Spirits of the Earth

 "Whatever it is you want, I can procure it" Faysal assured Mirza. "We are the sons of a Merchant Prince, there is nothing we cannot buy. You don't even have to go to the markets - we can send slaves and servants to handle our affairs. Why did you even want to leave the palace? You can be robbed here, or worse."

"That's what the guards are for, aren't they?" the boy grinned. "And there's another benefit to going personally. You see, a slave will buy what I tell her to, and leave without even taking a look at all the various goods here, while we can choose and pick treasures that we didn't even know existed before we lay eyes upon them. As you say, we are the sons of a Merchant Prince, we owe it to our noble blood to train ourselves to spot such hidden gems!"

Faysal laughed. "When have you become so eloquent, little brother?"

"Blame my rhetorics teacher for that" Mirza responded.

Faysal leaned back against the pillows, casting a glance around the busy bazaar. Despite the tight circle of armed men in the colours of a Merchant Prince's personal guard, the crowds were thick enough that it was hard to move. Perhaps he has grown paranoid after his late wife's poisoning, but he worried that a trained blade may still slip through and bury itself into the flesh of its target. "I would feel much safer if you joined me in the litter. There's enough space, and a better view of our surroundings."

"I spent the entire morning sitting and listening to my history teacher drone on" Mirza pouted. "I need to stretch my legs!"

"Shall I call for your swordplay instructor, then?" Faysal jested.

"I'm bored of all the lessons and tutelage, brother. Isn't experience the best teacher?"

He wasn't wrong. It would be ideal of Mirza was content just staying within the safety of the palace, but that was a pipe dream - pleasant to entertain, but impossible. Amani was cut from the same cloth: a free spirit who suffered not the vain attempts to contain him. Faysal was resigned to just count his blessings and be glad that his brother at least had the sense to take guards with him. If he followed Amani's path and began sneaking out of the palace alone...

They moved at a slow pace. The guards pushed through the crowd, not above employing their elbows and boots to get them across. This whole trip would have been faster without the large and cumbersome litter Faysal was occupying, but there was little he could do. His father would not suffer for his heir to be seen in public hobbling on crutches. Litter was acceptable - a symbol of wealth and unwillingness to mix with the masses.

"Wow! Look at all those... wares!" Mirza exclaimed, staring at a shady stall. "I can't even begin to imagine the use of most of those!"

Faysal glanced over the merchandise. The sheer variety in the quality, nature and state of the items offered by the scarred woman could lead him to only one conclusion: a fence pawning stolen goods. He frowned, but didn't speak. He didn't want to get Mirza in trouble - and none of the items he saw looked important enough to belong to someone who could harm the children of a Merchant Prince. Just the usual curiosities, nothing more.

"I should get something for my mother..." Mirza mused, searching for some jewelry. "Do you think I should buy gifts for other of Father's wives as well? I remember Lady Khalida sulking for weeks when Father didn't get her a present from his visit..."

"Well, since you're not married to either Lady Khalida or the others - unless there is something you're not telling me - I don't think they would expect gifts from you."

Mirza turned his attention back to the merchandise. Faysal summoned the naqib of the guards and quietly instructed him to keep an eye on the shopkeeper - her robes were vast and she could be hiding weapons on her person. There was little he could do about it - should it come to that, he was barely capable of not getting in the way, let alone protect someone.

"I'm done shopping!" Mirza announced cheerfully.

"Shall we move on, then?" Faysal asked.

The boy nodded and presented a small locket. "This is for you. You're neither my mother, nor my wife - but we're still family. That's what counts, isn't it?"

"Yes. Yes, it does" Faysal whispered, his voice suffused with genuine warmth.

Mirza grinned at him. "Now come and help me pick something for Father, too."

Lapis stumbled through the market crowd, eyes a little wild and hair a frizzy mess around her face.

"Oh!"

She drew up short when she saw the two princes and ducked her eyes. Best to avoid drawing attention to herself.

As unobtrusively as she could, she made her way towards the saleswoman. "Um, excuse me? Did-- did you buy a locket recently? Very old, looks Essyrni in make, about this big?" She held her thumb and forefinger apart to demonstrate.

 That was her lucky day! Not only did she draw attention of rich people (and managed to make a sale!), there was another customer! "I might have what you're looking for - let me see..." An old locket, about this size - she did get one this morning that fit the description, and... oh. And then she sold it to that wealthy kid.

Well, that meant there was only one thing left to do, she was nothing but resourceful! She bent over, pretending to rummage through her bags, still keeping an eye on her stall, should the would-be customer try to steal something. "I'll be lookin', but if ye want, take a look yerself at me merchandise" she offered. Maybe the girl's sight was bad enough that she'd mistake something else for her pendant? Maybe there could still be a profit for ol' Fahada in all this...

Lapis bit her lip, obviously near frantic. "Um, a-alright..."

She turned, looking around rather helplessly.

Where on earth could he be?

 There was nothing even remotely resembling a locket among the very varied merchandise - unless one expanded the definition to include other jewelry. But without linguistic gymnastics, it looked like there was no getting it back from this stall.

The famed Essyrni sun was mercilessly roasting the bazaar, its ruthless rays bearing down on the unfortunate people. One of them hit a locket worn by a rich-looking man in a litter, reflected with a deadly precision straight into poor unprotected eyes of Lapis.

The young scholar winced and blinked, turning to glare in the direction of the light.

She froze.

Her eyes widened and she gasped, hurrying forward. "My lord, wait--!"

Suddenly realizing what she was doing, she drew up short and ducked her eyes. If they wanted, these people could have her thrown into the slave markets with a snap of their fingers.

 They moved through the bazaar at a leisurely pace, stopping every now and then when Mirza noticed something interesting, or when the crowds became too thick to weave through. The air was thick and hot, almost overbearing, but Faysal knew better than to draw the curtains of his litter - what little peace could be gained was not worth cutting himself away from the outside. He needed to be alert, rather than indulgent.

  The naqib - his name was Ali, if Faysal's memory served him right - knocked on the thin wall of the litter to draw his attention. "Begging your pardon, my lord."

"You have it. What is it? Is it this shopkeeper?"

"No, my lord. I think that woman over there tried to get your attention."

Faysal frowned, considering his options. "Mirage formation, please" he requested. It was unlikely that it was some assassin's attempt at getting him into range, but he didn't want to take any chances. He waited for the guards to change positions before taking a quick look. The woman didn't look like one of his spies, but she could be a new hire, or a messenger. Then again, would someone paid to contact him give up so easily?

"Ali, send someone to check this out."

The soldier nodded and immediately chose one of his men, barking orders.

Oh no.

She'd caught their attention.

Well...she'd sort of been trying to do that, but still. Terrifying. Lapis swallowed thickly and nodded tot he guard who started to approach her, trying for a nervous smile.

"Um, h-hello," she muttered, ducking her eyes and dipping into a quick, polite curtsy.

 The guard moved with practiced purpose and ease - clearly, he's done it before and was just repeating a script prepared for him before. "You were trying to call out to my lord, weren't you? The market isn't the place to have a conversation. There is a warehouse nearby owned by my lord's family. If you have any matter you wish to discuss, please allow me to escort you there. My lord will soon be making his way to the place."

"O-oh. Um. Alright..." Lapis nervously tucked a cobalt threaded braid behind her ear and nodded. "Ah...lead the way?"

 The guard nodded and began to make his way through the crowded marketplace. He was quite adept in the art of moving through crowds, with well-placed kicks to the shins and elbows to the ribs. Every now and then, he looked back to see if Lapis was following. A dirty-looking pickpocket bumped into him, but the man just chuckled at his effort. "I'm not carrying anything worth stealing anyway."

He led the scholar to a stone warehouse at the edge of the market. Its sandstone walls were thick and old, and would provide some protection from the blistering heat of the sun. It was clear from the moment the guard opened the door that the place was used to full capacity - crates of various make, size and shape were stacked up to the ceiling. Some were stamped and sealed, some were unadorned, and one could truly feel sympathy for poor accountants forced to handle this mass of cargo. There were few other guards inside, but they relaxed as soon as they saw that one of their own entered. "How's your sister, Hasan?" one called.

Hasan rolled his eyes at that. "I'm glad that you're paying attention to new security protocols, but do it right or don't do it at all! Sister is the passphrase for the harem guards - so unless I've been suddenly promoted, all I have to say that I have no sisters that I know of."

"When were you last home?" the other guard didn't give up. "You could have gotten one recently."

