by Kat Ross
Leakage? Nazafareen mouthed at Darius. She didn’t care for the sound of that.
He arched an eyebrow.
Power built around them, lifting the hair on her arms. Her own breaking magic reacted immediately and she felt an overwhelming urge to oppose Katrin, to smash her weaving. Her control nearly slipped, and then Darius’s calloused hands closed around her face and he pulled her close, so close their lips almost touched, and calm flowed through their bond.
“Control it,” he whispered. “You can.”
The initial shock faded. She drew a shaky breath. The desire passed.
Nazafareen heard a steady drumming sound and realized it was rain pattering on a dome of air two paces above her head. She reached out and felt a diamond-hard shell on all sides. Instantly, the air inside grew clammy and humid. She fought down a twinge of claustrophobia as Katrin started walking toward the Gale in her cage of air, the others close behind.
The wind outside grew stronger, howling and battering at the walls. Bits of debris shattered unnervingly against the barrier mere paces away. Gusts snatched at their feet where it imperfectly met the ground, stirring up clouds of dust inside the dome. She pressed her sleeve to her face, slitting her eyes. Darkness descended, tinged with yellow and red.
Darius gripped her hand as they entered the heart of the Gale. The storm on the Chione was child’s play compared to the monstrosity that raged around them now. She could hardly imagine the strength it would take to hold the shield intact against the forces trying to tear it apart. And if it slipped, even for a single instant….
“Just a little further,” Katrin screamed.
And then the walls started to bow inward. A hot wind rushed inside, tearing at Nazafareen’s clothes and hair. Her breaking magic surged as Katrin unleashed a blast of power that pushed the storm back and the shields stabilized. She glanced quickly at Darius and the others. No one else seemed to notice anything, but the matrix of wards trembled like a spiderweb flexing in a strong wind.
Don’t let it tear. And don’t let the shield break either.
They shuffled along, heads bowed, and bit by bit, the blackness lightened to grey, and then to white as the sun broke through a dense cloud of dust. Wind still swirled around her, but Nazafareen could see again. Blank sands stretching to the horizon.
They were in the Kiln.
19
Thief of Hearts
The chickens scratched in the dirt at his feet as Javid picked six plump tomatoes from the leafy tangle of plants in his mother’s garden. He eyed them ruefully. He’d lost his appetite for tomatoes since King Shahak forced him to eat one grown with spell dust. There’d been no ill effects, but now the taste conjured images of black blood oozing from the king’s nose, the tremor in his fingers and that awful wracking cough.
Javid wrapped them in a cloth and returned to the kitchen, where his ma stood at the scarred wooden table, peeling and chopping eggplants for a stew.
“You look thin, Yasmin,” she said, her dark brows drawing together. “Don’t they feed you at the palace?”
“You spoiled me with your cooking, ma,” he said lightly. “Even the king’s table doesn’t compare.”
She sniffed but looked pleased. “Rinse the tomatoes and put them in that bowl.” She pointed to a cracked earthenware vessel. “I’m making your favorite. You’ll stay for supper?”
He nodded. “I told Lord Asabana I needed the night off.”
Javid had pretended to be ill and even then Asabana only dismissed him with obvious reluctance.
“He works you too hard, Yasmin.”
“Maybe. But he pays well.”
Javid slept at home, but he barely saw his family. He rose at dawn and returned late in the evening. If Asabana wasn’t sending him on runs to Pompeii, Prince Shahak was demanding his presence at the palace. Once, Javid would have been thrilled. Moving in such circles was something he’d dreamt of for years. Yet the reality was turning out to be not remotely as pleasant as he’d expected.
“That was a sweet thing you did for Golpari,” she said, dropping the cubes of eggplant into a pot of boiling water and turning to the tomatoes.
Javid shrugged. Golpari was getting married in a little over a week and he’d used Asabana’s blood money to pay his sister’s dowry. But that was entirely selfish. It eased his guilty conscience to spend it making someone else happy.
“I told da I’d bring a magus to look at his hands, but he’s too stubborn. Says it’s a waste of money.”
