by Lucy Tempest
“Yes, to the first part of your questions. My limitations aren’t in the quantity of wishes, but in their quality and scope. I can grant limitless wishes, of only the kind I can grant. As for the second part, I couldn’t have planned whatever led you to me in a million years. This was a mixture of magic, fate and destiny.”
Before I whacked him on the head with the bottle and yelled what the difference between fate and destiny was, Esfandiar once again encroached on Cyrus.
He kissed his ring again, his demeanor fervent and adulatory now he knew Cyrus was his adored queen’s descendant. “I trust the kingdom Zafira’s line built stands as tall as you do now?”
Cyrus grew paler as he pulled his hand from his grip. “Cahraman as we knew it is gone, and I may be the end of Zafira’s bloodline.”
Esfandiar’s chipper mood fled faster than a flock of startled birds as he slapped both hands on his face. “What has happened?”
Cyrus exhaled. “The lamp somehow ended up in Almaskham, a newer principality, where my mother was a princess. When she left to marry my father, she brought the lamp with her and it fell into the hands of a witch called Nariman Rostam, and she has used that same genie to make herself Queen of nightmarish version of Cahraman.”
Esfandiar turned almost green. He seemed invested in his queen’s legacy to the point of feeling ill thinking of its downfall. “Is-is there anything you can do to set things right?”
“We were hoping you could do that for us,” I told him. “We came to the Cave of Wonders because we thought we could find another trapped genie. So—can you help us?”
Esfandiar tried to turn his grimace into a smile. It became an awkward display of too many teeth instead. “I can and will, but not in the way you were expecting.”
“Why not?” That was far louder than I meant to.
“Because he’s no match for a genie,” Cyrus gritted, frustration tautening his every line. “As he’s proved time and again, he’s a lesser being.”
“I take offense at that designation,” Esfandiar bleated, all reverence forgotten, jumping up as if to ram Cyrus like a goat.
“You’re the one who called yourself that,” Cyrus growled, bearing down on him, daring him to take a swipe so he’d have an excuse to box his ears.
I placed a smarting, swollen palm on each man’s chest, keeping them apart. “Boys, really not the time for a manly dispute.” Cyrus grumbled and stepped back. I turned to Esfandiar. “What can you do? Beyond what you’ve done for me so far?”
“It wasn’t me who did it, but my other part. I don’t even know what I can do now when I’m split in two.”
“How about putting yourself back together, then?”
His eyes flew wider, flame rushing out of them. He staggered back, hands over his head.
“What now?” I moaned.
“Forgive me, Mistress,” he choked. “I-it didn’t even occur to me till this moment that I didn’t become whole once you released me from the bottle. But for some reason, I remain split, and I can’t summon the other part in your ring.”
Cyrus harrumphed. “Great. Not only a lesser being, but one who comes pre-portioned.”
We both shot him glances, mine wincing, Esfandiar’s chagrined.
I dragged Esfandiar’s attention back. “But surely you can help even in this condition. The first thing you asked me was if I wanted to get out of here. So at least poof us out of here.”
“We-ell—my magic doesn’t work that way.”
“But it literally did. You puffed us over here.”
“Over short distances, with only you, my Mistress, the one whose magic…”
“…resonates with yours.” I finished for him, frustration almost bursting my head. “How does your magic work?”
“My magic, what it used to be at least when I was whole, you would call ‘convenient magic.’ I can ease difficult situations or point you in the direction of the solution to your problems, or give you the final step that would make the difference between failure and success, or life and death. But my effect is only guaranteed after you do most of the work yourself.”
I pressed my bumpy forehead as if to push back my throbbing brain. “The ring, or you…whatever, did all that. It healed my extensive if minor injuries, let me compel others, and when I desperately wished it, it guided Cyrus in his escape, made it possible to reach my mother in another realm, and opened up the ground so we could escape the simurgh. Let me think how these effects could be useful to us now….”
