Chapter Thirty—Enter the Scorpion Guard

“What are you doing here?” Shiro growled through gritted teeth.

The Black Cobra was at complete ease. He hadn’t even drawn his sword.

“Eh,” Ali said, “he’s probably here to lick all this blood up off of Faridoon’s floors.”

“Oh?” Shiro asked.

“Of course!” Ali said with a mild air frustration, but mostly of indifference. “Never mind the fact that he’s a famous adventurer. I mean, why not be the lap dog of a disgraced vizier as long as the gold is good, eh?”

“I am not here to listen to your petty insults,” the Black Cobra said. “Drop your swords and come downstairs so that we can resolve this.”

“Why don’t you just—Hngh!—kills us?”

“Kill you?” he asked. “Why would I do that? I’m here to be paid for my delivery. Nothing more."

“Your delivery…” Shiro said.

“Yes.”

“Ha!” Ali scoffed “Faridoon is ripping you off, fool.”

“Ali,” Shiro said, “Be quiet—“

“That lamp is worth ten times what he is probably paying you.”

“Ali!”

“’That lamp’?” the Black Cobra asked.

Shiro sighed. “Don’t say another word, you goat-lover.”

“Yeah,” Ali said. “The lamp! You know, the one with the jinni inside? The one you stole from Shiro?”

The Black Cobra’s eyes widened. “Where is it?”

“Ha!” Ali said. “I might tell you if you let us go. I will shout to you of its location from atop the wall, yes?”

Is this fool seriously trying to buy our way out of this?

“Ali, shut up.”

Glancing about, the Black Cobra obviously spotted the lamp laying on the floor behind them when he tilted his head slightly.

“Move!”

“Yes, yes,” Ali said, back-stepping as he supported Shiro’s weight. They got all the way to the door when the Black Cobra, reaching out to grasp the lamp, stopped.

He glanced up at them.

“Go on!” Ali said. “Take it! Take the lamp—what are you waiting for?”

“There is a powerful spell on this item.”

“Oh. Noticed that, eh?”

Shiro’s heart was pounding so hard he could hear his blood pumping through his ears, but what was worse was the knot in his stomach.

Jessamine…

Holding down his gorge was difficult.

So close, he thought. Why couldn’t I just have—

Shouting erupted from downstairs, followed by the billowing of an ominous sounding horn.

“That’s—” Ali began.

“The Imperial Scorpion Guard,” The Black Cobra interrupted.

Darius has come.

Come for his lamp. His jinni!

And then Shiro retched onto the floor.

“Shiro?” Ali asked. “Are you all right? You need to be well—we have to get out of here!”

The Black Cobra looked at them, then suddenly he lurched passed them out the door and into the gardens.

“Come on, Shiro!”

Shiro moved, holding his chest as Ali let go and led the way. He glanced back at the lamp, wishing he had tried harder to pick it up. Perhaps he could have—

“Shiro!” Ali called. “Faster, man!”

They jumped over the railing onto the veranda where all the potted plants were, then into the gardens. As they traversed the plants and the fountains the Black Cobra ran across the wall at the corner. Then launched himself off, using the corner as a foothold to jump up and over.

“Damn!” Ali muttered as shouts were erupting at the gate on the other side of the gardens. There was shouting and what sounded like swords. “No wonder he beat you, Shiro.”

Bending, he picked up the hook and the rope.

“Where are your slaves?”

“The hells if I know,” Ali said. “If I ever see those traitors again I’ll cut off their heads myself.” He slung the rope over the wall and the hook caught onto something on other side. “Now come on, Shiro.”

He started climbing.

And then a shout came. “Stop them! They’re escaping! Men In the garden!”

A shaft flicked against the wall near Ali. He yelped and started climbing faster, then his leg was scratched as another shaft meant for his back, hit the wall. He cried out and fell, landing hard on the walking stones.

“Ali!” Shiro rushed to his friend, his chest wound smarting so deeply he cried out as he bent over. “Ali—“

Ali screamed while he shook his arms and grasped at his calf where the blooding scratch was. “Gods damned goat lovers! I’ll—“

Men rushed up to them and one of them punched Ali before he could finish his epithet.

They grabbed Shiro and forced him onto the ground. He screamed as his chest smarted like they had lodged a spear into him and were now twisting it about.

“We have them!” one man said. “We caught these two trying to escape.”

“Are they Faridoon’s men?”

“I don’t think so.”

It’s over…

“You! Talk!”

Shiro said nothing.

Then someone kicked him in the stomach. The pain was terrible, but his sudden convulsion made his chest wound smart even worse and he screamed.

“Not talking?” a man asked. “That’s fine. The royal torturer will have some work tonight, then.” And then he kicked Shiro a second time.

Growling, he turned, tried to unsheathe his katana, but then he was hit in the face. The world around him swayed and then the edges of his vision went black.

The second punch put Shiro into an unconscious state.