The next few days passed in a blur as Jasper struggled to adjust to camp life. As a commander and a mage, he had more freedom than most, but things were still more regimented than he was accustomed to.
Each morning they woke to the sound of horns. Unfortunately, it was not the relatively cheerful if annoying reveille the army back home used. No, the horns they used sounded more like the squeals of a pig in heat, a soul-piercing cacophony that made nails on a chalkboard sound downright melodic.
After that tender wake-up call came the morning exercises. Technically, Jasper wasn’t required to do them. As a commander of a small number of troops, he was merely responsible for overseeing their exercises and, at first, he hadn’t participated, more than happy to dodge the unwanted exercise.
But as he’d slowly become familiar with others in the camp, Jasper quickly came to the realization that in addition to the divide between the northern and southern lords, there was also a divide between the commanders: those who joined with the troops in their morning exercises and regularly mingled with their men, and those who rarely left their tents, unless it was to attend one of the surprisingly opulent parties they managed to throw. And as much as Jasper despised the morning exercise, he didn’t wish to be associated with the second group; thus, reluctantly, he dragged himself out each morning and, with quivering limbs, joined the men in routines designed with warriors, not mages, in mind.
The afternoons were a bit more free. Every other day, some of his men had to join a patrol guarding the camp, but aside from that there was little to do but wait for the order to pack up and resume their march.
Yet a week passed, with three more fires set around the camp, and still no orders had arrived. And, somewhat to his surprise, Jasper had heard nothing from the agent his uncle had warned him of - which was more than fine by him.
Still, it didn’t take a detective to recognize that the mood amongst the men was tense. With each fire that broke out, resentment grew and a number of small fights had even broken out between northerners and southerners though, fortunately, none had boiled over into a conflict too large to stamp out.
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Toward the end of the week, after marching around the camp with his men, Jasper headed back to his tent. Despite the cool air that blew from the north, his back was slick with sweat as he wiggled out of his armor.
“Hello?” Jasper froze as a decidedly feminine voice echoed outside his tent. “Are you in there, Lord Yas̆peh?
“Just a minute!” Springing into action, Jasper grabbed a towel and rubbed the sweat off as best as he could. Deodorant, sadly, had not been invented, but Jasper did the best he could, quickly splashing some perfume over himself to cover up the stench of the morning exercise. Pulling on a clean tunic, he slowed himself down as he reached the tent flap and prepared a spell before he stepped out. Just in case.
A young woman stood outside his tent. She wore a simple blue dress of thick wool well suited to guard against the elements and a white fur cap that stood out starkly against her long, black hair. Her skin was surprisingly pale, though a small pair of black horns jutted out of her head, curving back in a graceful arc.
Jasper’s brow furrowed and he paused at the entrance to his tent. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think we’ve met.”
“Of course we have,” the woman replied with a laugh. “I owe you a drink, remember?”
Jasper nearly did a double take. “You’re the firebird captain,” he asked in shock.
“I am,” she confirmed, “though I prefer to be called Gūla, Lord Yas̆peh. Are you free for a drink? I’ve heard a rumor that we’ll be leaving soon.”
Jasper released the spell he’d been holding and nodded his head. After a week filled with little to do but train and wait, he was more than happy to accept the offer. “Sure - why not?”
“Why not?” The woman gave an amused chuckle as he fell in beside her. “Just what every woman wants to hear.”
Jasper grinned ruefully. “Oh yes, I’m well known for my honeyed tongue. I’m known for dropping other killer phrases like ‘that sounds fine’ and ‘I guess I don’t have anything else to do.’”
“And do you have anything else to do,” Gūla asked with a smile.
“Not in the slightest,” he grinned back. “So where are we headed?”
“There’s a tavern in town I’ve visited a few times, the Gallant Swan. It’s a bit nicer than most, with prices high enough to scare off my men.”
“But not you?”
Her black hair swished back and forth vigorously as she shook her head. “I doubt someone from the Royal House has even heard of us, but my family are minor nobles from Tabīnat. I’m not exactly loaded, but at least I’m not dependent on our rather paltry pay.”
“Tabīnat, huh? I passed by there just a few months ago. Didn’t get to stop, unfortunately, but the towers there were really impressive. I’m guessing you belonged to one of them.”
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Gūla nodded and brushed an errant hair back in place. “My family isn’t really known for producing firebirds, but once I awakened my class, I had my pick of companies. I went with the 78th.”
She spoke the words proudly and Jasper wisely guessed he was supposed to be impressed. “Well I’ve certainly heard of them,” he lied smoothly.
“Who hasn’t,” she replied with a smug grin. “My father was most pleased. Although,” her face fell, “he was far less happy when they volunteered me as their representative to go with King S̆ars̆adû.”
The pair’s conversation halted as they reached the gates of Nūr-S̆ams̆a. The guards only gave them a cursory glance before waiving them through with a respectful bow to Jasper, and they entered the city. Having only flown over it, Jasper glanced around with some curiosity.
