The Seal

by J F Mehentee

  Navid stopped gnawing on his biscuit and looked up at his sister. From the way she regarded him and from what Yesfir had described soon after their capture, Fiqitush guessed brother and sister were talking.

  Roshan scowled at her brother, then turned her attention to Fiqitush, her brow still furrowed.

  ‘Navid wants to know what happened to the seal after King Solomon died.’

  Fiqitush stood and weaved a destination window. Everyone stood to join him, Navid cradled in Roshan’s cupped hands. They gazed upon a vast mountain range with three peaks, all of them blanketed in snow.

  ‘When I kissed the seal,’ Fiqitush said, ‘its magic became a part of me, which made it simple to locate the seal’s general whereabouts. This is the best I can do. I spent decades searching those mountains. The longer I stayed away from Iram, the more it fell into disrepair.’

  Fiqitush collapsed the window, waited for everyone to sit and then continued.

  ‘Somehow, a bond exists between myself and Iram, one that is weakening as my auric energy fades. Other djinn have used those coordinates, stepped onto the mountains, but the seal has evaded them.’ Fiqitush ran a hand over his bald head. Navid had provided him with an opportunity, but his chest tightened at having to ask.

  ‘You are part-djinn, Roshan, and Solomon was human. I know I sound desperate when I say I’m hoping the seal might reveal itself to the human part of you. If you found it, I’d be able to return the auric energy it contains to the djinn and the daevas.’

  Roshan’s eyes became slits.

  ‘And if I don’t, you won’t change Navid back into a human?’

  Her stubbornness and defiance reminded Fiqitush of her father. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a piece of papyrus and held it out to her.

  ‘The first line is the incantation for transforming Navid back into a human. The second contains coordinates. You and Navid have already done more than I could have asked for. Each mission you have completed has been of considerable help to the djinn. I’m asking you, not for my sake but for the sake of my people, to help us one last time.’

  Brother and sister glanced at one another. Roshan took the papyrus and studied it. She lowered her brother to the floor and left the papyrus next to him. Fiqitush’s gaze fell upon Navid, and he wondered which of the twins would more closely resemble their father.

  A burning sharpness lanced the centre of Fiqitush’s forehead, and an azure glow shone from his right. Fiqitush looked over to see the destination window Roshan had woven. His insides twisted when he saw the same snow-covered mountain range.

  ‘Roshan,’ Yesfir cried.

  From his left, Behrouz and Yesfir rushed towards Roshan. Tendrils of blue-grey smoke twisted from the corners of Roshan’s eyes. The young woman’s shoulders shook before her knees buckled. The destination window collapsed, and Behrouz caught her.

  Behrouz laid an unconscious Roshan on the rug. Yesfir knelt and ran an open hand over her. Behrouz checked her leg. Navid scrambled over to his sister and laid his paws on the ball of her thumb.

  ‘Her leg’s not bleeding,’ Behrouz said.

  Fiqitush ran a hand over his head.

  ‘What happened? Is it her injury?’

  His daughter shook her head.

  ‘She fainted but I don’t know why?’

  ‘I’ve prepared rooms down the hall,’ Fiqitush said. ‘She’ll be more comfortable lying on a bed.’

  Behrouz slotted his arms beneath Roshan and carried her as if she were an infant. Yesfir placed Navid among the folds of her tunic, then watched the three of them leave.

  Fiqitush joined his daughter and wrapped an arm around her.

  ‘The smoke, has that happened before?’

  Yesfir shook her head.

  ‘I’ve never seen such a thing with any djinni,’ she said.

  Fiqitush remembered the pain piercing his forehead.

  ‘Did you feel it—like Core power, only stronger?’

  Yesfir nodded.

  ‘I thought I was going to be sick,’ she said. ‘I’ve felt nothing like that before.’

  The power had emanated from Roshan—he was sure of that much. But it wasn’t enough for her to find the seal’s precise location.

  Forget the seal, he told himself. For now, all that matter are Roshan, Navid and reuniting them with their father.

  7

  A loud knock woke Roshan. She opened her eyes to see rough stone walls bathed in a peach-coloured glow. She lay on a divan, a musty blanket covering her. Roshan lifted the blanket and found she wore a cotton sleeping gown.