“He’s proud. But I know he’s grateful for your help. It’s hard for him to accept that he can’t work anymore.” She sighed. “Holy Father, having that man underfoot all day isn’t easy on anyone.”
He watched her stir the pot with a wooden spoon, her hands strong and weathered from digging in the garden and washing clothes and scrubbing floors. She was a petite woman, still slim as a willow despite being well into middle-age, with dark hair wrapped in a scarf. Javid had her thick, expressive eyebrows, which she used to great effect for glowering when her brood was unruly—or to lift into mischievous peaks when she cracked a joke.
“It’s good you decided to be a boy, Yasmin,” she said matter-of-factly. “Else we’d be living on the streets.”
“My name is Javid now,” he reminded her gently.
She flapped a hand. “I know. But to me you are still Yasmin. Come, taste this.”
Javid took the spoon. “More cumin.”
“That’s what I thought too.” She took an onion and sliced it in half. “You chop the garlic.”
After Savah Sayuzdri first took him on as an errand boy at the Merchants’ Guild at the age of twelve, Javid had spent every waking hour watching the agents of the greatest noble houses. He studied how they dressed and ate, the subtle way their hands moved when they spoke. He memorized the endless rules of etiquette, the titles and proper forms of address. Savah recognized his ambition and intelligence, promoting him steadily through the ranks.
Javid had always wanted to be a wind ship captain, but not for the Guild. For himself. To save enough that he could own his own ship one day and get so rich he’d be untouchable. Even before he finagled his way into Savah’s favor, he’d earned money on the side by befriending the neighborhood bullies and convincing them to stage boxing matches. The bullies got a cut of the admission price, but the real money was in the betting, which was where Javid made his biggest profit. He’d give half the money to his ma, who would tuck it into her dress and tell him she knew he’d go places in life.
The irony was that for all those years, he dreamed of making enough so he could finally move out. And now that he had the money, he didn’t want to leave. Home was the only place that seemed sane to him. So he spent what little time he got off in the kitchen helping ma chop vegetables or with Bibi, collecting eggs and feeding the chickens. In truth, he disliked the man he’d become—not the money, but how he was earning it. More to the point, he worried that each day might be his last.
“I’ve been thinking about Bibi,” he said, lowering his voice. “Maybe I can convince Savah to give her some jobs running errands at the Guild.”
His ma arched one of her famous eyebrows. “A girl?”
“Things are changing, ma. Lord Asabana’s alchemist is training his daughter in the Art. She’s brilliant and her brothers are idiots. Her father intends to make her the first woman alchemist in Samarqand.”
He didn’t mention that some of the other pilots made crude jokes behind Leila’s back. Javid had nearly come to blows over it with the loudest and most obnoxious of the bunch. They shut up when they saw him now, but Javid knew he’d made himself an enemy. He didn’t care. He doubted he’d live long enough for the man to carry out his grudge.
Now his ma frowned. “I don’t want Bibi anywhere near that Asabana character. He might be a lord, but I remember when he was just a criminal from Bildaar.” Her lips thinned and she smacked the cleaver down on the diced onion with extra force. “It’s bad enough you’re in his
clutches.”
“I’d never send Bibi to Asabana.” Just the thought sent a shiver down his spine. “But Savah is our cousin. He might do it if I ask. She doesn’t want to get married, ma. She wants to make something of herself.”
“I know.” She dumped the onion in the pot and added the garlic Javid had chopped to her ultrafine specifications. “We’ll wait one more year, until she’s eleven. The child is a handful, but I won’t have her hanging around a bunch of dirty men.”
“They’re not dirty.”
She gave him a dark look. “You know what I mean.” She peered toward the front of the house, where giggling had erupted. “What are those girls doing? They’ll wake your da. Go tell them to quiet down.”
Javid leaned over the pot and took a long, happy sniff. The stew was bubbling merrily now and would be done soon. He noticed she hadn’t added any lamb. She was being frugal. He resolved to force her to take some more money, not telling da of, course.
