The Seal

by J F Mehentee

  Serro opened the trapdoor, a burning lamp in one hand.

  ‘Good morning,’ the innkeeper whispered. ‘Were you able to sleep down there?’

  ‘Aeshma would still be asleep if I hadn’t woken him,’ Emad said. He didn’t mention how he’d spent the night debating with himself what to do this morning.

  Emad noticed a table and a lit lamp on it. Serro had arranged sliced meat, bread and fruit on a wooden platter. Next to the platter sat a teapot, steam rising from its spout.

  Serro poured Emad and himself cups of tea while Aeshma alternatively shovelled fruit and meat into his mouth.

  ‘If you want to, you could stay down in the cellar until the high magus leaves,’ Serro said.

  The cardamom wafting from his tea soothed Emad.

  ‘Administrator Arman will have told the high magus what happened yesterday. I don’t want you and your family to get in trouble on our account. Even if we stayed and converted, Arman won’t have forgotten what happened. He’ll get to me through Aeshma.’ He shook his head. ‘I’ve no choice but to leave.’

  Serro took a sip from his bowl, stared at the brown liquid and then put down his drink.

  ‘Where will you go?’ he said, his eyes fixed on Aeshma.

  ‘Gannen,’ Emad said. Serro’s eyes narrowed, and he bit his lower lip. The innkeeper looked as doubtful as Emad felt. ‘I brought along two days of supplies. We have enough food and water for the walk.’

  Emad didn’t mention the elixir. He would need it if Aeshma had a tantrum or grew confused out in the desert.

  Serro laid his palms on the table and bent forward, closer so only Emad could hear him.

  ‘Are you sure? I know it’s none of my business, but Gannen’s a rough place. Those townies would murder their mothers for a silver daric.’

  Emad knew of the Gannen’s reputation, but it was the closest town to Derbicca.

  ‘Caravans leave from there more frequently than here,’ Emad said. He patted the pocket of his tunic. ‘I’ve enough coin to pay for camels and to join a caravan.’

  Serro didn’t hide his frown. He said nothing, however. Emad was grateful. His plan was flawed in more ways than he could tie a sailor’s knot.

  Emad drugging his cousin to control his anxious outbursts solved only one part of the problem: how would others react to him, and how comfortable would the head driver be, letting two daevas join his caravan? Even if they made it west and to the sea, he still needed money to buy a boat and hire a crew.

  You should have returned to Iram, he said to himself. This plan of yours is madness.

  He had to try. If Fiqitush had to rescue them, he’d be obliged to do whatever his brother had in mind for him.

  ‘Aeshma,’ he said, patting his cousin’s arm. ‘Time to go. Say thank you to Serro for his kindness.’

  Emad rose from the table.

  ‘Thank you, Serro,’ Aeshma said, then stuffed a torn piece of flatbread into his mouth.

  ‘You’re most welcome, Aeshma,’ Serro said. He placed his hand on Emad’s when he saw him reaching into his pocket. ‘That won’t be necessary. You took nothing after you removed those cataracts and I could see again. I owe you much more. Use what coin you have to get as far away from the empire as you can.’

  Emad grasped Serro’s hand and shook it.

  ‘That’s what I plan on doing,’ he said. He slung a bag over each shoulder, then helped Aeshma with his bags. He turned to the innkeeper and shook his hand a second time. ‘Thank you, Serro, my friend.’

  At the inn’s door and with Aeshma close at his side, he nodded to Serro, who blew out the lone lamp, filling the inn with darkness. Glad the elixir calmed Aeshma’s fear of the darkness, Emad took his cousin’s hand and summoned Core power. Emad felt most of what remained of Widow Sharo’s auric energy pass through his feet. The loss left him chilled and made him shiver against the night air. He wove a dome of invisibility and silence over them both and then led Aeshma towards the city’s gates.

  Regardless of their invisibility and their footsteps muffled by the dome, Emad felt exposed. A little of the widow’s energy remained, but not enough to ensure he’d get them out of trouble if they encountered any.

  The streets, thankfully, remained deserted, and they passed along them without incident. Most of Derbicca’s residents were asleep or, from the sound of sizzling oil and the smell of fried onions, preparing breakfast.

