14

I shall not detail the shouted conversation that immediately followed on that sad flight; I shall merely say that Lydia was distraught to learn her man had died. She did not seem sad so much as angry, and at me, as if I had not taken proper care of a prized possession.

Once she had calmed down sufficiently, Dabir inquired as to my injuries—none of which seemed life-threatening, although my arm was quite sore. He then told me we were on our way to Mosul.

This seemed a remarkably bad idea to me. “Won’t that just lead the spirits and the Sebitti to our home?”

“We won’t stay long,” Dabir said. “But we need rest. And you said the other bone was south.”

“Do you mean to go after it?”

He leaned back, opened his mouth as if to explain, and then the wind swept hard from the left and tore his turban away. Dabir grabbed at the fabric, but it unrolled as it spiraled off into the sky like a living thing. He then pressed a hand to the spear lying half pressed under his thigh, to ensure its safety, and I glanced beyond him to where Lydia sat with the club across her lap. Alexis did not shift in the slightest from where I had put him, on his side next to me, his legs curled so that they would not hang over the edge of the carpet.

“I have an idea,” Dabir said finally. “I’ll need to get some answers from Lydia before I can be sure it works. Do you think you can get the spear working?”

I had figured out the club; I saw no reason that I could not work out the spear as well. “Yes. What are you planning?”

He shook his head. “We will talk when we land.”

We were on that carpet a very long time indeed, for it was a long way to Mosul even when soaring like a bird. Also, it was cold, and after the first hour we were forced to huddle together under Alexis’ outer robe, which we spread like a blanket.

I was dismayed that we had once again missed our prayers. It always seemed to me that in those times when they might do us the most good we had no opportunity for them. Also, there was the presence of Alexis to darken my mood. It seemed that all our journeys upon the carpet would be in the company of a corpse, surely an ill omen. I bethought then of Jibril’s body, still unburied, and I knew great sorrow, just as I knew that was likely nothing to what Dabir must be feeling.

Below us all was blue-gray where the snow threw back moonlight and black where it did not, outlining trees, rocks, or occasional buildings. One long winding patch of ink was a river and it silvered as we passed. After traveling a long while in silence, we began to drop lower and I could see flickers of light from dwellings glinting off objects outside. The carpet soon carried us a bowshot above Mosul’s walls, close enough for me to see two warriors talking over brazier coals. They did not see us, praise God, for they would surely have raised an alarm. Dabir advised Lydia so that our course changed now and again. We flew low enough over a block of buildings that I might well have stepped safely onto a roof.

Finally the carpet arrived above the dark rectangle of our courtyard and settled gently into it.

I realized how tense I’d been only when I began to relax in the familiar surroundings. I climbed slowly to my feet, discovering a few new pains, then helped Dabir bear the body of Alexis into one of our empty rooms. Dabir had promised Lydia he would be buried in the Christian cemetery south of the wall, and I would see that it was done personally. Our tread wakened a visibly startled Buthayna, who volunteered with surprisingly few words to stoke the fire and warm something for us.

Lydia waited to the side of the oven, eager for the warmth. I couldn’t suppress a grin when a bleary-eyed Rami stumbled into the kitchen to stare at us in shocked wonder. Dabir directed the lad and they both helped me to remove my armor. I was startled to catch Buthayna looking over at me with concern. I recalled then the multitude of red splashes staining my tunic and armor.

“It is not my blood,” I said.

A savage laugh then fell from her lips, and she kept on chuckling from time to time over the next quarter hour. Even Lydia traded a curious glance with me at this.

I was famished, so hungry that I hardly savored the rice and stewed vegetables Buthayna set before me. The Greek woman ate nearby, forced into proximity because we both desired to be near to the oven.

Dabir went to the adjoining room to pen a quick note to the governor and I heard him bid Rami take it to the palace straightaway. He returned after having changed, replaced his turban, and washed, then reluctantly agreed that we speak in the kitchen rather than the receiving room. He chased out Buthayna, pulled out a chest she kept her larger pots in, and sat down upon it with his back to the stone oven. “It is time for answers,” he told Lydia. “Clearly the ancients were right about the spirits: when they absorb enough life force, they become corporeal—at least temporarily.”

