The Sabaoth's Arrow Read online

  She heard the rattle of glasses on a silver tray and then a knock on the door.

  ‘Can I come in?’

  For the first time since their return from Arshak, the surrounding gloom withdrew a little.

  ‘Come in,’ she told her brother.

  He’d brought mint tea, which he set on the floor in front of her bed. Roshan got up and perched herself on its edge.

  ‘How are you feeling?’ he said, pouring hot water into the glasses filled with mint leaves.

  ‘I can’t stop thinking about all the daevas we left behind.’ Roshan paused, waiting for the image of Daniyel’s broken neck to disappear. ‘I want to go back and rescue them all.’

  Navid sat and wrapped an arm around her. Roshan nestled against his shoulder.

  ‘I know how you feel. It’s no one’s fault. The djinn are spread too thinly. Things would have turned out differently if those guardsmen hadn’t arrived early—don’t you think?’

  She nodded, although it did nothing to dispel the recurring image of a lifeless Daniyel.

  ‘What good is sabaoth magic if I always end up hurting people?’

  Navid gave her a comforting squeeze.

  ‘Innocents always get caught between opposing sides,’ he said. ‘But that mustn’t stop us from taking a side and doing what we believe to be right.’

  She lifted her head from his shoulder and gazed at him.

  ‘Since when did you become so wise?’

  Navid grinned and his cheeks dimpled.

  ‘Actually, I heard Yesfir saying it to Behrouz.’ He bent down, picked up both glasses by their rims and offered her one. ‘We’re all worried about what this sabaoth magic is doing to you. Yesfir said you have to make a choice about whether to continue using it. She thinks not making a choice will only make you unhappier.’

  Roshan sipped her tea. Yesfir was right, but making a choice wasn’t that easy. Remorse at what had happened in Arshak gnawed at her.

  ‘Well,’ Navid said, and put down his glass, ‘I’m hungry again. The shape-shifting I’ve been practising is playing havoc with my appetite. You missed lunch. Come with me—you need to eat.’

  Food was the furthest thing from her mind, and she told him so.

  ‘You go,’ she said. ‘I’ll rest a little longer.’ She raised her arm. Her tunic’s cuff fell to reveal the silver bracelet. ‘I’ll come find you with this,’ she added, then gave the bracelet a tap. ‘I’m getting better at using it to communicate with others.’

  She continued to sip her tea after Navid had left. It gave her something to do with her hands. The mint’s aroma helped her to forget the stench of the alleyway: the sweat, the fear and the blood.

  Drinking tea, however, didn’t stop the tears, tears she couldn’t decide were for her or Daniyel and all those she’d left behind in Arshak.

  Her glass empty, Roshan bent down to refill it. She stopped when she saw a hoof next to the silver tray. She saw a second adjacent hoof and behind them another pair. The smell of clean straw, burning cedar wood and myrrh filled her nostrils. The glass slipped from her hand and shattered when she looked up and saw a bearded human face looking down at her.

  Roshan had seen pairs of the protective spirits guarding palace and temple entrances. Those lamassu were made of stone. This one had a taupe hide, real feathers in its wings, and ringlets of hair for a beard. Just like the ones she’d seen on guard, this lamassu was so large, the cap covering its head scraped the ceiling.

  The lamassu shrank until its head was level with hers.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ it said. ‘I never meant to frighten you.’

  Compared to his stern countenance, his voice sounded gentle. Roshan wiped the tears from her cheeks.

  ‘Your tears are for the daevas, Roshan. There’s no shame in shedding them.’

  Surprise overtook her fear.

  ‘You know my name?’

  ‘Of course,’ the lamassu said. ‘I’ve known you since the moment Armaiti saved you. Like her, I wanted to see the human-djinn child. I told God what she did. It punished her for interfering with one of Its creations.’

  Once, to have seen such a thing, a living lamassu, would have astounded her. She just wanted to be alone and for protective spirits and sabaoth to leave her be.

  ‘Why are you here?’ she said. What she wanted to say was Are you here to punish me?

  ‘I’m here to help you.’ The lamassu tilted his head at her. ‘I can show you what it takes to control sabaoth magic.’

