Schneider glided through the market, a head taller than most of the other shoppers, the rich fabric of his native robes flowing about him as if he were surrounded by his own personal breeze. Which, considering it was Schneider, he might very well have been. Appearances were everything, after all. He was also infuriatingly unmindful that he'd ever said an inflammable thing in his life. Kall-Su simmered over it. And was practical enough not to let it show. Schneider tended to take offense at grudges held against him. He had very little concern for the state of other people's pride. Or feelings -- which had always been a problem between them. Since he was one of the few people in the world that Kall did -- deeply -- want to have a good opinion of. When he didn't want to kill him. Or wipe the devil-may-care smirk from his face. Or slap him with the same casual nonchalance as Schneider had slapped him.
Schneider was not paying him a great deal of heed at the moment, other than to occasionally point things out, or to harass him about remembering the spell, which only made it harder for him to concentrate on recalling all the specifics. It had been a very long time, a decade or more at least since he'd been interested in it. And not any pressing interest at that. He knew all the languages spoken on the clump of land that formed his continent and hadn't the need to practice such a spell.
They worked their way through a crowded, dusty bazaar. The heat was oppressive and he wished he might discard the hooded cloak that hid his pale hair. So what if they noticed? He was not incapacitated on shipboard. He had enough of his powers back and enough bottled up frustration to welcome a little confrontation. But a few thoughtful moments later he realized it was that very frustration -- over Lily, over this miserable situation -- the damnable dry heat -- that made him wish such a thing. And Schneider had been thoughtful enough to bring him the lightest of materials. Blue silks of varying shades that made up loose tunic and pants. Soft, cloth boots with leather soles and curling toes that he had stared at in confusion when he'd pulled them out of the pile of material. He hated the turban that Schneider seemed to revel in, it made him feel as if he were being suffocated, so he settled for wearing the hood of the cloak up. People still stared at him when they chanced to glance up into his face.
He disliked the crowds. The market was teeming with turbaned, robe swaddled bodies. They were worse than the markets at home. He'd hated the crowds there too. Until only recently, on his tours with Lily and her troupe, he had not had to endure them.
Schneider's words came back. Callous, cruel words they might have been, but so very likely true. It hurt, in a place at the core of his being, to think very hard on it. He couldn't stop the flashes of images that came to mind, so he forced his attention to the table after table of displayed wares. Swords and beads and fabulous materials. Jars full of unidentified, biological things, skulls made into candle holders, or bowls. Pottery and blown glass of all description, brass and metal work of incredible mastery.
"Where are we going?" he asked Schneider's back, because he was tired of the crowds and he had not been willing to talk to Schneider after leaving the abandoned section of the city. Schneider's indifference usually outlasted his grudges.
Schneider was staring at a dancing girl, who's face was bare for all the world to see. She gyrated in time with the cymbals on her delicate fingers. Her master sat on a rug not far from her, negotiating the price for her services, collecting the brass pittances interested bypassers tossed at her dainty feet.
"What are we doing, DS?" he snagged the edge of Schneider's robe, demanding attention. Schneider glanced around, one dark brow canted wryly.
"Talking to me again, are we?" he shifted the weight of the small chest he had collected from the room where Kall had awaken, under his arm. Kall gave him an imperious, icy stare.
"Is there a reason we're wondering aimlessly about the city market?"
"Can you come up with a better occupation?"
"We could be inquiring about where the ship that has Lily might have gone?"
"And how might we do that, not speaking the language? Have you recalled the spell, oh literate one?"
Schneider was being condescending. It dripped from his voice like newly spun silk. Kall glared harder, just a little guilty for thinking of everything but the spell while they had been touring the bazaar.
"I didn't think so." Schneider said when Kall didn't respond. He shifted the box to his other arm.
"What is that thing?" Kall hissed in exasperation. It exuded abhorrence.
"It was Amir's. He seemed to treasure it, so I relieved him of it. Its bound to be pissing him off royally."
"And of course, that's your first concern. Annoying this sea captain? How predictable."
Schneider swung around and smiled at him. "If you knew what he suggested about you, you'd wouldn't be so quick to abdicate forgiving behavior."
He moved on through the crowd, still eyeing the dancer. She held out her swaying arms invitingly.
