The City of Brass (The Daevabad Trilogy #1) - S. A. Chakraborty Page 0,145

companion wanted to be disturbed.”

Nahri shook her head. Her hand flew to her mouth, and Ali realized she was trying to stifle a laugh.

“What?” he asked, suddenly self-conscious. “What is it?”

“I’m sorry.” Her black eyes were bright with amusement. “It’s just . . .” She made a sweeping motion over Ali’s body.

He glanced down and then flushed. A thick layer of ancient dust covered his dishdasha and coated his hands and face. He coughed, sending up a bloom of fine powder.

Nahri held her hand out for the scroll. “Why don’t I take that?”

Embarrassed, Ali handed it over and climbed to his feet, brushing the dust from his clothes.

Too late, he saw the snake stamped in the ancient wax seal.

“Wait, Nahri, don’t!”

But she’d already slipped a finger under the seal. She cried out, dropping the torch as the scroll flew from her other hand. It unfurled in the air, a glittering snake dashing from its depths. The torch hit the sandy ground and sputtered out, leaving them in darkness.

Ali acted on instinct, pulling Nahri behind him and drawing his zulfiqar. Flames danced up the copper blade, illuminating the archive with green-tinged light. In the opposite corner, the snake hissed. It was growing larger as they watched, gold and green bands striping a body the color of midnight. Already twice his height and thicker than a muskmelon, it loomed overhead, baring curved fangs that dripped with crimson blood.

Nahri’s blood. Ali charged as it reared back to strike again. The snake was fast, but it had been created to deal with human thieves, and Ali was certainly not that. He lopped off the snake’s head with a single strike of his zulfiqar, and then stepped back, breathing hard as it hit the dust.

“What . . .” Nahri exhaled. “. . . in the name of God was that thing?”

“An apep.” Ali extinguished his zulfiqar, wiping the blade on his dishdasha before shoving it back in its sheath. The sword was far too dangerous to keep out in such close quarters. “I’d forgotten the ancient Egyptians were rumored to be rather . . . creative in protecting their texts.”

“Perhaps we let someone who has a little more familiarity with the library retrieve the next scroll?”

“No argument here.” Ali crossed back to her side. “Are you all right?” he asked, raising a fistful of flames. “Did it bite you?”

Nahri made a face. “I’m okay.” She held out her hand. Her thumb was bloody, but as Ali watched, the two swollen wounds where the snake’s fangs had penetrated shrank and then vanished under the smooth skin.

“Wow,” he whispered in awe. “That really is extraordinary.”

“Maybe.” She shot the dancing flames in his palm a jealous look. “But I wouldn’t mind being able to do that.”

Ali laughed. “You heal from the bite of a cursed snake in moments, and you’re jealous of a few flames? Anyone with a bit of magic can do this.”

“I can’t.”

He didn’t believe that for a moment. “Have you tried?”

Nahri shook her head. “I can barely wrap my mind around the healing magic, even with all of Nisreen’s help. I wouldn’t know where to begin with anything else.”

“Then try with me,” Ali offered. “It’s easy. Just let the heat of your skin sort of . . . ignite, and move your hand like you might snap your fingers. But with fire.”

“Not the most helpful explanation.” But she raised her hand, squinting her eyes as she concentrated. “Nothing.”

“Say the word. In Divasti,” he clarified. “Later, you’ll be able to simply think it, but for beginners, it’s often easier to perform incantations out loud in your native tongue.”

“All right.” Nahri stared at her hand again with a frown. “Azar,” she repeated, sounding annoyed. “See? Nothing.”

But Ali didn’t give up easily. He motioned toward the stony shelves. “Touch them.”

“Touch them?”

He nodded. “You are in the palace of your ancestors, a place molded by Nahid magic. Draw from the stone like you would water from a well.”

Nahri looked thoroughly unconvinced but followed him, placing her hand in the spot he indicated. She took a deep breath and then raised her other palm.

“Azar. Azar!” She snapped, loud enough to dislodge some dust from the nearest shelf. When her hand remained empty, she shook her head. “Forget it. It’s not as if I’m having any success with anything else. I don’t see why this would be any different.” She started to drop her hand.

Ali stopped her.

Her eyes flashed at the same time his mind caught up with his actions. Fighting