CHAPTER 22
When we headed into the arena to spar or fight, I used to calm myself instead of getting hyped up like most of the slaves . . . I’d walk down that tunnel and pretend I was walking down my parents’ driveway, the trees’ canopy overhead, my mother holding my hand.
—Chase Abrams
The genie in a flowing black robe and his retinue of guards strode straight down the tunnel toward us. The robed genie was too short to be Malphic. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t dangerous.
Dad dipped his head and stepped close to the tunnel wall.
I fell in behind him, glancing up from lowered lids.
“I’m hungry enough to eat a goat’s asshole,” the guy in the robe said to the bulkier guard.
The guard grunted. “That would be better than the shit they fed us this morning.”
A lump knotted in my throat. My legs trembled. The march of their boots and the rustle of their leather armor and the robe’s swish seemed deafening as they passed. But they were moving on. And that’s what mattered.
The footsteps stopped, replaced by the scrape of boots doing an about-face.
A voice boomed. “You there, eunuch. Halt!”
The air went out of my lungs. I slowly turned to face them. I was dead. So dead.
I peeked up subserviently through the keyhole frame of my hood. The bulkier guard was striding back toward us. But he wasn’t aiming for me!
In two strides, the guard swaggered up to within inches of Dad and glowered down. “I don’t recognize you.”
The guard had a shaven head, and a narrow strip of dark beard—Fuck! The Hulk.
I glanced at the other guard. He was taller and loaded with scars, tattoos, and gold piercings. His sleek ponytail was pulled up high on his head. Crap. I knew him, too. The last time I was here, we’d outsmarted him.
The Hulk took another step and yanked Dad’s hood back.
Shock rocked me to the core. I bit my lip, holding in a gasp. The man beneath the hood was Dad. But not the Dad I knew. His mop of graying brown hair was gone; his head was now shaven and smudged with tribal swaths of red and black. A gruesome scar that I’d never noticed through his hair puckered and zigzagged across his skull and ended in a large dent. He’d told me about a car accident he’d been in as a teenager, but I’d never dreamed he’d been quite so disfigured. He looked forbidding, powerful—and crazy, like . . . Well, like he belonged in the realm.
Dad smoothed his hood back even farther, exposing his entire head and neck. He folded his arms across his chest, casually scratching his elbow. “Now do you recognize me?”
Pride replaced my terror. Dad was amazing. And if he could fake it like a pro, then so could I. After all, I’d learned from the best. Namely, him. I pulled my shoulders back, stepped forward, and grunted. “We’re lookin’ for Jaquith.”
Hulk ignored me and gave Dad another once-over. No recognition showed in his eyes. He harrumphed. “They should have taken your head with your nuts.”
The black-robed genie stepped toward us. “I think Jaquith’s in the magi’s study,” he said to me. His gaze shifted to the Hulk. “Are you done screwing around? I’m starved.”
The Hulk shot Dad another glare. His top lip curled in disgust. “You smell horrible.”
“Been inspecting the kitchen.” Dad grinned.
Hulk rolled his eyes. “No wonder you stink.” He spun around and marched off down the tunnel, his buddies going with him.
Dad dropped his voice to a hush. “You don’t really think we should find Jaquith, do you?”
“Of course not. But he’s the head eunuch. We’re eunuchs. It made sense for us to be looking for him.”
Smiling, Dad pulled his hood up. “Well, it was a marvelous bit of fast thinking on your part.”
“Kind of like your hair?” I whispered.
He cuffed me in the shoulder. “Don’t go getting any ideas. Leave the hair loss to Lotli.”
As we started walking again, a new level of worry began prickling under my skin. We’d been incredibly lucky so far, but the chance of that continuing was getting slimmer with each step.
We came out of the tunnel and strode into the open air of a raised portico. The faint scent of musk wafted out of the palace’s arched doorway, only a few yards to our left. On the other side of us, stone terraces and walks dropped down into torchlit gardens. Way below that, I could make out the glow of buildings and the awnings of perhaps a bazaar, and the dark line of the outer wall, then the endless darkness of the Red Desert beyond that. The moon was halfway across the sky. Almost midnight. At best, there was another five hours until sunrise.
