by Amber Lough
Everything that I had been welcome to do before they’d discovered I was a jinni was slowly being taken away. The rules had not officially changed, but I was hesitant to go where I was clearly unwanted. At the mosque, some of the people shied away and hissed loud prayers of protection from jinn. The fear in their eyes kept me from taking a step inside.
It didn’t matter that I’d awakened the caliph from his coma and revealed the former vizier’s evil lie that had begun the war between our peoples. No one seemed to remember that my father had been human. They only remembered that my mother had been a jinni. The revelation that I was half-jinni overshadowed everything else. And to make matters worse, I wasn’t an ordinary jinni. I wasn’t a weaver, or a healer, or anything mundane. I was in the Eyes of Iblis Corps and had been trained to spy on humans. I had also claimed to be Zayele, the princess from Zab, and the last time I’d stood before the Court of Honor, I’d been caught in the lie.
No one but Kamal trusted me now.
He smiled. “You’re allowed everywhere, of course. In time, they will get used to you. But before we are surrounded by all those old men, I want to tell you something.” He bent down and picked a pebble off the ground and then tossed it into the stream. It plopped and sank immediately. “The new vizier is going to face a world of troubles. First, he needs to reach an agreement with the jinn in order to end the war once and for all. Second, he will have to find a way to tell the people about Hashim’s treason without making my father look bad. He will have to change the people’s minds about jinn first, and that will take time.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. We needed the war to end now, and the best way for that to happen would be for the caliph to make a statement about Hashim. People’s lives were at stake—it wasn’t the time for worrying about reputations.
He sighed. “I know you want it all to happen immediately, but it can’t. I just…I want you to understand all the pressures the vizier will be facing. His third challenge will be to keep you from getting angry.”
I crossed my arms. “If he is working toward peace between our peoples, then why would I be angry?” I didn’t think we needed to wait, but I wasn’t impatient. From what I’d learned of Zayele, it seemed more like her to be the impatient one. I had been taught how to be watchful and still, controlling my heart rate and my impulse to quicken a situation. I had learned that people are slow to change, as well.
“There’s more.” He swallowed hard. “The vizier will only be allowed to speak with you in public. Otherwise, the people of Baghdad may question his loyalty. If he meets with a jinni behind closed doors, rumors will spread like the stars at twilight.”
He stared into my eyes, unblinking. He was trying to tell me something else beneath all those words, something that saddened him. He pulled me up off the ground then and held me close. When I felt the stiffness of his shoulders, I knew.
“It’s you. You’re the new vizier.”
I felt his head nod against my own. He placed his lips against my ear and whispered, “If it weren’t for the sake of all of us, I would have turned him down. Just to be with you, like this, forever.” He kissed my temple softly.
“It’s an honor to be chosen” was all I could say.
“I made a promise to my father that we wouldn’t see each other in secret.”
Tears ran down my face. “Am I such a monster?”
“No.” He pulled back and held my face in his hands. His eyes were wet. “He knows you saved his life, Najwa, but he is afraid. Not of you, but of ignorance, and the strength of Hashim’s lies. And he is an old man, slow to change.”
“Hashim has great power even in death,” I said bitterly.
“I am going to end all of this, as cleanly and quickly as I can. The hatred and fear must end. And it begins here, in the palace. Which is why I’m bringing you, now, to the Court of Honor. After my father appoints me as vizier, I’m going to begin showing the people how human you are.”
I flinched. I was half-human and half-jinni. Neither one was stronger or better than the other. To see only half of a person’s race was like looking at her shadow to see what color her eyes were.
“Kamal, I’m not going to hide who I am anymore. So if your father believes we shouldn’t be seen together in private, then we’ll meet only in public,” I said. Had they forgotten I could make myself unseen? Or did his father not know? The thought of this strengthened me, and I took a half step back from Kamal and straightened my posture. “Then let’s work on peace, together.”
