The Fire Wish

by The Fire Wish (ARC) (epub)

  He smiled, and it was like he’d been transformed. The darkness within him dissolved, and he put down the oud and came over to the wall beside me.

  “That’s not a star,” he said, grinning. “It’s the planet Zuhra. She’s one of the brightest.”

  “A planet.” I had heard of there being other worlds, but I’d never looked at one before. I’d never known it was possible. “What sort of planet is Zuhra?”

  He blinked. “I don’t know. It’s bright, and it’s close, but that’s all I know. The reddish one below it, just to the right? That’s Merrikh. The Greeks associated them with their gods. Zuhra was the goddess of love, and Merrikh was the god of war. War always chases love,” he said. His voice faded, like he’d just thought of something.

  This was what I had always yearned for—the stories behind the real things in the world—and for the first time, I was with a person who knew about these things. “And that one? It’s not as bright.” I was pointing at a star halfway between the planets, but off to the left.

  “That one is a star. It’s al-Dabaran, part of a constellation.”

  “They look so much alike,” I said. “How can you tell it’s not a planet? And how are they different?”

  “That’s what I’ve always wanted to know,” he said, looking up at the stars and planets. The crescent hung over them, leading them in a line up the sky, surrounded by a wash of stars. “What are stars, exactly? I’ve been discussing it with the astronomers in the House of Wisdom, but no one knows. They just want to know exactly when each star will rise so they can set the clocks by them. I understand the importance of that, but I want to know more. Unfortunately,” he added, “Hashim doesn’t think I should spend much time on it. He has me working on other things.”

  “I know how you feel.”

  “You do?” He turned back to me, surprised.

  “I have an interest that people have always told me to ignore,” I admitted.

  “I suppose it doesn’t have to do with the stars,” he said slyly, “or you’d have known their names.”

  I laughed. “No, not stars, but stories. My entire life, I’ve been fascinated with stories. To everyone else, it seemed like the story itself was enough. But I wanted to know why someone told the story in the first place. Had something happened? Or were they only wishing for something to happen? But when I started asking this, everyone told me there wasn’t any need to know. Stories just were, and that was that.”

  “Like the stars,” he breathed. He wasn’t looking at the stars anymore, though. He was only a few inches away, with his eyes locked on mine. “Everyone says, ‘They’re just stars, leave it at that, and go calculate their locations.’ But I want to know why they’re there, and what they’re made of. I want to know why they move like they do, not just that they move.”

  “Yes,” I said. I was smiling now. No one had understood this before. Not Atish. He had been the one telling me to forget it, that I should focus on the problems in the world instead of the world’s discarded dreams. But Kamal, this prince from Baghdad, this human boy, understood. “Just like the stars.”

  In that moment, with his eyes reflecting the light from above us, I knew. I was in love with him. And like the pain of Zayele’s wish, it was suffocating. I could never be loved by him. Not truly. Not if he knew who I was.

  “Zayele,” he murmured. He started to reach for my hands, but I tore myself away from the wall, stumbled over the bench, and slipped past my billowing curtains, where I could cry without him watching.

  38

  Zayele

  “The first thing you need to know about wishes is that there are two sorts,” Faisal said. We were in a large garden behind the school, with walls of granite blocks studded with rubies. There weren’t any actual plants in the garden, only sculptures covered in white moss. Shirin and Atish had come with me, while Rashid had gone off to ready the Shaitan. “The first kind is the easiest to make, but it requires that you memorize certain words. The second kind is more difficult, because you have to translate words into an image in your mind, and push it out into the world to make it so.”

  “I have no idea what that means,” I said, biting at my thumbnail. “So there are magical words that make some things happen, but you can also make things happen just by thinking them?”

  “More or less. Today, we will work on teaching you a primary wish. I believe that once we get you to the palace, this is the one you’ll need the most,” Faisal said. He gestured for Shirin to come closer. “Shirin, will you show Zayele the wish?”

  Shirin grinned, waved at me to back up, and whispered, “Shahtabi.” She vanished.

  I gasped. “Where did she go?”

  Atish chuckled beside me. “She’s right there, unless she moves fast.”

  “I didn’t go anywhere,” Shirin’s voice said. It came from the empty air right in front of me.

  “We can do that?” I asked.

  Faisal cleared his throat. “It’s a simple wish, if you can remember the word, pronounce it correctly, and maintain your focus,” he said. “The only weakness of this wish is that once it has been made, you cannot make the wish again until the wishpower has been replenished. For some, it can take an hour or more. Shirin, you can reappear now.”

  “Rashatab,” she said. The air wavered, and then she was there, winking at me.

  “That’s amazing! I think Najwa used that spell, but it must have worn off. Otherwise—”

  “That’s another important difference between the two kinds of spells. The first kind is temporary. It’s weaker, but it requires less energy to use. The second kind is permanent, but it can leave you exhausted.”

  My mouth went dry. “Like the wish I made with Najwa?”

  Faisal’s face was grim. “A Fire Wish is permanent until the one who made the wish recalls it.”

  “Then why don’t I just undo the wish right now?”

