The moment passed all too quickly, and her smile faded to a more strained expression of her happiness. He touched her cheek and was about to speak when he saw a tiny shift in the shadows and looked up at a white falcon perched on the roof above them. The bird stared down at them intently.
“Hello, Nezana,” the seer said.
“He missed you.” Zerai Saqir stepped into the narrow lane with a sheepish look. “Sorry for the intrusion.”
“Missed me? I had no idea Nezana even liked me,” Iyasu said. “He’s never paid any attention to me. He did bite my finger once, but it didn’t seem like a gesture of affection at the time.”
“I know, I remember. I suppose if I’m honest, I’m the one who missed you.”
Iyasu let go of Azrael, walked over, and wrapped his arms around his old friend. “Are you all right?”
“Yes and no.”
Iyasu let him go. “I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do?”
Zerai shook his head. He had let his hair grow longer and it now hung in a thick black mane around his shoulders. His arms seemed even stronger and leaner than before, criss-crossed with taut veins and the white scars from his many birds of prey perching on him, and taking their food from him. But despite all his apparent health and strength, his face seemed tired and wasted. “It’s fine.”
Iyasu knew perfectly well that it wasn’t fine. The falconer had wanted so badly to have a family of his own, and apparently not even Raziel could help him and Veneka to conceive. Wishing he could offer some comfort, all he could think to say was, “Maybe you just need to give it more time.”
Zerai’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve given it time, and more time. I think maybe it’s time for…” He grimaced, unable to finish.
Iyasu glanced back at Azrael, who nodded and faded back into the shadows, moving farther down the lane, giving them the privacy they needed. “I think you need to be honest with yourself, and with her. I’ve only been here half an hour and I know you’re not happy, and she’s not happy. That’s not a crime, Zerai. You didn’t fail or anything. It’s just… things happen. Things change. Or they don’t change enough. That’s life.”
The falconer nodded. “I shouldn’t even be here. I’m no cleric. I spend more time with Nyasha and Nezana than actual people. Nothing’s the way I thought it would be. I want…”
“What?”
“A normal life.”
Iyasu smiled wistfully. “So do I. You could have that, you know. You just have to make it happen.”
“I know. But it’s hard.”
“I know.” He embraced his friend again. “Promise me you’ll do something about it. Maybe not right now, in the middle of all this djinn business, but soon. For everyone’s sake, yours especially. All right?”
Zerai leaned back and smiled a real smile. He still looked tired, but now there was relief in his eyes as well. “How did you learn so much about these things?”
“Oh, you know.” Iyasu nodded his head back toward the distant figure in the lane.
“Right.” Zerai’s unease returned. “How’s that going, by the way?”
“Rael and me?” Iyasu grinned. “Wonderful. Just… fantastic, in every way.”
“In every way?”
Iyasu blushed. “Yes.”
They laughed together.
“So, you’re going east? Beyond the desert?” the falconer said.
“That’s the plan.” Iyasu nodded.
“All right. And you’ll be careful out there?”
“No, he won’t.” Azrael called from the end of the lane. “He’ll be reckless and silly and naïve and over-eager. But I’ll make sure he comes back in one piece.”
Zerai nodded. “I know you will.”
“Hey, I’m not the one you need to worry about,” Iyasu said. “We’ll be far to the south of Shivala, heading east across the sea. What could be safer?”
Chapter 3
Iyasu frowned at the sea. “I don’t think it’s supposed to do that.”
Azrael stood next to him on the sandy shore, staring out across the black waves at the huge white masses of ice sailing south across the sea. A chill wind howled across the whitecaps, filling the air with gusts of snow and ice. The angel shook her head. “The sea can be… fickle.”
“Not this fickle.” Iyasu started walking along the water’s edge, nudging the occasional chunk of ice with his shoe. “Something’s wrong, something is seriously wrong. But how can there be something wrong with the sea? Unless… there’s something wrong with the world?”
