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Traveling Companions
—
Yasmin agreed to meet Safiye in the Glorious City’s main railway terminal, a building that had always been a personal favorite. Swimming inside with sun, thick silver arches supported the sparkling glass that roofed the long concourse. Her father’s company, Baykal Shipping, ran a busy kiosk there. Thanks to an adaptation of his secret method, ordinary people could send small packages to far-flung points in the dimension. Though Yasmin didn’t have time to stop at the booth this morning, she enjoyed knowing her family was part of the beautiful station’s traditions.
Fortunately, Safiye had already messaged her the number for their train. By the time Yasmin tipped a porter to take her trunk, the shiny blue line of cars waited at Platform B. Less common than carpet travel, trains were still popular. The rails they rolled on reduced the magic required to run, which meant more than the very rich could afford tickets. That consideration wouldn’t weigh with Lady Toraman. Hastening her steps, Yasmin bypassed the third- and second-class carriages.
Only first-class concerned her now.
Slightly breathless, she found Safiye already settled in a plush private compartment. Seated on a mauve velvet chair, she was a vision in layered powder blue and silver, every drape of the shimmering cloth an artistic creation. Uncountable tiny diamonds swirled along the borders of her garments. The effect was one of exquisite wealth and taste.
I could show off more, her appearance whispered. But I’m too confident.
Yasmin suddenly felt gauche in her ruby and orange silk outfit.
Never mind that, though. Aysa knew what suited Yasmin’s figure and coloring. She looked as well as it was possible for her to. Safiye glanced up from her scroll version of Town and Country and widened her eyes at her.
“Good morning,” she said. “You look nice.”
She didn’t sound entirely pleased—which made Yasmin think her travel clothes were fine after all.
“Thank you,” she said, taking the chair opposite. “I had to go home to pack. The family maids pulled a cut-and-stitch refurbish on some of my old wardrobe. I didn’t want to let you down by looking second rate.”
The confession unbent Safiye at least a bit. “I rang for tea, but I expect the porters are swamped right now.”
“No doubt. I’ll try to find one later, once the rush settles down.”
Safiye nodded and said no more as the train cars began to roll. Concluding her companion wasn’t feeling chatty, Yasmin pulled her own scroll out of her shoulder bag. The city papers were loaded on it, plus a triple password-protected file of her research on Dimitriou. She’d add notes once she had anything to observe. Better yet, since her and her brother’s scrolls shared a spy-proof link, she could message him if she needed information she couldn’t access on site.
That sparked a thought that should have occurred to her earlier.
“I forgot to ask,” she said. “How are the scroll signals out in Edgeward?”
“Scroll signals?”
“Are they chancy? Milion is awfully close to the In-Betweens. Sometimes that screws up magical messaging.”
“I don’t know. This will be my first trip. Up till now I’ve only socialized with Stefan in the city.” A small crease appeared on Safiye’s otherwise flawless brow. “The proximity of the mists is that disruptive? Having no outside communication wouldn’t be convenient.”
“I’m sure we’ll manage,” Yasmin soothed, though she disliked the idea too. “Someone in town is sure to have a signal stabilizer. Maybe even Stefan will.”
“Maybe,” Safiye said. Allowing her scroll to roll up, she set it on the small table between them. “You’ve been near the borders of the world before?”
“When I was younger. Because of my father’s work. They’re different sorts of places. Beautiful, depending on your taste. You have to get used to them.”
Safiye raised her eyebrows. “Hopefully, I’ll be able to. Stefan spends a good portion of his year out there.”
Yasmin hesitated, unsure she ought to say what her personal attitude urged her to. After a moment, she gave in. “You know you don’t have to marry him. Even if there’s nothing categorically wrong with Dimitriou, a woman like you has her pick of men.”
“Do I?” Safiye asked wryly. “Being cast off by the sultan rather brands me as damaged goods.”
“Nonsense. No djinni worth his smoke could think of you that way. You’re intelligent and cultured. And extremely beautiful. That the sultan chose you in the first place marks you as the ideal of what elite males desire.”
“And yet Iksander didn’t make me his kadin. Twice other djinniya won that prize.”
“That doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with you.”
Unconvinced, Safiye shook her head.
