Nasir hastened to his master's side, his voice dropping to a sharp whisper. "Master, pardon my bluntness, but that woman… she's unhinged. Even our brief encounters have tested my patience. While I can't condone the actions of that scoundrel, I almost understand his cruelty. I've only spent moments with her, yet she's driven me to the brink of pulling my own hair out in frustration."

  ‘There’s something strange about her…’

  Dhi'b's gaze remained focused on the old woman as Nasir vented. She was a contradiction wrapped in rags and wrinkles, her aura unreadable. His instincts, honed through years of survival in the desert, gnawed at him like a restless predator.

  ‘She looks like an ordinary crone… yet something about her feels… wrong. My senses should pick up on any threat, but there’s nothing. No aura, no power. Could she be masking it?’

  Dhi’b considered it. His thoughts raced, pieces of a puzzle assembling in his mind.

  ‘Unlikely. I’ve encountered masters of concealment, rulers of hidden arts—and even they couldn’t hide this close to me.

  But one thing is sure, she’s not just dangerous but also a paradox.’

  “Why ya starin’ at me, boy?” The old woman’s voice cut through his musings. Her grin stretched wide, showing gaps where teeth had once been. “Ya think I’m pretty, huh? Maybe I ain’t as young as I used to be, but I still got some spice left in me.”

  ‘Nasir has a point. Her words are grating, but her eyes… they’re unnerving. It’s as if they see through me, unraveling secrets I didn’t know I kept.’

  The attendant bristled, stepping forward with indignation. “Mind your manners! My master saved your life. You should show respect.”

  Dhi’b raised a hand, halting Nasir’s protest. The old woman’s grin widened. “What? Ain’t offerin’ myself enough thanks for ya?” she cackled. “I’m broke, boy. All I got’s this old body to offer.”

  “You…” Nasir’s jaw tightened, words caught between fury and disbelief.

  “Enough,” Dhi’b interjected, his tone calm but commanding. He stepped forward, bowing low to the woman. “Apologies for any disrespect, wise one.”

  Nasir’s eyes widened as realization sank in. His master’s reverence rendered him silent. He quickly turned away, muttering under his breath, ignoring them.

  Dhi’b smirked, shaking his head.

  ‘Cheeky b*stard.’

  The old woman’s brow furrowed. She touched her injuries with exaggerated irritation. “Tsk. You’re no fun.”

  “Need help with that?” Dhi’b offered, sitting beside her.

  “Of course, you rascal!” She frowned at him. “Can’t you see I’m hurtin’? And you still gotta ask?”

  ‘Even up close, there’s nothing unusual. Her body feels too… normal. Too healthy for her age. Except her eyes. There’s a film over them, the kind that blinds most elders. Yet she sees perfectly fine. Fascinating.’

  “You keep starin’ at me, boy,” the woman teased, her smile sly. “Like what ya see?”

  Dhi’b’s lips curled into a faint smile, his silence a sharper answer than any words.

  The old woman’s gaze turned sharp as his healing touch began to work. “Hmm… a healer, but not quite. Boy, you’re a peculiar one, ain’t ya?”

  “Not as peculiar as you, wise one,” Dhi’b replied, offering her a wrapped kebab and naan from his satchel. “Here.”

  Her face lit up with unrestrained delight. “Ah! Kebabs and naan! Such a good boy. Ya know how to treat an old woman.” She tore into the food, her joy as genuine as her teeth were scarce.

  Dhi’b leaned back, watching her eat before his thoughts slowly drifting to the horizon where the sun melted into sand.

  ‘There’s beauty in endings… A kind of quiet inevitability.’

  “Hey, boy,” the old woman barked suddenly, her gaze snapping to Nasir. “I know ya can hear me. Get over here. Now.”

  Nasir froze, paling as he turned to her. Sweat beaded on his brow as he stumbled forward. “Do you need anything, wise one?”

  The woman’s grin returned, as sharp and knowing as ever. Dhi’b chuckled softly, leaning back to watch their interaction with growing amusement.

