They had moved to the roof garden, to give their conversation a less conspiratorial air.

  The garden wouldn’t have looked out of place in a palatial estate belonging to the grandest noble on the continent. Exotic flowers, shrubs, trees and cacti from the desert and all the known lands far beyond were arranged in artfully flowing beds. The full kaleidoscope of life flowed down the walls, etched out wide open spaces and created concealed groves. All of it was attended to by a small army of gardeners pottering around in green smocks and heavy leather gloves, as varied in their hues as the garden they cared for.

  In one such grove, sitting atop the western wall and marked by its blooming acacia tree, Ezerkal and Syla lay on elegantly carved loungers, a bottle of Zerkan red nestled on a low table between them as they soaked in the evening light.

  Especially in this dying light of the day, Nerkai was a beautiful city. Prosperous, wealthy, every luxury under the sun to be found within its grand walls. Its numerous parks, palaces, squares and markets all had their own unique flair and beauty. The entire city revelled in the grandeur that came with its status as the heart of trade and commerce in the immensity of the Kailai desert.

  Ezerkal sipped his wine, one of those many luxuries he had come to very much enjoy, albeit in greater moderation these days.

  “It’s quite beautiful, don’t you think?” Ezerkal said idly, rolling the wine glass in his palm.

  “It is,” Syla replied coolly, turning to look at him, “but you have been distracting me. As much as I appreciate the wine, the view, and the open air, we have an important matter to discuss. I will have this conversation with you and I will have an answer, even if we must remain here until the bells strike midnight,” she declared, a terrifying zeal flashing across her face.

  Ezerkal swallowed, taken aback by her shift in tone. He had hoped to keep conversation to a more pleasant topic. Her stern glare dissuaded him from the obvious retort about Nerkai’s lack of such bells, and so he resorted to a long, slow breath.

  “You propose treason,” he finally said, after an uncomfortable pause.

  Syla returned to lying comfortably on her back, her face impassive once more, her voice returned to contemptuous calm. “Then you will not declare it to all the world from the rooftops.”

  “And if I decline?”

  “Then you will not declare it to all the world from the rooftops,” she repeated.

  “And if I did?”

  She rolled her eyes rolled. “Then I would have you killed.” She briefly revelled, in the shock the casual finality of her words induced, letting them hang for a moment. “Or discredited as a madman,” she added as an afterthought, her thin lips curling into the slightest of grins.

  She glanced sidelong at Ezerkal’s face, taking in the intricate details of the fear etched upon him. The dilated pupils, the ever-so-slightly quivering fingers, and yet the firm stoicism of his jaw remained.

  “So, you condemn me to compliance, or silence.” Syla found his ability to remain so composed impressive, though she did not show it.

  Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

  “Silence is not so difficult.”

  “Neither is treason, apparently,” Ezerkal snarled.

  “Quite so, especially when that which you commit treason against has already doomed itself.”

  “And yet why should I trust you? Nary a moment ago you threatened me with death. And what of my bonds of loyalty? Of my allies and my friends?”

  “I only ask you to abandon bonds of loyalty that will see you die penniless and alone, your talents wasted. I ask you to replace them with ones that will reward your talents in ways you’ve never imagined. As for your friends, your allies, that will not burden your conscience: They may join us. Our endeavour is yet small, and I would welcome any addition with open arms.” Syla’s passion built with every syllable, flowing forth to wash over Ezerkal.

  “And threats of death, apparently.”

  She sighed, letting her passion disperse. “Yes, and with threats of death,” she admitted. “Yet, they are honest threats, for honesty is all you shall hear from me.”

  Ezerkal looked down at himself, sliding his hands together and ruminating on her words. “I suppose such brazen honesty deserves respect in its own way, ” he concluded, after a lengthy silence interrupted only by chirruping birds.

  “Honesty begets respect, and respect begets loyalty. As you have so duly noted, even honest threats are curiously respectable.”

  He laughed at that. “I do hope you don’t intend to recruit everyone in the same way!”

  “I fully intend to be more tactful in future.”

  Another silence descended between them. Ezerkal poured himself his second glass of wine and sipped slowly at the fine vintage.

  “So, I assume you’ll be accepting the offer.” Syla’s voice was a whisper. Now was the moment, Ezerkal would either meet her expectations or disappoint her entirely.

  “You assume much.” He paused again, fingers tapping together. “…Tentatively. Frankly, I think you need someone like me if you’re going to get this idea off the ground. Someone with a little more... charisma.”

  “Good, that is precisely what I came to you for,” Syla said with a sly smile. She did so enjoy being right.

  Ezerkal raised an eyebrow, but chose not to comment “So then, what’s our first move?”

  “More allies. We have a long road ahead, and we need as many to walk it with us as we can get.”

  “You have ideas, no doubt.”

  “I do.”

  “Preferably a list? Rather than waiting for you to oh-so-graciously bestow the information upon me?”

  Syla rolled her eyes and sighed. “Yes, a list. But one I fully expect you to expand upon. I need detailed recommendations, or solid reasoning to discount particular candidates.”

  “Oh, how kind. Please do inundate me with more responsibilities.” Ezerkal grumbled, returning his glass to the table. “And how, pray tell, shall I handle these new responsibilities? I have no doubt you intend me to speak to, and recruit, members of my house. Which means you will, of course, not be freeing me from my oaths to Zerkash, not yet.”

  “How astute of you. Yes, Zerkash seems to be the natural starting point, and best achieved while you remain among their number. Do not limit your scope however. Our starting point is Nerkai, not just one of its houses.”

  Ezerkal frowned. “You will not take this city with honeyed words and a cause few people will believe in.”

  Syla raised a hand to her mouth, and attempted to stifle her laughter. “If you believe I would make such a brash move so soon, you are quite na?ve.” She took a breath, composing herself though she still smiled. “I want you to find me nobles, craftsmen and soldiers. Artists, scholars and priestesses. We are building a web of influence, not staging a coup.”

  “We are only at the start of this…endeavour, then?”

  “Long before even that, we shall be building something grand, and yet we are only now drawing up the plans.”

  “And while I begin to spin this web, what will you be doing?” Ezerkal asked with relish. He couldn’t help it; the prospect was simply so enthralling. His fear still lingered, and Syla was no less intimidating than when she first appeared in his office, but the excitement smothered everything else.

  She laughed, softly but openly. “I will be doing the same, my little spider. We shall meet regularly to discuss our progress.”

  Ezerkal nodded, sitting up in his lounger and sinking deep into his own thoughts. The number of talented people in the city was staggering, they would need to decide on more than simple competencies to select the most suitable for this venture.

  He abruptly dragged himself to his feet and bowed to Syla. “Then I shall take my leave and see you shortly,” he said, remembering a letter he had left unread on his desk. “For I have a few ideas.”