I left setting up the tent to the boys. Even when I was alone with Nazrik, I was more of a liability than a help, so the three of them had to manage better. Instead, I set out on a shopping trip, trying to guess how much food we needed, now that our household had increased yet again. There was a saying that where three could eat full, the fourth wouldn’t leave hungry either, but that was awfully unspecific.
Lines were much longer, now that the awestruck qajari swarmed An Ramash, but after a long hour, I got enough rations. Meats, vegetables, flour, even some spices, even though that was the only thing I always had a full stash of at home.
The basket grew quite heavy, but I immediately forgot about it when I saw my brand-new tent. Hain was busy lifting a wooden beam, but my appearance confused him enough for his thumb to get stuck under it.
I was about to burst out laughing at his reaction, but it got stuck in my throat hearing the foreign swearing escaping his mouth. It was the same language Ezair used.
“That dialect,” I said, putting the basket down. “I know you’re swearing, but what’s that language?”
“Arisian.”
“Why are you swearing in Arisian?”
“Because that’s what I am.”
We exchanged a few confused looks, trying to decide which one of us was more surprised. Ezair said they had met when they were both children, so he couldn’t have been a foreigner.
“You’re Arisian?” Salar asked. “What does that mean?”
“Arisia is an island kingdom,” I said. “North of Seiran, somewhere northwest of Yarma.”
“That’s where you come from?”
“What’s the surprise?” Hain said, arching an eyebrow. “Look at yourself, then look at me. Do I look Seir to you?”
After years under the scorching heat, most people gained a similar tan, but his eyes and hair were quite rare in this part of the world.
“Is it nice there?” I asked.
Hain just shrugged. “I don’t know. Never been there. My mother hasn’t, either, only my father.”
“And Ezair?”
“What about him?”
“When he was angry, he used to swear exactly like you just did.”
Hain was surprised at first, but eventually just shrugged. “Good. Practice makes perfect.”
“The first thing you taught your friend was how to swear in your language?” Salar asked.
“Always start with the basics, as my old man said. Do you want me to teach you too?”
“Don’t teach Salar how to swear. Instead, teach him how to impress Nisha. It’s high time we pay Nazrik back for all those long walks.”
“Nisha?”
Salar tilted his head to the side, trying to find the right word. “My love… I think.”
“I see. So, I should teach you to pick up girls, is that it? That’s a better joke than the fighting thing.”
I folded my arms. “It’s your fault he never gathered any experience in this matter.”
“You live with the Spirit of the Lamp,” Hain said with a cynical scoff. “I bet you can see a millennium’s experience in this matter in less than two hours.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about. Salar needs some more… human teaching.”
“It doesn’t matter, he probably couldn’t help even if he wanted to,” Salar said. “He’s only good with swords and chasing–if you can call three years of failure that.”
This line sounded like a dare, something he used deliberately. It sent such a punch in the stomach Hain visibly froze, taking a deep breath and shooting such an offended gaze towards Salar as if he wanted to skewer him with his eyes.
“Listen here, you little…” The curse got lost in another deep breath, but it obviously didn’t calm Hain down. “Sorry to tell you, but you’re a lost cause. Most women are attracted to determined men, and running away isn’t helping your image.”
“I’m not running away!”
“Is that so? Then I guess Nisha’s perfectly aware that you’re courting her?”
I was in the middle of dinner preparations, chopping up onions and garlic, but that word almost made me drop a knife. “Courting? And here I was, thinking nobody could top Nazrik’s archaic word flowers.”
Hain’s huffish gaze turned to me. “It’s a more delicate way to put it than seducing. But my question still stands: does she know or not?”
“She does,” Salar said, raising his wrist, showing the threaded band around it.
“Then I’m lost. Why would you need help with impressing her?”
“She’s never been here,” I said. “He got a bracelet, fine, but until I hear Nazrik scoffing about getting thrown out of his tent, I’m not satisfied.”
