.¡± He said, ¡°Starting tommora, I¡¯m goinna have ya train harder dan ya eva trained before.¡±


    ¡°What about my arm?¡± trailed Cirin.


    ¡°I told ya didn¡¯t I?¡± Spat Azhar. His voice grew quick and raptured, ¡°Ya be training wit da one ya have left. I¡¯ll have ya sweating so much dat da earth you walk on will become a swamp.¡±


    Cirin swallowed hard as Azhar leaned towards him closer and closer.


    Azhar tapped his index finger on Cirin¡¯s forehead.


    ¡°I dun care if ya have to break every bone in ya body. I dun care if ya back breaks before ya blade does. Just dis once mouse, I¡¯ll have ya break my first law.¡± Azhar leaned in even closer, prompting balls of icy sweat to roll down Cirin¡¯s temple. They crested around Azhar¡¯s heavy finger and landed in Cirin¡¯s wide open eyes, making him wince but not blink. Never blink. It was Azhar¡¯s presence that pilfered his attention. The man¡¯s hand was hotter than the desert heat.


    ¡°If ya plan on neva losing,¡± hushed the man, ¡°ya mustn¡¯t eva give up.¡±


    All at once, the man fell back and landed on his bum.


    Cirin swung forwards. He was puffing for air the instant Azhar let go.


    ¡°Oi, Azhar we brought da logs.¡± Waved Toftof with his free hand, the other fully wrapped around a pile of sticks. Sol followed close behind, almost overwhelmed by the comparatively small portion of sticks he had gathered.


    ¡°And da snakes be sleeping now.¡± Entered Manama. She walked with her arms stretching well above her head, and her face ready to yawn.


    The three of them sat around the fire Azhar built. Sol sat by Cirin side, while Toftof sat beside Azhar and Manama by Cirin¡¯s other side.


    ¡°you two have a fight?¡± questioned Manama.


    Cirin shook his head. He rose his ruby eyes to Azhar who looked visibly exhausted.


    Cirin smiled, ¡°We just decided on what ta do for da next three weeks.¡±

 Chapter 11, The Man and the Murderer

    He stabbed his sabre well into the wood work. A beast thrashed within him.


    ¡°My lord, we¡¯ll be departing this camp shortly. His majesty has personally requested we¡¯d continue da mission north past gin. My lord?¡± The speaking man tilted his head, ¡°are you ok?¡±


    Zanzabarra heaved heavily as the beast roared within him. It craved what he craved, and he was hungry for blood.


    ¡°My lord?¡±


    Zanzabarra turned heel and sprang upon the smaller man. Within seconds he had the man sprawling for breath as Zanzabarra held him higher and higher by purely the man¡¯s collar.


    ¡°Do not ¡®my lord¡¯ me you insolent quack. We failed. Do you understand that, Ade? We FAILED.¡±


    ¡°Y-yes my lord.¡± Coughed Ade.


    Zanzabaraa tossed the man to the side and walked to the bar table as the thud of the men¡¯s fall met his ears.


    ¡°We shouldn¡¯t have let dem in.¡± said Zanzabarra under his breath. He sat himself on the nearest bar stool. His voice hushed as he continued speaking, ¡°Pick da five strongest men in dis encampment. I will train wit dem as we travel.¡±


    Ade nodded once he got up, making his way to depart as quick as he could. Zanzabarra was not an agreeable man when he was calm, when he was angry he was less so.Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    On his way out, Ade stepped out of the way as a black scarved child passed by him.


    Zanzabarra tossed his eyes at the intruder and sighed, ¡°You failed me most of all.¡±


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t have ya die.¡± Protested the child. ¡°Remember our agreement.¡±


    Zanzabarra slammed his fists on the table and spun to the door from where he stood, ¡°Your part of the agreement is ta break da towas. Dats it.¡±


    The speaker balled their fists and tossed their golden eyes to the floor, ¡°I ran into trouble.¡±


    ¡°Trouble? You?¡± Zanzabarra shot up from his seat. ¡°Taba, Taba, Taba.¡± He mused as he lumbered towards the count, ¡°You are a casta. Dere be no one udda dan myself who could best you. Is dat really ya excuse?¡±


    ¡°You lost as well.¡± Snapped the caster.


    Zanzabarra froze to that. His eyebrows quivered and his hands contorted.


    All at once, he rose his eyes to Taba and crossed the distance in seconds, making Taba flinch. Zanzabarra leaned towards Taba and puffed, ¡°I¡¯ll neva lose again, as you will neva fail again. You have one job. A job ya precious sista would have done easily.¡±


    Taba pushed Zanzabarra away, but Zanzabarra caught unto the caster¡¯s hand, ¡°Tala died for dis nonsense!¡± protested Taba.


    Zanzabarra yanked the caster close until Taba was trembling under his beast like gaze, ¡°Tala died because she did her job. Because she trusted ya wit what she wanted. You want to find him don¡¯t ya? Da man who killed ya family?¡±


    Taba stopped struggling.


    ¡°He¡¯s close.¡± Said Zanzabarra as he let go.


    Taba trailed after him while he walked towards the bar with his hands thrust in his pockets, ¡°Close?¡±


    ¡°Aye, he should appear witin da next two cities. You can get ya vengeance den.¡±


    ¡°And what about my brudda?¡±


    Zanzabarra paused, ¡°Ask da killer when you find him.¡±

 Chapter 12, Go East

    Cirin felt the course dirt dig into his palm. His body weighed as much as the earth, and his arm had become the sole pillar to support it.


    ¡°One more time.¡± He huffed to himself. Yet one more push seemed impossible. ¡°One more¡­¡± he croaked pushing himself ever higher. Impossible, impossible.  His thoughts seemed to race faster and faster, though nothing could be as fast as his humming bird heart.


    Feeling his arm quiver, he finally buckled and collapsed chest first onto the ground. Cirin winced. Pain. Cirin rolled over and grit his teeth as a scornful moan leaked through his mouth. His eyes lay shut as he rolled over again, face first into the dirt. As if it could not get worse, his right arm writhed in agony. It remained a constant reminder of his previous failure.


    The dry dirt stuck to his face as he breathed into it, feeling the wretched pain subside. His head sat on its side, and his one open eye could see the whole of the golden plains from the bottom up. He closed that eye, surmising what right he had to gaze upon such brilliance when he failed even the task he had been given.


    ¡°One more time.¡± He whispered to himself.


    And one more time he tried. He pushed hard against the earth, and little by little he rose his trembling form off the ground with just his left. The moment he reached the apex of the push, he held himself there and remained breathing. He let his eyes flick open as he stared at golden grass fields ahead of him. The shimmering skyline that ventured in the distance. He earned that fleeting sight.


    A second later, he collapsed.


    ¡°I counted two hundred and thirty eight.¡± Claimed the voice of his master.


    Cirin heaved madly, too weak to even raise his head, ¡°I-I.¡± he choked on his own maddened breaths, ¡°My sweat be telling me ta stop.¡±


    ¡°Ya give up, mouse?¡±


    ¡°No, but my body has.¡± He grumbled into the dirt.


    Azhar¡¯s feet scraped the ground as he stood up. A few steps later and Cirin¡¯s world spun whilst the man swooped the boy under his arms.


    ¡°Betta dan yestaday.¡± Commented the man.


    ¡°Hah.¡± Puffed cirin, ¡°Dis is betta?¡±


    Azhar stayed quiet as he walked with Cirin in his arms.


    Cirin let his head fall to the side. Normally he would hound his master for such an action. At better times he would have fought to stand on his own, yet now he felt his whole body numb with fatigue. He blinked slowly, making out the outline of their camp for the day. He couldn¡¯t fight back if he wanted to.


    ¡°Listen mouse.¡± Said Azhar, ¡°We fight wit one more blade dan dose we hold. Dat blade be our bodies. Unlike our udda blades, dere be no fire ta temper it wit, nor hamma to shape it. We decide how tough dat blade be and we set da limits of its steel once we find out what would break it normally.¡±


    ¡°You a blacksmith now, old mon?¡± mused the boy.


    ¡°In a betta time, I wish I was.¡±


    Cirin smiled, but only briefly as the sight of those at the camp made him reconsider his situation, ¡°I tink I can now.¡± Wheezed Cirin. He could handle having Azhar carry him when they were alone, but to have Toftof, Sol, and especially Manama see him that way was unthinkable. The more he traveled with the women, the more it became apparent that Manama was the type of companion who teased those around her endlessly.


    Azhar kneeled and let the boy down.


    Cirin stumbled to his feet and continued to walk, momentarily leaning on Azhar for support.


    ¡°I¡¯ll have ya carry more tommora when we travel.¡± Said Azhar.


    Cirin nodded stoutly, ¡°Two weeks.¡± He sighed.


    ¡°Two weeks.¡± Confirmed the man.


    Azhar had Cirin train his strength and endurance first. No sword practice. He claimed this was to build the boy¡¯s ability to withstand fatigue novice swordsman often felt. He knew not how to limit his movements so he needed the body to endure it.


    When three more days had passed and their company had waded well into the famous illivari drylands, Azhar finally treated the boy to daily spars, each time viciously felling the boy.


    On one their duels amidst the setting sun, Toftof and Manama watched them. Sol stared on to, but to less of an extent as hid behind the adults and peaked every so often when he felt brave enough.


    Toftof crutched his scruffy chin on one hand as he admired the fight, ¡°He never holds back, eh?¡± he noted.


    ¡°Manama tinks dat be necessary.¡±


    ¡°Oi.¡± Started Toftof, ¡°You some sort of sadist, lady? He¡¯s a child.¡±


    ¡°No one out dere will hold back eider.¡± Said Manama. She then smiled and pointed at Azhar, ¡°Fighting against dose who don¡¯t hold back is da best way ta counta dem. If dere be one man who¡¯d want ta protect dat boy, it be da one beating him right now.¡±


    Toftof shook his head, ¡°Ya bot be mad.¡±


    There was one climatic grunt as the two met in a final clash and a telling thud as Azhar stood overlooking his fallen student.


    Azhar shifted his attention to his onlookers and made for them without notice. He perched he blade on his shoulder as he staggered by.


    ¡°Clean his wounds and tend ta his bruises.¡± Barked Azhar as he passed the two.


    Toftof and Manama both turned to the man.


    ¡°You did dat to him, so you take care of it!¡± protested Toftof.


    Manama nodded her head in agreement.


    Azhar sighed and pointed his blade at Cirin, ¡°Do it, before da damned boy we7¡¯re to protect ends up doing it.¡±


    Toftof turned to the boy instantly and stumbled of his seat, ¡°Oi Prince Sol, you mustn¡¯t do dat!¡±


    Manama glanced at the man running to Cirin. ¡°You plan ta tell him don¡¯t ya?¡± said the woman.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    Azhar paused, ¡°Not yet.¡±


    Manama¡¯s bead clacked as she waved her head about, ¡°Da way ya be training him now seems ta be desperate. Almost as if ya sense ya own time runnin¡¯ out.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re da fortune tella, Mana. Tell me what ya see.¡±


    ¡°I see a lie.¡± She said after a long silence, ¡°One terrible long lie yea haven¡¯t da heart to reveal.¡±


    Azhar stood silent.


    ¡°And I see a truth yea be wanting to get off ya chest more den da lie ya spinnin¡¯ now. About da boy.¡± She said staring towards the fallen Cirin, a desperate Sol, and a frantic Toftof trying to pry said Sol away from Cirin. ¡°About his past. Ya past.¡±


    Azhar sheathed his sword, ¡°Did da spirits tell ya all dat now?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± shrugged Manama, ¡°Manama guessed. Ya be too kind hearted to be da type of man who hides tings from da ones he loves.¡±


    Azhar smiled and started walking away, ¡°I suppose ya be right sometimes, fortune teller.¡±


    When Cirin finally opened his eyes that night, he found himself on a rollout mat by their camp. Sol was huddled in a mat close to his, and Toftof was snoring well on his back a little ways from the Prince¡¯s mat.


    Cirin looked to the other side of the dancing fire and found Azhar sleeping on the other side. From that he surmised that Manama was keeping watch that night.


    He stood up as quietly as he could and wandered along the grass side. He rubbed his head as he walked. Azhar had thoroughly pummeled him there.


    ¡°Headin¡¯ out?¡±


    Cirin turned to a curious Manama. Somehow, she always the one who caught him leaving.


    ¡°Just ta stretch out my body.¡± Admitted the boy.


    Manama nodded, glancing slightly at Azhar, ¡°Go and come back quick den. If Azhar wakes up ta find ya missin¡¯.¡±


    ¡°I know.¡± Finished Cirin, ¡°He told me well enough in Ezmir.¡±


    From there Cirin wandered well into the grasslands, stopping every no and then to howl of hyenas, the spotted vermin were a plague to those lands.


    When he was far enough away, he found himself a seat amoungst a clearing in the grass and laid down. He used his left hand as a pillow as his eyes drifted to the clear sky.


    He had noticed it the first night they spent in the grasslands. The stories were true. The stars really did litter the sky by the grasslands.


    I almost though you were in my homeland if not for those things up there.


    Cirin sat up to the sound of the voice. It had been days since he heard its¡¯ deep thrum rummage in his head. And even then, that had been no more than a sly remark about his stance, or there lack of.


    ¡°You¡¯re homeland? You come for somewhere?¡± asked Cirin.


    Everything has a home, pig.


    ¡°Even strange voices?¡±


    The voice remained silent for a while.


    Do you really think I¡¯m just a voice?


    ¡°You haven¡¯t told me what you are, so dat be all I have to go by.¡±


    Strangely, the voice sighed in his head.


    In lieu of your recent efforts, I¡¯ll disclose something to you. My home had entire plains full of the same golden grass you see before you. In fact I¡¯d say it was better than anything you¡¯d have stepped on in your entire spec of a lifetime. My people¡¯s grass grew up to our chest and each blade glistened like the very sun in the sky. Ha, even the grass you pigs step on is small and insignificant.


    Cirin¡¯s eyebrows twitched, ¡°You keep calling me pig. Dere be a reason for dat?¡±


    Are you not a pig with two legs instead of four?


    Cirin shut his eyes and laid back down with his head on his hand.


    ¡°If I were to eva meet ya people, I¡¯d pray dey be betta at talking den ya.¡±


    Go east said the voice.


    Cirin¡¯s eyes flicked open.


    ¡°East?¡± he queried.


    Another theory, but I can guess as much based on where the moon is. If you want to meet my people someday. Go east.


    ¡°East, huh? And what do I tell dem when I get dere? Dat I have a talking voice of dere ilk trapped inside my head?¡±


    The voice went silent once more, making Cirin count the stars in an effort to make time pass by.


    Finally, after what seemed the twentieth star, the voice spoke up.


    Our relationship, if you¡¯d call it that, is an unnatural one. Probably brought about by that tower.


    Cirin rolled his eyes, he¡¯d waited in eager anticipation only to hear the voice say the obvious. Yet before he could reply, it spoke again.


    You are no shaman, so you can¡¯t sense it, but I can. My time is limited. Eventually, I shall fade away.


    ¡°What?¡± blurted Cirin.


    Before then, I have much to reveal to you. About my people, my will. You should be seeing them soon.


    ¡°Seeing what?¡± said Cirin. The voice did not answer.


    A few of the stars twinkled in the sky as Cirin let his head fall back. The voice had left. It was right when it said he was no shaman, but he was human and any human could tell when they truly were alone.


    About noon the next day they spotted large cliffs far off in the distance. The monstrous things stood as tall as the towers


    Azhar noticed both Cirin and Sol staring at them and quelled their curiosity, ¡°We won¡¯t be going dere just yet.¡±


    Cirin followed the man¡¯s hand as he pointed in the opposite side where the cliffs lurked. There in the distance, he could see the droves of yellow grass transitioning into lavish greens.


    ¡°Listen.¡± Remarked Azhar.


    And so Cirin did by draining out the sounds of bird squawking and the pack serpents slithering. He listened as he slowed his pace. Water. Cirin started to run ahead of the pack. The sound of water became and more apparent as a stream.


    He stopped just moments before falling into a fairly narrow river gushing away from the cliffs.


    The grass rustled as Azhar appeared shortly after.


    ¡°We¡¯re close.¡± Said the man. He swaggered up to the river, squatted by it, and placed his hand in the stream. ¡°All rivers lead to Gin.¡± He turned to his young apprentice, who¡¯s equally unruly hair hid everything but his nose and mouth, ¡°Be an old saying from da people of my home town.¡±


    From there on, the company traveled along the river bank. Cirin awoke and fell asleep to the sound of the rushing waters. It was both an alarm and a lullaby. It reminded him of home.


    Nearly a day after they traveled along the river, several offshoots had joined the mainstream making the river wide, calm, and shallow enough to bathe in. So that night, after weeks of wading across the grasslands, the company finally managed to bathe.


    Cirin had already dressed and was in the process of drying his hair when Azhar passed him by to their fire that night.


    Cirin lowered his drying cloth and made for his blade the moment he saw his master.


    ¡°Not tonight.¡± Said Azhar, as he rose his hand, ¡°I goinna have ya train extra hard tommora, so rest just this one night.¡±


    Cirin nodded and plummeted on his bum as the man had. Cirin stared at his good hand. The gap between his thumb and index finger had already started to bulge from excess sword play. He crumpled his hand to the sight of that, remembering the order the voice had given him that night.


    Never lose again. Or so it went. Cirin lifted his head to face his master. Though by their duels alone, he had already lost a thousand fold.


    ¡°Old mon.¡± started Cirin, ¡°When ya fought in da past, ya eva come across some one dat made ya¡­¡± Cirin struggled to find the words. His hand flew instinctively to his crippled right, ¡°Afraid?¡± he said at last.


    Azhar was engrossed by the flickering flame, ¡°Quite a few times.¡±


    Cirin blinked madly and leaned in, ¡°You were afraid?¡± he choked on the smoke.


    Azhar shrugged with head tilted to his side, ¡°It be only natural, mouse. When ya fight fa real, ya life be a gamble in a game ya cannot rig. Da best ya can do is rely on ya skill an read as much as ya can about ya enemy.¡±


    ¡°Read?¡± said Cirin, ¡°From annals and scrolls?¡±


    Azhar stifled a laugh and shook his head, ¡°No ya fool of a tulek, I mean read ya opponent. Watch fa what dey do. No matta what, ya can¡¯t kill ya fear, but ya can count on ya enemy fearin¡¯ ya just as much. So long da gap between ya strengths remain minah¡¯. If it ain¡¯t minor and you be on da losing side, den ya must run.¡± Azhar lifted a finger in expression, ¡°Hence da point of half ya training.¡±


    Cirin puffed, sourly remembering the countless laps Azhar had him do.


    ¡°Back to my point.¡± Grunted the man, ¡°When a man realizes he may die, he tends to look or fidget to da side he is most vulnerable.¡± Azhar lowered his chin, ¡°Da words we speak be not the only language we use, weder we intend to or not.¡±


    Cirin tossed his eyes to the side, ¡°And what about dose who use magic?¡±


    ¡°Magic again?¡± lauded Azhar, ¡°Is dis about da magic user ya fought? Ya tink you¡¯ll face him again?¡±


    ¡°Not exactly.¡± Teetered Cirin, ¡°But I neva felt so¡­ so beaten before.¡±


    ¡°Hah, I beat ya myself many times.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not da same!¡± protested Cirin, ¡°Dey were going to kill me.¡± He lowered his voice and edged away from the fire, ¡°Kill Sol¡­¡±


    ¡°And so ya lost ya composure, ya will ta fight on. Ya asking me now only confirms it.¡± Azhar threw a stick into the flame and watched it roar to life, ¡°Take it from me, mouse. Magic be no different from swordcraft. Just anodda sword and just anodda way of using it. I couldn¡¯t tell ya da specific way of fighting one magic or da udda, because dere be many kinds. But I can tell ya dat magic be of no use wit out da caster. Watch what dey do to make da spells work.¡±


    Cirin flinched. He rose his ruby eyes slowly as he realized it.


    Azhar spoke on as the boy spied at his own hand curiously, ¡°Look for da one constant and prevent it.¡±


    Cirin snapped his fingers.


    ¡°Ya figure it, mouse?¡±


    Cirin nodded, ¡°Maybe.¡±

 Chapter 13, A Deck of Blades

    Another tumbled to the floor besides the four others.


    ¡°Worthless!¡± shouted Zanzabarra as he repositioned his blade ifnront of me. He steely eyes shot to Ade, who nearly croaked in response, ¡°I told you to find da five best men from da camp, Ade. And here ya brought me five idiots with swords skils fit for a fisherman.¡±


    Zanzabarra studied each of his worthless combatants one by one. The first was unconscious on his back, the second craddeling a wounded leg, the third struggling to get up, the fourth in fetal postion, and the fifth crawling away.


    ¡°Pathetic.¡± Repeated the lord.


    ¡°Dese men were da best.¡± Assured Ade, ¡°But!¡± he resumed as Zanzabarra threw him a look, ¡°I¡¯m sure we¡¯ll find more on da ship. Look my lord.¡± He pointed.


    Zanzabarra turned to the docks along the rocky coast. They had been there for nearly two days and had waited much to his own displeasure and the dread of the five men he took his time beating.


    The dock bells rang in the distance, sea gulls screeched, and the voices of sailors filled the air. Then the loud creak of wood reached the platform where Zanzabarra watched it all. The ship was massive, a true trade vessel from Galokin if there ever was one. She towered well above the weathered sea huts poking about the rock faces all the way down the cliff. Her hull was chocolate maple, while her sails were nearly as white as clouds.


    ¡°Get Taba.¡± Said Zanzabarra before making for the main road.


    When they reached the ship, men of both Illivanmar and Galokin were loading the respective supplies out at the docks. Zanzabarra waited for the men to finish their business unloading the ship before commanding his own men to begin boarding.


    He had ten men including himself, Taba, and Ade board with him.


    Zanzabarra was the last to step on the ship. It seemed large when he got there. Ofcourse, deck hands buzzed about frequently tending to their duties, but aside from them, the mainstay of the ship remained largely empty. Even the barrels, which oft populated those planks hugged the walls of the cabin nervously.


    Zanzabarra played a deviously smile and made for a straight walk to the center of the ship. By the time he got there, there were already several onlookers gawking at him. This was good.


    He drew his blade in a crisp motion, held it out in front of him, then stabbed it well into the wood.


    He glanced at Ade briefly before addressing the on-lookers, ¡°I seek an opponent.¡± He stated boldly, ¡°Is dere any among you who will accept my challenge?¡±


    He puffed as the buzzing halted.


    ¡°No one?¡± he said. ¡°Fine. I will grant da victor one hundred gold pieces. Now.¡± He said drawing his blade from the crowd, ¡°Come.¡± He held the blade ahead of him and took up his stance.


    No response.


    Zanzabarra¡¯s right eye brow twitched. He pointed his blade at the nearest deckhand to his left and started marching towards the man, ¡°I¡¯ll pick my opponent den.¡± Declared Zanzabarra.


    ¡°Is that the shifting Sands, I see?¡±This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    Zanzabarra peaked over shoulder at a man wearing a tricot hat. He was lean, Torvir, and roughly his height.


    Even stranger, behind the man, sat a hooded Ilivanmari women, reading a book despite it all.


    Zanzabarra refocussed on the man, once he realised the Torvir was armed.


    The man smiled and fixed his hat to the side to reveal his golden eyes. Then he drew his blade and took up stance that was an almost perfect reflection of Zanzabarra¡¯s.


    ¡°Let us see who the better swordsman is.¡± Bowed the man. ¡°My name is-¡±


    Zanzabarra charged.


    While many of the deckhands had been engrossed by the duel, enough remained to operate the ship, so as soon as the duel commenced, the ship began to move.


    Soon the sounds of metal on metal entered the prattle of seagulls and waves. Men hooted and howled as each fighter swayed in and out of the battle. Yet, through out it all, there was always one clear victor.


    Zanzabarra cursed with his eyes on his blade tossed far to the left. The other man had his blade touching the skin of the lord¡¯s neck, while the lord himself was defeated and on his bum.


    ¡°Etro Meriz.¡± Said the victor, ¡°Though normally you name yourself before fighting.¡±


    Zanzabarra swat the blade aside and rose to his feet defiantly, ¡°I dun care for da name of a Galokin pig.¡±


    ¡°Even one that bested you? No matter, I¡¯ll take the gold now.¡±


    Zanzabarra spit and motioned Ade to comply.


    Zanzabarra held his eyes low, his hands balled. Ade handed the man a sack of coins and Zanzabarra proceeded to pace.


    Lose? Him? He had gone his entire life without a single defeat, and now he had lost to three men within two months. He couldn¡¯t believe it. It was absurd. Tragic. Ludicrous. His eyes went wide once he remembered the golden ones his opponent held.


    ¡°Magic.¡± He said turning to the man, ¡°You used magic. Your eyes-¡±


    ¡°He did not.¡± Entered Taba. The caster looked away from Zanzabarra¡¯s maddened eyes, ¡°If he did, I would have stopped him.¡± Said Taba slowly.


    Zanzabarra caught the figure of the hooded woman on the barrel with the corner of his eye, he could have sworn she had also moved when he mentioned magic.


    Etro sheathed his blade, ¡°Where be your stop, my friend?¡± he started.


    Zanzabarra made for his sword. By then the deckhands had dispersed and resumed their arduous activities.


    ¡°Gin.¡± He answered bitterly as he picked up the blade and sheathed it.


    ¡°Ah, the Oasis of Gin. I¡¯ve only visited it once before. Wonderful place.¡±


    Zanzabarra narrowed his eyes at the swordsman and brushed by him to the cabin.


    ¡°Who taught you, my friend?¡± asked the man.


    Zanzabarra paused in his mad march, ¡°A dead man.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re form be there, but you can still work on ye footing.¡±


    ¡°I dun need ya advice.¡±


    ¡°You have no desire to improve? Seeing how you¡¯ve already paid me, I don¡¯t mind training with ya till you make ye stop at Gin.¡± The man flashed his yellowed whites, ¡°Gold makes quick friends.¡±


    Zanzabarra was nearly fuming when Ade stepped in between him and Etro.


    ¡°Deal.¡± Answered Ade quickly.


    ¡°Ade!¡±


    ¡°My lord, listen. Ya wanted to fight betta didn¡¯t ya? Dis is ya chance. Learn from dis man while ya can.¡±


    Zanzabarra wanted to beat Ade for defying him, he wanted to string the man right there and then, and leave a dozen sword marks to warn any of his other men from ever patronizing him, yet even then Ade had a point. A point that was harper than how dull his blade felt then. Zanzabarra stared at the golden eyed man with a bloodlust comparable to a beasts.


    ¡°I¡¯ll fight ya again and keep on fighting ya till I knock ya to da ground and have ya beggin¡¯ fa release.¡±


    Etro smiled, ¡°I¡¯m glad this trip won¡¯t be nearly as boring as I thought it be.¡±


    Zanzabarra left without another word while his crew of nine followers filed behind him into the cabin. The last man to enter shut the door and Etro merely shrugged on his way back to the other wall of the ship.


    He leaned by the rugged planking as his golden eyes trailed to his traveling partner. She was a quiet girl, but like him, she had also come from Galokin, even though her appearance spoke of Illivanmarin descent.


    ¡°Well fought.¡± She said, with her eyes still on her book.


    ¡°I get to have fun now and then.¡±


    She flipped a page as she continued speaking, ¡°You¡¯re also a teacher it seems?¡±


    Etro bounced his head about, ¡°I¡¯ve hounded myself countless times on my own swordplay. The young man I just fought reminded me much of myself, so really I was just rehearsing my usual routine.¡±


    For just a moment, she flicked her brown eyes at the man, ¡°If you¡¯re heading to Syrindor, I can recommend you to a noble house I¡¯m acquainted with. One that¡¯s in sore need of a trainer in swordplay.¡±


    Etro smiled, laughed, and crossed his arms, ¡°I¡¯m intrigued.¡±

 Chapter 14. I Dream of Monsters

    By the next morn, Azhar kept true to his word. This time he had Cirin carry both his usual load of the day¡¯s rations and the laundry. About midday when Cirin was thoroughly soaked in sweat, Azhar added a pack of sleeping rolls to Cirin¡¯s already heavy carry load.


    Azhar smiled as he watched Cirin trudge behind him. The boy was exhausted, but in the brief moments he realised Azhar was watching him he would pretend as if the weight were nothing. He was stubborn, rash and hot headed at the worst of times. He reminded him of Jafna. Azhar snapped his eyes back to the front as he tried to forget that memory. He knew they were only days away from the Oasis of Gin, but after that¡­


    Azhar blew into the air where he decided to stare into the cloudy sky.


    ¡°Home.¡± He hummed to himself.


    To his unpleasant surprise, Toftof had been eyeing him the entire time.


    Toftof was scratching his chin when he spoke, ¡°Now dat ya say it, da town afta Gin is-¡±


    Azhar brushed a finger over the man¡¯s mouth. He peered at Cirin slightly to make sure he wasn¡¯t listening and sighed to the sight of the poor kid barely managing to follow.


    ¡°I know.¡±  Hushed Azhar, ¡°It¡¯s been nearly twenty years since I¡¯ve been there.¡±


    Toftof crossed his arms as they walked, ¡°You were the worst of da tree when ya got to Lamanori.¡±


    ¡°Really? Me?¡± laughed Azhar, ¡°I tought dat was Jafna.¡±


    ¡°Jafna was an idiot, but he was our idiot. Besides he knew which side had da most fun.¡±


    ¡°Da side wit da udda idiots?¡± mused Azhar.


    ¡°Oi, watch it. Ya know what I mean. You wa always da smartest of da tree, da toughest to. Ya got da best of us mo times dan I could count.¡± Toftof shook his head, ¡°Da tree of ya wold drive ma crew mad wit ya antics. I hated ya especially. When me and ma boys first saw ya, I tought you were da leader.¡±


    ¡°I was.¡±


    ¡°Hmpf. Jafna didn¡¯t seem ta agree. Tho maybe dats why he joined da sandrats, eh?¡±


    Azhar looked down, ¡°Best save da nostalgia fa when we find a proper place ta stay.¡± He glanced behind him, ¡°We should make camp here. Da mouse seems about ready ta collapse.¡±


    Azhar let the company rest for a while and sparred with Cirin later that night. He had hoped that his talk about weaknesses would have smartened the mouse up, but Cirin still faltered whenever Azhar aimed for his right side.


    Azhar sheathed his blade as he spoke to his defeated apprentice, ¡°Dat be enough fa tonight.¡±


    ¡°But-¡± Cirin stumbled in an attempt to rise to his feet.


    ¡°See? Even ya body agrees.¡±


    ¡°Dis is noting,¡± coughed Cirin.


    Azhar ¡®tisked¡¯ and turned away, stretching, ¡°Ya keep ovareactin¡¯ ta my movements. Watch bot sides not just ya right.¡±


    Cirin stabbed the earth with his rusted blade and managed to kneel on one knee. Azhar studied the boy¡¯s rusted sabre. He had been using the foul thing ever since Azhar found him at Ezmir¡¯s tower.


    Azhar snapped his head back towards the direction he was heading, ¡°If ya fight me correctly next time, I may consider getting¡¯ ya a new weapon.¡±


    He left before the boy could respond to that, though Cirin may have well been too exhausted to talk.


    The moment he reached camp, Azhar leaned to Toftof and told him to see to Cirin.


    Toftof left begrudgingly after that, though Azhar could only stare on at the man he ordered with envy. How long had he yearned to live a quiet life? And how long had he been denied it? No. Azhar knew he had not been denied anything. He took off his blades and his boots, dusted his jacket, and rolled out his sleeping mat. There, the man with a thousand regrets laid unto it as he spied the clear sky above him.


    The skies of Gin were famous for being cloudless at night.


    He rested his head on his hands as he drifted into blackened sleep. He supposed that sleeping position gave off the impression that he was some cool-headed swords master when it could not be further than the truth. He was a broken blade, as rusted as Cirin¡¯s. His eyes closed. Every night his failure would repeat itself in the form of a reoccurring dream. His only dream. A nightmare.This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    It began in an old and worn hut.


    Azhar lumbered towards sullen wood door. It was a petty thing by the base of a particularly down taught sand house, but he had seen it a thousand times before. He could hear his heart beating faintly as he took step after step towards the door that wouldn¡¯t come closer.


    Even then he could hear the feint whispers of Jafna and Hannah as they argued pettily about the drapes, about the furniture, about anything really. His heart thumped louder, the door appeared closer. How he wished he could hear those fools bicker more.


    Jafna, the hot head in particular, always the loudest of the original trio, had made a name for himself as the man who fought daily at the bars despite how much Hannah scolded him for it.


    Hannah. Poor poor Hannah. Had she known what happened¡­ What really happened, maybe she would have-- His heart beat unbearable loud then, and the door appeared inches before his nose. It creaked open and helplessly, he stepped forward.


    There was a figure strewn on a bed in front of him. His sight gave way to a blurry mess. But he saw one color and it was red.


    He stumbled forwards. His hands were cold. There were voices. His own? It was impossible to tell. His heart became deafeningly loud until the pang of blade against rock simmered in his ears. He looked down. It was his blade. It was stained with blood. Jafna¡¯s blood.


    Azhar snapped his eyes to the bed, and the sight became perfectly clear, his heart had gone eerily silent. The next moment, he was by that bed, clasping the hand of the figure that lay there. She stared at him, but he could only gaze upon the cursed handle of a dagger jutting out her chest. Red. It was all red.


    ¡°Who did dis to you?¡± He would ask again and again.


    Her answer, so weak, so contorted in sorrow, was always the same, ¡°I did.¡±


    Azhar twisted and turned, and what was the bed soon turned into a damp hollow.


    He was in a cave. He was young. Jafna and Etro were scrunched beside him. Jafna had been arguing as he always did and Etro laughing it off to provoke Jafna even more. From the corner of his eye, he could tell Hannah was watching them shyly just by the entrance to the cave.


    Azhar turned his head to the singular light in the cave then. It came from a well that glowed blue directly a head of them. His own small hands lay clutching the rim of that well.


    Their formidable trio had learned of a magical well where a spirit of sorts lived. This spirit, unlike the one in Gin was old and cranky. In the form of an old man, he was said to divulge the destinies of any who seek his company. And so, Azhar brought the members of his would be gang to the well to confirm what he already knew.


    ¡°Be quiet,¡± he ordered the other two as the spirit began to emerge.


    The water of the well moved on its own and formed what seemed to be the glass like sculpture of the bust of a muscular man. The water contorted, and little by little it became pale rather than see through, and its eyes swirled into little black specs.


    The spectre crossed its arms over its braided white beard and narrowed its hairless brows at the children before it.


    ¡°What is our destiny?¡± asked Azhar without delay.


    ¡°To die,¡± said the spirit.


    ¡°Before we die?¡±


    Azhar could never forget what the spirit said after that, though he wished his companions had.


    ¡°Two of you will have children, but the first to be born will bring doom to what you love most.¡±


    ¡°Dis be dumb,¡± puffed the upstart Jafna.


    ¡°I thought we¡¯d gain wisdom from this,¡± shrugged Etro.


    Azhar was the last to speak, ¡°Anything else? Tell us how we can be strong?¡±


    The spirit considered the question in his otherworldly fashion.


    ¡°You are a fire.¡± He puffed, ¡°You are strong while you burn, but weak once you pass your flames to another. Be selfish and you will be unstoppable, be selfless and you shall be stopped.¡±


    Jafna sprang up and patted his chest, ¡°So be selfish and dun have children?¡± He roared, flashing the world his devilish grin, ¡°I can do dat!¡±


    Etro laughed to that, ¡°Me to!¡±


    Azhar remembered himself being the most hesitant, though his answer came at the behest of his fellows, ¡°Easy enough,¡± he hushed in agreement.


    He wish he hadn¡¯t.


    Azhar jolted awake, sweating and gasping for breath. He reared his head in every direction and finally ran one hand sloppily over his face as he realised where he was, still in the grasslands of Gin.


    In the distance the melodic chirping of crickets eased his mind. He sat up, knowing anymore sleep would be impossible that night. He tossed his eyes back to the horizon. It was still dark, yet the very edges of dawn were fast approaching.


    As he stumbled out of his sleeping roll, he noticed one more up and sitting by the remnants of the fire. It was Cirin.


    He made for an open spot besides the boy and patted his apprentice on the shoulder once he got there.


    ¡°Couldn¡¯t sleep?¡± he pestered Cirin.


    Cirin shook his head. From there Azhar could make out a glimpse of Cirin¡¯s eyes. Red as ever.


    ¡°Me to,¡± grunted Azhar. He stared at the cloudless sky. He remembered the start of it all. It had to have been the accursed well, why Etro had ever convinced him to go to such a thing was beyond him.


    Gin had one to, a well spirit.


    Azhar glanced at Cirin again, ¡°Oi Mouse, when we get ta Gin, avoid da ting called da blue pool. No good will come of it.¡±


    Cirin looked at him curiously, shrugged, then yawned, ¡°Alright.¡± He said simply.


    The two sat there for a while without talk. They breathed out cold air and listened to the chirping of crickets.


    Azhar could only guess at what the boy was thinking, but those moments were what he enjoyed the most. In many ways Azhar was the opposite of Jafna. Hannah told him as much. Even the aloof Etro was quick to catch that.


    ¡°I had a dream.¡±


    Azhar blinked, caught off guard by the boy¡¯s sudden statement.


    ¡°Oh?¡± Azhar picked up a stick and poked the ashes of last night¡¯s fire, ¡°What kind of dream, mouse?¡± he asked.


    ¡°I was in a walled village filled wit monsters wit red eyes.¡±


    Azhar snickered, ¡°You be no monster, mouse.¡±


    ¡°But da creatures in my dream were,¡± protested the boy, ¡°Dey weren¡¯t human. Dey were bird-lions who walked upright and-¡±


    ¡°Oi oi, have ya been listening to Manama again?¡±


    Cirin looked away, ¡°She neva told me any stories about it. Besides it was just a dream.¡±


    Azhar gazed of into the distance then, ¡°Just a dream, huh? I had a dream to, mouse.¡±


    Azhar caught Cirin¡¯s dumbfounded gaze and shook his smiling head, ¡°Ya dun tink dis old mon can dream?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not dat. Just, ya dun seem ta be ta be da type ta talk about it,¡± said Cirin.


    ¡°I suppose dat be true,¡± conceded the man. ¡°dough, I wouldn¡¯t call it a dream.¡± He stared at his own hands and winced, ¡°Cause it had monsters to.¡±


    They arrived in Gin three days later.

 Chapter 15, Where all Rivers Lead

    Unlike Gara, Gin was everything it was described to be and more. Rivers of untold numbers flowed into the many canals of the city¡¯s front. Along those rivers, roads seeped into the dozens of gates perched along the narrow walls of the city.


    The city itself was a mosaic of verdant greenery and cold mud buildings. The canals that flowed through the city formed a second set of streets adjacent to the first, making nearly all the buildings water side property. All about people, and carriages, and snakes roamed about en masse. Flags and paper lanterns hung from house to house over top the swarming crowds. Birds of unimaginable color freckled the tops of cone tipped houses and cawed in spectacular fashion, forming a chorus that was only beat by the ballads of countless bards that hugged every street corner. Merchants filled the remaining spots of every street with exotic wares and food that smelled of a myriad of spices. Gin was alive. Gin was a city that smiled.


    But not always.


    There were more of them here. Like murky clouds blotting the beautiful sky, the colourless few blotched the mosaic that was gin. Slaves. Pitiful things. The wretches remained painfully decrepit among their colorful counterparts. Whilst all of Gin thrived with life, it was they that rot in the alleys and labored by storefronts. Cirin trained his eyes away from such people. They chose that life. Some were even smiling, laughing even. Cirin wished they¡¯d disappear. Slaves were a foul bunch who only arrived at the position based on their inability to support themselves. They were cowards. Every child of Illivanmar knew that. They were mere tales to scare children from avoiding chores. He glanced at Sol, seeing the prince stare at that same sight. There was no doubt he had a different impression of them.


    ¡°See deir arms, boy?¡± nudged Toftof, ¡°A circle wit an arch running tru. Dat be da mark of Merid Dance Troupe property. Dat bunch wa a real problem back in Lamanori.¡±


    Cirin squinted at the identical tattoos on the various slaves that ran around. The tattooed was black and it always chose the shoulder on the right side.


    He glanced at his own debilitated right arm.


    ¡°Don¡¯t call them property. They¡¯re people.¡± Sol this time.


    ¡°Nah, mon, Toftof be right,¡± hushed Cirin, ¡°Dey be property, less dan people. All of dem dere wa dose dat gave up.¡±


    He caught Azhar staring back at him, ¡°Not always true, mouse,¡± he said simply.


    As the company passed the first of many streets, Cirin noticed how the coned tips of houses grew taller and taller as they neared the single behemoth of a tower in the back of the town. Beyond that, the houses themselves were not merely mud huts, but exceptionally crafted facilities complete with smooth arches and stunning woodwork panels. Some buildings even boasted windows which splayed their interiors. Cirin halted at one of these dark chocolate buildings and squinted inside. There were rows of round tables and people happily feasting away at the contents on the table.


    ¡°An eating house, it seems.¡± Commented Manama.


    Cirin flinched as he found her looking over his shoulder. It bothered him how much she watched him, especially after what she did in Ezmir.


    ¡°Oi, keep walking you two.¡± Ordered Azhar from the front.


    Cirin let his eyes trail after the eat house as they passed it. His mouth watered at the mere thought of it. Yet Azhar had not asked them to move without due reason. The street was crowded beyond measure, and their company had with two massive pack snakes and five people, taking much of the decently sized street¡¯s space as they passed through it.


    ¡°We¡¯ll come back for food once we find a place ta stay. Besides dere be a shop I want ta visit when we have time.¡± Added Azhar with a glance thrown at Cirin.


    Toftof cried back, ¡°I heard da food in Gin be expensive. How much we got?¡±


    ¡°Five Irs and an elk.¡± Counted Azhar.


    ¡°We be travelin wit wealty benefactors indeed.¡± Noted Manama.


    ¡°Our mission concerns da safety of da country sa it should.¡± Said Azhar. ¡°But money be not our concern here. Keep ya eyes open and ya hands on ya hilts. Dis be da an imperial city.¡±


    Cirin wondered what he meant by that. The distinction between ¡®free city¡¯ and ¡®imperial city¡¯ was still quite foreign to him, but he knew one thing. Someone, somewhere in the empire wanted all free cities gone, and the golden eyed boy was working for them. On top of that, it was the empire, or at least a part of the empire, that had orchestrated the hit on Sol back in Lamanori. It was that same part of the empire that had incited the very trip they were on now.


    It didn¡¯t take long for the company to come across an inn that would accommodate pack snakes. Gin was known to be traveler¡¯s city, since it strayed fairly close to the sea. Traders would host good from all over on the backs of snakes to Gin and export those goods to the far shores of Syrindor, the free ilse, and even Nesdiat to the far north.


    Manama had told Cirin and Sol that it was Gin that held one of Illivanmar¡¯s three trade passes to trade with Galokin, making it extremely wealthy in comparison to its landlocked neighbours. Even Lamanorin goods had to go through Gin in order to be made eligible for trade.


    Cirin could not help glancing about himself at the majesty of the city while they pushed through the crowds and into the inn. As always, Manama tended to the snakes, while Azhar handled the inn fees, and Toftof escorted the boys to their room.


    The inn was a small thing. It was not nearly as large or grandiose as Uhatu¡¯s manse, but it was a welcome reprieve from weeks of resting in the grasslands. It even sported its own baths as all inns in Gin had.


    The baths were also heated. Cirin had never been a fan of bathing yet the addition of heat made him instantly enthralled by it. By the time he left the bathhouse it was nearly evening. Though had he left a moment later, he would have missed the evident commotion brewing by the inn¡¯s lobby.


    Cirin dried and dressed quickly as he tumbled into the lobby. There a hefty crowd had formed around the entrance to the inn. Cirin jumped from foot to foot, as the people wall seemingly consisted of those older and, more importantly, taller than him. A few were whispering about themselves, but the majority were crying one name in awe. ¡®Elizabeth!¡¯


    Finally, a yawning Azhar pat Cirin on the shoulder then pushed aside the nearest on-looker.


    ¡°Can ya see, mouse?¡±


    Cirin focussed on the center of the commotion. He had heard a woman¡¯s voice amidst it all and now he could confirm the figure was in fact a woman, though not much older than Catherine. Even stranger, she was felian. Her skin was ghostly white, while her hair was as black as a midnight sky. Cirin narrowed his eyes. She also had on an illivanmarin noble women¡¯s single piece dress. He had seen enough of noble women at the palace to know its look anywhere.


    The woman tossed her piercing green eyes from on-looker to on-looker, waving cheerily to each, until she landed those specs on Azhar. Instantly, she flashed a practiced smile.


    She ran to him and stopped inches from the man, letting her two unsplintered bangs bounce and dangle on her face.


    Cirin tilted his head. Azhar wasn¡¯t a tall man, but beside this girl, he seemed a thug.


    ¡°You¡¯re Azhar of Lamanori, correct?¡± she said in a perfected tone.


    Azhar pat the back of his head, ¡°Am I famous now?¡± he laughed.


    The noble woman reached out and clasped Azhar free hand drawing both a gasp from the crowd and unsettled flinch from the man himself.


    ¡°Thank you so very much.¡± She said beaming forwards, ¡°I¡¯ve heard you¡¯re the one protecting my darling cousin.¡±


    ¡°Ah.¡± Started Azhar, ¡°You must de dat Elizabet.¡± Then Azhar brushed off her clasp and leaned close to her, ¡°How did ya find us?¡±


    ¡°Pure coincidence!¡± She assured the man, ¡°My escort saw him as he entered the city today. Of course I had to come see him as soon as I heard.¡±


    Cirin shifted as he heard the whispers around him.


    ¡®Prince Soletio is here?¡¯


    ¡®Two foreign nobles at da same time?¡¯


    ¡®Does da emperor know?¡¯


    ¡®ofcourse he does, if she¡¯s here!¡¯


    Cirin found himself fixed on that last comment. He tried to find the person who said it, but found it nigh impossible with the now dispersing crowd.


    ¡°And who might you be?¡± said a hovering Elizabeth.


    Cirin blinked and looked away.


    ¡°He¡¯s my apprentice.¡± Asserted Azhar.


    Elizabeth held her hand in front of her mouth, ¡°My stars, what happened to his arm?¡±


    Azhar was blatant with his answer, ¡°He fell.¡±


    ¡°I could have my doctors see to him, I have the best healers in the land I assure you.¡±


    ¡°No need. Do ya want me ta take ya to him?¡± said Azhar.


    Elizabeth straightened her back, held her hand in front of her, and nodded briskly, smiling all the while. Despite the crowded reception, the walk up the stairs carried little to no ceremony. In fact passerbyers simple cleared the hall and bowed as they recognized the royal. Cirin could tell Azhar took no joy in it, his face was already a telling bout of lowered brows and exasperate frowns.


    ¡°So princess.¡± Started the man, ¡°I¡¯m sure ya realise dat we need ta find a new inn, do ya not?¡±


    ¡°No, why?¡± a feint of innocence.


    Azhar sighed, ¡°For Sol¡¯s sake we need ta keep his location as discrete as possible.¡±


    Azhar tossed Elizabeth a look as soon as Elizabeth made to speak.


    ¡°Which means, ya best not try ta find us again, princess.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I- well I understand then. Please do not let that sway you from letting me see him this once however.¡±


    Azhar noted her then stopped abruptly by the last door in the hall. He knocked on it with his knuckles.


    ¡°It¡¯s me.¡± He whispered.


    A series of locks could be heard on the other side while the princess waited anxiously for her reception.


    Finally, the brass handle spun and the door creaked open. Before Azhar could step in, Elizabeth swooshed by him and nearly pounced on poor Sol.


    ¡°My dearest cousin!¡± she gushed, with Sol in her embrace, ¡°How have you been? Oh, do tell of your adventures!¡±


    ¡°E-Eli?¡± He wheezed.


    Azhar shook his head, ¡°Let him go ya higness, anymore and I may consida it an attempt on his life.¡± He said bluntly.


    Eli held out Sol at an arm¡¯s length and smiled at him. Her cheeks were as red as apples as she spoke, ¡°My adorable little Sol. It¡¯s just you and me out here, isn¡¯t it? All the way out here in the land of predestined cities?¡± She made a show of it craning her head about as she spoke. She snapped her head back to Sol, ¡°I commend you on your excellent taste to visit the imperial city of Gin, but I must ask, where do you intend to visit next?¡±


    That was when Azhar stepped in, ¡°We haven¡¯t decided yet.¡± He said briskly.


    Cirin rose his brows as he considered what that meant for Catherine. He tapped his head, maybe a letter at the next town?


    ¡°Eli, why are you here?¡± asked the prince slowly.


    ¡°To you see, you stupid bug!¡±


    ¡°I mean.¡± Sol tossed his eyes to the side, ¡°Were you banished to?¡± he said meekly.


    Eli paused to that, and for a moment the tone in her voice dropped, ¡°No.¡± She shook her head and her usual tone returned, ¡°You silly bug! I traveled here out of my own volition.¡±


    ¡°You mean da emperor¡¯s ¡®volition¡¯.¡± Snarked a cross armed Toftof.


    Azhar said nothing as he walked over to Toftof, withdrew his blade, and promptly butted the man in the gut with his hilt.


    ¡°What was that fa? Ya Bas-¡±


    ¡°Excuse da help.¡± Said Azhar.


    ¡°No no, it¡¯s quite alright. The rumors about me and the emperor, well you see¡­¡±


    ¡°We make no assumptions, princess.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re true.¡± She added.


    Azhar sheathed his blade and kept a hand on Toftof¡¯s head. He had to take some measure to keep the furious imp at a distance, ¡°Is it true you intend to marry him?¡±


    ¡°Who¡¯s sayin¡¯ da stupid tings now!¡± puffed Toftof.


    Eli smiled from where she kneeled, ¡°It¡¯s true. I love him and I¡¯m sure he feels the same way. But-¡± She shook her head and got up to her feet, ¡°Due to certain circumstances, I¡¯m afraid it¡¯s not possible.¡±


    Azhar narrowed his eyes, ¡°The rule of the three.¡± He said under his breath.


    Her voice took on a practiced value, her tone stout and unchanging, ¡°An old and archaic rule, but as your people hold true your customs, so do mine. Those of royal decent must abide strictly by those customs to set an example for the people. Now Sol,¡± She ventured her doting eyes to the prince, ¡°Tell me all about this trip you¡¯ve had.¡±


    The prince looked to Azhar, who nodded approvingly. From there, the prince¡¯s cautious muzzle turned to a smiling one and he began spinning the most wondrous version of events that had even Cirin shaking his head.


    While the prince went on about magical glowing rooms, really skinny people, and giant sand snakes, Cirin made his way to Azhar in the corner of the room and sat on the bed closest to him.


    ¡°Oi, old mon,¡± whispered the boy, ¡°What¡¯s da rule of tree?¡±


    Azhar had his arms crossed, ¡°An unpleasant ting, mouse. It be a rule dat determines inheritance in Galokin. Ya know what inheritance means?¡±


    Cirin nodded.


    Azhar motioned his head to the princess, ¡°In Galokin, only da first tree heirs inherit da fortune of deir family, as well as marital rights. So if da family would say dey want ta marry off one of deir sons or daughta¡¯s for political purposes, dey must be witin da first tree born.¡±


    ¡°So if you were da fourth child?¡±


    Azhar shook his head, ¡°Ya be in da mercy of ya olda siblings. For some notable families, dey tend ta extend da rule of three ta da first cousins if dey have only one or two children. Dat girl dere, da princess, be Sol¡¯s first cousin.¡±


    ¡°Da fourth child.¡± Trailed Cirin as he eyed her.


    What a tragic system.


    Cirin nearly jumped at the voice. He hadn¡¯t heard it in weeks.


    He turned his head to Azhar, who had eyes placed sternly and conversing royals.


    ¡°I-I have to use da restroom.¡± Cirin blurted.


    Azhar turned his head to the boy, ¡°Why ya askin¡¯ me?¡±


    Cirin leapt to his feet, ¡°Right.¡± He managed before bolting for the door.


    ¡°I guess he really had to go.¡± Remarked Toftof.


    Outside the door, Cirin glanced down the hall and made out two men talking to each other. He couldn¡¯t talk to the voice now.


    As naturally as possible, the boy snaked passed the speaking men, then started a run as soon as he was sure they didn¡¯t see him.


    Again he slowed to a casual strut as a woman made up the stairs and passed him.


    When he was at the lobby, he realised, that was the worst possible place to talk to himself, as there were atleast six people lounging about. Finally, he ran out the inn and found his way to the stables. Manama was there, but she was fully engrossed by talking to the snakes.


    Cirin nodded once to himself. If anyone were to stop and stare, it would be at the strangely dressed gypsy talking to snakes, not the boy off in the corner talking to himself.Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.


    So Cirin found the nearest corner of the stables and huddled in it low.


    ¡°Strange voice, you still dere?¡± he whispered.


    Have I any other option? By the way, why are you whispering?


    ¡°Forget that. Tell me what you meant by showing me ya past.¡±


    But I¡¯ve already showed you it.


    ¡°What?¡± gawked Cirin, stopping momentarily to make sure Manama wasn¡¯t listening. ¡°What do ya mean?¡±


    You¡¯re not very sharp. Think back to what I told you. My homeland had golden grass.


    ¡°What do you-¡± Cirin gasped, ¡°Da village?¡±


    Ah, so you saw it.


    ¡°But dat was a dream. Dere were lion-bird people in it, it didn¡¯t make any sense.¡±


    For now it won¡¯t, but I am glad you saw it. How¡¯s your right arm, pig?


    Cirin tried moving it, ¡°It¡¯s getting betta, Manama says it¡¯ll be fine in two weeks if not sooner.¡±


    Good. I want you to try something when it heals. I¡¯m going to send you another image. In it you should see a warrior. Mimic his style when you can.


    ¡°Mimic? How will mimicking some style help me? Da old mon will beat it out of me if I try anodda style again.¡±


    Pathetic little creature. I thought you¡¯d be ecstatic about getting stronger, yet you squabble about fearing your master. If you are so adamant about not letting your master see you try another style, then practice those styles without him knowing. I can see through your eyes, remember? I know how perceptive you can be, so hiding you¡¯re training should be of no issue.


    ¡°Dis is crazy. I¡¯m crazy for even listenin to ya nonsense! Voice?¡± Cirin hit his own head, ¡°Voice?¡±


    Cirin slumped against the stable as he realised the voice had let once more. At that point he had become notorious for leaving without warning. Perhaps he really was fading?


    Footsteps, and Cirin shuffled to the edge of the stable wall to peak at who it was.


    From the edge of the wall facing stable he could see a hooded woman with two burly men towering behind. Cirin scarcely remembered seeing those men earlier that day. They were tall but they wore drab clothing that drew attention away from them. The woman tossed her head from side to side, and eventually gazed upon the stable. Cirin hid instantly, fearing she may have looked at him. He flinched. Green eyes. He knew that woman, he peaked out again to catch the familiar face of Eli, now approaching the front side of the stables.


    ¡°Mother Manama, is it?¡± she stared.


    Some of the dry grass in the stables could be heard scrunching as the woman in question got up.


    ¡°Who is it dat asks?¡±


    The royal raised her head high, ¡°Princes Elizabeth Gel¡¯Rave. I¡¯ve looked into your past.¡±


    There was a pause. Manama spoke up, ¡°Manama be curious. Why does a princess, both loved by the people and its king, seek da presence of one so lowly such as myself. Well, unless of course you seek something dat only I can do.¡±


    Eli swallowed hard, even from where Cirin lurked, he could tell the princess was trembling.What was it about Manama that could make anyone tremble?


    ¡°Will you serve me?¡± asked Eli.


    ¡°Manama needs a numba.¡±


    ¡°One hundred Irs.¡±


    Cirin nearly choked on the number.


    There was Manama¡¯s unmistakable laugh, which sounded more like that of a witch¡¯s when heard as a disembodied voice, ¡°Manama says no.¡± laughed the witch.


    ¡°What? Then why did you ask?¡±


    ¡°Manama likes da sound of big numbas.¡±


    Eli stepped forwards despite herself, ¡°But you said it yourself! This is something that only you can do!¡±


    ¡°Manama still believes dat, but unfortunately Manama has already been hired.¡±


    ¡°By prince sol?¡±


    ¡°By da dog who be watchin¡¯ ova him.¡±


    Eli breathed hard and held her head low, forcing her silky black hair to drape with it.


    ¡°If you do this job for me, you¡¯ll be helping him in a sense.¡±


    ¡°Manama supposes so.¡±


    ¡°Then why not?¡± started Eli with her head held up again. There were tears in those eyes.


    ¡°It be Manama¡¯s policy to stick ta one job till it be finished.¡±


    To that the men behind Eli reached for their blades, but Eli halted them with an outstretched hand, ¡°Then please do not regret this.¡± Said Eli.


    The men sheathed their blades and Eli re-adorned her cowl. A moment later, the trio departed with Eli¡¯s last words still fresh in Cirin¡¯s mind.


    ¡°Enjoy your stay in Gin.¡±


    They spent the next day inn-hunting. The previous inn-keeper agreed to keep the pack snakes till they found their next stop. It was the least he could do after Azhar let the man keep the advance payment for their three day stop.


    All around the oasis, the town seemed a buzz with news that Princess Eli had been touring it. The oasis of Gin was already a favorite location for travellers, yet the appearance of the famous Princess of Galokin made it hotter than a lamanorin desert.


    As they walked about the buzzing city, with birds singing above them, and waters rushing beside them, Cirin snaked his way to Azhar¡¯s side.


    He looked at the distracted Sol briefly before speaking to his master, ¡°Why is dat da people here be celebrating da princess? Sol never had dat.¡±


    Azhar smiled and tossed his eyes lazily back at Cirin as he spoke, ¡°Ya stupid mouse. Ya be young, but ya still old enough ta know about da prince.¡±


    ¡°About why people want ta kill him? I¡¯ll neva undastand dat.¡±


    Azhar motioned his head at a group of children moving crates by a store front they were passing. The unsightly trio looked to be about Cirin¡¯s age.