  The old woman pinched Nasir’s cheeks with a greasy hand, grinning. “Ah, ya such a fine little lad,” she exclaimed, handing him naan and kebab. “Here, take this.”

  Stunned, Nasir glanced at his master, whose gaze was on the old woman. “What are you starin’ at? I won’t give ya any since ya been naughty,” she cackled.

  ‘I’m the one who gave her food, and yet my attendant gets to eat it. Tsk.

  Well, the look on Nasir’s face is priceless… something new to tease him about later.’

  Dhi’b just shrugged off, letting a faint smile touch his lips. Nasir hesitated but eventually accepted the offered food, retreating cautiously.

  “Ya raised such a fine lad. He’s lucky he didn’t learn nothin’ from ya,” the old woman remarked, returning to devour her meal with unabashed gusto.

  ‘Looks like I’ll be going hungry today. Good thing I’m headed to the Satrap’s banquet—there’ll be plenty to eat there.’

  The sun was setting, its warm hues painting the sky as Dhi’b turned back to its fading beauty. His moments of reflection were cut short by the old woman’s satisfied mutter. “Ah, that was good,” she burped, before moving closer to him. “The past… it’s a shackle ya can never escape.”

  The words struck deep. Dhi’b stiffened, startled by their weight.

  ‘Does she know something?’

  He turned to her, his expression faltering. Surprise, pain, and curiosity warred within his gaze. She met it unflinchingly, her eyes reflecting his turmoil.

  “Why dwell on what ya can’t change?” she asked. “It only makes life miserable.”

  “I know,” Dhi’b replied, his voice cracking. Tears welled in his eyes as old wounds he thought healed began to throb anew. “But I can’t stop. The ache hasn’t ebbed once. It’s as raw as ever.”

  ‘Why does it still hurt? After all these years?’

  The old woman sighed, her tone softening. “Poor child. Fate has truly been cruel to you. But blaming her for your misfortune is a waste of time. She’s neither right nor fair—she’s blind. She can’t see whose thread she’s weaving. And blaming yourself is the cruelest of all. It’s not your fault.”

  “I know,” he whispered, the admission barely audible. “But knowing doesn’t make it easier.”

  “Would ya go back if ya could?” she asked, her eyes locking onto his.

  ‘Don’t tell me…’

  “Is it possible?” he asked, a glimmer of hope slipping into his voice.

  “Stupid child,” she scoffed. “No one can go back in time in this life. If I could, I’d have done it already. Ya ain’t the only one with regrets.”

  Dhi’b blinked, the fragile hope extinguished.

  ‘What was I thinking? Asking something so absurd.’

  He forced a wry smile. “You’re right.”

  “‘Course I am,” she muttered, pulling a simple necklace from her pocket. She thrust it toward him. “Here.”

  Dhi’b examined the object, its unassuming black stone hanging from a crude string.

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  ‘A cheap trinket. Does it have some kind of power?’

  “What’s this?” he asked.

  “Are ya blind? It’s a necklace,” she retorted, rolling her eyes.

  “No, I mean… is there anything special about it?”

  “It’s special ‘cause a beauty like me gave it to ya,” she said with a wink before she stood up, hobbling away, leaning heavily on a stick.

  “Do you need help, wise one?” Dhi’b called after her.

  “I ain’t that old, brat!” she snapped, waving him off. “I can still walk ‘round wherever I want.”

  ‘Indeed, you can.’

  “May we meet again,” he shouted back.

  “Dream on, boy! Journey ain’t nothin’ but straight lines. Our paths crossed once. May we never meet again.”

  Dhi’b watched her retreat, a strange melancholy settling over him. “Goodbye,” he whispered.

  ‘It seems like this is really goodbye. It’s strange—I’ve only met her once, but it feels like I’ve known her forever. Saying goodbye felt like parting with an old friend.’

  Nasir appeared at his side. “Who was she, master?”

  “I don’t know,” Dhi’b replied after a moment.