  The night watch hadn’t yet opened the gates. They’d stay closed until dawn’s light peeped over them.

  ‘This way,’ he told Aeshma, and led him to an empty stable next to the gates. He didn’t bother to take off his bags and sat on a tied bale of straw pressed against the stable’s wall. He patted the space next to him. ‘Sit, Aeshma.’ His cousin sat without hesitation or complaint. Emad checked the sky. Stars were still visible. ‘It won’t be dawn for another hour. Why not have a nice sleep.’

  ‘Sleep,’ Aeshma said, then burped.

  His cousin’s giggle made him sound as if he were drunk.

  It’s not fair to keep drugging him, Emad thought.

  What choice did he have?

  The question made him sigh. He’d left behind his ship and crew when he’d answered his brother’s summons and then kissed Solomon’s seal, relinquishing three-quarters of his auric energy. The next few days had been spent trying to reassure his brother he’d made the right decision in summoning the djinn. He’d felt the seal’s power, knew he could never have denied it or hidden from it. It would have found him and ripped the energy from his aura. The seal had damaged his once proud and regal brother. He knew then, if he stayed, helped Fiqitush, he would never sail again.

  What could I have given you others couldn’t, brother?

  He had run, run from Fiqitush and the crushing responsibility he’d never asked for.

  Emad gazed at his dozing cousin. He’d loved him before Solomon’s arrival, loved him before the daeva madness overcame him. And now the occasional glimpse of the former Aeshma sustained that love.

  Am I using you as an excuse not to see Fiqitush?

  The air shook with the creak of the gates opening. Emad cast a doleful look at Aeshma.

  ‘We should have gone to Iram,’ he said.

  Aeshma stirred and opened his eyes. His eyelids didn’t droop as much as they had at the inn.

  ‘What?’ he said.

  ‘Time to go.’ Emad adjusted Aeshma’s bags and their straps. ‘We’re going for a walk.’

  Aeshma remained seated on the bale.

  ‘Where are we walking?’

  ‘To a place where we can buy camels.’

  Aeshma stood so quickly, he knocked Emad off the bale.

  ‘Let’s go. I want to buy a camel.’

  The dome of invisibility and silence still covered them. Now, in the dawn twilight, it looked to Emad as if he were peering through a piece of smoky quartz. He had to squint to see past the dome’s opacity. He took ahold of Aeshma’s hand.

  ‘It’s a little misty this morning,’ he said. ‘It’ll soon clear.’

  Aeshma didn’t budge.

  Emad felt his stomach twist.

  ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘We need to go now, before all the camels get sold.’

  Aeshma moved, although Emad had to pull on his arm to get him to follow.

  How long could they keep this up for?

  Emad strode towards the gateway. Men hammered pegs into the ground to hold the open gates in place. The sight of the guards made Aeshma’s steps heavier and slower.

  ‘They can’t see us, Aeshma. We’re invisible.’

  ‘Magic.’

  ‘That’s right. You’re very clever, Aeshma.’

  ‘Clever.’

  His sigh of relief caught in his throat. An army encampment spread out before the city. Tents, too many to count, formed a horseshoe around Derbicca and its single entrance and exit.

  Keep calm and just keep walking, he told himself.

  Aeshma didn’t slow or pull on his arm. He’d seen
tents before, but for now, he didn’t know, couldn’t understand, the threat they posed.

  Gannen lay due east of Derbicca. Emad turned right, his sight fixed on the gap between the encampment’s farthermost tent and the open desert. They only had to walk past three rows of tents and they’d be out of danger—so long as the dome held and the patrols watched the city.

  They’d covered three-quarters of the distance between the city gates and the tents when Emad caught sight of a pair of patrolling soldiers. He estimated he and Aeshma were fifty paces from them. The lack of a pull on his hand suggested Aeshma hadn’t seen them.

  Emad doubled his pace.

  ‘Would you like to choose the camels when we buy them?’ he said.

  His cousin matched his pace.

  ‘Yes.’

  Emad focussed his full attention on the gap they needed to clear.

  ‘Yes, what, Aeshma?’