Only four of his sisters still lived at home—Golpari, Farima, Bibi and Mahmonir, the baby of the family whose name meant shining moon. She was only five, but already showed signs of being more like rebellious Bibi than demure Farima.
“Little monsters,” he called, heading out of the kitchen. “You’re annoying the big monster, and if you don’t be quiet I’ll have to eat you up….”
He trailed off. Bibi and Farima stood by the front door, gazing at their visitor with open admiration. He was tall and lean, with dusky skin and curly hair. A well-coat cut in the long, high-collared style of Tjanjin covered a rather wrinkled white shirt and tight breeches that ended in a pair of soft knee-high boots.
Javid gave a low, sardonic whistle, though his heart was pounding fit to burst his chest.
“Sure you have the right house? The palace is a league or two down the street.”
The thief broke into his trademark white smile. “Are these enchanting creatures your sisters?”
Bibi, who resolutely refused to mind her manners, reached out and stroked the sleeve of his coat.
“This is almost as nice as Javid’s,” she said, fingering the cloth. “You must be rich.”
Katsu laughed as Farima thrust her aside, sticking out her bony chest.
“Don’t mind her. She’s a savage. I’m Farima. Please, come in.”
Bibi’s face darkened and Javid stepped in before the two started brawling on the carpet.
“Go fetch da,” he said quickly. “This is Katsu, a friend.”
The pair scampered up the stairs, pigtails flying.
Javid looked into the clear grey eyes he’d thought of so often and, to his horror, found himself tongue-tied. Katsu studied him and Javid saw a glint of approval. He was still wearing the clothes he’d had on at the Rock of Ariamazes to attend the King that morning—a scarlet coat with embroidery on the sleeves and loose silk trousers. His hair was neatly cut to chin length, parted in the middle and tamed with a pricy aromatic oil. He probably reeked of garlic, but you couldn’t have everything.
They both opened their mouths to speak at the same time.
“Sorry,” Javid said.
“No, I….”
And then his father was coming down the stairs and his mother bustling from the kitchen, her eyebrows lifting when she saw Katsu, and the moment slipped away. They piled into the kitchen. His ma ladled out bowls of stew while Javid made up a story about meeting Katsu in Delphi. He glanced at the thief and saw with relief that he approved of the deception. Javid’s family knew what had happened to him, but he’d never mentioned his savior in the Polemarch’s dungeons. And the topic would open a can of worms he didn’t want to deal with in front of his little sisters, particularly.
Bibi peppered Katsu with questions all through supper, while Farima mooned over him with cow eyes. Golpari picked at her food, clearly preoccupied with her upcoming wedding. Mahmonir kept trying to steal sips of Javid’s wine, most likely at Bibi’s direction.
“It’s so nice Yasmin has a friend,” his ma pronounced, causing Javid to wince. “She needs more friends.” His da must have kicked her under the table because she switched pronouns awkwardly. “He works too hard. He has no social life.”
Katsu shot Javid an amused look. “I was hoping he might take a walk with me after supper so we can catch up.”
“That’s a fantastic idea.” Javid nearly knocked his bowl over he stood up so fast. “I’m stuffed. Unless you want dessert?”
In fact, Javid was so nervous he’d hardly touched his food. It was too surreal having Katsu sitting in his kitchen.
“Date and walnut pie,” his ma said enticingly.
Javid knew she’d intended it for the wedding and was touched.
“It sounds delicious,” Katsu said regretfully, stretching his long legs. “But the stew was so good I’m afraid I have no room left.” He stood and gave her a low bow. “Thank you for your hospitality.”
His ma beamed. “I’m just glad he has a friend. I think he’s lonely.”
“Zhala,” his da said warningly.
“Not that he isn’t pretty. I mean handsome,” she went on, flustered. “He just keeps to himself too much…. Enjoy your walk!”
The last words were hollered since Javid had already given her a stiff nod and stalked for the front door. He could clearly hear his father admonishing her for “embarrassing the poor boy” and his ma’s indignant rattling of crockery as she cleared the plates.
“Please ignore my parents,” Javid said when they reached the garden gate. “They’re a little overprotective.”
