by J F Mehentee
Zana let instinct guide him.
11
Emad sat on the steps beneath the ziggurat. Most of the djinn had returned to their new homes to eat and to rest. They’d achieved so much in such a short time, but they were exhausted. Regardless of the encampment and the golems, people would sleep. With that in mind, Emad had set hourly watches—any longer and those on duty would fall asleep while standing.
‘You’d be proud of what they’ve achieved, Fiqitush,’ he whispered.
Emad closed the box containing his brother’s tablet and scanned the square. He bowed his head and then wiped his eyes. Emad hadn’t had time to mourn his brother’s passing.
‘I understand your dream for our people now, brother.’ He shook his head. ‘I’ll never rule them, but—for you—I’ll lead the djinn towards making your vision a reality. I just hope your belief in me is well placed.’
He looked up when he heard footsteps. The twins had entered the square. Emad opened the box and made a show of studying the tablet inside. With half an hour to pass before the war council convened, he planned on using the time for some reflection. With Roshan and Navid drawing closer, he wasn’t sure if he wanted company.
‘Emad,’ Navid called.
He feigned surprise and waved.
That’s done it, he thought when he saw them approach.
Emad remembered his promise to Fiqitush.
From their lined brows, he could tell this wasn’t a social visit.
‘We’ve just seen Behrouz,’ Navid said.
Roshan elbowed her brother.
‘Emad’s busy,’ she said. ‘Can’t you see that?’
Emad smiled.
‘I understand, Navid,’ he said. ‘If I were Behrouz, I’d be unhappy—no, I’d be frustrated by the lack of effort behind Yesfir’s rescue. No one’s sure where she is. Once the rest of the high magus’s army arrives, I’m sure Yesfir will be in one of the prisoner tents. Depending on how things go tomorrow, and if we’re able to keep the high magus busy, we’ll see about getting her back.’ He frowned before Navid could interrupt. ‘It isn’t a great plan. For now, it’s the best I can do. We’re stretched and everyone’s tired.’ He waved a finger at them. ‘That includes you two. Shouldn’t you be inside, a meal in your bellies and resting?’
Navid nodded. He pointed up at a balcony.
‘We were just on our way home.’
‘Why don’t you join us?’
Emad heard the hesitation and a hint of sorrow in Roshan’s voice. He didn’t need his bracelet to tell she felt sorry for him, sitting out here on his own, his brother not yet gone a full day.
‘Thank you, Roshan,’ he said, wishing he could hug her. ‘I have a war council meeting soon.’ He tapped the box resting on his lap. ‘I was searching for a way to revive Baka, to get it to rise high enough to pass through a portal. Fiqitush believed it was possible. He told me I’d find proof he hadn’t gone mad if I dug away the sand beneath one of its walls.’
Navid took a step forward, his attention fixed on the box.
‘Let me guess; Baka’s foundations consist of granite, a rock that isn’t from around here.’
Emad squinted.
‘What have you been digging around for?’
Navid jabbed the space above his shoulder with a thumb.
‘I wasn’t digging, but I heard a djinni trying to unplug a dry well complain about hitting granite.’
The lad was sharp.
‘Which suggests…’
Navid shrugged.
‘That the material used to lay Baka’s foundations isn’t from these parts. Someone dragging granite from one place to another for a city’s foundations sounds crazy. A city that can fly, that’s crazier.’
Roshan shoved her brother.
‘Don’t be rude,’ she said. ‘If King Fiqitush thought Baka could…fly, then it must be true.’
Emad tilted his head at Navid. Roshan was trying too hard to please him.
‘I’m inclined to agree with your brother.’ He patted the box. ‘There is so much information in this tablet, it could take months before I’ve read it all.’
‘So, there’s no chance of the high magus stepping out of his tent tomorrow morning to find Baka gone?’ Navid said.
I’d give anything to see the look on his face, Emad thought.