It was a large city, whose gentle slope down to the shores of Lake Yarhab offered stunning views, but aside from that it was fairly unremarkable. It lacked the grand cliffs of Kirībāti, the glowing walls of Dūr-Yarha, or the monumental architecture of the Djinn capital. It’s like the Cleveland of cities.
Dismissing the sights around him, he resumed their conversation. “I suppose the lords of Tabīnat were amongst those opposed to helping the empire,” Jasper probed.
Gūla shrugged. “Not really. Sure, we’re technically part of the southern tribes, but unlike the others, Tabīnat is right on the edges of the northern plateau. We lack both the wealth of natural resources that the north has and the rich, fallow fields of the south. If it wasn’t for our Firebirds we’d be altogether irrelevant, so our lords tend to stay out of such power struggles. Now the lords of Kubarru…” the woman trailed off provocatively and glanced up at him. “Have you seen their section of the camp?”
“I don’t think so,” Jasper admitted.
She leaned in slightly and lowered her voice. “They sent the bare minimum number of troops the king requested - not a single soldier more, or so I’ve heard. Their camp looks more like a hunting party than a war camp. They don’t even bother setting guards at night and yet they haven’t been struck by a single fire. Fancy that.”
“You think they’re behind the attacks?”
“Probably,” she admitted cheerfully. “But no one can prove it. I suppose it doesn’t matter now, though. From what I’ve heard, we’ll be leaving soon and once we leave the province, the lords of Kubarru will just have to deal with it.”
“You mentioned that before, but where’d you hear that? I haven’t received any such orders.”
“Tis one of the perks of being a firebird. Most of the army’s messages are sent through us, so we get to know all kinds of juicy tidbits. But come,” grabbing his arm, she dragged him toward the far side of the street where the tavern suddenly loomed. “There’s no need to talk business all night.”
The large two-story structure, which was painted a cheery blue, stood out against the other buildings like an over-ripe blueberry. A swinging sign hung above the door, with an image of a black swan wearing a tiny suit of armor and holding a sword in its mouth.
“There’s got to be a story behind that,” Jasper observed.
“You’d have to ask the locals,” Gūla replied with a shrug. “But who cares about that? Let’s drink.” But her shoulders slumped as she stepped inside. “Why are they so busy,” she groaned.
The pub was indeed packed. Every table near them sat fully occupied and dozens had crowded into the room, standing their backs toward the door as a silvery voice echoed through the hall.
On, on dashed the wicked hordes, the enemies of Nūr
Who trampled all his people down, who dwelt within the tsūr.
The streets lay barren, the graves were full, the light was cracked and torn
Until Lord Tsūraddin arose all hope had been abjured.
With fist of stone and flail of steel, he smashed the ancient woes
Around his banner the Djinn did heal and ever stronger grow….
“Ah, there!” Standing on tiptoes, she pointed to a small table in the corner that still lay empty. Her hand twined around his and she pulled him through the crowd. They arrived just in time, snagging the seats mere seconds before a disappointed group was forced to peel off, and she settled into the seat with a contented sigh. “I didn’t realize there would be entertainment tonight.” Jasper glanced up at the stage where a tall Moon-kissed strummed gently on a lyre as he sang.
“Lord Tsūraddin, huh?” Gūla looked up with a grin. “You probably don’t hear that one in the capital, am I right?”
He chuckled uncertainly, unfamiliar with the story or why he wouldn’t hear it in the capital. “Not so much,” he replied with complete honesty.
“You certainly wouldn’t expect a Moon-kissed to be telling a S̆addu’â tale.” He nodded politely, still not understanding, and was relieved when the barmaid suddenly loomed over her shoulder, wanting to know their orders.
The night passed quickly after that. One ale was followed by another, talk and laughter flowing freely as the Moon-kissed bard’s honeyed voice filled the room, and as Selene rose high in the sky, they made their way upstairs.
He awoke the next morning to find himself alone, lying on a bed whose scratchy straw pallet left much to be desired. At least I don’t have any bug bites, he consoled himself. Rising from the bed, he glanced around the room and his pulse elevated as he failed to see his clothing. Surely she didn’t rob me. He was starting to fear exactly that when a knock came at the door. Covering himself with a pillow, he opened it a crack to peer outside.
He relaxed as he spied one of the barmaids on the other side, her hands full of his clothes. The maid offered them with a curtsy as he opened the door, “The miss said you’d want these washed, my lord.”
He thanked her and as he started to dress, his mind wandered back to Gūla. It had been too long, and if he was being honest, he was a bit disappointed the woman had already left. I wasn’t that bad, was I? I mean, I am a little rusty but… His thoughts trailed off as another, more horrifying possibility occurred to him. They don’t sell Plan B around here, do they? His mind was a bit hazy after the fourth drink that night, but he hadn’t come prepared for any action. There’s got to be a spell like that, right? he consoled himself.
His spiraling thoughts were interrupted as the door opened behind him. Jasper spun around, expecting to see the maid had returned, but relaxed as he saw it was only Gūla. “You came back! I guess I didn’t scare you off,” he said with a grin.