  ‘You’re awake at last,’ Navid said. He sat by her side, close to the wall the bed pressed against.

  A second knock came from the door.

  Zana’s head appeared above the foot of the bed. His nose twitched.

  ‘I smell food.’

  ‘Tell whoever it is to come in,’ Navid said. ‘I haven’t eaten since yesterday.’

  Roshan sat up. Her stomach gurgled.

  ‘Come in,’ she said.

  A djinni with wavy hair entered the room. Orange flames circled his irises. He carried a silver tray.

  ‘He looks about our age,’ Navid said.

  The djinni set the tray on the floor in front of Roshan’s bed. A green patch covered the knee of his fawn leggings. The cuffs of his tunic’s sleeves were frayed.

  ‘My name is Shephatiah,’ he said. ‘After you’ve had breakfast, call my name and I’ll come get you. The king is worried about you and would like to see you.’

  Breakfast? Roshan thought. They’d arrived in Iram an hour before noon. How long had she slept for? And why couldn’t she remember anything after she’d woven a destination window for the king?

  ‘Just call when you’re ready,’ Shephatiah said, then disappeared out the door.

  Roshan pushed the blanket off her. After she’d broken off some flatbread for Navid and cut the goat’s cheese into cubes for Zana, she poured herself a bowl of water and drank. She refilled the bowl twice more.

  ‘After you raised the destination window for King Fiqitush, you passed out,’ Navid said. ‘What happened?’

  Roshan remembered Core power entering through her feet.

  ‘When I summoned Core power, I felt something else,’ Roshan said. ‘It didn’t burn, but I couldn’t contain it.’

  ‘I saw smoke coming out of your eyes,’ Zana said, crumbs of cheese stuck to his chin. ‘I thought you were about to catch fire. Everyone’s worried about you. Yesfir’s been coming in hourly to check on you.’

  Her memory of the sensation returned.

  ‘So much of it filled me, it was like I was drowning.’

  ‘I wasn’t aware of that,’ Navid said. He hadn’t yet touched his bread. ‘If anything, I felt disconnected from you. Were you scared?’

  Should she tell them she enjoyed the sensation, experienced ecstasy? If she weren’t famished and her brother and Zana were somewhere else, she’d raise a portal to experience it again.

  ‘I wasn’t scared,’ she said in answer to Navid’s question. She sealed off the memory of her enjoyment. ‘Whatever it was, I knew it wouldn’t harm me.’

  Navid picked up his bread.

  ‘You might not have been scared,’ he said, ‘but I was terrified. It isn’t every day you see smoke coming out of your sister’s eyes.’

  Navid’s concern reminded her of the piece of papyrus the king had given her. She skirted the breakfast tray and searched her clothes that someone had neatly folded.

  Zana looked up from the bowl of water Roshan had poured for him. ‘What are you looking for?’

  ‘The papyrus the king gave me. It has the incantation for changing Navid.’

  ‘You left it on the floor,’ Zana said.

  If she needed a reason to agree to the king’s summons, she now had one.

  ‘I have a question,’ Navid said. He had both paws on the rim of Zana’s bowl, his pink tongue lapping the water’s surface. He drank his fill and then continued. ‘You h
ad a choice between weaving a window or turning me back into a human. Why did you weave the window first? Are you going soft on the djinn and daevas?’

  ‘I could have changed you there and then, but you’d have had nothing to hide your nakedness,’ she said, smearing cheese onto her bread. ‘I didn’t want to embarrass you.’

  Navid nibbled his bread.

  ‘Good point. I never thought of that.’

  After they’d eaten and Navid and Zana had waited outside for her to dress, Roshan called out to Shephatiah. As if he’d been hiding nearby, the djinni appeared in the doorway and signalled for them to follow him.

  Most of the firestones in the alcoves above them needed recharging. Now and then, Shephatiah passed through a wall of darkness. Other equally dark passageways opened either side. The palace was like a warren. Roshan found the cold shadows and mustiness oppressive.

  ‘Water must be getting in from somewhere,’ Navid said. ‘This place is really falling apart.’

