“Are you okay down there?”
“There’s some bags down here—I think it’s coins.”
I moved over to inspect the bags—two of them filled with hefty piles of gold, glittering emeralds, and diamonds as big as my eyes.
The third with a substance I never thought I’d see in my life.
Zoraat.
Djinn magic.
The multicolored seeds glistened like pearlescent oil in the trickle of light from above, and I wanted to dig my hands into the bag and feel their power.
But I had no idea how zoraat worked—Noor was the expert in that. Did touching them imbue some of their power? Or did one have to eat them to use djinn magic?
I laid a hand on top of the seeds, their texture like the bottom of a tide pool filled with pebbles.
With these, I could do anything.
My father’s face flashed in my mind, his smile a little crooked, the circles around his eyes dark, like he’d just stayed up all night at the forge.
With these I could avenge his death.
I dipped my hand into the bag, marveling at the fish egg texture. All this power. All this possibility.
A feeling of stillness rushed through me, and a slight breeze tickled my cheek.
I frowned, looking back up. There shouldn’t be a breeze in here.
Revenge.
A deep whisper shot through the cavern and I jumped, snatching my hand back. Something moved out of the corner of my eye and I whirled around, drawing my dagger, my heart in my throat.
But there was no one else here.
I frowned at the empty chamber and walked the perimeter, the sandy bottom sinking beneath my feet. That voice had felt real—rough, ageless, and filled with venom. And I could have sworn I saw the edge of a cloak in the shadowed corner of the cave. But when I walked every inch, there was nothing waiting in the dark.
I went back to the three bags of treasure, retracing my steps, until I stopped short and snapped my gaze back to the ground where I had just been. There, illuminated by the light above, were two perfect footprints, much bigger than my own, pressed into the sand.
I exhaled and wrapped my arms around myself, the air feelingmuch colder than before. But I couldn’t just stand around chasing imaginary ghosts. I shook my head and grabbed the edge of the dupatta, tying it around the first burlap sack. My skin still prickled from that voice, from those footprints, and I didn’t want to remain in the cave a moment longer.
“Noor, I’m tying the bags to the dupatta—can you lift them up?” I called up to her, my eyes focused on the djinn seeds in front of me.
“Yes, I’ll attach it to the mule.” Her face peered over the cave opening and I felt a rush of relief at seeing her pointed little chin.
Noor hauled up the first bag of gold that I had looped the end of the dupatta around. Then we repeated the process with the other two bags until Noor helped heft me through the opening and into the waiting sunlight.
“It looks like Souma really did trust you.”
“Yeah,” she replied softly, her voice heavy. “I guess he did.” She looked out at the mountains, lost in thought, her lips pressed so tightly together they’d turned white.
I walked over to the bag of zoraat, seeing the vibrancy of the different colors for the first time in the full light.
“So, how do they work?”
“You have to consume them in the right doses. When Emperor Vahid made his bargain with the djinn who gave him the first seeds, it was so he could have the power of the djinn at his fingertips. I spent years perfecting the right doses based on his usage. It can be… disastrous if you use the wrong amount.”
Her eyes shuttered, and I didn’t want to ask about what horrific djinn torture she witnessed as a result of an incorrect amount of zoraat consumption.
