What I wanted was different from what I asked for. I might ask for our friends to be freed, but what I wanted was them alive, in one piece, not freed through death. I might want a way through Ashra’s Wall, but I didn’t want to release the Destroyer of Worlds, if she really was trapped behind it. I was asking him to agree not to the letter of my orders but the heart of them. ‘I want help,’ I said finally.
‘Help?’ The Sin Maker sounded interested.
‘Yes, agree to my terms and I will free you from this cave now, and from servitude to me when it is done.’
‘You drive a hard bargain.’ He was watching the match in my fingers burn down. ‘That’s your last match.’
‘It is,’ I said. ‘And it’ll be my last offer, too. I can leave here without you. But you can’t leave here without me.’
‘Then I agree,’ the Sin Maker said simply.
‘Say it.’
‘Amani Al-Bahadur.’ His tone wasn’t without sarcasm, but it was his words that mattered. ‘Your wish will be my command. I will honour what you want in exchange for my freedom from here. And eventually from you.’
I turned it over carefully. But he was right, we were running out of time. It was my last match. ‘Tell me your name,’ I said.
‘My name.’ It was my first want, my first order. I saw his jaw work, like it was unused to the word that was coming forwards. ‘It was given to me a very long time ago. My name is Zaahir.’
‘Zaahir, the Sin Maker,’ I repeated. And then I saw the rest of the words, the ones that had been carved into the arch above the door, which Tamid had read off for me. I spoke them out loud, carefully, painstakingly, ending with his name.
I finished almost breathless. Waiting for something to happen. For the circle around him to break, maybe. Or for his chains to shatter. A flash of light or fire. Or a clap of thunder to shake the mountain.
But all that happened was that Zaahir smiled at me as the flame of the match reached my fingers, close to extinguishing. The last thing I saw was him stepping over the line of the circle before the match died, plunging us both into darkness.
Chapter 24
‘Well, daughter of Bahadur.’ A new light bloomed just enough so that I could see him, free of his prison, standing suddenly too close to me. The fire wasn’t flickering across his face, I realised. It was coming from within it, a faint glow betraying that he was not quite human. ‘What is it that you want now?’
The sensation of power rushed in, as if to consume me. I wanted so much. I wanted the Sultan to die for what he had done to Shira, to Imin and to Hala. I wanted to win this war for their sakes and the sakes of everyone else who had died for it. I wanted Ahmed to sit on the throne and rule it in the name of its own people instead of some foreign power. But I knew better than to ask for something that big and imprecise. I wasn’t stupid. I’d heard stories of Djinn deception.
‘I want you to take me to Eremot.’
The Sin Maker didn’t answer me. He just smiled.
And then the mountain began to move. He didn’t raise his hands like I needed to when I moved the desert. He didn’t strain, didn’t so much as blink, as earth and rocks that had remained unmoved for centuries shifted, like a behemoth awaking from a long sleep and stretching its colossal body.
A split in the mountain appeared, a tunnel. Not leading back towards the ruins of Sazi and the cave where the others awaited, but deeper into the maw of the mountain. He’d just cleaved a mountain, effortlessly.
Only then did real understanding descend on me.
This was an immortal being, a maker of humans. His power was cosmic and beyond my understanding. He could move mountains and shake the earth. He didn’t care anything for the wars of men. He hadn’t ever lived in our world. He was from legends, not reality.
And I’d just gone and set him free.
The Sin Maker extended one hand straight down the tunnel. ‘After you.’
I glanced at the wall that led back to the others.
‘You want to save the people you care about.’ He parroted my own words back at me. ‘There is no one you care about more than the boy who is waiting for you on the other side of that cave, is there?’ I didn’t know how he knew about Jin, but I didn’t like it. ‘You would rather die for them than have them risk their lives for you. You want to do this alone, don’t you? To keep them safe.’
There was no point in telling him he was wrong. So I untied the rope around my waist, letting it slither to the ground. Useless. Untethered. And I stepped into the tunnel, Zaahir close behind me, and the entrance closed, sealing us in. When Sam came back for me, he’d have no idea where I’d gone. No way to follow me. I hoped the others would forgive me for this.
We walked in silence for a long time, the glow from the Sin Maker’s body the only thing keeping the dark at bay.
Finally another light appeared ahead. Far at the end of the tunnel, like a star in the darkest night.
I’d always imagined Ashra’s Wall like the walls of Saramotai: huge and impenetrable and impossible, fire guarding against ghouls and the night. But this wall was not made just to keep out ghouls. It was made to keep something in. And it didn’t look anything like the messy, violent fire the Sultan had domed the city with. It reminded me of the light that had come from the machine when it killed Fereshteh, only clearer, brighter. It wasn’t a Djinni’s light, it was gentler. A girl’s soul outside of her body, burning. As we got closer to the light of Ashra’s Wall, I swore I could see patterns in it, like the weave of a carpet. I wanted was different from what I asked for. I might ask for our friends to be freed, but what I wanted was them alive, in one piece, not freed through death. I might want a way through Ashra’s Wall, but I didn’t want to release the Destroyer of Worlds, if she really was trapped behind it. I was asking him to agree not to the letter of my orders but the heart of them. ‘I want help,’ I said finally.