I was overdoing it. Salar and Nisha were doing alright. I just wanted to give the boys something else to bond with, other than their yet-to-start fencing lessons. And Salar could always use some tips if he ran into some complications with his budding relationship.
“Is that such a bad thing?” Hain asked.
“What?”
“That Nisha hasn’t seen that chaos that is Nazrik’s tent.”
“I never took you for the orderly type.”
Hain sighed. “All right, I see what’s your game.” He put his arms behind his back like a lecturer, turning to Salar. “Women like surprises. New clothes, new jewelry, new experiences, that sort. Do something she has never seen before, and she’ll be swayed.”
“Something like what?”
“Be creative. Serenade her under the full moon or something. Can you sing?”
“I don’t know. Never tried.”
“You’re a marid,” I said. “I’m sure you can. But is that really going to work?”
“Depends on the girl,” Hain said, leaning his shoulder against a wooden pole. “It worked with Serah.”
The knife stopped in my hand, but I tried to mask it by brushing everything I chopped until then into a cauldron of boiling water. “Who’s Serah?”
“Do you really want to know?”
“I’m owed knowing who you might bring home,” I said, putting the knife down a bit harder than I intended. “I memorized Nazrik’s every lover, too. In Qajar, for example, he has a kind woman named Delilah.”
“You don’t have to worry about me bringing home anyone,” Hain said, rolling his eyes. How could he be offended? “Nazrik has Qajari lovers?”
“Nazrik has lovers in every capital, plus some in An Ramash, and whoever else he fancies at any given time. I would suggest you come over in those hours, Salar, but I doubt a different tent helps much with hearing like yours.”
Salar just rubbed his nose. “I’m good at hearing things I don’t want to. Four tents away someone’s sharpening a skinning knife. Has been for an hour. It’s driving me mad.”
“I can’t even imagine how much of a burden it is,” I said.
“I’d argue that,” Hain said. “Especially when the thing you’re hearing is a blade unsheathing from across a market.”
“Skilled assassins don’t unsheathe their blades too early,” Salar said.
“How did you know it was Hain?” I asked.
“I didn’t. But after two years of pursuit, every sword’s the same.”
“Wasn’t that when I lost my other pair of boots?” Hain asked.
“Which was entirely your fault. Did you really think chasing me on a lakeshore was a wise idea?”
“It was shallow enough to try.”
“Your brain was shallow.”
I couldn’t hold back my laughter, although I tried to temper it into a modest chuckle. “At least you’ll have new things to spin tales about.”
“We’ll see.”
“How’s the tent coming up, by the way?”
“Surprisingly, it only collapsed twice,” Salar said.
Hain shrugged. “It’s liveable. Not a princely palace, but rain might just leave it standing.”
“The rain may… but me?”
“That’s on you.”
“I’d be lucky if that were true, but we’ll see.”
Nazrik was confident there’d be no problem if Hain was there. He didn’t even have to say it; it was quite obvious from our previous conversations, but Hain couldn’t always be there. Especially if he had someone.
“Dinner’s still a few minutes away. You can get your things from Serah in the meantime,” I said, dropping meat and spices to the cauldron.
Hain rolled his eyes again. “Can you stop that? I don’t have things anywhere. What you see is all I have.”
When I looked his way, all I saw was a light shirt, trousers, and boots, with his dusty green cloak lying near the tent along with his sword.
“You must be joking. Supplies? A change of clothes? Sharpening stone? Anything?”
“I’m a mercenary. My needs end with a good sword and a good horse, and whatever it takes to keep those two in shape. But I ran out of those a while ago, so yeah, that’s it.”
I just blinked. “Did you say horse?”
“I did. I named him Babaq, and he’s probably slumbering under a shade at the paddock. Don’t worry, he’s not bitey.”
“I’m not worried, but he’ll stay where he is.”
Hain’s forehead creased and his brows rose, even though he must have remembered our cover story for Sakrajit’s camp. Judging by the sudden shine in his eyes, he did.
