“Fine, I’ll play along,” Jasper agreed, accepting the information Abnu offered him. “I do have one condition, though.”

The Djinn’s jubilant smile grew wary. “Oh? What's your condition?”

“I’m sure you know Laylah?”

The Djinn snorted. “Of course. There’s only a few score of us left in the temple. There’s no one here I don’t know.”

“Well, she was vaguely associated with the brotherhood-” Jasper saw the tempests begin to form on Abnu’s brow and spoke faster, the words tumbling out of his mouth as he sought to reassure the Djinn. “Laylah knows nothing of value. I promise.”

“Perhaps the little vixen deceived you,” Abnu countered, but Jasper shook his head emphatically. “No, I have an inquisitor spell that lets me know if someone is telling the truth or not, and she was entirely honest with me. She was barely an initiate with the group. Frankly, based on what you’ve told me, it wouldn't surprise me if she was intended as one of the brotherhood’s victims, just like your kin.” Abnu’s face softened, and Jasper pressed on. “Can you make sure she gets taken somewhere safe? I don’t want to see her get hurt.”

The giant’s face relaxed, and he shrugged his shoulders easily. “Fine. That won’t be a problem. If she's really innocent, then I'm willing to watch over her. She’ll be safe enough with our kin for a few months until the situation is resolved.” The man thrust his hand out. “Deal?”

“Deal,” Jasper agreed, shaking the man’s hand, but he had to fight to control his expression as a sudden torrent of doubt raced through his mind. They didn’t shake hands in Corsythia - hell, he’d embarrassed himself on more than one occasion by acting on that reflex. So, where, exactly did Abnu learn to shake hands?

He was still mulling the discrepancy as they clattered down the wide streets of the village, leaving the sacred springs in the dust.

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Sarrābī leaned over his desk, his fists pounding into the ancient, nearly-petrified wood, as he yelled at his subordinate. She shrank beneath his gaze, as his eyes burned with nearly incandescent rage. “You did what?!”

Annatta tried to speak, but he cut her off. “How could you leave him alone?”

“He’s just at the hot springs of Balaṭ. What could possibly happen to him there?”

S̆arrābī scowled. “I don’t know. That’s why I had your group watching him.”

Annatta felt the anger build in the pit of her stomach at the mention of her friends. They had died because of that mission, because that blundering idiot had charged straight into the arms of ancient horrors, and they had to follow him. She knew it was a bad idea, but she couldn’t stop the words from slipping off her tongue. “Why does it even matter? He’s just another royal bastard.”

S̆arrābī’s wrath chilled, as he stared down at her quite calmly. “No, you’re just another royal bastard. He, on the other hand, is someone that the king himself has plans for. You were given a crucial task and you failed to do it because you didn’t. think. it. was. important.”

His words were punctuated with rage, and she shrank back in her chair. The king knows who he is? Clearly, she had made a miscalculation.

S̆arrābī settled back into his chair with a heavy sigh. “Fortunately, you are probably correct that he will be okay. He is apparently a reasonably competent mage who summoned a guardian in Kār-Kuppû that was powerful enough to protect him from two mages. But the question of your punishment remains.”

The frantic beating of Annatta’s heart slowed as she realized S̆arrābī had exhausted the worst of his rage. Punishment was something she could handle. As long as he doesn't kick me out of the guard. The mere thought of such a fate was enough to make her pulse quicken again.

She fidgeted in silence as S̆arrābī restacked the papers on his desk that had been scattered by his tirade. The moment stretched on interminably, her fear growing with the ticking seconds as he continued to ignore her. She was on the verge of breaking down, of throwing herself on her knees and begging for mercy, when her lord finally addressed her.

“I have decided on your punishment. Since you failed to fulfill your duty of watching Jasper, it is only fitting that you have another opportunity to do the job correctly. While he is in the capital, you will be assigned as his royal guard.”

Annatta’s mouth fell open. “I, uh, I don’t think he likes me,” she managed to stammer out. As a matter of fact, I’m fairly certain he actively dislikes me.

But S̆arrābī just shrugged. “Then make him like you. Or deal with it. I really don’t care.”

