Best Laid Plans

Jawad left the palace of al-Badawi with a light heart. He had bought himself time and continued access to the merchant’s home. The document inside his shirt proclaiming him to be in al-Badawi’s employ, with the protection this conferred, was useful to have as well. He was not concerned about completing his new task; since he already knew about the connection between the Prince and Dār al-Gund, presenting this discovery to al-Badawi was child’s play. Jawad merely needed to spend some time making it seem he was conducting investigations, as he felt quite certain that the merchant, or Salah, still had him watched. Fortunately, there were plenty of ventures that an enterprising thief such as himself could undertake.

Jawad was not keen on revealing the existence and location of his allies to al-Badawi’s spy following him; his plans worked best when the different parts were kept unaware of each other. But in this case, it seemed unavoidable, and he could always make up an explanation for his movements. For instance, if he were asked why he had gone to visit an alchemist, the answer would be to have his wounds examined.

“Jawad, you goat hoof! What are you doing here?”

“Ishak, I need to have my wounds examined.” The easiest explanation to sell tended to be the truth.

The alchemist narrowed his eyes. “You’re trying to trick me, aren’t you. Half an hour later when I’ve spent all my lizard scales, you reveal that your skin was always discoloured from birth.”

“Ishak, you’ve seen me before. You know I don’t look like this normally.”

“Why do you presume I know you?”

“You greeted me by name when you opened the door.”

Ishak looked sceptical. “A likely story, but until I can prove you wrong, I guess you can come inside.” The front door slowly croaked open on its hinges.

“Thanks. I think.”

“Don’t thank me. People tend to do that because they don’t want to pay.” The alchemist turned a sharp eye on Jawad. “Is that your game?” he suddenly said in accusation.

“No, I have coin,” Jawad insisted. He quickly found some of the silver that he had received to purchase the tools of his craft to break into Dār al-Gund. He placed a piece in Ishak’s hand, and the alchemist seemed to calm down. “Better?”

Ishak tried to bend the coin a few times with no luck. “Fine. Sit down.” Jawad did as told. Ishak seemed in his suspicious mood today, so the thief found it best to be pliant. “Tell me, how did this happen?”

“Well –”

“Don’t tell me, let me guess.” Ishak frowned in contemplation while his fingers ungently prodded Jawad’s face. “You went to milk a bull. It took offence and stomped you.”

“I got beaten up,” Jawad grumbled. “By men. With hands and feet.”

“My story’s better,” Ishak sniffed. “You should tell that next time someone asks. I’ll let you have it for free.” He pulled up Jawad’s shirt to prod the bruises on his stomach. “Well, all ribs seem to be where they should be, and your face just got some colour. You’ll be fine.”

“Thanks. I actually came for another purpose.”

“Good, because this felt unnecessary. A waste of my skills.”

“I need to procure certain – remedies from you.”

“Remedy!” Ishak shot up and rummaged through his shelves until he found a small jar. He opened it and began applying a paste to Jawad’s face. “There.”

“Ishak, that’s not – oh. That feels good.” Jawad had gotten used to the hot, unpleasant sensation from his face being so thoroughly battered; Ishak’s medicine cooled his skin and removed the sting, leaving him feeling normal.

The alchemist beamed. “There you are. Good as new. Thank you for stopping by.”

“No, Ishak, our business is not concluded. I need to buy some – elixirs from you, discreetly.”

“Really? At such a young age, I wouldn’t have thought you needed –”

“I mean poison!” Jawad exclaimed irritated. He quickly lowered his voice. “Sleeping powder, in fact, though some actual poison will come in useful as well.”

The alchemist turned serious. “You lizard tooth! Should the use of such be traced back to me, my life is forfeit.”

“Then it’s good I’ll be paying you handsomely.”

“With that face, there’s nothing handsome about you,” Ishak retorted, returning his attention to jars and ingredients on his desk. “Go to any common apothecary and buy a sleeping draught. Use double the dose and you will have your result, killing even the heartiest of men.”

“I need something better. Something only a master of the craft could make.”

Reluctantly, Ishak turned his head towards the thief. Curiosity began to spread over the alchemist’s face. “How so?”

“I need it to act slowly. As slow as possible. Preferably it will be hours from ingestion before it takes effect.”

“That’s a problem,” Ishak told him. “The body tends to be very good at noticing it has been poisoned, hence all the dying immediately after.”

“I see. I didn’t imagine such would be a problem for a masterful alchemist.”

“I did not say it was impossible,” Ishak scoffed. “Merely difficult. And expensive.”

“Can you accomplish the same with sleeping powder? I need it powerful enough to dose scores of men, yet it must be hours after they have ingested it.”

“That’s a tough one,” Ishak mumbled. “You need it as a powder?”

“As a draught, it would be too cumbersome. I need it easy to transport and use.”