“Oh, yeah, yanns loathe horses. Almost forgot. It’s fine, though, Babaq won’t mind. He’s dumb as dirt, I doubt he can take offense at anything.”
“Just their smell. I know it’s a shame, many people told me horses are really gentle, but I just… can’t. But I’m sure Babaq is no less adorable.”
In all honesty, I wished my nose wasn’t so sensitive, since I truly wanted to get familiar with horses, even learn to ride one, I just didn’t have the strength yet to ignore their smell.
“Speaking of smell, I also loathe unwashed clothes.”
“Not a problem. I only have one suit.”
“You’re joking. What if it’s dripping wet because you just washed it?” My eyes narrowed for a moment. “You do wash your clothes, right?”
“Yes, I do, but as you might have noticed, we’re in Seiran. Things don’t stay wet long enough to catch a cold.”
“As if that’s what I’m worried about,” I said, trying really hard to ignore the memories of Hain washing his hair back in the oasis. Imagining he wasn’t only missing a shirt, but pants as well made this whole picture worse—in a way—, and I was already blushing. Or at least, given how hot my ears felt, I must have been.
“We have to go shopping. Now.”
“Maybe it isn’t the right time to bring this up, but I’m out of money as well.”
The flaps of the neighboring tent rustled as Nazrik walked out, heading our way almost immediately. “Might I offer you a solution to that?”
“You’ll hire him to sell lamps?”
“Not exactly. Do you remember the ring that muffles every sound the wearer makes?”
I nodded. “If I recall, it’s your only bauble that works with non-mejais, right?”
“Right. Recently, I made a special trade and lent it to someone, who—let’s just say—forgot to give it back.”
“Stealing things back is Zaira’s specialty,” Hain said.
I stuck my tongue out at him, while Nazrik just smiled. “I’d rather have it returned willingly.”
“So where do I come in?”
“Well…” Nazrik scratched his temple. “I’ve lent the ring to the treasurer’s son, Nader, but he wasn’t asking for it for himself. I’m quite certain a street kid named Rasoul has it now. You’ve already met him, if I’m not mistaken.”
“Couldn’t you tell us that before we went and saved him?”
“This happened later. I’ve only found out this morning that the boy ‘lost’ my ring.” Nazrik sighed. “Whatever you may think, I’m not good with kids. But I care for them, so I’d like you to return my ring in a way Rasoul doesn’t feel threatened.”
I never imagined there would come a day when Nazrik confessed he wasn’t perfect at everything. Our life took quite sudden turns.
“How should I manage that?” Hain asked.
“Spin a tale that requires it. Say that you, as his savior, need it to defeat the bandits once and for all. Figure something out, Silver Viper. I know that’s your specialty. Do this, and you can consider yourself hired.”
Hain took a moment to think this through, then turned to Nazrik with a strange grimace. “Hired for what?”
“You shall see,” Nazrik replied. From his impish grin, it was quite obvious what he meant.
I leaned forward on the bench, smiling as sweetly as Ivara herself. “What do you think? You’ll take care of whatever he doesn’t want to.”
Hain just scoffed, eventually dropping the subject and sneaking closer to the almost ready lunch.
“What are you making?”
“Goat. With vegetables and spices, and flatbread on the side,” I said, reaching for a spoon. A sudden jolt struck my fingertips as I was about to touch the metal, making me pull my hand back. It wasn’t the first time, and it had started to bother me. I reached out again, grasping the spoon more decisively, then dunked it into the cauldron and fished out a piece of meat. “Here. Have a bite and tell me if something’s missing.”
Hain took a deep breath before biting into the offered piece of goat, then gulped it all down and stared at the empty spoon.
“That’s… good. I mean, it’s… Wow.”
“Were you expecting it to turn into sand or what?”
“Taken from the places I usually eat, yes, something like that. Or that I need to eat a mouthful of bread to mask the spoiling aftertaste.”
I shuddered, taking the spoon from him. I again felt a shock, but I couldn’t decide if it was from his skin or the metal. Probably the latter. Most likely the latter.
