CHAPTER NINETEEN—WHAT CAN BE DONE
“You still look tired,” Ali said.
Shiro nodded. He had felt alert after waking up. His initial worry and shock after his defeat by the Black Cobra had him on edge, but now—even after sleeping for several hours—his extreme fatigue was catching up to him.
“Kuafa,” Ali called, and one of his servants came forward. “On second thought, we will be eating on the north terrace. Get it ready—quick.” He snapped his fingers and she left them, giving orders to the other servants at the end of the hall. “This way, my friend.” He gestured after Hafza who started making her way up a set of stone steps.
“How did you find me, Ali?”
“Ah,” Ali said, sounding his usual chipper self. “My man was waylaid from collecting you, but that didn’t manage to stop him. He saw you and Jessamine getting inside of another carriage and he followed you. When he realized something wasn’t right, he came back to the manor for help.”
“How did the Black Cobra know we were to be picked up by your man?”
Ali shrugged. “Perhaps he has spies—someone who was able to overhear you at the Gakorifa?”
“Mm,” Shiro noised with a nod. “Or perhaps your man is bought and paid for by someone else.”
“Ha!” Ali said as they entered the dining chamber. “Not possible.”
“Nani?”
They came out onto the terrace. The floor up here had reed mats that the servants set quilts and cushions over. One of them took out a long wooden table with legs short enough so that it could sit between them while they sat cross legged for the meal.
“My man servants are all incredibly young,” Ali said.
“Barely boys,” Hafza added.
He turned and smiled at Shiro while he tapped his temple. “Too young and too stupid to be corrupt.”
Shiro raised an eyebrow.
More servants came with platters and dishes and set everything out while two more scattered candles about and lit them.
The rains were gone and the night for the most part was quiet, save for the occasional murmur or laugh from the road and other dwellings.
The view of Darshuun was spectacular from here, though not as good as it had been from the hilltop that Jessamine had insisted Shiro visit.
A pang of loss assailed him, the view of the road and the river with the city lights meaningless to Shiro right now.
“Eat, eat,” Ali said, gesturing at the food and nudging a dish of meats and seared peppers. There were flatbreads and dipping sauces, raw vegetables with exquisite oils and vinegars. “Ah, no wine for Shiro, dear.”
“Oh!” Hafza said, taking the bottle back. She called to the servants to bring him freshly squeezed juice.
“Much better,” Ali said.
Shiro ate, realizing how incredibly hungry he was, despite the wonderful tastes and aromas not satisfying him right now.
“That’s the way, Shiro,” Ali said and slapped him lightly on the back. “You need to get your strength back up, my friend—especially if we’re going to be killing people soon.”
He turned to Ali, feeling more energized by the moment. “We?”
“Yes, dear husband,” Hafza said sternly. “What is this ‘we’ you speak of?”
“Am I not Shiro’s friend?” he asked her.
“Yes, but that does not mean—“
“Do you know who I am?” he asked, gesturing to himself. “I am an adventurer. All this,” he gestured, indicating the house and all of their posessions, “is not who I really am. This is who I have become.”
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“It is fine, Ali—“ Shiro began, but Hafza cut him off.
“And if you wish to remain this man,” she said argumentatively and gestured about indicating the house and all their possessions, “then you better stay out of danger, or you will be lying dead in a ditch somewhere with your guts spilling out, yes?”
“If I do, you get everything,” he said, gesturing about and indicating the house and all of their possessions.
They gesture a lot...
“Ali, it is fine.”
She scoffed. “Ha!”
“I can go it alone.”
Can they not hear me?
Shiro sighed, rolling his eyes.
“What? It’s true.”
“Yes,” she said, “that is very good. I would prefer to have my husband to share it with!” She gestured dramatically.
“Akh!” Ali noised with a wave of his hand. “We will speak of this later, wife.”
She stopped arguing then.
There was a time of quiet as they all nibbled on more food, the meal mostly over. Ali finished his wine and spread out over the quilt with his hand on his head while he propped himself up with his elbow.
“So,” he finally said with a very quick glance toward his wife, “I know what we must do, Shiro.”
“Tell me.”
“Listen,” he said—Shiro was reminded of his friend’s subtle arrogance—“If you want to find this Black Cobra adventurer, it won’t be hard. The man is famous.”
“So what,” Shiro asked, we go about the city looking for him?”
