Losham poured himself some sherry. "I think they are emulating me. They are learning from me."
Rami tilted his head. "Is that a good thing or bad?"
"It could be very bad if their combined intelligence exceeds mine." Losham slowly sipped on his sherry. "Which is likely. But they lack my knowledge and experience."
Thankfully, Dave understood that Losham's voluntary cooperation was better than his compelled compliance. He would have hated having to surrender his will to the eight former brutes, who were just now developing an intellect.
Losham had been doing that for many centuries.
"I need a cigar," he told Rami.
His assistant dipped his head. "Cohiba?"
"Naturally. Bring out the sherry, too."
Usually, on nights like this, Losham would have a couple of girls delivered from the brothel to help him unwind, someone to share a drink with and lighten the mood. But he didn't have the patience for that tonight.
He needed to think.
Thankfully, it wasn't oppressively hot in his backyard, and as he sat on his favorite outdoor armchair, the tension in his shoulders eased.
A few moments later, Rami appeared from the shadows, carrying a silver tray bearing the bottle of sherry, another clean crystal glass, and a Cuban cigar, which Losham accepted with a grateful nod.
"Will there be anything else, sir?" Rami asked.
"That will be all," he said.
"Very good, sir." Rami inclined his head and withdrew, his footsteps silent on the marble.
Rami was far more intelligent than most gave him credit for and was aware of much more than he let on. He knew what was goingon without Losham having to spell it out for him, but that was okay because he was also loyal, unfailingly and completely, and that made him invaluable.
Sometimes, even a mastermind needed someone to confide in. Someone who would listen and offer intelligent feedback while keeping secrets without being asked.
Trust was a rare commodity in the Brotherhood, and an assistant like Rami was even rarer. It didn't hurt that Losham kept Rami's most guarded secret, a secret that would cost him his life if it became known.
A gentle breeze carried the scent of jasmine, and above him the stars blazed with an intensity that was impossible to see in most parts of the civilized world, unmarred by light pollution or industrial haze.
It should have been peaceful.
It wasn't.
Losham reached for the cigar, which Rami had already prepared by cutting off the tip, and lit it. He took a long, grateful puff and watched the smoke curl upward and disappear into the darkness.
His mind circled back to the events of the day.
The meeting with his brothers had gone better than expected, but that didn't mean he could relax. Kolhood was suspicious, and Hocken was playing along for now, but his cooperation was conditional, contingent on Navuh's eventual return. Hazok was the quiet one, the observer, but Losham knew not to underestimate him.
The fiction about Navuh's breakdown would hold for a while. Days, possibly weeks. But eventually, his brothers would demand proof. They would insist on seeing their father, or at least hearing his voice, to confirm that he was still alive and in control.
Losham took another puff of his cigar, letting the smoke fill his lungs before exhaling slowly. The sherry was excellent, a rare vintage he'd purchased in its entirety, but right now he barely tasted it. His thoughts were circling like vultures around the carcass of the day's events.
It was hard to pick the worst of them because all spelled doom, but the most bizarre and unsettling was the phone call from Lokan.
He'd pushed it aside so he could concentrate on mitigating the most pressing crises first, but now, in the quiet of the night, the details of that call came flooding back.
The compeller was powerful, not as strong as Navuh, but formidable nonetheless. He'd reached through the phone line with impossible strength, taking hold of Losham's mind and making him answer questions he would never have answered voluntarily. And then Lokan spoke, his voice familiar and strange at the same time. He'd referred to the compeller as a friend.
A friend.
