Caravan of Fire: Spirits of Seiran, #2

By D. & L. Kardenal

Grief is like a desert mirage. It paints the world differently, luring even the best towards danger.

 

Zaira wanted nothing other than to leave everything behind, hiding among the wandering caravan-city of An Ramash. Struggling with her pain of loss and blossoming djinn powers under the tutilage of the fabled Nazrik, her new life comes to a sudden change with the arrival of yet another djinn.
Harboring this new fugitive brings them face-to-face against enemies both old and new. Hain, Ezair's childhood friend is only one of the many dangers hunting them, and all pale compared to the leader of the fanatical Court of Fire.

 

Meanwhile, the palace of Shardiz is in uproar after the appearence of a crippled mejai girl. Sethar, brother to the prince is tasked with looking after the murderous magician, using the girl's wits to uncover secrets left behind by a civilization more ancient than the Old Garden. Following the trail of the mysterious Forebearers, Sethar discovers troubling details about both his quest and his passionless assistant.

 

As their lives converge, sparking a heated turn of events, old wounds need to close and grudges be forgotten, lest the whole world be timber to the flames.

 

The adventure continues in the magical desert of Seiran, with more secrets, deadlier plots, and even more on the line.

• Language: English
• Publisher: D. & L. Kardenal
• Release date: Jun 17, 2022
• ISBN: 9786150145921

Book preview

D. & L. Kardenal

Caravan of Fire

Copyright © 2022 by D. & L. Kardenal

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

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Contents

1. A Secret Room

2. Ice

3. Lea

4. Phantoms of the Past

5. The Mejai’s Apprentice

6. Gossip

7. Wrong questions

8. Globe

9. The Beheaded Viper

10. The kingdom of spirits

11. Tales

12. The Hallowed City

13. Tribute

14. Visions

15. An unwelcome guest

16. Old wounds

17. Home

18. The Mejai’s daughter

19. The demon and the horse

20. Viperlings

21. The King of Old

22. Keepers, finders

23. Of djinns and men

24. Past, present, future

25. Broken hearts

26. Lullaby

27. White eyes

28. The door in the wall

29. Undying

30. Awaken

31. Cinder and ash

32. Crossroads

33. Return

34. Teaser

35. Glossary

1

A Secret Room

Ten steps forward to look in the mirror. Ten steps back, caressing the golden ornaments on the wardrobe. Back towards the mirror, then again to the wardrobe.

Frankly, Seth was beyond terrified to meet his brother. He knew they expected something from him, although what exactly was a mystery, and that was terrifying. He kept walking back and forth, looking at furniture that didn’t interest him, just to avoid having to think about what was coming for him.

His teachers always said they were raised apart to cement their separate roles. His role was to learn and keep all the secrets of Shardiz, while his brother was destined to follow their father upon the throne. They were separated so Seth wouldn’t long for the throne. Not that he wanted to anyway, because that would have required becoming like their father, which was also terrifying.

Someone, probably a herald, cried out outside the room. Gracious Prince Eldan and Heir Idranil.

The door opened. The time Seth got to rise above his fears and regain his composure was up, and he had failed spectacularly.

An entire army of people marched into the room, with Seth’s father at the front. Behind him walked Seth’s mother and first consort to his father, followed by the one he was most afraid of.

His brother was barely older than him, three years or so, yet he looked infinitely more mature and definitely braver. His hair was cut in a princely manner already, short on the side, twined on the back, and even his robe was more ornate than Seth’s white and silver gown. He kept sticking his head from behind their mother to peek at Seth’s tiny figure, like he was hunting him.

Seth still couldn’t figure out what he was supposed to do, so he just stood silent in the middle of the room. He wanted to run away really fast, but that wasn’t how a soon-to-be Keeper of Secrets should have reacted. So, he just waited and kept looking at his father wide-eyed, sometimes sneaking a look at his brother wriggling in their mother’s arms, like he was about to charge him.

Sweet Shardeen, what if he really was?

Luckily, he didn’t have time to go further with that thought, because his father walked up to him, reaching one arm towards each of his sons.

The greatness of Shardiz always stood on many pillars, the prince said. Seth just noticed how many others were there in the room with them. Servants, silken-clad nobles, soldiers in shining armor, and many more.

Ways of the sword, magic, science and faith are all foundations elevating us above the other provinces, the prince continued. I am glad my two sons embody this in their person. Idranil, who shall follow me upon the throne, and Sethar, standing by him as the guardian of our knowledge.

