“Jegga always had a way of holding his prisoners.”

Lanterns glinted along the edge of the circle. All around the cries of festive goers filled the air. The laughs of drunkards, the clink of plates and the shuffle of tankards made the rest. Catherine felt at the rough roping of her binds. Despite how callous and brutish their captors were, they happened to be excellent at their knots.

Azhar sat beside her, he was calm as always. Toftof could not be further from that disposition. The imp sat on the other side of Toftof, yet Catherine had heard a constant stream of grunts from him as fruitlessly worked to make waste of his binds.

The three of them were tied to a singular post in the midst of a circle. Jegga made sure there was ample room between them and the nearest man. Catherine’s eyes fell on the one facing them directly in front of Azhar. He sat on his twine throne. Silent. Staring.

He wore the same greatcloak his subordinates wore with the exception of a fur collar surrounding his neck. The fluffiness of the outfit seemed strange against his bony exterior. If he hadn’t been moving, Catherine would have assumed the white haired man was dead.

His eyes were sunk, his skin sickly pale, and his face a long drawn out thing. Even stranger so, the man refused to speak.

A greatcloak walked up to Jegga, “Sire, da festivities are well unda way. Shall we-”

“Do not interrupt me, Bahar.” Spoke the man at last.

“Sire.” Bowed the man.

“Do you know who dis man is, Bahar?”

“Azhar, Sire. I recognized him da moment I saw him.”

Jegga snapped to Bahar and jerked him close by his collar. “Ya mean how he fought.” Hissed Jegga. “Dis spineless curr is da reason I have all of ya monitored.”

Jegga let the man go and flicked his head back at Azhar. “He not only deserted, he also took Jafna and Etro with him. Dose tree wee ta be my greatest accomplishment.” He leaned forwards, “My successors.”

“Successor” corrected Azhar.

“So he speaks.”

“I wasn’t inclined to ya twisted rituals, Jegga. I knew dat you wanted us tree ta fight ta see who would become da next lord of dis messa.”

The lord twirled his hand, “A small price ta pay.”

“Fa a man as rotten as ya.” Azhar held his gaze steady as he squinted at Jegga, “I had no intention of killing dose two.”

“And yet you killed one anyway!” roared Jegga. He motioned Bahar back to him with a snap of his wrist, “Bring me my sword, Bahar.”

As Bahar made to grab the weapon, Jegga relapsed to Azhar, “I’ll give ya one mo chance.”

Catherine shifted. For the first time that day she saw Azhar lift his shoulders.

Jegga’s rotten eyes rolled to the man beside Azhar, “Kill him and I’ll let ya rejoin my gang.”

That man seized his squirming and smiled, “Oi, lord egg.”

“Jegga.” Snipped the man.

“Befa we crack ya shell, I best warn ya dat Azhar won’t betray me.”

“And what of the girl?” began Azhar.

“Oi.”

“Well we won’t kill her.” Said Jegga behind pointed teeth.

Azhar lowered his head with his eyes square and narrowed at Jegga.

Now Catherine found herself shifting. She tossed her head from the devious Jegga to the downtraught Azhar. She had half them mind to tell them both off. As the seconds of silence passed between the two, she decided to squander what courage she could muster.

“Fadda!” began another before her.

“Not now, Kirina.” Sighed Jegga, “Not in front of da prisonahs.”

“Father?” hushed Catherine.

The girl had pushed herself passed the vanguard of the crowd to her father’s side. She shared the same form as her father, skinny as a twig. Yet otherwise she could not be further from the man. Dark, black haired, with lively eyes. She also bore the same greatcloak as him.

“I will not have ya even suggest such a ting.”

“We’re bandits, Kirina. We dun abide by some moral standards.”

“Some bandits do.” Quipped Toftof.

Azhar shot the imp a glance.

“Even so, she’s about my age. Look.” Irina brushed her cloak aside to point at Catherine. The scholar smiled to herself. Not due to the fact she was defended but because she manage to catch a glimpse of the girl’s tattooed hand. She was a fortune teller. Perhaps a fortune teller who spoke clearly to. She would have relished the chance to intervene such phenomena if not for her current predicament.

Jegga rolled his eyes at the girl, “Do ya know who dat man is?”

