by Joshua Khan
“The whole city saw that,” muttered K’leef. “Most thought it was one of the celebratory fireworks gone wrong.”
Thorn continued. “The old woman and Kismet got on Hades’s back; then he held a girl in each of his claws and flew off. I told him to drop ’em outside the city and come back for me, but…he didn’t. The lazy fat rat.”
Thorn could guess that Hades, tired from the flight and heavy from his meal, had found himself a nice dark cave to snooze in and just left Thorn to his fate. He’d pull the monster’s ears hard the next time he saw him.
“I was just leaving quiet like, myself, and then the guards turned up. Pretty angry, they were.” He touched his swollen eye. “I tried to explain myself, but none of ’em spoke Gehennish. All I get is a thwack in the face, and here I am.”
Lily pressed her knuckles against her temples. “Why do I get a headache whenever you come out with one of your plans? Ruling all of Gehenna is easier than dealing with you.”
“Grandpa says—”
“Shut up, Thorn, or I swear by the Six I’ll send you straight into the Pit.”
He narrowed his gaze. “You can’t do that.”
Her gaze narrowed in return. “Try me.”
K’leef straightened up as the far door opened. “Shh, both of you.”
Jambiya entered. He had discarded his stick and moved across the small courtyard with familiarity. This was his home; he knew his way around, eyes or no eyes.
And in came a monstrous creature behind him.
Tall and man-shaped, the thing was made from smoldering coal. Ash fell with each step, and the skin was cracked, exposing lava within. Flames licked across its body, and Thorn could feel the heat from across the courtyard. It walked in a hazy curtain of superhot air, causing it to appear to waver like a desert mirage. It had no mouth, just a pair of white-hot eyes.
A demon, it had to be. Thorn stared at it, frozen. How was that possible? He thought only Shadows could summon those, and Lily had told him no one had that sort of power anymore. He shot a glance at Lily, who stood watching it, eyes wide with disbelief.
K’leef gulped. “You’ve awoken Farn?”
Jambiya turned toward the creature. “Do you not have an efreet of your own?”
An efreet? Like Pazuzu? But this Farn was nothing like that small glowing bundle. This monstrosity was almost seven feet tall and so hot Thorn was sweating from a dozen feet away. So it wasn’t a demon from the Pit, but that didn’t make it any less terrifying.
Farn stood at Jambiya’s side, dripping lava over the floor. How could the blind man bear to be so close? If he could handle the efreet, then the lava crown would be no problem. Was that what he was trying to prove?
Thorn pulled at his shirt to let the air in and the sweat drop out.
Jambiya settled himself on the chair. “Bring the prisoner forward.”
K’leef cleared his throat. “Brother, I’ve come to—”
“I have nothing more to say to you, K’leef,” snapped Jambiya. “This Gehennish slave broke into the Candle and freed my prisoners: a family of witches.”
“They were innocent women,” snarled Thorn. “And you were going to burn them.”
Jambiya smiled. “So you admit you freed them?”
“Yup.” Thorn shook his chain. “And I’d do it again, if needs be.”
Lily groaned.
Thorn stuck out his chin. “I would. It was wrong for him to take ’em, and it’s as simple as that.”
Jambiya clapped his hands to summon the nearby guards. “You have admitted guilt, so there is nothing more to discuss. Put him on the pyre. Be quick—my breakfast is getting cold.”
“What?” Thorn cried. “You ain’t shoving me on that!”
Lily cleared her throat. “Sheik Jambiya? May I speak?”
His distaste was thick. “Ah, the witch queen. I was wondering when you’d try to intervene. I don’t know how Gehenna fell so far that they would allow someone like you to rule—a foolish girl—but you have no authority here, m’lady.” He practically spat the last word.
“I’m not here to challenge you, Sheik. I’m merely requesting justice.”
“You shall see that soon enough.”
“The four women whom you imprisoned,” Lily went on. “You found them where?”
“In my lands, of course. In one of the villages. It was well known that the family used witchcraft. And, as ruler of those villages, it is my duty to dispense justice.”
