[quote=@persianversion]
No one could touch her nerves quite like Ketill could. Others could annoy, frustrate, and anger her, but Ketill seemed to anchor himself in the recesses of her brain. After all, no name besides Saina would have been able to draw that same flash of anger from her eyes, pulling it from behind that ever-present gaze of disinterest. At least, Najla had believed so, until Ketill had continued to speak.

Perhaps it would have been slightly amusing under other circumstances, for Najla realized that there were few others who would see her status as a weakness the way Ketill did. However, Ketill did not leave her any room to find amusement, and Najla did not seem inclined to take it that way. At the word ‘whore’ the carefully constructed expression on her face would fall away for a brief moment. For that moment, her expression held nothing but contempt. There was no attempt at remaining regal, no chance to brush off his words, only a slight snarl and narrowed eyes, nothing but hatred in her expression.

She did not care that she had not been of use to Ketill. Najla did not care that she could not cook or wash, those were tasks for slaves, not a Sultana. Perhaps she could have been useful to Ketill in that way, but Najla no longer served him. She served the Sultan and the Sawarim. But Najla cared for the disrespect he showed her. The contempt could not move off her expression completely, and as Ketill fell back onto the cushions, Najla found that it was even harder to keep it off her face. It felt strange, to have the word ‘pampered’ spat out at her like an insult, but Najla knew he was not wrong. It did not hurt her, for she knew she would never have to operate without the luxuries she was granted again. Even if she wished to argue, his next words would silence her completely. She was right, then. He wanted her to suffer, and she could not allow him to do so.

Najla turned to leave then, clearly irritated at her slave’s disrespect, and frustrated that she could garner nothing new from him besides more insults. His voice stopped her, and when she turned around to look at him once more, Najla held an annoyed frown. He was dictating the conversation, knowing that she would want to hear whatever answers he would offer. His cryptic remarks would only cause that angered frown to fall into one of confusion, and she returned his gaze, only breaking it when he grinned. She hated that smile, it would likely haunt her until her final days.

[i]“You [b]have[/b] gone mad.”[/i]

She could not fathom what he meant by raven, but it did not seem to matter. She did not have time to decipher the ramblings of a madman, after all. Once again, she would move to leave, only to find that Ketill was not quite done. Turning to look at him once more, Najla crossed her arms as he spoke. For a moment, she parted her lips as if to say something, but quickly decided against it. She found no point in explaining the ways of the Sawarim to a savage who wouldn’t care to hear them, nor did she see a purpose in defending her people’s view of her. Instead of replying, Najla’s expression only hardened as her gaze flicked over Ketill once more.

He was not entirely wrong, Najla found. It was not as if she believed her people would think less of her as a result, or if they did, none would speak as such in front of her. They would not think less of Ketill either, for none believed a Daab could be civilized, only tamed. But it had been under her command that he’d committed this act, and it would be under her command that he’d need to commit others. These were the thoughts that occupied her as she visited Yazan’s family, doing her duty as delicately as she could manage, all the while wondering if she was responsible for causing them such grief. Still, she had warned the Al-Uba’yd as to Ketill’s nature, and Najla would quickly seek to forget Ketill’s words, despite how deeply they’d clawed their way into her.

[hr]

Basim did not seem surprised to hear Ketill’s tone when he answered his questions, after all, he had not expected the Servant’s attitude to improve overnight. Even he had still been surprised to hear him speak to a prince in such a manner, Ketill’s words would clarify the reason rather quickly. Apparently Najla had already spoken to him regarding the matter, a fact that would cause Basim’s expression to finally turn to one of slight surprise. Najla had not sought to tell him of that conversation, likely never considering that her brother would bring the Servant in as well. It hardly mattered, for Basim’s surprise seemed minute in comparison to the subject matter, and he was far more preoccupied with the manner of Yazan’s death.

He would hardly have time to consider Ketill’s words regarding that, however. It seemed a strange notion, that burning a man could be considered a clean death. Basim’s frown betrayed this confusion, even as he wondered if Ketill was correct, in some strange sense. Burning a man was no mercy, it was a violation of their God’s will, but the blow of the axe itself would have been considered clean. Yet before this one issue could be clarified, the Servant would only seek to add on another.

He understood that his sister had ordered the Servant to kill. She’d spoken as if it was a favor to her slave, to be granting him the blood he’d so eagerly sought. From what Basim had seen of Ketill, he’d have little reason to doubt this, until this moment. Now, he ignored the derisive way the Servant spoke his title in favor of satisfying his curiosity, a feat Najla’s pride would not have allowed her to accomplish.

Ketill spoke as if burning that man had been a task, the way house slaves would speak of scrubbing floors, Basim imagined. Would he have declined, if given the opportunity? Najla did not seem to think so, but the way Ketill spoke was enough to raise some doubts. But when he began to speak of Najla’s morals, Basim found that his frown deepened. He would not seem angry, for while there was plenty in Ketill’s words that would offend just about anyone, Basim was not quite as concerned with taking offense. He would not respond, for though Ketill’s questioning of Najla’s morals had led to many questions, none of these were for the Servant to answer. It was not as if Basim had expected Ketill to speak highly of the woman that had enslaved him, and realized that Ketill’s answers would always be biased in that sense. Najla’s would too, but he had little to go off of besides either’s words. Instead, his mind began to consider Ketill’s words as a possibility, as if testing them cautiously within his own mind.

He knew that Najla had brought him along for a reason. There was no doubt as to that, the hours they had spent preparing him with Osman would have been wasted otherwise. Najla had not been shy about discussing the nature of Sawarimic culture with her brother, and he would have understood even if she hadn’t. Perhaps not to ‘seem smart’ as Ketill had so derisively stated, though Basim would not yet rule this option out. If anything, he had been brought along solely as an escort, to have the negotiations conducted under his name without relying on any particular skill. But if that was the truth, she could have brought Harith, who fought far better, or any number of male cousins, many of which would not have required the time they’d spent preparing with Osman. Yet again, this question would have to be shoved aside in order to deal with another.

