by Amber Lough
I crunched over the gravel, threading my way between crystals of jinn I did not know. Finally, I reached the green crystal that contained the memories of Faisal. While Mariam’s was a curiosity, Faisal’s was a shard in my heart. I still half expected him to stop by the fountain and interrupt my break from school with something he’d found on the surface. But now he would never do that. He would never admonish me for not doing my best. He would never do any of these things, because now he was dead, and all that remained were his memories, locked up and swirling like smoke within the crystal.
His stood beside my mother’s in a row composed entirely of fallen Dyads. A stone sat on the ground between the two crystals, with the front edge sliced off. The smooth surface was engraved with their names.
Dyads were together even in death.
I had come here for help from Faisal, but now that my mother was within reach, I stood mesmerized by the coils of yellow and gold swirling within her crystal. What had she been like? Why had she left the Cavern and married a human? What made her so brave?
Would she have wanted me to grow up in the Cavern, away from my sister?
Faisal’s crystal stood silent beside Mariam’s as though it agreed I should take a look inside the golden memories first. I took a step closer to her crystal and pressed my palms against the surface. Tendrils of yellow smoke licked the quartz behind my splayed fingers, but I could not feel them.
“Mariam.” My voice scratched at the air. “Mother. What would you tell me now if you were still alive?” I knew she could not listen. The crystal was cold and hard, and had never contained life. It was a museum housing her memories, inviting me with its curlicues of golden smoke.
My eyes glazed over, my mind felt pulled to the right, then the left, and I slipped into Mariam and her life from long ago.
—
A beam of daylight poured down in a single stream and illuminated the main hall of Iblis’s Palace. It drenched my hands in a pure white light and reflected off a ring on one of my fingers.
I didn’t wear rings. I tried to clear my head by shaking it, but it wouldn’t move. I wasn’t in control of my body, and there was someone else there. Mariam. I was reliving one of her memories. Swiftly, her mind wrapped around mine, and I was her. Her body was mine.
I squeezed my fist, holding the light within my hand, and then drew it to my chest, as though I’d been able to capture the sunbeam. Like an unopened gift, it was still and promising, its musk and blossoms tightly woven, still hidden from the world.
This was something I understood well, and I loosened my fingers, letting out an imaginary bit of captured light.
“Mariam. Welcome home,” my father said. I looked up and saw him standing beside the impression of the angel’s feather. I—Mariam—gulped away any sign of surprise and smiled.
No. Her father cannot be Melchior. That would mean…
“I just returned.”
Melchior is my grandfather.
“And? Is your wanderlust under control now?”
He still did not understand. I didn’t go to the mountains because I wanted to travel. I didn’t dance in the snow because I wanted to feel my toes numbing from the chill. I hadn’t learned the tribe’s songs because I felt the need to sing. All these things were wonderful, of course, but they were not why I had stayed in Zab.
“Yes, Father.” I glanced at the floor between us. How was I going to tell him? I had come back for just this purpose, but now that I faced him, I felt weak and my breath was uneven. These were things he would notice.
“Why don’t you report back to the Shaitan and let them know you’re ready for the next stage in your training?” He began to head toward a door, then paused and turned back to face me. “By the way, where’s Faisal? I haven’t seen him in days.”
“Um…” The words caught in my throat. When I last saw him, Faisal had been as pale as a branch scraped to the quick. Then he transported away, and I did not know where to find him. “He hasn’t been here?”
Father frowned. “Did you have an argument? Was he displeased with the humans up there?”
“He wasn’t…he didn’t…” I could not finish. Any more, and I’d be saying too much.
“Mariam, I understand how complicated relationships can be in a Dyad. When your mother was alive, she was quite jealous of my connection with Aga.” His mouth thinned, and he forced smile. “Are you two in love?”
I balked. “Of course not.”
“That seems like a rather quick decision. You never know what could happen, after a few years together.”
“Father, I do not love him. I cannot love him.”
“Why are you so certain? Is there someone else?”
Everything we’d said had led to this. Swallowing back my fears, I nodded and suppressed an urge to lie. Lying would seem easier, but it would not last long with my father.
“Who is it?”
“Evindar.” Half of me sang with his name on my lips, and half of me trembled, belying all of my Shaitan training.
Father whipped his whole body around to face me. “That is a human name, Mariam.” It was more of an accusation than a statement of fact. I cringed.
Don’t tell him. He never understands. Never.
“Yes.” I had expected him to be angry, but he was quiet. Almost too quiet. I stole a glance and saw he was looking over my shoulder at the apricot tree.
“Did you ever eat one of the fruits?” he asked me.
I blinked. “I…I don’t think so. Why?”
“Because eating from the poisoned tree is the only thing I can think of that would explain your treasonous heart.” He said each word delicately, as though he were talking to a child frightened of the dark. Then he pressed a palm to his chest. “The thought of you with a human man hurts my soul, Mariam.”
“But, Father, you don’t know him!”
His face flushed in anger. “You are going to have to make a decision, daughter of mine. You can either be the Shaitan you’ve been trained to be, or you can betray me and never return. I suggest you think about it.”
