Kaal jumped to his feet before the end of the word 'fucked.' Nazir's hand immediately went to his sword by reflex and realized he'd misjudged the situation. The captain straightened, turned to Baaku, and dipped his head in a ceremonious show of respect, coming up a little too fast than one ought to have done. "Baaku Kha'a." The address was formal, if edged with something keen enough to bleed the receiver, the expression was masked aggression, held back by a thin, thin line.

It made sense, Nazir thought, removing his hand from the blade, both the respect paid and the aggression being held back. Kaal was an orann and a mere captain. Baaku, as kha'a, outranked him by at least five titles. The city was filled to the brim with White Warriors. Here, protocols were observed as strictly as any army's headquarters, if not a royal palace.

Baaku ignored the man, turned to Nazir and proceeded to make himself comfortable. "We need to talk."

That, they did. "Not here," Nazir said crisply, sweeping his eyes around the tavern, found a few Whites from his khagan watching. Across the table, Kaal was still standing, waiting for permission to sit down. Nazir turned to him and nodded.

"In private, if you don't mind," Baaku said, crisply.

Kaal straightened again halfway through reclaiming his seat and glanced at Nazir for direction. An order from a kha'a was to be respected, only there were two kha'as seated at the table whose commands contradicted each other, and he belonged to neither of their khagan.

"Sit down, captain. That is an order," he commanded without turning to look at Kaal, raised his voice a little too loud and realized more heads were turning their direction, took it down a notch. "You are not welcomed at this table. Leave, Baaku Kha'a, before I call on my men."

The formality of address should have been enough to remind Baaku where they were. The display of hostility should have been enough to bring the man to his senses. Approaching him this way was both stupid and inconsiderate. The heat between their two khagans was at its peak. They could not be seen having a conversation in public unless it was to declare war with each other. Baaku should know this. There were also a few Kamaras in that tavern, watching.

"You call them," said Baaku, lightly, nonchalantly, "and I will throw you on this table and kiss you right here, never mind who's watching. Give it a rest, Nazir. The entire desert and its stinking camels know about us. They'll talk whether or not we're talking. You might as well take that stick out of your ass and breathe for a second." He turned to look over his shoulder, pitched his voice to carry. "Any of you fucks have a problem go say goodbye to your mother and we take it outside. Yeah, you, me, and my axe. Go on, get in line."

Nazir shut his eyes, realized he needed to rope in his anger before he strangled the man to death, and began counting to ten. Didn't make it past five when the screech of three chairs from the far end of the room jerked his eyes open. The same sound, repeated within seconds by a different set of chairs, erupted in answer before he had time to look at the first.

The room went into shocked silence, as if someone had just burst in through the door and tossed a severed head in the middle of it. Nazir followed the gaze of the guests in that tavern, found three Visarya Whites whose names had slipped his mind up on their feet, sheathed sword gripped tight and ready to come out. Four tables down, five Kamaras stood, also with weapons in hand, staring at the first three. Kaal stepped protectively in front of him, fingering the pommel of his sword. Next to him, Baaku sat with both hands on the table, drumming his fingers leisurely, didn't even move a brow. The rest of the population flicked their gaze back and forth between the two tables, holding their breaths in anticipation for the fight of the week.

One of the standing Visaryas' hand twitched––

Nazir grabbed his sword, lifted it off the ground and hammered it back down against the stone floor. The loud clank of steel against stone ripped apart the silence in the room, jerked every pair of eyes toward him. "Don't," Nazir hissed, whipped his head to face the three standing Visaryas as he raised his voice to a roar, "even think about clearing that blade or I will gut you myself and two generations of your bloodline. Sit. The. Fuck. Down. All of you."

Three seconds, Nazir thought, watching the three men, noticing just now a few more angry faces from the smaller khagans under his rule being in the tavern, watching. Three seconds is all you have to get this under control or there will be an internal war. Three seconds, and you will have to follow through with that promise.

One.

Baaku, still as chill as a fish in water raised a hand and gave his men a signal to stand down. It did the job, but the ones from the Visarya were still standing. Nazir tightened the grip on his sword, kept his eyes pinned on the three men, biting down the urge to jump off his seat and start a fight that might have had something to do with the khizrar crash he was having.

Two.

No movements from the men. Nazir grounded his teeth, was about to get off the seat in earnest when a hand touched his shoulder. Looked up and saw Kaal giving him a nod of assurance before turning to address the crowd.

"My name is Kaal izr Naveen," he said to no one in particular, in a voice made for the most formal announcement. "Captain of the Ma'devi's personal guards, here to ensure the safety of the kha'as of Visarya and Kamara khagan as her guests. Anyone who brings them harm will be tried for treason in the High Court of Citara. The kha'as have important matters to discuss tonight which I will facilitate. If you have a complaint––" Kaal swept his eyes around the room, looking for a taker before ending the statement. "––file it against the Ma'devi."