  Nasir frowned. “Then why were you so polite?”

  ‘Why? Because she’s dangerous.’

  “She’s an elder,” Dhi’b said with a shrug. “Didn’t they teach you respect?”

  Nasir’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “That’s it?”

  “Why else?” Dhi’b quipped, suppressing a smirk.

  “What did she give you?” Nasir pointed to the necklace.

  Dhi’b held it up. “A necklace.”

  Nasir inspected it with a critical eye. “That’s an ugly necklace.”

  Dhi’b frowned as he turned the crude necklace over in his palm. The black stone dangled from its worn string, looking utterly unimpressive.

  ‘He’s right. It truly is an ugly necklace. Was I just scammed?

  Well, it’s free. Maybe, she was just messing with me. I really don’t know. She’s very hard to read.’

  “Hmm, you’re right. It’s ugly,” he finally conceded, nodding with a resigned sigh.

  Nasir raised a brow. “What can it do?”

  ‘What can it do? Hmm…’

  “You can wear it around your neck,” Dhi’b replied with feigned seriousness, his tone perfectly deadpan.

  Nasir’s mouth fell open. “Are you messing with me right now?”

  “No,” he said, maintaining his stoic expression. “I asked the same thing. That’s what she told me.”

  “Maybe it has some powers?” Nasir suggested, a flicker of curiosity crossing his face.

  Dhi’b’s mind raced, recalling the old woman’s sly smile.

  ‘Knowing her, it’s probably cursed. F*ck. But no… she has no reason to do that, right? I’ve been good to her.’

  “What? Turn me into an old woman?” Dhi’b joked, prompting a burst of laughter from both men. The sound echoed briefly before tapering into an awkward silence. They eyed the necklace warily.

  “So, what will you do with it?” Nasir asked, his voice edged with caution.

  “I don’t know.” Dhi’b’s honesty cut through the tension. “Wear it?”

  Nasir blinked. “Really?”

  ‘Yes. Why? Is there a problem? Oh, wait. This might actually be cursed.’

  “Hmm. Well, you can try it first,” Dhi’b said, staring directly into his attendant’s eyes with a pointed look.

  Nasir took a deliberate step back, his hands raised defensively. “No, she gave it to you. You wear it.” He turned and made a hasty retreat toward his horse.

  Dhi’b sighed, shaking his head as he watched Nasir skitter away. “Coward.”

  ‘Well, let’s find out what it does.’

  Rolling his shoulders, he slipped the necklace over his head. The string settled against his neck, the stone cool against his skin. He waited, tension coiled tight in his chest. A long beat passed. Nothing happened.

  Dhi’b exhaled slowly. “It seems I’m still a man,” he muttered, his voice dry with relief.

  “Ah! Honored one, thank you for accepting my invitation,” the Satrap greeted, pulling Dhi’b into an enthusiastic embrace. His robes smelled faintly of rosewater and spices, a luxury in the arid expanse of the desert.

  “The honor is mine, your grace,” Dhi’b replied smoothly, his smile warm but measured, masking the simmering unease beneath.

  As his gaze swept the ornate hall, Dhi’b gestured toward the surroundings. Polished marble columns gleamed under the flickering light of golden sconces, and intricate tapestries hung like captured sunsets along the walls. “Your grace, your home is truly remarkable. Its beauty surpasses even the grandest palaces in the East.”

  ‘Excessive, ostentatious, utterly wasteful. No wonder people get robbed in broad daylight if this is their ruler.’

  “Your praise is too kind,” the Satrap said with a shy chuckle, his smile betraying a trace of pride. “I imagine your own palaces are even more magnificent than this.”

  ‘Palaces? No, thank you. I’ve got taste. Why would I sink coin into gaudy frippery when there’s no return? And if I ever do, it’s only to sell it off to fools like you.’

  “I own but a single humble house, your grace,” Dhi’b replied, casting a glance toward his attendant. “It could never compare to this splendor. Isn’t that right, Nasir?”

