Tariq watched Liss disappear into the gardens, her eyes not coming back to find him even once. She really was like a fierce little cat. All sharp-edged grace, attitude, and stubborn independence. If he could just convince her not to bite him first, Tariq was certain he could get her to purr.
"Alright, boy," Ajani said, interrupting his thoughts. "Follow me."
He nodded, tearing his eyes off of the greenery that had swallowed Liss and turning his attention back to the man she'd left him with. He was short, not much taller than she was, his face as smooth as a boy's despite the crow's feet spreading out from his eyes. His eyes were nearly as black as his hair and he too, moved with deadly grace. Tariq was beginning to wonder if everyone at the palace was like this. If so, he'd obviously misjudged the place.
They hadn't made it much past the pavilion, just off the grounds and the back end of one of the buildings made of rough, white stone, when Ajani moved. He was faster than anyone Tariq had ever seen, on him before he could react, pinning him to the wall with one hand while the other drew a long knife. He pressed it against Tariq's neck in a way he was beginning to feel was getting too familiar.
"Now, boy," he said, voice the same reasonable sounding tone he'd used earlier with Liss. "I'm going to let you in on a secret. Bright Joy there, she's one of my favourites. She's smart, strong, and still listens to old Ajani. So I take her safety and well-being very, very seriously."
Tariq couldn't nod with the knife at his throat, so he said, "Yes, I can see that." Sweat was beginning to bead up on his face and neck, belying the calm he was doing his best to project.
"That's good that you see that. It will make you believe what I'm saying. And that is, if you lay a hand on her, if you attempt to treat her like one of those loose harlots from the city, I will have you forcibly join me and my brethren." Holding Tariq's eyes, Ajani slowly moved the knife down so that it was lightly resting against his thigh, the tip just kissing where his legs met.
He swallowed hard, unable to stop himself. Tariq cleared his throat as he scrambled for composure. "I understand," he said, voice thankfully even as he tried to ignore where the knife was. "I'll be careful."
Ajani grinned. "Excellent," he replied, putting the knife away and releasing him. "I'm glad we've reached an agreement. I'd have hated to have gotten rid of someone that Bright Joy spoke so highly of."
Tariq rubbed his neck as the other man stepped away from him. "So I'm not the first?" he asked, feeling a flare of disappointment. He'd thought he was the only one Liss had thought well enough of to bring back with her.
The other man raised eyebrows. "Did you think you were?"
Tariq shrugged, hiding his feeling behind a careless expression. "I thought maybe."
Ajani only laughed before continuing to lead the way. He took them around the corner of the building, cutting across a garden filled with date palms, flowers, and stone benches. They were aimed straight at another building, this one having an overhanging roof that provided shade for the elaborately carved screened windows that ran along it.
They passed under the roof, across the stone paved floor, and went straight through the nearest door. Inside was something unlike anything Tariq had seen before. The floor was dark veined green-grey marble, the material running up the walls not covered with tiled frescoes, each one beautiful and dust-free. Even the ceiling was painted and tiled along the edges, every inch of the place screaming money and power to him.
He wasn't given time to admire the place, forced to keep up with Ajani's quick pace. "Your name is Akhtar," he said, voice quiet as they saw people further down the hall from them. "You're the nephew of Shahab, who returned to his hometown to be close to his daughter and her husband. You've been looking for work and Shahab sent you with a recommendation to me which is why I'm bringing you here. You're from the country, so feel free to gawk. It'll be expected of you."
Tariq blinked, not realizing that the other man had noticed his interest in what was around him. He also couldn't deny he was impressed with how quickly he seemed to have come up with a cover for him, giving Tariq the information he needed to keep his cover up. He really shouldn't have expected less from someone Liss had left him with. "What kind of person is Shahab? What do the other scribes think of him?"
"Not just a pretty face, are you?" Ajani said, giving him a sidelong look. "Shahab was precise, meticulous, and very quiet. He did his work and stayed out of the in-fighting, so he has no enemies, but no allies either. You'll have to make both on your own. I doubt anyone had particularly strong feelings about him one way or the other. He's not the type to inspire passion from anyone and he mostly kept to himself."
"So I have a clean slate? That's good."
"It's all the advantage I can give you. You'll have to insert yourself into the other scribes' circles yourself. I'm... well, everyone knows where my loyalties lie. You'll want to disassociate yourself from me and Bright Joy as much as possible. You should know me only vaguely and her not at all, no matter where you see her, understand?"
Tariq nodded, already wondering who Liss was exactly. He knew better than to go poking around, but if he was careful, if he kept his eyes and ears open, he was sure he'd find her soon enough. The palace wasn't that big.
He let his gaze wander over the walls, trying to cultivate a look of wide-eyed wonder over what he was seeing, figuring it was better to give anyone watching him the impression he wanted right from the beginning. Let the scribes think he was a country idiot and he could lead them about by their noses as long as he was careful.