“You won’t need tricks like that here. I’m not allowing anything that bad into our home.”
“Home,” Hain mumbled. “I’m still getting used to that.”
After he set up the tent, Hain tried his best to not get in the way, acting like he wasn’t even present. It was comfortable for a time—at least he wasn’t boasting or picking on my nerves—but after a while, it was more irritating than anything else. I tried to ignore his constant staring into the middle distance, instead occupying myself with mundane things: getting my stuff over to my new tent, buying some new decorations to liven it up a bit, that sort of thing.
Nazrik disappeared right after lunch, probably going on about his own business, and Salar was more eager to spend time with Nisha than helping me drag my dressing table or the large chests over. I deliberately didn’t ask Hain for help. If he wasn’t going to offer it, I wasn’t begging for it.
It was already sunset when I got to dividing the interior into three sections like Naz did with his own tent. One area was for Hain, one was mine, while the third was a sort of lounge where we could eat or entertain guests. When I finished, I stuck my head out to see Hain still sitting at the same wooden bench he’d occupied since noon.
“Yes?” he asked, arching an eyebrow.
“Are you spending the night outside?”
“Only if you’re afraid to sleep in the same space as me.”
“Listen, if you keep mocking me, maybe it’s better if you stay out.”
I was frankly tired of it. It was entertaining for a time, taking jabs at each other, but if we wanted to live under the same tent, peace was infinitely better.
Hain got up and quickly entered after me. “Sorry. I wasn’t trying to mock you. It’s just my nature.”
“You keep wasting honest moments to apologize. This was the last. I won’t bug you, you don’t bug me. Deal?”
“It will be so boring,” he said, pulling a face. Before I could throw something at him, however, he put his hands up. “Fine, all right. Deal.”
“It wouldn’t be boring if you didn’t sit on a bench all day. I, for example, have a really strict routine, since Nazrik has a saying that boredom brews catastrophe in my case. And he’s tired of being summoned by the prince.”
Hain sat down around the small table in the center, leaning forward, studying my face. There was nothing interesting about it, honestly.
“What do you mean by strict?”
“Something different every day. Shopping, making breakfast, then usually practicing to control my powers. Around noon I’ll make lunch, like today, then Nazrik usually gives me a task. It can be anything, really, from cleaning to reading his boring books or studying Seiran’s cultures. Oh, and I have dance class three times a week. Evenings are usually not set, so that’s free time. Satisfied?”
“I’m not interrogating you,” Hain said, falling on his back, looking at the tent’s ceiling. “It has been seven years since I spent more than three weeks in the same place. I don’t know how to get started. It’s like everything was whirling around until now, but suddenly stopped. I was thinking if I stopped with them, things would feel natural, but they don’t.”
“Miracles rarely happen in a day, even in An Ramash. You have a job, get to it,” I said, then sighed. So much for not bugging each other. “When I arrived, I lay in a tent all day long. I didn’t want to do or even feel anything, but then a lot of responsibility fell into my lap. My dad needed help, and no matter how miserable I felt, it was more important. It was a duty. When Nazrik saw how it shook me out of melancholy, he started pushing minor tasks on me. Before I realized it, the flow of things became normal. Or natural, as you said.”
“The flow of things for me starts with a terrified boy. Kids are much smarter than adults give them credit for and have way better instincts. If I can’t make peace with myself, Rasoul won’t trust me. What’s your next item in the flow, dae… Zaira?”
“You can call me a daemon, Chiefling,” I said with a shrug. “If you explain the difference between daemon and demon.”
“It’s rhetoric. Daemon is an Arisian word, meaning… well, djinn. It’s just a different name for your kind. Seirs adopted it in a derogatory manner, that’s how demon came to be. The original isn’t a slur. If the old man’s to be trusted, it’s quite respectful.”
That was news, but I couldn’t quite decide what to do with it. It bothered me less, though, and was significantly better than the princess thing he made up.
“So, back to the topic: what’s next?”