  ‘Yes, please.’

  A soldier emerged from a tent only ten paces from the camp’s easternmost edge. He looked directly at them, then turned when the other two soldiers hailed him.

  Aeshma froze.

  Emad tugged on his cousin’s arm—perhaps too hard.

  ‘Come on, Aeshma,’ he said. ‘If we don’t hurry, there won’t be any camels left to buy.’

  His cousin wouldn’t budge. Aeshma spoke, his words crashing against each other.

  ‘Nodon’hurtme. Leavemeloneplease. You’rehurtinme.’

  ‘They can’t see you, Aeshma.’ Emad patted his hand, then rubbed it. ‘We’re invisible, remember. They can’t see us or HEAR US!’

  ‘Emad, don’t! Don’t shout.’ Aeshma turned to face the city.

  If he ran, the dome would only stretch so far. If he broke free, he’d be out in the open and on his own.

  ‘Aeshma, look at me,’ he said as sternly as he could, tightening his grip on his cousin’s hand. ‘Turn around and look at me.’

  Aeshma put his hand over Emad’s and pried it off. Emad tried to grab it, but Aeshma had already started to run back to the city.

  Emad recited an incantation of influence.

  ‘Come here. Now.’

  The incantation linked Emad’s mind to Aeshma’s, in particular those parts that controlled movement. It also formed a connection, allowing his own mind to suppress his cousin’s.

  Panic, fear and the memory of an iron sword being jabbed repeatedly into his shoulder flooded Emad’s mind and made him retch.

  Emad wiped tears from his eyes, looked up and saw Aeshma striding back to him, his eyes glazed as if he weren’t looking where he was going.

  The dawn air chilled Emad. He’d spent all the widow’s auric energy.

  ‘Hey, you two. Where did you come from? Don’t move.’

  Emad screwed his eyes shut and wanted to scream. By reciting the incantation, he’d released his control of the dome and let it fade.

  Emad opened his eyes and saw the pair of soldiers rushing over to join the third.

  If they think you’re trying to escape the city, you’ve had it.

  He had to think of something, do something before the soldiers could challenge him and turn a deaf ear to any explanation, however good it sounded.

  Aeshma reached him and stopped, his gaze still fixed on some distant point. While Emad maintained the link between them, his cousin needn’t feel scared.

  Hurry up and do something.

  Emad faced the surprised soldier who’d emerged from the tent. He stood square on to him, pushed back his shoulders and held out his right hand. Then he held his breath and hoped that even a smidgeon of the widow’s energy remained bound to his aura.

  He drew Core power and muttered the incantation.

  The air above his hand burst into bright golden flame.

  ‘Ah,’ cried the soldier. He shuffled back, then pulled his sword from its scabbard.

  ‘I mean you no harm,’ Emad said. ‘I’m here with a message for the high magus.’

  18

  Sassan completed the final jadth and opened his eyes. The fire in the altar had taken, and the cedar wood burned more thoroughly than when he’d begun his morning prayers. Opposite the fire altar sat the table. On it lay the plaque with its five-by-four grid and the list of cities in each of the squares representing a satrapy. A spot of bare wood, the lacquer scratched off by Sassan’s thumbnail, represented the spot where a drop of his blood had fallen.

  Sassan stared beyond the flames and at the burning wood. Since last night, he’d received no further clues or instructions from God, no precise location for Baka.

  ‘No matter,’ he cooed to himself. ‘Be patient. He will reveal what He wants you to see in His own time.’

  Sassan rose. He could wait. God’s hand rested on his shoulder. He’d felt it last night, felt God’s presence and his support when he’d received the sign. Then He’d made it impossible to doubt a march on Baka was the right thing to do. To enter the city and to convert all of its citizens was God’s work. Sassan only wished he could experience His presence all the time.

  Sassan sidled to the table and studied the plaque. Once he’d concluded business in Derbicca, the army would decamp and begin the march east. Along the way, and before they reached the coast, he prayed God would send him a sign describing Baka’s exact location.

  ‘High Magus.’

  Sassan looked up from the plaque. The voice came from outside the tent.

