Worrisome News
Rashid, Khimi, and Ennui stroll through the bazaar, their footsteps echoing against the sun-warmed stone. The scent of cinnamon, cardamom, and rare incense curls through the air. Stalls overflow with bolts of jewel-toned silk, dwarven trinkets, and exotic spices coveted across the Desert Cities. Merchants haggle, much more convincing than those from Porat and Gammorah. But that was the way of Betset. A city of commerce, the beating heart of trade nestled between Rhaz and Sidi, its harbors blessed with ships from distant lands and its markets thriving with life.
They move with purpose, bartering and negotiating, ensuring their ship’s hull is filled with the most valuable goods Betset has to offer. Sacks of fragrant spice, shimmering fabrics from Laz, and slabs of Dolman elderwood are carefully loaded under the watchful eyes of hired mercenaries. The men, hardened warriors from Sidi, stand sentinel over the growing hoard. Rashid trusts their captain, a former paladin of the Sanctum of Balance, a man of honor, much like himself. Khimi, however, seems unconvinced. Had Rashid the opportunity, he would have taken men from the Cerulean Star’s caravan, but they were needed and continued without him.
Beyond the city walls, the golden expanse of wheat fields sways in the evening light, their tips kissed by the sinking sun. Khimi slows his pace, casting a long look over the fields, a quiet fondness flickering in his gaze. Rashid notices, studying him with silent curiosity.
As they reenter the city, Ennui takes the horses’ reins with an exaggerated sigh. “I’ll stable them and catch up,” she announces, flicking Khimi a teasing look before leading the animals away.
With Ennui gone, Khimi and Rashid continue their climb through the winding streets, their path familiar yet weighed with an unspoken tension. Their footsteps eventually lead them to a secluded lake nestled in the heart of Betset, its tranquil surface rippling with the gentle movement of natural springs.
Khimi stops at the water’s edge, his expression unreadable as he watches the shifting reflections of the sky. Rashid lingers beside him, adjusting the strap of his bracer, a nervous habit that does not go unnoticed. He exhales, stealing a glance at Khimi before finally finding his voice. “I know we haven’t discussed it yet,” he begins hesitantly, voice low. “But it’s been weighin’ on my mind… I couldn’t keep it from ya any longer.”
Khimi turns to face him, his gaze sharp and unreadable. “I’m surprised,” he says slowly. “But also hurt that you would betray my trust like this.” His fingers curl tightly around the pommel of his dagger, knuckles whitening.
Rashid flinches but holds his ground. “Khimi—”
Khimi’s jaw clenches. “Tell me everything.”
Rashid stares into the water, keeping his gaze on the blossoming ripples. “Aleyna has always been a friend. Ya should know she cares more about ya than anything in the world—”
“I do not doubt my mother’s love!” Khimi snaps, his voice breaking. “But,” he whispers through his teeth, fingers flexing around his dagger, “if my mother wanted to speak to me, by all means I am present. She could have written… instead she uses you as a spy? As her spy? Your loyalty is to me, Rashid. You swore an oath to protect me!”
“Ya could have written her as well…” Rashid mutters, fidgeting with the leather strap on his bracer, buckling and unbuckling the brass loop with restless fingers. “Ya don’t understand how much she’s sacrificed for ya,” he says, cheeks darkening with frustration. He turns to Khimi, eyes hard. “I don’t often tell ya how to live y’r life, but in this, ya need to listen.”
Khimi exhales, long and weary. “I’d be fine with you taking your leave of my service, Rashid,” he says flatly, moving to sit by the water, tucking his hands beneath his knees. “But if Aleyna has yet to respond to your messages, then something must be wrong.” He lifts his gaze, expression scrutinizing. “How long has this been going on? How many years have you been writing her?”
Rashid hesitates before crouching beside Khimi. “The whole time,” he admits, voice barely above a whisper. He picks up a small stone, rolling it between his calloused fingers. “She was scared to start a dialogue with ya. Thought it’d only make ya hate her more—”
“No,” Khimi cuts in, his tone edged with something between anger and exhaustion. “It only made me resent her more. I thought she’d become like my father—using me for her own gain.”
