The City of Brass (The Daevabad Trilogy #1) - S. A. Chakraborty Page 0,127

fires burn brightly for you. I pray the Creator blesses you with the longest of lives and the merriest of children and—”

“Oh, calm yourself, Firouz,” the old woman interrupted. She considered Nahri with skeptical black eyes. “You’re Banu Manizheh’s daughter?” she sniffed. “Awfully human looking.”

“Madar!” Firouz hissed, clearly embarrassed. “Be polite. I told you about the curse, remember?”

He’s the gullible one, Nahri decided, and then she cringed, a little ashamed to have thought it. These people were patients, not marks.

“Hmm.” The woman must have picked up on Nahri’s attitude. Her eyes glittered like a crow’s. “So you can fix me?”

Nahri plucked a wicked-looking silver scalpel off the tray and twirled it in her fingers. “Insha’Allah.”

“She certainly can.” Nisreen slid smoothly between them. “It’s a simple task.” She pulled Nahri off to where she’d already prepared the elixir. “Watch your tone,” she warned. “And don’t speak that Geziriyya-sounding human tongue in here. Her family is a powerful one.”

“Ah, then by all means, let’s experiment on her.”

“It’s a simple procedure,” Nisreen assured for the hundredth time. “We’ve gone over this. Have her drink the elixir, look for the salamander, and extract it. You are the Banu Nahida; it should be as obvious to you as a black spot on the eye.”

Simple. Nahri’s hands were trembling, but she sighed and took the elixir from Nisreen. The silver cup warmed in her hands, and the amber liquid started to steam. She crossed back to the old woman and handed it to her, watching as she took a sip.

Her patient made a face. “This is really quite awful. Do you have anything to cut the bitterness? A sweet, perhaps?”

Nahri raised her eyebrows. “Was the salamander coated in honey when you swallowed it?”

The woman looked insulted. “I did not swallow it. I was hexed. Probably by my neighbor Rika. You know the one, Firouz? Rika with her pathetic rosebushes and that loud daughter with the Sahrayn husband?” She scowled. “Their whole family should have been tossed out of the Daeva Quarter when she married that turban-wearing pirate.”

“I can’t imagine why she would want to hex you,” Nahri said lightly.

“Intention,” Nisreen whispered as she came around with a tray of instruments.

Nahri rolled her eyes. “Lie back,” she told the woman.

Nisreen handed her a silver bulb that tapered into a glistening sharp point. “Remember, just a light touch with this. It will immediately paralyze the salamander so you can extract it.”

“That’s assuming I can even . . . whoa!” Nahri gasped as a lump the size of her fist suddenly rose up under the woman’s left forearm, ballooning out her thin skin until it looked ready to burst. It wiggled and then raced up the woman’s arm to vanish under her shoulder.

“Did you see it?” Nisreen asked.

“Didn’t any of you?” Nahri asked in shock. The old woman gave her a disgruntled look.

Nisreen smiled. “I told you that you could do it.” She touched Nahri’s shoulder. “Take a deep breath and keep the needle ready. You should spot it again any—”

“There!” Nahri saw the salamander again, near the woman’s abdomen. Quickly, she plunged the needle into the woman’s stomach, but the bulge seemed to melt away.

“Ay!” The old lady cried as a drop of black blood blossomed against her gown. “That hurt!”

“Then stay still!”

The woman whimpered as she clutched one of her son’s hands. “Don’t yell at me!”

The bump reemerged near the old woman’s collar, and Nahri attempted to jab it again, drawing more blood and provoking another shriek. The salamander squirmed away—she could see a clear outline of its body now—and raced around the woman’s neck. “Eep!” the woman shrieked as Nahri finally just grabbed for the creature, her fingers closing on the woman’s throat. “Eep! You’re killing me! You’re killing me!”

“I’m not . . . be quiet!” Nahri shouted, trying to focus on holding the salamander in place while raising the needle. She had no sooner uttered the words than the creature beneath her hand tripled in size, its tail wrapping around the woman’s throat.

The old woman’s face instantly darkened, and her eyes turned red. She gasped and clawed at her throat as she struggled to breathe.

“No!” Nahri desperately tried to will the parasite smaller, but nothing happened.

“Madar!” the man cried. “Madar!”

Nisreen dashed across the room and yanked free a small glass bottle from one of the drawers. “Move,” she said quickly. She edged Nahri aside and tipped the woman’s head back, prying open her jaws and pouring the contents of the bottle down her throat. The