‘Help?’ The Sin Maker sounded interested.
‘Yes, agree to my terms and I will free you from this cave now, and from servitude to me when it is done.’
‘You drive a hard bargain.’ He was watching the match in my fingers burn down. ‘That’s your last match.’
‘It is,’ I said. ‘And it’ll be my last offer, too. I can leave here without you. But you can’t leave here without me.’
‘Then I agree,’ the Sin Maker said simply.
‘Say it.’
‘Amani Al-Bahadur.’ His tone wasn’t without sarcasm, but it was his words that mattered. ‘Your wish will be my command. I will honour what you want in exchange for my freedom from here. And eventually from you.’
I turned it over carefully. But he was right, we were running out of time. It was my last match. ‘Tell me your name,’ I said.
‘My name.’ It was my first want, my first order. I saw his jaw work, like it was unused to the word that was coming forwards. ‘It was given to me a very long time ago. My name is Zaahir.’
‘Zaahir, the Sin Maker,’ I repeated. And then I saw the rest of the words, the ones that had been carved into the arch above the door, which Tamid had read off for me. I spoke them out loud, carefully, painstakingly, ending with his name.
I finished almost breathless. Waiting for something to happen. For the circle around him to break, maybe. Or for his chains to shatter. A flash of light or fire. Or a clap of thunder to shake the mountain.
But all that happened was that Zaahir smiled at me as the flame of the match reached my fingers, close to extinguishing. The last thing I saw was him stepping over the line of the circle before the match died, plunging us both into darkness.
Chapter 24
‘Well, daughter of Bahadur.’ A new light bloomed just enough so that I could see him, free of his prison, standing suddenly too close to me. The fire wasn’t flickering across his face, I realised. It was coming from within it, a faint glow betraying that he was not quite human. ‘What is it that you want now?’
The sensation of power rushed in, as if to consume me. I wanted so much. I wanted the Sultan to die for what he had done to Shira, to Imin and to Hala. I wanted to win this war for their sakes and the sakes of everyone else who had died for it. I wanted Ahmed to sit on the throne and rule it in the name of its own people instead of some foreign power. But I knew better than to ask for something that big and imprecise. I wasn’t stupid. I’d heard stories of Djinn deception.
‘I want you to take me to Eremot.’
The Sin Maker didn’t answer me. He just smiled.
And then the mountain began to move. He didn’t raise his hands like I needed to when I moved the desert. He didn’t strain, didn’t so much as blink, as earth and rocks that had remained unmoved for centuries shifted, like a behemoth awaking from a long sleep and stretching its colossal body.
A split in the mountain appeared, a tunnel. Not leading back towards the ruins of Sazi and the cave where the others awaited, but deeper into the maw of the mountain. He’d just cleaved a mountain, effortlessly.
Only then did real understanding descend on me.
This was an immortal being, a maker of humans. His power was cosmic and beyond my understanding. He could move mountains and shake the earth. He didn’t care anything for the wars of men. He hadn’t ever lived in our world. He was from legends, not reality.
And I’d just gone and set him free.
The Sin Maker extended one hand straight down the tunnel. ‘After you.’
I glanced at the wall that led back to the others.
‘You want to save the people you care about.’ He parroted my own words back at me. ‘There is no one you care about more than the boy who is waiting for you on the other side of that cave, is there?’ I didn’t know how he knew about Jin, but I didn’t like it. ‘You would rather die for them than have them risk their lives for you. You want to do this alone, don’t you? To keep them safe.’
There was no point in telling him he was wrong. So I untied the rope around my waist, letting it slither to the ground. Useless. Untethered. And I stepped into the tunnel, Zaahir close behind me, and the entrance closed, sealing us in. When Sam came back for me, he’d have no idea where I’d gone. No way to follow me. I hoped the others would forgive me for this.
We walked in silence for a long time, the glow from the Sin Maker’s body the only thing keeping the dark at bay.
Finally another light appeared ahead. Far at the end of the tunnel, like a star in the darkest night.
I’d always imagined Ashra’s Wall like the walls of Saramotai: huge and impenetrable and impossible, fire guarding against ghouls and the night. But this wall was not made just to keep out ghouls. It was made to keep something in. And it didn’t look anything like the messy, violent fire the Sultan had domed the city with. It reminded me of the light that had come from the machine when it killed Fereshteh, only clearer, brighter. It wasn’t a Djinni’s light, it was gentler. A girl’s soul outside of her body, burning. As we got closer to the light of Ashra’s Wall, I swore I could see patterns in it, like the weave of a carpet.