by Naomi Cyprus
They led her up a dim, tightly curving staircase, and at the top, Nalah found herself in a long corridor lined with windows. Marcus stepped forward to gaze out of one, and a guard drew his sword.
“Get back in formation, boy,” snapped the guard.
“Armsman Khadem!” snapped the captain. She cleared her throat. “Our guests are children—let them look out of the window if they wish.” She smiled at Marcus and then at Nalah, in a way that made Nalah think of the jackals that sometimes came into New Hadar and ate the trash from the market.
“Sorry, Captain,” said Khadem, stepping back and sheathing his sword.
Gingerly, Nalah went over to the window to join Marcus, hoping that here, unlike in the library, their view would be unobstructed. She looked down, and gasped.
They were peering out from a high window of a magnificent palace, cloaked in night. Nalah could see golden-domed towers and, below, the tiny shapes of guards patrolling the top of a thick courtyard wall, passing in and out of flickering torchlight. Beyond the wall, there was a slope dotted with palm trees, flower beds, and walkways, and beyond that, a city. But not like her dull, soot-colored city, with its buzzing electric lamps and clanking motorcars. The roads of this place were lit up with torches of blue Thauma fire, like a maze of colored light. She could see a wide square, festooned with jewel-toned tents and filled with people, surrounded by tall buildings, each one decorated with shining mosaics and elegant arched windows, and low-lying, square, sand-colored buildings farther out, where the torchlight ended. It was a kaleidoscope of color and light.
The tingling sensation in Nalah’s fingertips returned, and she laid them against the cool sandstone, almost imagining she could feel it pulsating in time with her heart. A flicker of wonder and awe filled her as she looked at the beautiful city, but it was quickly doused when she remembered the armed guards at her back.
“We’ve got to get away,” Marcus whispered to her. “Out of this palace. These people are taking us to Tam, I can feel it.”
“I know,” Nalah breathed, trying to look like she was still just staring down at the city. It hurt to even think about leaving here without her father, but she knew Marcus was right. “If they throw us in the same prison as Papa, it’ll all be over. We’ll have to come back for him.”
“I’ve got a plan. We need a distraction, though,” said Marcus.
Nalah looked up at Cobalt, who was sitting on her shoulder. The bird leaned in, as if listening intently. He gave a quiet chirp.
Then he turned and leaped off Nalah’s shoulder, flapping wildly, and flew right at the guards. He circled their heads, pecking and screeching. The guards ducked and yelped. Several of them drew their swords.
“Stay calm!” the captain yelled. “For Thauma’s sake, it’s just a bird!”
But Cobalt kept on swooping, snatching one guard’s helmet right off his head. For a moment, Nalah just watched the whole spectacle, her stomach clenched with anxiety for her new pet. What would happen if they hit Cobalt with a sword? Would he shatter?
Then someone threw a cloak over her head. Or, rather, it seemed like a cloak, but instead of blocking her vision, it simply turned the world gray, as if she were looking through a veil of smoke. Marcus stood beside her; the veil was over both their heads. He put a finger to his lips and grabbed her arm with his free hand, guiding her away. They slipped silently by the shouting captain and hurried down the hall. More than one of the guards seemed to look directly at them as they passed, but didn’t acknowledge them at all. We’re invisible, Nalah thought in wonder.
They were at the end of the corridor when she heard the captain scream, “Where are they? You idiots, you let them escape! Forget the bird and find them—the king wants the tawam alive!”
Tawam?
Nalah had never heard that word in the stories. Is that me? Am I the tawam? She held on tight to Marcus’s hand and they silently sped through the palace, looking for a way out. They rushed past ornate stained glass windows that radiated their own light, down hallways tiled with mosaics that changed like kaleidoscopes, and tiptoed past servants carrying baskets of fresh food and watchful guards dressed in black.
They finally made it out into a large outdoor courtyard, bordered by high, pale walls—perhaps the same ones that had blocked her view from the library. At one end was a large metal gate. A cold breeze slithered up underneath the cloak, chilling her ankles and smelling of Thauma smoke and horses.