My breath froze in my lungs. This was not a choice! I couldn’t choose between Evindar and my family. Was this what Faisal had meant when he said Evindar would be the end of our Dyad?
—
I woke up gasping for air and shivering from cold. I slid down to the gravel and tugged on my shawl. My head was buzzing, an effect of the Memory Crystals, and I had to blink several times before I could see clearly.
Mariam’s father was Melchior. Why hadn’t he told me when I saw him earlier? Was this a secret?
It was a long time before I got up off the rocks and made it to the staircase. I could not shake the feeling of dread Mariam had felt when she was faced with having to choose between her lover and her father.
If she had not chosen Evindar, I would not exist.
TAJA MARCHED DOWN a dark corridor and stopped at an iron gate set into a gap in the wall. The bars were thin and taut, like stitches holding the palace together. When she pressed on the black square that made them open, I sucked in a breath—I was worried the walls would fall apart. Taja cocked an eyebrow at me and I shrugged before going out the gate.
“The black square is interesting.”
She smirked. “It’s just a key.”
We entered a courtyard that was tucked away between the palace and the Cavern wall, where the gypsum had not been left in its usual state. The long, pointed shards were filed down and carved into various shapes. I recognized a snake, a rabbit, and a lion. One crystal had kept its sticklike shape but was covered in round owl eyes. It was eerie.
A thin iron railing swept away from the wall, curving outward from the courtyard, and met up on the other end with the side of the palace. Between the railing, the palace, and the crystal shards was a plain, triangular courtyard containing nothing but creamy stone tiles, two obsidian benches facing each other, and a line of tiny potted trees along the palace’s wall. Behind the iron railing was the last point of t
he Lake of Fire. The lake wall did not continue this far, and without its width and stone, the flames flickered tauntingly at foot level through the railing’s bars. One swept up the side of the Cavern and disappeared in one of the untouched crystals’ shadows.
“This is where we will train.”
“Is this only for the magi?” I asked.
Taja nodded. “That black key will only work for us. You included. You must not bring anyone who isn’t a magus here, understand?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Now it’s time for the first lesson.” Taja frowned and pointed at the benches. “Sit there, facing the wall.”
I sat, pulled on my dress to straighten it, and waited for more instruction. Taja paced in front of me, swishing her caftan back and forth over the stone floor while rubbing her forehead with the tips of her fingers. “The first thing I need to do is explain the role of the magi in the Cavern. We aren’t a separate group, like the Shaitan. We don’t have any particular talents like the others, such as reading minds—”
“There are jinn who can read minds?” I blurted out.
She rolled her eyes. “Of course. They’re in the Mark of the Law, and they’re not supposed to read your mind without permission. You can tell them by their mark. It’s a bat. Anyway, there are jinn who can heal and jinn who can make themselves invisible for long stretches of time, like your sister. But the magi have nothing specific that defines us outside of the others, other than the fact that we can do a little of everything they can do. We’re great adapters, and so we can blend in with any talent, learn their trade, and sometimes even outperform them. Most magi end up in the Eyes of Iblis Corps because it’s dynamic and challenging.”
“Are you in the Corps?”
She stretched her neck to one side. “No, it’s too calm for me. I’m in the Shaitan, with my dyad.”
“Do you have to do something other than be a dyad?”
“You can’t just ‘be.’ That’d be a dull life. You’ll find out soon enough.” She shook her head and turned toward the Lake of Fire. “I must admit I did not expect this assignment, and I don’t know what it will mean for you as a magus if half your blood is human. Maybe it makes no difference.” She walked over to the railing and held her hand over the lake. A moment later, one of the blue flames flickered near her fingers, like she had beckoned it. It flowed through her hand before crashing against the crystal wall and dissipating.
I went to the railing and leaned against it, careful to keep my distance from her. “What did you learn at your first lesson? Was Melchior your teacher?”
“No. Well, yes, but he was only one of them. I was also taught by a few other magi and Aga, Melchior’s dyad. Aga will teach you too, but not now. She will be there when you’re ready to pair up with a Shaitan. But first, you must learn to control your power.” She smiled and closed her eyes. “You have to learn to quiet your mind on command. It’s the only way to make your wishes clear, direct.”
I winced. “Is that why my wish on Yashar didn’t work?”
“I’m not allowed to discuss him with you.” She spun toward me and I saw determination in her eyes. “To be a magus is a great responsibility. We are the ones who keep the Cavern alive.”
“How do we do that?”
“That’s something you’ll learn in your final lesson. First, see the ceiling’s midpoint?” I followed her finger to where it pointed at the very top of the Cavern. The crystals knitted together like charcoal webbing, which made them difficult to differentiate. Only the tips made their way out of the shadows.
“Yes.”
“In the crevices, you’ll find a nursery. Your task is to find out what sort of stone is embedded in the top of the dome without waking any of the babies.”
I squinted up at the ceiling. “What in the world would live up there?”
“Bats, of course.” She grinned.
“I’m glad we’re starting with an easy lesson,” I said, groaning. The ceiling was at least a hundred feet high, and although there were crystals I could use as handholds, once the ceiling curled inward, they’d be too slick to keep me up. And all that just to reach into a sleeping horde of bats. “Is this what you had to do for your first lesson?”
