Chapter 14
A week passed after the palace banquet. In that time, Kelan and Astrid discovered just how quickly word traveled in Tazan. From dawn until dusk, people began appearing at their doorstep—commoners and servants of nobles alike seeking the healer. Kelan did his best to tend to them, but it left little peace. Their once-quiet life was evaporating under the desert sun.
Astrid kept a vigilant eye on each newcomer. Though many were genuine cases—children with summer fevers, workers with camel-gout, even a palace guard with a badly sprained ankle—she couldn't shake the feeling that some visits were meant more to spy than to seek aid.
Late one morning, a messenger arrived with a sealed note for Kelan. The boy said he was sent by a minor noble family on the outskirts of Tazan; their matriarch had fallen from a balcony and lay near death. They begged Kelan to come at once.
Kelan's brow furrowed as he read it. He didn't recognize the family name, but there were many petty nobles he had yet to meet. The plea was desperate yet oddly formal. Astrid sensed his hesitation. "Could it be a trap?" she asked quietly once the messenger had gone to wait by the carriage he'd brought.
"Perhaps," Kelan muttered. "But if it's real, an old woman's life is at stake." He drew a hand over his face. "I can't ignore it. And if it is a ploy, I'll be on guard."
"I'm coming with you, then," Astrid said, moving to gather her satchel where she kept a few defensive potions and her practice dagger.
The messenger boy added nervously that the note specified only the healer should come and only one carriage had been sent, which made their suspicions flare. Astrid immediately volunteered to accompany Kelan on horseback at a distance, but he shook his head. If it was a ploy, he would not risk her as well. Reluctantly, she agreed to stay behind, extracting his promise to be cautious and return swiftly.
Kelan gave her a brief, reassuring squeeze of the hand, then gathered his satchel of remedies. He also quietly slipped a dagger into his boot.
Outside, the sun glared white. Kelan climbed into the waiting carriage—a simple wooden cart with a canvas top—and the messenger hopped in front to direct the driver. As the donkey lurched forward, Kelan caught a last glimpse of Astrid standing in their doorway, one hand shading her eyes, worry etched on her face.
She watched until the carriage disappeared around a bend. Then, with a determined breath, Astrid secured the latch on their door and decided to keep herself busy until his return. Idleness would only feed her anxiety. She opted to train—a focused mind would dull her worry.
Astrid changed into her light leather practice jerkin and made her way to an open lot behind their neighborhood tannery where she often trained in the mornings. At this hour, the space was deserted, the workers resting indoors through the worst of midday heat. The vacant yard, strewn with a few abandoned crates and earthen jars, would serve as makeshift targets.
Under the sparse shade of an acacia tree, she ran through breathing exercises and combat forms Kelan had taught her, channeling her energy into a crackling orb of bluish light that hovered above her palm. She began with breathing, drawing in the hot air and letting unwanted thoughts slip away like grains of sand through fingers. Slowly, she moved into combat forms: a sweeping kick of dust, a pivot into a defensive stance, then the fluid motion of gathering power. A pale orb of energy formed there—her magic, summoned and held steady.
Astrid hurled the orb at a row of three clay jars she'd lined up along a low wall. It struck one jar and exploded it with a concussive thud, sending shards of clay flying. The remaining jars toppled. Astrid allowed herself a small, satisfied smile—her aim was improving.
Retrieving a waterskin, Astrid took a long drink. Sweat trickled down her brow despite the stillness of the air. She was about to reset the jars when a prickle on the back of her neck made her pause.
The yard, moments ago silent except for the buzz of cicadas, had gone unnaturally quiet. Astrid turned slowly, senses on edge. Along the perimeter of the lot, beyond the broken fence posts, she caught a glimpse of movement—a shadow shifting behind a stack of tanned hides left to cure.
"Who's there?" Astrid called out, her voice echoing slightly off the surrounding adobe walls. No answer.
She stepped away from the tree, wiping her hands on her jerkin, and subtly flexed her fingers to summon a glimmer of magic just in case. The static energy crackled faintly around her fingertips.
Suddenly, a man in dun-colored robes burst from behind a stack of hides, swinging a wooden cudgel. He rushed at her wordlessly. Astrid reacted on instinct; she thrust out her palm and a lance of bright force shot forth, catching the attacker in the chest. He cried out and flew backward, landing in the dust and skidding to a stop.
Before Astrid could catch her breath, two more assailants sprang from behind a low wall to her left. They fanned out: one wielding a curved dagger, the other whirling a weighted net. Their faces were obscured by cloth wraps.
Astrid's pulse thundered. This was no random mugging—they had come for her. She had no time to wonder why or who sent them; she had to fight.
The net-wielder cast his net at her, but she dove into a roll under it, then swept her arm to fling a wave of force that sent the dagger-wielder staggering. The net-wielder drew a short sword and charged. Astrid spun and barely blocked his slash with her braced forearm. Pain stung her arm, but she retaliated by conjuring a flash of searing light in his face. He yelped, staggering back and clawing at his eyes.
Seizing the opening, Astrid kicked his sword arm, sending the weapon clattering, then struck his temple with her elbow. The man crumpled unconscious.
Behind her, the dagger-wielder lunged. Astrid spun away, but pain sliced across her upper arm as his blade grazed flesh. She bit back a cry as warm blood trickled down, and the man pressed forward, emboldened by first blood.
He feinted and slashed again. Astrid ducked the blade, then slammed her crackling palm into his chest. A surge of arcane energy sent him convulsing and collapsing, his dagger flying from limp fingers.
In moments, all three attackers were down—two unconscious and one groaning in pain. No more lurked in the yard. Astrid's heart pounded and her wounded arm throbbed, blood trickling down to her elbow.
The first assailant—the one Kelan's force bolt had flung—was still conscious, groaning as he tried to sit up. Before he could recover fully, Astrid summoned a crackling tendril of light into a whip and lashed it at the ground by his feet, making him flinch and freeze.
"Don't move," she warned, voice icy despite the adrenaline surging through her. She kept a wary eye on the other two as the first man glared up at her with hate. His veil had slipped, revealing a weathered face.
"Who sent you?" Astrid demanded.
He spat on the ground but remained silent, chest heaving. She doubted intimidation alone would crack a hired thug's loyalty—whoever hired them must frighten him more than she did.
A distant sound made Astrid's head jerk up—the faint rumble of a cart on the road beyond the alley. Perhaps Kelan returning? Hope fluttered in her chest.
At that moment, Kelan vaulted over a low section of the fence, landing lightly inside the yard. His tunic was dusty and sweat-stained, and his eyes swept over the scene with panic until he saw her standing and mostly unharmed. Relief and fury mingled on his face as he took in the downed attackers and Astrid's bleeding arm.
He crossed to her in three long strides. Astrid, adrenaline giving way to tremors now that backup had arrived, managed a shaky smile. "I'm okay," she breathed.
Kelan's jaw tightened at the sight of the cut on her arm and the shallow bleeding scratch on her cheek. He gently tilted her face to examine the cut on her cheek, his eyes full of worry and anger at the sight of her blood. "I'm so sorry," he whispered.
Astrid covered his hand with hers. "This isn't your fault. They're to blame. I'm just glad you're here."
He nodded, though his eyes still held guilt. Kelan then surveyed the other two sprawled forms. "You handled yourself," he said softly, with a note of pride that couldn't quite banish the anger underlying it.
Astrid exhaled, tension draining. "They tried to take me, Kelan. I don't know why but... they were organized. They knew to wait until you were gone."
Kelan nodded grimly. "The summons was false. When I arrived at the address, there was no injured matriarch—just an empty shed. I realized too late it was a diversion."
Astrid laid her hand on his shoulder. "It's not your fault. We both suspected something. I should have insisted on coming with you, or not leaving the house."
He shook his head. "No. The blame lies with whoever sent these curs." Kelan turned a withering glare to the one conscious assailant. The man shrank back, eyes widening as if sensing an unseen threat.
Kelan knelt and spoke in a low, deadly tone. "You've made a grave mistake attacking here. Tell me who ordered this, and I may yet be merciful."
The thug pressed his lips together, chest heaving. He glanced at Astrid's whip of light still flickering in her hand, then at Kelan's cold stare. "We'll… we'll be killed if we talk," he rasped.
Kelan's patience snapped. He unleashed a spike of mental pressure that made the thug cry out and clutch his head. "Talk," Kelan said coldly.
"Stop! I'll tell you everything," he gasped.
