2022-08-12 18:01:29
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Duke of Two Cities Chapter 25
Far away from New Hudson, across an ocean and a desert in the Royal City of Zhabai, Sayid bin-Osman al-Jirafi sat upon a couch in his office smoking a shisha pipe. Trails of cold smoke poured from his nose as he flipped through his working tablet, poring over reams of data—taxes and fees and the dozen streams of income flowing towards his private monetary sea. He drew in a puff of smoke and poured out a ring the size of a famous New Hudson bagel. The thick ring sailed like a round little ship over to the plate-glass windows overlooking the Royal City below. He imagined that his donut could be strong enough to sail down from his tower and float atop one of Zhabai’s many golden spire, settling like like a well-thrown ring of solid cloud.Sadly, this was just a thought of fancy, and the ring broke apart on the window in trails of smoke. Sayid stroked his beard. The bagel-sized ring remained him of New Hudson, where Cousin Ali was out living his moronic fantasies of becoming a magician
Duke of Two Cities Chapter 26
Perhaps this was a bad idea after all, Ali thought. The conference had already begun, and he had spent the majority of the day sitting in the Executive Lounge snacking on cheeses. He could have stayed in Zhabai City and ate all the cheese and crackers he wanted for free! Truth be told, the thought of him actually going down to the conference made his stomach do flips. It was one thing to talk about these shows and movies online, where he was safe and anonymous (relatively speaking.) But to be around these people in person was another matter. “It’ll be OK,” Ali said to himself. “You’ve been practicing.”Rehearsing average conversation in a mirror does not count as practicing, my friend. Ali pulled out a few of his hairs out of stress. It was true— there was no sense in lying to himself. He had practiced. Ali had spent a shameful amount of hours watching people talk about movies and video games online, after which he practiced saying the words as though he had come up with them himsel
Duke of Two Cities Chapter 27
Putting his first stop into the hands of fate, Ali’s finger stopped: FANTASY AUTHOR PANEL—4:30pm, Grand BallroomFine. That would be his first stop. Ali went to the mirror and checked his costume—in fact, it was not a costume, but one of his formal outfits for festivals and holidays. The jewels on his vest glittered brightly beneath the mirror lamp. He gave his vest a little tug and straightened his cap—small desert cat fitted with a falcon’s feather and emblazoned with gold filigree.I look like a PrinceHe checked his watch, also the watch of a prince, a platinum timepiece crusted with diamonds and a cluster of sapphires and topaz. The face of the timepiece was a collection of colored magnetic sand which emerged from the face like stones bubbling from a still pool. The sand grains slowly flipped to read 4:13.He could still make it if he hurried. But what about Zadik? He should tell him where he was going, at least…“No. It will be fine,” Ali s
Duke of Two Cities Chapter 28
Ali was not the only one heading to the author’s panel. Devon, after a shower and a short nap, also decided that the author panel would be his first stop. For the first time that day, he was feeling himself—cheerful even. All in all, it had been a pretty good day, now that he’d had some sleep to put everything into context. Sure, he almost got into multiple fights with strangers. And yes, he was going to be homeless at the end of the convention. But he’d also made some new friends—the mysterious Carla Bright from the bus, and Janie from long ago. Well, maybe not best friends, but it was more people in his life than he’d had in the morning. As far as Devon was concerned, it was a start. So with his heart lifted and his body refreshed, Devon had gotten himself an early seat at the Fantasy Author’s panel. What better way to start off with a nice, easy-going panel talk? No stress, not a lot of work, just a bunch of nerds siting around and talking about their favorite kinds of swor
Duke of Two Cities Chapter 29
“Culture. Is. Not. A Costume.” Tamyra clapped her hands to the beat of her words in front of the man’s face. He flinched at every clap. “Let me say it louder for those in the back: CULTURE. IS NOT. A FUCKING. COSTUME.” The crowd nodded, thoughtfully. It was a shame, but it couldn’t be helped. The young man should have known better, and this was the result. A few of them had their phones out, recording as the young man stammered at the bring of tears. Really? They were going to just let this kid get pilloried?Devon bit down on his lip. Sure, his costume was gaudy, but that didn’t mean that he should get surrounded and berated like this. To make matter worse, not a single person in the crowd, or even the event organizers, were willing to do anything. Out in the corner of his eye, Devon saw one of the organizers—the same rail-thin young man from earlier—clutching his tablet for dear life, his eyes cast to the ground in secondhand shame.“Now it’s your turn, appropriator. Say it wit
