While young Prince Idris was trying to pull off the beginnings of what he had seen so often in his uncle's case--the art of having someone agree with your views and go along with it with as little protest as possible--the lad's mother was at that very moment closeted with a visitor of her own.

"To what do I owe the honor of this visit," she was saying with considerable deference, "my Lady Mirena Ardenia?"

"So good to see you in good health, dear Lista," Husnir's aging wife smiled. "I hope my grandson is, as well?"

"He is, madam, praises be to Allah."

Mirena nodded. "Still loves to explore?"

"Getting harder to track down by the day, I fear. As for yourself..."

"As you can see, Lady Hospodia."

"I was referring to the purpose of this kindly visit, madam, in warm view of your advancing age."

Mirena put her wrinkled hand on her daughter-in-law's, cupping it.

"Gracious, how close I am to be reunited with my dear lord husband... so close, I am conscious of that; which is why I now wish to make some apologies."

"You have done nothing to me or my family that requires that, my lady. Quite the opposite."

"For that I'm glad, but..." the former Lady Hospodia fixed her successor in that title with an earnest gaze, "Urdin..."

"Pray tell me, what about him?"

"He's treated you, I noticed, with more than a pinch of contempt, and on multiple occasions. I do hope you'll kindly forgive him."

"Far be a former peasant's influence beside an active general's, madam. Let's just say we both are conscious of that "

"Oh, Lista..."

"Besides," Idris' mother resumed, "I believe I found something to like about him."

"Let me know."

"There is a stricture in our belief..." Lista paused to recall, "'Adhere to Allah and the Apostle, and leaders from amongst thee'. I do believe Urdin sticks to this, if we are to kindly overlook his minor irregularities, and I hope Idris too can learn from such a heartwarming attitude... which he already seems to be."

"You are saying you have no ills against my headstrong son?"

"Should I not thank him instead that I, a semi-literate peasant who'd lost two brothers to the turmoils of The Second Trial--may they all rest in peace--had been brought into the folds of a Household so intent on impressing The Straight Path's noble values?"

Mirena paused.

"I see... that's one way to look at it. To think Husnir was so heartily opposed to your engagement! As for Ingeras..."

"Oh, he's been a father that Idris is most anxious to look up to. Ingi is kind where possible, stern where required... I'd say he and Urdin make for a rare mix for these times, madam."

Mirena smiled. "You are not trying to flatter me?"

"He is not without faults, to be sure, yet it is my honest opinion as someone who's been in his care for close to twelve years now."

"Well then..." the former Lady Hospodia sat back in her seat, "I think I'll just wait for them to come home once again, insha Allah."

Lista rose. "I shall escort you to your room, my lady."

"Warmly appreciated."

***

"Salutations, Mom..."

"There you are, dear, it's nearly midday... but why the long face?"

"My friend Rondra, he promised to train with me in trying to reveal the wings... on condition that this snowstorm subsides." The princeling banged the right arm of his seat. "But it doesn't!"

"Now, now, patience, Idris. Think instead, have you not perhaps forgotten something?"

"Ah, now that you said it... didn't add 'insha Allah' in the promise..."

"There. Besides, it's not like it had to be today. Tomorrow will do as well."

"But I don't know when Dad will return! What if he does when I haven't mastered the move?"

"Have you known your father to be so impatient?"

"Well... no."

Lista smiled, mussing her only son's silvery hair. "Nothing to worry about, then. Now, rather than fret and grumble in such an uncomely fashion, why not perform the prayer? I have."

"I will! Thank you, my lady!"

As Idris ran off to attend to his new task, his mother sat back in her seat, sighing and smiling to herself.

"Such a lively one..."

She then recalled what Mirena had asked as Lista opened her room's door for her:

'Have the letter with that purple seal been tampered with, my dear, in any way?'

To which Lista had replied in the negative, further adding that she and her husband intended to honor the letter's single provision.

'Such is the proper stance,' had come the warm reply. 'I pray for its successful realization. You should too.'

