by Joshua Khan
Fear washed all the color from his dark face. The tray rattled as he trembled.
Ameera tutted. “Do not stare so hard, Fahid. Or gaze too deep into her eyes, for they reflect the manner of your death.”
He sobbed and sank to his knees in front of Lily. “Please, dread lady, I am but a poor man.”
“Is that true about your eyes?” asked Sami, now more interested in Lily than the jewelry. She stood on her tiptoes. “Can I look?”
“Just be careful.” Lily tried not to laugh and forced on a serious mask.
Sami frowned as she peered into her pupils. “I think I see a storm. And perhaps an elephant?”
Ameera picked up a small obsidian-headed pin and in its place put a silver coin on the vendor’s tray. She twisted a lock of Lily’s hair with the ease of a girl with many sisters and slid the pin into place. “Something to remember tonight by.”
They moved on, deeper into the crowds. “You frightened that poor man,” said Lily.
Ameera smirked. “What of it? You gave him something more precious than gold: a story he can recount again and again. Think of how his children will shiver with delight when he tells them whom he met tonight! Think of how passionately he will hug his wife, having survived the encounter!”
Lily caught her reflection in a curved wall of burnished copper. Was she really so terrifying?
Kali joined her and they both stood there, looking at their warped selves. “People see what they expect to see.”
“Reputation cuts both ways,” said Lily. “I’m not sure I like mine.”
“Really?” Kali stretched her neck to better admire her skull tattoos. “I love mine.”
Kali was so different from the dour Tyburn. Or was she? Both relied on their reputations. Tyburn kept Lily’s often-fractious nobles in line with his, hardly ever needing to actually draw his sword.
Lily shook her head—she’d long ago given up trying to understand executioners—and caught up with the princesses.
Could it be that the news from the palace hadn’t yet filtered down to the commoners? The squares were filled with locals and travelers, and performers entertained on every corner: fire jugglers, fortune-tellers, clowns, and singers. Others threw colored powder into the air so passersby were soon dusted in red, orange, and gold. Ameera paused to buy snacks, inspect some cloth, and chat with the merchants. She’d hear complaints and compliments, offer a word here and there, and move on. Lily couldn’t help but admire her easy grace and, if she was being honest, envy it, too. She had watched her father operate in much the same way. Baron Sable had always warned him to surround himself with guards, to keep people at a distance, but Iblis would refuse, saying, “A ruler should not fear his people. If he does, he has failed.”
People stared at Lily. They whispered as she passed and cast fearful glances.
I should be used to this.
But she wasn’t. She died a little each time she saw the frightened looks. How parents drew their children close as she walked by, how crowds parted as they sensed her alien presence.
Ameera slipped her arm through hers. “We’re here.”
The Street of Storytellers.
The bedlam of the bazaar faded away. This street was dark and quiet, even though it was packed. Listeners gathered in hushed little groups while various men sat with a candle and cup of tea, spinning tales in voices just above a whisper. One man, white-bearded and blind, twisted a stick in his hand as he told of great heroes and doomed lovers. Another man, his hair dyed a shocking red, gestured to indicate the towering height of giants and the undulating flight of fierce dragons.
Others watched from screened windows above. Women and children leaned out, resting their chins on their fists as the stories drifted up to the stars.
Ameera touched Lily’s lips with her forefinger and nodded toward a door nestled between two stalls. When she lifted her hand away, Lily tasted cinnamon.
In they went: two princesses, an executioner, and a witch queen.
Sweet incense unfurled from small pots spread throughout the crowded room, making the air thick and heady. Lily stood against the wall by the door, and Ameera hung back with her.
The tale had already begun.
The ceiling sparkled, and Lily saw that it was studded with small shiny objects: coins, pieces of glass, even polished stones. They reflected the single candle flickering in the center of the room, beside the storyteller.
She wore a heavy robe, extravagantly embroidered and strung with rings and coins so that every slight move was enhanced by a soft jingling. More jewelry hung within the plaits of her long hair, as white as Lily’s.
