The Silver Sparrow

An Embodiment of Long Lost Things

"Khandoor." Sarasef sniffed the wine after a few twirls, took a sip and paused for a moment. "South? No," he hesitated, "the oak there is sweet. This is rougher. Smoky. Almost burnt."

"Southeast." Nodding in agreement, Deo di Amarra reached over to fill his own cup and followed the same ritual. "Serefina."

"I didn't know they make wine in Serefina."

"They don't," Di Amarra replied with a grin. It was layered with a hint of pride. "I do. This is the first batch from my own production. What do you think?"

The Grand Chief paused for a moment before taking another sniff at the wine, trying not to appear surprised. It was normal practice for Deo di Amarra to bring some cases of his own reserves as gifts, but they had always been acquired wines, not ones produced for him. This was something new, though not out of the ordinary, given the man's ambition. "You're moving into wine business now?"

"It's good business. And it's about time," replied di Amarra, looking expectantly across the table. "So?"

He took another sip, considering both the wine and the Khandoor's seemingly endless quest to own everything in life he could get his hands on. Sarasef had known the man long before he took over the Rishi. Long enough to expect some things while holding an awareness that there was always an underlying motive to everything di Amarra did, including bringing his own wine to be tasted. A business proposal could be made from this later, other things could be proposed. "It's complex. Rough around the edges. Surprising in the aftertaste with a hint of pepper. I like it."

Di Amarra smiled. "And the prince?"

An almost seamless transition from wine to politics. Subtle, as always. Sarasef thought for a moment, weighing his feelings for what had happened in the Hall of Marakai earlier that evening. Some surprises there. A lot, if he were to be honest with himself. "Complex, rough, and surprising," he said.

Di Amarra nodded. "You wouldn't mind fostering him then?"

Not so subtle this time, and much, much too fast. "If," he pronounced, "I decide to foster him. My decision has not been made, di Amarra." 

To that, Deo di Amarra chuckled. "Oh, come now. You and I both know you're not going to risk losing the Sparrow. You like that boy too much."

He might have congratulated the Khandoor for that power of observation, but then his feelings about the Sparrow had never been a secret. "I do," he said. "You stole him from me."

A frown, or a mask of one. "Stealing is a little harsh a word."

The only right word, according to Sarasef. "I had already begun training him. You had no right."

"You were slow."

"It takes time."

"Time to win him over," countered di Amarra. "It was never going to work. Not then, not now. He would never work for you willingly and you know it."

He did know it, had even been told as much by the boy himself. Then again, that part of the Sparrow did more to increase his interest than to make him move on. "Not willingly, no."

Deo di Amarra looked at him, rubbing his thumb slowly on an arm of the chair. The hint dropped had been taken. Sarasef could almost see something turning in that redhead from across the table, trying to figure things out. It didn't take long. "Ah. The girl?" Di Amarra concluded. "Clever. But you didn't take Za'in's only daughter for this though, did you? The last time we met, you had sense."

"I didn't. I still do." Sarasef stifled a groan. The goddamn mess was still giving him a headache, even if it had given him an opportunity to use her as an incentive to keep the Sparrow. "I sent men to get him. They brought back two others. She was one of them."