Blood of a Sultan by Fuad Baloch

Author:Fuad Baloch [Baloch, Fuad]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Red Crescent
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Eyes squeezed shut, Shoki strummed the final chord of The Blessed Istan, the four fingernails on his right hand harsh against the lute strings.

The music soared over the din of voices around him, drowning out the braying animals, the shouting merchants, the mundane world. The effect lasted a blissful second, then began to fade, the magic breaking at last.

Sighing, Shoki opened his eyes.

“Sure you’re in the right line of work, son?” came the Salar’s voice behind him.

Startled, Shoki struggled to get to his feet, the lute slipping from his hands, hitting a discordant note as it fell. “S-Salar…”

“You know, sometimes I wonder if I did the right thing plucking you from your life,” said the Salar, striding into the room.

Shoki tried laughing, ended up half-choking. “I… I am most thankful to you, Salar… And so are my parents.”

“Them, I have no reason to doubt.”

“So am I, Salar!”

“Hmm.”

“Who else could put up with you all this time otherwise?”

The Salar glared at him; then the corners of his hard eyes crinkled. “You’ve always had a way with words. Someday, they’re going to land you in trouble.”

“Not today, though.” Shoki tried grinning, putting on a brave face he didn’t really feel.

“Not today,” agreed the Salar. “It’s about time we visited the victim’s wife, let her know what we’ve found so far. But before that, I need to meet Salar Waqat at the post closest to her house. Another hour or so of my life I wouldn’t ever get back. Rabb damn that camel dung.” Shoki smiled. “Meet me an hour after the sunset prayer at her house.”

“Aye, Salar.”

Shoki watched his Salar shuffle out of the room. He was getting old, the limp pronounced even as he tried to hide it, no longer the perfect specimen of health and fear Shoki had watched since he was ten. But the man had compensated, replacing all he’d lost health-wise with the ability to strike fear into the hearts and minds of the guilty.

The guilty.

Shoki bit his lower lip. Two days had passed since their interview with Asharf. Two days since they’d put the man in the dungeon. Two days since they’d had any more leads.

Yet something about the whole scenario continued to strike Shoki as odd. True, the men had had a difficult past. But that was hardly something unique to them. If one spat in the crowded street outside, he would find some past quarrel with the one it fell on and half a dozen more beside him as well.

Shoki looked outside the window. The sun was beginning to set, its disc no longer visible over the rooftops even as its golden light set off the distant minarets and towers of both the Husalmin and Atishi places of worship.

Mother and father would be once more waiting for him at dinner. And once more, they wouldn’t be disappointed to hear he’d been working with the illustrious Salar.

Shoki chewed his fingernails. Salar Ihagra was a wise man. Experienced and someone with a preternatural knack for separating the guilty from the innocent.

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