Kelan eased the pressure slightly. The man panted. "We never saw who's behind it," he said. "We were hired through a broker at the market—half payment upfront, half after. Told us to grab the foreign woman with magic and deliver her to an old caravanserai outside the city. That's all I know!"
Kelan's eyes flicked to the two unconscious thugs. He glared. "Go. Crawl back to whatever hole you came from." The thug needed no further urging. He scrambled to his feet, rousing his groggy comrades. They half-dragged each other out of the yard without looking back.
Astrid released the remaining magic in her hand; the yard fell still once more.
Kelan gently took Astrid's uninjured arm. "Let's get you home. I need to tend those cuts."
Astrid opened her mouth to protest she was fine, but a wave of exhaustion hit her as the adrenaline ebbed. She swayed, and Kelan was there, steadying her.
They walked back toward their house. Astrid winced with each step—now that the fight was over, her arm and cheek throbbed in earnest. Kelan's face was grim, eyes distant as though replaying everything in his mind.
Inside their home, Kelan sat Astrid down in the courtyard shade and carefully peeled back her makeshift bandage. The cut on her upper arm was a few inches long, oozing but not too deep. His lips pressed thin as he cleaned it with water and an herbal tincture, then laid his palm above the wound. A familiar soft warmth spread through Astrid's flesh as Kelan encouraged the bleeding to slow and the raw edges to knit slightly.
Astrid watched his face as he worked. "Kelan," she said softly, "it could only have been someone with power who arranged this. Maybe… Zafir?"
He nodded curtly. "Who else? He's the one with reason to remove us from our independence. Either by co-opting or by force." His voice shook with restrained anger. "Perhaps he thought if I was out of the way, he could seize you as a lever to control me—or to use your magic."
Astrid looked down, flexing her fingers. The idea of being handed over to some unknown faction made her stomach churn. "What do we do?"
Kelan secured a clean bandage over her arm, tying it off snugly. "First, we don't allow ourselves to be separated so easily again." His eyes met hers, the golden afternoon light reflecting in his determined gaze. "And we inform Lord Amin. He should know what Zafir is up to, if indeed it was him. We'll need allies."
Astrid agreed silently. Amin had proven trustworthy, and if anyone could discreetly verify Zafir's involvement or help protect them, it would be him.
Kelan gently brushed a thumb over the shallow cut on her cheek, healing it just enough to stop the bleeding. His hand then cupped her face, and for a moment he simply held her gaze. "I'm so sorry, Astrid," he whispered. "I should have refused that summons outright."
She covered his hand with hers. "You did what you thought was right. They're to blame, not you. I'm just glad we're both safe."
He nodded. Kelan then stood and looked at Astrid. He forced calm into his voice for her sake. "We need to go. There might be more of them out there. And we have our answer, for now."
Astrid nodded, although a part of her balked at letting these men go unpunished. "What about them?" she asked, nodding toward the trio's escape route.
Kelan's jaw set. "They've learned enough not to try again."
They locked up their house securely, then stepped out into the late-afternoon light, Kelan keeping a protective hand near Astrid as they hurried toward Lord Amin's estate to seek counsel and refuge. Each kept watch on the rooftops and alleys as they walked, keenly aware that the next attack could come at any time.
Though Astrid's arm throbbed and Kelan's mind churned with plans and worries, they moved with purpose. Side by side, they had faced worse in their journeys. They would face this, too. And if the nobles of Tazan wanted a game, Kelan and Astrid were no longer willing to play the pawns.
Chapter 15
Lord Amin received Kelan and Astrid in a secluded study lined with books and cooled by a trickling marble fountain along one wall. Servants had ushered them in with concerned looks, taking note of Astrid's bandaged arm and the tension in Kelan's face. Now the door was closed, and only Amin's most trusted houseguard, Captain Qadir, stood discreetly near the entrance.
Amin listened in growing horror as Kelan quietly recounted the ambush. Astrid sat close by, her jaw set as she described the attackers and their plan to deliver her to unknown parties outside the city. By the time they finished, Amin's hands had clenched into fists on the desk.
"This is outrageous," Lord Amin exclaimed, keeping his voice low but angry. "An attack on guests under the Emir's protection—on you." He shook his head, rose from his chair, and began pacing over the mosaic floor. "It can mean nothing else: someone high-ranking orchestrated this. And we all suspect who."
"Vizier Zafir," Kelan said flatly.
Captain Qadir shifted, his armor rasping softly. He was a broad-shouldered man in his thirties, with keen eyes that missed little. "I cannot imagine any other with the audacity or resources," he rumbled. "Still, confronting him directly is... delicate. He's the Emir's cousin and holds much sway over the palace guard."
Amin stopped pacing and pressed a palm to his forehead. "Cousin or not, if Zafir has truly done this, he's committed treachery. But we lack proof—only the word of hired thugs who'd never implicate him by name."
Astrid leaned forward, anger flashing in her eyes. "So he's to get away with it? He tried to have me abducted like a piece of cargo."
Amin looked at her kindly. "I understand your outrage, Astrid. Rest assured, Zafir's schemes will not go unanswered. But we must be clever. If we accuse him without evidence, he will simply deny and strike from the shadows again."
Kelan reached over and squeezed Astrid's uninjured hand. She took a slow breath and gave a curt nod. "So what do we do?"
"For now, you both will stay here, as my guests," Amin said decisively. "My estate is well-guarded. Zafir wouldn't dare use open force against another noble house, especially mine, given my standing with the Emir."
Captain Qadir stepped forward. "I'll double the night watch and station trusted guards around the gardens, my lord. None will enter without our leave."
"Thank you, Qadir," Amin replied.
Kelan felt a measure of relief at Amin's offer. The thought of returning to their small, vulnerable house tonight had filled him with dread. "You have our gratitude, Lord Amin. But we can't impose upon you indefinitely."
"Nonsense. It's not imposition, it's precaution," Amin insisted. "At least until we determine Zafir's next move." He stroked his beard thoughtfully. "The vizier will no doubt feign ignorance and maintain his polite front for now. He won't risk openly offending the Emir by moving against you in the daylight. But he will be plotting."
Astrid winced as she adjusted her sling – a palace physician had re-bandaged her arm upon arrival at Amin's. The cut was already healing cleanly thanks to Kelan's earlier attentions, but it still ached. "Should we inform the Emir?" she asked. "Perhaps he should know what his cousin is doing under his nose."
Amin and Qadir exchanged glances. It was Qadir who spoke carefully: "Emir Halim is a just ruler and would be furious to learn of this treachery. However... he is also in a precarious position. Confronting Zafir without undeniable proof could provoke political chaos. The Emir might feel compelled to handle it quietly, or worse, Zafir could convince him it's all a misunderstanding."
Amin nodded. "Zafir has a silver tongue and years of trust built. And Halim's mother—Her Grace—is gravely ill, which has distracted him. Zafir has been managing much of the city's affairs of late." His voice tightened with worry. "It pains me to say it, but we must be cautious even in approaching the Emir."
Kelan absorbed that silently. The notion that the Emir might not immediately side with them was disheartening but made sense. "Then we gather evidence," he said. "Something that ties Zafir directly to his plots. If we can expose him, the Emir will act."
"Agreed," Qadir said. "I can have some of my most loyal men sniff around the barracks and city guard. Perhaps someone has heard a hint of Zafir's private hires or unusual orders."
"I also have contacts in the merchant circles," Amin added. "If coin changed hands through the Haggler's Market to hire those thugs, someone may have seen or heard. I'll discreetly inquire."
Astrid managed a determined smile. She was heartened to see Amin and Qadir ready to fight in their own way. "And the two of us? How can we help?"
Amin turned to the shelves behind him, pulling out a rolled parchment map of Tazan and its environs. Spreading it on the desk, he pointed to a mark a few miles outside the city walls. "This is likely the caravanserai those men mentioned. It's an old trading post long abandoned. If they meant to take you there, Astrid, it could be one of Zafir's safe havens."
Kelan peered at the map. The caravanserai lay along a dry wadi, surrounded by dunes—a lonely spot where clandestine dealings could occur unseen. "If we could search it... perhaps there'd be evidence or even some clue of who was to receive Astrid."
Qadir frowned. "My men could scout it at first light, but if it's a place Zafir uses, we must be careful. He might have informants watching the road."
Amin gave a thin smile. "Fortunately, Tazan's nobles are convening a public council tomorrow at midday—a gathering Zafir would not miss, as it concerns the city's trade tariffs. That might distract him nicely."
Kelan nodded slowly. "If Zafir is occupied, a small team might investigate the caravanserai without tipping him off."
Qadir bowed slightly. "I volunteer to lead that team. I can take a few men I trust and see what we find at this caravanserai during the council meeting."
