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I can do this. I can do this.
Tamen repeated these four words to himself at least twice a dozen times as he made his way to the prince’s palace, and a dozen more while the two halberd-wielding guards guided him through the marble halls and corridors.
The princely palace was enormous. Some said that there were a thousand rooms in it, and even if it was a poetic exaggeration, the boy couldn’t deny that the wealth of Kahlaran was beyond imagining. There was not a sofa or vase of flowers that weren’t works of art, and the carpets and carvings that adorned the walls sometimes told entire stories in one perfectly composed image. It required self-control not to stop at each of them for a quarter of an hour, but he was here on an important matter, not playing tourist.
He had barely slept last night. Every time he closed his eyes, the desperate face of Asha Roasin struck him, as the girl sank into the abyss, and there was nothing he could do for her.
The monotone sound of the guards’ footsteps died down, and Tamen found himself in front of a gilded door decorated with squiggly patterns. Each of its wings weighed as much as three well-built men, and although they were definitely impressive, they looked no less menacing at the same time.
“Good luck, my lord. The Merciful Prince is not in a good mood these days,” one guard said. For someone whose job was to intimidate intruders, he looked really cordial.
“Believe me, I know exactly what you’re talking about,” Tamen replied.
The guards opened the door slowly, revealing the throne room, but before Tamen could get lost in the spectacle, the deafeningly sharp voice of a herald pulled him back from the fairytale world to the cruel reality. “Tamen, the firstborn son of Saleel Aarif, step forward. His Majesty Prince Charta Vivekanda, lord of this city and its lands, will hear you now.”
The throne room was vast, but a single pool occupied much of it, filled with glimmering oil and a narrow bridge leading to the prince’s throne. Columns lined the edge of the pool with eavesdropping nobles standing between them, ready to pick up any rumor that might be useful.
The prince lay half-reclining on his gilded, sofa-like throne with his feet to the side, resting on a pile of ornamental cushions. There was even scented smoke coiling up from a bronze incense container in front of him.
Tamen’s knees almost gave way, but he managed to put his right foot forward. His courage slowly returned and he walked halfway across the bridge with this momentum, then lowered his head and fell to one knee.
“Your Majesty, I have come before you in grief, but also with the determination to serve the province with the best of my knowledge and loyalty. I’m here to take up my father’s office as his heir.”
Prince Charta moved, as if he wanted to stand up, but then changed his mind. He was in his late forties, his short-cropped black beard mingled with gray threads, and even Tamen could see the dark circles under his eyes. His face was so slim as if the prince was fasting.
“Saleel’s son, arise and come closer.”
Tamen tried to get up, but his knees disobeyed. I can do this, he thought to himself one last time, before steeling himself to follow the order. They hadn’t thrown him out yet. If they gave him the office, he’d stand up for Zaira and Ezair, and get rid of Arjun Sikdar. That was all that mattered.
Tamen moved in front of the prince at a slow, measured pace, trying to take deep breaths so that his muscles would not tremble from the pressure. Or at least not conspicuously.
“Who occupies your father’s office now?” the prince asked, when Tamen was only a few feet away.
“For now, Councilor Arjun Sikdar, Your Majesty,” he replied, but couldn’t suppress the trembling of his voice. From the corner of his eye, he saw the paper-pusher under a nearby arch, but his face reflected nothing. The deep blue eyes stared at Tamen without blinking, but instead of scaring him, the boy felt more of a challenge.
He remembered Asha Roasin’s desperate face again, but he shoved the image in a closed corner of his mind.
“We gave the councilor your father’s title. Why would we change our mind?” the prince asked.
Because he is a usurper. A murderer and a puppeteer, toying with them all. That was the truth, but if the boy said that out loud, he would join Ezair’s uncle on the chopping block.
“Because, Your Majesty, the sudden void that followed my father’s death has prompted the province to find the simplest solutions, so the treasurer’s office does not stay vacant. But my father left this post for me as his inheritance, and he made sure that I could handle the responsibilities that came with it. I came here to start what I’ve been preparing for all my life.”