Marcus nudged her. “Look, a wagon,” he whispered. “It’s going out of the gate. We should jump on!”
Nalah hesitated. “But what about Cobalt?” She looked back up at the palace.
“We’ve got to go,” said Marcus. “This may be our only chance to escape!”
Nalah knew he was right, but she still didn’t move. She just couldn’t bring herself to leave another piece of her father behind. “Just wait. Just one more minute—”
A flash of bright blue shot out of an open window overhead, glinting in the torchlight. The falcon circled once, squawking, and then soared away over the wall and out toward the city. Nalah exhaled in relief.
“Now can we go?” Marcus asked.
“Yes!” Nalah said. They ran awkwardly, trying to keep their bodies under the cloak, and fumbled their way onto the back of a donkey-drawn cart full of empty sacks smelling of cardamom. The old man driving the cart turned around at the noise. They huddled together, hardly daring to breathe. Seeing nothing, he grumbled and went back to guiding the donkey out through the castle gate.
Nalah felt like she could breathe easier as soon as they’d passed the gate and were on the winding road down toward the city. They hadn’t even seen Tam, but she felt as if he were watching them, even through the transparent cloak, even as tall palm trees passed between them and the bright windows of the palace. Her stomach was tying itself into knots at the thought that they were going farther and farther away from her father—but it had to be for the best.
I’ll be back, she swore, as she watched the palace recede and become a bright, ghostly shape against the dark sky. I’ll find you, Papa, I promise.
She and Marcus carefully arranged themselves so they were sitting side by side, the soft, velvety fabric of the magic cloak caressing their faces.
“What is this thing?” Nalah whispered.
“It’s a shadow cloak,” said Marcus. “It was my grandmother’s, and her grandmother’s before her. Serious Thauma. Totally illegal, of course.”
“Not here, it’s not,” Nalah said with a grin.
The night sky was dotted with stars, and a full moon lit up the path ahead. The cart carried them down a long road paved with flagstones and past a guard post with a sleepy-looking guard leaning on a spear. They passed grand houses with domed roofs and archways, guarded by winged stone lions made fierce by the night’s shadows. Beautiful red-and-gold flags fluttered above them, even though there was no wind. They turned down a quiet side road between smaller, flat-topped buildings, and finally pulled into a stable.
Carefully, Nalah and Marcus slipped off the cart and made their way to a dark alley where it was safe to take off the cloak. Nalah was very glad to be out from under it, but a moment after she’d shaken it off she shivered. “It’s cold! Much colder than it is back home. It’s strange. In the stories, the Magi Kingdom’s always hot.” Nalah’s teeth started to chatter. “Cobalt,” she whispered up into the air, “are you there?”
A soft cheep came from behind her. Nalah turned to see the falcon perched on a gutter, his head cocked in that funny, questioning way. She held out her arm, and Cobalt flew down to her.
“We’d better find somewhere to hide out until morning,” Marcus said, stuffing the shadow cloak into his bag. “Then we can really get a good look around the place!”
“We’re here for one thing, and one thing only,” Nalah said, as much to herself as to Marcus. “And that’s to get my father back. We can’t let ourselves be distracted by the things we see here. As soon as dawn breaks, we need to
start working on a plan.”
Marcus looked at her, and Nalah tried not to let him see how scared she was. How terrified that she was going to fail at this, the one thing in her life that ever really mattered. Maybe he saw all that, anyway, but what he said was: “As soon as dawn breaks.”
They walked to the end of the street and found themselves in a wide square. It seemed that a busy market had been going on, but now the square was quiet, the stalls covered over with cloth, the air perfumed with the smells of smoke, sugar, and wine.
“I wonder what time it is,” Marcus said. “Must be late. It’s completely deserted, like a ghost town.”
In that empty, open space, Nalah suddenly felt very exposed. It wouldn’t be long before the guards realized they’d escaped the palace grounds and started searching the city for them. She picked up a tattered length of dark cloth from one of the covered stalls and wrapped it around her hair and face like a headscarf. “We don’t want to be recognized,” she told Marcus. “I suggest you take one to cover your head too,” she added, gesturing to his sand-colored mop of hair. “You do stand out a bit.”