It brought them back to their seats grumbling, but you didn't mess with the Ma'devi unless you were ready to get your entire khagan in trouble. Nazir could grab the captain and kiss the man right now for having the wits to interfere. Then again, for someone who spent that much time in the White Tower, such wisdom should come standard.

Next to them, Baaku was grinning like a ringside gambler at Raviyani who'd just won a bet.

Sometimes he did want to hack that head off, willingly, Nazir realized.

Kaal pulled the curtain to close the private area and seated himself, no permission needed from either of the kha'as this time, not after he'd dropped the Ma'devi's involvement on all of them. "I'm afraid I have to stay during this conversation." Kaal turned to address Nazir, alone. "Feel free to discuss what you need to. The information will be safe with me. I swear it by my zikh."

"An easy thing to say, captain," said Baaku, rubbing his finger back and forth over a scratch on the table. "But what's to be discussed is a private matter. Tell me where you're staying." He turned to Nazir. "I'll come by later."

Nazir shook his head, felt the beginning of a headache as he did. "There is nothing private to be discussed between us. You can say what you need to say right here and leave." Take the hint, Baaku, we can't afford to do this right now.

Baaku caught his eyes. "This is important."

"Then say it here."

The finger on the scratch moved faster. Baaku did that whenever something got on his nerves or stressed him out. He had a feeling it wasn't Kaal, however. "I don't trust him," said Baaku.

"I do." It came out of him before he finished thinking about it, possibly due to the craving for khizar that was making him cranky as hell.

Baaku's fidgeting hand froze over the spot, his expression matched the tightness of that finger now pressing down. His lips barely moved when the response came. "So soon?"

Nazir caught those green eyes, put up a mask of indifference, and rode the unmissable sharpness he heard in Baaku's tone to put something to rest. "I fucked him, remember?" he said. "Several times."

It had to end, somehow. Neither of them could afford another misstep, especially Baaku who had been called to Citara for a trial, having been charged with facilitating the death of his own father. A charge made by his uncle who would make the next kha'a should Baaku be executed or stripped of his title. For Baaku to be seen talking to him was the worst idea for the time being, and he was hoping to use Kaal to end it, among other things the captain was useful for.

Not that it was the first time, or even the second. Both of them had been with different partners throughout the years. They had been khumars, both at their prime and expected to be looking for a wife every Raviyani to sire an heir. Such was an understanding that needn't be voiced from the beginning. Sleeping with another man, however, was a different story. It ought to be, in any case.

Next to him, Baaku sat in a thoughtful silence, drumming his fingers on the table, his expression flat as a sword. His eyes flickered once to Kaal, caused the young captain to stiffen like someone had just dumped cold water down his spine, and then back to him.

"It isn't working, you know?" said Baaku.

"What doesn't work?"

"Whatever it is you think you're doing." He leaned back against the chair, rocking it gently. "Five years we've known each other. You think I can't tell your bullshit when you toss one at me? You think I care which poor soul you pick to entertain you when I'm not around?"

Nazir resisted the urge to look at the poor soul being mentioned, and decided he needed another khizrar hit immediately. "Perhaps there's a good reason why you shouldn't be around. You might think about that sometimes."

"Fuck your reasons," Baaku swore, brushing the issue aside like an irritating fly. "I told you I don't run from a fight I can't win. I'm not running, Nazir. Give it up. You want to talk here? Fine, let's talk here. You want to bring him into this and kill him later? Be my guest." He turned to Kaal, made sure it was understood loud and clear. "And he will kill you, captain, or I will, if you get in the way. That is the nature of what you're about to hear. Do you still insist on hearing it, or do you want to tell me where he's staying?"

It dawned on Nazir then, shamefully late and out of his own ignorance, the reason why Baaku was really here. There was something else bigger than all of this they had been planning together and working toward, bigger than the two of them. Somewhere along the way, between guilt and trying to fix the more immediate problems, he'd lost sight of that beacon. And it felt like being slapped awake just now, like having a bucket of water upended upon him.

He turned then, to the captain who was being given a choice he didn't know enough about to make, saw him make it anyway. "I insist." Kaal nodded, no need to think too hard about it at all.

It probably wasn't even a choice, Nazir realized belatedly. To Kaal, Baaku was competition, and pride would never allow him to back out of it. But is it pride or possessiveness, I wonder? Nazir suppressed a shudder over that thought. One was easily dealt with, the other a problem.

A problem for another time. I'll deal with it later. "Go on," he told Baaku.

Baaku stilled for a moment, as if to give both of them time to change their minds, then nodded when he knew it wasn't going to happen. "You have the halfblood prince, don't you?"

Kaal drew a sharp breath at that, turned to look at Nazir, wide-eyed. The truth was, it caught Nazir as much as a surprise as the captain. "What makes you think I have the prince?"

"I have spies." Baaku shrugged.