"What did he suggest about me?" One had to ask, since it had been left tantalizingly unsaid.
"You don't want to know."
Of course he wanted to know. He wouldn't have asked if he didn't. He pressed his lips tight and held his silence.
"Hello. Hello there. I have been looking for you, most gracious one."
A pudgy, sweating little dark skinned man wove in and out of the pedestrians, waving his arms in their direction. Kall glanced at Schneider curiously. Schneider shrugged.
"Local peon." He explained and stared at the little merchant as the man puffed up before him.
"What do you want?" Schneider asked flatly, just a little dangerously, his immediate forward path blocked.
"Oh, most glorious jamad ja'da, I have discovered information that will be of great interest to you."
"Have you really?"
One had to wonder how long one had been unconscious for Schneider to have already formed informational alliances.
"About the ships that sail from the east." The merchant clarified and Kall's interest was suddenly pricked.
"What ships?" He stepped up beside Schneider and the merchant eyed him warily.
"I have found a trader that knows all the likely port of calls for ships trafficking in foreign slaves. He will talk to you for a price."
"A price for you or for him?" Schneider inquired.
"Why for both of us of course. I left my booth for half a day to run your errand."
Schneider waved a hand airily, seemingly uninterested. "I suppose I could make the time."
Kall glared at him, the merchant shifted uneasily, put off balance by well orchestrated disinterest.
"Well don't just stand there, we haven't all day." Schneider snapped and the merchant winced, then beckoned them to follow as he dove back into the steadily moving crowd.
Schneider cast a smug look to Kall-Su. "Well?"
"Well what?"
"No heartfelt apology for doubting my concern for your interests?"
"No." Kall agreed, not in the frame of mind for capitulation. Schneider sniffed, put upon and unappreciated. Kall ground his teeth, not about to be sucked into the act. He was not ready to forgive for things said about Lily.
Through the market and into a less crowded street. Narrower, with low sandstone buildings crowding each side. The brine smell of the ocean was stronger here, away from the myriad perfumes of the market. But they were not heading towards the ocean. Instead the merchant led them back towards the uninhabited, ancient section of town.
There was a shifting of shadows and a group of turbaned, robed men with wickedly curved swords stepped out into the dusty street before them. Neither Schneider or Kall-Su bothered to look over their shoulders at the movement they heard from the rear. More robed ambushers no doubt.
"My. It appears you've been betrayed." Kall observed dryly. Schneider cast him a dark look at the tone. The little merchant hurried forward, past the line of sword bearing men, and only hesitated to call over his shoulder apologetically.
"If gold is offered on each side, the wise man turns neither down." Then he scampered down the street.
A broad shouldered man dressed differently from the others stepped forward. Kall held no memory of him, but Schneider's eyes narrowed and a hiss vented through his teeth.
"Sea rat." He said.
"Land snake." The seasnake responded with a tight smile. "Did you think to steal from me in my own land?"
"Steal? That's a matter of opinion, isn't it? You have to own something properly before its yours to be stolen, Amir."
"Everything you stole, I owned."
Schneider laughed, shaking his initial irritation. "And tell me what that might be."
"Why yourself, jamad ja'da, that pretty blonde thing beside you and most importantly the box you hold in your hands."
"Care to try and stake a claim? I dare you. I double dare you."
One had to take offense at being referred to as a pretty blonde thing, but indignity came second place to the budding realization that this was the captain who had taken them. That this man might know better than anyone else where Lily had been taken.
"If you insist." Captain Amir said stubbornly, obviously in no wise concerned for his own continued existence. Or obviously not realizing how badly the sea had ruptured their powers.
"Wait." An aged and authoritative voice echoed down the deserted street. The dark robed warriors shifted and moved aside to let a stately, white robed man through. Gray streaked beard. Immaculate turban and overrobes. Eyes as hard and as dark and as assuming of his own power as any lord or king back home.
"It is not captain Amir's chest to contend over. It is mine."
He said mine as if in the royal sense. Schneider lifted a brow at him. He had never, ever been impressed with blooded titles.
"And this means --- what to me, exactly, old man?"
There was more shifting of the men around them. The swords itched to taste the blood of the irreverent man who spoke so rudely to their lord.
