8. Before the Storm

Obrázek uživatele Blanca

You know, for someone who claims to know everything about magic, you do have a suprising number of things that end up 'not quite working', the voice in Mawhub's head commented gleefully. I'm starting to think the only magic you can do is drawing wool over people's eyes and spinning tales.
He clenched his fists and focused on showing the other consciousness away, resisting the urge to answer. The truth was, even after the whole month to work with it, the foreign body gave him some resistance. Part of it might have been that he didn't have time and energy to fully get rid of the original mind of its owner. Where his own body would willingly conduct and even amplify his magic, this one dampened it. The flesh and blood was just… wrong for it, and the magic knew it. Fortunately, even in its diminished state, it was more than anyone else around could ever hope to muster. Which meant, it made him irreplaceable and indispensable for the sheikh.
He picked the necklace he was tinkering with before up again and focused on the fine strands of magic emanating from the different stones. He moved his hand across the surface slowly, tugging and twisting the invisible forces, until they formed a finely weaved circle. He concentrated on it for a few more moments and then finally relaxed with a contented sigh.
A moment later a gong called everyone for dinner. He took his creation and strode across the yard into the main hall. A tall, muscular guardsman joined him on the way in.
“How did your visit with amir Behar go, Faruq?” Mawhub asked.
“Just like the last few, rubban,” he shrugged in response. “Everyone is biding their time, guarding their words, until they either get into a better bargaining position, or are given a bit more of an incentive.”
After a few more paces he added: “To be honest, our own men are getting slightly… impatient, at being kept in the dark. The am- sheikh's lips have been tighter than a camel's ass in a sandstorm lately, and that's making everyone jittery.”
Mawhub was spared the need to answer they passed through the door into the dining room. In response to Faruq's questioning glance, he just nodded his acknowledgment, before he headed up to take his seat by the sheikh's side.
“Ah, Mawhub,” the sheikh turned from his conversation with captain Abdul. “Just the man I wanted to see.”
“Sheikh Zahabia,” the newcomer bowed, before folding his limbs onto a pillow. “How can I be of service?”
The question was more rhetoric, than anything else, as he followed it by pulling the necklace out of the folds of his caftan.
“I have finished this. It needs to be tested, but...”
“Excellent. Just in time, too,” the sheikh grabbed the jewel without waiting for the rest of the explanation.
“Oh, don't worry, you will find out just as soon as our stomachs have been filled,” he replied to Mawhub's frown.
Seems like you don't have him on such a tight leash as you imagined after all, the pesky voice no one else could hear told him. Or do you already know what he plans to say?
It is obvious he decided to take action, his own thoughts responded a bit despite himself, as the first dish landed on the table in front of him. The only question is, what action and against whom.
Technically, that's two questions. That cover… knowing anything at all of importance, for that matter. And could you grab some of that tabouleh this time? I haven't had that in ages...
Mawhub reached for hummus with roasted eggplant and a bread, instead of answering.
Once the meal was finished, the sheikh dismissed everyone except his best soldiers – and Mawhub.
“It seems my associates are not taking us seriously enough, my brothers. We need to teach them otherwise. And we shall. We ride at dawn.”
His brown eyes shone under the black and gold of his headscarf, as he looked at each of them in turn. Then he nodded, like he wanted to dismiss them.
“My sheikh,” Faruq spoke up reverently, but firmly. “What are we to tell the men to prepare for? Are we going to fight?”
The sheikh's mouth smiled, but his eyes remained serious.
“You misunderstand me, Faruq. Only the men present will accompany me tomorrow. You will need your courage and resolve. And yes, your weapons. These are dangerous times. But we will attempt to negotiate before we take more drastic measures. Our objective is merely to reclaim something that doesn't belong to the one who currently holds it…”
The soldiers murmured among themselves.
“My sheikh, wouldn't it be better...”
“...for me to stay home, Abdul? No. Not this time. Rest peacefully tonight, brothers.”
The men bowed out, until the only one that remained was Mawhub.


Obrázek uživatele Elluška

Má chytrý poznámky, na to, že byl jen takovej celkem hovadskej starej dozorce. A dokonce si poroučí, na co má chuť. Můžeme bejt rádi, že v minulý kapitole taktně mlčel, to od něj bylo taky moudrý :)))
Četlo se dobře. Body za autentický přísloví o velbloudí prdeli, to jen tak nezapomenu.
Jinak nelze říct víc než že jsem zvědavá, co bude dál, no ;)

Obrázek uživatele Blanca

Tak, my jsme z Koby moc neviděli, předtím, než se mu stalo tohle. Možná nebyl zas tak hovadskej... přece jen, roky hlídání vězňů s člověkem taky udělají svoje. A já myslím, že si změnu scenérie vlastně užívá, svým způsobem. I když to musí být občas o nervy.
Jsem ráda, že se to dobře čte a že někdo ocenil to přísloví ;)

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