  Thankfully, they soon reached the domed audience chamber King Fiqitush had received them in yesterday. Shephatiah gestured at a chair placed against the wall at the back of the room.

  ‘Please wait over there,’ the djinni said. ‘The king will be along shortly.’ Shephatiah disappeared into the darkness and closed the door behind him.

  Zana settled onto his haunches and next to Roshan, who’d already sat down. Navid nestled on her lap.

  ‘Zana,’ Roshan said. The question only struck her when she saw the dais and remembered yesterday’s introductions.

  The manticore raised his head.

  ‘Yesterday, you called the king Grandpa.’ She saw Zana squirm. ‘Why didn’t you tell me Yesfir is the king’s daughter?’

  Zana dipped his head.

  ‘Because Mother made me promise not to tell either of you.’

  ‘Why would she do that?’ Navid said.

  Before she could ask, Roshan saw a door farther up from them and on the opposite side of the room open. Djinn, young and old, streamed into the room. They all carried shoulder bags and the same sand-coloured tunics and leggings.

  ‘What’s happening?’ Zana said.

  The djinn sat mostly in male-and-female pairs, the children joining some of them.

  ‘Those are families,’ Roshan said.

  ‘Why do I feel all this is for our benefit?’ Navid said.

  The families sat with their backs to them. Either they hadn’t noticed a woman, a rat and a manticore at the back of the chamber, or they chose not to acknowledge them.

  A boy, his bag still strapped across his back, turned and looked directly at Roshan. He stood and then approached her.

  His fringe of dark hair needed cutting, causing him to raise his head so he could see. From his size and rounded face, he couldn’t have been more than five. The tunic he wore looked as if it belonged to a child two years older. The sleeves were too long, and only his fingers appeared whenever he brushed the hair away from his eyes. Roshan saw orange flames surround his irises. Yesfir had once told her the flames appeared soon after a djinni’s birth. They changed from yellow to orange during infancy and then turned red after the djinni’s sixteenth birthday.

  The boy reached them and said, ‘You look like a daeva.’ He pointed at his eyes. ‘Are you going to Baka?’

  ‘No,’ Roshan said. For want of something else to say, she added, ‘Are you and your family going there?’

  The boy nodded.

  ‘I heard Mother crying last night,’ he said. The corners of his lips dipped. ‘Mother doesn’t want to leave Iram.’

  The boy looked ready to cry.

  Navid sprang up onto his back legs and held out his right front paw.

  The boy’s eyes widened.

  ‘Is that a rat?’ he said, pointing. ‘Is it your pet? What’s it doing?’

  Grateful for the distraction, Roshan said, ‘This is Navid. He wants you to shake his paw. It’s how we say hello.’ The space between the boy’s eyebrows pinched. She held out her hand. ‘My name is Roshan. What’s yours?’

  The boy reached out a tentative right cuff. She gave the hand underneath a squeeze before shaking it.

  ‘My name’s Ehsan,’ the boy said. He studied Navid, who remained standing with his front paw outstretched.

  In her mind, she saw Ehsan grabbing the paw and dislocating her brother’s leg.

  ‘Navid’s much smaller than you, so hold his paw gently.’

  ‘Hello, Navid. I’m Ehsan.’

  Navid removed his paw from between the boy’s fingertips and bowed.

  Ehsan’s smile turned his eyes to slits.

  ‘Did you train him to do that?’

  ‘Most of the time, Navid is a smart rat. He doesn’t need much training.’

  ‘Most of the time?’ Navid said.

  Ehsan’s eyes bulged.

  ‘You have a pet manticore, too!’ Ehsan squatted in front of Roshan’s chair, pushed the hair from his eyes and held out his hand.

  The manticore pushed his head out from between the chair’s and Roshan’s legs. He gazed up at Roshan, an eyebrow raised.

  ‘Don’t be rude, Zana,’ Roshan said. ‘He’s not my pet, Ehsan. Zana’s my friend.’

  Placated, Zana raised a paw, his claws retracted, and let Ehsan hold it.

  The boy let go and said, ‘Are you from Baka?’

  Again, Zana raised an eyebrow.