    ¡°See dere necks?¡± started the man.


    There were iron rings loosely hanging around the children¡¯s neck.


    ¡°Slaves.¡± Said Cirin.


    ¡°Ya know Lamanori has dem, even Ezmir and once Gara did to, but it be different here in Gin.¡± Azhar lowered his chocolate eyes at Cirin, ¡°Ya were raised in da palace, so ya dun know. Slaves in da free cities earn deir freedom at a certain age, but in da imperial cities- well, once a slave always a slave. Dat extends ta da children of slaves to. Aside from da direct protection from the emperor dat be da main difference between da cities. At one point a few of da cities became rich enough to partly abandon da slave system so dey parted empire.¡±


    ¡°But what does dat have to do with Sol?¡±


    ¡°Ya dun get it, mouse.¡±


    Cirin frowned, it had been a while since he heard that.


    Azhar continued with a voice that was almost yawning, ¡°Our emperor, da great and powerful Alida, made a promise not seven years ago. Perhaps ya be too young to rememba it. Back den, da emperor had come of age to pick his bride, but to da surprise of all his court he had fallen in love with a princess from Galokin.¡±


    ¡°Elizabeth?¡±


    ¡°It stirred bot da nations. If da marriage went tru den da two kingdoms could strengthen relations more dan eva. However, da princess at da time found much of da kingdom unsightly. In short, she wanted slavery ta be abolished.¡±


    ¡°Da idea was thought stupid at first.¡± Added Toftof, ¡°We¡¯ve lived fa hundreds of years wit slavery, da whole uppa class might even fall a part, but da mo da common people tought about it, da mo dey accepted it. Da mo dey wanted it. Ya see dey feared getting enslaved demselves since dat meant resigning deir¡¯s family¡¯s futah to. Merely da idea made people split a part.¡±


    ¡°So da boy emperor decided dat if da princess married him, he would abolish slavery.¡± Continued Azhar, ¡°Da princess agreed, and da wedding was set.¡±


    ¡°Da people were happy, da slaves were happy, even da nobles who grew slobbering at the idea of increased connections wit deir nortern neighbours were happy.¡± Said Toftof.


    ¡°But.¡± Cut in Azhar, ¡°Right about da time of da wedding, four days before it ta be exact, da new queen of Galokin announced she was wit child.¡±


    Cirin found himself looking at Sol. The prince was fully engrossed by the various coloured lanterns hanging about, pointing each of them out to Manama as they passed underneath.


    ¡°Da wedding fell a part.¡± Concluded Azhar, ¡°All of it was declared illegitimate and all da optimism of da people turned to a bubbling rage.¡± Azhar looked down and shook his head, ¡°Neva in da history our kingdom has an entire nation hated a baby¡­ until den. Sol was born at da wrong time to da wrong family.¡±


    Cirin felt that same bubbling rage now, He glanced about in disgust at the people chatting about Princess Eli in all sides. Over slavery? Did they hate Sol too? Did they even know the kind, selfless child, when they cheered for his death?


    He did not have a chance to formulate his rage into words however, as their company stopped abruptly by the face of a new inn. This one was quite a ways from the front of the town and seemed much closer to the tower, hovering the distance.


    It was small as well. Much smaller than any they had stayed prior. The entrance sign was run down and barely legible, while the mud walls were cracking in some areas. Cirin craned his head up and noticed that the spire tip of the house had already broken. He tossed his eyes to the side, the stables, barely with enough space for three pack serpents lay empty as well.


    Even the people who passed by the inn seemed to avoid the side of the street it was on. Several of the houses on that side seemed abandoned as well.


    Manama walked up to their side and placed her hands on her hips, ¡°Dey say da people of dis street were made slaves when dey refused ta pay tribute ta some dead noble. Conspiracy against da empire so dey say.¡± She said happily.


    Cirin contorted a brow at the woman, but could not find himself to question her tone. He was still too consumed by the thought of Sol being hated.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡± Commanded Azhar as opened the door for the rest of them.


    The lobby reminded Cirin of the previous inn, yet this one lacked the colour of Gin. In a word, it was brown. The floor was a sandy mess and the walls a cracked collage of previous paint stains.


    An wobbly old man teetered at the front desk, ¡°Welcome.¡± He croaked, ¡°Haven¡¯t had a visitor in- oh welcome.¡±


    Azhar sighed as he finished the distance to the front desk. He spoke to the company while he withdrew a notable sum out of his coin pouch and put the currency on the counter, ¡°Find a room on da furthest end of da hall, I doubt anyone else is here. We¡¯ll grab da snakes tommora.¡±


    Manama gestured to herself and pouted, ¡°Manama can grab da snakes now. She hates ta tink how lonely dey be.¡±


    ¡°Fine.¡± Sighed Azhar, ¡°but be sure ta drop ya tings here before ya go.¡±


    Manama nodded and made down the hallway. Cirin hadn¡¯t noticed he was staring after Manama and Toftof as they opened each of the doors until Sol meek tug on cirin¡¯s jerkin brought him back to reality.


    ¡°What is it ya imp?¡±


    ¡°You okay?¡± said the prince.


    ¡°Ah.¡± Cirin rubbed his head, ¡°Da old mon and Toftof told me a story earlier dat¡¯s got me tinking is all.¡±


    Sol let go and swallowed, ¡°Was it a scary story?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± started Cirin, ¡°Just an interesting one.¡±


    ¡°You two, get to ya rooms.¡± Roared Azhar.


    Cirin rolled his eyes and motioned his head at Sol to follow. They picked the last room at the end of the hall and coughed as the dust in it blew passed once they opened the door.


    Cirin pinched his nose. The rooms smelled awful. It looked awful to. There was one window with rotted drapes on the backside of it, with a single framed bed barely large enough for a child crammed in the corner. Besides the bed, the remaining space hardly let Cirin take four steps before reaching the end of it. Cirin made a gesture with his eyes, staring back through the door. He wondered just how much the old mon paid for this.


    Sol was by that door, his head poking out of it, no doubt looking down the hall.


    ¡°Uhuh. Uhuh.¡± Nodded Sol before returning to the room. ¡°Azhar says he¡¯s going out and that I need to stay with him.¡± Added the prince.


    Cirin smiled at him. If it had been a mere month ago, he would not have dare trusted the old mon with the boy. But now. Now things were different, out of all their wayward guardians at least Azhar seemed reliable.


    ¡°Alright den go.¡± Prompted the guardian.


    Sol seemed about to cry when Cirin cut him off, ¡°Promise I¡¯ll explore da town wit ya tommora.¡± Said Cirin.


    Sol¡¯s face made an instant recovery as he nodded gleefully and ran out the room.


    Cirin looked out the door a little longer. He lowered his brows. He felt conflicted knowing the full story behind Sol, as if not knowing at all would have been for the better. He tossed his eyes and made for the bed. If he got some sleep, maybe he could recover, maybe he could even receive the ¡®message¡¯ the voice was talking about.


    Just as he sat down, Manama appeared by the door.


    ¡°Going ta sleep already?¡± she laughed.


    Cirin fell on the bed and turned away from door, ¡°Get out ya damned snake lady.¡±


    ¡°About dat. Would ya care to accompany dis ¡®damned snake lady¡¯ while she grabs dose snakes?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll tell ya about some of Azhar¡¯s past.¡±


    Cirin sat up and lowered his head at Manama, ¡°No tricks. No lies.¡±


    Manama smiled, ¡°Manama neva lies.¡±


    The trip down the path they came from seemed easier without the other three. It helped that Manama always had a relaxed pace about her, one that let Cirin muddle about in his thoughts as kicked the various rocks ahead of him.


    The fact that they were heading downhill, also helped. The slope of the town wasn¡¯t very apparent at the front, but where they walked one could see the steep ditch connecting the land to the leveled water flow below.


    The sun was still high in the sky as people went out of their homes to light the various lanterns hanging above the streets. Cirin found himself studying the various paper lantern designs as he trudged behind Manama. Some were shaped like five side stars, others were boxes with two ends empty, and the more visionary ones were massive flowers with the candle lights in the middle.


    ¡°Ya know why da people here fly lanterns?¡± asked Manama.


    Cirin shook his head, expecting another of her wild stories.


    ¡°Dey say da lights attracted da spirits of da night. Da lanterns da spirits like, stay lit til da morning, da ones dey dislike, dey eat da fire, so da lanterns be dimmed come sunlight.¡± Manama held her arms high as if to touch the lanterns, ¡°Uddas say da lanterns are a way ta make da city shine bright when lost sialors be needin guidance.¡± Manama shrugged, ¡°No one really knows.¡±


    Cirin dug his free hand into his pocket, mimicking one of Azhar¡¯s famous postures.


    Manama seemed to have noticed this for a moment later she spoke up, ¡°Like da tale of da lanterns, Manama tinks dere be sometings people need not know. For example when deir friends have strange convasations in stables.¡±


    Cirin froze. People passed by, ¡°You knew I was dere?¡±


    Manama smiled, halting herself, ¡°Da snakes told me.¡±


    Cirin narrowed his eyes at the woman. ¡°What do ya want from me?¡± he ventured.


    Manama flicked one finger above her pierced lip, ¡°Silence.¡± She said simply, ¡°Dun tell Azhar of what ya heard dere and in return I won¡¯t tell him about where ya about ta go.¡±


    Cirin straightened his back, ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°Back in Azhar¡¯s home town, he and his friends went to go see a spirit of a well. Dat spirit told him about his destiny, his life even. It told him how to be as strong as he was.¡±


    Cirin held his head to the side, ¡°Is dis anodda of ya fairy tales?¡± he pressed.


    ¡°Dere be a well spirit here to. A famous one.¡± She hushed, ¡°Da spirit of da blue pool. Manama tinks ya can make it dere and ask ya questions before she returns wit da snakes. Azhar will be none da wiser.¡±


    Cirin had his doubts about listening to unnatural things about getting stronger. Though granted, he had been a patient of that medicine already. Azhar had told him not to, but half the things he made Cirin do did not make any sense to the boy. No. Azhar was not always right, he kept most of his life a secret to the boy, despite knowing almost everything about him. It wasn¡¯t fair. What else did he know about Cirin that Cirin did not? What about his parents? What about Sol?


    Cirin peered at Manama, feeling a strange hunger envelop his mind. He wanted to know.


    ¡°Where is it?¡± said Cirin.


    Cirin fumbled through the streets, back tracking several times as he tried to remember Manama¡¯s horrible directions.


    ¡®Take a right at da grey house dat be smiling, look for da upside down hat, go straight by da sculpture dat moves, den go through da first limping corner. Oh but rememba to be nice to da woman at da flower stand.¡¯


    Cirin tossed his eyes from side to side. As far as he knew there was no flower stand. He leaned against the nearest mud brick building. It was hopeless.


    He glanced about himself, spotting several denizens walking about. Surely the locals knew of it. He made for the closest man, but stopped himself. He detested the idea of talking to those he did not know. Especially if those very people hated Sol.


    He sighed to himself and stepped forwards, finding the courage to keep going. He still had time. Yet the moment he stepped into the middle of the street a woman, whose scent was familiar, sped by him. She stopped as he turned towards her then immediately darted towards him. She was fast, but the shock of who she was made Cirin slower than the difference of their speeds.


    She reached out and grabbed Cirin¡¯s free hand. Before he could even gasp the word ¡®Eli¡¯ she had him stumbling behind her as she ran at full speed, holding her dress up with her free hand.


    Moments passed before Eli pulled Cirin into an alleyway and held him down as a crowd of denizens eagerly rushed by. Eli took one hard breath and let go of the boy.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± She started, ¡°You just look so much like him.¡±


    Cirin pressed his back against the opposing wall and glared at her.


    ¡°Right, you¡¯re not fond of my presence.¡± She laughed as she caught her breath and patted the back of her head, ¡°Alida I mean, you look like Alida when he was younger. Back when we first met, and years before he proposed contrary to popular belief.¡±


    ¡°Alida? Da Emporer?¡±


    ¡°Ah, so he talks?¡± She chuckled.


    Cirin tried to cover his mouth, cursing the foul thing for opening without permission. He hovered his hidden eyes at the woman, she was definitely older than Catherine, by how much he could only guess. She also bore a close resemblance to Sol in the way her nose was rounded.


    Cirin glanced to the side of the street at the thought of Sol, ¡°Do ya hate Sol?¡± He said finally.


    Eli seemed to sober down at that comment, ¡°If you been around my cousin long enough, you know that anyone who does so becomes incapable of hating him. He¡¯s too good for us.¡± She said slowly, ¡°that boy.¡±


    ¡°Den why don¡¯t ya tell ya followahs about him?¡±


    ¡°They would only see it is a kindness on my part, rather than a way of swaying their opinion. Humpf.¡± She covered her mouth with her hand as if to supress another laugh, ¡°Have you been around nobles your entire life? My presence doesn¡¯t appear to sway you at all.¡±


    Cirin kept his eyes away from her. He kept silent to her insistent inquisition.


    ¡°Tell me your name at least?¡± she asked.


    Cirin reared his ruby eyes at the princess. Even if he didn¡¯t tell her then, he was sure she had a way to find out. Somewhere behind those verdant green eyes and porcelain skin, prowled a huntress of words and would be lies. ¡°Cirin.¡± He said without delay.


    ¡°Cirin? What an unusual name for an Illivanmari. Well given the fact that we are hiding in an alleyway and all formalities have already been tossed out, I suppose ¡®unusual¡¯ is a word that has become rather irrelevant. Come, let us talk elsewhere. I think the crowds have parted now.¡±


    Cirin could have left then, but he decided to follow her, if only to learn more about Sol. He would get some answers atleast.


    The streets were emptier now, and the sky was setting. All around the lanterns shined as if they were stars fallen from the heavens.


    Eli had taken up her hood as they walked down the street. After a while of silence and steps, the two came upon an overlook, jutting above the streaming waters far below. To their left, sat the lower ramparts of the city, brimming with foliage and flickering lanterns, the blinding red sun drowning behind it. To their right, lumbered the tower and the pointed tips of the upper district houses, growing dark in the absence of day.


    ¡°Beautiful, isn¡¯t it?¡± poised Eli, resting against the railing of the overlook.


    Cirin gripped the railing with his free hand.


    ¡°Sol has always been the way you see him, even back home.¡± Said the princess. Cirin found a new found respect for the felian, for she was one who got to the point. ¡°He was always happy, and he always tried his best to help people around him. That didn¡¯t go well with the other nobles however, they found it to be a display of weakness. And that was the best of it.¡± She looked at Cirin with a long painful expression, then looked away a moment later, ¡°Tell me. What is Sol to you?¡±


    ¡°My best friend.¡± Started Cirin, ¡°A brudda I neva had.¡±


    Eli smiled, ¡°I¡¯m glad he found you then.¡± She paused and let the winds rush by her, forcing her to fix a portion of her hair behind her ears.


    ¡°What I¡¯m about to tell you.¡± She continued, ¡°You must promise to first keep it a secret, and second never look at that boy in pity. You must promise.¡± She stressed.


    Cirin nodded, his face a mess of concern.


    Eli glanced back at him briefly then back over the railings as if looking at Cirin was too painful, ¡°Back before Sol was born, the King of Galokin had a wife who was not Sol¡¯s mother. This woman was much loved by her people, especially after she gave birth to Sol¡¯s eldest brother, a fine man, and later his second eldest, a regrettable thing, but a suitable heir nonnetheless. When the commoner¡¯s plague struck, the queen fell with it. The queen was beloved both by the felians and Torvir since it was she who convinced the king to allow the first Torvir into the council. So when she died, all of Galokin wept. It was hard for me to.¡±


    Eli wiped away a tear, ¡°That said it confirmed the position of the three heirs, resulting in my elevation to be the third in the rule of three. It took a while, but the people grew accustomed to the way things were. There was peace. But then th-that bastard betrayed us all.¡± Eli gripped the railing hard and steadied her breathing, ¡°Forgive me. He betrayed us by marrying some lower noble harlot. This woman he married had no inclination to further the relation between the Torvir and the nobles and so what could have been considered peace was tossed aside like one of the many cake wrappings she regularly threw at her servants. She was a disgusting pig of queen if there ever was one, yet for some reason the king was absolutely adored her.


    I could indulged you in more of her misgivings if you were a little older, but for now, know that nobody enjoyed her presence. A year passed, and the wench declared she was pregnant- at the worst time to- but that is beside the point.¡± sighed Eli, ¡°When Sol was born, I lost my heirship and the queen died due to complication of childbirth.¡± Eli turned her head to Cirin. She nodded as if she approved of his reaction.


    Cirin mouth was a little agape, and his hand was quivering.


    ¡°Need I tell you what happened after that?¡±


    Cirin lowered his head. He swallowed hard and nodded.


    Eli returned her gaze to the cityscape, ¡°The people hated Sol since he reminded them of her, the king hated Sol because his birth killed her, and the people of Illivanmar still hate Sol because his birth prevented me from wedding Alida. If any attempt on his life did succeed, the question would not be why, but who. Tell me, Cirin, best friend of Soletio Gel¡¯Rave, how does one escape from that much hatred?¡±


    Cirin released his grip from the railing and balled that hand, ¡°Tru his actions.¡±


    ¡°A child can only do so much. If only the people loved that boy as much you do.¡± Sighed Eli. ¡°Perhaps you can help me on another matter? As payment for the story if you will.¡±


    ¡°Alright.¡± Agreed Cirin.


    ¡°I have dilemma of sorts myself. A problem in which both my mind and my heart agrees on but my so-¡± She choked on the word, ¡°my conscious says otherwise. What would you agree with?¡±


    Cirin pondered the thought with his ruby specs upon the sky, though there was only ever one answer. No matter what he did, it wasn¡¯t for what made sense or what was right, it was for what felt right.


    ¡°Follow ya heart.¡± Said Cirin.


    Eli looked at him for the longest time then bowed her head, ¡°Thank you.¡± She said quietly.


    Cirin made his way back to the inn after that, fearing Manama may have beaten him to it. To his surprise the woman in question was waiting just outside the entrance of the inn.


    ¡°Ya get ya answers, Cirin?¡± she started.


    ¡°In a way, yes.¡± Said the boy.


    He made for his room immediately. He was tired, so much so he had barely noticed Azhar wave him by while the man gripped a covered object in his other hand. That night Cirin fell into an instant slumber.


    When awoke and wondered into the lobby, he heard Toftof and Manama talking. Princess Eli had left the city.


    Supposedly it was a bereft affair that left most of the city asking why she had chosen to leave. Cirin wondered if his conversation with her the night prior had anything to do with it, but let most of that to his imagination as Sol found him immediately after and insisted he¡¯d keep true to his promise. So he did. That day, with Toftof and Azhar as escorts, the boys explored much of the upper courts of the city. To say it was green would have have been folly. The city was brimming. It was alive and verdant. It was a jungle made into a city, where the monstrous vegetation simply gave the knave like humans permission to live there.

 Chapter 16, A Moment of Truth

    Cirin could only gawk at the monstrous roots that crept beside some of the market stalls. Besides that, he discovered Toftof¡¯s unhealthy obsession with the various coloured birds. The food of Gin was another matter entirely. Cirin learned that every type of meal existed in Gin. Soups, kebabs, noodles, dumplings, and any meat that could be cooked, Gin had it all.  Cirin especially uncovered a new found love for the north Illivanmari curries that made the finest use of raw eggs and well marinated pork. He made sure he¡¯d have atleast one pork curry a day until at last a week had passed.


    Of course, during this much indulging period of time, Azhar had the boy keep to his training, mostly in the back alley of their very inn. By the end of the week, after a particularly heavy training regimen, Cirin made straight for his room and fell into an immediate slumber. He dreamed of shadowy faces staring angrily at a barren light. The light was Sol, along amidst an ocean of black.


    Little by little the black seemingly engulfed the light until the figure in the light reached out with tears in his eyes.


    ¡°Cirin..¡± it would trail as all went to black.


    Cirin¡¯s own hands clawed at the darkness, tearing what he could away but to no avail. The shadows started snickering, one after the other. Sol kept digging. Nothing but black.


    Then the black washed over him as if it were a sea side breeze and the image of a mail-breasted creature blurred into view.


    The creature stood upright upon a grassy hill. It was burly, and feathered, with a tail and a beak. Cirin stepped closer. It held a rugged sabre in each hand.


    It seemed to be unawares to Cirin¡¯s presence as it widened its stance, one blade held up high, the other held low, both facing forwards. The creature lunged forwards, turning its body on a wide arc and slicing the air. That gave Cirin pause. He gawked as the creature finished its whirlwind and entered a simultaneous slice arcing both blades outwards.


    The creature stepped back then, puffing. Again he repositioned his blades. He mimicked the movement again and again.


    Cirin stepped closer and at last the creature paused as well. He turned to the boy. He had eyes as red a rubies.


    Cirin shook awake, feeling cold sweat on his forehead, and his right arm convulse. He steadied it with his free hand and took a breath. His body was speaking to him as the old mon had said many times before. His right arm, which had been dormant for so long, now wanted to fight.


    He rubbed his eyes as they adjusted. It was still dark. He glanced out the single window. The shattered moon hovered high above. Cirin smiled and leapt off his bed, thanking the spirits for the first time in his life. He had time.


    The trip out the inn was short yet dangerous. He needed to leave to leave without arousing any of his company. Thankfully, Toftof was a heavy sleeper, as was Sol, while Azhar had his days where he would sleep and others where he would lie awake.


    Cirin took his time most of all by Azhar¡¯s room, knowing that was his hardest obstacle. The moment that last step passed the door, he breathed easily and sped his way through the remaining corridor and out the hall to the lobby. From there, he stuck to the walls and brushed the door open ever so slightly, cursing at the resultant creak the door produced. He glanced back nervously, luckily, to no response, and made his way through the creaking door.


    Manama was on guard that night, though he knew her habits well. Her ¡®lookout¡¯ consisted of sitting on the highest point of the camp and smoking a pipe for the entirety of the night. That made finding her quite easy due to the smoke,  and it also meant there would points at which her lookout had gaps.


    Fortunately, there was no mistaking the highest point here. As it happened, all the houses in Gin shared the same architectural high point. Cirin hugged the wall peaked just above him at the broken tip of the inn.


    A train of smoke ushered out of it, and there, at the end of smoke trail sat the dubious figure of Manama glaring into the distance. Cirin waited till she craned her head in the opposite direction of the Inn¡¯s entrance and he made a quick dash to the opposite side of the stable.


    Again he stood his ground and split for the nearest building once Manama was looking away. Cirin breathed hard once he was out view. He thanked the spirits that the inn they stayed at happened to be in the deadest street of all of Gin. Had a concerned denizen seen an injured child wander about the city all by himself¡­ Cirin shook his head. He had a goal to accomplish. If it could be called that.


    Cirin fell back on his steps and let his back slide against the alley wall behind him. He bounced back to his feet as he realised he latched his blade to his back.


    The rusted sabre sang delightfully as it slipped out of the sheathing. Cirin leaned back fully and held the blade out in front of him. It was not nearly as heavy as it was in Ezmir. He turned the brittle sabre to its side. Perhaps he had gotten used to it, or perhaps he had developed himself. The thought brought a smile to his face, as he puffed out the cold desert air.


    He would become strong. No. His smile faded. The strongest.


    He let the blade fall from the pervading light as the flurried beat of feet rang in the distance. He lowered his head and looked to the street side he had came from. The steps were getting closer.


    He wondered if it was Azhar? The steps did seem to come from the inn. Cirin snapped his back to the wall.


    Who was it? Who was it?


    Then as if the moment he expected could not have lasted more than an instant, the running figure zoomed by.


    He closed his eyes and sighed as he surmised it could not possibly be Azhar given its height. He was safe. Cirin even let himself stifle a laugh to think he would have been caught so easily.


    Feeling the danger had passed, and the steps fading into the distance, Cirin one more drew his blade.


    He stepped into the light and turned the blade to reveal his own face painted upon. He froze. His eyes were there, red as usual, but upon seeing those he remembered a peculiar detail of the runner that he had seemingly missed.


    The runner had golden eyes.


    Cirin tossed aside his previous agenda for this took all precedent. Golden Eyes was here? In Gin? Cirin shook his head as he ran. No, it didn¡¯t make sense. The Oasis of Gin was an imperial city.


    He stopped at the first crossroads, looked to the side and instinctively took the road up.


    The steps in the distance were dim, yet present. If he suppressed all other sounds, the laughter of drunks, the chirp of crickets, even the flicker of lanterns, he could hear it.


    The boy darted through the half empty streets, haphazardly dodging various night crawlers of Gin, cueing several slurs and the occasional threat. But Cirin did not care. His mind seared with the single image of the magic user in its center.


    Eventually, where the crowds fell off at the entrance to the upper district he heard the steps of the runner slow and halt.


    He made his way a little closer and paused himself. He crouched low, daring to peak at what he all but knew.


    He bit his lip, as his eyes confirmed it. The count was there. The light of lanterns had disappeared and the dimming moon lay eclipsed by Gin¡¯s tower. What little light remained seemingly emanated from humming pool of blue.


    ¡°The blue pool.¡± Gasped Cirin.


    Taba turned his head in Cirin¡¯s direction then, forcing the boy to hide himself once more.


    Cirin sat there, desperately trying to quell his own breath. Again he peaked over the alley wall. Now Taba was thoroughly entranced by the pool.


    Cirin narrowed his eyes. Taba was different. Unlike before when Taba was dressed in typically priest robes, he wore a single white cloak that covered his body. More so, he seemed to have a thin bed of brown hair sprouting on his head.


    Cirin shifted his shoulders. He tried moving his right arm, it responded, yet still with a dull pain. No use. He had to rely on his left. He nodded to himself. This is what he trained for. For sol, for Azhar, for everything he cared for.


    Cirin sheathed his blade, stood up and turned the corner. He took two steps past the light of the blue pool before Taba noticed him.


    ¡°Y-You Degenerate!¡± He scowled, pointing at Cirin.


    Cirin flicked his arm to the side, ¡°I dun care what ya call me, I came ta repay what ya did to me.¡±


    Taba seemed more offended then surprised, ¡°Did to you?¡± he screeched, tossing his arms to the side to reveal a leather tunic with ankle high pants, ¡°How abouts I start repaying YOU for what ya did ta me?¡±


    Taba aimed his right hand in front himself, his fingers about ready to snap.


    Cirin did not give him the chance. He closed the distance as he had back in Ezmir, only this time, he met Taba with an immediate headbutt, then grabbed Taba by the collar and held him close by. He remembered the faces of the seeming strangers who cheered on Eli, he choked on the fact that perhaps those same people cheered for Sol¡¯s demise. Even that possibility however slim made him want to get stronger. Not for himself, but rather to become the single avenging force that would bring an end to all those who wished Sol dead.


    Cirin grimaced and threw Taba to the ground. He glared upon the caster with disgust as he leapt on him to lock him in place.


    Cirin¡¯s grasped Taba¡¯s hands with his free hand and held it above the boy¡¯s head. He leaned low until his hair draped over the caster¡¯s contorted face.


    ¡°Ya sicken me to my gut.¡± Spat Cirin. ¡°Sol wanted ta help ya.¡± His words became quick, ¡°Help ya! He knew nothing of ya cursed plots. Nothing about ya intentions. And yet, and yet he wanted to help ya.¡± Cirin shook the caster¡¯s arms, ¡°You people. All you want is to kill him, isn¡¯t it? So ya do as ya told. Easy enough. Do ya eva care for who ya kill? What did he do ta ya? Huh! What!¡±


    Taba shivered below him, ¡°L-let go of me.¡± He stuttered.


    ¡°So you can kill Sol?¡±


    Taba snapped his eyes back to Cirin, the life streaming back to him as he struggled, ¡°So I can avenge my family!¡± he roared.


    Cirin held Taba¡¯s arms down, ¡°Sol is my family.¡±


    ¡°Fine. Fine! I won¡¯t kill him. Happy? Now let go of me you- you Debauched Delinquent!¡±


    Cirin hardened his grasp on Taba¡¯s arm, making him wince. Whether Sol could forgive or trust people like him was another matter. To Cirin anyone who would dare threaten Sol, after all he¡¯d been through, deserved only pain.


    A flash of light emanated from behind the duo. Cirin reared his maddened eyes to it and was immediately taken aback.


    It was a spark of life in the darkened night. The figure of a sky-skinned woman in a white dressed appeared above the pool.


    It stared at them with wide black eyes and covered its mouth in gesture, ¡°Oh my.¡± It said in a melodious voice, ¡°Maybe I should appear some other time?¡±


    ¡°No!¡± cried Taba, ¡°No¡­¡±


    The specter rested her blueish head on her hand. The ends of her hair floated about her, changing from the blue of her skin to a white similar to her dress at the tips.


    ¡°You¡¯re da spirit of da blue pool aren¡¯t ya?¡± posed Cirin.


    The spirit swished from side to side, twirling its dress. For a great and magical creature it wasn¡¯t very big.


    ¡°I am. Though I must say, it has been sometime since two visitors have managed to summon me. Tell me, are you two siblings? What loss has brought me forth? Dead parents? Maybe another sibling?¡±


    ¡°What?¡± puffed Cirin.


    ¡°We¡¯re not related.¡± Ebbed Taba.


    Cirin pressed Taba¡¯s hand down harder, ¡°We be enemies mon.¡± he scowled.


    The spirit tossed her ephemeral eyes from Cirin to Taba.


    ¡°Are you sure both of you agree on that? My kind can tell a great deal about how fleshlings think.¡± The spirit lifted a weightless finger to Taba, ¡°The on the ground harbors no ill will towards you.¡±


    Cirin glared at Taba, unconvinced. Taba had kept his gold eyes narrowed and his teeth gritting all the while.


    ¡°What about a pale skinned boy?¡± started Cirin. ¡°Does da one on da ground harba ill will towards him?¡±


    The spirit tossed her head about, ¡°It takes a lot to want to kill, fleshling. Especially for a human of such meager age. But from what I can sense of your enemy. No, I see no ill will to kill a boy.¡±


    Taba snapped his head to the spirit¡¯s direction then, ¡°What about a man?¡± he shouted.


    The spirit smiled, ¡°Is that your question?¡±


    Taba closed his eyes, ¡°No. I know da answer to dat already. You.¡± Taba reared his golden gaze at Cirin, ¡°I promise I will not harm you or ya prince. Just- just let me go.¡±


    ¡°You honestly should.¡± Added the spirit, ¡°By the looks of your arm, top fleshling, you cannot really do anything beyond that point can you?¡±


    Cirin cursed at the observation. It bothered him more that Taba¡¯s angry mug had turned into a smug one.


    ¡°Fine.¡± Said Cirin, ¡°but I be doing dis fa Sol¡¯s sake.¡±


    He let go of Taba and stood up, pacing backwards but with his eyes thoroughly locked on Taba¡¯s hands.


    Taba shivered as he got up, making a show of disgust as dusted himself off.


    ¡°Excuse me as I rid myself of dis peasant dust.¡± He touted.


    ¡°Oi-¡±


    ¡°Great and venerable spirit.¡± Started Taba, pressing his hands together whilst bowing his head, ¡°Where is my brudda?¡±If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    The spirit craned its neck low, ¡°I shall answer that question last.¡±


    Tabba seemed bothered by that, but continued to ask, ¡°Ok den, can I trust Zanzabarra?¡±


    ¡°Not at all.¡± Laughed the spirit.


    Taba narrowed his eyes, ¡°I was expecting ya ta be more abstract wit ya answers.¡±


    ¡°My my, fleshling, have you not met a spirit before?¡± By now the spirit was bending low to meet Taba¡¯s eyes, ¡°Well it shouldn¡¯t surprise me with the lack of shamans in these lands. Normally, if it weren¡¯t for this pool, you wouldn¡¯t even see me, let alone talk to me! Listen well fleshling, my kind live longer than you can imagine. To us, your lifespans are insignificant. Even the empires you construct are little more than animal dens. You ask me about what you should already know so I say it. I could enthuse myself by leading you on so you may learn a little, but that in itself is a fruitless labor. If you ask a question when you already know the answer, why do you ask at all? Is it to find confirmation outside of yourself? If that is your reason then I shall not humor you further. You there, boy.¡± The spirit turned to Cirin, ¡°Why don¡¯t you ask me a question? Something simple along the lines of ¡®What is my destiny?¡¯ or ¡®how will I die?¡¯¡±


    Cirin paced until he had his question.


    ¡°What did da well spirit tell da old mon?¡±


    The lady spirit crossed her arms, ¡°He was told to be weary of you.¡±


    ¡°Weary?¡± Cirin shook his head, ¡°What is the name of da man inside my head?¡±


    To that, the spirit seemed earnestly confused, ¡°Your head?¡±


    ¡°Enough.¡± Cried Taba, ¡°Where is my brudda?¡±


    The spirit turned to Taba and sighed audibly, ¡°You already found him.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    The scrape of steps intruded their interrogation. Cirin flinched, reaching for his blade. There were several of them.


    He turned his back to Taba, and unwittingly backed up towards him.


    ¡°Friends of yours?¡± questioned Cirin as his eyes bounced about their surroundings.


    Taba¡¯s back was against his as the caster retorted, ¡°If dey were friends of mine, you¡¯d be dead.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean by your head, mortal?¡± pressed the spirit.


    ¡°Not now mon.¡±


    One by one, burly men appeared out of the shadows. The light of the well proved dim enough to reveal them. But only barely. After a concentrated effort, Cirin realised an open exit just small enough for him to crawl through. He cursed to himself, as he also realised the only way to escape was with taba¡¯s corperation.


    ¡°I see a way out.¡± Whispered Cirin. ¡°But I need ya help.¡±


    ¡°Only moments ago, you were assaulting me.¡±


    ¡°I had no choice.¡± Snapped Cirin, ¡°Ya were about ta break my udda arm or worse.¡±


    ¡°Fine, what do ya need?¡±


    A total of seven men surrounded them, and a variety of skinny and tall to small and fat figures filled their ranks.


    ¡°Cover us wit dose floatin rocks and follow me.¡± Instructed Cirin.


    ¡°If I do dat, I won¡¯t have any more to attack!¡±


    Cirin snapped to Taba. How hard had this had to be?


    The spirit spoke the moment one man stepped closer.


    ¡°Ah I must go now.¡± Shrugged the spirit, ¡°A shame. I would have loved to know about this voice of yours.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± puffed Cirin.


    Before he could turn to the spirit, she vanished as quick as she appeared taking with her the light of the pool and instantly blinding the duo in the absence of light.


    A moment later, their attackers charged.


    Cirin swung and attempted to move, but it was too late.


    Thump.


    Cirin felt himself become weary, the last he heard was Taba¡¯s desperate cry and the last he fealt was a terrible sensation at the back of his head.


    ¡°Peasant!¡±


    Before another thud echoed into his mind and all went dark.


    A figure swayed on a hill. His posture was absolute and his swings were flawless. Two blades, but with a single swing they became one.


    He shook awake. A candle flickered on a table in front of him. His right arm stung.


    He turned his head to see his casting torn and tossed to his side on the grey casted ground. He tired moving his hands but to no avail, they were tied to some pole behind him.


    ¡°You awake?¡± Mumbled a familiar voice.


    ¡°Taba?¡± croaked Cirin.


    ¡°Count Taba.¡± Corrected the caster.


    Cirin shifted, until his hands brushed against warm skin.


    ¡°Stop it ya insolent peasant.¡±  Blurted Taba. ¡°At least our captors weren¡¯t as rough as you.¡±


    ¡°Captors?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re tied you penniless dunce.¡±


    Cirin sighed, ¡°If we be both tied, why do ya insist on mocking me?¡±


    ¡°Mocking ya? I¡¯m merely putting ya in ya place. Besides dere be noting betta ta do in dis place.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s dark. Cold. Are we undaground?¡±


    ¡°Seems so.¡± Agreed Taba.


    Cirin craned his head up until the back of his head met the cold pole behind them.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t ya cast some spell ta break out of here?¡± He started.


    Taba didn¡¯t answer for quite sometime.


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t work like that.¡± Confessed the count, ¡°Idiot.¡±


    ¡°It seemed ta be just fine when ya broke my arm.¡±


    ¡°Dats cause I could see it.¡± Taba choked abruptly on his words.


    ¡°So dats how it works, huh?¡±


    Taba was struggling hard to leave the confines then.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t ya just say dat wouldn¡¯t work?¡± shot Cirin.


    ¡°I¡¯d rada try den die in some hole wit you!¡±


    Cirin sighed heavily. He considered their odds. Their captors hadn¡¯t killed them, nor had they done anything besides tying them up. Azhar often described the various ways he got his scars to Cirin. The ones not from fights, were when he was captured. Ofcourse he left out some of the more harrowing details, but gave a young Cirin enough of an impression of how getting captured would be like.


    To survive was to be lucky. To merely be captured without injury was a sign of incredible fortune. That, or the captors were using them as hostages.


    ¡°We¡¯re probably hostages.¡± Said Taba, as he came to the same conclusion, ¡°I know I am of definite value, dough why dey captured you is beyond me.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m da guard of a royal prince.¡±


    ¡°Please.¡± Puffed Taba, ¡°You¡¯re a child. You¡¯re no more capable of protecting dat boy dan a Tulek.¡±


    ¡°I protected him from you didn¡¯t I?¡±


    Cirin stifled a laugh as he heard Taba choke on his own words.


    ¡°Mere luck, you boorish twat! I was simply not myself. I was recovering ya see from¡­¡± Taba paused then and his tone dropped low, almost remorseful, ¡°from mourning.¡±


    Cirin let the silence creep in after that. The long echo from the entrance to the room seemed to provide him with comfort.


    ¡°Listen, count. I dun care fa ya cult OR whateva ya be doin¡¯ wit does towas, but I saw someting in Gara while I was dere.¡±


    Taba¡¯s gasp all but confirmed it.


    ¡°You knew da girl dere didn¡¯t ya?¡± said Cirin.


    ¡°She.¡± Began the count, ¡°She was my sister, Tala.¡±


    Cirin remembered just when Uhatu said the tower had fallen. ¡°So when we fought dat day.¡±


    ¡°She was still on my mind.¡± Said Taba slowly.


    Cirin wrenched his head over his shoulder and barked, ¡°Oi, you¡¯re not crying now are ya?¡±


    ¡°C-Cry!?¡± sniffed Taba, his voice wavy, ¡°I wouldn¡¯t dare do something so lowly around rabble such as ya self.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re crying.¡± Said a flat face Cirin.


    ¡°I am not!¡± balled Taba.


    ¡°So.¡± Started Cirin, ¡°Destroying da towas kill ya, huh?¡±


    Taba wiped his cheeks on his shoulders before continuing, ¡°You tink I let my only sister do dat if it did? It wasn¡¯t like dat before, not wit da udda two. Gara¡¯s towa just¡­ Resisted¡±


    ¡°Da udda two?¡± Cirin shook his head. He was not ready to learn about two more Garas somewhere in Illivanmar, ¡°So ya saw what happened ta Gara and ta ya sista and ya still wanted to do all dat in Ezmir? Why in da spirits would ya damn ya sel?¡±


    ¡°I already told ya, ya idiot.¡± Said Taba, ¡°Ta avenge my family.¡±


    ¡°Were da killers in Gara and Ezmir?¡±


    ¡°No, I dun know where dey are. But Zanzabarra said he could find dem.¡±


    Cirin spelled out his disappointment in a gasp of air. ¡°Ya believed him?¡±


    ¡°Not me.¡± Admitted Taba, ¡°Tala. As soon as she saw da man, she trusted him completely. I dun know what it was.¡± Said Taba, now talking to himself more than Cirin, ¡°We barely knew da man, but Tala, Tala followed him ta his every word. At first I tought she was in love wit him, dough I knew Tala wasn¡¯t like dat, it was someting else. As if she¡¯d known him long ago, even before she knew me, and she¡¯d known me all my life.¡±


    ¡°And ya neva bodda¡¯d ta ask why?¡±


    Taba rolled his head til his right eye met Cirin¡¯s covered left, ¡°Surely ya have someone in ya life who ya dun ask why?¡±


    Cirin reared his head away from his shoulder till he had his eyes in the darkened ceiling. An image of Azhar flashed before his eyes. The man never told him anything about himself. But the more Cirin thought about it, had he ever really asked?


    ¡°Do ya have any family left, count?¡±


    Taba puffed, ¡°Ya tink just cause we be tied togeder, I¡¯ll open up to ya?¡±


    ¡°Mo dan ya already have?¡±


    ¡°You-¡± Taba croaked, and started thrashing loudly, ¡°Curse you and ya tricks! Ta think I, Count Taba, would be reveal anything of myself to a dirt eating slave.¡±


    ¡°I have no one left.¡± Started Cirin.


    ¡°Hmpf. What about dat prince of yours?¡±


    Cirin narrowed his eyes, ¡°I mean by blood.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re da same as me?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve heard betta insults.¡± Declared Cirin.


    ¡°No parents, no sbilings?¡±


    ¡°Murdered. You?¡±


    There was a silence.


    ¡°Same.¡± Said the count, ¡°Bot my parents and one of my bruddas. When it happened, only me and my sista were left alive, while our brudda was declared missing. A single man did it. Dismantled da prestigious Ashatar family in one night.¡±


    The silence returned once more. Off in the distance Cirin could hear the dripping of water. The air in their abyssal prison was much damper than on the outside.


    ¡°Say, why did dis prince of yours want ta save me?¡±


    Cirin smiled. Now there was a good question. One perhaps, even the Spirit of the Blue Pool could appreciate, ¡°He could tell dat you weren¡¯t doing well when I couldn¡¯t. Dat imps¡¯ been tru a lot so he undastands does kind of tings.¡±


    ¡°Just for dat?¡± coughed Taba, ¡°Ya telling me it wasn¡¯t fa my powa? Nor my status?¡±


    Cirin let out the laugh he was holding in, queing a series of echoes along the cave surface, ¡°Sol doesn¡¯t care about any of dat. Da boy¡¯s as pure as dey get. All he wants is fa people ta smile.¡±


    ¡°Ta smile? Of all da stupid simple tings, dats why he wanted me ta travel wit him?¡± Taba let out a long winded sigh, ¡°When he put himself in front of you back in Ezmir, he reminded me of my brudda.¡± Taba¡¯s feet could be heard scrape against the ground as he brought them into a huddle, ¡°Just before he died.¡±


    ¡°If ya tink I¡¯m an idiot, dat imp is a hundred times dumbers dan me. He¡¯d put himself before da very emperor if dat meant protecting a friend.¡±


    ¡°Hmpf. Maybe da prince isn¡¯t as bad as dey say.¡± Trailed Taba.


    Cirin shut his eyes after hearing that. Sol was hated. Even in a damp cave, where not even sunlight dare breach, Sol¡¯s unfortunate circumstance was made fact. No matter how hard he tried to forget it, or bury it in the back of his mind, Cirin could never escape that.


    Even now, he laid chained to the very enemy he swore to defeat in order to protect Sol. Cirin opened his eyes then and managed to feel the confines with his fingers. Rope.


    ¡°Oi, count. Can ya still make rocks like before?¡± asked Cirin.


    ¡°I can, but it¡¯s of no use. I can¡¯t move dem if I can¡¯t see dem.¡±


    ¡°But can ya make a rock? Sharp if possible?¡± pressed Cirin.


    ¡°Ya but, my hands be too bound to pick it up afta.¡± Complained Taba.


    ¡°I can pick it up.¡±


    ¡°What? So ya can stab my hand in one last bit of spite?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Spat Cirin, ¡°Just listen. If ya can make a rock sharp enough by my hands, I might be able to cut our ropes.¡±


    ¡°How can I trust ya?¡±


    Cirin sighed. Of all the people he had to be trapped with.


    ¡°I¡¯ll need ya help getting out anyway.¡± He said.


    Taba stayed silent for a while, until a good few minutes later he snapped his fingers and a sharp, cold rock fell into Cirin¡¯s hand.


    Cirin nodded, this was their chance. He started sawing at the ropes as Taba started wiggling about.


    ¡°Will you be still!¡± spat Cirin.


    ¡°Someone¡¯s coming.¡± Hushed Taba.


    Cirin seized his sawing, and listened.


    It was dim at first, but soon painful noticeable. Every now and then, loud bangs erupted down from the hall way while cries of unfortunate men carried in their echoes.


    ¡°Hurry!¡± puffed Taba.


    Cirin started sawing desperately. The bangs got closer. He freed one hand and started with the other.


    He had nearly freed himself when a series of harsh metal pangs thieved his attention.


    Then as if the very sun burned behind the doors, the once darkened room became engulfed in a flood of light while the hollow thuds of the doors resonated in his ears.


    ¡°Cirin!¡±


    Cirin dropped his rock knife when he heard the voice. It was impossible.


    ¡°Form da ship?¡± entered Taba.


    Catherine kneeled to the bottom of the pole and held one finger to the rope bindings.


    ¡°Yes. So it was you that was captured.¡± She said, squinting at Taba, ¡°The girl from the ship.¡±


    Cirin nearly fell forwards, ¡°Girl?¡± he coughed.


    Catherine¡¯s extended finger began to glow bright orange and the bounds fell apart as if singed.


    ¡°Yes, the girl from the ship I was on. But Gods, Cirin! I should be the one asking questions here. Why have you been captured? Where¡¯s Sol?¡±


    Cirin stood up with his left hand clutching his right arm, ¡°We got captured togeda.¡± He glanced at Taba then looked away almost immediately. Her forehead curved smoothly to a rounded nose and minute lips. The image of that face burned in his mind. She was obviously a girl. He met his face with his left hand.


    ¡°Wait.¡± Started Cirin again, lowering that hand, ¡°Why are ya here?¡±


    Catherine furrowed her brows, ¡°I realized something was wrong the moment Azhar said he wanted to travel with Sol, I just couldn¡¯t make sense of it immediately because I had been so focussed on teaching you two about the gangs of Illivanmar-¡± Catherine choked on her tongue as she gawked at Taba. ¡°You¡¯re a black neck?!¡± she finally managed.


    ¡°Aye, he- She¡¯s da magic user I told ya about. Da one dat broke my arm.¡± Said Cirin. He glanced at Taba awkwardly, for once he was glad he let out the part about how that specific magic user almost brought down the tower. If Catherine knew that, there was no telling what she¡¯d do.


    Catherine shifted, her eyes narrowed slightly at the girl, who looked back at her with equal caution.


    ¡°Wait, she can be trusted fa now.¡± Assured Cirin, ¡°We were bot caught afta all. How did ya know ta find us?¡±


    ¡°Oh that?¡± laughed Catherine, ¡°Pure luck actually. One of the men on the ship got word that his apprentice had been captured along with a red eyed boy. You two were being held hostage, because the day prior your same captors saw that man spend a fortune betting in Gara¡¯s fighting ring.¡±


    Taba seemed beside herself with glee, crossing her arms and smiling smugly, ¡°See? I told ya I was da main target.¡±


    ¡°Did ya say a man who had her as an apprentice?¡± started Cirin. If that meant what he thought it did¡­


    A final man¡¯s death throe resounded through the halls, and a single pair of platedg footsteps followed.


    ¡°Zanzabarra.¡± Confirmed Taba.


    The man in question appeared through the broken down door, with little more than a bead of sweat cresting his face.


    ¡°Taba, dere you are.¡± Said the man briskly.


    He walked towards her and grabbed her by the wrist without delay, exactly where Cirin had nearly crushed earlier.


    Taba let a harrowing screech as the man dragged and yanked her arm free from his grasp, ¡°I can walk myself.¡± She scorned.


    ¡°I don¡¯t need ya little rebellious act today. Do ya know how much time ya wasted being captured? We need ta leave by da morrow if we mean ta make it to da next free city.¡±


    ¡°I visited da spirit of da blue pool.¡± Confessed Taba.


    The nerves on his head became visible and throbbing, ¡°Quit wasting time, rat.¡± He spat as he reached for her arms.


    Taba jumped back, nearly colliding with Cirin, ¡°Da Spirit told me not to trust ya.¡±


    ¡°Oh den who do ya trust ta avenge ya family? Yaself? Ya dead sista?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t ya bring Tala into dis.¡± She snapped.


    ¡°Now now.¡± Entered Catherine, ¡°I¡¯m sure we can discuss this outside of a bandit hideout.¡±


    ¡°Be quiet, wench.¡± Scowled Zanzabarra, ¡°You have da boy you came for.¡±


    Cirin hadn¡¯t spent enough time with Catherine to know her too well, so he had never seen her react the way she did. Her brows were angled, her imminent smile now a stretching frown.


    Catherine motioned for both Cirin and Taba to stay back.


    ¡°Wench? You dare call me wench? I have been tutored by the worst of Galokins teachers, taunted by the most sinister of classmates, and been called ¡®slave¡¯ more times than I bothered to remember, BUT I saw to myself to be above all that.¡± She stomped up to Zanzabarra and flicked her glowing orange finger at Zanzabarra, singing the collar of his tailcoat, ¡°So let me show you where I end that courtesy, for I am no wench.¡± Spit went flying at the word, ¡° In fact the only wench that could ever be dubbed ¡®a wench¡¯ should be your mother, considering how little she trained you on a how to address a lady.¡±


    Zanzabarra stepped back. He withdrew his sabre in response, ¡°Very well.¡± He said ¡°You shall die her-¡±


    His arm nearly snapped passed the elbow as his sword flung far to the side and out of his grip. He blinked at his hand, simply dumbfounded beyond words and slowly reared his eyes to Catherine.


    The woman smiled back, the same glowing finger now levied towards him.


    ¡°You shall put away your weapon while addressing a lady, sir.¡± She spouted.


    Cirin gawked at Catherine. Magic was strong indeed.


    ¡°Hold on.¡± Said Catherine, ¡°You¡¯re a black neck to? What was your name again? Lord Zanzabarra?¡± Catherine tossed her eyes between Taba and Zanzabarra and snapped her finger, ¡°That¡¯s why I thought you two looked a like!¡± She said balling one fist and clasping against her other palm. ¡°You¡¯re related aren¡¯t you?¡±


    Taba stepped up then, ¡°What? No. I am da last of Ashatar family. Well me and my brudda.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± Nodded Catherine pointing to the man, ¡°He¡¯s your brother.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re insane, lady.¡± Puffed Taba, ¡°I would know my own brudda.¡±


    ¡°Hmm, I must have mistaken another Bara Ashatar who changed his name to Zanzabarra and joined the black necks.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re lying.¡± Scoffed Taba. She turned to Zanzabarra who had been staring at his own hand in shock, ¡°Tell dem how absurd dat is, Zanzabarra!¡±


    Zanzabarra looked up, and tilted his head, ¡°What is?¡±


    Taba extend a hand at Catherine, ¡°She¡¯s tinks ya be my brudda! What nonsense is dat? I saw my brudda when I was young, he had light skin, lighta dan normal¡­¡± she spied Zanzabarra¡¯s sandy white skin, ¡°And he was said to be hot headed, and- and Tala! She¡¯d always talk about how big brudda Bara knew about everyting in da world¡­¡± Taba took a step forwards and fell to her knees before she could reach Zanzabarra, ¡°It was you all along? Why? Why didn¡¯t ya tell me?¡±


    ¡°Taba was it? There is something you need to know about Bara.¡± Said Catherine, placing a hand on Taba¡¯s shoulder.


    Zanzabarra had his hands balled. He scarcely looked at Taba during the revelation.


    ¡°Why?¡± roared Taba.


    Zanzabarra clutched his head then let go and tossed his hand to the side. He reared his ugly head to Taba. ¡°Ya dun know what ya saying, rat. Dis wench be putting ideas in ya head.¡±


    ¡°Lady.¡± Corrected Catherine.


    ¡°Girl.¡± Conceded Zanzabarra, ¡°To tink you¡¯d pair me wit da likes of da Ashatar. Ya take me ta lightly. My name is Lord Zanzabarra.¡±


    ¡°Den.¡± Quivered Taba, ¡°Why did Tala follow ya?¡±


    Zanzabarra stumbled for an instant before fixing his stance.


    Taba pressed on his silence, ¡°Why did my sista follow a man she barely knew? Why did she die fa him? Fa you?!¡±


    Taba shot to her feet and rocks manifested all around her. Cirin reached for his blade, weary of the caster almost immediately. This time, she hadn¡¯t snapped.


    Zanzabarra relented his feeble retreat. There were tears in his eyes, ¡°Because I was too ashamed.¡± He hushed.


    ¡°Ashamed to confront ya only sista? What about Tala? Why did ya let her die? And da killer?¡±


    Zanzabarra leaned down to his blade, wrestled it out of the ground and walked towards the broken exit. He held out one hand and snapped it, forcing Taba to gasp as she reached in her jerkin and produced a shattered locket. Her summoned rocks crumbled to ashes.


    ¡°Bara, no!¡± she cried.


    Zanzabarra already had his locket out. Cirin made for him, but was stopped by Catherine¡¯s hand on his shoulder.


    Zanzabarra looked to Taba one last time before the sand slowly enveloped him, ¡°I am da killer.¡± He confessed.


    Taba remained motionless. Her eyes, which had been fixed on Zanzabarra stayed there even after he was gone.


    ¡°Dat¡¯s a lie to, isn¡¯t it?¡± she asked no one.


    ¡°Taba¡­¡± trailed Catherine, ¡°We have to go. This thing with your brother, I¡¯d suggest sorting out after we leave this bandit infested hovel.¡±


    ¡°Where are we?¡± Prompted Cirin.


    Catherine gestured her head towards the broken door. ¡°Follow.¡± She put her words to action.


    Cirin started after her the moment she passed the door, while Taba stayed where she was for a few moments before trailing after them in an absentminded pace.

 Chapter 17, In the Mornings Wake

    Catherine stopped the two at the first corridor and glanced in both directions. The moment she turned to the left she resumed talking, her words as nippy as her hurried steps ¡°The Basilisk Gang.¡± She announced, ¡°Curious lot, since they are of the few gangs of this country not locked to a city. The adage ¡®quantity over quality¡¯ describes them perfectly.¡±


    Cirin noticed the various bandits tossed about. Some seemed simply asleep, while other bore bloody bearings. He nearly gagged at the sight. Taba, who noted the same sights appeared un-phased.


    ¡°Don¡¯t mind them, keep moving. I dispatched these villain with grace mind you. A quick snip snap and tap to little known corner in the back of the neck. Even a lesser Collison spell would do. My not so magically inclined partner however¡­¡± She laughed awkwardly with her eyes tossed at Taba, ¡°He was very much in a hurry you see.¡±


    Taba spoke up for the first time since Barra had left, ¡°He was in hurry? Fa me?¡±


    Catherine nodded, ¡°Say what you will about his temper and his motives, when I saw him run here I could tell he really cared about you.¡±


    ¡°Probably fa dose damned towas.¡± Cursed Taba.


    ¡°I wonder.¡± Smiled Catherine.


    ¡°Catherine.¡± Interrupted Cirin.


    ¡°Right right, this way.¡± She pointed. Following her finger, Cirin squinted at the blur of lanterns against water. He ran passed the scholar and nearly stumbled off the cobbled path


    The waters rushed well ahead of him. He¡¯d seen this place before. He craned his head to confirm his suspicions. The Basilisk Gang had their Gin hideout in the waterway dike of Gin.


    When both Catherine and Taba reached his side, Catherine asked the inevitable, ¡°Where¡¯s Sol, Cirin?¡±


    Cirin turned to her. He hasn¡¯t thanked her for saying him, nor had he properly asked why she was there to begin with. But that would have to wait. ¡°He¡¯s close by.¡± He answered.


    As soon as they made up the steep incline up the dike, Cirin recognized the path as he had traversed the day prior with the princess.


    The lumbering houses of gin appeared much more menacing in the night. Even the lanterns which would normally hint of more festive times, formed ominous specters in the night. Every now and then, as the trio waded from street to street, Cirin would glance back at Taba who for some reason had followed them. Though whatever animosity she had before had seemingly faded in a single expression that read as shock, confusion, or perhaps uncertainty.


    ¡°Ah, Cirin. Don¡¯t tell me the building with the bodies in front of it is your inn.¡±


    Cirin rubbed his eyes the instant he saw it. It was their inn. He ran hard.


    ¡°Cirin!¡± cried Catherine.


    Cirin slid to a stop by the inn¡¯s entrance. Blood. Blood everywhere. And the five bodies that accompanied it were draped in black.


    He bolted passed the door, desperately listening for any sign of life.


    There were no voices when he entered, not even a whimper. He took to the right hall at the table and took a few step before realising they stayed in the left wing.


    ¡°Cirin.¡± Repeated Catherine as she brushed past the door, Taba following her with a look of morbid curiosity.


    Cirin grit his teeth as he locked eyes with the first door he came across. It was Azhar¡¯s door.


    He reached for his blade and the door clicked.


    He hadn¡¯t a moment to withdraw that blade as they figure appeared at the door embraced hi mi nan instant.


    ¡°Cirin, ya idiot boy! Manama be worried sick!¡±


    ¡°Manama? Sol.¡± Cirin pushed Manama aside and rushed to the door. He nearly fell back in relief, ¡°Tank da spirits.¡± He said aloud.


    Sol stumbled to the door, smiling, but tripped moment before he could reach Cirin.


    ¡°Sol!¡±


    ¡°Dun move, my prince.¡± Ushered Manama, passing Cirin to help the boy up.


    Cirin kneeled by Sol¡¯s other side and winced as he saw reddened bandaged around the boy¡¯s right thigh.


    Steps, and another voice reached Cirin¡¯s ears.


    ¡°Oi! You¡¯re da girl from back den.¡± A pause, ¡°Who da Gisdavar¡¯s trousers are ya?¡±


    Cirin glanced over his shoulder and smiled. He never thought he¡¯d be glad to hear Toftof¡¯s voice again.


    He froze as he realized who wasn¡¯t there, ¡°Da old mon?¡± pressed Cirin, turning to Manama.


