The Serpent's Veil

Blood Promise

The sky was filled with the caw of dozens of pigeons frantically swooping in to governor's coop. Yahya, Sharan, and the governor himself caught the birds with their own hands before they could fly into their holes and plucked off the little scrolls tied to their legs. The notes came from the the north and the east at varying intervals, sometimes a few minutes, sometimes a half hour.

Tunnel empty, outside secure.

Twenty five enemies killed, thirteen martyrs.

Area empty.

Three horses martyred.

The Barmakis flipped through the messages, sorting them by location and time of arrival to help keep track of what was happening where. They were both nervous—Rehan's contingent hadn't sent word yet. Had they lost their scout? Or...

Yahya could not let himself harbor the thought. Shoving aside thoughts was becoming a strange habit he did not wish to keep; already he had stopped himself from investigating Khayzuran's whereabouts. It was no longer his place.

Sharan's foot was tapping incessantly. Yahya had never seen him so perturbed.

"He will be alright," said Yahya. Rehan had gone off to war in far more dire conditions and with much less experience than this. There was truly no man that could defeat him.

Another pigeon was approaching, and Sharan jumped when he saw it was white. He reached for it before Yahya did and nearly ripped the bird's leg clean off to retrieve the missive.

Dawud al-Hak dead. Base secured. Thirty enemies killed, seven martyrs. Prince requires physician, returning soon.

The Barmakis held their breaths as they took in the last sentence.

"We need a doctor to be ready for him," said Yahya, leaving Sharan holding the limp slip of paper as he sprung into action. "I will go."

The two older men nodded assent, and Yahya was away at once, rushing down the tower stairs and heading to the stables. There were no physicians who lived in the residence, he would have to ride to the Altabib road, where the handful of elite physicians lived and worked. It was only a matter of his compulsion to pray them out of their beds and bring them back to treat Rehan, although he was certain they would do it of their own accord if they knew who they were treating.

The stable boys jolted awake when they heard him push open the wooden gate, they scrambled to attention when they saw Yahya was wearing royal black.

"Give me your fastest," he said, and they wordlessly led him to a silver-grey mare. They tacked her hastily under Yahya's watchful gaze, and soon he was off. He raced out of the gates, down a torchlit main road leading deeper into the quarter. The mosques were still bustling with worshippers as he rode past. He briefly stopped to get clearer directions, and then all at once he was upon the medics sector. The buildings were small and simple but neat, a few had lanterns hanging outside. He approached one of these, dismounting and tying the horse to a fence.

He knocked, but no answer came. Again he knocked and waited. He considered banging down the door, but there were still several options to choose from. Perhaps this was not even a physician's home. He went to the next building,, and the door opened before he even moved to knock.

"I saw you from the window," the woman said. She was holding her headscarf under her chin, and Yahya almost laughed at the parallel of her and Khayzuran. She was older, perhaps around thirty, with large eyes and olive skin.

"I apologise, sahiba," he said, and lowered his gaze. "There is urgent work at the governor's, please can you call your husband out? We must go at once."