Somehow he got the message and pulled a wan smile. “That sounds delightful,” he said. “Thank you.”
I had a feeling tonight was going to be the only delightful time we’d have for a while, until we somehow fixed this disaster. Or died trying.
Chapter 15
We spent several hours in the pit, waiting for the snow to stop and the Wihtiko to leave. That time was more than enough to convince me that I wasn’t going anywhere until these kids were safe from all the monsters — including the ones in the village on the other side of the woods.
Even scrunched together in a hole in the ground, their mood was joyous and energetic. They played and laughed and questioned Ian and me endlessly, about everything. Thanks to Cyrus, I’d had a few years of but why? training and no problem keeping up with them. But Ian surprised me with a depth of patience I never thought he had. He didn’t snap at or dismiss any of them, not even when an older boy asked to try on his duster, or when a quartet of under-tens surrounded him to poke at his armband tattoos and ask how he got his ‘skin-pictures.’
Only Toklai stayed away, constantly oscillating between a sulk and a rage. And when Malak gave the all-clear to leave the pit, his pissed-off brother was the first one up the ladder and gone.
It was dusk when we emerged. Most of the snow was gone already, with just a few small drifts and patches remaining to suggest that the storm ever happened. The air had cooled considerably, enough to make my teeth chatter until I got used to it, but it didn’t seem to bother any of the djinn.
Most of them scattered to parts unknown as Malak and Pahna led us to the big tent on the overlook, the one I’d been tied up in before. “We’d like you to stay here,” Malak said when we reached it. “There’s plenty of room, the water jugs are filled, and you’ll find wood for the fire pit around back. Your belongings are still inside, champion.”
“Er. Donatti’s fine,” I said, frowning slightly. “Maybe I got the wrong impression before, but isn’t this your tent?”
“Yes. Pahna and I live here, but we’ll stay with Toklai and Qimmig while you’re with us,” he said. “We want you to have the best accommodations.”
Ian looked pained, and for a minute I thought he’d refuse. But then he nodded and offered a stiff, almost formal bow. “We will be honored to stay in your home during our time with you, ray’is,” he said. “Thank you for your generous hospitality.”
“You’re welcome. But I’m not the ray’is,” Malak said, casting his eyes down. “My father died before he could properly pass the title, and —” He cut himself off with a choked sound. “Anyway, please make yourselves comfortable. I’ll send someone for you when the meal is ready.”
With that, he and Pahna hurried off. She comforted him as they walked away.
Ian watched them for a moment with a strange expression, and then ducked into the tent. I went inside after him. “Okay, you wanna tell me what all that was about?” I said, switching to English on autopilot. “Because I didn’t actually think you’d be into displacing a couple of kids from their home. I kept waiting for you to turn them down. But here we are with the best accommodations in the busted playground.”
“I could not refuse. It would have insulted them.” Ian sighed heavily and plodded across the tent to lower himself onto the bedding. “Custom dictates that when nobility visits, they are to be housed in the clan leader’s quarters. To turn down such an offer would have been tantamount to spitting in his face, even if he is not the ray’is.”
The disgusted emphasis he placed on nobility didn’t escape me. And I couldn’t help recalling a memory-vision Akila had shown me once, of the Dehbei clan visiting the Bahari lands. I’d seen Omari-el and Jai, along with a handful of other warriors from his clan. She’d even shown a much younger and slightly less angry Ian — in fact, I’d witnessed the moment they first met.
I remembered her fury when she told me that her father had forced the Dehbei to camp in the courtyard of Kemosiri’s huge, showy castle ‘like animals.’ Now I understood what she’d meant.
“So ray’is means something like chief, right?” I said as I hauled one of the stools away from the little table and sat down near the bed-pile.
