“Could such a treasure really exist?” Rasul said.
“The rumors are that the sultan’s late wife brought up the artifact in one of her stories.”
She thanked the sailor and angled her head to catch Rasul’s response.
“Poor man. Does he truly believe Lady Shafia’s stories were true?”
The guard shrugged. “They had power enough to stop the killings, so perhaps.” There was a mournful pause. All desert dwellers knew of the sultan’s wife killings, just as all knew of Shafia, who had stopped them with her stories. She was as much a legend as the tales she’d told.
“His Majesty believes there is something in one of her stories that will help him claim a victory over the jinn.”
“Against the jinn? They are like flies; surely you cannot kill them all.” Rasul’s voice died down to a murmur. By the time the wind brought the conversation back to her ears, they were speaking about something else.
“But tell me about this miracle!” the guard said. “I hear the Midnight Merchant herself delivered the elixir to you? Do you have any idea how she obtained it?”
“None. But I suppose it wouldn’t be much of a miracle if we knew the how of it.” Rasul laughed. “Regardless, I bless the gods for my good luck. I did not think she would so readily accept my request.”
Qadir sighed in her ear. “Why do humans thank the gods for things they do not do?”
“Because they are fools that believe in fate,” Loulie said bitterly. If these gods existed, they had not batted their lashes when her family was murdered.
She glanced over her shoulder at the looming city. They were close enough now that she could make out people on the docks waving at the ship. She turned and made her way toward the bow for a better view. Behind her, the guard was still talking.
“What a shame she disappeared! I would have liked to see this legendary merchant.”
Rasul sighed. “She had a sharp tongue, to be sure, but what a rare gem she was. Had she not disappeared last night, I would have convinced her to have dinner with me in Madinne. Can you imagine it? Having the Midnight Merchant on your arm?”
Loulie thought again of how relieved she was to have slipped out of her merchant’s clothing and rubbed the kohl from her eyes this morning. For if the formerly one-eyed merchant had invited her to dinner with the intention of flaunting her, she would have punched him.
“So.” Qadir spoke in her ear. “The sultan is looking for a relic. Do you think we can find the magic before he sends his hounds to track it?”
Loulie paused at the ship’s bow and stared wordlessly up at the city. She stretched out her arms, allowing the wind to push and pull at her sleeves. Qadir had the sense to stop talking. Later, they would speak of relics and gold and magic. But for now, all of it disappeared from her mind. The world folded into a single, simple truth.
She was home.
2
MAZEN
When Mazen bin Malik was told by his most trusted servant that his older brother would return home the first hour of sunset, he expected, quite reasonably, for his older brother to return the first hour of sunset.
Omar never returned from his hunts in the morning, and it was common for him to spend his afternoons with his thieves. This was why, when Omar threw open the doors to Mazen’s bedroom, Mazen was already halfway out the window. As Omar stepped inside, it occurred to Mazen that not accounting for his brother’s early return had been a severe oversight.
He tried to picture this scene through Omar’s eyes: he, the sultan’s youngest son, dressed as a commoner and sneaking out the window of his bedroom in broad daylight. The last time he’d been caught like this, he’d been a child pretending to be an adventurer. He didn’t suppose that excuse would be as endearing now, coming from a man of twenty-two years.
Mazen cleared his throat. “Salaam, Omar.”
One of Omar’s brows inched up far enough to wrinkle his forehead. “Salaam, Mazen.”
“How was your hunt?”
“I found both marks.” Omar gestured to his clothing: an embroidered tunic tucked into sirwal trousers held up by a knife-notched belt. The silver jinn blood staining his clothes looked more like twinkling stardust than gore.
“You sparkle like the moon, brother of mine.” Mazen tried a smile.
“While I appreciate your flattery, I am more interested in the truth.” Omar closed the doors behind him. “Perhaps it would be easier to talk inside?”
“But it’s so stuffy inside—”