What he asked was impudence, no matter how he worded it. He was questioning the decision of the prince and the entire court, which was a capital offense, but he saw no other way in front of him.
“Your father’s death was a tragic event and punishment comes swiftly for those responsible,” the prince replied, with a moment of anger on his worn-out face. “We don’t deny that Saleel’s death shocked us to our heart, but are you saying, Tamen Aarif, that wisdom left us and we made the wrong decision?”
The boy shook his head. “By no means, Your Majesty. It’s just that you didn’t have time to properly think it through and find other options. To take the will of my father or my suitability into consideration.”
“Do you think you are capable of being treasurer? How old are you, boy?”
“I’m a dozen and three, Your Majesty, which means I’m almost a man. My father taught me everything I need.”
At least when his father found the time to care for his son. But his tutors had really taught him everything he could and should learn of the world and his father’s office. The late treasurer had provided the best teachers on the continent for his son.
Charta was visibly confused. He jumped up from his throne, and began walking up and down in front of it.
“Perhaps we would honor your father’s memory the most if we put you, his heir, in his seat. But we must be mindful of our decisions we have made before,” he said and walked down the stairs straight in front of Tamen. He was tall and thin, towering over the boy, even though Tamen wasn’t short himself. “We’re testing you, Tamen Aarif. You will receive your father’s duties and rights, and if you fulfill them by the end of the next lunar month, you will receive both his titles and rank.”
Tamen couldn’t believe his ears. It was an open secret that there was something between his father and the prince, something that deeply shamed him, and which he refused to even think about. Now it had proved quite handy, no matter what the relationship was.
“I am grateful beyond words to Your Majesty for the opportunity. I won’t disappoint you.”
“We sincerely hope not. Now go, and prove your worth.”
Prince Charta sat back on the throne. Tamen bowed and headed out, although he couldn’t resist giving Arjun a triumphant look. When the gilded doors had closed behind him, he almost staggered, nearly knocking over a large vase. The audience had been more exhausting than he had anticipated.
His gaze met a tiny man sitting on a padded stool. He was slightly pudgy, with short limbs, and his back stooped even in his seat. It would have been a strange combination if not for the calm, almost threatening discipline of his face and the rank of the provincial qrahr adorning his chest.
Tamen didn’t need to guess that he was looking at Lord Kherim. The boy bowed respectfully, and tried to walk past the commander.
“Slow down, young man. Don’t rush, sit down next to me for a minute,” Kherim said, much to Tamen’s frustration.
“As you wish, my lord,” Tamen replied. He didn’t understand what the prince’s brother could want from him, but refusing the invite was unthinkable. He didn’t want to start his new career by insulting someone who held such a prominent position.
“It was a bold thing to do,” Kherim began.
“I know, my lord. But I had to do it.”
“Why? Do you crave your father’s nuisances so much, Master Tamen?”
He had no idea what nuisances could await him. He thought there’d be a lot of paperwork to do, more counting, even more permits, and endless negotiation with the other nobles and perhaps the prince himself, about how many glittering sungold would go where. It wasn’t easy, and not nearly as exciting as Ezair’s life, but not that bad either. And if it could push Arjun Sikdar out of the prince’s halls, then it’d be worth all the pain and suffering.
“Not really. But I couldn’t let that mar—, I mean, that man usurp the office. My father’s office.”
“Go on, finish it,” the qrahr smiled. “Why did you stop in the middle of the word?”
Tamen paused. Just as he could not risk offending Lord Kherim, he could not allow the man to think he was a half-wit or worse, telling him that his hated guardian was a marid.
“Because he’s no man. He is a monster,” he said. Kherim took the answer with a smile.
“Did you find out anything about your father’s death?”
“I found the girl the killer used as a courier, but she drowned in the sea without testifying before the prince. My guardian is somehow involved, I know that,” Tamen said, clenching his fists. He had despised Arjun from the first moment, but since that night, contempt had grown into hatred in his soul.
“So, you figured it out. Quite fast, young master,” Kherim said. “I guess Sikdar isn't happy about being accused.”
