They stayed that way, devouring each other until her cell door slid open and there was an uncomfortable clearing of a throat. Azar turned to see Mira, standing in the doorway awkwardly.
“It’s time to go Bast. I’m sorry,” Mira said sympathetically.
Bast looked at the door sadly, and Azar knew how he felt. The kiss had felt like her last meal, like the end of something important. She wiggled off his lap and stood up with her back to the door, straightening her slave uniform. Bast stood also, but wrapped her in his arms again and pulled her close.
“Don’t worry, Little Fire. We will get you out of this. The trial is the day after tomorrow and I will give it everything I have. Keep your chin up,” he murmured into her ear. He gave her one last kiss on the lips, and followed Mira to the door.
“Bast?” She felt a desperate compulsion to finalize this one last thing, if only she could find the words. “I… I hope that one day we can explore this thing between us. But if not, thank you.”
Bast sent her a sad smile, and his eyes told her just how much she meant to him too, even if he didn’t verbalize the words. There was a lot of emotion on his face for once, but deep down she'd already known the depth of his feelings. He gave her one last little finger wave and he was gone.
As the door shut behind him, Azar shocked herself again, and cried for a second time that day. But this time there was no Bast to wipe away her tears and the sense of loss just made her cry harder.
Chapter 15
The two days until her trial were simultaneously the fastest and slowest of her life. The longest because the days dragged on, like waiting for fireworks to explode. Mostly, she sat and watched the wall. Mira brought her a book on Djinn history, and another on the history of the Adel, but she found it hard to concentrate on the words.
However, she’d rather have stayed in the holding pattern for centuries than go out and face the Djinn Council, and for that reason the steady march of time seemed like it was going too fast for her. Only Mira and her doctor came to visit, and then only briefly. She felt like she was going slowly insane.
So when the morning of her trial came around, Azar found she was relieved. She told herself it was better to face the bad than wait a torturous eternity for the other shoe to drop. An Adel guard brought her freshly pressed white slave uniform and took her to the communal showers to bathe. Even though she was under constant guard, the hot water pouring over her skin felt like bliss. She stood under the spray until her fingers pruned and the guard cleared her throat loudly. Azar begrudgingly turned off the hot water. This was obviously a concession to her half blood heritage, and she was sure it was at Mira's request. She had become close to Mira, but Azar was uncertain if it was a genuine friendship or some kind of demented camaraderie due to Stockholm syndrome.
When Azar got back to her cell, she swallowed down the repulsion and dressed in the slave uniform. The simple wrap shirt was made from a light gauzy material, like an opaque gossamer. She had never seen the material in the human world, and she had a feeling it was something made by the Djinn themselves. The harem pants were made from the same material, and they billowed out like fluffy clouds from her waist before ending in a gold brocade cuff that tightly hugged her ankle. She slipped her feet into the little silk slippers that had been laid out for her.
A light knock at the door heralded another slave, in identical garb to her own, with orders to cut her hair. The woman dried her long hair with towels, cut it, brushed it until it shone like polished mahogany and then braided it into an ornate braid that twisted down her back. The slave, who wouldn't speak to Azar except to give directions, buffed Azar's nails until she could almost see her reflection in them. She felt like she was being groomed to go on display. If they did cut off her head, at least she’d make a pretty corpse.
Eventually, Mira came to retrieve her. She was dressed in her Adel uniform rather than her blue leathers. The Adel uniform was a black silk tunic and loose fitting black pants, similar to that of the slave uniform but tailored for fighting. A thick leather belt studded with gems cinched Mira's waist and from it hung a sword. The gems were in different colors, each one signifying a different Djinn race; Sapphires for the Marid, Emeralds for the Ghul, Rubies for the Ifrit, Lapis Lazuli for the Jann, Diamonds for the Sila and Onyx for the Shaitan. Azar had read in the histories that the Adel wore each color gem on their dress uniform because the members of the order were no longer of their race, but of the Djinn as a whole. Mira looked stunning in the outfit, but Azar assumed she’d look stunning dressed in a garbage bag and standing in the rain.