  The lamassu’s sudden appearance didn’t feel right. There was no telling whether she was taking to a protective spirit, a sabaoth or something entirely different.

  ‘If you’ve known me as long as Armaiti has, why have you chosen to appear now? If you’re here to help, why didn’t you before Armaiti pushed me off a roof in Derbicca?’

  Thanks to his long beard, Roshan found it difficult to read the expression on the lamassu’s face. His dark brown eyes narrowed ever so slightly, and his forehead creased.

  ‘Because I had to wait until God, who we call the Unmade Creator, gave me permission,’ he said. ‘I often take this lamassu form for humans. It makes it easy for them to understand who and what I am. Like Armaiti, I’m a sabaoth. God’s rules bind the sabaoth, one of which is never to interfere with Its creations. Only when It has a task for us are we allowed to become visible and to communicate with you. God is unhappy with what Armaiti has done, and so It has sent me to help you.’

  Roshan had begun to believe God had abandoned this world and left it to the whims of His sabaoth. She looked the lamassu in the eye.

  ‘Instead of helping me, why don’t you just get rid of Armaiti?’

  The lamassu shifted its weight, as if ready to take a backwards step.

  ‘If that is what God wants, then It would order me to get rid of Armaiti. It has Its plans, plans too complex for the likes of you and me to understand. What It wants is for you to understand sabaoth magic as deeply as you understand human and djinn magic.’

  Roshan remembered Yesfir’s words about her happiness and not making a choice. God sending this lamassu didn’t make the choice easier. After what had happened this morning, she just wanted to be left alone and allowed to go back to the way things were a week earlier. What would happen if she took the lamassu up on its offer, an offer endorsed by God? Was it possible she’d be unhappier than right now?

  ‘If I accept your help, what do I have to do?’

  ‘Come with me. Leave Iram so I can train you without distractions.’

  The doubt niggling at her intensified. She shook her head.

  ‘No. I’m not leaving here. Do you honestly expect me to do such a thing?’

  The lamassu nodded, his smile one of amusement.

  ‘You’re right. You need time to consider my offer, and I need to prove you can trust me.’ The lamassu’s eyebrows rose. ‘Am I right?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, returning his nod.

  ‘Very good,’ the lamassu said. ‘I have two pieces of information to prove my trustworthiness. The first is a question I suspect you already know the answer to.’ The lamassu took a step forward. ‘Who do you think sent you the desert dream—the dream in which you shared your auric energy with the daevas?’

  Roshan gripped the edge of her bed to stop herself from covering her mouth. She saw no sign of pride or amusement on the lamassu’s face.

  ‘The other piece of information takes the form of a warning.’ He stepped closer until only a handspan separated them.

  ‘You may have helped restore auric energy to two daevas, but that won’t be enough. The djinn and daevas are in dreadful danger. Armaiti plans on using Solomon’s seal against them. You will have to choose between returning to a human way of life or battling Armaiti and the seal. If you fight, human and djinn magic won’t be enough against her.’

  As he backed away, the lamassu’s hooves clattered against the stone floor. His body widened, his legs lengthened and his wings unfolded.

  ‘My
name is Manah,’ the lamassu said. ‘When you are ready to receive my help, call out my name.’ He faded. ‘Until then, farewell.’

  Roshan stood, her legs shaking and her heart pounding at the news Armaiti had the seal.

  ‘Wait,’ she said, the lamassu a pale outline. ‘Come back—come back, Manah.’

  Although the scent of myrrh lingered, Manah had gone.

  What did Armaiti hope to do with Solomon’s seal? Why was she so set on hurting the djinn and daevas?

  If you fight, human and djinn magic won’t be enough against her.

  It took several deep breaths to calm herself. She opened the door to her room and stopped. He’d spent years searching for the seal. The news would devastate the king. Roshan shook away the thought. He had to know. If the djinn and daevas were to resist the seal’s power and fight back, the sooner the better.

  6

  Zana sat beside Father. Above them, the sun had passed its zenith. With two hours to wait before the next portal’s appearance and the latest arrivals to be welcomed and assigned to their tents, Father had found a shaded and secluded spot inside Baka for a nap. Mother had told Zana to keep an eye on him. Roshan might have healed his wound, but he still needed to rest.

