“Kassim said I couldn’t ride. He said nothing about grooming.” The justification tumbled from my lips before I could be angry at the intrusion.
“I see.”
I frowned. “Are you following me?”
“Yes.”
My brows rose at his forthright answer. “Are you always following me?”
“I’m always following someone. It isn’t always you.”
I eyed his grave face. His honesty was both refreshing and unnerving. I wasn’t entirely sure what Namir’s role was at the palace, but something about the way he appeared and disappeared told me this tall man traded in secrets and silence. I resumed brushing Bandit, if only because doing something with my hands made this situation less awkward.
“You followed me the other night. The night when I saw the thieves.” My voice was matter-of-fact.
“I did.” Namir crossed one leg over the other. “We haven’t really spoken yet, Princess Zadie.”
I paused in my brushing, resting an elbow on Bandit’s side. “What do you want to speak about?”
“About the thieves you saw.”
“You believe me?” My eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed in outrage. “Have you told Kassim? Why didn’t you say anything yesterday?”
Namir shook his head. “Look, Zadie. I believe you want to help. I believe you will help when you become sultanah. But you shouldn’t take things into your own hands like the other night. We work as a team here.”
Work as a team? I highly doubted Kassim or his odious vizier wanted me anywhere near their team.
He shrugged at my skeptical expression. “I’ve been tracking this particular group of thieves for a long time. You said their leader was a woman…”
The arresting thief with the tattooed head appeared in my mind. “Her name is Aliyah.”
“Yes, Aliyah.” The word rolled off his tongue as his whole body tensed. “They call her the Queen of Thieves.”
“You know her?” I walked to stand near Bandit’s head.
“I know her work. She hides like a shadow in the night.”
“And you’ve never caught the thieves?”
“Not since Aliyah became their leader.” Namir’s voice was soft as smoke. “For a bunch of illiterate street rats, they’re highly organized.”
They had seemed to know what they were doing when they broke into the treasury. And they’d also managed to get hold of the enchanted key. The same key that now weighed heavily in my pocket. Would Namir ask me for it now that he believed my story?
“The thieves are merciless,” Namir continued. “They’re unpredictable. There is no honor when you work for the highest bidder.” He paused, then reached out and placed a hand on Bandit’s nose. The horse stilled, blinking his liquid brown eyes at him. “Trust me, I know how they work. So I’m going to tell you again. Don’t go after them on your own.”
I ran the brush along Bandit’s neck once more without taking my eyes from Namir. In place of a scimitar, a narrow dagger hung from his belt. With the way he dressed, he didn’t look like any of the other soldiers or guards at the palace.
“What do you do for the sultan, Namir?”
He paused so long, I thought he wouldn’t answer, but then he spoke. “I am his eyes and ears.”
“So you’re his spymaster?”
A smile flashed across Namir’s face. It was brief as lightning, but for a second, it softened his sharp, hawk-like features. I noticed he didn’t confirm or deny it.
“Kassim may appear…strong-willed,” Namir said tactfully. “He’s the only son in an ancient royal lineage. He’s also young and new to the throne. There are others who might take this opportunity to…test Astaran’s strength. So you see, for him, as well as for me, the kingdom’s security is paramount at the moment.” He paused. “He wants to keep you in the palace to ensure your safety.”
So Namir had overheard my request earlier this morning.
I resumed my brushing. “It doesn’t seem he gives me much thought at all.”
Namir watched me carefully, and I held his unblinking gaze.
“Kassim just wants you to be safe,” he repeated.
“Whatever his reasons, I feel trapped here,” I admitted. “Someone is always watching me – my handmaids, the vizier.” I narrowed my eyes. “You.” Bandit whickered, lifting his head up and down. I shushed him with a few murmured words. “All I want to do is see the city I’m supposed to rule over.”
And also figure out a way to get a message to my sister, who everyone thinks is dead. But he didn’t need to know that part.
“You won’t find any unguarded doors around the palace perimeter. Elian makes sure of that.” Namir looked at me slyly. “Even if you do have a magic key.”
