"Lieutenant Colonel Madari. Congratulations on your promotion."

"Your majesty." Madari bowed his head, then turned to the man that stood beside King Atuallah, Prince Zahir, the king's brother and their Defence Minister. "Sir."

"And Colonel Rahama." The king smiled at him. "Always a pleasure. Please, sit, all of you."

They sat around a long conference table, the four of them taking up only one end of it. The king and his brother sat side by side and were a study in contrast, Madari thought. Both men's features were quite similar, and they even wore their short neat beards in an almost identical style. But Zahir cut a more imposing figure, taller and wearing flowing white robes and a headdress. The king on the other hand wore a light grey western style suit, and was bareheaded. Shorter than his brother, he even looked younger, though Madari knew he was two years the senior.

"I'm sorry I haven't been able to see you sooner," Atuallah said, "But I'm very keen to hear about your trip to England. I've read your report."

Had he? Madari wondered. Or had his advisors read it and summarized the key points? A king was a busy man after all.

"Any questions you have about the report I'll be happy to answer," Madari said.

"I have a question." That came from Zahir. As he spoke, he reached across the table and picked up a blanched almond from a dish. Before he went on, he sipped the tea an attendant was still serving to them all. "Do you really consider it a justifiable expense to send Lieutenant Jahni to be trained in England? Don't you consider our training facilities adequate?"

"I believe it is now Captain Jahni," Atuallah said, quietly.

"My apologies." Zahir bowed his head to his brother.

"I believe it is justifiable, Sir," Madari said. "He'll not only be trained himself, he will return ready to train others, ready to set up the Special Forces Group's unique training program. The Captain and I agreed that his hands-on experience of the SAS Selection and training is worth far more than studying it in the abstract."

"Assuming of course, that he passes," Zahir said.

A flush rose to Madari's face. "I have a great deal of confidence in the Captain. And first hand experience of his abilities. It will be a challenge, but it's one I think he can meet."

"I agree," Rahama said. "One of the best young officers I've known."

"Excellent," Atuallah said. He stood up from the table for a moment, waved the others to sit again when they went to rise. "It's so warm today." He strolled to the open windows, that looked north. "I've been thinking about the unit's training, actually. The report recommended setting up a training base, outside the city."

"Yes, Sir." Perhaps he had read the whole thing.

"Yes, that's a good idea, I think." The king turned back from the window, taking off his jacket. "Far too warm in here."

"You spend too much time in the cold, in France, my dear brother."

Madari glanced at Rahama, who wore a small frown, directed at Zahir. But Atuallah didn't seem to mind the remark. In fact he laughed.

"Even a king has to work hard to stay on the right side of his in-laws, dear brother." He turned back to Madari and Rahama. "Now, what I was saying, is that I wondered if perhaps your old base would be suitable as a training centre?"

"The camp?" Madari had never even thought of that for a moment.

"Control of it has reverted to the Royal Guard, I believe. And you obviously had success training your guerrilla force there."

"Yes... I... it does have some damage."

"Easily repaired I'm sure, to bring it up to specifications." He glanced at Zahir. "I'm sure you can allocate extra funds for that."

"I'd been thinking of the old Air Force base at El Himran," Zahir said. "It's in better condition."

It's also much older and less well equipped, Madari knew. His men would hardly expect luxury, while training, but they could at least be provided with decent plumbing.

"No, no." Atuallah shook his head. "Quite unsuitable location. What do you think?" He asked, turning back to Madari.

"Well, there is a good variety of terrain in easy reach of the camp, suitable for training in various environments. It's remote of course, which is good." He had to admit, it was a good idea. He hadn't been back there, since he left for the last battle to restore the king. Part of him never wanted to see it again, and part of him knew going there would feel like coming home. After a moment he smiled and nodded. "Yes, Sir. I think it's a very good idea."

"Excellent, arrange to send someone out there to assess the work required. Now then." He sat down again and pulled a sheet of paper from a folder. "Now, I have several questions about your report."

