War of the Sultans

by Fuad Baloch

  “Ha!” scoffed Naila. “History is only suited for cherry-picking. And, if that’s what you suggest invoking, we can invoke practices of the Malik like of kings that ruled this realm before your line was even birthed just as well, young woman.”

  “Malik?” she muttered, turning to her left.

  The scholar nodded. “In the olden days before the Istani sultans, the magi were indeed free of the Kalb supervision.”

  “A great mistake that the Sultans of Istan addressed!” shouted the fat inquisitor, thumping the table impatiently. “Brothers, we’re not getting anywhere. I say we sever these abominations before they cause any more harm.”

  “Attempt that at your peril,” warned Naila, who was no doubt the magi’s leader. “Do not think us hapless.”

  A few pairs of eyes turned toward Nuraya, but she was caught in her own bubble. Malik. She had heard of them before. All Istani princes and princesses were taught lessons on how those before them had grown weak, finding themselves incapable of thwarting the noble Istani clan.

  She hadn’t realized they too had grappled with the question of how best to deal with the magi. The world was changing beyond recognition even as it continued to regurgitate old problems. She shuffled in the seat, troubling thoughts taking root. She had heard the rumors too that the Malik line had survived the Istani purge. Assuming that was true, and they had another chance to weigh in on this discussion, would they decide differently now?

  “What do you think, daughter of Sultan Anahan?” the scholar asked.

  Exhaling, Nuraya stood, the frail scholars beside her looking up from their parchments. “I think it’s time we break for the day. I’ve heard all your arguments and have grown weary. Let’s reconvene tomorrow.”

  Her mind a whirlpool of confusing thoughts, her stomach clenching at the threats both the inquisitors and magi posed to Istan without even bothering to realize them, she stormed out of the room.

  Chapter 10

  Shoki

  “How did Bana make it out alright?” Shoki asked Kafayos as they walked along Nainwa’s sparsely populated pathways, the fine ashen dust no longer prickling his skin. “Did you guys ever figure out who had attacked us the other day?”

  “You ask too many questions,” declared Kafayos, waving a hand about in annoyance. “Bother him when you see him if you really have to. He shares Jiza’s mistaken belief that you can actually help us. What good is a puny fistful of dirt to the noble, cleansing fire?”

  Shoki bit back a retort, recalling it was the same answer he’d received from Inquisitor Altamish Aboor when they had set out on their journey ordered by the Iron Sultan. He had asked too many questions then. Over time he’d learned one thing though— knowledge of things one could do nothing about was as good as useless.

  Still, his mind teemed with concerns and questions.

  And shame.

  “Will Jiza be there as well?” he asked, forcing a note of nonchalance in his tone.

  “Perhaps.”

  Perhaps. Shoki felt his cheeks redden. He had… become a man with her. Had made love for the first time in his life. A whole day might have passed since the glorious event, but even now that was all his mind saw.

  Get rid of distractions was the argument Jiza had invoked. As far as he was concerned, it had made matters all the worse. Once she had left without saying a word, his mind had begun replaying what had transpired between them over again. His hand on her cheeks, her neck, her soft, yielding breasts. Her smooth hand over his rough ones, guiding him down to her dampness. Her other hand massaging his manhood, guiding him within herself. Her soft moans as he entered, the release that had come too soon, too quickly.

  “Argh!” Shoki bit down on his tongue. What had he achieved but replacing one set of distractions with another?

  “Something the matter?” asked Kafayos, his voice more annoyed than concerned.

  “No, nothing,” he replied, keeping pace with Kafayos. Perhaps it would be good if she wasn’t there beside Bana. If they wanted him to concentrate, and she was there, there was no hope for it.

  He had better, bigger things to worry about though. Only Rabb knew how many days had passed since he had been brought over here. He had no idea what was going on in Algaria. Gods guts’, he hadn't even visited the graves of his parents yet.

  Parents. Shoki licked his lower lip, feeling his chest tighten.

  A good man, and a woman he had considered family all his life weren't really his to claim.

