The Tears of Kas̆dael

Jasper didn’t stick around long after Erin awoke. Aside from some confused babbling about a dream, the scout seemed to have recovered just fine, and Jasper was worried about Gūla. As far as he was concerned, they weren’t an item, but that didn’t mean he wanted to see her get hurt. So, leaving Erin in Ihra’s capable hands, he took off.

He could tell from a distance that her camp had been struck. The plume of smoke spiraling into the sky could have been dismissed as a larger-than-usual bonfire, but the scorched and slashed tents on the outskirts of her encampment told the tale of a struggle. But, judging from the number of Djinn clearing away the wreckage, it was also clear that the fight was already concluded.

As he drew close, he hailed one of the nearest Djinn, a young soldier who was struggling to pull his cot free from a mess of scorched canvas and rope. “Is Captain Gūla here? Is she alright?” He demanded anxiously.

“Aye, she’s all right. The captain’s a tough one, even if she is responsible for this fine mess,” the man added with a touch of sullenness.

Jasper blinked. “She caused this? What happened?” Even as he asked the question, he realized the answer. Her firebird spell was fairly similar to his own Flame Charge, and he’d seen firsthand how quickly the fire spread. Using that spell in a cramped background was just asking for trouble, but it was better than death.

“Don’t rightly know, my lord,” the Djinn replied, scratching idly at the base of his left horn. “Was asleep when it all started and it all happened so fast. Just know the fire started at her tent and spread out pretty quickly.”

“But you said she’s fine,” Jasper asked. “Where is she?”

“There’s nothing left of her tent, so she bundled up her tyke and headed for the city.”

“Not command,” he questioned with a frown.

“That’s where she said she was going,” the man scoffed, “but Altarru said he saw her head south, so she must have been going to the city. Ain’t that right, Altarru?” The Djinn lifted up his voice at the end and another soldier about ten feet away bobbed his head.

“That’s what I saw…my lord,” the man hastily added at the end.

Thanking them, he headed toward Nūr-S̆ams̆a. His heart beat a little faster as he neared the gates, a bit unsure if the fight between him and Captain S̆amsātnu had made him a wanted man. Did the guards he brought to the ambush even know who I was? Were they there in an official capacity or on the down low?

But the only attention he received from the guards at the gates was a cheerful nod, coupled with a respectful, “My lord.” He wanted to ask them if they had seen Gūla pass by but decided not to press his luck. There would be other people to ask.

He stopped at a few of the stalls closest to the gate, but it quickly proved a pointless task. While Gūla was a pretty woman, her long brown hair and short black horns were characteristics shared with thousands of other women in the city, nor was there any shortage of mothers with children in tow. Unable to think of anything truly distinctive about her, he was almost ready to give up, when he remembered the tavern she had taken him to the night they’d met. What was that place again? The Armored Swan?

Deciding he had nothing to lose, he set out in search of it. Fortunately, the tavern’s bright blue walls made it stand out like an overripe blueberry, and if there was any doubt that he was in the right place, the painted wooden statue of a swan in black armor with a sword in its beak erased all that.

The thick oak door opened begrudgingly, the wood swollen with so much moisture from the rapidly melting snow that it was practically glued to the frame, but it was no match for his newfound strength. Shoving it open, he stepped inside and swiveled his eyes across the room.

The last time they’d been there, the tavern had been filled to capacity with revelers, and its rafters had rung with the mixed sounds of talented bards and drunken louts. But at the moment, it was little more than a ghost town. Two men sat at a table near a dusty window, while another was slouched over the bar, his eye glazed over as he succumbed to the sandman’s clutches.

An elderly Djinn woman stood behind the counter, her long black hair peppered with the snow of age. She was busy polishing mugs, preparing for the crowd that would come night, but as he closed the gap, she abandoned them to greet him.

“What can I help you with, my lord?” Though her words were perfectly polite, there was a chill to her tone that baffled him. We’ve never met, have we?

He offered her a friendly smile as he sidled up to the bar. “I’m looking for a friend of mine. A young woman with brown hair down to about here,” he held his hand just below his chest, “with a little girl who looks just like her. She’s a firebird captain, so she might have come here in her uniform.”

“Not seen anyone like that around here, my lord,” the woman replied, calmly picking the mug back up and beginning to scrub it again.

Jasper knew it had been a long shot looking here, but there was something about the woman’s caginess that made him doubt her. “Are you sure she’s not here? She really is my friend. A few of us were attacked last night, and I think she was too. Just want to make sure she’s alright.”

“There’s no one here, my lord,” the elderly barkeep replied. “We don’t offer rooms at the Armored Swan.”

That, at least, he knew he was a lie, and he leaned forward on the counter. “Really? That’s odd, because I am quite certain I spent a night here with that very same woman a few weeks ago. Are you sure your memory isn’t slipping?”