Suddenly the whole room went silent. Idranil looked at their mother expectantly, then, as she let him go, he darted towards Seth with a beaming grin.

I’m so happy to finally meet you, little brother. We’re going to have so much fun, he said, wrapping one arm around Seth.

The world was spinning around him, his stomach rumbled, but Seth took a deep breath and forced a few words out.

I am… happy too… rani… The sudden weakness in his voice swallowed most letters of Idranil’s name. He got it wrong. He didn’t even know what was expected of him, but still managed to get it wrong.

Some chuckled around him.

Oh, no, I… he said, looking at his brother, then at his nursemaid, but none paid attention. Idranil stared at the chucklers with a prickly look, while the maid just covered her face in her hands.

He let them down.

I… I’m sorry, Seth mumbled, then ran like never before.

He rushed past his father, past the chuckling nobles, out onto the corridor without thinking of where he was headed.

Sethar! his father’s harsh voice followed, but Seth didn’t even look back.

He knew they would be angry with him. He had done something really dumb, but it didn’t matter. He just ran and cried while the corridor melted into a golden swirl around him, followed by banging footsteps. He hastened his pace, turning randomly and descending on the many stairs the palace housed, until he hit an unfamiliar corridor.

It led even further down, into a dark place with no lamps or lanterns. Even the air was colder, but it brought with it sweet smells, so it must have been a kitchen or a pantry.

Seth took a moment to hesitate, but a sharp noise behind him urged him to rush down the corridor half running, half slipping on the steps.

The stairs went on forever. Seth was growing tired, and when he eventually reached an enormous, closed door, he just turned his back towards it and sat down.

He couldn’t go back. Maybe sometimes later, when they forgave him, but definitely not soon. He couldn’t go forward either, not until he opened the door, but it was massive. Seth always thought himself weak but clever, he learned everything too fast, but that wasn’t something to open a door with.

Or was it?

Seth hopped up and looked at the door. His fingers ran over luminous patterns that ran along in a straight line before braking off into various directions. Like those magic doors in the Duneborns, the children’s tales about characters wandering into entirely different worlds, filled with treasure and adventure.

This door was very real, though, and refused to open. There was no keyhole, not even a doorknob, just the patterns and a shiny plate with a hand-drawing on it. Seth put his hand on the plate expecting nothing to happen – but something did.

Bio…tric …dentif… a voice said, broken by loud crackling. Seth instinctively jumped back, but the voice continued. New command… iccer… name?

Sethar shook his head. It was either the door speaking to him, or someone from the other side, which was more probable. As for why parts of the words got lost in the crackling, he paid no mind. After what he had done upstairs, he was in no position to judge.

Name? he said. My name… is Sethar Osirei, second son of the Prince of Shardiz. Please, let me in.

The voice kept crackling, then spoke up again.

New comma… Seth… rei

The shining plate changed color to a warm green. The door split apart and slowly opened, revealing a most curious room behind.

There were many more plates there, like the one outside, but these were pitch black and dead-looking. There was a huge glass something, like a massive jar that could house the whole aquarium. At the back stood a chair surrounded by a lot of different machines, metal arms, straps and hemispheres, and things Seth couldn’t even describe. As if he really walked into another world, even though he could still see the stairs behind him.

He walked further in, looking for the origin of the voice, but only crackling and beeps followed him.

Comman… Seth… the mysterious voice said, but no matter how many times Seth turned around, he couldn’t spot it. Or her, as she sounded like an exhausted woman. Transforma… eady. Awaiting subject. Initiate?

Subject. That word was familiar from the books, but he never heard it before used like that.

What subject? Where are you?

One black plate lit up with tiny dots resembling letters, surrounding a rough shape of a man. The whole thing moved and flickered, like the writing refused to stay in place. Seth wondered if he accidentally stumbled upon the den of a malicious djinn who had ditched the human shape for the plates.

Terraf…ing, Fif… Project: Augm… Human Psi… transfor…?

The voice still crackled and smudged most words, and even what got through was incomprehensible. Seth shuffled closer to the writing and tapped on a word.

I don’t understand what you want, or where you are. But I don’t want people to be mad at me. Can you hide me for a while?

The voice didn’t answer anymore. The hemispheres surrounding the chair creaked as they turned and shifted, creating an opening – for Seth, most likely.

