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This is the second part of chapter 3, so it doesn't get a new stanza from Señor. That will come with the next update. I hope you all enjoy this bit! Let me know what you think.

Layla

Sitting at a table in the large open room that served as a dining hall for the Valley's occupants, Garsiv sipped carefully at his cup of fermented goat's milk. He enjoyed his wine, but the goat's milk was an acquired taste. Bis seemed to be fine with it, but he and Dastan had the annoying ability to drink anything without blinking.

He let his eyes wander around the large room. All manner of civilization was present, and though his clothes clearly marked him as some level of nobility, no one paid him the slightest attention. Such an odd collection of people, but so typical of Dastan. Prince and street rat in equal measure, he attracted the most diverse group of people to him.

Bis returned, his gait exaggerated to make him look more drunk than he was. Stumbling along behind him was a man several older than they, with an utterly defeated look on his face. As Bis sat beside Garsiv he gave a quick nod and eyebrow raise to indicated the other man. Continuing his drunken charade, Bis spoke. "When I went to get more," he gestured dangerously with his cup to indicate what he gone to get more of, "and I met Payam. He tells quite a tale. Like us, he was betrayed by the man he served."

Raising a single eyebrow, Garsiv made a pathetic attempt to get his refilled cup of goat's milk from Bis, presenting his own drunken image to the clearly drunk and depressed man. "Come, good man. And tell us your tale. Then we shall tell you ours. And we can mourn our fates together. With alcohol."

Payam sat, taking a precariously large gulp of the milk and began to talk. "I worked for the king's brother," he stated. "Well, it's more than that. My parents were Persian traders, to Turks. But they stole from a wealthy and powerful man." Payam blinked as though the room was spinning around him. "Our family was banished from their lands in disgrace. Even Persia no longer wanted us." He spit on the floor. "But I always wanted to be Persian soldier. To fight for Persia. After that no one would take me. I was going to have to leave."

Seeing that the man was nearly in tears, Garsiv had to force himself not to roll his eyes. Sad stories and copious amount of fermented goat's milk clearly did not set well with this man.

"But I was in the markets of Avrat one day, and helped a noble man with his horse." His eyes widening to comical proportions he continued. "It was the king's own brother. He asked after me, and when I said I needed work, he took me in. He heard my story and took me anyway! It was a great day. I was to help him with a special project. The king needed trust worthy men who could hold their tongues, and he said that was me."

A bleak look settled into Payam's eyes. "For three years, I worked to keep the den running. I made sure no one asked too many questions. I wanted to serve the king, and I did all I could to help. But things began to seem funny. There were secrets that made no sense. But when I asked, he said it was for the king. The terrifying men who trained in the rooms below, with their strange smelling smoke and vicious weapons. Things disappeared. People disappeared. It just kept getting worse."

Payam took another gulp of goat's milk, making Garsiv want to strangle the man to get to the point. "But then word came of the betrayal. I'd never been working for the king at all. I hadn't known, but I knew no one would believe me. So I grabbed the first horse I could find and ran. And now I'm here. Running of out money with nowhere to go. If I tell anyone of this, I will die for treason." Tears slipped down the man's dirty face. He swallowed the last of his goat's milk and his head fell to the table.

Garsiv turned to look at Bis. "Sober him up. We seem to have found another of my uncle's mistakes. Let's see if Dastan can confirm any of what this man says."

With a nod, Bis pulled the man to his feet. "Come with me. You just might have a hope after all."

Garsiv stood up from the table, intending to fetch Dastan, when his brother entered the room, Tamina trailing a half step behind and looking unusually docile. With a small wave of his hand, Garsiv motioned them closer. "We found something. Bis has gone to sober him up."

Dastan nodded, moving to gather some food and drink for him and the princess. As he left Tamina politely asked "did you do well in the races?"

Garsiv grinned. "We did quite well. Bis has a talent for finding good bets. As long as he's not betting on my brother."

Tamina gave him a smile, obviously amused at his enthusiasm. "And does Bis often bet on Dastan?"

He rolled his eyes. "Far too often. When Tus convened the war council to discuss what to do about Alamut, Dastan was found boxing with the best foot soldier in my cavalry. Bis had bet a large sum of money on Dastan winning that fight."

"And did he win?"

Dastan answered, coming up behind her. "We declared it a draw. Since I had to leave halfway through."

"Which was lucky for me, because he wasn't winning at the time." Bis said dryly as he led an almost sober looking Payam back to their table.

"I hadn't lost yet." Dastan retorted, before turning to look directly at Payam. "What brings you to the Valley, friend?" he asked amiably.

