The Rose Cube
"Well met, my esteemed guests," the Sheikh greeted the group, then smiled at the young man who seemed to be their leader. "I rarely have visitors who are learned in the arcane arts, let alone from the far north."
Zalen nodded, noting dryly that their group were hardly typical visitors anywhere. He himself probably looked like most mages except for the third of his hair that had gone white after his encounter with the Source during the war but he certainly wouldn't pass as a local.
Darnac next to him was big enough to make any guards wary in his presence but after they had noted the pair of huge swords in his back you could practically see their nervousness. His head was shaved except for the part in the back which was cut short and oiled.
The two other men seemed even benign next to Darnac but they were no less unusual.
Rasan, the only local man, was dressed in the outfit of the fighting monks and although he was short for a man, Zalen had seen him in combat and he was fairly certain it would be easier to knock down a stone wall than the simple looking man.
Talyar, the fourth man of the group, was dressed with enough style to be a well-to-do merchant or a minor noble.
The Sheikh had looked at each of the men and then his gaze moved to the last of the visitors.
"And the Veiled Ones are of course always welcome."
Amaryan, the only woman in the group, was wearing nothing but veils and gauzes of different sorts as was common for her kind. She made a tiny curtsy.
"Thank you, your Highness. But for now I'm at his service. We can converse another time."
The Sheikh nodded and turned to look at Zalen again.
"You are truly an intriguing man, Zalen of Saleria. But what do I owe the pleasure of this visit to? What brings you here?"
Apart from the Sheikh, the guards and the visitors there were also a few servants in the room as well as an old man who looked like some kind of advisor. There was also a young woman lounging on some pillows a little to the side who was looking at the visitors with clear interest. Possibly one of the Sheikh's wives? Now there was a concept. After all the trouble he'd had with women he wasn't sure he wanted even one wife, let alone many.
But this was hardly the time to think about that.
"I am here to return something that belongs to you," Zalen announced, turning to Rasan who had lifted a cloth bundle from his pack and gave it to Zalen.
"It came into my hands in the north as we captured a thief. It took me some effort but I finally tracked down the information of its rightful owner and then travelled here to return it."
As he finished his story he unwrapped the cloth, revealing a cube of unknown metal with a strange golden rose motif.
"The Rose Cube! It truly is," the Sheikh gasped, practically leaping from his chair. Slowly, almost reverently he walked closer, accepting the cube from Zalen, looking at it like it might vanish at any moment.
"So it does belong to you then?"
"Yes. It had belonged to my family until it was stolen by thieves almost a hundred years ago. It looks exactly as my father described but I never expected to one day see it with my own eyes."
"I don't think anyone up north even knew what it was. It had changed hands quite a few times already by the time the last thief had won it in a game of dice."
"And you travelled all the way here just to return it?"
"Well, yes."
Zalen didn't want to mention the strange little sensation he had gotten when he first touched the cube. It wasn't clear enough to make much of an explanation but it had left him with a sense of unease that he eventually couldn't just let go and so he had ended up here.
Coryel had quickly decided to travel with him, mostly just eager to follow another old legend of an old treasure and it was hardly a surprise that Darnac would follow his wife.
Later on they had saved Talyar in a tavern brawl and gotten a new travelling companion.
"There was also a strange piece of a map inside the cube. Does this belong to you?"
The Sheikh took the paper from Zalen, looked at it for a moment and then handed it back, shaking his head.
"No, my father never mentioned anything about something like that. And the writing is in no language I can recognize. I do not think it belongs to me."
The Sheikh then walked back, handed the cube to the old man and sat back on the chair.
"While I was still searching for the rightful owner I asked the Veiled Ones for assistance," Zalen continued. "They told me the cube belonged to you and were also able to translate a part of the text. It mentions an old ruined city to the east and the Veiled Ones sent Amaryan here to lead us there. If we can locate it without the missing part, that is."
The local leader of the Veiled Ones had also made him promise an equal service for each day the search would take - and he still had little idea what 'equal service' actually meant. Zalen had a feeling he might have done a bad deal then but he wasn't about to tell the Sheikh that.
"I do not know what we'll find there but if it's again something that belongs to you, we'll return again."
"You truly are a remarkable man. You have returned our family's greatest treasure without asking for anything in return."
Well, he hadn't gotten anything done for a few weeks while the cube had sat on his desk so returning it was a reward in itself, Zalen thought.
"I have little need for riches," he said out loud.
The Sheikh looked at Zalen for a moment, then suddenly straightened.
"Yes, you are what I have been waiting for. Master of Keys, hear this. On this day I am naming Zalen my Om'asara."
The old man nodded. "So it shall be written down."
Upon hearing the Sheikh's proclamation the woman lounging near the wall had given a little jump. Now she was looking at Zalen intently.
"But now we must celebrate! Bring us wine," the Sheikh proclaimed.
A little later the group was heading towards their rooms the Sheikh had happily granted them for the night. Zalen hurried to catch up with Amaryan.
"Amaryan. May I ask you a question?"
"Yes. That you may."
"The Sheikh named me his Om'asara. What does it mean?"
Amaryan smiled, but continued walking without meeting Zalen's eyes.
"It is an ancient term that can be translated as 'trusted'. By tradition it is used to nominate the person that would inherit whatever the person considers his most precious possessions. It's usually used to choose a trusted friend from outside the normal inheritance order when the closest relatives cannot be trusted or no longer exist."
"So basically the Rose Cube returns to me when the Sheikh one day dies?"
"... yes, the cube would certainly be very precious to him."
"Then let's hope he'll live a long life. For now I just want to move on and solve the puzzle of that mysterious map."
The Night of Knives
The Sheikh had insisted that the party would rest until the morning before continuing.
Zalen didn't really want to argue against the friendly old man and as he crawled in his bed he was suddenly glad he hadn't.
"These sure beat the tavern beds," he noted, getting a sleepy "I'll drink to that" from Talyar's direction.
"You'd drink to anything," Zalen replied but a yawn cut off further words and a little later he was asleep.
The next thing Zalen heard was a loud yell that kicked him out of his sleep. As it was quickly followed by more, coming from somewhere in the hallways, he jumped out of his bed, grabbed his staff and quickly ran to put some clothes on. Whatever the crisis, he was not going to run out there naked! With his luck he'd probably turn the wrong way and burst into the harem or something.
A moment later the young sorcerer exited the room, followed by the equally haphazardly dressed Talyar. By now there were shouts coming from various directions.
"Which way should we go?"
"I'm not su- Hell's ashes, this way!"
Zalen broke out into a run, muttering more curses under his breath. This could not be just a coincidence, he just knew this had to have something to do with the Rose Cube. With his luck it had turned into a demonic statue that had gone on a rampage or something like that.
Running towards the inner palace the pair almost ran into a guard. The man was clutching his side, blood oozing from between his fingers.