She came from the Shardlands—that much was clear from her nomad garb. Which tribe? The tattoos on her cheek were so faded, it was impossible to tell.
The audience was made up entirely of females. Rich, poor, old, and young, all mixed together. Grandmothers sat with young girls on their laps; mothers nursed babies within the shadows; teenagers, their dark eyes wide, listened cross-legged on the carpet, enthralled.
The hairs on the back of Lily’s neck prickled as she felt the anticipation. This was something special. And something forbidden.
The woman was using a form of Djinnic that was archaic—something not quite lost, not quite forgotten—and it took Lily a few minutes to get used to it. Eventually the tale became clear, and it was one she knew all too well.
The Six Princes.
The storyteller told them of the high king and his wife from the other world. Here in Nahas, they believed the wife had been a desert spirit. In Gehenna, it was said she was a demoness, a princess of hell. What mattered was that she was magical, and so were her six sons. She taught each one a different kind of magic, and thus the six great houses of magic were founded, all those unimaginable centuries ago.
“Though she loved her sons equally,” continued the old woman, “there was one she loved above them: her precious daughter.”
Lily froze. Daughter?
There was no daughter. Everyone knew there were Six Princes and that was all.
Feeling dizzy, Lily closed her eyes. It must be the aftereffects of using magic, she thought. That, and weeks of being at sea. She hadn’t gotten her land legs back yet. And the incense—it smothered her senses. She turned to the door. She needed some fresh air….
Ameera touched her arm gently. “Please stay. Listen.”
The woman took a sip of her tea, then continued. “The high king was old for a mortal, and his time was coming to an end. Who would rule after him? His wife, an immortal, knew that his people would not accept her, so the choice had to be one of their children. And, as all children do, they fought among themselves. The high king laughed to see the sport of it, but the queen fell silent and watchful. The brothers competed in earnest, yet none could defeat their sister. She, being closest to the mother, was the most powerful. It was decided that after the high king, there would be a high queen.”
This was not the story Lily knew. “None of this is true.”
Ameera cut her a deadly look. “Says who? The legends you read back in Castle Gloom? Legends written by men?”
The room was utterly silent except for the ragged breath of the storyteller. “The brothers could not accept the decree. They waited until their father died, then made a secret pact. Together they confronted their sister, their new queen, and gave her six mortal wounds.”
The bard stabbed her chest once for each blow. Lily could almost feel those knives going in. So could the rest of the audience. Even in the dim candlelight she could see tears of anger and sorrow on their faces.
“As her bloodstained crown—their father’s crown—rolled across the great hall, the dying queen cursed her siblings. She pronounced there would be no peace between them, or their descendants, until they made amends for their treachery.”
The audience held its breath. The storyteller sighed and finished her tea.
A small girl spoke up. “But, mistress, how does the story end?”
&nb
sp; The wrinkles around the old woman’s eyes deepened. “End, child? This tale has not ended.”
She stood and took up her walking stick to leave. She muttered to herself as she made her way through the crowd. Then she paused beside Lily. “At least, not yet.”
NINE
“Are you feeling unwell?” Ameera asked as they came back out in the street.
“Just a little…travel-sick. It’s been a long journey. I should have stayed in the palace, gotten some rest….”
They’d left the crowded chamber, Lily almost stumbling through the door. She was leaning against the wall, trying to catch her breath and calm her racing heart. Why had that old woman’s tale affected her like this?
“Are you all right?” asked Sami. “Kali, go get Lady Shadow a drink.”
Lily waved the small girl back. “I’m fine. It was too crowded in there.” She stood up and took in some more air. “But I think we should head back to the palace.”
She wanted to be away from here. The palace loomed over the city, so they started on their way.
Ameera drew up next to her. “Well?”
“An interesting fairy tale, Ameera.”
“Why do you say that? Didn’t you hear the story? Do you think—”
“It’s not true,” snapped Lily, more harshly than she’d intended. “It’s just wishful thinking.”