‘I’m afraid not. As I said, the tablet contains a lot of information: my brother’s research and his plans for the future. Because I’m not sure what I’m looking for, it’s taking time to get through it all.’
Roshan peered at the box.
‘Yesfir taught me a system of symbols she used to organise her entries. She often used an incantation to organise the entries by symbol. Maybe the king had taught her the system.’
Emad winced at the thought of poor Yesfir. He gestured at the step he sat on.
‘If you’re not too hungry or tired, sit down and have a look.’
He whispered an incantation over the box to allow Roshan access to the entries. Roshan sat on his right with Navid next to her. He handed her the box, then watched her open it. Emad was about to tell them about the entries Fiqitush had made about them, but then he saw Roshan’s hand. He reached out and took it in both of his.
‘What’s happening to you?’ he said.
He felt a slight tug as she tried to pull her hand away. He softened his grip. She held the box in both hands and gave him a pained smile.
‘It’s nothing to worry about.’
He glanced at Navid, who shrugged.
She’s too young, too trusting, to be caught up in all this.
Roshan’s willingness to help the djinn had side effects. The idea wrenched his insides.
‘Unless you’re smearing ash on your skin and you want to become an Indus ascetic, I’m right to be concerned—don’t you think?’
She probably didn’t know what an Indus ascetic was.
Roshan nodded, her lips a thin line. He listened as she described the reason for her skin’s colour and the swirling orange light beneath it.
‘What do you think about what’s happening to your sister?’ he said to Navid.
Navid chewed his lip.
‘To be honest,’ he said, eventually, ‘I wish she’d take off her bracelet and rest. But I won’t make her. Whatever she wants to do, I’ll support her. If she knew a way of making whatever’s happening to her stop and she wanted my help, she’d only have to ask.’
Good answer.
So long as Navid watched over her, his caution and concern were unnecessary, suffocating perhaps.
‘Navid’s right,’ Emad said. ‘You must rest. Before you go to sleep, take off your bracelet. I’ll let everyone know so no one will panic if their powers flag.’
Like her brother, Roshan chewed her lip.
‘What about the protective dome around the city?’
He raised a placating hand.
‘Don’t you fret about that. We’ve enough djinn and enough auric energy to maintain the dome while you sleep.’
Roshan’s gaze shifted between the open box and Emad.
‘All right, tonight, before bed, I’ll take it off,’ she said, then regarded the box.
To spare her any surprise, he said, ‘You’ll find plenty of entries in there about you two. From what I’ve read so far, my brother watched over you both.’ Emad remembered his promise. He couldn’t blandly tell them he was their father. Emad needed a more subtle approach. ‘Fiqitush watched over you both, even before you were born,’ he added, hoping one of them took the bait.
In the past four days, he’d lost his cousin and his brother. He would have prayed if he thought God cared. Emad’s throat constricted. He couldn’t bear losing the twins, too.
Navid was the first to bite.
‘Are you saying the king knew our parents?’
Emad pointed at the tablet.
‘Not everything’s in there.’ He tapped his temple. ‘Everything that happened prior to your births is in here.’ He took a deep brea
th. Brother and sister stared at him. As if his words had turned them to stone, neither moved. ‘Your mother’s name was Shafira. She was smart, beautiful and an adept magus. Nineteen years ago, when the flames around my eyes were orange and I still captained Apkallu, she found me in a tavern and asked for my help.’
The twins remained still while he described how he’d first met their mother and the adventure that followed.
‘Yesfir visited Shafira during her pregnancy,’ Emad said, drawing his encounter with Shafira to a close. ‘Your mother told her how she’d planned for you both to live human lives and how she’d already enrolled you as novices at Persepae’s high temple.’ Emad steeled himself for what came next. ‘No one foresaw the complications, however, and even if Yesfir had been present during your births, your mother lost too much blood too quickly. So, Fiqitush kept his eye on you but also kept his distance. He only sent Yesfir and Behrouz to kidnap you when your ability to hold Core power for long pain-free periods, Roshan, risked drawing attention to you. If the magi discovered your true nature, who knows what the temple would have done with you both.’