I held my breath at the mention of the key. Spirits, is he going to ask for it?
“There’s only one unguarded door in the whole palace. In the crypt. Few know about it and it’s rarely used. It’s locked, of course,” Namir continued. “It’s used to discreetly move bodies into the crypt after the death rites have been performed down by the river.”
“So that’s where the tunnel leads?”
He nodded. “There’s a nice, quiet ride along the River Kisr for a few miles. But, like I said, it’s locked, so impossible to get through.”
I dipped my hand into my pocket, my fingers grazing the key. Locks were no longer an issue for me, and Namir knew it. I furrowed my brows. “Why are you telling me this?”
When I first got here, I had thought the vizier might be an ally, but look how that turned out. I was hesitant to put my trust in anyone else from Kassim’s inner circle. Yet Namir was the only person who believed me. Perhaps he really did want to help.
His steely eyes gave nothing away. “Whenever I need to leave the palace, I find plain, dark colors attract the least attention.” He looked pointedly at my shimmering, lilac gown.
Bandit scuffed a hoof at the floor, annoyed at being ignored. I glanced at the saddle on the wall. Would the crypt tunnel be large enough for a horse?
I turned to ask Namir, but the spymaster had disappeared, like sand in the wind.
3
The royal crypt was not what I’d expected. It wasn’t damp, musty, or covered in cobwebs. This tomb had been designed with all the thoughtful beauty and splendor of the Astarian palace. Except this one belonged to the dead.
I lowered my headscarf. Like the rest of my outfit, it was dark brown and unremarkable. After my conversation with Namir, I’d quickly changed into the plainest clothes I could find – a simple rough-spun dress cut to the knee over matching, loose pants.
My hand pressed against my pocket, and I listened for the reassuring rustle of parchment rolled up within it. My letter. Namir’s tip about the tunnel out of the palace had been useful, but I wasn’t going to use it for anything as mundane as a ride along the river.
The vast, cool chamber was surprisingly dry. Despite being made entirely of stone, it held a delicate beauty, like it might crumble to dust any moment. Faint shafts of light filtered through high windows, grazing the discolored marble of the tombs and the tiled floor, both the color of yellowing bone. At the far end of the crypt, a set of ornate gates guarded the darkness of the tunnel beyond.
I moved toward the gates, my steps echoing. I ran my fingertips along the intricately carved marble sarcophagus in the center of the room. The amethyst ring on my finger twinkled innocently.
Everything was still and quiet in the crypt’s faded grandeur.
That was about to change.
I took a deep breath. With only the dead to hear us, now was the perfect time to tackle a discussion with a djinni.
I rubbed my thumb over the star-cut jewel, and violet smoke burst from the ring, spiraling outwards with a rush of air that sent my dress flapping. My throat burned with the smoky scent of frankincense.
My eyes still watered as the smoke cleared enough to reveal Tarak reclining on top of the sarcophagus, cheek cupped in his palm, like he was rest
ing on a plush divan.
“Well, if it isn’t my most wise and…” His gaze raked over me, “plainly dressed master.” His voice echoed through the crypt.
I coughed in the crook of my arm, fanning the rest of the smoke away with a hand. “Do you always have to do the smoke thing?”
“I like to make an entrance.” The djinni’s kohl-lined eyes sparked with life. He wore the same waistcoat and loose pants as in the treasury. “You took your time calling on me again. Most people can’t wait to start making wishes.”
I ignored him. “Stop lying on the tomb like that. It’s disrespectful.”
“Is that a wish?”
I crossed my arms. “Obviously not. Get down.”
Tarak sat up and swiveled his legs around so his bare feet dangled over the edge of the sarcophagus. I briefly wondered which of Kassim’s ancestors was inside.
“Look, I need to know more about these seven wishes,” I demanded. “What can they do?” I pointed at him as he opened his mouth. “And I don’t want any of your pretty lies.”