Duke of Two Cities Chapter 30
Devon, confounded, could not help but drop his jaw. Half grinning, at once confounded and holding back peals of laughter. No greater or more eloquent expression was for Devon’s face there than in those three most wonderful letters, the Three Brothers bound by oath: W, T, and F. Tamyra put up her hands. “I am not having this conversation right now. Excuse me.” She pushed her way through the parting crowd, which for other than a few dirty looks was too embarrassed to stop her. “No wait, wait! Hold up.” Devon called out. “You were giving this kid shit because he’s wearing a costume from his own damn country!?”But Tamyra did not answer, as she was too busy pushing her way out of the crowd that she had formed. From the center of the circle, Devon could hear snippets of “I did nothing wrong. Stop harassing me—I did nothing wrong and I do not consent to this conversation.”As she pushed her way from the crowd, it was a perfect time for the event organizer to come and break things up, sinc
Duke of Two Cities Chapter 31
A friend! For the first time in Ali’s life, someone had stood up for him who did not know him. He was not in his father’s employ, or someone from his family. This ‘Devon’ had protected him for no hope of monetary gain or position or status. Ali’s heart flooded with joy as he gave Devon’s hand another shake. Devon, smiling, removed his hand from Devon’s. “It’s all good, man,” Devon said, followed by something else that was just a little too fast for Ali to understand. “It’s all good, man…” Ali mouthed the words carefully. He would have to practice if he was going to better talk with his new friend. The panel began. A few people walked out on the stage to a smattering of applause. A thin, almost skeletal creature of a man took the microphone and began to speak into it. Even through the microphone, the sounds from his throat were wheedling and unpleasant to hear. It was as though the man was cutting off his own voice while speaking at the same time. Ali settled into an uncomfortabl
Duke of Two Cities Chapter 32
This. Panel. Sucked. Forty minutes had passed since the start of the panel and all the writers had managed was to congratulate themselves for being writers: “I think what we’re doing— and by what we’re doing, I mean what we in the writing business call ‘the craft’—is by far one of the most important things we can do as people.”“I agree! We are always looking to push the boundaries and look into ourselves to find deeper meaning of… you know… what it means to be a good person and to be a good human-being. But what is a ‘good human being? There’s a few definitions…”“Oh absolutely. I completely agree. And in these troubled times, that’s something I think we can all come together and support…”Worst of all was their tone—the writers spoke as if drugged, their words slow and droning like the hum of a faraway refrigerator. What could have been even a mildly interesting discussion was instead a slow, winding lecture of the worst sort—self-important, self-righteous, drab, dull, and boring.
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Chapter 52
His room had been cancelled. Just like that. No warning, no notice. At the snap of Marc’s fingers, Devon had been unceremoniously tossed out of a Convention that he literally gave up his family to attend. Devon stared at Marc for a while. Then, he laughed. He laughed quietly, then he laughed loudly, cackling, until he had no more breath in him. And still he laughed. This had been, by far, the most ridiculous weekend in Devon’s entire life. He had given up his family in a moment of anger, suffered assault and insult nearly daily, only to befriend some kind of foreign royalty who, while defending his newfound friend, had sacrificed the only housing he would have for the foreseeable future. Ridiculous! His life had become a joke, some absurd and wild story written by a mad idiot. This was a weekend that would define the rest of his life, and it all had just been so unbelievably stupid. Meanwhile, Marc looked as though he were about to leap out of the Executive Lounge window from shee
Chapter 51
Things were getting out of hand. Zayin needed to think quickly; his Prince was going to start digging himself into a deep and terribly expensive hole. Yes, Ali had certain entitlements to his family’s wealth…in theory. But Ali had never tapped into his family’s wealth before—Zayin wasn’t even sure that he could. It was a poorly kept secret that more than one relative had access to Ali’s accounts…including Cousin Sayid. To his shame, Zayin was quietly praying that there was not enough left to embarrass the Prince. He never thought that he would ever wish for relatives to embezzle the Prince’s funds. Even with his Aunts and Cousin Sayid dipping into his funds, Ali’s personal wealth was enough that he could make serious trouble for himself, as well as the Kingdom. And with the stone-set fury on Ali’s face, trouble would come. Perhaps the key to solving the trouble lay in Ali’s ‘brother’. “You.” He pointed at Devon and spoke in English. “Come with me, please.”Quietly, Devon complied.
