Born a Monster

501 Meet the Khan

“I had thought to wait for half a day or so.” Mother said. “Being seen immediately like this bodes ill, Shinabib. Best manners, speak only when spoken to.”

“Yes mother.” Shinabib said.

“I’m a barbarian.” I said. “You don’t trust me even though I’m a Truthspeaker.”

Mother turned her head and spat.

And then she led the way inside the tent. She took two paces, fell to kneeling, and then bent at the waist.

Behind and to her right, Shinabib did the same. On her other quarter, I briefly stood, and then popped both knees getting to kneeling.

“You may rise, second cousin.” said the man I took for Asheph ibn Harran ibn Pesh. There were similarities of hair and eye color, but the jawline and cheekbones were wrong. I wouldn’t have guessed cousins of any kind.

Mother rose, indicated me. “A hostage, gift for our Khan from the western front.”

“I know you meant western flank, cousin.” the man said.

.....

“No, cousin.” she said. “Hammid, cousin of the Khan, has been beheaded, and the redskins have played with it as a toy.”

The man stroked his beard, examining the roof of his tent for a moment. “If true, that will not go the way the outsiders are thinking.”

“Cousin, please.” Mother said. “One of us must present the hostage to our Khan, and then I must return home, distributing whatever gifts our generous Khan decides to send with me.”

“And the hostage?” he asked. “He is a deaf and a mute?”

“Neither.” I said. “The both of you are speaking too quickly for me to get in a polite word.”

“And yet,” he said, “Your words do not seem polite.”

“Among other things, I am a Truthspeaker; I literally cannot lie to you.” I said.

“There is a difference between lies and politeness.” Mother said.

The man chuckled. “Ah, Cousin. If you haven’t taught Shinabib, yet, how much success were you expecting from a barbarian over just a few days?”

“Uncle,” Shinabib said, “I have said nothing.”

“Neither have you risen to give your uncle a hug.” the man said, spreading his arms wide.

Shinabib rose, and walked (not ran) to him to accept the hug.

“Aiyah!” the uncle exclaimed. “Cousin, clearly you have not been feeding him.”

“He eats better than I do!” she replied.
“It is true.” Shinabib said.

“Then I am failing as a host. To the next tent over, nephew. Say hello to my wives, and tell them I said to hurry along their cooking.”

When he returned his gaze to us from his departing nephew, the smile no longer rose above his lips. “What are your intentions, cousin?” he asked.

“This one,” Mother said, “is dangerous. I would get him away from Shinabib as soon as possible.”

“That does not explain why he is here, rather than working his way through our relatives.” he said.

“You know better than that, cousin. It would take months for me to get my share of the ransom, if at all. For myself, I can survive without. But Shinabib...” she trailed off.

“Yes.” he said. “Shinabib is nearing the time of the four choices. Later this year, if I remember correctly?”

“You know you do, cousin.” she said. “He still has his heart set on being a lizard rider.”

The man sucked air through his clenched teeth. “I told you that old lizard would be nothing but problems.”

“I think we both know who’s at fault, and it isn’t poor Hamara.”

“You, boy.” he said to me, “What is your Might score?”

“It is five, elder.” I told him.

“Five? Hm. Perhaps you could serve as mount to my nephew, if we can’t get good ransom for you?”

“I could grow to that size,” I said, “but I don’t think anyone would be happy about how much I’d need to eat.”

“How much do you eat now?” he asked.

“More than a hundred nutrition, and then half on top of that.” Mother said. “He is constantly eating even the grass.”

“One hundred sixty five nutrition a day.” I said.

“That is ridiculous.” he said. “Nearly three times what an adult male needs, unless they are fighting daily.”

The tent flap barely moved, but enough to admit an elderly man with a pronounced belly. “Sounds like the sooner we get him to the Khan, the better, then.”

“Father.” the man said, bowing but not kneeling.

“Speaking of the Khan, he is threatening to invite himself over if you don’t bring this curiosity to him soon.”