  ‘I’m having breakfast with General Afacan in the operations tent,’ he said. ‘Leave the tray there.’

  Sassan received no response.

  ‘Did you hear me? I said—’

  ‘Excuse me, High Magus,’ the voice said, then faltered, ‘I have a message.’

  The general wouldn’t send a message when he was about to see him, and tablets from the emperor and the high temple arrived late afternoon. A shiver of excitement crossed Sassan’s chest. Was this another sign?

  ‘Come in,’ he said.

  A guardsman pushed past the tent flaps and bowed.

  ‘We found two daevas close to the east flank of the camp, High Magus. One of them says he has a message for you.’

  Sassan’s chest tightened. He returned his gaze to the plaque.

  ‘Tell them to return to the city. I will see them later this morning.’

  Sassan looked up and over at the guardsmen who hadn’t budged.

  ‘Well?’

  ‘One of the daevas, the one who says he has a message for you, he’s holding a fireball. He’s threatening to set fire to the camp if you don’t come out and talk.’

  A fireball? A daeva didn’t need much auric energy to pull off such a stunt. What if it wasn’t a stunt and he had enough to launch numerous fireballs? The idea of a daeva threatening him unnerved Sassan. What if there were more daevas like this one in Baka? Sassan remembered the guardsman and straightened.

  ‘Send word to General Afacan; he’ll accompany me. Then go find Magus Shimmokeen and tell him to assess the threat the daevas pose.’

  The guardsman bowed and exited the tent.

  Sassan stopped himself from summoning Core power for a dome of protection. He’d be in pain and unable to think by the time he reached the camp’s eastern tip.

  The general reached his side in the same moment Sassan caught sight of the daevas. One of them, the giant, stood motionless, his head canted and his open hands dangling at his sides. Neither he nor the shorter daeva, the one holding the fireball, looked to be carrying weapons.

  Sassan told the general to stay close and then wove a dome of protection around them.

  ‘What kind of message do you suppose he has for me?’ he said to the general.

  ‘It must be important if he’s prepared to make such an extreme threat and think he’ll live if he carried through with it.’ The general glanced behind him. ‘I’ve ordered the men out of the tents and twenty paces behind the camp should he start slinging fireballs. The archers will also be in position any moment now.’

  Is this a test? Sassan won
dered.

  The thought troubled him. Now, having done so much to unite the empire under One Religion, why did God find it necessary to test him?

  ‘That daeva,’ the general said, ‘the big one, he looks like he’s a victim of daeva madness. And look at the bags they’re carrying. Do you think they were trying to escape before being stopped?’

  The general could be right. But how had they got so far from the city without being spotted? The closer they got, the more convinced Sassan became. The giant appeared unbalanced. From the daeva’s unwavering stare, a look he had seen on magi who’d dosed themselves with too much poppy juice, Sassan was sure the giant was under the influence of something. Or could it be someone—the smaller daeva, perhaps? If the archers brought down the shorter daeva first, what would happen to the giant? How fast could the general’s men subdue a mad daeva?

  The shorter daeva held up his hand.

  ‘Greetings, High Magus,’ he said. ‘My name is Emad.’ He gestured at the giant. ‘And this is Aeshma.’

  Regardless of the bruising down the side of his face, Emad’s smile was amiable enough, but it also hinted at guile.

  The general’s suspicions were also right. A minimum of dust covered their boots and leggings. They must have just left the city.

  ‘Hello, Emad,’ Sassan said. ‘Hello, Aeshma.’

  The giant didn’t react to the sound of his name. He continued to stare over Sassan’s head. Disconcerted, Sassan returned his attention to Emad.

  ‘Why don’t both of you return to the city. Once there, I promise we’ll talk.’

  Emad bounced the fireball twice.

  ‘What’s wrong with talking here? Back in Derbicca, I’m no longer a threat. How do I know you’ll keep your promise?’

  Sassan glanced to his left, hoping to see one or more of his magi. Just how much human auric energy did this daeva possess? Until he knew, he had to keep Emad talking.

  ‘Do you know the tenets of our religion, Emad?’

  The daeva’s eyes narrowed a little.

  ‘I do: think, speak and act well.’