The Book of Wonders

by Richards, Jasmine

  Zardi slowly turned to face Shahryār. Khalila was still nowhere to be seen. The djinni had deserted her and there was no escape. But she would not give the sultan the satisfaction of looking scared.

  The hunter drew his horse to a stop, his eyes widening as he looked at her. “You,” he snarled. “Where is Zubeyda?”

  “She’s safe.” Zardi’s fingers scratched the dirt around her, looking for a weapon. Her hand eagerly closed around a large rock. She felt a pulse of strength go through her fingers and the rock cracked in her grasp.

  Zardi looked down at her right hand in surprise: It didn’t hurt, and somehow it felt stronger than it ever had before. No, that’s not true. Her memory wheeled back to her battle in the sky and how she had snapped the queen’s metal belt. Her thoughts then twisted even farther back, to the point when she’d thrust her right hand into the fountain of blue fire to gain the Windrose. Oli had said that enduring the flames had made her stronger. He was talking about my hand. The fire has changed it.

  “I’ll find her,” the sultan promised, leaning forward in his saddle.

  “I won’t let you hurt her.” Zardi stood and glared at Shahryār, flexing her right hand. There was a flare of warmth in her head. It was Zubeyda’s presence, urging her on.

  “And what is a little kitten like you going to do?” The sultan snorted. “This is Rhidan’s doing, no doubt, swapping you and Zubeyda.” He dismounted and strode toward her. “I’m pleased that the boy’s sorcery has finally manifested itself. Before I kill you, you’d better tell me where he is.”

  “How did you know he was a sorcerer?” Zardi demanded, not taking her eyes off the approaching hunter.

  The sultan pursed his lips. “I’ve always known, but if you are not going to answer my questions, why should I answer yours?” He put his hand to his scabbard and withdrew a curved sword. “Come, I’ve got much to do. Once I’ve killed you I will track down Zubeyda and then find Rhidan.” He stalked forward, a thin smile cutting his face in two. “An unexpected bonus, getting to hunt more than once in a day.”

  The sultan’s eyes blazed with anticipation and he lunged toward her, his sword held high.

  Zardi leaped forward as well, her hand reaching for the sultan’s throat.

  He gave a choked gasp of surprise as she gripped his windpipe and lifted him off his feet.

  She squeezed harder, enjoying the feeling of power as she felt the fragility of his neck. I could crush him. The sultan’s face was turning blue, but he smiled contemptuously at her despite his rasping breaths. Zardi found her hand clutching even more tightly.

  Rage fought with another feeling deep inside her. It was not Zubeyda but her own conscience. If I kill him I’m no better than he is, no better than a monster.

  “You won’t take my life,” the sultan croaked out, reading her hesitation perfectly.

  And Zardi began to shake because she knew he was right.

  “No, but you will be stopped.” Khalila’s voice was suddenly in Zardi’s head.

  Zardi’s right hand began to tingle, and a red pulse exploded from her fingertips, blinding her for a moment. She could hear the jackals whining with fear. As her eyes got used to the light, she could see that scarlet energy was still streaming from her hand and flowing into the sultan’s body.

  He screamed as his skin began to harden and crack, turning to bark before her gaze.

  “What magic is this?” the sultan cried. “Whose magic?” And for the first time Zardi saw fear darken Shahryār’s eyes.

  His turban unraveled and fell to the ground, and a riot of leaves and vines thrust out through his scalp. He gave an anguished cry as branches, heavy with buds and new leaves, pushed out of the sides of his torso and roots sprang from his feet.

  Zardi pulled back from Shahryār and watched in amazement as the bark crept up his neck, spread across his jaw, and covered the mouth that used to so love to sneer. Bit by bit the skin of his face crusted over, until just his eyes were left. Finally, all traces of the sultan disappeared, leaving in his stead a young-looking tree.

  One of the hunting jackals took a fancy to it, moseyed forward, and lifted his leg to urinate on the roots.