"Meanwhile, I will keep you both here, out of sight," Amin said to Kelan and Astrid. "Your absence from public life can be explained as my hiring you for private services in the interim, should anyone inquire. That will keep Zafir guessing."
Astrid shifted. "What if Zafir tries something before tomorrow?"
Qadir straightened, a hand resting on the pommel of his scimitar. "He'll have to get through me and two dozen of Lord Amin's best to do it. Rest assured, tonight at least, you are safe here."
There was a confidence in the captain's words that eased Astrid's residual fear. Kelan felt it too, a load off his shoulders to have allies standing with them.
Amin rolled up the map. "Very well. That covers our immediate response. Now, let us settle you in. I've had rooms prepared."
He moved to ring a small bell, but Astrid quickly interjected, "If it's all the same, my lord, I'd prefer not to be separated from Kelan tonight." Realizing how blunt that sounded, she added, "After what happened, I just... feel safer not alone."
Amin's eyes crinkled with understanding. "Of course. I'll have a larger guest suite arranged for you both." He gave no indication of scandal or surprise—only compassion.
Kelan felt a swell of gratitude. "Thank you," he said earnestly. "For everything."
Moments later a servant arrived to escort Kelan and Astrid to their quarters. Captain Qadir left to make his security rounds. Amin clasped each of their hands before they departed. "Try to get some rest," he urged softly. "Tomorrow will be a busy day."
The suite provided to them was on the second floor of Amin's manor, overlooking an inner courtyard where a lantern-lit fountain murmured through the night. Despite the luxurious appointments—polished wood furniture, silk draperies, and a platter of fresh dates and chilled wine left out for them—Astrid found herself peering past the balcony shutters into the darkness outside, alert for any sign of movement.
Kelan set aside his outer robe and joined her by the open lattice. The night air was cooler and carried the fragrance of jasmine from the garden. Beyond Amin's walls, Tazan stretched quiet under the moonlight.
"A copper for your thoughts," Kelan said gently, resting a hand at the small of her back.
Astrid sighed. "I keep thinking how quickly everything changed. Yesterday we were trying to mind our business. Today we're targets hiding under a friend's roof."
Kelan nodded. "It's maddening. Part of me still wants to slip away into the night—leave Tazan behind entirely." He glanced out at the silhouetted palm trees. "But running might not stop Zafir from pursuing, or others like him. And the Emir... he doesn't deserve to be left with a snake at his ear."
Astrid turned to look up at Kelan. "We'll deal with Zafir. We have allies now."
Kelan brushed a strand of her hair back, careful of the bruise on her cheekbone. "We do. And you were magnificent today, Astrid. Even injured, you kept your wits and fought them off."
She managed a faint smile. "I was terrified," she admitted. "But I remembered what you told me once—focus on what you must do, not on what you fear. It worked well enough."
Kelan's heart swelled with quiet pride and affection. Impulsively, he bent and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. "We'll get through this," he murmured.
Astrid closed her eyes at his touch. "Together," she whispered, echoing their promise.
A soft knock at the suite door interrupted the moment. Astrid tensed, but Kelan called, "Yes?"
A guard's muffled voice replied, "My apologies. A missive arrived, delivered by a royal courier. Lord Amin asked that I bring it to you immediately, Master Kelan."
Kelan and Astrid exchanged a quick look as he moved to open the door. The guard handed him a scroll sealed with the Emir's personal crest—a stylized palm tree under a crescent moon.
Breaking the wax, Kelan unrolled the parchment. His eyes skimmed the neat script, widening slightly as he reached the bottom. Astrid hovered anxiously. "What is it?"
He exhaled. "It's from the Emir's chamberlain. Emir Halim requests my presence at the palace tomorrow morning at first light. It seems..." He glanced to Astrid, "His mother, the Dowager Sultana, has taken a grave turn. The Emir asks for the healer from afar to attend to her."
Astrid absorbed that news, her brow furrowing. "Tomorrow at dawn? That's sooner than we expected. And right before the nobles' council at midday too."
"Perhaps her condition truly worsened," Kelan said, though doubt tinged his voice. "Or Zafir is moving faster than anticipated to get me away again."
He reread the scroll carefully. The wording was courteous, even pleading. Emir Halim must be truly concerned for his mother. Kelan felt a tug of duty—he could not simply ignore a life in jeopardy, even with the risks.
"We'll have to adjust our plan," he said slowly. "If I go to the palace at dawn—"
"I'm coming too," Astrid cut in, her tone firm.
Kelan opened his mouth to protest, but she raised a hand. "Don't even argue. I'm not letting you out of my sight after today's stunt. If the Emir wants you to heal his mother, he'll get me as well, or we decline. Zafir won't catch us separated again."
Kelan realized there would be no dissuading her, and truthfully, he was relieved by her insistence. He nodded. "Alright. We'll both go." He looked to the guard still waiting by the door. "Please inform Lord Amin that we need to consult with him tonight about an urgent matter."
The guard bowed and departed.
Astrid squared her shoulders. "Do you think Zafir orchestrated this timing?"
"We'll find out soon enough," Kelan said. He rolled the scroll and placed it on the table. "If the Dowager is truly dying, I must try to help her. But we'll take precautions, and we'll have Amin and Qadir informed."
Astrid moved to the window again, gazing toward the faint glow of the palace in the distance. "It's likely to be a trap of some sort. Or at least an opportunity Zafir will exploit."
"Maybe," Kelan conceded softly, coming to stand beside her. "But I cannot refuse the call to heal. That's one thing Zafir likely counted on."
Astrid slipped her arm through Kelan's and leaned her head against his shoulder. "Then we'll walk into the lion's den together, eyes open."
Kelan placed his hand over hers. In the courtyard below, a pair of guards with spears walked a patrol, their figures cutting silhouettes against the lantern light. Above, the stars glittered indifferent in the blackness.
"Tomorrow at dawn," he murmured, resolve steeling his voice. "We do what must be done."
They stayed by the window a while longer, drawing strength from each other in the quiet night, before preparing as best they could for whatever the morning would bring.
Chapter 16
Before dawn, Kelan and Astrid were led through hushed palace corridors toward the Dowager Sultana's chambers. At the chamber doors, a guard initially barred Astrid from entering, but Vizier Zafir smoothly intervened to allow her to accompany Kelan, citing the Dowager's comfort.
Moments later the doors were opened, and Kelan and Astrid stepped inside the candlelit suite beyond. The air was thick with the scent of incense and illness. On a grand bed draped in gauzy curtains lay the Dowager Sultana, a shrunken figure swaddled in silk coverlets. Emir Halim himself sat at her bedside, holding one of her delicate, liver-spotted hands in his. He looked up as they entered, worry etched deep into his kindly face.
"Master Kelan, thank you for coming so promptly," the Emir said, voice hushed. His eyes flicked with mild surprise to Astrid, but he did not question her presence. "My mother... she took a grave turn in the night."
Kelan stepped forward and bowed briefly. "I am at your service, Your Highness." He moved to the side of the bed opposite the Emir, Astrid at his elbow. Up close, the Dowager's condition was obviously dire. Her skin was papery and pallid, her breathing shallow. Each labored inhale rattled faintly in her chest.
As Kelan set his satchel down and gently touched the Dowager's brow, Astrid stayed just behind him, keenly aware of Zafir hovering at the foot of the bed. The Dowager's eyes were closed, and a fine tremor ran through one of her hands. He spoke softly. "Your Highness... I am Kelan, a healer. I'm here to help."
At first the old woman gave no response, but then her eyes cracked open—a filmy gray, clouded by age and pain. "Water..." she rasped.
Astrid swiftly poured a trickle of water from a nearby carafe into a porcelain cup and helped lift the Dowager's head so she could sip. The Emir murmured encouragement to his mother, but her consciousness already seemed to be drifting again.
Kelan exchanged a quick look with Astrid, then addressed Emir Halim gently. "What symptoms has she had, sire?"
The Emir sighed, rubbing his brow. "She grew very ill in the night—feverish and shaking—and the palace physicians' tonics did nothing," he said, worry heavy in his voice. "She hasn't truly woken since midnight."
Kelan nodded. He suspected more than simple age was at play. Leaning close to the Dowager Sultana, he placed one hand lightly on her forehead and another over her heart, closing his eyes to extend his healing sense. It was reminiscent of examining Lord Amin's daughter, but where the young girl had burned with vigorous life nearly overwhelmed by fever, the Dowager's life-force was like a guttering candle.
