War of the Sultans

by Fuad Baloch

  The inquisitor scoffed. “The consequences of your mistakes separate you from the masses.”

  Nuraya nodded, forcing herself to remain steady. She was alone. So alone. Unbidden, thoughts drifted to a life she’d thought she was heading for. A grand wedding to some distant prince. A life of luxury and silk peshwezes and ladies-in-waiting. Children who she doted over. A husband she loved, confided in, slept beside. She felt the bitterness settle in her heart, letting it churn. So much had changed, so quickly. She swallowed, her heart wondering where Shoki was. What had happened to him? Despite what he’d done at the Shahi Qilla, could he have made an ally? Again, her mind conjured the night he had appeared outside her camp. How they had kissed, the thrill she’d felt at his surprisingly strong arms wrapping around her.

  She shook her head, realizing the inquisitor was still looking at her. “Easy to see the right and wrong of things once they’re in the past.”

  “No,” said the inquisitor. “Right is always right. No matter the situation, some things are always right and some never are.” He raised a finger toward Maharis, who flinched from it. “Freeing these magi was a huge blunder on your part. Not only did they come out in the open, they’ve begun dabbling in magic of a kind that would stop you from sleeping if you knew what it was capable of. Learn your lesson, and do not repeat it. Tell the magi to cease their illogical prattling and report to their respective inquisitors to be dealt with appropriately.”

  Nuraya chuckled, not caring for the curious eyes they were attracting. “Both of you give me too much credit.” She leaned forward toward the inquisitor, feeling heat gather in her cheeks. “Tell me honestly, no matter what decision I do make, would either the magi or the Kalb inquisitors pay it any heed? The Iron Sultan wasn't just that in name. He had the power to establish his writ, held the strength to force compliance. No matter what I say, no matter whose side I take, the wounded side will merely ignore me.”

  “You’re the Iron Sultan’s daughter,” said Maharis. “No way would the Kalb inquisitors defy you.”

  “Would you magi obey me if I were to side with the Kalb?” she asked.

  Maharis paled. “The i-inquisitors… b-but—”

  “Maybe you have learned from your mistakes, after all, girl,” said the inquisitor approvingly. “You begin to see the dangers these magi pose to Istan and the wider world.”

  “This is the last time you’ve called me a girl,” said Nuraya coldly. “Do that once more, and consequences be damned, I’m going to flay your skin and leave you rotting under the sun!”

  For a long breath, the inquisitor held her gaze, then blinked as another inquisitor came to stand beside him. He pointed at the chambers behind him. “If you’re this undecided, what good are you here?”

  Nuraya exhaled. From the corner of her eye, she could see her men already preparing for the march west. She’d fretted all night over the dispute between the magi and the inquisitors and had failed to come up with a way to solve it amicably. This inquisitor could somehow sense that. The magi were a menace, that much she agreed with, but the more she looked at the matter, she failed to see any way forward. And the inquisitors’ haughty attitude didn't help either. “You inquisitors can’t just force the magi to comply?”

  “We break what doesn’t bend, daughter of Sultan Anahan,” replied the inquisitor. “We’re bound by our ancient order to give the magi time to repent. But if they don’t, like weeds, they will be pulled out and burned.”

  “My sultana,” squawked Maharis. “What do you intend to propose to our delegation?”

  Nuraya straightened her back. “I’m going to ask both the magi and inquisitors to set aside their differences until Istan is free of invaders. That is what we all must turn to. Set everything away for the moment. Only then, will I judge the matter.”

  “We would stop,” came a dignified female voice from her right. Nuraya turned. Naila, the female magus who had been leading the magi delegation. “But I doubt these inquisitors would listen even to you, Princess!”

  “Sultana!” corrected Maharis. Neither Naila nor the other half a dozen beside her looked at him.

  “Lies,” said Inquisitor Aboor, his back ramrod straight, more inquisitors stepping in behind him. “The magi have no honor. Dealing with the dark, vile powers of jadu corrupts them beyond redemption. Unless they are put down fast, they will continue to pose the greater threat. Greater than the Reratish and Zakhanan combined. This is what you need to see!”

