Amani,” she could almost hear Master Enzi say.
She temporarily pushed down her desire for food and better studied all in attendance, making mental notes, should tensions shift to something less than amiable.
The man across from her had a bad left knee. The one on the other side of Rondel had back problems. Fikri carried extra weight in his gut which would affect his balance. The list continued.
Finishing her assessment, she leaned over to her fidgeting partner and spoke in Juntarkan so that none could hear her. “I know you’re on edge. I am too. But you’re going to shake your leg off if you don’t calm down.”
“We’re wasting time. If we had left when I wanted to, we would have found Shadya by now.”
Though thickly accented, Rondel’s Juntarkan had improved rapidly over the last several months. His ease with languages had always impressed her.
“We might also be dead. Fikri believes she’s in no immediate danger. Let’s hear what he has to say.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You want to be rid of her, don’t you?”
“Yes. But I’d rather not have her die a gruesome death to accomplish that.”
He grunted as one of Fikri’s daughters set a large plate of hummus and flatbread down in the middle of the group.
Finally.
Andrasta started to move toward the food, stomach rolling at the strong garlic smell, but caught the shake of disapproval from Rondel. She stopped as Fikri said a blessing to Hubul and several other Erban gods she cared even less about. When he finished, everyone dug in at once. Andrasta forced her way inside, taking two fistfuls of bread coated in the smooth paste.
Rondel barely had two bites before pressing Fikri again.
“I’m afraid I’m going to have to be rude and insist you tell us about this majun.” Though it was obvious Rondel tried to keep his voice calm and pleasant, the strain could be heard clearly.
If Fikri noticed, it didn’t show. He took a small drink of tea and nodded. “I was hoping with more time since the attack, you’d be more likely to heed our advice. It is impossible to defeat the creature.”
“What? You expect us to just give up?”
“I know it sounds harsh, but—”
Rondel’s voice took on a tone Andrasta rarely heard him use, forcefully emphasizing the scratchiness of his damaged throat. “We will rescue her. The only reason why we’ve come here is because you said you had information that could help. If that’s not true, then we’ll be on our way.”
He made a motion to stand. Fikri waved him down.
“Please. Sit.” He paused and sipped his tea again. Andrasta used the chance to snatch up the fresh goat placed before her.
“The djinn are ancient creatures,” Fikri said. “Some think they were once minor gods who supported Nasnas and were punished by Hubul after the war at the City of Pillars. Others think that can’t be true, because there are tales of the creatures before that city fell.
“Most djinn are made of smoke and fire, though some of the most powerful have the ability to take on solid forms. The majun you saw has this power. Even in the appearance of doing good, evil is always the hidden intent.”
“That make sense,” said Rondel, calmer than before. “In the stories I heard of a djinn granting wishes, the wishes usually come with some sort of terrible repercussion.”
“Such is their way. It’s difficult to stop a djinn. They can be killed, but it’s almost impossible to do so since it usually requires learning their names. That leaves only trapping the creature. That path is not much easier. After trapping the creature, it’s common to bury them somewhere they’ll never be discovered.”
Impossible. Andrasta was no student of history like Rondel, but based on her knowledge, something with great power always found a way to be discovered again .
“The stories of the lamps?” asked Rondel.
“Yes, lamps are most used in your stories, found usually by some foreigner who falls for the trapped djinn’s
She temporarily pushed down her desire for food and better studied all in attendance, making mental notes, should tensions shift to something less than amiable.
The man across from her had a bad left knee. The one on the other side of Rondel had back problems. Fikri carried extra weight in his gut which would affect his balance. The list continued.
Finishing her assessment, she leaned over to her fidgeting partner and spoke in Juntarkan so that none could hear her. “I know you’re on edge. I am too. But you’re going to shake your leg off if you don’t calm down.”
“We’re wasting time. If we had left when I wanted to, we would have found Shadya by now.”
Though thickly accented, Rondel’s Juntarkan had improved rapidly over the last several months. His ease with languages had always impressed her.
“We might also be dead. Fikri believes she’s in no immediate danger. Let’s hear what he has to say.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You want to be rid of her, don’t you?”
“Yes. But I’d rather not have her die a gruesome death to accomplish that.”
He grunted as one of Fikri’s daughters set a large plate of hummus and flatbread down in the middle of the group.
Finally.
Andrasta started to move toward the food, stomach rolling at the strong garlic smell, but caught the shake of disapproval from Rondel. She stopped as Fikri said a blessing to Hubul and several other Erban gods she cared even less about. When he finished, everyone dug in at once. Andrasta forced her way inside, taking two fistfuls of bread coated in the smooth paste.
Rondel barely had two bites before pressing Fikri again.
“I’m afraid I’m going to have to be rude and insist you tell us about this majun.” Though it was obvious Rondel tried to keep his voice calm and pleasant, the strain could be heard clearly.
If Fikri noticed, it didn’t show. He took a small drink of tea and nodded. “I was hoping with more time since the attack, you’d be more likely to heed our advice. It is impossible to defeat the creature.”
“What? You expect us to just give up?”
“I know it sounds harsh, but—”
Rondel’s voice took on a tone Andrasta rarely heard him use, forcefully emphasizing the scratchiness of his damaged throat. “We will rescue her. The only reason why we’ve come here is because you said you had information that could help. If that’s not true, then we’ll be on our way.”
He made a motion to stand. Fikri waved him down.
“Please. Sit.” He paused and sipped his tea again. Andrasta used the chance to snatch up the fresh goat placed before her.
“The djinn are ancient creatures,” Fikri said. “Some think they were once minor gods who supported Nasnas and were punished by Hubul after the war at the City of Pillars. Others think that can’t be true, because there are tales of the creatures before that city fell.
“Most djinn are made of smoke and fire, though some of the most powerful have the ability to take on solid forms. The majun you saw has this power. Even in the appearance of doing good, evil is always the hidden intent.”
“That make sense,” said Rondel, calmer than before. “In the stories I heard of a djinn granting wishes, the wishes usually come with some sort of terrible repercussion.”
“Such is their way. It’s difficult to stop a djinn. They can be killed, but it’s almost impossible to do so since it usually requires learning their names. That leaves only trapping the creature. That path is not much easier. After trapping the creature, it’s common to bury them somewhere they’ll never be discovered.”
Impossible. Andrasta was no student of history like Rondel, but based on her knowledge, something with great power always found a way to be discovered again .
“The stories of the lamps?” asked Rondel.
“Yes, lamps are most used in your stories, found usually by some foreigner who falls for the trapped djinn’s
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