The City of Brass (The Daevabad Trilogy #1) - S. A. Chakraborty Page 0,84

best timing!” She grinned, glancing around for Dara.

But Dara wasn’t behind her. Instead she spotted him rushing toward Khayzur. The peri landed on the ground and immediately collapsed, his wings falling around him as he crumpled.

By the time she reached them, Khayzur lay cradled in Dara’s arms. His lime-colored wings were marked with white boils and gray scabs that grew larger before her eyes. He shuddered and several feathers fell to the ground.

“. . . was following and tried to warn . . . ,” he was saying to Dara. “You were so close . . .” The peri stopped to take a deep, rattling breath. He looked shrunken, and there was a purplish cast to his skin. When he looked up at her, his colorless eyes were resigned. Doomed.

“Help him,” Dara begged. “Heal him!”

Nahri bent to take his hand, but Khayzur waved her off. “There’s nothing you can do,” he whispered. “I broke our law.” He reached up and touched Dara’s ring with one of his claws. “And not for the first time.”

“Just let her try,” Dara pleaded. “This can’t be happening because you saved us!”

Khayzur gave him a bitter smile. “You still don’t understand, Dara, about my people’s role. Your race never did. Centuries after being crippled by Suleiman for interfering with humans . . . and you still don’t understand.”

Taking advantage of Khayzur’s distracted rambling, Nahri laid her palm over one of the boils. It hissed and grew icy at her touch and then doubled in size. The peri yelped, and she pulled away. “I’m sorry,” she rushed. “I’ve never healed anything like you.”

“And you can’t now,” he said gently. He coughed to clear his throat and lifted his head, his long ears pricked up like a cat’s. “You need to go. My people are coming. The marid will be back, as well.”

“I’m not leaving you,” Dara said firmly. “Nahri can cross the threshold without me.”

“It is not Nahri they want.”

Dara’s bright eyes widened, and he glanced around, as though he expected to see a new addition to their trio. “M-me?” he stammered. “I don’t understand. I’m nothing to either your race or the marids!”

Khayzur shook his head as the shrill cry of a large bird pierced the air. “Go. Please . . . ,” he croaked.

“No.” There was a tremor in Dara’s voice. “Khayzur, I can’t leave you. You saved my life, my soul.”

“Then do the same for another.” Khayzur rustled his wrecked wings and gestured at the sky. “What’s coming is beyond you both. Save your Nahid, Afshin. It’s your duty.”

It was as if he’d cast a spell on the daeva. She watched Dara swallow and then nod, all trace of emotion vanishing from his face. He laid the peri carefully on the ground. “I am so sorry, old friend.”

“What are you doing?” Nahri exclaimed. “Help him to his feet. We need to— Dara!” she shouted as the daeva picked her up and threw her over his shoulder. “Don’t! We can’t leave him here!” She kneed the daeva in the chest and tried to push off his back, but his grip was too tight. “Khayzur!” she screamed, catching a glimpse of the injured peri.

He gave her a long, sad look before turning his gaze back to the sky. Four dark shapes soared over the cliffs. The wind kicked up, seeding the air with sharp pebbles. She saw the peri wince and draw a withered wing across his face for protection.

“Khayzur!” She kicked at Dara again, but he only sped up, struggling to clamber over a sandy dune with her still on his shoulder. “Dara, please! Dara, don’t—”

And then she could not see Khayzur any longer, and they were gone.

12

Ali

Ali’s spirits felt lighter as he headed for the midan, cheered by Jamshid’s kind words. He passed under the Agnivanshi Gate, its scattered oil lamps making it seem like traveling through a constellation. Ahead, the midan was still, the night songs of insects replacing the sound of the music and drunken revelers he left behind. A cool breeze blew bits of rubbish and silvery dead leaves across the ancient cobblestones.

A man stood at the fountain’s edge. Rashid. Ali recognized him, though his secretary was out of uniform, dressed in a rather bland dark robe and slate-colored turban.

“Peace be upon you, Qaid,” Rashid greeted him as Ali came forward.

“And upon you peace,” Ali replied. “Forgive me. I didn’t think we had any further business this evening.”

“Oh, no!” Rashid assured. “Nothing official, anyway.” He smiled, his teeth a bright