It threw firelight across the room, reflecting on the glittering glass shelves and the soft velvet cushions they displayed.
And on the emerald ornaments that were everywhere.
Dara recoiled so fast he crashed into the door frame. Slave vessels—rings, lamps, bracelets, and collars. Dozens.
Kartir squeezed his arm. “Breathe, Darayavahoush. They cannot hurt you. They sleep.”
Dara shook his head, trying not to rip his arm free and tear out of the room. “I do not want to be here.”
“Neither do they. But I think you need a reminder of the position you’re in, a reminder, frankly, that you’ve sided with the creatures responsible for this. These souls are fortunate; there are at least a dozen more, judging from the relics we have recovered, still out in the human world.”
Dara forced himself to relax. In the hush of the room, he would swear he heard slumbered breathing.
Kartir let him go. “This is where I brought Banu Nahri on her first day. She came here afterward—not infrequently. She has a good heart. I pray to the Creator that she’s safe wherever she is.” He paused. “I did not ever think to see the two of you on opposite sides.”
Nor did I. Dara leaned against the door frame. “I am not capable of fixing this,” he said. “I am not a prophet, not a priest. I am a murderer.”
“Again with the ‘I,’” Kartir rebuked him. “Tell me, Darayavahoush, what good will you be doing, burning in this hellfire you’re aching to join? Will that help your victims? You have been blessed; you have been granted the power, the privilege, the time—all these centuries you don’t want—to fix things. And when you finally do face our Creator, do you want to say you spent them wallowing in guilt?” Kartir’s expression grew fierce. “Or would you rather say you spent every extra breath fighting for a more just world?”
“This is an easy thing to preach from the Temple. You do not see the threats we do from the palace or bear the responsibilities of protecting tens of thousands of frightened people ready to tear one another apart.”
“You’re right. I don’t. But neither do you,” Kartir countered. “Not alone. If Manizheh wants to rule Daevabad, she should be listening to Daevabad—not just the select Daevas who agree with her. She needs to make peace with the djinn and be seen as a unifier, as someone capable of mercy and reason.”
Dara rubbed his temples, his own slave ring knocking against his skull. It made his stomach churn, recalling the moment he’d considering removing it to kill himself in the hospital.
But he’d survived, once more against the odds.
Could he change? Could Manizheh? Because heartbreakingly, Dara did see hints of the leader she might have been if Ghassan had not brutalized her. She was exceedingly brilliant, measured, level headed, and thoughtful. It was not her powers or name alone that had led people to follow her in the wilderness.
But it would not be easy to sway her.
It will be even harder to sway the djinn. He felt his face fall. “I would not even know where to start with the djinn. Which of them would possibly want to deal with, let alone trust, us?”
Kartir gave him an even look. “If I recall, you have a djinn with plenty of experience navigating tribal politics currently languishing in the dungeon.”
Dara instantly scowled. “Muntadhir would never work with us. He would happily see the entire palace—himself included—crumble into the lake if it meant Manizheh and I went down with it.”
“You don’t know that. Muntadhir has his weaknesses, yes, but I always got the impression he truly cared about Daevabad and had a genuine affection for our tribe. And it might look good for you to suggest such an outreach,” Kartir added. “Pragmatic and careful. If you want Banu Manizheh to listen to you, you must show that your opinions are worth their weight.”
“If I let the emir out of his chains, he is going to try to kill me.”
Kartir clapped him on the back. “A blessing, then, that accomplishing such a feat is so difficult.”
17
NAHRI
It really was beautiful.
Nahri stared at the ocean. It was the first time she’d ever seen the sea, and it was dazzling, painted so beautifully with the rich colors of approaching dawn that it looked as though the Creator had personally blessed it, the water stretching to meet a hazy horizon. A gull cried as gentle waves caressed the soft beach, the surf rushing forward and pulling back in a steadying,