Chapter 15 #2
Majed poured himself a cup of water. “How went your stroll with the queen? What do you think of her?”
I swiped a piece of bread through one of the stews. “A bit pompous, a bit cruel, forward-thinking, weird, and at least somewhat aware of her people’s needs.” I shrugged. “So the best one could expect of a tyrant.”
“But an immortal witch?”
“God knows best.” I paused. “She has a son. About the age of your Ahmad.”
Pain crossed Majed’s face. “Does she?”
“He seemed sweet. Innocent.” I took a deep breath. “I’ll confess that I don’t like meeting the children of our marks. We’re not here to hurt anyone—to hurt her—but . . .”
“I understand,” Majed said when I trailed off. “Do you think she has a king? Did she mention the boy’s father?”
“No and I didn’t ask. I’m not one to inquire after the parentage of strange children, considering my own history.
” But I changed the subject, sensing neither Majed nor I wanted to think about children right now—not when it was increasingly clear that returning to our families was going to be quite the challenge.
“But she doesn’t seem inclined to set fire to the Marawati at this very moment.
However, let’s wait for Dalila and Tinbu before discussing more. ”
Majed lowered his voice. “I should warn you . . . Dalila does not seem in the right state of mind.”
“The right state of mind for Dalila or for someone in general?”
“Worse than she was on the ship.” Concern creased Majed’s face. “I fear something happened in Sarilaglag, something she has not confessed. She’s just been so obsessed with her experiments, even more so than usual.”
I sat back with a sigh, realizing as I did so that my headache had faded. “She throws herself into her work when she wishes to escape the world. Every time I try to—”
“Am I interrupting?” Dalila’s chilly voice cut in from behind.
Majed and I both jumped—me bashing my knee and him spilling his cup as Dalila came around the table, settling in the farthest seat with a contemptuous glare.
Unlike Majed and Tinbu, she had neither bathed nor changed into the garments the Khatti Ugalans had given us, though knowing Dalila, she probably believed they were laced with poison or lined with hidden razors.
Tinbu arrived a moment later, giving Dalila a surprised smile. “Ah, there you are!” He was dressed in the flowing Khatti Ugalan garb, shell pins holding a pleated knee-length tunic at his shoulders and his curly hair free and frizzy around his head. He held out his arms. “How do I look?”
“Like a sacrificial offering,” Dalila hissed.
He flexed a bicep. “You’re just jealous.”
“Sit down, Badr Basim,” I said wearily. “We need to talk.”
I filled them in on my garden stroll with Queen Lab and the deal we had little choice but to accept. Save the occasional question to clarify a point, my companions held their tongues until I was finished.
Dalila was the first to speak, blunt as always. “So she either makes an example or an experiment out of us, all while enslaving those she believes most useful—forgive me, ‘keeping them safe.’”
“And this is after she tempts away whoever she can,” Majed said darkly. “Things are not good with the crew, Amina. We will lose some.”
“And if we protest, she will have the Marawati burned to the sand,” I echoed.
Tinbu munched on a pastry. “Well, at least if we’re trapped here forever, the food is good?
” He shrugged when we gave him exasperated looks.
“What? I am trying to be hopeful. We’ve been promised supplies to repair the Marawati, which is our ultimate goal, and this seems like a deal that gives us time to consider our options.
It could be worse. You do remember Falco shoving enchanted maggot potion down your throat, yes? ”
I abruptly put down my next bite of food.
“The queen does sound genuinely interested in the possibility of us sailing from the island,” Majed agreed. “You caught her attention with your comment about maritime technology and I cannot blame her for wanting her kingdom to know such things.”
“Perhaps.” But Lab’s answer on that topic had been evasive in a way that unsettled me. “Unless she actually desires to escape herself. If she is the sorceress Khayzur described, I doubt the peris would be pleased to learn we’ve sprung her from her prison.”
“Are we sure this is meant to be her prison?” When I frowned, Majed continued.
“Does this not all feel, well, real? The queen’s story about her family and the city’s founding, the people we’ve met .
. . Very little resembles either Jamal’s tale or Khayzur’s.
Yes, some of the things here are astonishing, but it seems explained by them being a kingdom on the edge of the world.
And if the peris were looking to hide away a Transgression where it couldn’t be used—” He met my gaze. “Then I believe they already have.”
I went cold. “Me? You think they tricked me here on a false hunt?”
“It’s a possibility, no?”
Khayzur’s suspicion and his words of warning regarding the peri council’s anger came back to me.
It would be just like them, no? A convenient way to dispose of me without having “inferior” blood on their hands.
But Khayzur had sounded truly worried about Lab that night.
Yes, with a story that appeared to be unraveling every hour we stayed here, but it had seemed to be his honestly held belief.
Unless the peri council misled him as well. Would none of my men ever see their families again because I had misread the peris’ intentions? Would Marjana be all but orphaned?
But what about when you leave? Marjana’s fearful, tear-streaked face that night on the rooftop returned to me. The prospect of never returning to my daughter, to the mother and brother I left in anger . . . it was unbearable.
“Even if the peris lied, someone did make it off this island,” Tinbu said firmly, his steadfast optimism a light among the gloom threatening to engulf the rest of us.
“We will too. Majed and I can handle repairing the Marawati. Indeed, that seems a more straightforward task than that awaiting the two of you,” he added, nodding to Dalila and me.
“What? Feigning being royal sycophants while searching for a spindle that might rewrite our fates?”
“Yes, that.” By the Most High, now even Tinbu looked skeptical. “Can you do that? For weeks, possibly months? We’ve never run a con that long, that intense.”
“And neither of you are at your best,” Majed warned. “Amina, God forbid such a thing, but you appear to have one foot in the grave, and Dalila . . . Well, let’s just say it might be best that the crew gets a break from you.”
I scowled, dismayed but unsurprised to learn I was doing a poor job of hiding my fatigue. I would have to perform better in front of the court. “I will be fine, God willing. I have experience aplenty at telling sea tales since I am an actual ship’s captain, unlike the doctor here.”
The sarcastic words had been pulled from a weary and unkind part of my heart, and I regretted them almost immediately, but it didn’t matter. Dalila’s eyes flashed and she returned the challenge.
“Did I not deliver your own child? Patch the crew up through years of injuries and illnesses? You were scarcely questioning my credentials when you needed me.”
“This is different,” I tried to explain. “They want to learn from us. They are going to ask about your training. They likely have their own physicians—”
“Then I will deal with them. Did you not realize how openly the queen was assessing us?” she interrupted. “I have far more value to her than I would as a ‘mute servant,’ dutifully following you around.”
“A servant might have been able to travel the palace more freely,” I pointed out. “People notice me. You would have had an edge in searching for the spindle.”
Dalila scoffed. “Did you not hear Majed? The spindle may not even exist. Far more important is all of us surviving the next few weeks.” She nodded rudely at my neck. “Unless you want to try that feather of Khayzur’s and find out right now what the peris are truly up to.”
My fingers drifted to the leather thong around my neck. But I went no further. “That isn’t how this works,” I argued. “Khayzur cannot interfere nor help us, and drawing attention to any magic when we’re not sure of the queen’s capabilities is dangerous.”
Tinbu cut in, raising his hands in a gesture of peace. “Why don’t we continue this discussion tomorrow? We’re exhausted and have even longer days ahead. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I am in no mood to meet a possibly duplicitous flying bird-man.”
I could not deny his wisdom—nor did I have the energy to fight with Dalila.
Or perhaps you don’t want to dwell on her words, on the possibility that the peris tricked you and none of you will ever see home again.
“To bed, then,” I agreed brusquely. “Everyone get some sleep.”