by Joshua Khan
But as they turned one corner, they were showered with sparks.
“Hey!” exclaimed Thorn.
“Ssso thisss isss Thorn? Not impresssed. Not impresssed at all.”
K’leef shook his turban. “You almost set fire to my feathers, Paz.”
A pile of coals stood in the corridor. It really stood, on a pair of stubby legs, reaching no higher than Thorn’s waist. The surface sizzled, ash blew off of it in the faint breeze, a pair of fiery eyes narrowed, and flames flickered over its head instead of hair.
“Thorn, meet Pazuzu. He’s my efreet.”
The efreet glowered, and smoke hissed from the crack of a mouth. “You’re late. Asss usual.”
An efreet. Lily had told him about those. And just when he thought zombies were as weird as his life could get.
“What are you ssstaring at?”
“What’s got you so hot and bothered?” asked Thorn, not used to being bullied by a burning pile of rocks. “You almost set me on fire.”
“Hot and bothered? Isss that some kind of joke?”
Thorn raised his hands. “All I’m saying is you need to cool down.”
The flames flared. “Cool down? You’re telling me to cool down? Why don’t you just tosss me in the fountain and be done with it?”
“All right. K’leef, you grab its legs.”
K’leef stepped between them. “That’s enough. Today’s not the day for picking fights.”
“He’sss waiting, ssso hurry up.” Pazuzu turned away, muttering. “If I wasss a hundred yearsss younger, I’d teach you a lessson.”
K’leef watched it go, and there was a sorrowful look in his gaze. “Poor Paz. He’s lost his spark. He’s barely hot enough to cook breakfast now.”
“I’m never gonna get used to this place.”
They approached a chamber protected by two warriors just as another man was leaving. He stopped when he saw K’leef. “My lord. A grand day, eh?”
“Indeed, Captain,” replied K’leef warily. “How go the wedding plans?”
“We are honored that our two houses will be joined. My daughter, Sea Pearl, looks forward to living here. She is already making friends with your sisters.” Then he turned to Thorn. “What is it?”
“Er…you’ve got gills. I’ve never seen a person with gills before.”
The man spread out his hands. They were webbed.
House Coral, of course. The water wizards. There were always a few at any port, but none as…wet? The captain’s skin was, if you looked closely, scaled, and there was an emerald tinge to his hair. His eyes were large and bulbous, but there was nothing comical about his cutlass and scintillating scaled armor.
“I have business to attend to,” stated the captain. He marched off.
K’leef nudged him. “It’s rude to stare. And be careful—Captain Cuttlefish has spent most of his career as a pirate. That sword’s not for show.”
“So your brother’s getting married?” asked Thorn.
“There’ll be a lot of marriages over the next few months. They’re the oldest forms of treaty, Thorn. You know that. Sa’if is allowed to have four official wives, and Sea Pearl’s lucky—she’s the first and will have the highest ranking. But then—”
“Wait up. Four wives?”
“They each get a palace. Then he can have as many concubines as he can manage.”
Thorn laughed. “So, they got anyone lined up for you?”
K’leef blushed. “There has been some talk.”
“Anyone I know?”
He blushed deeper, and small flames sprouted from his ears. He mumbled something.
“What was that?” Thorn asked, suspicious it was someone he knew.
“It’ll never happen. She’s a ruler, and I’m just son number four. The difference in rank is too great.”
“You can’t mean Lily?” asked Thorn in disbelief.
Before K’leef could answer, the doors opened and they were ushered inside.
A young man spun around as they entered. “K’leef! And this must be Thorn!”
K’leef grinned. “Thorn, this is Sa’if.”
Thorn bowed. “Your Highness.”
Sa’if lifted him off the ground with a lung-crushing hug. “Thank you, Thorn, for all you’ve done for us.” He put him down and smiled. “You’ll leave here with your pockets full of rubies, I promise.”
Now it was Thorn’s turn to blush. Sa’if’s attention overwhelmed him. There was something magical about the prince, and it was more than mere sorcery. “I was just helping my friend.” Then he remembered rule one about royal gifts: never turn them down. “But rubies are good.”