“Yes,” Lydia agreed.

“And somehow Erragal stored magic in the bones from one of these slain spirits?”

“Not just any slain spirits.” Lydia set her plate aside. “The most dangerous and bloodthirsty. He captured its life energy as it lay dying.”

“Why couldn’t the Sebitti find the bones on their own?”

“Erragal hid their power.” Lydia pointed over to the spear leaning in the corner by the club. “Unless you’re holding one, even the greatest mage can’t gauge the true extent of its power.” She briefly faced me to ask, with a slight frown, “How far south do you think the other one is?”

“It is hard to say,” I answered gruffly. I hadn’t realized that Dabir had said anything of the matter to her, and I wondered, for once, at his wisdom.

“We can discuss that later.” Dabir rested his hands on his knees. He was backlit by the firewood in the oven so that his beard hairs and a few stray turban fibers were sharply delineated. “What are these spirits, exactly?”

“I know only a little more than what the Sebitti told me. They may have lied. I’m sure now they lied about what they wanted the bones for.”

“What do you know about the spirits?”

Lydia shrugged. “In the days after the fall, we shared the earth with many strange beings. My people call them chionzoe, though yours would call them djinn,” she said with a hint of derision, “as though there were only one type of spirit. My ancestors thought them a kind of Titan, escaped from their prison when the gods were distracted. But the Sebitti say they were something else. Spirits from another realm that craved form and sustenance. They wandered down into the warm, soft places of the earth and they sucked the life force clean from everything in their path. They brought the cold with them when they came.

“People weren’t very clever then. They all lived in dirty villages, and they didn’t even have swords. They were no match for the ice that the snow spirits brought with them. They had to flee as cold spread across the land. And then, within a few years of each other, in the same tribe, the first Sebitti were born, Adapa and Erragal. A mage like that is born once in perhaps a thousand years, but here were two in the same region who could shape sorcery as easily as this ox beside me eats.”

I scowled but refrained from comment.

“They marshaled their people to fight the frost spirits with fire and magic, and discovered bones from slain spirits could be used to hit them when other objects couldn’t. As you deduced, when they consume life, they absorb its traits. Gazi’s magic worked a similar trick,” she added.

“Why didn’t that one you summoned turn into a giant lamb then?” I asked. “It was drinking sheeps’ blood, wasn’t it?” I could have mentioned that it didn’t become a bird or a replica of the slain wizard either.

She never answered my question. “Clearly the spirit killed a wolf or two in its time. They know what humans fear.”

“Let us stay focused,” Dabir said. “What happened next?”

“I was told Erragal used the bones to drive them back.” Her voice rose in admiration. “He captured the most dangerous of the spirits and divided its power among five weapons. Some part of it escaped his hold, though, and returned to the spirit realms.”

“The part you called back?”

“Yes. I suppose hate had kept the thing from dissipating, after all these years. It was challenging to find, but I did it,” she said with pride. “I just don’t understand why I couldn’t bend the will of that one I called.”

“You didn’t control the will of the first one,” Dabir pointed out, then shook his head as if regretting the observation. “Enough. What can you tell me about the Sebitti?”

She turned up her hands. “What do you want to know?”

“Let’s start with their abilities, and their weaknesses.”

She nodded at this. “Lamashtu may be the most powerful. She and Gazi certainly frightened me the most. She is smarter. She uses blood to power her sorcery, including her immortality. You saw what blood magic did to the old man? Well, she can throw spell after spell without much ceremony or effort. So long as she can get away to absorb more blood, she cannot be destroyed.”

“His name was Jibril,” Dabir corrected quietly. “What of the others?”

Lydia paused momentarily, out of politeness or a reasonable attempt at it, then continued. “I had seen little of Anzu’s ability until this evening. He seemed harmless … good-humored.” She paused. “None of the Sebitti really think of themselves as human anymore. I think Lamashtu looks on people as livestock, and Anzu views societies as grand experiments he likes to monitor. He’s the one who contacted me.”

“I see.”

“He told me once that he had visited my grandmother to provide her with the sorcerous secrets passed on to my father. I’m not sure if he meant to instill gratitude or claim authority. Apparently he’d been hoping one of my family would grow into the gifted sorcerer they were after.”

