by Stark, Jenn
She ushered us all into a large room, where showers were set deep into the wall, each with its own curving alcove. Her instructions transcended the need for language, but we waved her off, pointing to our already damp hair. Even Eshe had elected to shower in her room, clearly eager for us to be left to our own devices as quickly as possible.
Our guide brightened, nodding quickly, then took us to the next room, where four tables had been set up in close proximity to each other. Another quartet of women stood at the ready, and the space smelled of jasmine and sunflowers.
I stared at the table, confused, and Nikki nudged me forward. “Girl, I haven’t had a massage since God was a child. Go with it.”
All I really wanted to do was get information from Eshe, but this was clearly the path of least resistance. I stretched out on the table, facedown, and winced only slightly as my masseuse laid her hands on my shoulders. Not surprisingly, she flinched back. Armaeus had taken away the pain of my impromptu Winged Victory impression, but not the heat.
“Sorry about that,” I managed as she dipped her head down to look at me with wide eyes.
Her smile was reassuring, if a little tremulous. “No, no, it is no trouble. No trouble,” she said breathlessly. “I will start elsewhere.” She did, and my overheated shoulder blades cooled off enough for her to brave my back a few minutes later. Small wins. Against all expectations…I relaxed. Deeply.
It was another hour before we were set free from the careful ministrations of Ahmad’s staff. We were rolled off the table, our conversation barely intelligible with our level of stupor, and led into yet another spa room. Here there was a pool of crystal clear water, shimmering beneath a pergola of wood and more fluttering fabric. Nikki and Danae wasted no time submersing themselves in the water, their groans of pleasure audible, but Eshe and I moved to the far corner of the pool.
“Do they have ears here?” I asked.
“Not that I can tell,” Eshe said. “And I think I would be able to notice. My ability to sense the magic of a place is amplified away from the Council. I never knew that, since I rarely leave the Council’s base. It simply seemed better for me to stay hidden away.”
I glanced at her, surprised. “All these centuries later? Why’s that?”
The question was rude, but Eshe didn’t seem to mind. “I think there are those who are meant to fly, and those who are meant to hide,” she said, not without a hint of sadness. “Something I shall have to consider more deeply when there is time. Which is not now.”
She refocused on me. “Ahmad puts on a good act, but he is flat broke. He made one too many poor decisions in his dealings with the newer families, and they have made him pay for it. Accordingly, he needs money, and a lot of it. He is hoping that you will help him get it.”
I blinked. I never thought about a Council member not being loaded, but Ahmad had been cut off from the mother ship for thousands of years, and this arguably was some pretty pricey real estate. Still, those must have been some epically poor decisions. And more to the point… “Me? How does he think I can help him out with that?”
“That, I don’t know,” Eshe allowed. “Suffice to say that you are his number one plan, though. It would not surprise me if he is using the distraction of the Shadow Court as a cover to get this help from you. He is not to be trusted. I don’t care if he is the Sun.”
“And he is, right? That’s not bullshit?”
Eshe made a face. “Sadly, it is not. When I was in Pompeii, I was visited with many visions. They came all at once, a jumbled mess. It has taken me some time to unravel the first few, but what does seem to happen is that when I’m faced with a person or place who figured prominently in the vision, it becomes clear. When Ahmad’s staff approached me at the Dubai bazaar, I knew immediately who and what he was, even though I also understood that no one else did. Not his own people, and, importantly, not the Shadow Court. At least, not my low-level keepers. To them, he appeared to be a person of some importance, a Connected player whose use they have not fully determined, but not the Sun. Certainly not a member of the Arcana Council.”
I considered that, but it wasn’t my only question. “Yeah, about that. What the hell happened back there in Pompeii, anyway? You were supposed to go under and report back. Instead, you ghosted. Did they hurt you?”
“They didn’t hurt me,” she said. Then her lip curled. “Though they kept my acolytes, which infuriates me. Those girls should be returned to their guardians.”
“They will be. You’re still in contact with them?” I remembered the plea from the wizard, begging for his daughter’s safety. It had only been a few days since the Pompeii festival, but for a parent, it must feel like a lifetime.