Finally, he smiled, and it was like daybreak. He kissed my forehead and then guided me along the garden path to the billowing curtains in front of the harem’s door. Before he pulled the curtains back, he leaned his head toward mine and said, “I know what you’re planning, and it can’t happen. I cannot see you. I made a promise.”
I forced my face to remain smooth and calm despite my plummeting spirits.
“But I will want to every moment of every day,” he added before sweeping the red curtain aside and stepping through the opened door.
The Court of Honor was the meeting place for the men who ruled the caliphate. Three walls surrounded the room, each a series of arches and stone, and the fourth side was left open to a large, geometric garden.
Kamal looked over his shoulder and gestured for me to stand off to the side in an alcove opposite the men’s garden, in a place surrounded by a tiled arch of blue and white. From there, I was able to see and hear everyone, but I was not so close that I could cause them any discomfort. Framed by the arch, I was the jinni on display.
The caliph sat on his gilded peacock throne, a head higher than everyone, and gripped the armrests like they were his only hold on earth. He wore a robe embroidered in sapphires as rich as his throne, but the brightness only highlighted how pale he still was from his injury. He smiled weakly at me and then faced the circle of men. Kamal found a stool next to the throne and sat down on it, facing us all from beside the caliph.
The men wore black, and for some, it matched their flowing beards and the scowls creasing their foreheads. A handful looked at me questioningly while the rest made a point of ignoring my existence. One, the scholar I’d met from the House of Wisdom, gave me half a smile before turning his attention to the caliph.
The caliph cleared his throat and waved his arm in the air, pointing a gold-ringed finger at me. “Najwa of the Jinn, we welcome you to the Court of Honor.” His voice had grown stronger since he’d awoken.
I bowed from my niche in the wall. “It is my pleasure, Caliph al-Mansur. My elders send their goodwill and hope for a renewed discussion regarding peace between our peoples.” It was what I’d been instructed to say. Delia, the current commander of the Eyes of Iblis Corps, had drilled it into me before I’d left the Cavern. Since Faisal’s death, she had stepped in until someone could be named his successor. Thinking of her only reminded me of Faisal, so I forced the pain aside.
The caliph’s lips tightened, as if he didn’t believe what I had said. “We know what you have personally done for the caliphate, and we all appreciate it.” There was a murmur amongst the men, but the caliph silenced them with a piercing look. “I, in particular, have much to thank you for. But we have to decide what is to be told to the people of Baghdad, to the caliphate as a whole. You must understand that we cannot tell them the entire truth about Hashim.”
The truth was that Hashim had killed my parents and blamed the attack on the jinn. It had started the war just as he’d planned. Why wasn’t the caliph going to tell the people the truth? The only way to free the jinn of blame was the truth. My jaw tightened, and I forced myself to appear relaxed.
The caliph continued, “I regret that if we were to make a public announcement, there would be a revolt—”
Kamal lifted his head. “But, Father—”
“Not yet, Kamal.” The caliph lifted his hands off the armrests and brought his fingertips together. “It troubles me as much as it does you, but the truth of the matter is that
I will not make such a statement. I will not tell the people what Hashim did to all of us. Think about it, my son. I chose him as vizier. What will happen if the people think I cannot choose an honest man to be my adviser? I agree that we must end this war. There should be—there must be—peace. But it starts from today. We will not stir up the sands of the past.
“Najwa, I am sorry you cannot return to your people with a better story. I also regret that you cannot stay here permanently.”
“Sir, is this because I am a jinni?”
The caliph nodded.
Kamal sucked in a breath and looked up at the ceiling. “But she’s half-human—she had a human father.”
“Any jinni blood at all makes her a jinni in the people’s eyes, Kamal.”
One of the scholars, the one who had been so friendly toward me, cleared his throat loudly and took a step closer to the throne.
“Yes, Jafar?” the caliph asked.
Jafar bowed. “My caliph, some members of the House of Wisdom would like to make a request.” Jafar tugged on his gray beard. “Before the war, when jinn were granted access to the House of Wisdom, we had great discourse, great advancement. If it’s possible, we would like a jinni or two to be allowed there again. For the benefit of scientific discovery.”
