The Book of Wonders

by Richards, Jasmine

  “Of course, Nadeem had no idea just how important his revelations were.” The queen smiled to herself. “You see, we have something in common. You want to go to the Black Isle. Well, guess what? So do I. You are going to help me get there. And by the time I’m finished with those sorcerers there will be nothing left but corpses…”

  PART FOUR

  Reckonings

  30

  The Flying Machine

  “If I see another feather, I am going to poke my eye out with it,” Rhidan growled, throwing a giant, downy L plume away. “Thirty-three days,” he murmured. “I’ve been in this stinking prison for thirty-three days.”

  “Why does she want to fly to this Black Isle anyway?” Mirzani peered down at the plans for the flying machine and fixed another feather into one of the glider’s giant wings.

  “We still don’t know.” Zardi tightened a cord that connected the wings to the wooden triangular frame at the nose of the machine. She stood back, her eyes sweeping over the two giant wings made entirely out of Roc feathers and the leather harness that hung beneath it. Despite herself she was proud. The crew had done a great job of following the plans that the queen had given them.

  “At least we’re almost done.” Mirzani’s narrow face broke into a smile. “We’ll be out of here soon.”

  Zardi could hear the excitement in the sailor’s voice at the thought of being free, and she suddenly found herself remembering the day that she, Rhidan, Musty, and Khalila had been brought to the queen’s lair. They’d been led deep underground through a set of tunnels as twisted as the roots of the tree etched on the Windrose. The way had been dotted with flickering torches lit with something other than flame, and giant snakes had guarded every bend. Eventually, they had been dumped in this prison. The crew had been quick to welcome them, but they had demanded explanations as well. Zardi and Rhidan had told them everything, introduced them to Khalila, and even explained about the quest for the Windrose.

  Zardi rubbed her hands over her face tiredly. That had been over a month ago. Time was measured by the bowls of foul-tasting slop that were shoved through the hatch at the bottom of the prison door morning, noon, and night. Each day, Zardi expected the queen to come and ask whether she had the Windrose in her possession. But she never did, and every evening Zardi went to sleep knowing that in Taraket Zubeyda was ever closer to death.

  Just one day until the Hunt, her thoughts screamed. Just one day until Zubeyda is killed. Zardi closed her eyes to stop tears from falling, but in the darkness she saw her sister’s terrified face, saw her mouth open in a scream for help.

  “I’m coming, Zub,” she whispered. “I’m going to get out of here and find a way to save you.”

  “We can finish it today. Just one last push, boys,” Ali called, walking from the adjacent room where the prisoners took turns sleeping on rough sheets over hay. He looked over at Zardi and at Khalila, who was sewing two pieces of leather together. “Um, I mean boys, girl, and djinni.”

  “But what happens then, eh?” Mo asked as he coiled up a length of rope.

  “The queen will let us out, of course,” Ali said.

  “Brother, has your brain gone to mush in this place?” Mo scratched irritably at his bearded face. “She’s never going to let us go free. She’ll feed us to her snakes.”

  “You’re wrong,” Mirzani said fiercely. “Sinbad won’t let us be eaten. He’ll save us.”

  “When was the last time you saw Sinbad or that traitor, Nadeem?” Zain pitched in from across the room, his long hair was unbraided and a tangled mess. “It’s just us down here.”

  They fell silent at the sound of a key being turned in the lock. The door hadn’t been opened since Zardi and the others had been thrown into the cell.

  Nadeem, adorned with a plum-colored cloak, swept into the room, followed by Satyan.

  “Look at this,” Zain sneered. “You speak of the sneak and he appears with his beastly snake. What’d you want, Nadeem?”

  “I’ve come for these three.” Nadeem pointed at Zardi, Rhidan, and Khalila. “The queen wants to see you.”

  Zardi’s stomach clenched uneasily as she, Rhidan, and Khalila rose to their feet.

  “Nadeem, we need to talk,” Ali said firmly. He paused, his face wrinkling into puzzlement. “Why are you wearing that cloak?”

  “I’m the queen’s advisor. It’s only fitting I dress like this,” Nadeem replied primly.

