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The Lady Detective
—
Once you’d lived the pampered life of a royal concubine, hanging out a shingle as a ‘gumshoe’ might be considered a step down. Yasmin Baykal disagreed. She couldn’t have been readier for her third official day as a detective.
Her first had consisted of rearranging file cabinets. Her second involved finding a young girl’s lost parakeet, for which she’d accepted payment in doll money. Though she didn’t regret this, she wasn’t exactly speeding up the heights of accomplishment.
That was yesterday, however. Every morning was a fresh start. In the name of preparing for what she hoped, today she’d pre-charged a stylus and laid a fresh blank scroll to the right of her red blotter. Her low wood desk, a lucky find at an estate sale, shone from a brisk polish. She’d plumped the floor cushion opposite in anticipation of visiting bottoms. She believed her clothes projected professionalism. Though it pained her to constrain one of her better features, she’d spelled her long glossy hair into a braided bun. Her navy satin tunic and black trousers couldn’t have been more different than the filmy jeweled seductions she’d worn as a harem girl.
The cost to her vanity didn’t matter. The only enhancements her new job called for were practical.
Honoring practicality, the wall of shelves behind her held well-thumbed books on spellcraft, plus the Glorious City’s yawn-inducing ordinance manuals. A pull-down shade hid a whiteboard in a niche to her left. The board was enchanted, designed not just for organizing cases but also for accessing the city’s information network. Having splurged on these tools, frugality necessitated leasing her second-floor office in a less salubrious neighborhood. Because the harbor was a mere block away, on the ledge of the single window a stick of incense burned. The slowly rising coil of sweetness almost masked the smell of brine.
On the bright side, the scented smoke created a homey atmosphere—suited toward confidences between strangers. Yasmin was good at eliciting those. People tended to trust her, even when maybe they shouldn’t.
Now all she needed was a client.
On cue, her teenage brother Balu tapped on the office’s inner door. He’d convinced Yasmin to hire him as her secretary, claiming he’d die of boredom stuck at home. Living with their parents felt flat compared to the time he’d recently spent in the human world. For him, what started as a frightening abduction at the hands of their older brother had turned into an adventure. Balu was obsessed with humans—like many djinn his age. To them, the younger race was the epitome of ‘coolness.’ Given Balu’s enthusiasms, Yasmin hoped hiring him hadn’t been a mistake. Nepotism was frowned on for a reason.
“Yasmin,” her brother called impatiently through the frosted glass. “Shake a leg. A gentlewoman is here to consult you.”
A real gentlewoman? Here in her humble establishment? Yasmin glanced around with her pulse jumping in her throat. She didn’t have time to fancy up anything.
“Show her in,” she said, taking a moment to smooth her tunic front.
Her jaw dropped quite unprofessionally when she saw her visitor. The elegant female was indeed a gentlewoman, daughter to one their city’s most illustrious families. She was also personally familiar.
“Safiye,” Yasmin gasped unthinkingly.
Like Yasmin, Safiye had been a concubine. Sultan Iksander’s dissolution of the harem had cut her loose as well. Unlike Yasmin, Safiye hadn’t welcomed her liberation. Clever and beautiful, she’d thought her prospects for winning their master’s affections all to herself were better than even. Iksander choosing a human as his exclusive wife had dashed those ambitions.
Yasmin prayed Safiye didn’t suspect her role in nudging that unusual match into being. The former courtesan wasn’t just ambitious. She was formidable.
Yasmin cleared her suddenly scratchy throat. “Forgive me,” she said, rising from her cushion to incline her head politely. “Lady Toraman, I should have said. I didn’t mean to be familiar. Seeing you surprised me.”
“We’ve soaked naked in the same hammam,” Safiye tossed off dryly. “If that doesn’t put us on a first name basis, I don’t know what would.”
The djinniya looked around, dropping her stylish headscarf to straight shoulders. Decorated with swirling pearls, the silk was saffron, its drape luxuriant. Diamonds dotted her peacock blue bodice all the way to her curled slippers. Suppressing a pang of envy for these splendors, Yasmin hoped her visitor had come by closed palanquin. Displaying so much wealth in this neighborhood practically begged thieves to attack her.
