Grave Ghost

by Tia Reed

  And so she was cursed either way. His if she let go and died, his if she dealt and lived.

  Tell Indie I might deal.

  “Vinsant, no!”

  “Might, flea? I see right through you,” the indigo djinn said as though he heard every word of their private exchange. “I’m afraid, my little vixen, you’re stuck with me, right here, until you make up your mind.”

  “What do you want?” Surely if she talked he would not let her fall into the jaws of the three large shadows paddling towards the boat. Below her a snout poked out of the water. The jaws nipped. Her slippers dangled out of reach.

  Last chance for the quartz, evil dude. She sensed Vinsant’s panic. The djinn must have too because he laughed.

  “Once I’m done here,” Indigo said.

  The thought of her baby brother all alone with this foul creature undid her.

  “Help!” she called, surprised at the strength in her voice.

  Feet ran across the deck.

  “Help!”

  The indigo djinn reared up, a giant who blotted out the moon.

  Footsteps scuffled to a halt. “Djinn!”

  Thumps and bumps stirred the boat. Sluggish feet clomped her way.

  “Help.” Silent tears ran down her cheeks. Nothing made sense any more. Live or die, she was caged.

  “Has she dealt?” Ahkdul’s enraged voice demanded.

  “Enough, Ahkdul. She would not be in peril if she had,” Mariano answered. “Move aside, djinn.”

  A malicious laugh juddered right through her. “Make me.”

  Swords clinked. Laughter boomed. Cold mist wrapped the gliding ship. The djinn reached down and plucked one of her fingers off the gunwale, holding it away with his own. “Will you deal for your betrothed, Lord Flea? Your heir for her life.”

  “My heir will come from her womb or not at all.”

  “Promise,” the djinn said, plucking her middle finger free. Her remaining fingers were sliding off. Below, the jabberweis were slapping their tails against the ship.

  A sword slashed above her, right through the indigo djinn. The creature ripped the weapon out of its wielder’s hand and hurled it overboard. His laughter echoed off the clouds as it cartwheeled through their flimsy veil into the starry sky.

  “Puny mortals. Insects beneath my feet. Your crude muscles are no match for the nail on my little toe.” The djinn floated out of the boat, enclosed her wrist in his hand, and pried off another finger.

  High in the sky, the sword peaked in front of green Dindarin. It hung there, shining with the full moon’s light, its once plain hilt now studded with glowing gems.

  “You bluff, djinn. You are forbidden to kill,” Ahkdul said, so calm she could mean nothing to him.

  The djinn roared. “You dare to preach the laws of my kind!”

  The sword dropped. Its tip lodged in the yellow moonbeam. The frail rose genie took hold of its grip and levered herself up.

  “Tell them rose genie, do I break our laws? Have I committed a violation? Is there aught for you to tattle to Tiarasae?”

  Mariano lunged for her.

  “It is forbidden to imperil someone who is safe,” Rosie whispered. Her words carried to them on an eerie wind.

  “But?” the indigo djinn snarled, wagging a finger at Mariano.

  “It is not forbidden to manipulate a situation, nor hasten the outcome of an event.”

  Her brother braced against a gust.

  “I taught you well.”

  A jabberwei shot out of the water. A harpoon shot off the ship and skewered it through the chest. Kordahla took a deep breath as it splashed into the middle of a swarming float. The indigo djinn flicked her remaining fingers from the edge as the jabberweis below tore the injured reptile apart. The djinn’s fickle grip was all that kept her from her death.

  “I am inclined to let this vixen live. She owes me. Promise O Lord of Verdaan, your heir will come from her womb or not at all.”

  Amid the shouts of men, Mariano pushed through the wind and leaned over the side of the boat. He reached for her but the djinn pulled her sideways. Ahkdul appeared in a rumpled shirt, a lowered sword in his hand, a frown on his face. The swine would never consider her worth the risk of any dialogue with a djinn.

  “We will not deal,” Mariano said as soldiers appeared, shooting spears into the churning water. “Nor will we lose her.”

  “Did I ask for a pact?” the djinn snarled. “A mortal promise. Or will that swine discard her?”

  Sailors unfolded a net. The wind blew it into tangles.

  “Well Ahkdul? There can be no harm in a promise.”

