The Book of Wonders (11 page)

Sinbad appeared in the doorway. “Ah, there you are, and I see you've met my mother.” The captain grinned. “By the looks on your faces, she has made quite an impression. Come on, I think you need to sit down.”

“Yes, do come through. I've cooked us all some lunch.” Sula bustled past Sinbad and led them through to the next room.

A familiar smell filled the room.

The captain shook his head. “Mother always knows when guests are coming. It is really rather extraordinary.”

“I suppose extraordinary is one way of putting it,” Zardi heard Rhidan mutter under his breath.

A roughly hewn table stood in the center of the room, and a large pot was bubbling away on a grate over the fire.

Sula gave the air a sniff. “Mmm, I think it's ready.” She glided over to the bubbling pot and tasted its contents.

“You're cooking chorba soup, aren't you?” Rhidan asked.

Sula turned around to look at Rhidan. “Well, it's your favorite, is it not?”

Rhidan's eyes were wide and he gripped his amulet nervously. “Um, yes it is.”

Sinbad grinned. “Don't worry, young ones. You'll get used to it. Mother has a way of knowing things. That's what makes her the greatest medicine woman in all of Arribitha.” He walked over and kissed his mother on the forehead.

Sula smiled up at him, and Zardi wondered if, for all of the medicine woman's knowingness, she had any idea what her son truly did for a living.

“Enjoy your lunch,” Sinbad said. “I've got to get to the docks and look for the captain who will take you to Mandar.” He opened the roughly woven sack and looked over at Zardi. “Before I go, I want to give you something.”

“This hardly seems fair,” Rhidan said jokingly. “Why is she getting all the gifts today?”

Sula placed two bowls of steaming soup on the table. “Don't worry, Rhidan, your turn will come. Gifts come in all shapes and sizes, and knowledge is the greatest gift of all.”

Zardi watched as Sinbad reached into the sack and pulled out her archer's belt. The sight of it made her catch her breath.

“This is yours, I believe?” He grimaced slightly as he handed it over to her, and she smiled to herself. This act of selflessness clearly pained the captain.

“Thank you,” she said, fastening the belt around her waist. Welcoming the weight of the quiver against her hip, her fingers lovingly traced the lion embossed onto the leather.

Sinbad flushed with embarrassment and pleasure. “I'll see you later then. Who knows? By the end of the day you may be off to a land afar!” He lowered his voice so that Sula couldn't overhear. “I'll have you out of town before Assam arrives.”

Zardi felt her stomach twist. She couldn't bear the idea of seeing Assam again. What must he think of them? She felt eyes upon her and looked over to see Sula gazing at her sympathetically. She shuddered—it was like this woman could see straight into her soul.

Sinbad bade them farewell, and Zardi and Rhidan sat down to eat their soup. Zardi took her first mouthful and was instantly transported home. Once again she was in the kitchen with Nonna, chopping onions. There was no arguing with her taste buds—the soup was a perfect match with Nonna's. Rhidan obviously agreed; he finished his soup even more quickly than she did.

“Any more?” Sula inquired.

“Not for me,” Zardi replied, feeling pleasantly full. “But thank you. It was lovely.”

“As good as Nonna's?” Sula asked with a secret smile.

Rhidan slammed his spoon down on the wooden table. “Enough! You have magic, that is clear, but what do you want with us?”

“What do you mean?” Sula leaned back in her chair casually.

Zardi frowned. The medicine woman was enjoying this. “You said you have been waiting for us for a long time. Why?”

“And what did you mean when you said that I'd be attracted to the phoenix feathers—that power attracts power?” Rhidan demanded.

“So many questions.” The mischievous glint left Sula's eyes. “But are you truly ready for the answers?”

Z
ardi met Sula's gaze full-on. “Try us.” Sula cleared the bowls from the table before sitting down. “Let us start at the beginning,” she said. “My mother spun flax into thread and my father is a djinni. Do you know what a djinni is?”