The woman nearly dropped the mug but she recovered it before it toppled to the ground. “I’m sure-“

“It’s okay, Amta.” A familiar voice echoed from the staircase leading to the private rooms. “Thank you for looking out for me, but Yas̆peh is a friend.”

The woman visibly relaxed, setting the mug down with a shaking hand. “And here I thought we’d be coming to blows.”

Jasper offered the woman a tight smile before heading over to the stairs. “Are you hurt? I saw your camp was half-burnt down.”

“Let’s talk upstairs,” Gūla replied.

He followed her up to the private rooms where she led him into the same spacious room they’d spent the night a few weeks back, though this time the bed was occupied by the curled-up form of a little girl.

“Is she all right? Ka-karabah?” He struggled to remember the child’s name and got it wrong.

“Kiribta,” Gūla corrected him. “She’ll be fine.”

“Be?” His gaze sharpened. “Did they hurt her?”

He was taken by surprise as the usually composed woman suddenly buried her face in his shoulders, her arms wrapping tight around his waist as she began to sob. “They went after her first, Yas̆peh. They went after a child. If Tārīt hadn’t been right beside her, they would have killed her before I could even stop them.”

Jasper felt a bit awkward as the sobbing woman clung to him, but he wasn’t heartless. He returned her hug, gently stroking her back as she let out the fear and panic she’d been holding in. “Who’s Tārīt?”

“She’s Kiri’s nanny. Was,” Gūla corrected herself.

Jasper vaguely recalled the elderly woman who he'd seen sleeping in the child’s tent the night before. “I take it she died?”

“She wasn’t a warrior, but she gave her life to protect Kiri, and she stalled them long enough for me to get there. Almost.”

Pulling free of his arms, Gūla wiped the tears from her eyes with quick, angry jabs, as she approached her daughter. The girl clutched a thin blanket with one hand, but as Gūla carefully pulled it aside, he saw it was just one hand. The flesh over the stump on her left wrist was so thoroughly healed he almost doubted his memory, but he was fairly certain she had not been missing a hand the day before. A deep fury kindled in his chest. “They did that to her?” He asked, struggling to constrain his voice, so as not to disturb the sleeping child.

“They tried to take her head,” Gūla replied, “but I arrived in time to yank her almost out of the way of the blow. Almost,” she repeated sadly.

“Can they heal her?”

“None of the priests here are skilled enough to restore a limb, but when S̆ars̆adû hears of what happened, I am sure he will send someone to help her. But she still shouldn’t have had to suffer that.” She stroked her daughter’s hair gently, and the child stirred, nuzzling closer to her without truly awaking.

Jasper was glad to learn the girl wouldn’t be permanently maimed, but it did little to quell the anger within. “We’ll make them pay,” he promised.

She smiled grimly. “They’ll already have.”

“More than just the assassins. We’ll punish the whole organization.” He paused as a detail of her account finally sunk in. “You kept saying ‘they,’ didn’t you? How many attacked you.”

“Three mages.” Suddenly, the destruction of her camp didn’t seem so outrageous. “And you fought off them by yourself?”

Her eyes turned to her daughter. “Let’s just say I was motivated.”

Did she burn her soul? As competent as Gūla was, holding her own against three other mages seemed beyond what Jasper knew of her capabilities. Either she'd hidden her strength from him, or she’d done something rash like burning her soul, but he wasn’t rude enough to ask. At least she survived.

“I guess they really wanted you,” he added, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “They only sent one after me. One at Ihra and Erin too.”

“Lucky me.” Gūla stroked her daughter’s hair a moment longer before turning to look at him. “Are you sure you still want to help me? These lords are more dangerous than I thought.”

“Maybe. Or maybe they’re desperate. We did learn the name of a pretty important member, after all. Maybe we’re closer to sniffing them out than we thought.”

“Dannûl?” Gūla’s face twisted with distaste. “As much as I want to go after that traitor, we need more evidence first.”

“Do we?” he countered. “They sent six assassins after us. It’s only fair we go after one of theirs.”

“The nobles won’t approve.”

“Then to hell with them,” Jasper snapped. “I can’t speak for all of them, but I do know what my uncle would do.” He leaned forward, his eyes blazing with intensity as he grabbed her hand. “He’d take Dannûl out and worry about the consequences later.”

A small smile tilted the corner of her lips. “S̆arrābī is one of the most powerful lords in the Royal House. I’m just the daughter of a minor noble.”

Like a pin-struck balloon, Jasper deflated. “I guess…I suppose that would make things different,” he conceded slowly. “But we can just ignore this. There’s no guarantee they won’t try again.”

Gūla shook her head. “I didn’t say you were wrong. We do need to take Dannûl out. But I can’t afford to ignore the consequences. We need a plan to either take him out quietly or incriminate him. But maybe..." After a brief pause, a sly smile began to spread across her face. "Maybe I have an idea or two on how to do that."

“Care to share?”

“We’re going to need that princess of yours. She's just the right size.”