The City of Brass (The Daevabad Trilogy #1) - S. A. Chakraborty Page 0,17

Suleiman’s eye . . . you could be overthrowing governments, and instead you steal from peasants!”

His words enraged her. She dropped the skin. “I do not steal from peasants,” she snapped. “And you know nothing of my world, so don’t judge me. You try living on the streets when you’re five and speak a language no one understands. When you get thrown out of every orphanage after predicting which child will die next of consumption and telling the mistress that she has a shadow growing in her head.” She seethed, briefly overcome by her memories. “I do what I need to survive.”

“And calling me?” he asked, no apology in his voice. “Did you do that to survive?”

“No, I did that as part of some foolish ceremony.” She paused. Not so foolish after all; Yaqub had been right about the dangers of interfering with traditions that weren’t her own. “I sang one of the songs in Divasti—I had no idea what would happen.” Saying it aloud did little to alleviate the guilt she felt about Baseema, but she pressed on. “Aside from what I can do, I’ve never seen anything else strange. Nothing magical, certainly nothing like you. I didn’t think such things existed.”

“Well, that was idiotic.” She glared at him, but he only shrugged. “Were your own abilities not evidence enough?”

She shook her head. “You don’t understand.” He couldn’t. He hadn’t lived her life, the constant rush of business she had to bring in to keep herself afloat, her bribes paid. There wasn’t time for anything else. All that mattered were the coins in her hand, the only true power she had.

And speaking of which . . . Nahri looked around. “The basket I was carrying—where is it?” At his blank look, she panicked. “Don’t tell me you left it behind!” She jumped to her feet to search but saw nothing besides the rug spread out in the shade of a large tree.

“We were fleeing for our lives,” he said sarcastically. “Did you expect me to waste time accounting for your belongings?”

Her hands flew to her temples. She’d lost a small fortune in a night. And she had even more to lose stashed in her stall back home. Nahri’s heart quickened; she needed to return to Cairo. Between whatever rumors would undoubtedly fly around after the zar and her absence, it wouldn’t be long before her landlord sacked the place.

“I need to get back,” she said. “Please. I didn’t mean to call you. And I’m grateful you saved me from the ghouls,” she added, figuring a little appreciation couldn’t hurt. “But I just want to go home.”

A dark look crossed his face. “Oh, you’re going home, I suspect. But it won’t be to Cairo.”

“Excuse me?”

He was already walking away. “You can’t go back to the human world.” He sat heavily on the carpet under the shade of a tree and pulled off his boots. He seemed to have aged during their brief conversation, his face shadowed by exhaustion. “It’s against our law, and the ifrit are likely already tracking you. You wouldn’t last a day.”

“That’s not your problem!”

“It is.” He lay down, crossing his arms behind his head. “As are you, unfortunately.”

A chill went down Nahri’s back. The pointed questions about her family, the barely concealed disappointment when he learned of her abilities. “What do you know about me? Do you know why I can do these things?”

He shrugged. “I have my suspicions.”

“Which are?” she prodded when he fell silent. “Tell me.”

“Will you stop pestering me if I do?”

No. She nodded. “Yes.”

“I think you’re a shafit.”

He had called her that in the cemetery too. But the word remained unfamiliar. “What’s a shafit?”

“It’s what we call someone with mixed blood. It’s what happens when my race gets a bit . . . indulgent around humans.”

“Indulgent?” She gasped, the meaning of his words becoming clear. “You think I have daeva blood? That I’m like you?”

“Believe me when I say I find such a thing equally distressing.” He clucked his tongue in disapproval. “I never would have thought a Nahid capable of such a transgression.”

Nahri was growing more confused by the minute. “What’s a Nahid? Baseema called me something like that too, didn’t she?”

A muscle twitched in his jaw, and she caught a flicker of emotion in his eyes. It was brief, but it was there. He cleared his throat. “It’s a family name,” he finally answered. “The Nahids are a family of daeva healers.”

Daeva healers? Nahri gaped, but before she could respond,