    ¡°Where do ya tink?¡± replied Manama, ¡°Looking for ya of course!¡±


    Toftof popped in by the door way and instantly smiled, ¡°Cirin!¡± he cried, racing to the boy.


    Cirin jumped behind Sol, staring at the man in apprehension, ¡°If ya plan to embrace me tink again. I dun do dat.¡±


    ¡°Not unless ya dun ask for it.¡± Snapped a cross armed Taba.


    ¡°Who is dis boy?¡± said Toftof.


    ¡°Girl.¡± Corrected Catherine and Cirin at the same time.


    Sol¡¯s face became a lit, ¡°Catherine!¡± he cried, struggling to get up.


    Toftof stared at Taba for awhile and shook his head, ¡°I dun see it.¡± Prompting Taba to immediately shift back to her usual attitude.


    ¡°I ¡®ve had it wit ya peasants, tieves, degenerates and whateva da bald one be. I am- was a count and I shall be treated dat wa-¡±


    ¡°Ow!¡±


    All eyes turned to the prince as he meekly gripped his wounded leg.


    ¡°I¡¯ll have ta re-bandage.¡± Said Manama.


    ¡°Dis is why I should have dun it.¡± Complained Toftof, making for the counter.


    ¡°I¡¯ll do it.¡±


    Once more the room was taken by surprise.


    Taba sighed and walked up to Sol, only to have Cirin slide between her and the prince.


    ¡°Just because ya brudda left ya, doesn¡¯t mean I trust anywhere near da prince.¡± Started Cirin.


    ¡°So you¡¯d radda have him writhe in pain?¡± Puffed Taba.


    ¡°Betta dan murdered.¡± Snapped Cirin.


    ¡°Both of you, stop it.¡± Said Catherine slowly. She made her way into the already crowded room and promptly placed a hand on both Cirin¡¯s and Taba¡¯s shoulders. ¡°Cirin, you have here an opportunity to test our new ally.¡±


    ¡°Ally?!¡± roared both children at once.


    Catherine ignored them as she turned to Taba, ¡°Taba, know that whatever you do I¡¯m watching you. This is also an opportunity for you. Don¡¯t toss it out. Cirin.¡± She said again, turning to the boy, ¡°Move.¡±


    Cirin balled his fists and reluctantly shifted out of the way.


    Taba took a deep breath. She kneeled low to Sol¡¯s wound. ¡°I¡¯ll remove da bandage now.¡± She said to Manama.


    Manama nodded approvingly and Taba began.


    Cirin forced himself to look away at the gushing wound. Yet the moment he heard Taba¡¯s telling snap, he instantly had his hand on his hilt and his eyes on the girl.


    He loosened his grip. Instead of the sharp rocks Taba normally summoned, the ones she had now were minute needles with a trail of sand floating behind it. She stared at the wound with her hands above it, and the needles began to sway in and out of Sol¡¯s skin, stitching the flesh back together. Cirin lowered his hands.


    He could see a single ball of sweat roll down her temple. Her eyes remained narrowed and focussed.


    ¡°Almost dun.¡± She puffed, steadying her hands once more.


    Now, Cirin watched the patient, who despite his fear of sharp objects, bit his lip and waited in silence.


    ¡°Oi.¡±


    Toftof¡¯s heavy hand bared down Cirin¡¯s shoulder.


    ¡°Dun tink I forgot about ya, boy.¡± Said Toftof, ¡°Let me fix dat caste of yours.¡±


    Cirin nodded. He had not known Toftof to be the attentive type. He walked to the counter with Toftof and let the man reattach the caste. It stung a little, but not as before. He reared his eyes away from both his arm and Taba and noticed the same object Azhar had been carrying with him earlier leaning against the back wall. It was a long and skinny thing, wrapped in the type of burlap used for carrying fruits.This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    He attempted to question Toftof about it but became quickly distracted as a thud echoed in his ear. It was Taba, now leaning back from the finished operation.


    ¡°Dun.¡± Wheezed Taba.


    ¡°You came back.¡± Sol¡¯s voice was a soft thing. ¡°Thank you.¡± Bowed the prince.


    Taba tossed her eyes to the side as she employed her arms as supports, ¡°Ya dun need ta tank me, prince.¡±


    ¡°But I do!¡± cried Sol leaning close. He winced at his right leg, ¡°Ahg. I mean, you were sad.¡±


    ¡°Sol.¡± Entered Catherine.


    Sol lowered his head with a meek glance at Catherine.


    ¡°I was sad.¡± Confirmed Taba. She caught Cirin staring at her and both immodestly tossed their heads away, one in indignation the other out of stubbornness, ¡°Hmpf.¡± She puffed, ¡°Not dat I consider my stature as a noble ta eva be sad.¡±


    ¡°Tell, me. What ya be da count of now?¡± sneered Cirin.


    Taba made a very un-count-like face at him.


    ¡°Alright. Manama say ya all need ta leave now. Da prince need his rest.¡±


    Everyone in the room, save Sol and Manama, promptly shuffled out. Even Taba followed the que. Manama¡¯s word was law when Azhar wasn¡¯t around.


    When they stood in the long hall way, Cirin instantly recognized the bearing of several more footsteps and reached for his blade.


    Toftof¡¯s grasped his arm before he could make the movement and Cirin caught his shaking head.


    ¡°Dun worry. Da men out dere be from da guard. Deir, uh, here fa clean up.¡±


    Cirin ventured to the front of the hall and noticed a contingent of shadows looming by the doorway as several voices echoed just outside.


    ¡°Assassins. Patetic honorless tings.¡±


    ¡°Least have da decency ta do it in da morning.¡±


    ¡°Quit bickering ya dust clots. Clean dis up befa dawn, captain¡¯s ordahs.¡±


    There were grunts and the unmistakeable scrap of bodies being lifted from the ground. Cirin stepped back after hearing that, only to catch the end of another conversation as he did.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to head back to my inn, in case Barra returns there. Are you sure you¡¯re not coming?¡±


    Taba shook her head. Oddly choosing not to talk, when she had been squabbling all night.


    ¡°So when that necklace of yours broke.¡± Silence and then ¡°I see. Well, regardless young lady, I will question you in the morning.¡± Added Catherine.


    ¡°Listen girl, I dun tink questionin a child be da best ting ta do.¡± Debated Toftof. He turned to Taba then, ¡°Where ya parents be, little girl?¡±


    ¡°Dead. And I¡¯m not little.¡± She answered.


    Toftof forced a smile. He wasn¡¯t very good at it, ¡°Any uncles, aunts?¡±


    ¡°None.¡±


    ¡°Olda siblings?¡±


    ¡°I have one,¡± she started, ¡°but he might as well be dead.¡±


    Toftof backed off to that, seeming a little off put by his lowered brows, ¡°If it were up ta me.¡± He said, ¡°I¡¯d let ya stay here wit us, but I dun make da decisions around here.¡±


    ¡°Toftof was it? Can we have a word?¡± Catherine seemed adamant.


    ¡°What is it girl? I it someting ya gotta say, say it here.¡±


    Catherine sighed, ¡°My mother always said ¡® a simple secret can save a simple life¡¯. So I suppose I best hold on to my words.¡± She nodded at Toftof, Taba, and then Cirin. ¡°I¡¯ll take my leave now. Cirin, try not to get yourself in trouble. I¡¯ll see you tomorrow.¡±


    Catherine left through the doorway after that. The last Cirin heard of her was a few lines of casual banter with the guards and then silence.


    Cirin wandered to the hall with Taba and Toftof leaning on opposite side of the wall. He chose to lean beside Toftof, and deliberately so. He glared at the girl, who responded in kind. To him, Taba was still an enemy. He would have said as much if he trusted Toftof more.


    Despite all that, despite their shared weariness, they waited for the one man who would decided everything.


    An hour passed until that man arrived. The guards were finishing up by then and Cirin stepped out the hallway as soon as he heard his master¡¯s voice.


    Azhar was already in the lobby when Cirin got there. For seconds the two stood there., staring. Even if it seemed unlikely behind the mess of hair covering their eyes.


    ¡°Old mo-¡±


    ¡°Of all da stupid tings ya dun. Out of all da moronic blunders ya made. Dis.¡± Nodded Azhar, ¡°Dis, mouse, dis be da dumbest.¡± He paced quickly to Cirin with a face as snarling as a lion¡¯s, making the boy think twice about backing away.


    Azhar reached out and smacked the boy on the head once he was close enough.


    Before Cirin could complain and retaliate, Azhar stepped ever closer and wrenched the boy into an embrace. Cirin had the words stolen from him.


    ¡°Wondering by yaself in an unkown city and at night?¡± croaked Azhar. Cirin could not tell whether the old mon was angry. The embrace became tighter, ¡°I¡¯m not going ta ask why, not now at least, but I will ask ya ta be careful. Careful and smart.¡±


    The man let go and continued his pace towards the hallway, ¡°I¡¯ve dun enough fighting tonight ta sleep fa a week. Toftof! How¡¯s da prince?¡±


    Toftof appeared out of the hallway.


    ¡°Fine, Azhar, but I need ya thoughts on-¡±


    ¡°And Manama?¡±


    ¡°Same as always, but Azhar-¡±


    Azhar¡¯s measured pace halted abruptly, ¡°Who ya be?¡± he asked staring down at the girl.


    ¡°Cou- Taba. Just Taba.¡±


    ¡°Toftof, who is dis girl?¡± demanded Azhar.


    Toftof tossed his arms to his side, ¡°Dat¡¯s what I wanted ta talk ta ya about. Dis girl has no family, no place ta stay. I tink we should let her stay wit us. Least fa da night.¡±


    ¡°Fa a bandit and one of da sandrat lieutenants ya be softa den da southern sands.¡± Azhar turned to the girl, ¡°Da answer is no, princess. Now go.¡±


    ¡°Azhar!¡±


    Azhar sighed and tossed his head to Toftof, ¡°We just got attacked by assassins, ya idiot. Ya tink dis be any place fa a little girl?¡±


    ¡°I can defend myself.¡± Asserted Taba.


    Azhar half smiled at the girl and laughed, ¡°Really, now?¡± He kept his gaze fixed on Taba. She remained a statue, unflinching till the very end.


    ¡°Stay den.¡± Said Azhar as he passed her, ¡°We won¡¯t pay fa ya rooms, so best ya can do is sleep in da hallways. Cirin.¡± Azhar let his black brown eyes show as he lowered his head to catch Cirin in the eye, ¡°Stay in ya room tonight. I¡¯ll make ya work fa ya stupidity anudda time.¡±


    Azhar brushed by his door and promptly shut it. Toftof was quick to fall back to his room to, tossing Taba one last apologetic look before he shut his door. That left Cirin and Taba alone in the hallway.


    ¡°Alone again.¡± Said Cirin as he made for his room.


    ¡°I¡¯d radda it be wit anyone else.¡± Remarked Taba.


    Cirin stopped before his room, pressed open the door, and slighted a comment right before entering.


    ¡°Even ya brudda?¡±


    The last thing he saw of Taba, was her slide against the to curl up into a huddle.


    Cirin took two steps and collapsed against his bed. He was tired. He had always been through that night and the day prior to warrant a week of sleep, though it wasn¡¯t due to fighting. He rolled to his side and his hair collapsed to one side of his face, revealing one ruby red eye.


    It had only been half a day since he learned of Sol¡¯s past.


    Since then, there had already been an attempt on his life, while Cirin had been off talking to spirits and getting tied. Cirin balled his free hand and rolled back on his back. He was tired. His eyelids were iron slowing creasing down. Yet, as he remained ever still, he could not fall asleep.


    Who would want Sol dead? That was the question indeed. Though Cirin considered it a different way. Who would want the boy dead if they knew the kind of person he was? Surely his father knew. Surely his royal siblings knew. Surely, at least a few of the people of his own country knew.


    His weary eyes flipped to the door where the meek light of the hall breached under the door. Did Taba understand the prince now?


    He shuffled in his bed until he was sitting up. From there he sighed, and heaved himself off his bed.


    A few steps later, his door creaked open to let the dim light of the lobby race in.


    Taba sat huddled, yet her golden eyes remained completely open.


    Cirin stepped out of the room.


    ¡°I¡¯m sleeping in da hallway.¡± He stated.


    Taba rose her head, ¡°Is dis some peasant ting?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± yawned Cirin, ¡°Its cause my room be taken.¡± Cirin made his way to the opposite side of hall, ¡°Take it.¡± He said, sitting down.


    ¡°I will not.¡± Puffed Taba.


    ¡°What?¡± snapped Cirin, ¡°I said I be giving ya da room.¡±


    ¡°Why would I dare sleep in da same bed a peasant slept in?¡±


    ¡°So ya radda sleep on da floor peasants walk on?¡±


    Taba¡¯s eyes twitched and she mulishly tossed her head to the side.


    Cirin found himself a little outraged by her demeanour. He thought he had taken the high dune, but instead she made it seem he was losing once again. Cirin hated losing.


    Just as quick as he got up, the boy leapt to his feet and trudged to the same side of the wall Taba leaned by. Even worse, he positioned himself until he was directly beside her then fell to his bum.


    Taba instantly shot away from the boy until they were half an arms away


    ¡°What are ya doing!¡± she roared.


    ¡°Taking ya spot.¡± Repeated Cirin.


    ¡°D-dis is absurd.¡± Croaked Taba gesturing around her, ¡°Dere are plenty of spots in dis hallway.¡±


    ¡°But I want dis spot.¡± Argued Cirin.


    ¡°You must be as dumb as ya look, peasant.¡±


    ¡°Dumb enough ta ignore a bed when offered?¡±


    Taba crossed her arms as she tossed her head away for the hundredth time, ¡°No matta what ya say, I won¡¯t eva sleep in dat bed.¡±


    ¡°Well I won¡¯t eva leave dis hallway.¡± countered Cirin.


    ¡°Fine!¡±


    ¡°Fine!¡±


    And that was enough. He had walked around all day, run quite a ways at night, and had even been captured, yet it was that argument he had with Taba that would ultimately tire him to sleep.


    When morning came, Cirin found himself blissfully awake. He blinked to find his eyes crusted.  Though the moment he moved to rub those eyes, he found himself leaning shoulder first against a similarly positioned Taba. He jolted awake to that, and reared his eyes in every direction to make sure no one saw.


    He took a breath of relief, yet a breath too soon as he had failed to examine what lay right in front of him.


    ¡°Oh, so she¡¯s a friend of yours, mouse?¡±


    Cirin allowed his head to fall on his hand. Azhar was the type of man who would stubbornly hold onto first impressions.


    Cirin thanked the spirits Taba was asleep for that.


    ¡°What happened ta sleepin fa a week?¡± asked the boy.


    Azhar stifled a laugh, ¡°Ya can say our plans have changed.¡± He made his way to Manama door and Toftof¡¯s knocking once on each.


    ¡°Get ya tings, mouse. We be leavin dis city.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± cried Cirin as he followed Azhar out the gate, ¡°What happened ta spreading da news dat Sol¡¯s alive?¡±


    Azhar halted by the remnants of the night¡¯s brawl, ¡°Clearly da people know.¡± He grunted, arching his head towards the blood stained walls.


    ¡°Da wrong people maybe.¡± deduced Cirin.


    Toftof bolted out of the inn to fetch the pack serpents, while Manama trailed behind. The fortune teller did well to carry the wounded prince on her back.


    Cirin hid a smile as he spotted the cheery prince. Even after taking a stab to the leg, he had the spirit to keep going.


    Lastly, just behind Manama, Cirin noticed a half hidden Taba lurking behind them. She watched their company behind the inn doors, but seemed to make no hesitation at following them. Her words earlier had made that clear enough.


    ¡°Do not even tink I¡¯ll travel wit da likes of you peasants. Go. Leave. I will find my own way.¡±


    Cirin shook his head and pressed on in the interrogation, ¡°We can¡¯t just leave Gin witout doing anyting!¡± He protested.


    Azhar waved his hand at the boy, ¡°The Princess will take care of it.¡±


    By the time they left the street the inn was on, the crowds had begun forming around the inn.


    ¡°Did ya get anyting outta da last man?¡± prodded Toftof.


    Azhar shook his head, ¡°Not me, but da guards did. It looks like dese wa Jegga¡¯s men.¡±


    ¡°Jegga? Haven¡¯t heard dat name in twenty years.¡±


    ¡°Wish I didn¡¯t have to fa twenty mo.¡± Sighed Azhar.


    ¡°So we¡¯re heading dere aren¡¯t we?¡±


    Manama¡¯s laugh forced eyes to the teller, ¡°Ya all be fools if ya tink we weren¡¯t goinna head dere.¡±


    ¡°Head where?¡± chimed a familiar voice.


    The company came to a halt.


    ¡°Not you.¡± Sighed Azhar.


    ¡°You!¡± erupted Catherine, abandoning her query for yet another, ¡°I know what you are trying to do.¡±


    ¡°Because I told ya what I be trying ta do. Tell da people dat da prince be alive.¡±


    ¡°Is that really it though?¡±


    ¡°Yes it is.¡± Azhar stressed, ¡°What are ya here fa, girl?¡±


    Catherine balanced her hands on her hips, ¡°As you are trying to avoid my current inquiry, I¡¯ll answer with my alter intentions.¡± She glanced at Cirin, ¡°I¡¯ve heard that you¡¯ve run into problems of a magical nature.¡±


    Azhar all but said aloud who he thought the rat was as he spied at Cirin.


    ¡°We may have, yes.¡± Conceded the man.


    ¡°Then I am here to aide you.¡± Said Catherine.


    Cirin expected a cool rejection from Azhar. Perhaps even his usual blunt ¡®no¡¯. But to his surprise, the man merely shrugged.


    ¡°Do what ya will.¡±


    Catherine celebrated her singular victory with clasped hands and quickly made her to Cirin¡¯s side as the company continued its walk.


    ¡°How¡¯s your arm?¡± she asked the boy.


    ¡°A little betta.¡± Said Cirin.


    ¡°Manama say a week or two til it heals.¡±


    ¡°Mother Manama.¡± Said Catherine, ¡°I¡¯ve read a lot about you from the Prince¡¯s letters.¡±


    ¡°Oh have ya now?¡± Manama grinned at a beaming Sol.


    ¡°I¡¯m surprised, you look just as he described you. Braided hair, with beads! Is it true you tell the tales you do?¡±


    ¡°Da very best.¡± Claimed Manama.


    ¡°Then you must let me listen on our travels.¡±


    ¡°A tale be notin¡¯ if not heard, girl.¡± Smiled Manama.

 Chapter 18, A Tale of Two Paths in the Same Direction

    The company made quick work of Gin as they trekked down the sloping streets. It was still early in the morning, so the crowds had not properly developed, besides the one by the inn.


    Even though Catherine had wanted to hear Manama tales, it was her own story of how she got there that had engrossed their ears while they left the city.


    Cirin paid her attention now and then, especially at the part of a strange swordsman, but mostly he spent his time glancing over his shoulder.


    He had missed her a couple times, but she was there. He sure she was following them.


    By the time they left Gin. Everyone save Azhar and the snakes, stood by the Gin gates and gawked at it¡¯s majesty. The spires of the city hovered well into the skyline, while a thick sea fog brushed over the tower of the city.


    Otherwise, the city was green beyond anything Cirin had seen before. He had no thought it previously possible for so much life to be present in one place. The very air was moist and buzzing.


    ¡°Enough staring!¡± bellowed Azhar, quite a ways a head on the road, ¡°We need ta move if we hope ta make it to da Bazaar!¡±


    ¡°Bazaar?¡± questioned Cirin.


    Manama and Catherine brushed passed him.


    Toftof placed his hand on the boy¡¯s shoulder, ¡°Aye, da Bazaar.¡± The imp of a man lifted his stubby arm towards Azhar and extended his finger in the man¡¯s direction, ¡°Da Bazaar of Orliego, da home of Azhar.¡±


    ¡°Da Old Mon¡¯s!?¡±


    Toftof let out his scruffy laugh and kept walking, leaving Cirin to stumble after him.


    ¡°He hasn¡¯t been dere in twenty years dough.¡± Confessed Toftof.


    ¡°What kind of a place is it?¡± asked an eager Sol.


    ¡°Manama never been dere, but from what she heard from an old friend, it be a wondrous place.¡±


    ¡°The greatest amoung da free cities!¡± roared Toftof.


    ¡°One of the oldest to.¡± Added Catherine.


    ¡°A miserable rut.¡± Finished Azhar.


    ¡°Oi.¡± Entered Toftof, ¡°Dat be no way ta speak of ya home.¡±


    ¡°Dat be da only way.¡± Azhar let his eyes fall on Cirin for the briefest of moments, ¡°Dough I admit, I wonda how dey will take it.¡±


    While they were close to roads of Gin and the flowing rivers, the company stuck close to each other as to not get lost in the various travelers passing by. Yet, as they splintered into more and more paths, the company dispersed along the road with Azhar and Toftof leading the pack with the first pack serpent and the rest traveling behind with the second pack serpent.Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    Cirin found comfort in watching the many farmers along the path¡¯s edge. It seemed the rice fields that supported Gin lay to the west of the city rather than the south. They painted the roadside a luscious green as they stretched well into the riverbeds.


    Once the last of the travelers who shared their path parted in another direction, Cirin dug his heels in the dirt, and swayed his body in the other direction.


    He didn¡¯t have to look to know she was there.


    ¡°What happened ta findin ya own way?¡±


    Taba¡¯s voice bellowed back, ¡°What do I tink I be doing ya incessant ignoramus? I am travelin¡¯ my own way.¡±


    ¡°No ya ain¡¯t.¡± roared Cirin back, ¡°Ya just be followin¡¯ us.¡±


    There were snickers from the company ahead. Cirin scowled at that.


    Cirin cleared his throat. ¡°If ya want ta go ya own way den do it ya own way, not ours!¡±


    ¡°Oh yea, den where ya be headin?¡± she shouted.


    Cirin crossed his arms. To think he¡¯d be dumb enough to tell her?


    ¡°Da Bazaar!¡± replied Manama, cuffing her arms around her mouth.


    There was a pause. Until finally Taba answered back, drawing the attention of all the surrounding farmers, many of whom laughed.


    ¡°Dat¡¯s exactly where I be going.¡± She boomed.


    Cirin let his hand slide against his face. And he reluctantly turned his heel to rejoin his company.


    When they stopped to rest, Cirin made his way to Azhar, who had been sitting on the back of the pack serpent cart.


    ¡°Should we really let her follow us, old mon?¡±


    Azhar smiled dumbly, ¡°I tought she be ya friend?¡±


    ¡°I dun trust her.¡±


    ¡°Ya dun trust anybody mouse.¡± Mocked Azhar, ¡°Oi oi, relax eh? She seems stubborn, even as much as ya, mouse.¡±


    ¡°Why doesn¡¯t she admit she wants ta travel wit us? I dun undastand how anyone can be so- so annoying!¡± barked Cirin.


    ¡°Ya spent nearly two months traveling wit Toftof and ¡®annoying¡¯ is da best ya can tink of?¡±


    Cirin spied Catherine over his shoulder, she sat a shoe¡¯s toss away from him, happily conversing with Manama.


    ¡°I won¡¯t dare say anyting worse while Caterine be here.¡±


    Again Azhar laughed, only this time he boldly ruffled Cirin hair, queuing the boy to retaliate furiously, ¡°Look at ya, mouse. Caught between two women. Must be nice, eh?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not like dat!¡± shot Cirin.


    ¡°Whateva ya say, mouse.¡±


    ¡°Old mon!¡±


    ¡°Say, what were ya doing dat night?¡±


    Cirin paused. He brushed the man¡¯s arm off his head and stood back a little, ¡°Why won¡¯t ya let me fight differently?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve been ova dis mouse. Dun change da topic.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve been tinking about how I¡¯d protect da prince.¡±


    ¡°Really? Dat would¡¯ve been useful last night.¡±


    Cirin made a line with his mouth, ¡°How¡¯d dose men fight last night?¡±


    Azhar lt his arms rest on his knees. He craned his shaggy head to the sky and reached on arm to grasp the sky, ¡°Betta dan I expected. Dey were hired killas I suspect, not just ya regulah city bandits.¡±


    ¡°Do ya tink.¡± Cirin paused, ¡°Do ya tink I could¡¯ve beaten dem wit my style?¡±


    Azhar chuckled in his throat, ¡°Not a chance, mouse. Not even if ya had bot arms.¡±


    ¡°Den why?¡±


    ¡°Cause ya be too young. Ya try ta learn new styles witout masterin da first one. No matta what dose wigs said back home, ya be no prodigy. Ya be like me.¡± Azhar shifted his gaze to Taba in the distance. She taken a seat on roadside overlooking the farming hills.


    ¡°Dat friend of yours. She a fighter, mouse?¡± Asked Azhar.


    Cirin shifted. He balled his hands. ¡°Sort of.¡± He admitted. Though saying she used magic was out of the question. Saying she was the very magic user he fought in Ezmir was even more absurd.


    Just when he thought that such a question could lead to no good, he tossed his eyes to Azhar and realised the man had an unusually devilish grin about him.


    ¡°Ah, da spirits be smilin¡¯ on us, mouse. I tink I just found ya a training partner.¡±


    ¡°What!? Taba? Old mon, I dun need dat. Especially not wit her.¡±


    ¡°Heh. Let us test dis out.¡± Azhar leapt to his feet and started pacing.


    Sol was the first to notice, limping to Azhar like a pup to it¡¯s mother. Then Catherine and Manama halted their conversation, and finally Toftof called from a distance.


    ¡°Oi, what¡¯s he doing?¡±


    ¡°He seems to be heading to the count.¡± Deduced Catherine.


    Cirin held out his hand to freeze Sol in his tracks.


    ¡°Wait, Sol. Ya be betta off restin wit dat wound.¡± Said Cirin.


    Sol held a hand to his mouth and tilted his head, ¡°Where¡¯s he going?¡±


    ¡°To a place I¡¯d radda him not be.¡±

 Chapter 19, The Seventh Member

    Taba shot up the moment she spotted the man walking her way. Had they realised her ploy? Of course not. The simpletons didn¡¯t have it in them.


    She nodded to herself. There was nothing to fear. In fact, they merely arrived to announce their complete and utter surrender to her authority as count.


    Taba blinked, placing one hand below her chin. Hadn¡¯t she renounced that title? Surely after Barra had left, her title and all rights she had while supervised by Zanzabarra had also been evicted from her. She peered at the approaching man, but they didn¡¯t know that.


    The great count Taba rose to her full height and brushed the dust off her cloak. She peaked her chin in the practiced way her formers did.


    Only seconds later, the man arrived. He was unarmed, tall and bore wavy head of hair that reminded her a lot of the degenerate.


    Taba had never been excellent and remembering faces, especially those of peasants. In fact she made an effort to forget peasant faces. Yet this man was definitely one she had run into before.


    ¡°Ah we meet again.¡± Greeted the man. He produced one hand towards her.


    She looked at in disgust. To think he¡¯d expect to shakes hands with her? The nerve.


    Taba puffed and looked away, ¡°I am Count Taba.¡±


    The man laugh followed what Taba could only consider act almost as heinous as something the degenerate would do. It was an incomprehensible incompetence that only an incongruent imbecile could posses.


    He had placed his hand on her head.


    ¡°A short one, aren¡¯t ya?¡± he laughed again.


    ¡°You- you Callous Curr!¡± she barked, unable to wrench his hand while he happily ruffled the little hair on her head.


    The man finally let go, prompting Taba to pace some steps back.


    ¡°I may have seemed a lot mo severe back den. Apologies.¡± He started, not once relenting his deceitfully happy face, ¡°Da situation demanded it, so I couldn¡¯t take any chances not even wit a child. Let us start again, eh?¡±


    ¡°How dare you! I am a count!¡±


    The man scratched his head dumbly and pointed at her accusingly, ¡°I tought ya said ya name was ¡®just Taba¡¯.¡±


    Taba blinked, ¡°Dat was you?¡±


    ¡°Oi oi, ya didn¡¯t forget me already? Den we really be starting a new. Listen, girl, I told da mouse back dere dat he could use a rival while he trains, but da truth be I don¡¯t like seeing a girl go hungry and witout shelter while she follows us.¡±


    ¡°I am NOT following ya.¡± She corrected, ¡°Just walking to da same destination.¡±


    ¡°Oh is dat right?¡±


    ¡°Indeed.¡±


    ¡°Den do ya want to walk wit us to dat same destination?¡±


    Taba crossed her arms, and bobbed her head as if she was considering it. The truth was, and she could never admit it, that she hadn¡¯t a clue on where to go. Barra could¡¯ve been anywhere. And even if she found him, what then?


    ¡°Fine.¡± She snipped, ¡°Only til I¡¯m dere, but I will not ¡®fight¡¯ wit or whateva ya call what dat degenerate does. I am beyond dat.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll give him da bad news den. Follow me.¡± He gestured, turning back to his company.


    What ensued was the longest ten minutes of Taba¡¯s life.


    She sat there, crossed legged at the other side of the road whilst a number of eyes scanned her curiously every so often, including the degenrates¡¯.


    Aside from that boy sat a woman she scarcely remembered with beads on braided hair locked in a frivolous argument with the imp of a man. Something about the length of pack serpents or the other.


    Taba¡¯s eyes reared back to the boy. He looked away at that moment, no doubt with brows narrowed behind his hair.


    ¡°Catherine, another of our companions, and the prince be out sight seeing in case ya be wonderin¡¯.¡±


    Taba shifted to the side as the man from before lowered beside her for a seat.


    ¡°I¡¯ve met Caterine before.¡± Admitted Taba,


    ¡°Oh? Ya be from Galokin den?¡±


    Taba shook her head, ¡°On da boat ta Gin.¡±


    ¡°On dat boat?¡± brimmed Azhar, ¡°Did ya happen ta see a Torvirn man wit same eyes as ya on dat ship?¡±


    How could she forget? That man practically spent every day sparring with Barra, every time besting the bitter fool, sometimes even with cheap tricks.


    ¡°He be an excellent swordsman, for a foreigner.¡±


    ¡°Aye, he¡¯s a childhood friend of mine.¡±


    ¡°What?!¡± Taba nearly choked after hearing that.


    ¡°Is it dat surprising?¡± laughed Azhar, ¡°He and anudda friend of ours made a famous trio. Dough I¡¯d say I was still da strongest of em.¡±


    ¡°Did he eva best ya in a fight?¡±Stolen novel; please report.


    ¡°Plenty of times.¡± Reminisced Azhar, ¡°Dough I¡¯ve beaten him plenty mo. I heard he was training anudda man on dat ship.¡±


    Taba seized up.


    ¡°Everyday or so. Catherine told us about it. Did ya happen ta see dem fight?¡±


    Taba gulped, ¡°A couple times.¡±


    ¡°Did da man happen ta best my friend at all?¡±


    Taba couldn¡¯t help smiling as she heard that, ¡°Not at all.¡±


    ¡°Den he has a long way ta go.¡± Sighed Azhar.


    ¡°Do.¡± Started Taba slowly, ¡°Do ya know dat man?¡±


    ¡°Call it a vested interest. I fought him back in Ezmir.¡±


    ¡°Dat was you?!¡±


    Azhar stifled back a laugh, ¡°How is it ya get surprised by every ting I say?¡±


    ¡°I merely heard da tales.¡± Lied Taba, ¡°Yes. I heard stories dat da lord Zanzabarra himself was bested by a commoner. I tought it was absurd when I heard it really. ¡±


    ¡°Word travels fast.¡± Gawked Azhar.


    ¡°Taba!¡±


    The particular screech of the prince made its way to Taba ears just the boy himself teetered to a stop before her.


    ¡°You know her?¡± said Azhar.


    ¡°Yes! From Ezm-¡±


    Taba clasped her hand over his mouth. She produced a twitching grin, ¡°I met him last night before ya got back.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s also the one who stitched his wound.¡± Added an approaching Catherine.


    ¡°Ya helped Sol?¡± Azhar scratched the back of his head and cursed a loud, ¡°Spirits! Ta tink I made ya sleep in da hall way.¡±


    ¡°You what?¡± roared Catherine.


    Azhar held up a hand to stop Catherine¡¯s mad march. He faced the girl in question, ¡°Again, my apologies. I didn¡¯t know. If dere be anyting we can do dat be witin reason ta repay ya, just say so.¡±


    Taba lifted an accusing finger in front of her. She levied that formidable digit at the only point of contention she had within that camp.


    ¡°Den, can we banish da degenerate?¡±


    Azhar burst into a laughing fit while Catherine shook her head, smiling.


    ¡°You two cannot get along, can you?¡± sighed the scholar.


    Taba glowered at the boy. Not a chance.


    Besides her limited interactions with the degenerate. The rest of the motley gang proved to be¡­ not as horrid as she imagined they¡¯d be. The bald man, later revealed to her as Toftof, was surprisingly open to her, and often times let her have some of his food if the rations that night were low.


    The other noble, Prince Sol, also seemed to be a genuinely happy creature. Despite the calls for his death. In fact, on the day Taba spent walking with him and Manama, she¡¯d often question why anyone would even consider harming such an innocent boy. Merely watching the prince babble and giggle about as he splashed along the riverside was thing of joy. His only downside was his unfathomable affection towards the degenerate. Taba did not feel she had the authority to inquire about their past, not yet, but watching them spend hours together gave her a longing to know why. Why him? Was it the closeness of their age? When the boy wasn¡¯t with the degenerate, or being tended to by Manama, he¡¯d often spend his time with Catherine, the only Galokinian of the group.


    Catherine, the woman who saw to her rescue that day along with Barra happened to be well caught up on noble affairs more than she let on. Every minute spent with her proved to be wealth of information to Taba. Truly, her knowledge of magical systems was unparalleled. Even Taba, a powerful caster on her right, sought to delve into some of the types of magic Catherine lectured on about. Besides her, there was only one other who could have been knowledgeable on magic. Yet the way she spoke seemed almost incomprehensible at times.


    The fortune teller Mother Manama, as she called herself, was truly the strangest of the bunch. Taba had heard her name tossed about a few times after Ezmir, but nothing could be garnered from that. She was a mystery forever buried in the sands. Though of the person that was there, she was more of a story teller than a conveyer of fortunes. Like Toftof, she always had her eyes on the degenerate for some reason. There was more to their relation, Taba could tell. Not tat it mattered, the relations of peasants, but her consistent insistence to pay the boy attention made even a noble such as Taba a little curious. Naturally to garner more information, she visited Catherine during one of their night stops on the way to Bazaar, as Catherine was the gossiper of the bunch. Unfortunately, Catherine knew not of Manama either and so the eternal mystery remained a mystery. A mystery almost as enticing as the tale behind the final man in the group.


    Azhar was the leader. He held in dominatable grasp on command, such that it was not once intruded upon by either the sand rat or the teller, not even the scholar. He was also an enigma, but in a different way to Manama. Zanzabarra knew much of the man and would often complain about him as he slashed away at his training targets. According to Ade, it was both Toftof and Azhar who bested Zazabarra that day, but it was Azhar who left a lasting impression. Taba knew the man was the dog of Lamanori, that he done something horrible in the past that he¡¯d be called as such. Yet his connection to the degenerate? Nothing. He had obvious ties of family to the boy, but what? Catherine said they were not father and son, which gave Taba a compounding sense of relief much than she thought it would, but what then? An uncle? A coincidence? Either way Taba could not comprehend how anything as noble, as forthright and commanding as Azhar could ever be related to the debauched tulek that was the degenerate. The mere thought made her shiver.


    Taba craned her neck to the brightening skyline. There were mountains there, as big as the towers. The single river they called their companion now waded into the distance as more and more signs of the drylands began to appear around them. The greenery had become a show of grass as golden as her eyes. The farmers had all but vanished.


    This was not arable land. No longer the domain of Gin. Tala had drilled the geographies of Ilivanmar into Taba ages ago. Back then, her sister¡¯s insistence that she learned such thing was little more of a nuisance to the girl who wanted nothing but to find her family¡¯s killer. Yet now it was a blessing. Azhar knew the way of course so the company followed him. But for little queries about their surroundings Taba acted as the guide. Even though she had been with them for little more than week, she had already become an essential member.


    She cupped her brow as her eyes pressed against the horizon. In two weeks of travel the river would disappear and along with it, the grasslands. From there on they would bare upon the mountain paths to the west. After the mountains, they¡¯d be back to the desert. Everyday would become another threat of a sandflow.


    ¡°Ya eva seen dem, princess?¡±


    Taba spied Azhar, ¡°Dun call me dat, I¡¯m a noble not royalty.¡±


    ¡°Every girl be princess ta somebody.¡± Disputed Azhar.


    The girl lowered her head, ¡°Dat somebody be dead.¡±


    ¡°Really? I tink I¡¯m quite alive.¡±


    Taba smiled at the man, who simply smiled back.


    ¡°Da mountains were once da natural walls protecting da people of Gin. Dat¡¯s why Gin has been able ta freely farm so much. I just tink dey be incredible. A constant reminda of how small we be.¡±


    ¡°Are we really dat small if we can build tings bigga dan da mountains?¡± wagered Taba.


    ¡°Aye, princess. We be tiny.¡± Azhar reached for Taba¡¯s head to ruffle it then stopped himself halfway, ¡°Ah right, ya dun like dat, eh?¡±


    ¡°Well.¡± Croaked Taba. She straightened herself, ¡°While you mustn¡¯t touch da head of a noble, da noble may make exceptions fa dose she trusts.¡±


    ¡°Ya trust me?¡±


    Taba grinned at Azhar as she searched for the answer. Traveling with the man was¡­ different than traveling with Zanzabarra. Tala was the only person she truly trusted in a long while, and after she died, Taba could not for the life of her remember what trust really meant. In the past, she knew that if she let even a single nere-do well touch her skin, they could have killed her. Poison was not uncommon in illivanmar, especially in the lawless reaches of the free cities. Especially against agents of the crown who bore the power to destroy towers. Taba balled her hands.


    But Azhar was different. Even as she glanced at him, she knew he would not harm her. Why? Because he gave her food and a place to stay? Because he made no such move to provoke suspicion? Something about the man, made her relent a seizeless struggle, even if a little. She was safe there.


    ¡°Yea.¡± She hushed.


    ¡°Oi old mon. what ya doing?¡±


    Azhar let out an awkward laugh and retracted his hand, ¡°Talking to da count here, ya should try it some time.¡±


    Taba glared at the boy and the boy stared back. She was sure the moment he saw him. ¡®Trust¡¯ was something she¡¯d never shared with the degenerate.

 Chapter 20, Trust

    A week well into to their journey to Gin, Manama had quaintly noticed Cirin¡¯s general lack of trust and approached him on the manor in Manama like fashion.


    Ofcourse Cirin had been tired due to Azhar¡¯s training and of course it was on his one break that Manama approached him. But there whilst he was ruefully recovering, a wading Manama simply told him.


    Manama tinks ya find it hard ta trust uddas. Dough trust be a compoundin¡¯ ting. Ya neva truly lose it and ya gain mo and mo as time go by. If ya be mistrustin¡¯, it just mean ya gotta spend mo time wit dat person. Every person be a different trustah.


    It didn¡¯t take two more people to join their company til Cirin found the exception. He reviled in Taba¡¯s smug mug as she watched him do lap after lap.


    Truly, she was the perfect weapon against him. She not only broke arms, but also minds.


    ¡°Two mo laps.¡± Waved a yawning Azhar.


    ¡°Ya said dat a lap ago.¡± Cried Cirin between breaths.


    Azhar lazily waved, audacious enough to lay fully back.


    Cirin halted then. He flicked his hand at the sitting Taba.


    ¡°Why dun ya make her run to?¡±


    ¡°Eh mouse?¡±


    ¡°Well ya said she¡¯d be fightin me.¡±


    ¡°Why ya be so anxious ta fight a girl, mouse?¡± Azhar rolled over, ¡°Besides ya da one wantin ta protect da prince not her.¡±


    ¡°But-¡±


    ¡°Save ya complaints fa latta.¡± Butted Azhar with a final wave, ¡°I got da night watch so I intend ta rest when I can. Ya betta be finished ya rounds when I wake, mouse.¡±


    ¡°Dis olda variant of ya speaks da truth.¡± Nodded Taba. She lifted her hand and gestured Cirin to move, ¡°Now run.¡±


    ¡°Ya probably afraid ta fight me.¡± Quipped Cirin.


    ¡°Afraid? Me? I need only drop a boulda on ya little head while ya sleep.¡±


    Cirin smiled slyly. It seemed Taba was unawares to his keen sense of surrounding. ¡°Won¡¯t work on me.¡±


    Taba bobbed her head as if she conceded that one point, ¡°Your right. Ya skull be too tick.¡±


    Cirin stomped his way to Taba. Stopping only an arm¡¯s length from the girl, he leaned his head low.


    ¡°Ya must have realised dat when I got ya wit dat heabutt.¡±


    Taba stifled a smile. Mocking as always, ¡°Ah da usual harassment. Just when ya masta looks da udda way ya show ya true colors.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d wish ya stop showing yours fa once.¡±


    ¡°My charming presence need not be quenched.¡±


    ¡°Charming?¡± scoffed Cirin, ¡°I¡¯d hardly call dat charming. I dun know what magical spell ya placed on Toftof and even da old mon, but I won¡¯t fall fa it. Ya make one misstep,¡± Cirin took a brief glance at Azhar, who was now well a ways into his slumber, ¡°And I¡¯ll tell dem everyting.¡±


    Victory at last. Taba¡¯s silence made him sure of that. He played her derisive grin back at her as he straightened his posture. Just the thought of her flinching with fear as he held that one unsurmountable piece of leverage against her sported him the willpower to run two more laps up and down the river bed. Three even!


    He had been stretching his arm with his back to Taba when her impossible words reached him once more.


    ¡°If ya wonderin¡¯ what spell I used, it was probably da same one I used on you da night before we left Gin.¡±


    Cirin froze up.


    ¡°Oh but we bot know dat wasn¡¯t some magical spell. You were simply ashamed of yaself fa leaving something as refined as myself alone in da hall. But dat couldn¡¯t possibly mean, oh.¡± Her voice took a wicked turn, ¡°You¡¯re hopelessly in love wit me aren¡¯t ya?¡±


    Cirin reared his head over his shoulder and slowly made the complete turn to Taba.


    He swayed his free hand over his mouth, and little by little began an insatiable chuckle. That chuckle grew and grew until he had to pry his hand from his mouth to support his belly.


    ¡°You?¡± He splurged, ¡°Ya can¡¯t be serious. Whateva made ya tink dat, now dat has ta be a magical spell mon.¡±


    Taba shot up, her face reddening at the mention.


    ¡°Let me be clear.¡± Said Cirin as he sated his own laughter, ¡°I offered ya dat room dat night cause I felt bad fa accusing ya of wantin ta kill Sol. But love? You?¡± Cirin shook his head, ¡°I tought you were a boy before Caterine said uddawise, and even afta I spoke ma wit ya, ya became da one person I consider to do da furdest ting from love.¡±


    Taba¡¯s hands were balled. ¡°Watch ya tongue peasant.¡±


    ¡°And you watch ya¡¯s, noble.¡±


    Taba snapped her head to the side and puffed, ¡°How abouts we settle dis den. Ya said yaself dat ya wanted ta fight me.¡±


    ¡°dat be da most reasonable ting ya suggested.¡±


    ¡°Ya dun like me, and I most certainly do not like you. We duel. Two weeks from now when ya arm be healed and ready, we¡¯ll settle dis in a single fight til one of us backs out.¡±


    ¡°And da prize?¡± asked Cirin.


    Taba lowered her chin, a devious smile smeared across her face, ¡°Da loser must leave da company.¡±


    Cirin cracked his knuckles. ¡°You¡¯re on.¡± He wagered.


    The next day passed with scarcely a word between the two. Only odd glares at each other as if to confirm their prior bet. Then, when the sun fell into the distant mountains and the company set up camp, Cirin immediately began running. His run was always the first and last exercise the old mon had him do, yet now it was more than a mere excersize. It was an obstacle he had to clear as soon as possible if he were to train to the maximum of his ability.


    Azhar arrived by the riverbed as Cirin cleared his second to last lap.


    ¡°One mo!¡± cried Cirin has he bounded to the set end of his lap. From where he ran he saw the old mon nodding at him, approvingly.


    Cirin was sure that this day he¡¯d impress him. He passed in Azhar, picking up pace the moment he saw Azhar.


    Within seconds he reached the end of the lap and turned heel to reach the where Azhar was resting. His feet came to a slow as his eyes failed to find the man.


    He glanced away from the riverbed and there he saw him walking away with her. Cirin scowled, what did Taba want with Azhar?


    He caught his breath at the end point and slowly he made his way to where Taba had taken his master.


    They were speaking behind one of the few contorted trees that were native to the grasslands. Cirin crept close.


    ¡°I can¡¯t train ya, Princess.¡±


    ¡°Why not?¡± shot a flustered Taba.


    ¡°Da mouse.¡± Said Azhar, ¡°I made a promise ta train him. Only him. I dun know why ya want ta even tink about fightin¡¯. It ain¡¯t a happy ting.¡±


    ¡°I want ta be stronger dan him.¡±


    ¡°Fightin¡¯ be one ting, winning is anudda. Strength won¡¯t secure ya victories, princess. Smarts and planin¡¯ will.¡± Advised the old mon.


    Taba remained looking down, holding onto a silence as she no doubt realised her mistake.


    ¡°Look.¡± Started Azhar, ¡°If ya want, I can see if Toftof will train ya.¡±


    ¡°No.¡± sprang Taba, ¡°I¡¯ll train myself.¡±


    Cirin kept his back to the tree. From where he lurked he could barely make out the smiling face of Azhar.


    ¡°Dun underestimate him, Princess. Once he gets bot his arms he¡¯ll be much stronger dan he eva was.¡±


    Cirin found himself smiling after that. Maybe the old mon did acknowledge him, but only to others? Either way, Cirin thought as he balled his fists, he felt the need to defeat this magical upstart now more than ever.


    ¡°I¡¯ll beat him.¡± Proclaimed Taba.


    ¡°Den get to it.¡±


    Cirin leapt from the tree then, and carefully snuck his way to the far side of the riverbed.


    When Azhar got back, he found a panting Cirin running up to him from the other end of the river.


    ¡°I did anudda lap.¡± Gasped Cirin.


    Azhar crossed him arms, ¡°So ya finally got serious, mouse?¡±


    ¡°Ya promised me a new blade if I did, remember?¡±


    Azhar shook his head, ¡°Oi, dun become a debt collecta on me, eh? Draw dat rusted ting fa now, I tink I¡¯ll teach ya someting useful today.¡±


    For just that night by the rushing river, the clank of blades could be heard among the chirp of crickets. A spot amongst an infinite dark, their camp glistened against the restless waters.


    ¡°We practised five different techniques mon! All fa counterin¡¯ !¡± roared Cirin. He was standing up as he said so, his audience, the meager collection of Sol and Catherine.


    Sol, as always, seemed incredulously consumed by whatever Cirin said.


    ¡°Show us! Show us!¡± he pleaded bouncing about.


    Cirin flashed his blade and held a head of himself.


    ¡°Say ya attack me like dis.¡± He jabbed his blade in an upwards motion. ¡°Den I counter like dis.¡± His extended arm snapped back immediately and turned the blade on its side. ¡°I let my blade slide unda my mon¡¯s deflected one and¡­¡±


    Cirin paused mid step. He straightened his back and cleared his throat, ¡°Well I¡¯d den use my udda hand.¡±


    ¡°Does it still hurt?¡± prompted Catherine leaning forward with her head perched on the tips of her knuckles.


    Cirin shook his head, ¡°Not at all.¡± He admitted. ¡°But¡­¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t take it off, huh?¡±


    ¡°Why not?¡± started Sol.


    The master of countering shrugged, ¡°Someting about being doubly sure. Manama insisted on it.¡±If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    ¡°Well then I insist on it to.¡± Nodded Catherine.


    ¡°What about ya, imp?¡± queried Cirin.


    ¡°Good as before!¡± announced the boy as he struggled to stand up.


    ¡°Humpf. Liar.¡± Laughed Cirin.


    ¡°By the way Cirin, I haven¡¯t seen Taba lately, do you know what she¡¯s been up to?¡± asked Catherine, ¡°I¡¯ve yet to question her about her ties to Barra.¡±


    ¡°How would I know?¡± snapped Cirin. Truthfully, he wanted nothing to do with her. Though he¡¯d also rather not disclose the promised fight he was to have with her. No doubt Catherine would interfere the moment she heard about that.


    ¡°She¡¯s been running!¡± brimmed Sol.


    That prompted a simultaneous response from both Cirin and Catheirne.


    ¡°Running?¡±


    Sol nodded vigorously, ¡°Every night now since.¡± He patted his chin, ¡°A week ago?¡±


    Cirin sat down. He had been a fool to think she wouldn¡¯t train as well.


    ¡°Why would she do that I wonder?¡± Pondered Catherine aloud, ¡°Especially that girl of all people. I know nobles. Even if the very king asked them to run, they¡¯d merely get a servant to do it ten times over.¡±


    Cirin slumped further, his head lowering more and more as Catherine went on.


    ¡°Perhaps I should ask her.¡± Concluded the girl.


    ¡°No!¡± started Cirin.


    Both Sol and Catherine stared at him. Realising the folly in his loudness, he slumped even further.


    Sol seemed genuinely confused, but Catherine¡¯s face all but asked ¡®why?¡¯.


    ¡°I¡­¡± teetered Cirin, ¡°I said I could run fa longa den she eva could since¡­ since she saw me running da udda day and mocked me saying I ran outta breath too easily.¡±


    Catherine seemed appeased by that as she fixed her posture to one leaning back.


    ¡°That does sound like her.¡± She conceded, ¡°Stupid girl.¡± She puffed, ¡°To think she was a black neck. Though I will admit her magic is considerable.¡±


    ¡°Can you do what she does?¡± stood up Sol.


    Catherine shook her head, ¡°Magic¡¯s isn¡¯t that simply my prince.¡± She glanced at Cirin with a smile, ¡°You could say it¡¯s very much a reflection on swordplay. There are many types of magic.¡± She said holding up a finger for emphasis, ¡°And many ways to use it.¡±


    ¡°Azhar said someting similar a while back.¡± Laughed Cirin.


    Perhaps the old mon knew more than how to lecture after all.


    Though that became less and less apparent as the days passed by and Azhar, as Azhar tended to do, made Cirin victim to as many senseless words as there were beads of sweat on the crest of Cirin¡¯s forehead.


    ¡°Visualize ya blade at all times.¡± Remarked the man, ¡°When ya walk, when ya sleep, even when do ya daily exercise.¡±


    The man seized his endless pacing as the boy finished yet another push up.


    ¡°Dat¡¯s enough.¡±


    Cirin lowered himself and slowly sat back on his heels, to which his master ventured his way to Cirin¡¯s left side and kneeled to the dirtied cast.


    ¡°How abouts we take dis off, eh?¡±


    Cirin blinked, ¡°Ya sure?¡±


    ¡°Aye, I talked it ova wit Mana.¡±


    Cirin wrestled the casting off as if it were an unopened present.


    The moment he did, he glanced squarely at his side and jostled his shoulder. His face went a lit.


    ¡°Dere¡¯s no pain.¡± He said a loud. ¡°Hah!¡± He leapt his feet and immediately withdrew his rusted blade with his left. Yet the moment he did so, he could not help but glare at his empty right hand. He tossed his blade to his right, then to his left.


    Azhar had his eyes locked on the boy, ¡°Mouse I-¡±


    ¡°Old mon, I can try dose counterin¡¯ techniques now!¡±


    Azhar smiled simply to this, ¡°Indeed ya can. Say, ya tink ya need anudda blade for dat arm?¡±


    Cirin seemed engulfed by strange reappearance of his arm, ¡°Sorry old mon.¡± he started, ¡°I need ta show dis ta someone.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll go wit ya.¡±


    Cirin shook his head, ¡°No stay here, I¡¯ll be only a minute.¡±


    Cirin paced his way passed the small clots of grassland. There were more trees around their camp spot that night and the once daunting river had become little more than a trickling creek. The mountains had grown considerably since the first they spotted them. At times they proved so large, that they¡¯d block out the sun.


    According to Manama they¡¯d reach those monsters within a day.


    The boy simmered to a trot once he heard the grunts echoing behind a double trunked tree. They were undoubtedly Taba¡¯s. Cirin snuck by the trees and spied on her.


    It seemed she had found the perfect spot to train, despite the brevity of their stay. It was a moonlit enclave surrounded by bramble trees. Here, a variety of desert flowers bloomed in the edges of the enclave while a pack snake sized boulder lived in it¡¯s midst with Taba besides it. She had been swinging a blade over and over there, each of her grunts telling of a swing.


    Cirin stepped in and the crunch of grass alerted Taba to his presence. That was when a rock the sized of knife implanted itself in the nearest trunk to Cirin.


    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s you degenerate.¡±


    Cirin held his left arm high, ¡°It¡¯s healed.¡± He declared.


    ¡°Wait.¡± Prompted taba, ¡°I¡¯m not ready yet, we agreed on two weeks rememba?¡±


    ¡°I rememba. Just felt it fitting ta show da one who broke my arm how well it healed.¡±


    Taba tossed her head to the side, ¡°Humpf.¡±


    Cirin¡¯s eyes trailed to Taba¡¯s flawless bronze blade, ¡°Where did ya get dat?¡±


    ¡°Ya dun rememba?¡± Taba seemed more surprised than insulted. That was a first.


    She snapped her fingers and the blade disintegrated. She snapped again and the blade reformed. Cirin found himself perfectly still as she did that. He only realised he hadn¡¯t reached for his blade once he saw the blade form.


    ¡°Dis be what I¡¯ll beat ya wit.¡± Taunted Taba.


    Cirin postured his arm across his chest, ¡°And dis be what I¡¯ll beat ya wit.¡±


    ¡°Ya ill-equipped illiterate, ya dun even have two blades.¡±


    Cirin opened his mouth to speak, yet gawked as the words escaped him. How had he not thought of that before?


    ¡°Here.¡± Said Taba as she snapped her fingers again, ¡°Try dis.¡±


    A blade, identical to Taba¡¯s, appeared before Cirin and promptly plummeted.


    Cirin reached for it, already at awe by how pristine it was. He lifted it with ease. It was as light as training blade.


    ¡°I¡¯ll let ya use dat fa now, but one condition.¡±


    Cirin immediately regretted wielding the cursed blade.


    ¡°Show me ya stance.¡± She incited.


    Cirin¡¯s ruby eyes danced above, while a sly slit played his mouth. Every night now since Gin after Azhar left him to his own devices, Cirin practiced one thing. He held the light blade ahead of him. Admittedly he had only practiced half of it until now. He lowered his body and took up a wide footing. To think Taba would be the first witness to it. He reached for his rusted blade with his right.


    ¡°With pleasure.¡± He said before pulling that last blade out and holding it above him.


    He fealt the voice in his grinning as he did that. This was it. This was his destined stance. One passed on to him by not only parentage, but also an unbeknownst benefactor. His eyes balanced on Taba as he searched for obviously awe struck reaction.


    Her response? Giggling.


    ¡°Dat¡¯s it?¡± she scoffed. She held a hand up to her mouth to stop herself from laughing more, ¡°Dat¡¯s what you¡¯ll fight me wit?¡±


    Cirin lowered his blades, ¡°Yes it is.¡± He said bluntly.


    Taba snapped her fingers and the blade in Cirin¡¯s left burst into dust.


    ¡°I¡¯ll give ya a blade when ya show me ya real stance.¡± She said waving behind her as she returned to her swings.


    Cirin¡¯s right eye twitched. He was sure his nerves were bulging. Every time he talked to Taba, he found himself even more convinced on getting rid of her. In a way, seeing her proved fundamental to his training. He breathed hard as he stowed his blade on his back. He¡¯d show her the true strength of that stance, even if he had to wait another week to do so.


    Though holding that anger proved futile. That was apparent the next evening when Azhar found the boy furiously chipping away at a dry branch tree with his right hand, stopping only momentarily to switch the blade to another hand as he continued the slaughter.


    The boy¡¯s words were a mess of ¡®Die¡¯s and ¡®Taba¡¯s.


    ¡°I take it ya named dis tree ¡®Taba¡¯ and ya be da least entusiastic fan of dry branches.¡± Azhar shrugged, ¡°Or da most.¡±


    Azhar¡¯s voice quelled his thrashing immediately. Cirin sheathed his blade as he turned to the man.


    ¡°Old mon, ya neva supposed ta insult annuda man¡¯s stance, right?¡± asked Cirin.


    ¡°Naturally. Dat be very disrespectful. Did dis tree named Taba, disrespect ya stance by any chance?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± conceded Cirin, ¡°but it be more sensible dan choppin away at da ting dat did.¡±


    Cirin¡¯s eyes fell upon the burlap wrapped object in Azhar¡¯s hand then. It was the same one from Gin.


    ¡°Old mon, is dat?¡±


    Azhar held up the object and began undressing it, ¡°I¡¯m not sure if dis be da best time ta give dis ta ya,¡± He revealed a blackleather hilt as he slid the burlap passed it, ¡°Especially afta hearin ya current gripe, but I was meanin ta give it ta ya since yestaday.¡± He swept the rest of the sack away and a gallant blade glinted before him, ¡°Didn¡¯t get a chance sa here. Take it.¡±


    He presented the blade to Cirin, who looked at Azhar and then at the weapon.


    He reached for it with both hands, entranced by its silver sheen. It wasn¡¯t a long sword, nor was it wide. It had a simple diamond shaped crest embedded within the base metal while the tip played a simple curve.


    The moment he had both his hands underneath the thing, Azhar let go and Cirin jolted forwards. It was heavy. It was the exact opposite of Taba¡¯s creation.


    ¡°I could only get one fa now. Consida it a gift fa ya effort and¡± he stressed, ¡°Fa ya continued effort.¡±


    Azhar insisted he¡¯d practice stances after that, making the boy continually wield that stance till he at no way erred from whatever image the old mon had in his head. The stance itself was just a duller version of the one he had seen in his dreams.


