Free 7: Enemies and Shadows by Ginn Hale Page A

Payshmura documents were written in the holy language,” Hial’luyyn commented. “I almost despaired of ever reading them. But with these translations it should be much easier.”
    “I’m glad to help,” Kahlil replied. Alidas simply leaned back against the edge of the table and looked pleased. He closed his eyes and listened as Kahlil read, first in the holy language and then in common Basawar. The younger men at the surrounding tables sat silently, straining to hear every word.
    Three hours later the papers arrived from Hial’luyyn’s office. Hial’luyyn signed them and then stamped each one with the Bousim seal. After slipping them into a tough leather pouch, he handed them to Kahlil.
    “Thank you,” Kahlil said.
    “It is my pleasure,” Hial’luyyn replied.
    “Will everything be all right here?” Kahlil asked Alidas. “The man I hit—”
    “Tevar?” Alidas smirked at the name. “That was probably the best thing that has ever happened to him. Don’t worry. Even if Tevar did take offense, Hial’luyyn could silence him with a word.”
    Kahlil nodded. It followed that Hial’luyyn, a spymaster for the Bousim house, would know how to guard his own secrets. Kahlil wondered briefly what word it was that Hial’luyyn could use to silence Tevar. Was it an ancient binding spell from the Payshmura texts or some Eastern ritual, which Hial’luyyn had painstakingly translated?
    Kahlil bowed to Alidas. “I must go now, but I wanted you to know that I’m in your debt.”
    He raised his hands in the Payshmura sign of peace. Alidas nodded and returned his gesture, though slowly, as though his fingers had not formed the sign in years. 
    “If I ever show up at your door, put me up for the night, all right?” Alidas asked the question lightly but Kahlil knew him well enough to answer seriously.
    “You will always be welcome,” Kahlil assured him.
    Out of habit, he considered waiting until he’d exited the dining room to vanish into the Gray Space but saw in Alidas a certain anticipation building. Of all the men in the room, only Alidas had seen Kahlil’s real skills. And everyone already knew who he was anyway. He might as well show off a little, for Alidas’ sake. He opened the Gray Space and stepped inside.
    He paused for one brief instant, surveying the shocked expressions on the faces of the men of the Domu’lam Club. Then he moved away, through the club walls and out of the city.
    It astounded him that everything had gone so well and so easily. For all of the skills he possessed, the Unseen Edge, the Silence Knife, all he had really called upon was his friendship with Alidas. The thought offered Kahlil a reassurance that life was not always hard or cruel. Sometimes it could be miraculously kind.

Chapter Seventy

    Two hours later Kahlil stood at the window of his room in the kahlilrash’im’s barracks, watching banks of dark clouds roll in from the distant north. Both Jath’ibaye and Hirran had arrived late and inconspicuously dressed. After Kahlil had presented them with the papers from Nurjima, the two of them had set about reading through them in silent intensity. In just over an hour they’d both read through every page and sorted the reports into a timeline of Ourath’s treachery. Neat piles of crisp pages were spread across Kahlil’s wooden table. Hirran’s face looked almost luminous with joy. But Kahlil noted that Jath’ibaye’s countenance had turned grim.
    Outside his window, a fine rain began to fall and lightning crackled.
    “No,” Jath’ibaye said softly, “it won’t work.”
    Kahlil glanced to him. Jath’ibaye scowled down at a single page with Ourath’s name written clearly across it.
    “What do you mean? Of course it will!” Hirran eyed Jath’ibaye. “Joulen asked for evidence and this is it. Ourath Lisam is clearly indicated time and time again as a conspirator against the interests of the Gaunsho’im Council. Three of these reports show that he was behind the