“I’m not flattering you,” Yasmin said, leaning forward across her knees. “I think Iksander simply wanted a . . . different type.”
Safiye snorted sardonically. “You mean a type whose heart he didn’t have to chisel down to with an icepick.”
“There’s nothing wrong with being cautious! No female who values herself bestows her esteem lightly.”
“You might,” Safiye said. “You’re softer than I am.”
“I look softer,” Yasmin denied firmly. “The male who mistakes me for truly pliant risks having his ears pinned back.” To demonstrate, she formed the index-and-pinkie gesture for a defensive curse.
Safiye laughed, her body relaxing into her chair. “You’re better company than I thought.”
Yasmin was glad she felt that way. They’d pass as friends more easily. Curious to see how far they’d progressed, she glanced out the compartment window. The rosy fringed shade was up, the landscape outside edging toward suburbs instead of town. Red-roofed villas, still close together but not as cheek-to-jowl, gleamed bright and cheerful within private walled gardens.
Her smile slipped as she spied one house with a crack jagging up its front. The palm by its gate had toppled, dead brown and moldering. No living resident would tolerate such eyesores, which meant the villa’s owners probably were no more. Everything wasn’t bright and cheerful. Despite Iksander and his friends’ best efforts, some djinn hadn’t survived Empress Luna’s curse.
Unwilling to let dark thoughts overtake her, she blew out a breath and stood. “Why don’t I nab us a tea platter? We’ll be sitting a while. I may as well stretch my legs.”
She hardly needed to justify taking the subordinate role. Accustomed to being served, Safiye nodded absently.
Because she couldn’t go wrong appearing modest, Yasmin covered her hair before exiting. The side corridor was narrow. Coupled with the swaying motion, sidling down it demanded care. The conductors knew the trick of flattening against the windows to let wobbly passengers by. Not so adept herself, Yasmin sighed in relief as she spotted the lit-up sign for the dining car.
She’d let down her guard too soon. A gentleman stepped out of a compartment directly in front of her.
She gasped as a sudden lurch unbalanced her into him.
“Oh,” he said, turning to steady her by the arms. “Pardon me. I didn’t—”
Yasmin jerked and so did he. Joseph was the man who’d caught her, tall and strong and very much in the broad-shouldered flesh. He was dressed more flamboyantly than she knew to be his habit, his tunic a vivid yellow nipped by a lime green sash. He resembled a prosperous businessman more than a buttoned-up royal sorcerer. For one brief moment his striking face lit with pleasure at seeing her. A second later, disapproval wiped out the reaction.
“Yasmin, what are you doing here?”
A partial truth seemed easiest. “I’m traveling to Milion with a friend.”
“A friend,” he repeated.
“I do have them.”
Her offended tone spurred a tiny flinch. “Of course you do. I didn’t—” He paused to regroup his thoughts. “Yasmin, perhaps Edgeward isn’t the best place to journey to. Not just now anyway.”
Well, wasn’t that a highhanded male utterance? Yasmin put up her chin. “Whether it is or not, ‘just now’ I need to reach the restaurant car.”
Ignoring her racing pulse, she began to brush by him. Joseph caught her wrist. His hold was gentle but arresting. He lowered his voice to speak to her ears alone.
“Forgive me. I have no right to tell you where you can go. I’m simply concerned for your safety.”
Did he realize his thumb stroked the sensitive tendon inside her arm? To say this was distracting understated the case by miles. Hot chills chased along her nerves, heating and softening her core.
Don’t pay attention to that, she thought.
“What do you mean?” she demanded, matching his muted tone. “Why wouldn’t I be safe? Are you going to Milion too?”
“I’m sorry, I can’t—“ He stopped as he caught sight of someone behind her. “Damn it. Say nothing about my warning . . . and don’t ask more questions.”
This last he said in a hiss. She might have argued if the situation had given her a chance.
“There you are, Joe, old boy,” the newcomer said.
Yasmin turned to see what sort of djinni referred to Joseph the Magician in this familiar way. To her surprise, for the second time in as many minutes, she caused a man to stop short.
“Good heavens,” he exclaimed. “It’s Yasmin Baykal, isn’t it?”
Yasmin could only blink. Did everyone on this train know her?