He could feel the fever burning at her, and something else—a subtle wrongness in her blood, as if a foreign substance coursed through her veins. Poison? It was faint, but Kelan's intuition whispered that this was no natural decline.
Kelan gathered his will. He guided a gentle flow of healing energy into the Dowager—cooling her fever, steadying her heartbeat, and subtly flushing the unseen toxin he sensed in her blood. Gradually, her labored breathing eased and some color returned to her cheeks.
At length, the Dowager Sultana drew in a deeper breath than any previous that morning. The trembling in her hand subsided to a faint quiver and her eyes opened wider. "Halim?" she whispered, voice slightly stronger.
Emir Halim squeezed her hand, relief brightening his face. "I'm here, Mother."
The old woman's gaze moved slowly, focusing on Kelan. "Who...?"
"This is Master Kelan, Mother," the Emir explained gently. "A gifted healer from afar. He's helping you."
The Dowager managed the bare ghost of a nod. Her eyes turned to Kelan. "Thank... you," she breathed.
Kelan offered a reassuring smile. "Rest now, Your Highness. You should start to feel better soon."
Emir Halim nearly slumped in his chair with gratitude. "Master Kelan, you have already done more for her than anyone dared hope. You are a blessing to this court." His voice threatened to break with emotion. "Name any reward you desire."
"There is no reward necessary, Your Highness," Kelan said sincerely. "I am honored to help." However, mindful of Astrid's earlier nudge, he added, "However, if it pleases you, I would like to remain nearby to monitor Her Highness's condition."
"A wise precaution," the Emir agreed immediately. "Rooms will be made ready for you here."
Zafir's eyebrows lifted fractionally. "Your Highness, if I might suggest," he interjected smoothly, "Master Kelan could continue lodging with Lord Amin and visit as needed. No need to uproot him to the palace."
Emir Halim considered, then shook his head. "Just so. The palace will host you both for the next few days. I'll not risk Mother's health on delays."
Zafir's polite smile thinned. "As you will, Cousin."
Kelan hid a smile at Astrid's deft counter to Zafir's ploy. "We thank you, Highness," he said to the Emir.
Just then the Dowager Sultana made a soft noise and shifted. Emir Halim turned back to her at once. "Mother? How do you feel?"
The old woman's eyes had cleared slightly. "Tired... but cooler. I can breathe easier," she whispered.
Tears shone in the Emir's eyes as he patted her hand. "Praise be." He looked to Kelan. "Take some breakfast in the antechamber. I will sit with her a while more. I'll have a steward show you your quarters later this morning."
Realizing he was being gently dismissed for now, Kelan inclined his head. "As you wish. I'll return a bit later to check on Her Highness."
Kelan and Astrid withdrew quietly from the chamber, Vizier Zafir following a few steps behind. In the hallway outside, dawn's first light was filtering through high arched windows, painting the stone floor in pale gold. Palace servants bustled more actively now, the daily business of court beginning.
Zafir was the first to break the silence. "Well done in there, Master Kelan," he said, tone civil but cool. "The Emir's faith in you seems well-placed."
He paused, eyes flicking to Astrid. "And you, Mistress Astrid, have a knack for persuasive speech. I'm impressed by how... involved you are in ensuring Master Kelan's comfort."
Astrid met his gaze evenly. "I'm involved in keeping him safe. The better he can do his work, the better for all, wouldn't you agree, Vizier?"
Zafir's smile did not reach his eyes. "Oh indeed. We all want what's best for the realm." He gestured down the corridor. "If you're to be staying with us, please allow me to show you to the breakfast hall. You must be hungry after such an early start."
It was phrased as an offer, but Astrid suspected it was also a way to separate them from Emir Halim and perhaps talk. She glanced at Kelan. He gave a slight nod—no harm in a meal, and it might give them a chance to glean Zafir's mindset.
"Thank you, Excellency," Kelan said. "Lead the way."
Zafir guided them through a maze of hallways and courtyards. He engaged in idle chatter—pointing out a newly renovated wing. Kelan responded politely, though his mind was elsewhere: specifically on the Dowager's condition. He felt sure she had been poisoned—and only one man in Tazan would dare that.
At length they entered a small side hall where a modest breakfast spread awaited on a low table—flatbreads, olives, cheese, and dates, with steaming mint tea. No other guests were present at this early hour; Zafir clearly wanted them to himself.
They settled on cushions around the table. Servants poured tea and withdrew. Zafir picked up a date thoughtfully. "I must admit, Master Kelan, your talents continue to astound. The court physicians will be terribly embarrassed that an outsider succeeded where they failed."
"I had advantages they did not," Kelan replied humbly. "Different training, and a fresh eye."
"Quite." Zafir bit into the date. "It does make one wonder—where was such training acquired? Enough, though. I know you listen, but I have great doubts that you care." Zafir chuckled. "Ever modest. The Emir is fortunate to have gained your aid, however temporarily. I do hope you consider making your stay in Tazan more permanent, Master Kelan. I recall we touched on this at the banquet."
Kelan took a sip of tea to gather his thoughts. He felt Astrid's gaze on him, cautioning. Zafir's expression was almost affable, but his eyes were sharp as daggers.
"It's true you mentioned something along those lines, Vizier," Kelan said carefully. "I confess, recent events have... complicated our plans. We intended a quiet life, but it seems fate has other ideas."
Zafir inclined his head. "Ah yes, the unfortunate attack in the city." He clicked his tongue sympathetically. "Dreadful business. I was relieved to hear you both escaped harm." His gaze slid to Astrid's bandaged arm. "Well, mostly."
Astrid's temper flared at his feigned innocence. "It is strange, isn't it, how that attack happened the very same time Kelan was lured away by a false emergency?" she said, voice cool.
Zafir raised a brow. "Strange indeed. I have my best investigators on it, of course. Bandits and riffraff creeping into the city—our guard should be more vigilant."
Kelan set down his cup. "I find it unlikely mere bandits orchestrated something so coordinated." He held Zafir's gaze, deciding to press just a little. "We both know those men were hired specifically to target us."
Zafir slowly stirred honey into his tea, unperturbed. "If you have evidence of such a claim, Master Kelan, I'd be very interested to see it. As would the Emir."
"We're working on obtaining proof," Astrid said flatly.
"Are you now?" Zafir's smile returned, razor-thin. "I wish you luck. In the meantime, I hope you understand that the Emir's foremost concern is stability. He would hate to see his honored guests caught up in further unpleasantness." He took a leisurely sip. "If, for instance, you were to consider taking on formal roles at court, certain hostilities might abate. Many would think twice before crossing the Emir's own officials."
It was an offer, a velvet-gloved gambit. Zafir was essentially suggesting that if they aligned themselves with him and the Emir, he would call off the wolves.
Astrid recognized it too. "You propose that we become part of the court," she said, unable to keep the skepticism from her voice.
Zafir spread his hands, all reasonability. "Why not? The Emir clearly values you. Tazan could benefit greatly from a healer of your caliber, Master Kelan, and from a mage of yours, Lady Astrid. I could facilitate such an arrangement—imagine, a permanent post, resources, influence. And safety, above all."
Kelan felt a twist of revulsion in his gut. To be tied to Zafir's web, muzzled by titles and gold. "I appreciate the offer," he replied evenly, "but I fear I'm not suited to politics and power. I prefer to serve where I'm needed and remain my own man."
Zafir sighed almost regretfully. "A shame. The world is a dangerous place for independents, as you've seen." His voice turned subtly hard. "Think on it, Master Kelan. I would hate for any more unfortunate events to befall you or your companion."
Kelan's stomach turned at the thought. Astrid met Zafir's thinly veiled warning head-on. "We already have friends in high places, Excellency."
Zafir's eyes glittered. "Temporarily, perhaps." He set down his cup and rose, smoothing his dark robes. "In any case, I must attend to preparations for the council meeting later today. Master Kelan, Lady Astrid—enjoy your breakfast. And please do tend well to our beloved Dowager."
He offered a shallow bow. "I shall see you soon." With that, the Vizier strode out, attendants trailing behind him.
The moment he was gone, Astrid exhaled, realizing her fists had clenched. "He all but threatened us," she muttered.
Kelan nodded, appetite gone. "He knows we suspect him. And he's trying to either rope us in or set the stage to move against us if we refuse."
Astrid gazed toward the doorway where Zafir had vanished. "We won't be safe until we expose him, will we?"
"No," Kelan said quietly. "But we've bought some time. And with the Dowager's improvement, we have the Emir's trust more than ever."
Astrid offered a small smile. "And now we'll be right under Zafir's nose in the palace, at least for a few days."
