Chapter Twenty-Two—Partaker of the Sultan’s Treasures

With the wind blowing through his hair up here—he had left his turban in Shai’na’s chambers—Razul smiled as he enjoyed himself.

I am no bed servant.

In the dark, it would be difficult to spot him up on the rooftops. Many of the turrets had colonnade bridges, making it extremely easy for Razul to navigate up here.

He spotted a guard all in black glancing out of the intricately carved pillars, but the man saw nothing and moved along, his polished sword glinting at his side.

Grinning, Razul moved silently across the rooftops.

After a time running, jumping and otherwise practicing a very easy stealth run by a top-tier adventurer in the moonlight, motion caught his eye. To his left there was a veranda mostly darkened with very little light. A man made an unintelligible sound as he was hefted from under his shoulder by a shorter, thinner man.

There was no mistake that that man was Shiro.

Razul smiled roguishly.

What is that strange little foreigner doing?

Shaking his head, he continued his exploration until he came to another wing of the palace with an enclosed courtyard. There were lamps and trees and fountains. Very interesting. Bending over and looking in, he also spotted tents.

And naked women.

Chuckling to himself as he scratched at his temple, he said, “The gods are good to me tonight.”

Grasping the lip of the entablature surrounding the inner courtyard, he slung himself over, and then braced his feet around the pillar under him. Letting go, he began to slide down, using his hands and feet to control his speed.

He must have slid down at least three levels. Sandaled feet slamming into the soft grass, he turned and sauntered to the nearest tents to address the scantily clad—and in some cases naked—women.

They cried out in sudden surprise, their hands going to their mouths and breasts.

“Do not be afraid, lovely maidens!” he declared, then flourished a bow. “I am Razul. You may call me Raz.”

“Raz?”

“Indeed!”

One woman smiled, though uncertainly. “Did the sultan send you?” She was beautiful, her hair curling down over the sides of her face.

“Uh… indeed he has!”

“Well then,” another woman said with a lascivious smile as she relaxed her posture and put her hand on her hip. “We will just have to make you comfortable, my lord.”

The women all giggled.

One of them, her breasts completely bare, walked up to Raz and took him by the hand. “Come along, my lord. Will you not sit with us?”

“Oh—“ he said, his heart beating faster. He was unable to wipe the grin off his face. “Of course I will. Why else would I be here?”

Giggling again, they sat him down.

A curvy young woman with silky black hair and long lashes faced him as she pushed the straps of her gossamer robes over her shoulders. As her gown dropped, revealing her nakedness in it’s entirely, she smiled. “Why indeed?”

“I must have died and been taken up by the gods,” Razul laughed.

The women surrounded him.