He pressed a hand over his heart in mock outrage. “Me? Lie? I would never. Besides, a djinni can’t lie to its master. It’s one of the basic foundations of our enduring and respectful relationship.”
“So you say, but how do I know that’s not a lie?”
Tarak played with his earring thoughtfully. “Hmm… Well, you got me there, princess. I suppose you don’t.”
“Look, I don’t have time for your games. I need to know what these wishes can do. Could I… Could I wish for someone else’s safety? Could I stop an army?” I tried to make both examples sound offhand.
Tarak jumped down from the tomb, landing on his feet silently, like a cat. Impulsively, I took a step back. My heart beat a little faster under his gaze, the same way it did when Lotus watched me with his tail flicking from side to side.
“I can’t stop an army,” he admitted, watching me carefully. “Nor can I grant someone else’s safety.” He prowled around me as he spoke, his voice sounding too close.
I resisted the urge to spin and face him. He couldn’t hurt me if I was his master, right?
“Could I wish a letter to appear somewhere else, like a different city?”
“No, I can’t enchant a letter to magically deliver itself.”
“Could you summon a rare talisman?” I asked, thinking of the Night Diamond talisman I’d overheard the council talking about earlier this morning.
“Nope.”
I huffed. “Well, what can you do?”
Tarak shrugged. “I could make you better at painting.”
“I don’t care about– Wait… What?” I whirled on him, my heart thumping in my chest. “How did you know…” I held up my hand containing the ring. “You can hear me from inside the ring?”
“All day and night, princess.” Tarak winked, and I felt a hot flush rising up the back of my neck.
What has he heard?
“Your betrothed’s a piece of work, isn’t he?” he continued, still pacing around the crypt. “And don’t you think it’s interesting that the sultan’s spymaster would help you escape the palace? I’d be questioning his motives if I were you.”
“Perfect,” I muttered. “Just what I need. Someone else tracking my every move.” I already had my handmaids and Namir watching me like hawks. Why not add a mystical spirit to the list? “If you really can hear everything, then we need to set some ground rules.” I crossed my arms over the scratchy fabric of my dress. “If I summon you when you know other people are around, you have to appear without your flamboyant smoky entrance. And in an inconspicuous form.”
“Trust me, princess. All my forms are conspicuous. I only take forms that are pleasing to the eye.” He flexed his biceps as if to prove a point.
“Then appear as the world’s most pleasing ant. If there are people who might see you, think small.”
“Is that a wish?”
“No. It’s a request. And speaking of wishing, you still owe me a proper explanation about how they work.” I leaned against the sarcophagus, resting the curve of my lower back against the tomb’s smooth edge. “If I’m going to fulfill my end of the bargain and help you figure out how you came to be in the ring, I need to know. I might even need to use a wish.”
Tarak looked at me, his handsome face thoughtful. Then his lips quirked into a grin. “Okay, you twisted my arm.” He rubbed his hands together. “So, there are three wish restrictions. One, you have to use the words I wish. That’s obvious. Two, I can only grant wishes that relate to you directly.”
I frowned. “What does that mean?”
Tarak moved to lean next to me. “Think of it like an enhancement. A minor skill or alteration to your being.”
I must have still looked confused because he sighed. “I couldn’t wish you out of a locked room, but I could grant you the ability to scale the walls. Or we could think smaller, make a few tweaks so you’re the most beautiful sultanah-to-be in the twelve kingdoms. Might perk up that grumpy sultan of yours. I could make your face more symmetrical, your hair shinier, sort this out…” He waved his fingers over my nose.
I swatted at him, but my hand went straight through smoke. He reappeared on my other side, smirking. That was going to get annoying.
“If that’s all you can do, then quite frankly, I think you played pretty fast and loose with the term all-powerful djinni back in the treasury.” I looked down, studying my nails with a sigh.
“I am an all-powerful djinni!” Tarak puffed out his chest, his voice booming through the crypt. “Back in my realm of smoke and fire, that is,” he conceded. “Here, a spirit’s magic is limited to the object binding us to your hideous realm of earth and water.”
