Dawn was fast approaching by the time their group returned to the palace gates. Already the shaded path was dappled with light, and the cool breezes that brushed against his cheek were tinged with the first hints of the coming heat. Exhausted, Jasper’s thoughts were wholly occupied with the silken blankets and plush pillows that awaited him. But those dreams were dashed as soon as he entered his manor’s courtyard.

His uncle was stretched out beneath one of the trees in the small garden. Propped up against the trunk, his eyes were closed as if in sleep, but they flew wide open as soon as the three clattered through the gate.

Not bothering to stand up, the Djinn waved his hands urgently. “Yas̆peh, come quickly.”

Damn it. What now? Stifling a sigh, Jasper slipped off Dapplegrim, dawdling just long enough to slip the horse a handful of sugar cubes, and trotted over to his uncle. Ihra moved to follow him, but the man shooed her away. “I’m sorry, Ihra,” he said, not unkindly, “but this conversation needs to be private.”

Curious now, Jasper plopped down beside his uncle. With a flip of his wrist, the man cast a small charm in the grass. It bounced twice before rolling to a stop, at which point a small, see-through bubble exploded in place around them.

“There. Can’t have people listening in to this conversation.”

“What’s so secret that Ihra can’t hear?”

The Djinn shrugged. “I don't care if your friend hears or not, but I don't want to risk the chance of other eavesdroppers and the more people the charm has to muffle, the thinner its protection is stretched. And what I have to say must not be overheard.”

The man leaned back, fixing Jasper with his enormous black eyes. “I know you have been rather frustrated with my unwillingness to reveal the plans the king has for you, but I believe the time has come to explain them.”

“Really?” Jasper sat forward eagerly. His uncle continued on smoothly, not acknowledging him.

“Now, I’m sure during the time you spent in the outer provinces, you learned of the war that the Zalancthians wage against the Empire. After many years of victories, the balance of power has finally begun to shift against the Zalancthians - much to our king’s satisfaction. The Empire has been gaining ground and many believe that an end to the war may finally be in sight. But they do not know that a new threat is gathering in the West.”

Jasper scratched his ear pensively, trying to remember what he knew of those lands. “Are you referring to the Gemlirians?”

S̆arrābī shook his head dismissively. “No, surprisingly enough, the Gemlirians seem to have finally abandoned their dreams of taking over the Empire. Though their lands have finally begun to recover from the Desolyton, their new lords do not appear to have any interest at all in the Empire. Instead, their focus seems to be fixated on lands even further to the West, some sort of newly discovered island, from what my agents have gathered. The threat Corsythia faces is from the Durgū, not Gemlir’s spawn.”

“Unlike the Empire - and even the elves - the Dwarves have hoarded their power most jealously over the years. Without help, the Empire is unlikely to survive a war on two fronts and, although we Djinn rarely venture outside our mountains, we are not blind to the protection that the Empire offers us. Thus the king, after months of negotiation, has finally succeeded in forcing the tribes to agree to send aid.”

S̆arrābī smiled. "In no small part thanks to your - entirely inadvertent - aid. The northern clans couldn't afford to continue resisting his plans after one of their own was 'caught' trying to assassinate a member of the royal family, and once they agreed to join the war effort, it became a point of honor amongst the southern tribes to also join, lest they look weak."

“Each of the tribes will be contributing troops and it was our intention, as long as you proved to be an honorable and capable warrior, to appoint you as one of the representatives from our own House. While the king has not yet officially appointed you, after your actions on the island, I am confident that he will. With your Spectral Wing spell, you could have fled with your friend at any time and abandoned us to our fate, but you choose to stay and fight. You have proven your character to me.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Jasper objected.

His uncle smiled, revealing his jet-black teeth. “I know, and that is why I’ve decided to reveal the plan to you now.”