  “You look and sound ridiculous,” Tariq replied, coming into the room, stretching and yawning.

  “I do not,” Nadeem said, his voice rising. “What I do is vital. I help the queen plan and make decisions.”

  “So, what’s your queen’s plan for us?” Tariq asked. His swamp-colored eyes narrowed.

  Nadeem looked confused. “You know what the plan is. Once the machine is finished, you’ll go free.”

  “And you believe that?” Zain came to stand at Tariq’s side. “We’re her prisoners. She can’t be trusted and neither can you.”

  Nadeem hunched his shoulders. The words from his former friend were cutting deep. “You’re not prisoners; you’re keeping up your end of a bargain,” he snapped. “The queen got rid of the Cyclops and now we’re helping her build her machine. That’s fair, isn’t it?”

  “Fair? We’re locked up like animals,” Zain spat.

  Nadeem shook his head. “You’d all be dead if it wasn’t for her. How about some gratitude?”

  Satyan, who stood beside him, added a long, low hiss.

  Nadeem scowled at Zardi, Rhidan, and Khalila. “Come on, let’s go.” His gaze traveled over the sailors in the room. “The queen wants her glider finished by tonight. The sooner you finish, the sooner you’ll get out.” He swept out of the room, his cloak billowing behind him. Zardi, Khalila, and Rhidan followed, with Satyan at their back.

  Nadeem locked the thick wooden door, ignoring the two green snakes that stood outside the prison, guarding it. He strode down the corridor. Zardi and her companions followed, prodded by Satyan.

  Huge snakes hung from the ceiling and brushed the prisoners’ faces with scaly skins and flickering tongues.

  Zardi saw Rhidan take his amulet off. “What are you doing?” she asked.

  Rhidan put the amulet in his pocket. “It feels wrong to wear it with all these snakes around. I can’t explain it.”

  But the snakes didn’t seem to bother Nadeem at all. He walked along the tunnel pompously talking about his role as the queen’s advisor.

  Zardi was almost relieved when they reached the throne room and she saw the queen sitting there on a raised platform made out of jade. At least Nadeem would shut up now. About twenty ivory snakes lined the edges of the room. As Nadeem led them closer to the queen, Zardi had to suppress a shudder as she realized that the platform was not made of jade but was actually alive with the wriggling mass of hundreds of tiny green snakes. They curled around the silver throne like scaly adornments.

  “Thank you, Nadeem,” the queen said as they stopped in front of her. Satyan slithered up the throne to stand at her side. “You may leave now.”

  Nadeem hesitated. “My queen, I’m your advisor. How am I to advise if I don’t know what’s going on?”

  “Do not be so preposterous,” the queen retorted. “Of course, you’ve been helpful, but your usefulness has almost run its course. You’re lucky I haven’t put you in the prison with the rest of your friends. Continue to annoy me and I’ll do just that.”

  “But—”

  “No buts. GET OUT.”

  Fighting to hold back tears, Nadeem turned on his heel and stalked out of the throne room.

  The queen fixed her unblinking gaze on the three of them.

  “Tomorrow is a momentous day. My flying machine will be finished and I’ll begin my journey to the Black Isle.” She looked at Rhidan and Zardi and rose to her full height. “I’ll be needing the Windrose.”

  “We haven’t got it,” Zardi said swiftly.

  “Turn out your pockets,” the q
ueen said calmly. “I know one of you has it.”

  “We haven’t got anything,” Rhidan said firmly. “Why do you want to kill the sorcerers on the Black Isle anyway?”

  The queen grimaced. “This really is getting tiresome.” She clicked her fingers at Satyan, and the snake struck out, wrapping his length around Khalila’s chest.

  “Release me,” Khalila commanded imperiously.

  “Tell me, djinni,” the queen demanded. “Which of you has the Windrose?”

  “You may have my magic,” Khalila rasped, “but I am the master of my own tongue.”

  “Hmm, perhaps Satyan can squeeze the answer out of you. Without your magic, you’ll have bones that can break.” The queen clicked at Satyan again, and the snake tightened its length about the djinni.

  The sound of cracking ribs reverberated around the underground cavern walls, and Khalila let out a pained cry.

