War of the Magi: Azrael's Wrath (Book 2) by Joseph Robert Lewis

splashing across the grass as she rolled onto her back, the sweat beading on her skin…
    I wonder if—
    He grit his teeth and tried to walk a little faster.
    She just wants attention. And power. And adoration. And I gave it to her. Why? Because I’m an idiot. It was all there, written plain on her face, in her voice, in every little gesture. She was playing with me. I should have seen it!
    “Seen what?”
    Iyasu blinked at Zerai. “Sorry. I didn’t realize I was talking out loud.”
    The falconer winked at him. “Happens to me all the time.”
    They found their way off the main road onto a side lane where they could hear each other without shouting, and Iyasu realized that everyone was looking at him, waiting for him to lead them through the city, waiting for him to find the Daraji woman.
    So they can fight her. So she’ll stop fighting Darius. So Maqari will stop fighting Elladi. So innocent people will stop dying.
    They’re all waiting for me.
    He glanced down at his right hand, and for a mad instant he considered grabbing Zerai’s sword and hacking the thing off.
    It feels…wrong.
    Instead, he started walking up the narrow lane, heading away from the marketplaces and seeking out the neighborhoods farther along where he knew they would find people loitering in the shade, sitting near the cafés, walking near the water, and talking.
    People talk too much. There should be a law.
    “Iyasu, are you all right?” Veneka touched his arm.
    He glanced back and saw that he had been striding along so quickly that the rest of the group was strung out in a long, thin line behind him, left to hurry around the other people in the lane as they tried to keep up.
    “I’m fine. Sorry.” He started walking again.
    “How is your hand? Let me see it.” She reached out.
    “It’s fine.” He pulled it away from her. “It’s fine, thank you. Everything is fine.”
    Soon they came to a large pavilion where a dozen tall tents had been set up near the bank of the Leyen to accommodate the families sitting together on the grass and the stone steps leading down to the water. While the children played, the mothers wove belts and scarves on small looms, or carved wooden toys, or mended old clothing as they sat and talked.
    Iyasu paused and scanned the crowd until he saw someone who seemed worth talking to, and he led his entourage through the pavilion to a spot overlooking the river where two elderly ladies wearing a beautiful riot of purples and yellows sat watching the children splash in the water.
    “Excuse me.” The young seer knelt down beside them. “Good afternoon.”
    “Hello.” The two women smiled and nodded to him.
    “My friends and I have just arrived in the city and we were hoping you might recommend a place where we could stay the night.”
    “Oh, there are so many. Near the river, near the road, near the library, near the palace, near the markets,” the white-haired one said. “Some are better than others. Where are you trying to go, exactly?”
    “The library, and the university.” Iyasu recalled that both were located in the center of the city. “But we’ve heard that there’s been some trouble here lately, and we want to avoid any dangerous neighborhoods. I’ve even heard there’s talk of war. Is that true?”
    “Too true!” The gray-haired lady nodded. “A madman’s taken the throne of Maqari and fancies himself some sort of war-god!”
    The white-haired lady clucked her tongue and shook her head. “There’s been fighting just north of the city. We see the smoke sometimes. Farms burning. Forts burning. I hear a hundred men died last week.”
    “A hundred?” Iyasu peered at her. “Were they all killed by Maqari soldiers, or maybe mercenaries, or…?”
    “It’s that demon, Nidar!”
    “Oh hush!” The white-hair gave the gray-hair a little shove. “Don’t go telling him that nonsense, he might believe you.”
    “He should believe,” the gray-hair said with a frown. “Nidar has come