Esfandiar’s exclamation interrupted my rambling. “You had a simurgh chase you?”
I nodded. “The one from Alabasta. And it tried to take the ring—you from us. It was about to eat my arm to get you. I’m guessing you did something to make her your eternal fan?”
Esfandiar waved his hands in my face. “Forget that, we must get back to the simurgh!”
“Why? Even if we can, which we can’t, she wants to kill us!”
Esfandiar waved this off, too. “I may not be able to help you by the merits of my own magic, but I can benefit you in another way: experience.”
Cyrus grimaced. “Do I want to know how?”
Esfandiar turned to him, looking conflicted, needing to respect him as Zafira’s blood, but simmering with the dislike that had sprung between them. “If you’ve truly read my accounts then you know that simurghs can perform miracles if you burn a feather they gave you.”
I nodded. “I saw an illustration in the anthology, of the White Shadow holding up feathers to the simurgh. The quote below said, ‘for you to call when you are in need.’”
Esfandiar looked about to burst with pride that his Mistress knew so much of the book he’d written. “I didn’t know about the miracles part, since I only used mine to be let into the Cave, until I saw Zãl use one. During childbirth, it seemed both his wife Nesrine and their son wouldn’t survive but the simurgh came and helped save both their lives.”
“How does that help us now?” Cyrus interjected, fists clenched. “We risked our lives every second of the way here to find something to take us home and then to save that home. But what we found was a flying carpet who seems as much a prisoner here as we are, and you, who’s a walking talking storybook.”
I tugged on his sleeve, trying to calm him down. “We might not have found the genie we hoped for, but let’s at least hear him out.”
His rock-like arm relaxed in my grip. “Even if we could go back, that bird will bite our heads off before it willingly gave us any feathers…” He stopped, eyes widening. “The bronze feather! I was still holding it when we fell here.”
“Me, too!” I exclaimed. “I had a gold feather in my hand.”
His eyes filled with eagerness. “I’ll go look for them in the ante-chamber…”
Something lightly bumped us both. Carpet hovered behind us, holding the sword-sized feathers up in two of its tassels.
Cyrus cracked a guffaw. “Carpet, you beautiful life-saver!”
I pounced on Carpet, joining him in stroking it thankfully as we plucked up the feathers.
I turned to Esfandiar. “Is there some rule that we can’t use a feather not given willingly?”
“No. Simurghs only offered the feathers since it was inconceivable someone would pluck a feather without their consent. That would make you the first two to ever do that.”
“And it must be burned?” Esfandiar nodded and I said, “Then I wish you to burn one.”
He held his hand out to Cyrus with a bow. “May I, Your Highness?”
Cyrus met my eyes, a scowl of distrust furrowing his brow. I nudged him in encouragement until he gave Esfandiar his bronze feather.
Esfandiar bowed deeper as he received it, then straightened with his hand a mass of flames. The feather burned in a blazing flash and immediately the ceiling hundreds of feet above us began to rumble.
We barely ran to hide behind the mountain of rubble when it exploded apart, and boulders rained down where we’d just been standing as the simurgh swooped in t
hrough a hole pouring crimson fire.
She landed with a soft flap of its wings, as calm and composed as it had been when we’d first met her, but shot each of us eat-you-alive glances.
Her eyes landed on Esfandiar last. It waddled closer, and gave his head a beak rap that would have cracked our heads open like an egg.
“Never thought I’d see you again.” She glared down at him. “Enjoying the benefits of what you reaped on my watch?”
“Not so much, old friend.” Esfandiar rubbed his head, pained. “Believe me, after years of nothing but hard thought, I knew you were completely right to keep that greater genie trapped.”
She pecked him again, hard enough to send him to his knees. “I am never wrong.”
“You’re not still mad at us, are you?” I asked it from over Cyrus’s shoulder.
The bird turned only her head our way. “I am, but you no longer pose a threat to my duties, now he cannot be put back together, binding him to you as a Mistress forever.”
