by Amber Lough
As tall as Kamal was, Ibrahim towered over him. The point of his helmet looked sharp enough to kill in battle, and in fact, the braided cord that hung from the tip was edged in the dark brown of old blood. His armor was still dented and gouged from his recent battle in Basra.
He tried to push Kamal aside with the swipe of his arm, but Kamal did not budge. “Get out of my way, brother,” Ibrahim growled.
“Leave her alone,” Kamal said through gritted teeth.
“Ibrahim, my son, welcome back,” the caliph said, talking over his sons with words smooth and soft as honey. Ibrahim turned his head toward his father but did not step away from me. “This is Najwa, our guest from the Cavern.”
Ibrahim stared into my eyes and I forced myself not to look away. I had to appear calm, even though everything inside me was shaking. I squeezed my hands into fists and took a deep breath before bowing my head.
“Prince Ibrahim,” I said. My voice was weaker than I’d intended, but I was pleased I’d been able to say anything at all.
“I lost sixteen men to the Shaitan at their hopeless Basra Tunnel. I do not understand, Father, why you would dishonor them—and me—by allowing one of them to take even one breath inside our palace.”
Kamal shook his head. “Much happened while you were away, brother.”
“Did we lose the war?”
“No.”
“Then why is that”—he paused and gripped the hilt of his sword—“thing in here?”
“Ibrahim!” Kamal warned. “She saved our father’s life. She is here now because there may yet be peace between us. And I—I appoint her jinni consul.”
“Whatever peace the jinn offer will be a trap,” Ibrahim said, seething. When he spoke to me, his words were deep and dry. “Get out of this palace before I grab hold of you and make a wish you’d rather die than grant.”
“Ibrahim,” the caliph said, “this is my court. We honor your return, but many things have happened.”
Kamal placed his hand against Ibrahim’s leather armor. “I will take her out of the court, for her own safety, until you calm down.”
Ibrahim scanned the men in the black robes. “Where’s Hashim? I have news for him.”
“He’s dead,” the caliph said. “Your brother is the new vizier.”
Ibrahim stilled, breathing in through his nose loudly, and nodded. “I see. Take this jinni away, then. Don’t let me ever set eyes on her again.” Then he whirled away from me and went to kneel beside the caliph, careful not to scrape his long sword against the marble floor.
“Come,” Kamal said. He held my elbow and ushered me across the open expanse, around a column, and down the hall. Everyone’s eyes followed us, and it felt like cold water splashed across my shoulder blades.
Once we were out of the court and away from Ibrahim, I started shaking uncontrollably. Kamal wrapped an arm around me to hold me up. “What Ibrahim said…I’m sorry. He didn’t expect to see a jinni here.”
“I gathered.”
“He’s callous and one-minded. Of all the men in the court, he will be our greatest challenge. He will not believe that Hashim was lying, and once he hears that you came here pretending to be Zayele, it’ll be difficult to prove to him how trustworthy you are.” He tightened his fists and groaned in frustration. “I’ve been trying to stand up to him my whole life. He’s bigger, stronger, and stupid, which makes him hard to defeat.”
“But he isn’t the caliph, and he isn’t the vizier. He’s just a soldier. Right?”
Kamal slowed. “Najwa, Ibrahim has many followers in the city. Every single soldier would die for him. Half the women in Baghdad seek his attention. If he doesn’t change his mind about you, it will be dangerous for you to even set foot in the palace, much less stay here for any length of time.”
“But you are the vizier now,” I said. “You can influence the court and the people of Baghdad. You can spread the truth of what Hashim did—”
“You heard my father. The people would revolt. The caliphate would be in shambles. They aren’t ready for the truth. Not yet.” He set his hand on my cheek, but he was shaking. Although he meant to calm my nerves, they bubbled up.
“The jinn have waited long enough! If your people never learn the truth, must we change the minds of humans some other way?”
Kamal’s face fell. “What other way is there?”
“I don’t know.”
“Let me get Ibrahim calmed down first.”