Ali scoffed. “Of course not! I have contacts. No one gets as rich as I and doesn’t have some higher level purview of the city, yes?”
Hafza made a noise of mild frustration and got up. “I will excuse myself and let you men talk.” On her way she put a hand on Shiro’s shoulder consolingly.
Ali made an incredulous face and flicked his hand in frustration. They listened to her footsteps recede back down the steps. “Not so much as a kiss or a goodnight for me?” Then toward the steps he shouted “Nothing for me, eh?!” as he thrust his chin up.
Shiro couldn’t help but smile.
“What are you laughing at, man?”
Shiro shook his head and put up his hands.
“Okay,” Ali continued. “So I get into contact with my people. They let us know where the Black Snake—er, I mean Cobra—they let us know where he is, and we go get Jessamine. Easy.”
“He defeated me soundly.”
“Well,” Ali said with a shrug, “I’m sure he won’t be around. He will give the lamp to… did you say he was working for someone?”
“No,” Shiro said, “but it is a good assumption. He is working—“
“No, no no! Let me guess, Faridoon, that is correct, yes?”
Shiro nodded. “Of course. So yes,” he said, nodding emphatically, “the Black Cobra won’t be there.” Then he became incredibly nonchalant. “He will be long gone, Shiro!”
“Do you think so?”
“I know it,” he said. “So we go in there, we kill a bunch of men, we take back the lamp and it’s done. Easy.”
“You do make it sound easy,” Shiro said, hopping Ali was right about all this.
“Yes, well”—then he screamed at the top of his lungs, making Shiro jump—“NUSAH!!!!”
Shiro blinked.
“The little fool is probably sleeping—NUSAH!!!!”
Finally the boy came running up the steps as Hafza yelled something back from downstairs about not needing to yell in the house when there were servants.
“Yes, Master Ali?”
Nusah was in his night robes and looked to be about sixteen years old, but he had a solid frame and good muscles on him.
“What took you so long?”
“I was asleep.”
“Ha!”
“It is true.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Ali said with a wave of his hand. “You have work to do. Go to vizier Shai’na’s estate. You will take a letter from me. Here, go get me some paper and a pen.”
The boy nodded and ran off to do as told.
“She is one of my contacts,” Ali said in way of explanation.
“She?” Shiro asked, surprised a vizier could be a woman.
“Ha, and not even human, either. She’s a nine tails—er, I mean fushi, you know.”
Nodding, Shiro said, “Yes. It is surprising.”
“What is this empire coming to, Shiro? I don’t know.”
Ali had no idea that at some point Shiro would have to confront Darius al Hassarani, the sultan of his empire, and most likely have to kill him.
Still, Shiro had no idea how he and Jessamine would accomplish such a feat or if it was even possible.
I will have to save you first.
Nusah came running back up the steps and handed Ali the paper and pen, along with a small bottle of ink.
“Excellent,” Ali said, licking his thump and wetting the nib of his quill. He dipped it and scratched out a letter. “Now go give this to the vizier—no, wait! Why do you run off before I am done talking?”
“I am sorry, Master Ali.”
“Yes, well, make sure she gets the letter. And only her,” Ali said sternly as he pointed a finger at the teenager. “Only her, directly into her hands, do you hear me?”
The boy nodded firmly.
“Good. Now go.”
“Um,” Nusah said, hesitating. “What if she is sleeping?”
“Make sure she gets the letter if you have to sneak into her window, man! Do you understand?”
“Yes, Master Ali.”
“Now go on! Shoe! Shoe!” He swept his hand after Nusah.
A moment passed then Shiro asked, “What now?”
“Unfortunately,” Ali said, “we wait. There is nothing more we can do right now tonight, I’m afraid. And you need your rest.”
Shiro nodded tiredly as Ali got up.
“I am ashamed that I failed her.”
“Don’t be,” Ali said. “There was nothing you could do—I am certain of this. “Now go to sleep, Shiro. We will have word in the morning.”
He nodded.
After Ali went down stairs, Shiro lingered for a time, thinking on what he could have done to prevent the lamp—Jessamine—from being taken.
Gritting his teeth in fury, he slammed his fist over the wooden table and accidentally cracked it in half. After a time he realized that he wasn’t helping things and went downstairs to his rooms.
Within moments of crawling into the soft bed Shiro fell fast asleep.