  So many questions—all needing answers.

  Another question rose in his mind. What was Nuraya doing this very instant?

  A wave of guilt so massive he couldn't hope to dodge, washed over him. What would she think of him if she ever knew what he’d been up to? Worse, what if she knew his first experience with the fairer sex had been with a djinn?

  He had no right to think of her. None. He had taken away all she treasured in her life. Her crown, her mother, her very way of life. Someone like that wouldn’t care a whit for his love life! Shoki swallowed. He had… surprising as it was, fallen in what could only be called love. A totally one-sided affair, to be honest, but one that had consumed him then and apparently still held him in its thrall.

  Shoki exhaled, turned his chin up to look at the world around him.

  Nainwa. The famed, mythical city that any scholar from the institutes at Harapan would kill to be at. A place teeming with living, breathing djinn! And he, Shoki Malook, one of humble birth, traversed its fabled streets without even paying it much mind.

  Hard to believe that a city as grand as this faced existential threats of the like that Mara had hinted at. Everywhere Shoki looked, the city looked hale, static yet moving on the slowly undulating ground, the mountains seemingly revolving in place without losing their firm anchoring. He turned his chin up. A thousand djinn floated through the thin air like blobs of red dye. A hundred different doors and windows all looked out at the gloom of the unchanging sky.

  None of the djinn stopped them as they continued past. Those in groups of twos and threes fell silent when they came across them, their dark, smoke-stained eyes darting between Kafayos and himself.

  Hard to believe, had he not known firsthand, that this very place had been attacked by a group of their citizens. Instead of the clamor and din he’d have expected at any human city, the streets remained quiet and peaceful.

  Shoki blinked, realizing for the first time the city held no traders. The streets were mere avenues to be crossed by those who might not wish to rely upon enchanted modes of transportation available to the denizens. They either stood in groups of twos and threes or went about their business silently. How did jadu work here anyhow? The djinn seemed to be Jaman or Zyadi magi, just like their human counterparts. How could they float like this though as if they all had an affinity for air? Did the city itself act like some sort of a magical artifact that lent a certain power to all its inhabitants? Had that been the reason he, too, had floated like a fluff of cotton, despite having no connection to his well?

  A terrible weight gathered in his stomach and he watched Kafayos from the corner of his eye. The djinn had rushed into their room with his hands raised when the balls of fire had risen in the air. That was also when earth had begun moving under their feet. Was either fire or earth one of the djinn’s wells? If he asked, would Kafayos answer truthfully?

  Swallowing, Shoki shook his head. No magi shared the manner of his or her strength. Something about the ability for others to counter them. Again, he turned to watch Nainwa’s citizens, eerily quiet and at peace. Another realization bloomed. There were no children in the city. Not a single one! And unlike a human city, the citizens here seemed to have a roughly equal distribution of ages between older djinn like Mara and Bana, and younger ones like Kafayos and Jiza.

  How old were these young ones?

  “You go in first,” said Kafayos.

  “Huh?” Shoki turned to him, then stuttered to a stop realizing they had arrived at a set of nondescrip
t doors. Unremarkable except for a ring of red fire painted alongside the handles to the left.

  Kafayos stood still, glaring at him, the dim light lending him a terrifying aura.

  “Very well,” said Shoki, exhaling. “Might as well get this over and done with. The sooner it’s all dealt with, the quicker I can get back to my world.”

  He heard Kafayos scoff, but before he could say anything, Shoki bore down on the handle and entered the chamber within.

  The room was dark, the windows all shuttered. For a short breath, Shoki stood still, waiting for his eye to acclimate.

  “Sit down,” came Bana’s deep rumble somewhere from the left.

  Blinking, Shoki shuffled toward the direction. There, underneath the faint outlines of the windows, sat the old djinn. He wasn't alone. Shoki’s heart sank as he recognized the faint clink of bangles as Jiza adjusted her weight beside him.

  “Let’s pick up from where we stopped last time. You were fighting the queen, which is when you swapped your well with the Divide stone.”