“There’s no denying that,” Lily replied. “But Thorn’s crime was carried out…here? In the palace?”
“What of it? And it was more than one crime. He also caused damage to the Candle. Who knows when it can be used again?”
“And that’s a bad thing?” muttered Thorn. “Would have been best if the whole thing toppled.”
Lily stomped on Thorn’s toes. “So, Thorn’s crime, if it is a crime—”
“Of course it’s a crime!” Jambiya jumped up. “Take the boy and put him on the pyre!”
“Hey! Let me go!” Thorn struggled as two guards hooked their arms under his armpits and lifted him off his feet. “Hey!”
Thorn kicked out, but the two guards knew their business. They dragged him across the courtyard to the stake surrounded by a pile of wood.
He fought harder. He even snapped his teeth as one wrapped the chains around him. Thorn caught the other hard in the gut with a kick and earned himself a cuff to the side of the head.
Jambiya snapped his fingers. “Farn?”
The massive efreet started toward Thorn. A wave of heat rolled out in front of the creature, and the sticks nearest to it began to smoke.
Thorn pulled at his shackles until his wrists ached, then harder still, until his bones creaked.
Closer came the efreet. Its hands brightened. The black coating broke away from its fingers, revealing something akin to molten rock, white-hot and coated with fire. The air began to crackle.
Thorn looked desperately across the courtyard. “Do something, Lily….”
She walked up to the foot of Jambiya’s chair. “Forgive me, as I’m only a foolish girl, but I understood from K’leef that the only person who can pass judgment on a crime committed within the palace itself is the sultan.” She stepped nearer still. “Which you are not, Sheik. Sa’if is.”
He turned his ruined eyes to hers and said coldly, “Sa’if died at dawn.”
“No…” whispered K’leef, all color draining from his face. “Why did no one tell me?”
Jambiya sneered. “You were here, with your ‘friends,’ instead of carrying out your familial duties, Brother.”
Thorn glanced at K’leef and saw that he was on the verge of tears. They should have known it was touch and go for Sa’if, but that didn’t make his death any easier to accept. He’d been a good man. Unlike this sorry excuse for a sheik.
Jambiya smiled. “I will be declared sultan at noon.”
“Stop.” K’leef stepped up to his brother.
What was K’leef doing?
Whatever it was, he needed to do it fast. The efreet was almost upon him, and the heat from the monster was unbearable. Breathing became panting as sweat glossed over his bare skin.
“You are not sultan yet,” said K’leef. “Not if the title is contested.”
Jambiya laughed disdainfully. “You? You would challenge me for the lava crown? Perhaps you were away too long and the cold of the north numbed your mind.”
“You are not sultan,” repeated K’leef.
Thorn couldn’t believe it. K’leef was challenging Jambiya for the Sultanate, all to save him. He blushed, ashamed for calling K’leef a coward last night.
“So be it,” said Jambiya. He waved toward the pyre. “Farn, desist.”
Thorn sank to his knees as the efreet stepped away. The fire within the monster did not die, but it lessened enough for the air around him to become something less than searing. Thorn swallowed great big lungfuls and watched, through eyes covered in dripping sweat, a
s the thing retreated back to its master.
A guard removed his shackles, and Jambiya stood up, hand outstretched. “Come here, boy. Let us make peace.”
Thorn wiped his face with his sleeve, keeping a wary eye on the efreet. But it was a few yards behind Jambiya and no longer radiating at the same intensity it had been a few moments earlier.
Cautiously, Thorn stepped forward and took Jambiya’s offered grasp.
Jambiya’s smile turned fierce. “You have loyal allies, young Thorn.”
“K’leef owes me a favor or two,” said Thorn. Then he looked down at his hand, clutched tightly in Jambiya’s. “Er…”
What was Jambiya doing? Thorn’s hand began to tickle. Then itch. The itch grew more intense.
Thorn tried to pull it free. “It hurts….”
K’leef jumped forward. “Let him go, Jambiya!”
Thorn yelled as smoke slipped out from between the clasped hands. The yell rose to a scream. He was burning!
