Chapter Six—Ali’s Scorpions

When Shiro came out through the palace doors at a trot, he saw waves of spearmen and swordsmen pouring into the courtyard. Jadu had stayed behind, but Jessamine was beside him.

They came face to face with the soldiers and stopped as one of their captains came forward, wildness in his eyes. “What is happening here?”

“Secure the palace,” Shiro ordered. “The grand vizier is inside waiting for you.”

“Of course. This way, men!”

The soldiers passed them in droves, bumping and jostling past them.

“Ugh,” Jessamine noised. “It’s already so hot without warm bodies so near” she said. “Even at night I cannot escape this cloying heat, Shiro.”

He felt her annoyance, looked at her anyway while he glanced about for any sign of the foreign soldiers. The Scorpion Guard mixed with the Kalushani soldiers formed a sea of weapons, torches and heads.

Shiro and Jessamine pushed their way out into the outer courtyard toward the cooling fountains. Not far, the samurai made out Ali and his captains and started stalking toward them at the gates. The fountain sprinkled cool water across Shiro’s shoulders.

In the cloying heat and the acrid stench of black smoke, the sensation on his skin felt good.

“Oh! That feels so wonderful,” Jessamine said as she faced the fountain and closed her eyes. Shiro couldn’t help but smile.

Moments ago she was a deadly blade master with magical power, and now she was a beautiful woman on a hot summer night enjoying the sprinkle of cool water on her face and arms.

Ali sauntered forward and glanced about with a big grin on his face while his captains, some of which were bearded, most were not, gave orders to their men, sending ranks of them to different parts of the palace to secure the fortress.

“Shiro!” Ali said, and then suddenly his face became stern. “Why did you not wait for me, heh? I thought we were going to attack the palace together?”

“I was, but—“

“You were, ‘but’?!” He shook his head. “We had a plan, Shiro.”

“I know, but...”

Ali’s nostrils flared.

“But,” Shiro persisted. “I wanted to go in to save the satrap. Once I realized the palace was being held by a skeleton crew.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“And did we save the satrap?” Jessamine asked.

“He’s dead,” Shiro said.

“Camel shit!” Ali spat, and swung his arm in frustration. “I cannot believe this!” He gestured toward the entrance with an aggressive hand. “What is the point of coming in here just to kill them when they could properly hold our people hostage?”

“They seemed to think”—Shiro glanced back at the palace, still awestruck from his encounter with those foreigners—“they seemed to think they could not get away with the satrap. I do not know why. And they killed him.”

“Wha—“ Ali stammered. “They killed him?”

“Hai.í”

“Well,” Ali said, “even now the Kalushani army is pushing south to retake this part of the city. Perhaps they thought it not worth their time if they could kill the satrap.”

“Or maybe they thought it more worth their time to simply kill the satrap,” Jessamine said. “Up until now, Satrap Ujurak had been fighting against them well.” She nodded. “I am quite surprised.”

Ali put his hand on his chin, then glanced up into the smoke-filled sky and wrinkled his nose. “All this smoke. It’s making my head hurt.”

“The palace is ours,” Shiro said.

“Yes, well it means nothing if the satrap is dead. Maybe next time he will think twice about being so close to the front lines!” Then he looked past Shiro. “Heh! You dead loser!”

“Ali!” Shiro rebuked. “Do not speak ill of the dead. Satrap Ujurak was a brave leader—willing to fight with his men.”

“All good leaders are,” Jessamine said as she tucked a lock of her dark hair behind her ear.

“Akh!” Ali scoffed as he waved a dismissive hand in the air. “Now what? We keep fighting over the city? They take a portion, we take it back, they take it back. They are slowly gaining ground.”

“But for how long can they do this?” Shiro asked.

“We have been fighting this war for years,” Ali spat. “Only the gods know how they keep sending more and more men. Truth be told, Shiro…”

“What?”

“I don’t know how long we can hold out.”

“What do you mean?”

“I hate to say this—gods, I do!—but the empire is on its last leg. Those Darius-worshipping dogs for satraps have been replaced by Shai’na with more loyal rulers, but even they cannot seem to muster enough men to send to the front. We are losing this war, and with every battle, we barely kill any of them!”

“Forget about men,” Jessamine said silkily. “The coffers must be completely dry.”

