"Death would be too good for you," Mala-Shim said with blood flecked lips, hatred in his eyes. Amal had to give him credit, he faced his own mortality with defiance. Too bad he couldn't risk him staying alive. The thief held his curved knife to the merchant's throat, having killed his bodyguard and descended upon the tradesman before he knew what was happening, and after Amal bloodied him, he had told him the truth. It would have been better had he not. 

"Well then I guess that means I will live forever, yes?" Amal replied, slicing the merchant's throat before Mala-Shim could respond. It was a quick cut, but Amal's strong arms made the knife slice very deep. The crimson liquid gushed out with every beat of his greedy heart, like the lapping of the waves against a dry beach. Amal only gave him one derisive look as he crumpled before turning, sliding a cloth over his jambiya blade. He had already nabbed the dead man's coin purse at knife point. 

A servant, likely a debt-slave, cowered in the corner, unfortunately chained to the cart Mala-Shim had been taking to Arilqas. The ass neighed in annoyance, its ears flickering as the flies that gathered about its head began to migrate over to the fresh corpse. Amal took a moment to contemplate, then decided he really didn't care to take much from the now ownerless cart. The slave man flinched when Amal approached him, his skinny body shivering in obvious fear. When the thief's hand flashed, the slave cried out and ducked, only to be hit in the face with the key to his chains. 

"What is your name?" Amal asked, counting the coins he had taken from Mala-Shim even as the slave looked at him, astonished he was alive and even more surprised he had been given the keys to unlock his chains. He swallowed to wet his throat, thinking Amal was playing some sick game with him. 

"Ekara," the man responded, sun-baked hands slowly fidgeting with the keys."And...you are Amal, yes?" The thief's amused smile showed him he was correct. "Master spoke of you often." 

"What did he say about me?" Amal laughed. 

"Many nasty things." Ekara said, his manacles 'clicking' open, taking them off and not sure on if to toss the keys back to Amal or keep them. The Esaad thief did not seem concerned with them, now placing the coins back into the small sack, pleased.

"Well it makes sense, seeing as he is now dead. Perhaps I deserved them?" 

Now Ekara was certain this was a game. There would be no reason to free him other than the kindness of one's own heart, and this man killed with no hesitation. Ekara even suspected he had enjoyed it for its own sake. Now he bandied words in a way that kept Ekara on his toes, not knowing how to respond. As he contemplated running, Amal strode over to the cart and leaned in, glancing at the goods Mala-Shim had been transporting. The slave was not very familiar all of his master's business going south, but he knew he had been transporting iron and textiles for an order of armorer materials to Arilqas. 

"Well Ekara, it seems you have now been freed! And with your own business, as well. You are far luckier than I was when I freed myself, I will not lie to you." Amal confided, and stepped over to Ekara, though he seemed to be more interested in the weather above and their surroundings, for some reason. 

Ekara's jaw dropped, blinking over and over until the servant, well... former servant, shook his head. "You will give me his things? Why!? Why not just steal it all?" 

Amal shrugged. "I was a debt-slave once. Call it nostalgia. Though I am also letting you live so you could bury the body." Amal rested his hand on his sheathed knife, and the other on the hilt of his scimitar. He looked so casual, it was difficult to say whether he did so to look threatening, or if it was mere habit. Likely the latter to achieve the former. The thief looked at him with eyes so dark under his wave of black hair, they looked abyssal. "Men do not look kindly on slaves killing their masters." 

"But-" 

"Also, because I let you live, I would like discounts on whatever business you find yourself in, in the future. If you manage to bury your master before someone arrives to find you. Sound good?" 

Ekara's mouth worked, but no noise came from his throat. So he merely nodded. Amal took his hand and shook it. "Friends, then! It is nice to meet you, Ekara. I will see you later! Mala-Shim had a shovel in the back, by the way." 

The thief tossed his bag of coins into the air and caught it, walking southward toward Arilqas. He felt a bit liberated himself, if he was being honest. Mala-Shim had him thrown into prison and had killed a woman Amal had fancied, and it was providence his vengeance took him out of Esaas where no one looked for him. Perhaps he would find where his fortunate lay, ahead?