There were a few disgruntled clicks of the tongue from the other men, but the caliph nodded thoughtfully. “Under supervision,” he said. “And they must return to their Cavern each night.”
“Yes, of course.” Jafar beamed and rejoined the circle of men, who whispered amongst themselves.
The caliph studied his rings. “I am sure you are all wondering about my appointment for vizier.” The whisperings died instantly. “I have chosen someone I could trust with my life, someone who would never lie to me. Someone we can all trust.” He patted the head of one of the enameled peacocks built into the throne. “My son Kamal.”
The silence that followed was as hollow as an empty cave. Kamal bowed stiffly to his father from his stool. Now that the caliph had made his appointment, it was real. Kamal would work within his position as vizier to bring peace between us, and I would have to stay at a safe, public distance.
Kamal stood up and opened his mouth. I was certain he was going to tell them I should be allowed to stay permanently in the palace, in order to mend the ties between jinn and humans, but instead his eyes widened in surprise and any such words died on his tongue.
The caliph looked up and his face immediately flushed with pride. “Ibrahim!”
Like a flock of birds in flight, we turned in unison to see Prince Ibrahim standing in a beam of sunlight at the far end of the hall. His armor glinted, his arms were crossed, and his eyes burned straight into me.
ATISH AND SHIRIN walked me back to the house that Najwa, Rahela, and I now shared. It was the only house in the Cavern built with humans in mind, and although I wouldn’t have minded a jinni house, Rahela was much more comfortable there.
The house was tucked between long fingers of gypsum shards, with a front of malachite and alabaster. The green and white walls weren’t inspiring, but they were straight, unlike in the jinni homes. The part I liked best about the house was that it wasn’t out in the open, beneath the spears of crystal that hung precariously from the ceiling.
The only negative aspect of the house was that Hashim had lived in it when he was the human ambassador, and none of us wanted to go into his room. It had been cleansed after he left, but no matter how much they cleaned, no one had been able to get the feeling of Hashim out of the corners and shadows.
Atish pushed open the door and let me pass inside, where I found my cousin Rahela sitting in front of a tall loom we had borrowed from Najwa’s adoptive mother, Laira. Rahela plucked the warp like it was a harp, pausing only a second to tie a knot around it. We waited for a moment until she looked up and stopped. The silence echoed in the cold stone room.
“How was your ceremony?” she asked me. She said it in a tone my mother used all the time—both agreeable and disagreeable at the same time. Not my mother, my aunt, I reminded myself. It hadn’t been long since I’d discovered my true mother had been killed when I was an infant, and that she’d been a jinni.
“It was interesting and pretty, I guess. It’s supposed to make us all feel better,” I said. “You should have come. Someone could have helped—”
“I did my prayers, like I am supposed to,” she said. “That should be enough for someone of our faith.”
That was what was wrong, then. I wasn’t acting like a girl from our village should. I wasn’t praying at the right times and I was spending all my time with jinn.
Atish and Shirin stood by the door, and both of them looked ready to run back out. I motioned for them to stay, and went to Rahela, pretending I wanted to see what she was weaving.
“Rahela, you don’t have to stay here. Someone could take you back.”
She plucked at the warp and continued to tie her knots. “Back where?” Pluck, knot, pluck, knot. “I have no place. I can’t go home, because I failed in the one job I was ever given. You.”
I had failed her, actually, but I didn’t want to irritate her more by bringing it up again.
“I’m sure if you go home, they’ll understand. Or you can go to Najwa. She has no idea what humans are like, even if she thinks she does. I’m sure she needs you to help her with etiquette just like you did before.”
“I don’t want to go back to Baghdad. It’s not safe for me there. I knew. I knew you’d changed places with a jinni, and I didn’t tell anyone. It’s not safe for Najwa either.” She narrowed her eyes at Atish, the soldier in the room. “The war isn’t over, and I think you’ve all forgotten that.”