“So they had been grooming you?” Dabir prompted.

“He watches families or individuals who he thinks might have potential. He’s the one who found the woman, Najya.”

At that I let out a low oath.

She turned her head toward me. “You should blame him, not me, for what happened. It was my idea to leave the Persian’s soul in her body so she could help control the spirit. The Sebitti thought I should cast her out.”

“How kind of you,” Dabir said dryly. I am glad he spoke, for a cold rage had seized me, and I do not think I would have managed a controlled comment. “Her soul is still trapped in her body with the spirit’s. How long can it remain?”

“As long as she’s alive,” Lydia conceded. “But I don’t know how you can hope to save her. You’d have to subdue the spirit and force it into a banishing circle. How are you going to do that?”

“You got her into this situation,” I broke in. “You must get her out.”

“I don’t know how.”

This angered me further. “You give up too easily. You have destroyed her life. You must find a way.”

“That is easier said than done.”

“We shall not give up,” Dabir promised. “And I may know how we can get her into that circle.”

At that, my interest and hope surged as one. But Dabir made clear that now was not the time by holding up a hand. “Right now I need more answers. Lydia, Najya’s spirit seems to be strengthening all the time. Is that because of the snow women the spirit sends out? Do they gather life force for her?”

“I think so.”

Dabir frowned. “Well. Let us get back to our discussion of the Sebitti. What of Koury?”

“His powers I think you know. He can shape wood, and clay to a lesser extent, then command it to do as he wishes. He has a few other tricks, but if he is separated from the container that houses his figurines, he does not seem so dangerous. He is their current leader, but he might be the weakest. Perhaps he is the best planner.”

Someone who commanded such unstoppable beasts did not strike me as weak.

Dabir pressed ahead. “And what of Anzu’s weaknesses?”

“He’s adept at sneaking in or out of places unseen, but I had no idea he was so deadly until I saw him in combat. He may be more formidable than I first thought.”

“Could Lamashtu have survived Jibril’s attack?”

“Probably. She can vanish almost instantly, and heal herself with blood magic. Anzu once told me he was fairly sure she didn’t need most of her organs anymore.”

“Are any other Sebitti working with them?”

“Isn’t that enough?” she joked. She saw neither of us smiling, and she sighed. “Erragal’s had nothing to do with any of them for generations, though he was once mentor to Anzu and Koury. And he might have long ago been Lamashtu’s lover. Gazi joked about that. It was hard to know what he meant, though. He was the maddest of them all.”

I would have liked to hear more about Gazi, but Dabir changed the subject. “How about Enkidu? Or Adapa?”

“Adapa’s been dead for millennia, and Enkidu wanders in the wilderness. They really weren’t a united group,” Lydia went on. “Ever. There have been larger and smaller numbers of them at various times, and only occasionally have they joined forces. And all have found different paths to sorcery and immortality.”

“And how many others work with them?”

“Each has a few dozen followers and servants. All of them are normal humans except for Lamashtu’s.” Lydia licked her lips. “I saw one of hers, once. She passes on part of her blood magic to her followers. Their only vulnerabilities are extremes of temperature. They are preternaturally strong and fast, so long as they have regular access to blood.”

Dabir fell silent and rubbed the side of Sabirah’s ring with his thumb. Light from the oven struck the stone so that for a brief moment it seemed alive with emerald fire. “You knew all this,” he continued finally, “and their powers, and yet you turned against them. Do you wish for death?”

“My powers measure up to theirs,” Lydia said haughtily. “With these bones, and the spirits at my command, I could stand against any or all of them. Or, I thought I could,” she finished with a bitter twist of her mouth.

“But why challenge them?”

“They told me they would give me power to do what I wished with the empire. But the longer I was among them, the more I doubted. They had agreed too readily. And,” she added, puckering her lips in disgust, “I tired of being treated like a lackey. I saw they meant to cast me aside as soon as I was no longer useful.”

This seemed to satisfy Dabir. “And how is it you came to us?”

“I knew the Sebitti were on the move, in force, and followed secretly to see where they went. They thought I had moved off to ready my numbers to assist them.”

“How did you know they were on the move?”