Kirina blinked, “Toftof the Liar? Or do ya mean Azhar?”

“Azhar. Da same man who left dis place twenty years ago.”

“Fadda, ya be too obsessed wit dat man.”

“I am not obsessed!” protested the man. He made an attempt at lowering his voice, but failed to escape Catherine’s acute hearing, “I just can’t have my daughter commanding me around him.”

“Ya even accepted dat hit on da boy to track him down. If dat’s not obsessed, I dun know what it could be.”

“Kirina!”

The girl stamped her foot and sported a face as poignant as a boar.

Jegga let his head fall forwards as he sighed, “Fine. Da girl stays. Now Azhar.” He shoo’ed Kirina aside and had Bahar hand him the blade. “What say you? Kill da man beside you and you’ll be free in my service.”

“A laughable form a freedom.”

Jegga balanced the blade towards Azhar, “Dis is ya only chance. Kill ya companion wit dis blade and I’ll- oh what now?”

Catherine tossed her eyes to where Jegga had turned. Another greatcloak had broken through the crowd. He pressed his palms together and bowed to his lord.

“My lord, Cassal has returned.”

“Cassal?” queried Jegga.

Bahar was quick to explain, “Da last of da scouting party ya sent. Also deir chronicler.”

“He survived? Wait. Bahar, da snakes ya recovered were stolen from a scouting party were dey not?”

Catherine jolted forwards only to have Azhar halt her with a stare as cold as the desert night. She returned the stare, now committed to their invisible discourse. She was sure he knew as well as she did, what Casssal appearing meant. He bowed his head as if to say ‘wait and see what happens’.

Catherine sighed. Her head performing a quick nod as she fell back.

“Da very same, my lord.” Answered Bahar.

Jegga smiled at Azhar, “It seems we’ve found ya prince.”

Catherine flinched as a man fitting Cassal’s description finally stumbled out of the crowd. By now the surrounding cheers had all but halted as all found their eyes glued to the man entering their lord’s presence. Not because he was he lost companion, nor since he had managed to survive where half dozen could not. No. It was because he was shirtless.

Naturally, in a place as hot as the Illivanmari desert shirtlessness was quite common. In fact, as Catherine recalled, there was a peculiar study done on the matter by lord Gal’Farrasini. Farrasini had been obsessed with shirts for years, so much so the king of Galokin had to shed the lord’s title till he forfeited the awful obsession. Though mostly common amongst the farmers, the practice of bearing no shirt was also shared by the various fisherman along the coastal towns of the desert kingdom. So, if the man now before her and a horde of bandits was either a fisherman or Ginian farmer, not one of the cautious glances he was receiving would be warranted. Yet this was not the case.

What stood before her was a foul smelling blob of a man. Aside from his lone pair of no doubt sullied trousers, he had on him a rather heavy coat of dirt, filth, and as Catherine wished she could clench her nose, other unmentionables.

“Spirits.” Barked Jegga, “Did ya roll around in da sands befa ya tought ta come back from da dead? Get dis man to baths.”

“My lord.” Bowed Cassal, “I beg ya counsel.”

Jegga motioned the man to continue.

Again, Cassal bowed. “Afta my unfortunate captor to dese men.” He pointed at Azhar, “I was subjected ta various forms of torture.”

“Oi dat’s not true.” Squirmed Toftof, “Tell him, Azhar.”

Azhar shrugged. He eyes flicked to Cassal, “Continue.” He said from where he sat.

“I didn’t reveal anyting.” Assured Cassal, “Den Bahar’s troop attacked.”

“Regretably, dat is when deir magic user took out five of our snakes.” Added Bahar.

“Sharp projectiles launched in each of deir heads.” Jegga shook his head, “A disgusting ting, magic.”

“What if it were on ya side dough?”

Jegga crutched his head on his hand. He leaned on that hand hard before speaking, “Tell me, Cassal, if deir magic ussah was able to defeat five of our ramhorns, why is it dat you managed to get back here, wit da stolen ramhorn no less?”

“It happened afta dey escaped Bahar’s men you see. Afta witnessing dat magic, I realized I could use it to.” Cassal stretched his arms out and for the briefest of moments he glanced Catherine’s way.

Catherine did not miss this. She instantly focused on the man as he spoke on.