"It means you have stolen from me, foreigner. Not some nameless brother of the sea."
"And who are you?"
"The Moulay Zainab." Amir supplied when the old man lifted his chin proudly. "Very powerful. I would recommend against aggravating him -- which I realize is a difficult thing for you, landsnake."
Schneider's smile broadened. He was being entertained by this. Kall was listening to it all with growing speculation.
"He stole it from you?" Schneider asked.
"He stole it for me. It is mine."
"Oh, god, now we're back to that whole stolen goods -- ownership issue again." Schneider feigned a look of trepidation. He shifted the chest in his hands. "I don't know. I sorta like this box. Its foul reek grows on you."
"You haven't opened it?" the moulay seemed to hold his breath.
Schneider shrugged. "Who has the time?"
"If you want your box," Kall stepped past Schneider, tired of the word play. "You may have it. For a price."
"You wish."
"No price. It is mine already."
Two oppositions at once. Kall cast a warning glare at Schneider, urging silently for him to cooperate.
"It is not yours." He stated. "And you will die trying to take it. If your captain thinks otherwise, he apparently does not realize the sea surrounds us to protect him no longer."
The Moulay glanced sidelong at Amir, who shrugged and admitted. "Perhaps the ajmal djinn has a point."
"Djinn?" the old man's eyes lit up with interest. "Kafir Djinn, my lord. Foreign magics that have no place here."
The men behind the old man and the captain shifted a little uneasily at the few words they could understand. Superstitious men then.
"Perhaps we will talk, then. Of this price you want." Zainab said carefully.
Kall let go the breath he was holding and assumed his emotionless, ice lord face. He inclined his head shortly and heard a huff of distaste from Schneider.
"Talk all you want. I'm not going to bore myself with this drivel. I'll be over here. With my box." He sauntered over the shade of a doorless entry and sat down in the half darkness of the shadowed stairwell inside.
All the eyes watched him, then slowly drifted back to Kall-Su. "What I want is quite simple. I want the captives taken from the town where I was attacked. Your captain knows the one."
"I can give you the ship." Amir said. "But the slaves are long sold."
The ice face faltered. It felt for a moment as if the breath had been knocked out of him. It took him a precious few seconds to get his facade back into place. No, no, no.
"How long could it have been? You've only been in this port a day. No longer."
"This port is far beyond the one my comrades would have put into. The great slave city of Bahrein we passed many, many days ago. Those captives would have been sold and taken away by now."
"Taken where?"
"Why, where ever their new masters decreed, of course."
Almost, Kall struck out in anger. Power that he hadn't controlled in too long a time swirled in anger around him.
"Inquiries can be made." The moulay said. "If these slaves are so important, they can be found. But my property first."
"Its not your property. It's his." Kall-Su reminded them with a slight nod of his head towards the enclave where Schneider reclined. "Perhaps I might persuade him to relinquish it to you, if you were willing to give me guarantees ---"
"Guarantees?" the Moulay Zainab laughed, revealing, stained, rotten teeth. A surprise considering the man's obvious self importance. "I own half the desert, Kafir Djinn. My word is as the word of Allah."
An old deity. From the old world and still it survived, even after Ansasla. A persistence of beliefs that had not endured in Kall-Su's land. His people drifted from god to god, looking for salvation that very seldom came.
"I will take you to Bahrein and my sycophants will make inquiries. I will promise you the aide of my resources."
It was so damned little to go on. So damned uncertain to trust this man's word. But there was a certain honor to his face. Not honesty or generosity, but pride that would not allow him to blithely promise what he would not deliver. What else had they to go on, strangers in this very foreign land? If a bargain struck now got him closer to Lily, he would strike it. If the moulay reneged, then he would make him pay. No other options at the moment made themselves available.
"All right. Agreed." Now the difficult part. Making Schneider see past his own stubborn pride and give up what he considered a trophy of battle or wits or whatever over Captain Amir.
He walked over to the doorway. Schneider leaned against the stone steps, looking up at him.
"Please." Soft entreaty that the others could not hear.
"I don't like them."
"Nor I, particularly, but time is of the essence. If they can offer help -- we cannot ignore it. You don't know this place. I certainly don't. What hope of finding her if we can not find aid from someone who does? Please, DS -- help me with this."
