City of Daevas

by J F Mehentee

  So, for the past hour, Zana had wandered the city and hoped to bump into Nahrian. At first, he’d just wanted to tell her about Mother but, venturing deeper into the city, he’d realised this was the perfect time for Ramina to teach him how to shape-shift. The only way for him to help Father rescue Mother was if he were humanoid. As a manticore, he’d draw attention to them in Arshak. If he could shift, Father might take him along. And if leaving his loved ones to join the Cross Scar pride was the price of saving Mother, he’d gladly pay it.

  Close to completing a circuit of the city, Zana heard his name being called. Instead of Nahrian, Roshan waved at him. His heart grew heavy, replacing the lightness in his chest. She and Navid stood at the city’s well, her brother drawing water. Eager to talk to Nahrian about joining the pride, he didn’t have time.

  Father didn’t think Mother’s capture by the high magus was Roshan’s fault, even though she’d said otherwise. If he were to make an excuse, make it appear he was avoiding her, she’d think he blamed her for what had happened. He bounded over to the twins and tried his best to smile.

  ‘How’s Behrouz?’ Roshan asked.

  She still feels guilty.

  ‘Father says it isn’t your fault. The seal is still powerful, and it’s difficult to resist.’

  The twins raised their eyebrows. They weren’t expecting such an answer.

  Roshan bent down and gave him a hug. He thought he might blush. The ache between his temples, however, eased.

  ‘You’re worried about him,’ she said, and then let go.

  The twins sat down with their backs pressed against the well. Zana found himself as eager to talk as he was to find Nahrian.

  ‘I’ve never seen Father this way,’ he said. ‘He looks ready to hurt someone and then, suddenly, he looks as if he’ll cry. He won’t get better until Uncle Emad lets us leave Baka and rescue Mother.’

  Navid’s eyes narrowed, and he tilted his head.

  ‘You said us. So, you’re going with Behrouz?’

  Zana recognised an opportunity. He’d asked her before, but Roshan had told him to speak to Mother and Father first.

  ‘I can’t go like this. I have to shape-shift like you, Navid. The last time I was here, I needed a drink. The woman living in the house over there had to help me lift the bucket out of the well.’ He took a deep breath, regarded Roshan with his most anguished expression and said, ‘If you could do for me what you did for Navid, I could be of more help to Father.’

  She didn’t turn away from him. That had to be a good sign.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Navid said.

  Roshan turned.

  Zana wanted to bite a chunk out of Navid. Instead, he followed Roshan’s stare.

  People passed them and headed towards the ziggurat.

  Father? Had something happened?

  As if she’d heard his thoughts, Roshan said, ‘It’s Emad. He’s called another meeting.’

  Brother and sister touched their bracelets and then stood. Both appeared troubled.

  If it didn’t involve Father, he’d be better off continuing his search for Nahrian. Roshan hadn’t answered his question, and from the looks of things, she wouldn’t answer it now. He still had a chance. He’d ask her later, when she wasn’t distracted. If learning to shape-shift took too long, Roshan’s magic was an option.

  ‘Something’s wrong,’ Roshan said. Her fingertips remained pressed to her bracelet. ‘I think Emad’s hurt.’

  Zana sighed. Finding Nahrian would have to wait.

  The three of them joined the throng of djinn as they marched towards the square facing the ziggurat. Parents carried children. The older ones ran to keep up with them. People spoke, but in hushed voices. They, too, must have felt Uncle’s pain. Something bad had happened.

  ‘This way,’ Navid said. He led them away from the crowd and down a side street on their right.

  ‘Where are you going?’ Roshan said.

  ‘I know a shortcut. I’m helping to map the city, remember,’ he said, then began to run.

  Zana and Roshan raced after him. At the end of the street they turned left, the city’s east wall casting them in shadow. The sound of the sea breaking onto the shore came over the wall.

  They ran some hundred paces, and then Navid turned left and down a paved, narrow passageway. Ahead of them, above the surrounding buildings, rose the second and third tiers of the ziggurat.

  Just before the passageway opened out onto a square facing the ziggurat, Navid skidded to a halt. He waited until they’d caught up, then pointed at a staircase on their left.