“It’s time to go.” Mira’s voice was gentle, as if she were coaxing an easily startled bird. Azar looked down and realized her hands were shaking, and her facial muscles ached from the tension in her jaw. Mira came over and threaded a fine gold chain between the slave cuffs that Fareet had shackled to her wrists. They hadn’t bothered to take them off, but now they were imbued with the Council ward that suppressed all her Ifrit power.
Azar’s knees shook as she followed Mira out beyond her cell door. Joia the Sila immediately stood to her left and Mira was on her right. A serious looking man she didn’t know was flanking them and she could only see the back of the man in front, as he led the little ensemble through the hallways. She didn’t remember anything of the surrounding hallways and rooms from the trip to her cell; her body had shut down from the hypothermia that Mira had inflicted.
She really wasn’t even sure where the Djinn Council was, or if it was even in New York. The halls seemed old; the walls were made out of sandstone, and the floor was slate. It was cold and draughty, but obviously that made little difference to the Djinn.
Shiny metal doors gleamed at the end of the hall, and they seemed so out of place with the rustic feel of the rest of the hall. They’d obviously been added in far later, and no one had bothered to try and make them blend in better with the surroundings. Azar thought they should fire their interior designer. Maybe she’d make it her last request.
“Are we still in New York?” Azar asked, not really expecting a response, so she was surprised when Joia answered.
“We are still in New York. It is the Djinn Councils North American base of operations.” Azar couldn’t believe that not only were there all sorts of Djinn running around New York, but she had chosen to live in the very city where the Djinn Council had set up shop. Irony really could be a bitch.
They all piled into the elevator, Azar pressed in between all four shoulders, as if she was about to make a mad dash for the doors. It was highly unlikely, considering she was surrounded by four full blooded, trained Adel warriors. The elevator slowly rose up the floors. There was no indicator panel to tell her what floor they were on, or even how many floors they had done, but it felt like a lot. The elevator finally shuddered to a stop and Azar took a deep ragged breath. Her heart was racing and her body felt as if it wanted to burst into flames. She probably would have if it wasn’t for the cuffs. Azar’s knees buckled and she went down, but was caught midair by the Adel warrior flanking her rear. He held her up with a firm grasp under her upper arm until she steadied. Azar turned and smiled at the man, and he nodded solemnly in return.
Mira squeezed her forearm reassuringly as the elevator doors slid open and she was led out into the center of a large circular room, then up onto a two foot high circular podium. Her accompanying Adel scattered their way around the podium and two more Adel came from somewhere else. They all stood watching her, and some of them looked as if they would take her head if she even so much as sneezed too loudly.
The room itself was huge and filled with people, all staring at her, and Azar immediately shut her eyes against them. She wasn’t ready to feel so many accusing stares, all ready to judge her and decide if she lived or died. She looked up at the ceiling. She wanted to look at anything but the room full of Djinn around her. The roof itself was actually a large dome, and the artwork on the inside rivaled some of the Renaissance masters. She stared at the beauty of t
he ceiling for a few more seconds and regained her composure.
When she finally lowered her gaze, the view was no less intimidating. On the marble floor was a large black and white inlay of the Djinn emblem. Her podium was at the center of the emblem, and at the end of each of the points was a cluster of seats with one large ornate, high backed chair raised above the others in the center of the section.
Taking a wild guess, she assumed that the people seated in those were the Councilor’s for each of the Djinn races. They were in their ceremonial robes of grey, with a medallion tied around their necks from which hung a robin’s egg sized gem of their race. At the bottom of the section, separated by a wooden barricade from the rest of the seating, was a single row of seats. Azar guessed they were either for witnesses or guests, probably the latter, as the low wooden wall said very clearly ‘not one of us.’
Azar made herself turn and look every one of the Councilor’s in the eye, and give them an acknowledging nod. There was no point acting like a petulant child. That would just get her a quicker trip to the hangman’s noose.
Directly in front of her was the Ifrit section and the Councilor smiled and nodded back. He was a huge man in height and breadth, even in his human form. His eyes flickered like tiny little flames. Azar was mesmerized by him and had to physically force herself to look away.
