The Blind Wish Read online

She harrumphed, but I noticed a gleam in her eye. “What did you see up there?”

  “I saw her name. It was—”

  “Yes, I know,” she said, cutting me off. She went to the door. “See you here tomorrow.” Then she pressed her hand against the black key. The bars slid into the wall, and she stepped into the darkness.

  That was it. She didn’t explain the name. She was gone.

  I left feeling uneasy, and it wasn’t until I was walking along the lake wall that I realized what I felt was disappointment. I wanted to know where I fit in this crystal-studded Cavern, and no one was giving me any answers.

  A pair of middle-aged jinn passed me then, and while I stepped aside, I scanned them for marks. The man on the left had a bat embroidered on the sleeve of his shoulder—a mind reader! The other man had a spider marked onto his forearm. I hadn’t met anyone else with these marks yet, and in a moment of daring, I made a decision: I was going to talk to them. Strangers. Jinn. Men. Reminding myself that it wasn’t frowned upon here, I called out, “Excuse me.”

  The men stopped and turned around. The man with the spider mark smiled, but the other one looked wary.

  “I’m trying to learn more about the jinni marks. Can you tell me what yours mean?”

  The friendlier man nodded, shaking his shoulder-length hair into his face. The strands were thick with jewels and multicolored feathers. “Yes, you’re the human girl. Za-something.” He gestured for me to finish.

  “Zayele. I’m half-human.”

  He smiled widely. “My mistake. I’m Abdas, and this is Firuz.” Firuz bowed his head, which didn’t have any of the adornment that Abdas’s had. His hair was the straightest, blackest hair I’d ever seen, and it was combed forward, down to his flat black eyebrows.

  “Faisal mentioned you.” Firuz had a shockingly deep voice that rumbled like far-off thunder. “You’re Najwa’s sister.”

  “Yes.”

  “You look just like her,” the other man said.

  I wanted to say something about that being pretty obvious, but instead, I said to Firuz, “You’re a mind reader?”

  He brushed his shoulder. “I’m in service to Iblis.”

  “Like the Eyes of Iblis Corps?” I asked.

  “Not at all. I serve the Law of Iblis, not the Eyes.” Something in the way his mouth hardened made me not want to question him further.

  “They make sure we don’t run around messing everything up,” Abdas added. He spun to face his friend and put his fingers on his chin and winked at me. “But if you ask me, Firuz does some strange things.”

  “We keep the peace,” Firuz said. He narrowed his eyes at Abdas, who smiled widely in return.

  Abdas stepped back and bowed his head. “I’m a weaver, like Najwa’s mother, Laira. In fact, she was one of my teachers.”

  Now my question had been answered, and we all fell into an uncomfortable silence. I glanced at the flames on the lake, and then back at Abdas. “My cousin Rahela is weaving something now. Laira gave her a loom.”

  “Really?” His eyes were black as obsidian, and just as shiny. “She’s the human staying with you, isn’t she?”

  “She is. She left Zab with me and was with Najwa in Baghdad. She probably saved Najwa’s life when she had to pretend she was me.” I blinked, not sure why I wanted to tell them that. The words had suddenly come, unbidden. Was it something the mind reader did to me?

  Abdas bowed his head. “Well then, I’d love to come by and see her weaving technique. I’ve always wanted to learn the human patterns.”

  Firuz’s cheek twitched, as if he was trying hard not to smile. “Come on,” he said. “We’ve got to go.”

  “Right. It was nice to meet you, finally,” Abdas said. “Maybe I will come, if your cousin doesn’t mind having yet another jinni nearby.”

  I had no idea what Rahela would do if a man suddenly walked in and asked her about weaving. I suppressed a laugh and nodded. “I’m sure she will appreciate the visit.”

  We went our separate ways, and this time, I felt less disappointed. I had learned two new things. There was a system of law here, led by a corps of jinn who could read minds. And the spider mark meant you were a weaver.

  A flame from the lake slipped up the wall and came close to my foot. Laughing now, I hopped over it and kept going, running along the wall like the children did. Like Najwa must have, when we were younger and I was busy learning to embroider my false father’s clothes.