Sa’if pulled a gem-studded ring from his little finger and handed it to him. “Yes, they are, aren’t they?”
This would buy me a plot of farmland somewhere sunny. How come Lily never gives me stuff like this? Thorn nodded his thanks and tucked it away in his sock.
He stepped aside as two servants carried over a cloak of rich red silk.
Sa’if sighed as they put it on him. “It’s all rather ridiculous, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Thorn said. “Now you mention it.”
“Thorn!” snapped K’leef.
He bit his lip. This was one of those weird tests of diplomacy, and he’d just failed. Lily was trying to teach him, but he still couldn’t figure out what was diplomatic and what was a bald-faced lie. “What I meant was, you look really amazing.”
Sa’if’s wide smile was reassuring. He wiggled his shoe in the air. It had the curliest toes Thorn had ever seen. “These are the Blessed Boots of the Burning Walk. They’re to guide me to the right path.”
Thorn frowned. “You’re making that up.”
“Surprisingly, no. The cloak is the Ruby Robe of Righteous Rule. And no, I’m not making that up, either. It was worn by one of my ancestors when he first built the palace here in Nahas. These are his, too.” Sa’if tugged at his trousers. “The Pantaloons of Ash, the Desert Hermit. Very special.”
“My grandpa has special pants, too,” said Thorn. “He’s getting on in years, and his gut—”
“That’s quite enough, Thorn,” interrupted K’leef. “Maybe we can hear about your esteemed grandfather later?”
“Of course.” Thorn had plenty of stories about his grandpa. “So what happens next?”
Sa’if straightened his cuffs. “Simple, really. I take the throne and put on the lava crown. If my magic is weak, I burn.”
“Burn?”
K’leef slapped his forehead. “Why do you think it’s called the lava crown?”
“You nobles are mad. No offense. What if you’re having an off day?”
Fire dripped from Sa’if’s hands. It poured between his fingertips, spreading over the metal floor, dancing and weaving in serpentine patterns. The heat was intense, stronger than if they were standing before a blacksmith’s forge. “Rulers cannot have off days, Thorn.” He clapped and the flames vanished.
“I told you he was good,” said K’leef proudly.
Sa’if donned a couple more necklaces, then another cloak on top of the red one he was already wearing. “I think that’s it.” He approached a veiled piece of furniture. “Let’s have a look, shall we?”
He pulled off the cloth and stood in front of a full-height mirror. The frame was white wood and lined with platinum. Booty gathered from the Solars, Thorn supposed.
“Hmm, you’d think a Luminean mirror wouldn’t be so foggy.” Sa’if rubbed the glass with his sleeve. “There, that’s better.”
Thorn cleared his throat. “Sire, I don’t know if K’leef has mentioned some prisoners to you.”
“The witches, you mean?” Sa’if frowned at his reflection. “This mirror is too cloudy. The Solars palmed us off with junk.”
“They’re just four women, sire. Two grown ones and two little girls. They ain’t done no one no harm.”
“Why do you care so much about them? They’re nothing to you.” Sa’if turned slowly before the mirror. “K�
�leef, could you straighten the back of my cloak?”
Thorn bit his tongue. Sa’if seemed more interested in his outfit than the lives of four innocent people. “Sire, please…”
“I’ve been told one of them has a deformity. A third eye?”
“So what of it?” Thorn asked. “She was born that way.”
Sa’if glanced at his brother, and there was some unspoken communication between the pair of them. Then he turned to Thorn. “Shardland nomads are strange people, Thorn. They can be dangerous. They don’t follow the laws of civilized folk.”
“Laws like burning innocent women and children?” snapped Thorn. “Seems to me, such laws we could do without.”
Did I overstep the mark? Didn’t do no good insulting a ruler on his coronation day. But Thorn couldn’t help himself.
K’leef just shook his head.
Sa’if’s face was a clear, thoughtful mask. “K’leef told me much about you, Thorn.”
“Er…did he mention I saved his life? More than once?”