Jambiya let go, and Thorn fell backward.
Lily rushed to him and stared in horror.
The back of his hand was covered with red blisters, from fingertip to wrist. He felt sick looking at it and couldn’t stop himself from screaming.
K’leef rushed up and forced it into a jug of ice water. Thorn rocked back and forth, stifling his sobs. By the Six, it hurt so much….
“How dare you!” Lily swore at Jambiya. “You had no right.”
Jambiya lifted his nose to sniff the air. “Is there any smell so sweet? Is that not justice?”
“No. That is cruelty.” Lily put her arm around Thorn. “Which is base and unbecoming of any prince.”
Jambiya sneered, summoned his guards, and left, the efreet plodding behind.
K’leef helped Thorn up. He couldn’t trust himself to stand; all he wanted to do was curl up and sob.
“I’ll take you to the physician,” said K’leef. “He’s an expert at dealing with burns. You’ll be fine, trust me.”
“I’ll come with you, Thorn,” said Lily, her face filled with concern.
Thorn clutched his hand, tears running down his face. He was in so much pain, it was difficult to focus on anything else. But, through gritted teeth, through his tears, he faced his friend. “Sultan, eh?”
If he wasn’t dying of pain, he would have laughed.
Lily looked at the still-smoking pyre. “What happens now?”
ELEVEN
“How dare he?” Lily squeezed her fists and all around her the shadows, pale and feeble in the sunlight, shook and trembled.
“Lily…” K’leef said.
She should go straight back and face Jambiya. See how good his magic really was. She would tear him to pieces and then rebuild him as a jumbled-up zombie, arms and legs all askew.
She could have dealt with that efreet, too. She was fluent enough in Djinnic to know “Farn” meant “furnace,” but it didn’t matter how bright and hot it burned. Darkness consumed all things.
Poor Thorn!
“How dare he…” Lily muttered again. The things she could do to Jambiya. Perhaps she should march into his dreams and fill them with endless nightmares. Or she could bring in ghosts.…Surely there were plenty of victims of his who were all too eager for revenge? Have them haunt his every step. She could do that easily.
He might be blind, but Lily would show him what true darkness was.
“Lily. Please.”
She turned to K’leef. He stood a few feet away, looking scared. “You need to stop.”
Dead birds littered the shriveled grass. Wilted flowers lined the garden path, and the trees nearby had rotted.
Had she done all that?
Lily sighed and let her anger bleed away. “I’m so sorry, K’leef.”
“I understand. You couldn’t help it.”
She picked up a sparrow. “I must help it.”
Her father had warned her about her temper. When the powerful lose control, innocents suffer.
The tiny bird was still warm. Life had left it, but she could still give it an…existence. Something this small would take hardly any effort at all.
Then what? Her zombies could hardly walk straight and needed constant rebuilding. There wasn’t a night back home when she didn’t stumble upon—and often over—a dropped-off limb or tread on a popped-out eyeball.
An undead bird would barely be able to fly, and what sort of song would it give? Better not to find out. She placed the bird gently back on the grass. “I’m sorry, K’leef. It won’t happen again.”
But K’leef wasn’t listening. He was now sitting on a stone bench, staring at nothing. “He’s dead, Lily. Just like that.”
How could she have been so selfish? She’d been so angry at Jambiya, she’d forgotten that her friend had just lost his brother. She sat down next to K’leef and took his hand.
There was nothing to say. No words would make the pain any less, no glib saying could prevent a single tear. Tears had to fall. Sadness had to flow.
And the dead still needed love.
So she sat there quietly, holding K’leef’s hand as he was racked with deep sobs.
They were so similar, both in upbringing and in pain. The wound of her family members’ deaths was still fresh, and watching K’leef tore it open again.
That day the carts had rolled in with three bodies covered in tarpaulin…Baron Sable had told her not to look, but she did anyway. How could she not?
She hadn’t been there to witness their suffering, not like K’leef. So for her, the memories of her parents and brother still shone brightly with life. Of her mother laughing, of Dante teasing, and of her father smiling slyly at some mischief of hers.
