Dark Djinn

by Tia Reed

  A wisp of cloud drifted across Daesoa, dimming the night.

  “It is part of who the mahktashaan are.”

  “And so you knew Timak’s djinn and the indigo were different?”

  “I didn’t.” The answer was unexpected, and she turned to him. “I meant it when I said I am not prepared to condemn a child on mere speculation. From what your guards tell, I was right. The genie Ahkdul claims troubles Timak is a mischievous entity, though I doubt she is an evil menace.”

  “And what of the indigo djinn? Could he cause serious harm?” She felt queasy, thinking of it. How foolish she was, to think she could run.

  “I rather think he already has.”

  She couldn’t control the sob. Her hands flew over her face as her humiliation surged. That horrendous image at the docks would forever drip poison into her mind.

  “Hush,” Arun said. Without thought, she leaned into him. He raised his arms around her, but he hesitated and lowered them before he could complete an inappropriate touch. “The shame is mine, for I did not protect you from his evil.”

  This proximity alone would see him flogged, and her locked up in full veil, but she could not deny how sweet it reassured when it the nightingale bestowed his whistle.

  “There were so many men.”

  He stepped back, separating himself from her. She swallowed, and attempted to gain what poise she might, standing tall even as she felt insecure, beneath the green moon, Dindarin, a warrior in his own right.

  “Neither Mariano nor Ahkdul saw,” Arun said. “As for the dock workers, I think fewer than you believe witnessed the djinn’s foolery, and of those who did, there is more honour among them than Ahkdul would have you think, and more fear of Mariano’s sword than you are aware. None will utter a word of what they saw.”

  He was telling her what she needed to hear. She accepted it because, to face the sun in the company of men, to hold her head high, she must. “Do you truly believe so?”

  “I do.”

  Daesoa chose that moment to lift her veil. She could take that as a sign. Closing her eyes, she said, “I want to ask you to keep it a secret, though I know you cannot. But Vinsant. There is no need for him to know. You will keep him safe?” That last sounded so odd, so removed from what they discussed, but it was near the time to attempt her escape, and her little brother was her one regret.

  Arun offered his arm, a permissible contact for the Minoria to make. She took it and they walked down a path lined with crown imperials, their red lantern flowers topped by a mop of strappy leaves.

  “No one need know, Princess. Not Levi, nor your father.”

  She stopped, not understanding. “You are sworn…”

  He indicated they should walk on. “I have told the Majoria and the Shah of all else. To divulge of what we speak will shed no light on why the djinn haunt our halls. Princess Kordahla, I do not wish to complicate life for you. Both the Shah and the Majoria are inflexible where matters of honour are concerned. Save for keeping you from distress, I have discharged my duty as Minoria. I repeat. They need not know.”

  The gratitude she felt at that moment was unbounded. Almost, she confessed to the djinn’s previous visit, but to do so would be to reveal all the lies, and dash her chance to escape her cruel fate.

  “Hey, you snails.” Vinsant came tearing towards them.

  “The mahktashaan look after their own. My oath to mentor Vinsant is unbreakable, but you have always kept him safe.”

  Vinsant passed them at a run, heading for the southern steps to the rampart. Timak followed him at a more sedate pace, a hem tumbling from a tangle of gown in his arms and sweeping the ground in his wake. Kordahla’s heart caught in her throat. After tonight, she might never see her brothers again.

  She had not meant to stop, nor to speak her fear. “A major moon in Verdaan followed by a hasty wedding. I shall not have the chance to see him grow.”

  Arun, who never faltered, did so then. Vinsant’s laughter drifted down from the steps, filling the void in their conversation until the Minoria could say, a strange catch to his voice, “It is arranged then?”

  “You did not know.” It was neither a question, nor a statement, but something in between.

  He hesitated. Daesoa again donned her veil. “No doubt Shah Wilshem will make public announcement tomorrow.”

  She took the moment then, in the hope he might later remember the explanation for what she was about to do, forgive her the lies and, above all, absolve her for involving him, the one person who had tried to alleviate her burden. “I will not marry Ahkdul willingly.”