"My mother's dead since last spring, so I think it's safe to assume I'll remain sisterless" Hasan grinned. "And while I'd love to stay and chat, we need the overseer's office. Lord Faysal will be coming soon to speak with the lady over here."

"Proceed" the unfortunate guard decided.

Hasan led Lapis through a labyrinth of stacked crates to a small room further inside the warehouse. A plump woman wearing a blue gown and an ornate copper necklace - probably the overseer of this warehouse - was sitting behind a beautiful table made out of some strange red wood. The walls of the office were flanked by two luxuriously soft couches, and decorated with lavish tapestries.

Hasan quickly explained the situation to the overseer. The woman nodded and began to gather her accounting. "I needed an excuse to get out there and stretch my legs anyway. I think I'll go see if Malik has arrived with the shipment." She put her papers in a small box, locked it with a key and left.

"Feel free to sit" Hasan suggested. "Now we wait."


"We should visit the warehouse" Faysal suggested. "I need to speak with Overseer Fatima - apparently some shipments were late. If there's some trouble on the roads, I should report to Father."

Mirza giggled. "You're always so serious, Brother! And here I thought this was a friendly family outing for no purpose other than honing our bonds and living to the fullest of our youth!"

"I can always go there later. The Overseer can wait." He could only hope that woman who wanted who speak with him, also would.

"Oh, I didn't mean that" Mirza smiled. "We can go. But I warn you, Brother, my attention span is as short as my unfortunate height."

"You don't have to go in" Faysal suggested. "I'll give Ali some money to buy you candied fruit."

"A bribe! Are you trying to keep me away from this place?" Mirza's eyes narrowed mischievously. "Is there something you have to hide? A secret gift for me, perhaps?"

"You got me" Faysal sighed in fake surrender. "Now that you found out, what should I do? I need to think of something else..."

"Oh, don't worry. I promise to be distracted by the candied fruit and not peek!"

Faysal divided the guards when they reached the stall with sweets. He left most of them under the command of Ali before heading for the warehouse. The place had their own security arrangements, so he felt comfortable with just a few men. His litter stopped just before the entrance, waiting patiently for him to get off.

He reached for the crutches lying at the other side of the litter. It was a good idea after all to take them along, rather than leave them at home. Neither his pride nor Zaahir's would take kindly to other outcomes. He propped one against the ground, leaning heavily on it as he pushed out of the litter. It wasn't the most graceful or fluid movement, but it was a vast improvement over falling to the floor. Resting his weight on the crutch, he reached for the other one and began to hobble inside the warehouse. The litter and the guards would wait for him.

One of the men inside approached him as soon as he entered. "The lady you wish to speak to is waiting in the overseer's office" he began.

"Good. Is Overseer Fatima with her?"

"No, my lord. She left to check on a shipment."

Faysal frowned. He would have to find her later. "Very well. Guard the place while we talk." He slowly made his way through, meandering around the crates. He barely had any place to fit his crutch, let alone his body. Once he reached the door to Fatima's office, he leaned on one of the crutches and used the other to knock on the door.

"Back already, Overseer?" Hasan called from the inside.

"I wish" Faysal responded.

Hasan quickly opened the door, bowing to make up for the bad impression. "My lord."

"Join the others" Faysal commanded. Hasan exited the room, but hovered by the door to close it before leaving. Faysal entered and carefully lowered his body into a sitting position on one of the couches. He propped his crutches against the wall before turning his attention to the woman. "I believe you wished to speak with me?"

"Oh, um, yes!" Lapis found herself snapping up straight, instantly nervous and fidgety. She swallowed thickly and ducked her head as respectfully as she could manage.

Gods, she forgot how much she hated it here. The classes, the rules. The brand on her hip that she kept so carefully hidden.

"It's, ah, about that amulet you bought earlier, my lord. My prince," she hurriedly corrected herself, eyes widening at the slip. Shit shit shit.

 Was she a foreigner? She looked Essyrni, but he would be a fool to base his judgement solely on the appearances. Faysal rejected the bothersome reminders of etiquette - they were in a closed space, with no other witnesses. He should not let arbitrary rules get in the way of common sense.

"I'm not a Merchant Prince - unless you came here to deliver the news of my father's demise" he smiled. It wasn't likely, but it was still a pleasant possibility to entertain. His carefully crafted mask of calm didn't even flinch at her words. After all, there was nothing to be shocked about - he knew it was stolen. He didn't suspect that the owner - or at least a concerned party - would show herself so soon. But perhaps it was for the best - now he had a chance of disarming the situation rather than have it blow up in his face in the worst possible moment.

"This pendant?" he asked, bringing up his hand to cover the medallion. It was a foolish question, but an acceptable entry. "What about it?"

The young scholar's eyes lit on the amulet and her shoulders slumped with obvious relief. "Yes, that," she replied quickly, looking up into Faysal's face. "It, ah...I'm sorry, my lord, but it's...mine."

She cleared her throat awkward and took a shuffling step back. This young man didn't seem quite as strict as some others of his class she'd met, but she still wasn't sure how he'd react to a common woman asserting claim over something he'd paid for. "I-I'm afraid it was stolen a few hours ago," she hurried on, tripping over her words slightly. "I assume it must have been sold to the merchant you purchased it from. Um-- how much did it cost?"

It was unlikely she'd be able to match the original price, but much as she hated it sometimes she was Essyrni. She knew how to haggle.

 That must have been quite a quick operation - steal and report back to the fence in a matter of hours, rather than bringing the haul at the end of work day. The thief must have been either a new one, eager to make the best out of every acquisition, or a very careful person, keen not to get caught with stolen goods. There must have been something about this pendant that evoked such need for caution.

He chanced a glance at the pendant, his hand still keeping it safe from the woman's gaze. Was there anything on it that would tell him its mystery - or advance a more immediate goal of verifying her claim. His fingers brushed over the well-worn runes and his heart was set slightly more at ease. Even if she got a good look at the amulet before he held it, it wasn't likely that she would be able to see them from this distance. "Then, I would like you to give me as accurate a description of this medallion as possible. Since you're the original owner, I believe it shouldn't be any trouble."

"Oh, um..." Lapis hesitated. She hated this, hated having to prove her claim to some spoiled prince's son, but she knew she didn't have a choice.

Besides, despite her irritation she knew this wasn't totally unreasonable. "It's old, with Ancient Essyrni runes carves around the perimeter, and a red gem set in the center," she replied after a moment. "The amulet is round, but there's a latch that sort of catches at your fingers if you hold it too tight."

 That was proof he couldn't deny. Of course, if Zaahir were in his place, he would already use his Merchant Prince clout to eliminate the woman, rather than put himself in a position of having to return something he bought. But if Zaahir were in his place, he probably wouldn't even care about the trinket to begin with.

She continued her description. Faysal frowned. A latch? He moved his fingers, trying to find it. He didn't have to keep her waiting for long, as soon he sensed the element she described under his thumb, he pulled back - there was no need to examine it further, she proved her point, and he didn't need to peer inside what was probably a family heirloom to-

By accident, the latch came undone and the locket opened.

Oh.

Oh no.

Golden light exploded out of the locket, and a voice boomed, "Finally. First Fires, Lapis, what took you so long? I've been in there for hours!"

The scholar blanched as the djinn formed in a shower of golden light, tossing his hair, jewelry glittering and eyes flashing in irritation. He paused when he realized he didn't recognize their surroundings, looking around.

"Ah. I see." His eyes lit on the other mortal, the man. "And who in hells are you?"

 The full force of the sudden explosion threw Faysal against the wall. As the golden light began to coalesce and take shape, the mortal drew in a breath to call out - this might have been the second most creative attempt on his life he's experienced, but he could admire the ingenuity after his guards-

The light turned into a human - or, more likely, just a humanoid feature. Faysal swallowed his breath, realization settling over him. There was no use calling for anyone, and he was very certain that the woman was not after his life - if that was the case, he would be dead already. While he didn't claim to be an expert on the djinn, he wouldn't be Essyrni if he couldn't recognize one.

One of the guards must have heard the commotion and knocked on the wall. "My lord? Is everything well?"

"It is!" he lied. "Stay at your post!"

The djinn's eyes fell on him, demanding identification. That was doable. Faysal propped himself up on his elbows, trying to look as proper as he could in those circumstances. "Faysal ibn Zaahir Jalal, heir to Merchant Prince Zaahir- although I don't know if that tells you anything." He had no idea whether the djinn in question kept up to date with Essyrn politics.

