Chapter Twelve—At the al Bashur Manor

Juri was still at work in the manor during the time they had been away. She was the head servant of Ali’s hired staff.

Shiro sat in the drawing room as Ali walked in, wearing robes and sandals, his hair still wet from his bathing.

“That hot bath,” he said. “I’ve missed that. You should go take one.”

“It is late,” Shiro said, feeling tired, and yet he didn’t want to sleep. “Perhaps tomorrow.”

Debaku was in the other room, glancing about the house, though Shiro was certain he was listening to every word they spoke.

“Juri,” Ali called. She arrived in a moment.

“Yes, Master Ali?”

“Rouse the cooks and have a meal made. I want a feast worthy of a returning prince laid out for us.”

“Of course,” she said, leaving the room. She called the names of several other servants and clapped her hands.

“I am as hungry as a roadside beggar!”

Shiro nodded. “Hai.”

Debaku came into the drawing room. “The palace is well guarded.”

“Its fine,” Ali said offhandedly. “We go in, we sneak about until we find the lamp, and then we steal it. Simple.”

“Less so than you make it seem.”

Ali shrugged.

“Sit down, Debaku,” Shiro said. He gestured to the sofa. “Tell us what you know.”

He did as Shiro requested. “The Scorpion Guard is strong. Their numbers are many.”

“How many?” Ali asked.

“I do not know the exact number. Many.”

Ali rolled his eyes. “How dangerous are they?”

Debaku seemed to think on that for a moment. “Very,” he said. “I would say a Scorpion Guard member carries a similar level of skill as you, Ali al Bashur.”

“Me?” he asked, pointing to his own chest.

Debaku nodded.

“And uh… how do you know what my level is?”

Debaku, the Black Cobra of Mar’a Thul was a top-tier adventurer. If he did not have the ability to gauge the strength of another, he wouldn’t be where he was at today.

“I know,” he said simply.

“Okay,” Ali said in challenge. “Who is stronger, me, or Shiro.”

“Shiro,” he said immediately.

“By how much?”

“Considerably.”

“What?” he said, indignant. “That is not true!”

“Do you possess magic, Abassir?”

Ali thought for a moment. “Well no, but—“

“Shiro has a tenuous connection to a very powerful magical source.”

“The lamp, you mean?” Shiro asked.

Debaku nodded, his bald head glinting in the overhead light cast by the glow stones.

“But Jessamine is gone,” Ali said. “How does he still have that connection?”

“It is there,” Debaku said. “And I will tell you, Shiro, that you should be searching for Jessamine.”

“Searching?” he said, straightening.

What did he mean by that?

“Magical attenuation,” Debaku said.

“Do you think…?” Ali said. “Do you think the sultan did this—to find where the lamp was?”

Shiro’s eyes widened. “That’s how he knew to come to vizier Faridoon’s residence!”

Debaku nodded.

“I don’t know how to do this magical attenuation,” Shiro said. “Can you teach me?”

Debaku paused. But then he finally nodded. “I will show you, Shiro.”

“What, now?” Ali asked, glancing between them.

“Perhaps tomorrow,” Debaku said. “I am tired. And I am hungry. Do your servants make good food?”

“Of course!” Ali proclaimed. “I hire very competent cooks! The food in my house is exquisite.”

Having had the food, Shiro could attest to this, but the only meal he had had here was during one evening when they were trying to find Jessamine’s location, before finding out that she had been delivered to vizier Faridoon’s house on the edge of the river.

“Let’s eat dinner,” Ali said. “While we eat, we can discuss what to do about Jessamine. You didn’t find out where the lamp was, eh?”

Debaku shook his head.

Shiro regarded Ali. “What about your wife, Hafza?”

“Eh?”

“Will you send her word that you are back?”

“Oh,” he said as if he had forgotten some bread in the oven. “Yes, yes of course. I should write a letter. Nusah!”

The boy came into the room. “Master?”

“Pen and paper, boy. Quick. I have a letter to send to Hafza.”

Nusah nodded and left the room.

“Godsdammit!”

“What is wrong?” Debaku asked.

“Naro,” he said. “My slave—I mean, my servant hasn’t returned.”

“He probably went his own way,” Shiro said.

Ali nodded. “Perhaps.”

“Call him what he is,” Debaku said, glancing at Ali.

“What?”

“He is a slave, is he not?”

“Ah, well,” Ali said, “yes he is.”

“I do not begrudge you your ownership of another,” Debaku said. “Stop treating me like a child that must be shielded from the world.”

Ali nodded. “My apologies.”

“I am in your house,” Debaku said. “Do not apologize.”

Ali glanced away from Debaku.

Shiro chuckled.

“What are you laughing at?” Ali asked indignantly.

Shiro shrugged.

“Mm!” Ali hummed as he ate. “Juri,” he said. “Tell the servants that this is wonderful.”

She smiled. “Of course, Master Ali.”

He grabbed the wine and poured himself a glass. Swirling it first, he gulped half of it down. “Shiro, try the wine.”

“Oh,” he said. “Fine. But only a sip.”

Ali poured him half a glass. He drank, nodded at the sweet fruity flavor of the alcohol. “It is good.”

“And you!” Ali said, offering the bottle to Debaku. He poured the Black Cobra a tall glass, almost overflowing.

“You can tell I am a man of taste, I see.”

“Haha! Like me! Drink, drink!”

Debaku tried it. “Very good, he said. And the food. I thank you for your hospitality… my friend.”

Ali’s smile was huge. “Oh, it’s nothing. Enjoy yourself. We should all eat and drink. Then we can talk about the palace defenses—decide what we must do, yes?”

Debaku nodded.

“Can we do it with just the three of us?” Shiro asked.

“I think it would be difficult,” Dabaku said, glancing toward him.

“Even with your strength?”

He nodded. “Even so, Shiro. There are many Scorpion Guard members, and some mages.”

“Perhaps we can buy some slaves.”

Debaku looked at him. “Expensive,” he said. “You would need good fighters and possibly magickers as well.”

Ali looked at his food.

“I am rich, but I am not that rich.” Then he brightened. “But!”

“What is it?” Shiro asked.

“I have friends.”

Shiro looked at him. He had never heard talk of “friends” before.

“What?” Ali asked with a shrug. “Do not give me that look, Shiro. Do you think you are my only friend? I am an adventurer!”

“Sometimes I cannot tell if you are an adventurer or an ex adventurer,” Shiro said. “Your wealth has changed you.”

“For the better, I’m sure.”

Shiro moved his shoulders in a “more of less” fashion.

“Anyway!” Ali said excitedly. “We can call on him for help. He leads a small group of adventurers. Although… I would say his men are more like supporters.”

“Can you trust him?”

Ali gave him a look. “You know the answer to that question,” he said with a grin.

Shiro did know that answer, but if they were willing to help, then they could still be useful.

“Tell us more about this… friend of yours,” Debaku said.

Clearing his throat, Ali told them.