Payam looked intently from Dastan to Garsiv and back again. The last of the alcohol cleared from his eyes as he recognized the two men sitting with him. With a start, he stumbled, frantically trying to jump away from the princes.

Bis pressed him back down by the shoulders, as Dastan grabbed his wrist. "Now is your chance to talk. We're in a believing mood. And no one is more aware of what Nizam was capable of than us. Tell us what happened."

His face colorless, sweat beading on his brow, Payam looked between them. "I wanted to serve in the Persian army, to be a good soldier for my king. But I could not. My family was disgraced. Nizam gave me a chance. He said everything I did was a secret task for the king, that I was the perfect man for the job."

The desperation in his eyes reminded Garsiv of the look Dastan had given to Tus when pleading with him to believe that they had been betrayed. Nizam had done so much damage, to so many people.

"He took me to a place in the middle of the desert, a large house in an oasis. It is three days ride from anywhere. He said it was a special project for the king. We were helping train the men who be used to eliminate Koshkan. He said it was a great honor. I was in charge of the supplies, getting what was needed for those of us who lived there."

"For the first year or so, things were fine. But the longer we were out there, the more unusual things became. The men who stayed below, they got more violent. What they did, it became harder to hide. Things started disappearing; people started disappearing. I finally asked the majordomo of the house about things. I couldn't bring myself to ask Nizam. It felt like a betrayal of his trust. But things were getting out of control. It seemed to go against everything the king said he stood for."

Payam took a deep breath, drinking some of the water Bis had placed in front of him. "I was told to keep my mouth shut or I would disappear. And then we heard about you accusing Nizam of treason, and then I knew. I hadn't been helping the king at all."

He reached out and grabbed Dastan's hand. "I did not know, Your Highness. On my honor, I would have never have betrayed my king. I did not know."

Garsiv watched as Dastan looked the man clearly in the eye. He gave Payam's hand a squeeze. "My uncle fooled many men. Even my father."

Payam seemed to realize he'd reached out and grabbed a prince. He bowed his head in obeisance and let go. "As soon as heard Nizam was dead, I ran. I grabbed the first horse I could find. I couldn't think of anywhere else to go." He gave them the first sign of a sense of humor. "I wasn't expecting ostriches when I got here."

Garsiv smirked at the man. "Neither were we."

"Did you see the faces of the men who lived below? Can you describe them to us?" Dastan asked.

As Payam gave details of each man that he remembered, Garsiv watched Dastan carefully. His little brother gave an almost minute nod at the description of the Hassansins. The other men Dastan didn't recognize. Most were down on their luck merchants and servants who had come across Nizam's path, much like Payam had. Two it seemed had been truly loyal to Nizam: the majordomo who ran the household and an unnamed, very old man who could barely get himself out of bed. Of all of them, Payam had liked the old man the least. When he finished his story, Payam watched them anxiously, clearly uncertain what their response would be.

Garsiv turned to face Dastan. "We should send word to father and deal with this desert den."

Dastan nodded. "We will need more men. The three of us will not be enough to handle a den of Hassansins. Tus should have arrived in Nasaf by now. If we continue on, we can deal with the Hassansin who is there, and then gather the men we need to destroy the den."

Garsiv nodded. "We could send this man to father." He turned and gave Payam an appraising look. "One final chance to show his loyalty to his king. Take your story to Alamut. Tell the king all that you have told us."

Payam paled and swallowed, but his eyes burned with resolve. "I will gladly take this tale to the king. But how will he know to listen to me?"

Garsiv reached beneath his shirt and pulled out a medallion on a gold chain. He took it over his head and handed it to the man. "Show the guards this. And tell them you are sent on my word."

Payam took the medallion, slipping it around his neck. "I will not fail you, Your Highness."

Tamina slipped back the scarf that covered her head, allowing him to see her face for the first time. Payam's jaw dropped, his widening as she spoke. "You must go quickly and quietly. Tell no one but the king who sent you or where we are. May the gods keep you safe on your journey."

Payam clearly had no idea who she was, but was more than willing to do anything she asked. "As you ask my lady, I will see it done. I will not fail my king, and I will not fail you."

Tamina nodded, the full weight of princess and priestess behind the gesture, before she adjusted the scarf to once more leave her face in shadow.

Garsiv watched Dastan hide a smirk as he pulled a small cloth bag with coins from his belt. "Take this. Prepare for you journey, you must leave for Alamut at first light."

Payam took the money in surprise, bowing to the group slightly as he left. "I will be gone before the sun rises." He left the room leaving the four of them sitting at the table in silence.

"Think he will make it past the Hassansin and reach Alamut?" Garsiv asked finally.

Dastan shrugged. "They are looking for trouble leaving the city, not coming into it. He stands a better chance than any of us. They will not expect him to seek out the king."