He’d heard much from Najla regarding her time in Broacien, mostly in the form of long-winded answers to excited questions. She’d told him that they had mistreated her for her religion, she’d even spoken of the men who tried to attack her, though certainly not in full detail. It was not surprising to hear that his sister had not converted, but the thought that Ketill would have let her go if she had certainly was. They did not do that to slaves here, he knew, though they would be treated far better if they did convert. Whether it was Ketill’s own morality or a law of the Servants, Basim did not know. It seemed the former, based on Ketill’s next words, and Basim would have to agree that it was a strange notion. Yet those words made it feel as if it would have been cruel not to give him the cross, to allow him to pray as he would have allowed Najla.

He had believed that he was doing Ketill a favor, even if it was a dangerous one. Clearly, Basim had not expected the Servant’s anger, and he caught the flash of anger in his eyes with a confused frown, as if he did not quite know what to do with it. Najla had warned him of the dangers, just as Ketill was now, but Basim had not listened. Had Najla been there to witness, she might have remarked that his carelessness made him far more similar to Harith than he’d ever wish to be, but it was a lucky thing she was not. While she would have responded to Ketill’s words with venom, Basim held none of that in his voice.

[i]“I am not trying to kill you.”[/i] It was a statement, nothing more, and would do little to clarify his true intentions. In fact, he seemed almost confused, as if the Servant had rejected a basic kindness. He would not try to convince Ketill that he was doing him a favor, for his next words were enough to distract Basim from nearly all that they had spoken before. When Ketill continued to explain why the cross was meaningless, the shock would be clear to read on his expression, and in his tone.

[i]“Your Gods?”[/i] The emphasis he put on the final letter was enough to determine a large source of his confusion, though Ketill had given him plenty. [i]“I don’t- there cannot be more than one.”[/i]

Though Ketill’s anger would soften, at least visibly, Basim’s confusion only increased as he extended his hand towards him. Any other time, the demand would have caused him pause, but it seemed his curiosity overwhelmed any concerns for his own safety. Again, it seemed even Basim could not shed all the attitudes of a prince, believing his safety would be secured by the guard regardless. It seemed almost a thoughtless gesture as he handed over his dagger then, and though he could hear his guards voice behind him, Basim would not think twice regardless.

[i]<“Sultanim, surely this is too dangerous-”>

<“If he wanted to kill me, a dagger wouldn’t make a difference.”>[/i]

Though he did not outright demand the guard’s silence, the manner in which he’d interrupted him was out of character for the young prince. It was spoken as sharply as a command, though the reason would not be difficult to see. He only wanted the guard’s silence, and was too distracted by the sight in front of him to care how it happened, only eager to see what Ketill wished to show him. The word Audrun had been enough, it seemed, for Basim could not have forgotten it after the night before. In fact, it caused him to step closer. Though the guard would raise no more concerns, Basim nearly protested as he watched Ketill dig the tip of the dagger into his hand. There were other ways, surely, yet he watched with wide eyes as Ketill continued, choosing to comment on the word itself.

[i]“I remember the name. Najla thought it might have been the name of your lover, I could not have imagined…”[/i] His words trailed off as he stepped closer, watching as Ketill finished carving his flesh. His expression was a mix of fascination and disgust, as if he wanted to ask Ketill to stop carving, but his curiosity demanded otherwise from him. He did not even seem to realize that he had betrayed what Najla thought, or had vaguely guessed at, regarding the name, only eager to see the truth. Therefore, as Ketill extended his hand again, Basim took the dagger, attaching it to his belt clumsily, for his eyes did not leave Ketill’s other hand. Instinct almost demanded that he take Ketill’s hand and hold it up for a closer look, but he would not move to touch him.

[i]“So his children are your Gods as well? Even his daughters?”[/i] There was no derision in his voice, no scorn for that which were false Gods to his people. Only fascination. He simply wanted to understand, to ask more about these Gods he had never heard of. A part wondered if he should mention it to Najla, but this thought was hardly important now, and Basim only studied the bloody marks as if they would tell him more. [i]“Whose Gods are these? I have heard of no people who worship a God such as Audrun.”[/i]

As Ketill continued to speak, Basim listened curiously, though these next words were not quite as surprising as the former. Najla had warned him, after all, and Basim was not entirely a stranger to the ways of the court. Ketill’s demand to keep this quiet would not have been immediately agreed to, especially not after having been spoken to in such a manner, but Basim was not about to tell his sister why he had brought the Servant to his tent. Despite the multitude of thoughts swimming in his mind, trying to process the information that Ketill had converted, and wondering what to do with this, Basim understood the necessity of silence now, for both of their sakes. Perhaps he would not have responded to Ketill’s words, allowing him to leave and dispose of the cross as he wished, but as he watched Ketill bow his head, Basim thought otherwise. He knew it was not for him, he had never seen the Servant bow, and did not believe he’d start so soon after calling a prince stupid. 

[i]“Find strength in your Gods then.”[/i]

It would have been a strange statement, had Basim not been so willing to help Ketill pray to the Monarch before. Still, it was a dismissive one, for though Basim had many questions left to ask, he was not fool enough to sit and ask now. Ketill’s harsh tone and readiness to leave was enough to convince him otherwise. Besides, the Servant had already given him a great deal to think on. The brief introduction of a new religion would only be enough to push away Ketill’s words regarding Najla briefly. They would return later, perhaps, but they seemed unimportant now, when compared to this flurry of new Gods.