  “Ah,” said Naila, walking over to stand opposite Inquisitor Aboor. “I, Naila Inan, have lived more than eighty years, and you know what I never saw? An inquisitor holding true to his promise.”

  Nuraya raised her hand and looked Naila in the eyes. “Can’t your people return to the Kalb and trust that once the mayhem of these times settles, your fates will be looked into? Help defend Istan in the meantime?”

  Naila scoffed even as Maharis began nodding. “Magi aren’t allowed to interfere in your political matters. One thing even I agree on with the inquisitors.” She waved a dismissive hand toward the inquisitors. “If you really expect the deer to believe that hungry tigers wouldn't attack them, you lack the judgment to mediate between us.”

  Nuraya arched an eyebrow.

  “Deer?” said Inquisitor Aboor, glaring at the older magus. “You are magi, men and women, beings who tear apart the very fabric of nature. Had it not been for the Kalb, you would have burned the whole world down already. Even now, your people are dabbling in blood magic and—”

  “Nonsense, there is—”

  “Silence!” shouted Nuraya, unable to restrain her frustration. “All of you, shut up!”

  The inquisitors and magi all fell silent. Even the distant hubbub of her men behind her seemed to quieten down.

  “Altamish Aboor, I ask you for the last time. Will your Kalb brethren agree to stop engaging the magi until both Reratish and Zakhanan forces are defeated?”

  The inquisitor narrowed his eyes. “You do not know what you ask. Besides, the war is far from reaching its conclusion. Even as we stand here, the Zakhanan forces are besieging Algaria itself. The grand vizier is not going to be able to defend the city. Not after what your forces did to the walls.”

  Nuraya blinked at the news that hadn’t reached her yet. Her stomach clenching, she turned toward the magi. “Naila, regardless of what’s going on, can your people not step away from this fight, at least for now?”

  Maharis raised a plaintive hand but Naila waved him off.

  “It’s gone too far,” Naila said. “Already, my people are planning for a world without the inquisitors. Schools of magi based on whether one is Jaman or Zyadi. More sub-groups for those who share similar wells.” She shook her head. “No, the world as it used to be, will not be the same on the morrow. The Kalb Inquisition needs to make its peace with the changed reality or pay the price that awaits us all.”

  “What awaits us all?” growled Inquisitor Aboor. “What are you talking about?”

  Nuraya frowned. There was too much information to absorb.

  Schools of magi? More news she hadn't known. Developments she hadn't seen coming either. The magi were organizing themselves. Was this what Maharis had been hiding from her? Nuraya swallowed. Events were happening too quickly for her to keep abreast. Worse was realizing they did so without caring anymore for what she thought.

  There was no support to be had for her cause to defend Istan. Not when they couldn't look past their navels.

  She sighed, spreading her hands. “Very well. In that case, nothing I will say or do will make much of a difference.” She turned around, her eyes falling on the road leading west, toward the lands she was going to have to cede to the Reratish Kingdom, toward Qwasad that she had asked to agree to receiving the Reratish overtures. “No matter what you do, both of you, do not forget the wrath of Istan. I may not have the power right now to force both of your sides into submission. But that’s going to change. And when that does, remember I’m going to be a harsh judge.
”

  Without waiting for a response, she started walking away, a dense weight settling in her gut, her feet growing heavy with exhaustion, the magus following her. She had grown wiser, but it seemed the actions of her younger, immature self had squandered any chances of gaining trust and winning over the hearts of foes.

  Not that it mattered. She would secure power, even if it meant through the Reratish prince, and, one way or the other, she would return stronger. She owed her people that much.

  “Wait up,” came a shout behind her.

  Nuraya whipped her head around as Maharis coughed. Inquisitor Altamish Aboor was limping toward her, his hand held high.

  “You’re heading west?” asked the inquisitor.

  “Aye.”

  “I’ll come with you.”

  Maharis sneered. “Impossible. Time changes all. Names of places and men and events. It still doesn't change the nature of the snake to bite the hand that feeds it.”

