"One of our performance fighters has fallen gravely ill and will not be sufficiently recovered in time to perform in three days. Normally we'd scrap the event and simply replace it with something else; these things do happen. However, three days will be the fifth anniversary of Her Majesty's death, and the banquet we've arranged is a surprise and commemoration for His Majesty, and we very much want everything to go according to plan. Would you be willing to replace the sick fighter? I can introduce you to your sparring partner, and hopefully three days will be sufficient to learn what you need."
"You would of course be paid," Bahiyya added. "This has nothing to do with the deal you struck with His Majesty. I know our request is highly presumptuous, especially since you haveretired from such things. We simply could not think of anyone else to ask so last minute who would have the required skills."
Berkant's stomach roiled at being the center of so much attention again. Where everyone would know him, his name, what had happened to him to drive him away. The whispers. The pitying looks. The rude questions.
He couldn't deny the way his chest lurched, either, however. The way his heart sped up. Not just a chance to see Shafiq again, but an opportunity to show off for him, to put Shafiq's eyes on him, if only for a little while.
Gods above, he was stupid.
"It would give me something to do, at the very least," Berkant finally replied, "and I would like to repay His Majesty for the generosity he has shown me."
"Really?" Litta asked. "Wonderful! Come with me, I'll show you the practice room, get you fitted for the proper clothes, settle your pay…"
Berkant looked to Bahiyya, who smiled ever so faintly. "We're grateful for the help, Master Berkant. As you've proven yourself to be an exemplary guest, you have my leave to roam the palace as you like. Do not leave royal grounds and try not to wander at night."
"Thank you, Captain, that is most generous."
Bahiyya bowed her head slightly. "Now that matter is settled, I must return to my duties. Good day to you both."
Litta clapped her hands as they were left alone. "I cannot thank you enough, Master Berkant. I also cannot deny that I am more than a little excited, personally and professionally, to know the Jackal himself will be performing for us. But come, we'll get you all settled." She motioned for him to follow, and Berkant fell into step alongside her, bemused and excited all at once.
He could not remember the last time he'd performed for anyone. Since Parvaneh and their daughter had died, he'dstopped caring. He'd turned down every offer that had come his way, until they'd finally stopped coming.
It had been strangely easy to accept this one, and not even because of his peculiar situation.
As pathetic as it probably made him, he just wanted to see Shafiq again. Wanted Shafiq to seehim,if only for a few minutes.
Litta led him into a training room that left his former one in the sand, and it had been nothing to scoff at.
The mats were of top quality, the right combination of sturdy enough to work out, but with enough give to lessen the damage of a fall. There was plenty of lighting from the windows that ran along the tops of the walls, with lamps that could be lit when dark fell. All manner of training equipment, with chalk, wraps, and more to assist. Mirrors to watch form, a washing and bathing area, massage beds…
Once upon a time, this facility would have been a dream come true. Even now he couldn't help the rush of excitement. He hadn't realized just how much he missed this life. Maybe it was time to return, if any of his old friends and associates had any interest. He'd find out once his business here was concluded.
He reached up to touch his locket, smile bittersweet, before he turned his full attention to the task before him.
"Ashel," Litta called out, beckoning to a man working in one corner of the room, surrounded by fabric, trim, and a veritable wall of thread. "We've gotten a replacement for Ven. Could you come get his measurements, see what you can have ready in three days?"
"You love to deprive me of sleep, you useless woman," Ashel said with a smile as he rose, grabbed a tape measure and pad of paper, and crossed the room to join them. He kissed Litta's cheek. "Why do I continue to put up with you?"
"Because of what I did this morning," Litta said with a laugh, and pinched his butt before striding off, already calling to other individuals working on the mats.
Berkant smiled. "Your wife?"
"Close. We're getting married next month. My name is Ashel, as I'm sure you heard bellowed." He winked. "You are?"
"Berkant."
The man's eyes widened. "NottheBerkant? The Jackal? Here?"
"I'm astonished anyone still knows my name," Berkant said with a laugh. "Yes, that is me."
"I think it will be a very long time before anyone forgets the Jackal. I watched many of your fights; I cannot believe I did not recognize you. His Majesty will be delighted to see you have agreed to perform for him. His wife was your greatest admirer."
Berkant had no idea what to say to that, but finally settled on, "I am honored to have been so highly regarded by Her Majesty, and can only hope I live up to her expectations."
"I have every faith. Now, let's get you measured, hmm? Any color preferences or dislikes? You'd look marvelous in red."
"Not purple," Berkant said. That had been the color he'd worn throughout his fighting career, and he preferred to start fresh. "Red is fine."