He didn’t understand what was going on, but he had asked to be hidden. It seemed the magic room could hide him in the chair.

That was his best option. He hurried over to the chair and climbed onto it. It was cold and brittle, like the blade of his father’s sword.

And now? he asked after half a minute of silence.

The machines creaked again, and the entire room came alive. The metal arms clasped onto his ankles and wrists, forcing him down, while every plate started flashing wildly. The djinn was furious.

Something stabbed Seth’s shoulders and fire rushed through his veins. He screamed as loud as he could, but the djinn didn’t care. He was about to be torn apart, his ears ringed, the world fragmented and rebuilt itself from slivers, while the metal arms kept pumping something into him that set his inside aflame.

He couldn’t even move from the pain, just scream and cry, grasping the armrest of the metallic chair.

Suddenly there was a loud bang. Then another, and another, then the pain started fading. The metal arms jabbing into him collapsed to the floor, the chair let him go, and the rotating hemispheres stopped.

Seth turned to the side. Through his tears he could make out the shape of Idranil, holding a metal stick in his hands, aiming one end at the chair. Seth wanted to run to his brother, but there wasn’t an ounce of strength left in him.

Id… rani… was all he could say, before a darkness crept into the corner of his eyes.

Sethar! Are you alright? What is this… thing?

Idranil jumped to his side and tried to help him out of the chair, although with only half a free arm, he was struggling. It was weird, considering how Seth barely felt more than a sheet of paper, a feather, tossed and dragged by the slightest breeze.

I… I don’t know… She just said she’s waiting for… a subject, he said, trying to shake the darkness out of his eyes. He looked at the metal stick Idranil was carrying, then tried to smile. Is that a… princely per… preror…

Prerogative, Idranil said. Well, kind of. Father said it is the last line of defense, something I shouldn’t waste.

That’s a… trinket? Are you a mejai… raani?

Idranil just smiled, as if he wasn’t angry in the first place. Maybe he wasn’t, and Seth had run away for nothing.

No, I’m not. This is not a trinket, it’s… He raised the stick, holding it to the dim light of the room. One end was wider than the other, curving like a walking cane, with a crescent-shaped piece of metal hanging in the middle of a circle. Well, I don’t know what it is, but father said it’s older than the Old Garden. Come on, let’s get a healer to see you.

* * *

Seth couldn’t remember how long he was out, only the dreams. The colorful, senseless dreams, where box-like ancient spirits danced around him and begged to be commanded. They must have believed he was Idranil, when he was only the Keeper. He didn’t want to command the spirits, just shoo them away, but when he walked towards them, they danced even faster. They mocked him and called him imperfect, half-formed, and they laughed.

When he finally awoke, he sat up wheezing, holding his palm to his forehead.

No… I don’t… Don’t want to command… he mumbled before he even realized where he was.

The surrounding room was his own, and so was the bed. Idranil was sitting beside him in a chair, half asleep.

Forgive me, Master Sethar, his nursemaid said from a corner. I couldn’t make him stay outside.

Realizing his brother was awake, Idranil jumped up and climbed onto the bed, staring into Seth’s face from uncomfortably close.

That’s so cool…

Seth leant back, but at that point, he had a hunch deterring his brother from anything was beyond his skills. Instead, he just folded his arms and looked down.

What… what is?

Instead of answering, Idranil got off the bed, clutched a handheld mirror from a table, then rushed back and held it to his face.

See for yourself. Father said the room is a secret, so we can’t talk about it.

Seth looked at his face, and he almost dropped the mirror. His eyes have been light brown since his birth, but now they sparkled with a lively green light. Like two jade beads in the sunlight. His irises swirled in the mirror, his reflection looking at him expectantly, as if it waited for the real him to do something. He couldn’t make sense of it, until his heart pounded harder and his ears were filled by the cackling spirits again.

Command and it will follow. We will make it follow.

Seth held the mirror further away. No, he whispered, but it made the spirits upset. They laughed even louder, made his reflection angrier, and they almost blocked out every other sound.

Command! Give us an order!

Fine! he shouted, throwing the mirror down.

Beside his bed, cracks appeared out of nothing, like that part of the world was a mirror he just shattered. The shards danced around in the air, slowly gathering in a rough shape, then creating a perfect image of Seth. Larger than life, perfect in every detail, even the same shocked expression.

Whoa, Idranil said. I think that is a trinket. A magic trinket. But they tested you, right? Back then.

