Mazen cautiously took a bite of the apple. He experienced the strange sensation of glass breaking between his teeth and melting into sugar on his tongue. He immediately took another bite. Delicious was a woefully inadequate description.
Qadir wandered away, moving deeper into the empty souk. Loulie immediately gave chase. Mazen followed after stuffing the rest of the apple into his mouth.
“How is any of this down here?” Loulie called. “Qadir!”
But Qadir was walking so quickly now that they had to run to keep up with him. He led them down twisted alleys and into thoroughfares taken up by extravagant buildings with stunning stained-glass windows and shining gilded doors. And then eventually, he stopped at a bridge made of solid gold. Mazen gasped for breath as he stopped beside him and looked up—up, up, up. For on the other side of the bridge was a palace with such tall minarets they faded into the infinite darkness above them. The building was oddly blurry, its details undefined.
A mirage?
“Qadir!” Loulie grabbed Qadir’s arm, but the ifrit just dragged her along as he stomped onto the bridge. She cast a desperate look over her shoulder, and Mazen rushed forward to grab his other arm. The ifrit shoved them off with enough force to send them tumbling to the bridge.
Living, breathing fire shone in his eyes as he whirled on them. “Do not touch me,” he snapped, and his voice was so loud and deep it made the bridge rumble.
The ifrit turned and walked away, leaving them to stare at his back. “Something’s wrong,” Loulie muttered. She rose and dusted off her robes. “We need to follow him.”
They crossed the shining bridge and burst through the entrance. By the time they saw Qadir again, he’d reached the end of a dark corridor. Mazen continued to give chase until the merchant suddenly stopped and he had to skid to a halt to avoid crashing into her.
He glanced over her shoulder. “What is it?”
The merchant had slid the compass out of her pocket and was staring at it. The arrow was quivering, pointing to an archway farther down the corridor.
Loulie frowned. “The lamp?”
The arrow shuddered in response. She bit her lip. “I can’t lose Qadir. But the lamp…”
“I’ll find it.” Mazen tried to smile but was too nervous to lift the corners of his lips.
Loulie’s expression lightened as she led him down the corridor to the archway designated by the compass. Mazen was overwhelmed by the sight inside.
It was a treasure chamber. The fullest, most impressive treasure chamber he’d ever laid eyes on. The floor was impossible to see beneath mountains of gold so tall the tops were lost to darkness. Glittering jewels and lavish artifacts lay scattered atop the piles as if they were mere trinkets. It was a staggering sight, like something out of one of his mother’s stories.
Loulie breathed out softly. “Damn.”
“What is this place?” Mazen mumbled. “Is all of this… real?”
“That’s what I intend to ask Qadir.” Loulie hesitated, then shoved the compass into his hands. “I’ll be back. But if I don’t return soon, use the compass to find us.” She turned and bolted through the corridor they had just come from.
Mazen faced the mounds of treasure. He followed the compass to a corner of the room drenched in sunlight that, as far as he could tell, came from the emptiness above him. He tucked the relic away and began sifting through the mound, which certainly felt real beneath his hands. Treasure slid through his fingers as he searched. But then eventually, he found what he was looking for: a simple copper oil lamp.
He plucked it from the pile with trembling hands. Was this small, unspectacular thing truly what they’d been looking for all this time? It didn’t feel like a relic. He tilted it one way and then the other. When nothing happened, he opened the lid and peered inside. It was empty.
He rubbed at the body, thinking that perhaps instructions had been inscribed onto the surface beneath all the dirt.
But there was nothing.
The lamp was just that—a lamp.
65
LOULIE
Trying to stop Qadir was like trying to move a boulder: it was impossible. Loulie tried to break him out of his trance by yelling his name, but Qadir never seemed to see her. She followed him down dark corridors and through chambers filled with ancient furniture. They passed chests made of solid gold, beautifully colored tile-top tables, mounted weapons with hilts of precious jade and silver, glass cabinets filled with tiny moving porcelain creatures—and Qadir never so much as blinked or questioned where they were.