Chapter Nine—Anxiously Awaiting

Shiro paced back and forth. It had been hours. The sun was already down, though it wasn’t quite dark yet.

And they still aren’t back…

They were fine, surely?

But staying here, in this inn—in this room, he was going stir crazy. Shiro needed to get out or he was going to lose his mind.

What made it all worse was that he didn’t have the lamp, didn’t have Jessamine with him. Had she been here now, she would be doing her best to annoy him, either through her flirtations or by some way of harmless deceit.

Gods that jinni could be annoying.

And yet…

He gritted his teeth, stalked across the room to the table where his sword belt was. He strapped it on. Then he got his turban cloth and wrapped it around his head, making certain to cover his face.

Leaving the room, he walked down the unadorned sandstone stairs stained by heavy use. The men in the inn drawing room were particularly raucous. Some of them had equally raucous women. They were cheap whores from some establishment, surely.

One man had a woman on his lap as he leaned back in his chair. Shiro was surprised it didn’t collapse, but the man certainly spilled a lot of his drink.

It reminded him of their time at the Gokorifa. He and Jessamine had been with Ali and his wife Hafza. It had been a good time, but Shiro had drank far too much, even passing out.

Never again, he thought.

And if he could trade that for this, he would do it a thousand times over.

Stalking quickly though the drawing room, he left the inn and stepped out into the street. It hadn’t rained in some days, and the roads were very dry, the air warm, but the breeze cool.

Pedestrians were everywhere, and so were shop sellers under verandas and food vendors with sizzling kebabs and wraps of thin bread and spicy sauces along with all other manner of night foods and drink.

Glancing about, he did not know where to go.

Perhaps he simply needed to get out.

What had happened to vizier Faridoon? Shiro wondered as he walked down the street and made his way toward the river.

If the sultan’s men had found the lamp in Faridoon’s house, surely they would have imprisoned him along with Shiro and Ali, and yet Faridoon was nowhere to be seen with either of them.

Had they taken him to some other place?

It didn’t matter. Not now.

Darius had the lamp—had Jessamine while Shiro and Ali were free.

For now…

All thanks to the Black Cobra of Mar’a Thul. Shiro was still dumbfounded that the man, after taking the lamp, was now helping him to get it back. He was a powerful adventurer.

Crossing the street, Shiro glanced about for camels or carriages and crossed. He made his way to a bridge that went over the river. Darshuun had lamps in the streets and so did the bridge, providing light to see by in the more populous city centers.

There were people about all over, families, couples, single men, even women alone. The capital truly was the shining jewel of the Abassir Empire.

The waters in the river were a deep blue that hazed into a greenish color near the shallow areas. There were fish and turtles, and Shiro even thought something floating about might have been a crocodile.

Leaning over the rail on his forearms, his mind came back to the matter at hand. He wondered how far they would get if he, Ali and Debaku snuck into the palace and stormed the place.

Debaku was twice the swordsman he was, and Ali was pretty good with a blade, too. Surely they would be a small force to be reckoned with.

Shiro was eager to hear Debaku’s findings after returning.

After some amount of time wandering about, thinking and admiring the city, Shiro glanced up into the sky and realized the colors had gone from reds and purples to a dark blue, the stars now twinkling. It was late.

He needed to go back.

The others would return soon, if they were not already waiting for him.