“I am not without resources of my own.” She sounded pleased with herself.

“Resources? Explain.”

“A woman has to keep some secrets.” She flashed a sly smile.

Dabir might as well have been made from stone, so little impact did her charm have upon him. “Lydia, if we are to work together, I have to know what you can do. If you have some other tools or talents that can be useful, you must tell me.”

Her playful lilt had faded. “You will not like it.”

“I haven’t liked any of this,” Dabir said. His voice was clipped. “My mentor is dead. He was the closest thing to a father I have known. Dozens, perhaps hundreds, have perished, including the entire population of at least one village. Men, women, and children. None of them would be dead but for you, and Najya and her husband would still live peacefully in Isfahan.”

She smiled without mirth. “Now we are down to it, aren’t we? You blame me. If the Sebitti had not found me, they would have found someone else for their work. And if they had not found Najya, it would have been some other.”

“Truly?” Dabir asked bitterly. “I thought you were the most gifted sorceress of your age.”

“I did not say that.”

“You certainly implied it. And it may even be true. You said on the carpet ride here that they did not have the skills to work with these spirits. It seems to me that you might simply have refused to cooperate.”

“When offered such power, you think I would say no? Would you?”

“Yes.”

She laughed. “How noble. But then you have fame, wealth, comfort … you have everything you want.”

“No,” Dabir said quietly, “I do not.”

“Do you mean power? I can find no way into a court ruled by that idiot Irene and her bearded fools. They will not heed me—”

“I do not mean power,” Dabir cut in, “and we have veered from the subject.”

Lydia was not inclined to return to it. “Tell me, Dabir. What do you intend for me? Jaffar banished me from these lands on pain of death.” She pointed a thumb at me without looking my direction. “You could have this killer lop my head from my shoulders at any time.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Dabir said.

“Really? Why should I trust you?”

“We need each other,” he told her slowly. Dabir shifted on the chest and spoke formally, and it was only as he went on that I realized he was fighting hard to restrain his anger. “I have no desire to see you executed or imprisoned. I have immense respect for your abilities, and your intellect. But I do hold you accountable for your part in all that has transpired, and wonder what you shall say when there comes a final judgment.”

“Your opinion is irrelevant to me,” she said stiffly.

Dabir took a deep breath and held it a moment before replying. “These resources of yours. What are they?”

Lydia weighed him with her eyes, then sounded weary as she answered. “I work with the spirits of the dead, Dabir. Do not ask which ones, or how. But I can set them to watch, and know what they see.”

“Are those the things you keep in the pouch at your waist?” I interrupted.

“No. Those are more special. And you don’t really want to know what those are.”

While some curiosity lingered, I concluded that she was right.

“I knew that the Sebitti were closing upon us at nearly the same time Asim sensed them with the club. One of my spirits was following them.”

“Is it still?” Dabir asked.

She shook her head. “We have journeyed too far, and my control has lapsed. If you ever finish interrogating me, I’ll summon a few to watch outside Mosul. Certain spirits are highly sensitive to otherworldly energies, so I’ll call ones that should be able to detect the approach of the chionzoe. Now I have a question for you, Dabir. You say that you need me. Why? What is your plan?”

Dabir’s eyes fell to me. “It will depend in part on whether Asim can get the spear working in the same way.”

“I can do that,” I reassured him.

“And,” Dabir continued, “that we can find the other weapon and get it working as well. Can you fashion a banishing circle, Lydia?”

“Of course. The symbols are not fundamentally different from those of a summoning circle. But designing one may be a little more challenging,” she added, “without my notes.”

“I have Jibril’s notes,” Dabir offered.

“That may or may not be helpful. But, again, if you’re planning on Usarshra standing obediently while we banish her, let alone cooperating to enter—”

Dabir interrupted her. “I’m planning on luring her in, and trapping her.”

“Luring her in?” Lydia asked. “With what?”

“The bones.” Dabir’s gaze was intent. “She came for them once. She’ll come for them again. Sooner than we want, probably.”

“And she’ll come with a whole army of spirits,” Lydia decried.

“Then we’ll need a very large circle.”

“Powered by what?” Lydia’s expression cleared. “The bones. Of course! But … then they are likely to become completely drained.”