  In her head, Zardi could hear Zubeyda laughing with delight, but Khalila’s presence seemed quieter, almost mournful.

  “Time to go, Zardi,” the djinni said softly. “Our business is finished here. I will send your sister and father back to your house. They will be safe. No one will seek retribution, I have seen to that.”

  “Can’t I see my father or Nonna?”

  “I’m afraid not,” Khalila said. “I am finding it difficult to stay here.”

  “Give me one moment, please. Let me say good-bye to Zubeyda.”

  There was a ripping sound, and Zardi saw her sister appear in front of her wearing the white gown of a praisemaker, the hem streaked with dirt and the sleeve with blood. Zardi looked down and found that she was back in her own tattered boy’s clothing.

  Zubeyda threw her arms around her. “I missed you so much.”

  The warmth of Zubeyda’s embrace flooded through Zardi, filling her with memories of home and chasing away the terrors of the last ninety days. She began to shake. “The sultan’s gone,” she said into Zubeyda’s lavender-scented hair. “He’s really gone.” Tears scalded her cheeks. The curse that had hung over Arribitha for fifteen years had been lifted.

  Zubeyda gently wiped the tears from Zardi’s face. “And it is all thanks to you, my darling, clever, brave sister. You saved me. Now you just need to tell me how!”

  “I will, but I can’t right now. In a moment, you’re going to be sent back home with Baba. You don’t need to worry about anyone else coming after you.” Zardi’s gaze was suddenly caught by a glint of light in the undergrowth, and she knelt down to pick up the Windrose, slipping it into her pocket. She turned to face her sister. “Tell Nonna and Baba that I miss them, that I love them, and that I’ll be home soon, but I made a promise to Rhidan and I need to keep it.”

  Zubeyda nodded. “Baba will have much to do now that Shahryār is gone. Who will be our ruler now?”

  “Aladdin!” Zardi exclaimed. “There are rumors that he is still alive. Maybe Baba can find the prince and make him the new sultan.”

  Zubeyda smiled. “It would be good to have the prince back in Taraket, but even better to have you and Rhidan home.”

  “Soon.” Zardi kissed her sister’s warm cheek. “Say hello to Omar for me.” And in the next instant she was back on Desolation Island on the bank of the lake with Khalila beside her.

  The djinni looked exhausted. The transformation of the sultan, and the magic used to transport Zardi to Taraket, must have cost the djinni deeply. She had put her life force at risk. Zardi remembered how Sula had said that djinnis could become the walking dead if they used up too much of their life essence.

  “Thank you, Khalila,” Zardi said. An image of the sultan, bark creeping up his face, roots springing from his feet, shot through her mind. “What you did was amazing.”

  The djinni held up her hand. “What I did was repay a debt. Now you will stick to the terms of our agreement. Once you and Rhidan have reached the Black Isle you will make the wish that will reunite me with my husband. No questions.”

  “No questions,” Zardi repeated.

  “Come,” Khalila commanded. “It is time we rejoined the others on the beach.”

  37

  The Farewell

  “Are you sure this is right?” Musty frowned down at the nautical map he had in his hands.

  “I may not have the strength to transport you back to Arribitha,” Khalila snapped, “but are you really doubting my ability to conjure a map?”

  Zardi grinned to herself as she saw Musty go rather red in the face. “Well, there’s no need for that tone,” he said. “Magic is one thing. Navigation is something else entirely.”

  Sinbad slapped a hand on Musty’s shoulder. “I think the map will do nicely.” He gave the djinni a courteous bow. “I thank
you for everything that you have done. With your help we will easily get back to Arribitha.”

  The djinni sniffed dismissively and stalked off.

  Sinbad laughed. “Musty, you’re a braver man than I to make an enemy of a djinni. Remember what she did to the sultan?”

  Musty looked worried. “I think I’d better go and apologize.” He ran after Khalila.

  Zardi looked over at the captain. “So, when will you set off?” she asked.

