by Fuad Baloch
Ignar yanked his hood back.
Palvar stumbled back in shock. Screams went up. Pus oozed from Ignar’s left eye, his shaved head and face crisscrossed with bruises and bloody lacerations. His nose had been smashed in, his grin monstrous as he revealed the teeth that had been kicked in. “Anything for Mother.” He shambled forward, his outstretched hand sweeping the terrified faces.
“Go on,” urged Palvar, his nerves tingling, finding it hard to stand straight. “Bring all this to an end.”
Ignar nodded. Then, his finger stopped. Palvar looked. Heads turned. Shouts of shock went up.
Lud Ghiani, the grand vizier’s second son, dressed in immaculate black robes, blinked.
“The shadow,” whispered Ignar, a triumphant smile on his swollen lips.
Chapter Forty-Six
Panic broke loose.
A vizier standing beside Lud Ghiani screamed, blood gushing from his neck.
Palvar blinked as others around the grand vizier’s son shrieked, recoiling back in terror. Ignar yelled, dropping to the floor, tucking his head in his knees.
“Camel-dungs,” boomed Lud Ghiani, standing tall, one hand clutching the folds of his black robe. “All of you!”
“My dear sahib,” said Palvar Turka, keeping his voice steady, “at last, we see you without your mask.”
Lud Ghiani glared at Palvar for a long breath, the nobleman he had stabbed writhing beside him, then turned his back to Palvar like one would to a particularly distasteful dog. “You lot,” Lud Ghiani said, sweeping his index finger at the crowd who shrank from him, “deserve divine punishment. Do you know why?”
Palvar snapped his fingers, and when Captain Tamat looked at him sharply, he shook his head vehemently. “Not yet!” he mouthed. Captain Tamat looked ready to pounce, his dagger out in one hand. “Keep the Sultan’s Body back as well!” Palvar motioned.
Lud Ghiani, in the meantime, had started pacing, one hand holding up his trailing robe so it didn’t catch the dead man’s blood. “You’ve gone weak, all of you. The men of the north who swept into this great land two hundred years ago bear no resemblance to you except in name.” He spat to the side. From the corner of his eye, Palvar saw a dozen soldiers of the Sultan’s Body nod as their knight captain barked orders, their swords already unleashed. Palvar turned his head to Captain Tamat, snapped his fingers again, pointing at the soldiers.
“This sultan is nothing like his great ancestor who swept into this land with promises of peace and prosperity, and of forging a land where lion and goat both drank from the same well.” Lud Ghiani stopped, turning back to face Palvar. If he was aware of the soldiers organizing by the pillars, he showed no outward sign of distress. “That first noble ancestor had a dream. Over time, his sons destroyed it, and the men gathered here, they offered help along the way.”
“I generally like speeches,” Palvar called out, using both hands to shoo away the soldiers approaching the grand vizier’s son. “I really do, but if there is a crime being committed here, I’m afraid it’s of death by boredom. You should consider working on your public speaking.”
Lud Ghiani threw back his head, and laughed, the sound bouncing off the vaulted ceiling.
“My dear Lud, either you’ve gone mad or become possessed by the djinn,” declared an old man dressed in rich, purple robes. He turned around. “No one harms him. He is to be taken to the priests to ensure the evil spirit within him can be banished.”
Lud Ghiani chuckled, coming to a stop in front of the older man. “Jastaman Rost, great grandson of Zabad Rost, the famed general, the first to breach the city walls of Algaria.”
“My son, it’s not too late to—”
Like a flash of lightning, silver arced through the air, and before Palvar could blink, the older man’s neck was split open, red gushing out.
“Down on your knees, Lud Ghiani,” shouted a Sultan’s Body knight, approaching from the right. “Or we will fill your body with arrows.”
“This world,” continued Lud Ghiani, pacing once more, paying no mind to the captain who had now stopped, “doesn’t need men like you. It needs visionaries, those who see all the challenges that lie in the path and still refuse to be overawed by them.”
“This is your last warning,” shouted the knight.
Palvar stood on tiptoes, waving his arms frantically for the knight to step back. They weren’t done yet. On the other side, Captain Tamat grunted in annoyance, and before Palvar could pull him back, he too was advancing towards the grand vizier’s son. “Bloody onions!” Palvar turned, but couldn’t see Kunita beside the door either.