  The inquisitor ignored him. “The Reratish owe me a debt. But don’t worry, for I don't care what your bargain with them is. When we get to Nikhtun, our paths will diverge, and you wouldn't have to worry about whatever I do.” He paused, his eyes falling on Maharis. “Perhaps it would also give me an opportunity to see if there is any redemption left for the damned.”

  She considered his words for half a beat, then nodded. “Keep away from the Reratish emissary.”

  Chapter 12

  Shoki

  Shoki paced the room, clenching, then relaxing his fingers.

  “Sit still, you’re distracting me,” said Kafayos, standing straight, his back against the circular wall that continued to give Shoki headaches whenever he looked at it too long.

  “Sit still,” mocked Shoki, his face turned the other way.

  “Did you say something?”

  “Nothing.”

  Kafayos glowered but otherwise didn't reply.

  Shoki continued pacing. He’d been doing a great deal of that recently. From one who could course the almighty currents of jadu, he’d been turned into a caged bird, its wings clipped. His eye fell on the open window looking out at the red sky.

  Had Jiza told Kafayos he’d been planning to jump off?

  Would she have shared the other thing that had happened between them?

  He turned his head slightly toward Kafayos. If he did know what happened, he did a good job of not letting anything show. Shoki exhaled. A whole cursed day had passed since he’d last seen Jiza and Bana, and all this waiting, doing nothing had frayed his nerves badly.

  “Hey, Kafayos,” said Shoki, turning toward the djinn. “What’s your story anyway? What did humans ever do to you?”

  Kafayos sneered, then ran a hand through his long hair.

  “Nothing to say, really? Just more brooding and pouting?” asked Shoki. “I can tell you from experience that attitude isn’t going to win you many friends.”

  “Human, unless you’ve got anything to contribute, keep your mouth shut.”

  Shoki did shut up at that. The dread in his stomach growing heavy, he walked back to the window, to the same blasted, unchanging sky. What was the nature of this world anyway? Was it something other humans could somehow stumble into as well?

  Balling his fingers into a fist, he punched the wall with all his might. He was fully expecting pain to shoot up his arm and had braced himself mentally. Instead, his hand smashed into the wall, but he barely registered the impact. He blinked. “Why am I not hurt?”

  Again, Kafayos sneered. “We and our world are one and the same.”

  Shoki raised an eyebrow. “Huh?” Chewing his lower lip, he wondered what he would have seen had he been able to seize jadu. Would everything here have looked as shades of the same essence? Was that why all djinn here seemed capable of doing bits of magic like flying?

  “Are you a magus as well?” Shoki asked when the silence grew uncomfortably long.

  “Aye.”

  “What kind?”

  Kafayos didn't respond.

  Shoki turned to face the tall djinn. A part of him marveled again at the way his life had turned around so completely. Standing in front of a djinn who didn't like him, he felt no fear. “You know all about me. The life I lived, if Mara has been speaking. The kind of magic I could perform before… before it winked out. What’s the harm in telling me what you can do?”

  “A magus never shares his well.”

  “Why? I am no inquisitor,” he persisted. “I… can’t sever you. Even if I knew what that was.”

  “Do not even joke about severance.”

  Shoki made a face. “So, tell me, what’s your well?”

  For a long breath, Kafayos stared at him. “Either you’re really hard of hearing, in which case I question your presence here, again, or you’re far too clever to be left free like this in this city.”

  Shoki chuckled, spreading his hands. “Left free? Haha! See, you can crack a joke when you put your mind to it.” When the djinn refused to take the bait, Shoki sighed. Again, he wondered whether Kafayos could have been behind the attack on them? He had been in close proximity, after all, and definitely didn't seem to like humans in general, and Shoki in particular much. There was a big problem with that theory though. Kafayos had had multiple chances, right now included, to kill Shoki ten times over. Yet he hadn’t. A confusing twist Shoki just couldn't quite unravel.

  Taking a surreptitious step away from the djinn, Shoki cleared his throat. “I don’t really know how all this countering works. What did Bana mean by a magus being able to counter another? How would that even work?”

