Chapter 36 #3
But Majed, my oldest friend, the man who claimed so fervently not to be a pirate had not lived, had not thrived, among the rest of us for so many years without picking up the speed of a thief and he wasted not a second hurling the spindle at me.
“Take it!” he cried.
Nor did the furious queen waste a second before dragging her knife across his throat. I screamed, running for my friend as he collapsed, blood drenching his collar.
“Amina!” Raksh shouted. “The spindle!”
The spindle. It was there just ahead of me, sticking in the sand. But that wasn’t the only object I was thinking of at the moment.
The belt. The girdle Dalila had spun and woven for me, supposedly capable of healing wounds, preventing harm, countering a poison with no cure. The belt I had refused to don, still wrapped around my dagger’s sheath.
Time seemed to abruptly stand still, the choice before me so stark it felt as though I had been led to this moment. Returned to Jamal’s library, to our debate on the nature of fate.
What is written is written.
But what if the spindle was part of the story? What if magic was? I could try and destroy the spindle myself, wasting precious moments Majed did not have. Or I could give it to Raksh, a creature I didn’t trust and who might be even more dangerous than this immortal sorceress.
The creature who’d chosen to be disemboweled alive rather than give up the chance to make me a legend. Praying Raksh still felt the same, I threw the spindle at him and ran for Majed.
Lab followed the spindle, a mother bear after her cub, and lunged for Raksh, dropping Majed to the sand. I was vaguely aware of them grappling, of shadows darting to attack her, but I had eyes only for my navigator.
“Majed!” I pressed a hand to the ghastly crimson smile across his throat, fumbling for Dalila’s belt with the other. His eyes were wide with pain, darting from the dawn sky to my face. His lips moved, he was trying to pray . . .
I shoved one end of the belt under his body. Ahead Lab finally succeeded in throwing herself on Raksh. But he held her at bay, elbowing her in the face as he continued whirling the spindle, ripping away indigo ribbons that unspooled and were snatched by hungry, waiting shadows.
“Amina . . .” Majed choked, blood leaking from his mouth.
“It’s all right.” I wept. “It’s going to be all right, God willing.
” I finally succeeded in getting the belt around his hips, bringing the ends together and then I hesitated.
Even in the chaos of that moment, I knew Majed would likely have entertained the same qualms I had about using the belt.
If I did this, I was being a hypocrite; one he might not forgive.
But I was the nakhudha, the one who’d brought him to this island.
Perhaps this was a sin, but if so, it would be mine to bear—the Almighty knew I had plenty of others on my shoulders.
If it meant Majed might return to his children, I would accept His judgment.
I tied the belt around his waist, pinning it as Lab had done.
The blood erupting from that awful opening immediately slowed—then ceased entirely. The torn flesh knit together and Majed started gagging, coughing and spitting blood. I quickly turned him to his side.
“Amina!” Raksh screamed my name again and I glanced up to see Lab, still in possession of Dalila’s body, and my husband wrestling on the sand.
Bright ribbons of magic pooled out beneath them.
Whatever Raksh had done to the spindle had clearly cost him—his face was drawn and pale, his limbs withered.
But still he was determined: he was the avatar of ambition, after all.
Lab clawed at his wrists, struggling to snatch the spindle from his outstretched hand, and Raksh flung it away.
It was a terrible throw, only vaguely in my direction, but I was fast. I jumped to my feet, lunging to catch the spindle before it landed in the tumultuous surf. It felt strangely empty now, hollow, light as a bird’s bone.
I stared at the spindle in my hand, at this tool—this Transgression that had existed for eons, had sown bloodshed and vendettas across millennia, toppling empires, ruining lives, enslaving the souls of centuries of castaways. Stealing the heart and body of one of my dearest friends.
Lab had stopped grappling with Raksh the moment I caught the spindle. She stared at me, and I couldn’t tell if any of the emotions churning across Dalila’s face were hers. She looked furious. Resigned.
Afraid. But I knew, down to my marrow, that she’d make the same decision.
“I’m sorry, Dalila.” Praying my friend would be alive on the other side of this, I snapped the spindle over my thigh.
The world turned over. It was as though being plunged into an endless day, a desert under a scorching sun, the coldest depths of the ocean.
There was shaking, inhumane shrieking, and a great and terrible whoosh of air as though an entire flock of peris flew about me.
The sun and moon seemed to swap positions in the sky and then vanish altogether, and I shut my eyes, pressing my hands against the sides of my head and trying to wait it out.
The earth trembled violently, and I stumbled, falling to my knees.
My hands met cold sand. It was over and it was as though we had been transported through time.
The smell of smoke had been replaced by salty sea air and spring blossoms. The vast palace complex, the city behind it .
. . they were all gone, the landscape so transformed that it was difficult to get my bearings.
Wilderness greeted the eye as far as one could see, only occasionally broken by crumbling bricks and toppled columns.
At my feet, Majed stared at me in shock; my navigator was soaked in blood, but color returned to his face as though he’d never been injured. He touched the belt at his waist, and it fell apart, the threads crumbling to dust and leaving nothing but a rusty pin.
