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“It will be okay,” he says softly.
He walks to the door and as he does my stomach drops.
16
NIYAH
Bhoja opens the door and I swear I’m going to be sick. A Maulavi fills the doorframe on the other side of him. It’s not one that I’ve seen before but that doesn’t matter. I know how bad it is when one of them shows up. He’s definitely not here to check on my well-being or see if I need anything.
The two of them exchange words in Urr’ki. Bhoja is bristling and his tone is edging on defiant, but not crossing the line. Which is smart. These Maulavi have all the power. Throwing down with one of them would only be a certain road to doom.
I rub my hands on my pants repeatedly smoothing out wrinkles that aren’t there. It’s all I can do to not throw up or try to run despite knowing I have literally nowhere to go. Fear is a powerful motivator and this Maulavi in particular is intimidating.
I don’t know what it is about him that makes him scarier. Maybe it’s an aura he gives off or the tone of his voice. I can’t even understand his words but there is a threat in them that feels a whole lot more than implied.
Bhoja steps to one side and motions for the Maulavi to come in. I look out the open door expecting to see guards or more Maulavi but all I see is the street with its normal bustle of Urr’ki going about their day. It’s clear they are curious and watching what is happening but they’re also not going to get involved.
The fact that this Maulavi is here alone is somehow more intimidating than if he’d showed up with an army. He walks into the room and everything about him exudes confidence. Certainty and control is in every step. He carries a staff but he doesn’t need it for walking. He is tall and strong with sharp eyes and a resting grimace on his face.
Resting bitch face syndrome.That’s what Greta would have called it, in private of course. She never slipped and said things like that to anyone but me when we were alone.
He is watching me as he walks over to the table and takes Bhoja’s seat without a word. Bhoja moves closer but stops before coming too close. He looks from the Maulavi to me and back. The Maulavi makes a show of settling himself into the seat with a sigh. He leans his staff against the wall at his side and then leans back in the chair.
“Bhoja, surely you have something to drink?” the Maulavi says switching to Zmaj.
“Yes, of course,” Bhoja says, going to his cabinets.
He pulls out a dark bottle and two glasses. He sets the glasses on the table and pours them each half-full. The Maulavi watches silently. After Bhoja is done he replaces the seal in the bottle and steps back.
“You won’t join us?” the Maulavi asks, arching an eyebrow.
Bhoja silently gets another glass, sets it down, and pours it. The Maulavi nods, pushes one glass toward me, then picks one for himself. He raises the glass and sips it, sighing as if with great relief as he does.
“Drink,” the Maulavi orders.
And it is an order. There is no mistaking that tone of command. He expects no defiance and will brook none. I pick up the glass and sniff. I can’t define the smell because it burns my nostrils.
Bracing myself I take a small sip. It hits my tongue like I licked a burning log. Smoky, hot, and overwhelming. I swallow it quickly and it sears its way down my throat and ignites a furnace in my belly. I gasp and shake my head. I’m sure I’m making a hell of a face too.
“Ha!” the Maulavi barks, I think it might be a laugh, I’m not honestly sure.
His reaction pisses me off and I glare at him before I can stop myself. He smiles and that smile makes my blood run so cold that the burning in my stomach all but disappears.
“How may I serve, Maulavi?” Bhoja interjects stepping forward.
“I have come to question the human,” the Maulavi says. “She is fluent in the lizards’ tongue, is she not?”
“She is, but she has been questioned,” Bhoja says.
The Maulavi waves his drink around while shaking his head.
“Do you doubt I am aware of what has transpired?” he asks.
Bhoja blanches and bows his head.
“No, Maulavi, I apologize,” he says.
“Very well,” the Maulavi responds.