“Nothing of the sort!” Rashid denies vehemently. “Aleyna does more for the estate than anyone, in fact, I reckon she does more than y’rself,” he adds with a small, knowing chuckle.
Khimi groans, pressing his forehead to his knees. “Why is everything so godsdamned complicated?” he mumbles.
“Y’r mother is a complicated woman,” Rashid murmurs, tossing the stone across the lake. It skips twice before sinking with a quiet plunk. “Y’r father, on the other hand… Hells, I reckon all that coin just went to his head.”
Khimi picks absentmindedly at the golden threads of his kaftan. “He’s something, alright.”
“What’s that?” Rashid asks, searching for another stone among the reeds.
Khimi sighs. “I never got to know the honorable Ziad. I only ever knew Emir Ziad.” His fingers drift to his cheek, tracing the raised skin of his scar.
“I’ll never forget that one,” Rashid murmurs. “Among the others… but that one? That one stuck. He was so damn pleased that day, then suddenly furious. I still don’t know what changed. That was the last time we saw Ziad in the Desert Cities.” His voice softens as he looks at Khimi.
Khimi watches the sky shift to gold. “Rashid, I wished every single day for years after that, wished some sellsword or assassin would strike him down. That some scorned merchant would put a bounty on his head.” He exhales through his nose, stretching his legs over the sparse grass. “But I always knew, deep down, it wouldn’t be that easy.”
“I admit,” Rashid mutters, rubbing a thumb over the stone in his palm, “even I thought, maybe… the Zeybeks would be better off without Emir Ziad. I thought, ‘Khimi and Aleyna can make it work.’ Never expected ya to run off and become a mercenary, though.” He chuckles, hurling the stone across the lake. “Then, when I finally saw ya after all those years… ya looked like ya’d been set upon by a dervish. So many new scars.” He shakes his head. “And then the ruins—”
Khimi interrupts, his voice quieter now. “Do you think he’s back?”
Rashid stills. The ripples in the lake seem to stretch endlessly. He looks pensive and turns to the sky, the palms fronds shake in the light breeze. The scent of cooking meat comes from a nearby tavern. “Eh, who knows,” he shrugs. “Aleyna could just be late to write to me, but this would be a first. And that is why I have concerns. I waited an extra day in Porat to see if correspondence would arrive.”
“Ziad built himself a kingdom in the Golden Isles,” Khimi murmurs, his gaze fixed on the rippling lake. “Why would he come back to Sidi?”
Rashid shrugs. “I don’t think he would, Khimi. But that doesn’t mean you’ll ever be outside his gaze.”
“So Ziad is spying on me?” It’s more of a statement than a question. “I’ve always had my suspicions.”
Rashid exhales through his nose, settling beside him with a quiet grunt. “Just assume he’s always had eyes on Aleyna and y’rself. That’s the best way to handle it,” he mutters, watching Khimi carefully. “Maybe when we get back to Rhaz, we take a closer look at the household staff together?”
Khimi leans back, stretching his legs through the sparse grass. Overhead, a low cloud drifts across the setting sun, casting a dark shadow over them. He broods in silence, fingers digging absently into the soil. Rashid watches him, brow furrowed. I hope I haven’t broken the lad… He seems lost. With a quiet sigh, he places a firm hand on Khimi’s shoulder.
Khimi straightens abruptly. “Then he knew,” he murmurs, his eyes locked on the darkening clouds.
Rashid follows his gaze, turning his eyes to the starry heavens above as he whispers, “He knows everything. Y’r father… ya know how he is.”
Khimi clicks his tongue in response, his eyes hidden beneath the shadow of his brow. “How much do you think he hates me now?” he asks, his voice tinged with what Rashid suspects to be regret.
Rashid squeezes Khimi’s shoulder. “I’m sure he’s a little upset, y’know… that y’re not continuing the family line and all,” he says with a lopsided smirk. “But it was always who ya were. Can’t help that. Can’t change the person ya are, Khimi.”
Khimi huffs. “If I recall correctly, it was you who encouraged me to pursue Lumi in the first place.”
“Right ya are,” Rashid admits, picking up another pebble. “How about this, I travel with ya to the Isles, and if Ziad is there, then I’ll be standing beside ya when you see him.” He flicks his wrist, sending the stone skipping across the water. It leaps nearly to the center before vanishing beneath the surface.