  “To a djinn.”

  “Make it to me, to my father and my sister.”

  Ahkdul’s eyes narrowed. “I have said it. My word is not trash to blow away on the wind.”

  The net billowed out and around her. The djinn hooked her hands over the gunwale and vanished in a puff of smoke. Mariano reached over the side and grabbed her wrists. None too gentle, he yanked her into the boat. Ahkdul grabbed her even as Mariano took a blanket from a sailor and draped it around her shoulders.

  “What is the meaning of this? How came you to risk your life?” the swine demanded.

  Kordahla turned to look out at the gentle eddies. Pulling away, she walked to the bow. Tiny flies, specks in the lantern light, began a relentless assault.

  “You will answer me,” Ahkdul said, following her.

  She turned, gathered what dignity she might because she was, after all, resigned to becoming this man’s wife. “I could not sleep. The night held disconcerting sounds. They drove me from my cabin.”

  Ahkdul had the grace to avert his gaze.

  Mariano was looking at her like she were a stranger. “You called our brother’s name.”

  She swallowed because she was forced to lie. It was to her shame. Her pride and her honour were all she had to cling to in the days ahead. “I dreamed Vinsant was caught alone in a snowstorm. I dreamed a taupe djinn was goading him to deal.”

  Mariano held out his hand. “Come.” She placed her hand in his. “Vinsant is a prince, and mahktashaan apprentices are valuable in their own right. The majoria will not imperil him.”

  “You believe this story?” Ahkdul asked, scratching his chest.

  “From a very young age, my sister has walked in her sleep. The affliction was never so severe as when she believed our brother ill or hurt. Your word, Kordahla, you will bring this man no dishonour.”

  She waited until Ahkdul looked ready to snap. “Will you promise to bring me none in your turn, my lord? Will you promise to honour your duties as a husband?” She noted the tiny sideways movements of his eyes as he searched for any sign she knew he abused the Myklaani lad.

  “Before we are wed, my mother will educate you to our customs. You will learn how Verdaani men and their wives honour each other.”

  “Indeed.” She tugged the blanket tighter around herself. Little instruction was necessary. Ahkdul had already demonstrated Verdaan was a man’s land, where women obeyed their husbands without question, and all paid homage to the bloodthirsty lords.

  “My lord,” a sailor said through a cloud of the tiny flies. He held one tattooed hand to his forehead.

  “You dare interrupt.” Ahkdul raised his sword in a blatant threat.

  “My lord, the genie loiters,” the sailor said. He pointed high.

  The miserable creature was curled upon Daesoa’s moonbeam. Her hair was ragged and her skin was a ghastly shade of grey-green. The sword yet glowed behind her.

  “Bring a net,” Ahkdul said to the retreating sailor. “Have the captain steer the ship around.” He pointed at her. “You will wait in your cabin.” Without waiting for a response, he strode into his cabin and dragged the yawning Brailen out.

  She held her stomach as panic hit her. “What does he mean to do?”

  “This does not concern you.”

  She lifted her chin. “If what you said to me is true, that I might work some good in t
his god-forsaken land, if I might find a way to live in harmony with my future husband, then he must afford me a measure of respect. I will marry him for the good of Terlaan but I will not be treated like a servant.”

  Mariano held her arms and kissed her on the forehead. “I am glad you have seen sense, Kordahla. Come and see what they mean to do, for you may never again have the opportunity to witness it. But do not interfere. The liberties Father allowed you in Terlaan will court punishment here.”

  They walked to the stern as the boat turned to port. Sailors were unfurling the net they had just begun to fold. The rotund cook handed out pots of ghee with dour authority and the sailors smeared the fat along the ropes. The cook sprinkled salt over knots and braids, grumbling every time a few grains spilled onto the deck.

  Kordahla gripped Mariano’s hand. “It is an old wives’ tale, surely.”

  Mariano smiled, close-lipped, amused. “We are about to find out.”

  She looked up at the poor genie child. The shivering girl slid a few feet down the moonbeam before clutching it tighter. Ahkdul reappeared with sullen Brailen tagging behind. The would-be mage clutched a packet of porrin in one hand. The Verdaani lord stood beside her, gazing up with the gleam of greed in his eye.

