Page 51 of Iblis' Affliction
Trying to ignore the remark, Talha asked, “Did you bring the proof?”
“Yes,” Pulling a thin Smartphone out of his pocket he offered it to Talha, but his hand froze half-way. “Master stays with Slater tonight. No women.”
Without answering, Talha snatched the device out of the Reaper’s hands. “What am I looking at?”
“Behçet’s phone.”
Talha sighed, thumbing the screen. “It’s locked.”
“Try Ifrit,” his acrid words drowned in the whistle of appreciation coming from the bower.
Lifting a brow, Talha typed the name. The phone chimed, unlocking.
Talha concentrated, scrolling through contacts, messenger history, phone records, voice messages, and installed apps. Entering the cell phone provider’s app, Talha requested the call detail record.
“Fuck my life…” he breathed, as pieces of a puzzle clicked together, revealing the picture of betrayal. Someone named ‘Toothless’ had a long and entertaining discussion with the owner of the phone he held. Talha didn’t need to be a genius to figure out that the reference Mardin'in Piçi[23]was about him, and that Slater was right. Toothless set him up.
Without sparing Slater a second glance, Talha stormed toward the bower. Five men, including Dinçer and Salik, sat around the table drinking whiskey. The woman he’d sent danced close to the fire. Seeing Talha, Dinçer got up and stood by his side, question in his burning gaze.
Showing him the display, Talha thumbed the name Toothless.
Salik blinked with heavy lids as his phone chimed. Pulling it out of his jacket’s pocket, he stared at the screen. Merriment gone, he sobered up.
“Take his phone,” Talha ordered, ignoring the concerned gazes of his lieutenants. Leaping toward the traitor, Dinçer fetched his phone, showing Talha a screen that said ‘Behçet Asani’.
“Talha, it’s not what it looks like…” Salik paled, sweat beading on his narrow forehead. He gawked around, searching for support in the familiar faces, but met no sympathy. Only questions.
“What’s going on?” someone asked. People drew to the small bower, and the warm night became stuffy.
“Isn’t it?” Talha said without a smile. “I think it’s clear as a day. Dinçer, take him to the basement.”
“No! No, Talha! We are friends, aren’t we? Listen to me!” Screams choked in the night as Dinçer dragged the man away, but no one paid any attention to the prisoner. All gazes were glued to Talha.
“Gentlemen, I’ll be waiting for you in the Grand Hall in ten minutes to announce the Royal Game.”
THE MANSION QUIETED DOWNas the events drained people of merriment and intoxication. Even Slater stopped smiling as he propped up against the wall of the Grand Hall. No one interrupted Talha’s long explanation about the betrayal and setup. No one said anything when Talha commemorated the names of those who died in the mosque. A few people requested to see the phone, but at the end of the meeting, everyone agreed that Talha had the right to invoke the Royal Game.
Pressing his palms against the wooden table, Talha looked every man in the eye. “We need five people in the jury. Please, draw lots.”
The transparent jar, containing black, glossy spheres stood at the farther end of the table, opposite to Talha.
Approaching it, Güvenç tugged the first sphere out and screwed it open. Looking inside for long five seconds, he announced, “The wali[24]of the slain.”
After Güvenç stepped aside, each man except Slater, Dinçer, and Talha took the remaining balls that divided them between the jury or the wali of the slain.
When the jar emptied, Talha announced, “The day after tomorrow at seven PM, I expect you to join the Royal Game in the hunting lodge in the Yenice forest. The weapon is the Turkish bow. The game will last for three days. Those who miss the game will share Salik’s destiny.”
With short nods, the men left his house. Listening for the distancing footfalls, Talha felt the weight of his promise landing on his shoulders. Trying to push the tension out of his body with a breath, he hung his head and closed his eyes. The polished wood under his palms warmed and moistened beneath his grip.
“Say, Master…” Slater’s voice sounded sickening-sweet as he closed the Grand Hall doors, then slithered around the table, before freezing behind Talha’s back. Talha expected to receive a sex proposition or a touch on his body. Instead, Slater asked, “…what’s the Royal Game?”
Talha wavered. Someone who came from the West couldn’t possibly understand the honor of blood-revenge, least of all someone like Slater. Still, he faced the reaper and tried to explain as best as he could.
“If the blood of kin has been violated, a man has the right to seek blood-revenge from the man who caused harm. When the harm was done by one to many, we call the Royal Game to seek justice.” Slater’s expression didn’t change remaining questioning, so he continued, “The day after tomorrow, the male members of the families Salik wronged will gather in the hunting lodge in the Yenice forest to manhunt. We take horses and bows and give Salik two hours of headstart. If he can survive in the forest for three days, he is free to leave. No arrow can be directed to his head or vital organs. If an arrow hits the target, he must be given one more hour to escape. Then, the game resumes. The game lasts until he bleeds out or three days have passed.”
“Why do you need a jury?” Slater inched closer; the warmth of his body seeping under Talha’s white shirt.
“It’s a tradition,” Talha explained, trying to stay unaffected. “Five impartial people have to supervise the game to make sure no one kills Salik out of pity or, if he survives for three days, there is no vengeance to follow.”