“The wishful thinking of half the world’s population, Lily. You of all people must recognize the truth of what she was saying.” Ameera was deadly serious as they pushed their way back through the oppressive crowds. “That old woman is from a tribe that lives out among the ruins of the Old Kingdom. Their tales are older—and truer—than the fables we’ve been fed.”
Lily almost laughed. Hope came in many strange forms. Women had been forbidden to practice magic for generations. The law was the oldest one of the New Kingdoms, and there was only one penalty, for highborn or low: death by fire. And here she was in the kingdom of fire.
That’s why they stare so. I flout the old law and no one dares to stop me. I’ve become too powerful.
The bear makes his own rules.
Hold on. Wasn’t that one of Thorn’s grandpa’s sayings? She must be sick if she was quoting that mad old man.
She stopped and looked around.
Where was everyone?
Stupid Lily! Lost in your own head, and now lost in the streets!
She could navigate the hundreds of corridors in Castle Gloom blindfolded, but here she didn’t have a clue as to which way to turn. The houses leaned over the alleyway, cutting the sky to a crooked slice. She didn’t even know how she’d gotten here. Had they taken the left alley, or the right? Where were Ameera and Sami? She was all alone.
No, not quite. There were two others.
Not good.
The men waited for her with the eagerness of hounds on a leash. One of them wore a leather apron over a wide, rotund torso. His companion leaned against a slanted wall, rubbing his stubbly chin. “You seem lost, m’dear.”
Lily shrugged. “No. Not at all. I’ll be heading on my way. I think the fireworks are starting soon. Have a good evening.” She headed to the left alley.
The bigger man blocked her. Lily noticed the long knife tucked in his waist sash.
Time to use that reputation she didn’t want. “I’m Lilith Shadow.”
“Are you?” Stubble-chin looked her over, walking around her slowly as if she were some cow at the market. “You’re still lost.”
Lily frowned. Perhaps he hadn’t heard properly. “Lilith Shadow? The witch queen?”
“Oh?”
“I can…er, if you look into my eyes you’ll see the manner of your death.”
“Will I?” The man with the stubble pointed at her throat. “Let’s start with the necklace, shall we?”
Lily put her hand over it. “This necklace has been in my family for ten generations. The gems were mined out of the fourth circle of hell by a demon-prince who—”
“Get a move on. Then those rings of yours. Bracelets, too.”
The fat man tapped his bald head. Stubble-chin nodded. “And those hair pins. What are the studs? Jet?”
“Black diamonds,” said Lily. “The ruler of Gehenna does not wear jet.”
He laughed and bowed mockingly. “A thousand pardons, m’lady.”
Lily sighed. “Look, I’m tired, and I’ve had a long day. I don’t want to bore you with the details, but it hasn’t left me in the very best of moods and certainly not in the mood to be robbed. So, turn around, go home, and shut the door.” Lily flexed her fingers. “You have no idea what’s really out there in the dark.”
“And what’s that, little girl? Scary monsters?”
“Only one way to find out.” She reached out and clawed a sheet of blackness.
The cloth dropped over them, and they sank away until there was nothing but a patch of darkness on the ground. Then that too faded, leaving bare cobblestones.
Clap. Clap. Clap.
Kali applauded from her perch on a windowsill above Lily. “Now that was splendid.”
“How long have you been up there?”
“Here? The whole time.” She dropped the ten feet to the ground. She walked over to where the two men had just been standing and tapped the stones with her boot. “Where did you send them? To some dark, devil-swamped underworld?”
“Want to see for yourself?” Lily snapped. “Was this some sort of joke? Or just for your amusement? I don’t perform penny tricks for the crowd.”
Kali’s gaze cooled. “Don’t tempt me to do something unfortunate, Lady Shadow.”
“You wouldn’t stand a chance.”
“Oh?”
“There you are!” Ameera, with Sami in tow, rushed into the space between them and hugged Lily, trapping her arms to her sides. “I was so worried!”
