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
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