78. The Tower of The Eternal Bird
That same afternoon, a Titiaka diplomatic agent came to the inn, escorted by Ragail guards, to accompany Lanamiag Korfu’s litter to the embassy. Seeing so many armed Titiakas enter, the Xalyas stepped aside at the other end of the lounge with dull fear. They were in the Republic, sure, but Dashvara doubted the militia would intervene if the Ragails felt like taking them to the embassy by force: after all, officially, they were still marked, they were the property of a Titiaka trader, and they were the Federation’s property.
Lanamiag Korfu left, but Fayrah did not. When the diplomatic agent and his soldiers left, Kuriag Dikaksunora seemed excited. When Dashvara asked him the reason for his change in mood, the young Legitimate grew flushed and explained:
“Atasiag will be out soon. I am confident. I’ll… explain it to you later.”
Dashvara shrugged.
“As long as he’s freed, I don’t care about the details.”
Kuriag nodded and headed back to the rooms. Fayrah, on the other hand, sat at the table with a glum look on her face. Noticing her brother looking at her questioningly, she let out an uncommon grunt of exasperation.
“It’s Lan,” she said. “Sometimes he can be a great person. And other times, he’s dumber than a troll. I’ve tried to convince him to forget the past. But he won’t listen to me. And what’s worse, I can understand why he wants to get even. After all, you did the same thing with Nanda of Shalussi.”
Dashvara did not answer. Myhrain, Alta’s older cousin, intervened sarcastically:
“So, if this foreigner killed your brother, you would ‘understand’, is that it?”
“No!” Fayrah replied, upset. “Of course not.”
“Well, he did threaten to kill us all,” Sinta pointed out,
“He’s sick, he didn’t mean what he said—”
“I assure you he meant it,” Dashvara replied calmly. “But that’s all right. As long as he goes back to Titiaka and us to our steppe, there will be no bloodshed.” He hesitated, “Remember you can still change your mind if—”
“No,” Fayrah retorted in an emphatic tone. And she stood up, “I’m going to go to the embassy.”
Dashvara swallowed a sigh and nodded.
“I’ll go with you.”
He accompanied her, and within an hour, he was on his way back, walking alone through the streets of the Dragon. The sky was covered in grey clouds, and a cold drizzle was beginning to soak him all over. To say goodbye, Fayrah had just said ‘I’m sorry,’ an apology that Dashvara couldn’t quite understand. So, without knowing exactly what to say, he had simply given her a strong brotherly hug and handed her the bag with her belongings. He wished with all his heart that Fayrah was not making a terrible mistake.
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“Well, well, well,” a voice on his right suddenly said. “Any more letters being delivered for Sir Peykat?”
Dashvara turned and saw the dark-haired boy, Api, from number twelve Olive Street. He was wearing a long black cloak, but he hadn’t put the hood on, and his wet locks were glued to his face. A demon, Dashvara thought with a shudder. He greeted him, not responding to the joke.
“So, it seems that you’re not a Republican either?” he asked her.
“Me? No. I’m from the east. In fact, I’ve only been in Dazbon for two weeks.”
“Are you travelling alone?” Dashvara gasped. For all the confidence with which he spoke, the boy could not have been more than fifteen.
“Does it seem so strange to you? Tell me,” he added, as they resumed walking down the street, “how did you end up serving Atasiag Peykat?”
Dashvara did not hesitate to answer:
“The barbarians captured us, and the Titiakas enslaved us. That was three years ago.”
“So, Atasiag bought you?”
The idea seemed to amuse him. Dashvara nuanced it:
“We were a gift from the Council of Titiaka. But, thanks to the Rebellion, we escaped and, now, we will return to the steppe.”
“Then, for you, it’s convenient that Atasiag was imprisoned as soon as he arrived in Dazbon,” Api observed mockingly.
Dashvara frowned.
“Not so convenient. We had agreed that he would buy us horses if we continued to serve him for a while. Anyway, it looks like he’ll be out soon.”
“Oh?” A thoughtful twinkle flitted through Api’s eyes. “So they accused him unjustly?”
“No idea. You didn’t even know him before, so why are you so interested in this man’s fate?”
“Out of curiosity,” the boy answered simply. “By the way, a man named Asmoan came to Sarga’s house this noon. You know him, don’t you?”
Dashvara felt a chill run through his body, and as he met the boy’s intelligent gaze, he remembered what sort of creature he was talking to.
“I know him,” the Xalya nodded.
“Mm. He kept telling us about your people all through the meal,” Api continued. “And he told us about the wonders of your Eternal Bird. He said you had a Tower… so to speak, divine.”
Dashvara rolled his eyes.
“You’re talking about the Tower of the Eternal Bird, aren’t you? That tower was never ours. It belonged to the Old Kings. And it has been in Essimean territory for many decades.”
“It belonged to your ancestors,” Api replied. “Ancestors who shared similarities with Asmoan.”
Dashvara stopped in the rain. Similarities, he repeated to himself. Similarities like being demons like him? He glared at Api.
“What’s your point, kid?”
Api shoved his hands into his cloak pockets.
“Asmoan wants to go see this tower.”
“I know that. And we told him that if he was willing to pay us for the trip, we would take him to it. He said he’d think about it.”
“He’s already thought it through,” Api smiled.
Dashvara looked at him, his heart suddenly beating faster.
“And?” he growled.
The young demon put on his hood with an exasperating calmness.
“He’ll pay,” he then said. “That is, he will pay his share. The Titiaka will pay the other.”
Dashvara let out a hiss of disbelief.
“Is Atasiag going to pay us for the horses?”
“No,” Api replied. “Not him. The other one. The elf.”
Amazement gave way to complete perplexity.
“Kuriag Dikaksunora?” Dashvara muttered. “And… why would he do that?”
A smile broke out on Api’s half-concealed face.
“Ask the elf not me.”
With these words, the demon bowed deeply and walked away with quick steps down another street.