Pulling a file from the bottom of his stack, he hesitated a moment before pushing it toward her. “And while you’re with him, I want you to keep a careful eye on a few things. Since you apparently don’t feel the need to follow orders if you think they’re unimportant, let me be very clear with you, Annatta.”

He forced her to meet his eyes. “Do the job properly this time, or die. That’s the level of importance I place on this. Do I make myself clear?”

Annatta’s tongue clung to her suddenly dry mouth as she nodded sharply.

After a moment of staring into her eyes, S̆arrābī relaxed. “Excellent. Despite your failure, Annatta, you are generally a good agent. Don’t make me regret putting my trust in you.”

As Annatta closed the door behind her, she had to will herself to walk down the silent hall, her legs shaking from the sudden stress. But that fear was accompanied by a certain amount of curiosity. Lord S̆arrābī had a well-deserved reputation for being an excellent, if cut-throat, agent of the king, but he wasn’t usually that on edge. Whatever had stirred him up must be something major, and the heart of that mystery, she realized, was centered on her new charge, Yas̆peh.

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The capital really was as close as Annatta had indicated. They had only been on the road a few hours when the first signs of the royal city came into view. The wide-open plains that dominated the southern shores of the lake turned here into a small area of rolling hills, two of which jutted out slightly into the waters.

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It was on these two hills that S̆addānu was built, although the city had long since stretched out past their bounds, into the surrounding countryside. It was clear that at one time they had been peninsulas, but three wide canals had been dug into the land, separating the city from the mainland. The canals were clogged with traffic; large, flat barges, piled high with grains, furs, and bleating cattle shuttled cargo from one section of the city to the next or made the long trek around the city to the harbor on the side facing the lake.

They were spared having to charter a boat, though, as twin bridges, reserved only for travelers, led into the heart of the city. The city positively bustled with life, the roads clogged with as much congestion as the rush hour Jasper used to so dearly hate, but the further Jasper got into the city, the more he became impressed.

It wasn’t the architecture - although the city was constructed on the same opulent scale he had come to expect in Corsythia - nor was it the exotic sights, smells, and sounds that accosted him at every opportunity. No, what impressed Jasper was the peace and order that filled the city. Although the canals offered some measure of protection, no walls enclosed the city and he spied only the occasional guard patrolling its streets. Unliked the Moon-kissed, who had shied away in fear from their mutated kin, the citizens of S̆addānu roamed its streets in utter security, a city in no fear of being attacked, with no thought given to the need to protect themselves.

It was surprisingly modern, he realized. Minus all the horses, wagons, and melee weapons, of course. Still, he couldn’t help but feel a bit more optimistic about his coming appointment as he neared the palace complex. If the royal family were responsible for the city’s prosperity, then they at least did some things right.

The palace, at least, was easy enough to find. The majority of the buildings were constructed from the sandstone plentiful to the region, the soft stone lending itself well to the many ornate carvings that decorated the city. But the palace stood out from the rest. Occupying a prime position along the shore, towering walls, painted a deep azure blue, encircled the complex. A sea of tree tops peaked above the walls, and their green and pink foliage contrasted with the vibrant waters of the lake beyond to form a truly picturesque scene.

The gate to the palace was flanked by two monumental towers that surveyed a wide plaza. Like the rest of the city, the plaza was swarming with people, but there were no merchants or restauranteurs hawking their wares there. Instead, most of the people were assembled around a shining copper fountain, from whose spouts poured a never-ending flow of a dark blue liquid - far too dark to be mere water, Jasper thought.

He had no time to investigate the mystery liquid, though, his thoughts increasingly preoccupied with a growing worry as he neared the moment of reckoning. He had no idea what to expect from the royal family, nor, for that matter, was he even sure how to enter the palace - S̆arrābī had failed to mention that little detail. Jasper nervously pulled the files out of his bag as they approached the monumental gates, prepared to have to beg his way into the complex, but he needn’t have worried.

“Lord Yas̆peh, over here.”

At first, he ignored the call. The plaza rang with the chatter of thousands and, though he was familiar with the Corsythian variant of his name, it still didn’t really register as his.