Without a word, we rushed through the arched doorway and into the palace. As we started down the hallway, an oily orange aroma joined the heavier musk scent—and my prickle of worry transformed into a full-blown sense of fear. There were no guards stationed along the hallway or at any of the doorways. None at all. There weren’t any servants or other eunuchs, not even distant voices.
We went by the weaving room, where I’d seen the ropes of silkworms and looms that made the magic carpets, where Jaquith had confronted me and I’d learned he was Chase’s half brother. It was also silent, except for the murmur of moth wings and the rustle of hatching cocoons.
“It’s too quiet,” I whispered to Dad.
He nodded, but tilted his head to indicate we should keep going.
I led the way to the reception hall. I’d first seen Mother there, amongst a crowd of Malphic’s party guests. It was so different this time, just an empty gold and white box with pillars and doors on all sides. I curled my hands up into my sleeves, rubbing a chill from my arms. Something strange was going on here.
With all my senses on high alert, I gestured toward a curtained doorway on the other side of the room and hushed my voice even further. “The harem’s through there.”
Dad rested a hand on my shoulder. “Like Old Samuel always said, ‘The straight path is the wisest.’ ”
Yeah, right, I thought. Our crazy ancestor, Samuel, had a lot of wise advice, according to Dad. He also was known for making some very stupid mistakes.
I pressed my fingers against my chest to make sure the poison ring was still in my bra, my little safety measure. Then, shoulder to shoulder with Dad, I tiptoed to the doorway and slipped into the harem, the curtains rippling silently shut behind us.
The harem’s mirror-tiled walls glistened like ice, so did the long silver banners that draped from the ceiling. But the room was hot, more like an airless tomb than a frozen cathedral.
We headed for the center of the room, where an island of gold furniture and potted palms gathered around a flaming pit. Though I knew a soundproofing spell hung over the room, it was strange to feel the fire’s warmth before I got close enough to hear its crackle.
My eyes zeroed in on a large cabinet with glass doors, and a barely controllable desire for vengeance hummed into my blood. Behind the doors were rows and rows of bottles, prison cells for Malphic’s concubines, prisoners like my mother.
I touched Dad’s sleeve. His face was hidden by his hood, and his posture revealed nothing. But his rage hung in the air, palpable and even hotter than mine, mingling with guilt at not having rescued her sooner.
“We need to do this fast,” I said to bring his head back where it belonged. This wasn’t the time for regrets or anger. It was time to focus. We needed to get Mom, get back to Chase, and get home.
Dad nodded and reached inside his robe.
The problem at hand was a small, fist-size glowing symbol on the cabinet’s door. Genies couldn’t get through locks, hence all the magic carpets and curtains. But this cabinet was an exception. Kate had done some research and concluded that the doors were some kind of illusion, kept shut by a magic seal shaped like Chase’s brand: the djinn word for slave. Kate had concocted a spell to neutralize the lock and had given it to Dad.
“Wait a minute,” I said as an idea came to me. It made more sense to be sure Mom was inside one of the bottles before we wasted time breaking in.
Slipping off the egg pendant, I dangled it in front of the cabinet. “Have I lost my mother?” I murmured.
I waited, focusing on those words and channeling my energy toward the egg. I breathed in through my nose and let it out slowly. After a long moment, the egg swung back and forth, toward and away from the cabinet.
“Is she here?” I asked. The egg circled, then began to swing slowing, side to side. I moved the necklace horizontally along the cabinet until it started circling again. I lowered it and it stopped moving. I raised it toward the top shelf and it began to swing again. “Here?” I said, holding it in front of a deep sapphire bottle with a gold rim. The chain vibrated in my hand. Mother. She was in that bottle.
Joy soared through me. I wanted to grab Dad and give him a huge hug. But I forced my excitement down, slipped the necklace back on, and stepped aside so Dad could work the spell Kate had given him.
He pushed back his sleeve and a small metal tool appeared in his hand.
Not a spell. A glass cutter.
Even without seeing his face I knew he was grinning. I also suspected this was no common cutter. I mean, cutting the glass was the perfect way to bypass the glowing lock, but these doors for sure weren’t normal either.
As if by magic, a handful of iridescent sand appeared in Dad’s other hand. “Crystal, quartz, diamond, gossamer. Unyoke, divide, sever, cleave . . .” he chanted under his breath—
A swish of movement sounded behind us, and a deep voice growled, “Break that spell and Malphic will be here in a second.”
