Grave Ghost

by Tia Reed

  “Um. Any ideas?” Vinsant said, pulling up short as the kaidon scuttled up and down the walls, its joints and mandibles clicking.

  “Yes. Alert Mahktashaan Fenz and get him to deal with it.”

  “Not on your life. This is my mystery.”

  “Do you even know how many mahktashaan kaidons have killed?”

  “That wouldn’t have stopped Majoria Guntek.”

  “Have fun.” Tokver strode up the steps and out of the chamber before Vinsant had the presence of mind to order him to stay.

  A full quarter hour later, Vinsant was still staring at the kaidon. The insect was showing no signs of fatigue. A trip to the books to search for its weakness proved to be wasted time. Shivering, Vinsant sat on the ground, chin in one palm, and watched the disgusting thing scuttle. His breath was forming white clouds in front of him and his stomach was reminding him it was dinner time. Well, those problems he could fix. A few heat balls summoned, he turned his mind to food. The problem at hand needed something more sustaining than the crude fare in the mines. Visualising the palace kitchen pantry, he summoned a roast leg of lamb and some of the master cook’s piquant sauce. A berry pie completed his banquet. He was gnawing tender morsels off a bone when a small voice interrupted.

  “I can help you.”

  Springing up, Vinsant lost his balance and fell against the seal. The bone went flying and bits of meat fell from his mouth as he gawked at a rose-pink genie floating cross-legged in the middle of the room. He yelled as the kaidon bore down on him, pushed himself away from the alcove, and tripped onto his knees. One hand land flat in the pie.

  “Keep away,” he said from his undignified position.

  “Why? I showed you the verse, didn’t I?”

  “That was Mahktos.”

  “Uh uh. It was me.”

  “You? Why?” He flicked pie from his hand and stood up.

  She glanced over her shoulder, as though checking for an eavesdropper. Her nut-brown hair was drawn into a ponytail which flicked over her glittery pink top with long sheer sleeves. All the rose crystals in her joints looked kind of pretty. Like jewellery. “I don’t want him to get it.”

  “Who?”

  Her eyes wide, she shook her head.

  “Oh, you mean your indigo friend? How do I know you’re not working with him? Hang on a minute, you were at the palace, weren’t you, the night my sister ran away?” He scraped the pie off his hand onto the rock behind him.

  “If you saw me, you know I helped.”

  “Why?”

  “Mahktos would want me to.”

  That was so not what Vinsant had expected, a sound of disbelief caught in his throat.

  The genie was glancing about like she expected someone to catch her at her mischief. It had to be part of the act. She floated down beside the pedestal with the state of Mahktos. She had to be showing off to keep her jewelled pink slippers just above the floor. Either that or she was fussy about keeping clean. “We need to make a pact.”

  “Yes, right. Think I don’t know what you’re doing, making out like a friend just to trick me?”

  “I can’t help you if we don’t make a pact.”

  “I don’t need your help.”

  “You do. You really do. You just don’t know it yet.”

  Vinsant chuckled. This was a cinch. A puny girl was never going to blast him to smithereens, even if she was a genie. “I think I’ll wait until I do know it.” He crossed his arms and puffed out his chest. He had forgotten about the squished berries he was smearing all over his robe, but he was going to keep a serious face. “And even then I’ll outsmart you. You know why? Because Mahktos gave me my power. My power is sourced in Him, not you djinn. That makes me stronger than you.”

  “But he’s not a normal djinn. He almost killed you and those other mahktashaan.” She was fretting at her ponytail, looking like she was about to cry.

  No way was he going to fall for that. Vinsant pointed. “Begone, genie.” Berry filling dripped from his palm to the floor. He winced in embarrassment, but the genie drifted up. It was going to work. And his crystal was not even glowing.

  She would have to spoil it by saying, “Oh, grow up. I haven’t tried to hurt you and you’re not even a real mahktashaan.”

  Enough was enough. He was freezing, he was dead tired, but he could still concentrate. Vinsant glared his resolve down the length of his arm. Trying to ignore the sticky goo, he assumed his best imitation of Levi. “Begone, I say.”