“I don’t understand your question. I’ve just told you how my day runs.”
“You’ve said evenings are free time.”
I nodded. “You’re right. This evening was for settling in–something which I could have used your help with, by the way.”
“Dinner?”
“I’m not cooking for dinner. We usually eat fruits, or leftovers from lunch, or whatever the salesmen outside can get us to buy.”
Hain sighed painfully. “You’re not making this easy.”
“You’re doing it wrong. Try it like this: Zaira, I’m truly grateful that you were kind enough to shelter my sorry ass, and to pay you back I’d be honored to buy you dinner. It’s not that hard.”
“You’re mistaken. I wasn’t trying to show gratitude, I’m just bored and mentally exhausted. I thought helping you with dinner could be a nice step towards the normal.”
Of course. How could I ever believe this jerk could even try to be kind?
“I can teach you to cook.”
Hain stood up and dusted his pants off before he realized he wasn’t sitting on the ground, rather on an expensive silken pillow.
“A wise man always learns from a woman’s grudge, so let me apologize by really buying you dinner. I can’t find a better use for the advance Nazrik gave me. I wanted to talk about something anyway and it’s way more bearable when you’re not hungry.”
“As if I could wait till dinner before you spit it out,” I said, still huffy.
Hain’s scar curled up from the half-smile he put on. “Three days ago, I’d have gladly abused that. But to satisfy your curiosity… I want to talk about Ezair. More precisely how you feel about him.”
Like a stab into my heart. My chest squeezed, my stomach churned from even the thought of food, and a strange cold crept under the tent’s walls. “Why? Does it matter?”
“Something that can pin you down like that matters,” Hain said, letting go of the smile. “I’m still not interrogating you, or blaming you for anything. I just want to hear your side. Until now, all I cared about was myself and the walls I’ve built to keep everyone else out. My walls have crumbled to dust, so now I want to peek around yours.”
“Stop covering this in poetic phrases. I’ve lost someone I cared about, even though he never cared about me. He opened a door to the world, something I’ll be forever grateful for and I’ll blame myself until the end of time for not preventing what happened. If I hadn’t left him alone to ponder over his misery, but sat by his bed instead, he might be alive now. That’s my side. What else do you want?”
“Do you seriously believe that? No one could’ve stopped Ezair from doing whatever he thought necessary. Even if you tied him to that bed, holding the ropes yourself, it wouldn’t have made a difference.”
Hain looked sad, something I could barely recognize after his usual cynism, rage, or self-loathing.
“You’re not blaming me, you’ve said it. So why blame yourself?”
“Because I knew how much of a wreck he was coming back from the palace. Both Chai and I knew how he would feel, yet we chose to be discreet and what we thought was kind. If we couldn’t have deterred him, maybe we could have stalled him, bought some time until he cooled down, or at least… at least the execution was over. This conversation is absolutely meaningless. We can pick it apart a hundred times, nothing brings him back. We can only remember and move on, something I’ve understood for a while.”
“I do, too. Now I only want to understand you.”
I settled on a pillow, and so did Hain. This evening was turning quite tedious, and I’ve given up on dinner already.
“What are you trying to understand? Why did I set a sandstorm on Kahlaran? Nazrik calls it a Storm, a kind of mental breakdown.”
“You know, I was sure I’d figured you out before, but I thought the same about myself as well. That turned out to be a lie, so this must be one too. And thus, I’ve no idea why you are helping me, letting me stay, or trying this hard to make me reconcile with Salar. If it has nothing to do with Ezair, I’m completely lost.”
So that’s where he was coming from. We really should have cut the extra laps.
Even though the situation was clearer, the answer wasn’t any easier, and I needed some time to think it through. And the result wasn’t flattering.
“I’ve promised not to insult you, so trust me, you don’t want to know.”
“Has that sentence ever convinced anyone? Fine, let’s make this a deal too. If you tell me one thing about that enormous sea of thoughts that resides inside your skull, I promise to take care of a task you give me. Like a job where you’re paying with the truth.”
