river.
“Where are you going?” Andrasta asked.
“We have to save her,” he said, stripping off armor so he could swim.
A hand slammed onto his shoulder and yanked him back. “What’s the matter with you? You know better than to go charging after something like that. I thought you were the thinker.”
“But that’s—”
Andrasta’s open hand struck his cheek. “Think!”
He rubbed his jaw. “You’re right. We should steal one of the boats we saw earlier. That way we don’t have to leave our armor behind.”
“And how are we going to kill it?” asked Andrasta. “You barely know more about that thing than I do.”
Rondel started walking up the shore. He knew he was rushing through this far more than he normally would, but he couldn’t stop thinking about what Shadya might be going through. “I don’t know how we’re going to kill it. I’ll figure that out before we get there. It has Shadya and we have to go after it.”
I won’t fail her. I can’t.
“I’m not going after anything without at least a vague idea of how to stop it. And neither are you. If that means I have to knock you out, I will.”
Rondel opened his mouth, angry and ready to argue.
“Your friend is right,” said Fikri, cutting him off. Rondel turned. The man walked from the opposite side of the clearing next to the grove of olive trees. Dozens of men followed behind him. “It would be suicide to go after the djinn now. It’s much stronger in the daylight. It draws power from the sun. It’s safer to face a djinn at night, and safer still not to face one at all.”
“Shadya could be dead by night.”
“She’ll be fine. They do not kill their victims immediately. They like to play with them first.”
“How do you know that?”
He gestured. “Come to my home and eat with us. There are many things I know about the djinn. Some of it might actually help you.”
“Can’t you tell us while helping us secure passage to the other side of the river?”
Fikri waved his hand. “Please, trust me. I’ve lived here my entire life. Listen to your partner. This is not a fight you want to run into.”
* * *
Andrasta didn’t realize just how much she had longed for a real meal until the opportunity to have one presented itself.
Fikri’s wife and daughters cooked a large meal of goat and fresh fish with all the appropriate sides using clay pots and a brick oven at the back of the home. The smell of cloves, cumin, coriander, garlic, and cinnamon sent Andrasta’s stomach into a spin.
While the women cooked, Fikri took her and Rondel to the center of a bare-walled room. They sat on a floor covered in extravagantly woven rugs. Twisting reds, looping blacks, doted yellows, and striped blues crisscrossed each other.
Nine other men from the village joined them for the discussion, their work clothes exchanged for traditional, white robes that still carried a faint odor of fish.
All wore somber expressions. Several spoke in hushed whispers which Andrasta couldn’t make out a word. She found their looks in her direction, eyes drifting up and down her body, both amusing and annoying. Based on her actions, the way she dressed, and the fact she refused to continue masking her voice, she could only imagine the thoughts running through their heads about a woman like her.
But likely nothing I haven’t already heard dozens of times over.
The lack of urgency of their host and the other villagers had begun to upset Rondel, who pestered Fikri repeatedly for information about the djinn. Though Andrasta cared far less for Shadya’s well-being than her partner did, she too wondered why they would continue to deflect discussions about the very thing that brought them together.
Be ready for anything.
Many of her master’s drills occurred at such a subconscious level, she performed them without thinking. All however, would yield better results with a conscious effort.
“It’s good to see that not all of my lessons were lost on you,
“Where are you going?” Andrasta asked.
“We have to save her,” he said, stripping off armor so he could swim.
A hand slammed onto his shoulder and yanked him back. “What’s the matter with you? You know better than to go charging after something like that. I thought you were the thinker.”
“But that’s—”
Andrasta’s open hand struck his cheek. “Think!”
He rubbed his jaw. “You’re right. We should steal one of the boats we saw earlier. That way we don’t have to leave our armor behind.”
“And how are we going to kill it?” asked Andrasta. “You barely know more about that thing than I do.”
Rondel started walking up the shore. He knew he was rushing through this far more than he normally would, but he couldn’t stop thinking about what Shadya might be going through. “I don’t know how we’re going to kill it. I’ll figure that out before we get there. It has Shadya and we have to go after it.”
I won’t fail her. I can’t.
“I’m not going after anything without at least a vague idea of how to stop it. And neither are you. If that means I have to knock you out, I will.”
Rondel opened his mouth, angry and ready to argue.
“Your friend is right,” said Fikri, cutting him off. Rondel turned. The man walked from the opposite side of the clearing next to the grove of olive trees. Dozens of men followed behind him. “It would be suicide to go after the djinn now. It’s much stronger in the daylight. It draws power from the sun. It’s safer to face a djinn at night, and safer still not to face one at all.”
“Shadya could be dead by night.”
“She’ll be fine. They do not kill their victims immediately. They like to play with them first.”
“How do you know that?”
He gestured. “Come to my home and eat with us. There are many things I know about the djinn. Some of it might actually help you.”
“Can’t you tell us while helping us secure passage to the other side of the river?”
Fikri waved his hand. “Please, trust me. I’ve lived here my entire life. Listen to your partner. This is not a fight you want to run into.”
* * *
Andrasta didn’t realize just how much she had longed for a real meal until the opportunity to have one presented itself.
Fikri’s wife and daughters cooked a large meal of goat and fresh fish with all the appropriate sides using clay pots and a brick oven at the back of the home. The smell of cloves, cumin, coriander, garlic, and cinnamon sent Andrasta’s stomach into a spin.
While the women cooked, Fikri took her and Rondel to the center of a bare-walled room. They sat on a floor covered in extravagantly woven rugs. Twisting reds, looping blacks, doted yellows, and striped blues crisscrossed each other.
Nine other men from the village joined them for the discussion, their work clothes exchanged for traditional, white robes that still carried a faint odor of fish.
All wore somber expressions. Several spoke in hushed whispers which Andrasta couldn’t make out a word. She found their looks in her direction, eyes drifting up and down her body, both amusing and annoying. Based on her actions, the way she dressed, and the fact she refused to continue masking her voice, she could only imagine the thoughts running through their heads about a woman like her.
But likely nothing I haven’t already heard dozens of times over.
The lack of urgency of their host and the other villagers had begun to upset Rondel, who pestered Fikri repeatedly for information about the djinn. Though Andrasta cared far less for Shadya’s well-being than her partner did, she too wondered why they would continue to deflect discussions about the very thing that brought them together.
Be ready for anything.
Many of her master’s drills occurred at such a subconscious level, she performed them without thinking. All however, would yield better results with a conscious effort.
“It’s good to see that not all of my lessons were lost on you,
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