The Barmakis entered without announcement or ceremony. They were expecting to see Rehan still asleep, or at least laying down, and Amina tending to his pain. But when they entered, Rehan was standing fully clothed to greet them, and instead of Amina, Khayzuran was standing beside him.
"Commander Tahir," he said, spreading his arms. He still felt pain, but Amina's tincture had managed to allay the worst of it. "Thank you for making me whole again."
He bowed. "You were never not whole, Sayyidi," he said, ever the humble servant.
Sharan had quickly recovered from his shock and allowed himself a sigh of relief at seeing Rehan standing upright, leave alone with his usual vigour. He gave Khaya a cursory glance before moving his attention back to the Prince. He had already learned of her botched escape plan and her subsequent imprisonment from Yahya, and so it was no shock to see her here.
"Don't strain yourself," said Yahya. "Tahir told us he couldn't heal everything."
Rehan flexed his fingers in front of him, feeling the muscles in his forearm contract hard. "I certainly feel much better than I was."
Tahir squinted. "Where did Amina go?"
"She had to return home, but she left her instructions with me," said Khaya.
The answer seemed satisfactory to the Barmakis.
"What news do you have for me?"
"Some of the citizens reported that they'd seen someone of Abu Musa's likeness in the western quarter," said Sharan.
"How lucky for us he's decided to come closer to home." Rehan's eyes glinted in satisfaction.
"He may be planning something with the surviving insurgents," said Yahya. "We wanted to convene with the Emirs but decided to see if you were well enough to join us."
And of course, he now was.
They led the way to the hall of private audience, with Khaya remaining behind. She would be able to hear everything regardless, though she was wont to leave Rehan's side after the weight of the moments they had just shared. His final look to her was aching, conveying every feeling unsaid, but finally he lowered his gaze and went on his way.
The hall of private audience was abuzz with conversation when the doors were thrown open and he entered with the Barmakis. The Emir's were stunned, many of their mouths hanging open to see their Prince standing upright.
"Sayyidi!" Firaz shrieked and scuttled to them. "How grateful we are to see you well and recovered."
"God has willed it," said Rehan, his eyes quickly darting to Tahir. "I hear you have found the remaining spot of blight poisoning our city."
They gathered around the ashwood table to see a map of Rey spread out over it. Rehan already knew every road and street but he gave it a brief look anyway.
"Some peddlers say they saw him lurking around one of the tea houses," Firaz gave the Barmakis a knowing look. Likely he meant the tea house which led into the tunnel system. "I did not want to alarm the citizens so I have stayed a full invasion for now. Our soldiers needed some time to recover from the Ember Night as well, but now, with just a few weeks until the Gold Suq, I feel the time has come to act."
"Good," said Rehan. "Tahir would you be willing to lead a group there?"
The commander nodded. "It will be as you command Sayyidi."
Rehan stopped himself from rolling his eyes at the man's dramatics. "I think we can have someone go in from the southern tunnels and cut off any escape from below as we did before."
"Yes, the strategy worked superbly," said Sharan.
One of the Emir's loudly cleared his throat. "Sayyidi, the men are exhausted, they are badgering us for payment and reparations to the families for those who were martyred."
"How many were martyred?"
"About thirty, many were injured as well. The physicians will also be calling for payment soon," said the Emir nervously. Perhaps he was familiar with Rehan's tendency towards rage.
The room remained awkwardly silent, and Rehan let out a sudden laugh. "You forget who controls the purse strings of this empire, Emir. Collate and send me the amount, it will be paid shortly."
A Prince always travelled drenched in gold, lest people forget he was a Prince.
"Now stop wasting my time and tell me how many men we can spare so Firaz can have his damned Gold Suq."
X
It was a rudimentary task, in the end. The tea house had been quickly surrounded from the outside by soldiers disguised as patrons and idle passersby, while underground a small group familiar with the tunnels picked from Sharan's original eight waited, though there had been no need for them. Abu Musa, his faced covered in a black keffiyeh came out of the tea room at dusk, but the soldiers knew himânot for his eyes, but for the sword he carried, silver with an emerald studded pommel. A shame the one who carried it would be no more.
Tahir's soldiers were careful and calculated, mindful of the civilians still milling around, as they apprehended him. He alone was no match for three, five, ten of them. The people around them seemed mildly interested, although there was nothing particularly strange about an arrest being made in the streets. They did not kill Abu Musa there, but brought him back to the hall of public audience for all of Firaz's supplicants to see.
Tahir stopped to inform the herald of whom they were presenting, and the scrawny man nervously nodded, entering beside them.
"Commander Tahir al-Barmaki presenting the Umayyad rebel leader Abu Musa!" he bellowed. No one expected such a powerful sound to come from such a small man.
The public erupted into animated conversation as Tahir and his men marched in neat formation, the man in question safely between them. Word spread like fire, and soon Rehan and the governor emerged from the passage behind the throne seat, followed by a group of Emirs, the Barmakis were among them. Rehan had worn his black kaftan and keffiyeh for the occasion, leaving his chest bare for all to see. Everyone's eyes fell on the gruesome pale scar, it appeared like a lightning bolt had struck him in the heart.
He did not sit on the governor's throne seat, instead walked down from the dais onto the thin brown carpet to where Tahir and the contingent stood. They separated in unison, revealing a chained and bound Abu Musa. The people strained their necks on either side of the hall trying to get a better look at the man who had disrupted and destroyed their city.
Rehan motioned for the guards to move, leaving only Tahir to restrain the man as he fell into complete view of the public.
"Bring me the axe."
Firaz disappeared behind the throne seat and emerged a moment later, struggling to hold the gigantic iron battle axe. It was rusted around the shoulder, any carvings long eroded, but the blade was sharpened every day without fail. It was a most menacing tool to all who witnessed itâthe executioner.
"Citizens of Rey," announced Rehan as he took the axe one handed from Firaz. His entire left side screamed in pain, but he did not let it show. "Thank you for bearing witness to this final act, the elimination of all rebellion in our great city."
Cheers erupted in pockets among the crowd, the rest unsure of what was about to happen. They had only heard rumours of their Prince's ruthless brutality, and in anticipated excitement their held their breaths.
"Any last words, Musa?"
The man looked up at him, a violent glare in his eye. "Youâ"
His words died on his lips as Rehan swung the axe and struck him like a bolt. His head fell to the ground with a squelchy thunk and lolled to the side, and his body followed moments after. The room lay frozen for several moments, unsure of what had just transpired.
A single, melodious voice, the herald, echoed through the hall, "Long live al-Mahdi! Yaeishalkhalifa!"
The chant began, and rose with every breath. "Yaeishalkhalifa!"
Long live the Caliph.
Rehan handed the bloodied axe to Tahir, then turned and walked away.
It was over.