Chapter 50
It was not the strangest occurrence to ever happen, but it was one of the strangest that had ever happen to Zayin.He stood nearly speechless as Marc, a hotel functionary, sputtered and nearly fell down on his knees trying to explain to Ali how all of this had been an enormous mistake. There had been in Marc’s words, ‘a deep and serious cultural miscommunication that New Hudson Convention Center will work tirelessly to reconcile’. It was ten minutes of this kind of diplomatic nonsense, and Zayin had to admit that he was doing quite well with it. In another life, and with another passport, Marc would have made a great presenter for one of the old State Television channels. More amusing still was, for the first time since knowing him, Ali acted like a prince. This was the greatest shock. Zayin was confident in this assessment—that Ali would be easily brushed aside by his more competent cousins and tossed out of Zhabaiye public life. Cousin Sayid would place him on a farm in the middle
Chapter 49
Since the construction of the New Hudson Convention Center, there had never been a moment quite what Marc Abramov experienced in that Executive Lounge. Since its actual opening some twenty years prior, there had never been so many people silenced all at once with just a few short words. Time seemed to freeze and Marc’s armhairs stood straight on their ends. The VIP…more like the VVIP in fact…was expecting an answer. Why did Marc make the VIP’s brother cry?He clasped his hands and began, “Well—“ Well what? Nothing. The words caught in his throat. Something about the young man’s look—and he barely registered as a man at all—struck him with a sense of absolute terror. The VIP’s gaze encompassed his entire being, utterly and completely, as though he were no more than a fixture of the room. Marc had a sudden, curious idea that there was a sword hanging over his neck. And if he did not speak very, very carefully, that sword would drop and lop his head clean off from his body. There
Chapter 48
Devon sat crosslegged on the floor, squishing his hunter’s hat for comfort. He stared at a spot of carpet, trying to drown out the sounds of the frightening-looking man screaming at Ali. Devon could piece together that the goons all worked for him—some of them were half in costume, others dressed like regular folk. A few wore golden watches. Were they thugs? If so, they weren’t like any gang members that Devon had ever seen, and New Hudson was unfortunately filled with those. These men looked too clean-cut. They didn’t have the casual swagger of the gangs he knew, and other than a little bit of rough-handling on the way to the top-floor lounge, they hadn’t been beaten. Furthermore, gang attacks usually don’t take this long, and by this point they had been sitting in the lounge for twenty minutes. Meanwhile, Ali had begun to shout at the man who kidnapped him. That was the strangest part of all of this--when Ali shouted, the man who kidnapped them listened. And so did his goons. At
Chapter 47
Zayin’s head throbbed. He wished, more than he’d ever wished for anything in his life, that he could wake up back home, in Al-Zhabaiye. He missed his coffee, he missed his 17th story view of the desert, he missed the smell of the cedar paneling of his building’s elevator. All these little things he missed, many of which he had not appreciated before. His head ached until the pain seeped down into his shoulders. So tense were all his muscles that even the slightest movement ached. And it was well to be tense, because his ward, the PRINCE OF AL-ZHABAIYE HIMSELF, chose to behave like a childish idiot. Now Zayin and his security team occupied the hotel’s Executive Lounge, where they had extradited the Prince from a possible attempt on his life. The Prince sat on the couch with his head in his hands, refusing to look at or speak to anyone. One of his security team had thoughtfully prepared a plate of dried fruit and cheese. The plate sat in front of the Prince, untouched. Good. Maybe the
Chapter 46
Far away from the chaos of New Hudson, in the Golden City of Al-Zhabai, King Ibrahim al-Zhabai stood on his private balcony, thinking of a joke. Once, the land that his Kingdom sat upon was a flat cropping of rock surrounded by a lake of sand. No trees, no oil or minerals, or any of the other resources that make a city worth building existed there. A hundred years before King Ibrahim’s time, this useless plot of land was gifted to his great-grandfather, Usman al-Zhabai, Founder of the Kingdom, as the world’s most expensive prank. It was a little known truth. Very few people beyond the deepest circle of the royal family knew this story. Not even foreign websites could publish it, for the instant they did al-Zhabai’s Ministry of Communications used every means at their disposal to take it down. Family lore said that when Founder Usman, talented and overlooked, was finally gifted the land he had worked for all his life. When the empty plot of land was finally revealed, his “benefac
Chapter 45
It began with a push. Once again, Ali was surrounded by an angry crowd, with someone screaming at him in a language that was not his mother tongue. In Al-Zhabai, nobody would dare speak to him in such a way—even the cousins who looked upon him with contempt would never stoop to such behavior. In the moment, Ali felt the most curious sensation—that his soul was leaving his body, watching it from above. Perhaps the shock of the push had killed him, he thought. Curiously, in this dissociated state, he didn’t seem to have any feelings at all, though his body was nearly convulsing in terror. Time seemed to lose its smooth passing. Suddenly everything became terribly slow, as if the convention and everything in it was moving through thick honey. Down from above his own body, Ali gazed as Tamyra, whose face had become a terrible mask of vindictive rage. She lunged at Ali— to snatch Devon’s gift, he thought. But Tamyra’s dexterity had vanished before the heat of her own anger, and whom m
Chapter 44
“Of course it would be you,” Tamyra snarled. “Who else would be so entitled? All I needed to finish my was going to finish my Warriors of the Endless Road collection was that Dashu. And you took it.”Tamyra’s face had flushed past crimson and was on its way to purpose. Her princess wand was quavering in her hand. At the slightest provocation, Devon feared she might actually use it. He held up his hands as though the wand were about to shoot lightning from its glittery points. “Look,” Devon began, “I’m sorry about your collection, but like—how are any of us supposed to know that? We can’t read minds or anything.”“You took it,” Tamyra intoned. Devon’s logic had no place amidst her anger. And there was much to be angry about—between the incident at the entrance, the horrible mess in the Fantasy writer’s panel, and now this. Just over the past two days, Ali and Devon had been a thorn in her slippers. and she had just about enough. “And it’s not enough that you have the nerve to troll in