She stopped at the Jann section, and her eyes fell on Bast, who stood directly in front of the Jann Councilors podium. Just seeing him was like a balm on her raw nerves. She lifted her eyes and bowed her head. The Councilor didn’t acknowledge her back, but his eyes looked approving, and that was a good sign. Bast smiled at her and indicated the guest seating below the Jann section.
Azar let out her first real smile in days. Sitting below the Jann section was Aaron, who was accompanied by Anton himself. Aaron looked good, and her spirits lifted at seeing the boy so healthy. He sat stiffly, as if he was still in a little bit of pain, but he was sitting there instead of laid out in a pine box, and for that Azar would be eternally thankful. The smile stayed in place, because next to them was Jerry from the Onyx, Tao and Oliver. Oliver nodded at her soft white gossamer slave uniform, which was probably see through in this light and gave her a smile and a wink. She grinned back. The man could be wildly inappropriate even at the most somber of settings. He’d probably trawled funerals for dates. Azar felt better knowing that she had a few friends in the room.
She turned again and nodded at the Sila Councilor, continuing around to nod at the Marid Councilor as well. Both were aging women, and for the long lived, that must have meant that they were truly ancient. Each showed absolutely no expression. Azar wouldn’t like to be at any of the Councilor poker nights.
She turned to the Ghul section and forced herself not to grimace. She nodded at the Councilor, a younger man in comparison to the Marid and Sila councilors, but his age was indeterminable. Her eyes fell on Lila, who was sitting in the front row in a green silk evening dress, as if she was going to a cocktail party rather than Azar's trial and possible execution. Lila smirked at her, and it took every ounce of her willpower not to sneer back. She quickly turned away to the last section.
The Shaitan section was the most sparsely occupied. There were even a few empty seats. Azar worried that if they continued the natural persecution of the Shaitan, there might not be any left. The only person she recognized was Donovan, his face unreadable. She knew that he would have to testify against her, and she also knew he had little choice. He looked strained, and Azar felt sorry for him. It would be tough to rat on your friends - although she wasn't sure they'd actually be classed as friends- especially when the consequence could be death. She didn’t want him to feel bad. She bowed her head to the Shaitan Councilor, whose gaze made her want to wet herself, and then gave Donovan a smile and a nod. Some of the tension went out of his shoulders, but his face remained the same granite mask.
The Sila Councilor cleared her throat, and Azar turned to face her.
“Today we have two trials to be overseen. The first will be that of the deceased, Ellis Fareet of the Ifrit, on the charges of treason, conspiracy to release the Balraka, conspiracy to overthrow the Djinn Council, attempted murder of a Djinn, attempted murder of a member of the supernatural community, three counts of murder of a human, destruction of Djinn owned property and abandonment of his compulsory servitude. Do any stand in defense of him?” No one stood, not even a whisper was made. Apparently years in hiding, plotting to take over the world using a destructive, ancient Djinn, didn’t make you any friends. Not even any of the Ifrit so much as raised an eyebrow. In fact the Ifrit Councilor was shaking his head with exasperation.
“So be it. We have read the witness statements compiled by the Adel Mira; does anyone have any questions for the witnesses before we rule?”
“We of the Shaitan have a question.” The Shaitan Councilor was a far scarier version of Donovan. His black eyes looked soulless and his mouth was a thin line of barely contained rage. Azar swallowed hard and turned to face him. Her knees shook ferociously. “We wish to know if the Ifrit Fareet knew the location of the other Great Weapons.”
Azar tried not to squeak in fear when she answered. “No, your Graciousness. He insinuated he found Drakhul by accident, and didn’t search for the other weapons. He was more focused on releasing Balraka than anything else.” The Councilor stared at her a little longer, right into her very soul, until droplets of sweat slid down her back. Then he nodded absently to himself.
“The Shaitan have no further questions.”
“As there are no further questions, as a matter of course, we must rule. The Sila find the Ifrit Ellis Fareet guilty of all charges. “
“The Jann find Ellis Fareet guilty of all charges.”