He stopped, realising he’d spoken at some length. It was their turn to talk.
The same silence with which they’d listened continued. He’d been too busy talking, remembering, to notice how Roshan had leaned against her brother, her head on his shoulder and her hand in his.
‘Yesfir,’ Roshan whispered, ‘she’s our aunt.’
Navid stared up at Emad.
‘How long have you known?’
He’d been dreading this question. Whichever way he answered it, he’d present himself as being unworthy of calling himself their father. He cleared his throat.
‘Two days. It’s taken me this long to summon the courage and to find the right time to tell you.’
Roshan sat up. She studied him as if she’d set eyes on him for the first time. Emad tried not to recoil from her scrutiny.
‘Why didn’t you offer to take Shafira with you when you left Tarsa?’ she said.
He remembered their last meeting on the dock.
‘For the same reason your mother asked Yesfir not to tell me she was pregnant. I wanted to be a ship’s captain, and Shafira wanted to be a mother and a magus.’ He leaned in and felt his brow pinch. ‘Anyway, if I’d asked her to come with me, she would have declined.’ He smiled. ‘We knew each other for less than a week, but that was long enough to respect what the other valued.’ He felt his throat tighten and had to clear it again. ‘Shafira, your mother, was an intelligent, talented and courageous woman,’ he continued. ‘I’m so sorry you never got the chance to know her, and I apologise for my selfishness preventing Shafira and my brother from telling me about you both.’
There, brother, I kept my promise.
Emad reached across and closed the box.
‘You’re both tired and, if you don’t mind me saying so, you look shocked.’ He patted the box. ‘I’ll hold on to the tablet for now. Just ask whenever you want to search through it. What happens next is up to you. Just as I did with your mother, I’ll respect your wishes.’ He stood when he spotted the first member of the war council enter the square. ‘Get some sleep,’ he said. ‘I’ll see you in the morning.’
12
It was too dark for Zana to see anything beyond the parapet he’d hurled himself off. He stretched out his paws. There hadn’t been enough time and sufficient light to know if he’d chosen the right spot. All he could do was hope his pads touched sand sooner than later.
His left shoulder struck something solid. He rolled along a slight decline for two heartbeats and then was in mid-air again, the sky overhead. The instant his shoulder scraped against the surface a second time, he extended his claws and dug them into the rock, spraying grit into his face. He moved his legs as if he were trying to climb back up the battlements. Gravity drew him from the wall. Zana dug his claws deeper. His rate of descent slowed, and the gradient turned gentle enough for him to turn without all his limbs losing contact with the surface. Unsure of how far he’d go before hitting the sandy bottom, he stiffened his muscles to slow himself further.
Zana’s front paws touched sand. Instinct made him tuck his head in and roll forward to avoid snapping his neck. He landed on his back and then flopped onto his side.
‘Zana,’ came a call from the walkway above.
With no time to catch his breath, he pushed himself up and onto four legs. Zana turned a full circle to orientate himself. The darkness below made it impossible to know whether he faced north or south. Above him, the city’s lights brushed the tips of the crenellated battlements. With the city to his right, Zana sidled to his left and tested the ground beneath his feet. He looked up again, this time at the mountain. Nahrian’s mother, Ramina, had said he’d find the pride on the northernmost mountain. From what he could see, which wasn’t much, thanks to the shadow cast by Baka’s wall, the slope he planned on climbing was more of a vertical cliff.
Zana faced the mountain and, using his front paws, crabbed his way along the edge while trying to detect an incline in the vertical rock face.
His joints ached and one shoulder felt raw when he heard the purl of water lapping the pebbled shore.
The sea!
He must have missed a place to start his ascent and had gone too far. If he went any farther, Zana risked stepping over the table of rock Baka was perched on and falling onto the boulders below.