Kali bowed to her, only slightly. “I came looking for Lady Shadow. Her safety is my only concern.”
Ameera kissed her executioner. “Thank you. You’re a good friend, Kali.”
They’re in this together.
Lily had been an unwitting player in a game of deceit and power. They had set her up, wanting to see if the stories were true. If she was the witch queen they’d heard of.
Why? What did they want from her?
Did they think she was this fabled seventh daughter, returned?
Lily knew what was expected of girls here, and elsewhere. Sit, sew, have babies. The end.
They wanted her to save them from this fate. They wanted the witch queen to wave her magic wand and instantly make them equal to the men in their lives.
But Lily didn’t have a magic wand.
Can’t you just cast a little spell?
Don’t you have some magic for that?
She knew the look. At home, people—nobles, merchants, and peasants—came to her with one problem or another. At first, it had been all about justice. They’d wanted her and Sable to weigh all the issues and make a decision. Where should the fence go between two farms? Could the mill fees be lowered? Could someone find room for a zombie uncle?
Nowadays they wanted her to wave her fingers in the air and make it all better. She’d tried. When a farmer lost his ox, she’d brought it back to life. Well, sort of. The thing had come back undead. It had decayed, poisoned the well, and killed off the rest of his livestock. And she was lucky no one had drowned the day she had fixed the Bone Bridge with her sorcery. After just one sunny afternoon, the whole thing had collapsed.
Magic wasn’t the answer. It was more important to have wisdom and strength of character. Why couldn’t they see that?
A flash of light appeared at the tower above the palace. A second or two later, there followed a deep boom.
“That’s the Candle…” said Kali.
“What’s going on?” asked Sami. “Has Uncle Ahmed gotten his spells mixed up again?”
Clouds hid the moon, but there was enough light spilling upward from the city to see a giant, winged creature ha
nging off the tower’s roof. Lily cursed.
What had Thorn gone and done now?
TEN
Thorn shook the shackles around his wrists. “They’re heavier than I remember.”
Lily glowered at him. “You’re an idiot.”
“What did I do wrong?”
She stood on one side, K’leef the other. It was like old times.
Except now they were in a courtyard where palace prisoners were taken to be executed by fire.
Thorn saw Lily looking at the unlit pyre and he smirked. “Not gonna get much use of that today, are they? Their victims flew the coop.”
She hissed, loud enough for K’leef to hear. “So, what was your plan?”
“Rescue those women. Which I did.”
“And after that?”
“Er…”
He winced. It wasn’t just the bright morning sunlight that hurt, but the big black eye he’d received when the guards had caught him. The bruise to his ribs ached, too. Oh, and so did his knuckles. He really shouldn’t have tried punching the captain, especially while he was in full armor.
Lily looked over at what remained of the Candle. “How much of that Thunderdust did you use?”
“All of it. Blew a great big hole in the wall. And knocked that ugly statue off the top, too.” Thorn was eternally grateful to the Eagle Knight, Ying, for giving him the explosive powder back when they had battled Lily’s half brother last winter.
“That ‘ugly statue’ was a famous historical landmark,” said K’leef. “The phoenix has protected the palace for three hundred years. My ancestors used them to hunt—did you know that? Great birds of fire, flying—”
Thorn yawned. “Yeah, I get it. Anyway, that dust was the last of my supply. Lily, could you send a letter to Ying asking for another few tubes? Comes in pretty handy.”
Lily put her hands on her hips. “Just tell us what happened, Thorn.”
Despite the shackles, Thorn clapped. “So, after you two refused to help me, I thought I’d go save those four innocent women myself. As always. Hades took a fair bit of persuading—he was still digesting that camel from earlier—but eventually I got him up and away. He latched onto the beak of the phoenix statue while I climbed down to the cell window. Told the pregnant woman, whose name is Kismet in case you was wondering, to stand well back. I shook up the Thunderdust and…bang! Off it went.”