Her survey of the office finished, Safiye turned dark, shining eyes to Yasmin. Her painted mouth glistened the color of pomegranates, her lashes so thick they too could have been augmented. If they were, they pointed up the beauty she’d been born with. Her expression showed very little. Safiye never had been emotional.
The comment she uttered next was cool. “I’d have thought Iksander’s settlement would cover more impressive furnishings.”
“Yes,” Yasmin agreed, ordering herself not to look insulted. The sultan had been generous when divorcing his former wives. “I’ve economized to ensure the sum will last.”
“I was under the impression your family was made of money. Isn’t your father an exporter?”
A smile tugged the corners of Yasmin’s lips. Calling her father a mere exporter was disingenuous. He’d pioneered a process for shipping goods across the misty In-Betweens that separated djinn territories. As a result, his firm had prospered enormously. Naturally, old-money aristocrats like the Toramans couldn’t help but find his success offensive.
“The Goddess blessed him,” she conceded. “I, however, prefer to stand on my own two feet.”
Safiye pressed her lips together. “That’s very modern of you, I’m sure.”
Yasmin doubted Safiye valued being modern even a little bit. Ignoring this, she went on. “I assume you didn’t come here just to renew our acquaintance.”
Safiye’s look of prim disapproval intensified. “I believe your secretary is bringing tea.”
She was correct to scold. No respectable djinniya engaged in business without the niceties. Luckily, before she had to apologize for her lapse, Balu bustled in with the tray. Despite being skinny as a rail—much the same as Yasmin at his age—he had no trouble maneuvering gracefully. He set the laden platter on the desk, pouring two steaming glasses as the women took cushions. Though polite, he didn’t seem overawed by their visitor.
Probably he’d have been more dazzled by a human female in torn blue jeans.
“Ladies,” he said, including Yasmin in the term. “I’ll be in the outer office if you need anything.”
Yasmin had to admit he’d performed neatly.
“Well,” Safiye said once she’d sipped. “I won’t keep you in suspense. I’m here because a gentleman has requested my hand in marriage. His name is Stefan. He’s the sole living heir to the Dimitriou estate.”
“Congratulations,” Yasmin murmured politely.
“Stefan is well regarded. Many djinniya have vied for his attention.”
“I’m not surprised you accomplished what they failed to.”
The compliment—which was true enough—didn’t soften Safiye’s stiff posture. “I'm not certain I ought to accept his offer.”
“You doubt his honesty?”
Interestingly, considering how self-controlled she normally was, Safiye squirmed on her cushion. “I don’t know what I doubt. Stefan is intelligent and charming. Handsome enough, even when compared to Iksander. My family adores him. As for myself, I feel . . . an affection I can’t deny.”
“But?” Yasmin prompted.
Safiye winced. “After being so mistaken about Iksander, I hesitate to trust my judgment. I can't afford to be that wrong twice. The restoration of my status depends on this union succeeding.”
“Forgive me for being indelicate, but do you fear he’ll be unfaithful?”
“I’m sure he will,” Safiye surprised her by saying. “He’s a man, and I’m a realist. He’s promised to take no wife but me. That is sufficient for my pride. What concerns me are the things I do not know that I do not know. Unfortunate habits or sketchy associations. Does he gamble or secretly dress up like a dinosaur? Something in me thinks he’s too good to be true. If I know his skeletons, I can decide if I’m willing to risk them embarrassing me.”
“I can do some digging,” Yasmin offered. “The city has rules about how much snooping I can do magically, but I can certainly research his background and finances.”
“I’d be happy to commission that report, but what I wish to ask of you involves a . . . more personal approach.”
“Yes?” Yasmin asked, unnerved by the woman’s sudden intensity.
Safiye blew out her breath. “I haven’t officially given Stefan my answer. I promised I would this weekend. He has invited me and other of his associates to a gathering at his country house. If I accept, he plans to announce our engagement then.”
“He is confident.”
Safiye waved off the observation. “His confidence isn’t unattractive. Not to me anyway. I know some in the harem overlooked you, but I always sensed your cleverness. I’d like you to accompany me this weekend, Friday to Monday, to take Stefan’s measure in person.”