  “You are such a boy!” The genie huffed and disappeared with a muted pop. Not even a wisp of smoke. Too easy. He was going to be a powerful mahktashaan. Nothing he would not be able to do.

  A sharp tap made him jump. The kaidon was pressed against the seal, beating its remaining two tails against the barrier. With its vicious jaws working against each other, it looked hungry. For human flesh. Defeating that insect had to be the one thing he could not do.

  Vinsant licked his berry splattered hand and looked at the squashed pie with regret. Perhaps a cream puff would give him the energy he needed for an idea.

  Chapter 17

  YESTERDAY’S FULL MEAL coupled with a hard day’s ride, west across the grassy plains, had rekindled her appetite. Kordahla ate, savouring smokey morsels of the gazelle the soldiers had picked off from a grazing herd and felled with a volley of arrows. It was the first time she had tasted her meal since she had left Kaijoor.

  Across the snapping fire, through a haze of flying insects and under the shadow of his hood, Arun smiled. In the vicinity of so many common men, he preferred to wear full robe. That sharpened her regret, Vae’oenka forgive her, for he was the one man here she felt understood the travesty of a marriage to the despicable Verdaani lord. She stood, overcome by an inexplicable desire to look full upon the rugged contours of his face. The men at the second fire paused in their conversation, trying hard not to look her way lest they kindle Ahkdul’s ire. She took a deep breath as they resumed their overbright chatter, too reticent to voice her request. Arun understood.

  “Your Highness, may I escort Princess Kordahla to her tent?”

  Mariano nodded. Arun crossed to her and made a small bow. He was careful to remain apart as they swished through the grass. His scent, cedar, soothed her in this land where every blade of grass held a faint odour of rot. Mariano, overprotective now she had betrayed his trust, followed close, his sharp eyes measuring the distance between them. The Vae had been kind to send the minoria with her brother. No other mahktashaan would have dared suggest a mind link with Vinsant.

  It was early yet. She saw that in Arun’s posture as he lit the candles inside the tent.

  Removing his hood, he held out a hand. “May I, Princess?” he asked.

  She looked at his hand, invited him with her eyes, wondering how he could yet accord her respect, not willing to trust. He dropped his hand. She nodded. Today she welcomed the touch of his fingers at her temples, though she closed her eyes. The pity in those unnatural blue irises, in the turn of his lips was more than she could bear.

  Are you well? he asked.

  I am healing. It was not pure truth, and could never be when she was denied company and forced to ride day after day in Ahkdul’s presence. Let me talk to Vinsant.

  Bear with me, Princess. If the prince is training, his supervisor may not allow the link.

  A few seconds later, she smiled.

  Hello, Arun, uh sorry, Minoria. Kordahla? I can tell you’re there.

  There it was again, that hint of surprise from Arun. It had become so common it no longer troubled her. Yes, Vinsant. I am here.

  You sound much better.

  I’m fine, but please, let’s talk about you.

  I’m. . . doing research. In the library here. You’d love to read all these books. As he prattled on about fables, and swordplay, and magic practice, she luxuriated in the feel of his presence. . . all sorts of myths and legends. Which reminds me. Arun, I was reading about kaidons but nobody seems to know how to defeat them
.

  The image of the fearsome insect he sent made her flinch.

  It is but an illustration from a book, Arun reassured.

  Minoria?

  She sensed Arun’s amusement, but he ignored her brother’s persistence. Only when she had settled did he answer. They’re reputed to be indestructible, gifted an outer shell which blunts swords and, once mature, repels all magic. Legend has it Mahktos set them upon our earth as a predator of the djinn. All the heroes of old emerged battle-scarred from any encounter, bleeding and maimed after hacking off the tails, the pincers and the jaws. Remind me to tell you the legend of Heriol one day.

  Oh. But if I see one, what do I do? I mean they do live in the mines.

  Nobody has seen a kaidon in hundreds of years.

  But what if they did?

  Run.

  She actually laughed. Promise me you won’t go kaidon hunting.