“Istan has lost its way,” said Lud Ghiani, shaking his head. “Its best sons are long dead, the nation marching down a path that leads to certain doom.” He raised a finger. “One decade and financial ruin will be upon Istan and its peoples. Ten years and its lands will have been conquered by the Reratish, Xin, and the Kur’sh, its peoples enslaved by masters even worse than the current inept Istani line. I know. I’ve seen the forecast models on my father’s desk. The time for waiting is at an end.”
Cries of disbelief went up at that.
“Lud Ghiani!” Palvar called out, thankful his loud voice could cut through the noise. “Enough. You’ve lost! You see that, don’t you?”
The grand vizier’s son chuckled, shaking his head. “I’ve already succeeded. Movements have sprouted throughout Istan. If the masses won’t be helped by their betters, then the betters will be overthrown.”
“We know about the rebellions,” continued Palvar, hoping to buy more time, get more information out of Lud Ghiani before he’d be put down for good. “But there are questions that have puzzled me for a while. I hope you can—”
“Shoot!” roared the Sultan’s Body captain.
“No!” shouted Palvar.
The air rang with the twang of bows. Men and woman cried out. A dozen arrows hurtled towards Lud Ghiani, and smashed against an invisible wall.
Their tips mangled, they clattered to the ground.
“What in the bloody moons?” muttered Palvar.
“I saw your dogs outside,” said Lud Ghiani, smirking at him. “And so I brought mine.”
Chapter Forty-Seven
Kunita kept pushing her way through the terrified women towards Lud Ghiani.
The air rang with the twang of bows once more. More cries went up, followed by the sound of more arrows falling to the ground.
“A magus!” whimpered the old woman directly ahead of Kunita.
“Step aside,” said Kunita, shoving her to the side. A middle-aged man, his face pale as if he’d not been out under the sun for years, stood beside Lud Ghiani: a man wearing the black turban of the magi.
“You see,” Lud Ghiani shouted, shaking his fist, “you’ve miscalculated. All of you. You brought in your dogs, but they’re nothing compared to the abomination I command.”
“The abomination you command?” Kunita heard Palvar ask.
Gritting her teeth, Kunita continued forward. Her head veil snagged onto something, and she yanked it off, circling around to get behind Lud Ghiani.
“Show them the majesty of your power, dog!”
The walls shook, the dagger in Kunita’s hand pulling away from her as if being summoned by an unseen force. She tightened her grip. Women cried as their necklaces broke, the precious jewels rising in the air, floating towards Lud and the magus.
“Your reign is at an end, corrupt men of Algaria,” Lud Ghiani shouted. “No more will you continue to suppress the truth in these lands.” He turned towards the dais. “Ignar, you’ve disappointed me. I expected—” He broke away, squinting. Then, he laughed. “Ah, you tricked me, man from Nikhtun.” Lud Ghiani shook his head. “Not that it changes anything. What I’ve started won’t be put down.”
Ignar—or rather, Namad Gralany dressed as him—wailed, tucking his head back between his knees once more.
“Think of your father!” she heard Palvar shout. From the corner of her eye, Kunita spied soldier
s struggling to hold onto their weapons as the magus stood in front of them, his hands stretched out as if demanding their swords and arrows.
Lud Ghiani laughed bitterly. “Father knows the truth, just as much as I do. He even tried righting this disastrous path, but the sultan wouldn’t listen. Alas, after him, my inept brother will be the new grand vizier. Blind leading the blind.”
Kunita broke out into the open, a dozen paces from the magus glaring at the soldiers. An invisible force yanked the dagger from her hands, setting it flying up in the air. “Damn it.” She winced, looking around. On the dais, Palvar stood gaping. Istani and foreigners banged at the doors, shouting to be let out. A circle of armed men had formed around Lud Ghiani, the magus, and herself. They would have stepped in closer, had it not been for the fear of losing their weapons.
Cries went up as the swords and daggers and spears and arrows formed a circle around Lud Ghiani, and began a swirling whirlpool of death.
"Now!” she heard Palvar shout.