"Indeed." Kelan took her hand under the table, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "We should check in with Amin and Qadir as soon as possible about what they find today. Zafir mentioned the council meeting—he'll be occupied at midday."
Astrid nodded, remembering the plan. "Qadir will search the caravanserai while Zafir is at council."
"And if he finds anything solid, we might have what we need to confront Zafir," Kelan said.
They rose, leaving the meal mostly untouched. A servant hurried over, surprised to see them departing so soon. Kelan simply requested that word be sent to their assigned quarters if the Emir needed him before midday, and that they would be back presently.
Hand in hand, Kelan and Astrid made their way out of the palace. The sun had climbed, casting the courtyard in brilliant light. Palace guards at the gate gave them courteous nods as they stepped into the city streets beyond. Though their situation was fraught, the two of them walking side by side in daylight through Tazan's waking markets felt empowering in its own way.
As they headed toward Lord Amin's estate to regroup, Astrid squeezed Kelan's hand. "We're getting closer," she said quietly.
Kelan glanced at her, one corner of his mouth turning up. "Closer to ending this. One way or another."
He looked ahead, steeling himself. The final moves in this dangerous game were approaching, and they would need all their wit and courage to see it through.
Chapter 17
Lord Amin's estate hummed with quiet tension when Kelan and Astrid arrived late that morning. The household had heard only vague hints of trouble, but Amin's worried face as he ushered them into his library made it clear he expected news.
Kelan wasted no time. In low tones, he described the events at the palace: the Dowager Sultana's sudden illness and apparent poisoning, the healing, and the Emir's gratitude. Astrid added how Vizier Zafir had subtly tried to keep them from staying at the palace—another sign of his meddling. Amin listened, brow furrowed deeply.
"So it's confirmed," Amin muttered. "Zafir would poison the Emir's own mother to tighten his grip. And he nearly succeeded if not for you." He began to pace. "This is beyond a mere power play; it's treason of the highest order."
Astrid nodded. "We must move against him soon, but carefully. Have you heard from Captain Qadir yet?"
"Not yet," Amin replied, pausing by the window that overlooked his front courtyard. "He and his men should have returned from the caravanserai by now. The council meeting at the palace is underway, which means Zafir is occupied for the moment. With luck, Qadir found something useful."
Even as he spoke, the clatter of hooves sounded outside, followed by shouts of the gate guards. Kelan and Astrid exchanged hopeful glances and hurried out to the front steps with Amin.
Captain Qadir rode in on a lathered horse, flanked by two of his men. Dust stained their cloaks and sweat gleamed on their faces—their hurried return spoke volumes. Qadir dismounted almost before the horse stopped. One of his men carried a rolled parchment sealed with a broken red wax emblem.
"My lord," Qadir called to Amin, striding forward. He gave Kelan and Astrid a brisk nod of greeting. "We found something."
Amin beckoned them all into the shaded portico. "Tell us, Captain."
Qadir passed him the parchment. "We scouted the abandoned caravanserai as planned. It was empty, but not long vacated—signs of a campfire, boot prints. We discovered this hidden in a dry cistern. It appears to be a correspondence, encoded."
Amin unrolled the parchment on a marble bench. Rows of cryptic symbols and letters sprawled across it. He frowned. "A cipher."
"Yes," Qadir affirmed. "My sergeant recognized the wax seal—broken though it is—as belonging to House Selduun of Meratha."
Astrid's eyes widened. Meratha was a rival desert kingdom to the south. "House Selduun... that's the ruling family of Meratha, isn't it? Why would their seal be on a letter at a caravanserai near Tazan?"
"I suspect," Kelan said slowly, "that Zafir's reach extends beyond our city. If he's conspiring with Meratha's royals or agents, it could mean an alliance for a coup or even an invasion."
Amin's jaw tightened as he scanned the code. "Zafir's always maintained ties across the border—supposedly for trade. It seems he's leveraged them for something far darker."
Qadir pointed to a particular grouping of symbols. "We couldn't decipher the whole message in the field. But one phrase here repeats: at moonrise. And the name 'Halim' appears near it, unencrypted."
Kelan leaned over the parchment. Indeed, amidst the code, the word "Halim" stood out plainly, and near it, the repeated glyphs Qadir indicated.
"Moonrise," Astrid murmured. "That's soon after dusk."
Amin's face grew grim. "If 'Halim' is mentioned alongside 'moonrise', it likely denotes timing for something targeting the Emir." He looked up at Qadir. "Did you see any forces or envoys nearby?"
Qadir shook his head. "No obvious gathering of troops. But Meratha's border is only a day's ride away. It's possible small units already slipped in. We did notice fresh horse tracks leading north from the caravanserai—could be messengers or scouts heading toward Tazan."
"Zafir might be coordinating with outside forces to overawe the palace guard if he seizes power," Kelan said, thinking aloud. "And he timed it for tonight, when we'd least expect after a public council meeting."
Astrid set her jaw. "Then tonight is when we must act. We can't wait for them to bring whatever plan to fruition."
"Agreed," Amin said. He rolled up the ciphered letter. "This is solid evidence of conspiracy with a foreign power. With this, we can convince the Emir of Zafir's treason—if we reach him in time."
Qadir thumped a fist to his chest. "My men are at your disposal, my lord. We should get this message to the Emir immediately, council meeting or not."
Amin glanced between Kelan and Astrid. "You two have the Emir's ear right now thanks to your service. You're likely to get past any inner guards more easily than I."
Kelan understood at once. "We will go to the palace and request an urgent audience with the Emir. Perhaps we'll say it concerns the Dowager's treatment—something Zafir would not suspect."
"I'll go with you," Amin decided. "My presence will lend weight, and I can speak to the gravity of the matter. Qadir, bring a half-dozen of your best but keep them just outside the palace grounds for now, out of sight. We may need them at a moment's notice."
Qadir nodded curtly. "As you command."
In short order, plans were set. Qadir and his men raced to arm themselves and mobilize discreetly. Amin changed into formal attire suitable for appearing at court on a sudden summons. Kelan ensured he had the ciphered letter safely tucked inside his tunic, while Astrid donned a light cloak to hide her own armaments and the faint glow of the defensive spells she quietly conjured about herself.
They departed Amin's estate in two carriages—one carrying Amin, Kelan, and Astrid; another following with Qadir's contingent at a distance. The sun had passed its zenith and drifted westward. Time was short until dusk.
As their carriage rattled over the cobbled streets toward the palace, Kelan felt his pulse quickening. They had the pieces: evidence of Zafir's plotting, loyal allies at hand, and the element of surprise—for the moment. Zafir would be wrapping up the council meeting by now, likely smug in anticipation of his nightfall scheme.
Astrid reached over and touched Kelan's arm lightly. "We'll get to the Emir," she said, as if reading his anxious thoughts.
He placed his hand atop hers and managed a small smile. "And Zafir will be unmasked," he replied. "One way or another."
They arrived at the palace gates in the late afternoon, when the sky was turning a molten gold. The council meeting was just concluding; clusters of robed nobles were trickling out of the grand front entrance, escorted by guards. The atmosphere was relaxed, with polite smiles and bows as the day's official business wound down. It was an opportune moment to slip inside.
The guards at the gate recognized Amin at once and, with some surprise, Kelan and Astrid as well. "Lord Amin, Master Kelan—unexpected, but welcome," one guard said. "Shall we announce you?"
"Lord Amin brings urgent news regarding the Dowager Sultana's treatment," Astrid interjected calmly. It wasn't far from the truth; the Dowager's poisoning was certainly part of the urgency.
The guard nodded, signaling them through. Within moments, a page was dispatched to inform the Emir that Lord Amin and Master Kelan sought an immediate audience.
Emir Halim emerged from the council chamber accompanied by Zafir and a pair of personal guards. The Emir looked weary but content enough—likely relieved the meeting was over. Zafir leaned toward him, speaking in a low tone with all the outward respect of a dutiful advisor.
Amin drew a breath and stepped forward into the corridor, raising his voice respectfully. "Your Highness!"
Emir Halim turned, a look of mild surprise shifting to pleasure. "Lord Amin? This is unexpected." His gaze then fell on Kelan and Astrid, and concern mingled in his expression. "Master Kelan, is all well? How is my mother?"
Zafir's eyes narrowed at their sudden appearance, though he pasted on a cordial smile. "Yes, what brings you all here?" he asked. "The council just adjourned—had we known you were coming, we would have welcomed your input." His words were smooth, but tension underlay them.