“I used my new found abilities to trick my captors and escape dem wit da snake.”

The lines on him glimmered brilliantly. They stretched from his face to his chest and across his stomach and arms.

Catherine’s eyes expanded. The spots of dirt that clung to his body were not there by random. The lines were already curving so much that they almost could have been letters by themselves. The clumps fixed and joined these letters, until a simple message was written on this walking postcard. It took Catherine seconds to discern the sleepish hand writing written in Arrag.

Distract them

Of course how to do so was not included. Catherine sighed as she clamped her eyes and considered her options. Whoever wrote the message had complete faith in her as a strategist. She bowed her head low. What would distract a band of bandits, and their overly paranoid leader? Clearly another shirtless man back from the dead was not an option.

She pried open her eyes and the first thing she spotted was Bahar standing beside his master with the execution blade held at his side. It seemed Jegga had grown tired of holding the heavy thing whilst his subordinate tried desperately to explain his new found connection to magic.

“What if that blade tuned against its master?” she hushed aloud.

Azhar spotted her with the corner of his eye, “Whateva ya tinking, I hope ya tought it tru.” He whispered back.

Catherine fixated on Bahar’s sword hand. It was a typical grasp, three fingers around the pommel with thumb for support. He wasn’t far from his master either. Despite his position, in the presence of his lord he had become a mere guard. A guard who had to stay an arm’s length away from his lord at all times. That was too far to project the blade onto Jegga, but it was just enough for what Catherine hoped to accomplish.

Finally, her eyes bounced to the man’s feet. He had a sturdy stance. Catherine nodded. She would have to focus there the most.

In quick succession, the girl jerked her head in three different directions. Within three seconds, Bahar tripped forwards, his waist twisted, and his blade swung ahead of him. The result? An extremely poor attempt at murder.

But an attempt nonetheless.

Bahar spun back on his heel, holding on to the sword by an inch if it’s handle. Catherine smiled. That was all he needed to do. The gaudy show had already attracted the attention of the bandits she could see.

Jegga remained petrified to his seat. His dry lips fell apart as his eyes buzzed about the man infront of you, “Bahar you-”

Catherine flinched.

Bahar finished the fake thrust, making it all too real. The silence shattered. Soon, every man with a blade were either jostling for their blades or already charging.

Kirina’s voice gave pause to them all, “Wait!” She turned to Bahar. Her fists were clenched and her voice quivering, “Can you explain yaself?”

Bahar pressed his boot against the lifeless man as he drew the strawberry red blade from its chest.

Kirina nearly fell to the sight.

Bahar shrugged, He minced his words with yawns, “Out of opportunity, I suppose.”

“But ya served him fa years.” Sneered Kirina.

“I did.” Nodded Bahar, “Ya now bear befa ya why I did so.”

Catherine swerved her head as she noticed a familiar glow. Two mice among trees had snuck in during the commotion.

“Taba!” She couldn’t help herself.

Taba instant glare made her hush herself. A twist of the head revealed Cirin on the other side, already undoing the binds on Toftof.

“Da prince is wit da snake.” Hushed the girl. She poked her eyes at the corpse, “Did ya have ta kill him?”

“It was only supposed to lunge him close. I think that man connected the blow.”

Taba loosened the last of Catherine’s binds, “He’s a friend den?” she noted.

“Ya be a traitor, Bahar? So be it. I, Kirina, daughter of Jegga, command ya ta die.”

Catherine bounded to her feet as dozens of others made steps to Bahar. Unlike the previous fervent charge, the men took a slower approach. It was a curious change of heart until Catherine realized the cause of it all.

Kirin rose her hand once more, “Why do you stand still witout so much as raising dat sword? Do ya undastand da severity of what ya done? You betrayed ya masta.”

There was a thud and then another. A plate clattered an earshot from Catherine. All around men were collapsing.

Bahar stifled a laugh as he swung that blade about him with one hand. “Who do ya tink had da food made fa dis celebration. And da drinks?”

“Dat’s enough Bahar.”

Kirina flicked her head to the source of that voice.

“You. Ya be from da Bazaar.”

The addressed man started pacing to the center of commotion. He was an imp of a man, exactly the same as Toftof. Catherine even spared the real Toftof a glance to make sure he hadn’t exercised some alter ego. As he held his practiced pace, the men in his way fell asleep one after the other.