"In my council?" Those were the only ones who knew, and even then not all did.

"No, Nazir," said Baaku. "In the Black Desert, in Samarra, in Rasharwi. I told you many times, we need information to win this war. I knew the prince had been sent to Sarasef, and now he's gone missing. Word has it that you've been visited by a young man who matches his description. The conclusion isn't hard to draw. What do you plan to do with him? Where is the Sparrow? I know he's no longer with you. Is Muradi alive?"

A lot of questions, thrown at him all at once, telling Nazir they had been bothering him for a while. They hadn't communicated since the day their fathers died. Couldn't, not with the entire camp keeping a close eye on him and probably on Baaku.

Nazir ignored the questions, skipped over to the more important issues. "You have spies in Rasharwi. How is it now?"

"Not good." Baaku grinned. "A lot of people are still angry about the death of their salar. Believe Azram did it. There seems to be someone spreading those rumors. A small riot broke out just a week ago, a few days after Azram put the dead commander's head on display and framed him. The most interesting thing is, two days ago, the head went missing," he said, caught Nazir's eyes, a knowing smile playing about his lips. "He's alive isn't he? The bharavi too?"

Kaaal swallowed, listening. Nazir made no reply. "And the provinces?" he asked.

"Saracen and his men have relocated to Samarra by Azram's invitation. They pretty much control the ports now. Town folks aren't too happy about it, but with the governor being grandfather to the new salar, don't expect them to rise against Rasharwi. Khandoor is largely controlled by di Amarra so it's secure, but he does have enemies and business rivals we can probably use. Cakora and Harathi have been talking behind closed doors, or so I heard. I'd say, this is as good an opportunity as we're going to get to make a move."

"And it's not going to last for long," Nazir agreed.

"No," said Baaku. "It won't. People are forgetful. Given time, with the help of di Amarra, Azram could secure the throne and the people's trust if the Khandoor finds it profitable. By the time Azram takes full control of the throne, if an internal war hasn't happened, it won't happen. We have a year at most to make a move while the heat is at its peak."

Maybe even less, Nazir thought. They had to move quickly to ride this opportunity. Muradi being alive was beneficial, after all, if the citizens of Rasharwi would rise up for him. And from the sound of it, they would. "We can use the missing head to spread the words that Muradi is alive," said Nazir, thoughtfully. "Can your men do that?"

"And incite a riot? Sure. It will happen quickly once the word is out. When will you be ready?"

That was the problem. He needed to be able to keep the khagans under control, find enough alliances before making a move against the Salasar, and right now, without his father, the Visarya was in the exact same situation as Rasharwi, only they didn't have Deo di Amarra to fix it. But that was also a part of why he was here in Citara. To fix it.

"The prince is with us, yes, and seems willing to cooperate," explained Nazir. "The Sparrow is being trained on Al-Sana. I'm hoping that he can get Akai izr Imami to back us when the time comes. If I can get the Ma'devi to sign off on holding Prince Lasura as leverage and allow us to form an official alliance with Sarasef then––" He paused, thought about it for a second. "––six months, give or take a few weeks." Six months was a stretch, but that was all the time he had and it was possible. If everything goes as planned.

"Six months to do what?" said Kaal who had been listening quietly until then. Nazir had almost forgotten he was there.

Baaku cast a warning look at him, and Nazir nodded in acknowledgement. It was time, he supposed, to bring the captain into the equation. They did need a reliable pair of eyes and ears in Citara, and would have to take that risk.

He caught Kaal's eyes, held them to the test, found something in them that made him take the leap. The words came out of him like it was someone else's voice, like reading from a sacred scroll that was going to change all their lives forever. "To take back the Vilarhiti."

Something landed on the table then, touched them all on the shoulder, suspending the moment in time. Kaal's hand froze around the goblet he was holding, forgetting, for the time being, to breathe. Baaku sat like a rock, staring at him, breathing hard, as if that, too, was new knowledge to him. Nazir realized then, that for all the time they'd spent talking, neither of them had ever said these words out loud, that they had always tiptoed around it, moving away from that conclusion, too afraid to uncuff a monster they'd chained and caged for years, knowing that once released, it couldn't be put back.

And now, hearing it spoken––having spoken it from his own lips––he could see it being written in stone, could hear the creak of an old wheel turning that he knew would soon be out of their hands to stop.

"And then, Nazir Kha'a?" Kaal asked breathlessly, urging him to go on, to place his hand on the wheel and give it the push it needed.

It was Baaku who spoke the words. Baaku, who had always been the one pillar of his life, the shining beacon that never allowed him to stray too far from the path, the source of strength that never seemed to run dry.

"Then we will join forces with Sarasef, take out Saracen and lay siege to Samarra, cripple the Salasar by taking apart its provinces." Baaku paused, reached out to grab Nazir's hand on the table, which was trembling, just like his. "We dry the Madira, burn down Sabha, and we take Rasharwi."