  AFTER WAKING THE next day, I went directly to the Eyes of Iblis Command. While the woman at the desk slipped the copper disk on the peg to designate my presence in the Command, I tried not to think about Melchior. I tried not to feel the ache my mother had felt when told to choose between her family and the man she loved.

  I passed through the great red and gold hall that housed the Lamp, and then to the room with the Eye of Iblis. The Eye was a wall of thinly sliced white crystal squares. They were tiled in such a way that any image projected from a Corps member’s mark could be displayed either across the entire wall or on a single square. All a member of the Corps had to do was press on their owl eye mark, and what he or she saw would be sent to the Eye. It was the best way to capture images, because the Eye caught details the jinni might not remember or understand. Our motto was “The more Eyes, the more we See.”

  When I entered the room, Delia was studying the wall of white crystal, waiting for someone to send her information. There, she controlled the chaotic flow of traffic as the Eyes brought her their information and images from above. A group of jinn were bent over a table in the center of the room. One was drawing a line across a flattened bit of parchment. One by one, they stopped watching her and looked up at me.

  Delia turned away from the Eye of Iblis. “Ah, Najwa. You’ve arrived. Just who we need now. We are working on a project that will help us detail who supports Kamal. And who doesn’t.” She joined the cadre of jinn at the table and trailed her finger over a series of ovals dotting the parchment and connected by a web of lines. Each oval contained a sketch of a human’s face, and the lines connecting the faces showed their relationships to one another. “This is all we know of the men in the Court of Honor. As you can see, it isn’t much.”

  The sketches were roughly the same, and only a few bore names beneath them. In the center of the paper were two larger ovals set above the line of men, and in these were two alarmingly accurate sketches of Kamal and Ibrahim. One of the smaller ovals was linked to Ibrahim’s with a set of pins and a red cord. It tied them together, like blood.

  “Who is that?” I asked.

  “That is Badr al-Din, second in command of the caliph’s army and fiercely loyal to Prince Ibrahim. Once we know who supports whom, we can aid you better when you return as consul.”

  I swallowed. “I have new orders to return tomorrow. But not as consul.”

  Delia blinked, and in the moment before her eyes reopened, I could see the stress, the disappointment that she was trying to wipe away. “Melchior has given you orders to return.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I suppose he means for you to watch these men, then, and help us with this.”

  “I believe so.” I glanced at the other Corps members. Some were openly watching this discussion, while others stared intensely at the table. I knew a few of them were irritated that I had been the first into the palace, and now I was being given the assignment they all craved. This, I realized, was what Kamal was going through. Some men would be pleased with the caliph’s decision, but others—particularly those who had hoped to be the next vizier—would not. I shook away the thoughts of Kamal and leaned forward, pressing my palms into the table. “Delia, there’s another thing.”

  “Yes?”

  I felt everyone’s eyes on me, and did not like it. “It’s about Melchior. And…my mother.”

  “I will be right back,” Delia said to the room, cutting me off. She grabbed me by the elbow, led me out of the room, and did not let go until we had gone into a smaller, emp
ty room. Her eyes were narrow slits, and her reddish-gold eyelids weighed heavily over the darkness of her irises. “We cannot discuss the Master of the Corps in front of so many people,” she explained. “Now, tell me what is troubling you.”

  I winced. “Last night, I visited my mother’s Memory Crystal.”

  “We all wondered when you’d get to that.”

  “She…she’s Melchior’s daughter.”

  Faisal would have taken me into his arms, or he would have offered me something sweet to eat. He always treated difficult news with compassion or sweets. But Delia was not Faisal. She stared me straight in the face and blinked before nodding. “Yes, although he’d like to forget it.”

  “This means he’s my grandfather.”

  “And Zayele’s,” she added.

  My throat was thick. “Why hasn’t he said something?”