The baritone hummed more, “Exactly, daughter of Jegga. Da Bazaar has not forgotten Jegga’s long since desertion of da pilla city.”

“Desertion? Dis messa was neva a part of da Bazaar! Ya killed Fadda fa dat?!”

“Dis was da Scavengah’s Cliff. Da Bazaar’s furdest outpost fa centuries. Jegga’s had an unsurmountable fortress fa years. Higha dan any cliff in da desert wit only one entrance and exit.”

“Only ta stop ya monstahs from taking him down.”

The stranger halted a few steps from the girl, “It seems he failed.” The man held up his hand and the few reaming bandits tore their great cloaks off. Underneath, they bore a white uniform complete with sea blue sashes.

“Come morning, reinforcements from da bazaar will arrive and secure dis messa. Now, daughter of Jegga.” The man withdrew a long blade sheathed to his back, “By ordah of da Council, ya be sentenced ta death.”

“Wait!” cried out Catherine.

Azhar and Taba sighed in unison.

Both Bahar and the executioner turned to the scholar.

“Spare her will you? She tried to save me when she had no reason to. There’s good in her.”

“The prisoners?” puffed Baritone.

Catherine shot a glance at Cassal. There was no doubt he had aided their initial plans. “Spare the shirtless man as well.”

“Why would we listen to prisonahs?” entered Bahar, “I spent ten years sharpening my blade and ya want me to toss it aside?”

“Just for these two.” Pleaded Catherine.

“Bahar.” Began Baritone, “We do need prisonahs of our own.”

“But da council, Salazan.”

“Dey’ll undastand. Men, move dese sleeping fools to da closest cliff edge. Grik, Gera bound da chronicler and Jegga’s daughter. It may not be an honorable victoreh, but a victory for da bazaar all da same.”

“Bah. A victory worth ten years of my life.” Bahar slipped his gaze from Salazan to Jegga’s corpse. “Strange. It didn’t feel as great as I tought it would.”

“Do ya even feel a drop of remorse for what ya did, coward?”

Bahar’s scowl twitched and he pointed his reddened blade at Kirina. One of the two men had already gotten to binding Kirina’s wrists.

“Come on Salazan, let me kill her.”

Salazan shook his head, “You’ve changed, Bahar.” Bahar’s brows and posture dropped to that while the shorter man continued to where Catherine and the others sat. He narrowed his eyes at the children, “You lot be free ta go.” Announced the man. “Take da snake ya stole from dese louts.”

“Let us go wit ya.”

Catherine was a loss for words. To think Azhar would ask that of all people.

“We were heading dere anyway.” Continued Azhar, “By da count of ya men, it be best to have us amoungst ya.” Azhar bounced his head to Toftof, “Dis one can fight well. Same wit da girl.”

Salazan squatted low, “Ya dun tink we know who ya be?”

Bahar snorted, “Da dead bastard wasn’t da only one who made note of where ya went.”

“Nor was he da only one obsessed wit ya in dese parts.” Added Salazan, “Ya realise what’ll happen if ya come back?”

Azhar held his gaze low, “I’m prepared fa it.”

Salazan clasped his hands, “Den dis will not only be da day we reclaim da final messa, it shall also be da day da prodigal son of Raza returns.”

“Prodigial murderah ya mean.” Snipped Bahar.

Toftof reeled his mug to his friend as they got up, “Azhar-”

Azhar had his hand held up, “No need ta get concerned ova it, Tof. I prepared for dis to.”

“Ya distraction was quite admirable.” Noted Taba.

Catherine blinked, “A compliment? From you?”

The girl frowned immensely, crossed her arms and paced away. She stopped her mad retreat for the briefest of moments, “I’ll do betta when I’m olda.”

Catherine smiled. Somehow she found her traveling noble companion to be endearing in the strangest way. Though thoroughly rooted in her own deception of nobility, Taba still knew to respect the powers of those around her. Catherine balanced her head on her hand as she watched the girl slow to Azhar’s side. If only she had faith in her own abilities.

She realised the company had already begun moving. She had still to get used to how quickly these illivanmari enacted agreements. She decided to run up to them, stopping only briefly as a bound Kirina came into view.

