"You are here," Aru acknowledged with a slight smile, "and I am here. This is a good beginning." He kept his Arumenic common, speaking only in the Basic Mode. "I am amenable to dealing with you. It behooves both Anubis and my lord to maintain a certain amount of mystique. In the meantime, he would like the identity of the one who took out a contract on him, and whether you accept currencies other than gold." Many found the stark stances of the Ano Cultists off-putting, inhuman or unnatural. Having watched Ifran develop as an artist over the years, Aru had picked up a thing or two from him in exchange for sharing the ways of keen logic. His weight shifted, his musculature assuming a lazier contrapposto than was normally his wont. It was merely a change in focus, not a lack of focus. *** "Contrapposto," Ifran said, turning his hips and his shoulders on different axes, then intensifying the contortion into, "S-curve." He had two khopeshes in hand, and was going through his forms. Later he would call in a slave skilled with long daggers and they would spar in earnest; Ifran had always wanted his skills to be as honed for reality as for the stage. Aru could not fault his logic in this. While admiring the physical beauty and balance of the work, he was not envious. His own weapons were his words, wielded by a mind sharper than any blade. "Syna's Arc," he called, and Ifran pointed one khopesh horizontally while drawing the other over his head in a wide arc to assume a suddenly defensive posture. "Dust Devil," he called, and Ifran spun away from an imaginary attacker, twinned blades whirling both to protect and to attack, while various hands touched ground to speed his momentum and maintain his balance. *** "Certainly," he said, his voice falling out of formality, a sharp, conspiratorial smile slicing across his face, "certainly you have greater plans than merely running an assassination racket." This was no mere flattery; from what he understood, Anubis was quite a talented assassin, and from what he saw of this man, measuring him by means considered arcane by some, but merely logical by his brethren, he seemed to be more than just a man running errands for said talented assassin. "You don't seem like the type to play second fiddle," he said, his voice full of grudging respect and admiration. |