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“You abandoned your town?” I couldn’t help the shock at his admission.
“They’re free to flee if they want to.”
And that was all he had to tell me despite me rephrasing a few questions.
With the answers Qynn wanted, I moved on to the last part of the plan before anyone noticed anything awry. I blew the gas of suggestion into his face, and when his jaw slacked, I whispered in his ear then left.
The Duke committed suicide the following day.
Qynn never asked if I was to blame. Most likely she knew. What else could I do? The man was disgusting. While I had him drugged, I might have told him just how vile I found him and, while he was receptive, planted the suggestion that he could hear the cries of his victims.
Apparently, he had a vivid imagination and a lot to atone for. He couldn’t handle his guilt and jumped from a balcony to his death, making the world safer for children all over.
The Duke offered me my start in the spying world. Fifteen years later, I was the best in the city.
Yet, my years of experience, not to mention success, didn’t mean when Jrijori suggested I go after the King I’d agree. The King was the most heavily guarded man in the entire desert. It would be insane to even contemplate it, which was why I laughed at Jrijori’s demand. “What you ask can’t be done.” Spy on our very protected monarch? I might have joked about it earlier, but even I knew the impossibility of that task.
“Can’t? I’m surprised to hear that word come out of your mouth.”
“It’s called being realistic. I have no way to access the King.”
“Says the most-sought-after Tizana in the city. If it helps, he prefers women to men.”
“Not sure where you get your information from, because we’ve yet to find anyone who’ll admit to seeing his cock.” I purposely used the word to see Jrijori wince. For an assassin he could be prim and proper.
Turned out it was Palla who made a noise. “Gross.”
“Sorry, but it’s true. It is a well-known fact the King never visits the gradeenas. Or taverns, for that matter. Nor does he hire professionals to satisfy.” And unlike the previous king, he didn’t keep a harem. “As far as anyone knows, the man is a virgin he’s so celibate.”
“Or he’s better at hiding stuff than you are at finding them out.”
A taunt I didn’t appreciate from my almost-uncle. “What do you need from the King anyhow?” I asked, turning to my tray of food. The hunger of my past was no longer a thing, and yet, I had to keep myself from stuffing any of the fresh fruit, cheese, and bread into my pockets.
“I’m curious about a thing I heard.” Jrijori played subtle.
“Rumors? Do spill. Perhaps I can clarify for you.”
“Don’t be so sure. Qynn couldn’t.”
While surprised, I didn’t pause in my eating. “With her mostly retired, it’s possible I’ve heard things she hasn’t.”
“Exactly her words.” Jrijori chuckled. “First, does the name Zuun mean anything to you?”
Palla blurted out, “Isn’t that the name of an evil fire ifrit in a song? The Last Something or other.”
“The song is called ‘The Last Djinn,’ and Zuun is the name of a fire ifrit,” Jrijori clarified.
“Why are you asking about a name from a song?” Because despite myself, my curiosity roused.
“I heard a rumor that Zuun had returned.”
Perhaps I laughed a little harder than necessary. Jrijori surprisingly didn’t appear annoyed. He waited for my mirth to die down.
Which led to me abruptly getting serious. “You aren’t actually putting any merit to these rumors are you? Ifrits don’t exist. They are imaginary creatures seen only in song and story.” Although it did make me think of the dead duke and a town that was abandoned within a year because of something loose in the old mines. To this day, it remained vacant. And we never did find out what the story was in The Fall of Temple Rotha.
“What if the song was true?” There he went being sly again.
“I’d ask what you’d been smoking, and did you bring enough to share?”