  ‘Come on,’ he said, and mounted the steps.

  The top of the stairs opened onto a balcony with a balustrade. While Zana couldn’t see over it, the square and the ziggurat in front of them were visible between the balusters. If they’d stood in the square below, he wouldn’t have seen a thing.

  Zana nodded his thanks to Navid, who winked.

  A hush settled over the square.

  With his back to the djinn crammed into the square, Uncle Emad climbed the stairs, a box tucked under one arm. He stopped, turned and stared at a point above the crowd.

  Uncle Emad kept blinking, and Zana found his own eyes tearing up. He glanced up and to his side. Roshan resting her head on Navid’s shoulder.

  Uncle Emad looked up at the sky and closed his eyes, making his face crease. He took two breaths and then opened his eyes. Still, he didn’t look at the djinn.

  ‘Citizens of Baka and manticores,’ he said, his sonorous voice filling the square, ‘your king, my brother, is dead.’

  6

  Roshan leaned on the balustrade. The death of the king had knocked the wind out of her. Iram and King Fiqitush were gone. The djinn could never go back. Although she’d only known him for a week, she’d wept alongside the djinn who filled the square.

  Time slowed, sped up, stopped—Roshan couldn’t tell which. Together with Navid, Zana and the djinn, she grieved, and it had left her exhausted.

  ‘Citizens of Baka, manticores.’

  Roshan sighed. She found herself cross-legged on the floor of the balcony, nestled between Navid and Zana. Roshan remembered none of them sitting down. Her eyes had dried, and she wiped her cheeks with the back of her hands. Across from her, Emad stood halfway up the ziggurat’s steps. In his right hand he held up a box, a box used for holding a clay tablet.

  Emad gazed up from the djinn at the northernmost mountain.

  ‘He’s not just talking to the djinn,’ Zana whispered. ‘He knows manticores are on that mountain and they’re listening.’

  ‘My brother is dead, but his vision lives on. This tablet contains that vision, and it is a wonderful vision. Baka is alive. For now, it sleeps. But when it awakens, it will rise above the ground and—like any of us—it will pass through a portal. Our king has given us a means to escape the high magus.’

  A murmur rippled through the crowd.

  Navid’s arm enclosed her before she slid from under herself.

  ‘Roshan, are you all right?’ he said. ‘Your hand.’

  She looked down to see Zana sniffing her right hand as it cupped her knee. Her skin was blue-grey, and beneath it, strips of orange whirled.

  After what Manah had told her, this had to be Domain power changing her.

  The orange whirls turned on both the back and front of her hand. Roshan tugged her tunic’s cuff and checked beneath her undershirt. The blue-grey colour and the orange energy covered her forearm. She touched a cheek.

  ‘Is my face…like my hand?’ she said to Navid.

  ‘No,’ he said. Navid leaned forward and hooked the top of her tunic’s neckline with a finger. He pulled it down as far as the dip between her collarbones. ‘It stops beneath your neck.’ His eyes moved down to her hands. ‘What’s happening to you?’

  Roshan wanted to stuff both hands into her tunic’s pockets and hide. The whirls of light radiating from beneath her skin were the same colour as the portal she’d fallen through in Derbicca.


  ‘It’s Domain power,’ she said. ‘It’s replenishing my auric energy with sabaoth energy.’

  ‘Is it permanent?’ Zana said. ‘Will your skin always look this way?’

  She hoped not. And was it only her skin the sabaoth energy had altered?

  ‘I never got to ask Manah about the effects. My skin has changed colour before, when I helped Behrouz after the high magus had stabbed him with his golden arrow. The change was temporary.’ Roshan held up her hand. ‘Now I don’t know if or when it will look normal.’

  A thought occurred to her and dried Roshan’s mouth.

  What would happen if Domain power replaced all of my djinn and human auric energy?

  The question brought her out in a sweat. If all she could summon was Domain power, she’d have to avoid weaving magic.

  While I still have some control, shouldn’t I sever the connection between myself and the djinn, go to Arshak and wipe away the high magus and his army?