  “Stop it, please!” Zardi said, flinching at the expression of agony that crossed the djinni’s face.

  “Then turn out your pockets,” the queen repeated softly. “Both of you.”

  Zardi slipped her hand into her trouser pocket, the warmth of the Windrose brushing her fingertips. She placed it next to the amulet, which Rhidan had also put on the floor. The Windrose’s ring of rubies glinted in the light of the chamber, making the amulet with its silver snakes and purple stone look positively dull in comparison.

  “Let Khalila go,” Rhidan demanded. “We’ve done as you’ve asked.”

  But the queen did not appear to hear at first. Her face was strangely masklike and she couldn’t seem to take her eyes away from the objects in front of her.

  “Let her go,” he said again more forcefully.

  The queen jolted out of her trance and hissed a command at Satyan. Zardi once again understood her word: STOP.

  The red and gold snake leisurely uncoiled his length and released Khalila. She fell to the ground with a groan. The snake’s fierce hiss filled Zardi’s head with images of what it wanted to do to them. Zardi wondered why she could understand the queen’s hissed commands as words but not Satyan’s? Maybe serpents were just too different from other creatures, and their thoughts were impulses not words.

  Zardi knelt by Khalila’s side. “Are you all right?”

  “Sure. Just give me a moment to catch my breath,” the djinni said defiantly.

  Zardi wanted to believe Khalila, but the way she was holding her side told a different story. She helped the djinni to her feet.

  “Where did you get this?” The queen’s voice was trembling, and Zardi looked up to see her slither forward and pick up the amulet.

  “From my pocket,” Rhidan replied.

  “I suppose you think you’re funny, you annoying little worm.” The queen’s voice was now steady. “I’ll ask you again. Where did you get this?”

  “My father gave it to me,” Rhidan replied.

  “Your father?” The queen started to laugh.

  “Yes, my father!” Rhidan snapped. “I don’t see what’s so funny.”

  The queen traced the interlocked snakes of the amulet gently, turning it over in her hands. She stopped as she read the inscription on the back of the amulet. “So he didn’t want you either.”

  Either? Zardi shared a confused look with Khalila.

  Rhidan’s face flooded with angry color. “It’s got nothing to do with you.”

  “Oh, but it has.” The queen looked at him. “You see, Iridial is my creator. And it looks as though he wanted you just as much as he wanted me.”

  31

  The Sorcerer’s Creation

  Rhidan’s knees sagged. He looked as if he might faint or scream but did neither. “You’re lying.” Rhidan raggedly wiped his sleeve across his face. “Give me back my amulet.”

  “Your amulet?” She came close, her fetid breath choking them. “I was there when he forged it. This talisman was my creator’s key to all of his spells.” She read the inscription again and sniffed the amulet. “There’s no magic in this. Did he not even keep that promise?”

  Zardi remembered how Rhidan had used the magic from the amulet on the brass rider, but she wasn’t about to tell the queen that. “What was a sorcerer from the Black Isle doing here?” she asked instead. A disturbing thought occurred to her as she glanced over at Khalila and thought of the djinni’s prison in the volcano and its emerald key. Had Iridial built the brass rider; had he imprisoned Khalila? “Did Iridial create the brass giant?” she asked.

  The queen glared at her. “Brass giant?”

  “Yes, the huge metal thing that was guarding this island,” Zardi said.

  The queen shook her head impatiently. “That thing was not built in my creator’s workshop. I have no idea where it came from, but if I did, why should I tell you?”

  “Well, tell me why my father was on this island,” Rhidan said. “If he really created you, tell me.”

  The queen looked at him with something akin to fondness in her eyes. “I’m going to do you a favor, son of Iridial. I’m going to give you the answers you crave because I appreciate what it is like not to know. This will be my only kindness.”

  Rhidan nodded.

  “My creator settled here to do his experiments,” the queen began.

  “Experiments?” Rhidan asked. “What experiments?”

  “Iridial is a great inventor and an even greater sorcerer. He traveled all over the world collecting spells and adding them to his collection of enchantments. He studied the three main forms of magic—Fitra, Alama, and Kanate; learned, channeled, and innate—and was consumed with the idea of creating an elixir that would increase a sorcerer’s ability to harness magic from nature.”