"Are we ready to leave for Nasaf, or is there more still to be done?" Bis asked.

Dastan shook his head. "No, we are ready to go. If we leave at dawn and move quickly, we might get lucky and beat the Hassansin to Nasaf in just over a day. And now we have a description. That should help."

A loud shout pulled their attention to the center of the room. A large man was yelling at one of the serving girls. She was having nothing to do with him, making her rounds among the tables, ignoring the man's insults. When he reached out and tried to grab her hair, Seso appeared almost out of nowhere backing the man down and moving him away from the girl.

Still annoyed at having his romantic attempt thwarted, the man stood up, stumbling with drunkenness, and started for the door. He paused in his steps when his eyes fell on Tamina.

Garsiv tensed slightly, reaching for his sword should the man decide to attack.

Dastan simply wrapped an arm around her abdomen, pulling her back toward him. Tamina followed his touch, draping herself against his chest, and Dastan pulled her hand to his mouth, placing a kiss on the back of it. Leaning against Dastan as though he was her own personal chair, Tamina sent a scathing look at the drunken man.

Garsiv smirked, not sure if he was more amused by the put out drunk or Dastan and Tamina. For two people who bickered as much as they did, and that was all they had done on the ride to the Valley, they got along surprisingly well. And while it was obvious that Dastan was rather smitten with her, Garsiv noticed that Tamina remained leaning against him just a bit longer than necessary. The Alamutian princess wasn't entirely sure how she felt about his little brother, but she was at the very least curious. And now that she had pulled away from Dastan, she wouldn't look him in the eye. The faintest of blushes graced her cheeks.

Amused at seeing the impassive and always collected princess flustered at something as simple as leaning against her future husband, Garsiv pressed the issue. "How is your husband connected to … all that you do? How involved is he?"

Tamina looked at him with a half hearted glare. "He is not. He was supposed to be unaware." Her eyes flickered to Dastan before returning to him. She sat up straight, challenging him to disapprove. "It is written into the marriage contract. The princesses remain as the priestesses of the city. Any female children born of the marriage belong to the line of priestesses. Any sons born belong to the line of the father. Since daughters are of little use to most royal families outside of marriages, it is easy to get the husband's family to agree. They generally think the women of Alamut are overly pious, but they rarely complain. They gain the title of King Consort, have several children, and their sons return to their own kingdoms blessed by the Alamutian gods."

Garsiv laughed outright. "You couldn't have picked a worse husband. He knows about everything, and his children have no more claim to the Persian thrown than he does."

Tamina gave him a glare that was both confused and annoyed. "Yes. I am quite aware that Dastan breaks every rule possible for my husband. But tell me," she glanced between him and Dastan, "how did a woman who had already married and born children marry the King of Persia?"

Garsiv and Dastan exchanged amused glances. Garsiv answered. "My father has only taken virgin brides. Dastan is not royal by blood, but by adoption."

Tamina looked at Dastan in surprise. "Adopted. From where?"

"Nasaf. I was born in the slums of Nasaf." Dastan's voice was gentle, his eyes focused only on Tamina. "I had no family besides Bis."

Tamina simply looked at Dastan. "Then how did you become a prince?"

Garsiv watched the two watch each other. He was quite certain Dastan had never looked quite so earnest when telling everyone about his past. "The king found me in the streets. He took me home and gave me a family. He gave me my first home."

Bis snorted lightly. "The king found you in the streets because you challenged one of his nobles for hitting me. You always leave that part out."

Tamina reluctantly turned from Dastan to Bis, her eyes questioning. "He challenged a noble?"

Garsiv watched with interest as Bis related the story. Tamina kept glancing between Dastan, who had a slightly sheepish expression on his face when Bis praised him, and Bis, who loved to torture Dastan by telling the story. Garsiv was surprised to see faint edges of trepidation appear in her eyes. When Bis finished, Tamina was staring resolutely into Dastan's eyes. "You are truly touched by the gods. More than ever, I know you were meant to find the dagger." She looked away.

Unable to read the look in her eyes, Garsiv was surprised when Dastan reached out a hand and placed it beneath her chin, lifting her eyes to his. "We make our own destiny, Tamina. We can make our own choices."

Garsiv started to give his own opinion on the matter when Tamina snapped back at Dastan that the gods had their plan and it must be followed. As the two continued to bicker, Bis leaned over and stage whispered to Garsiv. "Do you think they realize how close they get when they argue?"

The comment made him snort. "I think that's half the reason they argue."

Bis gave him a grin. Sitting back and crossing their arms over their chests, Garsiv and Bis sat back and observed the display, happily coming up with new ways to torment the prince over his future wife.

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