“It’s not as difficult as it looks. Remember, you’re not limited to your human weaknesses.”
I could wish my way there.
“I should mention that you can’t fly there, and you can’t transport within the Cavern. Someone tried that once, and they ended up impaled on one of the shards,” she said dryly.
“This keeps getting more and more interesting.” I pulled up my sleeves, rolled back my shoulders, and studied the shadowy darkness above. “And this is something only a magus can do?”
“No one else has tried, but I’m sure they’d fail. It takes our unique…adaptability, as I mentioned earlier. The best way to understand that is to complete this lesson.” She walked over to the bench and sat down, spread her skirt out over her ankles, and gestured at the ceiling. “Go on,” she urged.
I almost rolled my eyes at her before going to the wall and grabbing on to the bottom crystal. It was the color of salt and as long as I was tall. I pulled myself up onto it and then onto the next one, climbing the crystals like they were giant, slippery tree branches. Each time I made it onto a crystal, I had to stretch, pull, and hike my skirt up to my knees to get to the next one. When my arms and back were burning and my fingers were slick with sweat, I sank down into a crouch on a smoky quartz shard to rest and think. My resting place wasn’t level, and I had to hold on to keep myself from sliding forward. Carefully, I leaned over to my right to look down. Taja was on the bench still, but she was tiny. If I slipped, I’d land either at her feet or on the iron fence that lined the Lake of Fire.
There had to be a better way. Somehow, Taja had managed this. She was a fighter, but this had nothing to do with strength or the ability to climb. I knew this now that I was halfway there. The crystal above me was pointed down at the ground. Unless I turned into a spider, there’d be no way to get myself to the bat nursery.
My stomach fluttered. Maybe that was it. I couldn’t transport, but I could change things, maybe even myself. I needed to focus, like Taja had said, and make the right wish.
My feet slipped forward an inch, and I let them drape over the side so that I could grip the crystal with the back of my knees. I leaned back on my palms, took a deep breath, and closed my eyes.
Darkness and silence surrounded me like I was inside one of the Breaking’s glass balls. It only took a second before I remembered seeing a bird climb the cliffs at home. I knew this type of bird well because I had raised one. When I was eight, I found a wallcreeper hopping beneath a shrub. Her foot was broken, probably from a fight with a cat, and I picked her up off the ground, splinted her leg with my mother’s help, and brought her crickets to eat. After a few weeks, I took her back to the base of the cliff and set her free. She didn’t chirp or sing when she hopped up the side of the cliff, and within moments, she was higher than I could ever climb. This bird was what I needed to become.
I slowed my breathing and visualized her little gray head, her dark, swept-back wings, and the crimson feathers that peeked out beneath. She had tiny little feet that were strong and sure. They could grip rock, even if it was slick like glass. They’d find the smallest cracks in the crystal and cling on easily.
Carefully, I crafted my wish as though it were clay. I shaped it into a wallcreeper and put myself inside. Change, I wished.
My skin tightened, and I screamed, but my scream wasn’t human. In a heartbeat, my body folded into itself and I sprouted feathers. My lips hardened and pushed forward.
I screamed again, and the call went out far into the empty air.
In pain, I lurched forward and rolled toward the end of the crystal. My vision was brighter and clearer than ever before, and I saw Taja’s eyes widen before my feet—my claws—gripped the edge. They gripped it easily, as though I’d spent my whole life on vertical
walls.
“Zayele! Are you all right?” Taja called from below. I twisted my head and tried to spit out words, but my tongue was too stiff. Taja raised an eyebrow and then laughed. “That is not what I expected! Go, but don’t wake up those bats!”
I snapped my beak shut and hopped up the crystals like I weighed nothing. Once, I spread my wings out just to see the blood-red feathers and took a long lunge to the next crystal, which hung down like a bottomless pillar. It wasn’t flying, exactly.
I’m the only jinni ever who turned into a bird and didn’t get to fly.
A few minutes later, I reached the nursery. Hoping I wouldn’t wake the babies, I hopped from open space to open space, which was hard to find because the bats were packed in tight. But there was one place they weren’t hanging from—right in the center, a golden spike pierced through the huddling mass. It didn’t go much farther than their wrinkly ears, but I was able to spot it. It was sharp as a knife, and just looking at it somehow pinched my little bird heart with awe.
I spread my wings and fluttered over their heads to the golden point. My claws curled around it. It was cold as ice, which I hadn’t expected from something made of gold. Suddenly, bats exploded from their perch, their wings stirring up clouds of foul-smelling air. They swooped around me, nudging me away from the babies with their noses. Now that the ceiling was left mostly bare, I was able to get a better look at the golden spike. The base fanned out in a perfect circle, and the edge was engraved with Arabic script that repeated the name of one of Allah’s daughters, over and over.
—
When I returned to the magi’s garden, Taja was bent over one of the potted plants, picking at the leaves. I chirped, and before she could turn around, I wished myself back into my normal form. It hurt, but it was quick.
“I’m back.”
She glanced upward. “You woke the bats.”
I shrugged. “No bat was harmed during my test.”