Yasmin didn’t bother tugging her eyebrows down. “You do know I don’t have much experience. I can’t swear I’d pull off going undercover.”
“You won’t be undercover. As long as you don’t mention your current job, you’re free to come as yourself. No one will blink if I invite a friend from my days at court.” She had enough sensitivity to read Yasmin’s reaction. ‘Friends’ weren’t what they’d been by a long shot. “If you prefer, I can call you an acquaintance. What matters is that you be there with your eyes open. You’re respectable enough for this party, if that’s what concerns you.”
Yasmin suspected it concerned Safiye more than her. “You’re sure you don’t want to hire a more seasoned investigator?”
“You mean a man? Because that would be my only choice. You’re this city’s only female detective.” Safiye shook her head. “How could I trust a male to keep faith with me, to even understand my interests? Whether I like it or not, you’ve cornered the market on djinniya detecting.”
This was less flattering than Safiye’s claim to respect her cleverness. “May I have time to think?”
“I hope you’re not this timid about everything!”
Her exclamation inspired a smile. Though Safiye didn’t know it, there’d been more than one occasion when Yasmin had been reckless. “You needn’t doubt my courage. I simply wish to make the correct decision for both of us.”
“Fine.” Safiye pushed huffily to her feet. “Consult the tea leaves or whatever you need to do. I have to know by tomorrow. If you agree, contact me via scroll. We can discuss your payment then.”
Yasmin barely had time to curtsey before Safiye puffed into her smoke form and streaked out the window. Yasmin guessed this answered the question of how the richly dressed female arrived safely.
“All right,” she called to her brother. “Lady Toraman is gone. You can stop hovering at the door.”
“Didn’t hear a thing,” Balu assured her as he strolled in. “Your privacy spell was tight.”
“You’re not supposed to try to crack it. Client-detective privilege is sacrosanct.”
“I’m your assistant. I’m in the bubble too. Anyway, how can you know the shield is working if I don’t push?”
“Balu.”
“Yasmin.”
“Don’t make me sorry for hiring you.”
“Ha.” He tossed his dark walnut locks and grinned. “Me being here to watch your back is the reason Father consented to let you go into this business.”
“I’m a grown woman,” she grumbled, though his statement was true. “Perfectly capable of watching my own back. Has Father forgotten I was instrumental in rescuing you from those traffickers?”
“I don’t need convincing. I think djinniya should be allowed to run their lives.”
“Don’t let Mother hear you say that.” Their female parent was very conservative.
Undaunted by the reminder, Balu punched her shoulder. “So, sis. Do we have a client or not?”
“Maybe. I expected to ease into being a detective with simpler jobs. More missing pets or employee background checks. Safiye wants to throw me in the deep end.”
“You can swim. And she certainly can pay.”
She could. And that was a strong incentive. For her pride as much as anything.
“I’ll do a quick look-see into the man she wants me to observe. Make sure this weekend doesn’t catch me unprepared.”
“This weekend?”
Before Yasmin could explain, the sound of footfalls in the outer office caused her and Balu to straighten.
“Hello?” called a polite male voice. “Is anyone about?”
Yasmin’s palms broke into an instant sweat. What was Joseph the Magician doing here? Before she could control the self-betrayal, her hands flew up to tidy her perfectly ordered hair. She hadn’t seen Joseph since his return from the human realm. Maybe she shouldn’t have expected to while the harem remained in force. The rules of seclusion forbade outside male contact. After, though, Joseph could have sent her a scroll message. At the minimum, simple politeness allowed for that.
Not surprisingly, considering her inner turmoil, Balu was quicker than she to greet their visitor.
“Sir!” he exclaimed from the outer room. “How gracious of you to honor us!”
“I told you to call me Joseph,” the sorcerer said. His kind, smooth voice set Yasmin’s spine tingling. “When two have faced enemies together, too much formality is an insult.”
“Of course, sir,” Balu agreed, still awed by his idol. Though her brother was no slouch at magic, the royal magician occupied his own rarefied level. “I mean Joseph. What are you doing here?”
Joseph laughed, and that did tingly things to her insides too. “I have brought a good will gift. And well wishes for your business. I wonder, is your sister available?”
Joseph’s question made her realize she was hiding in her office as if she were a teenager.
