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The city’s detention cell made quite an echo, despite the many cracks in the time-worn board walls. A melody rolled around in the room like a gust of wind, dancing and jumping as the musician—a young man on the doorstep of his twenties—dictated. He played a shingara, a weird instrument ending in nozzles both ways, mixing the attributes of a tin whistle and those musical sticks you could buy in the ramashi bazaar that beeped and cooed when you twirled them.
Visitors from over the sea couldn’t understand how could someone play such a flute, and a skilled shingarist fascinated even the locals. Ezair, the temporary occupant of the prison, considered himself extraordinarily skilled.
The sole soldier guarding him let out a sigh and dropped his head on the table. From how eager he looked with his post, Ezair guessed he must have lost in a dice game and this was his punishment.
“Will you ever stop?” he asked.
Ezair took the flute from his mouth, spinning it around between his fingers to draw out the last note.
“I told you. I’ll stop when I get what I asked for,” he said.
The guard just grunted, while his gaze wandered towards the saber lying in the corner for a moment. The twirling got faster and faster, heightening the sound, but the guard was more stubborn than Ezair thought.
“Don’t fool around. You know I can’t give a prisoner a weapon.”
Ezair shrugged and turned the flute back to his lips. He was in jail for the second day, and he had no intention to eat his third lunch here. Picking on the guard’s nerves was the only amusement he got, and if they dragged him in for such a paltry thing as a street brawl, then he deserved it.
The door opened and a man walked into the room. He wore a grey shawl and spotless blue uniform complete with a silver wave motive: the attire of the city’s inspectors. The tone-deaf guard jumped up and saluted, holding his clenched fist to his heart. So, fhis newcomer was no loafer, rather a high-ranking officer to cause such a panic.
He walked past the guard, approached the bars of the holding cell, but then stopped two feet away.
“Are you the mercenary from the Two-Headed Viper, known on the streets as Aspis?”
Ezair leaned against the coarse boards behind his back.
“Might be, might be not. How should I know what they call me on the streets?”
“If you want to play it that way, fine. I’m looking for Ezair Hazra. Is that more familiar?”
“Now, you see, that’s even more difficult. The only man who could confirm that is my uncle, and his house is really far from here,” Ezair said, shaking his head.
The man’s face became even stricter than before. Ezair wondered if he practiced it in his free time, or he was born this way.
“There won’t be anyone in your uncle’s house to confirm it, boy. Rashad Hazra was arrested for conspiring against the prince.”
The shingara fell to the floor with a quiet whistle, the dozens of holes and grooves carved into the flute turned the sound of it dropping into an endless, slow hum.
Ezair froze, then closed his eyes. The previous cheeriness disappeared from his face, replaced by a deadly calm.
“You know, I rarely give law enforcement any unnecessary trouble, just out of professional honor...” he said walking up to the bars to look the officer in the eyes. “But say something like that again, and I will break your nose on these bars.”
The officer didn’t even flinch. He stood with a calm look, daring Ezair’s amber gaze, and even took a step forward. He was brave, no one could deny that.
“Think what you want, Aspis. I was unlucky enough to consider Rashad a friend, so it was up to me to let his family know. Which, since he was unlucky as well, involves scum like you.”
Ezair kept his promise. He pounced like a viper, grabbing the collar of the officer’s uniform and pulling the man towards himself. He was taller and stronger than Ezair, but less careful.
He couldn’t flatten his nose on the bars like he first intended, but the force of the blow bruised the man’s skin and split his brow around one eye. The soldier guarding the cell immediately jumped closer and tried to support the officer, but he shook him off.
“You have no right to call yourself his friend!” Ezair hissed. “My uncle would never betray the prince, or the city, and he broke no law in his life.”
The officer staggered to the table and took the shawl off his head, pouring some pungent alcohol on it and pressing it against his wound.
“Think what you want, snake,” he repeated with more emphasis. “My task is finished here.”
“Finished? And? Heading home to weep for your friend rotting in jail? Or drink to his health?”
Ezair threw every curse he knew at the officer until the fist of the guard forced his mouth shut. He staggered back, fell against the wall, but he didn’t calm down.
