Kadar almost choked on the water, the pain in his belly flaring as his muscles jerked. No. NO. He drank the cup dry as fast as he could. “My brother, did you…? Were there any other men dressed like me?”
“No, the dead were all knights. I do not know what happened to your brother, but I did not see him there.” The man pulled away and again dug in his pile of belongings by the fire. “He must have been in better shape than you, if he managed to get away. You can hold that much hope.”
He straightened up with a short, slightly smoking pipe in one hand, tilting his head to the side. “Unless he betrayed you to those Templars?”
“No!” Kadar shouted, and then regretted it as the pain stabbed at him.
“Ssh, it was just a thought. Now,” the man held the pipe to his lips like the cup, “breathe in some of this opium. You’ve enough water in you, go back to sleep before that wound wakes any more.”
The smoke’s smell reminded him of his broken arm three years ago. It was probably opium, and the man was right; the pain wasn’t fading between breaths anymore. Kadar sealed his lips around the end of the pipe and breathed in steadily, ignoring the tickle in the throat. He counted to ten before exhaling, his head already floating away a little.
“Again. If you know how to do this the right way, that probably wasn’t enough.”
Kadar turned his head a little, brow furrowed at his benefactor. “You never said who you are.”
“People call me many things. If you take a little more smoke, you may call me al-Thalab.” Thalab urged his head back to the pipe.
Kadar sealed his lips around the pipe again. The man did look a bit like a fox in those brown robes… The room faded away, and Kadar watched a big-eared sand fox trot along a waddi. It had Thalab’s violet eyes.
La Volpe X Kadar: The Fox met his spouse in Jerusalem/all on a summmer's day... [2/2]
“No, the dead were all knights. I do not know what happened to your brother, but I did not see him there.” The man pulled away and again dug in his pile of belongings by the fire. “He must have been in better shape than you, if he managed to get away. You can hold that much hope.”
He straightened up with a short, slightly smoking pipe in one hand, tilting his head to the side. “Unless he betrayed you to those Templars?”
“No!” Kadar shouted, and then regretted it as the pain stabbed at him.
“Ssh, it was just a thought. Now,” the man held the pipe to his lips like the cup, “breathe in some of this opium. You’ve enough water in you, go back to sleep before that wound wakes any more.”
The smoke’s smell reminded him of his broken arm three years ago. It was probably opium, and the man was right; the pain wasn’t fading between breaths anymore. Kadar sealed his lips around the end of the pipe and breathed in steadily, ignoring the tickle in the throat. He counted to ten before exhaling, his head already floating away a little.
“Again. If you know how to do this the right way, that probably wasn’t enough.”
Kadar turned his head a little, brow furrowed at his benefactor. “You never said who you are.”
“People call me many things. If you take a little more smoke, you may call me al-Thalab.” Thalab urged his head back to the pipe.
Kadar sealed his lips around the pipe again. The man did look a bit like a fox in those brown robes… The room faded away, and Kadar watched a big-eared sand fox trot along a waddi. It had Thalab’s violet eyes.