“Really?” Katsu said with a grin. “I hadn’t noticed.”
Javid shook his head. “I never thought I’d see you again.” He snuck a sideways glance. “I hoped to, but it’s certainly a surprise. How did you find me?”
“I asked around at the Abicari.” Katsu looked Javid up and down. “You’ve come up in the world since last we met.”
“So have you.”
“I got in two days ago, just before the city gates were sealed. Lucky, I suppose.”
They meandered down the dirt street. The low sun lit rows of mudbrick houses with children and dogs playing out front.
“Are you still hunting for that talisman?”
Javid thought this the most likely explanation. Katsu had picked up the trail again and it led to Samarqand. He probably hoped Javid could give him information.
Katsu shook his head, his face grave. “I found it in Tjanjin, but you’ll never believe the tale.”
“Try me.”
“I went to the Isles and caught a ship to Chang-un. It turned out two of the passengers had the globe. They took it from a fire daēva. I helped them and they gave me the globe in exchange.”
Javid stumbled and Katsu’s hand shot out to steady him. “Did you just say they took it from a fire daēva?”
The Stygian nodded. “His name is Nicodemus. He was an advisor to the emperor. No one at court knew what he was, of course. But I saw him work fire myself.”
“Holy Father. Where is he now?”
“He escaped through a gate to the Dominion, so I suppose he could be anywhere.”
Javid made the sign of the flame, fingers brushing forehead, lips and heart.
“How did these people manage to take a talisman from a Vatra?”
“They were the oddest group I’ve ever encountered. A Maenad, a Greek scholar, a Danai and a mortal girl.”
Javid froze. “Did this girl have one hand?”
Katsu gave him a sharp look. “How did you know?”
“That’s Ashraf! The girl who got me arrested. Though her name isn’t really Ashraf. It’s—”
“Nazafareen.” His grey eyes held Javid’s as they halted in front of a potter’s shop. “Life is strange, wind pilot.” Katsu paused. “I would ask you something.”
“Go ahead.”
“When you saw me, you looked surprised. Yet you haven’t once asked how I got out of the Polemarch’s dungeons.”
Javid shrugged, warmth
creeping up his neck. He made his tone light. “It was you or a new pair of boots, and I have a closetful already.”
The Stygian eyed him with skepticism. “It must have cost a fortune. Do they pay wind pilots so much in Samarqand?”
“Not exactly.” He lowered his voice. “There’s a noble named Izad Asabana. He’s the source of the spell dust. He hired me and I finally got a big run a couple of weeks ago. He paid me a huge bonus.”
Katsu frowned. “But I’ve been free for more than a month.”
Javid silently cursed his loose tongue.
“You took out a debt for me.”
“It’s paid off now,” Javid said hastily.
“Then I must repay you. I have more gold than I need from the bounty.” Katsu reached for his purse and Javid impulsively laid his hand over the thief’s.
“Please, it’s not necessary.”
Katsu’d frown deepened. “Then I am in your debt.”
“No, you’re not. I’m tired of debts. Is an act of kindness so rare?”
Katsu gave a small smile. “Yes, it is. But I will accept. On one condition.”
“And what’s that?”
“You leave this noble and work with me. I’m thinking of investing in a wind ship and I need an experienced pilot. Someone I can trust.”
Javid’s spirits soared—then plummeted to earth again. “Thank you, Katsu. I would love that, truly. But it’s complicated.” He took the thief’s arm and led him deeper into the trees, looking around to be sure no one was listening. “I was there when Prince Shahak took the throne. Holy Father forgive me, I helped him do it. Now he barely lets me out of his sight. And Asabana is ruthless. I know his secrets. In truth, I think my days are numbered.”
Katsu scratched his short beard. “There has to be a way out.”
“Trust me, that’s all I think about. It’s no use.” He smiled, trying hard not to show his bitter disappointment. “But I will help you choose the best, most honest shipbuilder. I’ll see if I can get away tomorrow. Meet me at the Abicari in Hecate’s ninth hour?”