She held out her hand to motion the girl, but to no avail. The girl collapsed into Salazan’s arms. The baritone imp levied his eyes on the approaching Catherine. It seemed he knew exactly why she was there.

“I had ta, girl. Tis be fa da best. She be betta off not seeing what ya bout ta see.”

Bahar lowered his gaze. And Catherine studied the sides. Her eyes locked on the first of the Bazaar men carrying a bandit nearby. That man dragged the brigand roughly to the very edge of the messa. From where they stood, this edge was fairly close to the center ring. Two fortified houses loomed on either side.

Heaving as he lifted the man, the Bazaar soldier tossed the bandit over the edge. Catherine rubbed her eyes. Then another bazaar soldier repeated the same horrendous act. Then another.

“Why?” she croaked.

“Da Bazaar has no need fa ex-bandits. Nor do we have da stockades fa da captured ones. We can exile dem, but dat may only lead ta death by hungah. It may not seem like it, but a swift death here is an act of mercy. Ofcourse dose enslaved here will be freed an taken back to da Bazaar.”

“But they were put to sleep. That’s all. They didn’t even have a chance to defend themselves!”

“And if dey did defend demselves? What den? Bandits are murderers and tieves, girl. Left alive, dey’ll do noting but harm. Dese bandits in particular have been a blight fa far too long on da Bazaar. Fighting dem conventionally would have cost many mo lives.”

Catherine swallowed hard. She knew Taba and Cirin were watching too. Azhar and Toftof were all too accustomed to it. She dared not pry her eyes from it as she managed away from the center of the messa. As if bearing it all instead of glancing away made the sin of doing nothing any better.

After reaching the snake stables, Cirin called out Sol from hiding. The boy bobbed out in expert fashion.

After deliberations, Bahar and Salazan decided upon traveling with the company with Cassal and Kirina in tow as prisoners. However with one condition.

Salazan snapped the manacles on Azhar. The manancled man glanced back at his short companion, who had the same bindings placed upon him.

“I’m sure ya undastand we can’t be trusting ya.”

Azhar nodded, “I do. But I’d do da same about you.”

Salazan let the corner of his eyes fall on Bahar, “True, we can’t blame ya on dat. Dese bindings will be kept on ya till we reach da Bazaar.”

“So be it.” Shrugged Azhar.

Catherine wagered it to be a trade of sorts. For one, they were forced to be bound like dogs, but as a compromise they were granted free seats on Salazan’s Ramhorn.

Catherine ogled at the sand below. Salazan’s snake was no ordinary snake either. The beast stood twice as tall as the other ramhorns and seemed to be atleast head or two longer. Something, the oft reclusive Cirin had become increasingly on edge about.

After just a day’s worth of travel, five towering messas shadowed the horizon. Yet one amoungst them dwarfed the others.

“Dats da towa.” Spoke an unlikely Cassal. Catherine shifted as she heard his voice. Oddly, his comment was directed at Cirin.

“Da Bazaar has da four messas each wit martial temples built on top and sprawling districts around dem. Da towa be no different..”

“A people who do not fear deir towa?” gawked Taba.

Cassal leaned back. Somehow, the man had grown accustomed to his binds, “Da fact dat people outside fear da towas is itself strange. I dun know how much ya outsidahs know about our history, but in ancient times we worshipepd dose towas.”

Taba shifted to the comment, “We still do.”

“If ya mean dose towa priests, ya be wrong. Back den, da towas wa said ta grant martial mastahs visions of distant styles.”

“Shut it wit dose old stories, chronicler.” Complained Azhar.

“And what will ya do? Wrestle me in ya binds?”

Azhar sighed.

“Didn’t tink so. Ta say I, Cassal, would become accustomed ta dis life of always being bounded,. Dat be deplorable! Heinous!”

Then Cirin spoke, “What do ya mean, distant styles?”

“It be little mo den folklore now, but I still wish ta believe it. Da great mastas who visited da towas became fluent in udda styles. So much so dat dey began schools all ova Illivanmar. Dose schools became communities ova time and dose communities turned inta gangs.”

“Not all, ya wretch.” Sneered Bahar from the front, “Some of us hold on ta our dignity as trained membas.”

“And what happened to dese mastashs? Did it eva happen again?” asked the all too eager Cirin, “People enterin’ old towas and learning new skills dat is?”