[hr]

When Najla had invited Thamud to her tent, neither party had any doubts as to the purpose, and yet the way they spoke would reveal none of this. They lounged upon cushions across from each other, and Najla had even removed the golden mask that covered her face. To Thamud, this indicated that she was comfortable with his presence, but Najla had done the same before Ketill earlier, company she was far less comfortable with.  Still, she allowed Thamud to believe as he liked, and the pair spoke lazily for some time, as if recovering from the heavy heat with easy words. Their pleasantries could not last forever, and inevitably, the conversation returned to that which Najla did not wish to discuss.

[i]<“You were kind to help Aliya, but it was not necessary, Sultana. We take care of our own within the Al-Uba’yd.”>

<“I did not do so out of necessity, Thamud Khan. I know the Al-Uba’yd have both the means and desire to care for all those who share and serve your blood. I wanted to do so, I had no motives beyond that.”>

<“It will be an expensive feat, even for the Great Sultan, to provide for every new widow the Servant leaves behind.”>[/i]

Najla hid her emotions behind a soft laughter, though her mind raced. Thamud spoke as if the Servant would continue fighting, yet Najla did not know if he meant among the Al-Uba’yd or elsewhere. She did not doubt that there would be volunteers if Thamud allowed them to come forward, though significantly fewer than before, there were still men foolish enough to do so. Whether Thamud would be one of them would take some more time to know.

[i]<“I agree, yet I am prepared to do so. Every man that perishes at the Servant’s hands is a witness. As the Sawarim provides for his witnesses, so we must provide for their blood.”>[/i]

[i]<“It is an honor to be a witness for the Sawarim, truly.”> [/i]Najla was silent for a moment, watching Thamud as she waited for him to continue. It was a respectful phrase, usually one given to end a conversation like this, and yet, Najla felt as if there was more he wished to ask. Perhaps he would have, but the few seconds of silence were enough to break Najla’s patience.

[i]<“We are friends now Thamud, speak as freely as you like. I witnessed the same fight as you, I know it is difficult to see such an end as an honor. May the Sawarim rest Yazan’s soul.”>[/i]

There was a moment in which Thamud would not reply to the rest of the words, merely repeating the last phrase back softly. His dark eyes moved over her quickly as he did, nothing like the disrespectful gawking she’d seen from Ketill. Najla caught herself remembering Ketill’s words, wondering if perhaps he’d been right in claiming the tribals would blame her. It was not as if she’d had a choice, for he would’ve been unable to fight without her blessing, but she knew people did not always see that. Then again, if Thamud did blame her, he would never tell her. Perhaps no one but Ketill would.

[i]<“I’ve seen witnesses made before, I was nearly one myself, once. But never in such a manner. You are right, Sultana, it was not easy to see it as an honor then, and it is more difficult now that the Qawanin had to be violated for it. Yazan’s death was honorable but the act of it was less than human.”>[/i]

He spoke carefully, Najla noticed, never putting blame on any one party. They ‘had’ to be violated, he was speaking as if God’s will had done this, though their God would never urge another to betray his laws in this manner. It was a difficult issue to answer. If Najla admitted she had little control of Ketill, those who were meant to follow her would see her as weak, or at least far weaker than she’d presented herself to be. Letting the rumors fester would not be an option however, and neither would be telling the Al-Uba’yd that this violation had been done with her blessing. So she reverted to that which she knew to be true, and that which the tribesmen now knew to be true as well.

[i]<“The laws did not have to be broken, no civilized man would have done so. But the Servant is neither civil, nor a man. He is the rabid dog of a false god, a beast that has only been given the capability to harm, and too savage to be taught otherwise.”>

<“Yet you have tried Sultana, I saw the lessons upon his back.”>

<“Will you believe he did not feel it?”>[/i] Thamud’s surprised expression was met with a slight shake of Najla’s head, as if she herself could not believe the words she was repeating. [i]<“Not one lash was met with a cry.”>[/i]

[i]<“Is he capable of feeling pain at all? I saw none upon his expression, not from any blow of the axe or even when he-”>[/i] Thamud hesitated then, looking up at Najla as he caught his words. She knew what was coming next, he was speaking of when Ketill had pressed Yazan’s body into the flames, as if he could not feel their caress himself. The unthinking way Thamud had been about to speak those words indicated that he’d likely already said them to another, perhaps a brother or friend, but he could not describe such violence in front of a woman, even if she had been there to see it.

[i]<“I do not know.”>[/i] Her voice was soft as she answered, and her gaze rested on a cushion beside Thamud, rather than the man himself. It felt as if she could see Yazan’s face in it, locked in a scream as it blistered into something unrecognizable. A familiar, harrowing scream began to grasp at her conscious, though Najla shoved this away by looking up at Thamud once more, her expression no different than what he’d seen from her before. [i]<“I suppose it would be far easier to punish him if he did.”>

<“You intend to punish him for this then?”>[/i]

[i]<“Of course.”>[/i] Najla replied quickly, as if she had already thought this through long before. [i]<“He must be punished. Yazan did not deserve to perish in such a manner, and the Servant cannot be allowed to break our laws so easily. Not here, however, I will not burden your people with such violence.”>

<“I do not believe Yazan’s family would mind, Sultana. They should be glad to see the Servant pay for this.”>

<“Perhaps, until the punishment begins and they come to see just how little the Servant feels. It will only bring them more pain. Besides, I believe it would make little difference to his behavior regardless, not so long as he believes his God to be above those who enslave him. I had hoped to find a sword among the Sawarim to humble him. But I cannot imagine a man brave enough to face him now.”>

<“There is no need to imagine, there are many of us who could not resist the call to best a Servant. Even if they are faced with such a violent end, there is far too much to accomplish in such a victory.”>