Zana growled. What a mess. Now he’d have to wait until dawn and risk being spotted while he searched for a way up the mountain.
‘Zana.’
He halted and pressed himself against the rock. The call came from his right rather than from above.
A soft ball of red light bobbed towards him.
‘Zana, it’s me, Nahrian.’
On hearing her name, the muscles in his neck and limbs relaxed. His legs wobbled, and he fought the urge to collapse onto his belly. Zana trotted towards the faint glow.
Nahrian wore a firestone, on its lowest setting, like a pendant. They almost bumped noses when he reached her.
‘What are you doing here?’ he said.
With her face illuminated from below, her smile appeared more ghoulish than mischievous. The corners of her lips fell, and her brow furrowed.
‘I heard what happened to your mother,’ she said. ‘Vul told me you’d be coming to us for help.’
The memory of their climb up the southern mountain and Vul recalling the death of Zana’s mother made him shiver.
How much did Vul know about him, and how much of it had he told Nahrian? Zana told himself it didn’t matter. Nahrian was there. A lightness filled his chest. He could get the help he needed and rescue Mother.
‘Mother’s off hunting,’ Nahrian said. ‘She won’t be back until morning.’
Zana had to sit down.
‘Does that mean I have to come back tomorrow?’
Nahrian frowned.
‘Of course not. You’re staying with us until Mother returns.’ She turned. ‘Come on.’
The sound of waves grew louder. They reached the end of the city’s wall, and Zana stopped to take in the sight.
A crescent moon hung above two dart-shaped triremes, their sails furled. What little moonlight there was lit the foam-flecked waves as they broke over the pebbled beach.
‘How far does it go, the sea?’
Nahrian stood beside him.
‘I don’t know, but I never get bored with watching it. Mother said that if those ships sailed straight ahead and kept on sailing, they’d reach land.’
Zana wondered what lay beyond it.
‘Hurry up,’ Nahrian said. ‘It’s dinner time.’
If not for Nahrian, he would never had found the short, narrow cave entrance.
‘It sometimes floods during high tide,’ Nahrian said, leading him down a tunnel, ‘but only as far as the first bend.’
The passage made a sharp right and then straightened. Firestones hung from the ceiling, filling the tunnel with
a golden light Zana could have mistaken for daylight.
The deeper they travelled, the more apprehensive Zana grew. He didn’t know what to expect when he encountered the pride. It took all of his courage to ask Nahrian how he should behave.
‘Stick close to me,’ she said. ‘You’ve entered Cross Scar territory. If they think you’re a threat, the pride won’t hesitate—they’ll attack you.’
Zana slid across fine sand.
‘What should I do, then? I don’t want anyone to think that.’
Nahrian faced him, her expression earnest.
‘Walk behind me and keep your head bowed. And every five steps—remember, five steps—you say, “I am the mistress’s servant. I will not harm you.”’
‘I am the mistress’s servant. I will…’ His voice trailed off when he caught Nahrian grinning. ‘What are you smiling about? Did I say it wrong?’
Nahrian’s laugh filled the tunnel. Confused, he stared at her, which made her laugh harder.
‘Your face,’ she said. ‘It’s so sweet.’ She stopped laughing and bunched her brows. Nahrian pulled back her chin and in a deep voice said, ‘I am the mistress’s servant.’
He still didn’t understand. She laughed again. He’d spent most of last night and all of today worrying about Mother. The days since Roshan had returned injured from Persepae’s chancery hadn’t been fun either. Not once did he remember laughing. Even though he was the brunt of the joke, her laugh was infectious.
‘Me calling you mistress is what’s funny—isn’t it?’
By the time they’d stopped laughing, he could ignore his aches and his stinging shoulder.
‘Just be yourself, Zana,’ Nahrian said. ‘The males a little older than us will try to intimidate you, and the older ones will ignore you to let you know they aren’t threatened by you. That’s just the way you males act. You’re bigger and stronger and you like to show off about it.’