  Nasir straightened, bowing politely. “My master speaks only the truth, your grace. Your palace is many times more beautiful than his.”

  “Even my aide marvels at your palace’s grandeur,” Dhi’b added, his tone a perfect balance of sincerity and flattery.

  “Your words warm my heart, honored one.” The Satrap clasped his arm and gestured toward a nearby display of sculptures and artifacts. “Come, let me show you some of the treasures I’ve gathered over the years.”

  The Satrap launched into an animated description of his collection, pulling Dhi’b along like a child showing off toys. Marble busts, enameled jewelry, gilded urns, and other baubles sparkled beneath the torchlight. Each piece carried its own verbose tale.

  Dhi’b nodded, smiled, and hummed appreciatively at all the right moments. By the time they reached the third alcove, the strain of maintaining his pleasant mask began to take its toll. He cast a desperate glance over his shoulder. Nasir smirked knowingly, doing nothing to intervene.

  ‘By all the gods, can we just eat? I didn’t come here for a lecture on pottery. Next time, I need to be more careful with flattery.’

  “Did you enjoy that?” the Satrap asked, eyes gleaming with expectation.

  “Immensely,” Dhi’b lied with practiced ease, plastering on a smile. “Your collection isn’t just beautiful—it’s profoundly meaningful.”

  ‘Profoundly meaningful? I should charge myself for this nonsense.’

  “I knew you would understand! A man of taste like you…” The Satrap beamed. “Would you like to see my other collection? I have a fascinating array in the adjoining room.”

  ‘F*ck!’

  “Other collection?” Dhi’b asked, his smile faltering ever so slightly.

  “Apologies, your grace,” Nasir interjected smoothly, bowing low. “Have the other guests arrived already? It would be remiss to keep them waiting.”

  The Satrap sighed but nodded. “You’re right. After dinner, honored one, I’ll show you my remaining treasures. You’ll be amazed.”

  “Of course, your grace,” Dhi’b replied, inclining his head. He shot Nasir a fleeting look of gratitude, which the attendant acknowledged with a barely concealed wink.

  The main hall sprawled before them, bustling with life. Guests clad in silks of vibrant reds and deep blues mingled amidst an opulent feast. Long tables groaned under the weight of roasted meats, spiced rice, honeyed fruits, and towers of flatbreads. In the center, fire-breathers performed dazzling feats, casting flickering shadows on the crowd.

  As the Satrap entered, the room stilled. One by one, the guests rose, bowing deeply in respect.

  “Friends!” the Satrap boomed, his voice ringing with pride. He gestured toward Dhi’b. “It is my great honor to present our esteemed guest this evening—Grandmaster Dhi’b al-Sahra—the Star of the North and Slayer of Arachnoxar, the Blight of the East!”

  Gasps rippled through the hall. All eyes staring at Dhi’b, who fought the urge to cringe at the grandiose titles.

  “Thank you for gracing us with your presence, honored one.” The Satrap bowed low, his sincerity undeniable.

  “You flatter me, your grace,” Dhi’b replied, mirroring the bow. “I am deeply humbled by your welcome.”

  Laughter and applause swept the room as the Satrap straightened, his smile stretching from ear to ear. “This marks the beginning of a friendship that will be sung for generations!”

  Dhi’b’s laugh was genuine this time, a deep, rich sound that drew the room’s attention. “I couldn’t agree more, your grace. A friendship destined to be remembered through time immemorial.”

  “Let’s drink to that,” the Satrap proclaimed, raising his cup as servers moved gracefully through the hall, distributing goblets of wine. The aroma of sweet dates and fermented grapes mingled with the spiced air.

  Dhi’b leaned closer, his voice a conspiratorial whisper. “Your grace, might we sit for a moment? My feet are killing me.”

  The Satrap hesitated, his expression faltering. A flicker of unease passed across his face, pale even against the warm glow of the lanterns. “Ah! Of course, honored one.”