  Father slept under the shadow of the ziggurat. The desert winds had sandblasted its walls smooth, and a wide crack ran up two-thirds of it. It didn’t look the safest of structures to take up residence in, and according to Father, no one had gone inside to check if it contained anything more than sand. The wall Father leaned on had fared little better, the sand heaped against it on the other side propping it up.

  Zana listened to Father’s breathing deepen. Arms folded across his chest, legs stretched out and also crossed at the ankles, Father’s head drooped forward.

  Since they’d arrived there, Father had confirmed the rumour of a manticore den existing somewhere up in the mountains. The manticores moved among the daevas and djinn as humans, providing help wherever needed. Zana, however, hadn’t summoned the courage yet to ask permission to go look for the den. To Zana, searching for his own kind was like turning his back on his foster parents.

  To his left, close to the west watchtower, half of which lay hidden beneath sand, Zana spied a girl climbing the slope of sand leading to the battlements. She had a bag slung over her shoulder and wore a robe instead of leggings and tunic.

  There was no one else up on the battlements clearing away sand, and if the girl were leaving the city, the battlements were an unusual route to take. Zana wondered. Baka’s north and south walls faced mountains. The ocean lay eastward, and the desert lay westward. Was there a route up into the northernmost mountain from the battlements? Was this how the manticores entered and exited Baka?

  Zana stood. He hesitated, unsure whether to wake Father and tell him where he was going. Mother did say he needed his rest. Before he changed his mind, Zana bounded towards the hill of sand. He ran with his head up, his eyes fixed on the girl halfway up the mound. By the time he reached the bottom, the girl had disappeared over the parapet.

  Zana scrambled over the sand, splaying his paws to prevent them from sinking too far. He reached the top panting, his face dripping with sweat. There was plenty of space for him to squeeze between the crenellations. Sure enough, on the other side of the battlements was more sand heaped against them. Below him, the girl neared the bottom.

  Zana took several deep, calming breaths. The girl had to be a manticore. If she’d just turn around, then he could recognise her the next time he saw her inside the city.

  ‘Wait,’ he called. The girl continued her descent. He called out again. She didn’t stop or turn.

  Behind him and down below, Father leaned against the wall and slept.

  ‘Sorry, Father,’ he said under his breath, and then jumped over the parapet.

  He dug his hind legs into the sand to slow himself and to prevent himself from sliding. The girl had reached the bottom when Zana called out to her again—better to let her know he was behind her than for her to discover she was being followed.

  The girl shrugged off her robe, and Zana’s voice caught in his throat. The sight of her bare back made him lose his footing. He slid down the slope on his belly. He glided over the sand too quickly for his paws to gain any grip.

  The slope levelled, and he slowed. A shadow passed in front of him. Only, it wasn’t a shadow, because Zana collided with it and bit his tongue. Before he could back away, something hard struck his side and pinned him to the ground.

  A male face, three times the size of a human’s or djinni’s, glared down at him. He had skin as dark as ebony, and his amber eyes seemed fathomless.

  ‘You are trespassing,’ the giant head said, and then growled. ‘This territory belongs to the Cross Scar pride.’

  Zana swallowed. Black, wavy hair framed the face—a mane. Above him loomed a male manticore, a huge manticore. Claws dug into Zana’s side as he struggled to rise. The best thing to do, if he wanted to avoid being shredded, was to lie still.

  ‘I just wanted to say hello,’ he said.

  The manticore’s amber eyes continued to bore into Zana. He didn’t know if he’d pacified him or made things worse.

  ‘Vul,’ a female voice said.

  The voice came from behind Zana. With Vul’s paw pressing down on him, he couldn’t twist his neck far enough to see who it belonged to.

  ‘Get off him. You’re hurting him.’

  Vul pressed a little harder before raising his paw. Zana rolled onto his feet, stood and backed away until his tail touched the slope of sand behind him.

  ‘Why didn’t you just say hello instead of following me?’

  A female manticore stared at him. She had the same amber eyes as Vul, although her skin was the colour of blanched almonds. From her size, he guessed she was his age. The bag she’d slung over one shoulder now hung from her neck.

