Chapter Six—Campfire Plans

They had travelled for a time—several hours at least, before deciding to make camp next to a small stream. The area was particularly hilly with green grass and small farms. Though they were far enough from any houses not to be seen where they were, nestled in a hollow of hills within a cops of palm trees.

“Where did your new friend go?” Ali asked.

Shiro glanced about, realizing Debaku was no longer with them. He shrugged, knowing the man would return soon.

“I am starving,” Ali said.

“I’m hungry too.” Shiro went to the pile of sticks they had gathered and began to cut the bark off of one.

“Gods,” Ali said. “What am I going to do now?”

Shiro looked at him.

“My house,” he said. “It’s probably already been confiscated. I’ve been put in the record as an enemy of the empire!”

Shiro looked at his doubtfully. “How do you know? Did you give them your name?”

“Well no, but… they’ve seen my face.”

Shiro shrugged. “You are one face among many.”

Ali made a noise of disagreement, but he said no more. Shiro finished peeling the bark off the stick, then he used the tip of his scimitar to dig a small hole into the end. Taking another stick that he had cut the bark off of, he put it into the hole and began to turn the stick quickly.

The palm fibers nestled around the friction soon began to smoke and then caught sparks. Shiro blew on them and a flame appeared. He then nestled it under the small amount of sticks they had set up.

“Oh, good!” Ali said, rubbing his hands together.

The fire cracked and the flames provided warmth. They had plenty of wood lying about to keep it burning all night.

“Now we just need something to cook.”

Shiro thought he was fast enough right now to catch fish with his bare hands, but in this darkness he would never see them.

He nodded.

“Things may not be as bad for you as you think,” Shiro said. “But if they are… Thank you.”

Ali looked at him oddly.

“For going to Faridoon’s manor with me,” he said in way of explanation. “You tried to help me.”

“A lot of good it did. What happened there anyway? How did the sultan’s men arrive? How did they know?”

Shiro shook his head.

“He has a link with Jessamine. I don’t know how, but he found out where the lamp was. And he came to get it.”

“And… did he?”

Shiro nodded.

Ali shrugged. “At least we know where the lamp is.”

“I am going to kill him.”

“Ah,” Ali said, nodding. “But one step at a time, Shiro.” He laughed nervously. “We have only just escaped.”

“What about you?” Shiro asked. “If the sultan’s men know who you are, will you lose everything?”

Ali smirked. “’Course not! What, do you think I am stupid?”

“Of course not.”

Ali laughed. “My manor might be in Darshuun, but I have most of my wealth scattered, hidden. The manor isn’t even in my name. It’s in Hafza’s, but…”

“But what?”

He shrugged. “I just hope she isn’t implicated somehow. Perhaps she can act innocent and heartbroken at my ‘betrayal.’” He laughed again. “At least she can keep the manor. We can sell it. We’ll be fine.”

“You may have to leave Darshuun.”

“Ah,” he said, raising an enthusiastic finger. “But only if you don’t kill the sultan.”

Shiro nodded.

“Say, Shiro. How do you plan to do that anyway?”

“I do not know.”

“Hmm,” he noised thoughtfully. Then, distracting himself, Ali asked, “Where is that Black Cobra?”

“My name,” he said, stepping out of the darkness, “is Debaku.” He was holding two pheasants. “You may call me as such, Ali al Bashur.”

Ali’s eyes brightened as they landed on the birds. “My lord Debaku,” he said. “I’ll call you anything you wish if I get to fill my stomach tonight.”

Debaku said nothing as he lay the birds down.

Shiro didn’t wait. He took one and began to pluck the feathers out. Ali was no stranger to doing his own work and shores, and took the other bird and did the same.

Soon both birds were plucked and slaughtered. They washed the meat of the excess blood in the river and then spitted them over the fire by way of the sharp sticks Debaku had carved.

“It needs salt,” Ali said as he devoured half of one of the birds. “But even so, I have never had such tasty meat.”

Shiro nodded, the oils from the meat covering his hands. He didn’t care. The river was there and they could wash easily afterward.

“Now, Master Debaku,” Ali continued. “You must tell me how you and Shiro have gone from enemies to allies in such a short about of time, eh?”

Debaku glanced at Ali. Then his eyes came back to Shiro. “Your friend talks a lot.”

Shiro couldn’t help but smile. “We all have our strengths. And our weakness.”

“Ha!” Ali scoffed. “Talking is not a weakness. I can talk my way into anything.” He laughed. “I can probably talk my way into the Darshuun imperial palace!”

Shiro looked at him then.

That’s not a bad idea, he thought.

Ali seemed to catch on. “Nononono!” he said emphatically, shaking his head. “I am not doing that.”

“But you said you could,” Shiro said. “They do not know your face. You could be anyone.”

“Hmm,” Ali noised skeptically.

“Anyway,” Shiro said. “We must go back to the city.”

“The sultan’s men are not after me,” Debaku said. “I can do any errands that need done where either of you should not go.”

Shiro nodded.

“We can get our bearings and then decide what to do.”

“All right, all right,” Ali said. “This is a good plan, Shiro. You are learning, eh?”

“We will see,” he said.