<“Us?”>[/i] Najla raised an eyebrow at that, as if Thamud had aroused a new concern. [i]<“I do not doubt that you could beat him Thamud, but I also do not doubt that he could beat you. I would not ask a friend to gamble his life, you are too dear to the Sultan and I already.”>

<“Those are kind words, but I do not intend to gamble, Sultana. I believe I could beat him, though I cannot test this with my life. Not in front of my people.”>

<“You’re a confident man, Thamud. I could not doubt that this comes from your skill as a warrior, though I have only heard stories.”>

<“Is that why you came here, Sultana? The stories?”>[/i]

The shift in tone was rather sudden, but Najla was quick to adjust. Their subject was still somewhat heavy, but Thamud’s tone had turned slightly more teasing. Perhaps he was simply sick of speaking of the Servant, just as Najla was, and hoped to make the most of his time with this princess that seemed so fond of him. Perhaps he was aching to fight him as well, to test his luck, but even that would have to wait. As desperately as Najla wanted to have Thamud killed so she could be free of this chore, she’d have to close the negotiations beforehand.

[i]<“Well, if the Al-Uba’yd cannot beat him, I would be wise to give up on that quest entirely.”>[/i] Najla replied with a slight hint of a smile, continuing before Thamud could answer. [i]<“But no, I did not come here to entice such violence. I came to meet you, and to do what I can for your people.”>[/i]

With one comment, the conversation reverted back into negotiations. They kept their tones friendly, even teasing at times, and Najla spoke with little of the bite she’d had before. There were few other differences between the previous negotiations and this one however, for Najla found that Thamud was just as entrenched in his goal as before. He would not return the horses to the Banu Dunya, not without some payment for their loss, which would have been a grave insult if the villagers were forced to hand it over. Najla suspected he hoped she’d have the Sultan reach into his vast pockets to clear such a small issue, especially considering that it would have to be solved before the negotiations between both parties could even truly begin. It was not the large concession that her cousins Akbar and Zahira had assumed, though as Najla watched him speak, she knew it would get there quite soon. To her, that felt even more dangerous, a fool would ask for a princess outright, an intelligent man would see just how much the Sultan was willing to give before doing so. Unfortunately for Thamud, he was not intelligent enough to see how quickly it would be taken from him.

[i]<“Thamud Khan, the Banu Dunya bring a great deal of trade to your people. The value of the horses could be reimbursed tenfold in this manner alone.”>

<“I am not so dependent on their trade that I am willing to give up the pride of my people.”>[/i]

Najla let out a soft sigh, before leaning back in the cushions slightly. Briefly, she allowed her eyes to close, as if thinking, preparing her words of concession. When she opened her gaze, she rested in on Thamud for a moment, his lips curled in the hint of a smile. <“You care for your people dearly, I see that. I have only been among the Al-Uba’yd briefly, but it has been enough for me to understand why. I would not ask your people to give up their dignity for anything.”> She ignored the growing expression of hope, or perhaps satisfaction, on Thamud’s face, continuing to speak as if she could not see it.

[i]<“All I would ask is that you agree to return their horses when they arrive, and that you abandon your request for a Diya.”>[/i] He would not be able to obtain it anyways, Najla knew, for no property had been stolen from him. Perhaps he’d done it to insult the villagers or to extort someone in the Sultanate, likely her, but Najla didn’t care. She only knew that it would never be formally granted to him, and Thamud likely knew that as well, though clearly he did not care too much. 

[i]<“Then you are asking my people to abandon their dignity to those who call us thieves, Sultana.”>

They called you thieves because you stole from them.[/i]

It took far more willpower than she’d considered to keep from speaking those words, but Najla had made her silence doubly certain by raising her glass to take another sip of wine. Thamud was tiring to her, and this only made it harder to pretend as if she believed his lies. It would have been easier to speak with him if Ketill had not worn her nerves down to nothing earlier. The exhaustion hardly helped, she felt as if she’d barely given herself time to rest since the travel, and the endless amounts of wine and desert drinks were little pleasure under the heat of the sun. If anything, it was motivation to end the job before Thamud asked to strip another Sultana from the luxuries of the palace to rot here.

[i]<“I am asking them to abandon nothing but a few horses. Do not force them to abandon more. You must realize, your request for a Diya will never be granted if you do not abandon it formally. It will only insult the Banu Dunya, who could halt their trade here.”>

<“I would not make a request if I thought it would not be granted. We cannot allow their insults to go unanswered.”>

<“Unfortunately, that is not what a Diya is for. It is meant to compensate stolen property, not pride. There is no judge of the Sawarimic law that could grant this request, even if they believed it to be justified.”>[/i]

Much of the subtlety in her voice had been lost, swept away by the dust and heat, stripped by Thamud’s endless arguing. It wasn’t as if it mattered, he was getting what he wanted anyways, and Najla doubted he would tell anyone. He’d be stupid to, a Diya would have to be shared otherwise.

[i]<“But I am not a judge. Your request can still be granted, but I cannot do so unless it is formally renounced.”>

<“Sultana, this is assuming greed of us, this request is not of greed.”>

<“This is not an assumption Thamud, it is an option. You could still pursue this request, but negotiations will only be stalled to find you returning to the table empty-handed, and with two insulted parties facing you. You know what is best for your people, I only seek to accomplish that for you.”>[/i]

Though Thamud seemed taken aback by the sudden directness in her words, he would adjust quickly. Perhaps it was the victory that had done it, or the promise that he’d be granted the worth of two dozen horses for himself. Regardless, he would continue to press for some time, gently insisting that this request was only to heal a wounded pride, without ever outright refusing her offer. Najla had expected this, as exhausting as it was, for she knew he would not be able to accept so quickly without being turned into a liar in the Sultana’s eyes. She already believed him to be one, but now he knew her to be just as underhanded, so perhaps they had been made into equals. Finally, it seemed her directness has served her, and he agreed, to which Najla had to suppress a sigh of relief. It was a major task completed, and she would never have to continue the process of granting the Diya, at least, not unless her cousin picked up the request.

