He examined the sketch, but his brows soon knit together in confusion. “I’m afraid I don’t really understand what I’m looking at,” Jasper admitted reluctantly.
She shook her head in mock disappointment. “Not familiar with enchanting, I take it.” She guided him through the sketch then, explaining her design. “Essentially, I’ve split the difference. The shaft can grow and shrink, allowing it to perfectly reach any position.” He tried to keep the smirk off his face as that’s what she said ran through his mind, nodding seriously. “At its full length, the weapon will be just a bit shorter than a lance, but when shrunk down, you should be able to wield it one-handed.” She scrutinized him for a second before clucking her tongue. “Perhaps with a bit more strength,” she amended herself.
“But that’s not the best part. The best part,” she said with a smile, “is my specialty.” She pointed to the blade, whose entire face was covered in a row of symbols that vaguely resembled the runes Ihra used. “You’ll have to track down a mage every few months to recharge them, but I promise you they’ll be worth it.”
“A mage?” he questioned. “Like me? Or do you mean a runic mage?”
Kaṣî laughed. “Don’t let an enchanter hear you say that! These are not runes, they’re glyphs.”
“And the difference is?”
“They don’t channel any energy of their own,” she explained. “They simply hold the energy, and release a trickle each time the weapon hits with sufficient force. These particular glyphs are keyed to ice, so you’ll need to find a mage with appropriate powers to recharge them when they get low. I can do it for you whenever you’re around.”
“Why not fire? Then I could fill it up myself.”
His aunt shrugged. “Surely you’ve had a few battles with other Djinn by now, haven’t you?” He nodded. “And what has been the single greatest obstacle?”
He hesitated only a moment. "Most of them are resistant to fire?”
She smiled broadly. “Correct! Refilling the glyphs may be a hassle at times, but you already have plenty of ways to inflict some fire damage. This,” she tapped the design, “will be far more useful for you.” She lapsed into silence, and he realized after a moment she was waiting for him to respond.
“Uh, thanks,” he said awkwardly. “This looks great.”
“Of course,” the elf said smugly. “Everything I make is great. And now we come to the matter of payment.”
“Payment?” He glanced up hurriedly. I thought this was a gift.
She smiled sweetly. “Ah, Yas̆peh, you are still so young. Don’t you know there is no such thing as a free lunch?”
“What do you want?” he asked suspiciously.
Her smile broadened. “As a matter of fact, just dinner.” With a flourish of her hand, she produced a card. “Abī can’t hide you away any longer - you’re dining with us tonight. Feel free to bring your elven friend, too.”
“She’s not really an elf,” Jasper started to protest.
Kaṣî shrugged. “That’s not what I’ve heard. But with or without her, I expect to see you at 8.”
As he took the card from her hand, Jasper couldn’t shake the feeling that he would have vastly preferred to be asked to go slay some monsters.
----------------------------------------
As they headed out of the smithy, Jasper shook his head in mock disapproval. “You couldn’t have warned me about them? I made a fool out of myself in front of my…I guess she’s my cousin?”
“Unfortunately, my lord, I couldn’t possibly have warned you as I’ve never met her myself. At least you figured it out quickly with your aunt,” Annatta pointed out.
“Still, it’s pretty embarrassing I mistook her for a clerk. I hope I didn’t offend her.”
“Well, I suppose every noble needs a rival.”
He laughed. “I think I’ve got enough enemies. Should I get her a gift? What does she like?”
Annatta arched her eyebrow. “I think you’ve gravely overestimated how familiar I am with Lord S̆arrābi’s family, my lord. He’s my boss, not my friend.”
“Come on,” he persisted. “You’ve really heard nothing? Surely the guards talk.”
Annatta replied slowly, choosing her words carefully. “I’ve heard she rather takes after Princess Da'iqta.”
“What does that mean?"
“Personality-wise,” she clarified, winking at him.
It took a second for the meaning of her words to sink in. Personality wise? Oh, headstrong and - as much as it pained him to admit this about his mother - perhaps a bit too popular with men. Guess I'll bring a gift, just to be safe.
When they got back to the manor, a surprise awaited them. As he opened the door, Ihra’s cheerful laugh echoed from the parlor, joined a moment later by a second voice. That’s odd. We haven’t really had any visitors. He shot a curious glance at Annatta, wondering if it was someone sent by S̆arrābī, but she shrugged. “No idea,” she mouthed.
The mystery was solved when he entered the parlor and spied an all-too-familiar pile of messy brown hair peaking above the tall back of the couch. Tsia. He tiptoed up to the couch quietly, prepared to jump out and give them a scare.