The officer walked out the room. The door closed with a loud bang, which further fueled Ezair’s anger.
“Are you going to tell my father how good of a friend you are to his brother? Answer me!” He pressed against the bars and shouted so loud his throat started aching.
The guard hit him again, this time on his left cheek. “Shut up, you damn bastard.”
He was only doing his job, that was obvious, and Ezair would never have thought of hurting him on any other occasion, but this time his uncle was waiting in one of the prince’s dungeons. There was only one punishment for conspiracy – the gallows. He didn’t have time to spend the next week in captivity if he wanted to help.
“Or else?” he said, showing his teeth and leaning his forehead against the bars.
The guard fell for the trick and swung his fist, aiming for Ezair’s chin, but this time he was prepared. He danced to the side and caught the guard’s wrist, yanking him in the same fashion he did with the officer, then pressed his shoulder against the man’s elbow from below. He could have easily broken it, but that wasn’t his goal.
“I don’t want to hurt you. I know you’re just doing what you’ve been ordered to do, but you heard what your cowardly officer said. So now you will grab the keys in your neck, drop them in front of me, and I will let your hand go. Then you can try to grab a sword and stop me with it, but I don’t recommend that.”
The man took the keyring off and let it slip out of his fingers, while wheezing like a wild animal trapped in a corner. As the rattle stopped, Ezair let go of the poor bastard and picked the keys up. The guard immediately tried to kick him in the face, but he grabbed his foot and pushed it upwards to trip him.
“You little... you... damned...” the guard gasped, barely able to breathe. Ezair didn’t wait for him to pull together. His fingers quickly turned the keyring around until he found the largest one.
“Others would rather say I’m blessed. You know, amber eyes mean good luck,” he said while unlocking the cell, then jumped over the guard and picked up his saber. “Lucky enough for you to forget yourself and approach me with the keys. I’d say see ya, but I hope we never meet again.”
Ezair rushed out the door into the street, blending with the crowd before anyone caught wind of his escape. He had to clear up this misunderstanding about his uncle, but to do that, he had some places to visit.
***
The Desert Wind was as lively as usual. Everyone in the area knew that the Two-Headed Viper took up residence in this pub, and the mercenary guild brought a definite increase in patrons.
Given that, Ezair still counted more people than he anticipated.
He knew the colorful group of the pub’s regulars. That wasn’t a problem. The problem was the dozen or so men walking around wearing expensive red robes and gold rings the size of a nobleman’s signet, appearing and disappearing at the door, talking to guests and giving out generous gifts of money.
Considering the recent events, Ezair thought it was wiser to stay back and lean against the sun-heated wall of a neighboring building. He hadn’t mustered enough courage to go to his uncle’s house yet – he wanted to hear what Kahlaran’s actual ears and eyes, the people of the streets, knew of the case.
The pub door opened again, interrupting his daydreaming. This time it wasn’t one of the unfamiliar men, but a young womanbwith short, jagged hair, rubbing her eyes. A small joint of tobacco leaves hung between her thin lips, but she was nearly finished with it.
Ezair hissed, imitating a snake as realistically as possible, to draw the girl’s attention. She hesitated for a moment, but eventually just shrugged and slowly walked toward him. She didn’t even try to avoid attention.
“Hi, Aspis.”
Ezair sneered as the smell of tobacco hit him. It was a cliché for a sellsword to poison himself with something, but somehow, he could never get used to it.
“What’s going on, Nari?”
“You mean the guys with the fancy capes? They’re just asking questions for now, but they’re paying well enough.”
“About what?"
Nari laughed, as if she had reached the punchline of a joke.
“It’s ridiculous. They say Kahlaran has a djinn. A living, larger-than-life djinn.”
Ezair took a long, hard look at her, but still couldn’t decide if she was joking or not.
“Come again? You mean, a demon of the four elements? Here?”
Nari nodded. Ezair tried to keep a straight face but he couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow.
“I thought chief Irshan killed the last one that came by.”
“So he says. Don’t tell me you believe that old goat?”
Ezair rolled his eyes and let the matter go. “What do they want with a djinn?”
