“How can you promise to keep the most powerful man in the city away from us, sahiba? It cannot be done.” His words were firm, but his eyes stayed on the bags of coins in my hand.
“Because I’m about to burn Basral down before he even gets a chance.” I held up the purse. “Do you want this money or not?”
I eyed the smaller boy, whom he called Yashem. He was looking between me and the older street thief. Maybe it was time to switch tactics.
“Yashem, is it? You clearly work together, are there more of you?”
“Yes, sahiba.” His voice came out as a squeak, but then he shored up his shoulders and lifted his chin. “We are many.”
He looked to the coins in my hand, and then at the older boy. Finally, the older boy rolled his eyes and nodded.
Yashem stepped forward, holding out his hands for the bags.
“And we would like to hear more about your business proposition, sahiba.”
I crossed my arms over my chest and smiled.
A few hours later I was back at the bazaar, having been alerted by Noor that Anam and her guards were finally heading there.
I sat at one of the tables along the path by the market food stalls, taking in the smells of hot pakora, sizzling curries, the heat of chilis in the air. After a year of sameness in prison, it was as if my senses weren’tyet attuned to being back in the world, and now they were bombarded. I had taken for granted all this vibrancy before. But sitting here I closed my eyes and savored the smell of hot sugar and ghee as each fresh jalebi was made.
I convinced myself that the gnawing in my stomach was from the smell of roasted meat, and not the pang of my conscience trying to stop me.
I looked down at my hands—still my own after changing my face with zoraat.
I had known immediately my hands were the only thing I couldn’t have changed. They had led me to freedom, were the reason I could use a sword so well. But above all, I knew I wouldn’t have been able to look down and see someone else’s fingers, someone else’s scars. These hands would never be locked behind bars again, would never be stopped from holding the weight of a sword hilt. These were the hands that would see me through this.
Movement at the end of the bazaar caught my eye, and I lifted my head as Anam made her way through the winding streets.
She wore a simple shalwar kameez, a soft blue, edged in delicate floral embroidery. The black nondescript cloak I was wearing over my clothes made blending in with the crowd much easier for my next task, but underneath I wasn’t wearing anything so subtle as Anam. My silver beaded suit would shine garishly in the afternoon sun—I was projecting wealth, not taste. The diamond-studded bangles lining my arms would draw the eyes of every market shopper for miles. I moved closer to the banyan tree in the center of the square and farther from view.
Anam was flanked by two guards, and I recognized both.
Durab and Tishk. I’d trained with them at the palace whenever I’d come to visit Maz. They were smart enough, but I’d put my money on the pickpockets as smarter. I wiped the sweat from my brow, the sun already hot enough that I was baking underneath my coat. Anam stopped at a jewelry stall to admire some earrings.
A shout sounded from nearby, and I smiled to myself.
This was it.
The stall beside Anam burst into flame.
The crowd panicked. Screams filled the bazaar and people clamored to get away from the fire. Anam was pushed to the other end of the market by grubby little hands. I hurried down the street, keeping my eyes on her as she was swallowed by the wave of bodies. Durab and Tishk pushed and shouted trying to get to her, but it was too late. There was no sign of Anam as I made my way through the pandemonium of the market, weaving between shrieking women and irate shopkeepers desperately trying to protect their wares from the blaze.
I even bumped into the bulky body of Durab as he shouted Anam’s name.
My hood covered my face, and I quickly slipped into the crowd, but he didn’t pay me any attention. I stepped into a dark alley, casting a look over my shoulder to make sure no one had followed me before melting into the shadows.
“Help! Tishk!” Anam’s voice pierced through the alley.
“Can you shut her up?”
“Oomph.” A cry of pain sounded and a wheezed response I couldn’t make out. “It’s taking everything I have to hold her.”
“At least we have the rope around her now—argh, she bit me!”
“Get off me! I’ll give you my purse. If my brother finds out you’ve taken me, you’ll be executed!”
I raised a brow at her words, and the feeling behind them. It wasn’t superiority, but rather genuine fear for the ones who had taken her.