Marcus shrugged and rummaged through several pieces of cloth before he found one he liked. “Grandma says when she was a girl and her parents had just moved to New Hadar, there were so few foreigners that it was like being the only pigeon in a city of crows.” He wrapped the cloth around his head several times, for a makeshift turban. “So, which way now?” he asked.
Nalah gestured toward a winding street ahead. “I say, for tonight, we put as much distance between us and the palace as we can. Those guards will be looking for us, so we need to lay low for a while.”
Marcus agreed, and they kept walking. They kept to the narrower, darker streets, but even there, Nalah felt as though silent eyes watched her. The buildings became low and simple. Gardens were choked with thorny weeds here, and the ground was crunchy with sand.
They started to see people on the streets, sleeping or leaning in doorways. Nalah kept her eyes down as they turned to watch her pass, but she couldn’t help sneaking a glance at them from under her veil.
There were poor people in New Hadar. Nalah knew this from personal experience. But even the homeless in her world weren’t starving. In New Hadar, the poor would have asked Nalah for money. Tried to offer her a good-luck charm or a bouquet of desert flowers in exchange for some food or coins.
These people stayed silent. They stared at her from their dusty doorways, their eyes huge inside faces hollowed out by hunger. It seemed like they had simply given up on everything, even charity.
A bell rang loudly somewhere behind Nalah, and she jumped and turned around. Her heart skipped a beat. Two guards stood at the end of the road, one of them ringing a handbell.
“All right, off the streets, all of you!” the other one yelled.
Nalah and Marcus shrank into the closest unoccupied doorway.
“Cloak!” Nalah hissed. “Get the cloak out, quick!” As the guards advanced along the street, Marcus began rummaging in his bag.
“And don’t you scraps give us any trouble tonight,” the guard was saying. Nalah couldn’t imagine any of these people even raising their voices, much less making trouble for a couple of strapping young guards.
“Psst! Hey, you!” said a young voice, right behind them. Nalah spun around. The door they’d been hiding in front of had opened a crack. Nalah could just make out the glint of an eye peeking through. “Wanna get off the street?”
“Yes!” Nalah said.
“It’ll cost you . . .”
Nalah glanced over her shoulder. The guards were advancing, pushing and kicking the homeless out of the way. Marcus still hadn’t found the cloak.
“Whatever it is, we’ll pay it!” Nalah whispered desperately. The guards were getting closer.
“Well, okay, then.” The door opened, and Nalah grabbed Marcus’s arm and slipped quickly through into the darkness beyond. There was no candle or torch inside, but the roof was cracked, and a shaft of starlight cast a strange glow across their faces.
Nalah heard the door close behind them, and a young boy stepped into view. He was short, and wore nothing but overlarge pants and a threadbare vest over his skinny frame. His head was shaved almost bare—Nalah guessed in order to keep the fleas at bay. But unlike the people she saw on the street, this boy had a lively, mischievous look in his eyes.
They stood there in silence, waiting for the guards to pass, the boy looking at them both with obvious curiosity. Finally the noise of the bell receded into the distance, and the boy spoke. “Name’s Darry,” he said. “You two looked like you really didn’t want to run into any guards. Tough luck, they’re everywhere. What’re you doing out after curfew? Bit of side business in the Storm Quarter? Dangerous work. I haven’t seen you around here before. Where are you from?” He frowned at Marcus and peered under his makeshift hood.
Nalah threw Marcus an anxious look. What were they supposed to say? We came through a magic mirror after a man who killed his own reflection?
Seeing their discomfort, Darry laughed. “Don’t worry, I’m just being nosy. You don’t have to tell me your secrets.”
Nalah smiled at him, relieved. “It’s complicated, but . . . let’s just say we’re a little lost, and we need somewhere to stay for the night.”
“Well, if you’ve got enough money, there are nice places near the bazaar. Chances are, you don’t want to be out here in the Storm Quarter.”
Nalah shook her head. “No money.”
“Ah. Well, you’ll fit right in, then.” Darry chuckled. “Come with me, I’ll show you some of the drop houses.”
“I’m sorry about lying to you about paying,” Nalah said. “We don’t have money, but we’ll find a way to repay you for your kindness, I promise.”
Darry looked at her, and in the dim silver light, Nalah thought she saw a slight blush cross his cheeks. He rubbed the stubble on his head and grinned. “I would have done the same thing, money or no money. Nah, I couldn’t let them guards get you, could I? Us common folk have to look out for each other, now more than ever. Come on.”
Nalah and Marcus followed him into the dark, maze-like passages of the house.
“He likes you,” Marcus hissed, and made a kissy noise. Nalah glared at him and stamped on his foot.
“So, why is this called the Storm Quarter?” Nalah asked, to change the subject.
Darry looked back. “Have you seen the desert yet?”
“Desert?” Nalah repeated, wondering what that had to do with it. She vaguely remembered that some of the stories of the Magi Kingdom talked about its being a desert country.
“You’re in luck. It’s best at night. Come on, I’ll show you!” And with that, Darry took a sudden turn through an archway and out into a barren, starlit courtyard. Nalah hesitated for a second. Then she saw something flash overhead—blue glass reflecting the starlight. Cobalt landed on the roof above her and cawed into the night.
As they walked, Nalah was aware of Cobalt following them at a safe distance, staying out of Darry’s line of sight. It worried her that he didn’t completely trust the boy, but she felt safer knowing that the bird was with them. While she had Cobalt, she had a link to her father.
She started to notice that the streets were no longer paved with flagstones, or even with packed earth. It was only sand here. On the windows, piled up in little heaps against the buildings, and filling decrepit flowerpots.
They entered a crumbled ruin, and Nalah stopped dead in her tracks at the sight that greeted her through the broken-down wall.
Rolling dunes, as far as the eye could see, glowing silver in the moonlight. They crested and dipped, like an ocean frozen in time. Nalah had stood before the ocean back in New Hadar hundreds of times, and this felt similar, but not the same. It was quieter without the sound of the waves.
“The Sand Sea,” Darry said proudly. “It’s amazing, isn’t it? There used to be a real sea here, they say, before the war. It’s quiet tonight, but
on stormy days the wind whips up the sand and batters the houses in this area of the city. That’s why it’s called the Storm Quarter. People only live here because they don’t have a choice.”
“How many of you are there?” Marcus asked.
“Maybe a thousand or two? It’s hard to keep track.”
“That many?” Nalah asked, surprised.
Darry sighed. “Yes.”
“But why?” Nalah asked. “With all the magic and wonders here—how can so many people be poor?”
Darry raised his eyebrows. “You’re really not from around here, are you? In this kingdom, if you’re not a Thauma lord, you’re nothing. Some nonmagical folk manage to get by working in a noble house or for one of the Thauma artisans, or selling bits of stuff at the bazaar, but those who can’t end up in the Storm Quarter. Everything here is based on magic, and the nobles control the magic. A commoner can hardly get a drink of water without the say-so of one of the Thaumas. Believe me, living rough in the Storm Quarter is getting off lightly.”
Marcus and Nalah exchanged glances.
This wasn’t in the stories, Nalah thought.
“Not to mention I could be disappeared for saying any of this,” Darry added, with a bitter smile. “King Tam is a bit touchy about unsatisfied citizens speaking their minds.”
“King Tam?” Nalah exchanged a dismayed glance with Marcus. It’s worse than I imagined—Tam doesn’t have connections to the king, he is the king!
“The one and only,” Darry said. “His Majesty, King Asa Tam, our great and benevolent overlord.” Sarcasm dripped from his voice.
Asa and Zachary, Nalah thought. The same, and yet different. Just like this place. She’d thought they were twins, but now that didn’t seem quite right.
She turned to look back at the city, her mind awhirl with confused and anxious thoughts. From here she could see the palace, lights burning brightly, up on its hill.