“My grandmother told me that a djinni is a rare being that can grant any wish except the command to kill another person.” Zardi fell silent for a moment, remembering how she, Rhidan, and Zubeyda would sit by the fire and listen to Nonna's stories about Arribitha before Shahryār came to power and how you could find magic around every corner. Zubeyda and Rhidan were always nervous when Nonna spoke about things that were forbidden, but Zardi had always urged Nonna onward. “Nonna said that years ago some of the richer families in Taraket even had their own djinnis. They were found in lamps, bottles, or rings that you had to rub to summon them.”

Sula smiled. “Zardi, your description is a good one. You are right, once upon a time djinnis could be seen in Taraket. Even the sultan that Shahryār deposed had one. She'd served the royal family for many generations.” Sula made an arch with her fingers. “You are also correct that djinnis bound to an object like a lamp or ring cannot kill human beings, but you should understand that not all djinnis are tethered like this. Those that sided with Eria, the great wizard, during the Battle of Akkad many eons ago are free beings, while those that did not were cursed to become the servants of mortals and were each shackled to a physical object. I am half djinni, but that is only of interest insofar as my djinni blood has given me certain skills.”

Zardi braced herself, almost as if she was on the
Falcon
and it was skirting the edge of a whirlpool. Her whole life, magic was something forbidden. Now here it was right in front of her.

“If you have magical abilities, why didn't Shahryār have you killed, like he killed everyone else?” Rhidan asked shortly. “How do we know you're telling the truth?”

Sula's eyes flashed angrily. “I live because I hid. Because for years, I denied who I was. I still hide. Not even my son knows the whole truth about me. It is safer for everyone that way.”

“So why are you telling us?” Zardi asked.

“Because I have been waiting for you. An important destiny awaits you both, though it is still shadowy in my mind.” Sula looked resolute. “My dreams have told me that I am the only one who can set you on your path, and so that is what I will do. You must follow your destinies, even if it means that the two of you will have to be parted.”

“Zardi, let's get out of here.” Rhidan was on his feet.
“We
have our destiny already. Zardi's father and sister are in trouble and we're going to save them
together
.”

Sula stood slowly, and Zardi was struck by just how tall she was. Her presence filled the whole room, almost as if the very sense of her was expanding right in front of them. The medicine woman stared straight at Rhidan. “You have been looking for answers your whole life,” she said. “Are you really going to walk away when you are so close to finding what you seek?”

Zardi touched Rhidan's arm. It was quivering with rage and something else—fear, maybe. “Sit down. We have to let her finish.”

“Fine.” Rhidan threw himself into the chair. “Pray tell, Sula, what answers can you give me?”

“I
think it will be easier to show you,” Sula replied. She walked over to one of the chamber's walls and plucked a glass bottle off a shelf. Arriving at the table, she pulled out the bottle's stopper and tipped the vessel upside down. Three thick silver drops fell onto the tabletop. The globules instantly gathered together and then spread until the entire surface of the table was a shiny sheet.

“Show him,” Sula said, waving her palm over the reflective surface.

Zardi gasped as an image of a barren strip of land edged with high cliffs of black onyx appeared on the silver tabletop. An imposing fortress made out of the same shiny black stone rose out of the center of the isle and slashed the stormy sky like a blade. The fortress was all angles and sharp edges and had no apparent entrance. Surrounded by dark and torrid water the color of steel, this strange island was awesomely cold and dismal.

“What is this place?” Rhidan questioned.

“Your home,” Sula replied. “The Black Isle.”

Rhidan's violet eyes seemed to fill his whole face. “B-but… Sinbad said that this place didn't exist,” he stammered.

“My son thinks of my stories as fables and fairy tales.” Sula leaned in close, her face soft with kindness. “His instincts were right when he identified you as an Ilian. He just didn't know it.”

“How do we get there?” Rhidan asked, not taking his eyes from the table's surface.

The medicine woman shook her head. “The Black Isle is far away and has a powerful dissembling spell,” she said. “That means it can disguise itself, become invisible, or move at will. You'll be driven crazy trying to chase it.”

Zardi's stomach churned. A moving island, a dissembling spell? “Why is it disguised?” she asked. “Are the people on it hiding?”

