The Fire Wish (28 page)

“Rashatab.”
I had remembered the counter-wish.

“You’re all there,” Atish said. He had started to smile, but it faded fast. “Like Najwa.”

“So now I can do this. Is there anything else I should know?”

“Yes, but we don’t have time. This will have to do,” Faisal said. “Now I must take you to the Eyes of Iblis Hall.”

“You’re going to show us the Lamp?” Shirin asked. She rushed to Faisal’s side and wrapped her arm around his. “Right? Please let us help.”

Atish stepped up to them. “Yes, Faisal. We should help Najwa.”

Faisal looked like he was about to disappoint them, but then he sighed. “Very well. I may have use for you after all. Zayele,” he said, “you learn quickly, and I thank the crystals for that.”

We left the garden, four abreast. For the first time since I’d left Yashar, I felt like I belonged.

I HAD JUST finished the dawn prayer and had crawled back into bed, yawning, when the door to our room slid open and four men in uniform rushed in. They were closely followed by one of the older ladies of the harem, who was screaming at them. I sat up and blinked away the sleep.

“You cannot come in here!” the woman shouted.

One of the men gestured for her to move aside. The other guard pointed at me. “Get up!” he said. “You’re coming with us to see the vizier.”

Had someone figured out who I was? I looked over at Rahela’s bed, but it was empty. She was already at the chest of clothes, throwing a dress over her undergarments.

“Now!” the guard barked.

Rahela slipped between the guards and me, spreading her arms wide. “There is no need to talk to the princess Zayele like this,” she said. Her voice was shaky, but firm. “She will get dressed and come with you. But first, you must let her dress. And she cannot do this with you
watching
her!”

One of the guards blushed and muttered something to the others. I took that moment to regain my composure and stand up, keeping the blanket pressed against me.

“Would you please step out into my patio? I will only be a moment,” I said. The words came out much calmer than I felt.

The guard who convinced the woman to move frowned at me before taking the others behind the curtained partition. The moment they were out of sight, Rahela thrust a gown into my arms, while the older woman pulled my hair into a braid.

“What is happening?” I whispered. Rahela shrugged, waited for the woman to finish, and then pulled the gown over my shoulders. It was red, the color of confidence. Then she wrapped a matching hijab over my hair, pinning it at the nape of my neck.

“Whatever happens, remember that you are a
princess.
” She said this loud enough that the guards could hear, and then she whispered, “If you run, make sure they can’t follow.”

“This is taking too long,” the first guard said, then pulled aside the curtain and stepped back into my room. When he saw I was dressed, he had one of the others open the door to the harem garden. “Come. The vizier is waiting.”

My body flooded with panic. I couldn’t run because there was nowhere to go. Zayele’s wish had grounded me in Baghdad, like a tree at the mercy of the gardener’s shears. I left my room surrounded by the guards, grateful that so many of the harem women had returned to their beds after prayer. Only the peafowl watched me. They blinked in protest and backed away from the men.

The woman pressed a cloth into my hand, then stepped
away from the door. By the time I looked down to see what it was, she was gone. It was an embroidered piece of silk, probably to wipe my eyes with after the vizier was done with me.

What did she think I had done to warrant this?

A moment later, we were in the corridor. To keep up with the guards, I had to take steps so wide that they pulled at the hem of my gown. Rahela had snuck along, and when one of the guards began to protest her presence, she gave him a look that would have cut quartz.

They took us to the Court of Honor, which was filled with the men of the court. They parted, showing Hashim on the caliph’s throne, tapping his knee with his long fingers. The men of the court turned to face us, and with their backs against the marble pillars, they looked like they had grown straight out of the tiled floor, permanent features with etched lines of worry and doubt.

Hashim cleared his throat. “Princess Zayele, I apologize for not giving you much time following our morning prayers, but I’d come to a realization that could not wait.” He smiled, and every hair on my arms rose in fear. “After I found you in Zab, amongst my cousins, I was pleased to see that you carried with you so many of our fine traditions, as well as our faith.” He gestured to the men, as if inviting them closer. “As you can see, this young woman is a sight to behold. She not only exudes beauty, but she has power. Power that most of you have never dreamed of.”

Someone ran into the court, from around the side of the raised platform that held the throne. It was Kamal, and he ran up the two steps to stand beside the vizier. His face was
red with anger, and he bent over to whisper something in his ear.

Instead of responding to the prince, Hashim chuckled. “The prince has found fault with me sitting on his father’s throne.” The audience responded with nervous laughter. “I apologize, Prince Kamal. I was merely acting in your father’s stead since you were not present. But I am glad you’ve appeared, for what I have to say affects you more than most of us here.”

“And what is that?” Kamal said, standing up straight. He saw me, and confusion spread across his face. “Why have you brought Zayele here?”

Rahela gripped my hand. She was choosing to stand by me, to support me, even though she knew what I was. She could have told everyone there, right then, but instead she held my hand.

Hashim stood up from the throne, took a step, and pointed straight at me.

“Because, young prince, she is a threat.”

“What?” Kamal stepped off the platform, shaking his head. “She is harmless.”

“No, Kamal, she is a jinni.”

The crowd gasped, but I couldn’t make a sound. I stood still, my blood hard and cold as glass. It was all I could do to look Kamal in the eyes.