“Forever?” I exclaimed.
“Since he’s not djinn-born, the one who frees him, commands him for life.”
I put that thought away for now, asked, “So you’re no longer worried about my intentions and what they’ll lead to?”
It ruffled its wings as if in a shrug. “What worse calamities can you cause?”
I winced. Nice lady. Reminded me of Aurelia.
“I only wanted that ring so I could throw it next to his bottle and watch him doubly suffer for all eternity.” She swooped to peck him again, missing when he ducked. “But now he’ll suffer even more. I am content.”
“What did he do to warrant a five-century grudge?” I asked.
“He stole the greater genie I had trapped here,” she said. “Causing a disturbance in all the realms and endangering my standing with the gods who appointed me guardian.”
Now that she put it that way… “I can sympathize. We’re here trying to undo that genie’s work. So, since you don’t consider us a threat anymore, can we move past that?”
“Only because I now have to serve whatever purpose you wish,” she said with a grudging bow of her head. “In exchange for the feather, what favor would you have me do for you?”
“Is undoing a genie’s magic one of the miracles you can perform?” I asked, hoping against all hope. I’d never heard of a simurgh being that powerful.
“I can’t undo the effects of terrible decisions nor those of greed, lust or madness, no.”
Cyrus squeezed my shoulder and I felt his expectant tension become something even more steely, that of determination. “Then we’ll undo those ourselves. But for that, we need to be where we can fight for our home and friends. Can you do that?”
“I can.”
“Very well, simurgh. Take us back to Cahraman.” He paused before he added, “And stay with us there.”
That offer surprised all of us, primarily the bird, who shook her head so fast its neck feathers fluffed up. “Why?”
“You said only something stronger than yourself can release you from your post, and what is more powerful than the gods who placed you here?” Cyrus spoke with a firmness that was both soothing and commanding, a prince negotiating a political deal with an equal. “As this is my wish, and it’s their rule that you obey it, they won’t be able to deny it, or stop you from leaving your post. Their own rules are stronger than even them.”
I gaped at him for more second before I flung myself at him and covered his face in kisses. Was it any wonder I was irrevocably in love with this man?
He drew back with a smile only I provoked, before turning back to the simurgh. “Take us all back to Cahraman, simurgh, and if we reclaim my father’s throne, you are forever welcome to make your nest on our mountain in Sunstone or on Alborz, or wherever else you choose.”
He approached her, hand extended, as if asking permission. She seemed to give it, bowing her head to his level. He stroked her neck, hand trembling. I knew it wasn’t fear. He was that moved. Next second I knew why.
“I believe I already owe you for the life of my best friend,” he said raggedly. “And once we restore him, too, I know he’d love to see you.” He rested his head on her bowed forehead a moment more then stepped back, eyes suspiciously bright. He pulled himself to his full height, voice firm once again. “We will all get what we want.”
The simurgh closed her eyes, and I could swear she looked moved, too. She was bound to answer his wish, but maybe for the first time in her endless life, she was happy to fulfill one. It was definitely the first time anyone had wished something for her.
Opening eyes that no longer promised to devour us, she unfolded to tower over us again, materialized a rein around its neck before spreading its wings. “Climb aboard.”
Cyrus helped us onto her back, but as Esfandiar reached for a handful of feathers to climb up, the simurgh snapped its beak at him. “Not you.”
He edged away from the bird with a fake, toothy smile. “I’ll take the carpet, then.”
As if it had been waiting for someone to the say that, Carpet zoomed to knock Esfandiar’s legs out from under him, receiving his falling body on top.
Cyrus gathered both my mother and I, holding the reins around us. “Ready?”
I gave the Cave and its ruined splendor one last sweeping glance. “As I’ll ever be.”
“What’s the matter?” Cyrus whispered, for my ears only.
“Just thinking of all we’ve been through, all you’ve learned…”
“What only made me stronger. And I already told you it made me love you more. If we come out of banishment with that alone, then it was a small price to pay.”