Ian nodded, sitting with his head bowed and his hands clasped in front of him. “Each clan chooses their own system of leadership,” he said. “At least, those among the so-called lesser clans not recognized by the Council. They may have royal families or ruling bloodlines, or simpler councils, or appointed chiefs or shamans. The ray’is …” He paused, and his jaw clenched for a beat. “If Malak is the eldest son of their previous leader and has not been made ray’is, it means there is an older, living relative who has laid claim to the title. And since the boy is the oldest in the village, it is likely that the one who calls himself chief of these people lives among the Alqani.”
“Hold on. You’re saying one of those selfish, heartless assholes on the other side is in charge of this village?”
“Technically, yes,” Ian said. “Without the title of ray’is, Malak cannot truly lead his people. There can be no ceremonies, no rituals, no laws or communal benefits. They have left these children to run wild, with no sense of clan history or loyalty — and no hope of order or structure.”
I remembered Malak telling me that he and Pahna couldn’t be married because there was no one to perform the ceremony. This explained why. “Okay, so how do we fix that?” I said. “Can we help Malak get this title?”
Ian raised his head slowly and looked at me with burning eyes. “In order to do that, I would have to be a prince.”
“Uh … you are a prince, Ian.”
“No, I am not!” He stood suddenly and started pacing in a tight back-and-forth pattern. “My father was a great djinn. A great leader,” he said. “Omari-el the Savior. I have never heard that name, but I do not doubt he lived up to it. He was not only a fierce warrior, but also a skilled diplomat. And I …” He slowed his pace and stopped, slumping in place. “I was never anything more than a headstrong, impulsive fool who would not listen, to him or to anyone. I am not the savior they seek.”
I felt his despair and shame without even trying. It was so strong, I figured even someone who wasn’t soul-bound to him would pick up on it.
“Ian, listen to me.” I got up and walked toward him. “You’re right. You aren’t your father,” I said. “And you know what? I’m glad you’re not. Because your father hasn’t saved my ass too often to count, and Akila, Jazz and Cyrus, Tory and Lark, a compound full of brainwashed slaves, a Morai you were supposed to kill instead of save — and oh, did I mention the whole damned world? Three times, actually.” I cleared my throat and waited until he looked at me. “You did all that,” I said. “Gahiji-an. Not Omari-el. So yeah, maybe your father saved this clan once. But you saved the entire human race, more than once. You are a warrior, and you are a prince, and you’d better start acting like one.”
Ian gaped at me. “Well,” he said. “I did not realize you had that in you.”
“What, a great motivational speech?”
“No,” he said with a smirk. “A large pile of … what is the word you use? Bullshit.”
I laughed. “Just tell me the bullshit worked.”
“I believe it did.” He shook his head and sat down again, and I did the same. “Conveying the title to Malak can be done,” he said. “But it will not be easy.”
Of course not. Because why would anything ever be easy for us? “Okay, how not easy is it gonna be?” I sighed.
“The current ray’is must be challenged for the right to rule.” Ian shifted slightly and folded his hands again. “Malak must realize that he cannot best whoever it is, or he would have challenged by now. However, as his elder and the prince of a cousin clan, I have the right to initiate challenge and assume the title myself.”
“Okay, so you find this asshole, beat the shit out of him, and you’re the ray’is,” I said. “Is that how it works?”
“Not precisely.” He frowned at me. “
In such a challenge, either party may yield. But if neither surrenders, it is a fight to the death.”
“Jesus Christ. I doubt this guy’s going to surrender,” I said. “That means you’ll have to kill him.”
“That is the most likely scenario, yes.”
I closed my eyes for a minute. “But this is the djinn realm. So …”
“If he is stronger,” Ian said slowly, “then he may kill me.”
“You know what, let’s forget this whole title fight,” I said, trying to stem a surge of panic. “There must be another way. Maybe we can sneak up on him and kill him in his sleep or something.”
Ian gave a rueful laugh. “For someone who was just spouting so eloquently about bravery and saving the world, you seem to have turned coward rather quickly.”
“Yeah, I’m scared. But it’s not what you think,” I said, flashing a wry grin. “I’m terrified of Akila. She’ll murder me if I have to go home and tell her you’re dead.”