Madari quickly concluded that, yes, Atuallah had read the whole thing, and he had enough intelligent and difficult questions to make Madari decide that, yes, it was indeed very warm in here.

~~~~

"Well, please pass on my regards to Captain Jahni and wish him luck with the training." The king had walked out to where Rahama's car waited for the two officers. Zahir, claiming pressing business elsewhere, had already gone.

"I will, Sir," Madari said, shaking the offered hand. "He leaves in a week."

"I know he will do you and his country great credit."

They made their goodbyes and Rahama and Madari got into the back of the car. Rahama closed the partition between them and the driver.

"I think his Majesty had you sweating a little, Faris."

Madari shook his head, smiled. "He asked some very - ah - incisive questions."

"He's a bright young man." Rahama took a couple of cigars from a humidor built into the panel in front of them. "Here, calm your nerves, my friend."

They sat in silence for a moment, smoking their cigars. The King and his sharp questions wasn't the thing playing on Madari's mind, but rather the attitude of Zahir.

"I wonder if the unit has the full support of his Highness? He doesn't seem enthusiastic."

"Oh, I don't think it's the unit, so much as its commander."

"I see," Madari said, slowly. "Then, given that he is the Defence Minister and has the power to appoint who he wishes to the unit, why am I the commander?" He had initiated the idea of course, but that was no guarantee that he would automatically command the Special Forces unit.

"Because his Majesty wants it. You're quite the favourite with him."

"Favourite?" Madari frowned. "I don't think my position should be based on being a 'favourite'."

"Oh, then let me put it another way. He values your counsel, I think you underestimate how much so."

Madari wasn't sure if he did underestimate it, he just wasn't sure he understood it. He'd been called more and more regularly to the palace, ostensibly to report on the progress of the new unit. But the conversation often strayed to other matters, to politics, especially the reforms and initiatives the king was bringing in.

"Well, that's flattering, but I'm no politician, or diplomat. I can only advise on military matters."

"I think..." Rahama looked thoughtful for a moment, then puffed out some smoke and went on. "I think he sees you as a sounding board. You value both tradition and progress, without being a slave to either."

"I don't see that there has to be any conflict between those two things."

"Exactly." Rahama smiled. "Of course. You're an idealist and a man of rigid principle, so he also needs other advisers. More cynical. More realistic."

"Like Prince Zahir?"

"No. Like me."

~~~~

Madari returned to his offices to find a private piling archive boxes onto a trolley, while Faraj stood at his desk, packing his briefcase. The desk was almost bare now. Only the briefcase and the telephone remained. Jahni sat at his own desk watching Faraj packing up.

His last day, Madari thought. He had forgotten it was today. Faraj was moving to a new office of his own, while this office and those around it, became the headquarters of the Special Forces unit. Madari had stopped feeling guilty about his relief over Faraj's departure. Instead he hoped it might give them the chance to salvage their friendship. Perhaps working, and for so long even living together, had simply worn them down. Familiarity breeds contempt, the saying went. Some distance could help them all.

The private pushing the trolley left the room and Faraj put on his jacket. The insignia of a major gleamed bright and new. Slowly he fastened the buttons, adjusted the sleeves, and straightened the front of the jacket. He picked up his cap next and after a moment in front of the mirror had that adjusted to perfection. Satisfied at last, he turned back to the desk, and closed his briefcase.

"Well," he said. "It's time."

Jahni rose from his desk and the three of them met in the middle of the floor. Faraj offered his hand, first to Madari and then Jahni.

"It's been an honour to serve you, sir. And to serve with you, Captain."

"An honour and a pleasure," Madari said. "I know you will go on to great things, Idris."

"Thank you, sir. Good luck with the new unit. And good luck in England, Kahil."

"I'll see you again before I go," Jahni said. "Why don't we all go out to dinner tonight? We should mark this --"

"I'm sorry, I have plans already, but of course, we'll try to meet up before you leave."

He turned away, and Madari wanted to pull him back, grab him into an embrace, hating the formality in their voices. Had all of the warmth gone from their relationship? Where had the Faraj he once knew gone? This one spoke to them like a stranger.