“Yasmin!” Balu called. “Get your rear into Reception.”
Face flaming with annoyance, she yanked the thumbnail she’d been biting out from between her teeth. Balu chose a fine time to forget civil speech! But she’d have to rebuke him later. For now, she flipped her plain white scarf to her ears, clenched her teeth, and went out.
Though she’d braced, Joseph’s looks hit her as forcefully as she’d feared. Narrow of face with precision-cut, sharp features, the famous magician was strikingly handsome. Tall but not towering, lean but still muscular, his skin was an appealing toasty brown. His naturally ruddy lips—which he had the habit of pressing into a line—were too thin to count as classically beautiful, though they appealed to her. His hair was darker than hers and gleamed like mahogany. Set off by the contrast, his honey-gold irises glowed within thick lashes.
“Miss Baykal,” he said, bowing deeply from the waist. Apparently, his rules concerning formality didn’t apply to her. She’d faced more enemies at his side than her brother; had risked actual death, if it came to that. Maybe she’d been presumptuous to think of him as her friend, but they’d certainly been allies.
“Joseph,” she said coolly in return. “How nice to see you again.”
He straightened and cleared his throat. “I hope I’m not intruding. I brought you—and Balu, of course—an ‘office warming’ gift.” He held out an ugly green spiky plant in a round silver pot. “Georgie . . . that is to say, the kadin laid a blessing on it. To promote good fortune in your endeavors.”
Georgie was the sultan’s new human wife. The gesture was a kind one. Among the djinn, human blessings had special potency. On the other hand, the kadin’s contribution meant the gift wasn’t Joseph’s idea alone. Maybe, in truth, he’d been pushed into bringing it.
Refusing to let that sting, Yasmin accepted the pot from him.
“The plant is called dragon’s tongue,” he said. “I’m told they are hard to kill even if you neglect them. I added a tiny spell of my own, so the leaves will snap at anyone but you or Balu. You could hide keys in it if you wish.”
“That was thoughtful,” she responded.
Perhaps she sounded stiff. A flush of color rose into his smooth lean cheeks. “Well. Please enjoy it in good health. I’ll let you return to your business.”
Without more ado, he turned and exited down the stairs. If Yasmin had been paying more attention to what she did, she wouldn’t have drifted to the front window to watch him reemerge on the street below. When he did, the famous magician seemed to be muttering exasperatedly to himself.
What, she wondered, did he have to be annoyed about?
Balu thought he knew. He smacked her arm sharply. “You don’t have to be rude. Just because Joseph isn’t a whole man, you shouldn’t look down on him.”
For a moment she couldn’t speak. The last thing Yasmin did was look down on Joseph. Or think of him as anything but whole. Like most everyone in the Glorious City, Balu believed Joseph was a eunuch. The story of his teenage maiming was infamous.
As far as Yasmin knew, only she and Joseph were aware the condition no longer applied to him.
Some months ago, a vengeful empress laid a curse on their fair city. Filled with hatred for Iksander, Luna turned every resident into a stone statue. Only at the last moment had Joseph, the sultan, and two other trusted officials escaped the enchantment. Thanks to a spell that doubled their bodies, they’d projected copies of themselves through special portals into the human world. There they’d regrouped, returning as soon as they were able to free the populace. Yasmin had been among the first citizens to wake. With the capital still in shambles, she’d worked with Joseph to foil a plot her older brother had been mixed in. Along the way, she’d discovered the doubling process had healed his body. Joseph the so-called Eunuch could be with women any way he—or they—desired.
Yasmin reminded herself it wasn’t her place to reveal that.
“I assure you,” she told her brother, finding her tongue at last. “I have the utmost regard for him.”
Balu seemed unconvinced. He faced her with one gangly shoulder propped on the front window. “Sometimes I think you and I forget our good fortune. No matter if our brother Ramis turned evil, we grew up with parents who cared for us. We were never homeless. Never hungry. Never desperate or in danger with no one to rescue us. Joseph knew all those hardships and more besides. You should consider offering him an apology.”
“An apology! Balu, I appreciate how much you look up to Joseph. In truth, I think well of you for it. Apologizing, however, would only embarrass him. Joseph knows I don’t consider him . . . incomplete.”
