An attendant busied herself arranging the long hem of my khalat around me so I was entirely covered. Kadir dismissed her with a wave of the hand. As soon as she was gone I stuck my bare foot out from under the hem. It wasn’t much, but it was the best I could manage, as small acts of defiance went. I caught the eye of the the man in military clothes as I looked up. He was watching me, hiding a smile behind his hand, pretending to scratch his eyebrow.
‘Kadir.’ The Sultan spoke across me, low enough that the rest of the court couldn’t hear. ‘Do you not have enough of your own women to keep you entertained?’
‘I would have, Father.’ Something silent passed between Kadir and the Sultan that I didn’t understand. ‘But I seem to have misplaced one of them.’ He must mean Mouhna. I remembered what Leyla had said about women disappearing from the harem all the time. Like her mother had. ‘I needed one more to complete my Mirajin set.’ Kadir reached out and ran a hand lazily along one of the scars on my back. My body shuddered angrily in response.
The way the Sultan smiled would’ve fooled the rest of the court into thinking he was having the most genial conversation with his son. ‘Lay that hand on her again and you will lose it.’ I felt an unexpected surge of gratitude towards the Sultan for coming to my defence. I quashed it. It was his fault I was here, unable to defend myself.
The Sultan straightened. ‘Bring in the first petitioner.’ He raised his voice, coming to stand at the gate that led into the court.
‘Commander Abbas Al-Abbas,’ a servant announced. ‘Of the Eleventh Command.’
The soldier who came in bowed low before speaking. ‘Your Exalted Honour. I have come to plead for a release from my command.’
‘This is a serious request, in a time of war.’ The Sultan considered him. ‘It’s clearly not for lack of bravery that you wish to be relieved, or else you wouldn’t be here facing me.’ The soldier seemed to swell with pride for a moment at being called brave.
‘News has come from my father’s home. My brother, his heir, has been called by God to the Holy Order. My father has no other sons. If I don’t return, my sisters’ husbands will squabble for his land. I wish to go home to take my place as his heir.’
The Sultan considered him. ‘What do you think, Rahim?’ He was talking to the young soldier, the one who’d seemed familiar. Rahim. I knew his name. Leyla’s brother, I realised. The only one among the army of the Sultan’s sons that she truly considered her family. Sure enough, he had Leyla’s same clever, watchful eyes. Though Leyla’s years in the harem meant that I could see some of the paleness of their Gamanix mother in her. Years spent outside the palace walls had made Rahim look Mirajin through and through. It looked like he even shared some of his father’s stronger features with Ahmed.
‘I very much doubt my opinion could add anything you don’t already know, exalted Father.’ Rahim’s words were respectful, but there was something else there. I got the feeling the two were playing a game I didn’t quite understand.
‘Modesty has never suited you, Rahim.’ The Sultan went on, waving his hand. ‘I’m sure you have insights, having been a soldier for so long now. Share them.’
‘I think the eastern border is exposed and that the Eleventh Command needs a soldier leading them who wishes to lead,’ Rahim said. The Sultan didn’t speak again straight away. He was waiting for something else. A silent battle of wills crossed the court.
‘And’ – Rahim broke first – ‘the Holy Books teach us a man’s first duty is to his father.’
The Sultan smiled, like he’d won some victory. ‘Commander Abbas Al-Abbas. Your request is granted.’ The soldier’s shoulders sagged in relief. ‘You will be relieved of your command. Name your replacement and we will raise him up in your place.’
I forgot the next petitioner’s endless name and title almost before the man was done announcing it. Just like I forgot what he was asking for as soon as he started talking. One after another, the petitioners followed each other in front of the Sultan.
One man wanted money. The next wanted land. The next wanted more guards in his quarter of the city. Rebels, he reported, were multiplying among the dockworkers. The next wanted the Blue-Eyed Bandit brought to justice. He’d stolen his wife’s jewels and seduced his daughter, he reported.
Well, if Sam was still alive to be muddying my name, I supposed that meant at least Shazad hadn’t skewered him on sight. Or he hadn’t bothered to deliver my message yet.