"Well," Lista now mused, "keeping one's secrets undisclosed is proper and all, but... I better try and ask Ingi more of this when he does return, insha Allah. Whatever might that single letter contain, that it were to be opened only as Idris would come so near to manhood?"

During her most recent dialogue with Urdin regarding said letter--by which time Prince Idris could do little more than coo in bed--the army officer had dubbed its single condition as 'fishy', going so far as to mention that his only nephew might not survive adulthood.

At the same time, Urdin did not care to advocate for its 'speedy removal', as Lista herself had called it.

"Is this some kind of threat, I wonder," Lady Hospodia muttered at present, "or is Urdin aiming to protect us from this same threat? Or, is this really not a threat at all, now his lady mother had lent her supportive voice into the matter..?"

At length, Alista rose.

"For all his scheming streak, my dearly headstrong brother-in-law would never go so far as to implicate his aging lady mother, that much I know! Besides, we are now halfway towards fulfilling this condition... Yes, I will consult my lord husband again on this matter, insha Allah!"

***

His prayer performed, Idris now came to visit the office of Arenda's current custodian, Mahan Varastra. Ingeras had appointed this individual partly on the grounds of his outstanding track record under the previous amir, by helping to organize various raids in Balaras' general direction. Mahan was also keenly aware of Idris' scholarly tendencies, and in his current capacity would occasionally impart aspects of rule as befits an eight-year-old, taking advice where needed.

"Salutations, Sir Mahan. Peace be upon you."

The custodian rose to greet him, smiling. "And to you, my prince. Please be seated. How may I help you today?"

Idris did. "Have you news of my dad? When will he return?"

"It is favorably indicated, sir, that our amir is still attending to many things in Balaras. We have yet to learn of his return trip, in which case we shall inform you without delay... oh, begging pardons, ought to have let you know sooner," Mahan reached to his desk's highest drawer, "but here, we have a poem and letter from General Urdin, and they seem to bear your name."

"From Uncle?!" Idris eagerly reached out for them, losing little time in perusing both.

The poem read:

Sea of sand to the south, of water to the north;

Of people here in Balaras, facing the sunset with breezes in body, prayers in mind both;

In Arenda, an eagle waits to soar, a lion to pounce;

Waiting all the more for older ones that in sheer gratitude shall bounce.

"He understands," the princeling whispered, holding the poem's paper to his breast. "Thank you so much, Uncle..."

The letter, beginning with "Dearest Idris and his spirited lady mother", was a longer version of the poem, describing succinctly the goings-on in Hospodia's most recently-acquired city, its people, its customs. There was even an invitation, near its end, to "always savor part of what Allah has bestowed on this part of the world, while remaining humble before Him."

A blissful silence, for Idris, ensued. His hand holding the papers trembled. Mahan noticed, and maintained his smiling quiet.

"How fortunate Dad is, to have you by his side..."

"Sir?" at length the custodian put in.

"Thank you..." Idris wiped his tears, "...for these. I'll be sure to keep them." He left his seat. "Peace be upon you, Sir Mahan."

"To you as well, sir. I shall see you back--"

"No, I'll manage. Thanks again."

***

"Well! Briefest session so far with him, that was. Brightest too, no doubt..."

Arenda's custodian exhaled before taking out and poring over part of his real work, being the latest reports from informants posted on Hospodia's eastern borders. Activities of the Misran Amirate, they indicated, had risen considerably: during the previous month--that is, in the course of Ingeras' groundbreaking Balarian campaign--the Misrians had made their first significant move by taking over the Barsia region due east of the Middle Reaches. While nominally still in their own backyard, such a move might prove to be a portent for more serious ones in the future; something that would be beyond the realm of a mere custodian to handle.

More drastic measures would need to be taken, and soon... and until there were written orders from Ingeras or the amir's safe return, whichever would be the sooner, Mahan felt he would not be able to counter any offensive moves on the part of the Misrians without the risk of going over his stated authority.

"Well," he muttered, "short of a bold display of force, to start, as many enemy agents as possible need be turned against themselves. We'll see where that leads."

As one of the more concrete steps, Mahan sent for a certain Resna, one of the agents who had presented the reports the other day. Again the latter proved quick to make his solemn presence.