Seth crawled back to the wall, as far as he could from the magic mirror-himself.

Yes. And nothing happened. No trinket worked, because I’m not a mejai… or am I?

Well… Idranil picked up the mirror, which made the doppelganger disappear. I think you are, now. Shame I destroyed that machine.

Images about that horrible room and the chair flooded his mind, along with the bangs that freed him. He took a long, teary-eyed look at his brother and shook his head.

No, it isn’t. You saved me. It hurt, if it could finish what it started, I would be dead. Seth clutched his hand and the edge of his blanket in it. Thank you, Idl… Ida…

This again. Shardeen damn these difficult letters.

Thank you, brother.

You can call me whatever you want, Seth, Idranil said, putting a hand on Sethar’s shoulder. I like Rani. If those bootlickers don’t, then they can just stick to licking boots.

Seth tried to smile back at him. Maybe first impressions weren’t everything.

Father is mad at me, isn’t he?

Only because he got scared.

Seth hung his head in shame. I’m sorry.

Idranil jumped onto the bed again and sat beside Sethar. He’ll come around, don’t worry. Point is, we can play together now whenever we want. I told you already: we’re going to have so much fun.

2

Ice

The tent-city of An Ramash was buzzing, celebrating its Day of Independence. Ribbons twirled in rainbow colors, accompanied by bright stars of flame appearing and fading into thin air, dancing around a lean figure spinning amidst the ribbons - at least I hoped I was still lean.

Don’t let a single one fall, Nazrik whispered, but I barely paid attention to him. It was hard enough to keep this many ribbons mid-air without him constantly reminding me.

Sadly, it never became like breathing. This air wasn’t an extension of my body, controlling it wasn’t like moving my arms. Rather it was a jumbled mess of emotions I tried to keep in a somewhat steady stream. It was weird, to say the least.

I had to resort to some dirty tricks sometimes, lifting a ribbon higher so I could concentrate on the rest while it hovered down, catching it again just before it fell. Well, not really catching, but shoving a bunch of air to toss it around. Magic terms were just as confusing as the thing itself.

The coiling, colorful bands caught the attention of children running by, even some adults yet to plunge into the main festivities in the main square. I had already agreed to join a dance class of Ramashi girls later, so I wasn’t sure why Nazrik had pushed another performance onto me, but I was just glad he picked the day of independence and not the Twins’ Eve.

This short train of thought was enough for the blue ribbon—that damn blue—to escape my control and spiral towards the ground. It was a sad sight, breaking the perfectly composed circle of silk bands, following each other like colors on a rainbow, but I wasn’t about to let the blue win. I couldn’t just catch it, our audience would have instantly known I made a mistake, so I improvised. I let the next ribbon fall, then the next, eventually laying them around my ankles in a colorful ring, as a stylish finale to the show.

I caught sight of Nazrik smiling behind my back at the impromptu solution. He raised his hands high in the air and clapped, summoning an exploding ball that showered our audience in sparkles. People cheered and applauded as we bowed towards them, then wandered off towards the other celebratory events.

Clever, Nazrik purred into my ears, in a voice that would have swayed anyone – except me. In the past three years, I’ve learned there was nothing sensual about his intentions, this was just his way of presenting himself. It made him quite popular and respected, but I wasn’t falling for it after this long.

Thank you. I took a bow, fluttering the airy sleeves of my dress. It made me look like a cloud, but if there was an occasion to dress to, this was it.

Nazrik looked at the ribbons scattered about on the makeshift stage, his face transforming from the charmer into a concerned parent. You still lost control for a moment.

It was just a slip.

When was the last Storm?

Storm, with a capital ‘S’, was his way of referring to the episodes when my power got out of control. I hated that word, but I had no alternative so I just got used to it. Storms arose when I dreamed about the day Ezair was beheaded. His last smile. The sound of an axe cutting through his neck. I had usually woken up screaming, with lightning crashing down around and wind howling, bringing with it a rainstorm unlike anything natural.

I was always fighting for control, to not let those happen again. That’s what the dance was for, that’s what Nazrik and my dad helped me the most with. So I wouldn’t wash away An Ramash as I had almost done with Kahlaran, and by some miracle, it was getting better.

Or at least it had been until Osmi’s soul passed away to wherever they went after their time was up. I had been expecting it, seeing him grow weaker and forgetting himself more until he went to sleep and never awoke, but… Expecting something and seeing it were two very different things.