“Oh, he doesn’t know yet. I’m not stupid enough to accuse him without proof. Sadly, the only evidence is sleeping with the fish.”
“If I were you, I wouldn’t underestimate him. And where do you get evidence?”
Kherim could have been a valuable ally in the court, but Tamen still tried to be mindful of what he told him. The web of intrigue was stickier than a spider’s net and way more poisonous. At least, that’s what his mother always told him.
“I’m... We will force him to confess, it just takes preparations,” he said.
“You’re not trying to hold a blade to his throat, are you?”
“Every child knows that bringing a monster to its knees isn’t that easy.”
“True. What do you do to bring him to his knees then? Use a magic lamp?”
“You jest, my lord, but some stories are truer than others. A magic lamp is too much, but every monster has its weaknesses. Fire fears water. The sea fears the storm.”
“Unfortunately, storms will avoid us for a while.” Kherim sighed, but Tamen could tell from his eyes that his mind was working like a machine, storing and organizing every little piece of information.
“I won’t trust the weather in the dry season either, but I know a storm’s on the way,” Tamen said.
“On the way? Where are you expecting the storm from, Master Tamen?”
“If I told you, my lord, I’d spoil the surprise.”
Kherim laughed. “Perhaps I should prepare my own household for the storm, so it doesn’t blow the roof off my head.”
“You’d be wise, my lord.”
“I like you, son. For Kahlaran’s sake, please do everything you can to spare yourself from your father’s fate.”
Tamen found this man very strange. It wasn’t what he expected and even less like what he was used to.
“I will, my lord. But... I don’t get it. You didn’t agree with my tutor’s appointment?”
“They didn’t ask me. They never do,” Kherim said walking away. “But let’s just keep this between us.”
***
As tempting as it was to take up the office immediately and get to work, Tamen didn’t want to neglect the task of helping to free Ezair’s uncle and Zaira’s father. He almost itched to regale the Viper about his triumph at the court, and if he could top it all with a plan ready, he could be a hero.
It was a strange feeling. He had given up on his own father’s affection a long time ago and never tried too hard to be the center of attention. Now, however, he thirsted for Ezair’s appreciation like a sip of water during a long desert trip.
He cut through the palace complex, out onto the marble-covered street and passed a few villas, to make his way to the main square. The archives were opposite the palace, close to the more boring offices, like the one he was now appointed to.
The court of Kahlaran had several important locations, but none as important as this. Anyone who wanted to take care of any matter had to gain entrance to places here, be that the office of major trading companies, the bank of the provincial association, or the temple towers of the Great Divine.
The morning was perfectly ordinary for the people of the city, so the square seemed moderately crowded, apart from an army of children who sat around a young man with blond hair, tied to the pillars of a well.
“But the djinns are immortal!” a kid shouted.
“Really?” the tied-up man asked, with a confident smile.
It would have been better for Tamen to just ignore them and walk away with a dignified posture, but he got curious. His old nursemaid hadn’t told him a tale in years, and after the events of the past few days, the word djinn caught his ears.
“You’re dumb, everyone knows the djinns die if you know their secret name,” one child snubbed the other, but he immediately lashed back.
“That’s for ghouls. Did your head boil in the heat?” Before the two boys could further escalate their debate, they both turned to the well. “How do you kill a djinn?”
The white-haired man just shrugged. “I’d love to tell you, but I’m afraid my mouth ran dry.”
The little ones popped up, racing to find water for their storyteller. Tamen smiled faintly at their enthusiasm, wishing to be carefree like them, but his childhood was over for good.
He approached the tied-up man. He noticed the shiny silver bracelet on his hand, depicting a two-headed snake, scratching against the stones every time its wearer moved his arms even a bit.
He sighed. “It’s not very nice to take advantage of kids to get water,” he said, folding his arms.
The man raised his head and scanned Tamen from head to toe. “It’s just business, little lord. I tell stories, they get me a drink. Ask them if they find it nice.”
Tamen unwittingly giggled. “You sound just like my friend. I have a lot to learn about business.”