  “Impossible,” Khalila interrupted.

  “Once upon a time, maybe,” the queen conceded. “But my creator discovered that a snake’s venom, when combined with other magical components, could produce a powerful elixir that allowed a sorcerer to channel an infinite stream of magic from nature. He bred many types of snakes, but the only venom that worked was extremely poisonous. Even a drop too much could kill. He needed to find a way to make the venom safer. That’s why I was created.”

  “I don’t understand.” Rhidan’s hunger for more knowledge was apparent in every line of his body.

  “Iridial hypothesized that if he fused his blood with the blood of a snake, he could create a new type of snake whose venom would not be poisonous to sorcerers.”

  “And you’re the result?” Zardi asked in amazement.

  “I am far more than a result,” the queen hissed. “I am perfection.”

  The queen’s long forked tongue snaked out, and she licked her thin lips. “He was horrified at first, of course. He didn’t want to create a creature like me, a being that could talk and think for itself. He just wanted a snake from which he could extract venom. But he made peace with this and we were happy for a while. I even helped him with his experiments.”

  “Where is he?” Rhidan demanded. “What happened to him?”

  “Once Iridial finally perfected the elixir, he decided to return to the Black Isle and share his knowledge with his people. He asked me to look after his workshop and guard his research and serpents. He said he would come back for me. But he never did. My only companions were my dear snakes.” Her smile was sharp. “I’ve learned much from Iridial’s books and notes. The moment Nadeem told me of the Windrose I knew my destiny. Now I will find Iridial and kill him and the others that would dare to breed snakes for their own selfish wants. I may not have magic, but I can do well enough with the inventions he left behind, like the spelltrap.” She hurled the amulet at Rhidan, who caught it in midair. “This thing is the past.” She looked down at the Windrose. “This is the future.”

  “It is not yours to take,” Zardi warned, but the queen ignored her and grabbed the Windrose.

  Her scream was piercing as the magical object seared her hand. She dropped it and staggered back.

  Satyan was at her side in an instant. He slithere
d back and forth in front of his queen, as if to protect her from the enemy he couldn’t see or hope to understand.

  Zardi scooped the Windrose off the ground. “Like I said, it is not yours to take. I am the keeper of the Windrose and I am the only one who can withstand its heat or make it work.”

  The queen cradled her hand, her eyes streaming with angry tears.

  “Perhaps I should get Satyan to kill you right now,” she gasped out. “You wouldn’t be the keeper of the Windrose then.”

  Zardi held her face in a portrait of disinterest. The queen had no idea how close she was to the truth. If she died, the next person to touch the Windrose would become the keeper.

  “The Windrose would be useless if Zardi died,” Rhidan said. “Only she can use it.”

  “Fine, she comes with me.”

  “Never,” Zardi spat. “I won’t help you kill innocent people.”

  “Then you sentence yourself to death with your crewmates.”

  “Please!” The word sounded misshapen coming out of Rhidan’s mouth. “Please spare them.”

  She shook her head. “I made a promise to my snakes: sailors’ flesh. They have been very patient.” She grinned. “I think it’s time you all get back to work. NADEEM!”

  There was the sound of hurried footsteps.

  “Yes, my queen?” Nadeem bowed, his face stony.

  “Take these three to the prison.”

  “Yes, my queen.”

  “Then fetch Sinbad so that he can join me for dinner. Give him a little of the draft if he becomes unruly.”

  They’ve been drugging him, Zardi realized with horror. That’s why Sinbad has not come for us.

  “Yes, my queen.” Nadeem stood there for a second, looking unsure.

  “Well, what are you waiting for?” the queen hissed. “Be gone, I have much to prepare.” She looked at Zardi. “We leave tomorrow morning. Be ready to direct me to the Black Isle or I will kill you and then ensure that your friends suffer even more painful deaths than necessary.”

  Zardi glared at the queen. She needed time to think. Her eyes dropped to the spelltrap that hung from the queen’s belt. Khalila’s magic. It was their last hope.