The City of Brass (The Daevabad Trilogy #1) - S. A. Chakraborty Page 0,34

north to find a better spot. We can get horses on the other side. If Khayzur was right about the enchantment I used on the rug being easy to track, I don’t want to fly much farther on it.”

Nahri barely heard what he said about the rug, her mind racing as she appraised the dark river. This is my chance, she realized. Dara might refuse to talk about himself, but Nahri had studied him all the same, and his confession about flying over the river confirmed her suspicion.

The daeva was terrified of water.

He’d refused to put even a toe in the shady pools of the oases they visited and seemed convinced she was going to drown in the shallowest of ponds, declaring her enjoyment of water unnatural, a shafit perversion. He wouldn’t dare cross the mighty Euphrates without the carpet; he probably wouldn’t even go near its banks.

I just need to get to the river. Nahri would swim its whole damn length if that was the only way to freedom.

They landed on the rocky ground, and her knee slammed into a hard lump. She cursed, rubbing it as she climbed to her feet to look around. Her mouth dropped open. “When did you say you last visited?”

They hadn’t landed on rocky ground; they’d landed on a flattened building. Broken and bare marble columns lined the avenues, most of which were missing sections of paving stones. The buildings were destroyed, though the height of a few remaining yellowed walls hinted at previous glory. There were grand arched entrances that led to nothing, and blackened weeds and brush growing between the stonework and snaking up the columns. Across from the rug, an enormous stone pillar the color of washed sky lay smashed on the ground. Carved into its side were the grimy contours of a veiled woman with a fish tail.

Nahri moved away from the rug and startled a dust-colored fox. It vanished behind a crumbling wall. She glanced back at Dara. He looked equally stunned, his green eyes wide with shock. He caught her glance and forced a small smile.

“Well, it has been some time . . .”

“Some time?” She gestured to the abandoned remains surrounding them. Across the broken road was an enormous fountain filled with murky black water; foul scum stained the marble from where it had started to evaporate. It had to take centuries for a place to get like this. There were similar ruins in Egypt, and it was said that they belonged to an ancient race of sun worshippers who lived and died before the holy books were even written. She shivered. “How old are you?”

Dara gave her an annoyed look. “It’s not your concern.” He shook the carpet out with more force than necessary, rolled it up, and then threw it over one shoulder before stalking off into the largest of the ruined buildings. Voluptuous fish-women were carved around the entrance; perhaps it was one of the temples where people had “worshipped.”

Nahri followed. She needed that rug. “Where are you going?” She stumbled over a broken column, envying the graceful way the daeva moved over the uneven ground, and then paused as she entered the temple, dazzled by the grand decay.

The temple’s roof and eastern wall were gone, opening the ruin to the dawn sky. Marble pillars stretched far above her head, and crumbled stone walls outlined what must once have been an enormous maze of different rooms. Most of the interior was gloomy, shaded by the remaining walls and a few determined cypress trees that split through the floor.

To her left was a tall stone dais. Three statues were poised on top: another fish-woman, as well as a stately female riding a lion, and a man wearing a loincloth and holding a discus. All were stunning, their muscled figures and regal poise entrancing. The pleats in their stone garments looked so real that she was tempted to touch them.

But glancing around, she saw that Dara had vanished, his footsteps silent in the grand ruin. Nahri followed the trail he’d made in the thick layer of dust coating the floor.

“Oh . . .” A small sound of appreciation escaped her throat. The large temple was dwarfed by the enormous theater she entered. Hundreds, perhaps thousands, of stone seats were carved into the hill in a semicircle surrounding the large stage upon which she stood.

The daeva stood at the edge of the stage. The air was still and silent save for the early morning trill of