  “No,” he murmured, and looked at the boys on the steps. Timak stood motionless with his bundle while Vinsant bounded up and down in a mock sword fight, pretending to jab him in the chest with an imaginary sword. Raising a hand in victory, he ran up onto the wall. His antics drew the attention of the patrol, good-natured men who were happy to oblige his request for a bout. Step by step, the traumatised boy followed, making no attempt to engage in play.

  She turned and led Arun away. The Minoria was likely to have keen eyes for mischief.

  “If the Shah knew of the djinn’s cruelty, he might delay–”

  She stopped him with a gesture, beneath an almond tree laden with nuts. “Since Father is convinced of both Ahkdul’s suitability as an ally and the duplicity of the djinn, he is as likely to marry me off tonight.”

  “None can know the mind of the djinn. The mind of the Shah is another matter. Will he send Mariano as an escort?” She nodded. “Then you have no cause to fear. Until you are properly wed, the Crown Prince will permit no man to touch you, betrothed or otherwise.”

  But even then it will be dishonour, she thought, every time that hideous man touches me. An infrequent torture it might be, if he procured enough boys, but a single night in Ahkdul’s bed was a horror capable of smothering her last vestige of self-respect. If only Ahkdul were like Arun. I would happily relinquish family and home. She stopped, and bit her lip, for it could never be. Mahktashaan claimed rank by training not birth. Such an alliance could offer no advantage to the realm, and so even the ranked among those magicians were an unsuitable match for the only daughter of a shah. Besides, beyond the formality of his office, she did not know the man. She frowned at herself, and her hand stiffened on his arm. Such daydreaming would accomplish nothing.

  “Are you well, Princess?”

  “May we walk?”

  They continued in silence, a stroll past the palace to the pretty park that abutted the pool. Under crescent moons, the carving of Shah Gustav and the meddlesome grapper was too dark to study, but the perfume of the frangipani and chrysanthemums blossoming beneath made visiting this section of the gardens in moonlight a treat. Above, on the rampart, Vinsant continued to engage in mock swordplay, his silhouette a magical piece of imagery against crescent Dindarin. She shook her head at his energy, for he must have raced along the parapet to beat them here. It surprised her that Timak was already descending to the garden. The timid boy did not look like he had the wits to run. He stopped an armlength away and held out the unadorned black cloak he carried. From the fineness of cloth, she guessed it was Mariano’s. If Vinsant had not been born a prince, he could have made a decent living as a thief. She draped the cloak over herself even as her sneaky little brother’s call carried through the night.

  “See what I learned today.”

  Her little brother had wedged himself into a crenel. Balancing on one foot, he continued to wave the imaginary sword. His antics reduced her to laughter. Spurred on, he shimmied up the sides to the top of a merlon, where he attempted to repeat his one-footed stunt, an impossible feat given the slope of its pyramidal cap. Their plan suddenly seemed foolhardy not just for her, but for Vinsant too.

  “It’s not safe,” she said, taking a few steps towards him, and meaning it. Then, unable to stop herself, she called out, “Vinsant, no!”

  Too late. Arms waving back, Vinsant overbalanced and tumbled backward to the lake b
elow.

  “Vinsant!” she screamed, as a huge splash brought the full complement of the patrol on this side of the wall running.

  Arun was already taking the steps two at a time. The lake was deep. Mariano and other young courtiers had jumped into its waters in displays of bravado on days of scorching heat. Vinsant had too, but not into the lake proper, where he could land atop a rock, or fall prey to any thug who might seek to hold him to ransom. It did not deter Arun. He was removing his outer robe in preparation to dive.

  Beside her, Timak gave a small tug on her cloak. She looked down and saw the ghost of a plea in his eyes. They ran for the side gate. The distance stretched unbearably and, unaccustomed to the exertion, she began to puff. In the commotion, the guards did not question her exit through the wicket. They surrounded her as they ran to Vinsant’s aid, for the Minoria himself was outside, his plunge marked by a smaller splash and the shouts of guards. If the diversion worked it would be a miracle, for the whole palace must be awake by now. She hesitated, every maternal instinct in her body beseeching her to check if Vinsant was hurt.