“You’ve got fire in your belly, Thorn. That’ll stand you in good stead in this kingdom.” Sa’if smiled at him. “Rest easy. The four of them will be freed tomorrow morning and sent on their way.”
“Unharmed? No brandings or nothing?”
“Unharmed. On my honor, Thorn. Is that good enough?”
Thorn knew how much the Djinn valued their honor. He nodded. “I’d better get going.”
K’leef nodded and took him to the door. “Thanks for coming all this way, Thorn.”
Thorn patted the ring tucked in his sock. “The trip’s paid for itself.”
“Still won’t make you pretty.”
“Yeah, but I’ll be able to buy a better class of friend.”
Just like he’d predicted, he ended up in the back. Way, waay, waaay in the back. Thorn jostled with the commoners in the vast courtyard in the heart of Palace Djinn. The sun was high and hot, and there was no shade—the awnings were only for nobles. But he managed to edge his way around to a palm tree and climb up the trunk to get a few feet above everyone’s heads.
Over a hundred yards away, on a raised platform, the throne awaited its new occupant. Thorn had expected something made of gold and studded with precious gems, but instead the seat had been carved into a chunk of black rock—cooled lava, he supposed. The thing looked ancient and uncomfortable.
Lined up on either side of the throne were the great and good from many houses. Under one canopy stood a crowd of women, the old sultan’s wives and concubines. Some were local, dusky-skinned with jet-black hair, but others were clearly foreign-born from all other kingdoms. One looked prouder than the rest, so he guessed she was the mother of the soon-to-be sultan Sa’if and, incidentally, K’leef and Jambiya.
No wonder she was proud. All her sons were sorcerers.
Lily was easy to spot, all dressed in black. Her tresses did look like serpents from here. Some of the Sultanate’s princesses stood with her, Ameera closest and constantly whispering in her ear, and on the opposite side stood Gabriel.
So it was true. Gabriel was being held hostage by the Djinn, to make sure Duke Solar behaved himself. The boy looked…well, the way he always looked: like a preening idiot. His silver-blond hair was bound with a platinum band, his white suit shone with bright diamond buttons, and the early sun lit the silver on his belt. A jeweled sword hung from it, which surprised Thorn, until he remembered how useless Gabriel was with a weapon.
Travel halfway around the world and I still can’t escape the Solar boy. What will it take to be rid of him once and for all? Thorn looked away. The palace was big enough that it would be easy to avoid him until they shipped home. At least Gabriel isn’t engaged to Lily anymore. But what did K’leef mean when he—
A cacophony of drumming and trumpet blasts burst from all around, and the crowd parted. Sa’if led the procession, followed by his brothers. One tapped his way forward with a stick: Jambiya. He wore simple long, flowing robes, no jewelry, and his eyes were two wrinkled patches of skin. The beard was unkempt, his ragged hair bound by a simple leather band.
The music stopped dead, leaving behind a deep, resonating silence.
The brothers halted at the foot of the platform, and Sa’if proceeded up alone. He took his place on the throne.
Two attendants brought in a bronze stand, upon which sat the crown. It was ugly. Charred, twisted, and dull. It was passed from brother to brother, and then K’leef took it. Even from here Thorn could see his friend biting his lip as he carried it carefully up the steps to the throne.
They exchanged a few words, K’leef and Sa’if, and Thorn saw the older one put the younger at ease with a smile. K’leef turned to face the crowd, holding the crown high.
“Let the Six Princes bless Sa’if, the Sultan Djinn!”
Thorn realized he was holding his breath. As was everyone else.
Ever so carefully, K’leef lowered the crown onto Sa’if’s brow. He stepped aside, bowing low, as Sa’if stood up.
The crown began to glow. Flames spat from its crooked spikes.
People cheered.
The crown brightened as the flames rose higher. It blazed to a blinding white.
And Sa’if screamed.
SIX
“Those screams…Did you hear them?” asked Thorn.
It was evening and still there’d been no word about Sa’if’s condition. Thorn—and everyone else—had watched in horror as K’leef used his bare hands to tear the fiery crown off his brother’s head. It had taken the combined magic of three brothers to put the flames out.