  Shoki licked his lips. Now that his sight had gotten used to the dim lighting, he could see Jiza leaning forward, her chin cupped in both hands, her unblinking eyes staring at him. Looming beside Shoki, Kafayos cleared his throat noisily, and Shoki jumped.

  They were waiting for him. Yet something stayed his tongue. More thoughts rushed him. What was it that he wasn't seeing?

  “Speak up, human,” Kafayos ordered, still standing upright by the door. “By Rolomon, Drenpa is right. We’re wasting our time appealing to these inferiors in the first place. Rabb made us the noble race, and it is not for us to debase ourselves by seeking their assistance.”

  “Rabb doesn't discriminate between His creation,” replied Shoki almost absentmindedly. Something he’d heard uttered once outside a Husalmin temple. He gritted his teeth, still feeling the wrongness gnawing at him.

  “Kafayos, if nothing else, he is our guest,” boomed Bana. “And we are famed for our hospitality.”

  Shoki looked up, realizing why the course of this conversation had so confused him. “Who attacked us? Who attacked me?” He raised a finger toward Kafayos. “For all your talk of me being oh-so-inferior, who in the seven hells is so scared that they dared attack me in the middle of your city?”

  Kafayos narrowed his eyes, staying dangerously still.

  Shoki thrust his finger again toward the djinn. “Does this sort of thing happen all the time for none of you to bat an eyelid? If yes, then your damn society is all messed up. If not, why in gods’ holy guts are we not talking about who attacked us and why they did so?”

  “Because it’s not something for you to worry about,” said Kafayos.

  Shoki forced a chuckle. “Sure. Why should I care about wanting to live on, eh?” Another thought flashed in his mind. “Each mountain contains hundreds of these… doors and rooms. Were any other djinn endangered by the attack?”

  “No,” Kafayos growled. “But as I was—”

  “So, you’re telling me that these djinn magi knew exactly where to strike?” Shoki extended his hands. “Don’t the Zyadi magi need to maintain proximity to be this precise? Does that not look odd to any of you?”

  “Shoki,” said Bana. “The wise concern themselves only with what they can influence. There are others investigating what happened. Now let’s continue—”

  “I was the one they came after, right?” he said, his words growing hot. “How in gods’ guts can you expect me to just forget all that and move on as if nothing happened?”

  “Impatient humans,” snarled Kafayos.

  “Shoki,” said Jiza, her voice quiet but determined. “You very possibly hold the means of helping my people. No matter what you might think of the way we brought you here, or what you faced here, would you really be petty and let these distract you away from rendering any help you actually can?”

  Shoki stared at her. There was no hint in her eyes of what had happened between them. No sign of any affection. Had that… act meant nothing for her? Had it been merely her way of securing his help? He turned his head away, disgusted with himself for not having seen it.

  A heavy silence fell.

  Shoki cleared his throat. “I… I cannot do what you seek of me.”

  “Yes, you can,” said Bana. “Once a magus is severed from his well, it’s almost impossible for them to seek it again. Almost. But history does record isolated cases where the impossible has happened. Indeed, there are even legends of old magi brought back to life by using Akbar stones of great power and… certain repugnant acts.”

  Jiza shivered. “Blood magic.”

  “But—” started Shoki.

  “You’re an Ajeeb magus. One who doesn't rely on an external factor to wield jadu.” Bana exhaled, settling back. “You need to focus. Free yourself of all temptations. Then, instead of reaching for your well, demand its presence.”

  “Why me though?” Shoki protested. “Aren't there others within your people who could help? Or other human magi?”

  “Mara was lucky in finding you.” Bana hesitated. “Only took us a hundred and twenty years of searching.”

  Shoki felt his eye widen. “A… hundred and twenty years?”

  “Ajeeb magi have always been rare. Perhaps none since Afrasiab.” He paused. “Not until we encountered you and the queen.”

  Shoki scoffed. “And now you have none.”

  “We still have one.”