  “If we are successful I will gift you more gems than the Empress of Kuchen has hidden in the Cave of a Thousand Dragons.”

  “She is just an abandoned child.”

  “She is djinn. She might have lived a thousand years and even if she has not, she is of an age to be married in Verdaan.”

  Kordahla glanced at Mariano. His firm look warned her not to pursue her objection.

  “You will do the honour. Do not fail me,” Ahkdul said to Brailen. Behind him, Kahlmed patted a knife against the palm of one hand. Some sixth sense alerted the lad. A whipped dog, he drew his head between his shoulders as he tipped the packet of porrin into his mouth. A sailor, uncharacteristic in his pandering, handed Brailen a mug of water to wash down the drug. The boy dropped the mug. It hit the deck. He swayed. The knife flew out of Kahlmed’s hand straight into the stomach of the grouchy sailor who had alerted Ahkdul to the genie. The man gave an audible gasp before keeling over. Kordahla flinched. All went quiet on deck. The mug clattered top over bottom into the cook’s ankles.

  “Move,” Kahlmed roared, pushing Brailen towards the rigging. A group of sailors scrambled to the task, lugging the net up behind the lad. They balanced on the ropes with ease, mocking the way Brailen clutched his body close as he climbed to the crow’s nest. Halfway up the porrin must have taken its full effect because he flung one hand off.

  Thick clouds drifted over Dindarin and Daesoa, sobering the night. A single moonbeam speared through them and into the water, illuminating the dull genie lying on its light.

  “I am Brailen, magus extraordinaire,” his silhouette yelled before it scampered up with a ringing laugh.

  On deck, the stabbed man was moaning. A sailor pulled the knife from his stomach and pressed a dirty cloth to the wound. Kordahla stepped towards them. Ahkdul grabbed the top of her arm.

  “It is not your place.”

  She turned to him, burning with a fire she had not kindled since she left Myklaan. “Compassion is every lord’s responsibility.”

  “There is more than one way to rule. In Verdaan, one does not attend to those of a lesser station. By such means we maintain respect.”

  “At least let me direct the sailors on how to clean the wound.”

  “His best chance lies there,” Ahkdul said, nodding at the shivering genie. “He is dead if we do not succeed, and so the sailors’ energies are better directed to that task.”

  Kordahla put a hand over her mouth. If Vae’oenka – no, if Mahktos, for it was He who governed magic and the djinn – if Mahktos were a just god, He would save this genie child. And perhaps he was; the girl began to dissolve.

  “Let it fly!” Brailen called.

  The genie’s pink smoke curled along the moonbeam, dense and sluggish.

  The sailors flung the net. It spread, Brailen’s magic carrying it far and high, landing it over the genie. Her smokey legs turned solid. The girl struggled as the horrible mage tightened the ropes, twisting the net to prevent escape. Dear Vae’oenka, the minoria had taught him this magic. A rush of grief overtook her, for the loss of Arun and the capture of a creature that should never be bound to the world of men. Silent tears streaked her cheeks as the sailors reeled the genie in, calling to each other over and over to avoid dropping her into the river lest the water wash the salt away.

  Mariano held her against him. “Hush, Kordahla. You were always too compassionate. It is time you grew up. The world is a harsh place.”

  “This feat is the stuff of legend,” Ahkdul said. An ironic smile played at the corners of his lips. “The bards will sing you wept with joy.”

  Up on the rigging, a sailor was whipping a lasso around his head. He cast it at the glowing sword. It fell well short.

  “You mortals cannot compete with the magic of mighty Brailen,” the lad shouted, letting go and leaning out. Had a sailor not grabbed his kamarband, he would have tumbled to the deck. For his part in this cruelty, she could not have cared less.

  Arms outstretched, the mage yelled. “Come to me!”

  Excited murmuring broke out as the blade wobbled.

  “Come to me!” The sword broke free of Daesoa’s beam. Brailen whooped.

  The clouds rent from the moons. The sword rose higher and higher. Brailen spat insects from his mouth.

  “Come!”

  Higher it rose until it was once again a silhouette in front of Dindarin. The waxing green moon flashed to full, blinding all on deck. At once the murmurs quelled. When the light receded, the sword was gone and Dindarin was once more a minor quarter off full.