They would not seek to continue negotiations afterwards, nor would they resume talks of the Servant. Najla saw no reason to, Thamud had already made it apparent that he was somewhat eager to fight him, or at least curious enough to test his strength. Najla had encouraged this as subtly as she could, even going so far as to confide the secret of her betrothed’s bruises in him. It was hardly a secret, everyone in the palace knew of the incident, and Najla had little doubt that it had spread beyond. Osman would have been upset if he knew the words she was speaking, and furious if he knew the suggestions that had come along with it, the hints that she would be able to resist no man who could best the Servant. It was a lucky thing that he was in the capital then, for though she knew a flirtatious suggestion would not be enough for a man to risk his life in such a manner, she would not ask Thamud to risk his life. Instead, she’d watch as his words grew perpetually more brazen, pushing them as best as she could, until they would halt their conversation to prepare for the arrival of the Banu Dunya. It would only be tedious and tense, and Najla was just as grateful for the solitude Thamud’s deparature gave her as she was for the life he’d give her soon.

 [hr]

Despite the progress they made, the following day of negotiations felt just as tedious as the first. The Banu Dunya had brought a small delegation, their leader Ramzi, a man slightly younger than Najla’s father, though he was not quite a warrior yet. Only the Banu Dunya were surprised when Thamud told him he would return the horses without a Diya, as Najla knew he had conferred with his brothers before doing so. Zahira had told her, stating that Thamud knew it would never be granted, and they had decided to move past it in the spirit of forgiveness. It felt strange, for a thief to forgive their victim, but it suggested the beginning of the end here, and Najla was grateful for it. Yet while she believed the Banu Dunya to be the only ones surprised, a break in the negotiations would soon prove otherwise. As they tried to return to the tents, Zahira gripped Najla’s arm, whispering in her ear. It felt like a snake had coiled around her arm to hiss in her ear, though it looked like nothing but an affectionate grasp between cousins.

[i]<“Salim says Thamud may fight.”>

<“Are you sure? He still had many reservations…”>[/i]

[i]<“Yes, but only if it is till first blood. Salim was worried, he is trying to tell Thamud otherwise.”>

<“Are you going to let him?”>

<“Yes. My husband is a fool, he keeps telling Thamud that he does not have the Servant’s skill. How long do you think he’ll let that stand?”[/i]

Nothing in Najla’s conversation with Thamud could have brought about as much hope as Zahira’s final sentence. She would begin to respond, parting her lips to whisper in her cousin’s ear again, only for her words to halt in her throat. Basim stood some ways before them, speaking to another of Thamud’s brothers, but would quickly turn to walk towards the pair of women. Unwilling to risk her brother hearing, or even raise his curiosity about the nature of their gossip, Najla fell silent and nodded at her cousin. Thus, when Basim met them, there was nothing for him to interrupt, and his polite request to speak with Najla privately was granted easily, and she obliged, allowing her brother to escort her to her tent.

[i]<“So what convinced Thamud to give up the Diya?”>[/i] Najla looked up at Basim in surprise, though a glance around their walking path proved there were none within earshot. Though it would seem as if she had little faith in her brother, it was an action born mostly of surprise, brought on by the sudden question. 

[i]<“Common sense, I’d say. He knew he’d never get it.”>

<“He didn’t know that yesterday.”>[/i] Something in Basim’s tone was off, and when Najla glanced up at him again, there was a slight frown on her face. Basim knew that she had met with Thamud privately, their talk had lasted quite a long time, after all. She had not tried to hide it from anyone, though she had not expected to be questioned as to the nature of their conversation in this way.

[i]<“It took some convincing to make him see it, but at least now we can move forward with negotiations.”>

<“What convinced him?”>

<“I did.”>[/i]

Najla did not look up at her brother then, though she could feel his eyes on her. She did not know what answer he was seeking, or why he even cared as to this matter, but it was a line of questioning she wanted to end soon. While Najla usually held a near endless patience for his curiosity, this conversation was not a curious one. 

[i]<“Don’t worry, I didn’t offer him any of your cousins.”>[/i] Even this was not a full truth, she knew. They had not spoken on the subject directly, but they had hinted at cementing this friendship between the Al-Uba’yd and the Sultan even deeper. There were many ways to do so, but Najla’s playful tone had only left a few possible options. Thamud would not accept a Diya on its own, but it was not difficult to dangle a Sultana before these tribesmen. It was a sign of favor for the Sultan to grant his daughters and nieces to these tribal lords, and in terms of an indication of status, there were few to match it. [i]<“He only wanted the Diya for now, thank God. That’s all he’s going to get.”>

<“I thought you said he wasn’t going to get anything. We had only negotiated for a day, don’t you think he would have given up eventually?”>

<“Perhaps, but I didn’t want to take that risk, not while the Banu Dunya are here. It’s tense as it is, imagine if they had come to hear that. Trust me Basim, this was the easiest route for everyone, and it’s not as if Uncle cannot afford it.”>[/i]

They fell silent as they neared the entrance to Najla’s tent, quieting themselves before the guards. While Najla had done so on purpose, Basim’s silence lingered a few moments longer even as he entered her tent behind her. Najla moved to remove her golden mask slowly, still staying silent, waiting for her brother to speak first. 