Half a year ago, I think. But really, this was just a slip. Nothing like last time.

At least I certainly wasn’t about to drench every tent in rainfall so severe it turned sand into mud, forcing the Ramashi to clean their homes for weeks – something I had to help with everywhere, by Nazrik’s generosity.

That is true, he said, letting the subject drop. What time of the day is it, by the way?

Two hours past noon, I guess, I said, looking up at the sky. The Sun was already past its peak, but not by much. Why?

The city is wonderful in the afternoon. One could wander around for hours.

That was true, but not something I was unfamiliar with, having spent the past three years here. I just looked at him narrow-eyed. Which one?

Nazrik had a couple of permanent lovers frequenting his bed—as he put it—sometimes more than one at a time. It had been quite uncomfortable at first, but in time I learned to take long walks around the city.

Jada, he replied with a shrug. The silk-trader. So, how about some carousing at the fair? The statue of the Twins is really spectacular.

I can’t believe you can’t afford a second tent for me.

You had one. But the Fringed Prince got wind of you shooting it into the sky so high some children thought it was a kite, so he kindly requested that I don’t leave you alone at night.

You didn’t tie it down properly! I lashed back. I never met the illustrious prince of An Ramash, but Nazrik seemed to be in his good graces, getting permission for me to stay even considering my occasional outbursts. I never quite understood how these people could look past our not-quite human nature, but it had been a welcome surprise.

You’d rather spend all night embracing your lovers, don’t deny it, I said.

I’ll get you another tent for your marriage. Deal?

You… I couldn’t speak, just folded my arms. I had just lost this debate by a landslide, but I had to jab back at least. You’ll be stuck with me forever, then. Are you sure about it? And don’t think I’ll treat your bruises every time, old man.

Nazrik’s perfectly confident mask shattered for a moment. He closed his eyes and held up three fingers.

I’ll count to three and we’ll both forget about the time you called me old.

I just chuckled and waved goodbye, setting out to see the statue of the Twins for the hundredth time.

The main square—or what served as the main square—housed most of the spectacles, urging the mass of revelers to ignore the unbearable heat and wander around. We were in an oasis in Northern Nirah, on the way towards the Qajari Peninsula, so the climate was still as hot as the desert. Some resourceful traders picked up on this opportunity, selling the widest variety of cooled drinks, iced fruits, and—my favorite—expensive ice creams. How they made them here was more mysterious than Nazrik’s entire shop of trinkets, but I didn’t complain.

I was about to buy some, spending Nazrik’s money as revenge for making me do this, when I was approached by a man. He was tall and rather handsome by human standards.

Miss Zaira. A delight to see you here, he said, bowing politely with a smile on his face. How was your performance?

Inspector Hrithan. I smiled back. He was the last person I expected to meet here. It was fine, Nazrik knows how to charm an audience. It’s a shame you weren’t there to see it.

My apologies, I was rather busy, he said, raising his turban a bit to wipe the sweat from his brows. With this large a crowd, there are a lot of opportunities for thieves. I am frankly baffled how the Twins remain in place, he said, looking at the golden and silver statue of the two moon gods. Had you lost a pouch to unwanted hands?

No, I hadn’t. I’ll prove it, let me buy you a cream.

That’s not necces— he tried resisting but gave up when I pushed a cup into his hand. Well, I think one can’t do any harm. How is your luck nowadays, miss?

Better, thank you, I said, walking through the crowd, picking at the ice cream with the small wooden spoon it came with. I still miss my father terribly, but Nazrik does his best to help me. Still a long journey, but the Sun rises ever a little brighter.

I’m glad to hear that. Your father was a good man, even if I knew him for so short a time. Good men are missed forever.

I wanted to answer him, to thank his kind words but something caught me off guard. There was a strange scent in the air, like pure rain among the clouds before it fell onto the air.

Inspector Hrithan struck out and grabbed the hand of a boy reaching for my purse. It was a boy, barely older than a child with a face almost forgettable if not for the blue eyes.

I’ll never miss a thief right under my nose, the inspector said. What were you thinking?

That was an admirable feat, inspector. You saved my pouch.

This is my job, miss, he said, trying to keep the boy from escaping. You little rascal. Have your parents failed to teach you that stealing brings sorrow to the gods?

That was a frequent saying here because An Ramash hated thieves like no other city. In a place where everyone tried their best to barter coins out of each other’s pocket, they not only detested but looked down on someone who couldn’t learn the fine art of the deal.