  ‘When I saw you climbing up to the battlements, I thought you might be a manticore,’ he said. ‘I wasn’t sure, so I followed you.’ He glanced at Vul. ‘I called out, but you didn’t hear me. I didn’t know this was your…territory.’

  The female manticore padded towards him. Unlike Vul, she smiled.

  ‘My name is Nahrian,’ she said. ‘And you’ve met my brother, Vul.’

  Vul raised his chin at the mention of his name.

  ‘Hello, Vul. Hello, Nahrian.’

  Vul’s eyelids drooped.

  ‘You’ve said your hello,’ Vul said. ‘Go back to where you came from. And leave my sister alone.’

  ‘Vul!’ Nahrian said. She stomped over to her brother and snarled at him. ‘You don’t decide who I make friends with.’ Like Zana, she was only a third of Vul’s size. The male manticore stepped sideways to put some distance between him and his sister.

  Nahrian smiled apologetically when she faced Zana. Zana found himself confused by her sweet smile and her indifference to her brother’s size and fierceness.

  ‘There’s no need to introduce yourself, Zana,’ she said. ‘We’ve heard the daevas talking about you and how you protected Roshan in Derbicca. Your pride must be proud of you.’

  The compliment stung.

  ‘I have a foster mother and a foster father, but I don’t belong to a pride.’

  Nahrian dropped her gaze.

  ‘Oh, I never meant to—’

  Zana shook his head.

  ‘Oh, no, you mustn’t feel bad. A circus stole me from my pride. Yesfir and Behrouz found me and gave me a home, and they became my parents, my pride.’

  Vul snorted.

  ‘Stolen from your pride. Is that what you think happened?’

  Zana’s hackles straightened.

  ‘Of course I do. How would you know?’

  Vul shot Zana a contemptuous stare.

  ‘Because I see things, past and future.’

  Zana glanced at Nahrian. Had Vul spoken the truth? Could he do that?

  Nahrian nodded, her brow bunched.

  He looked back at Vul and didn’t avo
id his stare.

  ‘What have you seen, Vul?’

  The male manticore smirked.

  ‘I’ve seen that you can’t keep your promises.’ Vul lowered his head a fraction. His eyes turned to slits. ‘And I know you want to shape-shift. Get used to the way you are, Zana. You lack the self-discipline to learn and practise that skill.’

  The conviction behind Vul’s words intimidated Zana more than the manticore’s size. Was it true he couldn’t keep promises and lacked self-discipline?

  ‘Not everything Vul sees comes true,’ Nahrian said.

  A growl rumbled in Vul’s chest. However, he didn’t contradict his sister.

  ‘Is that true?’ he said to Vul. He stopped himself from flinching when the manticore lifted a paw.

  Vul’s smile made Zana shiver.

  ‘The future changes. So, like my sister says, some things don’t happen the way I first see them. But I’ve seen enough about you, Zana, to know that you’ll fail even the simplest test we set our cubs.’ He raised his head and gazed southwards. Vul pointed with a paw.

  Zana followed his gaze.

  ‘I’m confident you won’t last an afternoon up there on that ledge without water and without moving.’

  Zana’s first thought involved getting permission from Mother and Father. He squinted. There’d be no escape from the sun on that exposed rock shelf. It would be torture to sit up there without moving and to go without water for half a day.

  Nahrian took a step forward, then smiled reassuringly.

  ‘I completed the test,’ she said. ‘I’m sure you could too.’

  Her encouragement made him blush. Had he looked so scared?

  ‘Well?’ Vul said. ‘Will you accept, or will you decline and prove that, besides lacking discipline, you’re a coward?’

  He was no coward, and Zana sorely wanted to prove the frightening and arrogant Vul wrong. Zana raised his head and looked the male manticore in the eye.

  ‘I accept,’ he said. ‘I’ll take your test.’

  7

  Roshan heard muffled voices behind the door to the king’s chamber. A while back, she’d crossed her legs and sat down. Whoever was in there, the exchange sounded heated. From all the rising inflections, a lot of questions were being asked.