Loulie flushed. Dahlia grinned. “Yes, yes, I know. If only you had better suitors, eh? Maybe if you dismissed your bodyguard when you met with them…”
“Never. I’d much rather leave the rejections to him.”
They shared a laugh at this, and the tension in Loulie’s shoulders eased. For the briefest of moments, she was tempted to tell Dahlia the truth—that there was a man in Dhyme she had feelings for, against her better judgment. But Ahmed’s name was a knot in her throat. She had managed to avoid thinking about him for the past few weeks; the last thing she needed was for Dahlia to ask pointed questions about their relationship.
Thankfully, she was spared the turmoil of untangling her complicated feelings for him when the door opened and Qadir entered. He dipped his head. “Dahlia.”
Dahlia smiled fondly. “Brute.”
“You’re late.” Loulie held back a sigh of relief as she stood. The bag of infinite space hung off one of her shoulders, and she had draped a glittering shawl over her head and lined her eyes with kohl. Now she pulled the shawl around her face, concealing everything but her eyes.
“But now I am here,” he said. “Shall we go?”
“We shall.” She wafted smoke away as she strode toward the door.
Dahlia rose from her cushion on the floor. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay for Old Rhuba’s stories?” She crossed her bulky arms. “He’s missed you, you know. You make a very good shill in the audience.”
Loulie thought of Yousef, the starry-eyed man with a passion for stories. “I believe there will be a man here who would be more than happy to steal that honor.” She was actually a little regretful she couldn’t stay to talk with him. It would have been much easier to pry his secrets from him face-to-face.
Dahlia raised a brow. “Is he handsome, this man?”
“I was too distracted by his horrendously baggy clothing to notice, I’m afraid.”
Dahlia sighed. “You only ever have eyes for shiny things, don’t you?”
“Because I can trade shiny things for gold.”
As she turned and walked away, Dahlia called after her. “If you see him again, give Rasul my greetings. He may be ugly, but he has some of the most desirable goods on the market.”
It clicked in Loulie’s mind then: why Rasul had looked so familiar. He, like her, was a merchant of the Night Market. She’d probably passed his stall many times without realizing.
She and Qadir returned to the wine cellar, where they opened and entered a trapdoor hidden between casks of wine that led into Madinne’s underground tunnels. Years ago, Dahlia’s father, Adnan, had built these tunnels with a group of like-minded criminals. He’d constructed what was now the Night Market, an underground souk where precious, illegal goods were sold away from the watchful gaze of the sultan. After her father’s passing, Dahlia had taken over the business.
Loulie withdrew the glowing orb from her bag and used it to light their way through the tunnels. Some led out of the city and had been used by fleeing criminals. But she did not know those paths; she knew only the way to the underground market.
Turns later, Qadir started humming. He did that sometimes to fill the silence. When he was in a particularly good mood, he sang. It was always the same song about a king who traveled the world looking for his lost love. She’d heard it enough to know the lyrics by heart.
The stars, they burn the night
And guide the sheikh’s way.
Go to her, go to her, they say,
The star of your eye.
Go to her, go to her,
The compass of your heart…
Loulie coughed. “What news from the souk?”
Qadir stopped humming. “Mostly, it was the same rumors about the increase in jinn attacks. I overheard many ridiculous stories about jinn spiriting people away to the Sandsea.”
“The jinn hunters do love to embellish their propaganda, don’t they?”
Qadir grunted. “It seems to be in their nature.”
They turned another corner. Not too far away, Loulie saw the bright red lanterns that marked the tunnel leading into the Night Market. “Any mention of killers in black?”
Qadir shook his head. Loulie stifled a groan. If only she had been able to speak with the shadow jinn longer. She wondered, vaguely, if there was a way to summon her.
“There was one more thing.” Qadir’s voice cut through the din of her thoughts. “You remember the relic Rasul mentioned on the Aysham? I was able to gather that the sultan is searching for some priceless treasure, but none of the rumors specified what it was.”