“I don’t know.” She trailed behind him. “Whatever it is, I don’t like it. The wind. The icebergs. It’s too dangerous for me to try to fly with you through this weather.”
“Probably.” He smiled back at her. “Too bad we didn’t bring a healer of our own along, just a little one, just in case I happen to fall into a freezing ocean. Or something. Wish I’d thought of that.”
“I know. I’d prefer if you didn’t freeze or drown any time soon.” She smiled all too briefly as though struggling to show that she was joking, but the bleak horror of her words painted a weary and miserable look in her eyes. She stopped and stared down the strand. “So, a ship?”
“A ship.”
They walked on down the shore.
Since leaving Naj Kuvari, they had flown mostly, hour after hour, racing just above the tree tops to find the coast somewhere south of the Sapphire Sea where they could continue east without striking the shores of Imaya, without having to cross the White Desert at all on their way to its far side, by skirting it along its southern shores.
But all that planning was unimportant now. Instead of a wide open road, the storming sea was a deadly barrier, one that would consume far more time than he had anticipated. Iyasu shuddered in his travel-worn robes as the cold and the wet pelted the side of his face. Azrael didn’t seem to notice the ice that salted her long black hair, but her eyes flashed with golden fire and her magnificent black wings swept out from her back and then curled forward around her lover to shield him from the elements.
“Thank you, dearest.”
“Ships cost money, don’t they?” she asked.
“Usually, yes.”
“We have none.”
“That is true. But there are other ways to pay for things in this world.” He peered through the flying curtains of frozen rain and picked out a few dark shapes in the distance. Roofs, masts. A small fishing village.
Not exactly a bustling port, but it will have to do.
By the time they reached the village, the sun was low in the west, hidden behind iron clouds. Large ice boulders floated in the surf, rolling as the waves came in, pushing them up the beach where the small fishing boats were tied to old tree stumps and stone posts.
There was no one about, and only the flickers of firelight from inside the houses indicated that anyone was living there. Azrael looked over the two dozen homes and asked, “Which one?”
Iyasu pointed at a small house in the middle of the village that looked just like every other house, except for one thing that immediately stood out to his keen eyes.
“Why that one?” she asked.
“Because the people who live there have two boats. The others only have one.”
“How can you tell?”
Iyasu only grinned, and went to knock on the door. An old woman wearing two shawls around her bony shoulders answered, cast a silent look over them and at the storm rising behind them, and gestured them inside. Iyasu and Azrael followed her in and felt as though they had stepped into another world, a world of light and warmth and stillness, safe from the freezing wind and rain.
Two young men sat by the fire, looking quite a bit alike, each one minding his pipe and staring thoughtfully into the flames. They each merely raised an eyebrow and eased over to make room for their guests.
“Travelers?” the old woman said. “I didn’t think we’d ever see travelers in this storm.”
“Storm? This? No, this is hardly more than a stiff bre
eze.” Iyasu sat down by the fire and smiled at the two men, who didn’t seem to notice. “Not that a storm would bother a pair of stout sailing men like you two, would it? No, I’ll wager the two of you have braved more than just a bit of wind and rain in your day, haven’t you?”
The brothers nodded grimly. One of them lowered his pipe long enough to mutter, “Once spent three days out there, swamped by rain and shredded by wind. But nothing like this.”
“No, I imagine the, uh, giant balls of ice are the real problem these days,” Iyasu said.
“Mm,” the second brother confirmed.
“New, is it? The ice?”
“Started two weeks ago.”
“Ah. And how long since you’ve been out to your fishing grounds?”
“Nine days,” the first brother muttered.
“Nine?” Iyasu cast another glance around the small house, quickly assessing what little food he could see. “A long time.”
“Too long,” the mother said. “The storm comes and goes, but it’s never gone for long. Already, two families have left to stay with their cousins. We’ve had to pick these hills clean of everything edible, but the storm rages on, and we may have to leave soon ourselves.”