"How may I be of service today, Sir Mahan?"

"Tell me, Res," came the reply, "have you read even one of these dispatches before presenting them?"

"Why would I, sir?"

"You're not privy to its contents, then?"

"My obligation is to submit, not tamper with, those papers. If this kind of act displeases you--"

"Not accusing," Mahan put in. "For your steadfastness, I feel like letting you in on the contents after all. Counsel me, then, what you feel must be done."

"You have my undivided attention, Custodian of Arenda."

"Good. Shall we begin?"

The briefing took about half an hour, by which end Resna had one hand on his chin.

"Yes, I can see your point, sir... However, these proposed dealings with hostile agents--in critical view of the current situation and my personal experience afield--might turn to be as complicated, nay, maybe even as heated as any direct assaults. Are you quite prepared to sanction this, in all sincerity?"

"Difficult as it may be, Res, I'd rather we not be caught unawares and thus unprepared. We are both agents, so to speak; one of our primary tasks being to watch for possible options and act accordingly."

"If you say so. What then, dare I be so bold, are our possible contingencies?"

Mahan raised a warning finger. "From here on prudence is called for. Listen intently, and do not hesitate to correct me."

"Sir."

"Our religion takes a stern stance, to the point of wrath, towards bribery; this option must therefore be counted out from the possible solutions to win enemy agents over, never to be raised again. There is nothing against ransom, however, so we may set out to capture some and apply this kind of sanction."

"I see... but not to all of them."

"Quite right. Taking a kind view of your own background, spies are most often taken from the down-and-out class in society; the prospect of actually performing social services might warm their hearts to be in our employ outright. Other options are there, of course, but here I'll trust your wise application of field experience."

Resna smiled.

"Prudent indeed. How long is such a measure to be undertaken, though?"

"I'd say until the amir's safe return. We shall then be apprised of new developments and tasks, and arrange our responses accordingly. Are we agreed on this course of action?"

"We are, sir. I'll make sure our agents are briefed properly on those lines. Thank you for this audience. Peace be upon you."

"And to you."

***

"Grandmom Rena, look! See what I have!"

Aging as she was, the mother of Ingeras and Urdin was rarely someone to meekly give in to things. Even after Alista had taken the trouble to escort her to her chambers, the lady moved out again with the help of her prime attendant Imran (this time to the palace's porch) to try and finish her sewing for that day. It was there that she came across her only grandson again, whom she greeted with her usual calming smile.

"My dear cub," she gushed as he kissed her hand in deference. "Well, what do you have?"

"Uncle sent us a poem and a letter! Here, read."

They did, together and in excited silence.

"Beautiful choice of words, no?" she remarked at length.

"Indeed! I do hope I can send him something like this, one of these days... insha Allah!"

"If you study hard enough, you might. See how he'll like it then."

"Say, Grandmom, did Uncle like to study too?"

"Now, let's see. Urdin was more of an exploring type, much like you are now. Your father, however, loved books; I scarce see him without one everyday, not counting meal times. I had quite the time convincing your grandfather not to take them away, and he would often balk... oh, yes, hectic days, those were."

"So Uncle never read books?"

"Not half as many as his brother, to be sure. More often than not, Urdin regards something as useless if not immediately applicable. Some truth there."

"If that's the case, why did Dad become Lord Hospodia first, and not Uncle? Ruling does seem to require lotsa practice..."

Here the former Lady Hospodia smiled again after a brief take-back.

"Gracious, that coming from so young a mind! Yes, dear Idris, ruling requires practice--and lots of it, as you said. But, like in learning, there are conditions in ruling too. Your dad is firstborn to your grandfather, therefore he is first to take on his legacy. Your uncle, on the other hand, accepts this condition and since then had served him well. Do you understand?"

Idris tilted his head. "What's a 'legacy'?"

His grandmother cackled, pausing in her sewing.

"Perhaps your mother can explain this better. Run along now, dear, and thanks for the poem. I'll be there when your father and uncle return, insha Allah, or they will come for me. Go."

"Okay, Grandmom!" he kissed her hand again. "Take good care!"