“As it stands, the biggest challenge I forsee you facing is getting the troops to willingly follow you. Although officially, you’ve been an undercover agent of mine for many years, your lack of a service record with the military is unfortunate. I can fake records for you, but it’s not so easy to fake a reputation. Soldiers talk to each other; they know the officers they respect and they know the officers who are only there due to an accident of birth.”

“That’s why I sent you to help the villagers with the dorēsah and had Annatta tell them you were with the animmû. The animmû are a well-liked faction amongst the troops, at least as far as nobles go, so I hoped word would get around. I had hoped to send you on another mission or two before the king officially appoints you but, as it happens, an even better opportunity has come along.”

Jasper cocked an eyebrow. “And that is…?”

The Djinn grinned. “A small squad of scouts - a group of soldiers who have already been earmarked as part of the aid the king intends to send to the Empire - has run afoul of a tribe of mountain Djinn. My agents were not able to tell me what exactly they did to piss the mountain folk off, but apparently they’ve been captured and interred somewhere in the vicinity of Dūr-Ekal, south of Tabīnat.”

“What do you need me for, then? It sounds like a ransom demand has been sent.”

His uncle shook his head. “On the contrary, the mountain Djinn have said nothing of the matter to us. We wouldn't even be aware of the situation yet, if one of their troop hadn't managed to send a plea for aid." S̆arrābī withdrew something from his bag and tossed it at him. "Fortunately, while none of the scouts are mages, one of them has a minor talent with votives.”

Stolen novel; please report.

Catching the strange object, Jasper examined it curiously. It was a small, crudely shaped bird, crafted from hand-pinched clay. A touch of blood served to color its “plumage,” with long scratches carved into it to form feathers. On the bottom was a very short message with a plea for help.

Confused, he glanced back up at S̆arrābī. “I don’t get it. What does this do? It looks like a poorly made toy.”

“The scout has no magic of his own,” his uncle explained, “but he’s apparently a very devoted follower of Ummaddamah. He must have crafted that little ‘toy,’ as you called it, while in his cell, and dedicated it to his goddess.”

“And what? It teleported? Came to life?”

“The second,” his uncle confirmed. “Several of these were picked up by my agents. I made sure all the rest were destroyed.”

Jasper quirked his eyebrow. “Why would you destroy them?”

His uncle sighed exasperatedly. “Come now, Yas̆peh, I know you’re more intelligent than that. Why do you think I wouldn’t want them following into anyone else’s hands?”

He weighed the small votive in his hand for only a second before answering. “You want me to rescue them, don’t you?”

S̆arrābī nodded. “Precisely. This is the perfect opportunity for you to endear yourselves to your future troops. Unfortunately, if I send you to their rescue with a contingent of royal guards, it will look like I simply prevented anyone else from coming to their aid, so you’ll have to go alone.”

“But you did just that,” Jasper pointed out.

The Djinn shook his head. “On the contrary, you and your friends were out riding near Tabīnat when you stumbled across that little bird. As members of the animmû, you promptly sprung into action and set off to rescue them. Sadly, the other votives must have been destroyed by their captors or lost in the wilderness.”

Jasper leaned back against the trunk of the tree, trying to suppress his frown. “We both know that’s not what happened.”

His uncle shrugged. “Perception is reality, Yas̆peh. Who cares how you happened to discover their plight? All that really matters is that you rescue these scouts, without the aid of the royal guard. You can, of course, bring your friends along; Annatta too," his uncle added after a moment's hesitation. "As your bodyguard, her presence would likely be expected, but that is all the help I can offer you. The rest you’ll have to manage on your own. It will be worth it, though - like I said, soldiers talk.”

Jasper ran a hand down his face, feeling the rough stubble, and tried to think of some way to get out of it, but his sleep-deprived mind could come up with nothing. “Fine,” he agreed, reluctantly. “When do I have to go?” Somehow, he had a feeling the cozy pillows he had been dreaming of for hours were drifting out of his reach.

S̆arrābī laughed. “I think you know the answer.”