The djinn's presence would explain her efforts to get the amulet back - and conveniently limit Faysal's choices. If the locket was the vessel, he had to return it - as a mortal, he could do little against such power. He reached for the amulet to take it off.

"Mmm." The djinn tilted his head while Lapis blanched behind him. "Well, alright then. Give that here." He held his hand out for the amulet, twitching his fingers impatiently.

Lapis choked out, "Z-Zahir!" reproachfully, eyes wide as she looked between the two of them. Her companion glanced at her lazily over his shoulder.

"Oh, do calm yourself, Lapis Lazuli," he sighed, bored. "What exactly do you think he's going to do to you while I'm here?"

 It looked like the djinn was used to being obeyed - no wonder, considering the power he had at his disposal. The woman - who was apparently known under the name of Lapis Lazuli, a gemstone he was familiar with - was more skittish. Probably she wasn't used to having a djinn at her bidding - but this wasn't the time to analyze the situation.

"He's right" he remarked. "After all, I don't know how many wishes do you have left - or if you've even made one in the past that would keep you safe from any actions on my part. I would be a fool to proceed with any discourtesy when you've shown yourself capable of retaliation I have no way of defending against."

He carefully shifted position to be able to reach behind his neck and take the amulet off. It was, in a way, the right thing to do - she was the rightful owner, and the purchase wasn't valid to begin with if the pendant was stolen. He just hoped his men could find something that looked similar enough for him to wear, just to spare Mirza's feelings.

He held onto the chain and carefully pulled it off. He would have given it back, but Zahir was rather tall and Faysal couldn't reach his hand, not from this position. The djinn didn't look like the twitchy sort, but in this situation it was better to play it safe. "May I?" he asked, gesturing to his crutches, fallen to the floor. "My arm isn't long enough to hand it over from here."

Lapis gasped softly and eagerly reached out for the pendant, sighing in relief as the chain pooled into her palm. She clasped it quickly around her neck and let the amulet slide beneath the collar of her blouse.

"Thank you," she whispered, trying to smile at Faysal. Zahir huffed and rolled his eyes, muttering something about stuttering mortals.

Lapis glowered at him, then looked back to the mortal man with wide eyes as he asked for his crutches. "Oh my-- of course, I'm sorry!" She darted forward to snatch them up, turning to hand them back to him with a soft blush.

 Faysal took the crutches from Lapis and carefully manoeuvred himself into standing position. The woman looked just happy to have the amulet back - no wonder, considering the advantages it must have given her. The djinn looked annoyed, but not enough to use his power and smite the frustrating mortals. It was enough.

"Is there anything else you'd like me to do?" he asked. It wasn't an attitude he had to assume frequently, but he preferred to play it safe.

"Oh-- no, no, thank you!" Lapis gasped out, eyes wide. As though suddenly remembering, she drew in a sharp breath between her teeth and grabbed for her coin purse. "Here, I can-- I'm sorry, I won't be able to completely reimburse you, but I have some--"

Zahir sighed and rolled his eyes. "Gods sakes, girl, relax. The prince just asked you if you wanted anything from him-- take advantage." He smirked. "That right there is like having your own personal genie."

Lapis snapped her mouth shut and glared at the djinn, her expression silently screaming, Fuck off.

 It appeared the djinn's sense of humour was more inclined towards jokes and playful comments than violent dismembering. The woman was clearly unused to having someone so powerful at her beck and call - she was very nervous, and she stumbled over her words when choosing a term of address before. The analysis led Faysal to proceed with a bold move.

"Well, not everything" he clarified. He would have shrugged, but he had to unlearn a lot of unnecessary arm gesticulation when standing. "If you asked me to dance nicely, I wouldn't be able to comply. But I could hire a professional who would handle such a request far better."

Lapis choked on a surprised giggle, and blanched. Oh gods, she'd just laughed at him.

Zahir had no such restraints, chuckling with an almost boyish grin and a glitter in his eyes. "Oh, I like you," he praised, rocking back on a heel.

Lapis glowered at the djinn, then looked back to Faysal. "I'm really, really sorry about him," she muttered despairingly under her breath. "He's just...sort of like this. All the time."

"Oi." Zahir pouted and wound himself around the tiny scholar with catlike grace, winding up with one arm around her waist and his hand splayed over her belly, the other arm draped loosely over her shoulder. He blinked at her beseechingly. "That's not very nice, Lapis. After all I've done for you..."

Very red in the face, though thankfully her darker complexion hid the blush somewhat, Lapis shoved him away, swearing colorfully in Old Serenian-- her favorite language for cursing, as it was delightfully descriptive.

Zahir just laughed and pecked her cheek, looking back up at Faysal. "Can't do a thing with her. So. You have been very nice about this whole thing. What exactly are you aiming for?" Though he was still smiling, his eyes were suddenly dark and cold. "And don't lie to me. I hate it when people do that."

 Faysal considered leaving - it looked like both the djinn and his holder could entertain each other well, and if they had any needs that had to be met, they would have spoken up about it already. The woman, Lapis Lazuli, appeared to be content to just have the pendant back, and Zahir either wasn't the type to exact elaborate vengeance on anyone who crossed his path, or was plotting in silence and there was nothing to be done about it.

The djinn's cold gaze met his. There was nothing to do but to tell the truth. After all, the way the situation unfolded so far, there probably shouldn't be any advantages to divulging it.

"Aiming for? I suppose I am motivated by common sense" he responded. "I am Essyrni, I know about the power a djinn wields. I doubt all the wealth my family's amassed could do anything to stop you, should you decide to turn your attention to me. I believe that acting accommodating and assisting you is one way to get out of this... situation with my life intact. This is what I'm aiming for."

"Mmmm..." Zahir's lips began to curl into a smirk. "In that case..."

He looked down at his mistress, and Lapis felt her stomach drop. Oh dear...

"Weren't you just saying how much you wished you could afford a nicer inn while we get out business sorted?" the djinn noted, almost sing-song. He looked back to Faysal. "Don't supposed your lordship could put us up for a few nights? In exchange for a favor, of course."

"Zahir--!" Lapis stared, mouth agape. What was he thinking?!

 That was a better offer than he expected - but he wasn't about to complain. "Of course. It shouldn't be any trouble." Covering a stay at a good inn would be but a drop of water in the ocean of wealth his family had access to. Even if he had to cover the expenses for Lapis Lazuli's entire life, it wouldn't be a problem. But it probably wouldn't come to this - Zahir mentioned sorting business out, which implied a temporary stay. The difference in expense wouldn't matter, but Faysal believed there was no detail not worth knowing.

"I will have my people search for a suitable place. Once found, I will send someone to let you know. Is it acceptable?" he asked.

"Ahhhh, I think you can do better than that," Zahir purred, and suddenly his affections were transferred from Lapis to the merchant prince. He leaned down into Faysal's personal space, a smile on his lips but his eyes hard and cold.

"I'm sure how have some spare rooms in your little merchant palace, don't you?"

Behind him, Lapis nearly fainted in a combination of shock and fear.

 Perhaps he should have figured this out earlier. Still, the poor Lapis Lazuli looked rather uncomfortable with her djinn throwing his weight around, leading Faysal to offer a solution that offered more independence and less stress. But maybe he was working with a wrong foundation to begin with. This whole idea was Zahir's to begin with, and he should have been aiming to satisfy the djinn's demand.

"I should have" he responded. The Palace was quite spacious to fit the entire family - especially all of Zaahir's wives, for someone unwilling to have any more children, the Merchant Prince sure kept busy... "We have plenty of guest chambers that mostly go unused this season. If you'd like, I can show you. There should be plenty for you to choose from."

"That would be just lovely, thank you," the djinn purred. He reached back casually to grab Lapis's shoulder and pulled her forward under his arm, pressing a bizarrely affectionate kiss to the top of her head. "See? Things have a way of working out, don't they?"

Lapis blinked wide eyes at Faysal, mouthing, I am so so sorry.

 He almost began to feel bad for the woman. The djinn was clearly making her uncomfortable - Faysal had a feeling that Zahir made an art out of frustrating people. Maybe it was the influence of the name. Still, he couldn't help but see the point to it. There was little djinns could do to prevent their power from being abused - but if they made such nuisances out of every interaction, at least their master wouldn't summon them for every little thing.

He brought up one of his crutches and knocked on the wall to signal his men. Hasan approached, opening the door. He backed away in surprise at the sight of Zahir. "Who are you?! How did you get here?!"