“We must rely more on adventurers to fight this threat,” Shiro said.

“We can only do so much,” Ali said.

“Do you still count yourself an adventurer, Ali al Basher?” Jessamine asked.

Shiro sniffed.

“Adventurer, businessman, now warlord. I am a jack of all trades, yes?”

She narrowed her eyes dubiously.

Shiro sighed heavily. “We are not generals. We are adventurers—fighters. We should not be the ones leading these armies.”

“But the sultanah—“

“The sultanah,” Jessamine broke in, “gave you and Shiro these leadership positions as a favor for what you did at the palace.”

Ali looked at her, but he didn’t disagree.

“We should be adventuring—behind enemy lines,” Shiro said. “We can disrupt their plans better as adventurers rather then as strategists.”

“Strategists?” Ali asked with a frown. “Was charging into the Palace of Shahir not something an adventurer would do?”

“It has been weeks since I did anything even remotely similar to that,” Shiro said. “We are not being used to our full potential.”

“Well... ‘being used’ is not a thing I would call it.”

“It does not matter.”

“Of course it does!” Ali barked.

Shiro didn’t understand why Ali wanted to argue semantics. Did he not want to adventure with Shiro and the others because he wanted to keep safe? That was not like the brash Ali he knew at all. If he had a change of heart because he was now rich and married—then Shiro would understand.

But would he continue to fight if his friends did not?

After Darius was killed, the Abassir Empire was left leaderless. Shiro felt no loyalty to the empire, no deep seated need to lift the chains of these peoples. Shiro sympathized with them, but he was mostly here out of a sense of responsibility—of honor toward his friends.

They had all been instrumental in ending Darius’ reign. But what would that mean for Shiro if he simply walked away after that? A part of him wanted to—to begin his search for his isekai origins.

But now, he could not. Not if his friends were in this fight.

Should they give up, though…

Shiro had just learned something new, something that made his heart beat faster with the sheer implications of such knowledge. Those foreigners—they knew of peoples like Shiro.

“Ali,” he said, distracting himself from his thoughts. “If you do not wish to adventure with me, then you do not have to. You have a family and I—“

“No, Shiro,” he said. “It is not that at all.”

Runners returned. “Captain!” one said. “They are no longer in the palace. They escaped through a sally door in the wall.”

The captain nodded, glanced at Ali, who already clearly suspected—as Shiro knew—that they had gone.

“Satrap Ujurak is also dead,” the runner said. “His grand vizier Jadu al Shahnaz is alive!”

“Where is he?” Ali asked, his tone serious and expecting an immediate answer.

Perhaps leadership does suit him.

“The men are bringing him now.”

Ali glanced up at the palace doors. As Shiro looked back and saw Jadu surrounded by soldiers, he sensed Jessamine’s amusement.

Not likely, she conveyed.

Stop reading my thoughts.

“He looks trodden down,” Ali said.

Shiro nodded. “Mm.”

“Send him to the camp outside the city,” Ali said. “Give him a moment to grieve before we start scheming. I suspect he will be elevated to Satrap of Kalush.”

“Those were my thoughts as well,” Shiro said. “But he seems to want none of that.”

“What happened inside the palace, Shiro?”

Shiro glanced toward his jinni companion before answering Ali. Then he said, “We fought them.”

“Them?”

“There were five,” Shiro said. “We killed one. Their leader is called Hulio Baracci.”

“Hu—hulio Bar-a—what?”

“Baracci.”

“Baracci! It is funny on my tongue.”

Shiro shrugged. “He led this attack, but I do not know what his position is in the invader’s army here in the city.”

“We need to find out, Shiro. Now why did you not kill him?”

Jessamine looked at Shiro expectantly.

“They were strong,” he said. Then to Jessamine he added, “Perhaps we could have stopped them?”

She shook her head. “No, Shiro.” Then a smile touched her lips. “We would be dead now had we attempted to prevent them from escaping.”

He didn’t know what to make of that.

He called me a Mamori Jinja, he conveyed. I have heard of this place before.

Indeed?

Hai.

You must train, Shiro, You barely know your new sword skills.

He nodded.

Ali looked confused. “Am I—am I missing something.”

The samurai shook his head. “Nanimo.”