He made no attempt to restrain his groan, as he stumbled to his feet. “Damn it.” He shot a hopeful glance at the Djinn. “Any chance you have an espresso? Maybe a triple-shot latte?”

“Some sort of energy potion?” His uncle guessed, and Jasper nodded.

“As close as you can get without being magic.”

The Djinn flashed his black teeth again. “Well, in that case, why settle for an inferior product.” He pulled three vials out of his bag of holding and handed them to Jasper. “There, one for each of you. I’m sure they’ll put that ‘latte’ of yours to shame,” he promised.

----------------------------------------

His uncle was a liar. An hour later, Jasper found himself riding out of the palace again, this time accompanied by Tsia and Nēs̆u in addition to Ihra and Annatta.

Oh, his uncle definitely hadn’t lied about the energy potions. Within minutes of drinking the potions, his exhaustion had cleared, his eyes perked up, and even his skin had started tingling. And whatever his uncle had given him didn’t just figuratively energize him - it literally did. As he jostled in the saddle, the rubbing of his skin and clothes was providing a semi-continuous series of static shocks that, though not strong enough to actually hurt him, were more than annoying enough to convince him to never touch that potion again. Probably.

But the potions certainly didn’t put a latte to shame. Jasper had never especially loved the slightly bitter taste of espresso, but in comparison to S̆arrābī’s potion, it tasted like the sweet nectar of the gods. He had thrown up the first mouthful and gagged down the rest, and he wasn’t alone. Annatta admittedly had taken it like a champion - he suspected she probably had drunk one before - but Ihra had straight up refused to finish it. She’d opted instead to tie herself down to Keresh, on whose back she dozed in and out of consciousness, rather than suffer through the rest of the potion.

“Don’t you agree, Jasper?”

Choking down a little bit of the drink that had worked its way back up his throat, he turned to face his inquisitor.

“Don’t you agree,” Tsia persisted. The girl’s face was flushed with excitement about something, and Jasper desperately racked his brain, trying to remember what on earth she'd said. Usually, Ihra was the one who rode beside him, but with her soundly asleep on Keresh's back, Tsia had happily snagged the spot and had been merrily chatting his ear for the last hour.

After a second, he came to the conclusion he had no idea what Tsia had been talking about. But her question demanded an answer. “Umm, yes?”

The woman's eyes narrowed. “Really?” she asked suspiciously. “You agree that the Sidhe are probably just misunderstood?”

Oh god, Jasper cursed himself. Please don’t let Ihra have heard that. His friend was understandably less than enthused about Tsia’s new Sidhe patron, given the Sidhe's well-known hatred of elves. And for once, the gods were merciful - Ihra didn't even stir in her slumber.

“Ah, maybe?” He quickly backpedaled. “I don’t, uh, really know that much about them.”

Her eyes followed his to Ihra’s sleeping back, and disappointment crossed her face. “You weren’t listening, were you?”

For a moment, he considered bluffing his way out of it, but decided just to admit the truth. “Sorry, Tsia. That potion really didn't agree with me.” At that moment, another jolt of static electricity arced between him and Dapplegrim.

Her expression softened. “I could probably do something about that,” she offered, and he nodded, more than happy to accept help.

“Feel free.”

Reaching out, she placed her hand on his. A jolt of electricity arched up to meet her palm, but she didn’t flinch back, and as her skin touched his, he could feel the excess of energy surging toward her. Lifting her other hand into the air, she shot a small bolt of lightning toward the sky.

“I didn’t know you could do that,” Jasper commented, impressed.

The girl shrugged casually. “I'm still pretty limited in what I can do, but ever since I found Imḫullu, I’ve been able to do a little bit with lightning. Speaking of,” she grinned. “Now that I have your attention, let me sketch out again a brief history of the Sidhe. I’m sure this time you’ll actually agree with me.”

Suffocating a groan, Jasper slumped his head against the saddle. This is going to be a long trip. But this time, he did his best to pay attention. Just think of it like a book on tape.