The younger man sighed. “He would do this thing, too. Assist me, father. If I cannot determine a fair price, I shall have to just give him to the Khan.”

“Shinabib still has his plans?” the elder asked. “Present them both. One lizard traded for another, and some small gifts for the relatives between.”

Mother’s eyes widened. “Would he make such a trade?”

“He might.” the elder said. “My son, do you have enough things?”

He clucked his lips. “It will do my heart well to deny the eternal greed of my wives. Oh, but my poor ears, when they learn of it.”



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“I could not ask such a thing.” Mother said.

“My son would not do this for you.” the old man said. “It is a matter of Saqueea being pregnant again.

“Cousin.” Mother said, “I thought you promised your next child to Xenia.”

The younger man spread his hands helplessly. “My wives deceived and betrayed me.” he grumbled.

I chuckled, only later realizing they were all three staring at me. “I’m sorry. Perhaps if I knew about the promise?”

Mother blinked first. “We have a plan; let us get rid of him before one of us kills him.”

“I agree.” younger man said.

And that, save for the chaos of the next tent over, where four women were huddled around Shinabib, listening to his stories as though... but it is rude to say that, and so I shall not. With much shouting, the nine of us were organized, and made deep into the city of tents.

Past the pavilion of golden cloth, past the three tents of matching white silk, past the green tent whose sole occupant was someone’s riding lizard. People were greeted with familial titles, the armored warrior stooped under the weight of an eagle, the man whose mustaches were curling out towards his shoulders, the hard-eyed man who smiled while hugging Shinabib.

And these reacted about the same as other people did when I was in my natural form. Speculation about whether I was more demon or devil or dragon, and more than a handful who thought me more related to their riding lizards than to them.

The Khan, Asheph ibn Harran ibn Pesh, was not much to look on at first. I nearly mistook him for just another Kamajeen, dressed in green and black with red and yellow trim. His mustache was well trimmed, but not his beard, waving wildly in the breeze of his movements. His eyes literally shone from inside (a pale blue, almost white) when he beheld me.

The younger man fell to one knee, his head bowed. “My khan! A dozen pardons, I did not realize I had kept you waiting for so long.”

“He is every bit as magical as I had hoped, and so very close to what I feared.” Asheph said. “I am told you are the Rhishisikk.”

“My name is Rhishisikk.” I said. Feeling the pressure of his reticule upon me, I scrolled mine across him, priority on my Psychologist senses. I know that I am supposed to speak of Narcissism, of deception, of sociopathy. In truth, I saw [Vanity], but his people seemed to value him.

[Charlatan, Conman, Stage Magician, Thespian], each of them above my own level. Yes, I can count, that is eight or more levels in social classes alone. He seemed amused.

“Either you are extremely wise,” he said, “Or the gods’ own special fool.”

Not all truths need to be spoken, but I blurted out, “Closer to the latter than the former.”

[Social manipulation detected.] my System warned. Thank you, System.

“Ha! I thought so.” the Khan said. “But come, come, my tent is this way, with plenty of food for... what is your name, again?”

“Shinabib, my khan.”

“I’m so sorry, Shinabib, but I’m likely to forget that by the time we next meet. But look at you, skinny enough to use as a whip.”

“Oh, it is nobody’s fault, great khan. I do keep eating my portion of food, and then some more than that. But I seem to grow only taller, and very little outward.” Shinabib said.

“That,” Asheph ibn Harran ibn Pesh said, “was well spoken. But come, the food is unlikely to come to us. Let us have a feast, and I can hear about what antics Hammid is getting up to in the west.”

He had taken two steps, before he stopped and turned. “What, has that fool cousin of mine gotten himself arrested?”

The process is commonly called a kowtow, and is something I still manage to unbalance to this day.

And the title of second cousin may have been honorary, or through marriage, although Shinabib also shared few traits with the male.

To be fair, the shape of my head’s shape was between that of a serpent and that of a lizard; I can understand the cause of their confusion.