[i]<“Why did you bother to bring me then?”>

<“What?”>[/i] Whatever Najla had expected was weighing down on Basim’s mind, this had not been it. She had half-expected him to repeat the concerns about Ketill’s prayers, or even tell her that she’d gone back on her word, both issues she could have dealt with. This was unexpected, as was the slightly annoyed tone Basim found when he repeated himself. 

[i]<“Why bother to bring me? If you’re going to do all the work hidden away in your tent, I don’t see why you need me.”>

<“I thought you wanted to come.”>

<“Sure, but I don’t see why you wanted me to. You said you wanted to teach me, but you didn’t bother to tell me about this.”>[/i]

[i]<“It’s not that I intended to give it to him, but as we began to speak, I realized it would be the most peaceful way. I am sorry, my blood, I did not hold this as a secret. But you have learned, and quickly. You’re doing quite well, they all respect you a great deal, and it will help us get to the end of the negotiations far faster. The next round of celebrations will be well-earned.”>[/i]

Again, there was another moment of silence, heavier than the one before. Their conversation had been tense, for though Najla was used to answering her brothers questions, she was not used to the tone he had asked them in. Something felt rather off about Basim, and Najla studied his expression for a brief moment before walking towards him.

[i]<“Are you feeling well? It is rare to see you so quiet, I hope I have not upset you. I would make this right if I could.”>

<“No, I’m fine.”>[/i] Basim waved her off then, though when she looked up at him, she could see his lips curling up into a slight smile. It felt forced, but she would not have much longer to question it. [i]<“I just need to rest, that’s all.”>[/i]

[i]<“Go then. You will be speaking a great deal at the negotiations tonight, it will be vital.”>[/i] Clearly, Najla believed she knew why he was so upset. She hoped that by giving him a greater role in these negotiations, stepping back to allow more room for her brother, he would be sated in his role. It would not work, for Basim knew that these negotiations were far less vital than those she’d had with Thamud. Besides, it had been the mention of a celebration that had dulled his spirits even more, though Najla had not noticed this, still preoccupied with the issue of the Diya. Hopefully, Basim would understand, and she let out a soft sigh as he left her tent, as she was unable to do much else.

[hr]

The next few days of negotiations had passed in a rather tedious manner, and had been spent carefully balancing egos between the two parties, though it was finally coming to a close. They had agreed upon the terms, Thamud would send the horses back with them, and upon her return to the capital, Najla would send him a Diya even greater than the one he’d asked for. At least, that’s what she had told him, though she did not know if it would ever reach him. It seemed Thamud had not told any of his family this, for Zahira had come to Najla, telling her of Salim’s complaints that Thamud had given in so easily. He had much to complain on, it seemed, and his wife relayed these to Najla in a cheerful tone, before asking for that which Najla had promised her. 

[i]<“I don’t know how you find this. I live in the desert it comes from, and yet I have had less luck.”>[/i]

<“You need to offer a higher price, cousin.”> Najla replied with a smile, handing her cousin the delicate bottle. It was too small to be a normal perfume bottle, dwarfed by their jeweled hands, though it held no markings that would clarify what it could be. Had they been accompanied by guards, they would have seen nothing but two women passing a strange perfume from one gilded hand to another. The pair were alone, however, and their words betrayed what their relaxed demeanor couldn’t.

[i]<“So you won’t tell me?”>

<“And make my own blood pay for it? Whenever you need some, just ask, I will always be happy to gift it to you.”>[/i]

The knowing look on Zahira’s face proved that she had seen past her cousin’s words, but Najla would ignore this. She had not expected differently, after all. Zahira had always been older than her, already well-versed in the ways of the court just as Najla was finding her way, and so there were few tricks Najla could use that her cousin would be unaware of. Thus, despite the fact that she manipulated her words easily, far too quickly and without a change in tone, Zahira knew the truth. Najla would not reveal her source, even if she had no issue delivering the product itself.

[i]<“Sa’am-e Soosk.”>[/i] Zahira spoke the Sawarim word for ‘Beetle’s poison’ as delicately as she held the vial, turning it over in between jeweled fingers. [i]<“It takes a week, no?”>

<“It depends on the man. The larger he is, the longer it takes.”>[/i]

[i]<“So your bear-”>[/i]

Najla smiled slightly, as if she already knew the joke, but quickly cut her cousin off. She was sick of speaking of Ketill, exhausted by his name and presence already, and it was only made worse with the knowledge that she had brought him here.

[i]<“A year, perhaps.”>[/i] Her cousin’s grin quickly grew to match hers at that, but Najla continued to speak before Zahira could mention the Servant once more. [i]<“But yes, for Thamud, I assume a week.”>[/i]

Zahira did not respond to that, and Najla watched as her cousin opened the vial. Her motions were careful, and almost excruciatingly slow, but finally, she lifted the vial to her nose and inhaled softly.

[i]<“The smell is barely there, but it’s not a good one.”>

<”That’s good, it means it’s real beetle shit.”>[/i]

It was far rarer for Najla to speak crassly than it was for her cousin, so this comment was quick to elicit another grin from Zahira. It was clear that Zahira was somewhat familiar with the poison, even if she did not have access to it, but Najla had made certain she understood all that she could about it. They were made by crushing young beetles that feasted on the roots of plants used for perfumes, and so it was immensely difficult to obtain. First, a Sawarim had to be convinced to uproot a plant that would bring them continual profit, then they would have to hope to find a beetle at all, let alone some young enough to be suited for this purpose, and only then would the careful procedure of obtaining the poison from these beetles could begin. Rather than rely on such an unpredictable supply, Najla had found predictable people and rewarded them well, so long as these wares were never far from her reach. These people were precious to her, as dear as a friend would be, and it was partially by hiding their names that she sought to repay their services.