  Faisal set his hand on my shoulder and squeezed. “Zayele, for you to recall the Fire Wish, you must be in the same place as Najwa. To do it here would be too much of a risk. You could both end up trapped somewhere between the palace and the Cavern.”

  “In the earth?” I asked. He nodded, then took his hand away. “So if you’re going to teach me just this invisibility wish, how am I going to get there?”

  Shirin squealed. “The Lamps! You’re going to light them, aren’t you?”

  “I will try. But first, we must teach her how to go unseen in the palace. If she cannot do that, there is no reason to send her there.” He motioned for me to stand apart from the others. “Now, before you try making this wish, you must clear your mind. It will be difficult at first, but you can do it. You’ve made a wish before, even though you didn’t realize all it entailed.” He paused, then asked, “Is your mind clear?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe,” I said.

  “Crystals above, Zayele! Just calm your mind, and think of only one thing.”

  I had been keeping my eyes closed, but opened one to look at him. “What?”

  “Shahtabi. Invisibility. Say it now.”

  I shut my eye again and tried to think of nothing. Of emptiness. “Shah-tabi,” I said. Nothing felt different, and when I looked around, I could see they were all staring at me. Shirin fidgeted. “Did it work?”

  “You didn’t say it right.” Atish looked amused.

  I sighed. “It feels strange in my mouth. Is it a jinni word?”

  “You don’t want to know what language it is,” Shirin said. “It’s creepy. But it works.”

  “Let me try again.” This time, I tried to think of something see-through, like an icicle. “Shahtabi.”

  “Whoa!” Atish said. “You’re not quite invisible.”

  I looked down. I could see through my hands. “What do you mean?”

  “You are clear, but visible. Like water,” Faisal said. He tugged on his bea
rd. “I’ve seen worse on the first day of lessons, so do not be discouraged. A few more times, and I think you’ll have it.”

  I didn’t want this to take forever. “Shahtabi.”

  “You got it!” Shirin said, and she jumped and clapped. “That was quick. Just like Najwa. She always got this stuff before anyone else did.”

  “Now you’ve got to undo it,” Faisal said. The creases in his forehead had gotten smoother. Could he actually be proud of me? Or relieved? My father—my uncle—had never once looked at me with pride. He was always watching for something. Now, I realized, he must have been watching for some sign of my mother’s blood in me. No wonder he’d hovered over me.

  “Rashatab.” I had remembered the counter-wish.

  “You’re all there,” Atish said. He had started to smile, but it faded fast. “Like Najwa.”

  “So now I can do this. Is there anything else I should know?”

  “Yes, but we don’t have time. This will have to do,” Faisal said. “Now I must take you to the Eyes of Iblis Hall.”

  “You’re going to show us the Lamp?” Shirin asked. She rushed to Faisal’s side and wrapped her arm around his. “Right? Please let us help.”

  Atish stepped up to them. “Yes, Faisal. We should help Najwa.”

  Faisal looked like he was about to disappoint them, but then he sighed. “Very well. I may have use for you, after all. Zayele,” he said, “you learn quickly, and I thank the crystals for that.”

  We left the garden, four abreast. For the first time since I’d left Yashar, I felt like I belonged.

  39

  Najwa

  I had just finished the dawn prayer and had crawled back into bed, yawning, when the door to our room slid open and four men in uniform rushed in. They were closely followed by one of the older ladies of the harem, who was screaming at them. I sat up and blinked away the sleep.

  “You cannot come in here!” the woman shouted.

  One of the men gestured for her to move aside. The other guard pointed at me. “Get up!” he said. “You’re coming with us to see the vizier.”

  Had someone figured out who I was? I looked over at Rahela’s bed, but it was empty. She was already at the chest of clothes, throwing a dress over her undergarments.

  “Now!” the guard barked.

  Rahela slipped between the guards and me, spreading her arms wide. “There is no need to talk to the princess Zayele like this,” she said. Her voice was shaky, but firm. “She will get dressed and come with you. But first, you must let her dress. And she cannot do this with you watching her!”

  One of the guards blushed and muttered something to the others. I took that moment to regain my composure and stand up, keeping the blanket pressed against me.

  “Would you please step out into my patio? I will only be a moment,” I said. The words came out much calmer than I felt.

  The guard who convinced the woman to move frowned at me before taking the others behind the curtained partition. The moment they were out of sight, Rahela thrust a gown into my arms, while the older woman pulled my hair into a braid.

  “What is happening?” I whispered. Rahela shrugged, waited for the woman to finish, and then pulled the gown over my shoulders. It was red, the color of confidence. Then she wrapped a matching hijab over my hair, pinning it at the nape of my neck.

  “Whatever happens, remember that you are a princess.” She said this loud enough that the guards could hear, and then she whispered, “If you run, make sure they can’t follow.”

  “This is taking too long,” the first guard said, then pulled aside the curtain and stepped back into my room. When he saw I was dressed, he had one of the others open the door to the harem garden. “Come. The vizier is waiting.”

  My body flooded with panic. I couldn’t run because there was nowhere to go. Zayele’s wish had grounded me in Baghdad, like a tree at the mercy of the gardener’s shears. I left my room surrounded by the guards, grateful that so many of the harem women had returned to their beds after prayer. Only the peafowl watched me. They blinked in protest and backed away from the men.