I sought his eyes, overwhelmed. “You promise?”
“I promise. Now, hold on tight. I foresee quite the bumpy ride.” He gripped the reins tighter. “Take us home, simurgh!”
Simurgh screeched and shot up through the hole it had ripped in the rock, with us holding on to dear life.
Soon she emerged from the crack near the geode mountain in Barzakh and soared into another portal of spinning light and color, exiting it in Alabasta where she’d been both guardian and captive for an eternity.
Leaving it behind, hopefully forever, the simurgh zipped through another portal and we popped out over another desert. The simurgh did not give us a chance to adjust, tucking its wings and cutting through the air like an arrow, blurring the world around us until my own heartbeat for once felt slow. Soon, Sunstone came into view.
I couldn’t believe seeing the distorted monstrosity would make me feel so happy. But it was where all my friends and Cyrus’s family was. So it was the one place I wanted to be.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Sunstone was a worse nightmare than the one we’d last seen.
Fire and rubble besieged the city with swarms of people scattering among them, waving improvised weapons and lit torches. Guards’ swords and spears glinted in the firelight, colliding with metal pipes, butcher knives and iron skillets, their metallic cacophony punctuated with rabid shouts and defiant screams.
The capital was in revolt.
We scraped past spires and bell towers, the only thing higher than the mushrooming smoke choking the city. In its center, the courthouse, where we once had the first Final Five test, once blindingly white and pristine, was now like a half-burnt coal. In front of it, green fire poured from a demolished fountain, raging out of control. Before it stood a battalion of a hundred guards, waiting for the growing mob to bypass the barricade of fire.
“Stop here!” Cyrus yelled to the simurgh.
She immediately perched on the parapets of a mansion overlooking the square, giving us a direct view below, and the crowd went from a squirming mass to clear individuals.
Most—no all of them were women and children. There were even some elderly. Thin-boned and hunch-backed, they brandished walking canes as they screamed along with the crowd.
“Where are all the men?”
Cyrus jumped off the bird, held o
nto a parapet as he leaned out, before turning to me. “You’re right. There are no men younger than sixty down there.”
“Did a plague wipe them out?” Esfandiar asked as Carpet let him down beside Cyrus.
Cyrus stepped back over the wall. “I believe they’ve all been arrested.”
“Why?” I asked him.
“Pre-emptive strategy,” he said, sounding as pained as he looked. “Taking away all able-bodied, fighting-age men before issuing a decree worth rebelling over would make sure you enforce your will without a fight.”
“If you can call this without a fight,” I said bitterly. “But what decree could be worse than what she’s done so far?”
“With dictators, there’s always worse. But it could just be a power move to stamp out dissent, rounding the men up to magically condition them en masse to obey her…” An even worse thought seemed to hit him. “…or to conscript them into her army.”
“Why would she need a bigger army if she isolated the whole kingdom?” I asked.
His eyes darkened until they were almost black. “Maybe being Queen of Cahraman isn’t enough anymore and she wants to expand her rule. Maybe she wants to become an empress, conquer an entire region, maybe the whole of the Folkshore, and remake it in her image as she did here. And the first land she’d go after would definitely be her own—Almaskham.”
My mother had been in shock, watching the city she’d known as a glittering jewel burn. At the mention of her motherland she snapped out of her daze. “What are we waiting for? Let’s fly over there and stop her!”
Cyrus shook his head. “The last time she tossed us into the Land of No Return. This time, she might not be so merciful.”
My mother began to object. “But—”
Cyrus’s expression became grim, ending any arguments. “I’m not getting imprisoned again and I’m not exposing you to far worse. I must retake Cahraman and this means I remain free, you remain safe, and we do this right. We’re the kingdom’s, maybe the Folkshore’s last hope.”
The simurgh chose this moment to rear back, forcing my mother and I to disembark.
I stumbled towards Cyrus. “Any idea how to do this right?”