The man laughed. “You don’t remember me, do you? Eamon Pappus. From the boys’ school down the lane from your girls’ institute.” He winked at Joseph. “I chased this female to the abyss and back. Wouldn’t give me the time of day.”
Memory stirred belatedly in her mind. Two years older than she, Eamon’s pursuit—if that was the correct term—had both put her off and embarrassed her. A twig on the branch of a loftier family than her own, Eamon had alternated between awkward arrogance and harassment. He’d finally left her alone when her older brother Ramis, of all people, thrashed him badly enough that he’d had to shift form to heal his injuries. Despite Eamon’s superior lineage, Yasmin’s mother once made her promise never to marry a male like him.
Eamon saw her recall return. A smile stretched across his face—a smug one, it seemed to her. When his gaze swept leeringly up and down her person, she lost all doubt of it.
“I feel compelled you to tell you, Yazzy, being shuffled off by Iksander hasn’t spoiled your appearance. —Joking,” he added insincerely, lifting his palms in response to her stony expression. “I’m sure he meant your departure as no insult. You do, however, look utterly yummy.”
Yasmin concluded his personality was as bad as ever. His looks too, as it happened. He’d been unattractive as a boy, and age hadn’t improved him. She’d heard humans thought no djinni ugly, but perhaps it took human eyes to find loveliness in him. Eamon’s receding hairline did no favors to his oddly bulgy forehead. Plus, the way his limbs attached to his torso was subtly off—as if his creator hadn’t understood body mechanics. She recalled he hadn’t excelled at a single school sport he’d gone out for.
Because saying so would have been petty, she held her tongue.
“She hates me,” Eamon laughed to Joseph as if it were a joke. “She’d burn me to the ground right now if you weren’t here to watch.”
“Eamon,” Joseph said quietly. “You are a gentleman. Please treat Miss Baykal with respect.”
“Oh, sure,” Eamon responded. “I’m just funning. Listen Yazzy . . . You don’t mind if I call you that, do you? Why don’t you join us in our compartment, and we’ll make it up to you?”
“I’m traveling with a friend.”
“Your friend is welcome. Especially if she’s as pretty as you are.”
His smile was less of a leer, but she didn’t trust it any more than before.
“Come on,” he coaxed. “Loosen up. Aren’t we all on holiday?”
He laughed as he said it. It must have been an inside joke, because who went on holiday to Edgeward? The area’s proximity to the mists made all but the hardiest tourists uneasy.
“That’s very kind,” she said, “but my friend and I prefer to ride quietly.”
Eamon snorted, unconvinced by her excuse. To her relief, he merely waved his hand. “Suit yourself. Come on, Joe. Maybe we’ll find someone interesting in the bar car.”
Joseph went without objection—a mystery in itself. What was he doing with that man, riding to Milion?
Maybe Safiye knew. Eamon was highborn like her. The sultanate only had so many aristocrats. Chances were they’d both crossed paths with Dimitriou. This, of course, didn’t explain why Joseph was tangled up with Pappus. The magician’s origins were humble. He’d risen due to talent.
Half her attention stuck to this conundrum as she continued into the dining car. Luckily, they had tea to take away. Thanks to the carry tray’s complimentary anti-spill charm, she ferried it to their compartment without mishap. All was calm inside. Safiye gazed out the window, pretty chin in her elegant hand.
“Got it,” Yasmin announced. “Biscuits too, if you’re hungry.”
“Wonderful. You sit and I’ll pour for us.”
Yasmin let Safiye slide a full cup across the table before broaching her question. “Do you know a man named Eamon Pappus?”
“Regrettably. Stefan collects eccentric acquaintances sometimes. Why do you ask?”
“I bumped into him on the way to the dining car.”
Safiye wrinkled her nose. “I suppose he’s attending this weekend’s party. He’s been promising to bring a special guest to meet Stefan. Made a big mystery of it.”
Yasmin’s mind clicked through what might be safe to say. “I saw him with Joseph the Magician. Maybe that’s who he meant.”
“Really? The eunuch is on the train?” Struck by this information, Safiye sat back and sipped her tea. “That is interesting.”
Yasmin thought so too . . . but probably not for the same reason.