Deo di Amarra blinked, twice. "You're accusing me of treason?"

"We are." Jarem nodded.

"Over an escape of a convict?"

"One charged with the murder of a general of the salar's army, five city guards and thirteen soldiers. Your apprentice, to be precise." The most favorite apprentice, actually. That pretty boy had been brought up all too quickly from the pleasure district into the Tower almost singlehandedly by his new master. To him, something just didn't seem right with that, and in many ways, Jarem was glad to have gotten rid of the Silver Sparrow.

Di Amarra listened and raised a brow. Nothing but amusement and curiosity on that face. "So, one general, five guards and thirteen soldiers died failing to stop one man from escaping the city," he repeated, pride all over his face. "Are you charging me for the general competence of my men, commander, or for the lack of it in yours? Because I'm definitely involved in the first but not in the latter. I'm afraid you're going to have to arrest the men in charge of security for that one."

"They're dead, di Amarra." The salar stepped in, catching the Khandoor's gaze as he did. "As of this morning. All of them. Including your stewards who did so producing evidence of the Silver Sparrow having returned to your estate before he escaped."

It was something of a rush they'd gone through that morning. Five officers in charge had been pulled from their homes, made to explain why such an escape had been possible with hundreds of men being on watch all over the city and along the border before they were executed. Three stewards from Di Amarra's estate had been taken in for questioning—a lengthier process that had taken the interrogators as long as two hours to get anything out of them. In the end, only one man had spilled the information before they all succumbed to their injuries. An impressive set of employees, he had to admit.

To his right, di Amarra stood with a stillness of a black lake on a windless night, breathing lightly as a ghost. He tilted his head slowly toward Jarem, just enough for the razor-sharp gleam in those green eyes to show.

"You took my men in for interrogation without telling me, Commander?"

The words, spoken like a knife being carefully dragged upon bare skin to expose a vein, gave Jarem the sudden need to reach for the pommel of his sword. It wasn't there, of course, the only one allowed to carry a weapon in the presence of the salar was Ghaul. But the fact that di Amarra also didn't carry a blade rarely offered one much of a relief. The man might have been standing calmly there with nothing in his hands except the rings on his fingers, but he could kill just as calmly, and with less.

"Under my instructions, di Amarra," the salar, watching his advisor intently now, spoke with enough clarity to rival the hostility being shown by the Khandoor.

Di Amarra turned back to the salar, and Jarem breathed uneasily as the two of them stared at each other, wondering if he was the only one who felt it—that presence of some hungry beast pacing in the shadows of the chamber, waiting for the right moment to leap out into view.

Time limped by like an injured animal, and somewhere in the middle of it, di Amarra slipped into the privacy of his thoughts. His eyes flickered to the floor where he seemed to be examining a crack in the black marble absentmindedly, only one would have to be a complete imbecile to believe an absence of mind was a concept that would ever fit Deo di Amarra.

After a moment, he looked up at the salar. "I see," he said as if having just come to terms with something. "I presume you have a proposal for me then, my lord?"

At that, Salar Muradi responded with a raised brow, "To allow an act of treason to go unpunished? Are you so convinced that I'm above the law, di Amarra?"

"As all kings are, my lord," di Amarra declared easily. "Is that not the whole point of being called a ruler? To hold the power to bend and change the rules of men and the society over which he governs?"

"If he wishes change perhaps."

A small shake of his head, followed by a ghost of a smile. "A ruler who doesn't wish for change doesn't rule, my lord," di Amarra countered, "he merely sits on a chair waiting for the next man who wishes for change to take it. It was your wish for change that has brought you out of Sabha to this very chamber, your wish for change that has convinced you to sign my arrest. You must have wished to gain something from that signature. What would that be, my lord? I am very open to see if I can accommodate them at the moment."

Jarem took a glance at the salar who seemed to be thinking about those words, wishing that he wasn't truly considering them. He'd expected some negotiation from di Amarra, of course, but they hadn't really discussed the possibility of it. Salar Muradi, however, didn't discuss everything with him.

"Very well then," said the salar. "Since your apprentice has deprived me of my men and caused damage to the city, the royal army, the reputation of Rasharwi as one of the most secure states in the Salasar, commander Sa'id will name a suitable compensation to be paid to our treasury in gold, to which you will oblige. You will also take part in filling those vacant positions, by training the men I assign to the best of your ability and make sure the incident never repeats itself. I will test them thoroughly before considering the task done."

A surprise, but not exactly a bad one in Jarem's opinion. Putting di Amarra on the job had always been something they wanted to accomplish, but the man had so far evaded that responsibility by some clever excuses. It would strengthen the army and their security measures to a whole other level given the man's expertise, and at the same time, any escape and loophole found could be blamed on him, giving Jarem more opportunities to get rid of the man. For that, he decided to hold his objections.