  Shoki exhaled. This was getting nowhere. No matter how much he protested, he couldn't get it through their heads that he couldn’t move as much as a leaf off the ground.

  More to humor them than out of any real conviction, Shoki closed his eye, tried freeing his mind of temptations. Another flash of memory rose—a part of him recalling the voices he had heard in that world between worlds. Voices of the pari folk.

  Were they still there waiting for him?

  Ignoring the shudder that ran through his spine, he concentrated once more. In all truth, he did long for the raging current. No matter what the inquisitors believed about magic being an abomination, the sight provided by jadu was like nothing else, allowing him to see past superficial appearances, peering into the heart of anything.

  How could the ability to see things for what they really were, something so profound and beautiful, be considered an abomination?

  In his mind, Shoki saw Mara raising fireballs, human bodies turning to dust, walls that had protected the pride of Istan for centuries crumbling down in a heap, the queen cackling, gone crazy in throes of the very power that he was seeking.

  He opened his eye, his shoulders slumping. “I cannot see my well.”

  “Keep trying,” said Bana. “Jiza will help you. She did tell you of her Jaman power, didn't she?”

  Shoki nodded.

  “Magi do not share their wells for fears of being compromised. Consider this a mark of great trust that she doesn't hesitate in baring herself to you in the service of her people.”

  Shoki swallowed, didn't say anything.

  “Kafayos, you can take him away now.”

  “Wait,” said Shoki, raising a hand. “Tell me, honestly and without lying, do you know the state of affairs at Algaria?”

  “I do not,” replied Bana after a moment’s hesitation.

  Gritting his teeth, Shoki nodded. At least the djinn wasn't lying. He scanned the dark room, bathed in the fine mist that permeated this world. Again, worry grew heavy in his gut. All four of them had been attacked.

  The attackers had known where they were, putting all of them in danger.

  What wasn’t he seeing?

  Could he sit around and wait for things to get worse again before springing into action?

  Shoki nodded, coming to a decision. The time had come to force the matter. One way or the other, he’d get a reaction from the hornet’s nest—even at the risk of stinging himself. “I might have another way,” he said, rising. “Talk to me again tomorrow and I’ll share it.”

  Chapter 11

&
nbsp; Nuraya

  “You have to tell the inquisitors to break our blood phials,” said Maharis, slipping in beside her as she walked back to the summit chambers.

  “Have to?” she said, arching an eyebrow.

  “My sultana, today you have the power, vested by the venerable name of your family, to make a real difference in what happens over decades, if not centuries. Make the right call.”

  Nuraya narrowed her eyes, turning toward him. “Can’t either of you see Istan is being invaded on two fronts? Is this really the time to engage in petty disputes?”

  “Hardly petty, my sultana.” The magus placed the palms of his hands together. “For the sake of all that’s dear to you, side with the magi and disband the Kalb Inquisition entirely.”

  Someone ahead of them laughed. Nuraya whipped her head around. Inquisitor Altamish Aboor stood outside the summit chambers, arms crossed on his chest, the big mustache fluttering in the morning breeze. “She already tried that once and failed.”

  “Inquisitor,” said Nuraya, coming to a stop. “Did no one teach you how to deal with one’s superiors? I’d have expected better from someone who battled under the roaring lion.”

  Inquisitor Aboor’s eyes hardened. He limped a couple of paces forward, his voluminous turban casting a hard shadow over his eyes. “I fought for your father all my life, young girl. Lost half my leg in his name. Served this realm all my life. Devoted my whole life to protecting the people of Istan. And you, one who foolishly thought to free the magi from Kalb’s supervision just to win a battle, a foolish girl who lost the entire west by leaving Buzdar drained of defenses, dare question my behavior?”

  Maharis mumbled beside her.

  Nuraya remained quiet, refusing to look away from the inquisitor. His words cut deeper than she’d have expected, the hurt stronger than indignation. But whether she liked it or not, the man wasn’t lying. “If the people of Istan can make mistakes, so can their sovereigns. And because of the challenges facing us, we have to stand united, no matter our station in life!”