Faraj picked up his briefcase and walked out of the office, without looking back.

Madari didn't speak for a moment, still watched the door, the empty space where Faraj had been. It seemed no time since he first came into Madari's office. Barely twenty three, full of ambition, full of honour. Eager to do his duty. Eager to demonstrate his loyalty. He had always done his duty, but somewhere along the way, Madari had lost his loyalty.

"Faris?" Jahni said then, bringing his mind back to the present. "Are you all right?"

"Yes." He smiled and let himself feel the relief again. "Fetch us some tea and come into the office. We have work to do."

"Of course."

He hurried off and Madari went into his office, hung up his cap and jacket, then sank into his chair with a sigh. Despite the relief, he also felt a pang of sadness. He had lost too many friends lately. Noor's death especially still pained him greatly. Now Faraj was drifting away, their paths diverging. He'd thought Faraj would always walk at his side. But so much changed the last few years. Jahni. He came in now, carrying a tray of tea things. Faraj would disapprove, expect someone else to carry that in and serve the officers. Jahni was different.

And now he was the one that walked at Madari's right hand. Was that what had driven Faraj away? Did he have no desire to walk at Madari's left?

Would the paths Madari and Jahni travelled ever diverge? The idea seemed impossible to contemplate. Perhaps temporarily, like in a week from now, when Jahni flew out to London, then on to Hereford and on to Selection and training. If he made it all the way through, they would walk a different path for six months.

"Thank you," Madari said, as Jahni handed him a teacup. Jahni sat on the other side of the desk and shifted uncomfortably for a moment. His jacket is getting too small, Madari thought. He spends every spare hour in the gym, training to peak fitness. Getting ready. Only a week now. Only a week.

"I'm sorry I'll miss Hannibal this time," Jahni said.

"Hmm? Oh yes." Hannibal's next consultancy visit would start two weeks after Jahni left. "I'll say hello to him from you. Oh and his Majesty asked me to pass on his best wishes to you for your training."

"He did?" Jahni's face lit up with a smile. "He mentioned me by name?"

"Oh yes. He wished you luck."

"The king wished me luck." He laughed. "Oh. Wow."

Madari smiled at how impressed he was. Only a week now. Only a week.

~~~~

Faraj arrived in his new office and sat at the desk. The desk did not impress him and he decided he would bring in his own. It was a good sized office though, near to Rahama's offices, with large windows and a fine view. He strolled over there and stood looking out while the private unloaded the trolley. A clerk had been assigned, he knew, and would take care of filing the contents of the boxes away. A maintenance man would be along to paint Faraj's name on the door later.

Behind him on the desk, the telephone rang and he turned back, surprised, then strode over to answer it.

"Major Faraj."

"Well, good afternoon, Major. How's that new office?"

Faraj smiled and sat on the edge of the desk. "Sayeed, how did you know this number? How did you know I was even here?"

"I have spies everywhere," Raslan said.

"I'm sure."

"And I happen to have spied a nice little restaurant that I haven't tried before. Join me tonight?"

"Of course." They made the arrangements and chatted for a while. Raslan was easy to talk to. They spoke the same language, and he didn't mean Arabic. Talking to Madari, or Jahni, or worse, the two of them together, had become a chore, even an ordeal at times. All they talked about now was this damn Special Forces unit of theirs. It had been a relief when they'd been in England for a month, and he'd started spending several evenings a week with Raslan. Such good company. It was still too early to be sure, but Raslan might even be someone who could eventually replace what Faraj had shared with Noor. A bond of equals.

He knew Jahni didn't like Raslan and that pretty much told him all he needed to know. Probably jealousy. Raslan's family might not be any more high born than Jahni's, but he had class. Something Jahni was entirely lacking in. Madari had once had class too, still clung to some vestiges of it. But Jahni dragged him down.

Well, they wouldn't drag Faraj down with them.

"See you tonight, Sayeed."