“Then I will simply not die.” He shot me a look. “Even if I must survive for the sole purpose of protecting you from my wife.”
“Great. That sounds like a plan to me.”
I was a lot less confident than I sounded. Not because I didn’t think Ian could handle one Annukhai elder, no matter how powerful the other guy turned out to be — because I knew he could. In one-on-one combat, as long as there weren’t any firearms involved, Ian would win. He was too damned stubborn to lose.
What worried me was the Alqani. I wouldn’t put it past them to not honor custom and tradition in favor of ganging up on Ian, and probably me along with him, to protect one of ‘theirs.’ As far as I could tell, they were all about saving their own asses. Mostly so they could keep shitting on everyone else.
But even the idea of dying in a savage heap of polar bears didn’t put me off helping the Annukhai. This was a fight I refused to walk away from.
I only hoped there was some way to win.
Chapter 16
They set up the feast on the stone platform, which apparently served as the village square when they weren’t using it to hide from the monster. Full dark had fallen by the time Galina and Yurai came to fetch us, and torches set into the pillars around the square illuminated three long, low tables with rolls of something like hay on each side. Most of their dishes were wooden. The few stoneware and crockery pieces that had been set out looked ancient but well cared for.
As for the food — well, it made me want to cry. Not because it looked bad, but because there was so little of it. The Alqani had whipped out way more food than the gathering around their table could’ve possibly eaten while they tried to woo Ian’s favor, or whatever they were doing when I found him. They had an abundance of fish and fruits, fresh greens and baked breads, the works. These kids had baskets of nuts and hard berries, scant piles of dried meat jerky, and jagged squares of flat, brittle white-brown stuff that I couldn’t even begin to guess what it was.
The only difference was the center table where Ian and I were directed to sit, which had some kind of roasted animal about the size of a turkey, a bowl of probably-salad, and a small plate of round, deep red fruit-type things.
“Ian, we can’t eat this,” I whispered in English as we took our seats. I tried to maintain a happy expression, since Malak and Pahna were directly across from us. “How much do you want to bet we’re looking at a week’s worth of food for them?”
Ian looked just as distressed as I felt. “It would be rude to refuse their hospitality,” he said without an ounce of conviction.
“Yeah, for you it would be. But I’m human. They don’t have any idea about my customs.” A grin tugged at my mouth as an idea started to form. “Listen, I want to do something for them. Just play along and tell them some crap about humans and weird dinner traditions, okay?”
“Is everything all right?” Pahna said nervously, looking from me to Ian. “Your words are coming out all wrong. Are you unhappy with the food?”
“Things could not be better,” Ian said in djinn, giving me a brief, dirty look before he stood and held up his arms. “Everyone,” he called out. “We wish to thank you for this marvelous feast you have provided.”
Most of them cheered and clapped, and Ian had to pause for a minute.
“We would also like to introduce you to a new custom, an earth custom shared by human clans,” he said when the excitement died down. “Humans, particularly my champion, enjoy showing off with pointless displays of their talents before a meal. They seem to believe this aids in digestion. No one understands why they do this.” He gave me the side-eye, clearly wanting to strangle me for putting him on the spot like this. “And so, if you will allow him to dazzle you with his no doubt astonishing skills, I will cede the floor to him.”
He sat down amid another flurry of cheers. “You had better know what you’re doing, thief,” he muttered in English.
“I don’t. Totally winging it.” I stood and grinned, grabbing one of the stone pitchers of water that were placed at intervals along the tables, and headed for the nearest little kid down the line, four places from Ian and me. His name was Lohdi, if I recalled correctly, and he looked about ten years old.
His eyes bugged out when I stopped next to him. “You like water, right?” I said, aware of the silence as fifty young people stared at me.
Lohdi nodded shyly, and I gave him a wink and moved his wooden cup in front of me. “Well, I think you’ll like it even better if it’s red water.” I leaned down and added in a loud stage whisper, “I’m actually not very good at this, you know. I’m probably just going to make a big mess.”
