Oh, Tabîlah dear,

Bring a glass to me, lass,

Bring a glass to me, lass

And a serving of sass-

S̆ams̆ādur was too deep in his cups for his voice to have its usual rich baritone, but he roared along with the crowd in the tavern anyway. As the verse ended, he tipped the mug of ale to his lips and downed it in a single draught.

"Ah, that's the stuff," he sighed as he slammed the mug down on the bar and wiped the ale's froth from his beard. The last few months had truly sucked. He'd been exiled from his home, attacked by assassins, and gang-pressed into another man's war - and not just one war, but two! - but nothing could ruin the pleasant buzz running through him. There weren't many things a pretty woman and a good, stiff drink couldn't fix and, today, he'd had his fill of both. Better yet, he had plenty more days like this to look forward to, as long as Jasper didn't hurry back too quickly.

He swayed in his seat, half a mind to call the barkeep over for another ale, but there were two of them now and he couldn't decide which one to call. "Eh, might as well sleep it off," he grunted. The prince stumbled as he slipped off the stool, but caught himself against the bar, accidentally smashing the mug in the process.

"Hey!" The barkeeps called in unison.

"Sorry." S̆ams̆ādur fumbled with his pouch and flipped a coin toward the twins before stumbling off to find the stairs. His head cleared slightly as the raucous singing and heat-soaked tavern faded behind him, replaced by the ever-present chill of the barely heated upper floors - the cost of not being able to find a tavern in a better part of town.

The first door he tried proved not to be his, and with muttered apologies, he moved down the hall, jiggling the handles until he found the right one.

"Kruvas̆," he cursed, as he realized the fire in the hearth had gone out, leaving the room plunged in darkness. He stomped over to the fire, fumbling for the flint and steel, but slowed as the door clicked shut. I didnae shut it, did I?

Light flooded the room as the candle on the nightstand was lit, and S̆ams̆ādur surged to his feet. The adrenaline rushing through his system was enough to mostly sober him up, though he still slightly swayed as he turned around to face his attacker. Where's my bloody axe?

"Grab him." A deep masculine voice ordered and before S̆ams̆ādur could wriggle away, his arms were pinned to his side and his fingers crushed as tightly bound bags were forced over his fingers, preventing him from casting a spell.

"Stop struggling, durgu - we're not here to hurt you. Just want to ask some questions."

Despite the man's words, S̆ams̆ādur tried once more to free himself, but it was a pointless endeavor. The pair of warriors pinning back his arms was simply too strong. With a growl of frustration, he finally glanced up at the figure sitting on his bed.

The pale skin and long black hair almost led him to believe the man was one of the elves of Onkodos Laos, but the lack of antlers said otherwise. He shifted his attention to the men holding him and stiffened as he saw their red skin. "You're a Djinn." It took his alcohol-addled mind a moment longer to reach the obvious conclusion. "You're that general Jasper was going on about."

The commander's smile was not a pleasant one as he leaned forward, examining him harshly. "So you're the mind mage."

Kruvas̆. The Djinn's actions suddenly made sense. "Aye," he admitted begrudgingly. "My powers do tend that way, but I've never taken any spells that allow me to force people's minds."

"And I should simply believe you?"

"If I could compel people to do my bidding, why would I let your men take me prisoner?" S̆ams̆ādur pointed out.

Ardûl pulled a chain around his neck, revealing one of the Fey amulets. "I came prepared."

"Then you already know I can't hurt you. So what, for kruvas̆-sake, do you want from me? How can I prove I'm not a threat?"

"I'm glad you asked." The commander lifted his left hand off his lap, revealing a large, red crystal he'd been covering.

"What's that?"

"An artifact our king lent me," Ardûl replied. "Emarukkû." The guard he spoke to pried S̆ams̆ādur's hand up and drew his dagger.

"We just need a few drops of blood," the Moon-kissed explained as the prince tried futilely to break free.

"A few drops? For what?" he asked suspiciously.

"Once we smear your blood on the crystal, you'll meditate, and the crystal will allow me to see your skills. After we've verified you have no mind-control spells, you'll be free to go."

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

"That's all?" S̆ams̆ādur questioned. "I'm not keen on letting you have my blood."

"You can wash it down the drain with your own hands once we're done," the Djinn promised.

He wasn't happy about it in the slightest, but S̆ams̆ādur knew he was in no position to bargain. Perhaps, if he hadn't been drunk and could have escaped to rally his men, but as it was... "Fine," he sighed. "Just get it over with."

The man holding him nicked his lower arm and smeared the blood over the crystal before tossing it back to Ardûl. "Now, meditate," the Moon-kissed commanded.

It took S̆ams̆ādur longer than usual to slip into meditation - and that was saying something, as he was generally crap at it - but eventually he calmed his mind down enough to slip into his patron's realm. If Ardûl was tagging along with him somehow, it wasn't obvious, but the durgu did as he'd been instructed. He opened his screen, slowly scrolling through all of his abilities, and then he returned.

"Looks like you were telling the truth," the Djinn greeted him as he opened his eyes. "Lord Yas̆peh spoke well of you, but I'm sure you can understand why I had to be sure his opinion hadn't been…compromised.