The Sultan listened patiently before asking the man what more he thought the throne could do about the Blue-Eyed Bandit. I watched him carefully as he spread his hands in sympathy. There was already a price on the Bandit’s head for his collaboration with the Rebel Prince, he explained, but no one had been able to find him. The man might as well be a spirit in the desert. Or a fiction.
I resented being called a fiction. But then, I’d resent being found out and tortured out of my mind like Sayyida a whole lot more. I was suddenly stupidly grateful to Sam, even if he did decide it wasn’t worth his time getting my message to Shazad.
My foot was falling asleep and I had to shift positions restlessly over and over to keep it from going dead altogether as one boring request followed the other.
I finally gave up all pretence and pulled my knees up to my chin, wrapping my arms around them to keep myself steady.
I was half-asleep by the time the man in chains appeared. Everybody who’d been wilting in the afternoon sun came alive again. ‘Aziz Al-Asif.’ The man in fine clothes who was leading the chained man took a bow as the servant announced him. ‘And his brother, Lord Huda Al-Asif.’
‘Your Exalted Highness.’ Aziz Al-Asif stooped low. ‘It is my deepest regret that I have come to ask that you condemn my brother to death. He has been conspiring to rebellion.’
‘Is that so.’ There was an amused edge to the Sultan’s voice. ‘Because that is not what my spies have reported to me. What they have reported to me is that you are power hungry and that you are the one conspiring to ally with my son’s rebellion. Which can only lead me to believe that you are lying to me in order for your brother to be executed. When he is gone, you can take sole ownership of the seat of your father’s lands.’ A rustle went around the garden. ‘Release Lord Huda.’ The Sultan gestured towards the two guards by the door. ‘And take young Aziz prisoner.’
‘Your Majesty,’ Aziz exclaimed loudly, ‘I have committed no crime!’
‘You have.’ The Sultan cut across him, and there was no mistaking the authority in his voice. ‘Attempting to kill your brother is a crime. Lying to your Sultan is a crime. Thinking that you can leverage my son’s rebellion to your own uses is not a crime but it is not something I will tolerate. Your execution will be at sunset, unless your brother sees fit to save you.’ The Sultan looked at Lord Huda, who was rubbing his wrists. He didn’t object. ‘Spread the word in the city, then,’ the Sultan said. ‘I want the men and women of Izman to see what it costs to try to betray their ruler.’
Suddenly I was standing back with Ahmed in his tent as he couldn’t make up his mind about Mahdi. As he refused to order an execution. As he failed to give a straight order. All I’d wanted was for him to make a goddamn decision. To be a ruler. A good one. A great one. A strong one.
The Sultan hadn’t even hesitated.
Aziz’s protests were still fading as the next person was called.
The day was heavy, and as the sun shifted, it turned its full glare onto us. I could feel sweat beading on my neck, running below my clothes. I could feel my eyes drifting shut as the midday heat started to prey on me. The only person who didn’t show he felt it was the Sultan.
‘Announcing Shazad Al-Hamad.’
I came awake as fast as if I’d been shot in the back. For a second I thought I’d dreamed it. That I’d really dozed off and imagined Shazad come to rescue me. But there, standing at the entrance to the garden, wearing a khalat the colour of a breaking dawn and that faint smile that meant she knew she was outsmarting someone, was S
hazad.
Chapter 22
Shazad was here. Some of the fear that had been crouched in my chest since I’d woken up on a ship escaped. I could kiss Sam’s idiot face for getting my message to her.
‘Well,’ the Sultan said, ‘this is an unexpected honour.’
‘The honour is all mine, Your Exalted Highness.’ Her voice was so achingly familiar here in this strange place. It was the voice of a hundred nights in the camp and under desert skies, of conspiracy and treason and rebellion. ‘I have returned from my pilgrimage.’ She dropped to her knees. ‘I come to pay tribute to my most exalted Sultan and Sultim.’ She dropped into a low bow from her knees until her nose almost touched the ground. She was damn good at that. I supposed she had had sixteen years of practice before the Rebellion.
The Sultan considered her. ‘I thought perhaps you had come to enquire after the return of your father from the war front.’ If he meant to throw her off balance with a mention of General Hamad, he’d picked the wrong girl. Shazad started to answer, but I never heard what she said. A screech, like a knife across iron, split the sky, cutting her off.