“I doubt we’ll see him.” Khimi’s expression darkens. “I’m worried about Aleyna.” He leans closer, lowering his voice. “Have you managed to reach her? Saint Nina contacted me using some kind of magick.”
Rashid shakes his head. “The clerics we traveled with could send messages across entire continents, convenient, that,” he says, stretching his legs out to match Khimi’s.
“There has to be a cleric in Betset,” Khimi mutters under his breath.
“We won’t see one.” Rashid tosses the top of his cloth skirt aside, massaging his sore legs. “Not all clerics keep to the robes of the temples, ya know. Only the pompous ones, them Lorians. They always wear their robes,” he says, looking around the water at the passersby.
Khimi raises an eyebrow. “The Sun Temple?”
Rashid’s eyes settle on a merchant’s stall across the water, where a spit-roasted pig slowly turns above an open flame, a thick column of smoke curling into the evening sky. “That’d be the one. Pompous fellas,” he says with a smirk, lifting his nose to the air.
“Their robes do look fetching,” Khimi replies, watching Rashid sniff at the air. “If you’re starved, we can grab a bite.”
“Ya’d probably best be gettin’ back to y’r kitten by now,” Rashid says, though he can’t deny his grumbling stomach for long.
Khimi waves off the concern with a lazy flick of his wrist. “He’ll be fine. Left him some coin. He’s probably passed out drunk by now.”
Rashid nods, but his expression softens as they begin walking again. The rich scent of spiced pork thickens, and his stomach rumbles audibly. “Hells, that smells like the heavens.”
Khimi catches Rashid’s arm suddenly, his grip firm. “Just tell me one thing, Rashid.” His voice is low, serious. “Would Ziad harm him?” His hand instinctively tightens around his sword’s hilt.
Rashid falters. He can’t quite meet Khimi’s eyes. “Ziad would harm anything that stood in his way,” he admits, placing his palm over Khimi’s clenched fist. “But ya already know in y’r heart how far he’s willing to go…”
Khimi pulls away from Rashid’s touch, steel in his gaze. “If I find out it was Ziad who sent those mercenaries—”
“Khimi…”
Rashid swallows hard, hiding his expression. He already knows the truth. When they tracked the Dolmans into the Desert, Rashid had heard the mercenaries’ dying confessions. Some had stayed silent, but enough of them had cracked under pressure. The answer had been clear. A bounty on Lumi’s head, placed by none other than Ziad himself. He had chosen to keep it from Khimi.
“I’m sure it wasn’t him,” Rashid lies, turning away. “Let’s focus on getting some food and heading to the arena.”
Khimi narrows his eyes but lets the subject drop, at least for now, leaving Rashid thankful. His lips curve into a smirk. “You’re getting a bit of a belly, old friend,” he teases, giving Rashid a playful shove toward the nearest food stall.
The Arena
Khimi and Rashid meander along the lake’s edge, stopping at stall after stall, indulging in the vast array of flavors the Desert Cities have to offer. The sticky sweetness of honeyed pastries melts on their tongues, buttered cookies crumble between their fingers, and sesame cakes leave traces of nutty richness on their lips. As the sun dips beneath the horizon, the merchants begin packing away their wares, folding colorful tarps and snuffing out their lanterns. The murmur of the marketplace shifts into something louder, an undercurrent of excitement rippling through the streets. Khimi and Rashid watch as people emerge from shadowed alleys and side streets, all drawn toward a towering central structure.
The crowd swells, a sea of bodies pushing and shoving, eager to pass through the grand archway where guards stand in attendance, collecting coin. Lines form, disjointed but oddly disciplined, driven by the anticipation of what lies beyond. Rashid wordlessly slaps five silver into a waiting palm, expertly balancing a handful of baked treats in the crook of his other arm. KhimThey descend the red stone steps, their boots tapping against smooth, timeworn rock. The air grows heavier, charged with the unmistakable pulse of excitement. Further down, the distant roar of a crowd echoes through the cavernous space, a feverish blend of cheers, jeers, and laughter.