The side door banged open. Through it, marched a dozen tall soldiers from the city guard. They didn’t carry weapons. Not that it mattered, for they accompanied three inquisitors and a man wearing a black turban.
“Roshan, do your thing!” yelled Palvar.
Inquisitor Casan’s features had gone pale, but he nodded, stepping aside to stand beside Inquisitors Fan and Khatani.
Roshan stepped forward, locking eyes with the other magus. “Brother, let go,” he called out, his voice cold, grave.
“Magus, I’ll break your bonds!” shouted Lud Ghiani, his eyes pools of darkness. “Join me!”
“Roshan!” shouted Palvar once more.
Inquisitor Casan turned towards his magus. Roshan hesitated for a terrifying beat, but then nodded, and closed his eyes.
Nothing happened at first, the magus’s mouth moving silently.
Then, Roshan collapsed to the floor, his mouth foaming.
The weapons clattered to the ground as if the invisible tethers keeping them afloat had been snapped.
Kunita sprinted towards the dais.
“You…” hissed the enemy magus, turning towards Roshan. He raised his hands, gesturing at the sword at his feet. It didn’t stir. “You… you neutered my power?”
“Only temporarily,” replied Roshan, his voice weak, still lying on the floor.
Kunita arrived at the dais just in time. Taking advantage of the momentary confusion, Lud Ghiani had bounded for the dais, a dagger clutched in his right hand.
“Step away!” Kunita shouted, smashing into Palvar.
They went down, Lud Ghiani snarling behind them.
“Oh, shitting onions!” Palvar moaned underneath her.
Kunita rolled over, Namad Gralany crying loudly a few steps away. Lud Ghiani stood directly ahead, his eyes focused on Palvar.
“You could’ve helped me,” said Lud Ghiani, sweat pouring down his forehead. “Together, we could have righted this nation.”
Palvar rose shakily to his feet. Kunita raised her chin. The enemy magus had fallen to his knees, his arms held up high as soldiers rushed towards him.
Palvar raised his hand. “Is it too late to join you now?”
“No man of this realm can harm me,” said Lud Ghiani, raising the dagger, not caring to look at the knights of the Sultan’s Body rushing towards them. “None!”
Panic rising in her, Kunita looked around desperately for a weapon. But anything metallic was already on the floor beside the magi.
She looked up at Lud Ghiani, a man who’d hidden his true nature from everyone. He had lost, but seemed determine to take Palvar down with him. She blinked, realizing what she needed to do. At the end of the day, Lud Ghiani was a man and she knew them all too well.
“You bastard,” she snarled, marching towards Lud Ghiani, his back turned to her. “You forgot the wrath of the Istani woman!”
Before he had a chance to acknowledge her, she raised her foot, and kicked at his balls with all her might.
Lud Ghiani screamed, the dagger falling away from his hands. Crying out in pain, he collapsed to the ground, his body curling in the fetal position, both hands cradling his groin.
“Ouch,” she heard Palvar say.
She clenched her fists, ready to kick the bastard one more time, but then Palvar grabbed her by the shoulders, and held her tight against him.
“It’s over, Kunita,” he whispered. “It’s all over.”
Chapter Forty-Eight
Palvar held Kunita tight against him.
“Hands forward!” shouted a knight of the Sultan’s Body. Lud Ghiani, tears in his eyes, drool leaking from the corner of his mouth, shook his head. The knight punched him in the gut. Two other soldiers yanked him up by the elbows, and despite his angry gibberish, began tying his hands behind his back. Captain Tamat stood beside the knight, his arms folded across his chest.
“A moth flying way above its station,” muttered Palvar.
Lud Ghiani turned his chin towards him, his eyes fill with rage and hatred. “You and your whore are going to pay for what you did!”
Gently, Palvar let go of Kunita and took a step forward. “What did you say?”
Lud Ghiani spat to the side. “You and your—”
Palvar punched him on the nose. The impact produced a satisfying crunch, the cartilage moving beneath his knuckles. Even as Lud Ghiani howled, blood spouting from his broken nose, the guards held him upright. “That felt good.”