“I am, though distantly. They are not in distress but they are in—confusion. I suspect they’re drugs.”
“Of course they are,” I muttered. Jarvis would pay for that. “Were you?”
Eshe sighed. “I…I don’t believe so, but I’m not certain,” she said, though the admission clearly cost her. “I know only that I was treated well, made comfortable—and then the visions came. I awoke in Dubai two days later.”
I stared at her. “Two days?”
“It’s completely normal,” she said, though her voice wasn’t as firm as I would have preferred. “When I am in the exalted state, I do not eat, I do not sleep. I do not age or suffer in any way. It is like…a stasis.”
“Yeah, but what if someone was dialing into Radio Eshe? Ahmad said you ran some visions for him earlier today.”
She shook her head. “That was different. We spoke early this morning, when he put to me questions as a worthy querent. But the other…” She glanced away. “There was no one there. And even if there was, they could not have interpreted my fugue pronouncements. I am sure of it.”
I was equally not sure of that, but I didn’t want to completely harsh Eshe’s mellow. She’d been through more than I realized in the past few days. Her eyes were shadowed, almost bruised, and her manner curiously fragile. Even as I watched, her eyes shifted, strands of milky white slipping across her irises, sending a chill through me.
As gently as I could, I pushed on. “Ahmad says there are two other Council members in the wind—the Moon and Star. Did you have any visions about them?”
“I saw only chaos and betrayal,” she said, the words curiously flat and hushed, like a muttered prayer. “An ocean of death in the wake of the night witch.”
I stiffened. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold up there.”
Eshe jerked back a little at my harsh tone, then shook her head, glancing around quickly. “What?”
“You’ve mentioned that term before. The night witch. Who the hell is that?”
She blinked at me, tilting her head. “Well—it’s you. Or the shadow side of you. How do you not know that? Did you not look at all into the history of your own position?”
“I didn’t make it that far back,” I said drily. “And Mrs. French has found impressively little on the subject, no matter how hard she looks. So enlighten me.”
She sighed. “I forget sometimes how old I am and how long I’ve been a member of the Council. But the basic truth is this: Justice, the original Justice, could not always serve in her given role. From the start, she was overwhelmed by the needs of those who called for her aid. But not everyone who is harmed needs Justice. Some require only revenge. And revenge is swiftly done.”
“So Justice had a sidekick,” I said. “This night witch. And she would…what, just go kill people Justice couldn’t get around to? Take them out?”
I asked the question almost flippantly, but Eshe nodded. “The night witch walked where Justice could not and struck where Justice would not. The Council evolved, and the role vanished. But if whispers of her are returning, there are clearly those who remember…perhaps those who see the value in a willing sword in a hopeless battle.”
“That’s beautiful.” I shook my head. “You guys really need to do a better job of onboarding with this whole Council thing.”
Eshe waved me off. “You’ve little likelihood of being drawn into vigilantism,” she said, and the disdain in her voice brought to mind Gamon’s sneering accusations. But Eshe pushed on.
“Truly, you have to focus. Jarvis and the way he’s positioning the Shadow Court—it’s not the end game. I know that much in my bones.”
“Yeah? You remember it from your visions?” I asked. Now we were getting somewhere.
Eshe nodded. “There was so much chaos. So much anger. And a power far beyond any ordinary mortal scope.”
I made a face. “Do not tell me the Court is tied up with the gods in some way. Not after everything we did to get rid of those guys.”
“I don’t believe so. I think it is an earthly force. A government, a corporation, a family, I don’t know. But they are powerful, rich, and very old. And they want you out of the way—your strength, and the Council’s strength as well. They seek to rule, and they sense their chance is coming, finally. That’s all I’ve been able to interpret so far from my visions. I sense there’s more, but it remains just outside my grasp.”
She bit her lip, looking frail again, and I forced myself not to push her. It wasn’t nearly enough information to act on, but it was more than I had coming into this conversation, and for that, I was grateful. It would have to do until Ahmad showed his cards.