The entire courtyard stilled. But something inside me woke up.
I knew that sound.
‘That’s a Roc.’ Prince Rahim said out loud what I was thinking. His eyes were on the sky and he was on his feet. ‘And nearby, too.’
‘In the city?’ Kadir scoffed, but he wasn’t leaning back so idly any more. ‘That’s ridiculous.’
‘Of course, brother.’ Rahim held himself like a soldier, his hand resting, out of some old habit, on a weapon that wasn’t there. ‘What would I possibly know – I’ve only been stationed in the mountains of Iliaz for half a decade. I only heard Rocs screaming every night while you were still sleeping in the harem by your mother. But you know better, I’m sure.’
Kadir took a step towards Rahim. Rahim held his ground. Kadir was broader than his brother by a good bit. But as Rahim flexed his fists, I saw the scar across his hand. It reminded me of the scars on Jin’s knuckles.
Kadir’s hands were smooth. Rahim’s hands showed the signs of a fight.
The scream of the Roc came again, closer this time, pulling them apart. The gathered crowd, frozen a moment earlier, turned into chaos. Men started to run for cover, and the Sultan shouted orders to his soldiers, sending them towards the walls, unslinging guns as they went.
I didn’t move. I just stayed, craning my head backwards. Because I knew that scream. And then the shadow passed. Low enough to be seen clearly but high enough that it was out of the range of guns. As it soared overhead two huge blue wings obscured the sun, plunging the courtyard into shadow.
That wasn’t a Roc. It was Izz.
A bolt of excitement shot through me, taking me to my feet. Izz was here. In the city.
Something was trailing out behind Izz, scattering in his wake. For a second I thought they were white cloths. But as they flittered down in the wind, I saw they were paper; a rain of paper from the sky.
I reached up as soon as the first sheet came close enough and snatched it before it hit the ground.
Ahmed’s sun was printed at the top. I traced the lines of it the way I’d traced the ink on Jin’s chest so many times. Printed below it, in sloppy black ink, it said:
A NEW DAWN. A NEW DESERT.
We call for Sultan Oman Al-Hasim Bin
Izman of Miraji to step down from his throne and stand trial for treason.
Sultan Oman is accused of these crimes against Miraji and its people:
Subjecting his country to unfit foreign rule in the form of the Gallan army
Untried execution of parties accused of violating Gallan law
Persecution of his own people without just cause
Persecution of Mirajin citizens for unproven Djinni magic in their bloodline
Oppression of working citizens through unfair wages
Enslavement of women across Miraji
The list went on.
We demand the traitorous Sultan Oman be separated from his throne for his crimes and that his rightful heir, Prince Ahmed Al-Oman Bin Izman, true victor of the Sultim trials, be allowed to ascend in his place and return this desert to its rightful glory.
If he does not comply and surrender the throne, we will seize it on behalf of the people of Miraji.
A NEW DAWN. A NEW DESERT.
The Rebellion had come to Izman.
I read it over again. I was so absorbed I didn’t notice anyone near me until I felt the hand on the back of my neck. I started to spin, but Uzma had already darted up behind me, quiet as a shadow, unclasping the khalat where it was fastened at the nape of my neck.
The fabric came undone, slithering off me towards the ground. I grabbed at it, letting Ahmed’s sun slip to the ground, but too late to keep my body totally hidden.
Uzma’s nasty little eyes took in my body, judging it, finding it wanting in every possible way with one glance.
‘Now, that is a nasty scar. Did the tailor Abdul not stitch you together right?’ She meant the one on my right hip, where the bullet had gone through in Iliaz. My fingers were still fumbling with the clasp at my neck to tie the khalat back up. I could feel my skin burning under her mocking gaze. ‘It all makes sense now. Let me guess: you’re a whore who got pregnant, and they had to try to cut the thing out of you.’
I gave up on the clasp without the servants to help me and reached up to knot the loose ends of fabric together. Uzma took a smirking step toward me as I struggled. One of the pamphlets crumpled under her bare foot, Ahmed’s sun wrinkling.
‘How about you step away from her.’ The voice was iron and silk and wholly familiar. ‘Before I knock you back.’
