-Ban, island of Banal – End of September, 7335-
The ship docked at noon. The sun was high, white, fierce, and the air shimmered with the heat rising from the sand. Zirinos narrowed his eyes, shielding himself from the brightness. His skin, accustomed to the cold of Lunos, felt strange in the dry heat coming from the desert.
"It's so different," said Luna beside him. Her silver hair shone in the light. "The sky is the same, red and purple, but the land… the land is different."
"The land is the same. People change it."
Sanderá, the grey-bearded guard, pointed to the city rising on the horizon: Banal, the capital of the Ban Islands. Low walls of pale stone, watchtowers covered with golden domes, and at the centre, the palace of King Zayan – a building of white columns and hanging gardens that seemed to float above the desert.
"It's beautiful," Luna murmured.
"It's deceptive," Zirinos replied. "Like all capitals."
They disembarked. The wharf teemed with activity: merchants shouting prices, slaves loading sacks, women in light colourful clothes laughing outside taverns. The smell of dried fish, spices and sweat mixed in a hot, oppressive cloud.
"Where will we stay?" asked Erlan, the young soldier, eyes wide.
"At the palace," Zirinos replied. "The king invited us."
"The king invited you," Sanderá corrected. "We are only guards."
"Then guard the door. And keep watch."
---
King Zayan's palace was cool, airy, with inner courtyards where fountains of running water refreshed the air. The walls were covered with blue and gold tiles, depicting waves, ships and sea creatures. The servants, dressed in white, moved in silence, carrying trays of fruit and jugs of mint‑scented water.
Zirinos and Luna were led to a reception room, where the king awaited them. Zayan sat on a low throne of dark wood, with silk cushions. He wore light clothes, beige with gold embroidery – the same colours that Zirinos was beginning to hate.
"Zirinos," said the king, with an affable smile. "Trussum's killer. Your fame reached Ban before you did."
"Fame is a wind that blows in all directions," Zirinos replied, with a bow. "Sometimes it brings good reputation. Other times, it sinks ships."
Zayan laughed.
"You have a sharp tongue. Sit down. Tell me about your journey."
Luna spoke of Lunos, of the snow, the mountains, her mother. Zayan listened attentively, his fingers drumming on the throne's arm. Magnus Troydís, the Duke of Wuqes, leaned against a pillar, arms crossed, his eyes fixed on Zirinos.
"We came to ask for help," Zirinos said when Luna finished. "The marquisate of Lunos is threatened. A conspiracy. Baron Refibus and his son, Seru… want power. And Luna."
"And what do you want?" asked Magnus, his voice neutral.
"I want them dead."
Silence fell. Zayan looked at Magnus. Magnus looked at Zayan.
"Military aid," the king said finally. "That is what you ask for."
"Knights. Ships. Soldiers. Whatever you can give."
"Ban is not a warrior kingdom. Ban is a kingdom of merchants."
"Merchants also know how to fight. When profit is at stake."
Zayan almost smiled.
"We will think about it. Meanwhile, you are my guests. The palace is open."
"And the other islands?" asked Zirinos. "Can I visit them?"
"You can. But take guides. The sands are treacherous."
---
Before they were lodged, Zirinos and Luna waited in an inner courtyard for the servants to prepare their rooms. The sun was beginning to set, painting the sky darker shades. The heat, however, did not lessen.
A young man approached. He was young, perhaps twenty, dressed in expensive clothes – golden silks, a silver belt, a ring on his thumb. His dark, greasy hair fell over his eyes.
"Are you the visitors from Lunos?" he asked, with a smile that hid disdain.
"We are," Luna replied.
"I am Dacius Rebwas. My family rules Éstli." His eyes ran over Luna from head to toe. "You really are beautiful. The rumours didn't lie."
Luna blushed, stepping back.
"I appreciate the compliment, but…"
"But nothing." Dacius stepped forward, his hand reaching for her arm. "We will dance tonight, at the feast. I won't take no for an answer."
Zirinos moved. He didn't run. He didn't shout. He just placed himself between Dacius and Luna, his eyes fixed on the young man's.
"She said no."
"She didn't say anything."
"She did. You just weren't listening."
Dacius hesitated. His eyes ran over Zirinos – the gold-and-blood hair, the scar on his neck, the hand on his sword.
"Who are you?"
"The man who cuts off your hand if you reach out again."
Silence weighed. Dacius stepped back, his hands raised in a gesture of false peace.
"Fine. We won't dance." He walked away, but his eyes never left Luna. "Until later, girl."
Zirinos watched him disappear through a side door.
"Zirinos…" Luna began.
"Don't worry."
"I'm worried. Your eyes…"
"My eyes are tired. Let's go to our room."
---
The room was cool, with a large bed, a barred window overlooking the inner courtyard, and a jug of mint water on the table. Luna sat on the bed, her hands in her lap. Zirinos stood by the window, watching the sky darken.
"Aren't you going to sleep?" she asked.
"I will. First, I have to go out."
"Out? Where?"
"To deal with something."
Luna didn't ask any more.
Zirinos left the room, went down the stairs in silence, and found the corridor where Dacius Rebwas had disappeared. The torches on the walls crackled. The silence was heavy.
He found him in a private room, drinking wine, alone. Dacius's eyes widened when he saw Zirinos enter.
"You… how did you get in?"
"Doors don't keep me out."
"What do you want?"
"A conversation."
The conversation was short. Zirinos didn't use his sword. He used his hands. Dacius's body fell to the floor with a dull thud. Blood dripped slowly, forming a dark pool on the silk carpet.
Zirinos wiped his hands on the wall. He left.
He returned to the room. Luna was awake, sitting on the bed, her eyes fixed on the door.
"What did you do?" she asked, her voice trembling.
"What had to be done."
"You killed him?"
"I killed him."
Luna paled. Her hands began to tremble.
"Why? Because he touched me?"
"Because he was going to try again. And because…" Zirinos sat in the chair by the window. "Because I can't stand to see anyone touch you without wanting to."
"That's jealousy."
"It is." He looked at her. "And it's ugly. I know."
Luna didn't answer. She just curled up on the bed, legs against her chest, eyes moist.
"I'm afraid of you," she whispered.
"I know."
"It's not of dying. It's of… of not knowing who you are."
"I don't know either."
Silence settled. The wind outside carried the smell of sand and salt.
"Zirinos," Luna called after a long time.
"Yes?"
"Don't kill for me again."
"I don't promise that."
"Then promise you won't lie to me."
"I can't promise that either."
She closed her eyes. She fell asleep, or pretended to.
Zirinos sat watching the window.
'the monster inside me doesn't sleep', he thought. 'It only waits.'
'And I… I drink to silence it.'
He poured himself wine. The first glass. The second. The third.
The next morning brought the headache and the memory of blood.
Zirinos got up, dressed, and left before Luna woke. He needed to forget.
The city of Banal offered many ways to forget.