Page 28

S tepping into his tent, Jai felt the day’s excitement tugging at the corners of his mouth, forming a smile. There was an unfamiliar thrill coursing through him, a thrill he soon realised was the joy of shopping – owning things that were truly his own. All his life, he’d been clothed in Leonid’s castoffs, wearing another man’s life on his back.

Now he had a new shirt, and even fresh trousers, unpretentious in their design, but crafted from fine, supple leather that seemed to mould to his form.

The once-familiar feel of his ragged shoes, so loose and worn that he could feel the breeze with every step, had been replaced by sturdy boots. These fresh keks were held tight by sturdy hobnails and were capped with steel, all bound together with thick leather laces.

And while his shirt was yet to arrive, Jai was glad he would finally own something made for his size. Something he had chosen.

But upon entering, Jai’s eyes were drawn to an unusual sight. A massive barrel, open at the top, took centre stage, with a soap bar, a comb and a jar of oil resting on its rim in a silent invitation. A young boy, no more than twelve winters old, was attending to it.

At the sight of Jai, the boy straightened up, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and awe. Behind him, Winter sat with a watchful eye, suspicion stamped across her reptilian features.

The boy executed a hasty bow before promptly returning to his task. He was transferring red-hot stones from a wheelbarrow into the water-filled vat, using leather gloves. A soft hiss erupted each time a stone hit the water, sending ripples that shimmered under dimming sunlight that filtered through the canvas above.

The water, already simmering, gave off a pleasant steam that unfurled before vanishing in the dark tent’s recesses. The only light came from a beeswax candle, hung on a lantern on the central pillar.

‘At your pleasure, my prince,’ the boy said, dropping the last of the stones.

Feng held up a hand, before Jai could speak. He hurried to the barrel, tasting the water from a dipped finger. He sniffed at the oil, then picked up the soap, crumbling it in his hands. Testing for poison. Winter, not wishing to be left out, sniffed the same.

Satisfied, Feng shooed the boy away, but not before dropping a small coin into his hands for his troubles.

‘I have no way of knowing,’ Feng chuckled, as the boy left. ‘Just watched his face. He’s no assassin.’

‘Should I not bathe with the others?’ Jai asked. ‘Show I am a man of the people?’

Feng shook his head, embracing Sum as she ran up to him.

‘No, Jai,’ he said. ‘Your fight in the ring showed the people you’re no spoiled princeling, but the nobility of this place need more than that to change their loyalties. They need to know you are a king in waiting. A man who can guide them safely through the coming war. Even profit from it.’

‘Profit?’ Jai asked. ‘What man could profit in such a time?’

At this, Feng sighed. ‘This world, Jai, is one of greed. It was not always this way. Before the War of the Steppe, the Great Tribes followed the old ways. Their wealth was in their khiroi, in the people that served them and they, in turn, protected. But now they seek the luxuries of the east and west. They measure their worth in gold, not in bannermen, or khiroi flesh. And they expect their king to provide that.’

He shook his head.

‘We will talk more. But first, you must bathe – the hour grows late. Sum and I will leave you for now – we will go check on Navi, make sure she’s being looked after.’

The pair left. Jai undressed, and was surprised to find a burnished bronze looking glass left propped against the barrel. He lifted it, examining himself, even as Winter dipped her snout in the water, churring contentedly at the steaming heat.

Jai examined himself. Touched the beginnings of a beard grown along his chin. Saw the circles beneath his eyes, but also the fullness of his features. He had spent months on the run, and though his diet had left a lot to be desired, he knew the mana had sustained him too. His body, once scrawny, was now corded with tight muscle, his belly taut and creased, his chest proud, and covered in a soft down of black curls.

The man staring back at him from the mirror seemed like a stranger. He had still thought of himself as a mere boy at times, if he thought of himself at all, yet the reflection offered undeniable proof: he was a boy no longer.

Winter chirred impatiently, and Jai set the mirror aside, easing himself into the water with a sigh. It was heavenly.

The heat seeped into his skin, dissolving the aches and pains like a healing spell wiping away a wound. He took the green soap in hand, enjoying its pleasant, minty scent, and the slippery luxury of the rendered khiroi fat. He worked it into a lather, then scrubbed at the grime and sweat of the last few days, and rinsing his tangled hair for good merit.

Then he began the long process of combing out his hair, the horn comb left for him a marvel. The oil he poured and rubbed into his scalp was heavenly, and it was not long till he could pull the comb through without a snag.

Alone at last, he reached for the diary, careful to keep it free from the sudsy water.

If Rohan had hoped to starve us out, he has failed. It keeps Rufinus from my side, but his Gryphon Guard keep the grain shipments coming, and by now we have learned to scavenge some from the land, as they do. Though now Rohan harvests every oasis in our vicinity, we march on.

Yet, still, he does not face me. They are as gnats in the night, never cutting deep enough to do more than sting. But this cannot last forever. I must draw him into battle. If he shall sting me, then I shall do the same. Rufinus and his men can no longer be our shield alone. It is time to let loose the hounds of war.

Jai felt proud of his father in that moment. He set the book aside, and leaned back, stretching his arms.

It had felt so long since he had been clean. He was almost feeling himself again. Jai sank further into the water, its roiling surface reflecting the dim light, creating a pattern of ripples on the canvas roof above.

Winter, her scales glimmering in the steam, slid into the wide tub with serpentine languor, the water rising and pouring over the edges at her arrival.

