The City of Brass (The Daevabad Trilogy #1) - S. A. Chakraborty Page 0,75

Dara’s back, letting her legs hang loose on the horse.

“I hate this place,” she mumbled into his shoulder. Nahri was used to sand—she dealt with the storms that coated Cairo in a hazy yellow dust every spring—but this was unbearable.

They’d left the last oasis days ago, stealing a new horse and making one last push across open, unprotected ground. Dara said there was no choice; everything between the oasis and Daevabad was desert.

It had been a brutal crossing. They barely spoke, both too weary to do more than hold on to the saddle and continue in companionable silence. Nahri was filthy; dirt and sand clung to her skin and matted her hair. It was in her clothes and her food, under her nail beds and in between her toes.

“It’s not much farther,” Dara assured her.

“You always say that,” she muttered. She shook out a cramped arm and then wrapped it around his waist again. A few weeks ago she would have been too embarrassed to hold him so boldly, but now she no longer cared.

The landscape began to change, hills and scrubby, frail trees replacing the bare dirt. The wind picked up, blue clouds rolling in from the east to darken the sky.

When they finally stopped, Dara slid off the saddle and pulled away the filthy cloth that covered his face. “Praise be to the Creator.”

She took his hand as he helped her down. No matter how many times she dismounted, it always took a few minutes for her knees to remember how to work. “Are we there?”

“We’ve reached the Gozan River,” he replied, sounding relieved. “Daevabad’s threshold is just across the water, and none but our kind can pass through it. Not ifrit, not ghouls, not even peris.”

The land came to an abrupt end in a cliff that overlooked the river. In the gloomy light, the wide, muddy river was an unappealing brownish-gray, and the other side didn’t look promising. All Nahri could see was more flat dirt. “I think you may have overstated Daevabad’s charms.”

“Do you really think we’d leave a vast magical city open to the eyes of any curious human onlooker? It’s hidden.”

“How are we going to cross?” Even from up here, she could see whitecaps cresting on the rushing water.

Dara peered over the edge of the limestone cliff. “I could try to enchant one of the blankets,” he suggested, not sounding optimistic. “But let’s wait until tomorrow.” He nodded at the sky. “It looks like it’s about to storm, and I don’t want to risk crossing in bad weather. I remember these cliffs being pocked with caves. We’ll shelter in one for the night.” He started to lead the horse down a twisting, narrow path.

Nahri followed. “Any chance I could make a trip to the riverbank?”

“Why?”

“I smell like something died in my clothes, and I have enough dirt caked on my skin to make a double of myself.”

He nodded. “Just be careful. The way down is steep.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Nahri trekked down the sharp hill, zigzagging past rocky boulders and stunted trees. Dara hadn’t lied. She tripped twice and cut her palms on the sharp rocks, but the chance to bathe was worth it. She stayed close to the riverbank as she quickly scrubbed her skin, ready to jump back if the current grew too strong.

The sky grew darker by the minute; an unhealthy tinge of green lined the clouds. Nahri climbed out of the water, wrung out her hair, and shivered. The air was humid and smelled of lightning. Dara was right about the storm.

She was shoving her wet feet into her boots when she felt it. The touch of the wind, so firm it was like a hand upon her shoulder. She immediately straightened up and spun around, ready to hurl her boot at whatever it was.

There was no one. Nahri scanned the rocky shore, but it was empty and still save for the dead leaves blowing in the breeze. She sniffed and caught the oddly strong scent of peppercorns and mace. Maybe Dara was attempting to conjure up a new dish.

She followed the small trail of smoke drifting in the sky behind her until she found Dara sitting at the mouth of a dark cave. A pot of stew bubbled over the flames.

He glanced up and smiled. “Finally. I was starting to fear you drowned.”

The wind whipped through her wet hair, and she trembled. “Never,” she declared, cozying up to the fire. “I swim like a fish.”

He shook his head. “All your swimming