  In her hands, sabaoth magic was like wielding a war hammer to squash an ant. She wouldn’t just kill Sassan, she’d obliterate the encampment and everyone in it. Daniyel’s death still haunted her. Roshan wasn’t sure she could live with the loss of Yesfir and the other captured daevas.

  Her skin itched.

  Roshan touched her bracelet. She saw Navid do the same. He rose, then helped her up.

  ‘Something’s up,’ he said. He bent over the balustrade and pointed. ‘There—it’s Shephatiah.’

  Roshan joined her brother. Zana pressed his face between two balusters.

  Shephatiah, the djinni whom Roshan thought of as the king’s assistant, climbed the ziggurat’s steps two at a time. On reaching Emad, he whispered in the prince’s ear.

  Even from where they stood, Roshan saw Emad’s face pale. The two djinn exchanged some words. Shephatiah nodded before disappearing into a portal.

  Emad stuck the box under one arm, straightened his tunic and raised his chin.

  ‘Citizens of Baka, manticores,’ he said, ‘a portal appeared half a league from the city. The high magus has arrived and has begun to pitch camp.’

  A wave of panic surged through the square. Roshan’s skin itched and the coils of orange beneath it brightened.

  ‘Stay calm,’ Emad said, his voice filling the square. ‘To panic now would be our undoing. The high magus won’t be ready to attack the city until dawn. We have time to prepare Baka and ourselves. We are five hundred djinn. Your magic makes each of you a formidable adversary. Together, if we combine our minds and our magic, we will be unconquerable.’

  Roshan felt Emad’s conviction flow through her bracelet. Her skin didn’t prickle so much. Below, the djinn stood rapt. They experienced Emad’s emotion and his belief they could resist the high magus, his army and the seal.

  ‘Defences team,’ Emad said, ‘the high magus can raise portals. I want a dome of protection raised to prevent his soldiers from entering Baka. The rest of you, you have your tasks. Baka must be defendable and habitable by dusk. Now go!’

  The djinn turned and departed the square, some on foot and others through portals.

  Roshan clutched the balustrade to steady herself. With High Magus Sassan outside the city, the magic required to protect Baka from an assault would take its toll on her.

  ‘Has anyone been assigned this place?’ she asked Navid, pointing at the door behind them.

  He pulled back a shutter and peered through the window.

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  Roshan turned. Her legs wobbled.

  ‘Good,’ she said. ‘I need to go and lie down.’

  7

  Sassan stepped out of the recently erected operations tent. Across the sand, light from the setting sun glinted off Baka’s copper doors.

  Those doors weren’t there when we arrived, he thought.

  He glanced up and to his left at the five golems—one complete and the other four lacking arms or a head. Cast with from the surrounding sand and rock, they resembled a giant version of the statues seen around Persepae. It was late afternoon when he’d seen the finishing touches being added to the first golem. When it reached Baka’s walls, the golem’s bearded head, based on the emperor’s features, would—his magus and Afacan’s engineer had assured him—peer over the battlements. By morning, the golems would all be ready to march.

  The golems weren’t the entire reason for his confidence. Earlier in the day, he’d received a tablet from the emperor confirming his support and willingness to provide as many men as he needed. Sassan considered it another sign from God.

  ‘High Magus.’

  General Afacan had exited the operations tent and approached. From the quickness of his step, Sassan figured the general wanted something.

  ‘Yes, General?’

  The general stopped in front of him. He glanced at the tower-like viewing platform being constructed behind Sassan. Above the wheels, the engineers had added a second tier, the wood brought in from a woodyard in Persepae.

  The general returned his attention to Sassan.

  ‘High Magus, could I have one last portal raised?’ He gestured at the golems and the tower. ‘With all the men over here preparing for tomorrow’s assault, I’d like to transport some extra men from Arshak for tonight’s guard duty.’

  Sassan felt as if he were sinking. He had to place his hands behind his back so the general wouldn’t see him squeeze his fists around the golden arrow.

  ‘The djinni, Yesfir, is exhausted, General. She needs rest.’

  The general nodded.

  ‘What about the daeva, Dunanu? He’s helped with the transport of men between Arshak and here.’