"Meanwhile, you will accompany my son to the Black Desert, make sure Sarasef agrees to my offered terms and see to it that everything goes smoothly. I want an army to be trained alongside Sarasef's mercenaries, and when it's ready, it will march into the White Desert with Lasura at its helm to bring down the khagan responsible for burning the villages west of Sabha."

The khagan responsible...

Jarem winced at that part of the plan he hadn't been consulted and had always advised against. That particular wound inflicted by Za'in izr Husari himself in retaliation to his wife being mutilated and murdered was still unquestionably raw on the salar, it would seem.

Three large villages had been destroyed, burned down to the last woman and child by the Visarya. It had been a direct challenge on the salar's rule, a blatant declaration of war, and it had taken everything he could come up with to stop the salar from sending another army into the desert to wipe them out. Without a large enough army that knew how to navigate and survive in that harsh environment, they would lose half the men just from the march to get to the Visarya, not to mention they'd have to pass several khagans' territory before that. Sending in a small raiding party was something that could be done given enough discretion, sending in a whole army would put the entire desert on alert, not to mention Za'in izr Husari ruled one of the largest khagans in the west whose number of warriors they hadn't been able to estimate with accuracy. The massacre of the Vilarhiti would repeat itself, in Jarem's opinion, only in this case they might not be the one to claim victory.

Still, he could understand the drive. It wasn't just about pride or ego. The fire had destroyed everything along that side of Sabha and a large amount of fund had to be taken from his other projects to rebuild, putting them on hold for years. The salar had visited the site himself in the morning after it had happened, had stood by the piles of bodies burnt beyond recognition, trembling violently enough for the gesture to be seen from a distance. It would be some time before Jarem would forget the look on his face, if ever. It would be some time before he himself could forget the image of what had been done.

But this plan could work. If they could combine their forces with the Rishi, get a large enough army to be trained by Sarasef with the help of Deo di Amarra, it might just be enough. By wiping out the Visarya—or even just killing Za'in—the White Desert would be thrown into an internal war. The khagans would fight each other to claim the territory once belonged to the Visarya and create a golden opportunity for the main army they'd been mobilizing to move in. At the same time, the royal fleet could be sent to attack Makena by sea, cutting supplies from being sent into Citara, and they'd win this war once and for all.

He had to admit, he was beginning to like the Silver Sparrow for making all this possible.

"And suppose I refuse or fail at any of those tasks, my lord?" Asked di Amarra.

The salar grinned. "Then I will sit on a chair and wait for you to be sentenced to death for treason. All your establishments and assets would then be taken over by the Salasar, unless, of course, if the Silver Sparrow were to be brought back to justice and confirm your innocence in all this."

A clear, mellifluous laugh rose from di Amarra as he applauded. The sound of both carried well across the room.

"Oh well done, my lord," he said. "How exceptionally done. But just to make sure I understand correctly." A small pause, followed by a slight change in expression that gave Jarem another urge to find his missing sword. "You believe I have the ability to strengthen your army, fill your treasury, negotiate to gain you a powerful ally, and win you the biggest war this peninsula has ever known, and you will make an enemy of me if I refuse, is that correct, my lord salar?"

There was more danger in that statement than anything di Amarra had ever done, and for a moment, Jarem questioned himself whether it had been the right move to attack the Khandoor that way. A deadly weapon could cut you just as deep as it would your opponent if not handled correctly, and they'd just unsheathed one of the deadliest swords that had won Salar Muradi the Salasar.

A small pause from the salar showed he was acutely aware of that fact. It didn't, however, seemed to bother him much judging from the calmness of his gestures. "Your answer, di Amarra."

The Khandoor smiled, manufactured a bow for the salar that could be called an exaggeration. "With your permission, my lord," he said, "I'd like to sit on it for bit longer while I take my leisure in your prison, which, in light of the fact that any man of luxury such as myself tend to not function well in poor condition, I hope will be comfortable enough for me to offer you a rational answer. Would you like to take me now, Commander? Or do I have time to freshen up a bit before I go?"

***

The door closed softly behind Ghaul who'd come to escort di Amarra out of the study, leaving Jarem and the salar alone in the dark chamber with something foul and heavy in the air to breathe. Salar Muradi, eyes still fixed on the empty spot where the Khandoor had stood moments ago, raised the goblet to his lips and sipped the wine quietly for a time before he voiced his decision.

"Keep an eye on him," he said. "If anyone gives him a visit, I want to know who and what was said. Make sure he doesn't know someone is listening."

"You believe he might be conspiring with someone, my lord?"

The salar shook his head, still deep in his thought. "You can't hold a man like Deo di Amarra in prison if he doesn't want to stay in it. If he chooses to stay, there must be a reason. If he is working with someone, I want the entire operation uprooted and eliminated before I send an army into the White Desert."

***