~~~~

The week passed. Too quickly, far too quickly. Too soon Madari and Jahni were walking through the airport, in civilian clothes, off duty today. Jahni carried his flight bag and a suit carrier with his uniform in it. Travelling light, as always.

They reached the check in desks and turned to face each other.

"Well. Here I go. Oh." Jahni dug in his pocket and pulled out his house keys. "Nearly forgot." He handed them to Madari. Madari kept his spare set anyway, but Jahni said he didn't want to carry his house keys all the way to England, and probably lose them.

"I'll check the flat once a week," Madari said, putting the keys into his pocket.

"Okay. That's great." He glanced over at the check in desk. Barely a queue now, and not long to go. "I'll try to call when I can, keep you updated on my progress."

"I look forward to that."

What could Madari say, here, in public? Be safe. Call me often. Work hard. Succeed. Call me. Call me.

Jahni laughed, an awkward tone to it, perhaps feeling as inhibited as Madari in these public surroundings.

"Of course, I could be home in a week, or a month, or any time."

He could be. If he failed the four week Selection, then he'd be back within a month. Or even if he passed that he could wash out of the further training at any time. Madari didn't know how he'd feel about that. Joy to have him home again? Sadness that he'd failed?

"You won't fail, Kahil. I have confidence in you. Go there knowing that I believe in you. Both as your friend, and as your commander. Please, take strength in that." He shook his head, wanted to laugh at his 'speech'.

Jahni fiddled with the strap of his flight bag, not answering for a moment, then smiled at him, but spoke in a serious voice.

"I will, sir. Faris. I will... think about you - what you said - all of the time."

At last, they embraced. They had put it off perhaps because it meant the final goodbye. How long did they dare hold each other? How obvious is it, Madari wondered, that I am trying to memorise even the scent of him before he goes?

They broke apart and there were a few more words between them, meaningless ones, about having a good flight, then suddenly Jahni interrupted himself and patted his pockets.

"Oh! I almost forgot. I almost left with it in my pocket!" He took out a small parcel, wrapped in silver gift wrap, with a green ribbon around it. "I didn't wrap it, they did it at the shop. It's, well, assuming I'm not back before the end, I'll miss your birthday. So I thought I'd give it to you now, to hang on to until then."

Madari accepted the small square parcel. It felt like a box of some kind inside. His birthday wasn't until July and it was only just coming up to the end of March now. A long time to wait, especially as he was instantly curious to know what was in there.

"Thank you, Kahil. I'm sure I'll like it."

"Well, I'll try and call you then and find out. I hope you will." He glanced at the big clock over the check in desks and they both knew it really was time to go.

Another embrace might look strange. But a handshake as they said goodbye was acceptable, one that broke only as Jahni walked away, fingers sliding out of each other's palms.

Of course Madari waited and watched. Watched him climb the stairs, waving, then one last look and he was out of sight, heading to security and the departures hall.

Once Madari had stood in that hall as a victorious commander. Had owned it. Now he couldn't go into it without a boarding card. Now he was just another man. Nobody knew this was his airport. His airport, and once again, he decided to go to his coffee shop. It was late in the morning, perhaps he'd even have an early lunch in there. That would take about an hour. Jahni's plane left in about fifty minutes.

Well, if he was going to be in the coffee shop alone for an hour he'd need something to keep him occupied, so he stopped at the kiosk that sold newspapers and magazines. A paper, perhaps, but he'd already read his daily paper today. It had been full of a lot of hysterical nonsense about the king's latest round of law reforms, giving women equal pay and employment rights. Apparently this heralded the fall of civilization as they knew it.

A magazine then. He scanned the racks, and one caught his eye. A falconry magazine. Now that was something he hadn't read anything about for years. He'd taken quite an interest in falconry when he was younger. Ahmed had enjoyed it, and had taught him a lot. But after Ahmed died, like many things they had shared, Madari had lost the heart for it.

Well, perhaps he'd see how things had changed since he was last interested in the subject. He paid for the magazine and headed to the coffee shop.