“I was practically standing right next to him,” said Lily. “But it was the smell, Thorn. How can anyone stand to watch a burning, with a smell like that?”
“Yeah, I know what you mean. It stains you, don’t it?” He sniffed his sleeve. Yes, there it was. He’d dump these clothes the first chance he got.
Sa’if’s hideous screams still echoed in his head. They reminded Thorn of the first time he’d shot a deer in Herne’s Forest, years ago. His arrow had caught it too high, missing the heart. The creature had stumbled off, and its cries of anguish had made Thorn’s blood run cold. His dad eventually tracked it down and finished it off, but Thorn had wept for days after, refusing to pick up a bow.
He’d known that eventually he would have to go out hunting again—it was what you did if you didn’t want to starve—but first he’d practiced and practiced until his shoulders had ached and his fingers bled. A clean death: that was what the hunter owed his prey.
“His magic failed him,” Thorn said. “Thought that wasn’t possible.”
Lily’s quill scratched the parchment. A pile of already completed letters lay waiting for collection. But she wasn’t fooling Thorn. He saw her tears dripping onto the yellow sheets.
He felt so useless. He wanted to do something, even help Mary packing next door, but Lily’s maid had ordered him out, not wanting his grubby fingerprints spoiling Lily’s fine dresses. So here he was, watching Lily compose in half a dozen languages when he could spell little more than his name in just one. “Who are you writing to?” he asked.
“Everyone. Sa’if’s not going to be sultan, even if he survives. There will be consequences throughout the realms. I’ve…I’ve had experience with this before.”
Of course she had. When her family was murdered, it had been a tragedy on two levels: personal and political. Thorn sat down beside her. “I’m sorry.”
She smiled, though her brow remained furrowed. “Sable’s down at the docks getting everything ready. It’s madness.”
“When are we leaving?”
“Soon. I’m doing the best I can, but there’s no treaty between us and the Sultanate. Nothing official.”
“Does that matter?”
She rubbed her forehead. “Oh, Thorn. It matters so much. I don’t know where to begin. The Solars will move now. Their most powerful enemy is out of the picture. No one’s in charge here, don’t you see? If the sultan and I were
official allies, then we could keep Lumina under control. The Solars wouldn’t try anything with Gehenna to its north and the Sultanate to the south.”
“Can’t you just band together anyway? Why do you need a treaty? K’leef’s our friend. We could stay a while longer and help him.”
“A treaty makes things law, Thorn. It gets my nobles on my side. Friendship alone isn’t enough of a reason to risk fighting.”
Thorn shook his head. “Seems to me that’s the only reason for fighting.”
Lily finished off the letter with a few drops of wax and her seal, the entwined moon crescents. She called to Mary from the next chamber. “Mary, get these to Sable. He’ll know what to do.”
“You’ll be all right for a while?” asked Mary, gathering the papers.
“I have Thorn,” Lily said.
Thorn sat up. “You think there’ll be trouble?”
“There’s always trouble when crowns are involved,” Mary said. She waved toward the other room. “Those trunks are ready to go. I’ll need some of the zombies to carry them down to the Shadow’s Blade.”
Lily handed over the Skeleton Key. “Put the jewelry boxes in the secure hold and double-lock everything.”
Mary looked around the room, her lips pursed. “What a mess.”
“Looks pretty tidy to me,” said Thorn. “Compared to the squires’ dorms, that’s for sure.”
Lily started on another letter. “I think Mary meant politically, Thorn. Not literally.”
“Oh.” Thorn left such matters to those who cared. “There’s a saying back home that…someone once told me.” He saw Lily’s fingers tighten on her quill, but he pushed on. “You can only shoot to the horizon, not over it.”
“And that means don’t worry about tomorrow?”
“Yeah.”
“Some days I wish I could, Thorn. I really do.” But Lily continued her writing.
Mary put the key in her pocket. “It’ll be good to be back home.”
Once Mary had left, Lily poured a cup of rose water and handed it to him before filling her own. “Poor K’leef. He worshipped his older brother.”