  Not a chance. I’ve already made you one promise which puts a damper on my fun. Think I’m going to –

  She cried out as Mariano wrenched her away from Arun, severing the link. His hand closed so tight over her arm, she gasped. She bowed her head from Arun’s fleeting glance lest her brother suspect an untruth.

  “What liberty do you take, mahktashaan?”

  “Forgive me, Your Highness. I sought nothing more than to cheer her.”

  “What manner of magic did you use, that you could so easily bring her to laughter?”

  “No magic, Prince Mariano, unless you count the joy memories may bring. She was reliving the day Prince Vinsant hid pigeons beneath a cloth, set them to flight and scared you both into thinking a ghost had risen.

  Mariano’s features softened as he remembered, the suggestion of a smile at his lips. How they had laughed that day. “And her laughter, it was real?”

  “As true as any joy a memory may bring.” He lowered his voice to offer a caution. “Your Highness, she returns from despair. Careless actions may hurl her back.”

  Arun was one of perhaps five people who had earned the right to blunt speech with Mariano. Here, where the Crown Prince’s authority was absolute over the small group of Terlaani, he might yet choose to punish such forthrightness. Instead, turning her to him, Mariano lifted her chin. The doubt on his face kindled a deep hurt.

  He kissed her on the forehead. “I miss your laughter, Kordahla. If Arun can remind you what happiness is, I must permit his attention.”

  She turned her head, not quite a direct line to Arun, but Mariano brought her face around with a frown.

  “Minoria,” he said, “in my presence you may converse with the princess as we ride. I trust I needn’t remind you not to overstep your bounds.”

  Arun drew his hood on, and bowed. When he righted himself, there was nothing in his stance that indicated deference. “A mahktashaan is honour bound, Highness,” he reminded with a hint of reproof. As he left the tent, a memory came to her, of walking on his arm through the palace gardens the night he had promised to be her friend. The night she had run away. Her discomfort grew. She was staring at the tent flap when Mariano gave her a gentle shake.

  “Do not dishonour either yourself or your family further.”

  A tiny cry warbled in her throat. Did he suspect they talked in private? Without the comfort of speaking to Vinsant she would succumb to madness.

  “You are strong. You will return to the living.” Mariano kissed her again and left her alone.

  Relief made her legs weak. Kordahla sank onto her blankets. Her mother’s veil around her hair was a comfort, as was the feeble light of the candle. Strange how it looked more pink than orange. Tonight, she would let it burn, draw what warmth she could from its flicker, and from the drifting scent of roses tempering the pervasive odour of rot. Autumn was settling its evening chill over the plain, and she shivered. As she reached to pull a blanket over herself, cold air brushed her nape. Her breath came out in a puff of white.

  “Please don’t be afraid,” a quiet voice said.

  Fear turned her rigid and mute. She forced herself to dip her chin. The rose genie lay beside her, her head propped on one hand. Kordahla pushed herself up. The genie mirrored her posture, the crystals at her wrists and knuckles spreading their rosy glow through the tent.

  “Please don’t call the mahktashaan. I thought he’d never leave.”

  What do you want? she asked over and over without giving voice to the thought, willing the creature to leave before her hammering heart burst from her chest.

  The genie glanced over her shoulder, and listened to the chatter, the footsteps, the clangs of the camp. “I need your help,” she said when she was satisfied they would be undisturbed. She floated up until their eyes were level. This girl, her long hair drawn into a high pony tail, her gaze sincere, was so different from the indigo djinn.

  Kordahla’s hand gripped a fistful of blanket. The djinn were duplicitous. The djinn did nothing but deceive. A whisper was all she could manage. “Leave.”

  The shimmer of the genie’s skin dulled. “Please don’t scream. You remember me, don’t you? I distracted the guards at the palace gate, and helped you through the scums.”

  “I made no pact. I did not ask for your help.”

  The girl kept looking at the tent flap. “I did it because you were helping Timak.”

  “He’s safe in Myklaan. He’s suffered enough. You should let him be.”

  “I know. But. Please. They’ll punish me if they find out what I’m doing. He’ll throw me into the deepest mines for an eternity.” Her eyes widened as her voice hushed. “There are kaidons there.”

