It was only when the colossal metal gates slammed shut behind them that Annatta allowed them to stop, finally confident that they had left the danger behind. The guards clustered around them as they slipped off their panting horses and, after Annatta had filled them in on the details of their encounter, their commander immediately dispatched a group to investigate the scene of the attack.

A few guards lingered around them protectively, but Jasper ignored them as he led Dapplegrim into the shade of the palace’s forests, flopping down with a groan on the soft moss nestled between their roots.

“What the hell even was that? Why attack us in the open like that? Why attack us at all? It doesn’t make sense,” he muttered. “If that “Barbartu” had wanted me dead, she could have just killed me then and there, in the guise of a duel gone wrong. So why attack me like that?” Closing his eyes, he massaged his temples, futilely attempting to placate the piercing pangs of borderline mana deprivation, brought on by the back-to-back battles.

Annatta stood above him, impatiently nudging him with her foot. “Come, Lord Yas̆peh, get up. Lord S̆arrābī will want to hear our report immediately.”

He shook his head, unwilling to budge. “Give me a minute,” he barked.

Stifling a sigh, she sat beside him, letting her hand trail in the pond's cool waters. “Are you sure this Barbartu is your enemy,” she questioned.

Jasper grunted. “If that’s her idea of friendship, count me out. Besides, remember the letter she sent to the Keeper? She told her to deal with me, and the Keeper then tried to kill me, so I think it's pretty safe to conclude she’s my enemy. Unless,” He hesitated, before throwing out his own theory. “I guess there could be some sort of power struggle in the group? Maybe the brotherhood’s not as unified as we think.”

“It’s a possibility,” Annatta conceded, “if she’s even in the cult.” Jasper still had his eyes tightly shut, so he couldn’t see her face, but that didn’t stop him from hearing the doubt in her voice.

He forced himself to sit up, ignoring the piercing pain in his head. “If? What aren’t you telling me?”

Annatta frowned. “Well, I know the letter led the Seraphs to believe that this Barbartu belongs to the cult, but they hadn’t actually seen her, had they?”

Jasper’s mind flickered back to the woman he had fought. Aside from her almost feral charm, nothing had seemed that strange about her. “Okay,” he said slowly, “and?”

“She’s a S̆addû’a, a mountain Djinn,” she said simply, as if that explained anything at all.

Jasper resisted their urge to roll his eyes. “And that’s relevant why?”

“Oh, right,” the Djinn responded drolly. “You know, Lord Yas̆peh, every time I forget you aren’t exactly one of us, you find a way to remind me. You know the mountain Djinn mostly keep to themselves, right?”

Jasper nodded. “I know they have a rather dark reputation. I’ve heard them accused of everything from sacrificing children to casual cannibalism. I kind of assumed those tales weren’t exactly accurate, though; surely the king wouldn’t just let them get away with that.”

“Eh,” Annatta bobbed her head from side to side. “Yes and no. Not every story you hear about them is true, but far too many are. Their reputation is well-deserved. My point, though, is that the S̆addû’a mostly keep to themselves. They live in bastions carved deep into the heart of the mountains and ignore the rest of us, including the king.”

“Really,” Jasper was surprised, finding it difficult to believe that anyone would dare to ignore the almost god-like being he had encountered in the palace. “And the king allows them to do that?”

“They're not worth the trouble,” she explained. “Like us, the mountain Djinn generally attain fire immunity as they level up, but unlike us, their mages are generally blessed with various types of earth magic.

"So they're basically immune to your magic, but you're not immune to theirs?"

"Pretty much," Annatta agreed. "We could probably beat them into submission on the strength of sheer numbers alone - or if the Moon-kissed agreed to help - but any campaign against them would likely have exceptionally high casualties. So for the most part we just leave them alone.”

Jasper frowned, wanting to object - if the mountain Djinn really committed some of the atrocities they were accused of, how could they be allowed to continue? But even as the thought crossed his mind, he released the hypocrisy of the sentiment. How many times on earth had humans simply looked away while dictators oppressed their people or even committed genocide?

Unaware of his conflicted thoughts, Annatta continued on. “Anyways, as I was trying to say, I was shocked to see a S̆addû'a of them in the temple. There are probably no more than a few dozen of them in this entire city and, so far as I know, no S̆addû’a would be welcome in our temple cults, whether that be the cult of Nahrēmah or a more secretive - and exclusive - brotherhood.”

“But she was wearing the cloak of an instructor,” Jasper pointed out.

Annatta shrugged. “And perhaps she really does belong to the brotherhood, but it’s not as if those clothes couldn’t have been stolen. All I’m suggesting is that just because the Keeper was in the brotherhood doesn’t necessarily mean her contact was as well.”

“Hmmh,” he grunted. “So maybe she didn't want to kill me and someone else did?”

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“Maybe,” she agreed, “It's just a thought, my lord. But now,” the Djinn said, standing up and brushing away a few errant pieces of moss that clung to her tunic, “it really is time to meet with Lord S̆arrābī. He will likely be angry enough by our delay as it is.”

Giving in to her better judgment, Jasper begrudgingly followed her.

Annatta went in to talk with the Djinn lord first, leaving him waiting outside in the hall, feeling a bit like a naughty child waiting to see the principal. His office door was as stout as an ox and covered in runes burnt deep into the wood. He wasn't sure at first what the runes did, but as the sound of raised voices echoed from the room, Jasper quickly discerned their purpose. No matter how hard he listened, he could not decipher a single word that was being said, every sound that fell on his ears merging into an incomprehensible jumble.