What’s your name? Hrithan asked, forcing the boy to stand in front of us. He didn’t answer, just stared forward with utter hatred in his vivid, sapphire-like eyes.

There was a soft tinkle, like ice hitting ice, then no less than a dozen cups splashed as the ice cubes seemingly came alive and jumped right onto the inspector’s neck. The sudden touch of cold startled him just enough for the thief to elope, tearing his hand from his grasp.

A marid.

I was filled with both dread and excitement, and for some unknown reason, I decided to rush after him. My clothes were still the same ones I’d worn during the performance, hindering me quite a bit, but my legs were longer and I was now expecting his dirty little tricks.

Speaking of tricks, I held my hand out to the side, mimicking a grasping motion then pushed my arm forward as Nazrik taught.

Just a small breeze, please, a tiny little wind.

The sudden gale wasn’t strong enough to knock the boy prone onto his belly, but I managed to upset a pile of oranges, having them roll all over the place. One ended up exactly where the marid boy tried to put his foot, but he was more agile than I thought, barely falling out of rhythm.

It was enough, however, to catch his attention. He looked back at me, waving at a stall of cold wines, followed by one bottle exploding and staining my dress with the downpour.

You… you’ll wash this yourself, you sea monster!

I lunged at him, grabbing his knees mid-jump so we both fell onto the ground. I tried to wrestle him down, but he was slippery enough to get a few feet away, crawling on all fours.

I don’t have time for this, he finally said. I am a marid. A spirit of water. Leave me be, or I’ll drown you in all the ice here.

You can’t drown someone in ice, you arrogant brat, you need to melt it first, I replied, huffing at him. Your kind really is ignorant, aren’t they? Same thing here as back there.

What did you just say about my kind?! he asked, so offended it was almost comical, before he realized I wasn’t just taunting him. Wait. What do you mean my kind?

Inspector Hrithan caught up to us at that moment, grabbing the boy’s shoulder and pulling him up. Have you had enough running? Making a woman chase you, what a disgrace. Are you alright, Miss Zaira?

Nothing’s hurt but my poor dress, I replied, trying to dust off the dirt. It didn’t help with the wine stains, though. I think he found his tongue, Inspector.

Wonderful. He will have time to explain things by the prison poles at the outskirts, by himself. Maybe he’ll even remember a name there.

No, wait, the boy wailed. You didn’t answer. Hey, I said wait! What did you mean by my kind?

The poor kid almost broke his own neck trying to turn his head towards me while being dragged away. It was an amusing sight, so to escalate it I touched two fingers to my forehead and saluted him. The breeze that followed my movement swept my hair in the exact same direction, prompting a shocked growl from the boy before I lost sight of him in the crowd.

So, the prison poles. At least I knew where to find him if. All this excitement and barely an hour of my long walk had gone by.

* * *

I tried to occupy myself for a while longer, but after that minor incident, I couldn’t think of anything else. The djinn population had just jumped from two to three, and one of us was a petty cutpurse.

The Sun was almost touching the horizon by the time I headed home. To avoid occasions like when I accidentally walked in on Nazrik and his then-lover, we had some foolproof signs. If there was no light in front of the tent, it meant I shouldn’t be there either, but this time a lit torch was awaiting my return. I still didn’t ask him about the extent of his ability to see through the flames, but at least I could be sure he saw me arriving.

The scent of tobacco was the first thing I noticed pushing the tent flaps aside, but I couldn’t even get out of my sandals before I heard Nazrik’s voice.

How was your stroll? Anything exciting?

Like he didn’t know. He was fond of playing oblivious, but there wasn’t a single thing in An Ramash that missed his attention. But if that’s how he wanted to play this, I was up for it.

You could say that, I said, shrugging. The Twins look just like they did last year, the ice creams are overpriced, and… oh, there was a young marid thief juggling cubes of ice. Does that count?

The boy by the poles? he asked, turning his burning eyes to a nearby lit lamp, biting the mouthpiece of his pipe. Who was the unlucky subject he tried to steal from?

I was, but it was his misfortune. Look, he made a mess of my dress!

I thought that’s a good point in your book, he said while wrapping a cape around his shoulders. The stealing part, not the spoiled clothes. But you should change, it’s improper to meet a guest looking like that.

Hilarious, I said, rolling my eyes before stepping behind a curtain to change. I put on a much more comfortable violet dress, a gift from Nazrik some months before. He