Page 104 of The King's Menagerie

Berkant looked to Bahiyya, who smiled ever so faintly. "We're grateful for the help, Master Berkant. As you've proven yourself to be an exemplary guest, you have my leave to roam the palace as you like. Do not leave royal grounds and try not to wander at night."

"Thank you, Captain, that is most generous."

Bahiyya bowed her head slightly. "Now that matter is settled, I must return to my duties. Good day to you both."

Litta clapped her hands as they were left alone. "I cannot thank you enough, Master Berkant. I also cannot deny that I am more than a little excited, personally and professionally, to know the Jackal himself will be performing for us. But come, we'll get you all settled." She motioned for him to follow, and Berkant fell into step alongside her, bemused and excited all at once.

He could not remember the last time he'd performed for anyone. Since Parvaneh and their daughter had died, he'dstopped caring. He'd turned down every offer that had come his way, until they'd finally stopped coming.

It had been strangely easy to accept this one, and not even because of his peculiar situation.

As pathetic as it probably made him, he just wanted to see Shafiq again. Wanted Shafiq to seehim,if only for a few minutes.

Litta led him into a training room that left his former one in the sand, and it had been nothing to scoff at.

The mats were of top quality, the right combination of sturdy enough to work out, but with enough give to lessen the damage of a fall. There was plenty of lighting from the windows that ran along the tops of the walls, with lamps that could be lit when dark fell. All manner of training equipment, with chalk, wraps, and more to assist. Mirrors to watch form, a washing and bathing area, massage beds…

Once upon a time, this facility would have been a dream come true. Even now he couldn't help the rush of excitement. He hadn't realized just how much he missed this life. Maybe it was time to return, if any of his old friends and associates had any interest. He'd find out once his business here was concluded.

He reached up to touch his locket, smile bittersweet, before he turned his full attention to the task before him.

"Ashel," Litta called out, beckoning to a man working in one corner of the room, surrounded by fabric, trim, and a veritable wall of thread. "We've gotten a replacement for Ven. Could you come get his measurements, see what you can have ready in three days?"

"You love to deprive me of sleep, you useless woman," Ashel said with a smile as he rose, grabbed a tape measure and pad of paper, and crossed the room to join them. He kissed Litta's cheek. "Why do I continue to put up with you?"

"Because of what I did this morning," Litta said with a laugh, and pinched his butt before striding off, already calling to other individuals working on the mats.

Berkant smiled. "Your wife?"

"Close. We're getting married next month. My name is Ashel, as I'm sure you heard bellowed." He winked. "You are?"

"Berkant."

The man's eyes widened. "NottheBerkant? The Jackal? Here?"

"I'm astonished anyone still knows my name," Berkant said with a laugh. "Yes, that is me."

"I think it will be a very long time before anyone forgets the Jackal. I watched many of your fights; I cannot believe I did not recognize you. His Majesty will be delighted to see you have agreed to perform for him. His wife was your greatest admirer."

Berkant had no idea what to say to that, but finally settled on, "I am honored to have been so highly regarded by Her Majesty, and can only hope I live up to her expectations."

"I have every faith. Now, let's get you measured, hmm? Any color preferences or dislikes? You'd look marvelous in red."

"Not purple," Berkant said. That had been the color he'd worn throughout his fighting career, and he preferred to start fresh. "Red is fine."

Ashel smirked. "I'm confident everyone will think it more thanfine, or I'm not a royal seamster. Come along, this way."

Berkant obediently followed and stood on the platform Ashel indicated. The measurements were familiar still, invasive and impersonal all at the same time. He hadn't bothered with more than second-hand clothes he adjusted himself in a long time.

"All right, Master Berkant, here are some color options for you, everything I have immediately to hand and can start work on today. I favor one of these three," Ashel said, motioningto his racks of fabric and pulling out three. One was an extremely vibrant red with a great deal of sparkle to it, good for performances, but a little too flashy for Berkant's taste.

The second was a much darker red with a subtle swirl pattern in a slightly lighter shade. The third fabric was the very color of fresh blood, with thin bands of black and gold cutting randomly through it.

"This one," Berkant said, touching the last one. "It's the most striking, without being as flashy as the first one."

"My choice as well. I'll have it ready for the first fitting tomorrow."

Berkant thanked him, then headed for the mat where Litta was beckoning him. Next to her was a man Berkant didn't recognize, but who was clearly a fighter by his physique, clothes, and stance. He was also young, not more than early twenties.

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