Amin bowed briefly. "Forgive the interruption, Highness. We come on an urgent matter related to Her Highness the Dowager—and more." He glanced meaningfully at Zafir, then back to the Emir. "It is a matter of utmost delicacy and should be discussed in private."
Emir Halim's brow creased. He could sense the gravity in Amin's tone. "Very well. Come, let us retire to my sitting room." He addressed Zafir and the guards. "Cousin, if you'll excuse us? And Farid, Makin—wait outside the door until I call."
Zafir's smile wavered. "Your Highness, I—perhaps I should stay? As Vizier—"
"It's quite alright, Zafir," the Emir said gently but firmly. "I'm sure it's only personal matters. I'll summon you if needed."
For a heartbeat, something dangerous flitted through Zafir's eyes. But he bowed smoothly. "As you wish, Cousin." He shot a final, cold glance at Kelan and Astrid before striding away after the departing nobles, the train of his robe flicking around a corner.
Kelan released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. Zafir was off the stage, for now.
Emir Halim ushered Amin, Kelan, and Astrid into a nearby sitting room—a richly furnished chamber with carved wooden screens and soft cushions scattered on rugs. As promised, the two palace guards took up posts outside the closed door, leaving the four of them alone.
"Now," the Emir said, concern evident in his voice, "tell me what is so urgent."
Amin deferred to Kelan with a nod. Kelan stepped forward and drew the folded cipher letter from his satchel. "Your Highness, we have reason to believe a plot against your throne is in motion—one that involves Vizier Zafir."
The Emir's eyes widened in shock. He opened his mouth to speak, but Kelan pressed on, unfolding the parchment. "This document was discovered by Captain Qadir at an old caravanserai outside the city early today. It is a coded correspondence bearing the seal of Meratha's ruling house."
"Meratha?" the Emir breathed, incredulous. "That's... a grave accusation."
Amin spoke gently. "Halim, I know this is difficult to hear. But consider the Dowager's sudden illness. We believe she was poisoned—likely on Zafir's orders."
Emir Halim staggered back a step, as if physically struck. Astrid quickly brought a cushion from a chair, and he sank onto it, face pale. "Mother...poisoned? By Zafir? No, he's my kin... he—he's been at my side for years." He shook his head, anguish and disbelief warring in his expression.
Kelan knelt beside the Emir, holding out the cipher. "Sire, please look. We've partially decoded it. It repeatedly mentions 'moonrise' and even your name. We think something is planned for tonight, at moonrise—likely an attempt on your life or an overthrow of the palace."
With trembling hands, Emir Halim took the parchment. Though he couldn't read the cipher, the broken Merathan seal and the unencrypted fragments were unmistakable. Realization and heartbreak reflected in his eyes. "I... I knew he'd grown more ambitious of late, but treason? Alliance with Meratha?" He closed his eyes, pain etched on his face. "All this time, right under my nose."
Astrid laid a hand gently on the Emir's arm. "Your Highness, I'm so sorry. We know it's hard to accept. But we must act quickly. If they mean to strike tonight, we have only hours to prepare."
Emir Halim drew a shuddering breath and stood, visibly mastering himself. "You are right." His voice hardened with resolve. "I will not be taken unawares in my own palace."
He looked to Amin. "We'll need loyal guards—quietly gathered, so as not to alert Zafir. Can you arrange that?"
Amin allowed himself a thin smile. "Qadir has already anticipated as much. He and a contingent of trusted men await just outside the grounds, armed and ready."
Kelan felt a swell of admiration at how quickly Emir Halim steadied himself despite the betrayal. There was steel in the man yet.
"I want Zafir alive if possible," the Emir said coldly. "To answer for his crimes. But above all, Tazan must remain secure. How do you propose we proceed?"
Amin exchanged a glance with Kelan and Astrid, then spoke. "Zafir thinks his plan is secret. We use that. Tonight at moonrise, we can lay a trap. We'll position loyal forces throughout the palace under guise of routine night patrols. When Zafir's mercenaries or co-conspirators make their move, we spring on them."
Astrid lifted her chin. "And we should keep Zafir under close watch. Perhaps even summon him to your side just before moonrise under some pretext, so he can't slip away to lead the attack."
Emir Halim gave a decisive nod. "Yes. I'll request his presence this evening for a... discussion about Mother's care. That will hold him."
Kelan flexed the fingers of his right hand, a subtle glow of psyche building there. "We will stand with you, Highness. Astrid and I can guard you personally when the time comes. Zafir has not yet seen the full extent of what we can do."
Emir Halim managed a tight but grateful smile. "I owe you all a great debt. Let tonight be the end of this treachery."
He moved to the door and beckoned the two guards inside. In brisk commands, the Emir began issuing orders: the Captain of the Night Watch was to be sent for discreetly; additional trusted guards were to quietly replace any of Zafir's favored sentries by dusk; and a subtle alert was to be passed to key commanders to be ready.
As the palace machinery of loyalty set into motion, Kelan shared a resolute look with Astrid and Lord Amin. The final confrontation was mere hours away. Zafir's carefully woven deceit was unraveling, thread by treasonous thread.
When the Emir turned back to them, his eyes no longer held any doubt—only determination and a hint of sorrowful anger. "My friends," he said, "tonight we end this."
Nightfall was approaching, and with it would come either victory over the conspiracy or the darkness of its success. Kelan felt Astrid's hand brush against his. He squeezed it briefly. They were as ready as they could be.
"Tonight," Kelan echoed quietly, "justice will be done."
Chapter 18
The moon rose over Tazan, round and pale as a thief's coin, casting a silvery wash over the domes and courtyards of the palace. From his position beside Emir Halim's ornate chair in the royal sitting room, Kelan could see the disc of it through the lattice windows. Any moment now, he thought.
Emir Halim sat composed, dressed in a light robe as though readying for an evening of casual conversation. Across from him on a low couch lounged Vizier Zafir. To the untrained eye, the scene looked ordinary—an Emir consulting with his advisor and a few attendants after dinner. But every person in the room was taut as a drawn bowstring.
Astrid stood a little behind Zafir, ostensibly attending as Kelan's helper but in truth positioning herself to watch the Vizier's every move. Lord Amin leaned against a carved pillar near the door, outwardly relaxed though his hand never strayed far from the hilt of a decorative saber he wore tonight. Two of Qadir's best men, dressed in palace guard uniforms, waited at the chamber's entrance—loyal eyes and blades ready.
Zafir himself wore a carefully neutral expression, but Kelan noticed the sheen of perspiration at his temple. The Vizier's casual chatter about court finances had dried up as the hour approached. He was waiting, tensed for a signal they had no intention of allowing him to give.
Somewhere beyond the thick walls, a muffled thud echoed. Then another. Zafir sat up straighter. "Did you hear—?"
Before he could finish, the double doors to the sitting room burst open. Captain Qadir staggered in, helmet missing and blood smeared across his breastplate. One of his arms hung limp at his side, but his sword was still clenched in the other.
"Highness—" Qadir gasped, pain in his voice, "they are here. The Merathans—"
He didn't need to say more. Behind him, down the corridor, shouts rang out and the clash of steel on steel echoed.
Emir Halim shot to his feet, eyes flashing with anger and fear. Zafir also rose, but Kelan was quicker—he moved to stand directly between the Vizier and the Emir.
For an instant, all pretense dropped from Zafir's face, replaced by naked fury. "So," he hissed, "you know."
Amin drew his saber with a steely rasp. Astrid was already in motion, stepping back toward the Emir's side, her hands glowing as she summoned defensive magic.
Outside in the corridor, a battle was breaking loose. Qadir's infiltrated men had engaged a flood of figures in dark garb—Merathan mercenaries slipping in through what must have been a secret passage. Kelan caught a glimpse of a burly swordsman in black scaling over a fallen guard before Qadir slammed the doors shut and threw the bolt.
"They'll breach in moments," Qadir panted. Blood dripped from a cut on his forehead. Amin rushed to help brace the doors with a heavy chair.
Zafir glanced around, calculating and cornered. Still, he managed a cold smile at the Emir. "Cousin," he said almost sadly, "if only you had retired gracefully... none of this needed to happen."
Emir Halim's face was ashen but resolute. "Traitor. You poisoned my mother, you conspired with our enemies—"
"Oh spare me," Zafir snapped, all courtly veneer gone. "Yes, I did. And I would have delivered Tazan to a stronger future—under my guidance. Meratha's gold and steel would have seen to that."
"A future soaked in blood and dishonor," Amin spat back.
Zafir sneered. With a lightning motion, he drew a slim dagger from inside his robe and lunged—not at the Emir, but at Kelan, who barred his way. "Out of my path, charlatan!"
