Khronos (Hanover and Singh Book 3) (28 page)

“He had a hawk. Shahin was its name.”

“Yes,” Najma crossed her legs and sat down. She rested the jezail across her lap.

“Shahin was a dear companion of mine. She came with me after I found your brother.” Hari paused. “I do not know who killed him, Najma. Truly, I do not.” He waited as Najma wiped a tear from her cheek. “I can show you where I found him,” Hari stood up.

“Yes,” Najma rested the butt of the jezail on the ground and pushed herself to her feet. She followed Hari along the path, past the mountain lookout to the boulder.

“I will go first, Najma,” Hari placed his hand on her shoulder. “Wolves and dogs,” he explained.

“Yes,” Najma waited as Hari looked behind the boulder. “Is he there?” she looked up as Hari returned.

“Yes,” Hari nodded. “A little.”

Najma pressed the jezail into Hari’s hands as she walked up the path to the boulder. Stopping to take a breath, she walked around it.

Hari turned his back, looking out across the valley of the river
Cabool
. At the sound of small stones trickling down the path, Hari turned to look at Najma.

“I will take my jezail,” she held out her hand.

“Yes,” Hari handed it to her.

Najma looked at the ground, pushing at the stones with the tips of her sandals. “Thank you, Nightjar.”

“My name is Hari Singh, Najma.”

“No,” Najma gestured at the mountains. “Up here, you are
The Nightjar
.”

“Yes,” Hari smiled. “I suppose I am.”

Najma leaned on the jezail. “Have you returned for your friend? The Englishman?”

“Yes. Jamie’s sister and I need his help.” Hari held his breath. “Is he here?”

Najma turned to look at the city. “He is in the pit.”

“I must see him, Najma.”

“Yes,” Najma nodded. “It is growing dark. I can take you to him now.” She started walking down the path. “The Shah grows bored with him. He says he costs more than he is worth. That there are not enough battles to keep a djinni.”

“That is good news.”

“Yes,” Najma increased her pace as they reached a steep part of the path to Adina Pur. “I am sure you will be able to talk him into letting him leave.”

“Thank you.” Hari slowed as Najma stopped in front of him. She turned, her eyes blazing in the fading light.

“He said he was going to catch us supper,” the jezail rattled in her grip.

“Supper?”

“Bryullov, the Russian. It was here,” Najma pointed at the lookout post. “We caught the Englishman here. Bryullov walked up the path with his pistol...”

“Yes,” Hari nodded. “Tell me more.”

“He killed...” Najma shook. “He must have killed Kahn, and then he pretended he would take me to Russia.” She waved her hand at the mountains. “Away from all this.” She took a breath and continued down the mountain. “I hope he is dead.”

“He is not here?” Hari jogged to catch up.

“No,” she shook her head. “He left after you did.”

“I see.” Hari was silent as they approached the gates. Tucking his robes around his neck, Hari dipped his head as Najma led him past the guard and the torches casting shadows in the desert.

“Shall I go to the Shah?” Najma stopped in the middle of the street.

“It is not too late?”

Najma laughed. “The Shah likes me, Nightjar. I think he is looking for another wife.”

“That is good.” Hari pointed at the courtyard at the end of the street. “I will go to the djinn pit. You will send for me?”

“Yes,” Najma bowed her head. “Thank you, Nightjar.” Her eyes glistening in the soft lights illuminating the street, she lifted her head, turned and disappeared down a side street.

Hari walked on. Passing a fruit stall he chose a lemon and paid for it. Tossing and catching the lemon as he walked, Hari slowed as he approached the djinn pit. The last of the evening light lit a crack in the thick stone lid. Hari walked over to the pit, held the lemon over the crack and let go of it.

“Hey,” a dusty young voice echoed up the walls of the pit. “Who’s there?” Hari leaned over the lid and pressed his face into the crack. “Hari?”

“Hello, British.”

“Hari Singh? You came back?”

“Truly,” Hari smiled. “I have come to get you out.”

Acknowledgments

Once again, I want to thank Sarah Acton for all her support and constructive criticism. Any mistakes and omissions are, again, purely my own. And Jane for catching some very serious errors in the plot.

August, 2015

Chris Paton

About the Author

British by default, Chris Paton (1973) has English and Welsh parents, and a Scottish surname. But it is his Welsh heritage - something about dragons - that seems to drive Chris' writing. Graduating from Falmouth University in 2015, Chris has a Master of Arts in Professional Writing, and a couple of other degrees that help pay the bills. Chris' favourite books include any genre with a bit of magic, giant squids and spaceships. Chris is a teacher by profession and a canoeist by choice. He lives in Denmark with his wife, Jane. You can find him in Denmark or online here:

www.chrispaton.dk

www.facebook.com/chrispaton.author

www.twitter.com/Aarluuk

By the Same Author

The Adventures of Hanover & Singh

Metal Emissary, book 1

Slow Demons, book 2

Khronos, book 3