“Ahem.” A man cleared his throat noisily behind him, and Jasper whirled around to find Nēs̆u leaning against the back wall, a smug grin on his face. The two girls, startled by Nēs̆u’s harrumph, turned and spied Jasper. The jig was up.
“You’re back!” Tsia shouted.
Ihra greeted him more subduedly, suspicion lurking in her eyes. “Why are you crouched on the floor?”
Grateful his skin concealed his blush, Jasper opted to just ignore her question. He walked past them quickly, plopping down on a couch opposite them with a sigh. As he leaned back against the luxurious cushions, he placed his hands behind his head. “So, when did you get to the capital? I was starting to wonder if you’d ditched us,” he asked Tsia.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
The girl blushed, her dark curls swinging violently as she shook her head. “Of course not. I wouldn’t abscond with your money.”
“Oh?” He replied with a grin. “So the Moon-kissed elders finally deigned to see you. Did you get a good deal?”
“100,000 minas, 10 horses, and a potential future favor.”
“Ten horses?” he asked, confused. “What do we need those for?”
Tsia shrugged. “We didn’t, but apparently it was some sort of local custom for every major trade, and they insisted I take them. Nēs̆u and I immediately sold the horses in Dūr-Yarha. Anyways,” she rooted in her bag, pulled out ten pouches of gold, and tossed them toward him. The heavy bags didn’t make it across the room, landing in a series of thumps on the floor. “Here's your money.”
Ihra bent down and quickly stuffed seven of them in her bag. Her hand hesitated on the eighth bag, but after a moment’s pause, she pushed the other bags back toward Tsia. “You should keep some of it.”
Tsia looked at the three bags dubiously. “Are you sure?” Tsia protested. “I know I negotiated the deal, but I had nothing to do with getting the lyre.”
Ihra looked almost physically pained to part with that much money, but she firmly pushed the bags into Tsia’s hands. “I’m sure. You’re part of the team now.” With a happy smile, Tsia returned the money to her bag.
“So, how was the trip?” Jasper asked. “Uneventful?”
Nēs̆u, who was still leaning against the wall, snorted. “She almost got herself killed just to ride some tsussîm. Not once, not twice, but three times.”
Tsia raised her chin defiantly. “And it was worth it,” she replied emphatically.
The man just rolled his eyes. “Maybe if you could have just listened to Vāya but, no, Vāya wasn’t good enough-” he began to grumble under his breath, but he fell silent when he saw the stormy look in her eyes.
“I guess it sounds like you had fun?” Jasper offered tentatively.
Her grin was so wide it could have given the Cheshire Cat a run for its money, though she certainly lacked its talent for disappearing.
“You could say that - I even got a new patron.”
“Really?” Ihra smacked her shoulder. “You didn’t tell me that.”
“Well…” Tsia hesitated. “It’s a little bit tricky. He’s, uh,” she lowered her voice to barely above a whisper, “a Sidhe.”
Jasper straightened up, gazing at her with newfound interest. “A Sidhe? Aren’t they like, evil or something?” he asked. “You aren’t going to turn into a little Sith Lord on me, are you?”
“A Sith Lord?”
“You know, the Force, your wind, they’re pretty much the same thing.” Noting Tsia’s baffled stare, he hastily moved on. “Uh, never mind. The Sidhe are bad guys, aren’t they?”
“Ye-es, kind of?” Tsia admitted hesitantly.
Ihra snorted. “Kind of? They started the War of the Dragons with the slaughter of the Mwyrani, are the patron gods of the Gemlirians, and have a well-known hatred for the elves.” Her hand drifted up protectively to the small antlers peaking through their hair, as she glanced at Annatta for support.
The Djinn shrugged. “I know their reputation in the empire is…questionable, but the Sidhe have never been much of a concern for the Djinn. We stay in our mountains, they stay in the West; in truth, we hardly ever interact. There are certainly some Sidhe who are evil and, of course, they are worshipped by the Gemliriains, but you can't paint them all with the same brush. It’s not as if the empire is exactly blameless either. After all, Gemlir himself was once a Corsythian.” Ihra frowned as Annatta failed to back her up, but Tsia quickly capitalized on her speech.
“Yes, some of the Sidhe are evil, but there are also some among them who have rejected the deeds of their kin; there are even a few whose worship is condoned by the priests.”
“So your patron is one of those,” Jasper interjected.