“No one has forgotten,” he answered gruffly. “And I agree. Najwa isn’t as safe as she thinks she is. Prince Ibrahim will return soon, and he has never liked us.”
“See?” Rahela huffed. “Nowhere to go. Are you trying to get rid of me?”
“No! I just…you haven’t seemed very happy. All you’ve been doing is, well, that.” I pointed at the piles of rugs on the floor. They were hideous and had been done in a rush, but the sheer number was staggering. Rahela had been pouring all of her energy into making scrappy things that looked like nests of matted dog hair. At home, in Zab, she would spend months on one rug, and it would be intricate, patterned, and wanted. Here, she was practically throwing them aside after she finished each one. She had to know they were the ugliest things she’d ever made.
“I’m practicing,” she said stiffly, “on this new machine. It’s more complicated than ours, but faster. After I’ve learned how to use it properly, I’ll make something worth keeping.”
“I think you’ve mastered it by now,” Shirin said. Rahela looked over at her and shook her head, and that was when I noticed the dark half circles beneath her eyes and the hollowing of her cheeks. She hadn’t been sleeping or eating much since we’d come to the Cavern. Her fingers looked like they’d snap the next time she plucked a strong thread.
I turned to Atish. “We’ve got to get her home. I don’t think my aunt would mind having her back, and she can explain to them all what happened. Please, teach me how to transport so I can get her there.”
Everyone spoke at once.
“I’m not going back,” Rahela said.
“Only a teacher can show you how to do that,” Shirin said.
“Let me do it for you,” Atish said.
I slumped onto the nearest chair, a carved hunk of petrified wood that was as cold as the walls. A chill spread through my legs and up my back, and I almost reached for one of the dreadful rugs to stuff beneath me. “There’s something else.” The idea came to me in a rush, so maybe the Breaking had worked after all. Maybe my little orb had just been broken by one of the flames.
“I have a bad feeling about this,” Atish groaned, but there was a slight upward turn to his mouth.
“There’s a reason I must go home too, although I don’t want to stay there forever.” Atish was abo
ut to say something, but I held up my hands, shushing him. “I have a little cousin. Yashar. Last autumn, I took him out to the desert and a sandstorm ripped his eyes apart. It was all my doing. He wouldn’t have been out there if I hadn’t convinced him to come. All I want to do is fix him, fix his eyes, so he can be a part of the tribe again.”
“Zayele,” Shirin said in a sad, earnest voice, “wounds like that, especially if they happened a while ago, are difficult to heal.”
“But jinni wishes are strong! Najwa woke up the caliph from a brain sickness, and you healed a jinni’s broken leg yesterday. I saw him running along the canal this morning. If you can do that, surely you can heal Yashar’s eyes. They’re just scarred—it’s not as if he’s lost them entirely.”
Rahela rubbed her temples. “Yashar’s situation is unfortunate, but it isn’t your fault.”
“Yes, it is.” I pulled away from her and went to Atish. “We need to get back to the village. Not just for Rahela, not just for Yashar, but to guarantee they find out what really happened in the palace, with me, with Najwa, with Hashim. Don’t you understand?”
Atish pressed his lips together. He glanced at Shirin for a second, then nodded. “I have to meet Captain Rashid in a few minutes. Maybe they will have heard back from Najwa. Maybe the village already knows what happened.”
He spun around and left through the front door, shutting it behind him. I ran to the window and pressed my face against the thin glass, watching as he marched down an alley between a large, bubble-shaped building and the library. When I couldn’t see him anymore, I whirled on Shirin.
“So,” I asked, “how do you do the transport wish?”
IBRAHIM MARCHED DOWN the middle of the hall with his sword hanging off his hip. As he approached, the walls seemed to peel away, as if he were running a plow down the center, dividing the men in the black robes from me. The only person who didn’t move away was Kamal. He placed himself in front of me and straightened his back.