Chapter 9 #3
Inquire deeper in the supposed mythical treasure Salima had failed to mention? Demand proof that instead of Dunya’s being
kidnapped, she had apparently willingly joined the Frank?
I started with none of that. “ Where ?” I growled out. “Where did they go?”
“A place whose name was enough to put me off his employ for good. A damned fool quest across dangerous terrain for a gem that
is more likely than not a lie? No thank you.” Layth leaned back like he wanted to project confidence but then began coughing
again, his face getting ruddier by the moment.
“Are you all right, man?” Tinbu reached for his waterskin. “Do you need some water?”
Layth grunted. “I’m fine. Let’s finish this.” His red-limned gaze fixed on mine again. “You want me to tell you where to find
Falco? Then hand over that entire purse right now.” I hesitated, and he sneered. “I’m the only one who knows, al-Sirafi. The
rest of the men bought into his nonsense and left alongside him.”
The prospect of putting a blade in Layth’s ribs was growing more tempting by the moment, but we both knew I had few cards
to play. I could not kill the one person who knew where Falco went.
I tossed the purse on the table. “Talk.”
Layth took the small bag, hefting it in his palm as though to evaluate the weight. “An island.”
“An island?”
“A big one.”
I smiled as though we were joking—and then lunged for his throat, putting my dagger to his neck. “I’m going to need more than
that.”
But give the man credit, he didn’t back down, wheezing instead, “You promised me a hundred dirhams. This purse is not that. Get the rest of your money and then you’ll get your details.”
“Son of a whore, you’ll have drowned in your own spittle before—”
Tinbu laid a hand on my wrist. “It’s fine, Amina. Go back to the ship for the remainder. I will stay with him.”
Resisting the urge to slap Layth upside the head, I shoved to my feet. His hacking cough and smug expression followed me as
I stalked out, burning with rage.
I did not get far.
There was a strangled, raspy groan and then—“Amina!” Tinbu cried.
I whirled around. Layth had fallen to his knees on the dirty floor and was clutching his throat. His eyes were wide with panic,
foam gathering on his darkening lips.
Fuck, was he actually choking now instead of just gargling his own backwash? I rushed over. “What was in the drink you gave him?” I asked urgently.
“Alcohol?” Tinbu spun on a small squirrelly man who had frozen across the tavern. The barkeep, judging from the dusty brown
jug and coconut shell cup he’d been filling. “What did you give me?”
“J-just date liquor,” the barkeep stammered, giving me and my khanjar a terrified look. “The same as them have been drinking!”
Layth’s face was turning red. I hauled him up by the shoulders and rolled him over my knee, cuffing his back with my fist
to try to dislodge whatever was stuck in his throat. “Did he put anything in his mouth?”
“Nothing I saw.” Tinbu joined me in pounding Layth’s back. Falco’s former recruiter couldn’t speak and was scrabbling so desperately
at his throat that he was gouging his own skin, blood dripping down his fingertips. His eyes bulged, his visage an ominous,
purple-tinged crimson.
I struck his back once more, and a small object finally flew out, landing in the dust. Blood and mucus coated its silvery
surface, but the shape was instantly recognizable.
It was a single silver dirham.
With what seemed like a last burst of strength, Layth shoved a finger down his throat, but it did nothing. With a final gurgle,
he collapsed in his own sick, his eyes vacant and staring. His lips fell open, silver glimmering past his teeth. The bulges
beneath the skin of his swollen neck... They were all coin-shaped .
It isn’t possible. It isn’t . My heart galloped with fear, but I had to know. Swapping my dagger for my blessed iron knife, I prodded Layth’s dead hand
with the blade, teasing free the object still clutched between his fingers.
It was the purse of dirhams I had given him. The now- empty purse of dirhams.
A scream wrenched me back to the present, the nearest man having looked up from his hashish-induced stupor long enough to
take in Layth’s grisly appearance.
Tinbu gasped. “Amina—”
But then the barkeep screeched as well, the rest of the patrons shoving closer. Before anyone could stop us, I seized Tinbu’s
arm and yanked him to his feet. This tavern might be on the rougher side, but I was not getting caught with a man who’d choked
to death on a dozen silver coins. We were out the door the next moment.
Tinbu stumbled at my side as we hightailed it down the sandy road.
“Amina, wait. Amina, stop !” He pulled from my grip, staggered into the bushes, and promptly vomited.
I spared a single glance to make sure no one else was around and then collapsed myself. I sat in the dirt, my head in my hands,
until Tinbu rejoined me, falling to the ground at my side.
“Oh, fuck,” he said hoarsely. “Those coins he choked on... were they ours ?”
I could barely speak but managed, “I think so.”
“ How? ”
“I don’t know.” But then some of the crew’s wilder gossip returned to me. Falco was supposedly obsessed with loyalty. People said he made his men sign all sorts of magical pacts, or something. Promising retribution if they...
“ Betrayed him ,” I whispered. “Layth was betraying him. Some of the men... th-they said there were rumors the Frank had unnatural powers.”
Tinbu gave me a wild look. “ You think Falco did that? ” he asked, jabbing a hand in the direction of the tavern.
The dry desert air teased at my face, a mocking whisper on the breeze. I wanted to tell Tinbu no. I wanted to retreat into
denial about what I had just witnessed—the death I might have unwillingly caused—and flee back to my ship, to the world I
knew.
But I was the nakhudha. I did not get to run from situations I had brought others into.
I swallowed loudly. “Yes. I fear the rumors about his interest in the occult may have been understating things just a bit.”
Tinbu looked like he was going to be sick again. “Gods, Amina... what did we get ourselves into? You hear stories about
witchcraft like that, but before Rak—”
“Don’t say his name,” I burst out. “Please. Not now.”
Tinbu looked away, wringing his hands. “Then what’s next? ‘Large island’ could mean a hundred such places. Do we report back
to Lady Salima? Do you think she knew the Frank could do th-these things ? Or about the Moon of Saba? Maybe that’s what she’s actually after.”
My mind was still spinning. The revelation about the Moon of Saba had been immediately dwarfed by the revelation that Falco-the-aspiring-sorcerer
was suddenly less aspiring and more lethally capable. I mean, yes, the Moon of Saba—if it existed—would be an astonishing
score, worth far more than a million dinars. But Salima didn’t strike me as the type to dream about legendary gems. She had
her gaze firmly set on the here and now. On Dunya’s safety and her family’s honor.
And the Moon of Saba hadn’t been Layth’s only surprise.
“No,” I said slowly, anger coursing through me as I realized it. “I think Salima offered that money because of what Layth
said about Dunya cutting a deal with Falco.” I wiped the bloody knife against my leg and rose to my feet, helping Tinbu up.
“And I think it’s time we check in with our client about what else she’s been keeping a secret.”