The Tears of Kas̆dael

A blob of white slowly resolved into a familiar tsussîm, accompanied by a girl whose usual porcelain skin was so pale it almost matched the snow. The ‘horse’ favored one of its legs, which was wrapped tight with bandages, and Jasper guessed that the beast had failed to land before the spell-bound wings disappeared. At least they survived the plane crash. “You alright,” he asked.

Tsia stared wide-eyed at the mess of blood and ice that surrounded him. “You took them all out by yourself.” Her head whipped back and forth, searching the darkness in vain. “Where's everyone else?”

“Well, after we got turned into a shish-kebab, I was a little too preoccupied to pay attention to where the tsussîm. By the time I managed to get the javelin out of both of us, I had no idea where we were in relation to Ihra and Erin, and you were unconscious, so…” he shrugged, “I did what I could.”

“That seems to be an understatement.”

“It was a closer fight than I would have liked,” he admitted candidly, “but I survived and they didn't.”

“Weren’t you supposed to capture him?”

This time, Jasper’s wince had nothing to do with pain. “Believe me, it wasn’t an option.”

She smiled weakly. “Oh, I believe you. But will Gūla?”

It was an hour before they were ready to leave. While Tsia still had a few healing potions left in her bag, they had to wait for Jasper’s essence to recover enough to cast Spectral Wings on the tsussîm. They also had to deal with the less savory task of searching the bodies.

Despite what Tsia had said, Jasper wasn’t sure if Gūla was hoping Dannûl would live or die. While the answers the firebird might have provided were theoretically useful, he’d seen the hate that burned in her eyes after the failed assassination attempt. Her former commander had betrayed her and, worse, had almost killed her daughter. He doubted the Djinn would shed any tears over the man's death. But he also understood that killing the man would make it harder to track down the remaining moles in the army. Oh well. Like he'd told Tsia, it couldn't be helped.

Unfortunately, while firebirds carried pouches enchanted to withstand flames, the extra power Dannûl had mustered by burning his soul had burnt his belongings to a crisp. There was nothing of value to be found there, so they could only pray that what they scavenged from the commander’s allies would provide some useful information.

After searching the dead, Jasper cast Spectral Wings on the tsussîm, and they took off. Unfortunately, they couldn't head straight back for the camp; = Ihra and Erin were still waiting somewhere beside the bluffs overlooking Lake Yarhab and, given their failure to show up as planned, Jasper knew Ihra was probably beside herself with worry.

Fortunately, that task proved easier than expected. The tsussîm in its panic had instinctually fled back toward its former home in Kibrāti, charting a northwestern course that had taken them far afield of the planned ambush site, but they were in easy view of the coastline. Once there, they could simply follow the shoreline until they spied two small figures waiting in the darkness. That was where their luck ended, though, as there was only one tsussîm between them, so they were forced to take the long way back to the city.

Dawn was nearly spent when they finally reached the gates of Nūr-S̆ams̆a. The party received a few odd stares from the guards, surprised to see a noble and an elf entering on foot, but not enough to cause any issues. They headed straight for the Armored Swan where Gūla was waiting, although they paused long enough at a street-side stall to quell the pangs of hunger.

By the time they reached the inn, Jasper’s mind was wholly consumed with thoughts of white linen and soft pillows, but the moment he stepped through the door he could tell that something was off. The early hours of the morning were usually a bustling time for the tavern, which offered cheap, hearty meals for the dock-side workers, but the place was all but empty. There was no sign of the barkeep, but a brace of guards stood at the base of the stairs.

His heart ticked up a notch, as the fear that Gūla had been captured infiltrated his tired mind, but then his brain caught up - the guards by the stairs were wearing the proprietary blue of the Royal House.

Confused by their presence, he approached them cautiously. “Is Captain Gūla here?”

The guard ran a scrutinizing eye over his tattered robes, which still sported remnants of the royal colors, before replying. “I’m sorry, my lord,” he finally said, “but I’m afraid I don’t recognize you. If you give me your name, I’ll let her know you here.”

“I can’t go up?” He asked, puzzled. “Since when does Captain Gūla have this sort of protection.”

“We’re not here for Gūla,” the man snorted. “Your name, my lord?”

He sighed in defeat, his dreams of a restful slumber slipping further away than ever. “Yas̆peh. I’m Lord S̆arrābī’s nephew.”

The guard’s eyes sparked with recognition at the name of his uncle, and his tone seemed slightly more respectful when he replied. “I’ll let her know you’re here.” With a quick nod of his chin, he headed up the stairs.

Slightly exasperated about being made to wait, Jasper turned his attention to the three silent guards. “So if you’re not here for Gūla, who are you here for? My uncle?”

His irritation rose as the guards ignored him, but eventually, his tired brain caught up with the implications. If the guards refused to even tell him why they were here, there had to be somebody important up there - somebody far more important than him. He didn’t have much longer to ponder the possibilities before the guard reappeared.

"Our lord gave you permission to ascend,” he said, “but you’ll have to leave your friends behind.”

“Who's your lord?”

“King S̆ars̆adû,” the man replied, shoving him forward.

