Khafil remained in the shadows, unseen and unheard. Lately his office was the only place he could find solitude from the chaotic world around him. He should have been thinking of his upcoming journey to the human world, where he was headed later tonight. Instead, his thoughts were on the monthly meeting he’d just dismissed. Tonight, several members of the lesser Taalib Duma tribes were vocalizing concerns about Sarim’s successor. “Who is he?” “Where is he?” and “When is he coming?” Those were just a few of the questions asked. Even though Khafil had warned him the questions were coming, he should have been prepared. Instead, he was deeply unsettled. He had no answers. He’d managed to dissuade his brothers by explaining he still had a few years left and there was no need for the pressing concern. This was true, but Sarim knew it was customary for his successor to be introduced to the tribe by now. The new ruler had to be trained and tested. The process could last up to five years.
