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Old 04-20-2004, 01:57 AM   #173
piosenniel
Desultory Dwimmerlaik
 
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Mus’ad and Nizar on the job at the Party

Mus’ad held his breath, offering a quick plea to some random patron spirit as he rolled the well worn bones. Across the hardpacked dirt of the alley, in the flickering light of two small torches just beyond the kitchen’s entrance, they skittered, bouncing off the rough stone wall of the compound and coming to a final rest just inches from the man’s toes.

‘Last time I ask you for help,’ Mus’ad muttered, casting one eye upward at the dark night sky.

He kicked out at the two offending coiled bush vipers who glared up with their malevolent carved eyes from the knucklebones. He spit on the ground and shook his head as the man he was playing against collected the few coins piled in the clay bet dish. Pouring himself another mug of wine from the skin the three kitchen-boys had brought out, he leaned against the scraggly tree that stood alongside the stone wall and watched another fellow pick up the dice to try his luck. The smell from the tray of left over savories brought out from the party enticed him. His belly grumbled in anticipation as his hand reached down and snatched up a few.

Some time later, a mug or two of wine and several handfuls of spiced pastries under his belt, and he felt ready again to try his hand at rolling the bones. His fingers, licked clean of crumbs, hovered just above the dice when he hear the worried nasal tones of his brother call out to him.

‘Did you see him?’ asked Nizar, ignoring the usual irritated look Mus’ad threw him as he stood up.

‘Why are you not in the Wolf’s house? Keeping watch on our friend, Tinar.’ Mus’ad whispered low in his brother’s ear. Wyrma had directed them to keep an eye on her young son, make sure he didn’t get into any trouble, or worse yet, get Herself and her precious plans in trouble.

‘That’s what I’m trying to tell you!’ Nizar drew the ragged end of his neck scarf under his red, and dripping nose, eliciting a scowl from his brother. He had been in his dung-beetle form, the one he did most easily, and the dust from the curtains he’d hidden in had stuffed up his rather large nose, causing it to run.

‘Well . . . ?’ prompted Mus’ad, itching to get back to the dice game. One of the other players had picked them up and fortune must have smiled on his throw as he uttered a loud whoop of excitement.

Nizar related the events of the party, speeding up as Mus’ad’s eyebrows twitched in irritation. ‘. . . and then those two foreigners left . . . with Tinar following! . . . can you imagine that! . . .’ he finished up in a breathless rush.

Mus’ad’s head was beginning to throb. ‘Tinar . . . left?’ he squeaked out. Wyrma would have their heads if they didn’t find him. He rubbed ineffectually at his temples, his mind racing furiously to come up with a plan. He grabbed his brother’s shoulders and spoke slowly to him. ‘You go back to Wyrma’s place.’ He whispered the recent password to get past the many guards at Herself’s place, and had his brother repeat it a number of times until Mus’ad was satisfied it was imprinted on Nizar’s memory. ‘Tell her what Tinar has done and that I am following after him. Ask her if she has any instructions.’ Nizar stood nodding his head at his brothers list. ‘Where’m I gonna meet you if Herself has things she wants done?’

‘You said they went toward the markets. I’ll meet you at the booth that flies the scorpion flag.’ Nizar’s eyes lit up at the thought of the peppery delicacy. ‘We’re not meeting for dinner! Pay attention!’ Bring your news from Herself and we’ll go on from there . . .’ Mus’ad pushed his brother off in the direction of Wyrma’s place and turned in the direction of the marketplace.

‘Now just how would that young pup think to follow the foreigners?’ he thought as he trotted down the alleyway, making for the vendors’ place . . .
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