[i]<“Will it be a painful death, do you think?”>

<“Yes.”>[/i]

Najla answered quickly, and though her tone made it so that she was stating a fact, it also betrayed that it was an unfortunate one. She knew Zahira would continue to ask, but rather than explain herself, Najla watched as her cousin wrapped a fabric around her hand to close the bottle delicately. The silence made the brief moment feel far tenser than necessary, so that Najla exhaled in relief when Zahira managed to close the bottle without issue.

[i]<“Well, how much more painful than an infection will it be? I do not want it to be suspicious.”>

<“Do not worry cousin. If it did not mimic an infection so well, I would have brought another weapon. He will feel the Djinn’s grasp at his wound, as if he is becoming trapped within his own flesh, but to your healer and his family, it will look like the wound or fever has taken him. So long as your healer does her job, and keeps quiet.”>[/i]

She spoke of the poison as a weapon the same way her father would speak of a sword or axe. Her actions were far less honorable. Najla seemed to feel some the weight of this knowledge, though perhaps not heavily enough to halt herself. It was necessary. Other poisons could kill him painlessly and with little delay, but this was the best way to avoid suspicion. Her tone was matter-of-fact, with little care as to the harshness of her words. Regardless of the cruelty of the act itself, Najla was breaking no Qawanin, and so her God could not be displeased with her.

[i]<“She is mine to deal with, have faith in me. Between the Mother, your….supplier, and the two of us, there is no one who would know.”>[/i]

[i]<“Osman knows.”>[/i] Najla replied quickly. It should not have been a necessary name to mention, for there should have been no fear that her lover would speak. But what ‘should’ have been was not always the truth. Zahira already knew that Osman was displeased with Najla’s actions, and though she had not dared tell her cousin the extent of it, she had told her more than most. The reason would be clear when Zahira replied, she held none of the surprise or anger Najla’s siblings would have held, though perhaps she would have if Najla had removed her bracelets. She treated the matter as she had all their previous intimate gossip throughout the years, and it seemed Najla would have it no other way.

[i]<“He seemed in better spirits when he came to say farewell, I assumed he had come to terms with the situation.”>

<“He’s still not pleased, but he’s accepted it. Otherwise, I suppose I wouldn’t be here.”>[/i]

[i]<“Liar.”>[/i] Zahira replied. Najla returned her cousin’s grin with a softer smile, suddenly very aware of how the necklaces pressed into the bruising on her neck. [i]<“Osman has grown too used to women like Elif, but he will remember that you are not her. Either that or you will remind him. Then all will be as it was.”>[/i]

That comment was enough to reel Najla’s thoughts back in, and she let out an amused exhale, not quite a giggle or laugh. She had very little knowledge of how Osman treated Elif, whether he would ever speak to her or bruise her in the manner he had done to Najla. His wife had likely never given him a reason to. Regardless, she knew that Osman could not have grown too used to Elif, or else he would not have returned to Najla’s chambers as often as he did.

[i]<“If you are right, then I hope he remembers soon. I can think of no other way to remind him, and I will only grow weary if my husband always intends to be so difficult. Is it easier to keep them ignorant? So far as I know you have never sought to inform Salim as to your ways.”>
[/i]
[i]<“I've never had to. There's nothing out here but sand, there's hardly even a secret to keep. He did question me once, some rumor that came from the palace about something I did before our marriage. I don’t remember about what, I suppose it didn’t matter. I told him what I knew would ease him, and he has not spoken of it since that night.”>

<“What words eased him so easily?”>

<“Any would have quieted him. I could have spoken nonsense, men will believe anything if they’re distracted the right way. You know this, and from the way Elif looks at you, she knows as well.”>

<“What does she know? That she’s about to compete with a Sultana, or that she already is?”>

<“The latter, if Osman remains by your side as often as you say. She cannot be as daft as Ammar’s wife is.”>[/i]

It was lucky that Zahira should have made such a comment, for rather than focus on her troubles with Osman, or try and seek more advice from her cousin, they could turn to gossip quickly. Their sentences were now punctuated with laughter as they discussed their cousin’s new wife, making light of the poor girl’s excuses for the nights Ammar spent within the clutches of the harem. The stresses of the task ahead were forgotten within this gossip, and they would only be reminded of it briefly when the pair was finally interrupted. As the entrance of the tent began to move, Najla quickly glanced over to watch Zahira hide the vial they’d so easily forgotten about in the folds of her dress. When her eyes reverted to the door, it was Basim’s image that entered, approaching the pair as if he was interrupting their gossip in the gardens at home. He had shown little desire to speak to Najla after their last tense conversation, though he was smart enough not to try and show this in public. Not even Zahira had noticed, for Basim spoke pleasantly before them. Najla had noticed however, enough that she was rather surprised at his presence.

[i]<“I didn’t mean to interrupt, it sounded important.”>

<“It was. We’re betting on which of the harem girls Kalila’s going to find first.”>[/i]

Basim let out a soft chuckle at his cousin’s response, taking a few steps towards the pair. [i]<“You’re just wasting a chance to rest then.”>

<“Aren’t you supposed to be resting too? They’re going to be signing the pact tomorrow, do you have any idea how much of that snake venom you’re going to have to drink again?”>[/i]

[i]<“I’ve got some idea.”>[/i] Basim replied, still smiling. He seemed much more like his usual self, though Najla wondered if the distance had been bridged because of Zahira’s presence. It would be answered shortly however, for Basim was quick to clarify his presence. [i]<“I’m about to go rest, I just wanted to talk to my sister for a few moments before. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”>[/i]

[i]<“You aren’t. We’re-”>[/i] She glanced over at Najla for confirmation, at which she nodded. <“We’re done here. I suppose I should find Salim.”> Zahira began to push herself off the cushions, and Basim rushed forward, quickly offering his hand to help her stand. It was a movement the princes of the Sultanate learned under the sharp tongues of their mothers and sisters who expected such treatment. Yet the awkward way Basim held out his hand would make anyone believe he did so out of free will rather than any sort of conditioning. Najla watched as Zahira took his hand softly, the other clutching a fistful of her skirts, hiding a vial in her hand and the fabrics. Salim was not going to see his wife for some time, they had other tasks to accomplish. The celebrations were beginning tomorrow, and many were itching for it, tired of the tense few days the negotiations had brought on. Though they had not forgotten the horror of the last celebration, there were still many who itched to test their strength against Ketill, Thamud included. 