“Good,” Dabir said fiercely.

She blinked at him. “I was going to suggest that we each take one when we are done.”

“They must be destroyed,” Dabir said in a tone that brooked no argument, “along with the spirits.”

“Destroyed?” She leaned forward. “Then all of this will have been for nothing!”

Dabir actually snarled. I do not believe I had ever seen him so angry. “We shall be lucky, Lydia, to survive at all, or to save our people. That is what we ‘get’ from this. Now. Are you going to help me make this circle?”

Lydia blinked in surprise, for while she did not know him even half as well as I, she surely knew Dabir’s measure and understood that this was completely out of character. “Are you sure it will even be powerful enough to stop Usarshra?”

“I can’t be sure of anything,” Dabir admitted. “All we can do is try.”

“Why did you call her ‘Usarshra’?” I asked.

“That is what the spirit calls itself; I know not why.” Lydia shrugged, then addressed Dabir. “It’s just gotten stronger since it left the Sebitti. And I think it will continue to do so.”

“That’s why we’re going to try to find the third bone, tonight. If the circle’s going to work, it has to be more powerful than she is.”

Lydia nodded. “I suppose so.”

He studied her quietly for a long moment. “I’ll give you a better offer than the one you gave us, Lydia. If you do not want to work with us, I will give you one of our horses, and you will be free to go.”

“You will fail without me.”

“Surely we will have a better chance if you aid us,” Dabir agreed.

“If I help you,” she said slowly, “if I give up my claim on any of the bones, what will I receive?”

Dabir but stared at her.

I could not stay silent. “After all you’ve done, you want a reward?”

“You are not the only ones to lose friends and allies,” she said.

“This is all your fault!”

Dabir interrupted before I could say more. “Peace, Asim. Lydia, I have moneys at my disposal, though I do not think this is what you want. I think I have enough influence to have you pardoned by Jaffar, for the caliphate will surely owe you its thanks, if this turns out well. A post might be obtained for you, though … you are a Greek—”

“And a woman,” she finished caustically. “So best suited for knitting and rearing children, right?”

“By God,” I interjected, “if you had stayed home making children, we would not be in the midst of this.”

Dabir spoke quickly. “Asim, you are not helping. Lydia, treasures I can certainly promise you. I think a pardon likely, and I will do what I can to see that you receive a post. Mosul is ruled by a just man, and I do not think he would object to counsel from a woman, though I cannot guarantee anything.”

She studied him. “It is not so different here than in Constantinople.”

Dabir could only offer empty hands.

“There’s no better option at present,” she said. “I shall work with you.”

“Good,” Dabir said grimly. I think he meant to speak on, but Lydia did not give him time.

“Your plan has merit, but it will require some modification. Normally a person must stand outside a circle, with all the power sources, to activate it. And you certainly don’t want to be inside one when you banish something.”

That made sense even to me.

Lydia spoke on. “Usarshra may come for the bones, but we really can’t expect her to pass over the boundary lines unless the bones are within the ring, and if they’re inside, we can’t very well use them to power the circle, because we’d be trapped inside the banishing sphere with the spirits.”

“You sound as though you have a solution,” Dabir said.

“I think I might be able to fashion a safe space in the circle,” she said. “Like a hole through a pearl that you string on a necklace. It would be a protective circle inside the banishing circle. For us.”

“Can that work?”

The Greek woman shrugged. “I’ve never heard of it being done before, but if I can’t do it, nobody can. I will have to plan it out very carefully. If you’re wanting to fit in all the spirits we saw this evening, it must be very large. Larger than the hippodrome.”

Dabir nodded, looking almost relieved. “We’ll draw it out in the countryside. Better not to bring the spirits close to here.” He looked to us both. “Well, it is already late, and we have much to do. We’d best get your sentries in place, then see about this circle. Asim, can you master the spear’s magic?”

I was bone-weary, and sore to boot, but I nodded my assent. “Aye.”

“Keep in mind,” Lydia said, not quite facing me, “that the moment you activate the spear it is like lighting a bonfire. You should release it the instant you confirm it’s working.”

This sounded like good advice, though from an unwelcome source. “I will do that,” I agreed.