Catherine tilted her head at the boy. Cirin was almost always quiet, yet when something piqued his interest even at the slightest he would erupt into a different person entirely.

Cassal stared at him for the longest time, then fell back, “Can’t say.” He yawned, “But dis be my last few hours in open air. Haven’t ya used me enough? Leave a man to sleep while da open air be still around him.”

Cirin sighed aloud and before the man could completely roll over, the boy spoke up, “We’ll check up on her.”

Cassal flinched.

“Ya cousin I mean.”

After some time, Cassal came about and flipped his eyes to the boy.

“It was slavahs dat did it.” He confessed, “A slave company called da Merid Dance Troupe hired us.”

Cirin gawked at the revelation, yet Azhar was not unconvinced.

“Da Merid Dance Troupe be one of many evils in dis land. It be an ansah but not da one I seek.” said Azhar.

Cassal rolled back over, “Hmpf, well I told you all I know.” He puffed.

“Hold!” cried Salazan.

The snake jolted to a stop tossing nearly all the members forwards. Catherine managed to peak over the edge of the snake. She quinted hard.

“Is that…” she started.

“BY Synsian’s backside.” Murmured Toftof.

Catherine tossed the imp a telling look. Not one of disappointment but one of confusion. Toftof was the last man she’d consider a believfer of the Torvirn faith. Not that any mention of godly backside had to do with devoutness. Catherine balanced her head on her hand. Or maybe it did?

“Manama…” Trailed Azhar.

Catherine took a double take. Manama’s distinctive face came into view. Her beads jostling in the distance.

The jangling of chains drew her shortening attention back to Azhar. The man glanced at his manacles then at Manama. Catherine realised it as soon as she returned her gaze to the charging woman. She joined in the frantic swaying of arms Toftof and Azhar had begun.

“Oi Salazan, dat one looks to be… charging us?”

“Nonsence, why would anyone with an inferior snake charge ours?”

“One of jegga’s men I assume. Hmpf, da fool.” Scoffed Bahar. He reached for his blade. Catherine choked. Manama seemed second away.

“Stop! Bot of ya. Dat ain’t no ordinary woman.” Warned Azhar.

“A firend of yours?” questioned Salazan.

“Aye. One who most likely saw da glint of chains on my wrists, dis snake, and you two dolts lookin awful villainous.”

Bahar shrugged, “I see. But from where I stand, dis woman is da dead one.”

Catherine cuffed her hands over her mouth, “Manama! Stop!”

“I’ve heard ya name, Azhar. But dat be in da past now. IF ya want to find da strongest swordsmen in all of Illivanmar…” Salazan pointed at himself, “Ya found him.”

“Salazan!”

“Wha-”

Catherine fell on the side of the pack serpent and took the grandest breath of relief she ever had.

Bahar quivered whee he stood. In mere moments before Manama’s snake halted where their’s had been, the woman had ran to the top of the snake’s head, boarded their’s, and levied her dagger on Bahar’s neck. All in the span of seven seconds.The blade crested the neck with just a drop of blood glinting at the edge of it.

Slowly, the man’s maple eyes rolled to meet that of Manama’s. She knelt in front of him, her dark specs mirrors of antipathy. Catherine marvelled at what she managed to accomplish. If she had to note off each, it was clear that Manama had pulled off three miracles. She managed to run off a speeding snake, land on a lage one, and most importantly catch the man at throat without stabbing him. The mere way it stilled the otherwise boisterous Bahar was a testament to her ability. She was a monster.

Catherine followed the slowing down snake with the corner of her eye.

“Catherine.”

The scholar flipped back to Manama.

“Tell me why ya told me ta stop.”

“Ah yes.” Began Catherine, “A whole mess of things actually. Though in regards to the politics of the matter, I’d say killing these two men may bar us from entering the bazaar.”

Manama turned to Azhar.

Azhar sighed, “Jegga’s dead. That man,” he said swinging his manacles at Bahar, “Killed him.”

Manama pressed her dagger against Salazan’s neck, “Why are dey in chains?”

“We ageed to it.” Answered Azhar again, “Only to garuantee our cooperation. See? Da kids be unchained.”

Manama pulled back her dagger and spun it between her fingers before sheathing the thing. She rose vto her full height.