Fortunately, we didn’t have to wait long for that.
19
My first dinner with a sheikh was a weirdly casual affair, with Eshe, Nikki, Danae, and myself joining Ahmad in his private dining room. Private was a little bit of a misnomer, as the room could’ve easily seated seventy-five people, but it was intimately staged, with Ahmad at one end of a heavy olive-wood table, Nikki, Danae, and Eshe arranged around him, and another man to Ahmad’s left. I hadn’t seen this man before, but he looked both nervous and uptight. I figured he was probably Ahmad’s accountant, based on what Eshe said.
I sat opposite Ahmad at the end of the table, which was all right with me. I didn’t exactly trust my mood. Despite my epic massage and Eshe’s continued assurance that the young women still being held in Pompeii were whole and healthy, I found my nerves were wound tight, anger simmering right beneath my veneer of helpful Council representative. If Ahmad did anything to piss me off, I didn’t know how well I would handle it. My irritation was actually a little concerning. It wasn’t like me. After the Magician’s report on Sariah, I should’ve felt better. Instead, I found myself getting more and more unsettled the longer I thought about it.
There was no reason for Sariah to have been attacked. I couldn’t get past that. Anybody with half a brain would’ve been able to figure out that she wasn’t me, the fact that she thought her plan would work notwithstanding. So why? Why do it? Why piss me off? Was it truly that the Shadow Court hadn’t been able to get enough of a rise out of me up to this point? Was this all some sort of meaningless game to them?
Even as I thought that, I rejected the idea. Whoever they were—and there was simply no way Jarvis was behind all this, I was…almost certain—they were not dumb people. They wouldn’t simply irritate me because it made them giggle. There had to be a reason. Every single attack they’d leveled against me had been set up with a specific goal—and I’d responded each time, advancing my abilities without intending to. And each attack had brought—nothing. No retribution, no countermeasure. We just took it, and took it, and took it.
I thought about Death’s warning, that no action was without consequence. Yet the Shadow Court hadn’t paid for any of its crimes. Was it time for me to change that?
“I could not be more pleased to welcome you all here,” Ahmad said, recalling my attention with a jolt. He’d waited until the meal had been served, savory-looking dishes nestled in elegant bowls. Not too ostentatious, but I suspected that the china alone would cost a king’s ransom. Everything about Ahmad’s palace was over-the-top luxurious to a fault, giving the impression of minimalism on the outside, but grandiosity at a closer glance. No wonder the guy was broke.
“I trust that you’ve found everything to your satisfaction?” he asked.
He might have intended the question for all of us, but it was Eshe he looked at first, and then Nikki, surprisingly enough. Both of them smiled in return, murmuring soft, approving platitudes. Eshe because she was cool enough to know what was going on here, Nikki because I was making her nervous, I suspected. Her normally bright, flamboyant style was restrained, and the way she kept glancing at me was a dead giveaway as to why. I felt bad about that, but I couldn’t shake my growing tension. I suspected I wasn’t going to like what was about to happen.
“I hope you forgive the intrusion on our private dinner, but I have asked Hassan, my closest advisor, to be with me. He will serve both as a witness to our arrangement today and also provide any necessary history, in case I misspeak.”
“It is my pleasure to serve,” Hassan said, his voice shivery and cool. Beside me, Danae stiffened, but she kept her gaze across the table on Nikki another moment before glancing casually to the right. My third eye flew open. Hassan’s energy crackled, but my first guess, that he was possessed or maybe even a full-on demon, didn’t seem to be borne out. He was definitely Connected, which made sense as the right-hand man of the Sun, and his energy was decidedly dark, but not demon dark. Still, there was no denying the tension in Danae’s body. Maybe he was a witch as well—but a sketchy one? Some kind of Arabian warlock?
I regarded Hassan coolly. “How long have you served Ahmad?”
“I have had the privilege of serving him my entire life,” Hassan said, and I had to give the guy props. It was a great answer. That could’ve ranged from the approximately forty-five years that I judged the man’s age, up to a millennium. I was willing to let it go for now, either way. I’d follow up with Danae later.
