She squinted at them. “It’s shaped like… a fire?”
Qadir smiled. “Now look at this one.” This time, he traced the curve of his elbow. These marks were thin and short and looked less like brushstrokes and more like scars from a knife.
She frowned. “I don’t see a shape.”
“Because it is a mark of shame.”
“It looks like you were scratched up with a blade.”
Qadir lowered his arm with a sigh, and the tattoos vanished. “Yes. My shame was carved into me with a knife so that I would not forget it. I deserved it.”
Loulie tucked her knees into her chest and waited. She did not expect him to continue, so she was surprised when he kept talking. “I told you once I was no longer welcome in Dhahab. That is because I committed a crime, and criminals are rarely forgiven in my city.” He tapped the markings on his skin. “These marks are proof of that.”
“What did you do?”
Qadir opened his mouth, closed it. “I would rather not say. It is a long and gruesome story, and I would prefer to tell it without any chance of being overheard.” He exhaled softly. “I can tell you one thing, at least. The compass we carry contains the soul of a jinn named Khalilah.” His expression softened at her name. “I was resigned to rotting away in a cell, but she saved me. Khalilah led me to your human desert and guided me with her magic.”
He reached into the merchant bag and took out the compass. Loulie had always wondered why he looked at it so tenderly. “She can… find things?”
“She is an erafa who was born with the ability to read the future. Even in death, she can locate items and people and foresee a destiny before it passes.” Qadir paused, brow furrowed. “We became separated early on, and she was killed by hunters before I could save her. By the time I located her, your father had already found her in the form of the compass. I followed his trail to your campsite.”
Layla Najima al-Nazari, it seems saving your life was my destiny. Loulie would never forget those words. They had changed her life. And the compass—her eyes wandered to the dusty object cradled in Qadir’s hands—the compass had saved it.
When she again looked at Qadir, his eyes were dark and stormy. “Who was she to you?” she asked softly.
“A friend,” Qadir murmured. “My greatest, dearest friend.”
The silence that followed was so fragile Loulie could not bring herself to break it. On impulse, she crawled forward and set a hand on Qadir’s shoulder. The jinn startled. “What’s this? You’re trying to comfort me? I expected more questions.”
“I’m not obtuse, Qadir. I can see when you’re in pain.” She was taken aback by his shock. And frankly, a little offended. “What? How heartless do you think I am?”
Miracle of all miracles, the jinn started laughing. It was a genuine sound, one she had been lucky enough to hear only a couple of times in her life. The last time she’d heard it, she had just given Qadir the shamshir. He’d burst out laughing when she suggested he wear it to look intimidating rather than for any practical purpose. The memory still lightened her heart.
“My gods.” She grinned. “Who are you, and what have you done with my gloomy partner?”
Qadir was too busy laughing to answer. Loulie wondered, not for the first time, if it was his past that kept him so anchored to melancholy.
When he finally regained his composure, he looked at her and said, “Am I forgiven?”
Loulie sighed. “Yes, on the condition you don’t lie to me again.”
“Deal.” Qadir glanced at their bag. “Does this mean I can carry the bag?”
“What for? I’m the merchant.” She paused, noticing he’d slipped the collar out from gods knew where in his cloak. She drew back at the sight of it.
“You can relax. It’s still sealed. It would be easier to carry in the bag, though.”
She ignored the comment and eyed the collar. “What are we going to do with it?” It was one thing to find a home for lost relics—another to give away a dangerous ancient treasure. “Maybe we should bury it somewhere in the desert.”
Qadir looked up sharply. “Or we could keep it.”
“That’s the worst idea.”
“Trust me.” He slipped the relic back into his robes. “I know in your stories she is a malevolent entity, but in ours, the ifrit are morally ambiguous. Let me try speaking to her.”
“Speak to a killer?” Loulie scowled. “Do what you want, but I will not forgive her for what she did to Ahmed.”