“Unchain dem.” Commanded Manama, “It be bad fortune ta let a man return to his home in chains.”

“And how can we be sure ya won’t betray us and murder us in da night?”

Manama smiled, flashing her motely collection of gold and black teeth, “If I wanted ya dead, ya would have been.”

Salazan swallowed hard to that.

Manama leapt off the snake with a laugh, “A joke.” She echoed as her feet scruffed the sand.

“Dat monsta of ya’s be terrible wit jokes.” Noted Salazan as he rubbed his neck. “Oi, what’s wrong wit da shirtless man?”

All eyes fell on the cowering Cassal.

“Lets say he met da fortune tella earlier.” Said Taba.

With Manama following them as close as their shadows, Bahar unlocked both Toftof’s and Azhar’s manacles. While the Bazaar itself hovered in front of them, it was atleast a day’s travel to get there.

“Da salt plains.” As Cassal explained. So that night, they set up camp. Catherine made a round of the makeshift camp after sunset. A fire pirouetted in the midst of the set up, with either pack snake hugging the edges as temporary walls. Luckily, Salazan had brought three tents with him. One for himself, Bahar and the prionsers. Another for Azhar, Toftof, Cirin and Sol. And the last for Catherine, Taba and now Manama.

She noted most of the adults sitting by each other, whilst Taba and Cirin had grown somewhat closer since she’d last saw them. Albeit arguing, but a little more tamed than she saw before. Aleast Sol was there too.

Finally she discovered Kirina awake, slump against the giant ramhorn. Her eyes were downcast. Eyelids puffy.

Catherine squatted to her sitting form.

“Are you ok?” she started. After moments of silence, Catherine cleared her throat, “IF it means anything, thank you.”

Kirina shifted.

“You defended me when no one could.”

“Oi Caterine, leave da girl alone.”

Catherine glanced at Toftof.

Toftof’s voice quieted down, “She’s been tru enough fa one day.”

Catherine got up to that. “Let me do the same for you.” She said quickly.

Kirina almost spoke up to that, catching her tongue as Catherine made to Bahar and Salazan.

“What is it girl?” anticipated Salazan.

“I want Kirina to sleep in our tent tonight.”

“What? Are ya mad? She’s our prisoner. She’s lucky enough not ta be at the bottom of dat messa.”

Catherine spared Kirina a glance, “When Jegga suggested what he did Kirina stepped in to protect me. Please do not take this as an offence but you two strike as me no different from those men.”

Bahar shot up to that, “Why you-”

“Bahar.” Barked Salazan with his arm on Bahar’s shoulder, “If dat is ya concern den I’ll abide by ya request. Dere isn’t much she can do to hinder us now dat Jegga’s been dealt with anyway.”

Bahar sat down, “I may have been part of his gang fa ten years, but I neva did antying ta compromise my morals. And yes, befa ya ask, I have dem. Ask da girl if you need ta.” he said, nudging his head at a staring Kirina.

Though she immidieatly looked to the ground Catherine smiled at Kirina. She had been listening and that was enough.

Catherine fixed her greatcloak as her attention swayed to Azhar. The man in question had been studying the flame aimlessly while Toftof bickered about the cold. She tilted her head to Manama and met the woman’s curt nod. Catherine nodded back. That was the signal. The silent confirmation Catherine needed to proceed.

She waded past the adults to the collection of children and found a suitable spot amoungst them. It would have to til morn.

The night passed without much commotion. Catherine woke to the sleeping figure of Kirina couped beside her. A stark reflection of her silent insistence to keeping her distance. Catherine made her way out of the tent, rubbing her hands.

Footsteps and she turned to find a similarily awake Azhar.

He nodded in her direction and she narrowed her eyes back.

“I know your plan.” She said simply.

Azhar paused, affording her just enough time to spell it out. Manama glided out the tnet when Catherine began.

“You never intended to spread the word thaty Sol was alive did you? I did my research. Sol was wanted dead by the king, his people, and even the this country.” Catherine narrowed her eyes even further, “His death would have been celebrated not a cause for war.”

Azhar buried his hands in his pockets as he wandered to the other end of the dead flame, “Continue.” He motioned with one hand out his pocket.