  With Tamraz missing, Dunanu was his replacement. Unlike the previous daeva, Dunanu fought the seal’s influence, which made being a conduit between the seal and the daeva excruciating. Now not only did he experience his insides being liquified, also his bones snapped, re-knit and fractured for as long as the portal held.

  Sassan’s vigorous head shaking made him dizzy.

  The general put out a hand to steady him.

  ‘Are you all right?’

  Afraid he’d appear weak, he stepped away from Afacan.

  ‘Thank you, I am, General. Like Dunanu and Yesfir, I need to rest.’ He tilted his head at the golems. ‘There won’t be any more portals until the morning. I’ll speak to my magi and make sure one of those fellows keeps watch tonight.’

  The general gave a stiff nod.

  ‘I know you’re tired, High Magus, but I have a question. I hope you’ll answer it before retiring for the evening.’

  The general had been huffy with him since he’d first tried the seal out on Pudil and Ninib. It wouldn’t do to further antagonise him.

  ‘Let’s walk to my tent. On the way, you can ask your question.’

  The general agreed. They hadn’t gone far when Afacan asked it.

  ‘During the meeting, we discussed the different ways of breaching Baka’s walls. I’m pleased you understand that tomorrow’s first assault is a test of the city’s defences. But if we’re able to break into the city and take it, what do we do with the daevas inside Baka?’

  Sassan knew the general was looking for confirmation of their conversation in Derbicca. He also knew he was about to contradict himself, but he didn’t care.

  ‘I want every daeva manacled.’

  The general faltered.

  ‘Do you intend on having them all executed?’

  Sassan still thought the general indulged the daevas. Perhaps it was a good thing. Maybe God worked through the general and tempered Sassan’s initial response to the djinn rescuing that daeva, Emad.

  ‘Don’t worry about the daevas, General. I won’t execute them. Yesfir and Dunanu are two examples of how the djinn and daevas will work to make the empire stronger. Once we take Baka, I’ll set them to work—God’s work and the empire’s work.’ Sassan’s chest puffed. ‘In Derbicca, I had every intention of executing them—all of them. But that was before God sent me
this.’ He raised his hand. The seal’s edge glinted in the fading light. ‘The seal has changed things. There’s work that needs doing, and the daevas will help us do it.’

  The general halted.

  ‘What kind of work, High Magus?’

  Sassan continued past the general. Now wasn’t the time for an explanation and the inevitable barrage of questions.

  ‘I’m tired, General. We shall discuss this after you’ve taken Baka and the daevas are our prisoners.’

  The general soon caught up with him.

  ‘Whatever my men’s involvement in this work is, High Magus, I will have to check first with the emperor before assisting you.’

  Eager for this conversation to end, Sassan nodded.

  ‘I understand, General,’ he said.

  They walked the rest of the way in silence. The thought of putting the daevas to work dulled the continuous needle-sharp jabs to his head and neck.

  He recalled what he mistook for a dream he’d had last night. It wasn’t a dream but a vision the seal had shared with him. He stood in Solomon’s place and beheld a great temple erected by the djinn. It reached three storeys, slit-like windows running along its walls. Two bronze pillars fronted the temple’s porch. Behind the porch stood double doors inlaid with golden flowers, cherubim and palm trees. Before he’d risen from his bed, Sassan had decided he would build an even grander high temple in Persepae.

  Outside his tent, Sassan wished the general good night. Inside, he slumped with relief when he saw a fresh amphora on the table.

  He pulled off his tunic and sat down at the table. Sassan poured some water into a drinking bowl. He scratched the sealing wax off with a fingernail, careless of several flakes falling into the bowl, uncorked the amphora and dribbled a little of the opaque liquid into the clear water. Sassan added more, corked it and set the amphora down.

  He swirled the contents and sat back.

  ‘I’ll build You a temple beyond compare, Divine Light,’ he said. ‘Seen from the inside or the outside, everyone will recognise Your glory.’

  Sassan stopped himself from raising the bowl in salute. That would be disrespectful. He sat back, took a sip of the bitter mixture, closed his eyes and pictured himself directing the daevas as they raised a glorious new temple.