    This stance required Cirin¡¯s arms be held back more with a considerable bend for defence. Cirin got it wrong for all but one attempt that night, but for that one attempt he could tell it gave Azhar immense gratification.


    Azhar refused to reveal why despite how much seeing the man smile bothered the boy.


    When Cirin returned back to the camp, he found all but Taba and Catherine there sitting sharing obscure stories. He did not need to glance there way to know they were staring at the blade resting on his shoulder.


    ¡°Ah, so he finally gave ya it.¡± Began Manama.


    Toftof bobbed his head, ¡°A little big fa ya, but if ya be anyting like ya fadda ya should grow into it.¡±


    ¡°Da imp? Saying anyting be big fa anyone? Hah.¡±


    ¡°Oi.¡± Snapped Toftof to Azhar¡¯s mocking voice.


    Sol rushed to the boy, as soon as he was a limping distance away.


    ¡°Do you like it?¡± he asked eagerly.


    Cirin¡¯s hidden specs bounced between each of the three adults and landed on Sol. He let the blade fall to the side.


    ¡°Ya all knew?¡±


    Their gangling shadows danced about as fools behind them. Their knowing smiles grew menacing under lucid glow of the campfire.


    ¡°Ofcourse we knew.¡± Entered the one voice he had expected.


    Catherine swayed by Cirin with a touch on his shoulder as she found a seat beside Sol and Manama.


    ¡°I picked it out with Azhar!¡± claimed Sol.


    ¡°Aye, da prince was a lot of help back den.¡± Admitted the old mon as he stretched out by the fire.


    Toftof seemed a little angsty as stared on at the blade, ¡°Did ya name it?¡±


    Cirin contorted his features. He studied the glinting thing, ¡°Name it?¡± he asked a loud, ¡°Why would a blade need a name?¡±


    Azhar awoke to that, ¡°Exactly!¡± he claimed, ¡°Even outta da trio of da Bazaar only Etro was neva mad enough ta name a weapon.¡±


    ¡°Nonsense. Look at my knuckles, eh.¡± Toftof held up his right, ¡°Dis one be named Gunk. And dis.¡± He held his right, ¡°Bah.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t ask.¡± Pleaded Azhar.


    ¡°Why did you name it that?¡± proded Catherine.


    Azhar took no pleasure in Catherine¡¯s ignorance, choosing instead to express his utmost dissatisfaction in the form a toss and turn in his makeshift bed. No doubt his eyes were rolling to.


    Toftof¡¯s immediate chuckle pried a further sigh from the old mon.


    ¡°Dey be da first sounds I heard when I used dem, respectively of course.¡± He explained.


    ¡°Oh shut it.¡± Yawned Azhar.


    Toftof insistence returned to the blade, ¡°So, what ya going ta name it?¡±


    Cirin held the blade up. It was dazzling. He had never been one to struggle on the finer parts of life, but this, this was an exception among exceptions. The diamond fuller reflected his features minutely. While the guard consisted of twin bronze extremities that curled to make a half circle each. Its hilt, black leathered and rubbery with a diamond shaped pommel resting coolly at its end. The more he locked eyes with it the more he realised how right Toftof was and the man was not often right. This sword deserved a name.


    ¡°I¡¯ll call it Trust.¡± Decided Cirin.


    ¡°You sure ya dun mean ¡®thrust¡¯?¡± quipped Toftof.


    ¡°Manama say not all weapons need stupid names.¡± The gypsy sauntered her eyes to Cirin, ¡°Sometimes a name be needing ta mean someting.¡±


    Catherine bit her lip and shook her head, adding, ¡°I¡¯d say a weapon is a weapon no matter what you name it. A device that¡¯s sole purpose is to kill should not be named.¡±


    ¡°A man can kill anudda, yet we choose ta name him.¡± Retorted Manama.


    ¡°Ah, but that isn¡¯t his sole purpose.¡± Pointed out Catherine.


    Toftof devious giggles briefly ensnared the attention of the women, ¡°Ya be right about dat.¡± Snickered the man.


    Manama¡¯s beads rustled as the gypsy tossed her head about, ¡°Manama disagrees.¡±


    Catherine pressed her brows together and tossed her head to the gypsy, as she was already passed Toftof¡¯s remark, much to the imp¡¯s displeasure, ¡°How so?¡± she prodded.


    By now Cirin had found a seat by the fire, he had his eyes fixated on the two women as his new blade entertained the prince who eagerly gawked at it.


    Manama reached in her coat, revealing layers upon layers as she snuck out a small pouch. She spun open the pouch and tossed the contents into the flame.


    Nothing happened at first, but as the gypsy spoke on, the color of the flame started to shift.


    ¡°Murda as ya call it in da nordern lands ain¡¯t as simple as ya tink here. A weapon need not kill, but it is still consida¡¯d a weapon. So, by dat logic a man is a weapon as well.¡±


    The flames flickered green then blue and finally settled to the usual orange, ¡°Well then so is a spoon if used right, even a bar of soap.¡± Argued Catherine.


    Manama¡¯s finger swayed like a ticking clock, ¡°Ya be wrong dere, girl. A man used by anudda ta kill is a weapon. In our lands, it is da one who hires dat man ta kill who is da murderer not da killa himself.¡±


    Footsteps and then a voice as young as Cirin¡¯s.


    ¡°Da murder would neva happen witout da man who carries it out.¡±


    ¡°Taba.¡± Noted Catherine, ¡°Where have you been?¡±


    Taba¡¯s eyes swayed momentarily in Cirin¡¯s direction as she answered, ¡°I wanted ta try someting before we made da mountains tommara. A little trainin ya could say.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve been training awfully hard. Has something happened?¡±


    There was a silence.


    ¡°No.¡± she answered to crackle of flames. ¡°What is dat?¡±


    Cirin followed her gaze to the rising flame. He blinked. How had he not noticed it?


    There in the fire played a scene of several women, dressed quite like Manama in her long and numerous layers, sitting by a series of long arches and talking.


    Manama smiled. The black in her eyes glimmered with the fiery marionettes.


    ¡°Manama say dat murda, dough not always, often happens fa a reason.¡±


    Cirin sat up as the next flicker in the fire revealed a miniature man run into the enclave of women and one by swing at them. The style he used, though hard to make out in the crackling flames, seemed eerily familiar. The flames of the women would spark to life one moment and the next vanish in a blaze.


    ¡°Is¡­ is that man killing them?¡± choked Catherine.


    Toftof jumped to his feet as he finally realised what the commotion pertained to, ¡°Oi Mana, is this?¡±


    Manama¡¯s silence as the grisly scene played out made Cirin thrust his head in Sol¡¯s direction. Thankfully the prince had not be aroused from the blade to witness the slaughter.


    ¡°Mana- Manama stop dis.¡± Urged Toftof. ¡°Mana!¡±


    Azhar stirred and Manama blew into the fire. The scene vanished in a blaze as Azhar sat up from his slumber. Groggily yawning, he glanced about himself.


    ¡°What can a man do ta sleep around here? Toftof.¡± He said rearing his head to the man in question, ¡°How many times must I insist ya shut up in a single day?¡±


    Toftof sat down with his eyes careful and stern on Manama. Despite his famous title, ¡®the Liar¡¯, Toftof rarely held the truth from the company. Yet somehow this was different.


    ¡°Manama be teasin me about da length of pack snakes. Da dang wench wouldn¡¯t stop when I asked.¡± Lied the liar.


    Azhar played a face at Manama and immediately slumped back into his slumber.


    Cirin asked before the others, ¡°What was dat?¡±


    Toftof lowered his head. When he couldn¡¯t get the answer from Toftof he turned to the only other person who knew. She shrugged with a simple smile on her face.


    ¡°Dat my boy, dat be a weapon doing his job.¡±

 Chapter 21, The Honorable Secret

    They began the long trek up the mountain the next day.


    It hadn¡¯t occurred to the boy how rough or difficult following a path up a mountain would be. Yet as their path became more and more steep, the spaces for the pack snakes became more and more narrow, that reality began to set in.


    What was once a painting of dancing golds and dribbling blues soon drowned in a bath of painfully grey rock. Even the odd tree or two, surrendered to the overwhelming moss that latched onto the mountain side.


    The paths were rough here. Rocks of every shape and size littered the pathway. Some were even so oddly shaped, the young prince would take to collecting them in hopeless attempt to impress the unappeasable Azhar.


    Somehow, Toftof had managed to convince the young prince that the man was once a fond archivist of rocks.


    That made Cirin laugh a little while he watched the prince laude the man over with rocks, until of course he saw Taba laughing to the same thing and immediately found no joy in it. She was his enemy after all.


    Despite their long breaks and slow attempts at rearing the snakes up the particularly narrow paths, they made it to a relatively high and spacious cave by late that evening.


    Cirin wandered out of the cave when he saw Azhar and Taba leave it. At the entrance, he saw Taba running the way back, while Azhar simple strolled to the opposite side.


    He made his way to his master¡¯s side.


    ¡°Look at dat mouse.¡± Said the man.


    Cirin pressed his bangs up and glared into the distance as Azhar had. He had his breath stolen by the sight. The thief was a stunning one.


    A series of mountains clambered in the distance, parting their world from the endless desert sea an eternity away. There well into the rock infested path, a myriad of lights snaked from one mountain to the next until it flowed into desert as if it were a delta.  This luminous river dimmed and flickered every so often. The place where those lights ended and the sky met the ground made seem as though those lights became the very stars themselves.


    ¡°I rememba dis from a long time ago.¡± Confessed Azhar, ¡°Do ya know what dey are?¡±


    Cirin squinted at the seeming river, ¡°Fire?¡± he guessed.


    ¡°Locusts.¡± Answered Azhar, ¡°Da damned bugs da farmers of Gin hate most. Dey swarm tru dis mountain pass every few years. Exactly as dey do, dey happen ta glow as well. One da most beautiful of sights if ya manage ta see it. Back den my friends and I met a young couple who said dey¡¯d build an inn down dere. I wonda if dey did in da end? Humpf.¡± He puffed, ¡°Da duo insisted travalahs would come from all ova ta stay when da locusts passed. Imagine, hundreds of people swarming dere as much as da locusts, and on top of dat, whoel feasts fa da pack snakes dose travalahs be bringin¡¯ .¡±


    ¡°Y-y-ya mean dere¡¯ll be hundreds of s-snakes down dere?¡± stammered Cirin.


    ¡°Only if dat duo succeeded.¡± The old mon smiled and ruffled Cirin hair, ¡°If dat fear of ya¡¯s bests ya even now, I may have ta keep calling ya mouse fa da rest of ya life, mouse.¡±


    Cirin brushed off the man¡¯s grasp, ¡°dey be awful tings. No arms. No legs. Dat just be unnatural mon.¡±


    ¡°Dere be far more unnatural tings in dis world dan dat, mouse. Take a red eyed boy fa example.¡±


    Cirin instantly covered his face with his hair.


    ¡°Why ya got ta be sa ashamed of it?¡±


    ¡°No one else has dem.¡± Hushed the boy. ¡°Ya just said it. Dey be unnatural.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Ya heard me.¡±


    Azhar let out a long drawn breath, ¡°One of dese days ya going ta be blinded by ya own hair cause ya be too shy ta show ya eyes.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re one ta talk.¡± Retorted the boy.


    ¡°Oi, I dun cut my hair cause I be¡­ not ta concerned about it.¡±


    ¡°Dat¡¯s an easy way ta say lazy.¡± Grinned Cirin, ¡°We not trainin¡¯ tonight?¡±


    Azhar yawned and turned on his heel, ¡°Sleep mouse. Lest ya want da locusts crawling in ya ears when ya fall asleep tammora.¡±


    Cirin glanced the way of where Taba left. He balled his fists.


    ¡°Maybe I be needin ta take dat risk.¡±


    He broke into a sprint the moment he passed the cave entrance, the long winding road heading back the way they came bobbed up and down in his sights as he ran.


    ¡°Where ya going?¡± called the old mon after him.


    Cirin half turned as he ran on the spot, ¡°Just a little run.¡± He huffed before returning to his trot.


    He ran where he could, but for the most part he spent his time carefully wading passed the more unaccommodating rocks on the path.


    Keeping his eyes fixed ahead of him, he would stop every so often whenever a wide space presented itself alongside the road. He had seen quite a few of those on the way there, all of which the old mon refused to stop by because the pack snakes were too sizable to rest there.


    Then, after nearly a half hour¡¯s run, he came across the telling view of Taba. She had one blade ahead of her while she kept her free arm poised behind her back.


    That arm would momentarily produce a snap and a simple rock mannequin would emerge behind her. Each time they did, she would spin to them and cut them down immediately.


    Cirin squatted where he was and squinted to get a better view. Hers was no ordinary style. It allowed her to pivot quickly and respond in equal fashion. Maybe it was because she was the one forming her dummies, though Cirin remembered she had no control over things she created that were not within her sight. So every time she snapped another of her rocky targets into existence she could not place or control them as she pleased since at the very least they¡¯d form out of her field of view.


    Cirin found himself sitting now, with his elbows resting on his knees and his head perched upon his palms. It was a novel way to train. Something he¡¯d wish he had the capability of doing. Yet the more and more he watched her the more bothered he became about it.


    Cirin had beaten Taba twice in a duel. When she challenged him, he saw that as his opportunity to rid her for good. She was too stubborn to train and the past made it clear she was the inferior fighter. Besides, she had no way to counter him close range.


    He focussed on her blade in motion. Now she had a means to counter him. His perching hands fell from his head and crumpled into fists. For the first time since Ezmir he choked on his imagined feebleness. A single thought carved out all others.


    What if she won?


    Taba¡¯s movements seemed faster now, florid even. She snapped her fingers once more, yet this time spawning her target atleast fifteen paces away from her.


    She turned to it as she had a dozen time before. Cirin sat up. She had no way of striking the statue with her blade. Not at that distance. Atleast not anytime soon.


    What she did next made Cirin instinctively reach for his right shoulder.


    She vanished her blade, snapped ten times, and sent ten miniature missiles whistling to the dummy.


    They hit in ten powerful bangs and the dummy crumbled to dust.


    Cirin got up. He¡¯d seen enough. He cursed at himself for not noticing earlier. Taba was never one he could take lightly.


    By morn the company made quick work of the downward mountain path. It proved considerably easier to traverse as the footing became more and more flat. It seemed the locals were only fond of improving roads when they happened to be used.


    Their path had already converged three times that day with more paths coming in from the south, north, and northwest.


    They¡¯d even passed a few travellers who opted for a laxer pace.


    Manama, who had parted momentarily to approach one of these groups, ran up to the company whilst waving them to stop.


    Azhar was both the man to steady the snakes and greet Manama, ¡°What have ya, Mana?¡±


    ¡°Pilgrims.¡± She puffed, ¡°Dey be here for da locust festival.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a festival now?¡± said Azhar, ¡°Den time has really given life to dis place.¡±


    Manama nodded, ¡°Dey say people come from all ova da desert ta attend it by da Grand Valley inn. It be four day pilgrimage from all official entrances to da mountains.¡±


    ¡°Tree days, eh?¡± stretched Toftof.


    ¡°Well that isn¡¯t as bad as I imagined.¡± Noted Catherine, ¡°And we get to stay in a proper lodging.¡±


    ¡°If we get any rooms.¡± Pointed out Azhar.


    Cirin lowered his brows at the man, ¡°But ya said ya knew da owners.¡±


    ¡°Dat was twenty years ago, mouse. Dey must¡¯ve forgotten me by now.¡±


    ¡°And if they didn¡¯t?¡± asked Catherine.


    Azhar sighed her way, ¡°Even den, dere be no telling if dey make an exception for us.¡±


    The pilgrims Manama had been talking to made their way passed the company. Manama waved them by as they did.


    It was a young couple, both equipped with massive packs on their backs. A couple ¡®coo¡¯s¡¯ echoed from behind them and Cirin found himself staring at a small, hairy creature wearing a long skirt all the way to its shoulders. It leapt to the man¡¯s shoulders when it got to them, prompting a good chuckled from the two.


    Cirin smiled at Sol when he saw the boy. The prince had been absolutely taken by the sight.


    Manama must have noticed the boy¡¯s interest as well as she explained to them all, ¡°Dat be a tulek, young prince. Da little imp was travelin wit da two. Dey called him ¡®a dear friend¡¯.¡±


    Cirin reared his eyes to the hairy devil. Most of them lived in the desert, but every now and then slave traders would arrive at Lamanori with the creatures in stock. There were even some rumors that an entire village of the beasts lay to the south of Lamanori in a small valley not known to most salvagers.


    The boy¡¯s gaze lapsed back to the prince. Perhaps he¡¯d take Sol there someday.


    ¡°Will we see more of them?¡± asked Sol.


    ¡°I promise we will.¡± Answered the old mon, ¡°But not if we spend our days wasting on dis road. Break be ova.¡± Azhar patted the lead snake twice and it started slithering.


    Sometime around noon, the roads became impassably populated. It was slow at first, but as more and more smaller roads converged with their main one, the intrusion of pilgrims became inevitable.


    Unfortunately for the company, their packs snakes made traveling that limited road contrived for now. Azhar was the one who gave the order to stop by the first available road side.


    ¡°I rememba dis place.¡± Said the old mon as he paced by the roadside.


    It was a blooming place, oddly encroached upon by flora where all else life ceased to be. It was half circle cut into the mountain with a wide enough path that led higher up.


    The more Cirin studied it the more he realised that greenery was not just present by the roadside, there were also hints of it right near the curving path.


    Azhar led the way, motioning for the pack snakes to follow him, ¡°My friend and I stopped here when we first passed. Etro,¡± He continued, glancing at Taba, ¡°Was da one who insisted we keep go higher even if it kept us from our path.¡±


    The pack snakes slid up the pass, which curved sharply with a bit of a slope. The foliage grew in color and size the more they trekked up the pass. In a lot of ways it reminded Cirin of Gin. There vines spread across the sides of the mountain walled path with a variety of daisies coloring the side with red, yellow, and white.


    The road here was also littered with jagged stone and prickly weeds. The more they trekked along the road,it became steeper until finally it levelled all at once with a singular Malformed tree blocking the top half of the pathway.


    Azhar ducked his head under the crooked thing.


    ¡°It be just pass dis branch.¡± Informed Azhar.


    Cirin made sure he was the first to pass after Azhar, with Sol just behind him, and Taba a close third.


    Cirin held his breath. An entire clearing of moss laden ground lay ahead of them. Birds chirped in the distance while the heavy flow of water followed through. The clearing was large enough to host a dozen pack snakes let alone two! Though admittedly it had been split in two by a trickling creek that fed into a darkened hole on the other side.


    Cirin panned his head and spotted what was a glistening miniature waterfall and even more of the daisies he had seen before. In fact, the walls guarding the clearing were a mess of flowers and vines. Life thrived here.


    ¡°Dun get used to it.¡± Warned the old mon, ¡°We only be staying here till da crowd down dere, parts, den we¡¯ll make up da time we lost.¡±


    ¡°So we¡¯ll be traveling through the night?¡± started Catherine.


    Azhar let out a long sigh, ¡°No. Toftof, Manama and I will guide da snakes in shifts while you children sleep on them.¡±


    Catherine nodded to herself, ¡°That sounds¡­ leisurely.¡±


    ¡°Dun get used ta dat eider.¡± Snapped Azhar.


    Cirin found himself locking eyes with Taba then. He had only glanced her way, though he not been expecting the girl to glare back. The same telling animosity painted across her narrowed brows. Did she know he saw him? Was she taunting him?


    Taba turned for the tree then, but not before Azhar¡¯s voice boomed once again, ¡°I know ya like ta head off on ya own, princess, but I¡¯d advise against it fa today.¡±


    Taba shifted a little closer to the tree then stopped herself. Cirin had expected a heated response from the girl, yet to his surprise she merely protested with.


    ¡°But-¡±


    Azhar stepped towards her, ¡°Dere be a flock of stranger down dere, strangers who may wished ta harm girls like ya. Now, normally I¡¯d let ya go seeing as how ya only happen ta be traveling in da same direction as us, but say someting do happen ta ya. Why den we may end up stopping our own travels ta pursue ya.¡±


    ¡°Ya wouldn¡¯t.¡± blurted Taba.


    Azhar nudged his head at Toftof who had been observing the situation from a distance. The old mon had a halfsmile on his face, ¡°Even I didn¡¯t fa some reason. Da idiot ova dere would. Do me a favor.¡± He finished his trip to the girl and placed a hand on her head, ¡°Trust me and stay wit us just fa dis.¡±


    After a while Taba nodded her head underneath the man¡¯s hand.


    Cirin blinked. Was she the same girl he¡¯d known her to be? The ingrain noble he knew her to be would never be so docile.


    He may have well called out the unholy association of the two, when the man himself approached the boy first.


    ¡°Oi mouse, we need ta talk.¡±


    Azhar directed Crin to a secluded corner of the clearing.


    ¡°Alone.¡± Stressed Azhar at the duckling prince.


    Sol produced a frown, but listened all the same, choosing to go to Catherine in the absence of cirin¡¯s presence.


    Azhar placed one hand on Cirin¡¯s shoulder and pushed him through the final stretch to the corner. There was log there, partly molded but brimming with moss. Azhar sat down on it and patted it to motion Cirin to sit.


    The boy did just that, his eyes still glued to the far off Taba, who had strangely followed sol to Catherine and even began conversing. Cirin squinted his eyes, just what were they talking about.The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    ¡°Mouse. Mouse!¡±


    Cirin shook his head and turned to the man.


    ¡°I know we be in da mountains, but ya head shouldn¡¯t be in da clouds just yet.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I know old mon.¡± sighed cirin, ¡°what is it ya need?¡±


    Azhar crossed his arms and took a deep breath, ¡°It¡¯s been a while, so do ya mind telling me what happened dat night?¡±


    Cirin stretched his face, ¡°Noting big, old mon.¡±


    ¡°Noting big?¡± scoffed the man, ¡°Ya disappeared, in da middle of da night, in a foreign city and fa same strange spirits fasaken reason ya brought back a girl.¡± He motioned his hand at Taba, ¡°Wit golden eyes and apparently da powa ta control rocks?¡±


    ¡°Ya know about dat?¡±


    ¡°Toftof told me dat¡¯s what she used ta heal da prince.¡± Admitted Azhar. ¡°Now tell me Cirin, please.¡±


    Cirin bit his lip.


    ¡°We were kidnapped.¡± He tossed his eyes at Taba, ¡°Bot of us.¡±


    ¡°From da inn? Really?¡±


    Cirin could feel the man¡¯s eyes piercing through his skull.


    ¡°No. not da inn. I-I snuck out early dat night ta¡­ get some air and I saw her.¡±


    ¡°And ya followed her?¡±


    Cirin nodded, ¡°I knew her from Ezmir, Sol asked me ta help her and I couldn¡¯t den. So I tried again dat night, but when I followed her, dere were already uddas afta her so I ended up getting caught as well.¡±


    Azhar nearly fell forwards at that point to the breath he took. Cirin tilted his head. It was almost as if he was relieved to hear that.


    ¡°Old mon?¡±


    ¡°Yes? Oh right.¡± Azhar sat up, ¡°And dat¡¯s when Caterine saved ya, eh?¡±


    ¡°You knew aobut dat to?!¡± started Cirin.


    ¡°She told me she saved ya and da girl from da basilisk gang, but refused ta tell me why ya were captured in da first place. Taba, well I imagined she got taken fa her title as she claims herself ta be some count. But you?¡± Azhar shook his head, ¡°It¡¯s noting mouse. I was just a little concerned. So den Taba. If you and da prince somehow met her in Ezmir, den she must be somewhat of a traveller and a good one to if she¡¯d been travelling by herself. Caterine and da prince seem ta tink well of her, so I suppose I should give her a chance to.¡±


    ¡°About dat.¡± Started Cirin. ¡°Taba, she-¡± Cirin choked on his own words. He balled his fists and his chest buckled. He had the ability to remove her from their group. He tossed his eyes to Azhar. He needed only to tell him the truth. About who she was, about what she¡¯d done. But then he would¡¯ve betrayed the pact they made.


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t truly be defeating her.¡± He hushed under his breath.


    ¡°What was dat, mouse?¡±


    ¡°Taba.¡± He clarified, ¡°She¡¯s not someone I¡¯ll accept as a companion just yet. I dun trust her even she trusts ya. Why is dat anyway? What spell she play on ya?¡±


    ¡°Spell?¡± Chuckled Azhar. He leaned forwards and rested his head on tips of his knuckles, ¡°Sometimes when ya see someone who¡¯s lost a lot even if dey dun tell ya, ya strive ta help em. No reason. No trick to it, just instinct. Call it human nature.¡±


    ¡°Dat¡¯s ridiculous! Instinct?¡± mocked Cirin, ¡°Ya letting her stay wit us based on a feeling? If it wa up ta my instincts, old mon, I¡¯d cut ties wit her right away. She¡¯s an arrogant, bad mouthed, unreasonable, and insufferable pain.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s a innocent girl without a home nor a family.¡± Retorted the man, ¡°Have a heart, mouse. By the way ya care fa Sol, I know ya have one.¡±


    Azhar lifted off the seat then, leaving Cirin to shoot up after him.


    ¡°Train now.¡± Instructed Azhar with his back to the boy. ¡°Practice ya stance, make sure it¡¯s perfect. Den ya swings, and most importantly ya stretches.¡± The old man stretched his own arms and glanced at Cirin as he made his way to the pack snakes, ¡°I¡¯m going ta rest a bit fa my night shift. Oh and mouse.¡± His tired stride halted, ¡°I¡¯m glad ya finally told me da truth, mouse.¡± He noted before continuing.


    What followed was the slowest four hours of training Cirin ever endured. Throughout it all, the stances, the swings, and even the stretches Cirin found himself staring at Taba while she conversed with the members of the company. The worst about it was that he had no way of telling what they talked about. He entertained the idea of walking in on the discussions, but knew that if Taba even heard his steps she would derail the topic and move on to the next. So Cirin waited.


    After his final stretch, he capitalized on Taba¡¯s absence from Catherine and Sol. He crossed the distance to them in seconds, as the were giggling by the larger pack snake by the exit to the clearing.


    ¡°Cirin!¡± called Sol, ¡°Done with practice?¡±


    ¡°Yes, my prince.¡± Said Cirin with a glance at Azhar, ¡°I tink I can rest now witout da old mon breathing down my back when he stirs.¡±


    ¡°I saw you looking at us earlier.¡± Detected Catherine. The smile on her face told all about what she was thinking.


    ¡°Yes.¡± Sighed Cirin, ¡°It¡¯s about Taba. What did she talk to ya about?¡±


    Sol seemed giddy to answer, but Catherine was quick to quell his urge. She kept one hand on the prince¡¯s shoulder.


    ¡°You mustn¡¯t be surprised to learn we talked with her, Cirin. She is a member of our company after all.¡± Explained Catherine, ¡°But, it was quite unlike her to ask about what she did.¡±


    ¡°You!¡± Brimmed Sol, ¡°She wanted to learn about you!¡±


    Cirin made a frown, he could not say he shared the same enthusiasm as his younger counterpart.


    ¡°What about me?¡±


    Catherine started laughing between closed lips, ¡°Nothing to worry about, Cirin.¡± She calmed the boy, prying her hand from sol¡¯s shoulder to place it on Cirin¡¯s, ¡°You suspect her too much, yet you two share more than you know. You¡¯re the same age for starters.¡±


    Catherine lowered her chin when Cirin refused to change his expression, ¡°I¡¯ve also taken this delay in our schedule as opportunity to question her.¡± Continued the scholar, ¡°thanks to this boy¡¯s presence,¡± She smiled at the prince, ¡°I¡¯ve determined Taba¡¯s role in the black tower plot.¡±


    ¡°You know about dat?¡± coughed Cirin.


    ¡°I will admit it makes me awfully curious about the magic required to do such a thing and the morality of it well¡­ Cirin, if that¡¯s what has been bothering you, Taba had not actually broken a tower.¡±


    ¡°I know dat, it¡¯s just-¡±


    ¡°Sol did you happen to remember the time I scheduled with her.¡±


    ¡°Yes mam.¡± Saluted the prince.


    Catherine turned back to Cirin, ¡°Cirin, you must hear this! Taba agreed to divulge what she¡¯s been taught about the towers! Can you believe that? Her knowledge alone could open entirely new doors into my research. Cirin?¡±


    ¡°Ya won¡¯t tell da uddas about it?¡± Cirin¡¯s eyes snapped to the prince, ¡°Neida of ya?¡±


    Sol made a motion to seal his lips while Catherine nodded stoutly.


    ¡°That goes without saying.¡± Confirmed the girl.


    Cirin glanced at Taba once more. Now she was talking to both Manama and Toftof. There was laughter, gasps, the usual snickering Manama, and the unavoidable red aced Toftof. First Azhar, then Sol and Catherine, now even those two? Cirin dug his fingers into his palms. Little by little Taba had wormed her way into their little circle and only half of them knew the truth.


    They left the clearing by the evening.


    Unlike before, the road now was nearly barren. Azhar had been correct once again. They made down the road without delay.


    As discussed, Cirin, Sol, Catherine, and Taba all leapt on the pack snakes to sleep when night had fully set in, while the other three took to guiding the snakes.


    Cirin and Sol stuck to the front snake while Taba and Catherine kept to the back one.


    Sol fell asleep as quickly as ever, yet Cirin could only lay there on his back, his eyes permanently open. A simple question repeated in his head a thousand times.


    What if she won?


    Even she had, he knew the people who he¡¯d be forced to abandon would never let it happen. But now? They seemed to trust the girl more every day. Cirin rolled to his side. She could do more than him too. She had magic, she knew the land, and she could heal wounds. She was everything he was and more.


    As his thoughts hammered within him, the air became stiflingly cold. He huddled himself to keep warmth and when he did, he heard the distant buzz of the locust swarm. A bug by itself merely buzzed, a couple began to sound as if it were static, but a swarm was something more. Even if it were well into the distance he could discern it as well as the wind. A million wing beats, the myriad of chirps of countless more. Together it formed nothing short of a brilliant indisputable ballad of the night. It was the sound of the ocean, of waves, of deafening force.


    Cirin¡¯s eyes began to drift then. He had heard the ocean every night since he was born. No lamanorin slept without the waves in their ears. It was therapy. He became immediately entranced and quickly fell into slumber.


    Not Even Toftof¡¯s yawn woke him from that.


    ¡°Oi azhar, I might fall asleep on ya.¡± Warned Toftof.


    ¡°Da sound of da bugs?¡± replied Azhar.


    ¡°Aye sounds like Da Ocean.¡±


    Azhar let out a laugh, ¡°Da weakness of all Lamanorins.¡± He declared.


    Come the next day, they stopped by a clearing by noon once again. This time, Azhar argued that they had traveled too far at night, and needed to give the snakes some time to rest before moving on.


    Cirin noted that they had traveled fairly well down the mountain pass by now and in fact were bound to travel to a place further down than ground level. There camp that day consisted of a unceremonious spot near a mess of low rolling hills.


    He teetered over a nearby fall. The legendary valley the pilgrims had talked of lay ahead of him in full glory. It was teeming with life.


    The same trees that grew just before the mountain pass flourished in the valley below, yet instead of displaying the familiar golds, this valley was as luscious as Gin.


    Some of the trees grew massive enough to tower above the sea of green below them, and in one particular area there was no forest at all. Instead, a field of grass lay barren save for a manse which sat squarely in the midst of it. The Manse was an immaculate thing. Just on first inspection, Cirin counted nine floors, more than he had ever seen in any palace.


    Azhar gave it a title, ¡°Da Grand Valley Inn.¡± Azhar patted the boy on the shoulder, ¡°Since da self training worked sa well yestaday, I¡¯ll have ya do it again today.¡±


    Cirin frowned at the man. No doubt he just wanted to sleep. Azhar¡¯s subsequent yawn only proved that.


    ¡°Anyting ta get away from ya foul breath.¡± Waved Cirin.


    Azhar breathed into his own hand and gagged, ¡°A problem I¡¯ll be solving when we reach dat inn tammara.¡± he retorted


    ¡°Tammara?¡±


    ¡°Aye, we aren¡¯t far mouse. Now, go train befa I change my mind.¡±


    Cirin nodded to that, fearing the man truly did mean to breath on him.


    As always he looked for Taba first. This time, it seemed she was clear to go train, as she was nowhere to be seen at the camp. Cirin wondered why she did that. Perhaps because she wanted to hide her magic? Though it was clear everyone knew of that. Cirin spotted Toftof as he zoomed passed the man. Everyone that mattered anyway.


    Cirin nodded to himself when he reached the first of many hills. He glanced back at where the pack snakes were. Perhaps he¡¯d try training in solitude as well.


    He found two benefits upon commencing his lonely regimen. One, he had no distractions, and two, he could respond to the voice without anyone raising a brow. Still, it had been weeks since the voice had spoken to him, so the second point was merely a pleasant addition.


    ¡°I tink she¡¯s just trying ta learn of ways ta beat me.¡± Roared Cirin as he swung his blade forward.


    Surely if that were her intention your allies would have told you so, pig child.


    ¡°Why else would she talk to dem?¡±


    Have you ever considered that she genuinely wants to stay with your group?


    Cirin paused his swing, ¡°No.¡± he convinced himself, ¡°Dat girl¡¯s only here ta thwart me. Why da udda day when I showed her my stance, your stance, she laughed at me.¡±


    Hmm, perhaps you have a point. One does not merely laugh at another man¡¯s stance.


    ¡°Right?¡± swung Cirin.


    But be that as it may, you must not let these idle thoughts distract you to the point where you cannot even fathom winning. Her power is considerable, but so is yours. Even if you happen to be restricted to that piddling weak pig body.


    Cirin lowered his blade, withdrew the second and took up his stance.


    ¡°What do ya tink of my blade by the way?¡±


    Trust, you called it?


    ¡°Ya know about dat? Huh. It seems everyone knows everyting dese days.¡±


    The blade is ornate, I will admit, but it trifles in comparison to my own blades. I did not name them as you have, but they bare importance all the same. One was a blade forged personally for me at the behest of a good friend, and the other was that of an ancient warrior passed down from mari to mari in my clan. Only the worthiest fighter could wield the blade. Ah, how I wonder who holds it now.


    ¡°Maybe when I get olda I can go ova dere, to da east as ya say, and claim dat blade fa my own.¡±


    You? A pig? Impossible. You couldn¡¯t even lift the thing.


    ¡°Not yet.¡± Conceded Cirin, ¡°But I¡¯ll be able to in da future and sa much more.¡±


    Only if you beat the girl that is.


    ¡°Ya, if only.¡±


    It surprises me the girl even manages to hold a title whilst being a shaman. In my land that would be considered a crime.


    ¡°How so?¡±


    Shamans are powerful, yes. But they must use that power to serve the land. That is their calling. From what you¡¯ve seen and heard of this girl and how you¡¯ve described her to me, bar the insults, she appears to be very much indebted to these towers. As if that is the part of the land she serves.


    A ball of sweat rolled down his temple as he focussed on the front blade, ¡°I dun tink dat¡¯s right mon. Ta say anyone be bound by someting dey be born into. Da way Sol is. Well, I say no one should be stuck like dat. Not even dat noble.¡±


    How strange. And yet you despise slaves as you do.


    ¡°Dey chose deir course.¡±


    Not all of them quipped the voice.


    ¡°Even if dose slaves back in dat city be bound by something dat was already decided fa dem, dey can still chose ta run. Dey have arms ta break deir chains, feet ta run away wit.¡±


    And you assume they know of that option? You are na?ve pig-child.


    ¡°Shut it, ya headless voice.¡±


    The voice paused for a bit, though Cirin was sure it was not due to his request.


    There is another matter I wish to discuss with you, child. Or rather, test out so to speak. Put a way your blades.


    Cirin hesitated. He could feel the voice¡¯s presence linger on. Strangely, he had been out longer than usual. There must have been a reason for that. He let himself breath while he sheathed his blades.


    Now sit down, cross-legged I possible, press your fists together and close your eyes.


    ¡°What good will dat do?¡±


    I do not have much time. Listen to me this once.


    Cirin wanted to protest, but he understood the truth in the voice¡¯s words. If it disappeared now, there was no telling when, even if, it¡¯d reappear. He sat down, crossed his legs, and pushed his hands together at the knuckles.


    He let the last image he saw of the world burn in the back of his mind. Oblong mountains stretched in the distance, a series of rolling green hills coveted the foreground, and a mist lingered over the forest below. It smelled of mint and lavender. The fields were ripe with the stuff. The air was breezy, a comforting thing.


    Cirin shut his eyes. Black, the inside of his eyelids. And then, true black.


    He felt motionless, bodiless, the cold sting of air vanished without warning. Frightened, he tried opening his eyes, but when he did, there was nothing but black. His body returned to him, yet now he was floating.


    A voice, distant at first, prickled the back of his ears.


    ¡°Do you hear me, pig-child?¡±


    Cirin dared not breathe. It was the voice, yet it wasn¡¯t. This sounded real, not within him but behind. His neck arched on its own. The first thing he saw blurred passed him to his side and he followed it duely with his head.


    The moment the figure snapped into focus, he recognized it instantly. How could he not? It was the same figure he had seen a hundred times in his dreams. The same figure he recalled whenever he practiced that stance.


    ¡°Why can¡¯t I see ya face?¡± asked Cirin.


    ¡°Curious. Must be symptom of my fading.¡±


    Cirin shook his arms awake as he struggled to get up.


    ¡°No. Stop.¡± Urged the figure, aching closer, ¡°Sit still or you¡¯ll break the meditation.¡±


    ¡°Dis¡­ where? Am I trapped?¡±


    ¡°Listen before you ask. As I said just seconds ago, you need only stand up to leave. But to return, well that isn¡¯t so simple. Let¡¯s just say, your presence here is a joint effort, without my consent you cannot be here.¡±


    ¡°And where is here?¡±


    The figure sat down a little ways infront of the boy. He had the same black feathered from before, wearing the same robes as prior.


    ¡°In a space between you and I. It¡¯s quite complicated. If it wasn¡¯t for a few lessons I had learned from a particular shaman in my life I would not even have thought to do this. But that is beside the point, right now I need to learn whether or not I can trust you.¡±


    ¡°What are ya afta?¡±


    ¡°Your continued survival. To that end I wish to pass on to you my clan¡¯s ancient fighting techniques so you may do your best to endure.¡±


    Cirin cocked his head, ¡°But ya said I can¡¯t stand up. How do I even begin ta train?¡±


    The figure sprang to his feet, ¡°You proceed with the first step of any form of learning.¡± It reached behind its back and withdrew both blades, ¡°You listen. Observe.¡±


    He held his first blade well a head of him, the pommel leveled with his breast. The second blade, he adorned a little ways behind his head.


    ¡°You begin with your left hand.¡± He instructed, swiping the front blade down at angle, ¡°Then while you are doing that, arch forwards and continue with your right.¡±


    His body slid forwards as he drew his right blade over his head and in front of him.


    ¡°Whilst you are doing this, bring the left blade back like so.¡± He brought the blade behind him and ever so slowly brought it over his head.


    Cirin¡¯s eyes expanded as the figure snapped the right blade to the side that was a head of him.


    ¡°Return to the original posture where both arms are reversed.¡± Instructed the figure. ¡°Train this, instead of your swings.¡±


    ¡°Dat¡¯s it?¡± blurted Cirin.


    ¡°Well yes.¡± Answered the figure, lowering his blades.


    Cirin held his arms to his side, ¡°My fight wit Taba be in a couple days, how can I use dis to defeat her? Dis be da basics mon.¡± He protested.


    ¡°The basics are of the most import to your studies.¡±


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t ya show me dis earlier, den?¡± argued Cirin.


    ¡°As I¡¯ve said before, I¡¯ve only recently concocted this idea as a means to communicate with you.¡± Explained the figure. ¡°Besides, I suspect that opponent of yours may more willing to post pone that fight than you imagine.¡±


    ¡°What do ya mean she¡¯ll post pone?¡±


    The figure produced a peculiar chuckle, ¡°If only you observed mari as well as you did their positions, pig. As for now, you best mind your own position.¡±


    Cirin stood up instinctively, waking from the darkness as if it were a dream. He glanced about himself and sighed. There was no one watching him. The voice was right about one thing. Cirin never erred in the positions of his enemies. If someone had been watching him, they were no more.


    ¡°Voice?¡± he called out in his loneliness.


    Cirin plummeted to his bum. Of course he wasn¡¯t there. He had used Cirin¡¯s own caution against him.


    Slowly, the boy withdrew Trust from his back and squinted at the searing reflection of the sun against the steel. It was still bright out, probably not much past midday.


    Cirin leapt to his feet and rolled his shoulders. He¡¯d try out those swings after all.


    Once he made it back to camp, he spotted a particularly open spot beside Manama. Unlike the others who tended to stick together Manama oft spent her time alone with the snakes and if not that, tormenting Toftof.


    Cirin caught her staring his way as his steps spelled towards her. It seemed Toftof had enough of her ridicule for one day.


    ¡°Ah, Cirin.¡± Commented the woman as Cirin sat in front of her, ¡°How unusual for ya ta see me., dough Manama need not see ya eyes ta undastand ya have questions.¡±


    ¡°I do.¡± Nodded Cirin, ¡°What can ya tell me about talking ta some one, but wit out talkin to dem.¡±


    Manama scanned the others then motioned the boy to edge closer. ¡°Dis sounds ta be da workings of magic.¡± She whispered.


    Cirin could already see Sol looking his way, no doubt intent on greeting him. He had to hurry if he wanted answers. He lowered his ruby specs at the fortune teller, ¡°Do ya know of it or not?¡± he pressed.


    ¡°Dere be a way.¡± Confided Manama, ¡°It be called da Cleva¡¯ Man¡¯s Council, dough uddas name it ¡®a Place between you and I¡¯.¡±


    ¡°Dat¡¯s it!¡± started Cirin.


    Manama rose a telling brow, ¡°And why would da young Cirin know of dis, eh?¡± she prodded.


    ¡°How would I normally know?¡± asked Cirin.


    Manama smile proved he had passed some unwritten test, ¡°If it were a simple fortune tella, such as Manama, one would assume dat she learned of it from da many rumahs of da Black Flight.¡±


    ¡°Da same Black Flight behind da Black Necks?¡±


    Manama nodded, ¡°Some say da parentage of all Ilivanmar gangs. Da Cleva Man¡¯s Council be simple means ta talk to anudda in private. It be needin no special magic, just consent from bot membas and most importantly¡­¡± Manama slowly tossed her eyes to the figure of Taba approaching from the hills. Manama glanced back at Cirin, ¡°it requires da presence of one wit golden eyes.¡±


    Cirin squinted at Taba. His lips moved for him, ¡°How far?¡± He gasped.


    ¡°Manama say it need not be close. She heard of times people have used dis method witout the golden eyes knowing.¡± She rose both her brows and leaned in a little, ¡°We could try if we wanted.¡±


    Cirin shook his head, ¡°No, dat be ok. What else is dere about it?¡±


    Manama leaned back, ¡°When it begins, bot people enta a darkened room. One be sitting, da udda free ta move, yet only one of da two can choose ta leave end da session.¡±


    ¡°Da one sitting down.¡± Finished Cirin.


    Manama puffed, ¡°Ya learn well from da rumors. Fa dis reason only one of da membas holds all da powa in da room. Dis be a risk but also a benefit ta dose mo¡­ sinister of people.¡±


    ¡°But ya said bot membas have to consent?¡±


    Manama held up a finger, ¡°As it is a technique where bot membas need ta consent, less are suspicious of it. Dough, not many know of da consequences.¡±


    ¡°Except dose who heard da rumahs.¡±


    ¡°Except dose.¡± Agreed Manama.


    Cirin sat up, Azhar¡¯s telling steps forced a turn of the boy¡¯s head.


    ¡°Mouse, I expected ya ta train, but did ya decide ta sleep as well?¡± started Azhar.


    ¡°I was trainin a new way ta swing old mon.¡± retorted Cirin.


    ¡°To swing?¡± quipped Toftof quick on the man¡¯s heels, ¡°Like dis?¡± he pitted, boxing his fists ahead of him.


    ¡°No, wit my blades.¡±


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t matta, we going now. Get ya tings mouse.¡± Ordered Azhar.


    One by one the members of the company passed Cirin by as they threw their owns goods on the back of the pack snake. This was usual practice by then. Due to their increased company size one or two members would oft be forced to carry a few of their own things to relieve the weight the snakes had to bear. Normally, Manama or Taba got stuck with this measure as they were both the laziest and tardiest respectively.


    Cirin threw the rest of his things into a loosely tied knapsack. It would have to do for now. Once the first snake slithered away with Azhar and Toftof guiding it, Cirin stumbled to catch the second one. A slightly quicker Taba passed him by as he struggled. She too had to gather her things. Cirin paused. If he had blinked, he would have missed it.


    Just as Taba passed him by, he could¡¯ve sworn she looked at him. A face of disdain as usual? No. It was one of muddled eyebrows and sullen cheeks.


    ¡°Cirin?¡± called Sol from the back of the pack snake.


    Cirin tugged the last of his pack straps to ensure its rigidity, then ran to the prince. Even as he made his way to the prince, his eyes snapped to Taba, who had already started talking to Catherine by the snake¡¯s side. A telling smile from the girl made him question what he had saw just moments prior. Cirin shook his head.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± questioned the prince.


    Cirin smiled at the boy. It seemed the Sol was as keen to read his expression as he was Taba¡¯s.


    ¡°Noting ya imp.¡± He waved it by, ¡°I tink I¡¯ve been trainin¡¯ too much. I almost tought I saw Taba make a face dat wasn¡¯t disgusted at me.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s not that bad.¡± Pushed Sol.


    ¡°Well she hasn¡¯t proven uddawise.¡± Argued Cirin.


    The company continued on through the night and even into the morning. The timely trip led the company through a spiraling pathway. For hours, the scenery of the barren mountains persisted, until as they breached the valley mouth, that endless stones seemingly yielded to a host of luscious greens.


    Cirin spotted the Grand Valley Inn by noon the next day.

 Chapter 22, A Time for the Past, A Time for Stars

    It was even bigger than the pilgrims said it was. Atleast the size of five conjoined manses and more, Cirin counted nine floors all situated with windows all the way to the angled roof. Despite this enormity, the manse itself was still of simple design as it could have just as well been a box with a singular roof arching down.


    Azhar tapped Cirin on the shoulder and pointed to a large, dusted road a ways in front of the inn. Cirin stared it down well into the distance. It seemed to cut in right under where the sun would rise, sloping u pthe mountain path, and curving the hills beyond the rise.


    ¡°Look dere.¡± Started the man, ¡°Dat be where da locusts fly by.¡±


    ¡°How can ya tell?¡± grunted Cirin.


    ¡°A part from looking at it fa days from a distance? I¡¯d say from how da packs snakes seemed ta want ta go dere.¡±


    Cirin gagged at the sight of both pack snakes slithering towards the other side of the road. There were more pack snakes there. Much more.


    Then he noticed the crowds. He would have thought it impossible had he not seen the packed roads days prior. There were hundreds here. Most strayed from the main road, but everywhere else the travellers thrived.


    While most of the snakes of companies took to the other side of the road, the members of those companies themselves packed the open lawn adjacent to the inn. A ten dozen stalls operated upon the larger regions of the lawn, and most formed orderly lines along it.


    A well dressed man in night blue silks, approached them the moment they made to follow the snakes.


    ¡°Seven travellers and two snakes?¡± pipped the man, scribbling in his book.


    ¡°Ya, what of us?¡± entered Azhar.


    ¡°I¡¯m here ta induct ya into da locust festival.¡± Chimed the man, ¡°It be fairly swarmin dis year and I dun mean da bugs.¡±


    Azhar formed a frown, ¡°Right.¡±


    The man cleared his throat and continued, ¡°A wide variety of merchants have opened stalls in da appropriate areas dere,¡± He motioned to the lawn, ¡°whereas we¡¯ve designated spots fa pack snakes just across da road, dough it seems ya pack snakes have already gone dere demselves.¡±


    ¡°Why is dat?¡± asked Azhar.


    ¡°Dey smell free food Manama say.¡± Answered Manama.


    ¡°Da lady is quite right. Several of the more unfortunate locusts die here, at da base of da valley, so we sweep da remnants to da udda side of da road fa simplicity.¡± Smiled the man, ¡°As fa ya residence, we only ask dat ya refrain from camping near our residence fa da remainder of dis festival, instead we have plenty of room ta accommodate ya.¡±


    ¡°Hadar!¡± called out a shrill voice, ¡°Hadar, stop dis instant.¡± A plump woman ran out holding her dress as she did, ¡°I know dat man.¡±


    Azhar forced a smile and spread his arms a part, ¡°Ya rememba me, Ferah?¡±


    ¡°Hadar.¡± Repeated the women once she reached the greeter, ¡°Do not let dis man in my building.¡±


    ¡°Madam.¡±


    Azhar stepped towards the woman. He spoke as she turned to him, ¡°Ferah, I-¡±


    Ferah nudged a finger at Azhar chest and tossed him a pair of eyes that spelt an immeasurable hatred. Cirin could not help glaring at this precarious women as she stilled a man twice her height., light skinned for an illivanmar with tied back locks,


    Even then the voices of various festival goers echoed in the distance, the cries of merchants continued on, and the insufferable slithering of snakes made his ears curl.


    ¡°I know what ya did.¡± She hushed with ripe indignation. ¡°I haven¡¯t slept right since I heard dat awful rumor. Poor, poor Hannah.¡±


    Azhar shook his head, ¡°Ya have it wrong.¡±


    ¡°By da emperor¡¯s breeches, I won¡¯t believe da words of a muderuh.¡± She tossed her eyes about Azhar¡¯s company, ¡°I won¡¯t stop any of ya from enterin¡¯ my inn, but be advised dat dis man is not ta be trusted.¡±


    She puffed through her nose, turned heel, and made back to the building.


    Hadar fixed his collar and ran after the woman, ¡°Madam? Madam!¡± he cried.


    Cirin edged towards Azhar the moment the woman was gone, ¡°Who¡¯s Hannah?¡± He asked.


    Azhar tossed him a quick look, then turned to Manama of all people. Manama shrugged and Azhar sighed.


    ¡°It be noting, mouse.¡± Azhar shoved his hands in his pockets and started towards the snakes, ¡°Ya all heard her, I¡¯m ta be da one exception to da rule so I¡¯ll be making camp out here. Toftof, find a room fa us.¡± Azhar sat beside the nearest snake, ¡°Make it enough rooms fa six.¡±


    Cirin brushed by the inn door to a lobby that proved crawling with travellers. Between the snakes and azhar¡¯s reluctance to shed light on what the woman said, Cirin had enough of the outdoors.


    He glanced about the cavernous room, no Ferah in sight. The lobby had smooth granite flooring and had with it the statue of a woman with long hair and a man with two swords standing back to back. Cirin paced by this statue slowly as he continued his search. Despite the lavish interior, that statue seemed old and worn down.


    The woman in the sculpture wore the same garb as Manama, a bundled multilayered thing. Her frozen hair even had beads laced within. The man besides her seemed of the stoic type, with both swords stowed behind him and mundane leather jerkin courting his chest.


    He stared at the statue longer. The man¡¯s chin was finely cut his nose, crooked and a scar that appeared to be a crack at first levied under his eyes. He turned to the woman. As opposed to the man, her face was unblemished, while her eyes¡­ Cirin¡¯s mouth went agape. Her eyes were kind.


    A familiar touch on his shoulder made him snap back to reality. He relaxed his shoulder as Catherine came into view.


    ¡°You alright, Cirin? You just ran in here.¡± She started.


    Cirin nodded, cuffing one hand with another, ¡°A woman I neva saw befa just claimed my masta was a muderah. I got curious.¡± He admitted. ¡°Where¡¯s Sol?¡±


    ¡°With Toftof waiting outside. You honestly don¡¯t think Azhar¡¯s never killed before?¡± said Catherine.


    ¡°Of course he has.¡± Snipped Cirin. He lowered his head, ¡°Just da way she said it. What awful rumah was she talkin about? And who is dis Hannah.¡±


    ¡°She was a good woman.¡± Entered Manama.


    Cirin blinked her way, ¡°You knew her?¡± he started.


    Manama only smiled to that, ¡°Dat old mon of ya¡¯s, it be true he¡¯s done some awful tings in da past. But dat be in da past, Cirin. Betta ta let what is buried feed da sand sprites den ta dig it back up. Tell me what ya tink of da old mon now? Do ya trust him?¡±


    ¡°Not a bit.¡± Smiled cirin, ¡°Dough I trust him wit protectin da prince.¡±


    Catherine pepped up to that as addressed Manama, ¡°About that. Manama, I¡¯ve been meaning to ask you something without Azhar here. It¡¯s a bit of a gentle subject so would you mind talking in private?¡±


    Cirin tossed his head between the two, ¡°Private? Witout Azhar?¡± he coughed.


    ¡°I dun see da harm in it.¡± Shrugged Manama.


    ¡°Catherine, what is it mon?¡± pestered Cirin.


    ¡°I said, I wanted to discuss it in private.¡± Stressed Catherine.


    Cirin lowered his head with his eyes levied at the girl, ¡°I need to know.¡±


    Catherine shook her head, ¡°Look, I think I saw that women head into that bar over there,¡± She pointed to a door on the other end of the lobby, ¡°go, I¡¯ll come by shortly.¡±


    Cirin stood his ground, ¡°I won¡¯t leave.¡±


    Manama laughed to that, ¡°Ya dun have to. Rememba what we discussed yestaday, Cirin?¡±


    ¡°Ya wouldn¡¯t.¡± He started as he realised what she meant.


    Manama made her way to the nearest bench and sat down on it. Then she held up a palm in half prayer, ¡°Catherine, my girl?¡±


    Catherine nodded as soon as she got there, mimicking her action on the other side of the bench, ¡°I consent.¡± She murmured.


    ¡°Catherine!¡± blurted Cirin.  He slumped when he realised it was too late. Both women were now engrossed in a sleep like state. They were in the clever man¡¯s council.


    Sleepily, he tossed his head to his last reasonable resort. The entrance to the bar floated in the center of his sights.


    A decrepit thing, that bar. There was nary a dozen patrons the moment he walked in. Most of the dozen men were seated at the round tables on one end while three of them sat on stools by the counter. As it was in the lobby, the people here were as varied as ever. Among the three men seated by the stool, there was a tall wild haired swordsman downing what seemed his tenth glass, besides him a nervous and red faced old man glicking his white whiskers as he contemplated another cup. And there, on the far end sat one more man different from all the rest. He had pale white skin, long black hair, and piercing green eyes. A felian. One dressed as well as a noble with a peculiar black piercing on his left ear. Two burly men leaned side by side upon the wall nearest to the felian. Cirin flicked his eyes from bar goer to bar goer. Despite what Catherine claimed to have seen, the woman, Ferah, was not there.


    Taba brushed passed him as he turned to exit.


    ¡°Degenerate.¡± She greeted him.


    ¡°What do ya want?¡± sighed Cirin.


    Taba took her time to respond. He could see her brows narrowed at him, but her eyes kept tossing about. She bit her lip.


    ¡°I¡¯m leaving.¡± Waved Cirin.


    ¡°Can we postpone da duel?¡± shot Taba.


    Cirin¡¯s head snapped towards her. He felt the slightest hint of pleasure as a grin itched on his mug. She was afraid of him. The very sands had blown passed what he could only assume before. Her strange presence around him, the way she talked to others when he wasn¡¯t around, and most importantly that face she made at him. It was fear. A devious plot coagulated in his mind. He made a show to cover that face with one hand while his other supported his elbow. In that moment he realised he stood to gain from, so he wagered a bluff.


    ¡°Considerin ya most certain ta lose ta me, what will I stand ta gain by postponin¡¯?¡±


    Taba frowned and puffed, ¡°Isn¡¯t it punishment enough dat I need ask a peasant, as well as a degenerate about dis? Fine. How about a change of conditions?¡±


    ¡°Go on.¡± Urged Cirin.


    ¡°If I win, you need not leave, radda, I get ta stay witout da uddas finding out about me.¡±


    ¡°And if I win?¡±


    ¡°I leave. Fa good.¡± She hushed solemnly.


    Cirin lowered his arm. His eyes expanded. For once he was winning, yet it wasn¡¯t the feeling of satiating victory he¡¯d imagined. It was bittersweet. The more he tasted it was even more sour. He¡¯d earned her fear, but at the cost of a duel with unfair ends. He had nothing to gain, while she had everything to lose. Cirin shook his head. When had losing Taba been nothing to gain?


    He levied his ruby reds to her glimmering golds, ¡°Alright, but if we do dis, I suggest da duel be postponed till afta we leave da desert.¡±


    That queued something he had never seen of the girl, at the very least not directed towards him. A smile. That smile faded as she regained her composure, ¡°Dat seems ta be a fair compromise, fa a boorish brigand.¡± She nodded, ¡°On da outskirts of da bazaar den?¡±


    ¡°Easier ta leave witout getting noticed.¡± Added Cirin. No matter how sour it felt, he still had no intention of losing.


    The bar door creaked open and both children moved out of the way of it by instinct, yet the moment newest patron of the bar showed himself, both Taba and Cirin could only gawk.


    ¡°So-Sol?¡± gasped Cirin.


    ¡°Cirin!¡± cried the boy.


    Cirin¡¯s ear twitched. The nearest stool had scraped the ground and with it, a chorus of steps followed.


    One pai,r light and measured, while the other two spoke of a heavy bearing. Cirin¡¯s eyes balanced on the approaching trio, his ears had not failed him.


    He postured himself in front of the prince instinctively, but not quick enough.  The main man of the trio, a lanky fellow, had already gotten to him. The felian leaned down towards Cirin, his black hairs dangling as he spoke.


    ¡°Move aside wretch.¡± Spat the man.


    Cirin tilted his head. The man was smiling.


    Before he could reach for his blades, the man¡¯s two associates stepped close and held their own at both Cirin¡¯s throat and Taba¡¯s. The tips of those sabres pricked the skin of Cirin¡¯s neck. He couldn¡¯t so much as swallow with the blades so near. He tossed his eyes at Taba and found her in a similar position. Then and only then, did his quivering ruby specs fall upon the boy. As did the felian¡¯s.


