by Joshua Khan
Thorn shrugged. “No harm in having a look around, is there? The Shardlands begin no more than ten miles from here. Ain’t that right?”
“Only you would want to go sightseeing around the Shardlands.”
“They can’t be that bad.”
K’leef arched an elegant eyebrow. “Not at all. A walk in the park. A park covered in volcanoes, that is, and blasted by storms that melt your bones and make the earth scream in agony. No, not bad at all.”
“Yeah, but there’s loads of treasure to be found, right?”
K’leef arched his other eyebrow, too. Thorn wished he could do that.
“Treasure? Since when did you care about anything except your next pie?”
“A crown that once sat on the head of one of the Six Princes would buy me a whole lot of pies.”
It was all just over that western horizon: the long-abandoned kingdoms of the Six Princes. Where they had lived and ruled before they went to war with each other and the world was divided up. One day he’d see the ruins for himself.
The moon was at its zenith, and through the open gates Thorn saw the city of Nahas below, alive with revelry. The hundred days of mourning were finally over, and people were celebrating. Tomorrow they’d have a new sultan.
“What’s your brother like?” Thorn asked.
“Which one? I have…seventeen. Only six that count, though.”
“Because they’re sorcerers?” Thorn scowled. That was all that mattered, wasn’t it? Those who could weave spells ruled; the rest just bowed.
K’leef must have heard the quiet disapproval in his response. “It is what it is. And while Sa’if is a powerful sorcerer, he’s also a good man. The best I know.”
“Kinda thought that was me.”
K’leef ignored that comment. “You’ll meet him tomorrow, before the coronation. You’ll see.”
Suddenly, shouts fell from the gatehouse—fearful ones. Guards ran past them and formed up in front of the gates. The captain saluted K’leef as he passed, speaking rapidly in a panicked tone.
“What’s wrong?” asked Thorn as the two of them caught up with the guards.
“It seems we’re under attack.” K’leef blew over his fingers, summoning fire. “Look out there.”
This was a side of K’leef Thorn hadn’t seen before. The K’leef he remembered liked books and plump cushions, but as fire spread across his hands and his eyes smoldered like coals, Thorn realized there was more to the soft prince than he’d assumed.
“You’d better get inside,” K’leef warned.
“And miss a fight? No way.”
“Thorn…”
“Just someone get me a bow and some arrows.”
Figures approached the gate in the darkness. They shambled, they moaned, and they didn’t look particularly healthy. Some carried crates, others pulled wagons, and there were a couple with piles of luggage balanced on their heads.
“Relax,” said Thorn. “They’re ours.”
“Ours?” asked K’leef. The guards loaded their crossbows.
Thorn shrugged. “Lily’s.”
The foremost came into the lamplight. Patches of dried yellow skin partially covered his face, and one eye socket was empty. He wore a threadbare gray uniform—it might have once been black—and a sparrow had made a nest in his open skull.
A guard yelled and shot a quarrel through the person’s chest, knocking him over.
“What’d you do that for?” Thorn hurried over and helped the man back up. “Hold still and let me…” He grabbed the quarrel. The sparrow circled above them, tweeting its outrage.
K’leef instructed the guards to cease shooting and joined Thorn and the victim. “Lily brought zombies?”
“Didn’t she tell you?”
“She said something, but I thought she was joking.”
“Lily never jokes about her zombies.” He wrenched the quarrel out. “You all right, Al?”
“Rrrhuur,” said Al. He waved at the sparrow, and it took its place back in his skull. “Uuurgggh.”
Thorn patted his back. “Good. Now get the boys to put the luggage over there.”
The guards watched, stupefied, as the zombies offloaded the luggage up against the wall. Thorn followed around, collecting any…parts. He found a hand. “Get me a needle and some thick twine,” he told K’leef. “The salt air has made them rot quicker than usual.”
“She brought zombies?” K’leef asked again.
“Why not? See that one with the big gold earrings? That’s Eddie. He’d always wanted to be a pirate, but he died before getting to the ocean. Lily thought it would be nice for him to come along.”