Iyasu nodded. “I see. Do you grow anything here?”
“Herbs. Roots.” The woman gestured at the back wall, as if to say the garden was outside in that direction.
“Would you be interested in growing more?” the seer asked.
“Farming? Here? It’s all sand and clay.” The first brother shook his head, but the second one looked up with a thoughtful squint.
“A little sand is no problem, not when we have these.” Iyasu opened a small pouch from inside his robe and displayed the seeds within. “Several sorts of fruit trees and melons, I think. These were all grown in Naj Kuvari, and they’ll take root anywhere and grow faster than you might believe.”
The second brother lowered his pipe and leaned forward. “Really?”
“Absolutely.” Iyasu nodded. “Now, tell me. A pair of big strong sailors like you, you don’t work the same boat together, do you?”
“No, we’ve each our own,” the first brother said.
“Ah, I see,” Iyasu said. “So then if one of you were to start raising crops here, the other one could go on fishing, and you’d have a boat to spare.”
“Are you mad?” The first brother glared at him. “Are you looking to trade a handful of seeds for a boat? A boat is life. Those seeds are nothing but a whisper of hope, food that might not ever grow. And who the hell are you, talking about Naj Kuvari?”
“Iyasu Sadik, seer of the Arrahim, at your service,” he said.
“Oh really?” The first brother did not appear impressed. He looked up at Azrael. “And who is she?”
“She’s my friend.” Iyasu smiled brightly, letting his wide eyes convey all the good will he wanted to foster between them. “But you’re exactly right. I do want to trade these seeds for a boat.”
The first brother started to speak but the second one raised his hand and peered at Iyasu. “Prove you are who you say you are, and I may trade with you.”
“What!” cried the first.
“Hush!” snapped the second. “This is my business now, not yours. Well, seer?”
“That was father’s boat, I won’t allow it!” The first pulled a knife from his boot and held it to his brother’s throat as he yanked an iron poker from the fire and jabbed it across the pit at Iyasu’s neck.
Azrael lunged forward but Iyasu raised a hand and smiled down the sooty handle at the man threatening his life. Then he pointed to the copper pot on the fire. “You received that pot as a gift eight years ago when your father died. It was smudged by the ash on the hands of the mourners and then scorched when you first used it, and the marks haven’t faded completely.”
He pointed to the bedding on his left. “One of you sleeps on your back while the other sleeps on his chest, because otherwise he snores and keeps everyone awake. Judging by the shapes of your noses, I’m guessing that one is you.” He nodded at the first brother, who scowled and looked away.
Iyasu pointed to the fire before them. “You’ve been burning grass and acacia wood for the past nine days, but before that you only burned driftwood you found on the beach because it was so plentiful, before the storm came. And that wood was entirely dracaena, dragon tree wood.”
The brothers both stared at him, and then at the fire where all they could see were glowing coals and charred sticks and gray ash. The first brother lowered his weapons and the second brother nodded slowly. “We have a deal, seer. I’ll ready my boat for you in the morning.”
Iyasu handed over the bag of seeds. “If you don’t mind, I think we’ll take it now.”
“No, it’s too late now,” the fisherman said. “Nearly night. Much too dark to risk sailing in this weather.”
Iyasu smiled, this time with genuine amusement. “I can see well enough in the dark.”
The second brother shrugged. “If you say so.”
He led them outside and down the beach as the wind tore at their clothes and hair as the stars struggled to shine down through the storm clouds. Near the water’s edge the fisherman touched one of the boats, not bothering to try to speak over the howling of the blizzard. Together, the three of them freed the boat from its mooring lines and pushed it down into the churning surf. Iyasu leapt inside and deftly set about raising the one small sail and getting himself situated by the steering-oar with the lines clutched in his hand, which was already aching from the cold.