  The genie’s distress seemed so genuine it tugged at Kordahla’s heart. The word was out before she had time to think. “Who?”

  “Him. The indigo djinn.” The genie tilted her head as though listening. “He plans to turn the world to chaos. Not even Mahktos can see into his heart, but He knows and the mahktashaan suspect.”

  “Speak to them. Ask the mahktashaan to help you.”

  “They can’t. Your brother holds the key –”

  “Vinsant.”

  “– to stopping…” They stared at each other. The genie was biting her lip. “He won’t deal with me. Please, you have to tell him to trust me.”

  “But I don’t. You are djinn and I don’t trust you.” Vinsant. She would buy all the salt in The Three Realms to protect him from the schemes of djinn.

  “Timak does.”

  Kordahla’s breath was sharp. The battered, abused little boy had counted this creature a friend, had confided she offered her aid without a pact. That was curious for a djinn, but it was not above suspicion. All the tales cautioned aid from a djinn was a curse under any guise.

  “Did you know he’s staying with the mages?”

  She hadn’t; how could she? For that snippet, she was grateful, but it was far from enough to buy her aid. She picked up the candle, paltry protection from the sting of a djinn. “I am already in the debt of the one you fear. I would not make a second pact before I know how utterly my life has been ruined by the first.”

  “I ask no pact of you.”

  “What is it you want?”

  The genie leaned forward. “I want you to send a message to your brother. I want you to tell him to deal with me.”

  “Never.”

  The genie drifted higher, twirling the end of ponytail around a shimmering finger. “If you want to be free of Lord Swine, I can deal for it.”

  “Buy my freedom with my brother’s? Is this not the pact you said you would forgo?”

  “No. You don’t understand. The indigo djinn is searching for –”

  Outside a cry went up. “Genie!” Swords rasped out of scabbards and footsteps thundered towards her as she saw too late the floating shadow of the girl upon the canvas.

  The genie’s eyes went wide. “Ooh. I have to go.” She blinked out as Arun pulled aside the flap. Cerulean light burst from his crystal as he sprang to kneel in front of her.

  “Kordahla, are you all right?” H
is hands were on her, steadying her in the wake of the bizarre visit.

  Mariano was at the entrance, sword in hand. The soldiers crowded behind him. “You will accord the princess her due title.”

  She rose, and Arun with her. He bowed his head. “I beg your forgiveness, Highnesses.” His crystal died, but he unslung it and held it high. The faintest glow sparked within.

  Mariano’s eyes narrowed. “Well?”

  “The genie is gone,” Arun said.

  Two strides brought her brother to her. His harsh grip as he shook her drove away the lingering tenderness of Arun’s touch. “Did you deal?”

  Somehow she found the dignity to look into his eyes, the courage to speak. “I did not.”

  He released her with a small push that set her against the cold canvas. The look of disgust as he turned away did not upset her. He could blame her if he would. This time she had done nothing wrong.

  Mariano pulled his turban off his head and threw it on the floor. He mopped his brow with the back of his hand. “Search her.”

  Arun stepped between her and her brother. “Princess,” he murmured, waiting for consent. That threw her. She did not deserve it. Neither would she submit to the invasion. She closed her eyes and tensed, ready to fight.

  His fingers at her temple were gentle. I will not search you.

  You betray your oath.

  I do not, for my oath was as much to protect you as serve your brother.

  I did not deal. Tell that to my brother, for he will not believe it from my lips.

  And the other? The indigo djinn. It is he I fear.

  His refusal to delve into the recesses of her mind was a kindness that drove her to confess. I do not know what he will take, but I bargained for my life. Strike me down, for it is what your kind do to the hapless. I do not care.

  Kordahla.

  Do not seek to comfort me. I am beyond it.

  I will not sit by and watch you fade to a ghost.

  You must, for neither Mariano nor I will allow anything else.

  He lingered, silent but present. Dare she admit she welcomed the spark of warmth his words brought to her bitter world?

  His fingers left her temple, and with them his reassurance.