“She thought she’d take the zombies on holiday?” K’leef sounded more bewildered than ever.
“Once upon a time, that would have sounded strange to me, too. Guess I’ve been in Gehenna too long.”
“Where are we going to put them?” asked K’leef.
“Somewhere downwind. They don’t smell so fresh.” Thorn counted off the crates and trunks. “All there. Well done, lads. Go and have a lie-down…how about over by the wall?”
K’leef shook his head. “Best keep them out of the palace. I’ll get a few servants to take Lily’s dresses to her rooms. Come on, I’ve got supper waiting.”
They were halfway across the square when the rider galloped in. The two boys jumped back just in time to avoid being trampled.
“Hey, watch it!” Thorn yelled.
The rider reined around and down came a spear, its tip only a foot away from Thorn’s chest. The man snarled something in Djinnic, but Thorn understood the meaning. He raised his hands and backed off.
The rider dismounted, and Thorn got a good glare at him.
He’d never seen the like. The man wore a dusty billowing robe. Tucked into the wide black sash around his waist were a dagger and scimitar. His head was bound by a dirty turban, and his face was as wrinkled and as dark as old oak. A scorpion tattoo covered each cheek.
The man jammed his spear into the ground and waited for the rest of his party.
More riders entered, and behind them came a horse-drawn wagon. Its driver was clearly related to the horsemen, but the man seated beside him was no kin.
The passenger was gaunt with hard cheekbones, and he wore patched robes of faded scarlet with gold embroidery at the edges. He wore no turban; his loose, tangled hair was decorated with rings and trinkets, as was his stringy beard. He was half vagabond, half nobleman.
“Who is that?” Thorn asked.
K’leef swore. “Jambiya.”
He was also without a weapon, and that meant only one thing. Even these days, when magic was weak and few knew more than a couple of spells, no self-respecting sorcerer wielded so much as a knife. A weapon was a sign of weakness, that you didn’t trust your magic to protect you.
He did carry a staff. The driver gave it to him as he dismounted from the wagon bench. For a moment, Thorn wondered if it might be one of the fabled wands of magic; then he realized its purpose was more mundane. The red-robed man used it to tap out ahead of him. He was blind.
K’leef ran up to him. “Brother! I did not expect you.”
Jambiya turned his puckered eyelids in K’leef’s direction. “K’leef? Why would I not come?”
“I will have rooms prepared for you and your men.”
“There are more yet to arrive. A few are still back in the city, enjoying themselves. We have traveled far and hard.”
K’leef muttered something like an apology, so Thorn left the two brothers alone to catch up. What interested him were the wagon and the cage upon it.
Four people huddled within it, each one in chains.
Thorn rubbed his wrists. It had been six months since he’d worn shackles, but his skin itched when he saw them.
These folk had to be bad, the worst of the worst, to come here like this.
One of the prisoners shuffled to the bars and held out a hand. “Water?”
Thorn hesitated, looking around to
see who might be watching him. The riders might not take kindly to him talking with their prisoners. But they were all distracted, tending to their horses or heading off to find food and soft beds. So he filled a jug from a water butt and brought it over.
The prisoner didn’t drink it herself but passed it to another. A child, huddled in the corner.
These were Jambiya’s prisoners? A crone, a woman, and two small girls. The woman was pregnant, as in ready-to-drop.
“What did you do?” he asked her.
“Get caught.” She stroked her swollen belly. “Jambiya attacked our camp out in the Shardlands.”
“You live in the Shardlands?” Thorn approached the bars, curious to meet some nomad folk. “I’ve heard there’s wild magic out there—in the air, the water, and the ground itself. The magic seeps into the bones, in strange ways.”
The woman raised an eyebrow. “That’s what you’ve been told?”
“You look normal, though.”
She leaned closer so their faces were less than a foot apart. “You think so?”
She rubbed her forehead. The wrinkles began to part….
A pale, rheumy orb appeared under the unpeeling skin.
Thorn stumbled back. “What is it? An eye?”