"Stand down" Faysal commanded. "The answers to these questions are none of your business. I did not expect your security to be so airtight to stop him from coming in, and I won't hold you responsible." If they believed that the unruly djinn and his victim-slash-mistress were working for him, they wouldn't ask questions. The last thing a sensible Essyrni wanted was becoming embroiled in Merchant Prince politics, where knowing just a little was enough to spell someone's death.

It would be rude to keep his new 'guests' waiting just because getting through the warehouse took time. Faysal sent Hasan ahead to instruct the slaves in front of the warehouse to let them inside the litter. It was rather spacious, so three people should be able to fit in without any problem. He had a feeling that Zahir would not take well to being dismissed for easier transport, so he decided against suggesting it. A cautious person could take it as an attempt to get rid of the djinn in order to attempt something dangerous - it was best not to antagonize a being that could erase him from existence with but a flick of his finger.

When he finally made his way outside, he found his personal guard lacking in numbers. Anticipating his question, Brahim approached and performed a quick bow. "The shadows lengthened, so the naqib decided to take Master Mirza back to the palace so he wouldn't be late for his history lessons."

That would explain it. Faysal let out a sigh of relief - he would have preferred not to make up a story in order to explain the presence of his new guests to Mirza. He would have to later weigh the benefits and drawbacks of this situation, decide whether to reward Ali for taking the initiative and sparing the family from having to look for a new, less fussy about punctuality tutor - or whether to punish him for acting without his leave and making decisions that weren't his to consider.

His guests have already taken their places in the litter. Faysal sat in the corner, putting his crutches down, and gestured for the slaves to lift. The crowds have thinned a little, although not enough for a foreigner to notice. While the congestion wasn't so thick that they couldn't move, it was rather slow, despite the best efforts of the guards.

Looked like he wasn't the only highborn visiting the market today. He could see another litter floating above the sea of people. The colours and heraldry indicated that the people inside were probably the family of Merchant Princess Ghada al-Budur. Zaahir was working with her on a deal concerning her exclusive trade routes, which meant that it was also in Faysal's best interest to treat those temporary allies well - even if the agreement fell apart, it was best not to make unnecessary enemies.

The other litter got close enough for him to recognize the two women sitting inside. They were giggling at each other, casting dirty looks at the djinn. This was, perhaps, to be expected, considering Zahir's outfit and appearance.

"Oh, is he yours?" one of the women asked, leaning over to speak to Lapis. "Would you be willing to part with this fine specimen for an evening? I'll pay well - and I promise to give him back unharmed!"

Lapis squeaked softly but didn't protest as she and Zahir were ushered toward the litter. The djinn reclined with a satisfied sigh, waiting for their host, but the scholar couldn't drop the tension from her shoulders. A small part of her couldn't help feeling like she just didn't belong here-- odd meetings and extortion by a supernatural creature aside, being born a slave seemed to be something she just couldn't forget.

But she'd be damned if she let anyone else notice.

So she tried for a polite smile when Faysal entered the litter, and she pressed a little closer to the lazily sprawled Zahir as they started moving. Eventually, the rocking motion started almost to lull her, and she found her head nodding toward Zahir's shoulder.

Then a new voice, a request that had her hackles raising.

And suddenly the shy, stuttering girl was nowhere to be found. Eyes snapping fire, Lapis gave the two merchant ladies a grin that could only be called "savage", more an expression of bared teeth than a real smile. "His is not for sale," she hissed. "And I should certainly hope anyone who entered your bed would leave it unharmed."

The meaning in her voice was all to clear. Gods, she hated people like that.

To her small surprise, Zahir said nothing, simply smiled politely at the rather dumbfounded women who'd expressed an interested in him. Rather than speaking up, he just laid his head in Lapis's lap, mindful of his horns, and nuzzled gently at her hip.

Almost too soft for her to hear, he whispered, "That's my girl." Her hand came to rest on his shoulder protectively, eyes narrowed as she stared the women down.

People like this were all too used to getting what they wanted. She wasn't entirely sure how they'd react to being turned down.

 It didn't take a titan intellect to know their reaction even before their exploded. Aaminah al-Budr just stared, mouth open and an expression of perfect shock on her face. It was clear that she certainly didn't expect such a response, such a clear refusal rather than bargaining that was supposed to follow. For a second, Faysal hoped that she was too shocked to react - perhaps the litter would move away and the divine would decide that this day had enough catastrophes. Unfortunately, Aaminah wasn't alone - her cousin Salima was sitting by her side, and it so just happened that Salima was a far quicker thinker, and valued family honour too much to accept even such a disappointment as Aaminah being refused in public.

"I am surprised to hear that" Salima remarked in a level and controlled tone. "I was under the impression, Master Faysal ibn-Zaahir, that you and your household were open to civil negotiation and bargaining. Looks like I would have to revise my opinion."

Oh, she wouldn't get him with such a simple ploy. "I'm afraid this is no grounds for you to change your mind, Mistress Salima bint Thana" he responded. "I would think that someone as acquainted with my family as you would be able to recognize any member on sight, and thus be able to tell them from others. Neither I nor my father force our allies to make any deals."

Salima clucked her tongue. "What surprises me most is that you don't even make an effort to produce a proper response. I feel for Prince Zaahir, forced to use you as his heir..."

There was no point in getting provoked. Salima wasn't foolish enough to say it to Zaahir's face, (un)fortunately. Faysal bit back a retort - it was quite obvious that prolonging this argument would only end badly. Better to remain quiet and let her have her victory. He leaned back and waited for either his or theirs slaves to carry them away.

The universe decided to grant him a little reprieve, and they separated before Salima decided she wanted to continue this useless spat after all, or before Aaminah spoke up again. Faysal reached for the curtains of the litter, about to draw them. "That should prevent most people from bothering you."

Lapis-- now slightly curved in on herself, cheeks ruddy with a blush-- hardly seemed like the young woman she'd been only moments ago.

"I, um...I'm sorry," she murmured as the curtains were drawn. "I d-didn't mean to...cause you trouble..."

Zahir snorted and wriggled around so his head was cradled more comfortably on her lap. "Oh, hush. You so rarely speak up for yourself, honestly it was just fun to watch."

 Faysal just shook his head. "If I can't handle the trouble, then I don't deserve the position I've been given." It was almost a family creed. Of course, he wasn't so short-sighted to extend such world-view to everyone around him, but it was still he applied to himself quite frequently. He leaned back against the silk and closed his eyes. It would probably be rude to stare, and while his litter seemed spacious and wide when he was the only person inside, adding more complicated things.

He breathed a sigh of relief when they arrived safely at the House of Eternal Sun. The litter was put down on the hot white stones of the courtyard in order to allow the guests to leave. Faysal waved away the slaves approaching with the smaller sedan chair - he wanted to show the guests around, and the less people knowing about their presence, less chance for trouble. He reached for his crutches and began getting up, as he took in the familiar surroundings.

The expansive courtyard was framed by lush greenery. His ancestors spent a fortune on procuring and maintaining plants to decorate their home - a clear show of wealth and power. Only one place was barren - Zaahir wanted to bring some exotic plants from other countries, but the hot desert climate killed them. They were trying to procure replacements in order to patch up the gap.

Lapis and Zahir peered our of the litter with an almost comically identical curiosity, looking around. The djinn was the first to seemingly deem the place acceptable, shrugging and climbing to his feet.

Lapis hesitated, glancing st their host's crutches. "Are you, um...you don't have to walk with us, if you'd rather not. We've asked a lot of you already," she murmured softly, ducking her eyes.

 "Well, I still have to find a chamber suitable for you, and this isn't a duty I'm willing to delegate to staff" he pointed out. He had a feeling that his troublesome guests would appreciate privacy - less slaves gossiping about them, the better. And, judging by Lapis Lazuli's reaction to Aaminah, perhaps he should also make sure that they wouldn't have to interact with his family.

He moved the weight of his body onto one crutch and tapped the end of the other against the floor to draw the attention of some of the slaves who were still loitering around with the sedan chair. "Find someone discreet who's been working here for at least two months" he commanded. "Send them to the east wing to find me and receive orders."

He turned back to his troublesome guests. "Please follow me. I'll show you the guest chambers. Do you have any preferences regarding accommodations?" How much beds would be required? Did a djinn even need sleep?

