Obsidian: Retribution (Book 2)

Thirty-Five: Old Wounds and Scars

Zahara stood by the window, hoping to get some fresh air through the small opening without success, wondering if she would ever get used to the humidity that made every breath more suffocating than the last. She could endure Samarra's weather well enough with some breeze to get the wet, foul-smelling air moving, but on a night like this, when the wind had died down completely and the heat seemed to have multiplied tenfold, the small, poorly-ventilated room felt like the inside of a boiling kettle with its lid shut tight to make sure everyone who resided in it drown in their sweat or suffocate to death by the stench it produced.

Neither her discomfort nor the bad feeling in her stomach appeared to be shared by the rest who'd gathered to hear the briefing for tonight's prison break, however. Then again, none of them had been born, raised, and kept alive solely in the desert, or knew the many expressions of the man in charge as well as she did. The heat and humidity might have been normal for Samarra, the former Salar of Rasharwi's mood was not.

At her end of the dining room table made for six, oblivious to the beads of sweat that began to form on his forehead, Ranveer Borkhan stood with his hand on the prison map, pointing out the three possible exits and the one they'd chosen. Ghaul was a step behind him, as always––an oversized, looming shadow there to make sure everyone's attention never faltered long enough to put his master's life at risk. To his right was Lucidra Naeem, her son Leandras, and her quartermaster Matteo, all visibly uncomfortable with receiving instructions from an outsider but had settled to endure. Qasim and his men filled the rest of the space with nothing but the casual excitement of raiders looking for a chance to pillage and burn for the sake of it. She hadn't seen di Amarra since she'd gone to Lucidra's ship, only an exchange of letters between him and Ranveer. They were all dressed in black for camouflage, armed to the teeth with everything they could carry.

Except their leader who was still in the light tunic he'd put on two mornings ago. Having spent the past couple of days making sure the plan contained no mistakes he'd overlooked, Ranveer had eaten little, slept no more than a few hours, and the fatigue was beginning to show.

It didn't happen often back in the Tower. Muradi, while obsessed with being awake and productive, knew the importance of being ready for a fight. Checking on final details of plans and strategies had always been Jarem's job, and had he been alive, he would have taken over and sent his Salar to bed days ago. She and the late Commander might not have been able to exchange a sentence without needing an enormous amount of self-control to stop themselves from jumping at each other's throat, but one would have to be an ignorant fool to not notice the damage Jarem's absence had left behind on his master. Ranveer's frustration, which had less to do with fatigue than his right hand man being missing, had been accumulating like smoke trapped in a room with no way out, and it was about to choke him to death along with everyone else within a hundred paces radius.

Not a good state to be in before a fight, or to be working with a new crew whose loyalty and obedience still had to be earned.

"The Barai is Samarra's most secure prison," explained Ranveer. "It's proximity to the city guard's headquarter means once the breach is known, we won't have long to vacate the ground. We go in as quickly as we can, as quietly as we can, and leave as soon as we can. The south entrance is your best option and the closest to shore. When Niroza and his crew are free, we drop them weapons, and we leave for Lucidra's ships which will be waiting by the beach between pier twelve and fifteen. You have until the first bell to make it. Fall behind, and you're on your own. We do not go back to save anybody, is that clear?"

A reasonable plan, she thought, one with which Qasim and his lot seemed to be in easy agreement. Samarra's bell tower, it had been explained to her, was there to signal every morning's sunrise, at which time all ships leaving on that day would begin making preparations to sail. The ports would be congested within the hour with sailors, merchants, passengers, and tax collectors, along with their guards. Lucidra's ships would have to be far from shore by then for them to outrun the pursuing navy. Timing was the most crucial part of the plan.