  “Water guts fire, fire devours wood.”

  Shoki pondered the words. “As simple as that? So… if a Zyadi magus was to increase the potential of the clouds to let go of all their water, another magus could decrease that potential by invoking the wind’s ability to whisk those clouds away?”

  Kafayos crossed his arms, not deigning to reply.

  Shoki scratched his chin. “Makes sense. Rules. Laws. What happens with Jaman magi though? If you can… say, hoard speed, then gift it to yourself or others, how could that be countered?” He nodded. “Ah, if the object given all that speed could be destroyed, perhaps the magus is left weakened.”

  Musing, Shoki resumed his pacing. There was more to it all, he knew. Magi seemed to have varying strengths, something that, upon reflection, Shoki realized he had felt whenever interacting with them. Was that strength, in fact, dependent on a magus’s ability to use their well more effectively than the others? Was that something one was born with, or like other organs of the body, an ability that could be improved?

  More bewildering thoughts rose. What would happen if an entire group of magi tried restricting another group’s well? Could that then, affect a severance similar to whatever the inquisitors did?

  How did these limits work that each magus also seemed afflicted with? Shoki had obviously come to realize his own—the relationship between mental exhaustion and his ability to wield jadu.

  Also, it seemed the Jaman magi could leak their unspent power, unwittingly destroying objects around them—a reason Inquisitor Aboor had used to justify his inquisition. How did the inquisitors control the magi? Was it through the blood phials he’d seen the inquisitor carry? Perhaps they were a control mechanism, a way to sever a magus. Another shuddering thought rose. Could an inquisitor chain him too, even if he could no longer wield his jadu?

  So many questions… so few answers.

  “Beware blood magic,” said Kafayos, his voice so low it could have been a whisper.

  “What?”

  “The ability to create new wells of magic. Bring back monsters from the past. Monsters long dead.”

  Shoki blinked. “Are you trying to tell me something?”

  Kafayos ignored him.

  Exhaling, Shoki cracked his knuckles, confused by Kafayos’s attitude. He couldn't get distracted though. He had stirred the nest, and had to be prepared for what came his way.

  When would hi
s attackers respond and how?

  “Kafayos, I don't understand one thing,” said Shoki, turning toward the djinn once more. “You are all djinn, even those who attacked us. Why would they not want to right what’s wrong with your society? If you can’t procreate, surely that problem would affect them as well?”

  The djinn shrugged.

  Shoki stared at Kafayos. “Well, thank you for all the riveting conversation. It’s been most—”

  The doors burst open. As one, both Kafayos and Shoki turned.

  Jiza stood at the threshold, her eyes wide, the smoke around her thin frame so dark it almost covered her lower torso.

  “What’s happened?” asked Shoki, his heart thudding.

  “Azar was attacked.”

  “Mara?” Shaking his head, Shoki stepped forward. “Is he alright?”

  “Three of the djinn with him are badly injured,” said Jiza, her eyes locking with Kafayos who now stood straighter. “We could be next.”

  “We?” asked Shoki, hating how his voice came out as a squeak.

  “That’s a possibility,” agreed Kafayos.

  Shoki swallowed. “What do we do?”

  “We get away from here,” said Jiza.

  “Agreed,” said Kafayos then, pulling Shoki forward by the arm like a merchant might some troublesome goat, began marching toward the door.

  Chapter 13

  Nuraya

  “I have to go back!” Nuraya growled, pacing the narrow tent that passed for her command center. “If Algaria is indeed besieged, I can’t abandon her.”

  “You’ve abandoned the city once already,” noted Inquisitor Aboor, standing still in a corner, his arms crossed on his chest. He waved an arm, the flickering torchlight casting a dancing shadow on the wall behind him. “The capital is good as gone.”

  “Not something I can accept.” She walked over to the center of the tent and glowered at the men who made her council. Jinan, her scowling siphsalar. Camsh, the stubborn son of the grand vizier. Maharis, the magus who kept shooting murderous glances toward the inquisitor.