“So the ring restricts your power?” I ventured, twisting it around my knuckle.
“Jewelry is the smallest item a spirit can be bound to. It’s usually reserved for lesser beings…” He grimaced, “like maarids or imps.” He crossed his arms. “Djinni or ifrits bound to larger objects, like a lamp or a chest, would be able to grant more substantial wishes.” Tarak’s voice grew cold. “I have no idea what I’ve done to be trapped in this ring. To be brought so low, to have my very essence…” His purple eyes clouded over as he stared down at the discolored tiles.
“So you couldn’t make me fly?”
“I could make you able to talk to birds.”
“How is that even remotely similar?” I shook my head. “Could you make me a sorcerer?”
“What part of restricted magic and small enhancements are you not getting here, princess?”
The tomb fell silent as we both considered this.
I put a hand on my hip. “Fine. What’s the third limitation?”
Tarak glanced down at the ring on my finger. “The wishes only last as long as you wear the ring.”
“So I can’t take the ring off once I’ve made my first wish?” I curled my fist reflexively.
He nodded.
A thought occurred to me. “Am I your first master?”
“Of the ring? Yes.” Tarak stared at me for a moment, his violet eyes intense.
“So, what’ll it be, princess?” His voice turned light and lilting once more as he sprang away from the tomb, stretching his arms out and interlacing his fingers to crack his knuckles. “I mean, if you don’t want your wishes, you could always wish me free and be done with it.”
“Wish you free?”
He cocked his head. “Fancy it?”
“Not right now, no.” I gave him my sweetest fake smile.
He made a mock pondering gesture, stroking his chin. “Then perhaps the nose thing?”
“Shut up, Tarak. We’re done. Get back into the ring.”
“As you wish, master.”
Tarak’s laughter echoed from the high ceilings of the mausoleum, then cut off with a whoosh as he disappeared in a modest puff of lilac smoke. I glanced down at the ring, almost expecting his eye to be staring back at me from the jewel.
My shoulders s
lumped. Slave or no, it was not ideal that the djinni could spy on me from the ring. Worse, I couldn’t use magic to guarantee Lalana’s safety, or get this warning letter to her.
I combed a hand through my hair in thought, then winced as my fingers snagged in the knots. It would be nice to have sleek, shiny hair like Lalana’s…
No.
I shook the thought from my head. I would not throw away precious wishes on anything so petty. Besides, I still didn’t trust this smooth-talking djinni.
Is he even telling the whole truth? I should do my own research. Later.
I rolled the key in my palm as I strode toward the gates guarding the tunnel. If the spirits couldn’t help me, I was just going to have to find a way to get this letter to Yadina myself.
4
In the market, I was no one.
It was just like back home in Satra when I would sneak out in plain clothes. Shoppers elbowed past me, and stall owners hollered about their wares. Under the woven reed canvases that shielded us from the burning sun, camels, horses, elephants, and people all jostled in the narrow market streets that wound like streams between Kisrabah’s baked-earth buildings.
The smell of freshly grilled fish and citrus fruits hung in the air, making my stomach growl. It must be almost lunchtime. But I wasn’t here to shop for food.
I sidestepped and pushed my way through the crowds toward the sound of chirrups and squawks. There. Under a drooping canopy, a cacophony of twittering and chirping rose from metal birdcages, all shapes and sizes, hanging from the beams. Larger birds, including several huge, yellow-eyed falcons, were tethered to perches. I stepped inside, grimacing at the white-streaked straw matting covering the ground.
“Welcome to Iago’s Birds, the finest menagerie of birds in Kisrabah!” The merchant emerged from the shadows. His beady eyes and small, hooked nose made him look exactly like the wares he peddled. A fat peahen strutted out behind him. “We are the finest purveyors of exotic birds in all the land and the official provider of peacocks to the sultan. How may we serve you today, lady?”
The Queen of Forty Thieves Page 2