  “There is no time like the present.” Sinbad looked out at the horizon. “The ship is fully repaired and we’ve taken on enough fruit.” He laughed. “And let us not forget that we have on board more diamonds than there are grains of sand in the deserts of Arribitha.”

  “Your fortune is made,” she replied with a smile. “Will you go back to Sabra?”

  Sinbad nodded. “Now that the sultan has been taken care of, we can go home and I can pick up the crew I left behind.” He paused, as if choosing his next words carefully. “I plan to find Assam when we dock. And if he’ll accept, I’ll give him a share of my fortune.”

  “That’s a wonderful idea.” Zardi stared down at her feet. “When you do find him please tell him I’m sorry for everything that happened.”

  “Why don’t you tell him yourself?” Sinbad asked. “Reconsider, and come with us.”

  Zardi gave him a look.

  Sinbad sighed. “Yes, I know. You have to get to the Black Isle and reunite Rhidan with his long-lost family.”

  “Something like that,” Zardi responded, thinking of all the mixed feelings Rhidan had about his father.

  “It is a shame. I have gotten used to having the two of you around.”

  Zardi looked at Sinbad and then past him to the sailors who were busy filling the ship’s wooden stores with star fruit. “You have become like family to me,” she whispered.

  “To family, then,” Sinbad said, holding out his hand to her. “To those members who are here and those that are gone.”

  Zardi grasped his palm and found comfort there. The loss of Dabis seemed long ago, but the absence of Ali was still an open wound and the image of Nadeem being buried stayed behind her eyes.

  A squawk from above made them look up. Roco swooped downward with Rhidan on his back.

  “I’m sure he’ll want to tell you how his trip went.” Sinbad squeezed her hand. “I’ll send someone to come and find you both once the Falcon is ready to leave.”

  Zardi watched as Sinbad walked away. Sadness welled up inside her as she realized that soon she would really be saying good-bye to the captain and his crew.

  Rhidan jumped off the Roc’s back. A bag slung over his shoulder slapped against his hip as he did so.

  “How did it go?” Zardi reached out and stroked Roco’s soft, downy head.

  “Roco was right. The tunnels are empty. The snakes were all destroyed.”

  “So what’d you get from your father’s workshop?”

  “Just a few bits that I thought Iridial might like to see again.” Rhidan patted his bag. “We have to travel light, right?”

  “Very light,” she replied. Khalila had made it clear that she’d used far too much of her life essence recently. She could not whisk them away to the Black Isle. They would be traveling a different way. Zardi looked up to where the flying machine rested on the highest part of the pyramid outcrop. It was all patched up and ready to go. She just hoped the pyramid was tall enough.

  “Sinbad is leaving the island today, and so should we,” Zardi said.

  “I’ll get us some water.” Rhidan patted the Roc’s feathers. “Tell Roco thanks, will you?”

  “Sure,” she replied. “I’ll come and find you later.”

  Rhidan strode off, leaving Zardi and Roco alone.

  “He wanted me to thank you for helping him today,” Zardi warbled.

  “I like helping,” Roco replied.

  She gave the baby bird a fierce hug. “You’ve been brilliant. Helping us to fight the snakes, flying all of our injured back to the beach after the battle. You didn’t need to do any of it.”

  Roco rubbed his soft cheek against hers. “You’re my friend. For always.”

  “Always, Roco.” Her eyes fell on the flying machine again. “I’ve got something to tell you,” she said, pulling back.

  He cocked his head to one side, curious.

  “We’re going today. We’re leaving the island.”

  “Will you come back?” he asked.

  Zardi shook her head.

  “Never?” Roco squawked.

  “No, never.”

  The bird gave an impatient ruffle of his feathers. “You’re wrong, Zardi,” the Roc said. “We’ll meet again. Maybe not here, but somewhere.”

  He chirped the words out with such authority that she found herself replying, “I hope so.”

  Roco started to beat his wings. “Until next time, then,” he sang out and soared into the air.

  “Good-bye,” Zardi sang back, waving until he was just a dot in the sky. She looked around, searching for Rhidan, and found him sitting on the sand next to Khalila. “Roco’s gone,” she said, sitting next to them.