Kelan had expected something of the sort. He sidestepped the thrust with surprising agility. The dagger's point grazed his tunic but found no flesh. Kelan answered with a focused burst of mental force, a silent concussion aimed at Zafir's mind. The Vizier staggered, eyes going unfocused as he reeled from the invisible blow.
Before Kelan or anyone else could capitalize, the doors shuddered under a tremendous impact. Wood splintered, the heavy chair bracing it skidding backward. The two guards inside drew their swords, muscles coiled.
Astrid raised her arms, an arc of crackling blue light forming between her hands. "Get down!" she warned.
Kelan dropped low, pulling the Emir with him behind a sturdy mahogany table. Amin dove aside as well, dragging Qadir—who was struggling to stay upright despite his wounds—down behind an overturned cabinet.
With a deafening crash, the doors flew open, smashed off their hinges by sheer brute force. Half a dozen armored mercenaries poured into the room with feral cries, blades gleaming. But Astrid was ready.
She thrust her glowing palms forward and a wave of searing lightning arced out. The frontmost attacker took the full brunt—a bright flash enveloped him, and he crumpled to the floor, convulsing. The bolt forked and struck the man to his right as well; he screamed, dropping his scimitar as the shock flung him against the doorframe.
The remaining intruders hesitated a heartbeat at the unexpected magical onslaught. That was all Qadir's men needed—both disguised guards leapt at the staggered mercenaries. One impaled a burly axeman through the gap in his mail, while the second engaged another with furious blows, driving him back.
Amin vaulted over the debris and joined the fray with a flourish of his saber, parrying a slash from a slender swordswoman who had dodged Astrid's lightning. They traded strikes in a blur of steel. Amin fought with focused intensity, holding the mercenary at bay.
Kelan scrambled up from cover, keeping the Emir shielded behind him. Zafir had recovered from Kelan's mental attack and retreated to the far corner, eyes wild as he realized his mercenaries were meeting fierce resistance. His perfectly planned coup was rapidly unraveling.
Two more dark-clad invaders sprinted into the breach, vaulting over the smoking, stunned bodies of their comrades. Astrid stepped forward to intercept, drawing a short fighting stick from beneath her cloak. The first man swung a broad curved sword at her. In a swift motion, Astrid's stick parried the blow with a shower of sparks—she had imbued the wood with magic, hardening it like iron. She spun and delivered a sharp crack across the mercenary's helmet. He stumbled, and with a shouted incantation, Astrid released a pulse of kinetic force that sent him skidding backward into the corridor.
The second man dodged past her, intent on the Emir. Kelan saw the attacker coming and summoned his own gift—he locked eyes with the charging mercenary and unleashed a burst of telepathic terror. The man's bravado faltered mid-step; his eyes went wide as he imagined some unspeakable horror rising behind Kelan (an illusion Kelan planted directly in his mind). With a panicked yell, the mercenary swerved and fled back the way he'd come, crashing into one of his fellows in his blind fear.
Emir Halim stared at these supernatural tactics with astonishment, but kept his composure. He had armed himself with a fallen guard's sword. Though not a warrior born, he stood ready beside Kelan to defend the throne.
By now, the initial wave of intruders lay dead or senseless on the threshold. Only two of Zafir's hirelings remained actively fighting inside the room—the agile swordswoman locked blade-to-blade with Amin, and a scarred pikeman who had hung back at the doorway, unsure after witnessing Astrid's lightning.
That pikeman made a choice—he lunged toward Astrid's flank, hoping to skewer the sorceress while her attention was on others. Qadir, wounded and weaponless now, saw the danger. With a hoarse cry, he threw himself between Astrid and the pikeman just as the long blade thrust forward.
The pikeman's spearhead sank cruelly into Qadir's side. The captain grunted, grabbing the shaft to keep it from being withdrawn. "Now, do it!" he snarled through clenched teeth, holding the attacker momentarily in place.
Astrid whirled, shock and fury igniting in her chest at seeing Qadir impaled. She didn't hesitate—her free hand thrust out, and a lance of pure flame streaked from her palm. It struck the pikeman square in the chest, punching through his light armor. He gave a gurgling scream and collapsed, smoke curling from the fatal burn.
"Captain!" Amin shouted, disengaging from the swordswoman with a desperate riposte that drove her backward. He caught Qadir as the big man sagged to his knees, the spear slipping from his body.
Astrid knelt beside them, panic in her eyes. Qadir's tunic was rapidly staining red. Kelan dashed over, pulling a tonic vial from his belt. He clamped a hand over the wound, trying to slow the bleeding, and poured the tonic on liberally. Qadir coughed, blood on his lips.
"Hold on," Kelan urged, voice taut, "we're not losing you."
Qadir managed a faint, valiant smirk. "Just... a scratch," he rasped, even as his eyes dulled. Astrid grasped his hand tightly.
Meanwhile, the final mercenary—the swordswoman—saw her chance to escape and bolted for the door. She nearly made it past the debris when a sword sliced across her path, catching her in the thigh. Emir Halim himself had moved with surprising speed to cut off her retreat. The woman toppled, dropping her sword and clutching her leg.
She found herself staring up at the furious Emir of Tazan, his blade poised at her throat. "Yield," he commanded. Eyes wide with terror, she did, raising bloody hands in surrender.
A sudden stillness fell in the wrecked sitting room, broken only by Qadir's ragged breaths and the crackle of small fires left on the doorframe from Astrid's magic. The attack had been quelled.
"Guards!" Emir Halim shouted. Loyal soldiers, having finished off the remaining skirmishes in the corridors, rushed in. The Emir pointed to the surviving swordswoman. "Secure her. And find a physician, now!"
Several guards hauled the prisoner away and ran for aid. Kelan remained crouched at Qadir's side, eyes closed as he focused healing energy into the wound. Astrid pressed hard on the captain's side, helping stem the blood. Despite their efforts, Qadir's complexion was wan.
"Kelan," Qadir groaned, meeting the healer's gaze. "Is... is it finished?"
Kelan swallowed the lump in his throat. "Yes. You did it. You protected your Emir—protected all of us."
A ghost of pride touched Qadir's face. His grip tightened on Amin's arm. "My lord... I'm sorry I couldn't... see it through to the end."
"Don't you dare apologize," Amin choked out, eyes glistening. "You saved our lives a dozen times tonight."
Qadir tried to speak again, but coughed wetly. Kelan felt the man's life slipping beyond what even his talents could retrieve; the spear had done grievous damage within. He silently willed Qadir to hold on, but the captain's eyes slowly drifted toward the ceiling, unfocused.
With a final rattling breath, Captain Qadir—the loyal shield of Lord Amin and the Emir—went still. Astrid bowed her head, tears slipping down her cheeks. Amin let out a quiet, grieving curse and closed his old friend's eyes.
Emir Halim murmured a brief prayer under his breath. "His sacrifice will be remembered as long as Tazan stands," he vowed softly.
A broken sob of frustration came from the far corner. Vizier Zafir, who had been knocked aside and bound by guards during the final melee, now realized the full defeat of his plans. The mercenaries he'd counted on were dead or captured. His coup was crushed. And Qadir's death only cemented the nobility of those who opposed him.
Zafir tore against the guards' grip, spitting venom. "Fools, all of you!" he shrieked. "Tazan will fall without me! I was the only one who could lead it to glory!"
Astrid stood, stepping forward with eyes blazing. Stray sparks of magic still danced around her fists. "Be silent," she snapped, voice like thunder. The air itself rippled with the force of her command, and Zafir flinched, cowed into a shocked hush.
Emir Halim approached his disgraced cousin. He looked down at Zafir, and for a heartbeat sorrow clouded the ruler's face—sorrow for kinship betrayed. Then Halim straightened. "Vizier Zafir," he said, cold and formal, "for your crimes of treason, murder, and conspiracy with our enemies, you will be held to answer before the highest council. Until then, you are no longer Vizier, nor my kin."
He turned to the guards. "Take him to the deepest cell. Double the watch."
Zafir hung limply in the guards' grasp, all arrogance gone. They dragged him out without ceremony.
At last, it was over.
Amin knelt still beside Qadir's body, eyes closed as he gathered himself. Astrid walked to his side and rested a gentle hand on his shoulder. "He saved us all," she whispered.
Amin nodded, covering her hand with his own in silent gratitude and grief.
Kelan surveyed the room—the shattered doors, the scorch marks and blood spattered across marble tiles, the fallen foes. The cost had been high, but they had stopped a war and preserved the realm.