"Oh, no, really you've done so much already--"

"Yeah, you got some of those silk sheets or something?" Zahir cut Lapis off, tossing an arm around her shoulders. "Maybe one of those slinky little negligee-- oof!"

Lapis drove her elbow into the djinn's cut, scowling at him through her blush. "Actually, if you had two separate rooms, that would be lovely."

 Faysal gave the djinn a cursory glance - just a small one, his ego really didn't need any more feeding. "I'm sure I can find some slinky transparent negligee in your size, Master Zahir."

"How separate do you want the rooms?" he asked. It would probably be the best to strike the perfect equilibrium between far enough to be safe from the djinn's harassment, but close enough to be able to find each other without trouble. "I assume you'd like them on the same floor?"

To Lapis's surprise, Zahir burst out laughing. "Oh, I really like this one."

Sighing, the young scholar murmured, "Near each other is fine, thank you."

 Faysal found a pair of guest rooms and carefully opened the door, leaning on the right crutch as he manipulated the handle with the left hand. He pushed the door open to let the guests inside and let them see the room. The floor was a mosaic of colourful stones, carefully chosen to create a beautiful image of an oasis. Upon those stones furniture was carefully arranged: seats surrounding a small table to work on, some chests to contain guest's belongings standing by the wall. In the back, appropriately placed folding screens blocked the sight of the sleeping part of the chamber, to provide the guests with some privacy. The walls were decorated with tapestries brought from foreign lands.

"There's a separate bath further in" he explained. Some of Zaahir's guests were foreigners and had strange bathing customs - after struggling to meet everyone's needs, providing them with separate bathing chambers seemed like the logical conclusion.

Lapis's eyes lit up at the prospect of a bath, but she tried quickly to hide it. "Thank you," she murmured, dipping her head respectfully to their host. "This is incredibly kind of you..."

Even if he had done it at the coercion of a djinn.

 Faysal smiled back. This was an exhausting day, but he was glad that at least she liked the place. "Very well. If you need something, just ask..." He frowned. Where was that slave? How hard could it be to make it here with both legs functional?

Fortunately, she didn't keep them waiting for long. The sound of running soon echoed in the corridor, followed by a girl in house colours. "Reporting as commanded, my lord" she gasped out.

Good. He turned back to Lapis Lazuli and Zahir. "She's here to tend to your needs during your stay. Food, water, any arrangements you need to have made. Since the household is rather large, and I cannot claim none of my father's wives would... make any propositions such as the one you received at the market. Therefore, she will coordinate to make sure you won't have to encounter them and risk it."

The last thing he wanted was to make his guest think he was trying to control their freedom, or use a slave to spy on them, so he hurried to provide further explanation. "She is here to serve you, not command you. I will have her stationed outside, but the choice whether to use her services is yours."

Lapis and Zahir had both stiffened slightly at the slave's appearance, but while the djinn quickly relaxed and shot the girl a quick, charming grin, Lapis just frowned.

"Thank you, but that's not necessary." She addressed the girl rather than Faysal. "I'm sure you've better work to do, I really wouldn't want to take your time." Her voice had softened slightly, though she still seemed...almost angry.

Zahir sighed and closed his eyes. She never learned.

 Faysal frowned, but quickly fixed his expression. It was a bit troublesome that his solution wouldn't work for his guests - they were a powder keg waiting to blow up, and he would have preferred that they didn't do so in his family's presence. The thought of one of Zaahir's wives hitting on the gorgeous djinn, or someone important setting Lapis Lazuli off was... something he'd really want to avoid. Perhaps he should make a donation to one of the temples and just put his faith in a higher power.

As relaxing as it would be, he couldn't just give up and renounce this responsibility. He had to make an effort. He was the only one who could. "Are you certain?" he asked, turning to Lapis Lazuli. "This is quite a large place." Even now he was considering another alternatives in his mind, preparing for an eventual refusal.

She shook her head firmly and Zahir gave a dramatic sigh, closing his eyes.

"I will not force a slave to serve me," Lapis replied, quick, blunt, and sharp.

 Faysal bit down his instant impulse to argue. There were so many arguments sprouting into his head - he could say that she wasn't the one doing the forcing, since the slave was working on the orders of the family; ask if he should hire a paid servant to do the job since she seemed more at odds with the concept of slaves working than the service itself; and far more. But it wouldn't be the best solution. Pressing too much would reveal how invested he was in it, and he didn't want them to think that he was sending a slave to spy on them or keep them restricted. He had to remind himself that this time, he wasn't dealing with people close to his status. Zahir's presence skewed the situation drastically and his first priority was not to annoy them.

"Very well" he said instead, his voice as calm and composed as if he wasn't inconvenienced in the slightest. "Will you need anything for your business? Access to archives, transport to other parts of the city?"

"Archives?" Lapis immediately perked up. "What kind of archives?"

Zahir rolled his eyes. "Oh gods, here we go."

 Zahir looked apprehensive, but Faysal far preferred dealing with enthusiasm than risking offending a powerful guest. "Most of my family's personal archives are records of business transactions and deals, but if you're searching for something, perhaps some of our documentation could be of assistance to you. I will instruct our archivists to open the doors to you and help you find your way through all this paper. They aren't slaves" he hurried to assuage her. "They are servants of my family that are paid well for their work." The archive was too important to leave it in the hands of untrained slaves - only the trusted vassals were allowed to work there - and of course, appropriately compensated.

"I would love to see them, if that's alright," Lapis said excitedly, evidently making an effort to control herself. She seemed to relax just a bit at the assurance that his family employed proper workers in the archives.

 Faysal was glad to see that the slave unpleasantness seemed to be put behind them. And speaking of slaves... He turned to the forgotten girl who just waited with uncertainty written on her face, not sure about what to do when the guest rejected her service, but no permission to leave was given. "Report to the archivists and let them know my guest will be coming" he commanded. "Oh, and have someone bring my sedan chair." He was getting far too tired of having to hobble everywhere.

"Oh, you don't need to do that." Zahir tilted his head, finally speaking up again. "You know...you could just ask. Lapis could wish for you to be healed."

The scholar blinked and glanced at her companion, both surprised and wary.

 Ah.

It wasn't frequent that people addressed his... situation with such candour. Then again, he spent most of his time either ordering around his lessers who knew better than to even look upon his broken legs, or making deals with people who were rightfully more concerned with profits and business than the condition of whoever they were speaking to. But both the djinn and his keeper were rather straightforward.

He folded his hands and kept his expression neutral. "I could, but I won't. It is not in the nature of my family to ask for what could be accomplished on our own. The passage of time is not as pricey as a power of a djinn, and all I have to do in order to be healed by it is survive long enough - a better deal, I have to say."

"Hm." Zahir smirked a bit. "Smart man."

Lapis rolled her eyes at him. "I swear by the goddess, you're worse than a damned demon," she muttered. The djinn just laughed.

"Of course I am. A demon gets a choice in his contract."

That had her wincing guiltily, suddenly unable to look at her companion.

 The catastrophe at the bazaar and her reaction to the slaves in the palace were a clear indicator of how the woman felt about any sort of enforced servitude. Lapis Lazuli was probably the only Essyrni he knew that wasn't happy to have a djinn at her beck and call. He couldn't quite place whether Zahir was displeased to have to serve a master - a completely sensible and understandable grievance, considering the power at his disposal - or whether he was just doing it to get a rise out of her - also a believable reason.

Of course, there was a simple way to keep her conscience clear: just use up the remaining wishes to get rid of the djinn. Faysal thought of suggesting it, but then held his tongue. She wasn't stupid - any person in his position would try and get rid of her in order to claim Zahir's powers for himself. It would be best for everyone involved if he kept quiet about it. It was a simple enough idea that it could have occurred to her as well without his intervention.

Footsteps echoed from the southern end of the corridor. That was probably his sedan chair. He turned to give some last information to the new guests. "Should you need food, the kitchens are on the ground floor, in the west wing. Follow the smell." It wasn't most hospitable, making them go get food themselves, but sending a slave up to deliver something would probably not be accepted.

"Thank you." Lapis nodded to him, though it was clear her attention was now on the promise of these archives, eyes bright. Zahir sighed and ruffled her braids good naturedly.

"So, master merchant...prince...whatever." The djinn tilted his head. "Will you be joining my mistress in burying her nose in old parchment?"

 "I'm not a merchant prince, that title belongs to my father-" he quickly cut off. He already said it once, and he had a feeling that insisting upon proper titles would not win him any points with either of the guests. His first thought was to refuse, but he reconsidered. While he longed to just sit down, that was a chance to regain some control over the situation. It was unlikely that they were spies - but it wasn't a chance he was willing to take.