  “You won’t get another chance, you foolish flea,” a familiar voice drawled in her ear. The whiff of fish was gagging strong, and she held her wrist to her mouth.

  “Djinn!” the call went up.

  All around her, crystals were ablaze, a rainbow of colours flaring into the darkness. Kordahla pressed herself against the wall. She expected the wicked indigo djinn to materialise, though whether to help or hinder her escape was moot. Instead, a giggling, pink, rose-scented child plucked Kordahla’s veil from her head as she swooped in the direction of the lake, her skin shimmering in Daesoa’s light, the crystals at her joints aglow.

  “I can splash too,” she called.

  “See to Prince Vinsant. The genie is headed his way,” Kordahla said when a mahktashaan approached. She pulled Timak under the arch of the gate. “I shall return to my rooms until I hear from the Prince. My mahktashaan guards are still there,” she added as he protested the need to protect her.

  Another splash inserted itself into the chaos, followed by more giggling, and another flare of crystal light. The mahktashaan ran for the lake, telling her to get inside the walls. By what miracle he left her alone, she would never know. Setting foot outside the walls without an escort was unheard of for her. She took a tiny step towards the lake and felt Timak take her hand.

  “The genie won’t hurt the prince,” he said, so low she almost lost the words.

  If the boy had not been there, she might have turned inside the gate. The pleading in his eyes undid her, and the swollen, black eye that, though Arun assured did not hurt, was a reminder of what lay in store for them both in Ahkdul’s house. She squeezed his hand and they ran the other way, turning along the front of the palace. She slowed to a frustrating walk, drawing up the hood, and pulling the black cloak tight around herself as they approached the main gate, a cluster of guards patrolling the ramparts above it. She had never expected them to abandon the post, and so she guided Timak down the footpath of Royal Way, hoping it would appear as though they sought no business within the palace walls. The shadows and the palms were scant shelter for a plan so bold, but when clouds covered the moons, night swallowed them. They ran again, across the street and around the side of the palace, down steps to the rocky bank, where only three feet of ground separated the wall from the fast-flowing tributary of the Arezou River as it swirled into Lake Sheraz.

  Timak had aimed well. The black mahktashaan robe lay in a crumpled heap at the foot of the wall, a small bag of food and the crystal tucked well within its folds. Vinsant’s quartz pendant was there too. He had not told her he would relinquish it, and she felt a surge of love so painful it crippled her. There was no question Levi would discipline him for losing it. She looked up, at the high wall she dared to leave forever. Only Timak’s gentle touch reminded her of the need for haste. She removed Mariano’s cloak and wrapped him in it, then donned the robe, hiding the crystal in its folds. A presumption it was, but she picked the quartz up and passed the leather strap over her head. Vae’oenka help her! The stone flared as brushed her chest. She tugged it off, and dangled it deep inside her gown, letting it drop into a pocket. With a surreptitious glance around, she searched for any sign mahktashaan or guards had spied the light.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Hitting the water back first hurt a lot more than Vinsant anticipated. Worse, it was shocking cold. He hadn’t meant to blow out, but the smack of the water just crushed his chest flat. So now he was struggling for the surface, and weak and gaspy when he broke into air. He tilted his head back so he could suck in long breaths. He had landed close to the wall, in a beam of Dindarin’s green light. As luck would have it, a guard spotted him and called out. One more breath would have to do. Full of air, Vinsant dove and kicked hard for the dark horizon of the opposite shore. Not that he had any hope of making the crossing, but then he wasn’t trying to reach the far bank; just move distant enough from this one to delay his needless rescue. How hilarious was that! The guards, mahktashaan and otherwise, would all be panicking over his safety, and here he was, doing his best to thwart their efforts. ’Course, he lost his breath in a chuckle, which meant he had to surface. He didn’t plan on dallying long enough to be spotted a second time, but he hadn’t planned on getting caught within a blue sphere of light, either. Cerulean blue to be exact. Scums. The game was over. If he kept swimming, it would draw suspicion, so he thrashed about feigning confusion and a spluttery cough until Arun called his name and he had to pretend to spy the Minoria for the first time. Arun released his crystal, casting them back into the semi-blackness of a starry, moonlit night, and struck towards him. Vinsant looked up at waning Dindarin chasing waxing Daesoa across the sky, and made the smallest kick back. He sure hoped it was not Kordahla’s fate to be pursued and caught.