Shazad wasn’t armed. But she looked as dangerous as she would’ve been with both her blades drawn as she stepped between me and Uzma. I tugged the knot tighter at the base of my neck. When I looked up, the smirk on Uzma’s face flickered.
Shazad leaned forward, forcing Uzma to stagger backwards. ‘My apologies,’ Shazad said in a tone that didn’t sound sorry at all. ‘That may have sounded like a suggestion. It wasn’t. Go.’
Uzma took two steps back, heading straight for Ayet, who was watching from the shadow of one of the pillars. Then Izz screamed again and both of them disappeared, fleeing for cover. Leaving me facing my best friend amid the chaos of the rapidly emptying courtyard.
‘I told you about watching your back.’ Shazad said.
‘I told you I knew I could count on you to do it for me.’ I longed to embrace her, but there were too many people around still. I could explain it away if we were caught talking but embracing might be harder. I had to be satisfied with plucking at the ornate sleeves of her khalat. ‘I reckon you’re the only person I know who can look that intimidating while wearing something with quite so many flowers on it.’
Shazad flashed me a messy smile. ‘All the better to be underestimated in. Come on.’ Shazad grabbed my hand, glancing around quickly. ‘We’re getting out of here. Now.’ She started pulling me towards the gates. Nobody was looking at us as Izz screamed, passing over the palace again. The Sultan had vanished and everyone else was running for cover. It was a good chance to get out. ‘This is supposed to be a distraction?’ I gestured at the pamphlets littering the ground underfoot.
‘Things can be a distraction and serve the cause at the same time.’ Shazad was still pulling me towards the gate. ‘Can you walk any faster than this?’
My mind caught up too slow. I pulled Shazad to a stop. ‘It wouldn’t matter if I could outrun a Buraqi. I’m trapped.’ I filled her in as quickly as I could, as chaos reigned around us still. The iron under my skin, and one piece of bronze, allowing the Sultan to control me.
Shazad’s face darkened as she listened. She took it in with the same sharpened focus she always had when things were serious. ‘So we cut it out of you.’
‘I know I’m not as clever as you but that did cross my mind,’ I deadpanned to her. ‘It could be anywhere and I’m as
likely to bleed out as anything if you start sticking knives into me.’
‘I’m not leaving you here,’ Shazad argued.
‘You don’t have a choice right now,’ I said. ‘Shazad—’ I was long on things I wanted to say to her and short on time. Soon enough, the chaos Izz had created was going to die down and someone was going to notice us. There was only one thing that mattered. One last piece I hadn’t told her. ‘The Sultan has a Djinni.’
Shazad opened her mouth. Then closed it. ‘Say that again.’
There wasn’t a whole lot Shazad couldn’t do. She could command armies; she could form strategies that she could see play out eight steps ahead of anyone else. She could fight and maybe even win a war that we were outnumbered and outgunned in. But there was outgunned and then there was fighting a gun with a stick. If the Sultan had even one Djinni, that wasn’t anything an army of mortals could stand against.
‘So we need to get both you and this Djinni—’
‘Bahadur,’ I filled in, even though I wasn’t sure why it mattered. He was just another Djinni. He was a Djinni who had fathered me and whose name was half of mine. But he wasn’t my father. Izz screamed and dove low. Guns went off. We both ducked on instinct.
‘—both you and Bahadur out of the palace.’ She made it sound simple.
‘Freeing a Djinni isn’t like breaking Sayyida out of prison.’ Not that that had exactly ended well anyway. ‘He’s trapped here, just like I am.’
‘I’ll get some people to look into it.’ Shazad pushed her hair impatiently off her face. Somehow, even dressed up to look as harmless as a flower, there was no mistaking what she was capable of. ‘God knows, half of the Rebellion isn’t doing anything useful right now. Izman is its own kind of prison. And it’s swarming with soldiers since the ceasefire.’
‘Ceasefire?’ I interrupted.
Shazad looked at me, startled, like for a moment she’d forgotten I’d been absent. Her mouth pressed into a grim line as she broke the news. ‘The Sultan has called for a ceasefire. An end to the fighting with the invaders until their foreign rulers can come to Izman to negotiate a new alliance. That’s the news Jin was bringing us back from the Xichian camp before—’ she hesitated, ‘—everything.”
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