“Well even then it struck me odd why even with the false news of his death why you’d need to physically take him around to make corrections. A letter would have sufficed.”

“Nobles and lords are notoriously difficult to convince, girl.”

“Not when the only evidence they have is a rumor spread by bandits.”

Now Cirin, Sol ,and Taba had proceeded out of the tents. Catherine tensed at the sight of Cirin. She hadn’t a clue how’d he take it.

“You took Sol from the one place he’d be safe to places of increasing lawlessness. You purposefully put him in danger.”

“What she on about, old mon?”

“Not now, mouse.”

“Don’t deny it. I have proof.” Catherine nodded to Manama, who produced a sealed scroll from one of her many hidden sleeves.

Azhar shifted, withdrawing his last hand from his pocket.

“I had Manama pick something up for while she was gone from us. Records. A collection of reports copied from the likes of a man named Hyrin on the movements of known assasins. Ezmir, Gara, Gin. All of those cities have been noted to have housed noitable assasins in the past months.”

“Who copied those notes?” ebbed Azhar.

“A colleague of mine from the association.”

Azhar quiteted down to that.

“Everything you did until now put Sol in increasing danger. Why?” asked Catherine slowly, “Why do such a thing? Are you working for the assasins?”

The man sighed heavily. He tossed his eyes to Cirin before plopping to a seat.

“Befa I tell ya.” Started the man, “Know dat I did it fa his sake not against it.”

Toftof sprang between Azhar and the rest, “OI Azhar! Not now when we sa close.”

“Caterine’s found out. She’ll come to her own concluions uddawise. As fa ya findings dus fa, dey be all correct save what ya said bout Lamanori. Da first star was neva safe.”

The scholar sat across from Azhar, prompting Cirin to stumble to her side.

“It was not just da sandrats who had been hired ta kill Sol.” Azhar lowered his head, “Nearly all da palace to.”

“Impossible. Befa I left dey wanted ta defend him mo dan me.” Protested Cirin.

“It was afta ya left mouse. Leaving Lamanori was always in da Prince’s best interest. Ta ansah ya question, we took Sol across da kingdom ta lure out dose who wanted him dead.”

Cirin quivered where he sat. His hands were balled tighter than knots.

“Ya mean he was no betta dan bait on a fishaman’s hook?” His voice trembled. Every word parted by heavy breaths, “He. Almost. Died.” Stressed Cirin, “We trusted ya! I trusted ya.”

“Mouse. Ya dun get it.”

“No I do get it.” Stood up Cirin, “What ya did was wrong. Disgusting. Sol ain’t ya sacrifice. Da people who want him dead dun know him. To dem he’s no betta dan a dog who happen ta be between dem and what dey want.” Cirin swerved his hand to his left side, holding Sol squarely in his sights, “An object ta eliminate, an object ta protect, no matta da means.” Cirin’s arm pivoted until it landed in Azhar’s direction, “Ya be no different.”

“Ya right Mouse.” Azhar mirrored the boy’s actions as he took to his feet, “By doing noting we risk everyting. As long as da man behind dese attacks still lives he’ll spare no expense at getting what he wants. Putting da prince in dangah was da only option we had.”

“And what if it was me?” asked the red eyed boy.

Azhar fell silent. His mouth opened but no words dared come out. Then after what seemed an eternity, his head fell back and he plummeted back on his bum.

He shut his eyes, “Ya different mouse.”

“So in ordah ta protect me ya wouldn’t use me as bait?”

“Spirits, mouse. Ya know I couldn’t.” Azhar sighed for the hundreth time that day.

“You know.” Began an unlikely voice. The entirety of the camp turned to the dwarfed figure of Sol. Even Cassal poked his head out the tent flaps.

“I don’t really understand why people want to hurt me. But…” the boy adorned a smile as wide as his face, “These last few months have been really fun. So please…” his smile faltered, “don’t fight.”

Hearing Sol speak for himself must have done Cirin some good, for a moment later the boy took back to his seat.

“Listen, I know ya be angry at me mouse, but will ya hold ya discretions till afta we arrive at da Bazaar?”

“We should be dere by da evening.” Spoke up Salazan.

Both Cirin and Azhar shot the man a viscious glance, making the proud man timid instantly.

“Fa Sol’s sake, I will.” Conceded the boy.