The City of Brass (The Daevabad Trilogy #1) - S. A. Chakraborty Page 0,195

homeland?” Ghassan paused. “Of course, I know that’s utter heresy in the eyes of your kind, but think about it . . . did it not largely end the veneration of the Nahids? Give our rule the veneer of divine approval? A clever move. At least that’s what I’ve always thought.”

Ghassan continued to gaze at the mihrab, but his mind seemed a world away. “Then I saw that ship go up in flames with my children onboard, at the mercy of a madman I let into our city. I listened to the screams, terrified that one would sound familiar, that it would be calling my name . . .” Ali heard his throat catch. “I would be lying if I said my brow didn’t press a prayer mat faster than that of the most zealous sheikh.”

Ali stayed silent. Through the open balustrade, he could hear birds singing in the bright sunshine. The light filtered through the window screens, throwing elaborate designs on the patterned rug. He stared at the floor, sweat beading on his brow. He was becoming accustomed to the sensation.

“Have I ever told you why I named you Alizayd?” Ali shook his head, and his father continued. “You were born shortly after Manizheh and Rustam’s murders. Dark times for our people, probably the worst since the war. Daevabad was crowded with migrants fleeing from the ifrit in the outer provinces, there was a secession movement brewing among the Daevas, the Sahrayn were already in open revolt. Many believed we were living in the end times for our race.

“People said it was a miracle when your mother became pregnant again after Zaynab’s birth. Pureblooded women are lucky to have even one child, but two? And so close together?” Ghassan shook his head, a ghost of a smile on his face. “They said it was a blessing from the Most High, a sign of His favor over my reign.” The smile faded. “And then you were a boy. A second son with a powerful mother from a wealthy tribe. When I went to Hatset, she begged me not to kill you.” He shook his head. “That she could think such a thing of me as I counted your fingers and whispered the adhan into your ear . . . I knew then that surely we were strangers to each other.

“Within a day of your birth, I had two assassins from Am Gezira present themselves at court. Skilled men, the best at what they did, offering discreet ways to end my dilemma. Merciful, quick solutions that would leave no suspicion for the Ayaanle.” His father clenched his fists. “I invited them into my office. I listened to their calm and reasoned words. And then I murdered them with my own hands.”

Ali startled, but his father didn’t seem to notice.

Ghassan stared out the window, lost in his memories. “I sent their heads back to Am Gezira, and when your name day came, I called you ‘Alizayd’ as I bolted your relic to your ear. The name of our greatest hero, the progenitor of our rule, so that all would know you were my own. I gave you to Wajed to raise as Qaid and throughout the years, when I saw you grow up in the footsteps of your namesake—noble, yet kind, a zulfiqari to be reckoned with . . . My decision pleased me. At times, I even found myself wondering . . .” He paused, shaking his head slightly, and then for the first time since entering the room, turned to meet Ali’s gaze. “But I fear now that giving a second son the name of our world’s most famous rebel was not my wisest decision.”

Ali’s gaze dropped. He could not bear to look his father in the eyes. He had imagined being filled with righteous anger when they finally had this confrontation, but now he just felt sick. “Muntadhir told you.”

Ghassan nodded. “What he knew. You were careful not to give him names, but they were easy enough to ferret out. I executed Rashid ben Salkh this morning. It may be of small comfort that he took no part in the attempt on your life. Seems the shafit man acted alone in trying to avenge the riot. We’re still looking for the old woman.”

Hanno acted alone. Ali went numb as the guilt settled upon his shoulders. So Rashid was exactly what he seemed. A fellow believer, a man so dedicated to helping the shafit that he’d betrayed his tribe and