The Kingdom of Copper (The Daevabad Trilogy #2) - S. A. Chakraborty Page 0,115

Razu set down a brilliant glass gem in front of her—a pretty bauble, but certainly not the ruby that had vanished. “And it’s not magic?”

“Not at all,” Razu replied. “One cannot overly rely on magic. What if your hands were bound in iron, and you needed to hide away the key you’d snatched?”

“Is that a situation you’ve found yourself in?”

The other woman gave her a cryptic smile. “Of course not. I am a … what are we telling your law-abiding friends again?”

“A former trader from Tukharistan who ran a respectable inn.”

Razu laughed. “Respectability was the last thing my old tavern was known for.” She sighed. “I am telling you … a couple glasses of my soma and your doctor and prince will be agreeing to your every suggestion.”

Nahri shook her head. She was fairly certain a single sip of Razu’s soma would knock Ali out cold, and Subha would probably think they were poisoning her. “Let’s try a more orthodox approach first. Though I would not be averse to you teaching me how to do that,” she said, pointing to the glass gem.

“I am at my Banu Nahida’s service,” Razu replied, placing the gem in Nahri’s palm and adjusting her fingers. “So you twist your hand like this and …”

From the other side of the courtyard came a disapproving cluck. Elashia, the freed djinn from Qart Sahar, was painting a turtle she’d carved from cedarwood. Nahri had brought her the paints, an act that had been greeted with wet eyes and a fierce hug.

But right now Elashia was looking at Razu with open disapproval. “What?” Razu asked. “The child wants to learn a skill. Who am I to deny her?” When Elashia turned back around with a sigh, Razu flashed Nahri a conspiratorial smile. “When she is out of sight, I will teach you a spell to give even a rock the appearance of a jewel.”

But Nahri’s gaze was still on the Sahrayn woman. “Does she ever speak?” she asked softly, switching to Razu’s archaic dialect of Tukharistani.

Sadness swept the older djinn’s face. “Not often. Sometimes with me, when we are alone, but it took years. She was freed decades ago, but she never speaks of her time in slavery. A companion of mine brought her to my tavern after finding her living on the streets, and she’s been with me since. Rustam told me once he believed his grandfather freed her, and that she had been enslaved for nearly five hundred years. She is a gentle soul,” she added as Elashia blew on the turtle and then let it go, smiling as it came to life and tottered along the edge of the fountain. “I cannot imagine how she survived.”

Nahri watched her, but it wasn’t Elashia she saw in her mind’s eye. It was Dara, whose captivity had been three times as long as Elashia’s. However, Dara had remembered almost nothing of his imprisonment—and the few recollections they’d shared together had been ghastly enough that he’d confessed to being relieved such memories were gone. Nahri hadn’t agreed at the time—it seemed appalling to lose such a huge portion of one’s life. But maybe there had been a mercy in it she hadn’t realized, one of the few Dara had enjoyed.

A crashing came from the entrance. “I take it your friends are here,” Razu said.

Nahri rose to her feet. “I would not call us friends.”

Ali and Subha entered the courtyard. They couldn’t have looked more different: the djinn prince was smiling, his eyes bright with anticipation as he gazed about the ruins. In contrast, apprehension was written in every line of Subha’s body, from her pursed lips to her tightly crossed arms.

“Peace be upon you all,” Ali said in greeting, touching his heart as he caught sight of them. He was in plain Geziri dress today: a white dishdasha that fell to his sandaled feet and a charcoal-colored turban, his zulfiqar and khanjar tucked into a pale green belt. On one shoulder, he was carrying a leather bag full of scrolls.

“And upon you peace.” Nahri turned to Subha, offering a polite bow. “Doctor Sen, it is lovely to see you again. Razu, this is Doctor Subhashini Sen and Prince Alizayd al Qahtani.”

“An honor,” Razu said, bringing her left hand to her brow. “I am Razu Qaraqashi, and this is Elashia. You’ll excuse our third companion for hiding in his room. Issa does not do well with guests.”

Ali made his way forward. “Did you see the seals on the door?” he