  “It looks like today is the day for good-byes then,” Rhidan said. “I’ve just said a few.”

  “Good-byes are tricky things,” Khalila murmured. “Hard but necessary. You realize that, once you’ve been alive as long as me.”

  “I realize it now,” Zardi said. “But not having a chance for good-byes is even more awful.” She felt a stab of sadness that she never got to say farewell to Nonna or her father.

  “I never got to say good-bye to my husband before I was kidnapped and imprisoned on this island,” Khalila continued. “I think about that a lot.”

  “Well, we made a deal,” Rhidan said. “Once we get to the Black Isle we’ll wish you back to him.”

  “Yes, you will. And I am hoping that by then I will have answered a few things for myself.” She thrust her shoulders back. “But that is the future. What of the present?”

  “Once the Falcon leaves we’ll take the flying machine and set off,” Zardi promised.

  The djinni yawned and stretched. “It will be a long journey for you both, but I will be glad of the rest. I still don’t quite feel like myself.”

  Zardi frowned. She wondered if Khalila’s recent extensive use of her powers had had anything to do with why the djinni had taken so long to work her magic against the sultan. It seemed ungrateful to ask the question though.

  The djinni removed her ring and gave it to Rhidan. “Look after this for me. I’ll be inside its realm, so keep it safe.”

  Rhidan put the ring on his finger.

  They heard the sound of footsteps approach them. They turned to see Mirzani running toward them. “Capt’n Sinbad told me to fetch you. We’re about to cast off.”

  The three of them got to their feet and followed Mirzani to the shore where the ship had been pulled into the sea. Sloshing through the water, they watched as Mirzani made his way to the Falcon and climbed aboard.

  Sinbad stood at the prow of the ship and looked down at them. His crew crowded around him. “The time has come, my friends. The end of our journey with you.” There were shouts and waves from the crew. “I hope our paths will cross again one day.”

  Zardi smiled as she looked up at them all, the rigged-up multicolored sails of the Falcon a riot of color behind them. With Sinbad standing proud at the prow of the ship, she was reminded of the man she’d met three months ago in Taraket. The captain and the storyteller who kept an audience captive with his tales of monsters and magical charms… What stories he could tell now!

  “Farewell!” Rhidan called.

  Zardi’s throat felt too tight to utter any words, so she waved as hard as she could instead.

  The Falcon sailed forward through the waves, weaving through the white rocks that jutted out of the water, throwing up spray as it went. Before long the ship had disappeared over the horizon.

  Khalila gave another stretch and yawned
once more.

  Rhidan took off the ring and placed it in his palm.

  “You read my mind,” Khalila said. “Rub if you need me for anything. Otherwise, I’ll see you when we get to the Black Isle.” She clasped her hands together and then twisted and turned in front of them before disappearing into the crystal ring. Rhidan slipped it back onto his finger.

  “Just us again, then,” Zardi said.

  “I like that.” Rhidan grabbed her hand. “Come on, let’s get off this island!”

  They ran full tilt along the beach, up toward the outcrop where the flying machine stood. Zardi could feel the warmth of the Windrose in her pocket, and she felt something unlock inside her at the thought of their next adventure, a destiny unwritten.

  Somewhere out there, the Black Isle was waiting…

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  JASMINE RICHARDS was born in London, grew up in a library, and was the first in her family to go to university. After graduating from Oxford she had a brief stint at New Scotland Yard, then chose a career in publishing over being the next Sherlock Holmes. Today Jasmine is a senior editor at a leading British publishing house and living in Oxfordshire with her husband in an old wool mill. THE BOOK OF WONDERS is her first novel, and she would love to know what you think about it. You can visit her online www.jasminerichards.com.

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  CREDITS

  Cover art © 2012 by Jeff Netrup

  Cover design by Erin Fitzsimmons

  COPYRIGHT

  The Book of Wonders

  Copyright © 2012 by Jasmine Richards

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