“How long will that take?” I pulled away from him, realizing for the first time that he’d taken me to the Lamp. It sat innocently on its plinth, with its golden flame flickering in the layers of shadows cast in the dark hall. Faisal had relit the flame the day he’d been killed, and every time I looked at it, I thought of him.
“I don’t know. He’s never listened to me before, but then, I wasn’t the vizier. Maybe I can knock some sense into him. He truly cares about his soldiers. He must understand that if the war ends, so too will the battles.”
“Why did you bring me to the Lamp, Kamal?”
He looked away. “To send you home.”
I wanted to trust Kamal, but I knew he wasn’t going to head straight back to Ibrahim and teach him to respect me. Did he want me to leave so he wouldn’t be embarrassed when I saw him falter in front of his brother? “Why?” I whispered.
“To keep you safe.”
“I can stay in the harem,” I said.
“That’s the first place he will go once he’s done with Father. After he bathes,” Kamal muttered. “Listen, I will send you a message through the Lamp when it’s safe for you to return. Hopefully, it will only be a day or two. Then we can begin working together, jinn and humans, toward a treaty.” He paused for a moment and looked up, thinking. “But until then, please go home where you’ll be safe. I don’t trust Ibrahim’s wives not to hurt you. I don’t want you to leave either, but I have to protect you. I couldn’t bear it if something happened to you.”
“Fine. I’ll go, Kamal, but I’m worried…I’m worried that the moment a jinni leaves, everyone here will forget we ever wanted peace.” Tears slipped out of my eyes and I wiped at them, furious I’d let them form in the first place.
“I won’t forget.” He pulled me into him and kissed my temple. He whispered, and his breath was cool upon my neck, “Every second you’re gone will cause me pain. Now go, and wait for my message.”
He walked me to the Lamp. I wiped at my eyes again and nodded, wishing I could stay forever with his arms around me. Then I reached into the flame and let it pull me away from the hall, away from the palace, away from Kamal.
“THIS CAN TAKE weeks to get right, so don’t be disappointed if it doesn’t work right away,” Shirin said. We stood in the central room, which held nothing more than a few chairs, a table, and Rahela’s loom. The walls were bare and smooth, and the lighting came from two sets of wishlight sconces. It was meant to feel like a human home, but it was nothing like the tent I’d grown up in. Shirin held up her fingers. “Also, there are a few rules.”
I crossed my arms and shrugged. “There always are.”
“First, you can’t transport from one place to another within the Cavern. We can only transport to places on the surface and back again.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Well, it drains your energy, so if you were transporting from, say, the library to the market all the time, you’d be exhausted. Not to mention the fact that eventually two jinn would collide. So we walk. And the second rule is that we can’t transport without permission. Usually from the Master of the Eyes of Iblis Corps.”
Rahela cleared her throat. “Maybe you shouldn’t do it, then,” she said. She had a collection of yarns laid out on her lap and was sorting the colors. I was grateful she’d moved on from gray.
“It’s something I need to learn. No one needs to know,” I said. I took in the room. Shirin and I were standing away from the furniture. The ceiling was not very high, but we had plenty of space. If I did it right.
“You don’t mind, do you?” I asked Shirin.
“No. Not if it will help you. And you promise never to tell anyone I showed you how,” she said. She turned from where Rahela sat and breathed deeply. “Remember when Faisal was teaching you to do the invisibility wish? This is like that, but harder.”
The invisibility wish had taken a few tries, but it hadn’t been impossible. In fact, I’d impressed Faisal with how quickly I learned it. “I’ll do my best.”
Shirin relaxed her shoulders and then raised her eyebrows at me. She wanted me to relax too. “You think of the place you want to go, imagine yourself there, and then say the word.”
“What word?”