  ‘That’s an interesting question, Ehsan,’ Roshan said. ‘Why do you think Zana’s from Baka?’

  The boy pushed hair from his eyes and looked at her as if she’d asked the most stupid question imaginable.

  ‘Father said manticores live in the mountains close to Baka. He said sometimes they climb down the mountain, change shape to look the way we do and visit the city.’

  ‘Ehsan,’ a woman’s voice called. ‘Where are you?’

  The boy glanced back at the djinn huddled in front of the dais.

  ‘I have to go,’ he said, his brow creased. ‘Mother’s calling me. Nice to meet you.’

  He ran back to where his mother and father sat. Before he joined them, he waved, waited for Roshan to wave back and then sat down.

  ‘That boy seriously needs a haircut,’ Navid said.

  Roshan didn’t respond. She reached over and, like she’d seen the king do, ruffled Zana’s mane. The manticore rose onto four legs.

  ‘What’s wrong, Zana?’

  Zana’s forehead crimped and his lips formed a thin line.

  ‘Ehsan’s father knows about manticores. Can I talk to him?’

  The door the families had entered through opened again. This time, King Fiqitush stepped into the chamber. Like the families, he wore a tunic of the same sand-coloured material. The king mounted the dais, and everyone rose.

  Roshan bent down. To avoid crushing Navid seated in her lap, she placed her hand over him.

  ‘Let’s talk about this later,’ she whispered to Zana. ‘It looks like something important is about to happen.’

  Unsure if the king could see her or not, Roshan lifted Navid onto her forearm and stood.

  While the king raised a portal, the light from its mauve circular edge reaching the back of the chamber, the families formed a queue to one side of the dais.

  Beyond the destination window, Roshan saw tents stretching in all directions and between desert rocks. A group, similarly dressed, formed a semicircle close to the portal.

  They know where and when to expect those arriving from Iram, Roshan deduced.

  ‘Ehsan mentioned a city,’ Navid said. ‘All I see are tents.’

  Roshan shrugged.

  ‘He’s young. Maybe he misunderstood what he’d heard.’

  Navid continued to gaze at the portal.

  ‘He knew Zana was a manticore. Even if there is a city, why the tents?’

  A grey-haired couple ascended the dais. They knelt before the king and bowed low. The king placed an open hand over each head. The air shimmered and yellow flames burst from the djinn’s heads.
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  ‘Did you see that?’ Navid said. ‘What did he just do?’

  Roshan shook her head as the couple stepped through the portal, her eyes never leaving it. One of those in Baka broke rank and gestured at the couple to follow him.

  Those second in the queue, a family, mounted the dais. Both adults and children—the girl eight years old and the boy, perhaps, ten, Roshan guessed—went down on one knee and bowed. Yellow flames flared when the king’s hands hovered over the parents. She wanted to cry out, No, when the king moved his hands over the children and orange flames licked the back of them.

  ‘What is it?’ Navid said.

  Roshan froze when she saw the king staring at her. Even from the back of the chamber, she saw how, for a moment, the flames surrounding his irises had turned red and then back to orange.

  ‘He’s absorbing their auric energy,’ Roshan said. If she’d spoken the words, her voice would have shaken. ‘They’re no longer djinn.’

  ‘Why’s he making us watch this?’ Navid said, his body tense against her forearm.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Roshan said, then glanced down at Zana. Attuned to her feelings, the manticore had sidled up and pressed his body against her leg.

  It soon came for Ehsan and his family to mount the dais. Navid shuffled against her arm as he turned his body and looked away. She imagined the orange flames in Ehsan’s eyes being extinguished.

  The flames were orange, she said to herself. How long might he have remained a djinni? What’s the king doing, taking away their auric energy?

  Ehsan turned before stepping through the portal and waved. Roshan waved back and forced a smile.

  As much a protest as her being unable to watch any more, Roshan sat down, her head bowed. She stroked Navid’s back and drew comfort from how Zana’s weight pressed against her calf.

  Yesfir had sacrificed some of her auric energy to save her. What did these djinn hope to achieve by surrendering theirs and their children’s to King Fiqitush?

  While she pondered the question, she hadn’t noticed the portal collapse, its mauve light extinguished.