They headed off, then, taking the bones with them, for I wished to wash and change clothes. Also I prayed, answering the muezzin’s call alone, and I apologized to God both for neglecting my prayers and for allowing black magic to be done in the household, for I was sure Lydia’s sentries were no angels.

When I had finished cleaning up I took the spear, studied it, and no matter my fatigue, stepped outside to practice its pattern in the snow of the courtyard, now lit with the flame of dawn.

I rediscovered aches, though I think the exercises aided in stretching my tired muscles. Despite feeling weary and dull, learning the spear’s pattern took a third the time it did for me to master the club, for I better knew how to read the pattern. After only a few tries I stood with the glowing spear in my hands. I did as Lydia recommended, and released the thing into the snow.

Once it dimmed, I took it inside and reported my success to Dabir. He wished immediately to learn the weapon form himself.

“But if I show it to you,” I objected, “won’t you activate it again?” I thought one “flash from the hilltop” bad enough.

“I can practice everything but the final move. Which you can show me out of order.”

This was altogether reasonable.

Having had no training with spear fighting, Dabir took far longer to master the form. He thought the moves out rather than felt them, which true mastery would require. Still, in a half hour it seemed to me that he had everything, so he thanked me, wiped sweat from his brow, and returned to the receiving room.

He and Lydia had created a scholar’s nest there, meaning that there were two cushioned areas and everywhere else were books, scrolls, papers, and writing implements. There were few places even to set one’s feet.

Lydia was scribbling furiously on some thick rolls of paper.

Dabir walked carefully back to settle down near her, and put a finger to Jibril’s book. I leaned the spear in the corner.

“How long is this going to take?” I asked.

Lydia paused to scowl up at me.

“It might take a little while,” Dabir said. “You should try to grab some rest. You look awful.”

“No worse than you,” I pointed out.

“No, you look worse,” Lydia said without looking up.

At this I grunted.

“I will be fine,” Dabir assured me.

Now I trusted Lydia but little. I felt certain she would turn on us given a better opportunity. Yet I did not think one was ready to present itself immediately, so I retreated to my rooms. I thoroughly cleaned off my sword and then took a whetstone to its edge for some time—for only a fool is too tired to care for his weapons—then cleaned out the scabbard. Finally I bowed to the wisdom of resting for just a short while; there would be many more trials before us yet, and I’d be more useful in facing them with a little sleep. When I flopped down on my mattress and draped a blanket over myself, I did not remove my boots. I tossed my armor over my father’s arms chest so donning it might be faster. I knew I should have cleaned the armor, too, and contemplated repairing its links, but that would have kept me up through the day.

Sleep fell swift and passed bereft of dreams. I cannot say what woke me, but of a sudden I came awake in the pitch-black of night and knew in a flash of dread I’d let the entire day pass unmarked. As I came to, all that we’d experienced fell suddenly upon me. Tarif’s murder. Najya’s disappearance. The flight of my men. Jibril’s death. The fight with the wolf, and the sorceress in the house.

I sat up instantly and regretted it. Stiff muscles protested throughout my body, most especially in my chest and arm. I had expected no less, but just because you know a visitor will be an irritant it does not lessen the annoyance when he arrives.

I put feet to the floor, stifled a groan, stretched, then buckled on my sword belt, lit a candle, and set forth. I put aside a growing awareness of my hunger until I was sure about Dabir’s safety.

Dabir was still in the receiving room, but he was snoring softly upon a cushion near the display shelf, head resting on his arm. I stopped with the curtain only partly open until I saw Lydia creeping up behind him.

Instantly I stepped into the room, hand to hilt. My movement betrayed me and she looked up. It was then I saw that she held a blanket in her hands. She froze for a time, then pulled her eyes from mine and draped the cloth over Dabir’s shoulders, tucking it with care about him.

I walked further inside, treading lightly over manuscripts scattered like soldiers on a battlefield. Most of the candles had dimmed, and the brazier was cold and dark.

Lydia’s tone was softly mocking. “Did you think I planned to smother him?”

“No.”

I had instead thought she meant to stab him, but I did not say this. I moved closer and peered down at my friend, snoring peacefully. “Are your ghosts in place?”