“I’ll tell you in a minute. First, you need to know that the hardest part is clearing your mind. You have to focus on both the experience of travel and the location. So, think of that spot over there.” She pointed at one of the rugs Rahela had tossed aside. “I know I said we can’t transport within the Cavern, but no one is over there. Besides, I don’t want you disappearing somewhere between the Cavern and the surface if you mess up. Ready?” I nodded. “When you can imagine yourself in that spot, say, ‘Shatamana.’ ”
I relaxed my body, focused on the rug, and cleared my throat. Something tingled up my spine. It was the same feeling I’d gotten the first time I tried to ride a horse. The colors were brighter, and the scents in the room—old papers and wet wool—were stronger. I imagined drawing the air from above the rug into my lungs. I pretended I could feel the pile pushing up beneath my toes. Then when my mind was still, I said, “Shatamana.”
I felt the wish before anything happened. It slipped up my scalp, and a second later I was a flash of fire shooting across the room. I settled back into my body right on top of the lumpy rug.
Shirin ran over to me, picked up my hands, and flipped them over, tracing her fingers across my palms and inner wrists. “That was— Who taught you how to do that?”
“You did. Just now.”
“You looked like one of the flames on the lake. When a jinni transports, the flame is usually yellow and mixed with smoke, like a candle flame. But you were bright blue. Did Faisal ever say anything to you about…” Her eyes sparkled. “Do you think you could try a real transport?”
“I don’t see why not,” I said, grinning. This wasn’t as hard as she’d made it sound. “Home?”
“No,” she said. She clasped her hands together and brought the tips of her thumbs to her lips. “You need to go where there aren’t any humans. I don’t want us to get in trouble.”
Naturally, the first place that came to mind was the one that haunted me the most. I tried to push the image out of my mind, but it wouldn’t go away. “I know where to go,” I said.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Oh. One more thing: There’s a different wish we use to return home. Mashila.”
“Mashila. Why a different word?”
“The Cavern is protected. We don’t want anyone transferring in, so we have a special word, and it’s mashila.”
“Who else could transport in besides jinn?” I asked.
“There are rumors that there used to be other jinn who aren’t from the Cavern.” She shrugged. “Anyway, mashila will keep you from transferring somewhere like the middle of the lake, which is good.”
“Understood.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. You say ‘Shatamana’ and then ‘Mashila.’ I can remember that.” I pressed my lips together, closed my eyes, and remembered the camel, the boulder, and the cloud of stinging sand. I tried not to think of Yashar, but he was there anyway. “Shatamana.”
Fire. I was breathing fire, I was breathing in myself, and it didn’t hurt. Then I pushed up through the Cavern and burned through the earth.
Then the ground was below me and I landed weightlessly onto the hard-packed sand. I set my hand on the boulder. It was hot from the sun, but I was fire and felt no pain.
A second later, my body solidified and the rock burned my palm. I gasped and pulled it against my chest. Then I turned to talk to Shirin, but she wasn’t there. I was in the open desert, alone but for the chunk of fallen-down mountain that had just burned me.
The last time I had been at this spot, the sky had been angry, but today it was full of the blinding sun reflecting off each grain of sand. I raised my hand to block the glare.
The desert was quiet, but it held all the echoes from before. It was like walking through a silent nightmare, knowing someone was screaming.
I was on the surface again—only a camel ride away from home, from my tribe, from Yashar. The air was dry and seared the inside of my nose. There was an absence of scent, because here the wind blew strong. Nothing lingered, nothing stayed the same. Even the apparition of a half-jinni girl was only temporary.
The mountains pushed up from the horizon and unfolded themselves in the sun and stripping wind. There, where the range cut low, was the river I’d crossed on a dare the day Hashim had come to claim me. And no one there knew yet what had become of me.
I bent down, scooped up a handful of sand, and took one last look at the place that had taken my cousin’s eyes. But those sands were long gone by now. This bit of sand was from somewhere else. This sand was innocent.
It was time to return. I closed my eyes, shut away the landscape, and could not remember the word. It started with an “M,” but that was all I could remember. Majina? Marisha? No.
“Idiot!” I said to myself. I leaned back against the rock and rubbed my forehead, keeping an eye on the gap in the mountain range. My family was there. Why was I trying so hard to go back to the Cavern? I could walk home, tell them all that had happened with Hashim, and try to fix Yashar’s blindness in secret. Eventually, someone from the Cavern would find me, and I would be able to tell them I’d ended the war all on my own. All I had to do was prove the jinn had nothing to do with the attack on my parents.