Kunita slipped in beside him, her fingers brushing against his. He exhaled, reaching and interlacing his fingers with hers. That felt good too. As the soldiers began tying Lud’s feet, Palvar looked around. The doors to the grand hall were open now, but no one crossed through them. A tall, old, distinguished man stood there now, leaning heavily on his cane, flanked by knights of the Sultan’s Body on his either side.
“The grand vizier,” said Kunita.
“The grand vizier,” repeated Palvar, unable to take his eyes off the great man.
Grand Vizier Qad Ghiani didn't say a word, his eyes never straying from his struggling son, his face betraying no emotion as a few viziers walked over to him. He just stood there at the door, watching justice being administered to one he had raised to adulthood.
“He’s not going to be much pleased with us,” said Kunita, gently pressing his hand.
“You’re the one who punched his son in the balls,” Palvar reminded her, pressing her hand in turn.
“Stop!”
Palvar and Kunita turned around. Inquisitor Fan was ascending the dais, followed by Inquisitors Khatani and Casan. The two soldiers looked up the knight who scowled.
“This man will be handed over to the Kalb Inquisition,” declared Inquisitor Fan, coming to a stop before Lud Ghiani, who continued mumbling, the stream of words coming out as an incoherent mess through his blood-filled mouth.
“Lud,” said Captain Tamat, his eyes crossing over to the grand vizier for half a beat before returning to the inquisitor, “is guilty of high crimes. Traitors like him are to be incarcerated until—”
“He is an inquisitor,” said Inquisitor Fan, his words cold. “As such, he shall be tried first by the Kalb Inquisition, and then what’s left of him shall be given to the city guard.”
“An inquisitor?” demanded Captain Tamat, not budging an inch.
“Casan, Khatani, escort the accused to the Kalb Inquisition,” continued Inquisitor Fan as if he hadn't heard Captain Tamat. The two soldiers holding Lud looked at the knight and Captain Tamat in turn. Neither of them said a word. Inquisitor Khatani leaned in and whispered something in Lud Ghiani’s ear. He whimpered, thrashing against his restraints once more.
“It only gets better from there, my dear,” said Inquisitor Khatani, this time loud enough for Palvar to hear.
Palvar stepped in front of Inquisitor Fan as he turned. “He’s an inquisitor?”
Inquisitor Fan considered Palvar for a long moment. “A rogue one.”
Palvar blinked. “Rogue magi�
� Rogue inquisitors now?”
“I trust you’ll keep this to yourself.”
Palvar chuckled. “This is Algaria.”
Inquisitor Fan glared at him. Then, he stepped off the dais, the two inquisitors a dozen paces behind him, keeping Lud Ghiani company who cried like a babe now.
“Father!” Lud Ghiani called out. “Help me!”
Heads turned towards the door. Grand Vizier Qad Ghiani didn't stir.
“Father!” cried Lud Ghiani once more.
The Grand Vizier turned about and left.
The well-to-do of Istan and the world’s nobility gathered in the ambassador’s grand hall broke into excited chatter, parting away to let the inquisitors through. A portly merchant, wearing a garish blue turban, spat noisily as Lud Ghiani was dragged in front of him.
After that, as Lud Ghiani was marched past hate-filled eyes, every man that he passed, whether born of Istan or welcomed into the realm as a guest, no matter his station in life, hocked and spat at his feet.
“So it ends,” said Palvar, blessed relief coursing through his veins.
“What now?” Kunita asked. She stood to his left, her profile lit by the sunlight filtering through the high windows. Behind her, a dozen paces away, stood Roha Postan. The younger girl smiled at him, raising her bandaged hand. The Postan matriarch stood beside her daughter as well, a terse smile on her lips.
Palvar shrugged, turning away from them to face the windows, and let his eyes fall shut, relishing the cool air blowing against his face. “I think I deserve a bit of rest now. And maybe, finally, a good cup of ca’va.”
Epilogue
The morning wind blowing against Palvar’s face was pleasant, cool, even if a little too full of sand for his liking. Coughing, Palvar turned and began walking towards Osoma Lake. The oasis was quiet, just as it had been throughout the week Palvar had been here. The world was quiet except for the wind whistling through the swaying palm trees.
“Algaria,” Palvar muttered, kicking up sand with his feet, “I can’t believe I’m actually beginning to miss you.”