It was only after more than an hour of waiting that Annatta finally emerged from S̆arrābī’s chambers. She looked a little worse for the wear, her usually pristine hair knocked astray and a crease of worry between her usually smooth brows. “I see you’ve been holding out on me, my lord.”

“Oh,” Jasper asked, raising his head. “About what?”

“Your mother.”

Jasper grimaced. “Yeah, sorry, didn’t even know that was a secret, to be honest.”

The Djinn shook her head, “No, you did the right thing. I just..well-“ she lowered her voice, glancing over her shoulder at the now-closed door, “his sister’s death was something Lord S̆arrābī never really got over. He always blamed himself for not being there, so to find out that it was all a lie-” she hesitated, a frown forming on her lips. "I guess I understand now why he's been so temperamental lately. Anyways,” she continued more loudly, “Lord S̆arrābī is ready to see you now.”

Reluctantly, he slipped past her into the room. He fastened the heavy, rune-ridden door behind him securely before he turned to face his uncle.

The study was as opulent as he had remembered. Despite the heat of the day, a fire crackled in the hearth, its orange flames reflecting off the burnished copper tiles that lined the floor. The walls were burdened with a motley assortment of books and artifacts, including an impressive display of weapons, save for the northern wall whose large box windows overlooked the gardened forest below.

S̆arrābi stood at the window, his hands clasped behind his back as he gazed out onto the palace grounds. He didn’t speak, but Jasper knew what he wanted, joining his side reluctantly.

“Annatta’s report was…enlightening.” S̆arrābī’s voice was low and thick, almost a rumble, as he glanced down at Jasper, and his amber eyes smoldered with barely restrained rage. “You have hidden things from me, important things.”

Jasper said nothing, staring out the window studiously while S̆arrābī glared at him.

“I don’t even know where to begin. Shall we start with the Seraphs you are consorting with? The trollop you cavorted with? Or perhaps that your mother, my sister, somehow, someway has access to this realm?”

He took a step closer to Jasper, his fists clenched with a rage that threatened to boil over. “Are you in contact with her? Are you keeping her from me?”

“Woah, hold your horses,” Jasper took a step back, raising his hands. “That was as much of a surprise to me as it was to you. You don't think the first thing I asked myself when I realized that she maybe has access to this world is why the hell she hasn’t tried to contact me? Why she hasn’t tried to save me?” His voice bled with unadulterated pain and anger.

A long tense silence stretched between the two, and then, as suddenly as it had arisen, the rage dissipated, leaving in its place only sorrow. S̆arrābī's shoulders slumped and he sighed deeply as he turned away, staring out the window with unseeing eyes. “Why didn't you just come to me, Da’iqta? I could have made it all go away…”

After a moment, he turned back to Jasper with an almost apologetic expression. “Perhaps I was too hasty in my assumptions - but don’t try to pretend you didn’t hide your association with Seraphs from me. You know that my sister’s lover was a Seraph and you know too that I had him killed for his role in her supposed death. The Seraphs are not our friends, Yas̆peh.”

Jasper shrugged, not entirely willing to accept his uncle’s spoken apology. “They might not be your friends, but there’s no bad blood between us.”

S̆arrābī frowned, but he didn’t contradict him. “Just tell me about your mother,” he said with a sigh. “Everything this time - whether you think it relevant or not. Annatta said her name on earth was something like Jakanda Welles?”

“Jacinda,” Jasper corrected. “Like the flower.”

His uncle raised his brow, “What flower?”

“You know, hyacinths? Short little pillars of blue, purple, or white?” His uncle shook his head. “Oh, I guess maybe you don’t have them here,” Jasper realized. “On earth, they’re named after a mythological prince who was lovers with the sun god Apollo. I don’t really remember the details of the story, but at some point, the god accidentally kills him.” He screwed up his face, trying to remember the details. “Was it in a hunt? Or…a discus,” he finally remembered. “He was killed in a discus-throwing competition. Anyways, after his death, the god was inconsolable. Not even the ambrosia of the gods was sufficient to bring him back to life and, then, as Apollo wept over his lover's grave, flowers sprouted wherever his tears hit - hyacinths.”

“A sad story,” S̆arrābī observed.

Jasper shrugged. “Eh, that’s not really the end. Somehow or other, Prince Hyacinth ends up getting resurrected and becoming an immortal himself, taking his seat on Mount Olympus. So I guess the flowers are not just a symbol of grief, but also rebirth.”

S̆arrābī’s lips twisted in a wry grin. “Then Da’iqta chose her name well. And what is her connection to the merchant’s daughter you slept with? Laylah, was it?”

Jasper shrugged his shoulders helplessly. “I’m completely baffled. That was the first time I had ever met Laylah, and I had nothing more than a brief fling with her.” He hesitated. “I didn't want her to get killed as a way to get to me. But I have no idea where she would have heard that name. I certainly never told Laylah anything about my mother and, of course, it would have been impossible for me to have told my mother about Laylah. Perhaps some sort of mental magic was used to read my mind, or maybe…,” he trailed, unable to think of a decent explanation.

His uncle clucked his tongue in disappointment. “Why are you ignoring the most likely explanation?” he pointed out. “I have not yet determined how my sister crossed over to the world in which you were born, but apparently she did. And if she was able to go there, then clearly someone other than the Mwyrani has figured out how to travel back and forth. Is it not possible that she really did take this lover of yours?”

“But why? How would even she know about her?” Jasper protested. “I never saw my mother do anything abnormal on Earth.”

Turning away from the window, the Djinn sank into the plush leather chair at his desk. “We never have discussed your previous life, have we? Tell me what she was like while you were growing up. Perhaps there are some clues to be gathered.”