Azrael took a paddle and forced the little boat to turn and face the dark ocean with a few powerful strokes, and then the battering wind struck the sail and they were off, racing at a dangerous angle out across the angry waves. Iyasu pulled hard on his oar to swing them around the first jagged mass of ice in their path, grateful for all of the hours he had spent watching others command various ships over the years.
“How did you know?” Azrael asked. Even her whisper roared louder than the storm, when she wanted it to. “How did you know the people in that house had a second boat?”
“The rope,” he yelled over the wind. “They had twice as much rope coiled up beside their house than any of the others.”
She nodded. “Lucky for us.”
“I think so,” he said. “No one hurt, help all around, and everyone as happy as an uneaten clam. A good end to a good day.”
“Is it? We’re sailing through a blizzard, at night, with only the stars to guide us.” She paused to look up. “And there are no stars.”
Iyasu grinned. “Well, that’s what makes it an adventure, doesn’t it?”
“I don’t want you taking reckless risks.”
His grin faded. “People are dying. We need to take risks.”
“We need to be careful. What you did back with those fishermen… that was reckless. You could have died there, all for a boat we could have simply taken without ever speaking to them.”
Iyasu frowned. “I’m no thief. I’m not going to change who or what I am. Face demons? Consort with angels? Do battle with djinn? Absolutely. But my way. Always my way.”
“I didn’t mean we should steal it. Only that there are always other options. Safer options.” Azrael gazed at him, and he couldn’t tell what she was thinking or feeling at that moment, and then she turned away and he turned his attention back to the sea.
The darkness was nearly blinding, but only nearly. By the faint hint of the stars beyond the clouds, Iyasu managed to see the dim outlines of the waves and icebergs, and his numb, clawing hands kept the little fishing boat darting from one safe lane to the next. Sometimes the wind would scream a little louder, or they would glide into the lee of a huge wall of floating ice, and he would struggle to keep the boat under control, but each time he found a safe path and they sailed on, ever eastward.
Hours passed. His back ached and his hands and feet were alternately stinging and senseless, but he did not waver or complain. There was no point in
wasting the energy to do so. Azrael could not heal him, nor could she see the world as well as him, well enough to steer the boat. Whenever the starlight failed him, he turned to the sound of the wind and the push-pull force of the waves on the hull, and each little sensation told him in detail how the storm was moving, where the icebergs were, and what the sea was doing, and he sailed on, with or without his gifted vision.
“Are you still with me?” she asked softly.
“I think so.” It was more true than funny. Exhaustion was slowly clawing into his mind and body, eroding his sense of time and weighing heavily on his tired eyes. He shook his head as he tried to stay awake and alert, but time after time he blinked and realized he had nodded off. Each time was a tiny shock, a small spike of adrenaline through his bleary thoughts, but the shock was never enough to keep him awake for long.
He blinked… and he wandered into a place that was dry and warm, and still and quiet, and there was a fire and the sound of laughter, and he ran through the tall grass…
“Yasu!”
He jerked upright at the feeling of Azrael’s warm hand on his face and he saw the stern look in her eyes that passed for worry. And then he looked past her and saw the shining spire of ice towering over them in the sea.
The seer pulled in the sail to catch the wind and turned the oar to swing the boat, but it was too late, and they crashed sideways into a jagged mound of ice as it rose out of the dark waves. Iyasu felt the old planks buckling under his feet, and then a cold puddle of seawater slithered up and over his damp shoes.
“Sorry! Sorry!”
He fought with the lines and the oar, but they were in the lee of the iceberg now and the hull was caught on the ice as they were lifted up and out of the water. But then the boat slipped free and fell back into the ocean, and the broken planks cracked apart, letting the sea flow in.
“Yasu!” She reached for him.
“I know!” Taking a deep breath, he stood up in the rocking boat and threw his arms around her neck from behind, clinging tightly to her back as her raven wings erupted from behind her shoulders, fluttering against his arms as they extended, and then she leapt into the air.
Angels and Djinn, Book 3: Zariel's Doom Page 3