Her skin closed over it. “Yes, my third eye. But it’s practically useless. If it had allowed me to see into the future, we wouldn’t have gotten caught.” The woman passed the now empty jug back to him. “More.”
Thorn glanced back. Jambiya and K’leef were talking intensely, with a hint of anger in their voices. The soldiers were busy stretching their legs. He refilled the jug and brought over an abandoned loaf, which was snatched from him and quickly devoured by the girls.
The woman wiped her long, disheveled hair from her face, revealing dried blood caked on her nose. Clearly she hadn’t been captured without a fight. “How about some meat?”
“What did you do? Kill someone?”
She appraised him. “You Gehennish?”
“I suppose.” The black outfit was a giveaway.
“They say women are free to make spells there, thanks to the witch queen.”
Thorn shook his head. “That ain’t entirely true.”
“Here, boy, they follow the old laws.” She raised her eyes to the tallest tower and pointed. “That’s where we’re bound.”
“There? What is it?”
“It was once called the Phoenix Tower, back when the sultans kept such creatures. But it’s the Candle now,” she said. “Where they burn witches. High above the city so all can see.”
“You’re a witch?”
“Yes, and so are my daughters.” She gestured at the two girls. “Jambiya is thorough in his cleansing.”
Thorn shivered despite the heat. “He’s going to burn you all? For what?”
“For being born female.” The woman grabbed the bars, and her tone turned urgent. “Your mistress! Go speak with her! See if—”
Someone grabbed Thorn’s collar and threw him backward into the dust. He tried to get up, but a stick was pressed hard against his chest.
Jambiya stood over him, snarling. “Do not talk to the prisoners.”
Thorn tried to knock the stick aside, but he was held fast. “Let me up. Now.”
“You cannot demand anything of me, slave.”
“I am no one’s slave.”
K’leef took Jambiya’s arm. “Let him go, Brother. He doesn’t know how things are done here.”
Jambiya lifted his stick and waved it at his soldiers. “Take the prisoners to the Candle.”
K’leef helped Thorn up, muttering, “You shouldn’t have done that.”
Thorn watched as Jambiya drove the wagon toward the tower. The woman’s gaze stayed on Thorn till the doors to the Candle closed behind her.
The Candle was very tall. Higher than the Needle. Bats circled its summit.
K’leef nudged him. “Stop it.”
“I’m not doing nothing.”
“You’ve always been a bad liar, Thorn.” K’leef frowned. “Look, let me talk with Jambiya. Perhaps he’ll be lenient this time. They might get away with just a branding.”
“A branding?” He shook his head at the thought of hot pokers on bare skin. “It’s the same everywhere, isn’t it? There’s only one law: the law of the forest. The strong rule over the weak. No matter how much we may try to pretend it’s otherwise, there’s no escaping it.”
“I’m sorry, Thorn. But please don’t meddle. Not here, not now.”
Thorn met his friend’s gaze. “Seems to me it was my meddling that got you freed when you were a prisoner. Or have you forgotten?”
“I’m not your enemy, Thorn. I’ll speak to Sa’if about the family. But if they broke the law…”
“And if Sa’if can’t stop him? Then when will Jambiya burn them?”
“After the coronation.”
“Yup, that makes sense. You wouldn’t want the smell spoiling the party, eh?” Thorn turned away in disgust.
FIVE
“Who knows, you may even end up with a tan,” Thorn said to Lily as he watched Mary fuss over her.
“We Gehennish don’t tan.”
Thorn was bored out of his mind. “Those new?” he asked, lifting his chin toward her necklace.
“It’s not like you to take an interest in my jewelry.”
“Those gemstones are kinda hard to miss.”
Lily fingered the string of diamonds. “Ameera gave this to me. It’s one of the treasures House Djinn received from the Solars. And if you think these are impressive, you should see what she kept for herself.”
“Anything besides sparkly things? Like magic swords?” He wouldn’t mind one of those….
“Lots of mirrors. Ameera has had the palace filled with them. She’s a canny young woman, managing to get herself put in charge of the distribution of the treasures.”
