CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE—GRUMBLERS AND JESTERS
Ali’s complaining was incessant, but Shiro said nothing, as he harbored many of the same annoyances as his Abassir companion. Though he did not know how Debaku—who kept completely silent—felt on the matter.
“I mean, come on, man,” Ali went on. “I cannot believe this! How do these fools expect to keep the passes guarded when there are Darshuuni governors in all of their cities, as well as Abassir soldiers stationed in barracks in every stronghold? Hmm—tell me!”
Debaku made a noise of frustration. “Enough,” he said. “You whine like a sow giving birth, Ali.”
“What?” he croaked. “Agh!”
“Be quiet,” Shiro said. “We might alarm them to our presence.”
“Oh, trust me, Shiro, if they are here—which we know they are—then they are very well aware of our presence. AREN’T YOU?!”
Shiro sighed inwardly.
He is such a loud mouth… literally.
“If they block our path”—Shiro said, panting—“we should negotiate with them as best… as best as we can.”
“And when they attack us?”
“You say that as if they will attack us,” Debaku said. “How do you know this?”
“Come on.”
“If they attack,” Shiro said, “then we try not to kill them. Possibly we can resume negotiations.”
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Whipping his head back, Ali laughed so hard, in both amusement, but also some manner of derision. “I do not know how samurai fight their battles, Shiro, but here in these lands, we kill each other.”
“Ali,” Shiro said, feeling offended. “Do not start that.”
“Start what? Come on. If we don’t kill them when they attack us, they will feel insulted. It will just make them want to kill us even more.”
“How do you know?”
“I am an Abassir,” he said. “I know these things.”
“Fine,” Shiro said. “But do not laugh at the samurai again.”
“Why not?” Ali asked. “Are you going to hit me with the flat of your sword, Shiro?”
Shiro narrowed his eyes, his face heating. “Ali!”
Whipping his head back, he laughed again. “Maybe I can whip you into a killing frenzy before they come down to butcher us, Shiro! Eh?”
As Ali burst out laughing again, Shiro stepped forward quickly and kicked the crook of his leg. Ali lost balance and his arms flailed as he screamed and fell on his back.
Ali shook his head. “Shiro! You goat lover!”
But Shiro didn’t care about the insult, because he started laughing, and even Debaku laughed at his stupid-looking fall.
“I cannot believe this!” he exclaimed, hitting the ground with his forearms in frustration. Ali got real quiet, then as the pain obviously coursing through his arms from hitting the rock-hard ground, was obvious.
“Do not be too frustrated, my friend,” Debaku said.
Chuckling, Shiro went to Ali and offered him his hand. The Abassir took it and he helped the man up.
“Ak!” he noised as he rubbed his arms through his cloak. “That was a pretty stupid, no?”
Shiro shrugged.
“I am sorry,” Ali said.
“It is fine.”
“I agree with Ali,” Debaku said, turning to glance at them. “If these men try to kill us, we must defend ourselves properly.”
Shiro nodded. “It was only a suggestion.”
Rocks and scree suddenly came tumbling down the mountain path. All three men glanced up. “Quiet!” Debaku hissed. “Someone is up ahead.”
Shiro narrowed his eyes, trying to see if he could spot any movement. There were rocky outcroppings and the mist didn’t do anything to help.
Heart beating faster, he swallowed as his hand instinctually travelled over the sword hilt jutting out from his side.
Nothing will stop me from getting through these passes.