The hallway widens, spilling them into a breathtaking scene: an underground coliseum carved beneath the very heart of the city. The arena stretches in a grand half-circle, its structure upheld by towering columns wrapped in elaborate carvings. Massive hanging braziers cast flickering golden light across the space, illuminating the curved stone benches that rise in steep tiers around the pit below. Rashid exhales sharply, the weight of memory pressing against him. He’s only been here once before. He hadn’t liked what he saw then. The air here is thick with more than just the scent of sweat and burning oil; it carries violence, death, and sorrow, woven into the very stones beneath their feet.
Khimi had assured him that a small body of chirurgeons would stand on site in the instance someone is grievously injured during the event. Khimi had told Rashid of how Betset grew to be famed for its undercity combat and the gamblers it drew from across the Desert Cities. Pushing through the stairs, down to the front, Rashid spots a familiar face. Ennui sits, her arm around the honey-haired youth from the inn. Khimi calls out to her. She turns, her eyes narrowing to slits once she spots them, a flicker of annoyance crosses her face.
Ennui idly fingers the tips of her horns, whispering something soft into the young girl’s ear before finally turning back to them. “This row is full!” she calls out, flashing a sharp-toothed grin.
“Like hells it is!” Rashid barks, shoving past the throng of people until he plops himself beside her with an exaggerated grunt.
Khimi, meanwhile, leans slightly to look past Rashid, his gaze landing on the girl beside Ennui. “I didn’t catch your name before,” he says, offering a polite nod.
The girl tucks a strand of honey-colored hair behind her pointed ear, then extends a delicate hand. “Iris,” she replies softly.
“That isn’t necessary,” Ennui interjects, pulling Iris’ hand back before Khimi can take it. “You don’t want to know where his hands have been.” She smirks, then throws a teasing glance at the girl. “Besides, Iris already knows your names. Isn’t that right?”
Iris nods in confirmation. “Khimi,” she says, glancing at him. “And Rashid, right?” She looks to Ennui for approval.
Ennui gives a small nod. “Yeah, the old fart is Rashid.”
Rashid rolls his eyes but says nothing, too focused on scanning the crowd.
“And the beastkin… you said his name was Lumi?” Iris asks, looking curiously between them. “Lumi is such a curious name for a boy.”
Khimi leans in slightly. “Have you seen him today?”
Iris scratches at the bridge of her nose in thought before answering. “He came out of his room about an hour after you left. Went into the city with Cleo. I didn’t ask where they were headed, but it looked like the bazaar.”
“Strange that we didn’t run into him,” Rashid murmurs, glancing at Khimi with a shrug. Though he tries to appear unconcerned, his eyes continue scouring the stands, scanning the sea of faces, searching for that familiar mess of golden hair.
Who else did you send, Ziad?
Khimi leans back in his seat, steepling his fingers in thought. “I probably should have gone to check on him,” he mutters under his breath.
“Oh, he’ll be fine,” Rashid reassures him with a firm pat on the back.
Ennui, still draped comfortably around Iris, tilts her head towards him. “Listen to the old man, let the little lion have his fun, explore the city,” she purrs.
Khimi shoots her a dry look. “For some reason, your words make me even more unsettled.”
A man in a brightly colored cloak strides into the center of the sandy arena. He twirls swiftly and gracefully, his colorful cape swirling around him as he addresses the crowd. His voice booms over the rising excitement, cutting through the buzz of the restless crowd. Rashid glances at Khimi, noticing his feet tapping aggressively against the stone ground. He should calm down once things get started. He nibbles idly on his sesame cake, still scanning the arena, the sheer number of spectators making his stomach knot. The whole damned city must be here. He finishes the cake, licking his fingers clean of crumbs while Khimi stands nervously, only to be pulled back into his seat by Ennui.
Moments later, the announcer reappears, his vibrant tunic catching the glow of the hanging braziers. He is flanked by men clad in drab linen, guards, by the looks of them, though they shift uneasily. “We’ve got a change in tonight’s events!” the announcer declares, clapping his hands together.
The crowd erupts, their cheers reverberating through the stonework. Feet stomp, hands pound against the sandstone, shaking the very foundation of the arena.