Sula gave an elegant shrug. “The sorcerers of the Black Isle are extremely powerful, but they have not been seen here in Arribitha since Shahryār came to the throne. They have many enemies who have long tried to steal their magic. Perhaps they are just trying to protect themselves.”

Rhidan was making little puffing sounds as though he was short of breath. “If I come from the Black Isle, does that mean I'm a sorcerer? That I can do magic?”

“There is no doubt you are of sorcering stock.” Sula studied him. “Whether you can do magic is an entirely different matter.” She sat down at the table and stared at the two keenly, as if challenging them to keep up. “There are different types of magic in this world. Sorcerers have Kanate magic. They absorb the natural magic that exists all around us, from every object, from every drop of water. But it is no easy feat; it takes much stamina. You'll need to discover for yourself whether this is something that you can do and, what's more, whether this is something you can control.”

Rhidan looked down again at the image on the surface of the table. His gaze became intense. “We have to find the sorcerers of the Black Isle.” His voice sounded rougher and lower than usual. “They can help us. Help us defeat Shahryār.”

There was a humming sound, and the air suddenly felt charged like the sky before a thunderstorm. Zardi bolted out of her chair as everything in the room started to radiate a faint purple light. She spread her fingers and saw purple threads fill the gaps. Her breath lodged in her throat as the strands of light began to peel away from her and all the other surfaces in the room. The light swirled upward and twisted itself into a rope of violet that wrapped around Rhidan, making him iridescent. His skin sparkled. She wanted to ask what was happening, to ask if Rhidan was going to be all right, but her tongue was thick with shock.

Just as quickly as it had materialized, the purple rope fell away from Rhidan and the light disintegrated on the air. Her friend looked completely normal and was staring down at the table, tugging on his amulet the way he always did when he was anxious.

“What in all of Arribitha just happened?” Zardi exclaimed.

Sula put a finger to her lips and pointed at the table.

Zardi followed the medicine woman's gaze and saw the fortress and the Black Isle fade. A new glowing image began to form. It was a thick golden disc. At its center was an etching of a towering tree. Its roots trailed down and turned into rivulets of water that appeared to swirl across the surface of the metal. The inner ring of the disc was studded with red stones that flickered like firelight, and around the bejeweled circumference elaborately scripted words were engraved. She only recognized one of them:
Shamal
, the name of the wind that buffeted Taraket every summer.

“What
is
it?” Zardi asked, squinting down at the object. It looked so real, it was almost as if she could reach out and pick it up.

“It is the Hunter's Elemental,” Sula replied. “But most call it the Windrose, for it is the four winds that bend most easily to its power, although it has also been known to call on the elements of earth, fire, and water.” The medicine woman gazed at the Windrose, the image of the golden disc reflected in the dark brown of her irises. “Rhidan, you wanted to know whether you had some aptitude for the magical arts. Well, this is a promising start. If you can find the sorcerers of the Black Isle, they will be able to teach you how to wield your magic properly.”

“But I didn't do anything,” he protested.

Zardi thought back to the amethyst light that had just filled the room and how it had wrapped itself around Rhidan. He had definitely done
something
, even if he hadn't realized it.

“Nonsense,” the medicine woman replied. “Now that you know of your heritage, your magical abilities have awoken, even if just for a moment. You requested a way to find the Black Isle and one has been shown to you.”

Rhidan looked pleased with himself, but bewilderment also shaded his expression. He stared at the strange object on the table, and asked, “What does it do?”

“The Windrose can use its powers to guide a person to anyone or anything in the world, even things that are hidden or disguised,” Sula explained softly. “Many have died trying to obtain the Windrose. A djinni known simply as the guardian protects it. He is powerful and undefeated, but you, at least the part of you that just revealed that little bit of magic, want to find it.”

“Where do we find this guardian?” Zardi asked, ignoring the worm of jealousy trying to burrow into her head.
So, let me get this right
, she could hear the worm saying.
Rhidan is now a sorcerer with magical powers, while you're just … you?