    ¡°What are the odds I¡¯d find you here?¡± started the man. He brushed passed Cirin and made for the boy.


    Cirin struggled to speak without moving his throat, ¡°R-r-run.¡± He managed.


    ¡°and why would he do that?¡± Interjected the man. He turned his emerald eyes on the boy, ¡°Do you remember me, Sol? Surely you haven¡¯t forgotten you¡¯re brother.¡±


    ¡°Nero.¡± Quivered the boy.


    ¡°In the flesh dearest borther!¡± applauded the prince. He took another step towards Sol, and then without so much as a word, he grasped the boy by the collar and flung him to the side wall where his two bodyguards had just been leaning.


    Cirin shivered where he stood. He had half the mind to grasp the blade with one hand and run the felian through with the other.


    ¡°Restrain them.¡± Instructed Nero before Cirin could enact his plan, ¡°especially the girl.¡±


    Cirin realised that Taba had in fact tried to retaliate as well. Her hands were positioned to snap when the man grasped those hands and held it above her. Cirin¡¯s own captor did the same. Soon, both Cirin and Taba were both pressed against the wall.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    Cirin could only watch as Nero swaggered towards Sol speaking all the while.


    ¡°Your place as one the three is the only thing keeping you alive, brother. Oh but you¡¯ve already killed mother dearest haven¡¯t you? Not that I ever cared for the wretch. Are you still alive by the way?¡±


    Sol gagged and managed to sit up.


    Nero smiled to that, finishing the last of his steps to the prince, ¡°Looks to me that life with the sand savages has made you resilient.¡±


    Nero shoved his hands in his ornate pockets. ¡°Care if I test it?¡± He kicked Sol in the chest.


    ¡°No!¡± barked Cirin.


    Nero picked the boy up once more and slapped him across the face, ¡°Talk back, will you? This is supposed to be a reunion.¡±


    Sol kept silent, choosing only to blink meekly, so Nero batted the boy again, only this time with back of his hand.


    Nero scratched his face, ¡°I¡¯ve also heard that you¡¯ve been quite the popular royal lately. What was it? Three attempts on your life the last two months alone? Why, if I wanted to, I could kill you now. Wouldn¡¯t take a lot to hide it. Unfortunate accident.¡± He waved his free hand in gesture, ¡°That sort of thing. Father would even reward me. This country would reward me! The fact that no-one in this bar is acting to defend you is proof of that.¡±


    Nero glanced about himself as did Cirin. Almost all of the patrons had noticed the commotion, but had since looked away. The only man Cirin was sure had not noticed was the lone swordsman now drinking to his heart¡¯s content.


    ¡°See? So how about it, dear brother? Would you die for me?¡±


    The door creaked. Steps echoed and with it a gasp that could only belong to one person.


    The tone of Catherine¡¯s voice spelled out her shock. ¡°Cirin? Taba?¡± a flick of the neck, ¡°By the gods! Sol?¡±


    Nero dropped Sol the moment he saw the girl, ¡°A beauty to be sure. Nay! A gem in succulent flesh.¡± He took steps towards her, ¡°Do you have a name, my girl?¡±


    Catherine rushed passed him to Sol¡¯s side.


    Nero turned heel, his unblemished mug a distort of disgust, ¡°Gah! What do you see in him, that you do not in me?¡±


    ¡°Sol? Dear gods, Sol? Are you alright? Hold on, I¡¯ll get you to Toftof.¡±


    ¡°t-th-the others.¡± Coughed sol, meekly pointing at Taba and Cirin.


    Catherine¡¯s eyes expanded when she saw them, ¡°Fiends! Unhand them!¡± She stood with her back immaculately straight. She levied one hand at the burly men, the tips of her fingers glimmering with light.


    Nero stepped in the way and the light in Catherine¡¯s fingertips vanished abruptly. She glanced at her own hands. Her face had become a flush with confusion.


    ¡°Galokin magic? I must be the luckiest prince alive.¡±


    ¡°how?¡± started Catherine.


    The prince let out a telling laugh and tapped his earing, ¡°This earing. With it, I¡¯m immune to the magic of Galokin, darling, as is my elder brother and the king of our great country.¡± He edged closer to Catherine, ¡°Now shall I escort you to my bed chambers?¡±


    Catherine looked from one hand to the other and held  both of them up as Toftof would have.


    ¡°I may not have magic, but I¡¯ll fight you and your goons anyday.¡± She dared.


    ¡°That¡¯s cute.¡± Humored the prince. He shot one hand in the air and snapped it, ¡°One of you, kill the child you¡¯re holding and restrain this girl.¡±


    The burly man holding Cirin nodded to his compatriot and freed one of his hand to reach his blade.


    ¡°What?¡± gawked Cirin at his mustached captor, ¡°You¡¯re killing me instead of her?¡±


    ¡°Well, I am a girl you twat.¡± Snapped Taba.


    Cirin reared his eyes to his captor, ¡°Is that really your reason?¡±


    The man grunted and shrugged.


    ¡°Cirin!¡± cried Catherine, stuck between Sol and Nero.


    Cirin narrowed his eyes. There had to be a way. He realised it the moment he saw Taba¡¯s reflection on his assailant¡¯s blade.


    ¡°Wait! I know someting dat might interest ya.¡±


    The burly man held his blade.


    ¡°Speak.¡± He grunted in baritone.


    Nero dodged the first of Catherine¡¯s punches .¡°What are you doing you fool, kill him!¡± ordered the prince.


    ¡°Well.¡± Started Cirin, ¡°Da girl next ta me? She can destroy da towas.¡±


    ¡°Shut up!¡± screamed Taba. ¡°Da isn¡¯t true!¡±


    ¡°See? She be denying it sa it must be true. I hear da emperor pays good money for dat.¡± Wagered Cirin, ¡°But only if ya hear me out. Consent, and I¡¯ll tell ya personally.¡±


    ¡°Why should I believe some kid?¡± chuckled the man.


    ¡°Maybe he be tellin da truth mon.¡± shrugged the other captor, ¡°I heard a couple black necks boastin bout deir pays in a bar back in Benka.¡±


    ¡°Still.¡±


    ¡°Alright, dun believe me den. Kill me as any good dog of a foreign prince would do, gain ya pay same as always, but dun be regretting dis one chance ya may have had to be something mo.¡±


    ¡°Something mo?¡± echoed the man.


    ¡°Something bigga.¡± Enticed Cirin.


    Just when he thought his ploy had worked, another stool scrapped out. Then quick steps and a thud so quick he would have missed it if he were speaking. Cirin¡¯s captor swayed a little infront of him, then abruptly let go of the boy and fell backwards. Taba¡¯s captor did the same.


    A single man, sheathing his blade with his back to the children stood ahead of them. Cirin blinked. It was the drunk swordsman, wild haired and badly dressed.


    ¡°Oi, prinsh of whateva kingdom ya from. Let da girl go.¡± Slurred the man. He swayed to the side revealing his uncouth face to the Cirin. From there, the man winked slyly at Catherine, possibly even the prince.


    Cirin reached for his blades, but the man steadied him with one hand held up.


    ¡°Do not speak to me in that way you sand knave, my stature is much higher than you or your emperor will ever be born into.¡± The prince balanced his eyes on the man¡¯s sword hand once the drunkard reached for his blade, ¡°If you even draw that blade, I can have you executed.¡±


    The man rose his arms to that as if he had given up. ¡°Sorry, sorry.¡± he started as he swayed towards the prince, ¡°den how aobut we discuss dis, eh? Good and propah, eh?¡±


    Nero fixed his coat, ¡°Clearly you have proven yourself above my current help. How about you work for me. At the moment, you seem to be against to my advances towards this girl, which I cannot fathom why. But I¡¯m sure with a little monetary convincing, you¡¯ll changed your mind just as quick.¡±


    The drunk produced a fool¡¯s smiles and gestured the prince to come closer with a finger.


    The prince tossed that same smile back at Catherine and approached the drunk, his hand already reaching into his coat pocket.


    The prince had his eyes on Catherine all the while, who had since abandoned her defence to care for Sol.


    ¡°I see you are a reasonable man, mister¡­?¡±


    ¡°Sank.¡± Said the man as stepped ever closer.


    ¡°Mister Sank. Though we can discuss your payments on a later date, for now I¡¯ll pay you five-¡±


    Catherine narrowly managed to whisk Sol away as Nero¡¯s disgruntled body slammed against the wall.


    ¡°You- you Creton!¡± swore Nero, as he stood up, ¡°I¡¯ll have you strung! I¡¯ll have you burned and butchered! I¡¯ll have you¡­ I¡¯ll¡­¡±


    Nero voice degenerated into a matter of ahs and ums while his eyes trailed to the man who stood above him, towering.


    That man picked the prince up by his collar.


    ¡°I came here ta drinksh and relash, but next tign I know dere be damned children held againsht walls and women being harrashed by snoty princesh. Ya know what I mean?¡± he blurted at the prince.


    ¡°Unhand me.¡± Roared Nero.


    ¡°Get ya pampered tailcoats out of my bar.¡±


    ¡°But this lovely lady-¡±


    ¡°NOW.¡±


    Nero audibly gulped. ¡°Yes, sir.¡± He nodded.


    Sank dropped the man and watched him with the corner of his eyes as the once proud prince crawled away from him and bumbled out the bar. Cirin and Taba ran to Sol.


    Sank cracked his knuckles and burped loudly. He swayed a little and barely managed to catch himself on the wall.


    ¡°Oi, girl.¡± He said, swaying his head to Catherine, ¡°Ish dat shrimp alright?¡±


    Catherine nodded, ¡°He¡¯s breathing. A couple bruises, but otherwise ok. Thank you.¡±


    Sank motioned his hand to the barkeep, ¡°I tink I¡¯ve had enough ta drink, give my bill to dis girl.¡± His slow eyes drifted to Catherine, ¡°I dun work fa free ya know.¡±


    After that Sank waddled to the door and left it, stopping briefly to let someone else pass by him.


    ¡°Spirits! Is he-he¡­?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s alive, Toftof.¡± Said Catherine, addressing the man, ¡°Where, by the gods, were you?¡±


    ¡°We split up searchin fa him rememba? Let me see to him.¡±


    Catherine and others got out of the way as Toftof hoisted the boy up, feeling his chest. ¡°Spirits. Spirits. Spirits! He¡¯s got a few broken ribs, a couple of bruises,¡± He held Sol¡¯s head down, ¡°Some bleeding on da head. What happened?¡±


    ¡°His brudda happened. Do one named Nero.¡± Entered Taba.


    ¡°Brudda? Spirits.¡± Cursed Toftof for the hundredth time, ¡°First da princess, now Nero? Just how many of Galokin¡¯s royalty are is dis country?¡±


    Catherine caught Toftof¡¯s eyes, ¡°You don¡¯t think this is related to the attack at Gin? That Nero¡¯s the one behind it?¡± she postured.


    ¡°It could be.¡± Sighed Toftof, dressing the last of Sol¡¯s wounds with tattered scraps from his shirt.


    Again the door creaked open. Manama and Azhar entered together.


    ¡°Old mon.¡±


    ¡°Cirin. Taba.¡± His eyes snapped to Sol. ¡°Who did dis?¡± he said stoutly.


    ¡°No one we can go afta, I¡¯m afraid.¡± Said Toftof, ¡°Ya familiar wit da prince Nero?¡±


    Azhar slammed the nearest wall with his fist, prompting glances from the patrons.


    ¡°are we safe anywhere?¡± he questioned aloud.


    ¡°Sir? Sir!¡± Hadar¡¯s voice beat his steps to the door, ¡°You are ta vacate dis building, immediate- oh my.¡± Hadar stopped short of the Toftof caring for an injured Sol. ¡°Oh. Madam, ya mustn¡¯t come here.¡±


    That redirected Cirin¡¯s attention to the woman from before, only now standing at the base of a shaded set of stair he had missed earlier. Cirin craned hs head. It was on the other end of the bar counter, hidden behind a collection of drinks.


    ¡°I had heard what I could¡¯ve only described as a brawl coming from da bar.¡± She started calmly, ¡°why am I not surprised dat it you, Azhar, dat was behind it.¡±


    ¡°He wasn¡¯t, Madam.¡± Corrected the bar keep, ¡°Da foreign prince who had been staying here was da culprit.¡±


    ¡°Nero?¡±


    ¡°He assaulted da boy dere and insinuated da girl beside him ta bed wit da bastard.¡± The barkeep lowered his head, ¡°excuse my language.¡±


    ¡°No. you¡¯re right. Nero was a bastard.¡± Conceded Ferah, ¡°And which one of you shall I tank fa removing dat blight?¡±


    ¡°Dat man is gone as well, madam.¡±


    Ferah nodded to herself, ¡°Well.¡± She started, clasping her hands, ¡°What are ya lot waiting fa? Come wit me. I can¡¯t have a guest beaten in my inn witout compensation.¡±


    Toftof hoisted the boy on his shoulders and one by one the company made after Ferah.


    ¡°Ferah, I need ta talk ta ya.¡± Said Azhar.


    Ferah paused and sighed, ¡°I still dun trust ya, but considerin¡¯ what happened to dat poor boy ya be caring fa, I suppose I owe ya dat much.¡± She gestured her head at Azhar to follow her. ¡°Prepare yaselves. We be going up nine flights.¡±


    Ferah rarely talked as she guided them up. Though, Cirin imagined, she would have gotten little responses if she tried. All eyes, even those of Sol¡¯s carrier, were focussed on the beaten boy. Catherine tried her best to keep him awake with her notorious ability to chatter, whilst Manama and Azhar formed held the flanks in check. It seemed they left nothing to chance on the matter. Cirin followed helplessly. His gaze remained fixated on the stairs when he wasn¡¯t gawking at Sol. His hands were useless. He could only ball them. It was Gin all over again. Perhaps even Ezmir. Perhaps even Lamanori.


    One day he would fail again. One day that failure could mean Sol¡¯s life.


    Cirin was nigh quivering when the pummel of feet surrendered.


    ¡°We¡¯re here.¡± Noted Taba.


    Cirin looked to her. Her face was unmoved. Her golden eyes plastered directly in front of her. He wondered what went on in her mind when she saw what he did. If it truly had bothered her, then she was a master of hiding it. Cirin scowled her away, tossing his narrowed gaze at Sol.


    Azhar¡¯s hand met Cirin¡¯s shoulder, ¡°Oi, mouse.¡± Started the man, ¡°I gadered what happened from Catherine. Ya didn¡¯t fail. Ya were just caught off guard. No matta how strong da swordsman he be still a man. Dun forget dat.¡±


    ¡°Old mon.¡± Cirin sniffed and wipe his brow. He nodded curtly.


    Azhar let go and made for Ferah. He glanced about himself and Cirin found himself doing the same. At first glance, it was a maze of hallways, with a door in the wall at even distance. From how apart each door was from another, it was clear that these rooms were of no small dimension.


    Even the crisp velvet carpet and the light golden walls assured that this was no regular inn.


    ¡°Is dis where we stay?¡± queried Azhar.


    Ferah produced a ring with nearly a hundred keys jiggling on it, ¡°It¡¯s normally reserved fa visitin¡¯ nobility but eva since dat Nero showed his face, all nobility has wondered off. Wit him gone to, dis floor should be completely empty.¡± She tossed her mossy eyes to Azhar, ¡°Dis entire floor be yours.¡±


    ¡°I appreciate it.¡± Said Azhar.


    ¡°I dun need ya to.¡± Quipped the woman. She nudged her head at the others, ¡°go, take whateva room ya see fit. Dey be unlocked. Da only room dat is locked however.¡± She returned her weary eyes to the man who gave warrant for them to be weary, ¡°Dat is my room. We talk dere, come.¡±


    Azhar followed her as she bode him to the far end of their immediate hall.


    ¡°Cirin?¡± croaked the prince.


    ¡°Ah ya be awake, Sol?¡± smiled Cirin.


    ¡°Can we¡­ Can we explore?¡± coughed the prince.


    ¡°Ya be too weak, my prince.¡± Warned Toftof.


    ¡°Not wit such a trusted mule carrying him.¡± Laughed Manama.


    ¡°Oi-¡±


    ¡°How about we go down dere den?¡± started Cirin, ¡°I bet every room be different.¡±


    ¡°If it involves nobles, I imagine it is.¡± Agreed Catherine. ¡°Taba?¡±


    Taba glanced over her shoulder from the hallway she was heading into, ¡°I¡¯ll explore on my own.¡± She said.


    ¡°No. I¡¯ll go with you.¡± urged Catherine.


    Taba smiled as the older girl jogged to meet her, ¡°I¡¯d like that.¡± She beamed.


    Cirin pointed directly opposite to where Taba was heading, ¡°We go dis way.¡± He commanded.


    ¡°Heh. He looks like Azhar and ordahs like him to.¡± snarked Toftof.


    Manama swaggered forwards, laughing at the inclination, ¡°Manama say he¡¯s learned mo dan just fightin from da man. One need only look at his hair.¡±


    Cirin scowled at her but not so much as to dismiss her company. Cirin lowered his head, if this really was Nero¡¯s former lodgings then he¡¯d rather not explore them alone. After all, Manama was much more capable than she let on.


    Thankfully, his fears remained unfounded as all of the rooms and the hallways proved deserted. The rooms themselves were a thing of wonder. Nearly all were triple the size of an ordinary room and each happened to distinct on its own. The first of the rooms Cirin¡¯s poked into wagered a bar in it¡¯s corner and a miniature pool in the other. Another room seemed no more than a fully cushioned lounge with unhealthy amount of liquors piled in a singular middle table. Yet another boasted a magnificent palisade with a beautifully crafted bramble hosting a corner of its own. Cirin stumbled into this one with a face just short of awe and splendor. The middle of this room had its own boxed rotunda with a skylight pouring into the already verdant greens of the bramble. The room was scented to. It smelle d of lavender and honey.


    ¡°I¡¯ll stay here.¡± Declared Cirin.


    ¡°Me too!¡± joined in Sol.


    Toftof laughed with a smile on his face and his eyes upturned to the boy on his back, ¡°any one of dese rooms be big enough fa all of us, so ya can count me as a room mate.¡±


    Manama leaned against one of the archways of the rotunda, ¡°Perhaps it be best if all of us stay here. Fa security.¡± She postured.


    For once Toftof nodded agreeingly at the woman, ¡°Betta get Azhar knowing of dis, lest we have da poor sop wonda around.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll go.¡± Volunteered Cirin.


    ¡°Den I¡¯ll find Taba and Caterine.¡± Entered Manama.


    With their tasks assigned Cirin left, stopping only to bid the prince adieu.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be right back. Promise.¡± He uttered.


    Sol smiled at him weakly. Toftof had let him down by one of the lounge couches by the wall. The man had already begun tending to the boy¡¯s wounds.


    Toftof bounced in front of the prince, ¡°Dun worry. If dat Nero shows up, I¡¯ll pommel him twice as hard as he did da prince.¡±


    Cirin pushed open the door, finding it nigh impossible to drag his eyes off the prince. He took a deep breath. If Nero reared his muzzle once more, Cirin would¡¯ve done much worse than just pommel the lout.


    Cirin brushed passed the ornate woodwork. His brows contorted and his head throbbed. He wanted the man dead.


    The walk back to the stair well was a quick one. His pace played a steady tempo as he raced himself to the stair well, yet little by little that near perfect beat tapered silent. He could hear voices. Voices that got louder as he edged towards them by instinct.


    The first muffled voice was shrill, a woman¡¯s. Once he got closer, he recognized it to be Farah¡¯s ¡°So, you¡¯re ta tell me ya dat not only did Hannah die by her own hands, but da reason why¡­ da boy ya be escortin be wanted dead?¡±


    Cirin balled his hands. ¡°Sol.¡± He whispered aloud.


    ¡°I¡¯m not da only one escorting him. Da fortune tella and da sandrat be escorting him too.¡± Answered Azhar, ¡°Dat boy be da only reason dey here.¡±


    ¡°Incredible.¡± Hushed Ferah.


    ¡°Not incredible. Unfortunate.¡± Snapped Azhar, ¡°He was safe in Lamanori, but eva since dis all happened he¡¯s been in constant dangah.¡±


    ¡°Eva since da first assasination attempts ya mean?¡±


    There was no answer, but Cirin was sure the man had nodded.


    ¡°Every day I tink dere be less and less of a place ta go dat be safe.¡± Sighed Azhar.


    ¡°Dere is one place.¡± Pointed out Ferah, ¡°Da Bazaar.¡±


    ¡°Absolutely not.¡±


    ¡°Tink about it ya big oaf, out of all da free cities dat one has da most capable fightahs in all Illivanmar. I mean, you, Jafna, and Etro all came from dere and ya be da best around!¡±


    ¡°humpf.¡± Puffed Azhar, ¡°Not da best. Dat man be betta dan all of us.¡±


    ¡°Hyrin?¡±


    ¡°Aye, I ran inta him a couple months ago at Ezmir. He hasn¡¯t changed, Ferah. Da same as always. Dough a little different somehow as if-¡±


    ¡°As if he means it dis time? Dat man will destroy dis country if ya let him. ¡± sneered Ferah, ¡°You and ya friends were kind to me and Sen simply cause ya wanted ta do da right ting. Dat man, however, wanted only ta help wit da hopes of getting Sen on his side latah on. If it wasn¡¯t fa ya convincing him uddawise, Sen may have neva decided ta stay here wit me.¡±


    A silence intruded upon the mention of ¡®Sen¡¯.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry ta hear about Sen by da way.¡±


    Ferah¡¯s laugh revealed a hint of her age, ¡°It¡¯s been twenty years, Azhar. Twenty good years wit da man I loved. I regret noting about dose couple decades, and  I tank da spirits every day fa letting me have him. Da point is, Hyrin almost took dat away from me. Ya stopped him. And yet I tought none of dat mattah¡¯d when I heard ya killed ya sistah.¡±


    Cirin flinched.


    Ferah soldiered on, ¡°I was sa busy wit dis business I didn¡¯t stop ta find ya and confirm it myself. Fa dat I¡¯m da one dats sorry.¡±


    ¡°Ya believe me den?¡±


    ¡°Ya not da kind ta lie, Azhar. I should¡¯ve known betta befa overreactin¡¯. ¡±


    ¡°Ferah.¡± Started the man, ¡°I don¡¯t intend ta stay here long. It neva bodes well when we do.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t tink ya would. Dough I couldn¡¯t have ya leavin less ya can assure me ya be heading ta da bazaar.¡±


    Azhar¡¯s sigh was a telling one, ¡°Ya dun get it. If YOU reacted da way ya did ta dat rumor, how ya tink my folks will? Dey may well be alive ova dere.¡±


    ¡°Tell dem da truth and dey will undastand. Radda, show dem da truth.¡±


    Azhar¡¯s voice had become laden with breaths, ¡°I suppose, I¡¯ll tink about it.¡± Said Azhar.


    ¡°Does he know?¡±


    Silence then Ferah¡¯s infuriated sigh.


    ¡°Ya bickering idiot, when ya gonna tell him, eh?¡±


    The sound of chairs scrapping warned Cirin to escape. As he did, he heard Azhar fading voice, ¡°When he¡¯s old enough.¡± Echoed the man.


    Cirin ran up to a little ways by the stairs, then turned and made it look as if he had been casually strolling to where Azhar had gone.


    The door to Ferah¡¯s room swept open as Cirin finalized this act.


    ¡°Mouse?¡± questioned Azhar, ¡°How long ya been here?¡±


    Cirin played it off, directing the man with his chin over his shoulder, ¡°Just got here, old mon. Toftof sent me ta fetch ya, said we best be staying in da same room.¡±


    ¡°Wise choice.¡± Remarked Ferah. She had her eyes glued on Cirin. She had those spec narrowed, giving them a curious distinction. ¡°I¡¯ll post two inn guards fa ya security. Azhar.¡± She said turning to the man and nodding.


    Azhar nodded back, with one hand pressed against the other in a bowing motion.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go, mouse.¡± He ordered, ¡°We be leaving tommorah by da way.¡±


    Cirin rolled his eyes. A sly act.


    ¡°Old mon!¡±


    ¡°No refusing, else I¡¯ll have ta leave ya behind.¡±


    Cirin returned to the warm reception of his companions and the sour realization that Taba had claimed the best bed in the room. Cirin put on a show of clear protest to Azhar to the atrocious act, despite his clear inclinations to it when they first discovered the place. Of course, Toftof had never been a reliable source so Cirin had to opt for the second best bed. That night, he cursed both Toftof and Taba and drifted into a sleep full of pommeling evil princes and exploring room larger than life.


    In the midst of that slumber, he was awoken by an over ecstatic Catherine who demanded he go to the inn window.


    So he did, rubbing his eyes all the while he arrived at the frosted window. There he wiped it lazily and came to gawk at a golden river of locusts flowing by the inn side. The locusts not only hugged the roadside, but also spanned all the way to their very floor.


    It was magnificent. Flickering, swarming, a constant glimmer. As if the very stars fell from the heavens and raced towards it once again. Afterwards Cirin could hardly tell if that was a dream as well.

 Chapter 23, To Further a Place Between You and I

    When he rolled off his bed the next morning, the entirety of the company had already begun packing.


    Azhar noticed him first, ¡°Good, you¡¯re awake mouse. Get packing.¡±


    Cirin yawned in jaw snapping fashion, to which Azhar merely shrugged and went about his business. Cirin was always the fastest packer. He finished just as his companions did. Azhar led him out the door as he declared as much only to find a crossed armed Ferah waiting outside.


    ¡°Ferah,I tought ya said ya undastand?¡± quarrelled Azhar.


    Ferah forced a smile, ¡°Not till you and ya friends enjoy a full meal and bath. I¡¯m not having da folks at da bazaar tink any less of me afta all dese years.¡±


    ¡°A bath?!¡± shot a smiling Taba, pushing her way past the wall named Azhar.


    She glanced at the man grinning back at her, and instantly reared her head away, ¡°Unless we must leave dis instant dat is.¡± She tapered.


    Ahzar sighed, ¡°Fine. We¡¯ll stay fa dat. Da road to da bazaar be a long one afta all.¡±


    ¡°So we¡¯ve decided dat ta be our destination?¡± mused Manama. She met Azhar¡¯s sharpened gaze, ¡°Ya ready ta face ya demons, ¡®old mon¡¯?¡±


    Azhar nudged his head at Ferah, ¡°An old friend convinced me ta.¡±


    Ferah led her guests to a bathhouse two floor lowers and after that let them feast in the banquet hall on the fifth floor.


    Since it was free, Cirin made sure to indulge himself in the foods he had never tried. Mountain goat kebabs and cheese, a strange variety of poached forest fowl eggs, and even a black gelatinous cube that was supposedly a dessert. He had to spit that cube out. To think something so sweet could be eaten was beyond him, though looking at Sol, he realised that there were those who still enjoyed it. He edged his eyes at Taba, the now fat faced noble was no exception.


    Ferah offered the lot of the a selection of fine fruit drinks following the desserts. Once Azhar refused for them, she instead showed them to the lobby.


    Cirin squinted when he got here. It was nearly empty. No one would have believed how bustling it was the day prior.


    There, he found himself staring at the strange statue once again.


    ¡°Ya be curious about it?¡± Asked Ferah.


    Cirin turned to her, then his distancing comrades as they paced towards the exit.


    ¡°Everyting in dis lobby be new and clean, but dat statue¡­¡±


    ¡°Tis an owl one.¡± Remarked the woman, ¡°Da people I got it from had a newer version commissioned so dey tought ta dispose of dis. Luckily, word reached me befa it happened and I gladly offered ta give it shelter here.¡±


    Ferah formed a smile as she noticed the boy still staring at the work, ¡°But ya probably mo curious about who dis statue is of.¡± She laughed.


    Cirin did not need to nod this time for her to answer.


    Ferah pointed to the first of the two figures, ¡°Da woman was a renowned fortune tella, her name was Hannah. The man,¡± She shifted her arm, ¡°was a famous swordsman of da red gale style. His name was Jafna.¡±


    Cirin studied the aged thing for a while longer. He spoke with his eyes still glued to the rock, ¡°Friends of yours?¡± he posed.


    Ferah strayed from answering long enough for Cirin to think she hadn¡¯t heard the question. When he started moving, she stopped him with a grip on his shoulder. He turned to her the moment she pointed at Azhar by the main entrance, ¡°And his.¡± She revealed, ¡°Dough knowing him, he probably won¡¯t tell ya as much. Listen, a man who¡¯s tale is known by most uddas is eida a man who boasts or a man who¡¯s lived a life worth knowin¡¯.¡±


    Cirin paused under her grip, ¡°What?¡± he hushed.


    ¡°Use ya ears, ya eyes, and find da answers befa dey be forced upon ya. Dis may not mean much now, but one day ya will undastand. Take care of old Azhar fa me.¡± She patted Cirin on the shoulder and let him go.


    Cirin acknowledged the woman and made his way to his companions. Every few steps, he couldn¡¯t help but glance back at her. He thought he¡¯d heard everything from the conversation last night, but her words just then made him think there was more to it. And whatever it was, she was right, Azhar would never tell him.


    The searing sunlight singed his eyes the moment he escaped the inn. He noticed much of the guests the day prior had vanished since then. He smiled as he craned his head to the unfortunate spot across the road. Most snakes were gone to.


    Toftof was speaking up Azhar quite a bit as the man in question flung his bags onto the pack snake.


    ¡°What do ya mean she convinced ya?¡± began the man.


    ¡°She just did, Tof.¡±


    ¡°Mana and I have been trying ta convince ya fa weeks, and dis woman says one word and ya listen to her?¡±


    Azhar finished the last of his bags, ¡°If ya agree wit what she wants why argue?¡±


    ¡°Dat dun be da matta, Azhar, it¡¯s da message dat it leaves behind.¡±


    ¡°And what would dat be?¡± said Azhar.


    ¡°Dat ya consida what she says mo important dan da word of ya own allies. Who¡¯s ta say ya want come across anudda of ya friends ya trust mo and decided ta attack us based on what dey say, eh?¡±


    ¡°Ya rememba dat ya tried ta kill me. And it wasn¡¯t dat I trust her mo, I just agreed wit her reasoning.¡± Azhar sighed and led the man to the front of the snake, where he quickly pat the snake twice to go. Once the snake started to edge forwards, Azhar continued, ¡°Dere be nowhere safe nearby fa who we intend ta protect, Tof. Da Bazaar be da safest place as of now. Da only problem be reaching it.¡±


    Toftof paused his portest, ¡°Jegga? Ya tink we¡¯ll cross him?¡±


    ¡°Most certainly.¡± Confirmed Azhar, ¡°His men aren¡¯t da kind ta act on dere own. Someone hired him ta kill Sol, he¡¯ll surely try ta finish da job.¡±


    ¡°doesn¡¯t help dat da sands between here and da Bazaar be his territory.¡± Remarked Toftof.


    Azhar glanced the way of Toftof, ¡°Dis is starting ta remind me of why I ta avoid da bazaar.¡±


    ¡°If Manama be remembarin correctly, you and ya two friends tricked and bested Jegga on ya way to da mountains.¡± Chimed Manama.


    ¡°A matta he surely hasn¡¯t forgot.¡± Azhar stopped mid-way and sentence, ¡°Look, we can save da reminiscing till afta we reach da bazaar. Udda wise ya lot goinna convince me ta turn back.¡±


    There was quiet for a while after that. Nothing more than the chirp of birds and relentless creep of snakes. By an hours¡¯ time, they had bested the ramp leading out of the forest valley.


    ¡°What of Nero¡¯s guards?¡± prompted Toftof at the top.


    ¡°Spoke ta bot of em. Just a couple of louts hired wit good Galokin coin.¡± Sighed Azhar, ¡°Dough one was adamant dat a certain wild haired boy tried some trick on him.¡±


    Cirin feigned a shrug when the man turned to him.


    ¡°What trick can I do, old mon?¡±


    ¡°Dat be what I like ta know, mouse.¡±


    ¡°Nero ordered one his guards to kill Cirin.¡± Countered Catherine, ¡°So Cirin tried engaging the man in conversation to distract him long enough to survive. I¡¯m sure whatever ¡®trick¡¯ this man believes Cirin to have pulled off is simply a means to justify his incompetence.¡±


    Azhar¡¯s gaze remained on Cirin or quite a while longer. Then he shook is head and shrugged his shoulders.


    Azhar spoke as he moved to the head of the pack, ¡°I be overthinking dis, eh?¡±


    Cirin responded by expanding the distance between them even more. Soon, he found himself walking by the back of the second pack snake alongside Manama, who usually took up the rear.


    He narrowed his eyes the moment he saw what sat on the back of that snake.


    ¡°Get of da snake.¡± He demanded of the girl.


    ¡°You were doing it wrong.¡± She shot back.


    Cirin tilted his head. Clearly he was the one walking, and she was the one sitting when they were both required to walk.


    ¡°We¡¯re supposed ta be walking.¡± Roared the boy.


    ¡°Not dat, da spell ya tried to cast yestaday.¡± She narrowed her golden specs with her chin balanced on her knuckles, ¡°Ya tried ta use my eyes witout my permission, ya thick-headed thief. ¡®Do you consent¡¯?¡± she quoted scornfully, ¡°Dose are just words if ya dun use da magic behind it.¡±


    Cirin turned to Manama for confirmation.


    The woman nodded, ¡°She¡¯s right.¡± Hummed the fortune teller.


    ¡°Den how do I do it?¡± mused Cirin.


    ¡°Why should I attempt ta teach an inane incompetent such as yaself?¡±


    ¡°Ok.¡± Started the boy, ¡°Say, fa instance, da udda day if dat man hadn¡¯t shown up.¡±


    Taba lifted her head off her hands. Her mouth formed an immediate frown.


    ¡°Dey said dey were going ta kill me first. But what den?¡± continued the boy. He lifted his hand and dragged it across his chin. He smiled as he sagged his head down, and pointed to the girl with his other hand, ¡°Had I been killed, ya would have surely been next. Forgive me fa assuming ya ability ta come up wit plans isn¡¯t as imaginative as ya use of words, but I¡¯d bet ya would have died witout so much as a blip of an idea.¡±


    ¡°Dat¡¯s not true!¡± she protested.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t it? My plan was ta use a ¡®place between you and I¡¯ ta knock the man into a daze and make use of da confusion.¡±


    ¡°Rada cleva.¡± Laughed Manama.


    ¡°What would you have done?¡± He asked of the girl.


    ¡°I would have¡­ I would have convinced dem of my family¡¯s wealth. Long enough fa me ta escape and use my magic.¡±


    ¡°Clearly dey had a betta benefactor dan you. Isn¡¯t Nero da prince of Galokin?¡± pestered Cirin.


    Taba frowned even harder.


    ¡°Alright. Enough.¡± Said Manama. She reached for Cirin by the shoulder and tugged him close. That caught both Taba and Cirin by surprise, for the next moment Manama had her free hand jab the center of Cirin¡¯s back like a spear.


    He coughed and fell forwards. Breathing heavily as he regained his senses, Cirin dared look back Manama. He clutched his head as it began to throb erratically.


    ¡°What ya do to me mon?¡± he blurted.


    Catherine steps intruded upon them. She tossed her eyes to Cirin the moment she got there.


    ¡°Manama, you didn¡¯t.¡± she said shaking her head.


    ¡°He¡¯ll tank me latta.¡± Said Manama


    Cirin attempted to stand up, but faltered to the ground once more. All at once what felt like fire streamed through his body. To his toes, to his fingertips, the fire made him clutch him stare at his palm.


    Something was there. Something that wasn¡¯t him, but resided there all the same. He breathed and the sensation vanished as if it were never there.


    Catherine support Cirin to his feet, ¡°You alright?¡± she asked him.


    Cirin managed a glance and gawked at a series of glowing blue tattoos that flourished on her skin. He turned to Manama and saw the same set curl below her eyes and forehead. Finally, He dared a glance at Taba and saw what was a myriad of gold and blueish patterns nearly covering the whole of the girl¡¯s face.


    His head throbbed once more, and he slammed his eyes shut to make it go away. It did, and when he pried those eyes open, the luminescent marking on all three of his companions had vanished.


    ¡°You had markings, all of you.¡± He dared.


    Catherine shot a smile towards Manama, ¡°Welcome to the world of natural magic, Cirin.¡±


    It was the second day since they had left the Grand Valley Inn. In that time Cirin had no short of question for Catherine about what he had experienced. He even cut his training sessions early to pursue his query. Luckily for him, Catherine even happier to answer.


    ¡°Does dis mean I can trow fireballs and conjure lightning?¡± beamed the boy.


    ¡°Not quite.¡± Explained Catherine, ¡°As I said, this is natural magic. And unfortunately you do not have much of an affinity for it.¡±


    ¡°But-¡±


    ¡°You saw our markings? They tell you how strong of an affinity that user has has with natural magic. Everyone sees them. But most only see them the moment they awaken the ability to use such magic. Those gifted, such as I.¡± she said pointing at herself, ¡°Can train to see it at all times.¡±


    ¡°And casting fireballs?¡± prompted Cirin.


    ¡°Not possible.¡± Laughed Catherine, ¡°Despite popular belief, those who research magic have found that this type, natural magic, is a weak form of magic, but one that possess the uncommon trait that it can be attempted by anyone.¡±


    Cirin glanced at Taba, who was talking with Azhar at the edge of the camp that night.


    ¡°What about da magic she uses?¡± quandered Cirin.


    ¡°Not natural magic.¡± Said Catherine, ¡°Something entirely different. Unusual. What she uses is an enigma in the magic world and frankly, we haven¡¯t an explanation for how it works. But do not be dissuaded!¡± She avowed whilst holding up her finger, ¡°Natural magic can be powerful if you manage to master all the schools and use them with each other in creative ways. For example, one cannot conjure a fire with it, but one can force a rock to move just fast enough without touching it against another rock to fashion a spark. If you then transmute the air thickness around the spark, it will erupt into fire.¡±


    ¡°Force a rock?¡± He said slowly, ¡°Is dat what ya used against Zazabarra dat one night?¡±


    ¡°Hah, that was a clever use of air transmutation, object manipulation, and mimicry to first thin the air between his hand and the ground, force Barra¡¯s fingers loose, and finally convince the handle to move as my finger did. Actions such as those require a lot of thought, and more so hardened control over my ability.¡±


    Cirin fell on his bum and leaned back. He puffed at his hair, ¡°Dis is boring.¡± He declared.


    ¡°Huh.¡± Catherine pushed her hands to her hips and leaned towards the boy, ¡°I thought you¡¯d be more enthused?¡±


    ¡°I was, but dis be sounding mo and mo about scholarly tings. I dun enjoy dat.¡±


    ¡°Preposterous! Who doesn¡¯t positively adore the finer points of higher learning?¡± she traded her brimming face for a dull one as she realised the answer to her question had just rolled his eyes. ¡°Fine. Stick to your blade swinging, but remember, a skilled magic user will always best a swords master.¡±


    ¡°So you tink ya can beat da old mon?¡± queried Cirin.


    Catherine straightened her back, ¡°He is an exception.¡± She confessed, ¡°But imagine how much stronger you¡¯d be if you knew how to use natural magic as well as fight.¡±


    ¡°Does it tire ya?¡± asked Cirin.


    ¡°Apart from mental rigor, no. But It has its limitations. For one you can only use it so much in a day before it forfeits itself until the next time you awake. Normally you cannot tell how much more you can cast, but if you¡¯ve trained yourself to appraise ones markings, you can use a mirror to appraise your own. The more you use this magic, the more the markings disappear until you refresh them the next day.¡±


    Cirin found himself glancing at the noble in the distance, now laughing of all things as she yapped on with his master, ¡°What about Taba?¡± he postured, ¡°She bound by dose limits to?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± answered Catherine.


    ¡°Ya mean she can cast all she wants and ta no end?¡±


    Catherine nodded, ¡°In the world I hail from, those who possess her kind of magic are feared the most. As my old master used to say, if ever I were to find myself in a duel with someone who possessed such power, I¡¯d do well to run away. And if not that, find a way to beat them quickly.¡±


    Cirin stretched out further, now resting with his head on his hands.


    ¡°Beat em quickly, huh?¡± he pondered. For the past few days, besides wondering about magic, he had also thought up of ways to best Taba. She was dangerous from afar, so distance would have to kept at a minimum, yet at the same time she was practicing a sword style that let her keep Cirin a ways. It was the perfect complement to the way she used her magic. He¡¯d need a way to overcome that. Here, he¡¯d though learning magic to counter magic was the solution, but the more he listened to Catherine¡¯s talk on the matter, the more he became discouraged by it.  There had to be another way.


    ¡°You aren¡¯t thinking of fighting her, are you?¡±


    Cirin tossed his head to the side, ¡°No.¡± he lied.


    ¡°Because if you were, I¡¯d stop such a duel immediately.¡± Warned the girl.


    Cirin glanced at her with the corner of his eyes.


    ¡°Magic is dangerous Cirin.¡± She continued, ¡°I know you two do not get along, but I will simply not allow such misgivings to lead to duel involving magic. That¡¯s not just out of concern for your health either.¡± She tossed her eyes at Taba and puckered a smile, ¡°I¡¯ll admit, I¡¯ve taken a liking to her to.¡±


    Cirin rolled to his side, ¡°You and everyone else.¡± He whispered.


    Yet another day tumbled by, and with it, the view of the mountain¡¯s edge came to view. The company set up camp by a small cave a little ways from the main road. There was a clearing before the cave entrance for the snakes, while the actual members of the party huddled inside. It didn¡¯t happen often, especially in this part of the mountains so close to the desert, but it was raining and heavily so.


    Cirin glared at the cavern edge and hugged his knees as the relentless rain played stills in his ears.


    ¡°Focus, Cirin.¡± Urged Manama.


    Cirin nodded, pouncing his eyes from drenching drops to the tattooed woman beside him. Her braided hair was the last thing he spied as he shut his eyes.


    ¡°Now dat da magic be unlocked fa ya, ya should be able ta freely initiate da place between you and I. First, ask fa consent.¡± She instructed.


    ¡°Manama.¡± Started the boy, ¡°I wish to meet ya in private, do you consent?¡±Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!


    ¡°No, why should I?¡± she laughed.


    Cirin threw open his lids, ¡°Ya said to ask fa consent.¡±


    ¡°Cirin, one does not simply give consent if asked fa it. Be clever. Convince me.¡±


    Cirin found himself smiling as he spotted a yawning Azhar hunched by the other end of the cavern.


    ¡°Well.¡± He began again, with a notably louder voice, ¡°Rememba dat time in da stable wit El-¡±


    ¡°I consent.¡± Snapped Manama.


    Once again, Cirin¡¯s world flashed a vivid black. Everything, including the intrepid drops evanesced. A lone figure sat cross legged and in front of him.


    It was Manama. He blinked. Thought it wasn¡¯t her. It couldn¡¯t be. She was younger, a lot younger. As if she had reversed to Catherine¡¯s age.


    ¡°Surprised?¡± humoured Manama¡¯s younger voice. ¡°Dis be slightly mo dan what ya might call an introduction, but very little people know of da tricks behind a place between you and I. Ya have ta practice mo ta masta it. But when ya do masta it, ya should be able ta change ya appearance inside.¡±


    Cirin shook his head and lifted his shoulders, ¡°Ta what end?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Deception, Cirin. If used as method of interrogation, some people prefer ta talk dose dey may know mo personally. Now fo da true test.¡± She concluded, ¡°Stand up.¡±


    Cirin did just that. He held his breath and flanked by way threw his eyes at Manama.


    ¡°Ah, just as expected. Ya be my prisoner.¡±


    ¡°But I initiated dis.¡± Said Cirin.


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t matta in a place between you and I. Dat is what ya must be most careful. It is also my first trial fa ya. Find out why I am da one sitting and you are not.¡±


    To that Manama rose to her feet and Cirin sank out of the darkness. He awoke seconds later. The tip tap of rain was the first thing he heard. The earthy aroma of wet rock the first he smelled. The boy had returned to reality.


    He found Manama staring at him, expectedly.


    ¡°Second ting ya must know.¡± She started, ¡°Da person who lacks control awakes after da person who has it. Sometimes minutes latta. If I can tink of a few ways to make use of dat, I¡¯m sure ya can do betta.¡±


    Cirin nodded. That would prove useful indeed. The rain persisted for much of the day. Even though the perpetual pour masked the sky, it was that night had fallen by the chill that followed. Rain was his constant enemy, though not an often occurrence it was the one factor that prevented the young swordsman from training. So, to make up for his stolen time Cirin made due overcoming Manama¡¯s trials. He¡¯d repeat the place between you and I with her over and over again, yet every time she would be the one sitting.


    At one point, a curious Catherine approached them with her hands held behind her back.


    ¡°Did he figure it out?¡± she asked.


    Manama laughed, ¡°hehe, I dun tink he will.¡±


    ¡°I dun get it!¡± puffed Cirin, ¡°Dis is pointless mon, I¡¯d radda be training if it wasn¡¯t fa dis damned rain!¡±


    ¡°Is dat so?¡± quipped Manama, ¡°Den ya should be happy ta know ya not da only who can¡¯t train.¡± She slid her darkened eyes to Taba, to which Cirin nearly grinned since the girl seemed just as outraged by weather as he. She was glaring at the ceaseless pour with her head perched on her hands.


    Then he noted a peculiarity regarding the distance between himself and the girl, and, more importantly, between the girl and Manama. One of them was closer. He blinked. Could it really be that simple?


    Cirin shot up.


    ¡°Ya figure it out?¡± lauded Manama.


    Cirin paced to a position between Taba and Manama, ¡°We¡¯ll see.¡± He said as he sat down. ¡°Do ya consent Manama?¡± he started.


    The fortune teller smiled, ¡°I do.¡±


    All light vanished as if a lone candle had been snuffed out. Manama blurred into view ahead of him. She was sitting. He glanced at himself. He was to.


    ¡°Dis type of magic.¡± Began the younger Manama, ¡°It be not something ya get betta at tru repeated practice. It be something ya need ta tink on ta improve.¡±


    Manama leaned forwards and got up. Cirin nearly jumped when she did. They were still there. Still in a place between you and I.


    ¡°I¡¯m da one sitting.¡± He hushed, ¡°I¡¯m da one sitting!¡± he repeated. ¡°Dat¡¯s it? I just need ta be closer to Taba? No spell? No incantation?¡±


    Manama shrugged, ¡°Magic be a simple ting, Cirin.¡±


    Cirin smiled to that and began to rise, when he considered his position. He balanced his eyes on Manama.


    ¡°Who¡¯s Hannah?¡± he asked.


    Manama¡¯s oft jovial smile shifted into an upturned one, ¡°Cirin ya dun need ta do dis.¡±


    ¡°No. I tink I do. Who is she?¡± he continued. ¡°I won¡¯t stand up till ya answer.¡±


    ¡°Ask Azhar.¡± She pleaded.


    ¡°Ya know he won¡¯t answer.¡± Sniped Cirin.


    Then Manama did something he had never seen her do before. She started biting her nails


    ¡°What ya want me ta say, eh?¡± she started, ¡°Tell me what ya want ta hear? Tell me who ya tink she is.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s.¡± Cirin choked on the words. He swallowed and tossed his eyes down, ¡°She¡¯s someone important.¡± He said at last, ¡°She had a statue built of her, and fa some reason da old mon won¡¯t speak of her around me.¡± Cirin snapped his ruby eyes back to Manama, ¡°She was da old mon¡¯s sista.¡±


    Manama tilted her head, ¡°Now how do ya know dat? Who told ya?¡±


    ¡°I overheard it.¡± Revealed Cirin, ¡°But what else is she? I saw da statue, she must¡¯ve been someone important.¡±


    ¡°Ya be fixatin¡¯, Cirin.¡± Blurted Manama.


    Cirin lowered his eyes, ¡°I need ta know.¡±


    ¡°Den look at me.¡± Bellowed the woman.


    He didn¡¯t refuse. He couldn¡¯t. The way she said that, the way she demanded that of him, made him follow the order if only out of curiosity.


    Manama had shifted form. Her braided locks had turned to free flowing dark brown ones. Her tattoo¡¯d skin, pierced and light, morphed into an unblemished darker one. Her clothes were different too. No longer were they the uncouth rags that Manama loved to wear. No, she bore a single white and yellow dress. She was shorter too.


    The whole of the desert glinted in her eyes, a shimmering beige.


    ¡°Dis is how she looked in life.¡± Hummed a melodious voice. Her voice. ¡°Does it do anyting fa ya? Does it stoke da fire of ya memories?¡±


    ¡°Mine?¡±


    ¡°Yes yours.¡± spat the woman, ¡°Gaze upon da dead you made me conjure, boy. Does it make ya happy? Is dis what ya wish ta see?¡±


    The woman paced forwards as she spoke, ¡°It is da image of dose we love most dat stain our minds, not our enemies. I still rememba her voice. Da way she walked.¡± The woman edged closer, ¡°Her smell.¡±


    Cirin¡¯s arms moved back on their own. His mouth formed a disjointed frown. His eyes swelled and burned.


    ¡°Manama?¡± he managed.


    ¡°Dis is who she was. Everyone loved her. I loved her. She saved me. She was everyting ta me. And one night¡­¡±


    Manama stepped closer, even closer. Cirin flinched.


    ¡°She was gone.¡± Echoed a voice as quiet as her steps.


    He could almost smell her if she¡¯d taken another step. Before she could, Cirin leapt to his feet.


    The rain had stopped.


    His blood red eyes flickered to the woman in front him. She was a sleep. He fell back on his arms. His breath was heavy.


    ¡°Cirin?¡± prompted Catherine, ¡°You were in there for a while, you alright? It seems you¡¯ve bested Manama¡¯s trial to.¡±


    ¡°The rain¡¯s pouring no mo, are we leavin?¡±


    Catherine tilted her head behind her, ¡°By the way Azhar¡¯s packing, I¡¯d say so.¡±


    ¡°What about Manama? Will she be awake for it?¡±


    Catherine leaned in and placed her hand on his shoulder, ¡°Cirin, if she¡¯s sleeps for awhile, we¡¯ll wait for her. What happened in there?¡±


    ¡°We talked.¡± Admitted Cirin, shaking the scholar¡¯s grip off, ¡°Noting.¡±


    Cirin bounded to his feet. From the corner of his eye he spotted Taba trailing after Azhar as if she were  lost weasel pup. Then he saw Sol. It seemed Toftof had been entertaining him, but despite the man¡¯s best efforts the boy had returned his eternal gaze to Cirin. The object of the prince¡¯s attention smiled. Ofcourse he was staring at him.


    ¡°Ya tink I should tell da prince about da place between you and I, and well, all da udda magical tings?¡±


    ¡°You could.¡± Shrugged Catherine, ¡°though I doubt he¡¯ll have any use for it.¡±


    ¡°Why¡¯s dat?¡±


    Catherine tapped her temple, ¡°I can see it remember, one¡¯s capability for magic. Sol, well, he has even lower of a potential for it than yourself.¡±


    Upon thinking how Sol would have reacted to such a revelation he felt his own heart sink, ¡°Maybe he need grow into it?¡± wagered Cirin.


    ¡°It¡¯s not something that changes with age, Cirin.¡± She was blunt at the worst of times, ¡°some people are born with such little ability on the matter that they¡¯d hardly be able to complete one tenth of a spell before the power leaves them. Though most are unawares to the existence of magic, so the innate inability harbours a lack of tragedy.¡±


    Cirin cocked his head and Catherine sighed.


    ¡°He won¡¯t miss it if he doesn¡¯t know about it.¡± She explained.


    ¡°Den he won¡¯t learn about it.¡± Nodded Cirin.


    Sand. For an eternity of steps there existed nothing but the stuff. Only one days travel was sacrificed to reach the mouth of the mountain pass, where the company beheld the place in which the endless sands met the titanic mountains.


    Though the sands possessed mountains of their own.  He could see it even as they entered the windy turfs. Dunes as high as towers crested the horizon. Cirin found himself counting the desert greens to pass the time. The first bits of the desert harboured signs of scattered rocks and dry plants, but after half a days walk, the only green anyone saw was that in sol¡¯s eyes.


    Sol was by the fortune teller now and Cirin had no intention of joining them. He¡¯d lost the right to. Manama hadn¡¯t talked to him since.  When they¡¯d pause for short breaks, Cirin would drift into the place between you and I and partake in another of the voice¡¯s teachings.


    Then on the days where they¡¯d stop for longer periods, Cirin would duely practice those methods, mostly at night when most were asleep and not watching. Though that in and of itself was a rare occurrence. They had re-entered the desert and that meant sandflows.


    Swirling, rushing, streaming. An instant golden ocean. Cirin could only gawk at the sands the moment those flows began. It happened more and more the company delved into the desert. Nearly twice a day by the third day in.


    After one such sand flow, Cirin found himself forced of the snake at Azhar¡¯s behest.


    ¡°Ya betta not tire da snakes mo dan dey be, mouse.¡± He barked.


    Cirin reared his eyes to the remaing duo on the snake he had be ousted from. Sol was there and he was fine with that, but so to was Taba.


    ¡°Why¡¯s she get ta stay den?¡± he prodded.


    Azhar swooped Cirin up under his armpits.


    ¡°Humpf.¡± Said the man to himself, promptly plodding the boy back on his feet.


    Azhar then leapt on to the snake before Cirin could so much as utter a word and hoisted Taba up by her back and legs.


    Azhar nodded, much to the displeasure of the red faced count.


    ¡°She be lighta, mouse.¡± Confirmed the man, before letting the girl go.


    Sol relentless giggling was the only sound that dared intrude the silence that followed. That and the rough crunch of sand as Azhar leapt of the moving snake.


    Even when Azhar had departed, Taba and Cirin kept silent.


    Taba shuffled to the far corner of the carriage and huddled there with her head turned down as Cirin simply kept walking, not once daring to look her in the eye.


    ¡°Befa ya say anyting, he lifted ya to.¡± She blurted.


    ¡°N-not in da way he lifted you!¡± parried Cirin.


    ¡°What¡¯s dat supposed ta mean?!¡±


    The two met each other in furious bid of brows. Then Cirin craned his head to see where Catherine, Toftof, and Manama were. Luckily none of them had been looking. Toftof was at the front, now with Azhar, and Manama had been engrossed in some alien discussion with Catherine a ways back from the caravan.


    ¡°No one saw.¡± Began Cirin, ¡°Agree not ta mention dis?¡±


    For once, Taba nodded at him, ¡°Agreed.¡± She fumed.


    Both turned to the only witness. A witness who bore smile dumber than Toftof. The boy parsed his lips in an attempt to hide his obvious smile.


    ¡°Oi Sol, ya saw noting yea?¡±


    Sol laughed to himself, ¡°He loves you two a lot.¡± He hummed.


    Cirin spotted Taba hide her mouth behind her knees, and sighed to himself, ¡°Dat old mon be noting mo dan a devil who enjoys seeing children torture demselves wit endless training.¡±


    ¡°Honestly, he only does dat wit you, degenerate.¡± Quipped Taba.


    ¡°Ya, well I¡¯m a child to. Dat be da only reason he managed ta lift me¡­¡± trailed Cirin.


    ¡°So ya saying ya not only be a degenerate now, but you¡¯ll be a portly degenerate in da futah?¡±


    Cirin frowned, ¡°Muscle weighs mo dan fat.¡±


    ¡°Oh, but since ya hate training sa much, ya might as well settle fa fat. Not ta mention given ya deviant tendencies, ya probably be much busier doing udda tings dan trainin anyways.¡±


    ¡°Udda things?¡± said Sol with his head cocked.


    Just as Cirin was about to debate that ludicrous notion, an ear rattling cry echoed from behind the nearest sand dune.


    His arm swept to his blade. Taba¡¯s feet met the sand.


    ¡°Heeyah!¡± cired Azhar.


    The snakes jolted to a stop.


    Azhar¡¯s measured steps played scrunches in the sand as Toftof¡¯s heavy ones followed.


    ¡°jegga¡¯s men.¡± Scowled Azhar, ¡°I rememba dat warcry. Same as it was all dose years ago.¡±


    Toftof puffed, ¡°Here dey come.¡±


    One after the other, men with beige great cloaks leapt over the sand dune. The sand they kicked up culminated in an oblique cloud, so Toftof and Azhar stood their ground in front of the children.


    ¡°Old mon, let me fight.¡±


    ¡°No mouse, stay dere, protect da prince and Taba.¡± Ordered Azhar.


    ¡°Taba?¡± he choked on the name, ¡°Why her?¡±


    ¡°Mouse, no time ta argue, here dey come.¡±


    The first man blew past the sandy cloud and nearly reached Azhar when a darkened blur met that man in a calculated tackle.


    The blur stood up after the tackle and wiped her daggers on her clothes.


    ¡°Manama, dere are mo in dere.¡± Barked Azhar.


    Manama nodded at Azhar, ¡°Manama will dispatch da few miscreants in da darkness, ya lot handle da ones ya eyes can count.¡± She uttered.


    Azhar nodded and met the next man to race out the cloud with a practiced parry, elegant and clean. The following attacker however, came face to face with Toftof, who met the man with a not so clean uppercut.


    Manama ducked into cloud as Azhar dispatched his assailant.


    Cirin could hear it all from where he stood. The death throes of men choked the air and the clutter of blades stung his ears.


    Snap. Cirin tossed his eyes to the hovering rocks above Taba.


    ¡°He¡¯ll find out about you.¡± Warned Cirin.


    ¡°Funny, I tought ya would have wanted dat.¡± gripped Taba.


    Cirin narrowed his eyes.


    ¡°He¡¯s right. Best forfeit that magic here.¡±


    ¡°Catherine.¡± Breathed Taba as she found the older girl standing behind her. Taba¡¯s rocks hit the sand a second later.


    Catherine picked up one of those rocks and tossed it into the dispersing cloud.


    ¡°Watch.¡± She uttered with her free hand at her lips.


    There was a swoosh and the cloud of dust vanished instantly. Manama stood there, amongst five unnamed corpses and a dripping red dagger. A single man remained standing.


