The window suddenly opens on its own, bringing more of the frigid night air and an unexpected, chilling voice speaks to the dark room. “Raayyy...gussssss…” echoes the haunting voice.     Ragus’s smile disappears, his eyes close as if to brace some pain and he clutches at his heart for a moment until the voice calling his name fades.  Sweat now pours from his face and he opens his eyes while breathing heavily.  His eyes move to the silhouette figure standing at the open window.  A chill runs through his body as his hair stands on end and he begins to tremble uncontrollably.  His heart is beating so intensely that he can feel its pulsation in his feet.  The figure stands motionless at the arched window overlooking the courtyard, his cloak slowly swaying in the cold night breeze.  Ragus cannot see the face of the dark figure but knows that his eyes are fixed on the trembling king. The figure slowly moves down into the room, as if gliding through the air.  Ragus is now beyond himself and unable to move.  Fear has overtaken him to such an extent that he is unable to blink, let alone breathe.  Who is this figure that has come uninvited?  If Ragus were not such a coward he might have reached for one of the many weapons adorning his chamber walls, but absolute fear for his life has left him motionless.  The figure extends his arms out as he approaches Ragus, then reaches towards his cloak to reveal his face. 

“Samaari,” says Hana, breaking the silence and stopping the advance of the figure, “why have you come?”

“What do you want?” says Ragus as he recognizes who it is, breathes a sigh of relief and tries to act composed.  He no longer looks at the figure but moves away from the door to a closet.  “Why are you here?” he asks as if annoyed, opens the closet, takes out a bottle of wine and starts guzzling it down.

“Ragus,” Hana exclaims as she hurries to him, wrestles the bottle away from him and slams it on the table, “has he taught you this as well?  Ragus, tell him to leave.  He is the cause of all our troubles.”

“Hana,” says Ragus as he takes the bottle again, “are you still here?  Leave us.”

“Ragus,” says Hana, almost pleading, “you should not be alone with him.”

“Leave us!” he yells. 

There is a silent moment as Ragus realizes that his sharp command towards his wife has hurt her.  Years ago, he never would have spoken to her in such a tone, but now he does not even look towards her.  He shows no remorse and waits for her to leave.

“Very well,” she says calmly, swallowing her pride and the injury to her feelings, “but he is destroying this kingdom and I will never forgive him for what he has done to you.”  She makes a brisk walk out of the room and slams the door behind her.

“I am sent because you have not conducted yourself well,” says Samaari, still wearing his long dark cloak.  He has only partially removed his hood so his face is still difficult to see.

“What complaint do you have against me?” says Ragus.

“Your task was to gain the trust of Noor’s ambassador,” says Samaari, as if speaking to a subordinate.  “You have let the element of surprise slip from our grasp.  Now they will be on guard and watchful for your every move.  Word may travel to Noor about your blunder, and they may respond in ways we did not intend for them.”

“Noor is weakening and no threat to my path,” says Ragus.

“Had you accepted their proposal, they would have sent word to pull back their cavalry from key positions in Anhar, leaving it ready for the taking,” says Samaari.  “But you are oblivious to such insights and even tried to kill the ambassador.”

“It doesn’t matter how many I kill,” says Ragus as he removes the emptied bottle from his mouth and wipes his lips.  “And why do you worry if I remove them.  Isn’t that what you want?” he says, bringing out another bottle and pouring its contents down his throat.

“Such childish plots are befitting your ignorance,” says Samaari, “and like a fool you turned the Captain against yourself.”

“He is of no consequence, and you are beginning to sound like a woman,” says Ragus, now becoming affected by the contents of the bottles he pours down.

“The Queen is right.  He is a valuable warrior,” Samaari replies, “and it is he, not you, who controls the loyalty of the elite sectors of the army.”

“Say what you’ve come to say,” says an impatient Ragus. “The Master cares not for undue disturbances,” says Samaari.  “He will deal with them when he sees fit.  As for now you will send them back to Noor.”

Ragus puts down the emptied bottle and turns his head to Samaari.  “What?” he says while wiping his lips, “and lose the upper hand?”

“How pitiful,” says Samaari.  “You can only see what is in your hands and no further.”

“Anhar looks to us for its needs,” says Ragus, trying to show that his actions are reasonable and thought out.  “Noor is weakening.  They are plagued by droughts and their old alliances are gone.  Their king does not have the iron to strengthen his army for fear of starving his people.  The time to deal with them is now.”

“And how will you confront them?” asks Samaari.  “Your own kingdom is slipping between your fingers.  When the Master gives the command then we will initiate our designs on Noor.  For now you will send them back,” Samaari repeats.  “You will apologize for your actions and treat them graciously.  You will accept their demands and deliver them to their King with great care.  We are on the brink of initiating our movements and they must have no reason to question our motives or interfere in Anhar.”

“What master would pass such an opportunity?” Ragus replies.

“You are not expected to understand, only to obey,” says Samaari.  “The envoy will go back to Noor as they came.”

“Do you expect them to fulfill their end of the agreement?” says Ragus.  “I will not fall prey to their deception.”

“Do not question your Master’s wisdom,” says Samaari, “and do not forget to whom you answer, slave.  You are but a pawn in a scheme too grand for you to comprehend.”

“I don’t answer to you,” Ragus retorts.  “You are a slave, nothing more than a messenger.  Do not forget that.”

“We are both slaves to one power,” Samaari answers, “and you will obey my words.”  He jumps backwards while still looking at Ragus, half floating onto the sill of the open window.  “Remember,” he says as he wisps his cloak around himself, faces the outside, then turns his head to Ragus with contempt, “a vagrant in a castle is still a vagrant.”  He then laughs and jumps out the window.