Obsidian: Retribution (Book 2)

Twenty-Four: A Monster Bigger Than Za'in

​​Lasura had a feeling, watching the scene from the corner of the room, that the woman who'd entered and interrupted their conversation with Akai izr Imami was looking for a valid reason to kill Djari. Which implied, naturally, that she had been sleeping with the Sparrow. The Sparrow who wasn't here yet, but could be expected to walk in any minute and experience what might or might not turn out to be the shittiest day of his life.

This is going to be fun as fuck, Lasura concluded and decided it was worth the agony of having climbed up here, after all.

They arrived in the late afternoon. It had taken them two days of scaling a winding trail across three mountains to reached the foot of Al-Sana. From there, the ascend involved climbing steep trails that wrapped itself three times around the mountain. It should have taken only a few hours if he'd climbed its cliffs from the other side––not a difficult task according to his experience––but with Djari being there, climbing wasn't really an option. Her people had enough reasons to kill him without leading a bharavi to her death being added to the growing list of Shittiest Things Prince Lasura Had Done, which would settle the argument of whether he should be left alive, and he wasn't looking forward to dying anytime soon.

What he hadn't expected, however, was that Djari might still be in danger on Al-Sana. Then again, this catastrophe, should it happen, would be on someone else's tap, not his.

They had just finished introducing themselves to Akai izr Imami when the woman walked in; Djari as who she was, and him as some random goat herder she'd picked to escort her here called Azul. Azul, of course, was to go stand in the corner and try to blend in with the furniture, making sure his black Rashai hair was covered at all times while keeping his big mouth shut so his under-educated, tense-jumping, ill-mannered Shakshi with headache-inducing accent as she called it wouldn't blow his cover. The first wasn't a problem; being invisible was always going to be his best accomplishment in life. The keeping his mouth shut part, however, required a heroic effort of epic proportions he wouldn't bet money on. Why Djari was willing to bet so many things on him was beyond his comprehension. He figured it must have had something to do with his irresistible charms. Because, really, what else did he have to impress her as a useless halfblood heretic son of her worst enemy minus the looks and skills of her swornsword? But since she had placed that trust in him, he figured he might as well entertain himself with this quest and try his best to live up to Djari's expectations. It wasn't as if he had other things to do, mind you, besides sitting in a cave and have a verbal fight with his shit bird who refused to obey commands.

And so Lasura watched with great effort to keep his mouth shut as Akai izr Imami tried to decide the order of introduction for the two women. Not an easy task, that. The woman was obviously older than Djari and as per tradition should be the first one introduced. Djari, however, outranked her as a bharavi and sister to a kha'a which should take precedence over the matter of age. Then again, should one consider the fact that izr Imami was the sword master of Djari's father, and this woman seemed to be an important figure for him, it took the sword master a few breaths to decide. Etiquette, Lasura had learned, was as big a thing here as it was in the Black Tower, perhaps bigger if one considered how the Shakshis ranked even horses and had laws to punish you for speaking out of turn.

"This is my daughter, Saya." Izr Imami concluded after a thoughtful silence. The old warrior seemed kind, but it was a kindness that came from a man who had grown wise from having done unspeakable things. "Saya, this is––"

Djari rose to her feet and inclined her head in a show of respect, only when paired with the way she straightened her back and shoulders by habit, it came off more like a queen nodding to her new subjects when introduced. "I am Djari iza Zuri of Visarya, sister to the kha'a and daughter of Za'in izr Husari," she said, in the tone of someone who'd spent years intimidating horses into submission and gotten too used to it. "I've come to see H––izr Zaharran. Where is he?"