  “I don’t think there’s been any time.” We both knew that wasn’t true. It was a statement to keep me from saying any more on the topic. “Regardless of the fact that he is your grandfather, you must obey his orders. I understand you made a promise to Kamal, but some things cannot wait. If Melchior thinks you need to return, then you must.” She sighed and reached out for my wrists, wrapping her fingers around them gently. I looked down, surprised by her sudden show of affection. “Sometimes, even bright young men don’t know when they’ve stepped into something very, very deep. Go back tomorrow, but don’t get in his way. And remember to record as much as you can. We need faces, names, and allegiances. We need to know what is going on so we know what to do. If this war is ever to end, we need this. Faisal would have asked you to do the same, I believe.”

  I did not want her telling me what Faisal would have said, because he was gone. It didn’t matter what he would have wanted, because he was gone.

  I needed to get away. The air was too warm and too old. And Delia was too close to me. If I stayed, she’d see that rotting part of me.

  “I will go back.”

  She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She clasped my shoulder and squeezed it, like Faisal used to do, and said, “Iblis be with you. And keep your eye on Badr al-Din.”

  RAHELA SAT ON the bench beside me, mindlessly tugging on the yarn while I told her about my first day of training. I had a bowl of olive oil on my lap and was dipping my bread into it, swirling it around. I hadn’t eaten much.

  She selected a sparkling gray skein and threaded it onto the loom. “I think it’s good that Melchior is not the one teaching you,” she said.

  “Why?”

  “Because he does not sound like a nice man.”

  “But he’s only having Taja train me because he’s with Yashar.” I shuddered. “I don’t even know if Yashar is all right. No one will tell me anything.”

  We heard the door handle turn and looked up just as Najwa came in the room. She looked as gray as the wool Rahela had wrapped around her fingers.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked her.

  She shrugged and went to the cushions, sinking onto them in defeat. Rahela and I watched her for a minute. She pulled a cushion to her lap, shaking her head. Then she glanced up and I saw fire in her eyes.

  “Zayele, I have something important to tell you.”

  My stomach dropped. Something must have happened to Yashar. “What is it?” I managed to say. “Is he hurt?”

  She must have known who I was worried about, because she said, “It’s not about Yashar. I haven’t heard anything about him.”

  “Oh.”

  “Remember the Memory Crystal Faisal showed you? The one with our mother’s memories?”

  Mariam, lying in a pool of blood and reaching out toward the infant me. Hashim, slicing the air before my father, Evindar. Mariam, dancing in an orange grove in full bloom.

  “Yes,” I croaked. Visiting my mother’s memories had been too realistic. Recalling them was like remembering my own life.

  “Well, I went to the funeral grounds and found her Funeral Crystal. It was right beside Faisal’s.”

  “You went below the Cavern?” Rahela asked. “By yourself?”

  “Yes. I had to go. I went last night, when everyone was busy with the festival. Anyway, I went into one of her memories.”

  “What did you see?” I asked. I was afraid she’d tell me now that Mariam wasn’t our mother after all. Everything seemed to change rapidly lately, and I was afraid that Mariam would be taken from me before I’d even gotten used to the idea of her.

  “I found out who her father was, and who banished her from the Cavern.” This was not going to be good news. I could tell by the dark look in her eyes. She tugged on the cushion’s orange fringe. “Mariam’s father is…Melchior.”

  I laughed. “No.”

  “Ah,” Rahela said, with a hint of revelation. “That makes more sense.”

  “How?” I asked, and Najwa blushed. “I mean, how can that be? Why wouldn’t he have told us? He must know.”

  “I’m sure he knows. And I’m sure he has a reason not to tell us.”

  “But—but he’s so…no. He can’t be our grandfather.”

  “I’m afraid he is,” Najwa said. She rubbed at the space between her brows before looking back at me. “Do you know what this means?”

  “That our grandfather is a magus? Wait. Is Aga our grandmother?”

  “No. His wife died a long time ago.” She laughed in a huff. “Zayele, he is the jinni who was imprisoned in the palace long ago. He was freed by Hashim, and when he didn’t grant Hashim’s wish, it set Hashim off. I know this because when I was stuck in the Baghdad palace, I found the Memory Crystal. I saw it happen. Anyway, later, when Hashim discovered our mother, Melchior’s daughter, living with his very own tribe, he…”

  “So in a way, Melchior began the war,” I said.