  “I’m grateful for your understanding, your grace,” Dhi’b said with a faint grin that vanished almost as quickly as it appeared. His gaze drifted toward the grand doors, lingering for the briefest moment before snapping back. “Your hospitality knows no equal. Truly, I already feel at home.”

  “Sit! All of you, sit!” The Satrap sank into his plush chair, gesturing hastily for the guests to follow suit.

  The hall shifted, the lively chatter ebbing into an uneasy quiet. Servants moved with a rehearsed efficiency, setting dishes with delicate precision, yet their postures were unnaturally rigid. Guests exchanged furtive glances, their smiles strained, as if weighed down by an unseen burden.

  Dhi’b’s voice broke the tension, light and conversational. “Is it just me, or are your people unusually… robust?” He scanned the room with deliberate interest. “Even your servants look as if they could wield swords. Their builds are quite impressive.”

  The Satrap chuckled, the sound hollow. “I’m pleased you noticed. I always remind my people—eat well, exercise often. After all, how can they serve me if they’re weak or sick?”

  ‘And yet here you are, bloated and wheezing between words. Hypocrisy in its finest robes.’

  “Wise words indeed, your grace,” Dhi’b said smoothly, inclining his head.

  Eager to change the subject, the Satrap gestured toward the laden table. “Please, honored one, sample the dishes. My chef has prepared these with great care. This one here,” he pointed to an elaborately plated dish, “is my personal favorite. You won’t find its equal anywhere in the desert.”

  “Ah, your grace!” Dhi’b exclaimed, lifting the plate as if admiring a priceless artifact. The golden crust gleamed beneath the lantern light, and the delicate arrangement of herbs was nothing short of artistry. “This is remarkable. A true masterpiece.”

  The Satrap’s chest swelled with pride, his earlier unease melting away. “Only the best for my esteemed guest. It’s both beautiful and delicious.”

  Smiling, Dhi’b placed the dish carefully in front of the Satrap. The hall seemed to collectively freeze. Eyes darted between the plate and the Satrap’s face, dread seeping into their features. Beads of sweat gathered at temples, glinting like tiny jewels in the flickering light.

  “What’s the meaning of this?!” The Satrap’s voice thundered, his jovial mask cracking. He shot to his feet, his chair scraping the floor with a sharp screech. “Is this an insult?”

  Dhi’b rose calmly, bowing low. His tone was smooth, conciliatory. “Your grace, forgive me if I’ve offended you. I would never presume to taste your favorite dish before your great presence. Your kindness has been overwhelming, and I could think of no better way to honor you than to offer it back.”

  The Satrap hesitated, his breath coming in shallow puffs. Then, slowly, he laughed—a deep, belly-shaking sound that swept the tension away like a gust of wind. “I see now! Your intentions were noble. I misjudged you, honored one. Sit, sit. Let us enjoy this feast together.”

  “Your understanding humbles me,” Dhi’b said, bowing again. But instead of sitting, he straightened with his goblet in hand. “For your magnanimity, I propose a toast.”

  The room erupted in cheers, the strained silence giving way to a cacophony of clinking cups and applause. The atmosphere lightened, voices rising in celebration.

  Dhi’b raised his goblet high, his face serene as his sharp gaze swept the room. But just as the rim of the cup brushed his lips, he paused. A cold, knowing smirk flickered across his face, a brief but unmistakable spark of contempt in his eyes.

  ‘Did you think I wouldn’t notice? Did you think you could touch my people and walk away?’

  The cup crashed to the floor, its clattering echo slicing through the jubilant noise. The hall fell into stunned silence. Every face turned toward Dhi’b, their expressions wide-eyed and disbelieving.

  With a flick of his wrist, the grand doors burst open, the impact reverberating through the chamber. Gasps rippled through the crowd as Tariq, unconscious and gagged, was dragged into view. His body slumped against the threshold, his captor’s shadow stretching long across the polished tiles.

  Dhi’b turned back to the Satrap, his voice low but cutting. “Let’s get this show started, shall we?”

  Patreon

  Ko-Fi

  * Volume 1: