by Fuad Baloch
Maharis cleared his throat. Startled, Nuraya turned toward the magus. His two magi were whispering to each other. Noticing her eyes upon them, they fell silent. “We, my brethren and I, stand behind you, my sultana. Give us your word and we will win the war for you.”
Vishan shook his head. “We need the populace to be on our side. Even if we were to take either Buzdar or Algaria, once the secret comes out that we used these abominations to aid our battles, there would be no end to those wanting to undermine you in the future.”
“Let them come,” declared Maharis, his voice unusually shrill and loud. “We’ll be there.”
Nuraya raised her hand and the squabbling men fell silent. She paused for a second, her heart suddenly beating fast. “If... we turn back, take back the west, would you and your magi be able to fight for Algaria as well?”
Maharis tilted his head to the side, the long fold of his black turban falling to his waist. “I have saved enough for one battle. Same goes for these two as well.” He pointed at the two magi behind him. “We’re Jaman, bound by wells that expend sooner than we can refill. Once we’re spent, it will take us time to regroup.”
Nuraya exhaled.
“We should retire to the north,” insisted Vishan. “There is no shame in regaining our strength there. A salar that retreats gets to fight another day.”
Nuraya clicked her heels and Vengeance advanced toward the mercenary salar. Vishan’s eyes widened. Nuraya raised a finger, leaned in. “I am no salar, Vishan. The Istani sultana does not cede her territory, nor does she run away from a fight.”
“Such a sultan or sultana,” said Vishan, his tone brazen, almost matter-of-fact, “doesn't remain upon the throne for long either.”
“Nonsense,” she hissed.
A petulant reply on her part, but something that brought a slight smile on Jinan’s face in the periphery of her vision.
Action. That was what she needed. She wasn't one to lie still, to wait things out like Vishan wanted. Unless she was doing something, aiming for an objective, she wasn't doing anything.
“One battle, Maharis?” she asked.
“Aye.”
Nuraya watched her chipped fingernails for a long breath. Life continued to throw the weightiest problems her way. Fair, considering her station in life.
What to do then? Turn back west, drive out the western infidels from her land? Or hasten toward the capital and secure the sultanate’s heart before turning to the border regions?
She sucked her teeth. What would Abba have done? She closed her eyes, imagining the kind, stern face one more time. The picture that emerged was a fair approximation, but already the outline was beginning to dim. The salient features were still there—the unblinking green eyes, the thin lips, the long fingers drumming against the gaunt cheeks.
She still remembered, but day by day, Sultan Anahan was vanishing from her life.
“What would you have us do?” came Jinan’s voice. She looked up in surprise. Her siphsalar offered a tight-lipped smile.
She nodded, trusting her instincts to guide them.
Chapter 33
Shoki
Shoki felt the phantom eye twitch in its socket. Lies, of course. A thing burned off did no such thing. Worse than the physical pain was the torment inflicted by his mind still expecting to see through the eye that didn’t exist, constantly complaining, lamenting the absence.
He lowered his head, turned his focus to the lengthening shadows of the trees. Mara fumbled with his backpack beside the stream, glancing over to Shoki from time to time as if to keep an eye out on him.
Shoki shambled over to the stream and peered down at his reflection. The makeshift eye patch, fashioned from a torn off bit of his leather vest, did a good enough job hiding the hideous mess underneath it. He raised a finger, resting it gently against the eye patch. The other eye twitched, wanting to look away, glad for the night that was descending after one more arduous day that would hide the eye patch.
Firming his resolve, fighting the bile rising in his throat, Shoki watched his devastated face. Altamish Aboor had done that. A man he had once feared, admired. The inquisitor who had turned a torturer.
A sob, so soft he almost didn't hear it, escaped his mouth. Disgusted by his weakness, he turned away.
The djinn was looking at him, his stubby legs sprawled on the bank now, his face half-covered by the shadows. “Hurts, does it?”
“Everything hurts,” replied Shoki. A truthful response. The soles of his feet ached, his thighs chafed, his body so tense it could snap into two if he so much as extended his arms.
“Not what I meant,” said the djinn, raising a finger toward the eye patch.
Shoki inclined his chin. “What’s it to you, djinn? What care do you have of things that ail humans? Whatever you’re here to do, when you’re done, you’re going to vanish for another century or so.”
“It’s not like that.”
Shoki stiffened, unable to focus his thoughts as his anger rose. Stupid to talk to a magus like that, a djinn magus at that, but, for the moment, he didn't care. “I’m a pawn. A puny messenger boy. In the capital, I was an ornamental piece, moved from chamber to chamber for appearance’s sake and nothing else. Sent on a mission so both parties had someone to blame. Page to a princess turned sultana.” He cackled, the sound raspy, pained. “All for what? My parents are gone—a good man and woman I find out weren't even my real parents. And somewhere along this gods’ guts journey, I’ve lost an eye as well!”
Shoki jerked a thumb toward the djinn watching him silently, his half naked body still. “Happy now? Have I amused you enough?”
Mara stretched and turned his face away.
Feeling like a fool for his outburst, Shoki clenched his fists. Of course, the djinn moved for reasons Shoki would never understand. Why even bother to try?
The awkward silence stretched upon them, as comfortable as a spear through the side. Shoki fidgeted. “We should keep moving.”
“It’s night. We rest at nighttime.”
“Your brethren don’t seem to!” said Shoki pointing an accusatory finger.
“Neither do yours. Catch some sleep. We’ve got a long trek tomorrow.”
“A long trek tomorrow,” mocked Shoki, intimating the words, but keeping the words low.
“You said something?”
“Nothing that concerns you.”
“Good.”
“Good!” bellowed Shoki.
The djinn didn't respond. Biting his lower lip, Shoki took stock of his situation. Why was he standing anyway? For that matter, why the heck was his finger pointed aimlessly at the djinn? He sank onto the damp bank, hugging his knees close to the chest. Why had the djinn been chasing them? Had they been after Mara? Was he in danger now for keeping the djinn’s company?
“Eat!” came the magus’s grunt. Something fell beside him. The last of the beef strips they’d found beside an upturned cart.
“Not hungry,” he replied.
“Suit yourself.”
Moments dragged as another uncomfortable silence fell upon them. They were getting closer to Algaria now, probably no more than a few days’ march. Already, the woods were beginning to thin, giving way to sand. Yet, if he listened around, he could still hear what wildlife resided in these parts of Istan go about its business.
Spreading his knees, Shoki glanced at the djinn, then at the beef strips. His mouth watered. He could almost smell them, almost taste the texture on his tongue. Why in the world had he turned down the offer to eat? Pride? What a useless thing for a city guard to possess.
He looked away.
Another minute later, he found himself staring longingly at the strips again.
“Eat!” came the magus’s voice.
“Don’t want to,” he lied.
The djinn shrugged, not looking his way. “Fine, let the ants make a feast of it.”
“The ants...” Startled, Shoki scanned the ground, couldn't see anything to worry about just yet. Lic
king his lips, he extended a hand, grabbed the strips. “Not that I am hungry, but Rabb and the Atishi gods and those of Fanna all frown upon those who waste food.”
“Never took you for one of the believers.”
“Surprised myself there too,” Shoki muttered, then bit into the strips.
They were tough, almost flavorless, but he savored the experience regardless. He doubted chefs at the royal kitchens could have produced anything better in the moment even with their platters of spiced rice and exotic meats infused with herbs and lentils cooked three different ways.
When Shoki finally looked up, the night’s hold on the horizon was complete. His heart stirred, a melancholy spreading through his chest for all he had lost that no one else seemed to mourn. Metal grew stronger when pressured and punctured to form alloys. Having gone through all he had, how had he changed?
Shoki exhaled, knowing he was wallowing in a pool of self-pity that helped nothing. He turned to the djinn. Mara lay sprawled on the ground, snoring loudly.
“How in the glory-damned world can he sleep at a time like this?” muttered Shoki.
By way of response, the djinn snorted in his sleep. Shoki sat upright. A second later, the snores resumed.
Shrugging, Shoki stretched his hands. Wasn't much further to go before he was at the capital. Another few hundred miles or so. If they came upon the town Mara had talked about in the morning, they’d be able to hire horses there, make the rest of their journey that much quicker.
Assuming the town hadn't been burned down by one of the Istani children, happy enough to torch houses of those they’d promised to defend.
Some animal growled in the bush to the left and Shoki jumped, almost soiling himself. Cursing, thankful the magus didn't stir, he settled back sheepishly, determined not to let the situation get the better of him.
Then again, why did he bother? What more could happen that was worse than what had already happened? Shoki caught himself. Was he beginning to moan and complain the way older folks used to do? The way housewives did after yet another thankless day?
How did one ever snap out of this?
Shoki’s eyelids drooped. Yawning, he shook his head. He couldn't fall asleep, not when there were still terrors that lurked in the dark night. His mind drifted, his head bobbed.
Pinching himself, he forced his eyes open. The night was chilly, the cold wind susurrating amidst the tree tops. Did these woods house snakes? At the thought, he bolted upright, worried eyes scanning the tall blades of grass swaying in the darkness.
When nothing slithered out of the dark or pounced at him from the treetops, he forced himself to relax. Cupping his chin in both hands, he rested his elbows on the thighs.
If only he could be warm.
Once more, his thoughts drifted.
A song rose at the edge of his consciousness. His heart stirred, soared, that persistent part of him struggling to spill away from his restraints. Over and over, the jet of water smashed against the dam he had held up so far. He held firm, even as he found his grip slipping.
He popped open his eye. Despite the cold, his body was drenched. He patted his breeches. Damp. Disgusted, ashamed, he brought up the hand to the nose, sniffed it. Didn't look like he had soiled himself.
Despite the cold, sleep called to him once more. Whispers and promises lulling his senses, offering him cold comfort, respite.
His eyelids drooped.
The jet broke through the dam, smashing through the embankments, flooding everything in his wake. Shoki creaked open his eye once more, his hands reaching out reflexively. They grazed against a crystalline surface, the edges jagged in spots, smooth in others.
A shudder ran through Shoki as a terrible power seeped into him, drowning, drenching him. It spread, rushing through him to everything around him.
Heat.
Terrible, searing heat spread through his body and set his limbs on fire.
Shoki jumped up to his feet, slapping his body to douse the fire.
Except there was no fire, no flames licking his body. Instead of the dampness, he was burning hot as if he’d been sitting right beside a raging fire.
His eyes fell upon the djinn. He sat straight, his eyes dark pools of darkness.
“W-what... what happened?” stammered Shoki, swaying on his feet.
Mara rose in one smooth motion. Running a hand over his smooth head, he strode toward him. Shoki stumbled back, throwing up a reflexive hand to ward him off.
The djinn came to a stop two steps from him. When he spoke, his words were quiet, slurred, “You’re a magus.”
Shoki stared at the djinn. Then laughed, the sound coming out like a nervous titter. “What t-the hell are y-you on about?”
“Tell me what you were thinking about,” demanded Mara, his voice cold, low.
“L-look, I don’t know what’s going—”
“What was on your mind just now?”
Shoki blinked. “Um... I was... Well, I was trying not to fall asleep. Not that I was scared or anything like that, but...”
“Stop rambling! What was on your mind?”
“I... was cold, I guess. So...” Shoki felt his eyes widen, looked down at his body. “What happened?”
“You...” said Mara, stepping forward, “just stole a djinn’s body heat for your use. Lucky I resisted you when I found out or you’d have burned yourself out.”
“I...” Shoki shook his head. “What!?”
Mara grabbed him by the shoulder. “Did you have another source of heat already? A small fire going when I’d fallen asleep?”
Again, he shook his head.
“What about a rock or flint? Have you been storing heat, tucking it away?”
Shoki forced a laugh. “What are you on about?”
Mara exhaled, stepping back to look him up and down. “An Ajeeb swapper? Interesting. Very interesting. A very rare breed, your kind.”
“Hey... listen Sahib djinn... there’s been some sort of—”
“You don’t see it, do you?” Mara whistled, the earrings catching the faint moonlight. “Remarkable. Truly remarkable. Of course, it all makes sense now. Your escape from the tent. Your fight with the guard in the camp. The other djinn following your scent.”
Shoki held out a hand, panic rising in him at the mention of other djinn. “After a spate of bad luck, I was merely due some good.”
“The sword lost its sharpness just as your strength and courage grew.” The djinn’s eyes turned to his eye patch. “All that pain, that excruciating feeling ended up hollowing out the tent pegs. Remarkable.”
Shoki held up a hand, fear growing in his chest. “I’m a poor boy from the mercantile quarter. Don’t accuse me of anything beyond that.”
But the djinn kept shaking his head, kept muttering remarkable as if the word had stuck to his mouth.
The djinn stepped forward. “Shoki, I need to leave. However, I am prepared to strike a bargain with you.”
“A b-bargain?”
“Whenever you need me, call me. Use my real name. Azar Houhanama and I shall come help you.”
“S-sounds like a good idea.” Then remembering all the tales of the clever djinn and their trickster bargains, he looked up. “What would I have to pay for that?”
“Seek me. If I can help, I might call upon you to help me in return.”
“A wish for a wish?”
“Something like that.”
Shoki licked his lips, his body still seemingly on fire. A strange, scary feeling. “T-that doesn't sound so bad.”
“Good.”
Shoki turned around to the stream, wanting to see in the stream’s surface whether he really was on fire. Of course, he couldn't see a thing in the dark. “What’s happening to me anyway?”
The djinn didn't reply.
When Shoki turned around again, Mara was gone, a wisp of smoke rising where he had been standing mere moments ago.
He opened his jaw, then heard the whinnies of horses a mile or two to the east.
> Chapter 34
Nuraya
Nuraya wished for some of the legendary calm her mother seemed to possess innately. Like the merciless tide that brooked no obstacles, the Sultana’s Hands rode hard for the capital, a horde of ten thousand mercenaries given a new life and purpose through righteous fury.
If only she could feel the same though.
In a way she had already lost. A little girl, having shattered the world she had been inhabiting, running back to the one she knew.
I’ll be back for you, people of Nikhtun.
She would have to. The moment the Peacock Throne was hers, she would be back, ready to not just push back the Reratish infidels, but also exact a toll they would not forget for seven generations.
Jinan cleared his throat noisily behind her, and she snapped out of the daydreaming.
“I’ve heard from the scouts,” he said, shouting to keep his words over the rush of wind and neighing animals.
She braced herself, sensing the bad news coming from a mile away. “And?”
“The Zakhanan Empire has invaded the eastern borders. By some accounts they are already hundreds of miles within Istan, knocking at the provincial capital Kakka itself.”
Nuraya shook her head. “The sultan’s fourth army was posted to safeguard the borders there. What happened to them?”
The handsome siphsalar shrugged. “Apparently, your eldest brother summoned that army to the capital.”
And left the soft underbelly of the great sultanate exposed to all those looking for the slightest edge.
So shortsighted.
Was it any different to what she had done?
“We’ll make it right,” said Jinnah, his voice uncharacteristically tender, soft. She blinked, summoning all her courage not to look at him. She was alone, so very alone. Her mother was still cocooned with Mona, their carriage and the train of their provisions barely keeping up with them. Even this man who once only seemed to have eyes for her, had been spending more and more time with her friend instead.
“We will,” she muttered, clicking her heels. Vengeance obeyed, pulling ahead of the siphsalar. She came upon the magi riding beside Vishan. One of them called out to her. She didn't pause, letting Vengeance take her forward to the head of her small army.