  The woman pressed a cloth into my hand, then stepped away from the door. By the time I looked down to see what it was, she was gone. It was an embroidered piece of silk, probably to wipe my eyes with after the vizier was done with me.

  What did she think I had done to warrant this?

  A moment later, we were in the corridor. To keep up with the guards, I had to take steps so wide that they pulled at the hem of my gown. Rahela had snuck along, and when one of the guards began to protest her presence, she gave him a look that would have cut quartz.

  They took us to the Court of Honor, which was filled with the men of the court. They parted, showing Hashim on the caliph’s throne, tapping his knee with his long fingers. The men of the court turned to face us, and with their backs against the marble pillars, they looked like they had grown straight out of the tiled floor, permanent features with etched lines of worry and doubt.

  Hashim cleared his throat. “Princess Zayele, I apologize for not giving you much time following our morning prayers, but I’d come to a realization that could not wait.” He smiled, and every hair on my arms rose in fear. “After I found you in Zab, amongst my cousins, I was pleased to see that you carried with you so many of our fine traditions, as well as our faith.” He gestured to the men, as if inviting them closer. “As you can see, this young woman is a sight to behold. She not only exudes beauty, but she has power. Power that most of you have never dreamed of.”

  Someone ran into the court, from around the side of the raised platform that held the throne. It was Kamal, and he ran up the two steps to stand beside the vizier. His face was red with anger, and he bent over to whisper something in his ear.

  Instead of responding to the prince, Hashim chuckled. “The prince has found fault with me sitting on his father’s throne.” The audience responded with nervous laughter. “I apologize, Prince Kamal. I was merely acting in your father’s stead since you were not present. But I am glad you’ve appeared, for what I have to say affects you more than most of us here.”

  “And what is that?” Kamal said, standing up straight. He saw me, and confusion spread across his face. “Why have you brought Zayele here?”

  Rahela gripped my hand. She was choosing to stand by me, to support me, even though she knew what I was. She could have told everyone there, right then, but instead she held my hand.

  Hashim stood up from the throne, took a step, and pointed straight at me.

  “Because, young prince, she is a threat.”

  “What?” Kamal stepped off the platform, shaking his head. “She is harmless.”

  “No, Kamal, she is a jinni.”

  The crowd gasped, but I couldn’t make a sound. I stood still, my blood hard and cold as glass. It was all I could do to look Kamal in the eyes.

  “That isn’t possible,” he said, growling. He turned to face Hashim. “You chose her, Hashim, you should know. She’s as human as any of us.”

  “Yes, I chose her,” Hashim said smoothly, “but I learned in prayer today that she is not the young Zayele.” I managed to swallow, but my throat was a geode, sharp and hollow. How did he know? How could he have learned this in prayer? “This woman is a jinni, and she murdered the princess Zayele on her route to Baghdad. We discovered Zayele’s swollen body in a canal outside the city. She had been dead for days.”

  Rahela started to slump, and I pulled her up to me. “I didn’t kill her!” I said. My voice echoed throughout the chamber.

  “ ‘Her’?” Kamal asked. He was facing me, and he looked weighed down by his turban. “You’re not Zayele?”

  “Of course she’s not!” Hashim hissed, and his declaration was repeated by the men of the court, who began to move away from me. The circle around me grew wider, but it still felt like a noose. Kamal was staring at m
e, waiting for me to counter Hashim’s attack.

  But I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t say anything to defend myself. Rahela and I were surrounded by men, none of whom would understand what had happened in the barge between Zayele and me. I’d had time to live with it, and even I didn’t fully understand her binding wish.

  As the men backed away, a space opened up between them, and Rahela’s suggestion earlier sprang into my mind.

  I was tearing up as I looked at Kamal and whispered, “Shahtabi.”

  Then I sprinted for the opening, flew past the men, and left Rahela to stand alone in the midst of them.

  40

  Zayele

  After a short period in which I was told to rest so that my wishpower would build up again, and after a longer argument with the lady at the entrance with the bronze-tipped hair, Faisal got us into the Eyes of Iblis building. We stood in a circle around the Lamp, which was the size of a plump cat.

  The woman named Delia joined us, her face a mix of solemnity and excitement. She bowed her head at Faisal and said, “It’s ready. You just need to make the wish.”

  “Thank you, Delia,” Faisal said. He set both of his hands on the Lamp, then let go quickly, as if it had burned him. He rubbed his hands together. “This has only been done once before, years ago.”

  “By the woman who made the Lamps,” added Delia.

  “Where is she now?” I asked, edging closer.

  “She died,” Atish said.“Apparently, the wish was too much for her, and it took all of her to make it.”

  Faisal reached up to the torches burning in their brass sconces on the wall, a wish on his lips. The flames leaped off the torches and landed in his hands. The room dimmed and suddenly felt heavier, and I looked over my shoulder. The place was filling with jinn. Their faces were dark in shadow, but their owl-eye marks glowed, blue and blazing. They were like a ring of power, encircling us and the Lamp. Every one of them was focused on Faisal.