[i]<“I can’t tell you how well you did, Basim.”>[/i] Najla began to speak immediately after Zahira left, smiling kindly at her brother. She had not asked why he had been so distant the past few days, assuming that the tense negotiations had only put an even greater strain on him. [i]<“You were clever, confident, much better than I was the first time. I knew I was right to bring you.”>[/i]

[i]<“Thanks.”>[/i] Basim’s voice was somewhat softer, and he plopped himself across from Najla, almost precisely where Zahira was sitting before. [i]<“It wasn’t that hard to pick up, honestly.”>

<“Don’t start bragging now.”>[/i] Najla teased, her smile widening at her own remarks. [i]<“Just because you’re a natural doesn’t mean it was so easy for all of us.”>[/i]

Basim chuckled softly as that, though he did not seem too moved by her praise. She had not expected him to be now, for she knew there was a reason he had come to speak to her. Najla would quickly seek to know the reason why, eager to be able to rest before the next day.

[i]<“So what was it you wished to speak with me about?”>

<“I heard Thamud’s going to fight.”>[/i] The answer came suddenly, and Najla raised an eyebrow at that, surprised at the fact that Basim knew, and curious as to how he had found out. It seemed he had misinterpreted her expression as surprise, a lucky thing, she supposed. [i]<“I don’t know for sure,”>[/i] He added hastily, [i]<“His brothers were just talking about it to me, they were asking about what he was like during training.”> 

<“What did you tell them?”>[/i]

Basim just shrugged at that. [i]<“The truth, I guess. Are you going to let him?”>

<“I have no control over Thamud. If he wishes to fight Ketill, he will.”>

<“You control Ketill, he doesn’t have to fight him.”>[/i] 

Najla hesitated for a moment then, but she knew her brother well, and as such, believed she knew what was troubling him. She was not entirely wrong, it seemed, though she was not quite as close as she believed.

[i]<“You’re worried about the violence? Don’t worry, Thamud will not fight him until his death. Ketill can kill any man who tries to kill him. Thamud is not going to try to kill him, they will only fight until first blood.”>

<“But you’re still going to make Ketill kill the others?”>

<“If they try to kill him, he can kill them. Is that not fair?”>[/i]

There was little for Basim to disagree with there, it seemed, but their conversation would not cease. It seemed Basim was still uncomfortable with the violence they’d have to show, but there was little he could do beyond it. He would not ask Thamud not to fight, and Najla would not be convinced to ask Ketill not to fight. They would face each other the next day, it seemed, regardless of how many of the Al-Uba’yd fretted at the thought. Though Basim did not leave entirely satisfied, Najla was simply satisfied that he had left. Zahira would douse Ketill’s weapon in the poison, Thamud would seek to test his strength, and in a week, the Al-Uba’yd would have a new leader.

[hr]

Their final full day with the Al-Uba’yd felt much like the first night, though it was a far longer process. With both their prides satisfied, the Banu Dunya and Al-Uba’yd had finalized their pact, and would finally be able to break bread together once more, a celebration their people had prepared for some time. As before, they settled under the canopy at night, Najla and Basim between the leaders of the Al-Uba’yd and the Banu Dunya, indulging far more than they had the first night. If there were men brave enough, they’d be allowed to challenge the Servant, but Najla could not have cared less about any of them. They were peasants, either too drunk or too proud, none of their deaths would help her. Instead, she continued to distract herself by drinking, indulging in a luxury she hated, chatting with men she did not particularly like, up until the main event. Finally, she approached Ketill.

Thamud was preparing under the canopy still, talking excitedly to his brothers, as if he was not about to face death. He was not drunk, only eager, and Najla would have lamented this fact if she cared to. Thamud would die regardless, it did not matter what he drank before.

[i]“Ketill.”[/i] She spoke his name with that thick accent as ever, though there was little softness in it now. Najla had not come to see him since their last conversation, and her tone would leave little question as to why. She was still rather angry with him, and her eyes narrowed over that golden mask as she spoke to him, though the guards that flanked her would not see this. [i]“No need to spit insults, I just wished to tell you that this would be your last task here. We will leave tomorrow.” [/i]

She glanced over to see Thamud walking towards the fire, knowing that the Sawarim were likely going to begin the ritual again soon. Once more, she’d have to give Ketill her blessing to fight, though this time, it would not be to kill. It was clear however, that there was more she wished to say to him. Najla had never been concerned with telling Ketill his duties, nor warning him about travel, only with having him accomplish whatever task she asked of him. Surely, this time would be no different.

[i]“He will not try to kill you, this fight will be to first blood only. If you can manage not to kill him, I promise you a horse for the journey back to the capital. If not, there will be no punishment.”[/i] She glanced at Thamud again, and it seemed Najla knew she had run out of time as she looked up at Ketill once more. She did not care to control her voice before, knowing that none of the tribesmen could speak Ketill’s tongue, but now, she spoke somewhat more softly. It indicated far more about the nature of her words than who she was worried would hear, though she would not explain herself much further. 

[i]“By no means should you touch your own blade. Understood? Now come, they’re ready to start.”[/i]
[/quote]