“Just remember, you asked for it. Fine. I’m letting you stay because I feel sorry for you. I don’t want anyone to see you in such a state you were this morning. Nazrik would have made the same decision, and I try my hardest to be like him. That’s your answer, so now every second week is your turn in cleaning the tent.”
Hain kept quiet, studying my face again, taking a long time at my eyes. I couldn’t figure out what he was looking for.
“I got off easy,” he said.
“It wasn’t an enormous secret.”
“Then why did you tell me I wouldn’t want to know?”
“Because… Because I didn’t want to hurt your pride by looking down on you. Honestly.”
Hain’s lips pulled into an ever-widening smile, eventually turning into a chuckle, and moments later a full-blown laughter.
“What’s so funny?”
“I’ve just realized I’ve no pride left. Me, the Silver Viper Hain, a mercenary Chief. A year ago, I would have cut down anyone looking down on me, but now…” He looked outside through a crack in the tent’s entrance. “… now my own foolishness destroyed what little pride I had left, only leaving the act. I should drop that, too, just to clean the board. So do as you please, I’m honestly curious if anything could hurt my pride.”
“Wait, if you’re dropping the act, what happens with the annual five honest moments?”
“I’m gifting them to someone who needs a bit of honesty,” he said, standing up and stretching his legs out. “I’ll have a walk around the city. Don’t worry, I’ll be back before dawn.”
“If I blow up the tent on the first night because you left me alone, I’ll shamelessly blame you,” I said, waving goodbye. I didn’t want to halt him, even though I’d have preferred if he stayed.
“Worry not, it’s my expertise to stop rampaging djinns,” he said before disappearing into the darkness outside.
Despite all the hearty talk, Hain was still finding it difficult to do anything in the following days. He was serious about helping with cooking and carrying the baskets while I was shopping, but other than that, he was still just lounging about in front of our tent.
“Okay, this can’t continue,” I said one morning, after returning from a dance class.
“I thought there’s still two days since my turn in cleaning.”
“You know that’s not what I meant.”
Hain threaded his fingers behind his neck. “I do. But I can’t help it. The world is still boringly grey.”
“I don’t care about your color blindness. How’s Salar’s teaching coming along? Because I haven’t seen you even getting started.”
Honestly, I did care about him, but it seemed kindness wasn’t effective enough in his case.
“If you’re aware, why ask?”
“Let me put it this way: our deal was for you to teach Salar how to defend himself. You could say I paid in advance for that job, so get started today. No, right now.”
Hain just sighed and pushed himself into standing. “Fine. Have you seen him?”
“He’s probably around. The little luckie doesn’t need exercises like I do, so he’s only burdened by Nazrik’s teaching classes.” And those were as boring as anything could be, so he was most likely listening to us. “Salar, can you come out for a minute?”
The curtains of Nazrik’s tent separated, revealing Salar yawning theatrically. “It’s not nice to abuse my hearing.”
“Dear brother, like you’d rather hear more paragraphs from The Topography of Seiran’s Provinces.”
We both hated that book. It was dry and indigestible, filled with walls of text that didn’t help one bit to imagine what the lands looked like.
“Nazrik’s making it worse by mentioning the name of his lovers in every city, to make it easier to remember,” Salar scoffed. “So?”
“So,” Hain said, looking around until he spotted a wide-open area behind Nazrik’s tent. “Boss lady gave an order, so I’ll show you how you should’ve beaten me. Follow me, kid.”
I picked up a casket filled with vegetables, along with a knife and trailed after them. They both looked at me, quite puzzled.
“What?” I asked. “You didn’t think the boss lady would oversee your first class?”
“What’re the vegetables for?”
“To occupy myself. You’ll both be hungry after exercise, so I’ll prepare something to eat in the meantime.”
Hain took a few minutes wrapping the hilt of his sword with a sturdy twine, fixing it to the sheath.