“Amina . . .” he whispered. “What did you do?”
I swallowed hard. “Are you all right?”
His bewildered eyes met mine as he reached for his intact throat. “Yes, but—”
“Then go tell the crew to stay where they are until I make certain things are safe.” Before he could ask more questions requiring answers I wasn’t ready to give, I rose to my feet and went to find Dalila.
She was alive, the relief I felt upon seeing her sitting in the sand across from Raksh immeasurable, though which soul nestled in her heart I could not ascertain. I slipped the broken pieces of the spindle into my pocket and limped across the sand.
Dalila stayed unmoving when I joined her, cradling .
. . something in her lap. At first, I thought it might be a fallen branch, still replete with dead brown leaves.
But then it moved. It wheezed, the brown vegetation rustling.
Slate-colored eyes—the shade of river stones—blinked, long lichen-covered fingers seeming to reach for my friend’s face . . .
And then the creature fell still. A stiff breeze blew from the trees with a gentle exhale, and Dalila was left holding nothing but a few dead leaves, bark fragments covering her clothes.
Raksh shifted on the sand. My husband looked returned to health, whatever magic he’d done flushing his face and giving him a glow like an expecting mother, hunger satiated. But of course, had I not given him a story?
“Good riddance,” he declared bluntly.
I half expected Dalila to tear out his eyes. Instead, quiet devastation passed across her face, and she inhaled, shivering.
“Dalila?” I called softly.
She didn’t respond.
I reached out a hand. “Come, my friend.”
Dalila closed her eyes. “How can you call me that?” She let out a hoarse laugh. “God, Sheikh Sasan was right. What sort of coldhearted monster succeeds in tricking a being as powerful as Lab?”
“One who was just trying to save the family she had left.”
“And how did that work out?” Dalila glanced up, tears running down her cheeks. “I killed Majed.”
I dropped to my knees beside her. “But you didn’t!” I pointed to the shore where a clearly dazed and bloodied Majed was nonetheless motioning to the men in the skiffs. “I used your belt, and it saved him.”
She blinked, looking stunned. “It worked?” A hint of desperate hope lit her face. “Do you still have it?” she asked urgently. “Did you put it on?”
In that moment, I wished I had if only not to devastate her further. “No.” I swallowed hard. “I’m sorry. It fell apart when I broke the spindle. I think all her magic did.”
“Of course.” Dalila traced the dust on her arms—all that was left of Lab—and looked almost violently away. “Amina al-Sirafi and her fucking code. Could you not have been a pirate for a just bit longer?”
“I’ve made some poor choices lately.”
She let out a bitter laugh that sounded more like a sob and then caught sight of the rest of the crew. She dropped her head in her hands. “I cannot face them. You should leave me here. It is what I deserve.”
“Oh, get up,” Raksh interjected, so rude that Dalila and I both jumped.
But he wasn’t done. “Am I making you angry?” he asked Dalila.
“Good. Then get up and scheme to stab me later. That creature in your head would have drowned you in vengeance. And you, Mistress? You’ve still things to do in this life. ”
He held out his hand, and I could not tell if Raksh was trying to be supportive or foresaw a future in which Dalila gained even more lethal acclaim as the Mistress of Poisons.
But it seemed to rile Dalila up enough to respond. “Do not touch me, demon,” she snarled, swatting his hand away.
“Dalila?” Majed had joined us, sounding uncertain. “Are you all right?”
Dalila took a deep breath, clearly struggling to compose herself. “Majed . . . I-I’m sorry,” she confessed. “I didn’t mean—”
“My God, did she just apologize? Perhaps she is still possessed.” But then Majed smiled sadly. “I know you weren’t yourself, Dalila. If you had been, the cut would have been fatal.” He glanced at Raksh. “Dare I ask how you’re here? How you’re always here?”
Raksh licked his teeth. “Perhaps it’s fate.”
I shuddered at the prospect and turned back to Dalila. “Come, my friend.” I swayed as I tried to pull her to her feet, and my visible ailments seemed to reach her in a way our words couldn’t.
“Stop,” she said. “You look barely capable of carrying yourself.” But then, mercifully, she stood up. She looked once more at where Lab—whatever had been Lab—had perished and then stepped away. “I need to return to the apothecary.”
My heart sank. “Dalila . . . I don’t think there’s an apothecary anymore.”
“Then I need to see if there’s anything left.” When I opened my mouth to argue, she shushed me. “I either leave this place still trying to cure you, or I don’t leave at all.”
There was no fighting with her, so I nodded. “I should look for Arno as well.”
Majed was staring at us as though we’d lost our minds. “You two wish to go back? We just rescued you!”
“And I deeply appreciate it, but I made a promise.” I staggered up, wincing in pain.
Raksh rose to follow.
I glanced at him in surprise. “You’re coming?”
“You promised me a story,” he replied, the words silky. He nodded at the path. “So lead the way, nakhudha.”