He wondered if it would be appropriate for him to sit on the ground. It most certainly would not, but it bothered him more that he had to look down.
“Can I sit even if I didn’t get you water?” he asked.
“Oh, you got curious?” the man said, his half-smile turning into a triumphant grin.
Tamen shrugged. “Everyone likes a good story.”
“You wouldn’t believe it, but not everyone does,” he replied with slightly less joy and leaned his head against the well. The army of children returned, one of them with a little leather flask dripping with water. They almost climbed on the man as they tried to help him drink.
“Hey now, slow down. If I drown, who’ll finish the tale...?”
Meanwhile, the rest of them sat down next to Tamen, barely paying attention to him, like sparrow nestlings on a clothesline.
“So, I was standing there, right in front of the most powerful of all efrits, the Ever-Seething Baldra,” the storyteller said. Tamen propped his chin against his fist, paying close attention to every word. He was sure the guy was lying and just pretending to be the hero, but from the perspective of the story, it was irrelevant.
“The fire djinn pointed his spear at me, and I tell you it was made of pure lava. It sizzled and bubbled like this,” he said, mimicking the sound effects, much to the kids’ laughter. “But I said to him: cower in fear, fire spirit, for your words will not deter me. I know who you are. You’re Baldra, the efrit, the Scourge of the Islands and Sea. But I am no less than you. I am Hain, son of Irshan, Chief of the Two-Headed Viper, second only to my father. That’s what I said.”
Tamen laughed with the kids, but as the tied-up man introduced himself, it got stuck in his throat. So, he wasn’t wrong about the bracelet, and this situation was even more extraordinary.
“Isn’t that what Prince Kanda said when founding the city in the legend? At least Aunt Rashna says so,” one of the kids interrupted.
“So, what if he did? Maybe your storyteller thought if it worked for Prince Kanda, it’ll work for him, too,” Tamen said.
“Just like the little master says. And shock and awe: as I drew a sword, I saw fear behind the seething wrath in the eyes of the fire djinn. Then he stabbed at me with his spear, so I jumped to the side, missing the spear no more than an inch...”
After that, the tale continued for a long time, describing Hain’s epic struggle with Baldra in varied and colorful ways, at the end of which he forced the efrit to flee, fearing for his life. Tamen thought it impossible that even a word of it was true, but all the “whoas” and “aahs” proved that the story left an impression on those gathered around.
“So, Chief Hain, was he immortal or not?” Tamen asked at the end of the story, emphasizing on the word “chief” because the guy didn’t look capable of leading anything at all.
“Well, he was a coward for sure, deterred by my famous fencing skill,” he replied, raising his head defiantly, forgetting that he was tied to a well. He head-butted the stone with a knock, causing the children to laugh and scatter around the square, chasing each other. Their storytime was finished.
“I guess that’s the story for today, little master. Besides, you haven’t told me who you are. I know the names of all the dirty street orphans. You’re not my usual company,” Hain said.
“Did you replace adventuring for an orphanage?” he asked. “My name is Tamen.”
“So, Tamen. I see you have a sharp tongue. You remind me of someone.”
“Well, I try my best to learn. It’s never too late to start. It’s been a pleasure, Hain, son of Irshan. I may come by tomorrow, if you have more stories up your sleeve.”
He stood up and walked away from the strange tale-teller. His task hadn’t gotten done, but he was definitely in a better mood.
***
Fortunately, the library was only a few dozen steps away.
Tamen gently knocked on the iron door separating the lobby from the main hall, then entered the dusty room. He could see rolls of paper piled up on the shelves, seemingly tossed on each other, but the tables were in perfect order. He expected an old man barely able to shuffle before him as a librarian, but instead, he was greeted by a young man not even in his thirties, with the momentum of an ocean breeze.
“Welcome to the Provincial Archives of Kahlaran. How can I be of service, my lord?”
Tamen blinked twice in surprise but quickly got himself together. “Greetings. I’m Treasurer Tamen Aarif. Or... Probationary Treasurer, but that’s irrelevant. I need some blueprints; can you help me?”