“There. Now I couldn’t pull it out even if I wanted to. For your first set of lessons, you should learn how to survive the worst. My old man always said if you can deal with the worst, everything else is just a nuisance. So in our case, I’ll have my sword, but you won’t.”
“The usual stuff,” Salar said, standing calmly in front of Hain. “I have experience in that, but you’re the teacher.”
“Really?”
Hain struck down without warning, aiming for Salar’s shoulders. Salar ducked to the side, but Hain followed him with a slight twist of his wrists, slamming the sheathed sword against his thigh.
“You react quickly, but instincts tell you the wrong answer. Think fast, but think through,” Hain said, raising the sword again. “While dodging to the side, one leg remains in place to support your move. And it’s an easy target for someone who strikes faster than you can jump. Trust me, I’ve only known one man who jumped faster than I could strike. Again!”
The blade came down again. Salar this time chose to hurl himself backward, but Hain followed him with a simple step and nudged his shoulder with the tip of the sheath.
“Better, but still not perfect. My legs are longer than yours, so I can close the distance faster. So, to the side and you get a thigh wound, backward and you’re dead. Only one direction remains.”
He raised his sword again, slashing down in the same manner. Salar stepped forward and tried to catch Hain’s wrist. It prompted a satisfied smile from Hain–just before he yanked his arms to the side, tipping the boy off balance.
“That’s it. The hilt of a sword is relatively harmless, the blade’s the deadly part. The closer you are, the harder it is to gather momentum for a large enough strike. But you’re trying to make two moves in one. Don’t try to grapple me, just use your forearms to prop my wrists above your head. The rest comes later.”
Salar seemed to have forgotten his grudge against Hain, paying extra attention, returning to the previous stance. The sword struck again, somewhat harder than last time, stopped by Salar’s crossed arms just under the hilt.
I recognized that move. It was the same trick he had used to defeat Sakrajit’s bandits when his arms had been bound. He really was preparing Salar for the worst-case scenario.
“Good,” Hain said, grinning. “Now comes your reward. If you trust your strength, kick your knee into my stomach, so I’ll shudder enough for you to take the sword from my hands. If not, then lower your arms in a circle, but do it quick enough so I can’t pull the sword back, then kick my opposite knee.”
Salar turned to me. “Can I really try beating him?”
“If he says so, go ahead,” I said.
After a brief delay, Salar chose the second option, pushing his arms to one side and quickly kicking Hain’s knee. Hain fell to the ground, but used the momentum of his fall to bring his sword down on Salar’s calf.
“I might have forgotten to tell you to always anticipate a response, no matter the technique,” Hain said, getting up and dusting his pants. “But good job, kiddo. That’s how you deflect one basic technique unarmed. There’s still six to go.”
The larger part of the next hour went like that: Hain hitting Salar in various ways, explaining what he did wrong, occasionally giving tips, but mostly letting him figure out the answers on his own. As I foresaw, both their stomachs were growling with hunger by the time they sat down under the shade, dusty, tired, but somewhat livelier.
Lunch was ready not a moment too soon, luring even Nazrik out of his tent. I had hoped he wouldn’t give up on my cooking, just because I moved out.
“I have to admit, you did a fantastic job,” he said, looking at Salar and Hain sitting side by side. “What’s your secret? Did you threaten them?”
“Only Hain. For Salar, your geography book was reason enough.”
Nazrik raised his chin, overplaying his huffiness. “Nobody appreciates real mentors here.”
“It’s not you, it’s the lecture.”
Nazrik just chuckled, putting his pocket pipe between his lips. “Fate has a weird sense of humor. Or the Great Divine, if humans are right. Who would have thought Hain would complete this strange household.”
“We really ought to find an earth djinn now. Or you should tell me what’s your problem with them,” I said, inhaling the smoke pouring from his pipe. It smelled like home. “I like your strange household. Would you have imagined years ago that so many people would come clinging to your neck?”
“You’re not clinging to my neck. I’ve brought you home,” he said, turning his bright orange eyes towards me. “That’s something you were all lacking.”