He nodded at the other, following the cards with his eyes. Some movements he kept track of fully, others eluded him. Useful bit of information – as the two little papers could've just as easily been knives. Zayad doubted such trivialities rivaled the destructive potential of shroudmail, but it was important to catalogue all discoveries.

The small distractions made the trip more pleasant, really. And whoever said duty had to equal misery simply had a failure of imagination. One could serve his country well and live a life of plenty doing it. The best way to do so, honestly. You always liked the motherland more when you were properly nursed. Wasn't always the case. The censors often propagated utter destruction and starvation of any truth that did not align, but it was better to be their friend in passing. A kind hand to guide them over the correct side of the fence. Because anyone could have enemies. It was better to make friends, or at the very least enemies of your enemies.

„Last time I've seen him, he was still balding.“ But it had been years. „He got any hair left?“ He wondered if all those years on the run had further shrunk the man. He was never a titan, but there was a part of Zayad that disliked seeing such a mind reduced to a raisin. Life was taxing enough – no need to juice a scholar as if he were lime.
 
Kilam had never seen the man, but he had heard some rumors and stories of the stout man's stature. Recent reports that had crossed his desk did not have a description for him. At least not one as direct in relation to his hair as it was to his overall movement and health. "It is said that he is in good health, well enough at least for them to keep a solid eye on em. I imagine he is doing his best to remain in the best health possible to continue his work." Kilam smirked as he thought about what he would see when he met the Martyr.

"I hear that those with a bald head often have a brighter shine and most people's futures." Keeping the chuckle to himself, Kilam peeked out of the side flat as he felt the road shift beneath them. Heading more uphill now, Kilam marked this mentally. An hour had passed since they left the Port city; now they were almost halfway to their destination.

"When you knew him, what was he like?" This time it was Kilam on the questioning end.
 
He took the teething compliment, showing whites of his own. Good conversation was hard to find. Most people rarely cared to engage in barbtrading without wanting something out of the whole thing. Perhaps there were things Kilam wanted too – but a Miradi mind was often easier to understand.

„That is why I shave every morning, young Kilam.“ He offered in confidence. „It is possible to shine through the stubble, but to be bright as the moons above shows true ambition.“ And if it made him look more serious, he'd take that too. „So I pray every day that I may not lose my shine.“

Perhaps it was poor manners to laugh then, but it was acceptable to be strange in strange lands, among strange men.

„Back when his opinions were still accepted, he borrowed my inks once.“ Zayad still remembered how he was too stunned to warn of their magical properties. Aja're struck even. Then there was the most unfortunate explosion in the testing grounds. Nothing ever came of it, save the certainty that someone somewhere had the incident file with his name in it.

„I like to think he still writes more than he runs. Mansa knows we haven't made it easy over the years.“

He looked at Kilam, thinking on how to phrase it.

„What were your orders?“
 
Soft laughter left Kilam's lips as Zayad spoke of why he kept his head shaved. "A full moon? Spirits preserve us; if they bless you anymore, you might find yourself transcendent amongst many. Ever enlightened beyond the need of anything." His chuckle continued lightly as Zayad told the story.

It was not uncommon to share ink with another colleague; a thought he regarded pointedly. From where they sat now, this was something extremely important. Zayad was no ordinary man nor study, even now Kilam understood that he too was under speculation. It was definitely the Miradi way of checks and balances, the natural resolvent of any disorderly conduct.

Zayad said:
„I like to think he still writes more than he runs. Mansa knows we haven't made it easy over the years.“
Click to expand...

Kilam could not help but nod at this. No one ever really left without someone keeping a tab on their actions. If you were good enough, sometimes you escaped notice for a time. Yet here and now the door was opened, the game had come to an end. What would be the best response? Truth? Be honest and tell them, he was here purely of his own accord. An abuse of the systems in place for a selfish venture. Lie? What would he need to lie about?

Reaching up he slowly undid the cloth wrapping his left arm. Holding up the book, he set it between them. "I am the Seed.." Kilam could not help but shrug as he leaned back against the frame.

"I need to know more.. I must know more than I can find within the walls."

@Zayad
 
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