“We know you all were hoping to see a real lion in tonight’s challenge, but we’ve got something even better!” he exclaims, clapping his hands together. The guards around him shift uncomfortably, and a hush falls over the previously rowdy crowd.
“Did he just say…?”
Khimi’s breath hitches. His fingers tighten around his knees. “Lion?” His voice cuts through the silence, brittle with disbelief. His eyes snap to Ennui. “Did he say bloody lion?”
Rashid lets out a low snort. “Hells…” he mutters under his breath, bracing himself for what promises to be an eventful evening.
Iris’s eyes dart between the three of them, sensing a tension in the air. “Is something wrong?” she asks cautiously, her voice almost lost in the swelling murmur of the crowd.
Khimi rubs his temples wearily. “Ennui, please explain,” he says, turning to the devilkin.
Ennui rolls her eyes, chewing absently on her thumbnail before finally speaking. “It’s a thing,” she mutters, gaze downcast. “Some beastkin have a connection with their animal counterparts, lapine with rabbits, minos with bovine, and so on.”
Iris straightens in her seat, curiosity flickering in her golden eyes. “Oh, your friend… he’s like a lion, right?”
“Yes,” Khimi answers, voice clipped as he pushes to his feet. “But he also claims he can communicate with cats. He’s been able to speak with lions since he was young.”
Rashid reaches out, catching Khimi’s arm before he can move past him. “Just sit down for now,” he urges, his voice steady despite the growing tension. “Let’s figure out what’s happening before you charge in blind.”
Khimi exhales, his patience growing thin. “Rashid,” he growls, shaking off the older man’s grip. His eyes dart toward the arena floor. “I’ve had a feeling something was wrong for hours.”
“I’ll come with you then,” Rashid declares, getting up from his seat and following Khimi.
The announcer works the crowd while they head to the stairs leading to the arena floor. A small band of guards bars the path, placing their spears before them. Rashid cranes his neck, his heart sinking as the wooden portcullis groans open. From the shadowed corridor, Lumi steps into the ring, his posture tense but unwavering. Hells… you stupid lion!
“I’ll give you twenty gold pieces—just let me through!” Khimi shouts desperately at
One of the guards.
One sighs, removing his helmet. “I’m sorry, sir. We can’t let you pass. It’d be our heads,” he says, though his gaze flickers toward the fighters entering the arena.
Khimi shouts, “Fuck it—fifty!”
The other guard scoffs, shifting uncomfortably. “We’d lose our jobs.”
“Please, you don’t understand, someone important is down there!” Rashid pleads, but the guards remain steadfast.
Khimi curses under his breath before abruptly turning back, shoving his way through the mass of spectators. “Lumi!” he shouts. Heads turn, murmurs ripple through the stands as onlookers rise from their seats, curiosity piqued by the commotion.
Rashid struggles to keep up, his injured leg slowing him. “What in the nine hells are you doing?” he shouts.
“Saving Lumi!” Khimi calls back without hesitation, pushing past the last row and leaping over the stone barrier onto the sandy arena floor.
The guards react instantly, converging with shouts and drawn weapons. Rashid barely makes it down before they swarm, their hands reaching for him. But Khimi doesn’t falter, his focus is locked on Lumi, who turns, eyes wide with guilt as he trails after the announcer. Rashid’s gaze hardens. Still wearing that damn loincloth. He grits his teeth, his patience thinning.
A short, furious man steps forward, the announcer himself, his hand resting on the hilt of his saber. “What is the meaning of this?” he spits, beginning to unsheathe the blade.
Before the steel can clear its scabbard, Rashid steps in, slamming a firm hand over the pommel and shoving it back down. His voice drops to a low, warning growl. “Calm y’rself.”
“What in the hells are you going on about? You’re causing a scene with all this shouting!” the announcer snaps, his face turning red with frustration.
Khimi barely spares him a glance, his focus locked on Lumi. “There must be some mistake,” he says, voice tight with barely restrained anger. He gestures toward Lumi, eyes burning. “Why is he fighting in the arena? He’s not a criminal.”
Lumi steps forward, gripping a shortened staff in one hand. His expression is calm, but his tail flicks in agitation. “I offered to take the lion’s place,” he states matter-of-factly. “Ebo’s sick. He was captured in the wheat fields chasing a gazelle.”