Ahmad beamed approvingly at his lackey, then refocused on me. “As is appropriate in the land of a thousand and one tales of Arabian Nights, I have a story to share with you. A tale of a great kingdom that never was. I was not born the Sun, as you may imagine. My kingdom came into power at the time of the great Queen of Sheba, around 900 BCE. My father was the queen’s greatest fan. They were to be wed and rule over the entire Arabian Peninsula, or so he dreamed. My father, however, was a careful man as well. Some would call him cunning. He knew he was not the only sheikh vying for the queen’s hand. And so he decided to get a little help.”
At this, Hassan leaned closer to his master, murmuring in his ear.
“Of course, of course,” Ahmad said before turning back to us a little apologetically. “My advisor reminds me that as with many great households, there are some rules of hospitality I must ask you to follow before I speak further.”
Another spark of irritation flared up, but I merely nodded.
“Such as?”
“I would ask that none of the stories I am about to share with you leave your own hearts. I have survived many lifetimes as a result of my discretion. I would hate to have that discretion compromised now.”
It seemed like a reasonable enough request. “Whatever’s spoken here, we will hold in our hearts,” I agreed. I thought about giving caveats, but there was no real need. Should the Magician wish to review the highlights from today, he could do so without… I paused, regarding Ahmad more steadily. “Provided that we all remain healthy and unharmed.”
I didn’t miss the tremor of annoyance that passed over Ahmad’s face, though his advisor merely regarded me with cool amusement. This had better not be a trap. I seriously wasn’t in the mood for traps.
“Very well,” Ahmad finally said. “It was never our intention to bring you or any you care for harm, Justice Wilde. We merely need to ensure the safety of our holdings.”
“Of course,” I said, matching him with a smooth smile of my own. “Set within those parameters, your stories are safe with us.”
“Excellent, then. As I was saying, my father had set his sights on marrying the Queen of Sheba. While many today say the fa
bled Queen Makeda did not exist, she was one of the grandest and most knowledgeable rulers of her time. My father knew he had to act quickly and decisively if he meant to gain her hand in marriage. He enlisted the aid of a djinn.”
“A djinn?” I echoed. Not what I was expecting. “He was able to do that?”
Ahmad nodded. “Unlike the demon summoners elsewhere in the world, one does not require witchcraft to summon a djinn, merely profound intent and the correct words. Likewise, the djinn is not bound by chalk circles or spell craft, but by the simple construct of the summoner’s three wishes. Once those wishes are met, the djinn returns whence it came. Until those wishes are completed, however, it remains restricted in a vessel of the summoner’s choosing. My father needed the most powerful djinn he could conjure, and he aimed high. He called—”
Here Ahmad broke off, smiling like a showman. “I won’t share his name aloud. Names have power, especially here. But rest assured, it was one of the mightiest of the djinn realm. He came with all haste and gave my father the two things he most needed to entice the queen: money and influence. My father’s third wish, I am told, was Connected ability beyond any of his rivals. But what we did not know was that the djinn had been constrained against completing such a wish. He could not do it. And my father, having made his wish, could not change it. As he was thrashing about, trying to reconcile the problem, or at a minimum determine who had crossed him so neatly, he was attacked and killed.”
“Ouch,” Nikki blurted—and I couldn’t have agreed more. Ahmad smiled a little sadly.
“Indeed. The queen, of course, vanished into the sands, to make other marriages and start other kingdoms. But at the moment of his death, all the power my father had accumulated through his work with the djinn was released to me, and I, by a twist of fate, had been born Connected—powerfully so. I was merely a babe at the time and did not understand, but when I was still a child, I was approached to join the ranks of the Arcana Council. I accepted, and retreated to security ever since. It took generations for me to reach my majority, and then I seemed to stop aging entirely, at least to those with a less discerning eye. I cannot argue that point. I am happy enough to stay young, but that is a tale for another day. What is important is that the djinn bound to my father was never heard of again. I believe, as does my counselor Hassan, that it remains hidden in one of Sheba’s palaces, awaiting the granting of its final wish, and its release.”