“Oh, of course,” the young librarian said, bowing before his title. “We have field maps, building and canal plans and ship schematics.”
“The buildings and canals will do fine... But first and foremost, I would be interested in excavations about the ruins of the Old Garden and what’s built directly on them.”
“Oh, the old ruins... Hmmm...” The librarian thought, humming to himself. “My predecessor didn’t leave any instructions about those, but I’m certain we can find something.”
“I’d be obliged.”
Tamen followed him into the maze of shelves. The man occasionally picked up a book or scroll, then put them back on after reading the titles. Eventually, he took a leather-bound tome under his arm, joined, after some minutes, by another roll of parchment. By the time they finished, the librarian gathered three books and a scroll.
“I think that’s all there is. The scroll is just a list, so I doubt it will prove useful. The books are much more interesting.”
“Thank you. Can I study them here? Also, do you have the plans for the buildings built on the ruins?” Tamen asked.
“Sure,” the librarian said and led him toward a table. “You’ll find everything you need in the books. If you don’t, just let me know. I’ll keep looking.”
“Thank you again.”
Tamen felt some resentment about the other’s proximity, but preferred not to say anything, just sitting down at the table to unravel the tiny lines of soldierly letters before him.
It took him perhaps two hours to find something useful. Kahlaran was populated well before the collapse, and later they had built the new city on the ruins of the previous civilization. The palace dungeons were no different. Their lowest levels stretched down into the ruins, but the tunnels that led further afield were closed with walls or had collapsed a long time ago. They could clean up a collapsed area or blow up a weaker wall, both of which were bold and conspicuous, but sometimes those were exactly what they needed. He also found that the masons had planned for a siege and left tunnels only sealed by locked doors under half the city, in case the populace had to flee.
While reading, Tamen could feel the librarian’s gaze. Sometimes he looked back over his shoulder, but tried very hard to concentrate on his task.
“What’s your excellency searching for? Maybe I can help,” the librarian asked, eventually, leaning on the table board with such momentum that his signet ring hit the wood with a quiet knock.
“Thank you, it’s very kind of you, but I found the entries I was looking for,” Tamen said. “Although... Can you find me some paper and ink?”
“Of course. At once,” the man replied, and as he rose, the sun shining through a nearby window shot back from the golden emblem in his ring – drawing the image of a rising sun in front of Tamen.
The boy returned to the text, but after a few moments, he heard the librarian’s footsteps behind him. “Deep breaths, Your Excellency.”
Suddenly, a brawny hand covered Tamen’s mouth and nostrils with a gauze-like fabric giving off a heavy, suffocating scent.
“But wh—” the boy muttered, but he was too late. A fog flooded his brain in an instant and he started falling toward the ground in a spreading darkness that covered the entire world. When his shoulders hit the floor, he was already unconscious.
***
His mind took a while to shake down the solid grasp of whatever fume he breathed in. He could raise his head, and his eyesight wasn’t damaged either, but he was still dazed.
The place he found himself in looked like a storeroom, at least based on the shelves, bags, and crates visible in the obscure light provided by a small window. He was sitting in a chair with hands tied to his back, but his legs remained free.
“Good morning, Your Excellency,” the librarian grinned at him, though no sweetness remained on his face. Tamen rattled his ropes desperately, but they wouldn’t even bend, much less rip.
“What’s with all this?”
“I’ll explain everything right after you answered two questions. If I find your words believable, we’ll be done quickly. So, first, where’s the yann you call Zaira?”
A sudden rush of fear took over Tamen. What was he supposed to say now? This man was still a mystery and betraying his friends wasn’t an option. He tried gathering the remains of his courage and thought about what Zaira would say in his place.
“She’s pretty, I admit, but there must be easier ways to find a lover,” he said, trying to sound half as confident as the djinn girl.
The man slapped him so hard, his ears started ringing. Tamen had never been beaten, neither by his parents nor his peers.
“Those aren’t the words I was expecting. Let’s try it again. Where is Zaira?”