“Lord Yas̆peh!” More insistent this time, he still might not have turned if Ihra hadn’t tugged on his sleeve, pointing to his left. “Look, it’s Annatta.”

He followed her gaze, his mouth dropping in surprise. He was barely able to recognize their former travel companion in the immaculately dressed lady that approached them. The battered leather armor and dusty pack were replaced by a dress that vaguely reminded him of an old-fashioned qipao. The same rich blue as the walls, the dress was covered in hundreds of amber scales crafted from the same strange material that S̆arrābī’s knights had worn, and a thin sword dangled from her hip. Dark raven hair tumbled out from beneath a scaled cap that matched the dress, and the rounded edges of a buckler peaked above her shoulder like the stubs of two primordial wings.

She bowed as they approached, speaking up to be heard above the crowd. “I am relieved to see you made it to the city safely - Lord S̆arrābī is most anxious to see you.”

“Somehow, I doubt S̆arrābī is ‘most anxious’ to see anyone,” he responded dryly.

Annatta shook her head, sidling up close to them. “Lord S̆arrābī,” she corrected him quietly. “Don’t let anyone hear you speak of him so disrespectfully. But you are incorrect. Lord S̆arrābī was furious that I let you come to the city alone.”

“Why? Isn’t the city safe-" The raven-haired Djinn raised her hand, cutting him off. “I’m sorry, Lord Yas̆peh. I’ll be happy to answer your questions later but, for now, I need you to follow me.”

She led them through the thronging masses, heading away from the monumental gates which overlooked the fountain. The crowd eased up as they wound their way around the palace complex, following a shaded side street whose gentle slope revealed a stunning view of the nearby lake. A much smaller entrance awaited them there, with a handful of guards keeping watch. The men recognized Annatta, or at least recognized the uniform of her station, stepping aside with respectful nods as the three approached and, with the squeal of metal against metal, the gates rumbled open.

The cacophony of the city dropped away as they entered the palace grounds, overwhelmed by the sweet songs of birds that filled the air, a hundred competing trills and whistles that accompanied the babbling of a brook. S̆addānu had been built on the far side of a small river delta, and one of the smaller streams wound its way through the complex. Thousands of red and white flowers covered the river banks and above them soared lofty trees, whose shady boughs brought a welcome shelter from the relentless sun and offered shelter to its many winged residents.

They were forced to surrender their mounts immediately, handing them into the care of the guards who promised to deliver them to the stables, and then they followed Annatta further into the complex. The extensive grounds were dotted with dozens of small manors, over which a single great building - the palace itself - stood guard. The manors, aside from the blue walls, resembled the homes Jasper had seen throughout the city, constructed in a vaguely oriental style with flared, sloping roofs and garden courtyards.

But the palace was yet another anomaly. Two giant blue mastabas were stacked on top of each other, each fringed by pillared porticos, whose rectangular, angled pillars were unlike anything he had seen save for the temple of Nahrēmah and the innermost ring of Als̆arratu. Was there another culture here, something before the Corsythians? He itched to ask Annatta, but didn’t dare ask - after all, he was supposed to be already familiar with the palace, not a gawking tourist. But Ihra spoke his thoughts for him.

“Annatta? Why does the palace look so different from the rest of the buildings?”

Their guide glanced back with a teasing smile. “Do you wish to explain it to her, or should I, Lord Yas̆peh?”

“Feel free,” he replied dryly, knowing she was needling him. It sucked that his cover was already partially blown before he had even set foot in the palace.

Annatta shrugged. “We call it the As̆rukkat Addār, the eternal halls. When the Djinn first came to these mountains, the palace was already here, although whoever had built it had long since vanished. The priests teach that the Mwyrani built it but,” she winked at them, “they would not think that if they had ever seen its depths.” She shook her head. “Perhaps people more important than I know the truth about its builders, but you’d have to ask them yourselves.” Annatta turned off the main path, leading them into the courtyard of one of the small manors. “But enough idle chit-chat; you’ll soon be presented to S̆arrābī, but first you need a few lessons on court etiquette and,” she swept a critical gaze up and down Jasper’s body, “entirely new clothes.”