She willed her cheeks not to heat. Balu scowled at her skeptically.
“I’m telling the truth,” she insisted. “In any case, if I take this assignment, I won’t have time for groveling.”
Balu folded his arms.
“Do you want to hear what Lady Toraman asked or not?”
“Fine,” he said, his desire to be in-the-know as strong as hers would have been. “We can discuss what you owe the best protector our city has later.”
~
To Yasmin’s relief, learning about Lady Toraman’s case distracted Balu from lecturing her. He left her in peace, returning to his desk in the outer office while she fired up the spelled whiteboard. A glance at its formula manual enabled her to access the larger municipal information pools. As it turned out, her look-see at Safiye’s would-be fiancé wasn’t a quick process. Stefan Dimitriou was a press darling. The Glorious City’s newspapers were a rich if not completely trustworthy source of material.
As Safiye claimed, Stefan was well regarded. Every other article Yasmin found described him as ‘dashing’ or ‘princely.’ Tragically, when he was fifteen, his parents died in a train derailment. Too much magic accumulated on the tracks, and their car jumped free. The local authorities ruled it an accident, and new safety measures were put in place.
The changes came too late for Stefan’s parents, but the estate they left to their son was large. Originally a banking family, the Dimitrious funded previous sultans’ wars. Since most of the wars were won, land and titles were their reward. Stefan’s current seat was the bucolic town of Milion in Edgeward Province, where he seemed to enjoy playing Lord Bountiful. Yasmin pulled up pictures of him cutting ribbons for public parks, soaring down grassy fields on polo carpets, and—most laudable of all—opening an institution for poor orphans.
“No one’s that saintly,” she murmured to herself. Then again, if a djinni had sufficient wealth and influence, he could control his narratives.
She considered the latest picture she’d summoned onto the board, then enlarged it with two fingers. Dimitriou was good looking. Not an earth shaker like Iksander or even Joseph but worth a second glance. The polo pictures displayed his athleticism and the fire with which he competed. He had the sort of grin men and women would be drawn to: cocky but not bad-natured. He wore his caramel brown hair tousled, the twinkle in his eye unmistakable. The average well-brought-up djinniya might be wary of such a man, but she’d be interested.
As for the orphans whose school he’d built, to a one they turned adoring faces toward their benefactor. Their expressions made Balu’s hero worship of Joseph seem mild by comparison.
Yasmin sighed and shifted on her slippers. She’d been standing in front of the board for an hour, during which time she’d discovered nothing Safiye couldn’t and probably had found out for herself.
A snapping noise behind her caused her to jump. The ugly plant she’d set on the desk had killed a wandering fly. That was useful, she supposed.
“Going for lunch,” Balu called through the door. “I’ll bring you back something.”
She murmured a vague response, still absorbed in gazing at the board. Despite her fears, her brother was a good secretary. Taking this job would help her pay him. She pinched her lower lip. Maybe Safiye was right about the need to observe Dimitriou in person. If Yasmin were in his house with permission, she could scan him magically. According to city ordinances, expectations of privacy didn’t apply the same to guests.
Yasmin also had other talents she could bring into play. One in particular Safiye didn’t suspect she had. All those years confined to the harem with so few visits from Iksander, she’d had little to do that interested her. She’d staved off boredom by honing her magic. Though trans-animorphism wasn’t a common gift, she’d learned to shift form into a cat. Too many times to count, she’d snuck out of the palace through a drainpipe. That had been quite the violation of harem rules. Iksander could have thrown her in prison or banished her. He’d forgiven her because her nightly wanderings had uncovered an awful crime.
If she accompanied Safiye to Edgeward Province, her cat might prove equally useful there.
I’ll do it, she decided with a surge of adrenaline. If she’d wanted to play it safe, she shouldn’t have chosen detecting as a career.
A moment later, she had a more daunting thought. Stefan Dimitriou represented the tippy-top of the social ladder. Even if his weekend guests were a few rungs down, Yasmin’s current working-class attire wasn’t appropriate. She needed the sort of wardrobe she’d worn before—not simply in the harem but as the pampered daughter of a rich exporter.
To her dismay, she knew just where to obtain it.