I swung around and found myself nose-to-nose with a tall, broad-shouldered eunuch. The hood of his brown robe hid his face, but the leather gloves and short whip hanging from his belt revealed what I couldn’t see: a black man who had once been as handsome as Chase, his face now warped by a vicious scar that ran down from his left eye to his upper lip, giving a cruel twist to his mouth.
“Nice to see you again, Annie,” he said. He rested his hand meaningfully on a second whip, a long, coiled one partly hidden by the folds of his robe. He hadn’t been carrying that one the last time we met.
My mouth went dry. I glanced at Dad, my voice quavering. “Ah—Dad—this is Chase’s half brother, Jaquith.”
Dad dipped his head politely, but his hand eased toward a fold in his robe as if going for a salt shank.
Jaquith rested back on his heels. “I heard you two were looking for me?”
I steadied my voice. “Yeah. The guards told you?” What else could I say to him when I didn’t know if he was on Malphic’s side or our saving grace?
Dad cleared his throat. “So do you have a better suggestion about how we could get into the cabinet?”
“I do.” His gaze swept my body, a quick assessment. “You might be small enough to do it. Follow me.” He turned away.
“Wait a minute,” I said sharply. I cringed, instinctively fearing I’d spoken too loud. But the room had swallowed my voice, so I went on. “Where is everyone? Malphic. The guards. The other eunuchs . . . Everyone.”
“It’s the zenith—the middle of the night. Most have eaten and are bathing or resting.” He paused for a moment as if puzzled I would ask. Then his voice lightened. “When you were here before, it was a festival night. There is no resting then.”
My gaze darted to his, cautious hope fluttering in my chest. “So Chase is resting, too?” Had the guards and eunuch lied or been mistaken about the next fight?
Jaquith shook his head. “None of us can stop what’s happening to him. But we may be able to help your mother—if we hurry.”
Dad shook his head. “Annie’s not going anywhere until you explain.”
“We’re going to borrow Malphic’s key.” He swiveled and started across the hall.
Dad held his ground, not moving a step.
Understanding suddenly dawned on me. The zenith. Bathing. The key. The last time I was here I’d seen the communal baths. They weren’t far away. Malphic would have his clothes off and the key would be in them.
“Come on.” I snagged Dad’s arm and set off after Jaquith. We had to trust him. There wasn’t enough time not to.
My brain took another leap of logic and I quickened my steps even more. The glowing seal on the cabinet looked like Chase’s brand. That mark had been made by the retractable branding iron built into the moonstone decorated handle of Malphic’s knife. Chase had taken that knife from Malphic five years ago and still had it. But I’d seen Malphic with a duplicate moonstone knife since then. It was always with him. What if—
Letting go of Dad, I caught up with Jaquith. “You’re talking about stealing Malphic’s knife. It’s not just a branding iron, is it?”
“Borrow. Not steal,” he said, very low.
My mouth dried as Jaquith headed toward a narrow, curtained doorway instead of leading us toward the communal baths. Next to the doorway a wooden screen was set into the wall. It was pierce-carved with dragon and peacock decorations. Tendrils of heavily scented musky-orange smoke drifted out through it.
Jaquith looked at Dad, then nodded at a bench that sat below the screen. “You wait there,” he said.
Dad stiffened. “She’s not going anywhere without me.”
“You might want to think twice about that unless you truly are a eunuch.” Jaquith’s voice was firm. He jutted his head at the doorway we’d taken into the harem and to another large archway on the farther end of the room. “The main entries are safe for any male. But if an intact male enters this one, it would feel like a camel had bitten his testicles. Then the organ would drop off.”
I cringed. But it did partly answer something I’d been wondering about. I’d always believed men weren’t allowed in harems, and yet I’d seen warriors walk through this room before. “So this isn’t the harem?”
“This is the harem gallery,” Jaquith clarified. “Malphic grants gifts here and”—he hesitated, as if searching for the right phrase—“no disrespect intended, but this is where he displays his most favored acquisitions. Beyond its walls is the harem proper.”
Display. Grant gifts. His words made my head swim. It was almost unbearable to think of my mother being used like that, not to mention all the other women and possibly men as well.
Jaquith gestured forcefully at the bench under the pierce-carved screen. “We don’t have time to debate this. Sit. Let the smoke fumigate your clothes and body. Your daughter will be right back.”