  Ahkdul strode over the dying sailor to the men lowering the genie onto the deck. The poor creature was crying as she poked her fingers through the holes, trying to tear knots that could not be undone. Kordahla went to Ahkdul as the net hit the deck. He nodded at her, no doubt pleased she had assumed her rightful place. Had he guessed she but tolerated his presence so she might be near the genie, he would have slapped a bruise onto her cheek.

  He knelt and grabbed the girl’s wrist through the net. “You are trapped, genie.” His awe hardened into greed. The genie girl cowered, shuddering as he looked her up and down. “Grant me five wishes and I will set you free.”

  Mariano walked to her feet. “Careful, Lord Ahkdul. A pact with djinn is binding.”

  With utter predictability Ahkdul’s expression passed through shades of cunning, avarice and displeasure as he considered the consequences of reneging on a deal.

  Kordahla laid a light touch on his shoulder. “Gaisal deq Slaed from the Tale of the Turquoise Djinn found that out to both his detriment and the detriment of those he loved.” Vae’oenka grant a children’s story would offer warning enough to discourage him from tormenting the poor genie.

  Ever distasteful, he chuckled. “My tale shall not be so harrowing. It seems we do not have a deal genie, for I will never set you free, but tell me your name and I’ll treat you well.” The genie was withering before their eyes. Her skin had turned dark grey and her left arm pulsed with brown blood. Ahkdul tightened his grip on her wrist. “Your name, genie.” The genie shook her head.

  “She is ill,” Kordahla said.

  “A ruse. The djinn can change their appearance at will.”

  “Please.” Though it sickened her, she placed her hand on his forearm. “She is frightened. Let her rest. Tomorrow she may be inclined to cooperate.” She retracted her hand as Ahkdul stood.

  “Store her in the hold. Salt the ropes every hour, and make sure they bind her tight.” Ahkdul turned to her, away from the sailors hauling the netted genie across the deck. “You see fit to be civil. It is well.”

  She bowed her head. They had the scant light of the moons and she would not chance him detecting the flush of anger in her cheeks. How dare he speak
of civility when he had shown nothing but disrespect. “I appreciate your bravery with the indigo djinn,” she lied.

  “Come. We will talk awhile. There is much I would tell of Verdaan before we arrive.”

  On the deck, the wounded man was groaning. Two of his mates had seen fit to tend to him now the excitement was over. Ahkdul, in typical, callous form, did not spare him a glance.

  Kordahla stepped towards her cabin. “All this excitement has left me drained. I am afraid I will be poor company tonight. I bid you goodnight, Lord Ahkdul. And you, brother.”

  She longed for the oblivion of sleep but fatigued as she was, her disgust held sleep at bay. She expected little from Ahkdul, but herself? How could she have left Vinsant to fend for himself? Wrapped in blankets on the narrow cot, she pulled Arun’s pot of salve to her bosom. When the quiet lap of water had washed away the worst of her self-loathing, her worry for Vinsant remained. In her mind, she called his name over and over. It was futile. She had had no part in the miraculous link. The night deepened into mystery before drowsiness settled on her, and with it dreams of her little brother’s voice.

  Kordahla, are you there? Kordahla!

  Startled into wakefulness, she sat up. Oh, Vinsant. Where are you?

  I’ve been trying to reach you for ages. I’m all right. I mean Padesh, the mahktashaan with me, he’s helped me out.

  She sensed guilt, caught a glimpse of a sleeping mahktashaan in his mind, realised he had exaggerated his peril to draw her from the brink of insanity. I’m so sorry. Tears started to flow.

  Aw, don’t cry. It’s not your fault.

  She wiped away the tears, let him feel how much she loved him.

  Aw, don’t! I’ll be laughing stock of the other apprentices.

  He could always make her laugh. How is this even possible?

  Guess you have magic.

  That’s impossible, she blurted. But was it? What about Mariano, can you talk to him?

  Nope. Just tried. Not Father either, though I didn’t exactly make a huge effort there.

  He’ll forgive you, Vinsant. It’s me he’s angry at. When I’m married to Ahkdul – the words caught. She took a deep breath and affected a smile knowing it would never fool him. When I’m married to Ahkdul, he’ll welcome you home.