    Toftof tossed his man aside, and Azhar let his second foe fall off his blade.


    The remaining man struggled backwards the instant he saw the state of his fellows.


    ¡°Leave him alive.¡± Ordered Azhar.


    Manama stepped close to the short and pig of a man.


    ¡°Manama!¡±


    Manama spun her dagger and drew it inward. A step later the man would have been dead, yet Azhar¡¯s impaled hand prevented it.


    ¡°I said ta leave him alive.¡± Hissed Azhar. He leaned close to Manama, who let go immediately and fell backwards.


    ¡°Toftof?¡± asked Azhar as he drew the dagger out, ¡°How¡¯s he doing?¡±


    ¡°Seems da shock of almost dying has knocked him out and¡­¡± Toftof wiped his hands and pinched his nose, ¡°Left him wet enough ta be his own oasis.¡±


    ¡°Right.¡± Winced Azhar, ¡°Tie him up, we¡¯ll question him when he awakes.¡±


    ¡°And afta dat?¡± spoke a nasally Toftof.


    Azhar sighed as he partook in the reddened sand around him, ¡°Dis day has seen enough blood. We¡¯ll let him go.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll see ta ya wound.¡± Suggested Manama.


    ¡°No.¡± snapped Azhar.


    ¡°Den I¡¯ll bound da prisona while Toftof helps ya.¡± She added.


    Azhar took the wrappings he normally had on his wrists and tied the wound shut on his hand. He tightened it with his teeth as his words slipped through his shut muzzle, ¡°Definitely not. Stay dere.¡± He buzzed.


    Manama¡¯s shoulders sagged and she made to the pack snakes. There she leaned against the beasts and levied her eyes to the desert sky. Manama was always a detached woman, someone who seemingly lived in a world of her own. Cirin knew that. To him she was strange, odd, a mystery. If only he could consider her just that.


    Now he could not pry his eyes away from the fortune teller, for all the stories she told, her own was never one of them. Her mettle was proven iron back at Ezmir, her repute indisputable by the way Eli reached out to her in Gin. And her affinity with snakes¡­ Cirin scrounged his nose, well that was disturbing.


    After Toftof bound the last man, he went to help Azhar with burying the bodies, a task which Catherine found herself volunteering to alleviate their grisly burden. Her magic made digging all the easier.


    ¡°Go talk to her.¡± Urged the prince


    Cirin smiled at the boy. He had been watching Cirin all the while.


    ¡°It¡¯s not dat easy, Sol.¡± Began Cirin.


    ¡°Yes it is.¡± Shot Sol, ¡°You two argued didn¡¯t you? Then talk about it.¡±


    Cirin acknowledged his young companion.


    ¡°It be rare fa ya ta be sa forward, imp. Has dat wound from Gin and ya encounta wit ya brudda hardened ya?¡±


    Sol straightened his back at the assertion. He bore a stalwart frown as he stood as high as he could. That was his answer.


    Cirin stifled a laugh and shook his head, ¡°Alright.¡± He started, ¡°I¡¯ll try. Only cause ya be as brave as ya are.¡±


    Manama saw him coming.


    Cirin searched for the words once he got to her, ¡°Manama I-¡±


    ¡°Manama knows what ya want ta say, Cirin.¡± Manama rolled her head at him, ¡°I was in da wrong back dere, it be only natural you¡¯d want ta know bout his sista.¡±


    ¡°He didn¡¯t really kill her, did he?¡±


    Manama shook her head, her constant smile a sad one, ¡°Hannah killed herself.¡± Manama gestured one thumb at her chest, ¡°She stabbed herself in da chest.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± prompted Cirin.


    ¡°Heh.¡± Manama relapsed her eyes to the sky, ¡°Dat be someting Manama wishes she knew.¡±


    ¡°Manama, over here!¡± called Azhar¡¯s voice.


    The fortune teller gestured Cirin to follow her with a flick of her head.


    Toftof, Catherine and Azhar were standing in a half circle when they arrived.


    ¡°We need ta split up.¡± Started Azhar. He lowered his head towards the prisoner, ¡°Our man won¡¯t talk now, but dat isn¡¯t our problem. We believe dere may be mo of dem.¡±


    Manama¡¯s eyes went wide, ¡°Snakes.¡± She tapered.


    ¡°Exactly. Da only way to travel da desert.¡± Said Azhar, ¡°Jegga¡¯s men must have left a few behind ta tend deir snakes.¡±


    Toftof seemed oddly agitated by the way Azhar spoke. ¡°Spirits. Just tell her why it be important ya old ape.¡±


    Azhar eyed the shorter man wearily, ¡°It has to do wit our snakes.¡± He explained, ¡°We¡¯re in enemy territory sa normally we be betta off hiding amoungst deir ranks. Now we have deir outfits, and I happen ta be familiar wit deir customs, but our snakes will give us away.¡±


    Manama was quick to object, ¡°Ya not saying-¡±


    ¡°I am.¡± Stated the man flatly, ¡°Da first snake be an Ezmir speckled slider, native to da southern sands. Da second snake, a green genja, one only found in da waterpathes of Gin. All snakes found dis far west be Ramhorns. We need ta find and steal deir snake. Den.¡± He glanced over his shoulder at their own snakes, ¡°We gotta lose dose two.¡±


    Manama shook her head vehemently, ¡°I won¡¯t have it.¡± She insisted.


    Azhar sighed, ¡°Manama, da snake be da least of our concerns right now.¡±


    ¡°How about a diversion then.¡± Prompted Catherine, her arguing finger already raised to the air, ¡°Consider this.¡± She continued, ¡°If Jegga¡¯s men have already attacked before in Gin, chances are they know to look for our particular snakes. What if we use that to our advantage? We split our company and lure the would be attackers with our current snakes whilst we slither through this land on the captured snakes.¡±


    Toftof went a lit, ¡°I see!¡± he beamed, ¡°den da children would get tru safely. No hidden attacks, no raids in da night.¡±


    ¡°No.¡± stamped Ahzar, ¡°I dun approve of dis plan. Anyting dat splits da company simply puts da rest of us at risk when dat plan ultimately fails.¡±


    ¡°So if ya tink ya original plan will fail sa badly, why even try to abandon da snakes?¡± argued Manama. She let herself sigh when the others couldn¡¯t answer, ¡°Manama will do it.¡± She volunteered, ¡°I¡¯ll take our snakes and act as lure.¡±


    Azhar pulled his hand across his mouth and puffed, ¡°Manama, if dey catch you¡­¡±


    ¡°Dey won¡¯t.¡± she assured him, ¡°And if dey do, dey should be da ones who be sweating.¡±


    Toftof flipped his eyes between each of them, ¡°It¡¯s agreed on den? Azhar?¡±


    Azhar took one heavy breath of utter disappointment, ¡°You¡¯ll be by yaself. Alone. No one will have ya back, and does dat do will be meanin¡¯ ta trow deir daggas at it.¡±


    ¡°Noting new.¡± Shrugged the woman. Seeing Azhar frown back at her, she laughed, and pushed him lightly on the shoulder, ¡°Find dose snakes and take dese tree to da safest place in Illivanmar.¡±


    Azhar levied his eyes at Cirin and held them there, ¡°I will Manama. Dey¡¯ve seen enough of dis accursed desert fa a lifetime.¡±


    That evening, while the waited for Toftof and Azhar to come back with the captured snakes, Manama rounded the children and told them of a tale about the city of fortune tellers.


    Sol listened the most dutifully, while Cirin tried his best to follow his lead, and Taba had the audacity to yawn to it.


    Down south, the farthest south existed once a city known for it¡¯s gypsies, ones well versed in future sight. These gypsies belonged to a fortune tellers guild. They were all women, and speicifically women who were widowed. Every year, the women of the fortune tellers guild would deliver a prophecy. Some prohpecies spoke of great change to the kingdom, the death of a noble, the marriage of royalty, while most spoke of changes of minor significance. This entailed the bankruptcy of local business or an untold affair of a couple nearby. Though no matter the weight of the prohopecy it was always recorded. And no matter who insignificant the tale, it always came true.


    One day a women who was neither widowed or wed, came to join the fortune tellers guild in light of her extraordinary foresight. If not for her charming nature and well placed etiquette the other fortune tellers would have hated her out of jealousy, for she made prophecies not on a yearly basis, but on a weekly one. It was she who foresaw the failing tides of a nearby city¡¯s gang. She predicted the date on which the new emperor was born. And it was she who knew the unfortunate fates of three unrelated nobles before it befell them.


    Her predictions made her famous, sometimes infamous due to her more unfortunate calls, but no matter her fame, the predictions she made drew the city she called home drew visitors from all over the empire. The city flourished for a time. All inns were swarmed, the streets packed, gold flowed like the river. But, during one of her predictions, the fortune teller foresaw a man who one day destroy all Illivanmar.


    Manama smiled at the trio as she said this, ¡°Da man, wit fear borne in his heart, would bring an end to da Illivanmar and her emperor. Dis man would have one discerning feature dat any guardian of da kingdom should look out fa¡­¡± She fanned her eyes from spectator to spectator, even at Catherine who momentarily bobbed her head in to listen. Manama pointed at her earlobe, ¡°Da man would be born wit a hook shaped ear.¡±


    Sol giggled at the notion and Manama took that as a que to continue.


    ¡°But lo outta fear dis prophecy was too consequential, she hid from da masses and told only da udda fortune tellas. One night, whilst she was conversing wit her betrothed and her burdda she let slip dis prophecy she made. Da two of dem laughed it off, saying ¡®no man be born wit a hook shaped ear¡¯. So da fortune tella laughed it off to, but decided ta keep da prophecy secret all da same. A year passed, da fortune tella wed, and befa long, had a child wit her betrothed.


    Yet dere was one problem. Her baby had an ear shaped like a hook.


    One of her midwives was a fortune tella and having seen dis taught it be best ta inform da uddas. Ya see, the prophecies made by da new mudda were neva wrong. Everyone knew dis. So ofcourse dere was concern. Something made much worse for when her brudda returned.


    He saw da baby and knew immediately what was going ta happen. So in one night, he murdered all da fortune tellas in da city. Deir tale, her prophecy, died wit dem. Wit da fortune tella¡¯s guild gone, da city once known fa dem became mostly abandoned. What was once flourishing district of trade became ruins, and what fame da city had became engulfed in da surrounding sands. Da woman and her betrothed, bot harrowed wit guilt took deir own lives and da baby, most innocent of all, was made inta an orphan. Da man acted out of love fa his nephew, but at what cost ta uddas?¡±


    ¡°What happened to da boy?¡± asked Taba.


    Manama chuckled, ¡°He fulfilled da prophecy of course. Out of anger fa his lost family and city, he went on ta bring about destruction ta all illivanmar.¡±


    ¡°But da Empire¡¯s still here.¡± Noted Taba, ¡°Dis seems mo a tale ya conjured.¡±


    ¡°Who knows?¡± shrugged Manama, ¡°Dis be tale of a long time ago. Lotta tings change wit time.¡± She wagered, ¡°An empire might fall, but it doesn¡¯t mean it won¡¯t rise again eventually.


    ¡° ¡®The city of fortune tellers¡¯. It¡¯s quite romantic really. By reading the fortunes of others they secured their city a fortune of its own.¡± Said Catherine. ¡°And prophecy! Did you know that was considered a school a Galokin magic in ancient times? I couldn¡¯t even imagine the complexity of the systems involved to achieve such a feat. By the way, Manama, are you not a fortune teller yourself?¡±


    ¡°I am.¡± She nodded.


    Catherine angled her head, ¡°Can you read the future then?¡±


    Manama laughed at the notion, ¡°Manama can only wish fa such foresight.¡±


    The distant sound slithers drew their attention. Cirin noticed the distinct horns of the incoming snakes instantly. Ramhorns. Just as the name suggested, these were slightly longer snakes with pairs of horns the curled out of its brows.


    Two snakes numbered the ranks behind Toftof and Azhar. Considering the size of the assaulting company, Cirin wagered that made sense.


    Cirin turned to Manama, who had already hoisted the last of her things on the main snake.


    ¡°Ya be curious, eh?¡± she prompted without looking at the boy, ¡°Go ahead, Manama know ya have questions.¡±


    He knew he should have asked about a place between you and I. Or more importantly who exactly she was to Azhar, and what she did before she was a fortune teller. Though given her expertise with a dagger, he had his suspicions. Instead of all that, he asked something else entirely. His lips moved by themselves.


    ¡°Will I see ya again?¡±


    Manama finished her packing. She tossed her maple eyes back at him, ¡°Perhaps. Want me ta read ya a fortune befa I go?¡±


    Cirin shrugged and nodded.


    Manama swaggered to that, letting her beaded hair jangle as she approached him, ¡°Hold out ya hand.¡± She instructed.


    Manama grasped his outstretched hand, ¡°Dark. Trapped inn endless hallway wit doors all along ya. Da doors are questions, yet ya need only one key ta unlock dem.¡±


    ¡°A key? What key.¡±


    Manama leaned close to him, ¡°Ya cannot see it.¡± She brushed aside his bangs revealing his crimson eyes, ¡°Ah. Now ya can.¡± She let go of those bangs and Cirin¡¯s hand and made her way to the snake.


    There she hugged Sol and Catherine, and even shook Taba hands, despite the girl¡¯s reluctance to comply.


    ¡°Ho!¡± Azhar¡¯s voice intruded upon their camp. He seemed to be struggling with calming his new found snake.


    ¡°He¡¯s a rowdy fellow dis one.¡± Laughed Azhar.


    ¡°Azhar.¡± Sighed a particularily downtraught Toftof.


    Cirin gagged when he saw the man¡¯s situation.


    Azhar slid his hand over his face, ¡°What are ya doing wit ya hand in it¡¯s mouth?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not dat I wanted ta put my hand its mouth,¡± protested Toftof, ¡°it just happened ta be¡­ hungry?¡±


    Azhar was already attempting to pry the snake¡¯s mouth open as he bickered back at Toftof, ¡°Ya oaf! Ya know betta dan most dat pack snakes dun eat people.¡±


    ¡°Ya bot be idiots.¡± Entered Manama. Her voice prompted a sour look from both, which soon transitioned into looks more appropriately of astonishment as she simply reached behind the ramhorn¡¯s horn and made it release Toftof¡¯s hand.


    ¡°Ramhorns be particular snakes.¡± She lectured, ¡°If ya dun meet deir every need while traveling dey will be as mischievous as spirits. Dis one had an itch behind her ear.¡±


    Toftof smiled at the snake as he rubbed the back of his own head, ¡°Sorry about dat.¡± He laughed, ¡°Wait. Why I am apologising ta a snake?¡±


    ¡°I suppose dis be goodbye.¡± Said Manama.


    Azhar sighed one last time and held his arm out, as did Toftof, though Manama was quick to reject the slimy thing. She grasped Azhar¡¯s hand and gave it one firm shake.


    ¡°Ya promise ta come back alive?¡± hushed Azhar.


    ¡°Can¡¯t say da same about my pursuers.¡± She prattled.


    Azhar smiled at her and she returned the gesture.


    ¡°Stay safe.¡± She said at last.

 Chapter 24, The Desert Race

    That night, Manama left with the two original pack snakes and the company resituated their travel goods on the new snakes along with the prisoner.


    Since the sandy great cloaks covered all of the visible body, they needed only to strip the corpses of that one item. After that, the six of them adorned the cloaks and stored the other three as spares.


    ¡°Will dis work?¡± asked Cirin as the sands rushed passed him.


    Azhar peered back at him and then the prisoner directly across from the boy.


    ¡°It will, mouse.¡± Reassured the man.


    Cirin tilted his head over the edge of the snake carriage. Below him, the golden desert flushed by impossibly fast. He could hear the howling and he deafening screech of the sand flow in the distance. Both the sound and the speed at which the sand traveled made him nauseous. Normally the sand did not travel so fast, but these snakes made it seem so in the rate they were slithering.


    He tilted his head further. The other snake was close behind, forming silhouettes with the setting sun. He hadn¡¯t noticed it earlier during the first sandflow with the new snakes, but now a day since he was certain. These legless limps were racing.


    ¡°If Caterine¡¯s plan works, we¡¯ll be in da bazaar witout so much as a poke from dese desert demons.¡± Finished Azhar.


    ¡°And Manama?¡± prodded Cirin. ¡°Couldn¡¯t we have fought off any attackers?¡±


    The man threw him a glance, ¡°I don¡¯t like it eida mouse, know dat. But dere be dangahs wit attacks. Toftof, Manama, Caterine, and I can fend fa ourselves, even you and Taba ta some extent, but I can make no gurantees bout da prince.¡±


    Cirin let his mouth go agape. How could he have been so dull?


    ¡°Ya see mouse, back in Gin when da first of Jegga¡¯s men attacked us we fought excellently. But didn¡¯t stop one man from throwing a knife at da prince. No amount of our effort could¡¯ve stopped dat.¡± Azhar reached a hand down to the Ram-horn¡¯s head and lightly tapped it¡¯s let brow. Soon the ramhorn itself swerved left, prompting the one behind it to do so as well, ¡°Every fight we get inta is a risk. Dun be forgettin dat, mouse. Dat be why I agreed ta let Manama go.¡±


    ¡°And him?¡± pointed Cirin, ¡°Isn¡¯t he a risk?¡±


    Azhar laughed from where he stood, ¡°unfortunately, yes. But he be our only chance at findin who hired dese goons.¡±


    ¡°What? Who? Where am I?¡±


    ¡°Ah.¡± Breathed Azhar, ¡°Looks ta me da spirits heard us talking, eh?¡±


    The man struggled a bit, but upon realising his constraint he merely swallowed and tossed his eyes between the man the boy.


    ¡°You¡¯re not going ta kill me now are you? Please oh please don¡¯t!¡± he pleaded.


    ¡°Relax mon, we got a few questions fa ya.¡± Started Azhar.


    ¡°I know nothing!¡± cried the man, ¡°Please believe me, I only joined dem as a chronicler.¡±


    ¡°A chronicler?¡± asked Cirin.


    Azhar sighed up front, ¡°Right, Jegga always insisted a chronicler be wit his men during da attacks. Something about ratin da perfomence of his men in da field.¡± Azhar spat of the snake, ¡°Part of da reason I left dat crew.¡±


    ¡°Y-y-you were a member of Jegga¡¯s bandits?¡± stuttered the man.


    ¡°For a few months yes.¡± Confirmed Azhar, ¡°dough now ya need ta be da one answerin¡¯. Who hired ya people to hunt da prince.¡±


    The man shook his head furiously, ¡°I dun know!¡± he insisted.


    ¡°Oi mouse, reach in his pockets fa his book. If he be tellin da truth¡­¡±


    The man smiled dumbly at the mention of being believed.


    ¡°¡­Den he is a chronicler, sa he should have a book on him.¡± Completed Azhar.


    The man let his head fall as he realised that was what his captor had meant.


    Cirin scrunched up close to the man, who smelled something awful. IT was an indiscrete odour somewhere between urine and morning breath. Pinching his nose, Cirin searched through the man front pockets of his jacket. Before long the boy produced a neatly bounded papyrus book. As he pulled it out, a locket swept out of the same pocket.


    Cirin picked up the locket with a glance thrown at the man. He hadn¡¯t noticed. Cirin tossed his eyes to Azhar. His master hadn¡¯t witnessed the theft either. He pocketed the glistening thing as he read aloud the words written on the cover.


    ¡°An Account of my Callous Companions¡­ Volume One.¡± Slurred the boy.


    ¡°You weren¡¯t fond of ya friends, eh?¡± spoke up Azhar.


    ¡°Dey weren¡¯t my friends.¡± Whimpered the man, ¡°Work acquaintances that happened ta be illiterate.¡±


    ¡°Surely Jegga would¡¯ve objected?¡±


    ¡°Actually, Lord Jegga loved my naming methods.¡± Brightened the man, soon downing his head once more in light of his current situation, ¡°Said it brought joy to dis mundane business.¡±


    Azhar nudged his head at Cirin to continue.


    ¡°Meritel and Gonza went to da loo dis morning and-¡±


    ¡°Mouse. Read out da important bits.¡± complained Azhar.


    Cirin nodded, flipping through the pages as he quickly scanned each one. Much of it proved to be a simple account of that particular bandit platoon. What they ate, their training regimens, scouting reports, and the like. Finally he came across something of note.


    The boy cleared his throat, ¡° ¡®Heard da boys arguing about da current employers again. Ifris insisted da moral implications be ma converning dan da actions, yet Gonza made adamant ta how Ifris¡¯s previous claim ta how bandit morales reflected da teachings of da philosipher H. H Abrah were absurd.¡±


    ¡°Stop dere mouse.¡± Instructed Azhar. He turned his head over to the prisoner, ¡°So ya do know about ya employer.¡±


    Again the man shook his head, ¡°I only heard dem talking about it. I swear!¡±


    ¡°And what exactly did ya hear?¡±


    ¡°No no no!¡± puffed the man, ¡°Do ya have any idea what Lord Jegga will do to my cousins if he learns about what I said?¡±


    Azhar narrowed his eyes for the slightest display of agitation, ¡°Do ya have any idea what I¡¯ll do to you?¡±


    The man practically screeched as he drew his breath inward. ¡°Fine. Do what you will. Just don¡¯t kill me. And fa da love of da spirits, keep dat woman away from me! Anyting, but dat monsta!¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s gone mon.¡± revealed Cirin. ¡°We parted ways.¡±


    ¡°Gone? Gone! Wondaful! Oh spirits.¡± Wept the man, smiling to the sky, ¡°when did I eva doubt ya? I mean¡­¡± he gulped returning his gaze to the boy and the and, ¡°I¡¯m sorry a ya lose. She is dead right?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± puffed Cirin, ¡°She isn¡¯t.¡±


    The lie practically drained from his face when Azhar managed to sigh again.


    ¡°Sand flows endin¡¯.¡± Noted the man, ¡°Mouse, fetch Toftof.¡±


    Azhar and Toftof began conversing by the lead snake when they stopped after the sand flow. Cirin snuck up to them as they talked. The topic of that talk seemed unavoidable.


    ¡°Should we torture him?¡± asked Toftof.


    ¡°He if dun talk, we¡¯ll have to.¡± Nodded Azhar.


    ¡°Nasty business dat, torture.¡±


    ¡°But one dat provides results. We¡¯ll do it tomorrow, I¡¯ll caterine watch ova da kids while you and I ¡®escort¡¯ our man to safe distance away from dem.¡± Continued Azhar.


    Cirin reached into his pocket while the two men went over the details of their plot. He pulled out the locket and flipped the golden thing open. Aside from its surprisingly ornate crest and clear glass cover, Cirin found the curious image of a long haired woman in the center of the device. She had maple eyes and a face that was seemingly sculpted. How a man as pig nosed and cowardly as their prisoner could be related in anyway to the woman in the locket was beside him.


    Cirin found himself sighing as he snapped the locket shut. The fact was, this woman was important enough that he carried her with him wherever he went. The man, who¡¯s name they had not even known, was about to be tortured simply for the fact that he was on the wrong side. Cirin balled his hands. He didn¡¯t even have a weapon. In a strange, unholy way, that man was yet another Sol. A weak, unfortunate thing, born to the wrong family at the wrong time.


    Cirin stepped out from behind the snake. Azhar and Toftof noticed him immediately.


    ¡°Mouse?¡± questioned the man.


    Cirin licked his lips and levied his eyes on Azhar, ¡°I have an idea.¡± He said. ¡°Do you know of the place between you and I?¡±


    ¡°Bloody magic.¡± Spat toftof.


    Azhar rolled his eyes at his friend and nodded at the boy, ¡°We know of it.¡±


    ¡°Instead of torturing the man, why not use the place between you and I on him?¡±


    ¡°Mouse, we need information from him. If he won¡¯t talk ta us here, why would he talk us in a dark magical room?¡±


    ¡°What if he wasn¡¯t talking ta one of us?¡± pointed out Cirin.


    Before the man could question this line of thinking the boy once again withdrew the locket. He clicked it open and smiled as both men immediately knew what he was thinking.


    But there was one problem. An issue he dared not bring up amidst his victory with the two. He hadn¡¯t a clue as to how to change forms in the place between you and I.


    He thought it a simple feat he¡¯d decipher with a meeting with the voice. Though to his disappointment, the disembodied thing had never heard of such sorcery. A similar discourse with Catherine also proved fruitless which left him with only one unfortunate option.


    ¡°I need ya help.¡± He sighed at the girl.


    To say Taba was smug upon hearing that would have been a gross understatement. The girl was positively brimming with an unkempt and nefarious joy.


    ¡°My help?¡± she glutted with glee.


    ¡°Yes yours.¡± Said Cirin trailing behind the girl.


    Taba had now forced the boy to follow her for seventh time as she aimlessly circled the pack snakes.


    ¡°Well I could help ya, but ya also happen ta be my adversary. What would I gain from making my enemy stronga?¡±


    ¡°Dis isn¡¯t about us.¡± Averred Cirin, ¡°I need ta learn how ta change forms in a place between you and I so I can interrogate da prisona.¡±


    ¡°And why don¡¯t dey just torture him?¡± argued Taba.


    ¡°Because I¡¯ve already told dem dat I could do dis.¡±


    ¡°Admit it den. Ya just be needin my help sa you can earn deir approval.¡±Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    Cirin¡¯s brow twitched and his feet stopped abruptly, ¡°I¡¯ll figure it out myself.¡± He declared.


    ¡°Wait.¡±


    Cirin crossed his arms. Taba sighed.


    ¡°I dun know how ta do it.¡± She conceded. ¡°But I know ya need me fa it.¡± She lifted a finger, ¡°You¡¯re missing someting important if ya hope to impersonate dat woman.¡±


    Cirin lowered his head on his hand to think. The greatcloak could be used as cover for the woman¡¯s body, and he could be sitting to disguise her height. The only thing he was missing was¡­


    Taba ever so smug voice beat him to it, ¡°Ya dun know how she sounds.¡±


    ¡°And you do?¡±


    Taba nodded, drawing a look that was a little more than skeptical from the boy.


    ¡°It¡¯s hard ta explain.¡± She began, ¡°My sista always said my eyes gave me mo abilities dan just my magic. Tings I neva really got ta learn about because of Barra...¡± She lowered her gaze and kept one arm on her elbow. ¡°One of dese abilities lets me share da dreams of dose around me.¡±


    The boy thought back after hearing that. For once, he was glad he rarely dreamt.


    Taba met his eyes, ¡°I saw his dream.¡± She confessed, ¡°The prisoner¡¯s. I walked trough it. Felt it. I heard her voice, but didn¡¯t see her face. Dough if he carried a locket wit a face on it, I¡¯m sure it was her¡¯s.¡±


    ¡°How ya know about dat?¡±


    Taba shrugged, ¡°I saw ya talking ta dose two. Dat woman is his cousin.¡±


    ¡°So.¡± Concluded Cirin, ¡°Ya saying we bot have da pieces ta dis, but neida of us know how ta transform in da place?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± hushed Taba. She let her grin turn into a confident one, ¡°Not yet.¡±


    For the days following the two enemies formed a makeshift alliance. It was unspoken, but held sacred for their purpose. Every moment, every spare minute they had to themselves whilst traveling on the ramhorns, they spent communing with each other in the place between you and I. Convincing Azhar for more time on the matter had been surprisingly easy. In his own words, ¡®If ya two found a way ta work togedda, I¡¯d give my whole lifespan ta see it¡¯.


    At first, Cirin found it slightly discouraging Taba held the reins whenever they entered, yet he learned to reconcile that with his own need to interrogate the chronicler.


    After just three days of experimenting, Cirin awoke to the sight of Taba sitting with one knee up across from him.


    ¡°Dis is hopeless!¡± she spat, ¡°How does Manama do dis?¡±


    Cirin spied the sky, the reddened thing was dimming once more.


    ¡°She once told me dat magic be simple.¡± He declared.


    ¡°It¡¯s not.¡± A blunt riposte.


    ¡°What if it is?¡± started the boy, ¡°She also called transforming in da place a ¡®trick¡¯, as if it were a con.¡±


    ¡°You kids talkin bout cons, eh?¡±


    The duo tossed their heads at the man in front. He was quieter those days without Manama constantly taunting him. The desert wind howled by and the imp cleared his throat.


    ¡°I may not know da finah points about magic-¡±


    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t tink so.¡± Butted Taba.


    ¡°But.¡± Asserted Toftof, ¡°I know how ta handle a con. We sandrats are mastahs of trickery. Ta pull off a con ya need ta figure out da perfect lie.¡± Toftof jabbed his chest with his thumb whilst he handled the snakes reins with his other hand, ¡°Trust my words as da man known as da liar. Da best way to sully da truth is ta make sure ya believe ya lie, just long enough fa ya ta deliver it.¡±


    ¡°Believe ya own lie?¡± repeated Cirin. He lowered his head with his hand on his chin. Then he tossed his eyes at Taba, ¡°Taba.¡± he called.


    ¡°Degenerate.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve been tinking a lot about our arrangement.¡±


    Taba shifted, quick to glance at Toftof before responding, ¡°Does dis need ta mentioned now?¡±


    Cirin nodded, ¡°Based on ya skill, ya ability wit da blade, I need confess my hesitation.¡±


    She narrowed her eyes.


    Cirin continued, ¡°I tink dat¡­ I tink ya going ta win.¡±


    Taba¡¯s smile was thing of pure wickedness. Never had the grin of a child, a priestess no less, held so much unkempt joy in the perceived domination of another soul. That grin, however, lasted all but two ticks of a clock. It¡¯s departure was marked by a knowing frown.


    ¡°You¡¯re lying.¡± Realised the fool.


    Cirin snickered where he sat, and shook his head in a vain attempt to stop himself, ¡°Sorry Tof, I tried ya method, but I couldn¡¯t convince myself of da lie.¡±


    Toftof smiled back at him and for once Cirin spotted an expression on the man he had not seen before. For a moment, the sandrat lieutenant appeared refined. Content even.


    ¡°Rare ta hear ya laugh, boy.¡± He hummed, returning his gaze ahead of him, ¡°Ya laugh da same as an old friend of mine.¡±


    Cirin pushed his back against the wall, ¡°Ya won¡¯t hear me laugh again wit comments like dat, mon.¡±


    ¡°I get it, I get it.¡± Waved the man, ¡°Silence it is, eh?¡±


    Cirin found himself staring at Taba after that. She had her eyes glued well ahead of her. Dirt hugged her coat, yet her face remained immaculately clean. She had the odd habit of using some of her share of the drinking water to wash after all. It made the black lines that stretched from her eyelids to the crest of her forehead brilliantly glisten. The rest of that tattoo from the forehead onwards vanishing behind the thin layer of chocolate hair she had growing.


    He was going to win. Yet to say he was absolutely certain of that outcome would have been a lie in ernest. He wondered just how she saw him as he glared on lazily. Who was he to her in her mind¡¯s eye? Who was he to her in reality?


    ¡°We lie to ourselves.¡± He mouthed the words. He lowered his eyes at his own blistered palm.


    Slowly, he let the light of the desert wash from his sight. His eyelids lowered and his breathing calmed. Toftof, out of all his companions, had given him an idea. He licked his lips.


    ¡°I consent.¡±


    Black. The room before him was darkened as expected. He was sitting down. As expected. Yet the figure ahead of him remained eerily still. Even more so, it was exactly who he¡¯d seen staring back at him in the drinking water that morning. He sat in a room with himself.


    Cirin waved one arm to test it, and his other self waved back. He blinked. It blinked.


    ¡°I¡¯m going ta lie to you.¡± Said two identical voices at once. ¡°My name is Azhar.¡±


    The figure ahead of him shifted in a blackened veil. By the time he blinked again, the figure itself had turned to the old mon. Cirin stared at his hand. It was wrapped fro mthe stab wound Azhar suffered just days ago.


    ¡°It worked.¡± Said two Azhars, ¡°It worked.¡±


    He stood up abruptly to find Taba studying him in the real world. She glanced away almost immediately when he saw her.


    ¡°Taba, lets enta da place between you and I.¡±


    ¡°You tink of something in ya sleep?¡±


    Cirin smiled. ¡°It wasn¡¯t sleep.¡±


    It was already night by the time the sandflow seized. Cirin¡¯s feet studded the ground as he happily swaggered to the front snake.


    Azhar was waiting for him, ¡°Dis betta work, mouse. Someting goes wrong, I¡¯m pulling ya out, one way or da udda.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯ll work.¡± Said the boy, stopping before the prisoner, ¡°And I know dere only be one udda way ta stop da ritual.¡± He levied his eyes on the prisoner. He doubted the man understood the gravity of that other way.


    ¡°Chronicler, I¡¯d like ta talk ta ya.¡± Started Cirin.


    The man rose his head sadly, ¡°I- I have a name.¡± he tried, ¡°Cassal.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s about ya logs.¡± Interjected Cirin, ¡°I plan ta do da same ting when I get olda.¡± He lied, ¡°Care ta talk wit me?¡±


    Cassal shrugged, ¡°Of my work? Ya be an admirer of it? Well, despite my regrettable condition, I¡¯ll try my best ta entertain ya.¡±


    And that was consent enough. Before long Cassal reawakened in a darkened room. His bounds had vanished and ahead of him sat the figure of a woman covered in a great cloak.


    ¡°Mephit? Is dat you? Spirits!¡±


    ¡°Dun stand.¡± Ordered the woman, ¡°If you do, dis magic will fade.¡±


    ¡°Magic? Mephit, are you alright? Listen, I¡¯ve been captured! Oh but forget about me, you need ta run. Rememba what da ma taught us.¡±


    ¡°What happened?¡±


    ¡°Brigands I¡¯m afraid. Not a rival gang, but I fear da worst. Dey killed da rest of my team and captured me fa questionin, but I didn¡¯t reveal anyting. I knew ya would be in dangah if I did.¡±


    ¡°Ya mean reveal anyting bout who sent ya?¡±


    Cassal paused.


    ¡°Mehpit, forgive me fa asking, but¡­¡± Cassal lowered his brows, ¡°Who told ya dat?¡±


    Cirin stumbled, ¡°Ma. Ma told me.¡±


    Cassal¡¯s shaking head made Cirin realize his mistake.


    ¡°Ma¡¯s been dead fa years. Dis magic.¡± Cassal glanced around, ¡°Yes I¡¯ve heard of it. Da Cleva man¡¯s Council. Ya not Mehpit are ya?¡±


    Cirin leaned forward, ¡°No I-¡±


    He felt something on his shoulder. A heavy grasp. He stood up immediately. The air was simmering, dust clot the his clungs, and the sound of slithering drowned his ears.


    ¡°Mouse! Mouse!¡±


    Cirin snapped his head to the mon and squinted at the man¡¯s wrought expression. He already had his blades out. Instantly he realised what the man he had been glaring out.


    Three, no five pack snakes were close upon them. Ramhorns, the lot of them.


    ¡°Old mon, da spell- it didn¡¯t work.¡±


    ¡°Dun worry about dat, Mouse. Just keep ya head low. We¡¯ll try ta out slither these brigands while we can.¡±


    Cirin nodded, but by the pace of the larger snakes racing towards them, he could tell that was more hopeful thinking of Azhar¡¯s part.


    ¡°It¡¯s no use, Azhar.¡± Realized Toftof, ¡°Dose snakes are mature ones, dey¡¯ll reach us in minutes.¡±


    ¡°Dere are five snakes. Dat¡¯s easily tirty men. Runnin¡¯ be our best option Tof.¡±


    Toftof scrunched over to Azhar¡¯s side with one hand holding the reins, then placed his free hand on Azhar¡¯s shoulder.


    ¡°It¡¯s ova if dey find da prince on da udda snake, you know dat Azhar.¡±


    Azhar flicked Toftof¡¯s hand, ¡°Are ya suggesting we leave da children to deir own?¡±


    ¡°It be dere best bet out. Wit us two we can hope ta hold dem off, use da Rotgrip tactic.¡±


    ¡°Rotgrip. Haven¡¯t heard dat in awhile.¡± Reminisced Azhar.


    ¡°Old mon, what are ya saying?¡±


    Azhar turned him a heavy eye, ¡°I¡¯m saying we stop. You, Sol, Caterine, and Taba get on dis snake and hide. If all goes well dey¡¯ll tink us deir own membas and let us.¡±


    ¡°Will dat work?¡± questioned the boy.


    ¡°It¡¯ll have to, mouse.¡±


    Toftof pulled the reins and the snake simmered to a halt. Seeing it¡¯s lead slow, the second snake paused in tandem.


    Azhar explained the details of his plan whilst he ran to the other snake and soon the three figures of that snakes¡¯ passengers leapt off for the first snake.


    Cirin was greeted by the baffled muzzles of Taba, Catherine, and Sol.


    ¡°Dey¡¯re comin.¡± Alerted Toftof, ¡°Hide in ya greatcloaks. Make no movements.¡± The imp turned to face the approaching Caravan, ¡°Dey be here.¡±


    Cirin saw through the lightest hole in his cloak. Nearly all of the approaching company had halted a stone¡¯s throw from their own company. Just one of those snakes had departed, and was now slowing to where Azhar and Toftof had labored to greet them.


    The voice of these men were muzzled behind the cloaks and distance, yet cirin could decipher parts of what the said. One man jumped off the back of his snakes and ventured to greet Toftof and Azhar.


    ¡°We come from da east.¡± Informed Toftof. ¡°Our company was killed and we were da last two alive.¡±


    ¡°By da prince¡¯s company?¡±


    ¡°Da very same.¡± Chimed Azhar.


    The arriving man had a low quality to his voice. His exaggerate height and skinny physique made him seem more spectre than man.


    ¡°Dat would explain why two men possess two snakes. Mind an escort den. Dese parts be danga-¡±


    ¡°No.¡± spewed Azhar, ¡°We can make it ourselves.¡±


    The tall man gave Azhar and Toftof a good long stare before eventually nodding, ¡°Den dere be na mo ta discuss, take ya snakes back to da base and explain ta dem what happened.¡±


    There was a thud and Cirin nearly fell forwards as he connected that thud to the man lumbering behind him.


    Catherine seemed in mid spell when the man shot up abruptly and called out aloud.


    ¡°Help!¡± Bellowed Cassal, ¡°Help! I¡¯m in here! In mhmmflr.¡±


    The man¡¯s desperate dialog ended when his own filth ridden shirt stuffed itself into his mouth. Catherine¡¯s hand was glowing faintly.


    Yet that was too late. The first of the foreigns snakes was already slithering towards tem, whiel the other four were on their way.


    Azhar drew his blade and held it to the tall man¡¯s throat.


    ¡°Go!¡± shouted back Azhar.


    Cirin froze up, Catherine was still maintaining the spell, and Taba  was snapping frantically.


    ¡°Hiyaah!¡± bellowed Sol.


    Cirin blinked. In a time when he froze it was the timid prince who had taken action. The snake snapped forwards and in the distance the other snakes could be heard well on their tail.


    Cirin blinked as the cloak over his head fluttered into the wind.


    ¡°No point hiding.¡± Remarked Taba, she flung her hand outwards and series of jagged rocks flung towards the encroaching snakes.


    Taba cursed as each of her attacks missed the mark.


    ¡°I can¡¯t hit dem.¡± She screeched.


    Cirin eyes bounded to toftof and Azhar in the distance. The metal glints in the setting sun revealed they were already at it.


    ¡°We can¡¯t leave dem.¡± He started whispering.


    Taba flung even more rocks and Cassal mumbled helplessly beside them. Tiny Sol held the reins despite it all. Their pursuers got closer. Cirin shut his eyes. Think.


    In times such as these it was Azhar who knew what to do. It was Azhar who snapped the stragglers together and it was Azhar who¡¯d make any call regardless of how the others wold take it. Yet no, Azhar wasn¡¯t around. Cirin opened his eyes and the madness returned. He steadied his breathing and leered at the prisoner.


    ¡°We toss him.¡± He instructed, reaching for the man.


    Taba paused her relentless assault to question the boy, ¡°I tought ya wanted ta use da place ta interrogate him.¡±


    ¡°Da same trick won¡¯t work twice.¡± Grunted Cirin as he tugged the pig of a man. ¡°Catherine!¡±


    ¡°Right, right.¡± She blurted as she pushed him from the other side. Once she started, the man¡¯s shirt fell from his mouth and he gasped as he edged ever closer to the moving edge.


    ¡°No, dun do dis, ya need me!¡±


    ¡°Dat was befa ya gave us away.¡± Tugged Cirin.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be betta, promise.¡±


    Cirin and Catherine gave one final yank to the man and let him tumble off the edge and out of view.


    Catherine puffed and fell back, ¡°What now?¡± she gasped.


    Cirin caught his own breath, ¡°We deal wit dem.¡±


    ¡°Impossible! What do ya tink I was doing all dis time? My rocks won¡¯t hit dem.¡± Complained Taba.


    Cirin winced as the snakes got ever closer. He could make out the various faces of the men in pursuits. Not one looked to be the pleasant diplomatic type, ¡°Den we need ta slow dem down.¡± Decided the boy.


    ¡°But how?¡± stressed the girl.


    Cirin¡¯s head throbbed. He curled his fists. Azhar. Azhar was out there, alone. He tired to think yet the image of the old mon bloodied, wounded even, left him stumbling.


    ¡°Is it a cloudy day, Cirin?¡± asked Catherine.


    Cirin found himself gawking at the scholar, then the sky. There were clouds, murky ones in fact.


    ¡°You three go on a ahead.¡± Said the scholar as she stood up.


    ¡°Caterine? Caterine!¡± Cirin reached for her, but a moment too late.


    In one fluid moment, the apprentice of the man who owned a hatshop leapt off the moving snakes and landed squarely with her knees bent on the sand.


    The world went silent as she tossed one arm up in the sky. IT was over in a flash.


    When the light died down, Cirin found himself staring at a perfectly glossed over portion of sand stretching well to the side infrotn of Catherine.


    Cirin blinked, ¡°Watta?¡± he questioned.


    ¡°No.¡± corrected a gawking Taba, ¡°She turned da sands ta glass. Dat means¡­¡± She gasped.


    She stood up herself and snapped her fingers five times. Snap. Snap. Snap. Snap.


    She threw one arm in front of her, and the rocks zipped through the air.


    Each of them pierced the heads of the snakes, stopping the poor beasts instantly.


    ¡°Glass.¡± Revealed Taba, ¡°Is a smooth surface, one da snakes cannot move across quickly.¡±


    Cirin could hardly hear her. The visage of Catherine slowly being surrounded by the assailants was all that crossed his mind. He fell back.


    ¡°We have ta go back to dem. Sol¡± he said turning to the boy.


    He reached for the prince. Taba caught his grasping hand.


    ¡°Let go.¡± Fumed Cirin.


    A firm slap to the face was her response.


    ¡°Ya really are a brainless degenerate if ya tink all dat was fa noting.¡±


    ¡°If we don¡¯t dere going ta die!¡± bellowed Cirin.


    Taba shook her head and pointed at Sol, ¡°Dey are not da targets. He is.¡±


    Cirin sat back. He found Sol staring back at him, a sad smile plastered across his face.


    ¡°I tink we be far enough now.¡± Sighed Taba, ¡°Stop da snake.¡±


    Once the snake stopped, Taba was quick to leap off of it and disappear off to the side of the beast. Cirin tossed sol a look and followed after girl.


    At first he didn¡¯t find her, as where he checked on the right side of the snake, there lay only sand and footprints. He followed those prints around the snake and quickly found who he had been searching for. Her and yet another.


    ¡°What¡¯s he doing here?¡± hissed Cirin.


    ¡°He is our back up plan.¡± Motioned Taba.


    Cassal hung pinned to the snake carriage by the back of his collar. There, his tattered shirt was held in place by a single piece of jagged rock.


    ¡°We¡¯ll use him ta find Jegga¡¯s base.¡± Continued Taba, ¡°from dere, we find dose and save em.¡±


    Cirin held his breath, ¡°Ya want ta save dem to?¡±


    Taba¡¯s ears reddened and she glanced away, ¡°Simply out of gratitude fa Caterine fa saving me back den.¡±


    Her ears almost turned watermelon red as a smiling Sol reared his head over the side of the snake.


    ¡°An adventure!¡± beamed the prince.


    ¡°A rescue mission.¡± Corrected Taba.

 Chapter 25, The Promised Plan

    The two glared at him.


    His anxious eyes spat between them.


    ¡°No. No!¡± He screeched, ¡°You two goinna be da death of me.¡±


    ¡°We can arrange dat.¡± Smiled Cirin.


    Taba sighed, ¡°What my callous companion is trying ta say is dat ya be in our hands now.¡±


    The man puffed, practically turning in his manacles, ¡°What can two children do ta me?¡±


    Taba snapped. Then again and again.


    For each rock that popped above her tattooed-head, Cassal¡¯s already wrinkled brow furrowed and furrowed.


    Slowly he turned to the jagged rock pinning him to the snake carriage and back at Taba.


    ¡°Dat was you?¡± he blurted.


    Taba snapped again.


    ¡°Alright. Alright!¡± moaned Cassal, ¡°I¡¯ll guide ya two to da base, but be forewarned, dat place be da death of ya. If dose friends of ya¡¯s failed, what chance ya two got?¡±


    ¡°Three.¡± Corrected a frowning Sol.


    Cirin ruffled the hairs on the boy¡¯s prince and nudged his head at him.


    ¡°you heard da prince. We¡¯re going.¡±


    Cassal let his eyes fall to the reddened sky, ¡°We go west. Half a days journey at worst.¡±


    Hoisting the heavy man back on the snake, the trio guided the snake west. The further they slithered, the further their shadows stretched to the other side of the desert against the autumn horizon. The sands seemed endless there. Nothing for hours and then they saw it.


    It kissed the darkened sky whilst its¡¯ base hid behind a clutch of dunes. At the top of it, Cirin could make a collection of seven flags fluttering in the distance. Each distinct to its waving cousin. Beyond that, the scarce outline of buildings glinted in the distance. Some were already alit.


    ¡°Is dat a towa?¡± asked Cirin.


    He glanced at Taba, he knew she was thinking it to by the way she gawked at it.


    ¡°A towa? Ya telling me ya neva seen one of dose?¡±


    Cassal shook his head when the two answered with empty stares.


    ¡°Its¡¯ a mesa. Da bazaar is practically made of em¡¯. Each one of dem hosting its own martial school. Jegga¡¯s mesa was da only one outside da clusta in da bazaar. Ya friends are dere as well, da tird flag dere is of Bahar¡¯s group. Dat be da caotain  of da group dat poursued ya. Dough it seems dey gave chasing afta ya killed five of deis snakes and dey realsied just who dey captured. And befa ya ask, dey use a lift. Look¡±The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    Cirin followed Cassal¡¯s precision gaze to the distant outline of string thin wires and a slowly moving platform traveling by their supports.


    The boy turned his eyes to his palms. He imagined those dirtied things with the same white bandages the old mon sported.


    ¡°What would Azhar do?¡± asked Sol before he could


    Cirin curled his hands into fists.


    ¡°We wait.¡± He said aloud, ¡°No point going in da night if dere be only one way in.¡±


    ¡°But maybe we should.¡± Started Taba. She levied a finger at Cassal, ¡°They¡¯d let him in, and if we hide on da snake-¡±


    ¡°Dey won¡¯t see us in da dark !¡± finished Cirin


    Taba shot him a furious glance, ¡°I didn¡¯t give ya da permission ta cut me off, but yes. Yet seeing as you uncovered my plot, degenerate, da plan may be too simple.¡±


    ¡°Plan? No.¡± Shook Cassal, ¡°I do not like dis.¡±


    ¡°And what if he betrays us?¡±


    Taba peered at Cassal, ¡°We¡¯ll tell his mastas dat he told us everything.¡±


    Cassal jutted forwards at the notion. He tried to talk, but the words escaped him. Cirin could tell the man¡¯s silence gave Taba the assurance she needed. She had that usual smug smile about her. Cirin craned his head. There was more to it this time.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± he asked her.


    Taba scarcely glanced at him before returning her sights to the captured man.


    ¡°I was just tinking dis man has quite a bit mo magic dan I expected.¡±


    ¡°Dun tell him dat!¡± snapped Cirin


    ¡°His markings are bright.¡± She continued, oblivious to his warning, ¡°Da patterns are different too, dey be curved lines.¡± She squinted, ¡°Letters almost.¡±


    ¡°It won¡¯t work.¡± Began the man once more. He rose his dirtied mug to his two captors, ¡°If it were any udda prisonah, dose friends of your¡¯s would be dead now.¡±


    ¡°Silence.¡± Spat Cirin, instantly reaching for his blade.


    ¡°Wait. Listen.¡± Begged the man, ¡°I¡¯m saying dat dey won¡¯t be dead because dey be not normal prisonahs.¡± The man went quiet then, his eyes a scarce toss away from the boy, ¡°Dat man wit you was Azhar, wasn¡¯t he? I mean de Azhar. Jegga wants him. He¡¯s wanted him eva since dat man and his friends abandoned da gang.¡±


    Taba pushed passed Cirin to address the man, ¡°I was right den, dey¡¯re alive!¡±


    ¡°But ya see because dey are who dey are, dey won¡¯t be left in some prison. Most likely, dey are wit Jegga himself.¡±


    Cirin stumbled back until he tripped and landed on his bum. Taba seemed unable to notice it, but cirin knew it instantly. Rescuing Azhar and the others was not just not about sneaking in and breaking their binds. It also involved dealing with Jegga¡¯s men. Perhaps even Jegga himself.


    ¡°What kind of a man is Jegga, mon?¡± asked Cirin.


    ¡°A meticulous one. I am only one of many chroniclers in his ranks. He makes a point of recording every incident that occurs within his gang. He finds efficiency in reiterating every routine he has his followers take part in. Patrols, robberies, skirmishes, and even hits.¡± Cassal paused, ¡°He happens to be as ruthless as he is meticulous. The man is on his last years, but he commands nearly three hundred men and wastes no opportunity in employing them.¡±


    ¡°So tree against tree hundred, huh?¡± hushed Cirin.


    Sol seemed unphased by the number while Taba had nearly gone pale at the notion.


    ¡°Ya kids starting ta realise ya foolishness? Dere be no way to win here.¡± Asserted the man.


    ¡°A distraction.¡± Prompted Cirin, leaping to his feet, ¡°What can we do ta distract dem?¡±


    Taba began pacing, ¡°Noting dat won¡¯t attract attention to ourselves. He¡¯s right dis be hopeless.¡±


    ¡°Oi.¡± Cried Cirin, ¡°I¡¯m not giving up. If we can can¡¯t distract maybe we could get someone else ta do it.¡±


    ¡°Not possible.¡± Shook Taba, ¡°Only Catherine could conjure a distraction dat would work.¡±


    Cirin let his back collapse against the snake, ¡°Caterine. If only she made it wit us. If only we could¡­¡±


    ¡°Cirin?¡± stated Sol, ¡°Where are you going?¡±


    The boy had already made his to a place where had a good view of the snake, his two companions, and the prisoner. Cirin turned his head to Taba.


    ¡°How far can ya see those markings from?¡±


    ¡°If ya wonderin if I can see from dere, I can.¡±


    ¡°And hat about Caterine.¡±


    ¡°She could see betta dan I could what ya be planning, degenerate?¡±]


    Cirin flashed toothy grin. ¡°Oi Cassal.¡± He nudged his head at the man, ¡°Take of ya shirt.¡±

 Chapter 26, Jegga

    ¡°Jegga always had a way of holding his prisoners.¡±


    Lanterns glinted along the edge of the circle. All around the cries of festive goers filled the air. The laughs of drunkards, the clink of plates and the shuffle of tankards made the rest. Catherine felt at the rough roping of her binds. Despite how callous and brutish their captors were, they happened to be excellent at their knots.


    Azhar sat beside her, he was calm as always. Toftof could not be further from that disposition. The imp sat on the other side of Toftof, yet Catherine had heard a constant stream of grunts from him as fruitlessly worked to make waste of his binds.


    The three of them were tied to a singular post in the midst of a circle. Jegga made sure there was ample room between them and the nearest man. Catherine¡¯s eyes fell on the one facing them directly in front of Azhar. He sat on his twine throne. Silent. Staring.


    He wore the same greatcloak  his subordinates wore with the exception of a fur collar surrounding his neck. The fluffiness of the outfit seemed strange against his bony exterior. If he hadn¡¯t been moving, Catherine would have assumed the white haired man was dead.


    His eyes were sunk, his skin sickly pale, and his face a long drawn out thing. Even stranger so, the man refused to speak.


    A greatcloak walked up to Jegga, ¡°Sire, da festivities are well unda way. Shall we-¡±


    ¡°Do not interrupt me, Bahar.¡± Spoke the man at last.


    ¡°Sire.¡± Bowed the man.


    ¡°Do you know who dis man is, Bahar?¡±


    ¡°Azhar, Sire. I recognized him da moment I saw him.¡±


    Jegga snapped to Bahar and jerked him close by his collar. ¡°Ya mean how he fought.¡± Hissed Jegga. ¡°Dis spineless curr is da reason I have all of ya monitored.¡±


    Jegga let the man go and flicked his head back at Azhar. ¡°He not only deserted, he also took Jafna and Etro with him. Dose tree wee ta be my greatest accomplishment.¡± He leaned forwards, ¡°My successors.¡±


    ¡°Successor¡± corrected Azhar.


    ¡°So he speaks.¡±


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t inclined to ya twisted rituals, Jegga. I knew dat you wanted us tree ta fight ta see who would become da next lord of dis messa.¡±


    The lord twirled his hand, ¡°A small price ta pay.¡±


    ¡°Fa a man as rotten as ya.¡± Azhar held his gaze steady as he squinted at Jegga, ¡°I had no intention of killing dose two.¡±


    ¡°And yet you killed one anyway!¡± roared Jegga. He motioned Bahar back to him with a snap of his wrist, ¡°Bring me my sword, Bahar.¡±


    As Bahar made to grab the weapon, Jegga relapsed to Azhar, ¡°I¡¯ll give ya one mo chance.¡±


    Catherine shifted. For the first time that day she saw Azhar lift his shoulders.


    Jegga¡¯s rotten eyes rolled to the man beside Azhar, ¡°Kill him and I¡¯ll let ya rejoin my gang.¡±


    That man seized his squirming and smiled, ¡°Oi, lord egg.¡±


    ¡°Jegga.¡± Snipped the man.


    ¡°Befa we crack ya shell, I best warn ya dat Azhar won¡¯t betray me.¡±


    ¡°And what of the girl?¡± began Azhar.


    ¡°Oi.¡±


    ¡°Well we won¡¯t kill her.¡± Said Jegga behind pointed teeth.


    Azhar lowered his head with his eyes square and narrowed at Jegga.


    Now Catherine found herself shifting. She tossed her head from the devious Jegga to the downtraught Azhar. She had half them mind to tell them both off. As the seconds of silence passed between the two, she decided to squander what courage she could muster.


    ¡°Fadda!¡± began another before her.


    ¡°Not now, Kirina.¡± Sighed Jegga, ¡°Not in front of da prisonahs.¡±


    ¡°Father?¡± hushed Catherine.


    The girl had pushed herself passed the vanguard of the crowd to her father¡¯s side. She shared the same form as her father, skinny as a twig. Yet otherwise she could not be further from the man. Dark, black haired, with lively eyes. She also bore the same greatcloak as him.


    ¡°I will not have ya even suggest such a ting.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re bandits, Kirina. We dun abide by some moral standards.¡±


    ¡°Some bandits do.¡± Quipped Toftof.


    Azhar shot the imp a glance.


    ¡°Even so, she¡¯s about my age. Look.¡± Irina brushed her cloak aside to point at Catherine. The scholar smiled to herself. Not due to the fact she was defended but because she manage to catch a glimpse of the girl¡¯s tattooed hand. She was a fortune teller. Perhaps a fortune teller who spoke clearly to. She would have relished the chance to intervene such phenomena if not for her current predicament.


    Jegga rolled his eyes at the girl, ¡°Do ya know who dat man is?¡±


    Kirina blinked, ¡°Toftof the Liar? Or do ya mean Azhar?¡±


    ¡°Azhar. Da same man who left dis place twenty years ago.¡±


    ¡°Fadda, ya be too obsessed wit dat man.¡±


    ¡°I am not obsessed!¡± protested the man. He made an attempt at lowering his voice, but failed to escape Catherine¡¯s acute hearing, ¡°I just can¡¯t have my daughter commanding me around him.¡±


    ¡°Ya even accepted dat hit on da boy to track him down. If dat¡¯s not obsessed, I dun know what it could be.¡±


    ¡°Kirina!¡±


    The girl stamped her foot and sported a face as poignant as a boar.


    Jegga let his head fall forwards as he sighed, ¡°Fine. Da girl stays. Now Azhar.¡± He shoo¡¯ed Kirina aside and had Bahar hand him the blade. ¡°What say you? Kill da man beside you and you¡¯ll be free in my service.¡±


    ¡°A laughable form a freedom.¡±


    Jegga balanced the blade towards Azhar, ¡°Dis is ya only chance. Kill ya companion wit dis blade and I¡¯ll- oh what now?¡±


    Catherine tossed her eyes to where Jegga had turned. Another greatcloak had broken through the crowd. He pressed his palms together and bowed to his lord.


    ¡°My lord, Cassal has returned.¡±


    ¡°Cassal?¡± queried Jegga.


    Bahar was quick to explain, ¡°Da last of da scouting party ya sent. Also deir chronicler.¡±


    ¡°He survived? Wait. Bahar, da snakes ya recovered were stolen from a scouting party were dey not?¡±


    Catherine jolted forwards only to have Azhar halt her with a stare as cold as the desert night. She returned the stare, now committed to their invisible discourse. She was sure he knew as well as she did, what Casssal appearing meant. He bowed his head as if to say ¡®wait and see what happens¡¯.


    Catherine sighed. Her head performing a quick nod as she fell back.


    ¡°Da very same, my lord.¡± Answered Bahar.