And from time to time, she was even able to meet with her father still….
“K’leef, do you want to see Sa’if?”
He looked at her, sniffling. “What?”
Was this right? It could make things worse. She’d called on the dead before. It didn’t always go well.
K’leef’s confusion cleared quickly. “You…you could summon him?”
“I could try and find his ghost. It’s not the same person, exactly….” She frowned, recalling one of the first times she’d tried. Her servant Rose had been murdered, and Lily had tried to contact her spirit. But she’d been overwhelmed by Rose’s fear, pain, and regret, the flood of emotions tied up with Rose’s last few, horrific seconds of life.
Lily had gotten a glimpse of the murderer, though—a fleeting look through Rose’s own eyes.
“Contacting the dead’s not always successful, K’leef.”
But his fingers tightened on hers. “Please, Lily. I’d like to speak to Sa’if.” There was no mistaking the desperation in his voice. “Even for just one minute.”
She looked around the garden. They were alone, and that suited her fine. K’leef understood her powers, but others didn’t.
K’leef stood up, shifting from one foot to the other, filled with excitement and apprehension. “Do you want to go inside? Somewhere darker? The palace has underground rooms.”
“I like it here. And this is where Sa’if would come, wouldn’t he?”
K’leef pointed to a cluster of trees. “That’s where he’d pick figs. He loved them. He’d eat them while soaking his feet in the fountain.”
“You’d sit with him, too?”
K’leef chuckled softly. “He’d climb up to reach the ones at the top. The leaves stung, but Sa’if didn’t mind. He said if he could withstand the fire, then what was a little itch? The ones at the top are the ripest.”
“Then let’s go over there. It might make things easier.”
She kicked off her shoes and folded her immense skirt under to sit cross-legged in the shade of a tree.
The soft wind blew through the garden and dappled sunlight patterned the grass. A hummingbird took a brief interest in them before flitting off to the array of flowers growing semiwild along the paths and the edges of the fountains.
K’leef knelt down oppo
site her. “Do you want me to do anything? Is this how you contact Iblis?”
“My father’s ghost haunts the Shadow Library, where we study together. I can also see him—in a more solid form—in the Dreamtime. The lands of the dead and the Dreamtime overlap, K’leef. I’m sure you’ll see Sa’if in your dreams, sooner or later.”
“They’re just wishful thinking, aren’t they?”
“Don’t underestimate the power of a wish, K’leef.” She pulled the pins out of her hair and let the thick white locks untangle themselves around her shoulders.
She closed her eyes. The cool grass tickled her feet, and the breeze ruffled her hair. She smelled the sticky sweetness of the figs and the faint scents of smoke and incense. Incense burned in every corridor and hallway here. Some of the sticks smoldered in tripods, but most were held by statues that littered the palace in far greater numbers than her own gargoyles at Castle Gloom. Lily idly wondered if K’leef had named the statues as she’d done with the gargoyles back home.
The branches above her creaked. Was it merely the wind?
“Sa’if? Is that you?” she asked.
The air grew colder, and she heard a gasp.
The first thing she saw was K’leef, agog.
Between her and him, a faint shape was taking form. Wisps of ethereal mist wove together in the weak shadows under the tree. The smoke grew thicker until it looked like a man, undefined around the edges.
K’leef stood up slowly and reached out. “Sa’if?”
Vague facial features formed in the cloak of mist. The ghost turned his gaze to K’leef. “Brother.”
A ghost was made up of memories and emotions. Content, peaceful, and fulfilled spirits disappeared to the Far Shore without lingering or looking back to the living world. They could still be met, in the Dreamtime, but only when they wished it. Not even the greatest necromancer had successfully summoned a spirit back from the Far Shore.
Lily could tell they didn’t have long to talk to Sa’if. His death may have been tragic and horrible, but she sensed the goodness in him, the urge to laugh and love. Sadness, regret, and anger kept the dead from the rest they deserved. Sa’if had none of those shackles. She’d been lucky to find him.