Schneider's lip curled. He tossed the chest up at Kall. Kall caught it, surprised at the easy capitulation. He nodded once, heartfelt gratitude, and strode back to stand before Zainab and Amir. The moulay's eyes lit eagerly upon the chest. Amir watched him, dark eyes full of curious speculation.
"You are," the captain remarked. "Considerably more impressive when you're not senseless and trying to wretch up the last of your life on my decks."
Kall stared at him flatly, uncomfortable with the notion that he had been in this man's power for weeks and recalled nothing of it. He only had Schneider's words to go on. And Schneider's version of things were often colored to soothe his own ego.
Kall offered the chest into the Moulay's hands. The man flinched visibly, effected by the wards. His veined hands pulled back and he gave Amir an offended look. Amir shrugged and took it from Kall, speaking a few words to banish the wards. Zainab took the chest, trembling fingers fumbling with the catch and throwing the lid back.
He stared for a moment into its hidden depths, then his eyes lifted with rage and he cried.
"Thief!! Its empty. We had a bargain."
Kall blinked, taking a step forward to look into the box even as Amir did. The men behind the Moulay lifted swords threateningly.
"The bargain was for the box." Schneider's lazy voice drifted up from behind. "Nobody said anything about what was in it."
He sauntered out from his shadows with a sibilant slither of silken robes and innate, dangerous grace. One could mistake him for nothing but a predator, regardless of dress.
"What was all the fuss about anyway?" he asked, razor sharp sweetness in his tone. From the folds of his overrobe, he withdrew a gilded, gem encrusted bottle. It was scuffed and the topaz glass between the gold gilding hazy with age. Most of the settings that had once held gems were empty sockets.
The Moulay's eyes went wide, then narrowed with simmering indignation. "Give it here!! Take it from him!!" he waved a hand and the men with swords advanced. Schneider laughed. The air was split with the reverberating sound of thunder. A bolt of energy hit the ground between him and the men approaching from behind. It drowned the air in pulsating, electricity, throwing mere mortals back, making clothing crackle with static. The warriors behind the Moulay hesitated. The Moulay did. Amir was mouthing the words to a spell. Kall saw his chances at alliance slipping away.
"Schneider. Damn you." He whirled, not having the slightest idea what he might do to prevent more violence. Certainly no action against Schneider.
"What is it? Some millennium old wine? Rare perfume?" Schneider's fingers went to the ornate glass stopper.
"No." The moulay cried. And the old man himself rushed past Kall, heedless of the danger he approached. Kall caught his shoulder, jerking him to a halt. But the damage was done. The bottle was unstopped and Schneider was bending his nose to take a whiff.
And rather suddenly got a faceful of noxious fumes. It smelled of an odd mixture of sulfur and jasmine. He gagged, jerking his head back, tossing the bottle from him like it had grown hot. It hit the dusty road and rocked back and forth, still spewing smoke. The lot of them, except for Schneider who was wiping involuntary tears from his eyes, stared at the thick mass of fog forming over the bottle. It took shape. Human shape. Arms, legs, head, all formed out of greenish white smoke. A voice drifted, as elusive as smoke, through the air.
Free. Free. I'm free.
"Yes." The Moulay breathed, trembling under Kall-Su's hand. "Allah be praised. Yes. Its mine. Mine."
The smoke solidified, took on substance and color and in its wake hovered an incredibly curvaceous, quite stunningly lovely, black haired female. Diaphanous skirts swirled around legs banded with gold bracelets. Gold coins and sparkling gems dangled from an immodest halter top. Rings with bells and charms jangled on her arms. Black eyes surveyed them all, and finally settled on Schneider, who was only just recovering from the face full of smoke that was her emergence. The uncertainty of her gaze melted away into an expression of pure adoration.
"Thank you Allah. Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you. This is the best gift I could ever have asked for."
At which point her feet hit the ground and she flung herself upon Schneider, wrapping her arms around his neck, which was a good deal higher than her own, and fastening her ruby red lips upon his. He staggered a little, caught off guard and quite thoroughly, one had to assume, surprised by the assault. Whether he broke the kiss, or she did was pure conjecture. But when they separated, she was beaming and he a little flabbergasted.
"Master," she purred. "Your wish is my command."