“That’s going to cost time for me and coin for you. I’ll require rare materials. Enough that I can experiment. It could cost hundreds of silver pieces,” Ishak warned him.

Jawad nodded. He had expected as much. “That’s acceptable.” He pulled out a handful of coins. “To get you started. Can you begin at once? I will return with more as soon as I have it.”

Ishak scooped up the silver. “Very well. Until you do, stay out of bullfights!”

“You have my word.”

~~~~

Leaving Ishak’s house, Jawad ventured further south. Lack of coin had been an issue from the start, and he had barely any left. He could pilfer some here and there, but it was slow and a bad use of his skills. Instead, it was time to take advantage of everything he had learned in the last few months. Treading carefully and keeping an eye out for anyone associated with the Black Teeth, Jawad went to see Amal.

The fence immediately slammed the door. “Fuck off!” came her voice from the other side.

“I have a mark.”

“I don’t know who gave you a beating, but the Teeth won’t be so gentle with either of us!”

“I’ll get you the biggest prize yet.”

“You’ll get us both invited to the cellars of the Broken Tooth,” Amal replied. “So will you kindly fuck off?”

“Amal, everything I’ve ever brought you is nothing in comparison to this.”

There was a brief moment of silence. “What is it?”

“Purple dye.” Jawad grinned at the thought. Stealing al-Badawi’s shipment would not only provide the thief with all the coin he would need; more importantly, it would bring the merchant to the brink of ruin. The final step before Jawad’s plan could come to fruition.

The door opened slightly. “How much? One jar?”

Jawad’s grin grew wider. “Dozens.”

“Fuck you and the donkey you call mother.” The door slammed shut again.

“And I know every detail of how and where they’ll be guarded.”

The door creaked, and Amal peered through the crack once more. “How?”

“That’s obviously my secret. Suffice to say, I’ll be bringing you the biggest mark you’ve ever seen.”

The fence gave him a dubious look. “You’ve never done something like this before.”

“It’s taken me some time to manoeuvre myself into the right position. Amal, I am not asking you to risk anything. Simply have a buyer ready.”

“When?”

“The dye has not yet arrived in Alcázar. It’ll be some weeks before that happens, and I’ll need to get everything ready meanwhile. I’ll stop by when the time comes. Make sure you have someone lined up by then. Time will be of the essence to get the snail juice transported out of the city.”

She glanced at him, up and down. “Don’t ever come to my door again if this proves false.”

“Amal, I would never –” The door was shut in his face.

~~~~

With cloth around his head and his face still bruised, Jawad felt sufficiently disguised to venture further into the southern medinas of Alcázar. The Black Teeth had eyes on every street corner, but they rarely ventured onto the main street that led to the southern gate; they preferred to keep their activities in the narrow alleys of the medinas. Undetected and with a smile underneath his scarf, Jawad reached the gate and passed through.

The same pitiful sight met him as always. Almudaina, the dilapidated home of the homeless, spread out before him. Both children and adults quickly took notice of him in his new clothes, just as the last time he had come; other than the hojon, only soldiers marching out to man the fortifications further south came this way. The children were looking for what they might steal with their nimble fingers; the adults were considering if he was worth clubbing over the head and robbing.

Jawad made sure to hurry before any decisions were made. As with his last visit, he quickly sought out Ghulam.

“Jawad!” the latter greeted him. “Come inside.”

The thief relaxed a little. As soon as those around saw him enter Ghulam’s hut, they knew to back off. It did not hurt either that if al-Badawi had a spy following Jawad, he would see the thief talking to dockworkers. “Well met. I believe I owe your boys a few birds.” He dropped a few coins into Ghulam’s hands, acutely aware that he had few left.

“Much appreciated.” The gaunt man gave a wide grin, and the coins disappeared into his ragged clothing.

“There’s more on the way,” Jawad added quietly. “I have work for them.”

“Do tell.”

“It’s a mark I have set up for later. It’ll be some weeks, but I’ll need ten of your boys. The strongest and most reliable. Make sure they keep out of trouble until then.”

“Of course,” Ghulam promised.

“It’s a shipment that’ll come in, so I’ll also need information from those working the docks.”

“Easy. What’s the ship and cargo?”

“I don’t know the ship yet,” Jawad admitted. “I’ll find out and let you know. You just make sure the boys keep a sharp eye on the cargo when the time comes.”

“Not a problem at all,” Ghulam smiled.

Their business done, Jawad did not linger but hurried to return inside the city. It was getting dark, which could spell trouble for him. Not from the city guard, as he carried al-Badawi’s document granting him the right to be on the streets after dark. But after nightfall, The Black Teeth ruled the southern streets of Alcázar undisputedly, and Jawad was not eager to tangle with them. Even in his disguise, Jawad breathed easier once he crossed the maswar and entered the northern part of the city. In the distance, the palace of al-Badawi beckoned for him to return.