More guards were stationed at the top of the stairs, and they ushered him to the door of Gūla’s former suite. Jasper paused for a second outside the room, his tired mind still reeling at the news that the king was where. He’d only met the king once, but the impression the Djinn had left on him had not been easily forgotten. S̆ars̆adû had seemed a being of power second only to the gods. It just didn’t feel right for him to be in a random tavern, but when the guard cleared his throat impatiently, Jasper knew he couldn’t wait. He turned the handle and stepped inside.

He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but he certainly hadn’t anticipated finding the king perched on the edge of the bed with a little girl sitting on his knee. It was a miracle S̆ars̆adû had even managed to squeeze into the room, and Jasper wondered if some transfiguration magic had been involved in the process. Even though his body was barely touching the bed, half-suspended above it by his three pairs of gently fluttering wings, the frame still sagged so low Jasper suspected it would never recover.

The king could barely move his head either, for his stately pair of double horns had left a dozen deep gouges in the ceiling. Just as Jasper recalled, the man radiated menace, the air around vibrating with an almost physical manifestation of his power, yet there was nothing but gentleness in his eyes as he patted the girl’s head. “This is going to hurt, little one, but if you promise to sit still and keep your eyes closed, you’ll get a treat, alright?” His voice rumbled like thunder, but Kiribta showed no fear as she nodded her head vigorously.

Gūla stood beside him, along with an elderly priest who was dressed in the white robes of S̆ams̆a’s temple. Though his garb was simple, the twin bracelets around his wrists were not. The bracelets glowed with a nearly white light as if crafted from molten metal, but Jasper felt no emanating from them. He recognized their make though - an heirloom supposedly passed down from one of the forty-four sons of S̆ams̆a, an heirloom carried by the high priest of S̆addānu’s temple. He really pulled out all the stops.

Placing his hands on her shoulder, the priest closed his eyes and began to mutter beneath his breath. The light on the bangles pulsed, rapidly growing better until Jasper was forced to close his eyes and turn his head, lest the light that filled the room blind him. The girl began to sob, and S̆ars̆adû murmured soothingly.

Then the suffocating light retreated, and Jasper turned back to look.

“Momma, look!” Her tears forgotten, the child raised her chubby fist up in the air, wiggling the restored hand with glee. Gūla scooped her up, hugging her close to her chest, and spun her around before she remembered herself. Setting Kiribta down, she bowed deeply to the king. “Thank you, my lord. This is beyond what I had hoped for.”

“She was hurt on my behalf,” S̆ars̆adû rumbled. “And honor demands that I make that right.”

“But to use the relic,” she protested, “It was…it was more than I deserved.”

“Just take care of her,” the king replied.

Gūla seemed to find some deeper meaning in the words, as surprise blossomed across her face. “Are you sure, my lord?”

“You have fulfilled your duty to me. Now fulfill it to your daughter.”

With a radiant smile, she bowed again and, sweeping her daughter up in her arms, hurried the room as if she were afraid the king would change his mind.

Although Jasper wasn't quite sure what exactly the king had meant, he turned to follow her, but the voice rumbled again. “Where are you going?”

There was a moment of hesitation as Jasper tried to decide how to answer, and then he settled for brutal honesty. “Truthfully, my lord, I have no idea. I came here to see Gūla and since she left, I assumed I should leave too. Is there something I can do for you, my lord?”

The ghost of a smile graced the king’s lips. “I see the subtleties of court etiquette are still hard for you, Yas̆peh. You do not leave the presence of your lord without permission.”

“I'm sorry - I haven’t had the chance to spend much time at court,” he excused himself.

“A single visit,” the king replied. “As for what I said to Gūla, you may ask her yourself if you wish.”

Silence lapsed between the two and Jasper began to fidget. “And as for me, my lord. Was there something you wanted?” He repeated.

“Simply to indulge my curiosity. Your uncle has spoken surprisingly highly of you. Few of those he trains receive his praise but then, none of the others have ever been the children of his beloved sister.” The king’s lips twisted in a slightly unpleasant grin. “I’m afraid he’s still rather angry with me about that.”

“Forgive me, my lord, if this is an impudent question, but why didn’t you tell him the truth? Why let my uncle think his sister was dead all this time?”

The king took so long to respond that Jasper thought he’d offended him, but eventually his voice rumbled again. “I can see from the threads of fate clinging to you that you have already encountered the Spectral Spiders. So you should understand what I mean when I say that it was for the best that he did not know until the time was right.”

The cryptic answer aroused his curiosity, but there was something in the way S̆ars̆adû spoke that told him the king had no intention of explaining further. Instead, the king stared at him for a moment longer, before raising a beckoning hand. “Come. The sapling in you is worth nurturing, but due to your heritage, it will not grow easily on its own. Let us see what it shall grow.”

Jasper cringed as he saw what S̆ars̆adû was holding - a gis̆ātu leaf. He remembered the pain the leaf had caused him the last time he’d been forced to hold one, but it had come with its benefits too, gifting him with the Bramble Crown.

He stretched out a hand to take, but before his fingers could brush the leaf, a thin sheen of light extended from the king’s hand and encapsulated the leaf. “Not now,” he rumbled. “Take it when you have time to meditate.”

Jasper accepted the leaf, the light protecting him from its burning sap, and slipped into his bag. “Thank you, my lord.”

S̆ars̆adû nodded and waved his hand dismissively. “There's no need to thank me. Just try to live up to your uncle's expectations.”