Emir Halim placed a hand on Kelan's arm. "Master Kelan... Lady Astrid," he said quietly. "I owe you a debt beyond measure. Tazan owes you."
Kelan looked to Astrid, meeting her tired, proud eyes. "We did what we had to, Highness."
Outside, the moon continued its silent arc across the sky, oblivious to the struggle that had played out below. Within the palace, loyalists moved to douse fires and tend to the wounded. The nightmare was ending, and dawn was only a few hours away.
As Emir Halim began gently helping Amin to his feet, Kelan found himself finally exhaling the deep breath he'd been holding onto since that morning. He stepped over to Astrid, who immediately leaned into his side, the two drawing solace from each other amid the aftermath.
They had won. But victory had come with pain and loss—never again would Kelan call this outcome "fortunate" without remembering Qadir's final act of courage, or the heartbreak on Amin's face.
Astrid reached down and took Kelan's hand, her grip firm. "It's done," she whispered.
Kelan squeezed back gently. "Yes."
Together, they stood amidst the debris of both Zafir's coup and their own hopes for anonymity. Nothing would be quite the same after tonight—for them, or for Tazan.
Chapter 19
Two days later, the city of Tazan began to return to its vibrant normalcy, though whispers of the failed coup still drifted through every marketplace and tavern. Inside the palace, preparations were underway for a public announcement of Vizier Zafir's treachery and punishment. But for Kelan and Astrid, the time had come to slip out of the spotlight.
In a quiet corner of Lord Amin's garden courtyard, Kelan tightened the last strap securing a pack to their sturdy bay mare. The morning sun filtered through date palms, casting dappled patterns on the tiled ground. Astrid stood nearby, adjusting her traveling cloak and quietly observing as a pair of servants brought out parcels of provisions Emir Halim had insisted they take for their journey.
Emir Halim himself arrived shortly, accompanied by Lord Amin. The Emir wore a simple light tunic, and without the trappings of state he looked more like a tired son grateful for his family's safety than a monarch. Amin stayed a respectful step behind, his expression somber yet content.
"You're truly set on going?" the Emir asked gently, though it wasn't really a question. He had seen the resolve in Kelan and Astrid's eyes the night before when they informed him of their decision.
Kelan bowed his head. "Your Highness, we are. Tazan will always be special to us, but... we've never sought fame or position. After all that's happened, we believe it's best if we find a quieter place to live out our days—at least for a time."
Astrid stepped forward and added, "We risk overshadowing the peace here just by our presence. The people might make more of us than we wish, and that's not the life we want."
Emir Halim's eyes glimmered with understanding and regret. "You have done nothing less than save my life, my mother's life, and my kingdom's stability. You deserve any reward you desire. But I also understand the desire for a simple life, away from court intrigues."
He held out a small object: a signet ring bearing the royal palm-and-crescent emblem of Tazan. "Take this, as a token of my eternal gratitude. Should you ever return to Tazan, or find yourselves in need of aid under my realm, show this ring and doors will open for you."
Kelan accepted the ring with both hands, bowing. "Thank you, Highness. Your kindness humbles us." He slipped the ring into a safe pocket inside his vest, a weighty memento of their time here.
Amin stepped closer. Though dark circles under his eyes spoke of recent grief—having presided over Captain Qadir's funeral rites the previous day—he mustered a warm smile for them. "Are you sure I cannot convince you to at least take ownership of that nice house by the fountain district? It's sitting empty and would make a fine home."
Astrid moved to embrace Amin lightly, an unusual familiarity that the noble welcomed without hesitation. "You've done more than enough for us, my lord," she said softly. "We'll never forget your hospitality and friendship. But we've learned that settling in one place with too much attention isn't in our fates right now."
Amin patted her shoulder and then clasped Kelan's arm firmly. "Know that you both have friends in Tazan for all your days. And Qadir's family, too, will always remember that you stood by him at the end."
At that, Astrid's eyes grew misty. "Qadir died a hero," she said. "We— we will carry his memory with us."
A somber silence settled, all of them recalling the captain's steadfast courage. Emir Halim cleared his throat gently. "Zafir's trial will be swift. The evidence is overwhelming, and even the nobles who once curried favor with him have distanced themselves. Justice will be done." He paused, then added more quietly, "My mother asked me to convey her thanks to you both as well. She's recovering; in fact, she was taking a little broth on her own this morning. She calls you her 'miracle-workers.'"
Kelan managed a modest smile. "I'm glad to hear Her Highness is improving. That is thanks enough."
With everything said that needed saying, Kelan and Astrid turned to their horse. Astrid swung up into the saddle first, and Kelan followed, settling himself behind her on the mare's back. He held the reins in one hand and rested the other gently around Astrid's waist.
A small crowd of well-wishers had gathered just inside Amin's gates: a handful of guards, servants, and even Amin's daughter Alia—fully recovered and bouncing on her nurse's hip as she waved a tiny hand. Astrid laughed softly and gave the child an encouraging wave in return.
No grand ceremonies, no public fanfare—Kelan and Astrid had made it clear they preferred it that way. The farewells they treasured were these personal ones.
Emir Halim raised a hand in blessing. "Safe travels, my friends. May the desert's gentle winds guide you and the stars light your night camps."
"Thank you, Highness. And may Tazan know only peace and prosperity henceforth," Kelan replied sincerely.
Amin stepped back, and the gate was opened. Kelan clicked his tongue and the mare started forward at a gentle pace. As they passed through the gates, Astrid turned for one last look. She saw Amin with an arm around the Emir's shoulder in mutual support, Alia waving energetically, and a score of kind faces seeing them off. It was a sight she would carry with her—Tazan's people at their best.
Outside, the morning bustle of the city enveloped them. Street merchants were opening their stalls, children ran with hoops, the call of a spice-seller rang out. Yet as Kelan and Astrid rode down the main thoroughfare, those who recognized them stepped aside respectfully, some even whispering thanks or reaching to touch their horse's stirrups in blessing. Word of their deeds had spread despite efforts to be inconspicuous.
Astrid leaned back against Kelan with a sigh. "So much for anonymity," she murmured wryly as an old fruit-seller woman bowed deeply to them.
Kelan chuckled softly. "It will fade with time. New stories will capture their imaginations soon, and we'll just be part of Tazan's history."
He didn't sound upset by that; if anything, there was gentle pride in his voice, knowing they had left the city better than they found it.
They continued on, exiting the city by the north gate as the sun climbed higher. Two guards posted there straightened to attention and offered crisp salutes as Kelan and Astrid passed beneath the sandstone arch. The guards had no orders to stop them—Emir Halim had ensured their journey out would be unhindered.
Once beyond the walls, the open desert stretched ahead, golden and vast. A light breeze picked up, tugging at Astrid's scarf. She took a deep breath of the dry, freeing air. The worries and weight of court life seemed to slip away with each plodding hoof beat on the packed road.
Kelan guided the mare onto a northerly track that would eventually lead to cooler hills far beyond the dunes. Neither had a fixed destination in mind—only the promise of finding a place where no one knew their names, and where days passed peacefully.
After a time, Astrid broke the silence. "Do you think we'll ever find it? A truly quiet life?" There was a touch of hope and doubt in her question.
Kelan's arms around her tightened a little. "Perhaps for a while," he said. "Though knowing us, fate may have other plans again."
Astrid laughed under her breath. "If it does, at least we won't face it alone."
"Never alone," Kelan agreed softly.
They fell into contented quiet again. The horse picked her way along a dune ridge, and from its crest they could see all of Tazan behind them: the city's white walls and blue-tiled minarets shining under the late morning sun, an oasis of life in the vastness. It already looked small from here.
Astrid lifted her hand in a final, unseen farewell. Then she turned her gaze to the north, where the horizon shimmered with possibilities. Kelan felt her posture straighten with resolve and matched it, both of them looking forward.
Whatever awaited—be it the humble life they craved or new challenges—they would meet it together, as they always had. The desert wind blew warm at their backs, escorting them onward. And with each gentle step of their horse, Tazan receded into memory: a chapter of danger and intrigue, of growth and bittersweet victory, now gracefully closed.
The road ahead wound into the shimmering distance. Kelan pressed a light kiss to Astrid's temple and clicked his tongue to quicken the mare's pace. Astrid reached up to rest a hand on his, her ring finger touching the place where Emir Halim's signet ring lay hidden in Kelan's pocket—a quiet reminder of what they had accomplished.
Side by side, they ventured on into the unknown, hearts hopeful that somewhere beyond the desert's edge, a measure of peace—hard-earned and precious—awaited them.