“That isn’t possible,” he said, growling. He turned to face Hashim. “You chose her, Hashim; you should know. She’s as human as any of us.”

“Yes, I chose her,” Hashim said smoothly, “but I learned in prayer today that she is not the young Zayele.” I managed
to swallow, but my throat was a geode, sharp and hollow. How did he know? How could he have learned this in prayer? “This woman is a jinni, and she murdered the princess Zayele on her route to Baghdad. We discovered Zayele’s swollen body in a canal outside the city. She had been dead for days.”

Rahela started to slump, and I pulled her up to me. “I didn’t kill her!” I said. My voice echoed throughout the chamber.

“ ‘Her’?” Kamal asked. He was facing me, and he looked weighed down by his turban. “You’re not Zayele?”

“Of course she’s not!” Hashim hissed, and his declaration was repeated by the men of the court, who began to move away from me. The circle around me grew wider, but it still felt like a noose. Kamal was staring at me, waiting for me to counter Hashim’s attack.

But I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t say anything to defend myself. Rahela and I were surrounded by men, none of whom would understand what had happened in the barge between Zayele and me. I’d had time to live with it, and even I didn’t fully understand her binding wish.

As the men backed away, a space opened up between them, and Rahela’s suggestion earlier sprang into my mind.

I was tearing up as I looked at Kamal and whispered,
“Shahtabi.”

Then I sprinted for the opening, flew past the men, and left Rahela to stand alone in the midst of them.

AFTER A SHORT period in which I was told to rest so that my wishpower would build up again, and after a longer argument with the lady at the entrance with the bronze-tipped hair, Faisal got us into the Eyes of Iblis building. We stood in a circle around the Lamp, which was the size of a plump cat.

The woman named Delia joined us, her face a mix of solemnity and excitement. She bowed her head at Faisal and said, “It’s ready. You just need to make the wish.”

“Thank you, Delia,” Faisal said. He set both of his hands on the Lamp, then let go quickly, as if it had burned him. He rubbed his hands together. “This has only been done once before, years ago.”

“By the woman who made the Lamps,” added Delia.

“Where is she now?” I asked, edging closer.

“She died,” Atish said. “Apparently, the wish was too much for her, and it took all of her to make it.”

Faisal reached up to the torches burning in their brass sconces on the wall, a wish on his lips. The flames leaped off
the torches and landed in his hands. The room dimmed and suddenly felt heavier, and I looked over my shoulder. The place was filling with jinn. Their faces were dark in shadow, but their owl-eye marks glowed, blue and blazing. They were like a ring of power, encircling us and the Lamp. Every one of them was focused on Faisal.

“Faisal,” I said, uneasy, “are you sure this is the only way?”

He blew on his fingers. “Yes.” How did he know for sure? “Just give me a moment to clear my mind.” Faisal closed his eyes, took in a deep breath, and let it out slowly. Then he brought his fingertips to his lips and said in a broad, commanding tone,
“Narush.”

A chorus of jinn repeated,
“Narush,”
until the wish echoed and filled the chamber.

There was nothing but silence. Then a lick of flame leaped from the tips of Faisal’s outstretched fingers. It dove into the Lamp’s spout and disappeared. A second later, a golden flame sprouted from the Lamp, long as my hand. It flickered and danced, twisting in the silent air.

Faisal dropped his hands and exhaled, exhausted. Delia, who had been standing pensively behind him, sighed and crossed her arms.

“I don’t want to ever watch you do something as risky as that again,” she said to Faisal, whose face had spread into a smile, exposing a dimple in both of his cheeks.

“I will let you do it next time, my dear,” he said. Then he clapped his hands and turned to face the jinn who had joined him in the wish. “Thank you all for helping. I couldn’t have done that by myself.” They bowed to him, and several departed.
Then Faisal turned back to the Lamp and said, “It’s time, Zayele. Come here. No, not that close. Do you remember the invisibility wish? Good.” He held out his hand to Delia. “Do you have the map?” She gave him a rolled-up sheet of paper, which he unrolled and held out for us all to see. “Do you see these markings? These are where we believe the wards to be positioned.” He pointed to three red marks.

“You don’t
know
?” I asked.

Faisal snorted and shook the map in front of my face. “Trust our spy network, Zayele. We have been working on this for longer than you’ve been able to walk. All the mathematical calculations point to this being the best layout for the wards. I say I
believe
they are there because I have
faith
in those who made this map. I would bet my life on their calculations, and I am willing to bet yours as well.”

I snapped my mouth shut and took the map. “How will the Lamp get me there?” I asked.

“I can’t believe I get to watch this,” Shirin whispered to Atish. Despite everything, she looked more excited than afraid.

Faisal patted her shoulder. “Yes, Shirin, you may watch because your skills may be needed in the palace, unfortunately.” He gestured for me to come to the Lamp. “Each ward is set inside a copper cylinder and hung beside the frame of a door or window. Once you destroy them, drop them into the flame of the Palace Lamp.”

“How do I destroy the wards?” I asked.

He smiled again and lifted his brow at Delia. “Do you have it?”

“Yes.” She went to a table against a wall, picked up a small
box, and brought it to us. Then she opened it, revealing three glass vials stoppered with tiny corks. A clear liquid sloshed inside. “Open one and pour it on a ward. It will melt the ink. Once you’ve soaked them all, bring them to the Lamp and set them in the flame.”