Ajani said nothing else as he turned them down another hall, then took them through a small doorway that had guards flanking it. They nodded them through, their clothes of a similar cut to Ajani's, making Tariq think these were some of his guide's brethren. He hid a wince of sympathy. He didn't even want to imagine what that was like.
They turned down one more hallway before Ajani stopped in front of one of the wooden doors that line it. He knocked in a staccato pattern on the door before taking a step back. A moment later the door swung open, and a man with greying brown hair stare at Ajani with a faint surprise. "Sir," he said, straightening. "What can I do for you?"
Ajani reached over and grabbed Tariq's arm, pulling him into the view from the door. "This is Akhtar, Shahab's nephew. He's come for a position here and has been well-trained by his uncle. I know you've been short-staffed here, so I thought I'd bring him straight to you."
"Bless you," the man said, beaming at Tariq. "You couldn't have come at a better time. Athar's down with a fever, so we're even more behind. Does he have quarters?"
The last was directed to Ajani who shook his head. "All he has is what's in his pack, so you'll need to make those arrangements. I'll leave you to it."
"Thank you!" the man said, still smiling. "If you find any more scribes, I could always use the extra hands."
Ajani nodded, just a hint of slyness to his smile. "I'll keep that in mind."
Tariq didn't have a chance to watch him go, being ushered into the room by the other man almost immediately. It turned out to be a small office, the walls invisible due to the shelves that covered all of them, a wide wood desk stood with a few chairs in front of it, every available space seemingly stuffed with papers except the desk which only held two small piles. "Sit, sit," the man said, waving his hands at the chairs before retaking the seat he'd obviously just vacated, flipping both piles of paper over so they were face down. "My name is Baghel, and I'm head of the scribes here in the palace. I worked with your uncle for a number of years as well."
Bobbing his head eagerly, Tariq did his best to fake an expression of interest and overawe. "Uncle Shahab always spoke highly of the palace. Said it was a great place to work, especially for a young man."
Baghel beamed. "It is, it is. Now, as I said, we're short-handed, so I'm going to put you to work immediately. At the end of the day I'll have the other scribes take you to their quarters, which is where you'll stay. They'll show you where to find your meals and everything as well. If you'll follow me?"
Tariq stood hurriedly as Baghel jumped up. The older man chivvied him out before locking the door behind them. Tariq eyed the key as unobtrusively as he could, guessing with a few minutes and his picks, he could get into Baghel's office. He thought there might be some interesting papers in there that he could show Liss to prove to her the corruption of the Sultan and his family. If he could just wake her up, get her to see his side of things...
He shoved those thoughts away. He had more important things to focus on right now. Baghel took them across the hall to another of the wooden doors, the only one on that side of the hall. He didn't bother knocking, just opened the door and waited for Tariq to head inside first.
This room was much bigger than Baghel's office. A double line of small desks filled the centre, while more wooden shelves covered the walls, most stuffed with papers except one that was obviously full of supplies. Half the desks were occupied with men, mostly young, carefully copying things down from one paper to another, their pens keeping up a gentle scratching sound that mixed with the shuffle of papers.
Baghel cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the room. "This is Akhtar," he said, smiling. "He'll be working with us from now on. He's Shahab's nephew."
Several nods answered that as Tariq found himself under the scrutiny of eight pairs of eyes. "I want you to show him what to do, get him settled. He's just arrived to the palace today, and I'm sure you all remember your first days. Thank you."
With a gentle pat on Tariq's shoulder, Baghel turned and left him to the other scribes. For several seconds, no one said anything. Tariq ducked his head after the silence became intolerable. "Nice to meet you," he said.
One of the men in front of him stood and moved so he was facing Tariq, giving him a once over. "I'm Fahim. Ink, pens, and fresh paper is over there." He pointed over to the supply shelves before nodding towards a box by the door. "That's where you get the rough notes you need to transcribe into a neat hand. Can you do that?"
Tariq nodded, trying to look eager. Fahim's dark eyes were sharp and intense, while the rest of his face only held pleasant interest. "My Uncle Shahab taught me."
"Good. If you have any questions, or need anything, just ask me."
"If you want your head bitten off," came a soft murmur from the others. Fahim glared in the general direction of the words, but smoothed the expression out almost immediately. He nodded at Tariq and then sat back down.
Tariq dropped his back beside one of the empty desks before going to grab everything he needed to get started. Settling himself into the chair, he understood why they needed the clean copies. The rough notes he had were almost illegible and ran all over the page like the author had been drunk. With an inaudible sigh, he uncapped his ink and got to work.
He couldn't help the thought that this really hadn't been what he'd been expecting when he'd convinced Liss to bring him to the palace. Still, backing down wasn't really in his nature, and he had been hired for this. He risked a glance at the others, all of who appeared focused on their own work. At least in the city the scenery had been better, even in the house he'd had Liss. Here it was all men, and it didn't look like that was going to change. With another sigh, he put his head down and began the slow process of copying the paper word for word.