Chapter Seventeen—Divergence

“Where is Shiro?” Ali asked. “This is starting to make me nervous. We had a plan. It was not about each of us going in his own direction.”

“Do not worry so much,” Razul said with a grin. “That strange foreign friend of yours looks like he can handle himself.”

Ali nodded. “Shiro is a capable warrior, but this is bigger than any one of us.”

“Really?” Razul said, feeling somewhat confused. He had an inkling that something was being kept from him. Ali and Shiro, and that black Mar’a Thulian, even, seemed to Razul to be a tight knit bunch. “I thought all of this was about Shiro, is it not?”

They are most certainly hiding something.

“Yes,” Ali said, then paused, seeming to take stock of what he was saying. “It is not just about Shiro. It is about us all. If we save his friend—if we save Jessamine—the sultan will want her back. We will all become his enemies.”

“He will hunt you down and feed you to his lions.”

“Yes,” Ali said. “So in getting Jessamine out of this palace—we must also end the sultan’s life.”

All this for one woman…

Razul chuckled.

“What is funny?”

“I was thinking that this ‘Jessamine’ better be blessed by the gods and goddesses to go to this amount of trouble for. Why can’t your friend just find a new woman?”

“Shiro is not like that,” Ali said as he regarded Razul with a disapproving side long glance. “Also, I am not like that either. Shiro is a loyal man. He cares for his friends.”

“What?” Razul asked, feeling incredulous. “Not possible. Ali al Bashur, my little brother—you are an adventurer, a swashbuckler that would just as soon slice the leg of the man running beside you so that he falls to the wolves ensuring you can get out alive.”

“Perhaps I was that man before,” Ali said. “Not anymore.”

“Ha!”

“You do not believe me?!”

“No,” Razul said. “I don’t. Men do not change. You are who you are, and you should embrace that, dear little brother.”

“Bah!” Ali said with a wave of his hand. Then he went to the door and peeked out into the hall. “Where is he?”

Razul shrugged.

He was getting bored.

“I’m going out to go look for him. You stay here.”

“Of course,” Razul said with a smirk. “I am the bed servant. I would be useless outside of the bed chamber.”

“I mean it.”

“I know,” he said, trying his best to put on the most winning smile he had.

“All right,” Ali said. “I will be back in no time at all. Keep watch for Debaku.”

Razul nodded dutifully.

After Ali slipped out, Razul got up off the bed and strode over toward the window. Glancing out, he could see the magnificent gardens outside, and the many palace guests touring them.

Most of the people were in groups, but there were many couples as well, most of them holding hands.

“Well,” he said to himself. “I can’t be of any use in here. Sorry, Ali, but I’m going to have a look around.”

He opened the window wide enough to let him slip out.

Then he climbed out onto the tiled roof and set off about the palace rooftops in search of something interesting. At the very least, he could scout the palace out and have something useful to contribute, instead of being the pathetic “bed slave.”

That is humiliating, even as a jest.