“Well, not exactly,” Tsia fussed with the hem of our skirt, steadfastly ignoring Ihra’s disapproving gaze. “But Selene herself told me to seek him out,” she protested. “I never even would have heard his name without her.”
Ihra pursed her lips, doubt creeping into her eyes. “Selene sent you to this Sidhe?”
Tsia nodded vigorously. “So he must be good or, well, at least not evil,” she ended lamely.
Jasper could tell Ihra was still not quite convinced, but if Selene had vouched for the Sidhe, that was good enough for him. He was certain the goddess was far more knowledgeable on the topic than he was. But he couldn’t help but wonder why the goddess would have suggested a Sidhe to Tsia. She’s not telling us everything, he realized. But he decided to let her keep her secrets; thus far, Tsia had given him no reason to distrust her.
The rest of the afternoon passed in idle chatter and before Jasper knew it, the moment he had been dreading arrived: dinner with his relatives.
Annatta dragged him up to his room, forcing him to change into a tunic he hadn’t noticed in his closet. The long, black robe was made from the finest spun silk and emblazoned on the front with the emblem of the gis̆ātu tree, but Jasper felt ridiculous wearing it. I look like some sort of cut-rate cosplayer, he thought as he gazed in the mirror.
He had to wear a sword too - not the short sword he had won from Arutû, but a rather flashy piece that Annatta produced from her bag of holding. She insisted on pulling his hair back in the tight bow that seemed to be fashionable, but he put his foot down on the next thing she produced.
“No. Absolutely not,” he stated flatly.
Standing up on her tiptoes, Annatta tried again to reach his hair, as long strands of pearls swung violently from her hand. “But this is all the rage right now. Every young noble is wearing them,” she protested.
“I’m sorry, but no, I’m not wearing pearls in my hair. What’s next, a bridal veil?”
The Djinn frowned. “Of course not. Grooms don’t wear veils, they wear a qurpissu, of course. There’s one in your closet.”
He rolled his eyes. “While I don’t know what that is…wait-“ His mind suddenly latched on to the second thing she’d said, filling him with a terrible fear. “I have one? But I’m not a groom. This dinner isn’t some sort of romantic set-up, is it?” He grasped her arm beseechingly.
Annatta gently extricated her arm, looking at him puzzled. “No? Not that I’m aware of.”
He sagged in relief. “Selene’s grace. Why would you even bring that up, then?”
The Djinn shrugged. “I didn’t - you’re the one who brought up brides. I was just correcting you, since I’m sure, given your unique heritage, that you’re not terribly familiar with our marriage customs. Although,” Annatta frowned thoughtfully, “if the rumors about your cousin’s wild behavior are true, it wouldn’t shock me if your aunt arranged this dinner tonight to explore the possibility of such a pairing in the future.”
She ran a scrutinizing eye up and down his form. “Your cousin could probably do worse than you, I suppose. You look almost handsome in these clothes, and your natural talents for magic will certainly garner you respect as you get stronger. Plus, with your magic and her elven heritage, your children would have a high probability of being blessed with magic.”
Jasper’s jaw dropped. “Please tell me you’re just pulling my leg?”
She gestured helplessly with her hands. “What? I’m not even touching you.”
Argh, he groaned to himself. Guess that idiom doesn’t translate. “Just tell me you’re joking, right? My aunt wouldn’t really consider marrying me off to my cousin, would she?”
Annatta shrugged. “Why not? It’s perfectly common. Is it not in your world?”
“No,” he responded quickly, but then he corrected himself with a grimace. “Well, I guess it depends. It’s actually fairly normal in a lot of the world, but where I’m from it’s considered downright scandalous, with the consequences ranging from actual jail time to a never-ending torrent of jokes about being from ‘sweet home Alabamy,’”
“Well, you won’t have to worry about that here," she reassured him.
“What a great comfort,” he muttered, burying his face in his hands. Yet another reason to dread this dinner.
Annatta seized the opportunity to grab hold of his head, quickly tying the strings of pearls into his hair. He squirmed futilely in her grasp, but his strength was no match for that of a warrior. Giving in to his fate, he finally relaxed as she weaved the pearl strings into a fringe that hung down around his ears. ‘There - perfect!”
Hesitantly, he examined himself in the mirror, stifling a groan. “That’s not the word I’d use. I look ridiculous.”
She patted him half-mockingly, half-genuinely, on the back. “No, Lord Yas̆peh, you look fashionable.”
“Same difference,” he muttered beneath his breath, but begrudgingly he allowed the pearls to remain, trusting that Annatta knew more about this sort of stuff than he did.