Chapter Five—Fool’s Reckoning

Coughing, Shiro’s heart hammered inside his chest as dust and debris fell atop him. Something monumental had happened in the Bashir drawing room.

Blinking, Shiro lifted his head, his neck aching as he glanced forward.

It was hard to make out what he saw, but it looked like Debaku had fallen to one knee, his pantaloons and jacket in tatters as he held his sword high in the air behind his shoulder, ready to strike again.

Breathing heavily, the Black Cobra did not move.

“Ali,” Shiro croaked. “Ali, are you all right?”

His friend groaned and started moving. “Gods and goddesses almighty,” he moaned. “What has happened to my house?”

“Be happy you are still alive,” Shiro intoned in a flat voice. “This is not over.” He grunted, pushing away half of the sofa that had landed over them. Shiro was able to rise to his knees. He bent over Ali and put out his hand. “Can you… can you get up?”

Another plume of dust crumbled atop them and Ali coughed.

“I think so,” he said, grunting as Shiro pulled him up.

Both men breathed heavily, and Ali’s eyes slowly traveled from Shiro across the crack in the ceiling and into his drawing room where Debaku held completely still apart from his heavy breathing.

Something moved on the other end of the drawing room.

The table and several pieces of furniture along with shards of glass and chunks of the ceiling crumbled away from the mound on the floor. Razul, beneath the rubble, pushed up and revealed himself, his skin and black hair covered with dust and rock powder.

He groaned, pushing his way through the debris.

Shiro stood up and slowly moved to the edge of the drawing room with Ali at his side.

“What in the hells,” Ali muttered quietly. He almost tripped. “Ra—Razul?”

Razul stood, his jacket and pantaloons also in tatters, some dust-covered blood dribbling at his lower lip.

He stumbled forward, grinning like a fool with blood in his teeth.

“You… you are—strong, Mar’…a…Thul…ian.”

“What is this about?” Shiro asked of them both.

Debaku glanced over his shoulder.

Shiro’s heart lurched inside his chest. Was this the part where he revealed himself for who he truly was?

“We were… negotiating,” Debaku said.

Razul nodded. “Yes.” Glancing about, somewhat dazedly, he repeated. “Yes.”

“What… what does that even mean?” Ali said, sounding like he was about to break down in tears at the sight of his beautiful drawing room completely destroyed.

“Ahhh,” Razul noised. “It means…” he coughed lightly and plumes of dust fell off him and wafted into the air. “It means I’ll be your fourth fool.”

Grinning like a madman again, he seemed to still for a moment, and then his eyes crossed. He fell forward like a heavy board, his sword clanging against the carpet as his head thumped against the dust-covered rug.

He didn’t move anymore.

Slapping feet came from the hall. It was Hafza. She burst between Ali and Shiro, glancing at the drawing room in horror as Naro trailed behind. She raised both hands as if she might scream, or tear her hair out.

But then, strangely, she sobered suddenly.

With balled fists she hissed, “You fools! The guards are outside!”

“Oh no,” Ali said. “Shiro, we can’t go outside.”

“Wait here!” Hafza said through gritted teeth, and ran.