“Can’t believe she and K’leef are twins. Grandpa said a woman who—”
“Yes,” interrupted Lily. “I’m sure he did.”
She never let him finish his grandpa stories. “How much longer is this going to take?” he asked. “It’s just that everyone’s heading down to the coronation now. We’ll end up in the back and won’t be able to see nothing.”
Mary, working on Lily’s hair, held an armory’s worth of pins in her mouth, but she still managed a sneer. “Feel free to leave at any time, Thorn.”
“Can’t. Lily wants to keep an eye on me. She’s worried about my health.”
Lily sighed loudly. “That’s one way of putting it.”
He grinned. “Mom will be happy to know you’re taking such good care of me.”
Lily rolled her eyes. “That’s me, Lily Shadow, babysitter extraordinaire.”
“Can’t you just put it in a ponytail?” Thorn suggested, quite reasonably, he thought. “Lily looks real nice in a ponytail.”
“I can’t go to a coronation with—”
“Hold your head still, girl.” Mary stepped back to check her work. “The Medusa style’s a bit tricky.”
Hadn’t there been a story about Medusa Shadow? Thorn couldn’t remember it exactly, but it had something to do with snakes….
He peered at the long, complex tresses that Mary had been crafting since dawn. Yes, they did look like snakes, sort of, if the lighting was poor and you squinted a lot.
“How about a bob?” he suggested, determined to speed things up.
Mary choked. “A noble with short hair? What would people think?”
She opened a tub of greasy gloop and, taking a handful, began fixing the tresses in place.
Thorn came a bit closer, though not too near. Mary could be deadly with a pin, and he had the puncture wounds to prove it. “Smells funny. What is it?”
Mary rolled Lily’s locks between her hands and warned her, “Don’t go near any candles unless you want to spend the next year bald.”
“Mary!” Lily jerked away from her.
“And don’t nod too much, or it�
�ll all come undone, and I won’t have you shaming Gehenna by looking like a farm girl.”
Thorn leaned his forehead against a column. “Are you ready?”
There was a knock on the door, and K’leef came in before anyone answered. “Are you ready?” he echoed.
“By the Six…” muttered Thorn when he saw K’leef’s outfit. “What have they done to you?”
“It’s the latest thing.” K’leef gave a slow turn.
“For what? Fighting a flock of peacocks?”
“There are a lot of feathers…” K’leef admitted. Then he added with an aloof sniff, “But it’s fashion, something you wouldn’t understand.”
“Reckon fashion’s some sort of punishment nobles give themselves so we peasants have something to laugh about.”
Mary waved at them. “Take him, K’leef. Right now.”
K’leef adjusted the high collar that gave the impression feathers were sprouting out of his ears. “You have an hour. I saved you a space up at the front.”
“Thanks.”
“I’m talking to Lily. Thorn, you’re at the back. You should have gotten there hours ago if you wanted a view.”
“That’s just great!” Thorn glowered at the two, but Lily couldn’t turn to see it, because Mary was still sculpting her. “Come a thousand miles to stare at the back of someone’s head. Just. Great.”
“Come with me, Thorn,” said K’leef.
“Anything’s got to be better than this,” said Thorn. “Which is real boring. In case I haven’t made my point clearly enough.”
“Get out, Thorn!” chorused Lily and Mary.
The boys exited, Thorn slamming the door behind them to make more of a point. He looked up and down the corridor. Plenty of hustle and bustle. “Where are we headed?”
K’leef pulled at one of the tall feathers rising from his turban. “You really think this is too much? Wahid’s feathers are almost five feet long and covered in gold.”
Why do I hang out with these people? Nobles just aren’t normal. “Where are we going, K’leef?”
Palace Djinn couldn’t be more different from Castle Gloom. For one thing, it was sunlit. Rows of latticed windows ran along the long, lofty corridors and cast weird nets of shadow and brightness over the marble and bronze.
Servants dashed and nobles rushed. There was controlled bedlam as last, last, last-minute preparations were put in place.