The City of Brass (The Daevabad Trilogy #1) - S. A. Chakraborty Page 0,91

fare eventually. Believe it or not, their tribes are actually allies. Though of course under Daeva rule, all passage was free.”

She detected a hint of smugness in his voice and sighed. Something told her the squabbles between the various djinn tribes would make the war between the Turks and Franks look positively friendly.

But however nasty their argument, the captain and the merchants must have finally agreed on a price, because before she knew it, the camels were being led into the belly of the ship. The boat lurched and swayed with each step, the sewn wooden planks protesting. Nahri watched the merchants settle on the opposite end of the boat, gracefully crossing their long legs underneath their sweeping robes.

The captain jumped aboard and pulled the ramp up with a loud bang. Nahri felt her stomach flutter with nerves. She watched as he plucked a short rod from his waist-wrap. As he turned it over in his hands, it became longer and longer.

She frowned, peering over the boat’s side. They were still beached on the shore. “Shouldn’t we be in the water?”

Dara shook his head. “Oh, no. Passengers only embark from land. It’s too risky otherwise.”

“Risky?”

“Oh, the marid cursed this lake centuries ago. If you put so much as a toe in the water, it’ll grab you, rip you to shreds, and send your remains to all the locations your mind has ever contemplated.”

Nahri’s mouth dropped open in horror. “What?” she gasped. “And we’re going to cross it? In this rickety piece of—”

“There is no god but God!” the captain cried and slammed the rod—which was now a pole nearly as long as the boat—into the sandy shore.

The boat shoved off so fast it was briefly propelled in the air. It slammed into the lake with a great crash that sent a wave of water flying over its sides. Nahri shrieked and covered her head, but the captain quickly swept between her and the rising wave. He clucked his tongue at the water and threatened it with his pole like one would shoo away a dog. The water flattened out.

“Relax,” Dara urged, looking embarrassed. “The lake knows to behave. We’re perfectly safe here.”

“It knows . . . Do me a favor,” Nahri seethed, glaring at the daeva. “Next time we’re about to do something like cross a marid-cursed lake that shreds people, stop and explain every step. By the Most High . . .”

No one else seemed bothered. The Ayaanle were chatting among themselves, sharing a basket of oranges. The captain balanced precariously on the edge of the hull and adjusted the sail. As Nahri watched, he tucked the pipe into his tunic and began to sing.

The words swept over her, sounding oddly familiar yet completely incomprehensible. It was such a strange sensation that it took her a moment to fully realize what was happening. “Dara?” She tugged on his sleeve, drawing his attention from the sparkling water. “Dara, I can’t understand him.” That had never happened to her before.

He glanced up at the djinn. “No, he’s singing in Geziriyya. Their language can’t be understood, can’t even be learned by foreign tribesmen.” His lips curled. “A fitting ability for such a duplicitous people.”

“Don’t start.”

“I’m not. I didn’t say it to his face.”

Nahri sighed. “What was that they were speaking to each other then?” she asked, gesturing between the captain and the traders.

He rolled his eyes. “Djinnistani. An ugly and unrefined merchant tongue consisting of the most unpleasant sounds of all their languages.”

Well, that was enough of Dara’s opinions for now. Nahri turned away, lifting her face to the bright sun. It was warm on her skin, and she fought to keep her eyes open, the rhythmic motion of the boat lulling her toward sleep. She lazily watched a gray hawk circle and dip close, perhaps hoping for orange scraps, before it veered off toward the distant cliffs.

“I still don’t see anything that looks like a city,” she said idly.

“You will very shortly,” he answered, peering at the green mountains. “There’s one last illusion to pass.”

As he spoke, something shrill rang in her ears. Before she could cry out, her entire body suddenly constricted, as if it had been compressed in a tight sheath. Her skin burned, and her lungs felt full of smoke. Her vision briefly blurred as the ringing grew louder . . .

And then it was gone. Nahri lay flat on her back on the deck, trying to catch her breath. Dara leaned over her, his face full of