"That's a good idea" he admitted. The djinn was the one who suggested it, so it shouldn't be suspicious. "What about you, Master Zahir? Will you come as well, or would you rather stay in the room and wait for that slinky negligee I promised you?"

"Oh, I go where she goes." Zahir threw his arm around Lapis's shoulders companionably. "Though if you'd rather the negligee be sent to the archives I'm certainly not arguing."

 Faysal didn't know whether to feel jealous of Lapis Lazuli being blessed with a djinn's permanent company, or feel sorry for having to put with Zahir all the time. He was freed of the weight of this question by the arrival of the house slaves bearing the sedan chair that was his temporary means of transportation. He climbed up and sat, smothering a sigh of relief. Showing weakness was not something he was willing to indulge in, not even now.

"To the archives" he commanded. "My guests will accompany us."

Without really meaning to, Lapis found herself leaning toward their host slightly. "Are you sure you're al--"

She managed to stop herself just before she finished the question, snapping her mouth shut and leaning back. Hush now, not your place.

Gods, she hated that feeling. But for the moment, she wouldn't fight it.

 He was starting to get used to this. He always was quick to adapt. "Al... alarmed at the thought of what Master Zahir might do when you're perusing the archives and not supervising him? Yes, shaking with fear - what would my unfortunate archivists do? It is my duty to at least be there to witness their valiant efforts."

Lapis forced a small chuckled and nodded to him. "Right. Well, as long as he's well enough amused, he shouldn't be too much trouble."

 The slaves carried him towards the archive, followed by Zahir and Lapis Lazuli. Faysal described their way as they moved, so that his guests could later retrace their steps and make it back to the chamber. Most of the time, he wouldn't have bothered, but he wasn't certain if her peculiar sense of morality would let her command slaves to lead her back - or even ask for directions.

The archive door was large and heavy, almost impossible to open by one person. Two strong slaves were always stationed there, to handle it. At Faysal's command, they wrenched it open, wide enough to let the sedan chair through. Most of the time, they only needed to move it slightly, to let the archivists in and out.

The archive was easily the largest chamber in the palace. It occupied almost the entirety of the wing, taking up several floors. It was a single massive room, divided by tall, heavy bookcases that stretched up to the darkness of the ceiling. As most of the archived knowledge was dry and flammable, carrying any sort of fire inside was expressly forbidden. The Merchant Prince commissioned a summoner to bind light elementals inside a series of glass bottles for his archivists to use when working. Apart from those few sparks, the whole archive was shrouded in the darkness.

Faysal motioned to the brightest spot in the room: a small table where the bottles stood. "Those are the only source of light permitted inside, in order to prevent a fire. My father commissioned only a limited number, but there should be some available to you." Only the most dedicated staff worked every day, after all.

One of the archivists shambling around in their long robes noticed their presence and hurried over. His eyes widened at the sight of Faysal as he quickly bowed, his beard almost touching the floor. "Ah- it is rare to see you here, my lord! How can your humble servant assist you?"

Faysal pointed to Zahir and Lapis Lazuli. "Those are my guests. I have granted them access to the archives for the work they must do. Extend all courtesy to them."

"I will, my lord!" the man assured him. With his permission, he turned his attention to the two. "How can I help the honoured guests? What do you need from the archives?"

Lapis started, as though not entirely expecting the question to be addressed to her. "Oh, well, ah..." She glanced at Zahir, but when he offered no help-- not exactly a surprise-- she huffed and rolled her eyes. "Could you point me in the direction of the histories? Preferably something that mentions folklore?"

She didn't want to come right out and say djinn. There was no telling what any given person's reaction to that might be.

 The archivist stroked his beard thoughtfully. Faysal didn't have to read his mind to know his dilemma - any merchant prince would keep documents on past deals, changes in tax law, trade routes and similar important information. Folklore and histories were simply not relevant to their business. He feared that in this aspect, the family archives would not be as useful to Lapis Lazuli as she might have hoped.

"Well, folklore and history are not my area of expertise" the man began, bowing apologetically. "With your permission, I'll fetch Archivist Maahir - that's something he could help with."

He was addressing the woman, but his glance kept straying towards Faysal. He was clearly not doing well with two sources of authority. As soon as the scholar gave permission, the heir nodded as well - no use trying to keep the man.

Fortunately, it looked like Archivist Maahir was worked today. His colleague must have explained the situation to him, as he wasted no time asking about the details. He did stare at Zahir a little, but was professional enough not to let his gaze linger. "So you are the honoured guests? Please, follow me. Our histories section is over there."

"Thank you." Trying not to wilt under the pomp and propriety of the place, Lapis kept her back as straight as she could manage as she followed the archivist. Zahir trailed behind her, glancing aroudn with an almost bored kind of curiosity.

 Looked like his guests were taken care of. Faysal no longer saw a purpose in remaining inside the archives - there was nothing he needed to check, and outside his duty awaited. He's already used up a lot of time, and would have to make up for it. With a wave of his hand, he commanded the slaves to carry him out of the archives.

Archivist Maahir led the strange pair further into the archives. He stopped by the row of shelves seemingly no different from the others, stony and cold. He indicated at the area nearby. "Here begins our histories section, but even though it's modest, it would take years to properly cover it. Are you looking for any era or topic in particular?"

"What do you have about the rise of the first Shah to power?" Zahir asked abruptly.

Lapis blinked, a little surprised, and glanced back at him, but didn't protest. "Uh, yes. That. Anything useful, maybe?"

 Maahir nodded, glad to have the request narrowed down. "We do. The most known account is the official imperial chronicle - we have a copy, of course, but I won't bore you with that - if that's what you're researching, I'm sure that was the first source you consulted. There are also diaries of the first Shah's contemporaries, one epic poem, although its accuracy is dubious at best..." He wrung his hands, looking apologetic. "This isn't a historical archive, so we may not have a lot, but I hope it'll help. This way."

"I'm sure whatever you have is better than nothing," Lapis said with a quick smile. "Thank you."

Zahir rolled his eyes, but simply trailed behind as she followed their guide.

 Maahir caught the eye roll, but either decided that it was not meant for him and the archives, or chose not to do anything about it. He began climbing a nearby ladder, sturdy enough that it didn't even buckle under his weight. He stopped after seventeen steps, hooked one arm around the railing and reached far to the right, locking his fingers around a well-dusted scroll. He tucked it under his arm before beginning a slowed ascent.

He presented it to Lapis. "If you're looking for a quiet place to read, there should be a table with chairs near the entrance. I can find the rest while you're perusing this one."

"Thank you very much." The younger scholar took the offered scroll with a grateful smile, ducking her head before scurrying over to one of the chairs.

Zahir watched her go with a small role of his eyes and a half smile curving at his lips. "Silly little thing."

 Maahir returned several minutes later, his robe dirtied by dust. Clearly, history was not a popular study subject among the Merchant Prince's family. He placed a few scrolls on the chosen table, bowing quickly. "If there is anything you will need, Mistress, please let one of the other archivists know, and they will inform me."

"Mhm, I will, thank you," Lapis replied, not even truly listening. Zahir rolled his eyes, already swiftly growing bored.

"Hey, Master Archivist. What's the quickest way back up into the manor proper?"

 The archivist blinked, clearly not expecting one of the guests to leave that early. But then again, it was the woman who seemed more interested in the research - he could be just her bodyguard or... a servant of some other kind. "The door is right over here" he began. "The guards will open it for you if you ask. From there, follow the corridor, turn right, then go under the azure arch."

"Wonderful, thank you." Zahir grinned, gave the man a polite bow, then turned on his heel and strolled back toward the door, whistling.

Lapis was so absorbed in the books that she didn't even seem to notice.

 The guards-slash-gatepullers of the archives were willing to give Zahir directions to the guest wing - while they obviously couldn't know what specific room the strange couple was assigned to, the Palace of the Rising Sun was an enduring proof that true beauty did not have to be achieved through sacrificing practical use.

However, the guest wing was rather... spacious, and most of the doors there were locked. While a simple lock was no match for djinn magic, it sent a clear message: it was not his destination. He and Lapis didn't lock up upon leaving, after all. And it looked like this first hallway was just the beginning. If the palace was meant to house a Merchant Prince's family, the esteemed ancestor who commissioned this house must have been quite a slut.