“Ebo…? Right, the lion.” Khimi lets out a deep sigh, running a hand through his hair. He speaks to Lumi with an urgent tone, “Lumi… even if you fight in his place tonight, they’ll just throw him back in tomorrow.”
Rashid steps past the announcer, his tone gruff. “Are ya thick in the head, boy?” he snaps. “No need to put y’rself in danger over this.”
Lumi opens his mouth to protest, but before he can get a word out, Khimi grabs his upper arm, his fingers sinking deep into the flesh. “You’re going back to the inn. Now.”
Lumi struggles against him, eyes blazing with defiance, but the announcer cuts in before he can retaliate. “He ain’t going anywhere,” the man declares, arms crossed over his chest. “We’ve got an arena full of people, thousands of gold in bets on the line. You think we can just pull him out and call it off?”
Khimi’s eyes narrow as he demands, “How much?” he grits out. “How much to get him out of this?”
Lumi thrashes against Khimi’s hold. “Let me go, Khimi!” he shouts, tail lashing furiously.
The announcer scoffs. “Ever seen an arena match canceled before it started? The crowd would riot, and I ain’t about to get torn apart over one damn cat.”
Ennui makes an appearance, placing a hand on Rashid’s shoulder. “Oh, Khimi. It’ll be just like the good ole days. How bout you take the little lion’s spot? Or I can if you want it to be over faster.”
“No!” Lumi shouts, yanking himself free at last. His breathing is heavy, his ears flattened against his head. “This is my fault!”
Rashid takes a sharp breath, sensing something shift, but before he can react, Ennui moves. In the blink of an eye, she’s on Lumi. Her hand wraps around his throat, not choking, just holding, her lips so close to his ear that no one else can hear what she says. Lumi goes rigid. His tail, which had been bristling moments ago, gives an odd little wag. When Ennui finally releases him, she yanks a handful of his blond hair free. Lumi yelps but doesn’t pull away. Instead, he trembles, almost… eager.
The announcer watches the exchange warily. “What the hells was that?” he demands.
Lumi mutters something under his breath, then grabs Khimi’s sleeve. His eyes are alight with excitement. “Fight with me, Khimi!” he blurts out.
Khimi recoils slightly, caught completely off guard. “Wh-what?”
Rashid pushes through the guard and announcer. “What’s all this about? What did the she-devil say?” he demands.
Ennui turns on her heel, a sharp laugh spilling from her lips as she hurries down the stairs. “Come on, old man,” she calls back to Rashid, waving him along with a flick of her fingers. “The boys can handle themselves. This was Lumi’s mess to begin with.”
Rashid grumbles, turning away from Lumi and Khimi. The guards escort him back up the stairs, leaving them alone with the announcer. The crowd is relentless. Men and women shout furious insults, their voices blending into a chaotic roar. A few begin hurling debris onto the arena floor, half-eaten food, pebbles, anything within reach. A stone whizzes past, narrowly missing the announcer’s head. He flinches, his already dark cheeks turning a deeper shade of crimson.
“We don’t stop these events for just anyone,” he growls, turning his glare onto Lumi. “What’s your bloody plan?”
Lumi squeezes Khimi’s arm, his grip firm despite the storm of voices crashing around them. “We’ll fight,” he declares, lifting his chin. “Whoever else you have lined up for tonight.”
Khimi’s head snaps toward him. “We will?” he repeats flatly, blinking in disbelief. He exhales sharply, rubbing a hand down his face before dragging Lumi closer by the wrist. “You do realize,” he whispers harshly, “that you can’t use magick in the arena? They’ll disqualify us.”
Lumi’s ears flick back. “What?!” he gasps, horrified.
Khimi’s hold tightens. “This is a godsdamned terrible idea,” he mutters into Lumi’s ear, his breath warm against his skin.
The announcer watches them closely before shrugging, apparently done caring. “Whatever,” he sighs, already turning back toward the center of the arena. “But you’d better make this worth the crowd’s coin.” With a dramatic flourish, he throws his hands into the air and launches into an announcement, his voice booming over the restless audience.
Meanwhile, Rashid backpedals to keep pace with Ennui, calling over his shoulder, “Be safe, you damn fools!”