The City of Brass (The Daevabad Trilogy #1) - S. A. Chakraborty Page 0,136

Darayavahoush? Does she know why you’re called the Scourge?”

There was silence. And then—for the first time since the Afshin entered the room with his smug smile and laughing eyes—Ali saw a trace of uncertainty in his face.

She doesn’t know. Ali had suspected as much, though Nahri was always careful not to speak of the Afshin in his presence. Oddly enough, he was relieved. They’d been meeting for a few weeks now, and Ali was enjoying her company. He didn’t like thinking that his future sister-in-law would be loyal to such a monster had she known the truth.

Darayavahoush shrugged, but there was a flash of warning in his bright eyes. “I was just following orders.”

“That is not true.”

The Afshin lifted one of his dark eyebrows. “No? Then tell me what your sand-fly histories say of me.”

Ali could hear his father’s warning in his mind, but he didn’t hold back. “They speak of Qui-zi for one.” The Afshin’s face twitched. “And you were taking no orders once Daevabad fell and the Nahid Council was overthrown. You led the uprising in Daevastana. If you can call such indiscriminate butchery an uprising.”

“Indiscriminate butchery?” Darayavahoush drew himself up, his expression scornful. “Your ancestors slaughtered my family, sacked my city, and tried to exterminate my tribe—you have great nerve to judge my actions.”

“You exaggerate,” Ali said dismissively. “No one tried to exterminate your tribe. The Daevas survived just fine without you around to destroy mixed villages and bury innocent djinn alive.”

The Afshin snorted. “Yes, we survived to become second-class citizens in our own city, forced to bow and scrape to the rest of you.”

“An opinion formed after spending, what, two days in Daevabad?” Ali rolled his eyes. “Your tribe is wealthy and well-connected, and their quarter is the cleanest and most finely run in the city. You know who are second-class citizens? The shafit who—”

Darayavahoush rolled his eyes. “Ah, there it is. It’s not a discussion with a djinn until they start bemoaning the poor, sad shafit they can’t stop creating. Suleiman’s eye, find a goat if you can’t control yourselves. They’re comparable enough to humans.”

Ali’s hands tightened on the zulfiqar. He wanted to hurt this man. “Do you know what else the histories say about you?”

“Enlighten me, djinn.”

“That you could have done it.” Darayavahoush frowned, and Ali continued. “Most scholars believe you could have defended an independent Daevastana for a long time. Long enough to free a few of the surviving Nahids. Perhaps even long enough to retake Daevabad.”

The Afshin went still, and Ali could tell he had struck a nerve. He stared at the prince, and when he spoke his voice was soft, his words intent. “It sounds like your family was very lucky the ifrit killed me when they did, then.”

Ali didn’t break away from the other man’s cold gaze. “God provides.” It was cruel, but he didn’t care. Darayavahoush was a monster.

Darayavahoush lifted his chin and then smiled, a sharp smile that reminded Ali more of a snarling dog than a man. “And here we are discussing ancient history again when I promised you a challenge.” He raised the zulfiqar.

It burst into flames, and Ali’s eyes went wide.

No non-Geziri man should have ever been able to do that.

The Afshin looked more intrigued than surprised. He gazed at the flames, the fire reflected in his bright eyes. “Ah . . . now isn’t that fascinating?”

It was the only warning Ali got.

Darayavahoush charged him, and Ali whirled away, flames licking down his own zulfiqar. Their weapons met with a crash, and Darayavahoush shoved his blade up and along Ali’s until the hilt caught his hands. Then he kicked him hard in the stomach.

Ali fell back, rolling quickly away when Darayavahoush slashed down in a motion that would have sliced his chest open if he hadn’t moved fast enough. Well, I suppose Abba was right, he thought, jumping up as the Afshin swept his zulfiqar at his feet. Darayavahoush and I probably wouldn’t have made very good travel companions.

The Afshin’s calm was gone and with it, much of the reserve Ali now realized the other man had been showing. He was actually an even better fighter than he’d let on.

But the zulfiqar was a Geziri weapon, and Ali would be damned if some Daeva butcher was going to beat him with it. He let the Afshin pursue him across the training room, their fiery blades clashing and sizzling. Though he was taller than Darayavahoush, the other man was probably twice his bulk, and he was