Footsteps were approaching. They didn't sound like a slave or a servant - there was some confidence to it, it was clear that the source felt confident in this place as if they owned it. But they were too light to belong to a grown man, which probably should leave the Merchant Prince out...

A young boy rounded the corner. He wasn't a page or a messenger - the rich embroidery on his light robe and the telltale clank of jewellery made it clear. His eyes narrowed as he noticed Zahir. "Who are you?" he demanded, his keen gaze sweeping over the djinn's form. "You're dressed like one of the eunuchs from the harems... but none of them would venture here."

The djinn paused, one eyebrow creeping up as he looked the boy over. "No, I'm not part of any harem." He glanced down at himself searchingly. "Not last I checked anyway."

He looked up with a shrug and a smile that showed a flash of too-sharp teeth. "Perhaps I should be asking who you are, little lordling."

 "Princeling" the boy corrected him with the emphasis of a child who mistakenly believed that having learned enough complicated words would earn him the right to be on the level playing fields with adults. "I am Mirza ibn-Zaahir, son of the Merchant Prince who owns this palace, and Lady Safiyyah."

He frowned. "Well, now you don't have to ask. Unless you want to, but I will probably ignore it. I don't like repeating myself. But I do, because there is a limited amount of words in our language and I'm bound to keep repeating them. It would be nice if more synonyms existed."

The djinn's eyebrow quirked even higher. "That so?" He folded his arms and leaned back on one heel, tilting his head. "Perhaps you should learn other languages then. Use those words instead of synonyms."

 The boy's eyes lit up as he pondered this new idea. "A new language!" he exclaimed, his voice taking on an excited tone. "Finally I could tell people openly what I think and they wouldn't scold me for it!" He truly seemed taken with the prospect.

Suddenly, his face fell as something previously unknown made its way to his mind. "But my tutors say that barbarian tongues sound like the howling of baboons and the yipping of jackals" he pointed out. It probably wasn't surprising that the household of a Merchant Prince would hold such opinion of what was foreign.

Rather than get irritated, Zahir laughed and bent slightly so he was closer to the child's level.

"Perhaps you should get a second opinion," he said in Ancient Sylvan, a language common in Serendipity the last time he had been there but had likely nearly died out by now. Each syllable was the trickle of a stream over stone, silver winds through emerald leaves.

 The boy's eyes widened in amazement, growing bigger with every word that tumbled out of the djinn's mouth. Clearly, he's never heard Ancient Sylvan before. "What- Is that even a language?" he demanded, the tone of his voice mellowing from commanding to curious. "Are you a singer? Some kind of a performer?"

"I have been" Zahir replied with a crooked grin. "Could be again, I suppose, if it was called for. And yes, that's a real language. Used to be spoken all over Serendipity, but I'm not surprise it's not really spoken down south."

 The boy's forehead creased as he recalled the name of Serendipity. "I remember the name - it was a former colony of ours" he stated. It was a rather low-risk bet to make - there was little that the ancient Essyrn empire hasn't covered at some point. "Well, I suppose it's a good thing that our forces aren't about to re-conquer the north any time soon" he stated.

His gaze finally left Zahir's unusual form, sweeping all over the hallway. What he saw - or didn't see - soured his mood, but he didn't stay upset for long. He plopped down on the ground. "I'd offer you a place to sit, since I'm the host here, but you'd be uncomfortable. The floor is cold" he stated, clearly displeased with its temperature. "I should have people put up some ottomans around."

"Are you here to entertain for a feast?" he asked. "I didn't hear of anything being organized... And can you teach me more of that language? It doesn't have articles, does it? It's a very strange concept, I think. Why would people need an additional word to know what is a noun?"

"Is that how you see the world?" Zahir's tone was not accusatory, merely curious. "As what was once-Essyrn and what was not?" He chuckled softly and shook his head. "That is rather limiting."

Rocking back on his heels, he added, "No, I am not here as an entertainer. My mistress is perusing the library. I was told not to make a nuisance of myself."

 The boy didn't react like a spoiled rich brat; rather than assert the superiority of his way of viewing the world, or describe the greatness of the former Essyrn empire; he just nodded. "Grown-ups always choose such weird categories to put the world in" he commented. "There are better points of view - such as how many arms people have or whether they think zero deserves to be a number." His gaze focused on Zahir. "Or what language they speak. I imagine you'd get more points than I, since I can't speak a word of... Ancient Sylvan, was it?"

"Yes, Ancient Sylvan. Not many people speak that anymore though," the djinn replied with another quirked smile.

 "Why don't they?" the boy's interest quickly swung from complaining about grown-ups back to the peculiar language. "Did the Serendipitians conquer them?" His question probably wasn't surprising - Essyrni history was rife with invasions, and there were more important things to teach to princelings than the proper form of 'citizen of Serendipity'.

Zahir shrugged. "No, not as I understand it. I wasn't there of course-- busy at the time, you see. But most Serenians just...sort of evolved, I believe. Many still have fae ancestry."

 "So languages do evolve!" he exclaimed, satisfied. "My tutors keep saying that only a barbarian would contaminate their language with impurities. I keep saying that languages are living things, like people. They evolve, and they infect living beings. Like diseases." He looked very pleased. "Hey, can you come with me and tell that to my tutor? I want to see her face when she finds out she's wrong. I will reward you, of course."

The djinn smirked. "Oh, I believe I would like to see that as well," he chuckled.

With a deep, sweeping bow, he smiled at the boy. "Lead on then, young master."

 The boy turned around and began walking through the hallway. His steps carried confidence and poise - he clearly expected everyone else to get out of his way, rather than force him to make a detour. He didn't cast a single glance back to check if the djinn was following him - either he was clearly accustomed to people following his orders, or simply his ears were good enough for him to hear Zahir's footsteps.

There were slaves in the hallways - cleaning up the floor, running errands, carrying various items. All of them hurried to get out of the boy's way, dropping into quick bows as soon they saw him; though for all the attention he paid, they could as well have ignored him. The merchant princeling's gaze went past them as if they were just pieces of furniture. One might find his behaviour rude, but when considering what a master's attention could mean, perhaps it was for the best.

He led Zahir under a glorious arch, carved out of marble into a shape of a great serpent bending over the hallway. It led to a passage open to the sky, in a way - rather than a solid, impenetrable ceiling, it was covered by finely cut glass. It was no monolithic pane, but a mosaic of meticulously carved tiny pieces, arranged in a pattern that was impossible to discern when looking up, but quickly became apparent when turning one's gaze to the floor. There, on modest gray stone, fell the light filtered through the glass and shaped into dancing images, marred whenever someone passed through. At the other end of the path, there was only a muddy haze - probably a consequence of the cloud drifting across the sky.

Beyond the passageway, there was only one more stairwell to descend. The boy didn't let on that they were getting any closer to their destination, but as they rounded a corner, they happened upon an agitated older woman. Upon seeing the boy, she gasped and hurried towards him, as quickly as the embroidered fabric of her robe allowed. "Young master Mirza!" she gasped. "Here you are- I thought- Where-"

"Well, I suppose now that the speech lesson is over, you don't have to give me a good example to follow" he sighed. "What happened to 'subject, verb, object'? Actually, never mind. I'm not here for it anyway."

The woman calmed down enough to notice Zahir. Her eyes bulged out of her sockets as she stared. Several seconds elapsed before she got her libido in order enough to realize that she probably shouldn't succumb to lust in front of her pupil, leading her to look away immediately.

The djinn merely smirked and rocked back on his heels, glancing down at the boy and paying the woman no attention whatsoever.

"Is this your tutor then, lad?" He finally glanced up at the woman, looking her over critically. "What exactly am I meant to tell her?"

 The woman's expression was a mix of displeasure at being ignored and a clear battle against her common sense reminding her that getting involved with someone who looked like either a member of the Merchant Prince's household (but dressed a member of a harem!) or an honoured guest.

  "That is her indeed. Allow me to-" he stopped, never finishing his line. "Actually, why should I be the one playing the herald in my father's house?"

His words crossed from playfully petulant to almost bullying when he continued. "And to think you tried to drill me on the importance of proper introductions and etiquette... That's quite a sorry example you set for me to follow. I'm sure my father would not be pleased, considering what a stickler he is for tradition."

The woman grew pale like the midday sky. "I- That's-" She quickly reached the conclusion that the quickest way to end this humiliation would be to play along. "That's - I'm Vida Zhaleh, tutor to young master Mirza."