  “He is not the only one responsible,” Rahela warned. “Hashim had a choice. The caliph had a choice. Your mother had a choice.”

  “Yes, but Melchior started it all!” Najwa cried. “He could have helped Hashim. Maybe if he’d done something kind for him, to show him we weren’t monsters, Hashim would have lived his life differently. Maybe he would have liked us, instead of working his way into our trust only to betray it later.”

  I set down my food and stood up. “I can’t believe this.”

  “It’s all true,” Najwa said. “I witnessed Mariam’s memory of telling Melchior she was in love with our father, Evindar. He told her to either give him up or never return.”

  “No, I mean I can’t believe he didn’t tell us. There’s a reason for it, and it’s probably not a nice one.”

  There was a knock at the door. I had been pacing anyway, so I went to the door and opened it to find Atish standing in the doorway.

  “Want to go for a walk?” he asked me. He was happy about something, but his smile faded. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’ll tell you soon enough,” I said. Suddenly, I wanted to get out of the house, away from the sickening news that still hung in the air. I looked back at Najwa. “Do you want to come with us?”

  She shook her head, but her eyes were on Atish. “No, I need to rest.”

  “Are you going back to see…more?” I asked her, knowing she’d understand what I meant.

  She leaned back on her hands. “I hadn’t thought about it. Maybe.”

  “Insha’Allah,” I said to her. To Atish, I said, “Let’s go.”

  We shut the door behind us and headed out into the Cavern. He reached for my hand, but I didn’t feel like being touched at that moment. I shook my head, apologized, and then noticed that his arms and torso were speckled with bruises and scrapes.

  “What happened?” I had to stop myself from reaching out and brushing the wounds.

  He lifted up an arm to inspect it and then shrugged. “Training.”

  “What were you doing? Feeding lions?”

  He chuckled. “No. Just some special things for the Dyad competition.”

  I cringed, noticing how some of the scrapes were singed on t
he edges. This was because of me. “How are you doing? Were you fighting Samir—”

  “Oh, don’t worry about him. He’s fine,” he said.

  We walked behind the houses and along the Cavern’s wall of crystal spears. Surrounding each long shard were smaller ones. This area was easier for climbing than the one by the magi’s garden. Atish gave me a sly smile and then reached up to the nearest crystal, set a foot against the smaller points, and pulled himself up the wall. He reached a large blue and green shard that overshadowed the rest and climbed up onto it. It was wide enough that his entire body disappeared from view.

  Atish’s head appeared from over the edge of the crystal. “Are you coming?”

  I wondered for a moment what he would do if I turned into a wallcreeper and hopped up, and chuckled to myself. Then I climbed until I was level with the large crystal he had settled onto. He was lying on his back with his arms resting behind his head and his legs stretched out before him, one ankle crossed over the other.

  “Took you long enough,” he teased.

  I rolled my eyes at him. “My arms are worn out.”

  “From that little climb?”

  “I did a bit of climbing earlier, for my first magus lesson.” I pulled myself onto the crystal’s smooth, slippery surface. It was wide enough for two, and the thought made my cheeks flush. I crawled over to the end point and looked down. The Cavern sprawled beneath me, curving out in a circle from where I hung above it. The waterfall was to my right, and straight ahead in the distance was the Lake of Fire. To my left rose the towers of Iblis’s Palace, and after a quick glance to see if Yashar was at any of the windows, I turned away.

  “This is quite a spot.”

  “I know. No one can see us.” He gestured for me to come to him, and I did, carefully. I crept over to him, conscious of the heat of his body and the grin on his face. I knelt beside him, and forced myself to look away from his golden eyes and instead at the scratches and scorch marks on his skin.

  “What did you do to get all these?” I trailed a finger lightly over his forearm, where a long, red welt stretched from elbow to wrist. As I did, the hairs on his arm rose, and I pulled back.