"I understand," S̆ams̆ādur gritted. Sure, it didn't make him any less annoyed with the commander's high-handed treatment of him, but he did understand. Only fools trusted an unknown mind mage. "But now that I've proved I'm not a threat, I'm gonna have to ask you to leave."

"Actually," the Moon-kissed tapped his finger against his lips thoughtfully. "Having seen your spells, I believe we might be able to come to a mutually beneficial understanding."

Of course. S̆ams̆ādur huffed. "Let me guess - there's someone you want me to spy on. To pry into their mind and spill all their secrets."

Ardûl shrugged. "There might be a few I have in mind," he agreed.

"No thanks," the durgu replied. "I've done enough dirty work for my father and, frankly, look where it got me." He gestured sarcastically at the rundown room. "I didn't slip his leash just to wind up on yours - find somebody else to be your pet truth teller."

"I suppose I can understand that," the Moon-kissed drawled. "But, somehow, I'd thought you'd be more interested in a chance to take a little revenge against your father."

S̆ams̆ādur stiffened. "And how exactly would helping you accomplish that?"

Ardûl's smile was an unpleasant thing that somehow brought to the mind the image of a coiled viper, but he could sense the sincerity in the Djinn's next words. "Because I am almost certain some of his agents are in Abāya. I just need a little help pinning them down."

Leaving the others to get dried off and warm in the tavern, Jasper retrieved the horse carrying the bandit's body and followed Damqa back into the storm. The rain was coming down harder now, a bitterly cold rain that was only worsened by the strong winds that buffeted the narrow valley. Massive puddles pooled in the streets, small whirlpools forming above grates that struggled to accommodate their flow.

"Does the weather always suck this much," Jasper asked as he trailed after her.

"Mostly," she called back, yelling over the howling wind, "but you came at the worst time of the year. The storms are always wilder in spring. If you were visiting in summer, you'd almost certainly see the sun at least once a month." Her little laugh at the end told Jasper she was joking, and he chuckled in turn.

"A whole day every month - it's a wonder you don't all die of heatstroke." They slogged further down the street, threading the needle between the rapidly growing puddles as she led him toward one of the largest buildings in the village. Compared to the temples he'd seen elsewhere, the local shrine was not much to look at. It had a sturdy stone base and an elaborately tall wooden roof that reminded him of old Scandinavian stave churches, but it lacked any further ornamentation on the outside.

The interior, however, was not so spartan. Brightly colored tapestries covered nearly every inch of the walls, depicting elaborate scenes of Selene and her court. An amateurish wooden statue stood behind the altar, but it was lovingly decorated, with fresh, bright paint, a stunning blue dress, and a fine fur cloak wrapped around its shoulders.

Jasper felt a touch of irritation as he looked at the statue of Selene, but he begrudgingly shoved it aside. As much as he was annoyed at her interference, he understood the goddess didn't mean any harm. It just sucked that she acted like a meddling tia. At least she's not trying to marry me off, he consoled himself - that is where he would really draw the line.

"Lord Yas̆peh?" As Damqa nudged his arm, Jasper realized he had drifted off into thought.

"Sorry," he apologized, brushing his soaked hair out of his eyes. "Didn't get much sleep last night. What were you saying?"

A man he hadn't noticed rose from his knees and nodded politely. "Damqa was just introducing you, my lord." The priest was a man on the cusp of old age though still hale and hearty in body, his once black hair had long since turned to pepper, and the lines on his face were deep and well-worn. Interest sparked in his eyes as he looked at Jasper, though, and he cocked his head curiously. "Pardon my impertinence, Lord Yas̆peh, but I'm curious about your heritage. You look neither elf, nor Fey, nor troll."

"Djinn.

The priest's curiosity only deepened. "I can't say I've ever seen a Djinn, my lord, but the descriptions don't do you justice. I'd heard they were horned like the elves - or are only some of you horned?"

"Eh, most are," Jasper grimaced, "But not all. The Moon-kissed and the Dayyāmut - what I am - don't have horns." He didn't feel the need to mention that he was the only Dayyāmut currently alive.

"Fascinating!" The priest leaned forward for a closer look. "Perhaps, if you could spare the time, you could tell more about your people. I've kept a travel log of all the races that have passed through our little fort and would love to add your stories."

"Angallû," Damqa said reprovingly, and the priest straightened up.

"Of course, I'm sure that's not why you're here, my lord. Was there something you needed? Perhaps a blessing from Selene?"

Jasper glanced around the small shrine again before replying. "Actually, the task is a bit grisly. We were attacked last night by some of the bandits plaguing the fort. Managed to kill one of them, but there was something off about him - I think dark magic was at work. We brought the body with us in the hopes you might be able to examine it."

The priest craned his head to peer around him. "You have the body with you," he asked, confused.

"Left it outside; didn't want to desecrate the chapel."

"I'd prefer to keep it out of the shrine myself, but if there is dark magic afoot," the priest grimaced. "Tis best to examine it beneath Selene's aegis. You can bring it here."

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