The boy folded his arms and gave her an examining stare. "Well, this isn't quite the proper introduction you tried to make me memorize..." Fortunately, his childlike impatience won over pettiness, and he turned to respond to the djinn. "But do forgive my rudeness, I still need to give you an answer. I should like you to repeat your say on the matter of language."

Zahir watched the exchange with one eyebrow elegantly arched, head tilted slightly to the side. He had no stake in this particular game, as it were, and it occurred to him that it might be rather fun to play both sides of the field for a moment.

"Ah yes, about the evolution of languages, was it?" Zahir knelt to be on the young prince's level and cocked his head up at his tutor, lips curled to one side in a half smile. "I've been informed that you may have been...misguided in your lessons to this young man, fair lady," he mused, eyes dancing. "Essyrni itself has gone through at least three major linguistic upheavals in the time that I have spoken it."

He suddenly looked to Mirza again, smile still in place but something in his expression a little...firm. "It seems that one aspect has not changed-- those in power still feel the need to assert themselves over those they rule, both in language and in deed." His brow furrowed slightly and he lowered his voice just a bit. "Do you not think you could be kinder to the lady? She is only human, and you all make mistakes." 

 "I think I could" Mirza answered, with gravity implying that his answer pertained to grammar rather than semantics. "Of course, the question of who is weak and who is strong, is a complex one, wouldn't you agree? While it is true that I outrank her in status, but in a fistfight you could overpower me - you're a grownup, I'm just a kid."

She gasped. "I would never dare raise a hand against one of such noble blood! And brawling like a thug is beneath my dignity!" The part where it was also beneath his dignity went unsaid, either because she was not partial to uttering the obvious or because she did not want to hear the wisecrack he probably had prepared.

Mirza looked like he had just the perfect retort ready for unleashing, but held his tongue and glanced at Zahir, giving him a silent 'I tried being kinder and all I got is this dumb look on my face'. But there was still a sparkle of interest in his eyes. "Are you also a tutor, sir? Your knowledge and way of scolding gives such an impression..."

Zahir chuckled, eyes flashing for a moment, almost...animalistic. "I have been, in the past," he responded evenly. "Currently, however, I am...something of a wanderer, I suppose. My companion, the young woman with the striking colors in her hair--she may be more suited for an occupation such as tutoring."

 The tutor looked as if she had something to say about Zahir traveling with a young woman, probably something relating to propriety, but thought better of it and kept quiet rather than provide Mirza with more fuel to twist around. Luckily, the boy seemed to have had his fill of teasing her and once again turned his attention fully to the djinn.

"You must have seen quite a lot on your travels" he probed. "I have seen a lot... of valuable cargo my father's men bring from theirs. Like silverberry spice, or Thanati silks, or jewels from the isles of Yoreiq..."

He trailed off, probably wondering at the story behind some of the more interesting items; or trying to figure out whether it was more fun to receive such treasures or to go out there and seek them out. But this train of thought did not occupy him too long, and he soon turned his attention to Zahir once more. He leaned against the wall in a slouch quite unbecoming of a Merchant Prince to be, and asked "So, how did you two meet? Were it your parents who introduced you to her, or hers?"

"Oh, I've seen more of the world than most mortals know exists," Zahir replied to the boy with a smile that revealed a flash of too-sharp canines.

He turned his attention back to the tutor quickly enough and arched an eyebrow. Oh. Oh this was too good. Ah, Essyrn social structure and societal rules, how he had missed the intricacies--and taking advantage in order to scandalize people.

"Well we met when she...offered me a certain release," the djinn replied with a positively wicked grin, eyes glinting. "My dearest companion was born into the slave caste in the city, you see, so...we have helped each other, I suppose you could say."

True? Yes. Technically. So Lapis couldn't technically shriek at him for lying. Perfect.

 The tutor gasped, just as scandalised by the djinn's words as expected. She began to fan herself desperately with her hand, but to no avail. Mirza turned and glanced at her quizzically. "If you need air, there's outside - and I'm sure you can find a slave who can fan you."

As tempting as the prospect of getting away from the scandalous scantily-clad (although sexy) man was, the woman balked at leaving her young charge alone with such a dangerous person. Who knew what sort of wrong ideas would this scoundrel put into Mirza's impressionable young head?! No, she could not allow it!

"Would you come with me?" she tried. "The Palace of the Rising Sun is so large, I might get lost."

Mirza was having none of that. "Follow the hallway, enter the door adorned with golden frogs and turn left. There, you should find some slaves who would direct you further. I'll stay here and chat with the guest."

She may have lost the battle, but the war still waged on. "But I'm sure that the good master here has his own important matters to tend to, and can't entertain you for too long." She almost glanced at Zahir for confirmation, but clearly thought better of relying on the scandalous tattletale unable to hold his tongue in the presence of an impressionable youth.

"Oh, I certainly wouldn't mind keeping the boy company for a bit longer--"

"Zahir!"

Damn. The djinn closed his eyes, gave a long suffering sigh, and turned to see Lapis hurrying along the hallway toward them, breathing a little heavily and scowling at him. "Lapis, dearest, did you need something?"

"Oh, don't you start with me." Evidently she didn't notice the young princeling and his maid--she never would have been so outspoken around strangers. "What were you thinking?! I turned around and you were just gone, I had no idea where you went--"

Finally, she seemed to actually see the two people in front of him and snapped her mouth shut, eyes going wide. "Ah...excuse me, forgive my companion. He hasn't been bothering you, has he?"

 The tutor seemed half-relieved that someone came to take the frustrating man away, half-worried that this woman would turn out to be an even worse influence on her pupil. She hesitated, and Mirza immediately capitalized on the opportunity, turning to speak to Lapis.

"Not at all, madam! As a matter of fact, we've had a lovely conversation about languages. Are you this associate he spoke of? He told us how did you two meet. You were the one who offered him that release he mentioned, weren't you?"

Zahir winced. He didn't need to look at Lapis to know her eye was twitching.

The young scholar made an admirable effort to keep her face blank, taking a breath in an effort to contain an angry tirade before she replied with a thin, tight smile. "Ah--yes. I suppose that is...one way of saying it," she ground out through the smile.

 Mirza frowned, putting more thought into it than every person involved wanted him to. "Now that I think about it, it's a rather strange way to put it..."

"Perhaps the honoured guests' grasp of our tongue is to blame" the tutor leaped in, clearly desperate. Neither Lapis nor Zahir appeared to be even remotely foreign, but when the plausible and the realistic failed, she was willing to entertain the most ludicrous of ideas. "Even scholars well-versed in languages sometimes make mistakes."

The boy immediately zeroed in on her. "But you claimed it was rude to interrupt others, and yet you spoke up before I was done. I wonder what circumstances made it acceptable..."

She pursed her lips, frowning but unable to provide a satisfying answer. Pleased with the result, Mirza once again turned his thoughts to the mystery of Zahir's wording. "When I think of releases, to my mind comes release from a promise or an obligation. But if it was the first time you two met, you couldn't have made any promises before..."

"Ah, that is...well..."

"A promise of sorts," Zahir cut across the young woman. His smile was a little twisted, sour. "Though not one of dear Lapis's making. Rather...she has shifted my obligation, you might say. And has done so admirably, I must admit."

The scholar blinked, looking up at him again. She'd never heard him say something like that before... Normally he just complained about his forced servitude to the owner of his amulet, he'd never--well. Admitted that picking the damn thing up maybe didn't make her a terrible person.

That might not have been what he was going for, but it was what she heard.

 "Well, that was vague" Mirza commented. He extended a hand and began counting on his fingers. His face fell as he neared the end - clearly, the result was not what he hoped for. "Aww, it goes over Hassim's Discretion..."

The tutor's face lit up with realization, quickly seeing a chance to retaliate. "Exactly so, my lord! I'm glad that you remembered the rules of etiquette! Hassim's Discretion dictates the number of questions that can be asked about a single subject that is not an agreed-upon subject of the conversation! Now that you realized it, I think it's time to say your farewells and let the honoured guests be. The bells are sure to sound soon, and you probably have another lesson to prepare for..."

For once, Mirza did not immediately zero in on her careless words, eliciting instead to pout.

“R-right, well it was...lovely to meet you, young prince,” Lapis managed to stammer our, dipping into an appropriately deep bow.

Zahir rolled his eyes, but inclined his head slightly. “Enjoy your lessons, boy,” he murmured to Mirza, smirking with a particular glint to his eye. “But don’t stop asking questions.”