“No idea. I think they want to take it back to Yarma. That’s where they are from, allegedly.”
Something didn’t add up here. A fairy-tale being, not seen for decades perhaps, and the unthinkable imprisonment of his uncle, seemingly independent from each other, at precisely the same time. Either there was a link between the two, or the city of Kahlaran was cursed.
“Oh, don’t think so hard, it will damage your pretty head.”
Ezair completely ignored Nari’s taunt. In his mind, he was already far away.
“What about the palace? Did something happen there?”
“How should I know? Do I look like a prince’s consort to you?”
“You? A consort?” he said, raising an eyebrow.
Nari was not particularly ugly, according to many of his companions, she had quite a good figure, but she dressed sloppily, cut her hair with a knife, and swore worse than the Arisian sailors.
“My uncle’s been arrested, Nari,” Ezair said, finally getting it off his chest. It felt more real when he spoke it aloud. “I was hoping someone here would know why.”
Nari smirked, which in her case was a sign of the deepest sympathy. She took a hefty toke from her joint and slowly blew out the smoke like she was about to give a speech.
“Your uncle stuck his nose in something he shouldn’t have. He was investigating the Aarif murders, wasn’t he?”
So, she was lying about not knowing, but that was the least painful of her words.
He deserved it.
That’s what the barely hidden message meant, and Ezair usually would have agreed. But it wasn’t usually about Rashad.
“I don’t like a single thing in this story. Why did he get caught in a trap now? Right when an alleged djinn just shows up? It makes no sense.”
Nari tried very hard to keep casual, but her lips trembled with a repressed grin, and she looked at Ezair with obvious implications.
“You know something. Spit it out, Nari, I don’t have time.”
“Everything is connected, Aspis. The caped guys asked about the Asbith perfumery and the girl who works there. And someone’s saying the rich muggins... I mean, the most esteemed treasurer, may the Divine grant him rest, choked. That he inhaled a poison when he tried his latest perfume. I would bet an entire year’s salary on which workshop he ordered from.”
Things slowly took shape in Ezair’s head, but the details were still too vague. He had no idea how on earth Nari learned all this, but it was useful.
He sighed and rubbed his head. “So, a djinn killed the treasurer, and my uncle accidentally got involved. It’s a great start to this week. Asbith... Isn’t that run by a reclusive old man?”
“Do you always have to rub something when you’re trying to think? Typical man. There’s a girl there, too. I just told you. But I’m too broke to shop there, so I dunno.”
“How much did you tell them?”
“You mean the fancy capes? Nothing yet. Chief Irshan seems reluctant to cooperate. He asked for time until the other chief came home.”
“Good. Then I have time to clear my uncle and clean up this whole mess before the real culprit is dragged across the sea.”
Nari looked at him with some concern in her eyes. Ezair was notoriously reckless and liked to ignore little things like risk, potential pitfalls, or making plans.
“You’re reaching into a scorpion’s nest, Aspis. Playing with demons is never a good idea. Some people would get really sad if something happened to your pretty face.”
Ezair snorted. “Such as you, Nari? Don’t worry about me. You know exactly what I am capable of.”
“I’m not worried,” she said, contradicting herself from seconds ago. “I just don’t like solo jobs. Especially now.”
Ezair tilted his head towards her with a false smile, which made her shift uncomfortably.
“What?”
“You can help me, and then it won’t be a solo job.”
Nari laughed, which was a better reaction than he wished for.
“We lived to see this day. Ezair ‘Aspis’ Hazra asking me for help. Fine, what do you want?”
“Find out what the caped men want with the djinn. If they know something, it’ll get us halfway towards fixing this. And if the other Chief ever gets home, don’t forget to let me know right away. I’ll find out what my uncle got screwed for, and I’ll see you in... let’s say two days.”
Nari pulled faces as she weighed the profit to the risk. Ezair nearly gave up hope, but to his surprise, Nari sighed in agreement.
“All right. But you owe me one.”
“I owe you twice if you want,” Ezair said, pushing himself away from the wall. “Good hunting, Nari.”
She just waved and walked back inside, while Ezair turned around and headed for the palace. It seemed he had to ask his uncle directly.