But if the last few weeks had taught me anything, it was that it wouldn’t be so easy. First, my adoptive father would put me on another barge and send me downriver immediately. Second, if I didn’t return, Shirin would have the entire Cavern on alert. They’d find me right at the worst moment, like when my father was slamming the barge door in my face.
No. I’d remember the word. It was swimming around in the back of my mind, waiting for just the right moment to land on my tongue.
I massaged my temples and made a mental list of every word starting with an “M.” None of them sounded or felt right. I was about to move on to trying the ones that sounded the closest when I noticed a cloud of dust halfway between the mountains and where I stood in the open desert. I narrowed my eyes and tried to focus on the dark mass that was stirring up the ground. It was a group of horses, with riders, and they were heading in my direction. Fast.
Quickly, I ducked behind the boulder and crouched on the sand. Had they seen me? I could not tell if they were men from my village, but either way, I did not want to be found alone by a group of horse riders.
I reached down and picked up a sliver of stone and gripped it in my hand. It was not much, but it was something. At the pace they were making, they would be on me in twenty, maybe ten, minutes, which meant I had ten minutes to remember the word.
A glint of steel helmets, and I knew they were not men from the village. They were soldiers or mercenaries. I squeezed the rock tight in my hand, feeling the sharp edge bite into my palm.
All I needed was one word.
They were closer. Now I could see there were eleven riders. They wore pointed helmets with thin black plumes and leather armor that must have been hot beneath the midday sun.
They reached the edge of the grassland and slowed when they hit the sand. Grateful for the extra time, I took a deep breath and rested my forehead against the boulder. One word.
Suddenly, I had it.
I took a last look at the riders and was alarmed that they looked nothing like the people of the mountains. But I wasn’t about t
o risk staying to ask them where they’d come from.
I shut my eyes and cried, “Mashila!”
I dropped through the earth so quickly my stomach lurched. When I re-formed into my normal self and felt the drab rug beneath my feet and smelled the cool, stale air of the Cavern, I looked for Shirin. Her face had frozen in shock, and she sank to her knees.
“I can’t believe it,” she said, shaking her head.
I held up the shard of rock to her. Shirin pushed herself up off the floor and came over to me, covering her mouth with both hands.
“I went to the desert,” I said, brushing a layer of sand off my knees and shins. “I’m sorry it took me a while to get back.” I was not going to admit I’d almost forgotten the way home.
“Zayele, do you know what this means?” She had tears in her eyes, and I didn’t like it. There was something in the way she looked at me that made me instantly nervous.
“What?” I asked.
Then we heard the door open behind us and turned to see Atish step into the house, followed by Najwa. She glanced at me for only a second before bursting into tears.
“KAMAL SENT ME home,” I said. My lips were salty from the tears, and I wiped at them furiously.
“He did? Why?” Shirin asked. She was suddenly there, wrapping her arms around me.
“He said I needed to stay here until he called for me. To protect me.”
“He said what?” Zayele screeched. “Doesn’t he realize you’re a jinni? You’ve got ways to protect yourself.”
I bit my lower lip. I could not cry over this, especially in front of everyone. Taking a deep breath, I dropped my hands and looked at Shirin. “I came back because if I hadn’t, Ibrahim might have killed me.”
Atish hissed. “So the warrior has come home. Rashid told us this morning that Ibrahim’s campaign was a failure. They’d been trying to force their way in through the Basra Tunnel.” He saw me staring at him, and he looked down. “I’m sorry about Kamal.”
“What did the caliph say when Prince Ibrahim returned?” Rahela asked. She was sitting at her loom, knuckle-deep in a rainbow of yarns. This made me relax a little, because when she’d been with me in Baghdad, she’d always gone to her little loom when the moments grew intense. She had taught me more about humans while her fingers threaded through the yarn than I’d ever learned from the artifacts that had been brought to the Cavern for me to study. If only I’d been better prepared to face a soldier like Ibrahim.
