“Er, you as well sir,” she responds stiffly, unsure if Khanto is complimenting or insulting her.
Adamek enters the library, silver briefcase in hand. He takes the only unoccupied seat at the table, to the right of Nazirah. Any warmth immediately vanishes from Khanto’s eyes. Adamek doesn’t flinch when the Khan’s bodyguards aim their guns at him, even though he’s clearly unarmed. The Khan, not taking his eyes off Adamek, slowly motions for the guards to settle down. They lower their weapons, but the tension remains.
Solomon claps his hands together. “Right,” he says. “Now that we are all here and settled, let us begin.”
Aldrik talks for several uninterrupted minutes. He outlines the goals of the rebellion, what the insurgents hope to achieve, and what they’re offering in return for allegiance. Solomon translates every word, since the majority of Red Lords do not speak the common tongue. Adamek then gives a brief demonstration of the Iluxor, showing the Red Lords a pre-selected memory from Solomon’s childhood. The Red Lords are completely mesmerized by the device, and rapidly ask Solomon questions in Deathlandic, fighting to be heard through the escalating din.
“Enough.”
The room goes silent.
“Lord Khanto?” questions Solomon.
The Khan addresses Aldrik. “I thank you for bringing this appalling disparity to our attention, my friend. The desires of the rebellion indeed parallel our own in the Deathlands. We suffer here, while the capital indulges. We send them our mercenaries, our spices, our gold for nothing. You are a good man, Aldrik.”
Aldrik is wary, and Nazirah senses it too. He says, “But …”
“But,” Khanto says quietly, “I am afraid that I am not so good a man. I cannot simply agree to these terms.”
“And what, my friend,” Aldrik grumbles, “do you want?”
Khanto looks at Adamek. He says, “You must pay the price.”
“What price?” Aldrik asks.
The Khan addresses Adamek in Deathlandic. Nazirah and Aldrik both look at Solomon, hopelessly lost, but his face is grave and he has stopped translating. To Nazirah’s complete shock, Adamek responds to Khanto fluently and without hesitation. Their voices are even, devoid of anger or other emotion. The men reach across the table and shake hands firmly.
“Thank you,” Khanto says. Adamek nods once. Khanto rises from his seat and the entire party of Lords and guards leave without another word.
“Would someone like to tell me what the hell just happened?” growls Aldrik.
Adamek shrugs wordlessly. He gets up, walks casually out of the library. Nazirah looks at Solomon, bewildered. Aldrik appears ready to explode.
“This is bad news,” Solomon says, shaking his head despondently. “This is very bad news indeed. Although not entirely unexpected.”
“Solomon,” Nazirah commands, “talk.”
“The Khan has agreed to ally with the rebellion, along with all of the remaining Red Lords, their servants and mercenaries –”
“But that’s good news, isn’t it?” she interrupts.
Aldrik raises an agitated hand and Solomon continues. “Under the condition that he and Mr. Morgen settle their feud the traditional way, within a fortnight’s time.”
“Which is?” asks Aldrik suspiciously.
Solomon glances worriedly at Nazirah. He squeaks, “A battle to the death.”
#
Later that afternoon, Nazirah ventures into the conservatory to meet Solomon. She doesn’t really want tea, but won’t cancel their plans, not when Solomon has been so gracious. Nazirah thinks about the overlord, about his necklace of canines and incisors. Will Adamek become the newest addition?
“Hey, Solomon.”
Nazirah spots him alone, sitting at a small table in the corner. None of the windows in the riad contain any glass. Nazirah always feels like she’s outside, even when there’s a roof above her head. She takes a seat beside him.
“Miss Nation,” Solomon greets her, gesturing to a nearby servant. “I am pleased you decided to join me, even after the unpleasant business of this morning.” The servant holds a golden kettle high. He pours the tea into small glasses from several feet in the air with perfect precision. Nazirah inhales the fragrant, minty water.
“Sugar?” Solomon asks, offering her a small jar.
“Thanks,” she says, dropping a cube into her glass. “And thank you for inviting me, and for the clothes, and for letting us stay here. I don’t think I can ever thank you enough, really. Everything here is so beautiful.”
Solomon looks around, smiling. “I am particularly fond of this old family relic,” he says, patting a wall. “Though I must confess, Miss Nation, I often feel entirely unworthy of living here. Especially in light of the insoluble hardship my territory faces.”
“Solomon,” she says gently, “you can call me Nazirah.”
“You are far too kind, Miss Nation,” he says, politely ignoring her request.
“I’m a lot of things, Solomon,” she says honestly. “But kind isn’t one of them.”
“You are also far too hard on yourself, as is often the case.” Solomon pauses for a moment before continuing. “Unfortunate circumstances today,” he says slowly, gauging her reaction. “I was hoping the Khan would see reason.” He looks at her searchingly. “But it appears his desire for vengeance has gotten the best of him.”
“I’m still not exactly sure what happened in there,” she says quickly, distinctly uncomfortable.
Solomon sets down his glass. “The Khan is a man of honor,” he says. “As is Mr. Morgen, each in his own way. They both have codes they live by, rules they follow. Khanto believes Mr. Morgen has disgraced his name and bloodline by killing his father. This is how men settle disputes in the Red West.”
“Does Morgen realize what he’s agreed to?”
“Of course he does!” exclaims Solomon. “Mr. Morgen speaks Deathlandic better than most natives. And he, like the Chancellor and other members of government, is well acquainted with the various customs and traditions each race follows. I would go so far as to say he expected this.”
Nazirah is nonplussed. “But if he expected it, why not avoid the Red Lords all together? Why not go directly to intermix for support, like we tried to do in Eridies?”
Solomon stirs his tea idly. “It is not the same here,” he says. “In the Deathlands, life is pernicious for everyone, intermix and native alike. Intermix have served the Red Lords for centuries. We all work together, towards the common goal of survival. It is the only way we could ever endure such harsh conditions. So, unlike in Eridies, the Red Lords have the final say for everyone. And they live and die under the Khan’s iron fist.”
“I still don’t understand,” she presses. “Morgen has amnesty. Khanto wouldn’t be able to touch him if Morgen didn’t agree to it. Why would he throw that away?”
“Maybe,” Solomon says, “for the same reason Khanto would not touch him at all if Mr. Morgen did not agree to it … regardless of amnesty. Maybe, for the same reason the Khan requested it of him in the first place.”
“Retribution?”
“Honor.”
“Wouldn’t it be more honorable to let it go?” she asks. “Not try and kill him?”
Solomon smiles. “I said the Khan follows a code he sets for himself, a code he never strays from. Because of this, he is a man of honor. I never said he was honorable.”
Nazirah is annoyed with Solomon’s semantics. “And what kind of man is Morgen?”
“Only time and God know the answer to that question.”
“So … one of them is going to die,” she says, the reality of it sinking in.
“Yes, Miss Nation,” Solomon replies. “One of them will die.” He sighs dejectedly. “But enough of this morbid talk! They know the stakes and will realize their fates soon enough.” Nazirah remains silent. “May I say how pleasantly surprised I was to find you two had grown closer?”
“It was Aldrik’s idea,” she says. “He thinks it will help the campaign if it seems like we’re together. It’s all for show.”