Jai shifted to make room, and she stretched curled from rim to rim, her belly resting over his lap. A rumbling purr vibrated from her, the comforting sound reverberating deep in Jai’s chest.

Jai tilted his head back, letting the water wash over his face. He held his breath, and let his thoughts drift. For soon... he would have to stake his claim. Speak for himself, among the nobility of the Kidara.

He could not change their growing avarice, fueled by Nazeem’s rumours. But perhaps he could redirect it, use it as a means to ensure their survival. The details were murky. His uncle wanted peace, and with that, the promise of trade and prosperity. But... with war too came opportunity. Jai just had to show them where it lay.

His mind summoned half-formed speeches in the heat, espousing his claim to the throne. His sore lips mouthed the cut and jab of imagined arguments, of snappy retorts and rousing calls to action.

It wasn’t he who heard it, but Winter – the soft, sibilant tearing of fabric yielding to a blade. He emerged from the water, marvelling that his bond with Winter had grown so strong that he could hear what she did, or at least the feeling of hearing it. He listened, and looked. And there... a blade, in the darkness. Sawing a hole in the tent.

Jai’s heart hammered a sudden staccato rhythm as he rose from the water. Winter was already scaling the central pole of the tent, her form disappearing into the inky gloom above.

He cast around for a weapon, but the tent was as empty as it had been before. Jai dove into the water, gathering stones into his hands, and tucking them in the folds of his waiting towel. The rhythm of the blade persisted. Already, it was a foot lower than it had started.

He slipped from the bathtub as quietly as he could. The oil bottle was nearby, its amber liquid gleaming under the dim lantern light. He doused his body, a slick coat against grasping hands.

With a soft splash, a handful of crumbled soap joined the foam gathered on the tub’s surface. Retreating into the tent’s darkest corner, Jai hunkered down, listening intently. He focused, letting his mind drift, pulsing what mana he had through his body. He dared not use a fireball, for he could hear the laughter of children outside and it would pass right through if he missed.

He could hear the laboured breaths of the intruders. Three. Maybe more. And the scrape, scrape, scrape of the blade. Then... the scraping stopped.

With moments to spare, Jai cast the shade spell on himself, cursing the flash of green that revealed his place.

It was a hungry spell, and with what he had saved, it would last less than the span of a held breath. Jai thought to call out, but who could help him? Even if Feng were near, it was not worth sacrificing the element of surprise.

Poised in a low crouch, Jai’s gaze flickered to the lone lantern, its light painting a warm halo below Winter’s hiding place. With a mental nudge, he signalled her. She knew what to do.

Out from the darkness, five men emerged, like phantoms born from its shadows. They were taking no chances, each one holding a blade, and armoured in steel and leather. Their faces were obscured by cloth bound over the nose, but Jai deduced they were not Sithian. Too pale for that. Their eyes... almost looked like Feng’s.

The five paused, seeing the tub empty, only for one to raise a hand, and beckon the others to follow. Together, they surrounded the foamy water, and raised their blades high.

With an infusion of mana to his arm, Jai launched the first stone from his arsenal. A thock accompanied its collision with the back of an assassin’s head, along with a fine mist of blood. The man fell, and the others spun, shouting in alarm.

‘Wei!’ one cried out, the name loud in the hushed confines of the tent.

Jai’s second missile missed its mark, yet it landed a blow to the abdomen that doubled one over. A third stone connected with a crunch, breaking the same man’s collarbone, and swiftly followed by a fourth that struck true, spinning him away in a spray of crimson.

Three men remained.

The leader yelled in an unknown tongue, stabbing his blade at Jai’s side of the tent. The spell was still active, but he had seconds to spare.

Now. Jai willed his desire to Winter.

There was a roar from above, turning the assassin’s gaze long enough for Jai to hurl one last rock, before the lantern fell. It shattered upon the floor, its candle leaving but a sputtering flame that plunged the tent into murky half-light.

Jai’s soulbound eyes could see better than most, and they had adjusted to the dark of his corner. With the men slashing blindly, he launched himself from the shadows, leaping to land a stone-weighted punch to an assassin’s jaw.

The man’s neck snapped like a marionette; Jai’s hand sung with pain, as another man yelled, charging Jai’s shrouded figure by sound alone. Jai ducked a wild sword swing, then another stab at his belly, until Winter plunged from above, slamming the man to his knees before tumbling to the ground, awkward in her landing. Her tail lanced at his eyes, claws slashing across his belly as the man wailed, his blade falling nerveless from his hands.

The man screeched and staggered back, scrabbling at Winter with his fingernails. He fell into the tub, Winter with him, and the water bloomed red.

The final man, their leader, spun and slashed blindly. Suddenly, a light penetrated the tent, as someone new ducked into the tent, a lantern held high.

The assassin hurled his sword at Jai, even as a woman screamed, and Jai’s opponent sprinted for the tent’s exit. Jai dove, but his desperate lunge barely grazed the man’s retreating form, Jai’s fingers ripping a swathe of fabric from his back.

There was a thud, and Jai saw the assassin fall. The man rose, only for a boot to his head to snap him back, onto the floor. He began to snore, and twitch horribly, until the boot came down once more.

Winter erupted from the water, screeching her displeasure, hackles raised as the new arrival picked up a fallen lantern, and then sparked a flint.

Lai’s face appeared in the gloom, as she blew the candlewick back into life. She held up Jai’s blue shirt, even as she nudged the assassin with her boot. A fleck of blood had landed upon the silk, and she licked a thumb and rubbed it gingerly with a sigh.

‘You’re still paying for this,’ she said.