  “Are you all right?” Arun asked. His eyes were so bright they reflected on the surface, two full moons.

  Threading water to buy more time, Vinsant nodded. “That was kind of fun, actually.”

  “Your fun has your sister worried sick. How did you come to be this far out from the palace walls?”

  “Uh…” said Vinsant, thinking hard. Up on the rampart, the guards were holding lanterns over the water. “I got confused. I thought I saw a light in this direction.”

  “Have a care, there are djinn about,” Arun said. It was too cool the Minoria bought his story. No way was he going to get in trouble for any of this. “Can you swim?”

  “Of course I can swim.” He kicked off and got a whole five strokes on Arun. At this pace, he was going to beat the Minoria to shore. Except that was exactly what he didn’t want. He treaded water to buy Kordahla more time. “Just a bit puffed. I need to go slow,” he said, when Arun caught up. The Minoria’s golden-brown hair was darker wet, but that wasn’t an advantage with those mahktashaan eyes.

  They waded out onto a shore swarming with mahktashaan. Forget lanterns, these guys had awesome balls of light floating over their heads, each one as bright as a full moon. He walked under them, and didn’t notice the sopping blue veil lying crumpled in the mud before his scuffed step wrapped one corner around his toes. He shook his foot free of it, and Arun picked it up. He didn’t seem to care his feet were all muddy. Vinsant shook his head. A mahktashaan should not be without boots.

  “I’m perfectly fine,” he insisted when a guard draped an oversized cloak over his shoulders. All the fuss was stinging his boyish pride. He would never live it down if Naikil got wind of it. “It’s not as though this is the longest I’ve ever spent in the water.” Then he coughed to good effect. Except that set off a whole string of coughs which the mahktashaan nearest him assumed meant he needed a slap on the back.

  “Eh, yep, I think I’m okay now.” He straightened up, ready to start a conversation about his bravery, or his stupidity, whichever was going to keep all these guards right here, out of the palace.

  “Where is your quartz, Vinsant?�
� Arun asked.

  Vinsant’s hand moved to his chest. “I don’t know,” he said, the plain truth. The stone was with Kordahla, and he had no idea where she was. Well not exactly, anyway. So he didn’t feel guilty, which meant he wouldn’t look guilty. Too bad the Minoria looked like he was standing over someone’s grave. Vinsant had a real bad feeling it was his. He squelched back to the water’s edge as Arun lifted his crystal over the lake and spoke one of those hard to catch magic words. Nothing happened.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, returning to the Minoria.

  “It is not me to whom you need to apologise. Mahktos entrusted that quartz to you.”

  Vinsant went a little unsteady on his feet. He had thrown the stone over the palace wall with the mahktashaan robe Timak had carried. Too late now to think that had been a tad impulsive. Getting a replacement was bound to be complicated. He coughed.

  “You need to see Physic Nocrates.”

  “I’m fine, really.” He swished through the grass, head hanging as his hands fretted in and out of fists while he pretended to search for his stone. When he turned, he bumped right into Arun.

  “Um, sorry.” He started to go around, but Arun placed a firm hand on his shoulder.

  “Your quartz is not in the lake.”

  Vinsant looked out over the water. A distant twinkle marked the shipyard. He shivered.

  “Physic Nocrates,” Arun insisted.

  “I really don’t need–”

  “You really do,” Arun insisted.

  It was only when they were approaching the physic’s door that Vinsant recalled the statue of Mahktos in the corner. Given his history with the god, there was every chance of a curious incident. Kordahla needed the time a suspicious glow in the statue’s eyes would curtail. At least it would be curtailed if Arun were present. Which was a far more noble reason for a mahktashaan apprentice to enter alone than his desire to delay repercussions from his little stunt. He stopped by the door. A small puddle pooled at his feet.