“Somewhere in An Ramash,” Tamen said with an ever-tightening throat. “She’ll be back in two or three days, so you don’t have to waste your time jumping on a horse and riding out.”
“We’re making progress,” the librarian said, smiling. “Who’s helping her? Besides you, Your Excellency.”
Tamen wondered if he should take another slap, but actually, his guardian already knew everything. The only outcome of acting the bravado would be a beating, as eventually this man would get everything out of him. He wasn’t strong or steadfast, he was just a boy.
“A Viper... And a girl named Chai...” he muttered.
“I have to say, I thought it would be much harder. I’m glad you’re wise. You’ll make a fine treasurer,” the librarian said.
Suddenly someone knocked on a door.
“I’m almost done. I told you not to bother me until then,” the man shouted, but the door opened regardless.
“I made sure they will not,” said the newcomer, hiding his face with a thin cloth, but Tamen immediately recognized Lord Kherim from his voice and physique. The qrahr rested one hand on his belt, while the other clutched a bloodied short sword.
The librarian’s eyes jumped around the room, looking for an escape route, but there was only one entrance, and bags and shelves blocked the window.
“I’ll answer your questions in advance,” Lord Kherim said. “I found you because you were careless and didn’t think anyone else was following the boy. Given that, it wasn’t my sole purpose to save him, but since I’m here, my heart wouldn’t take leaving him. And, yes, I will kill you.”
In his final desperation, the librarian leaped towards the qrahr, trying to grab his wrists and knock his shorter enemy on the ground. Kherim stooped and stepped forward, sliding under the man’s armpits and plunging the short sword between his ribs. The librarian bent backwards like a bow, then stumbled and collapsed on the floor.
Tamen couldn’t believe his luck. He seemed to have piqued Lord Kherim’s interest, if he followed him to the library, and even here. Seeing him first hand, he now believed every rumor about his legendary abilities.
“Thank you,” he mumbled.
“You should, Master Tamen,” Kherim replied, cleaning his blade on the dead man’s clothes. He looked at the golden signet ring for a few moments, then buried it in his pocket. “You still have some toughening-up to do.”
“But... But I don’t get it. Zaira agreed to turn herself in. She told Sikdar, I was there. What else do they want?”
Tears gathered in his eyes, more from humiliation than pain, but they meant the same thing. That he had enough.
“Do you think the Marid is reliable enough not to fool his partners in crime?”
“No. He’d do it without remorse, but then... Then I don’t understand a thing.”
“You don’t have to, just pretend that you do,” Kherim said, straightening up. “I’m sure your friends will understand. If these morons ever find you again,” he added, cocking his head towards the body. “Just brag that you killed this one and run.”
“Why must they involve us in this whole thing? Why don’t they just go and fight somewhere in the desert?”
“Son.” Kherim approached him and put the sword in his hand. “Don’t worry, they won’t fight over our city for much longer.”
Tamen was shaking. “We should throw them all in an arena until they take care of it. We have nothing to do with them! My mother had...”
His voice cracked at the end with helpless anger, but he couldn’t repress his emotions any longer. Three djinns were chasing each other, and they got the worst of it. The librarian, Asha Roasin, his parents... They had all died because of it. They were all pieces on the chessboard of demons, their lives meaningless and fragile. Tamen burst into tears, giving up on any hope he could redeem himself in the eyes of the qrahr.
Kherim squeezed his shoulder. “On your feet, young master. Let’s make sure these spirits and their followers leave. Do you feel you can do that? If you don’t, give me back my sword now, but if you do... You’ll know what you must do.”
Tamen sniffed, but he tightened his grip on the hilt. “I can do it.”
“That’s it. Prepare yourself, Master Tamen. There’s a storm coming,” the qrahr said, then pulled up the cloth that had slipped on his nose and walked out.
Tamen was alone with a bloody sword and two corpses, but he didn’t even think of them. His mind was more preoccupied with the fact that his guardian pushed around everyone on his board as he saw fit, even his allies. The question remained, who was he playing against?