“Our Ruler, I don’t believe we should tell the Peqkians about this dead warrior. Dead at the hand of a Dromedar. It will inflame them and could damage our trade partnership. I believe we should tell them that the warrior has gone missing, she decided to sample the delights of Parchad and never returned, perhaps falling into the perilous hands of the Khumarah. We will get the High Priest to bless and burn her body.”
“Hmm, well maybe…” Mastiq muttered, baffled by the sudden seriousness of the conversation. He coughed up phlegm and stored it under his tongue, mouth hanging open, until a slave ran over with a pot for him to hawk in. He missed and the spit sagged over the side of the pot, attached by a string to his lips.
Jakira waited patiently for the green goo to be dabbed away by the