“Ghosts?”

“Your sentries.”

“Yes,” she said with an amused smile. “My ghosts. They keep watch.”

“Have you finished your studies?”

“I think so. It requires a little guesswork, but … it really is our best hope. I like what you have done with your hair, incidentally.”

I had not bothered yet with a turban, nor had I brushed, and I was certain from her smile that I must look ridiculous. At my frown, she smiled the wider.

“The Sebitti or the frost spirits might be here at any moment. We must be moving.”

“He needs some rest. The sentries will alert us, and the carpet can be ready on the instant.”

I grunted.

She licked her lips. She opened her mouth, then closed it. I do not think I had ever seen her hesitate before, and I recognized that she was working herself up to speak.

“What is it?”

“Tell me about the ring he wears,” she said suddenly.

I did not immediately answer, for I found myself wondering why she asked this.

From the bashful way her eyes dropped, she either felt awkward, or had practiced the look well. “The one he always taps,” she said haltingly. “He said only that a friend had given it to him, though he said it was not you.”

“The ring is not magic.”

Her look was withering. “I am curious, not covetous. He did not wear it, when first I met him.”

“Your memory is as fine as his.”

“But not as fine as hers. Who was she?”

I considered the lovely Greek woman carefully. “How did you know a woman gave it to him?”

“I only guessed, until just now. He referred to a student of great memory. So he was tutor to a woman?”

“Little more than a girl,” I admitted. “But she was very brave. And she could be as sharp-tongued as you, though she was gentle.” I thought then of Sabirah sitting together with Dabir, chattering with him, and I remembered once more her simple wish that could never be granted, that she might wake each day and look upon Dabir. And I was filled then with great sorrow for my friend, and the girl. I thought, too, of Najya, and admitted to myself that, like Sabirah and Dabir, the chances were high that we should forever be apart.

Lydia misread my expression. “You were fond of her,” she said slowly.

“She talked too much,” I said, “but I like her well enough. My friend loved her with all his heart, and she with hers, and I think that they would have been very happy together. But she is married to another man, and he has only the emerald now to remember her by. I wish he would cease thinking of her.”

She looked back at him, lying there. “Do you know, when I first learned that you two lived together and that neither of you were married, I thought…” Her voice faltered.

I did not follow her meaning.

Dabir stirred, and we two turned to stare at him. He snorted once and fell back asleep.

“I’m sorry,” she said, and I blinked, for I had never thought to hear those words from her. About anything. I was still not sure how to respond, so she spoke on. “I see now that you are not just his guard, but his brother.”

“Yes,” I agreed, irritated. “What is it that you want, Lydia?”

She searched my face for sign of ridicule. “What do you mean?”

“You know what sort of man he is. And you know what sort of woman you are. You can see farr. Just as I saw it, when holding the club.” I indicated the weapon lying near Dabir’s hand.

Her brow furrowed. “It is not my fault if I have had to make harder choices than either of you.”

“You think we have faced no trials?”

“I think that they have not troubled you overmuch,” she said, her tone sharp. “Your farr is uncolored by doubt.”

“My farr is unstained by dark deeds,” I said, “though it has surely grown blacker in your company.”

Her cheeks reddened and her chin rose defiantly. Dabir turned in the blanket, almost as though he sensed the coming torrent as surely as myself.

But Lydia did not speak. Instead she stilled, her eyes fixed upon the distance. They widened in alarm, then sought my own. “Something is coming,” she said. She whirled, bent to Dabir, and shook his shoulder.

“What is it?” I asked. My friend stirred and blinked groggily.

“One of my sentries just vanished,” she told Dabir.

He sat up.

“Only another necromancer could have sensed it,” Lydia continued, “much less destroyed it in one blow.”

I stepped over a book to lay hand upon the haft of the club.

The curtain into the room parted suddenly and Lydia and I both looked over to find a small, neatly dressed man in an off-white robe with the hood turned down. He stared at us from the threshold. In one hand he carried a thick white staff.

The fellow did not advance. He took in the room critically, pausing to consider the three of us.

His accent was so pronounced that it took me a moment to comprehend him. “I am Erragal,” he said. “I am here for my tools.”