“The Ifrit find Ellis Fareet guilty of all charges.”
“The Shaitan finds Ellis Fareet guilty of all charges.”
“The Ghul find Ellis Fareet guilty of all charges.”
“The Marid find Ellis Fareet guilty of all charges.”
There was a small smattering of applause as the verdict was laid down, but the Sila Councilor called for silence with only a look. “Under the ancient laws of the Djinn, Ellis Fareet shall be sentenced to death by beheading. Conveniently, he has already been beheaded, so we can move on.
“Azar Nazemi of the Ifrit, you are charged with unsanctioned disclosure to a human and failure to come forth for your compulsory servitude. Do any stand in defense of this Ifrit?”
Bast stood, and oddly enough looked over to the Ifrit section. Azar didn’t know why he thought someone from the Ifrit may stand in defense of her, as she didn’t know any of them from Adam. When no one in the Ifrit section stood, Bast stepped down from the Jann section and walked into the empty space between her and the rows of people.
“I, Bast Shafigh of the Jann, stand for Azar Nazemi of the Ifrit.” All the Councilor’s agreed to his representation and the trial got underway.
The Sila Councilors lip quirked a little at Bast, which could have been a smile, but also could have been an itch. “Alright Bast, let’s get the show on the road.” There was a familiarity in her tone, and Azar wondered if Bast and the Sila Councilor had met before.
“My Gracious Councilors, we have all read the statement made by Azar Nazemi to the Adel Mira. You are all aware of the events that have shaped Azar’s life so far. We are also very aware that she is indeed guilty of the charges of which she is accused.” Azar’s eyebrows drew together. She was no lawyer, but admitting her guilt in the opening sentence seemed a little unorthodox. But she trusted Bast; he knew the system, the Council and the laws.
“For those of you here that are unaware of the facts, I will give you the abridged version. Azar was born to a human mother, who for reasons unknown, fled from her homeland and went to Spain, where she died when Azar was five. But before she died, she taught Azar to fear her people. The Djinn became the boogeyman of young Azar’s life. She was raised in a Spanish orphanage, and then sent out into the world
to fend for herself.
“She moved from place to place, careful to avoid interaction with her own kind, as she was taught to do by the only figure in her life she could trust. She did not get the schooling in the ways of the Djinn like the children within our community, and her powers are untested and feared by her. What little she does know of the Djinn society is secondhand urban legends that spread amongst the Supernatural community.
“But did she go rogue or misuse her abilities because she was nothing more than a mere ghost to the Council? No, she became a firefighter, using her abilities in secret, not for selfish gain, but to save the lives of humans. And when a rogue Ifrit threatened to draw attention to us all, did she walk away and let the people she had feared her whole life deal with their own problems? No, she stepped up and searched for the Ifrit herself, to bring him down before he could expose us and kill millions of Djinn, Supes and humans in the city of New York.” As Bast spoke, he walked around the inner edge of the sections, addressing every race equally, and met the eyes of the Councilors with deference.
“She did so without thought of reward or power, in fact she would gain nothing for bringing down Fareet. The only reward she received was near death and imprisonment. She may indeed still get death. But she did what she felt was right and necessary, even if it meant disclosing her true nature to a human. This was an unfortunate accident, but one that ultimately worked in the Djinn’s favor. Without the help of Detective Keenan Reilly of the NYPD Arson unit, we would have found it far more difficult to track down Ellis Fareet, a Djinn who was supposed to have been dead for centuries.” He paused, probably for gravitas. Even she had to admit, he was compelling.
“I have met Detective Reilly. I have spoken to him, and I am assured of his trustworthiness. Indeed, I believe he would be an asset to the Adel’s intelligence network, and would suggest that he receive official authorization from the Council.” Azar knew that if he didn’t get official authorization, he would be dead before the day was out. Bast was trying to keep his promise to her, despite his assurances that it wouldn't be necessary. She lost a little bit more of her heart to her golden eyed Jann.
The Azar Omnibus: The Complete Azar Trilogy (The Azar Trilogy Book 0) Page 19