The Silver Sparrow

A World Without You

The crowded room screamed of her absence. The voices around him were the wrong voice. Everything, from the one empty chair, the unclaimed spaces in the corners, the edge of the bed where he had hoped to find her seemed to underline the fact that Djari wasn't there. She hadn't been since yesterday afternoon when he'd awakened, or later that night, or now.

It felt like waking up to a world without her in it, and somehow, he had a feeling that world was going to last.

He looked around the room as they changed his bandage and realized how familiar everything was. Sarasef and Dee were discussing something at the far corner with Bashir standing close by, waiting for a command. The healer and his helper were talking about his wounds, checking his pulse. The bedroom was the one he'd stayed in during his time here before he had been bought by Dee. Everyone and everything, from the carpet to the chandelier on the ceiling, and the mahogany bedside table had been a part of the memories of the Silver Sparrow.

I am back where I've started, Hasheem thought, feeling the memories of his time in the White Desert fading like a dream that had ended too soon. He realized then, how much he missed it; those aching sunrises and sunsets over the smooth, powdery dunes, the silence and stillness outside his tent during the cold, cold nights, the smell of dried branches and sage in the wind that caressed his skin in the morning. That peaceful feeling in the stable, watching Djari with her horses. All of it seemed to have been gone, lost as they slipped through his fingers like grains of sand.

Since when has the White Desert become so much a part of me?

The wound throbbed as the healer wrapped the new bandage. His throat burned from the taste of the medicine and the fever he was still having. On top of it all, the pain in his head felt like someone had taken a hammer to it just two days ago. He was hungry, thirsty, tired, and now cranky from the presence of everyone in the room. Or of the one that was missing.

Where is Djari? He had wanted to ask several times from the moment he'd opened his eyes, had given himself explanations instead as to why she might not have been able to come—explanations he was running out of as time passed and Djari remained absent. Now there seemed to be only one explanation left, one he didn't want to face just yet. Couldn't.

"So?" Sarasef said after the wrapping was done, looking down at him from the edge of the bed with a small frown. "Can he keep that arm?"

"I believe so, yes." The healer nodded. "Both wounds are healing nicely. He should be able to lift his arm freely in a week or two, but it would be a long while before he can fight."

Sarasef nodded, excused the healer and his help and as soon as they were out the door, turned to Hasheem. "How are you feeling?"

He pushed back the hair that fell around his face, squeezed the bridge of his nose to counter the headache and grimaced when it didn't help. "Like shit."

"You should be glad you're feeling something at all," Dee said, dragging a chair over to sit by the bed. He looked better now than yesterday when Hasheem had seen him. In the past five years they'd spent together, he couldn't remember if he'd ever seen his mentor so drained of energy. If it had been the possibility of his death that had taxed Dee to that point, he'd never expected it.

But Dee was right. He should be glad. People didn't survive from Zyren. The only reason he was still breathing was that he'd been force-fed the poison for five years straight like all of Dee's assassins. Hasheem wasn't sure if he was supposed to be thankful for that. For all he knew, it could have been Dee who'd sold Saracen the poison.

Now that he thought about it, it probably was him. He wondered if Sarasef knew. Then again, it probably wouldn't make a difference. They went back a long way—Sarasef and Dee—but theirs was a relationship of mutual understanding that killing each other was not off-limits if profits or sense demanded it so. 'It's the safest kind of relationship you can have, really,' Dee had said once. 'One with no emotions attached. Just logic and reason.'