    Jegga smiled at Azhar, ¡°It seems we¡¯ve found ya prince.¡±


    Catherine flinched as a man fitting Cassal¡¯s description finally stumbled out of the crowd. By now the surrounding cheers had all but halted as all found their eyes glued to the man entering their lord¡¯s presence. Not because he was he lost companion, nor since he had managed to survive where half dozen could not. No. It was because he was shirtless.


    Naturally, in a place as hot as the Illivanmari desert shirtlessness was quite common. In fact, as Catherine recalled, there was a peculiar study done on the matter by lord Gal¡¯Farrasini. Farrasini had been obsessed with shirts for years, so much so the king of Galokin had to shed the lord¡¯s title till he forfeited the awful obsession. Though mostly common amongst the farmers, the practice of bearing no shirt was also shared by the various fisherman along the coastal towns of the desert kingdom. So, if the man now before her and a horde of bandits was either a fisherman or Ginian farmer, not one of the cautious glances he was receiving would be warranted. Yet this was not the case.


    What stood before her was a foul smelling blob of a man. Aside from his lone pair of no doubt sullied trousers, he had on him a rather heavy coat of dirt, filth, and as Catherine wished she could clench her nose, other unmentionables.


    ¡°Spirits.¡± Barked Jegga, ¡°Did ya roll around in da sands befa ya tought ta come back from da dead? Get dis man to baths.¡±


    ¡°My lord.¡± Bowed Cassal, ¡°I beg ya counsel.¡±


    Jegga motioned the man to continue.


    Again, Cassal bowed. ¡°Afta my unfortunate captor to dese men.¡± He pointed at Azhar, ¡°I was subjected ta various forms of torture.¡±


    ¡°Oi dat¡¯s not true.¡± Squirmed Toftof, ¡°Tell him, Azhar.¡±


    Azhar shrugged. He eyes flicked to Cassal, ¡°Continue.¡± He said from where he sat.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t reveal anyting.¡± Assured Cassal, ¡°Den Bahar¡¯s troop attacked.¡±


    ¡°Regretably, dat is when deir magic user took out five of our snakes.¡± Added Bahar.


    ¡°Sharp projectiles launched in each of deir heads.¡± Jegga shook his head, ¡°A disgusting ting, magic.¡±


    ¡°What if it were on ya side dough?¡±


    Jegga crutched his head on his hand. He leaned on that hand hard before speaking, ¡°Tell me, Cassal, if deir magic ussah was able to defeat five of our ramhorns, why is it dat you managed to get back here, wit da stolen ramhorn no less?¡±


    ¡°It happened afta dey escaped Bahar¡¯s men you see. Afta witnessing dat magic, I realized I could use it to.¡± Cassal stretched his arms out and for the briefest of moments he glanced Catherine¡¯s way.


    Catherine did not miss this. She instantly focused on the man as he spoke on.


    ¡°I used my new found abilities to trick my captors and escape dem wit da snake.¡±


    The lines on him glimmered brilliantly. They stretched from his face to his chest and across his stomach and arms.


    Catherine¡¯s eyes expanded. The spots of dirt that clung to his body were not there by random. The lines were already curving so much that they almost could have been letters by themselves. The clumps fixed and joined these letters, until a simple message was written on this walking postcard. It took Catherine seconds to discern the sleepish hand writing written in Arrag.


    Distract them


    Of course how to do so was not included. Catherine sighed as she clamped her eyes and considered her options. Whoever wrote the message had complete faith in her as a strategist. She bowed her head low. What would distract a band of bandits, and their overly paranoid leader? Clearly another shirtless man back from the dead was not an option.


    She pried open her eyes and the first thing she spotted was Bahar standing beside his master with the execution blade held at his side. It seemed Jegga had grown tired of holding the heavy thing whilst his subordinate tried desperately to explain his new found connection to magic.


    ¡°What if that blade tuned against its master?¡± she hushed aloud.


    Azhar spotted her with the corner of his eye, ¡°Whateva ya tinking, I hope ya tought it tru.¡± He whispered back.


    Catherine fixated on Bahar¡¯s sword hand. It was a typical grasp, three fingers around the pommel with thumb for support. He wasn¡¯t far from his master either. Despite his position, in the presence of his lord he had become a mere guard. A guard who had to stay an arm¡¯s length away from his lord at all times. That was too far to project the blade onto Jegga, but it was just enough for what Catherine hoped to accomplish.


    Finally, her eyes bounced to the man¡¯s feet. He had a sturdy stance. Catherine nodded. She would have to focus there the most.


    In quick succession, the girl jerked her head in three different directions. Within three seconds, Bahar tripped forwards, his waist twisted, and his blade swung ahead of him. The result? An extremely poor attempt at murder.


    But an attempt nonetheless.


    Bahar spun back on his heel, holding on to the sword by an inch if it¡¯s handle. Catherine smiled. That was all he needed to do. The gaudy show had already attracted the attention of the bandits she could see.


    Jegga remained petrified to his seat. His dry lips fell apart as his eyes buzzed about the man infront of you, ¡°Bahar you-¡±


    Catherine flinched.


    Bahar finished the fake thrust, making it all too real. The silence shattered. Soon, every man with a blade were either jostling for their blades or already charging.


    Kirina¡¯s voice gave pause to them all, ¡°Wait!¡± She turned to Bahar. Her fists were clenched and her voice quivering, ¡°Can you explain yaself?¡±


    Bahar pressed his boot against the lifeless man as he drew the strawberry red blade from its chest.


    Kirina nearly fell to the sight.


    Bahar shrugged, He minced his words with yawns, ¡°Out of opportunity, I suppose.¡±


    ¡°But ya served him fa years.¡± Sneered Kirina.


    ¡°I did.¡± Nodded Bahar, ¡°Ya now bear befa ya why I did so.¡±


    Catherine swerved her head as she noticed a familiar glow. Two mice among trees had snuck in during the commotion.


    ¡°Taba!¡± She couldn¡¯t help herself.


    Taba instant glare made her hush herself. A twist of the head revealed Cirin on the other side, already undoing the binds on Toftof.


    ¡°Da prince is wit da snake.¡± Hushed the girl. She poked her eyes at the corpse, ¡°Did ya have ta kill him?¡±


    ¡°It was only supposed to lunge him close. I think that man connected the blow.¡±


    Taba loosened the last of Catherine¡¯s binds, ¡°He¡¯s a friend den?¡± she noted.


    ¡°Ya be a traitor, Bahar? So be it. I, Kirina, daughter of Jegga, command ya ta die.¡±The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    Catherine bounded to her feet as dozens of others made steps to Bahar. Unlike the previous fervent charge, the men took a slower approach. It was a curious change of heart until Catherine realized the cause of it all.


    Kirin rose her hand once more, ¡°Why do you stand still witout so much as raising dat sword? Do ya undastand da severity of what ya done? You betrayed ya masta.¡±


    There was a thud and then another. A plate clattered an earshot from Catherine. All around men were collapsing.


    Bahar stifled a laugh as he swung that blade about him with one hand. ¡°Who do ya tink had da food made fa dis celebration. And da drinks?¡±


    ¡°Dat¡¯s enough Bahar.¡±


    Kirina flicked her head to the source of that voice.


    ¡°You. Ya be from da Bazaar.¡±


    The addressed man started pacing to the center of commotion. He was an imp of a man, exactly the same as Toftof. Catherine even spared the real Toftof a glance to make sure he hadn¡¯t exercised some alter ego. As he held his practiced pace, the men in his way fell asleep one after the other.


    The baritone hummed more, ¡°Exactly, daughter of Jegga. Da Bazaar has not forgotten Jegga¡¯s long since desertion of da pilla city.¡±


    ¡°Desertion? Dis messa was neva a part of da Bazaar! Ya killed Fadda fa dat?!¡±


    ¡°Dis was da Scavengah¡¯s Cliff. Da Bazaar¡¯s furdest outpost fa centuries. Jegga¡¯s had an unsurmountable fortress fa years. Higha dan any cliff in da desert wit only one entrance and exit.¡±


    ¡°Only ta stop ya monstahs from taking him down.¡±


    The stranger halted a few steps from the girl, ¡°It seems he failed.¡± The man held up his hand and the few reaming bandits tore their great cloaks off. Underneath, they bore a white uniform complete with sea blue sashes.


    ¡°Come morning, reinforcements from da bazaar will arrive and secure dis messa. Now, daughter of Jegga.¡± The man withdrew a long blade sheathed to his back, ¡°By ordah of da Council, ya be sentenced ta death.¡±


    ¡°Wait!¡± cried out Catherine.


    Azhar and Taba sighed in unison.


    Both Bahar and the executioner turned to the scholar.


    ¡°Spare her will you? She tried to save me when she had no reason to. There¡¯s good in her.¡±


    ¡°The prisoners?¡± puffed Baritone.


    Catherine shot a glance at Cassal. There was no doubt he had aided their initial plans. ¡°Spare the shirtless man as well.¡±


    ¡°Why would we listen to prisonahs?¡± entered Bahar, ¡°I spent ten years sharpening my blade and ya want me to toss it aside?¡±


    ¡°Just for these two.¡± Pleaded Catherine.


    ¡°Bahar.¡± Began Baritone, ¡°We do need prisonahs of our own.¡±


    ¡°But da council, Salazan.¡±


    ¡°Dey¡¯ll undastand. Men, move dese sleeping fools to da closest cliff edge. Grik, Gera bound da chronicler and Jegga¡¯s daughter. It may not be an honorable victoreh, but a victory for da bazaar all da same.¡±


    ¡°Bah. A victory worth ten years of my life.¡± Bahar slipped his gaze from Salazan to Jegga¡¯s corpse. ¡°Strange. It didn¡¯t feel as great as I tought it would.¡±


    ¡°Do ya even feel a drop of remorse for what ya did, coward?¡±


    Bahar¡¯s scowl twitched and he pointed his reddened blade at Kirina. One of the two men had already gotten to binding Kirina¡¯s wrists.


    ¡°Come on Salazan, let me kill her.¡±


    Salazan shook his head, ¡°You¡¯ve changed, Bahar.¡± Bahar¡¯s brows and posture dropped to that while the shorter man continued to where Catherine and the others sat. He narrowed his eyes at the children, ¡°You lot be free ta go.¡±  Announced the man. ¡°Take da snake ya stole from dese louts.¡±


    ¡°Let us go wit ya.¡±


    Catherine was a loss for words. To think Azhar would ask that of all people.


    ¡°We were heading dere anyway.¡± Continued Azhar, ¡°By da count of ya men, it be best to have us amoungst ya.¡± Azhar bounced his head to Toftof, ¡°Dis one can fight well. Same wit da girl.¡±


    Salazan squatted low, ¡°Ya dun tink we know who ya be?¡±


    Bahar snorted, ¡°Da dead bastard wasn¡¯t da only one who made note of where ya went.¡±


    ¡°Nor was he da only one obsessed wit ya in dese parts.¡± Added Salazan, ¡°Ya realise what¡¯ll happen if ya come back?¡±


    Azhar held his gaze low, ¡°I¡¯m prepared fa it.¡±


    Salazan clasped his hands, ¡°Den dis will not only be da day we reclaim da final messa, it shall also be da day da prodigal son of Raza returns.¡±


    ¡°Prodigial murderah ya mean.¡± Snipped Bahar.


    Toftof reeled his mug to his friend as they got up, ¡°Azhar-¡±


    Azhar had his hand held up, ¡°No need ta get concerned ova it, Tof. I prepared for dis to.¡±


    ¡°Ya distraction was quite admirable.¡± Noted Taba.


    Catherine blinked, ¡°A compliment? From you?¡±


    The girl frowned immensely, crossed her arms and paced away. She stopped her mad retreat for the briefest of moments, ¡°I¡¯ll do betta when I¡¯m olda.¡±


    Catherine smiled. Somehow she found her traveling noble companion to be endearing in the strangest way. Though thoroughly rooted in her own deception of nobility, Taba still knew to respect the powers of those around her. Catherine balanced her head on her hand as she watched the girl slow to Azhar¡¯s side. If only she had faith in her own abilities.


    She realised the company had already begun moving. She had still to get used to how quickly these illivanmari enacted agreements. She decided to run up to them, stopping only briefly as a bound Kirina came into view.


    She held out her hand to motion the girl, but to no avail. The girl collapsed into Salazan¡¯s arms. The baritone imp levied his eyes on the approaching Catherine. It seemed he knew exactly why she was there.


    ¡°I had ta, girl. Tis be fa da best. She be betta off not seeing what ya bout ta see.¡±


    Bahar lowered his gaze. And Catherine studied the sides. Her eyes locked on the first of the Bazaar men carrying a bandit nearby. That man dragged the brigand roughly to the very edge of the messa. From where they stood, this edge was fairly close to the center ring. Two fortified houses loomed on either side.


    Heaving as he lifted the man, the Bazaar soldier tossed the bandit over the edge. Catherine rubbed her eyes. Then another bazaar soldier repeated the same horrendous act. Then another.


    ¡°Why?¡± she croaked.


    ¡°Da Bazaar has no need fa ex-bandits. Nor do we have da stockades fa da captured ones. We can exile dem, but dat may only lead ta death by hungah. It may not seem like it, but a swift death here is an act of mercy. Ofcourse dose enslaved here will be freed an taken back to da Bazaar.¡±


    ¡°But they were put to sleep. That¡¯s all. They didn¡¯t even have a chance to defend themselves!¡±


    ¡°And if dey did defend demselves? What den? Bandits are murderers and tieves, girl. Left alive, dey¡¯ll do noting but harm. Dese bandits in particular have been a blight fa far too long on da Bazaar. Fighting dem conventionally would have cost many mo lives.¡±


    Catherine swallowed hard. She knew Taba and Cirin were watching too. Azhar and Toftof were all too accustomed to it. She dared not pry her eyes from it as she managed away from the center of the messa. As if bearing it all instead of glancing away made the sin of doing nothing any better.


    After reaching the snake stables, Cirin called out Sol from hiding. The boy bobbed out in expert fashion.


    After deliberations, Bahar and Salazan decided upon traveling with the company with Cassal and Kirina in tow as prisoners. However with one condition.


    Salazan snapped the manacles on Azhar. The manancled man glanced back at his short companion, who had the same bindings placed upon him.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure ya undastand we can¡¯t be trusting ya.¡±


    Azhar nodded, ¡°I do. But I¡¯d do da same about you.¡±


    Salazan let the corner of his eyes fall on Bahar, ¡°True, we can¡¯t blame ya on dat. Dese bindings will be kept on ya till we reach da Bazaar.¡±


    ¡°So be it.¡± Shrugged Azhar.


    Catherine wagered it to be a trade of sorts. For one, they were forced to be bound like dogs, but as a compromise they were granted free seats on Salazan¡¯s Ramhorn.


    Catherine ogled at the sand below. Salazan¡¯s snake was no ordinary snake either. The beast stood twice as tall as the other ramhorns and seemed to be atleast head or two longer. Something, the oft reclusive Cirin had become increasingly on edge about.


    After just a day¡¯s worth of travel, five towering messas shadowed the horizon. Yet one amoungst them dwarfed the others.


    ¡°Dats da towa.¡± Spoke an unlikely Cassal. Catherine shifted as she heard his voice. Oddly, his comment was directed at Cirin.


    ¡°Da Bazaar has da four messas each wit martial temples built on top and sprawling districts around dem. Da towa be no different..¡±


    ¡°A people who do not fear deir towa?¡± gawked Taba.


    Cassal leaned back. Somehow, the man had grown accustomed to his binds, ¡°Da fact dat people outside fear da towas is itself strange. I dun know how much ya outsidahs know about our history, but in ancient times we worshipepd dose towas.¡±


    Taba shifted to the comment, ¡°We still do.¡±


    ¡°If ya mean dose towa priests, ya be wrong. Back den, da towas wa said ta grant martial mastahs visions of distant styles.¡±


    ¡°Shut it wit dose old stories, chronicler.¡± Complained Azhar.


    ¡°And what will ya do? Wrestle me in ya binds?¡±


    Azhar sighed.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t tink so. Ta say I, Cassal, would become accustomed ta dis life of always being bounded,. Dat be deplorable! Heinous!¡±


    Then Cirin spoke, ¡°What do ya mean, distant styles?¡±


    ¡°It be little mo den folklore now, but I still wish ta believe it. Da great mastas who visited da towas became fluent in udda styles. So much so dat dey began schools all ova Illivanmar. Dose schools became communities ova time and dose communities turned inta gangs.¡±


    ¡°Not all, ya wretch.¡± Sneered Bahar from the front, ¡°Some of us hold on ta our dignity as trained membas.¡±


    ¡°And what happened to dese mastashs? Did it eva happen again?¡± asked the all too eager Cirin, ¡°People enterin¡¯ old towas and learning new skills dat is?¡±


    Catherine tilted her head at the boy. Cirin was almost always quiet, yet when something piqued his interest even at the slightest he would erupt into a different person entirely.


    Cassal stared at him for the longest time, then fell back, ¡°Can¡¯t say.¡± He yawned, ¡°But dis be my last few hours in open air. Haven¡¯t ya used me enough? Leave a man to sleep while da open air be still around him.¡±


    Cirin sighed aloud and before the man could completely roll over, the boy spoke up, ¡°We¡¯ll check up on her.¡±


    Cassal flinched.


    ¡°Ya cousin I mean.¡±


    After some time, Cassal came about and flipped his eyes to the boy.


    ¡°It was slavahs dat did it.¡± He confessed, ¡°A slave company called da Merid Dance Troupe hired us.¡±


    Cirin gawked at the revelation, yet Azhar was not unconvinced.


    ¡°Da Merid Dance Troupe be one of many evils in dis land. It be an ansah but not da one I seek.¡± said Azhar.


    Cassal rolled back over, ¡°Hmpf, well I told you all I know.¡± He puffed.


    ¡°Hold!¡± cried Salazan.


    The snake jolted to a stop tossing nearly all the members forwards. Catherine managed to peak over the edge of the snake. She quinted hard.


    ¡°Is that¡­¡± she started.


    ¡°BY Synsian¡¯s backside.¡± Murmured Toftof.


    Catherine tossed the imp a telling look. Not one of disappointment but one of confusion. Toftof was the last man she¡¯d consider a believfer of the Torvirn faith. Not that any mention of godly backside had to do with devoutness. Catherine balanced her head on her hand. Or maybe it did?


    ¡°Manama¡­¡± Trailed Azhar.


    Catherine took a double take. Manama¡¯s distinctive face came into view. Her beads jostling in the distance.


    The jangling of chains drew her shortening attention back to Azhar. The man glanced at his manacles then at Manama. Catherine realised it as soon as she returned her gaze to the charging woman. She joined in the frantic swaying of arms Toftof and Azhar had begun.


    ¡°Oi Salazan, dat one looks to be¡­ charging us?¡±


    ¡°Nonsence, why would anyone with an inferior snake charge ours?¡±


    ¡°One of jegga¡¯s men I assume. Hmpf, da fool.¡± Scoffed Bahar. He reached for his blade. Catherine choked. Manama seemed second away.


    ¡°Stop! Bot of ya. Dat ain¡¯t no ordinary woman.¡± Warned Azhar.


    ¡°A firend of yours?¡± questioned Salazan.


    ¡°Aye. One who most likely saw da glint of chains on my wrists, dis snake, and you two dolts lookin awful villainous.¡±


    Bahar shrugged, ¡°I see. But from where I stand, dis woman is da dead one.¡±


    Catherine cuffed her hands over her mouth, ¡°Manama! Stop!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve heard ya name, Azhar. But dat be in da past now. IF ya want to find da strongest swordsmen in all of Illivanmar¡­¡± Salazan pointed at himself, ¡°Ya found him.¡±


    ¡°Salazan!¡±


    ¡°Wha-¡±


    Catherine fell on the side of the pack serpent and took the grandest breath of relief she ever had.


    Bahar quivered whee he stood. In mere moments before Manama¡¯s snake halted where their¡¯s had been, the woman had ran to the top of the snake¡¯s head, boarded their¡¯s, and levied her dagger on Bahar¡¯s neck. All in the span of seven seconds.The blade crested the neck with just a drop of blood glinting at the edge of it.


    Slowly, the man¡¯s maple eyes rolled to meet that of Manama¡¯s. She knelt in front of him, her dark specs mirrors of antipathy. Catherine marvelled at what she managed to accomplish. If she had to note off each, it was clear that Manama had pulled off three miracles. She managed to run off a speeding snake, land on a lage one, and most importantly catch the man at throat without stabbing him. The mere way it stilled the otherwise boisterous Bahar was a testament to her ability. She was a monster.


    Catherine followed the slowing down snake with the corner of her eye.


    ¡°Catherine.¡±


    The scholar flipped back to Manama.


    ¡°Tell me why ya told me ta stop.¡±


    ¡°Ah yes.¡± Began Catherine, ¡°A whole mess of things actually. Though in regards to the politics of the matter, I¡¯d say killing these two men may bar us from entering the bazaar.¡±


    Manama turned to Azhar.


    Azhar sighed, ¡°Jegga¡¯s dead. That man,¡± he said swinging his manacles at Bahar, ¡°Killed him.¡±


    Manama pressed her dagger against Salazan¡¯s neck, ¡°Why are dey in chains?¡±


    ¡°We ageed to it.¡± Answered Azhar again, ¡°Only to garuantee our cooperation. See? Da kids be unchained.¡±


    Manama pulled back her dagger and spun it between her fingers before sheathing the thing. She rose vto her full height.


    ¡°Unchain dem.¡± Commanded Manama, ¡°It be bad fortune ta let a man return to his home in chains.¡±


    ¡°And how can we be sure ya won¡¯t betray us and murder us in da night?¡±


    Manama smiled, flashing her motely collection of gold and black teeth, ¡°If I wanted ya dead, ya would have been.¡±


    Salazan swallowed hard to that.


    Manama leapt off the snake with a laugh, ¡°A joke.¡± She echoed as her feet scruffed the sand.


    ¡°Dat monsta of ya¡¯s be terrible wit jokes.¡± Noted Salazan as he rubbed his neck. ¡°Oi, what¡¯s wrong wit da shirtless man?¡±


    All eyes fell on the cowering Cassal.


    ¡°Lets say he met da fortune tella earlier.¡± Said Taba.


    With Manama following them as close as their shadows, Bahar unlocked both Toftof¡¯s and Azhar¡¯s manacles. While the Bazaar itself hovered in front of them, it was atleast a day¡¯s travel to get there.


    ¡°Da salt plains.¡± As Cassal explained. So that night, they set up camp. Catherine made a round of the makeshift camp after sunset. A fire pirouetted in the midst of the set up, with either pack snake hugging the edges as temporary walls. Luckily, Salazan had brought three tents with him. One for himself, Bahar and the prionsers. Another for Azhar, Toftof, Cirin and Sol. And the last for Catherine, Taba and now Manama.


    She noted most of the adults sitting by each other, whilst Taba and Cirin had grown somewhat closer since she¡¯d last saw them. Albeit arguing, but a little more tamed than she saw before. Aleast Sol was there too.


    Finally she discovered Kirina awake, slump against the giant ramhorn. Her eyes were downcast. Eyelids puffy.


    Catherine squatted to her sitting form.


    ¡°Are you ok?¡± she started. After moments of silence, Catherine cleared her throat, ¡°IF it means anything, thank you.¡±


    Kirina shifted.


    ¡°You defended me when no one could.¡±


    ¡°Oi Caterine, leave da girl alone.¡±


    Catherine glanced at Toftof.


    Toftof¡¯s voice quieted down, ¡°She¡¯s been tru enough fa one day.¡±


    Catherine got up to that. ¡°Let me do the same for you.¡± She said quickly.


    Kirina almost spoke up to that, catching her tongue as Catherine made to Bahar and Salazan.


    ¡°What is it girl?¡± anticipated Salazan.


    ¡°I want Kirina to sleep in our tent tonight.¡±


    ¡°What? Are ya mad? She¡¯s our prisoner. She¡¯s lucky enough not ta be at the bottom of dat messa.¡±


    Catherine spared Kirina a glance, ¡°When Jegga suggested what he did Kirina stepped in to protect me. Please do not take this as an offence but you two strike as me no different from those men.¡±


    Bahar shot up to that, ¡°Why you-¡±


    ¡°Bahar.¡± Barked Salazan with his arm on Bahar¡¯s shoulder, ¡°If dat is ya concern den I¡¯ll abide by ya request. Dere isn¡¯t much she can do to hinder us now dat Jegga¡¯s been dealt with anyway.¡±


    Bahar sat down, ¡°I may have been part of his gang fa ten years, but I neva did antying ta compromise my morals. And yes, befa ya ask, I have dem. Ask da girl if you need ta.¡± he said, nudging his head at a staring Kirina.


    Though she immidieatly looked to the ground Catherine smiled at Kirina. She had been listening and that was enough.


    Catherine fixed her greatcloak as her attention swayed to Azhar. The man in question had been studying the flame aimlessly while Toftof bickered about the cold. She tilted her head to Manama and met the woman¡¯s curt nod. Catherine nodded back. That was the signal. The silent confirmation Catherine needed to proceed.


    She waded past the adults to the collection of children and found a suitable spot amoungst them. It would have to til morn.


    The night passed without much commotion. Catherine woke to the sleeping figure of Kirina couped beside her. A stark reflection of her silent insistence to keeping her distance. Catherine made her way out of the tent, rubbing her hands.


    Footsteps and she turned to find a similarily awake Azhar.


    He nodded in her direction and she narrowed her eyes back.


    ¡°I know your plan.¡± She said simply.


    Azhar paused, affording her just enough time to spell it out. Manama glided out the tnet when Catherine began.


    ¡°You never intended to spread the word thaty Sol was alive did you? I did my research. Sol was wanted dead by the king, his people, and even the this country.¡± Catherine narrowed her eyes even further, ¡°His death would have been celebrated not a cause for war.¡±


    Azhar buried his hands in his pockets as he wandered to the other end of the dead flame, ¡°Continue.¡± He motioned with one hand out his pocket.


    ¡°Well even then it struck me odd why even with the false news of his death why you¡¯d need to physically take him around to make corrections. A letter would have sufficed.¡±


    ¡°Nobles and lords are notoriously difficult to convince, girl.¡±


    ¡°Not when the only evidence they have is a rumor spread by bandits.¡±


    Now Cirin, Sol ,and Taba had proceeded out of the tents. Catherine tensed at the sight of Cirin. She hadn¡¯t a clue how¡¯d he take it.


    ¡°You took Sol from the one place he¡¯d be safe to places of increasing lawlessness. You purposefully put him in danger.¡±


    ¡°What she on about, old mon?¡±


    ¡°Not now, mouse.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t deny it. I have proof.¡± Catherine nodded to Manama, who produced a sealed scroll from one of her many hidden sleeves.


    Azhar shifted, withdrawing his last hand from his pocket.


    ¡°I had Manama pick something up for while she was gone from us. Records. A collection of reports copied from the likes of a man named Hyrin on the movements of known assasins. Ezmir, Gara, Gin. All of those cities have been noted to have housed noitable assasins in the past months.¡±


    ¡°Who copied those notes?¡± ebbed Azhar.


    ¡°A colleague of mine from the association.¡±


    Azhar quiteted down to that.


    ¡°Everything you did until now put Sol in increasing danger. Why?¡± asked Catherine slowly, ¡°Why do such a thing? Are you working for the assasins?¡±


    The man sighed heavily. He tossed his eyes to Cirin before plopping to a seat.


    ¡°Befa I tell ya.¡± Started the man, ¡°Know dat I did it fa his sake not against it.¡±


    Toftof sprang between Azhar and the rest, ¡°OI Azhar! Not now when we sa close.¡±


    ¡°Caterine¡¯s found out. She¡¯ll come to her own concluions uddawise. As fa ya findings dus fa, dey be all correct save what ya said bout Lamanori. Da first star was neva safe.¡±


    The scholar sat across from Azhar, prompting Cirin to stumble to her side.


    ¡°It was not just da sandrats who had been hired ta kill Sol.¡± Azhar lowered his head, ¡°Nearly all da palace to.¡±


    ¡°Impossible. Befa I left dey wanted ta defend him mo dan me.¡± Protested Cirin.


    ¡°It was afta ya left mouse. Leaving Lamanori was always in da Prince¡¯s best interest. Ta ansah ya question, we took Sol across da kingdom ta lure out dose who wanted him dead.¡±


    Cirin quivered where he sat. His hands were balled tighter than knots.


    ¡°Ya mean he was no betta dan bait on a fishaman¡¯s hook?¡± His voice trembled. Every word parted by heavy breaths, ¡°He. Almost. Died.¡± Stressed Cirin, ¡°We trusted ya! I trusted ya.¡±


    ¡°Mouse. Ya dun get it.¡±


    ¡°No I do get it.¡± Stood up Cirin, ¡°What ya did was wrong. Disgusting. Sol ain¡¯t ya sacrifice. Da people who want him dead dun know him. To dem he¡¯s no betta dan a dog who happen ta be between dem and what dey want.¡± Cirin swerved his hand to his left side, holding Sol squarely in his sights, ¡°An object ta eliminate, an object ta protect, no matta da means.¡± Cirin¡¯s arm pivoted until it landed in Azhar¡¯s direction, ¡°Ya be no different.¡±


    ¡°Ya right Mouse.¡± Azhar mirrored the boy¡¯s actions as he took to his feet, ¡°By doing noting we risk everyting. As long as da man behind dese attacks still lives he¡¯ll spare no expense at getting what he wants. Putting da prince in dangah was da only option we had.¡±


    ¡°And what if it was me?¡± asked the red eyed boy.


    Azhar fell silent. His mouth opened but no words dared come out. Then after what seemed an eternity, his head fell back and he plummeted back on his bum.


    He shut his eyes, ¡°Ya different mouse.¡±


    ¡°So in ordah ta protect me ya wouldn¡¯t use me as bait?¡±


    ¡°Spirits, mouse. Ya know I couldn¡¯t.¡± Azhar sighed for the hundreth time that day.


    ¡°You know.¡± Began an unlikely voice. The entirety of the camp turned to the dwarfed figure of Sol. Even Cassal poked his head out the tent flaps.


    ¡°I don¡¯t really understand why people want to hurt me. But¡­¡± the boy adorned a smile as wide as his face, ¡°These last few months have been really fun. So please¡­¡± his smile faltered, ¡°don¡¯t fight.¡±


    Hearing Sol speak for himself must have done Cirin some good, for a moment later the boy took back to his seat.


    ¡°Listen, I know ya be angry at me mouse, but will ya hold ya discretions till afta we arrive at da Bazaar?¡±


    ¡°We should be dere by da evening.¡± Spoke up Salazan.


    Both Cirin and Azhar shot the man a viscious glance, making the proud man timid instantly.


    ¡°Fa Sol¡¯s sake, I will.¡± Conceded the boy.

 Chapter 27, The Invisible Door

    They abandoned the camp within the hour. The Bazaar awaited them.


    Every hour the snakes slithered, the outline of the bazaar became increasingly defined. Cirin focussed on that distant skyline. Ever since that morning, he¡¯d scarcely crossed glances with the old mon. It seemed almost their entire company, save Toftof, had become distant from the schemer.


    Toftof and Taba. The caster did not outright defend the old mon¡¯s actions, but she did use the upheavel to get closer to him. She was already on the same smaller snake as him, now slithering well ahead of the large ramhorn. Cirin surrendered his view of the skyline to scowl at the happy count. His head now balancing chin first on the edge of the snake carriage.


    ¡°traitor.¡± He whispered to himself. His head sunk further. Not that she was ever a traitor. He thought to himself. Or on his side. He pressed his brows together. But she was when they saved the others. He leered at them once more. Disgusted. Resolved.


    He would get revenge on Taba, and, if the old mon even cared for her a little, revenge on him as well.


    ¡°I¡¯ll win dat duel.¡± He wagered.


    ¡°What duel?¡±


    Cirin blinked, noticing not only Catherine but also a curious Sol staring back.


    ¡°W-wit da old mon.¡± he lied, ¡°He once said I¡¯d neva best him, I will wit a duel.¡± His voice hushed as Sol came into focus, ¡°I¡¯ll make sure he regrets what he did ta Sol.¡±


    Catherine quieted to that, somewhat reluctant to even try talking at the mention of Azhar. Sol as well.


    Cirin returned back to his spot. He remembered one of Manama¡¯s lines she used just after leaving Gin.


    A lie becomes truth when dere be no reason ta deny it.


    Cirin dug his fingers into his palms. One day he¡¯d fight the old mon. And one day, he¡¯d win.


    A little ways before the Bazaar, Salazan had Azhar brought his snake to a heel behind the ramhorn, signifying to the people of the bazaar that the smaller snake contained prisoners.


    The Bazaar itself appeared completely different than its distant outline. No longer was it the wonderous collection of giants piercing the heavens. A place of mystery and wonder.


    Now it had become no more than a fortress. A shallow wall snaked around the outskirts of the city while a low ditch rested a little ways ahead of that wall. Watch towers sprouted in even sections along that wall, culminating by the one rounded wooden gate the snakes were headed to. Cirin squinted. Every now and then he saw men stationed in groups of two along the wall, each dressed in the bright blue and white design of Salazan¡¯s men. There was a buzz as the first couple of guards spotted the caravan.


    One stayed while the other descended. Soon, the ring of bells filled the air.


    ¡°They¡¯ve been expecting us.¡± Straightened Salazan. He gave the others a look of stout suspicion, ¡°What ya about ta see, ya say ta no one.¡±


    A stupendous click echoed from the gates, yet just as Cirin turned to it, the ditch ahead of the gate shifted.


    Cirin blinked, scarcely tossing his eyes to the yet to be opened gate to make sure he hadn¡¯t missed anything.


    ¡°So that¡¯s how it is.¡± Declared Catherine, slamming her fist against her open palm as if it were a cudgel. ¡°The gate¡¯s a diversion. That is the real entrance.¡±


    Cirin followed Catherine¡¯s pointed digit to where the ditch had shifted. There, in the ditch itself, a blackened entrance had slid open, whilst a ramp formed in front of it. The entrance was just large enough for two pack snakes or one exceptionally monstrous ramhorn.


    Two figures appeared out of that entrance. One was of a long haired lanky woman bearing spectacles and the other of an old well built man. The old man seemed to pace faster than his awkward counterpart, keeping his arms held behind his back at all times and his chin arched at an upwards angle. The woman behind him could be no further from his noble posture, choosing instead to precariously balance a scroll and quill whilst she prodded behind the senior.


    Both were dressed in fine dark blue robes that clipped to the side to keep it steady. The old man carried a blade on his hip.


    The old man stopped a little ways before the first pack snake. Cirin lowered his head, till only the tops of his eyes could be seen. Somehow, the old man reminded him of Azhar. In fact, it might as well have been if Azhar was twenty years older. He had the same angled features, the same eyes, the same build, even the same height. The only notable difference was in his posture, a stern collection of wrinkles and short grey patch of hair.


    Then the man drew his blade, choosing to hold it in a way that made Cirin have no further doubt. Sword held in front, free hand to the side. Knees lowered. That was Azhar¡¯s style.


    ¡°Where is my son?¡± hissed the old man.


    Befa Salazan could answer. Before he could even make it off his giant snake. A pair of feet crunched against the sand. His consequent steps told of shuffled rocks, until Azhar himself appeared behind the ramhorn.


    Azhar withdrew one of his two hands from his pockets and flicked it away from his head.


    ¡°Yo.¡± He said coolly.


    The old man fumed for the briefest moment, but regained his composure as quick as he lost it. He took a step before reassuming his fighting pose.


    ¡°Today you shall ansah fa da death of ya sista. Of my daughter.¡±


    ¡°How¡¯s mudda?¡± continued Azhar.


    The old man swiped his blade to the side. His face a tepid red. ¡°You leave us fa two decades, kill ya best friend, ya sister, and ya have da audacity ta ask about ya mudda when ya finally return? How do ya tink she be, eh!? Her only son killed her only daughter. She lost two children dat day. How can ya be sa callous?¡±


    The woman next to him tried to reach for him with her free hand, ¡°C-calm down, T-tafar.¡± She quivered.


    Tafar kept his fuious stance steady. His chocolate eyes burning holes in Azhar.


    ¡°Ya could say I¡¯m used ta it.¡± Shrugged Azhar. He gave Cirin a fleeting glance, ¡°Recently mo sa dan eva. Besides, I¡¯m only guilty of two of da tings ya accuse me wit.¡±


    ¡°Two? Explain yaself boy.¡±


    Azhar reached for his back, making Tafar nearly pounce. With a wisp of the sheath, the old mon withdrew his blade and pointed it directly at Cirin. Azhar pivoted his head back to Tafar. Cirin did the same only to catch Tafar¡¯s speechless expression.


    ¡°I can give ya da details latta, but right now I need entry fa dis boy¡­ and da prince Soletio Gel¡¯rave.¡±


    Sol popped from behind Cirin and Tafar sheathed his blade, ¡°Da tird in line to da Galokin trone?¡±


    ¡°Aye, one who¡¯s life is in dangah anywhere else. Will ya let us in or not?¡±


    Tafar nodded to his companion who made some strange signs with her hands.


    After a while she gave him a curt nod.


    ¡°Come den, da way is open.¡± Said Tafar.


    Azhar wasted no time in making his way in. The ramhorn was quick to follow. Just as Azhar made to pass Tafar, Tafar grabbed his son by the arm.


    ¡°I need ta know what really happened ta Hannah.¡±


    Azhar stared at him for the longest time, giving enough time for both snakes to pass them by. Cirn pushed his way to the back of the snake to hear the old man¡¯s response, yet they had been too far away for the boy to listen. Instead he caught a glimpse of Tafar stumble and fall to his knees. What little Cirin saw of his face now buried in his hands. Then nothing.The world flashed to black.


    In the distance two lights revealed the earthen walls of the passage. As they passed those lights, even more popped into exsistence, until a neat series of the things could be seen for quite a ways, both culminating and ending at the red-lit exit where the earth met the sky.


    Cirin shielded his eyes once the ramhorn slithered out of the tunnel. Boistrous merchants and idle chatter nipped at his ears. He sniffed. The air had been drenched in the familiar allure of spice. The smoke ofcooking flames simmered the air further. He took the view in with one hard look.


    It was a crescent shaped market with a glass snake sculpted in it midst. Cirin found himself shielding his eyes once more as dared glaring at the creation. He turned. Far in the distance, the steady stream of sunlight squeezed between two of the four messas landing squarely on the glass snake. From there, the light split in a hundred and one ways in each direction. There, between the messas and the market cresecent, sprang a spattering of sandstone houses.


    ¡°Two messas.¡± Noticed Cirin at last, ¡°We¡¯re in da centa of dis place? Den where¡¯s d towa?¡±


    Salazan let out a knowing laugh, ¡°Look up, boy.¡±


    Cirin craned his head back, gasping as he understood what the bazaar man meant. He hopped off the ramhorn immediately and sped out the market cresecent.


    ¡°Cirin wait!¡± cried Taba.


    Cirin dug his heels into the dusty path as the full view of the tower greeted him. His eyes expanded. For the longest time, he¡¯d thought of the towers as monsters, and if not that, the strangest of buildings. Yet this tower defied all others. It had roots, branches, and if not for the clouds, probably leaves as well. It was a tree, a black tree. The roots of that tree bounded over him and dug back in the earth several streets away. The roots were its supports, lifting the massive structure several houses over the marketplace.


    ¡°I said wait, you impatient imbocile.¡± Puffed Taba.


    Cirin waited for the count to take in the same view.


    ¡°We¡¯re in da Bazaar.¡± Said Cirin as the count made a telling scan of the tower, ¡°I take it ya haven¡¯t forgotten?¡±


    Taba paused before bowing her head low. ¡°I haven¡¯t. I couldn¡¯t.¡± She met Cirin¡¯s crimson specs, ¡°Azhar may not be worth anything to ya anymore, but to me, he¡¯s-¡± she caught herself, ¡°Someting I won¡¯t lose.¡±


    Cirin made out the figures of Sol and Catherine nearing them, ¡°Den I¡¯ll be doing ya favor by defeating ya.¡±


    ¡°Cirin!¡± echoed the encroaching parties.


    Catherine was the first of the two to reach the boy, ¡°Cirin, what-¡±


    ¡°Wow!¡±


    Catherine traced the prince¡¯s gaze to the monumental tower in the distance.


    ¡°A tower!? This is he first time I¡¯ve seen one with roots? But how? There¡¯s nothing about this is Lamanori.¡±


    ¡°Someting tells me dis town ain¡¯t natural.¡± Noted Cirin.


    ¡°Dat¡¯s obvious, degenerate. Even da entrance is guarded. It seems not just anyone can enta dis place.¡±


    ¡°Or just any information can exit. Why is it that we got through?¡± she questioned aloud.


    Cirin rose his shoulders and lowered his head, ¡°Da old mon.¡± he hushed.


    ¡°Yes that¡¯s right. Azhar¡¯s gone with that man to one of the messas. Something about straightening the details.¡± Catherine tilted her head at Sol, ¡°Sol¡¯s to stay with Manama and Toftof. I¡¯m off to see Kirina. As for you two, well it seems you¡¯ve been given free reign.¡±This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Cirin narrowed his eyes. After all they¡¯d been through ¡®free regn¡¯ was not a phrase he was accuomed to. Especially with recent excess of attempts on their lives.


    Taba was just as quick to realise this, ¡°Azhar would neva allow dat.


    ¡°I suppose then its proof of Azhar¡¯s faith in this town.¡± She glanced behind her, ¡°I need to go before they leave without me. You two can join us if you don¡¯t trust this town.¡±


    ¡°No.¡± started Taba. She straightened her stance, ¡°We have someplace ta go.¡±


    Cirin shoved his hands in his pockes and nodded, ¡°We¡¯ll meet back here, Caterine.¡± He turned to the prince, ¡°Sol.¡±


    ¡°Ok.¡± Nodded the boy happily.


    Catherine seemed a little more skeptical, ¡°You two? Alone? Something really must have happened while we were captured.¡±


    ¡°Noting ya be tinking of.¡± Warned Cirin, ¡°Just a quick matta we need resolved. Dat¡¯s all.¡±


    ¡°If that¡¯s all, then I¡¯ll see you here later.¡±


    ¡°Agreed.¡±


    Their parting was a quick one. While Cirin had already taken his leave, Taba seemed adamant about waiting a little longer. Her eyes were glued on those two.


    Cirin sighed when he was a few steps away from her. He spoke between his steps, ¡°If ya really tink ya goinna lose witout trying, den ya ain¡¯t worth fighting.¡±


    Taba tossed him a furious glance, ¡°You¡¯re da one who¡¯s goinna lose today.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll be looking fa a palce ta fight in dis town. If ya still be here by den, I win.¡±


    The next time Cirin peaked over his shoulder, he found Taba pacing just three steps behind him, always scarcely glancing away.


    Apart from the messas and the tower tree, the bazaar itself proved exceptionally normal. The streets weren¡¯t crowded nor the houses painted. It was the exact opposite of Gin. Manama once said that a town is reflected by the people who made their home there. If that was true then the Bazaar must have had an excess of law-makers and accountants. There were people ofocurse, but not performers nor clowns. Just people. Cirin found himself smiling as he walked. In some ways he enjoyed that. It wasn¡¯t particularily large either, not compared to Gin.


    Soon Cirin¡¯s gaze wandered back to the messas. It was impossible not to stare at them. Those imposing spires had clear stairs leading up until their very tips. There, on the top of it, popped the outline of large ornate buildings.


    ¡°I heard about dose.¡± Started the girl, ¡°Barra¡­ my brudda used ta beg my parents ta go train dere. Dey are da martial temples of da Bazaar, each of da messas has one or mo. One fa each style.¡±


    Cirin spied at her with the corner of his eye, ¡°Dere¡¯s most likely a temple fa ya up dere. One fa ya style, da shifting sands.¡±


    ¡°How do ya know dat?!¡±


    ¡°I watched ya train.¡± He answered bluntly.


    There was a silence.


    ¡°How much did ya see?¡±


    Cirin paused, ¡°Does it matta? We¡¯ll be fightin soon anyways. Look.¡± He pointed at a dusty lot between a trickle of houses.


    After a quick scan of the lot Cirin paced a good ways from Taba. His hands curled around both pommels. He levied his eyes on the girl, who drew her own blade. It was now or never. He withdrew his blades.


    What commenced amounted to flurry of dusted steps as one dwarfed figure rushed the other. Taba, anticipating the boy¡¯s mad charge began in the opposite direction, keeping her face towards him as she snapped her free hand. Snap. Snap. Snap.


    Cirin puffed and lowered his head as he ran on. A few flying rocks was all to be expected. He made sure swat them away as he ran by them. Again she snapped three more times, forming bigger rocks this rendition. Cirin dodged those and at last closed the gap between them.


    He swung his blade forward. A dozen hundred swings of practice giving it force. Here was the enemy he¡¯d swear he¡¯d beat, the one knot in an otherwise straight thread.


    Taba spat in the face of that, dodging the blow and responding with her own. Cirin remembered what the odl mon had told him time and time again. A duel was never a turn based thing, but a matter of opportunity that was fractions of seconds in the making.


    A low rounding reposte, an expected recoil, and preassumed swing back in by the boy. Taba saw through it all. And when she didn¡¯t, she covered her gaps with quick spatterings of rocks.


    Cirin lowered his stance, holding one blade in front of the other. He repeated the words of the voice over in his mind.


    Swing left, arch forwards, bring the left back and swing right.


    Cirin smiled, Taba was sweating now.


    Repeat.


    The boy grit his teeth as repeated the mantra faster and faster. So much so that Taba was running out of breath and space. She had given up creating rocks completely and shifted to dodging Cirin¡¯s attacks, instead of countering. Her weakness was showing. He expected as much. No matter what skill she had before, she had no place traveling with them. She was the enenmy. Always the neemy. The others couldn¡¯t see it, but he could.


    Cirin could see it all. They weren¡¯t far from the houses. Taba, however could not waste even a second to glance behind her. Just as she reached the end of steady ground, Cirin feigned a swing, and tripped the girl with his momentum.


    He had his blade pointed down at her the moment she peered back up.


    ¡°It be ova, count.¡±


    Taba clutched her pommel and tossed her eyes to the sky, ¡°Not yet.¡±


    Cirin followed her golden specs to what he assumed was nothing more than a ruse. He lowered his shoulders. He wished he was wrong. Far above, every rock she created during the fight floated in disarray.


    Snap


    His quivering eyes shot to the Count in horror. She had her free hand in front of her. One distraction had led to another.


    Again he reared back to the sky, only to find those rocks angled at him. Ready to fall. Deception. Cirin¡¯s breath grew wavering. Nothing but deception. He swung trust at the girl in a moment of fury. Yet instead of blood, the figure of Taba turned to stone and shattered.


    ¡°Dis way, degenerate.¡±


    Cirin shut his eyes.


    ¡°Lies. Dis be all ya do, eh?¡± He held his blades low, ¡°Ya lie when ya talk, ya lie when ya fight. You lied ya way into da old mon¡¯s favor, and fa what? Is dis how ya aim ta defeat me? Enta inta my life and turn dose I trust against me?¡±


    Cirin thrust open his eyes and spun to the girl, waving his rusted blade her way, ¡°I won¡¯t lose ta ya. Eva.¡± He declared.


    Taba mirrored his actions, and the boy nearly flinched as he saw the watery glints in her eyes.


    ¡°It must be nice having dose ya turst.¡± Her voice was quivering.¡±Do ya know why I changed da rules dat day?¡±


    Cirin puffed, regaining his stance, ¡°Dat¡¯s obvious. Ya knew ya would lose.¡±


    ¡°Dey love ya too much to lose ya!¡± she balled.


    ¡°Love? Me? Ya be too sentinmental, count.¡±


    ¡°Ya dun get it.¡± She said, wiping those tears at last.


    Cirin¡¯s scowl grew harsher than ever before. ¡°Stop imitating da old mon.¡±


    Taba ignored him as her voice grew ever louder, ¡°Toftof, Manama, dey only went wit Azhar to protect you. Do ya even know who you are to dem?¡±


    Cirin failed to answer. His words were caught in throat. He could only focus on her. His sole enemy. This was another of her tricks, another distraction. Those rocks were still aimed squarely at him.


    ¡°Well do you?¡±


    Cirin gripped his pommels impossibly hard. There was a way out of this there had to be. His eyes expanded as he counted the steps to Taba. She wasn¡¯t far. He started running.


    ¡°Ya da son of bot of deir best friends.¡± She balled.


    That made him slow his steps to a halt, ¡°My parents were scoundrels and tieves. Nobodies dat da world forgot when dey left it.¡±


    ¡°Ya sure about dat?¡±


    Cirin smiled, ¡°As sure as I will defeat ya.¡±


    ¡°My rocks will reach ya first.¡±


    ¡°And you as well.¡±


    Taba flinched, no doubt realising his gambit as the boy made one last effort to reach her. So she made her own. One snap and the rocks she conjured flung towards Cirin. She held her blade with her other hand.


    Now it was a race between Cirin to Taba and the rocks to Cirin. If Cirin reached Taba before her rocks reached him, he had a chance of beating her.


    Though that chance was almost assuredly a victory. He knew her speed from watching her. He was faster. He would win. This was to be victory against the old mon. Agaianst all that opposed Cirin.


    Yet a victory it was not. Cirin faltered forwards as a heavy blow to the chest vanquished the air from within him. The moment he hit the ground, he noticed Taba in a similar state.


    ¡°I told you two not to fight.¡±


    Cirin coughed. ¡°C-c-caterine?¡± he wheezed.


    ¡°What is this? Flying rocks? Dueling with actual blades? Do you two realise that you are far too young for this sort of thing? Well.¡± She posed in between them, tapping her chin with one of her glowing fingers, ¡°I suppose I¡¯d be too young for it as well. Either way. It¡¯s far too dangerous.¡±


    ¡°Let us fight.¡± Spurred Cirin, ¡°We made a deal. If I won she¡¯d leave.¡±


    ¡°And why would she do that?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s da enemy!¡± roared a feebled Cirin.


    ¡°She¡¯ll be living with you.¡±


    ¡°What?!¡± bellowed both Cirin and Taba, soon after coughing to the exertion.


    Cirin managed to regain his footing at the same time as Taba.


    ¡°What do you mean living wit me?¡± asked Cirin first.


    ¡°Well, Toftof went to check on Azhar and when he returned he explained the details of our stay here. I saw him after my visit to Kirina and decided to tell you two in person. I¡¯m glad I did!¡±


    Cirin rolled his eyes at the Catherine. She who had the audacity to watch over them with herh ands on her hips.


    ¡°How did ya find us?¡± asked Taba at last.


    ¡°She had mudda Manama¡¯s help in dat.¡± Conceded the fortune teller.


    Cirin nearly jumped to her presence.


    ¡°I had Manama follow you just in case. Did you kno she¡¯s remarkably good at the following business?¡± explained Cahterine.


    Cirin found himself staring at Taba, who stared him back. All of it seemed pointless. His feud with Taba, perhaps even with Azhar. He shut his eyes. He¡¯d known the old mon for his entire life. Azhar had taught everything he knew and more so. To think the old idiot would stoop as low as to use Sol as living bait¡­ It was heartless, cruel, but all the same, something only Azhar would do. He sighed.


    ¡°Da duel¡¯s off.¡±


    Taba blinked, ¡°Den?¡±


    ¡°You can stay.¡± Conceded Cirin, ¡°I dun like ya. Dun tink I eva will, but dese two do, and I can¡¯t speak fa dem. Besides, I need ta take care of something else.¡± He shifted his gaze to Catherine, ¡°Oi Caterine, where da old mon be?¡±


    ¡°Still discussing things with Tafar.¡±


    ¡°Can ya take me to him?¡±


    Following Catherine took them straight to the furthest messa to the west. Ater climbing what seemed a thousand stairs, Cirin grew to understand why Jegga had fashioned a lift instead.


    Even still, for what he wanted to do, braving those stairs was only the first of his tribulations. The second came at finding the old mon within the complex resting at the messa¡¯s top.


    Luckily, Catherine knew where to go as well as who to talk to in order to grant them accsess to personal rooms of the temple attendees.


    The rooms were spotless things, the hallways airy and the walls lightweight. It reminded Cirin of the Grand Valley Inn. Designs of contorted trees and flowers stained the walls, which let the fainstest of lights glimmer through. They were paper thin. A peculiar style to be sure, but one Cirin was not entirely unfamiliar with back in Lamanori.


    Every now and then he could see the outlines of some figures still in the room. Then, at the end of the last hallway he picked up a familiar mumbling from beyond the walls. As he got closer, one of the voices proved to be of Azhar. The others were of a woman and a man. Cirin halted his hidden approach.


    ¡°Tafar?¡± he croaked aloud.


    ¡°So its tru den¡± pushed a muffled Tafar, ¡°I didn¡¯t want ta believe ya back in da tunnel, but I rememba a rumor similar ta what ya described a while back. To take her own life¡­ Perhaps I didn¡¯t want ta believe it den eidda.¡±


    ¡°I can,¡± started the woman, ¡°understand.¡± She said after a hard breath, ¡°She bore an anguish no mudda could. Da guilt of loosing a child, let alone feeling responsible fa it. I-¡° Cirin slumped against the wall as the woman¡¯s word slowly deteriated.


    ¡±I couldn¡¯t bear it eida.¡± She said at last.


    What followed was an almost silence, filled only by the quiet sobbing of the woman. It was a mess of gasps and sniffs and finally wails.


    ¡°Let it out Alia, my love.¡± Hushed Tafar. Though it seemed his voice was on the urge of quivering as well.


    The woman took three deep breaths and quieted.


    ¡°I neva should have let you two leave.¡± She snapped.


    ¡°Even if ya said no, we would¡¯ve left anyways. Besides.¡± Breathed Azhar, ¡°Hannah enjoyed our travels and even Lamanori. To her dat was its own adventah.¡±


    ¡°Why did you two neva write back!?¡±


    ¡°Hannah did fa a while, but stopped when she got no response. It was not till afta I learned dat Jegga had been interceptin¡¯ da lettas.¡±


    ¡°Damn dat Jegga!¡± cursed Tafar.


    ¡°And da boy? Can I see him?¡±


    There was a silence. Cirin straightened his back.


    ¡°You can. But only if ya promise ta keep quiet about his past. I am his guardian, noting mo. Understand where dat leaves ya?¡±


    ¡°What a cruel wish upon ya parents.¡± Sighed Alia, ¡°If dat is how it is. Very well. But no matta what ya do next, da boy stays wit us.¡±


    ¡°I had no intention ta debate dat. He¡¯s da safest here. As fa me, I will leave by da morrow ta track down da Prince¡¯s assasins.¡±


    Cirin flinched to that.


    Alia began to speak but cut herself off. After a moment of reflection, Cirin noted the outline of her head shift in the paper wall shadow, ¡°Since ya be leavin tomorrow, would you¡­ would you tell us about her days in Lamanori?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a long story.¡±


    ¡°We deserve ta know.¡± Insisted Tafar.


    Azhar¡¯s telling sigh filled the air. He started from the beginning, detailing the travels of three young companions and an unlikely stowaway.


    Cirin had nearly planned to listen to it all when he noticed Taba leaning against the wall in front of him. The voices drowned in the back of the head as he focussed on the count.


    ¡°How long ya been dere fa?¡±


    ¡°Long enough.¡± She shrugged.


    Cirin shoved his hands in his pockets and bounced to his feet, ¡°I¡¯m done here.¡±


    Taba spoke as he walked away, ¡°Da one dey be talking about, ya know who she is to ya?¡±


    Cirin paused his retreat, ¡°I figured it out back at da valley inn.¡±


    ¡°Den why dun ya tell Azhar? Befa he leaves at least.¡±


    Cirin spied her from the edge of his eye, ¡°He neva told me, sa he doesn¡¯t want me ta know.¡±


    ¡°Ya neva asked him?¡±


    Cirin grinned, ¡°Dere are dose who ya just dun ask why.¡±


    Taba flashed red and glanced away, ¡°Dun eva use my words against me, degenerate.¡±


    Cirin started pacing away, prompting the count to trail after him.


    ¡°Degenerate. Degenerate.¡± He mimicked her words, ¡°Aren¡¯t da ones who concoct da worst misconceptions just as guilty as being degenerate? If not in actions, den in mindset.¡±


    He glanced her way and almost snickered when he found her standing there with one eye quivering. He continued his timely pace, pausing to slide the paper door open.


    He kept his eyes on the door as he spoke. ¡°Perhaps being stuck here wit ya won¡¯t be dat bad.¡±


    The moment he passed through the door he realised what he didn¡¯t want to. Azhar was leaving them.


    The mere thought of that consumed him. Even as the woman from before, supposedly a vice counciler to Tafar, led Cirin and the others to their respective stops, he couldn¡¯t help thinking about the old mon. That night in his paper walled prison he found himself tossing in his bed. He turned to one side.


    Azhar was in the wrong. He put Sol in danger in purpose and Sol almost died.


    He turned to the other side.


    But if Azhar hadn¡¯t done what he had, Sol would be in constant danger. Doing nothing wouldn¡¯t have changed that.


    Cirin kept turning as the arguments kept presenting themselves until he found himself staring at the temple ceiling.


    He wondered how the others took it. If they knew even. Azhar had been their de facto leader ever since Lamanori. If Cirin knew, there was no doubt Catherine knew some how. Toftof was the closest to Azhar at the moment and Manama always had some strange way of knowing.


    He sprang up from his bed. He needed ar. Each of the rooms of the temple had two doors. One that led to the connecting hallways, and another that opened to the middle garden of the complex. The balls of his feet slid across the hollow panelling. He paused by the door once he got there. He could almost feel the night breeze nip at his neck, almost hear the chirp of hoppers on the other side. His hand lowered to the handle, yet he couldn¡¯t pull. He wouldn¡¯t. As if the door held more than hoppers and cold air on the other side.


    He whipped his head back to the bed. The thought of losing sleep that one night didn¡¯t seem as bad. If anything, he might fall asleep once Azhar does leave. If he did, then there would nothing more to lose sleep over. The old mon would be gone. Cirin balled his free hand and slid open the door with his other.