A ripple of giggles spread across the tables.
“Okay, here goes.” With the pitcher in one hand, I held the other hand above the cup and made an O with my thumb and forefinger. I’d never actually tried this before, but considering how strong my magic had been so far, I thought I might just get away with it. I poured a stream of water through the ‘hole’ and focused on red kool-aid.
It worked even better than I expected. The water ran clear until it reached my hand, and then turned red as it poured into the cup.
Some of the kids gasped, and a few got up to crowd around me and Lohdi. When the cup was full of red liquid, I set the pitcher down and handed him the drink. “Go ahead, try it,” I said. “It might taste like dirt, though. My services are not guaranteed.”
He took the cup and peered into it suspiciously, and then took a tentative sip. Almost instantly, a grin split his face. “It’s so sweet!” he said. “Better than fruit, even!” With that, he guzzled the rest of the cup without pausing for breath.
Suddenly I was surrounded by clamoring children and upraised hands holding cups.
“Okay, okay!” I laughed, picking up the pitcher again. This time I waved a hand over the contents and turned the whole thing into kool-aid. I filled cups until it was gone, and then someone brought me a fresh pitcher of water.
That was when I realized the pandemonium I’d caused. Most of them were up from the tables and darting around, laughing and grabbing cups and pitchers, pushing each other out of the way as they swarmed toward me. A few of the older ones were trying to calm things down to no avail.
I stuck my fingers in my mouth and let out a piercing whistle.
Everything stopped.
“Hey, guys, listen up!” I called. “I’m glad you’re all so excited, but we have to be patient here. There’s a lot of you and only one of me.” I smiled and looked around, impressed that they all seemed to be paying attention. “If everyone would sit back down, I promise I’ll get to you all. And I have a few more tricks to show you, too.”
For a minute or so, there was a lot of scrambling and whispering. Soon everyone had taken a seat.
“Perfect. Thank you,” I said, and picked up a nearby plate of crumbly white-brown things. “Now, watch this!” I passed a hand slowly over the top of the plate, leaving puffy golden dinner rolls in place of the flat squares.
Even the older ones
cheered with that one.
I started to make my way around the tables, magicking up pitchers of kool-aid and warm rolls, chicken nuggets and macaroni and cheese, hamburgers and French fries — all the stuff Cyrus loved to devour. I wasn’t worried about giving them a bunch of sugar and empty calories, since the magic didn’t change the basic nature of the food. It just made everything more fun.
When I reached the last table, an angry voice rose above the chatter and laughter. “Don’t touch any of it! He’s trying to poison us!”
Things went quiet in a hurry. I turned to see Toklai standing at the head of the center table, his teeth clenched and his face flushed as he breathed in rapid agitation. There was another young male djinn beside him, Qimmig, who looked more embarrassed than angry, but still determined to stand with his friend.
“I’m not your enemy, Toklai,” I said calmly as I set the pitcher I’d been holding on the table. “And I’m not trying to take anyone’s place.”
The second part made him flinch, and I knew I’d hit a nerve. I suspected part of the reason he’d reacted so strongly toward me was loyalty. He didn’t want some stranger taking the village from his brother — or it might go back even more than that, to his parents.
“You are the enemy.” Toklai held my gaze, and there was a lot of fear behind his bravado. “You’ve been to the Alqani, you’re old, and you’re from outside. You don’t care about us. Why can’t you and your master just leave us alone, dirty dog!”
Malak rose slowly and pinned his brother with a searing look. “You need to leave,” he said. “I mean it, Toklai. You can’t —”
“No, I will not!” Eyes flashing, Toklai held an arm out toward Qimmig, who hesitated and then slapped a spear into his hand. “If you refuse to get rid of this deceiver, Malak, then I will.” He slammed the end of the spear against the platform three times. “Champion, I challenge you to almaht q’tal.”
Master of Elements Page 10