    The words of the old mon were fresh from the day prior.


    Doing noting risks everyting.


    Once more Cirin froze. Not because of the cold air, or the rightly defeaning chirps of hoppers, but because of the man who stood on the other side.


    Azhar stared down at him, an expression splayed across his weary muzxzle that the boy had not been familiar with.


    ¡°Listen, mouse-¡±


    The door slid shut. Cirin fell on the otherside. He cupped his brow with one hand and waited until he caught the outline of the old mon as he passed by the walls.That night, his first in the Bazaar, Cirin fell asleep huddled by the garden door.

 Chapter 28, The Offer

    It was early next morning when Cirin shot awake. He peaked ut the door and noticed the sun still at dawn. His eyes expanded. He had time. A quick tumble, slide, and shuffle, before he found himself sprinting out of the temple.


    He discovered Manama and Tafar quietly chatting before the stairway arch. The boy wandered close, scarcely letting the bits of that conversation whisp past his ears. He paused. They were laughing. Cirin balled his hands. Laughing of all things.


    ¡°Oh Cirin.¡± Noticied Manama.


    ¡°Cirin is it?¡± began Tafar, walking up to the boy. Cirin spotted his own reflection in the man¡¯s charcoal eyes. The dawn light outlined his shape as he were a walking exlipse. ¡°How old are ya, child?¡±


    ¡°Where¡¯s da old mon?¡±


    Cirin shifted his gaze to Manama when Tafar didn¡¯t answer. Her brows were lifted and angled outwards and her immediate smile replaced with a slightly open frown. She had one arm propping up the other. Her expression was answer enough. An answer he did no want to accept.


    ¡°If ya dun know, tell me his room numba. I¡¯ll look fa him.¡±


    ¡°Cirin,¡± she started.


    ¡°Dere¡¯s something I need ta talk him about.¡±


    ¡°Cirin!¡±


    Cirin froze, his eyes locked on hers. He lowered his head, ¡°He¡¯s left, hasn¡¯t he?¡±


    ¡°He insisted on leaving befa dawn.¡± Explained Tafar. The man straightened his back as he finally clasped the boy¡¯s attention, ¡°He said he need ta correct a grave error, and my son is noting if not prudent.¡±


    ¡°Toftof left wit him.¡±


    Cirin ran to the edge of the stair way arch and gleamed what he could from above. The city had yet to awake. Whilst the morning light grazed the rooftops and bathed the street corners, the roads themselves remained ominously empty.  He ran further down the stairs and caught on to the closest railing.


    There was nothing down those spiralling stairs. Noone.Fopr as far as he¡¯d known, Azhar never left for more than a few weeks, yet this felt different. Azhar would never go without explaining his absence. IT was as Tafar had said. Azhar was prudent if nothing else. Cirin clutched the railings harder. He hadn¡¯t given the old mon that chance.


    ¡°Manama say ya may just have ta wait til he returns.¡±


    ¡°Returns?¡±


    Manama started a chuckle, ¡°What a stange child ta tink he won¡¯t return fa ya. Obviously ya messy-haired fool! No matta how long it takes fa him to accomplish what he needs ta, dere be no doubt he¡¯ll return here.¡±


    ¡°No.¡± shook Cirin, His eyes made a quick turn to Tafar, ¡°He left dis place befa. Didn¡¯ return fa twenty years.¡±


    Tafar swallowed hard and shut his eyes.


    ¡°Twenty years, eh?


    Cirin located the voice as its old bubbly figure emerged from the temple doors. It was Azhar¡¯s mother.


    ¡°A child leaving its parent is only normal, but fa a parent to leave its child¡­ dat is unnatural.¡± Alia rose her head, ¡°Dat man, my son, is like a fada to ya, is he not?¡±


    ¡°Alia!¡±


    ¡°Be quiet, Tafar. Ansah my question boy. What is he to ya?¡±


    Cirin considered the question as he pried his hands off the railing. He spun on his heels until he faced her. There was only one answer.


    ¡°He¡¯s da old mon. He always will be.¡±


    ¡°Den shall we be ya olda mons?¡± asked Alia, ¡°Til he returns ofcourse.¡±


    Cirin began a short walk back to the temple entrance. He paused the moment he passed the elders.


    ¡°I dun tust ya.¡± He said simply.


    ¡°And what of da old mon, did ya trust him?¡±


    The temple door shut behind him. He found Catherine there waiting for him.


    ¡°¡¯I dun trust ya¡± She mimicked him, ¡°Sounds quite familiar if you¡¯d ask me.¡±


    ¡°What do ya want?¡±


    Catherine creaked open the door before answering, ¡°Seems they¡¯ve left the courtyard. Mind accompanoying me? I mean to visit Kirina again today.¡±


    ¡°Why do ya want me ta go, mon?¡±


    ¡°So you¡¯d rather stay here then? With your ¡®olda mons¡¯?¡±


    Cirin sighed, ¡°Fine.¡±


    They left as soon Cirin had gotten ready. In his haste to find the old mon before he left, Cirin had ignored all his morning rituals.


    Catherine was waiting for him outside, only now she was dressed in a half body poncho overtop her usual leathers.


    Something to fit in with the locals as she explained. By the time they finished the perilous trip down the messa stairs, Cirin noticed the increased presence of pack snakes and city go¡¯ers in the lower level. The morning trade had already begun. Catherine tugged him along as he stopped to admire his surroundings. Though it seemed a second lamanori at first glance, he realised he couldn¡¯t be further than the truth. The Bazaar was its own city. Everything about it proved different in some way. The houses were built of the same paper arched style the temples adorned, while the stores were made of a combination of mudbrick walls and sliding paper doors.


    He slowed as they passed the clearing he fought with Taba in the other day.


    ¡°We¡¯re here.¡± Declared Cahterine.


    Cirin blinked, turning his eyes to the two story building as wide as five others jutting just out of the edge of the clearing.


    He read the bulding¡¯s sign without meaning to.


    The Bazaar Stockades


    ¡°You wa dis close da udda day?¡± he managed.


    ¡°I was surprised to.¡± Motioned Catherine as she held open the front door, ¡°Just as I left this place I saw you two going at it.¡±


    ¡°You again?¡± prompted a voice from inside.


    Cirin recognised the small imp after a while of staring.


    Salazan stood up from where he sat behind the receptionist¡¯s table. ¡°First dat udda girl and now you again. Just how many friends does dis daughter of jegga even have!¡±


    ¡°What of other girl?¡±


    Salazan sighed and motioned the two follow. The jangling of his keys played a steady chorus to the constant trickle of footsteps.


    ¡°She¡¯s still dere. Honestly, I have half da mind ta interrogate her to. It isn¡¯t every day we get a felian in dese parts. Let alone a-¡±


    ¡°E-Elizabeth!?¡± blurted Catherine. She awkwardly shifted between a curtsey and kneel, finally pausing at the bastardized offspring of the two.


    Cirin squaeezed past Salazan to the inside of the cell.


    Elizabeth¡¯s mildly confused reaction to Catherine transformed into an odd joy the moment she spotted the boy.


    ¡°You again!¡±


    Cirin nimbly dodged the Princess¡¯ embrace. There were times he hated his training, yet this was one time he thanked spirits he¡¯d been forced to do so.


    ¡°H-H-How?¡± choked Catherine.


    ¡°Ah, I neva told ya.¡± Cirin pointed at Elizabeth, ¡°I met her in Gin.¡±


    Elizabeth straightened her posture and grasped Catherine¡¯s hand, shaking it immediately. ¡°Another of Cirin¡¯s friends? A pleasure to meet you.¡±


    ¡°C-C-Catherine. Pardon my stutter, milady. It isn¡¯t every day you meet the royal princess of Galokin.¡±


    ¡°But ya met Sol and his brudda already.¡±


    ¡°You misunderstand, Cirin. She¡¯s Elizabeth! Renowned in both Galokin and Illivanmar for her repute. Loved by all!¡±


    ¡°Please call me Eli. And I wouldn¡¯t say all, dear Catherine.¡± Explained Eli, ¡°It was hard enough entering this city. If it wasn¡¯t for my connections, I would haver never known of Kirina¡¯s fate, let alone meet her.¡±


    ¡°I see. I see! And, pardon my question your majesty, but how exactly do you know Kirina?¡±


    There was a silence. One filled with the hollow gasps of Kirina and Eli as they exchanged glances.


    ¡°Our parents knew each other.¡± Said the princess with a smile.


    ¡°Ya parents knew Jegga?¡±


    Catherine shot the boy a look of pure fury. Cirin understood why the moment he spotted Kirina fumble to the back of her cell. Just hearing that name was enough to disarm her.


    Eli spied the girl from the corner of her eye. Ever so slightly her plastered smirk wilted to a frown. That was the first time Cirin saw her so.


    ¡°Yes, they kenw him.¡± She decided to answer, ¡°The three of them as well as Jegga¡¯s late wife attended the same vineyard club in Benka. They grew close and evenetually introduced me to the poor girl you see before you. She is my friend.¡± She said sternly, ¡°No matter who you are, no matter how much you resemble my beloved Ali, I shall not tolerate any further comments regarding her father. Not while she is still in grieving.¡±


    ¡°Dat will be radda difficult wit da interrogation, Princess.¡±


    Eli stomped towards Salazan. Yet just as she readied her hand to deliver a blow to Salazan¡¯s face, a familiar voice echoed through the cells. It seemed to be locked in an unseen argument.


    ¡°I demand ya give me work! Give me something ta do!¡±


    ¡°We canot allow dat Bahar.¡±


    ¡°Captain Bahar.¡±


    ¡°Captain. My ordahs come from da council itself. Ya be needing rest afta dat mission.¡±


    ¡°Rest? I had an evening ta rest already. Give me a mission damn it. Surely having carried one out dutifully fa ten years muyst have garnered me some respect.¡±


    ¡°It¡­ it has sir, dat¡¯s why dey be requesting ya rest.¡±


    ¡°Ta da desert wit dis ¡®rest dat¡¯. I know how dis works, ya use ya best men and toss em aside. My days are numbered. IF ya want ta prove me uddawise ya know what ta do. Give. Me. Work¡±


    Elizabeth withdrew her hand from where hse held it.


    ¡°Is that the man who murdered Kririna¡¯s father?¡± she posed.


    Slazan let out a heavy sigh, ¡°Ya know it is.¡±


    Before Eli could take another step to the door, Salazan snatched her by the arm.


    ¡°Ya tree need ta leave.¡±


    ¡°But we just got here!¡± cried Catherine.


    ¡°Da situations changed.¡± Insisted the man, ¡°I¡¯ve got an angry Bahar to deal with it. Drunk by da sounds of it.¡± Salazan nudged his head at Kirina, ¡°If it¡¯s her ya be worried about, I can assure ya lot dat I won¡¯t let Bahar near her.¡±


    With that, the three of them filed out of the jailhouse. Elizabeth stopped before Cirin.


    ¡°I¡¯ve heard what happened with Azhar.¡±


    Ofcourse she had. Cirin turned away from her.


    ¡°It was absolutely horrid what he did, prodding poor Sol around like that. But maybe he did it for better realised reasons.¡±


    Cirin¡¯s voice was stretched and weary, ¡°Sol almost died.¡±


    ¡°We never caught the mastermind either.¡± Added Catherine.


    ¡°Then I suppose hat is what he¡¯s doing now, isn¡¯t it? I heard a ram-horn with two men on it left this morning. It had Tafar¡¯s family banner on it, so my men took notice.¡±


    ¡°Say, Eli. Do ya tink it¡¯ll take long ta find da mastermind?¡±


    Eli took a breath. She craned her head to the sky and left it there. ¡°He¡¯s evaded you the entire time hasn¡¯t he? You haven¡¯t even crossed half of Illivanmar and what¡¯s left is considerably slower to get by. Deeper into the empire and all.¡± She edged, ¡°It¡¯s true that he will move faster without you or the prince slowing him down, but I wouldn¡¯t wager by much. IF you want my estimate, then I¡¯d say three year.¡±


    ¡°Three years!?¡±


    ¡°Maybe more.¡±Eli ran ahead of Cirin, spun, and leaned in with her hands held behind her back, ¡°Perhaps the more pressing matter is what you will do in that time period. Will you follow him? Or will you stay?¡±


    Cirin fell back against the Stokade walls, ¡°what would I gain from staying?¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t be serious.¡± Gasped Catherine, ¡°You¡¯d be protecting Sol. You¡¯d be training! The Bazaar has the finest martial school in all of Illivanmar. You¡¯d gain so much least of all how safe it is here.¡±


    ¡°What of a choice, dear Cirin. Though only one of those options is an entertaining one.¡± She spun  again and started spinting in the opposite direction. She cried back as she ran, ¡°I¡¯ll await your answer with intrepid anticipation.¡±


    Cirin and Catherine stared at her shrinking figure.


    ¡°She¡¯s a bit more eccentric than the rumors let on.¡±


    Cirin paid her no mind, his eyes still aimlessly following the ghost of the princess, ¡°The more enteraining option, huh?¡±


    The door to the stockades brushed open. An unlikely Bahar bumbled out, bottle in hand with two guards pushing him out.


    ¡°Unhand me you currs. If dis world wasn¡¯t shpinning I¡¯d gut bot of ya.¡±


    ¡°Right. Then wait til the world does stop spinning.¡± Joked the right guard.


    ¡°Maybe then you¡¯ll be sober enough to do what we do.¡± Mocked the other.


    ¡°Why you¡­ I spent ten years-¡±


    Cirin stole a glimpse of the man. The supposed hero of the Bazaar, the one who slayed his city¡¯s most hated villain, stood drunk and alone staring dumbly at an iron door.


    Then Cirin found himself focussed on Catherine. If his encounter with the princess taught him anything, it was that the friends of Kirina wanted nothing to do with Bahar. Yet Catherine didn¡¯t exude the same presence as her royal counterpart. She had her hands balled, but her face told another tale. It was almost if she¡¯d burst into tears just there and then.


    Bahar stumbled passed her, soon disappearing into the dusty clearing.


    ¡°We should get back to the temple, Cirin. I think they wanted to discuss your living conditions there.¡±The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    Cirin gladly bounced off the wall. The warm embrace of morning settled into midday, turning the paper-walled houses into lanterns in the day. Now the various denizens of the Bazaar were out about their daily tasks.


    The trip back had seemingly shrunk in length now that he had become familiar with it. Cirin fixated on the temple-messa in the distance.


    ¡°What if I did stay?¡± he humored himself. The idea wasn¡¯t as absurd as he first thought. He tossed his eyes to Catherine. With the old mon and Toftof gone, there was no one to protect Sol. No one except him and perhaps Catherine. Manama was too unreliable.


    And training? He made a head stool with his hand. Up until then he had managed to train whilst traveling, yet that came with its own problems. For one, there were days he couldn¡¯t train due to perilous pathes.


    He slowed his pace. And if he went? That option hadn¡¯t left his mind either.


    You should stay pig


    Cirin paused abruptly.


    Do not respond. Keep walking.


    Cirin swallowed and did as the voice commanded. Luckily Catherine had been been made absent-minded by her encounter with Bahar. The voice continued.


    I¡­ I can understand your hesitation. Long ago my lov- I¡­ faced the same dilemma. To leave the village and face the last of my foes, or stay, recover, and then go. In my haste I chose to face my enemy early, and for that I failed. Do not make the same mistake I have.


    ¡°This isn¡¯t da same.¡± Whispered Cirin, ¡°I only go ta talk wit da old mon.¡±


    And what then? You¡¯ll quietly stand aside as he hunts what you yourself hunt? I know you. There is no other way this will end.


    Cirin choked on his own words.


    Stay. Produce more allies. Protect that younger child-pig of yours and train so that one day you¡¯ll best anyone.


    ¡°But witout da old mon¡­¡± Cirin sighed as he realised the voice had left. The bodiless thing never did entertain the boy with a proper discussion. It came and left as it pleased. Cirin relapsed to the growing the stretch of stair before him. They were already back at the temple mesa.


    Near the top, Cirin slowed as he heard the telling signs of wood against wood. He peaked past the temple gate. There were three children there of them. They appeared roughly around his age and fighting, each one with a different style.


    The girl in the group practicsed similar to Azhar¡¯s style as she kept her distance from a boy who stood his ground as Taba did.


    ¡°Da shifting sands.¡± Hushed Cirin.


    Finally, he turned to the largest of the three which warranted the distance kept. His face spoke of youth yet he was markedly taller and very much stocky. He lumbered from foot to foot as he held one large wooden blade over his shoulder. Cirin slid to the opening of the gate as he took in what he saw. That boy¡¯s style was diferent than anything he had seen before, despite how much Azhar laboured to teach him of the other fighting styles in Illivanmar.


    Cirin glared on, eagerly awaiting how the boy would engage. The boy rose his wooden claymore. His approach became clear. Deadly. Cirin could read it ten steps away. The beat of two claps froze the inevitable play and Cirin beveled his head to the clapper.


    ¡°Dat¡¯s enough, children. Our guest of honor has arrived.¡± Announced the clapper. She bowed. She was needle dressed in a poncho. Her features were sharp, and her body tall and lean.


    ¡°Puh.¡± Spat the largest boy, ¡°It was just getting good.¡±


    ¡°Who¡¯s dis guest den? An outwaller?¡±


    ¡°Dun speak sa loud, Ig.¡± Snapped the second boy at the girl, ¡°He might hear ya.¡±


    ¡°He did hear ya. All of ya.¡± Stressed needle, ¡°Now as we agreed upon, I was only ta oversee ya till I found da guest. Ya lot be best going back to ya chambers. I am to escort dis guest. Lady Catherine.¡± She bowed, ¡°Master Cirin.¡±


    Cirin drew his hair down and stared away. He never enjoyed attention, least of all from strangers. A hollow thump on his back sent him sprawling forwards. He shot a glance at the scholar who did it.


    ¡°Best not keep them waiting Cirin.¡± Smiled Catherine.


    Cirin dusted his jerkin. Somehow seeing the girl return to her usual self left him at ease.


    ¡°Would you follow me?¡± insisted the clapper.


    The clapper led them through the familiar temple, yet instead of taking a right into the dormitories, she took the left and led them to a hall with only one door at the end of it. Cirin could hear voices on the other end.


    ¡°How do ya know our son?¡± muffled Tafar.


    A pause as his guide slid open the door.


    ¡°He let me travel wit him afta Gin.¡±


    Cirin stumbled in. That was Taba¡¯s voice. He found the girl sitting on the door side of a long table. The four legged thing stood in an even narrower room. Tafar and Alia sat on the other side of the table, directly facing the door.


    Cirin made a shoe to avoid the girl¡¯s eye. Instead choosing to stare at the side of the room. There were paintings on those walls. Several of them. Each of that of a different swordsman posed in the same fashion. Cirin made sure to catch a glance of each of these paintings before he sat down. The pose was a simple stance. Azhar¡¯s stance.


    ¡°Welcome, Cirin.¡± Began Tafar.


    Cirin shuffled to his seat.


    Tafar clasped his hand on the table and took turns addressing each of three before him.


    ¡°Living arrangments here are simple. Fa one da bathes are scheduled just at dawn and dusk. No earlier. No later. We serves meals in da dining halls. Have our servants wash ya scraps in da end of every week. Trash and udda ends go¡­¡±


    Cirin let the man¡¯s voice fade into oblivion until they were nothing more than meaningless mumbles.  His eyes fell to the side.  Eli¡¯s tones echoed in his head. She had given urgency to his choice. Even then his eyes trailed to the door. If he left now, would he catch the man? Perhaps eventually. It would be dangerous, reckless, yet the more and more he thought about it he realised it to be the one thing he desired most. More than protecting the prince. More than training.


    The old mon had tried to talk to him and in his frustration he silenced the man before he could utter more than two words.


    Listen, mouse¡­


    What came after that? What had Azhar wanted to tell him? A bead of icy sweat toppeld down his cheek. Azhar and Toftof were both veritable fighters, yet against overwhelming numbers, even ambushes, the two were no more capable than any other man. Jegga had proven that. The desert was the greatest unmarked grave after all.


    Another drop sweat propped on his skull. Then another.


    ¡°Cirin.¡±


    His name drew him back to reality. At once, he recognized that voice and it¡¯s stern master glaring directly at him. Tafar.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be blatant about dis, boy. You and ya friends are ta stay wit us for da foreseeable futah.¡±


    Cirin narrowed his eyes. ¡°Den I¡¯ll be blatant to.¡± He wagered, ¡°I refuse.¡±


    Cirin expected the man to turn upset at the notion. Annoyed even, yet what the man did put the boy at odds. He smiled.


    ¡°Dat wasn¡¯t a choice, boy. But if ya want it ta be den fine.¡± Tafar leaned back and crossed his arms, ¡°Ya may refuse, but if ya do, we kill da prince.¡±


    Cirin nearly shot up. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t.¡± he dared.


    ¡°We could.¡±


    Cirin shot his eyes at the woman, yet she store on coldly.


    Cirin dug his nails into his palms, ¡°What happened to ya wanting ta be my ¡®olda mons¡¯ huh?¡±


    ¡°You refused dat, my dear.¡± Entered Alia, ¡°But ofcourse dat offah still stands.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll kill ya!¡± snarled Cirin.


    Tafar puffed, ¡°I¡¯d like ta see ya try.¡±


    Cirin reached for his swords on instinct, yet his hands stopped themselves. Tafar was the man who taught Azhar everything he knew. The old mon never said so, though Cirin could tell by the way the man carried himself. He tossed his eyes to Catherine, who merely shook her head at him.


    ¡°I want you to stay to, Cirin.¡±


    It was as if she had grasped him by the neck with those words. He turned on his heel and sped for the door.


    He could hear the scholar stumble to her feet as he slammed the door open. His feet played a heavy march.


    ¡°Cirin!¡± she called after him.


    The boy did not turn, instead allowing both the scholar and the strange slender woman to follow him.


    ¡°Cirin! Where are you going?¡±


    He sighed in his advance, ¡°Isn¡¯t it obvious, mon? I be going to da prince.¡±


    ¡°Ah, prince Sol? I saw him leave wit da pierced woman a little earlier.¡±


    Cirin forfeited his march and tunred to the stranger, ¡°Where did she go? Did she tell ya?¡±


    She bowed, feigning the slightest of smiles as she did, ¡°Ofcourse. She was looking fa a drink, strangely enough. Sa I pointed her to da closest bar.¡±


    ¡°Show us where ta go.¡±


    Her smile shifted to an immediate frown, ¡°I cannot. Ya may be an honored guest, but ya also be a minor.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll go with him.¡± Insisted Catherine with her hand on her chest.


    ¡°Two minors.¡± Stressed the woman, ¡°Let me introduce myself. I am Sijas Ka Re, an instructah at da Bazaris Martial Academy. You do well to rememba me.¡±


    ¡°Den you go wit us.¡± Barked Cirin.


    ¡°My pardon?¡±


    ¡°We ain¡¯t going fa drinks, mon. Just ta find da prince. IF ya dun go wit us, we¡¯ll find our own way.¡±


    Sijas narrowed her eyes and smiled fondly. She closed the gap between her and the boy within an instant and clasped Cirin¡¯s forehead without so much as a flinch from the boy. Her hand was as cold as night, yet as gentle as the breeze.


    She brushed aside Cirin¡¯s wavy locks, revealing his ruby reds in full glory.


    ¡°A little wild dis one.¡± She said to no one in particular, ¡°Yes very wild indeed. Perhaps a dog if I were ta palce it. Dough I see potential in dis pup. He is a wild pup who¡¯s yet to grow his teeth today, but a proud pack wolf in da future. Nay. First no mo a guard dog, den a pack wolf.¡±


    She let go, leaving Cirin in a daze. He swept his hair back in place and shook his head.


    ¡°Did¡­ did ya say something, mon?¡± he managed, stealing a glance at Catherine, who seemed equally dumbfounded.


    ¡°Noting at all, little pup. Just dat I will accompany you.¡±


    ¡°Ya-Ya will?¡±


    Sijas nodded, passing the two by with her arms crossed behind her back.


    Cirin looked to Catherine who awkwardly glanced back. With little more to go on other than Sijas pacing away, Cirin decided it best to follow her.


    So, for the third time that day, Cirin trekked down the daunting stairs of the messas to the sprawling town far below. It was there that Sijas led them through the many turns and drops of the Bazaar¡¯s trickier streets. What Cirin had thought to be no more than a general town layout became a maze of cramped paper walled houses. The sky lapsed behind increasingly dense layers of overhung fabrics, and the air grew thick with smoke.


    The denizens changed too. The deeper they strived through the maze, the more the people who lived there proved to be covered in more silt than cloth. Women in questionable attire patrolled the streets, whilst men swaggard about with half empty bottles glued to their hands.


    Every so often, armored guards would pass them by. Those lawful few seemed an enigma in these parts. The bright whites and blues of their armored ponchos made them more like paintings than reality.


    Sijas slowed before a torn down tavern. Compared to the buildings that greedily gobbled the space on either side of the tavern, the blackened thing had a less than half the space it should have had.


    Sijas passed through the convetional knob equipped door with little introduction and Cirin paused as he read the sign.


    The Sand Snake


    Just as he entered, he heard a paticularily familiar voice. A familiar drunk voice.


    ¡°Take a break dey shaid! A damned break! Afta ten yearsh of tireless service, dose damend bashtardsh tink I need a break? To da desert wit dem I say.¡±


    Cirin sighed when that voice matched the groggy figure of Bahar drowning himself in whatever concoction they served at the Sand Snake.


    The moment he leaned back to take a swig, Cirin noticed yet another familiar figure. His eyes went wide. It was the nameless swordsmen from the grand valley inn. The same man who had defend Cirin, Taba, and the prince. His face was long and drawn. It was the face of a man who listened too many a drunk¡¯s woes.


    Cirin¡¯s eyes bounced from the unfortunate duo to the collection of patrons by the seating compartments. It wasn¡¯t long before he spotted the undeniably pierced face of Manama and the much smaller Sol seated in front of her.


    As he got closer to them he could see Manama¡¯s lips move about and her arms jostle as she no doubt unraveled the most fantastic of tales. He saw Catherine nod beside him as she arrived at the same conclusion.


    Soon Manama¡¯s words bcame clear amidst the tavern noise.


    ¡°¡­ And da final section of Housain¡¯s Law, sub section minah foul, dictates dat all livestock be registered wit da local magistrate meaning¡­?¡±


    ¡°That lord Horris broke all twelve laws!¡± jumped the Prince.


    ¡°Haha! Exactly, my prince!¡±


    Cirin froze just as he was about to tap Sol on the shoulder. Catherine seemd equally lost.


    ¡°Oh? I see ya made it here, Cirin.¡± Smiled Manama, ¡°And ya met Sijas as well.¡±


    ¡°Cirin!¡± cried Sol, quick to embrace his guard.


    ¡°Where ya been, ya little imp?¡± said cirin as he shuffled Sol¡¯s hair.


    ¡°Learning about the finer points of royal and free city law.¡± Said the eight year old happily.


    ¡°I¡­ I see. What? Why ya staring at me so?¡±


    ¡°Azhar left.¡± He said simply, ¡°Don¡¯t go.¡±


    Cirin balled his hands, and he shifted his gaze to Manama momentarily before relapsing to the boy, ¡°We have to. Ya not safe here, Sol.¡±


    ¡°That is where I msut disagree with you, Cirin.¡± Interjected Catherine, ¡°He ism ore sae here than anywhere in this country.¡±


    ¡°Dey threatened ta kill him mon!¡±


    ¡°Only as a means ta keep ya here.¡±


    ¡°Dat is going too far.¡±


    Sol tugged at Cirin¡¯s sleeve, ¡°I don¡¯t care. Please stay.¡±


    Cirin narrowed his eyes at the prince. In that moment he could not control himself. He grabbed Sol by the wrist and dragged the boy out of the chair.


    ¡°Cirin, that hurts!¡±


    Cirin held his wrist high, looking him straight in the eye.


    ¡°Dey¡¯ll hurt ya much mo, mon.¡±


    He turned then, realising his choice. He would go to Azhar and take Sol to him. By force if he¡¯d have to.


    Sijas was the first to stand in his way. She stared him down. He stared back.


    ¡°Dun do anything stupid little pup.¡±


    Cirin answered with his first step. But before he could take another, Sijas latched her cold hand on cirin¡¯s shoulder and pressed hard.


    He let go of Sol immediately and fell to his knees as he gagged.


    ¡°Cirin!¡± cried Catherine.


    Cirin held up his free hand. The pain was wretched, yet it was fleeting. His true pain existed not in his shoulder.


    ¡°No.¡± he said simply, ¡°Ya all be blind.¡± He rose to his feet, choosing to look away from his friends as he stumbled away. He would go alone. He stopped momentarily, ¡°Manama. If dey do try ta kill Sol. Promise me ya will protect him.¡±


    ¡°Ya have my word, mouse.¡±


    Cirin smiled at the word and continued away. By the time he was passing Bahar, a collection of hurried steps battered after him, ending simply with Sol¡¯s figure embracing what it could of cirin¡¯s back.


    ¡°Let go of me, ya imp. I¡¯ve decided. I¡¯m going.¡±


    ¡°No you¡¯re not.¡± Balled the prince.


    ¡°Oi, don¡¯t ya cry ova me.¡± Cirin found himself nearly at tears. He clutched his face with one hand. He had to go. He balled his other hand. He needed to. Little by little, he shuffled back to the prince. He looked the ragged boy in the eyes and reached to pry him off.


    Yet another got him first.


    It clapsed on to the top of the boy¡¯s head and lifted him up. Cirin stared on in horror and lept back to face the owner of the monstrous hand.


    ¡°Oi, oi, oi. Who be intrupting my woes, eh?¡±


    Cirin narrowed his eyes at Bahar.


    Bahar jostled Sol in his arm, ¡°Ya crying? You? Some rich felian wit deir lives all sorted out? I should be crying mon! Ten years and fa what.¡±


    ¡°Let him go.¡± Warned Cirin.


    ¡°Oi, I rememba ya. Back at Jegga¡¯s ya-¡±


    Another blade met the skin of his neck. That blade drew one drop of blood. Cirin ogled at it¡¯s nameless master.


    ¡°you¡¯d best listen to da boy.¡± He warned.


    Bahar lowered Sol to his feet and backed away from the blade.


    ¡°Ya want ta fight me?¡± Bahar entertained his foe with a series of chuckles ending with the climatic rasp of his withdrawn blade. ¡°Come at me den. But be warned, I was a captain of da Jegga bandits fa six years, a cpatian at da guard fa five befa den. I am Bahar, of the Red Sand!¡± Bahar flicked his blade about in a show of prowess. He¡¯d sobered in a matter of seconds, ¡°I am Bahar, graduated of da School of Shifting sands.¡±


    The other man slid off his stool, yawned, and rubbed lower back, ¡°Oh, aye. I can most fight ya, but¡­¡± He trailed, yawning once more, ¡°I¡¯d radda not.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± blurted Bahar, lowering his blade, ¡°Look here.¡± He said pointing at his neck, ¡°Ya already wounded me. Ya already signed ya tombstone.¡±


    ¡°Have I?¡± questioned the man lazily, ¡°Very well den. I shall write on it da name ¡®Inzaka, da poisoner of fools who have too many titles¡¯. Fitting no?¡±


    ¡°Poisoner?¡± asked Bahar.


    Inzaka laughed searching in his baggy robe till he withdrew a single blueish vial. He jostled the vial, swishing its contents about, ¡°Dis is da cure, I tink?¡±


    ¡°What cure?¡± said Bahar slowly.


    ¡°Oh, to da poison I nipped ya neck wit.¡±


    ¡°Poison? Ya jest, ya wretched fool. No man could poison his blade dat quickly.¡±


    To that Manama sauntered to Inzaka¡¯s side and tapped the man on the shoulder.


    ¡°I may I smell ya blade?¡± she asked nonchalantly.


    ¡°You.¡± Snarled Bahar, ¡°I rememba you! Back! Back I say.¡±


    Inzakaa smiled at Bahar then Manama, ¡°Go ahead.¡± He said  holding out his blade.


    Manama took one whiff of the blade and her eyes went wide. She snapped her fingers, giving Cirin the slightest reason to flinch as he made for Sol.


    ¡°Dis be Salamanda¡¯s Red!¡± she declared with awe, ¡°A rare poison dat kills its prey in two hundred and ten days, no less, no mo.¡±


    Bahar practicaly choked on his words as his sword fell to the ground.


    ¡°Ya seem ta believe her word mod an mine, sa dere ya have it. Ya be dead in two hundred or so days. And I have da antidote. Ah, and befa ya ask, da problem wit rare poison ya see, is dat to cures ta dem be just as rare if not rarer.¡±


    Bahar stood up slowly, he levied his eyes back on the man readied to pounce but soon quietly backed down as he realised Manama was right next to his poisoner.


    ¡°Hmpf, lets make dis interesting shall we?¡± laughed the man as he juggled the antitode between his fingers, ¡°Who amoung ya be in charge of dis poor boy who be attacked just now?¡± His eye instantly went to Cirin as I he expected Cirin of all people to answer. Though by then he fealt he had no right to even claim that.


    ¡°I am in charge of him.¡± Announced Manama.


    ¡°Ooh, even betta. You, Bahar, of da Grey Sands-¡±


    ¡°Red Sand.¡±


    ¡°Yes dat. I¡¯m giving dis woman da antidote.¡±


    ¡°What!?¡±


    Inzaka turned to Manama, ¡°Give it ta him if he meets dese demands.¡± To that he spun back to Bahar, ¡°Defend da life of da boy ya just attacked. If he receives so much as a bruise, you lose da antidote? Got it? Good.¡±


    ¡°So much as a bruise? Look at him? He¡¯s as frail as a lotus. He won¡¯t survive let alone take a bruise.¡±


    Inzaka sretched and made his way passed Bahar, ¡°Den protect him well.¡± The man patted Bahar on the shoulder, ¡°Dun tink I wasn¡¯t listening when ya said ya wanted someting ta do.¡± He leaned low and whipered just loud enough so cirin could hear, ¡°I always listen.¡± To that he left the poor man and stumbled out into the painful sunglight.


    ¡°I¡¯m dead.¡± Muttered Bahar, ¡°Oh great Mudda Ipin, I¡¯m dead.¡±


    ¡°Sol?¡± questioned cirin as the boy wondered past him, ¡°Sol, wait!¡± Cirin reached out but a moment too late. The boy had already found his way to Bahar.


    He held out a hand to the man, ¡°It won¡¯t be so bad. Promise.¡±


    Bahar rose his head in defiance, but settled down as he no doubt rmembered his contract.


    ¡°So be it.¡± He breathed, ¡°Be just say ya know, I won¡¯t enjoy any of dis.¡±


    ¡°Have you had time to cool off?¡±


    Catherine.


    Cirin decided he had, ¡°Somewhat.¡± He admitted.


    She lowered to his kneeling height, ¡°Listen. I know things are¡­ rough at the moment, maybe even that is an understatement, but when everyone you know tells you to stay, you do. Maybe not all the time, if they tell you to jump off a cliff, well you shouldn¡¯t. But I digress. We tell you¡­ no we ask you to stay because you¡¯re safest here. Think of what¡¯ll happen if you go. Really  think about it. Wouldn¡¯t you regret going? If not right away then eventually.¡±


    Cirin lowered his head, ¡°Right now I regret not going.¡±


    Catherine stared at him for several impossible moments. It made them into ghosts amoungst the passage of patrons as those drunkards left and entered the tavern.


    ¡°He¡¯ll be fine.¡± She said at last.


    Cirin rose his head, meeting her eyes for atleast the second time in his life. Those were the words he wanted to hear. He closed his eyes.


    ¡°Ah! You¡¯re smiling!¡±


    ¡°I am not.¡± He protested.


    Her light chuckle made him at ease. For the first time since that awful night, the thought of staying did not seem so bad.


    ¡°Though we should most definitely leave this awful place.¡± Catherine nudged her head at the strange duo of Bahar and Sol, ¡°With our new companion along with us.¡±


    Cirin remembered how she¡¯d reacted to seeing the man, ¡°His presence doesn¡¯t bodda ya?¡±


    Catherine blinked, ¡°Should it?¡±


    Sijas¡¯s cold and telling stares interrupted any chance of Cirin discerning her relation to Bahar. She wanted them to leave that bar. Now.


    Sol and Bahar led the way, followed by Manama, Catherine, Cirin, and lastly Sijas.


    The instructor bowed the moment she existed, directing Cirin to the hooded figure she bowed to.


    That figure took off her hood then revealing her elderly cowl to be that of Alia.


    ¡°What ya doing here, old lady?¡± spat Cirin, instantly making to step in front of Sol. Seeing Cirin do so, Bahar attempted to do the same.


    ¡°Ta speak wit ya, boy. Privately.¡± She said staring down the others.


    Cahterine and Sijas agreed to wait for Cirin whilst Manam escorted Sol back to the temple with Bahar in tow.


    Alia had her eyes trailing the shoulder hunched Bahar as he went along with the other two.


    ¡°May I ask, what happened ta Bahar?¡±


    Cirin narrowed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. Alia had insisted they stop by an open patio restaurant to talk.


    ¡°Not much fa talking I see. Well, dat doesn¡¯t surprise knowing ya fadda-¡± She held a hand to her mouth, ¡°Pardon, knowing how ya talked earlier.¡±


    ¡°What do ya want?¡±


    ¡°Ya know what I want. But I can alsa undastand why ya want what ya do. Sa let me make ya an offah. Mind you, dis be needin kept secret from Tafar.¡±


    Cirin tilted his head.


    ¡°I¡¯ll let ya leave. Even help ya leave, if ya do one ting.¡±


    Cirin started to speak. He hadn¡¯t told her he intented to stay. Yet the curiosity of knowing what he¡¯d have to do in order to leave got the better of him. He swallowed his confession and opened his ears. Hen nodded for her to continue.


    Alie smiled, ¡°Every year da Academy here at da Bazaar has a martial competition fa its various divisions. Divisions are assigned by age groupings. Da victors of dose divisions are den given special status as prodigal warriors, some are even scouted early ta be captains and fighting school leads. Here¡¯s where my offah comes in. Prove to me dat you can hold ya own. Win one of dese competitions, and I shall let ya go.¡±


    Cirin pushed one brow up, ¡°Dat seems too simple, old lady. I¡¯d be gone afta one competition.¡±


    ¡°Is dat right? You¡¯ll have to neroll in the academy ya know.¡± she chuckeled as the boy remained silent, unshaken, ¡°Den I¡¯d take it ya have no quarrel on da matta?¡±


    Cirin crossed his arms and lowered his head. For a moment he considered what would happen if he did win. They would all recognize him, his talent. Not one would decide it be better for him to stay. And if Azhar¡¯s own masters approved then it owudl be as if Azhar had approved himself. As if Azhar had finally acknowledged the boy. Crin smiled for the second time that day.


    ¡°None.¡± He answered.

 Chapter 29, A Decleration of War (Part 2 chapter 0)

    It was the coldest day in a desert, the thirty-first of forgiveness, when a hooded man buried in a crowd found himself very very alone. His bullet steps pierced through the frigid alley. He couldn¡¯t stop now. By the way his breath frosted and his fingertips shivered, his very heart would have crystallized the moment he gave in to the exhaustion.


    He was a ghost in his own funeral. A phantom who¡¯s opera had forgotten. Who was he now? Playing a quick sidestep, he managed an exit into an empty alley. He smiled to that. The prince always said he¡¯d find some luck one day.


    The prince¡­


    He thought of the boy amongst his foreign foray. He had been nothing before he met Sol. Truly nothing. He would have been better off buried in the sands. But since then, he¡¯d found a new way of life. Much a kin to the alley he navigated then. Yet all ways in life had eventualities. He cursed softly at the sight of mudded bricks. A forced end to his sudden retreat.


    A pair of steps approached. He reached for his blade.


    He cursed again for not noticing earlier. He had been followed since he left the academy. It was his own folly for letting his assailant get that far.


    The steps painted a face for itself and he recognized the muzzle instantly.


    ¡°It¡¯s been three years, hasn¡¯t it?¡± mused the approached. His voice had completely changed. It was deeper now. It had a growl to it.


    The cornered mouse drew the rest of his blade. This was a battle he would not win. His opponent flashed a long blade in kind.


    No thought the man as he charged his opponent headlong. He would try his best to cripple the man and at the very least warn them. He would warn them if he managed to escape. Warn them if he had to with blood. Warn them if he had to with his corpse. Warn them.


    His body slid to the bottom of the other man¡¯s pommel. The battle was over before he realised it began.


    He coughed out blood and convulsed like a wounded animal. His foe must have thought it unsightly, for a moment later, he simply shook the defeated man off his blade, promising his blood to earth below.


    Footsteps. The man, now on the ground, blinked his eyes as time began to slow. He could make out the silver lined boots of his murderer as they paced away. Step after step, those heavy things played a peculiar beat. His murderer had a limp. The man choked on his own blood gurgling out, he felt the hot it further curdle in his chest. Time slowed, the pain vanished. He could smell the crisp spices wafting from a nearby restaurant. He knew that place. Loved it. It served his favorite kebabs.


    Again he coughed and his head rolled to a meek puddle by the tip of his nose. His eyes fluttered. Time fell away. A single drop of crimson the last he saw as it dipped into the puddle below¡­


    ¡­


    Drop


    It was a tincture of pure golden red, one hot to the touch, a feature that proved all to spoken for by the drifting fog it emitted. He never drank tea, though the woman insisted he should. She had just finished serving it after all. He tried not to focus on her. It felt strange seeing someone for the first time in person, yet knowing exactly how it felt to wear their skin.


    ¡°Pardon da tea. It¡¯s been a while since I¡¯ve had a guest.¡±


    Cirin reached for the cup, but stopped himself before he grasped it. He fell back in his cushioned chair.


    His eyes shifted to hers before flinching away, ¡°He was shirtless da last I saw of him.¡± He managed. ¡°You wa all he talked about befa dey arrested him.¡±


    ¡°tank you.¡± She said simply.


    ¡°Dis isn¡¯t kindness.¡± Asserted the boy, ¡°Just a favor I had ta return.¡±


    His eyes wandered to a portrait of Mehpit, a younger Cassal, another man two heads taller than Cassal, and a strange silver haired girl. They seemed happy.


    ¡°Sa I heard ya be starting at da academy soon?¡±


    ¡°Yes, today actually.¡±


    ¡°Den, would you accept a gift?¡±


    She¡¯d started moving before he could answer.


    He tried his best to follow her as she darted out the room into the next. Cirin spoke between the clanks and shuffles of drawers, ¡°As I said befa mon, I dun need tan-¡±


    Mephit popped out the room a minute later, choosing to produce a dimpled smile where she stood.


    ¡°Yes. Yes!¡± She beamed, nodding to herself madly, ¡°Dis¡¯ll fit ya perfectly.¡±


    Finally, she revealed what she had been hiding the entire time. Cirin¡¯s eyes widened. A desert long coat, a coat the color of sand. It was worn, but it still could do more of a job than his battered down leather vest could do any day. On top of its tailored in frontal scarf, it possessed a defensive plate solely tied to the right shoulder. The coat itself stretched far enough to reach the waist on the far end, while the back end continued much further. The back, as Mephit quickly revealed, bore leather straps made for strapping weapons, while the twin tail tips of the coat were crested with silver lining.


    ¡°I¡­ I can¡¯t accept dis. It must half an Ir atleast.¡±


    ¡°Mo.¡± Smiled Mehpit, ¡°But do not worry, now dat my cousin is free- mo free dan he was befa- I needn¡¯t worry about da sum I was saving ta buy him back from Jegga. Dis coat was neva ours anyways. It belonged to a friend of ours when he was younga. He was an excellent fighta such as yaself, sa please take it.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll need it fa da academy.¡± She insisted, pressing the coat against his chest.


    Seeing the plate glimmer made Cirin reconsider. Eagerly, he took the coat from her hands and slid it overtop his head. The arms fit well, as did the chest for the most part just passing his waist, but the tail ends nearly touched the ground.


    ¡°Ya said dis¡¯ll fit me perfectly?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d say in tree years it should, but ya neva know how ya kids grow dese days.¡±


    There was a knock on the door and Mephit rose her brows.


    Cirin bowed to Mephit, ¡°Dat be fa me I tink.¡±


    He managed to leave after promising to return. Mephit insisted upon it and sicne she had given him his second priciest possession he had no choice but to oblige.


    ¡°Sa she just gave it to you?¡± Asked Taba in disbelief.


    ¡°Afta I told her about Cassal, yes.¡±


    Taba glanced at her own dirtied tower priestly robes, ¡°Must be nice.¡± She sighed.


    ¡°I want to join the academy to!¡±


    Cirin smiled at his imp of a charge before relapsing to the growing road ahead of them. They were not far from the academy grounds now.


    ¡°I dun tink dey¡¯ll let eight year olds join, mon.¡±


    ¡°Actually, that¡¯s not entirely true.¡± Corrected Catherine, ¡°Entry into the academy may be done as soon as six years of age and on top of that, the academy boasts a variety of different types of learning apart from fighting. Sol doesn¡¯t have to fight either. Those who prove frail are often exempt from fighting all together.¡±


    Sol nearly leapt after hearing that. Catherine had become his new found hope.


    ¡°It¡¯ll be tough.¡± Warned Cirin.


    ¡°How would you know, degenerate? Ya be just as new as he is.¡±


    Cirin tossed the count a telling glance, ¡°I know cause da old mon told me once. Something I¡¯m sure he dun tell ya.¡±


    Taba crossed her arms and puffed.


    ¡°Besides, da old mon was trained here. So I¡¯d tink dey use da same methods as him.¡±Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    ¡°Azhar taught you?¡±


    For once, Cirin found himself staring back at the estranged Bahar following them. The man had little to no presence after his encounter with the drunk swordsman.


    Cirin nodded and Bahar let out a taunting howl.


    ¡°What?¡± snapped Cirin.


    Bahar calmed down to that, shaking his head as he spoke, ¡°Noting. Masta Azhar was different from da udda students at da academy. For one, he neva trained wit any of dem.¡±


    ¡°But-¡±


    ¡°He taught himself.¡± Entertained Bahar, ¡°I was very young when I heard tale of him, but I remembered his name well.¡± Bahar breathed in and settled his eyes on Cirin, ¡°He won all da tournaments.¡±


    ¡°All of them?!¡± scoffed Catherine, ¡°I believe your facts are wrong, good sir. Not one student has ever won every tournament in the course of his or her term. That would surely been noted in the records, which I have so dutifully taken care as to read.¡±


    ¡°Hmm ya be right. He won all but one. He lost da second to a man named Jaffan.¡±


    ¡°Ya seem ta know a lot about dis.¡± Edged Cirin.


    ¡°Ofcourse I do, ya wretch. Dose tree wa da reason I spent ten years- ah, yes. I¡¯m not supposed ta talk about dat. Damned drunk.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯ recall those conditions.¡± Admitted Catherine.


    ¡°Dey wa added latta. Da monsta woman told me personally. But enough of dat. Look here. Dere lies da academy.¡±


    Cirin craned his head. The first thing he saw were two granite pillars that remained attached by one of the many arches of the Bazaar. Beyond that stretched a brimming courtyard. Eight perfectly trimmed hedges of fighters hugged either side in a symmetric split whilst a wide assortment of arid flowers showered the feet of those unnamed heroes. A strikingly white pathway cut through both side and a magnanimous construct hid itself within a clutch of houses at the end of the path. That was the academy. Cirin could scarcely make out an even larger wall stretching behind it.


    ¡°Ah, da arena. Dat brings back memories.¡± Reminisced Bahar.


    ¡°Administration should be at the front.¡±


    Cirin had come to be weary of the word ¡®administration¡¯. Long had it meant the often useless expenditure of time. Memories of waiting in long lines and listening to begrudgingly long words grappled his mind as he wafted passed the heavy academy doors.


    He imagined it was no different. Cirin blinked. The first of his imagined grievances was proved wrong the moment he laid eyes on the sole creature behind the table and moreso the lack of a line.


    ¡°Ah, Cirin and Taba I assume?¡± she started, ¡°Come dis way, ya two are ta give an entrance speech at da current assembly.¡±


    ¡°I will escort dem, Moria.¡±


    ¡°You.¡± Said Cirin at once.


    ¡°Little pup.¡± She bowed.


    His ruby eyes scanned the twig of an instructor from top to bottom. Sijas Ka Re. She wore loosely held breeches and a sleeveless white shirt. Her fists were wrapped dirt stained bandages. Somehow, she had managed to be more of an enigma than Manama.


    ¡°Follow me, children.¡± She instructed the two. She paused as more footsteps than she expected echoed behind her, ¡°Just da two please.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯ll only be a moment.¡± Promised Cirin.


    Sol nodded with a moment¡¯s hesitation and Cirin continued after the slender Sijas. A long hallway awaited them with a number of words written either side of the wall. Cirin squinted at those scribblings. Names written in old Arrag.


    Sijas had noticed his acute curiosity, ¡°Dis must be new ta ya. Sa let me explain ta ya what dis is about. Every new comer not inducted in da beginning of da term must give a short speech as to who dey are. Helps to shorten da gap.¡± She spied Cirin in particular, ¡°Make it easier ta get friends.¡±


    Cirin could see the considerably darker wooden doors now. He sighed as he spoke to no one in particular.


    ¡°I dun need friends.¡±


    Cirin choked, glanced at Taba, and immediately edged away from her.


    Sijas played a crooked smile, stopping briefly to push open the door, ¡°Curious da bot of ya be saying dat.¡±


    Cirin shielded his eyes from the ensuing light. Sunlight. He blundered forwards with Taba at his side. A few steps more and his feet turned to stone.


    There, in front of him, spanned rows upon rows of tightly packed observers. Cirin bevelled his head around to get sense of it. It was a ring, a stadium with center held brazenly bare and dusty. It wasn¡¯t on the scale of the messas or the towers but it seemed large enough to host the few hundred heads gathered there.


    Sijas snapped her shoulders in place as she babbled, ¡°I was giving a live demonstration for da upcoming tournament befa I caught word of ya arrival. Dere be four different groups amoungst da crowds.¡± She bounced her bony finger between the notable color variations in the seatings, ¡°Black fa novices, gold fa intermediates, bronze fa advanced, and white fa experts. Coincidentally da rankings match fairly well wit da age groups. You two will start at gold.¡± She crossed her arms and balanced her head on one hand, ¡°Hmpf. Dey make ya introduce ya selves in da place ya be needing ta fight in. It be poetic. Dis be ya first fight in a way.¡±


    Cirin¡¯s gaze shifted to Taba. She seemed just as uneased as he was. The girl lowered her shoulders.


    ¡°Just a basic introduction is needed?¡±


    Sijas nodded, ¡°Simple, eh?¡±


    Taba looked up as if she¡¯d actually considered it, but soon leapt back, shaking her furiously.


    ¡°I can¡¯t, I can¡¯t, I can¡¯t! Dere are too many out dere. Hundreds of people I neva met.¡±


    ¡°Alright, den da pup goes.¡±


    Cirin froze up. For the briefest of moments Taba glanced his way and he realised he only had one opportunity to spare himself. Taba had an awful habit of drawing too much attention. One he could exploit given the right circumstance.


    ¡°It-it be an easy task mon. I could do it any time.¡± He lied, ¡°All ya need ta do is tell a lie sa outrageous no one will simply choose ta ignore what ya say. Do dat and da rest of any speech will just ya talking to yaself. Easy.¡±


    He could feel the cold trickle of sweat lurch down his temple. At that moment his sweat told him that no one, not even Taba would¡¯ve been stupid enough to believe his advice. Yet for once his sweat was wrong.


    Taba slammed one hand onto the base of the other like a cudgel and nodded briskly at Cirin. Cirin could only smile dumbly as the girl sported a massive grin herself.


    ¡°But ofcourse,¡± Added Cirin, ¡°dis only works if only one of us tells a lie. And only if dat liar goes first.¡±


    ¡°Dat¡¯s all I need ta do?¡±


    ¡°Dat¡¯s all.¡±


    Taba swallowed a massive bit of air and marched forwards. Sijas made to follow her, but before she did, she paused and turned slightly to the boy.


    ¡°You intend ta use ya friend? Ya sure ya should be lying ta her?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s not my friend.¡± Asserted the boy.


    Sijas shrugged as she turned back to the girl, ¡°Dun blame me when dis works against ya.¡±


    As if it would. Cirin fancied himself a master at besting the girl. He already defeated her twice in combat, and innumerable times in their various verbal bouts. Now was no different. He could see it render in his head. Taba would make a fool of herself and he would merely walk out there, say his name and leave. They¡¯d all be distracted on the count to notice the quiet mannered boy. It was a prodigious ploy, as good as any the old mon would have conjured.


    Taking more and more pleasure in his scheme the more he thought of it, Cirin ventured a little closer to the dusted ring. He watched as Sijas rose her hand to quiet the masses and levied her other towards Taba.


    Sijas tapped her mouth and an wavering echoe flew through the ring. Cirin shifted. That was natural magic. The same as what Catherine used.


    ¡°Today, we be havin a new student join us.¡± Her voice was beaming yet as clear as if she was right beside him.


    There were rumblings to that assertion. Quiet whispers that made Cirin curious as to what was being said.


    ¡°To commemorate dis inauguration, she¡¯ll be givin us a speech.¡±


    Sijas tapped Taba on the shoulder and retracted her arm almost mechanically as the girl jerked forwards.


    ¡°I-¡°


    Taba cut herself off to the bewilderment of her own massive voice.


    ¡°I am pleased ta be joining dis academy.¡± Her voice beamed across the stadium. ¡°My name is Taba of da Ashatar family, and I come her wit da hopes of becoming truly strong.¡± Taba bounced her eyes about and finally rested those golden specs on an unseen spectre far above Cirin, ¡°But fo dat I need a challenge.¡±


    That got the crowd mumbling. They were not prepared. Cirin smiled.


    ¡°In da coming tournament, I, Taba Ashatar, shall best all who challenge me.¡±


    And that prompted immediate heckles from the crowd. Some even so loud as to reach the bottom delving ears of Cirin.


    ¡°Empire Scum!¡±


    ¡°Pick a fight wit one of us, pick a fight wit all of us!¡±


    ¡°Go back to ya dead sands!¡±


    Sijas quieted them with one hand raised.


    ¡°She¡¯s not done.¡± Echoed the woman.


    ¡°Aye I¡¯m not. But ya lot will be. I am strong. Strongah dan ya. Strong enough not ta have ta go to dis academy.¡± Her words become flurried and zealous, ¡°I will use da lot I defeat here as stepping stone ta finally best da only one I tink stronga den myself.¡± She flicked her hand in the one direction Cirin dared not expect. ¡°Cirin, student of the dog of Lamonori. Apprentice of Azhar!¡±


    There was a collective gasp and Cirin could only plant his face in his hands as it happened.


    The crowd erupted into unkempt blisters of gossip, spreading like a wound that Taba so ungraciously gaped.


    Sijas attempted to silence the crowd, yet it had no effect.


    ¡°It seems our second student has already been introduced.¡± She sighed, ¡°So witout fudrah delay let me introduce¡­¡± she tapped her head a couple times, breathed in, bellowed as loud as she could, ¡°CIRIN!¡±


    That sent the stadium shaking. In its wake, the boisterous crowd was made nothing more than a pack of mutes. Cirin stumbled forwards into the sunlight. He held his hair down and drove his hands in his pockets as soon as he could.


    Taba passed him by, feigning an agreeable thumb as she did. Cirin could only spit to the side. He didn¡¯t need to look to know that everyone in that stadium had their eyes on him. Judging him.


    He stood silently for several seconds once he reached the stadium¡¯s eye. His heart ricocheted within him. His stomach twisted. Beads of sweat raced down his temple and his cheeks. He felt hollow. Weak¡­ Without thinking he reached for his right shoulder and remembered.


    With the world bearing down on him, the boy chose to push back.


    ¡°Everyting dat noble cur just said¡­¡± Began Cirin, his voice as loud as a god¡¯s, ¡°Is true. Sa let me clear one ting befa I continue.¡± He swept half the stadium with one hand, ¡°I dun trust any of ya, and I doubt I will. Treaten me, or dose close ta me and I will cut ya down.¡±


    Cirin fixed his collar and left to that. Only silence followed his wake. He paused two steps into his retreat. He narrowed his brows and gave the crowd a sweeping glance, ¡°I will win dis tournament and any mo afta. Den one day I will be da strongest man in dis country. Dis I swear.¡±


    Sijas did not speak up until Cirin had left the stadium, the wooden doors left flapping behind him.


    Taba ran through those doors, prompting the poor thing to begin flapping once more.


    ¡°Did ya really just do dat, degenerate?¡±


    ¡°Hmm? I told dem what I tell everybody.¡±


    ¡°Ya just made enemies wit da entire school!¡±


    ¡°As did you.¡±


    Taba crossed her arms, ¡°I¡¯m an outsider. You¡¯re- you¡¯re da student of Azhar! What ya say here carries mo weight dan what ya might realise.¡±


    Cirin puffed and continued walking, ¡°Den I¡¯ll stay true to my word and best everyone of dem.¡±


    ¡°Ya be too bold fa ya own good.¡±


    ¡°And ya bee too stupid.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s dat supposed ta mean, degenerate? Oi, ansah me!¡±


    Their cries shifted into nimble echoes as they vanished beyond the hallway. Unbeknownst to them, Sajis had been watching even then. She had done so whilst she leaned coolly against the walls.


    A well built man brushed passed the door and stopped abruptly in front of the woman. He was a bull of a man, but one extraordinarily well dressed in his pressed black linen robes and white slacks.


    ¡°Sijas, what was da meaning of dis?¡± he questioned in his impossibly low tone. ¡°Ya just sent two completely new students inta a packed arena of all places ta introduce demselves?¡±


    ¡°Call it a test.¡± Shrugged the woman.


    The man sighed vigorously, choosing to rest his head on one arm as he questioned the lunatic, ¡°And so? Did dey pass dis maddening test?¡±


    Sijas smiled, and laughed, ¡°not at all.¡±