The Kingdom of Copper (The Daevabad Trilogy #2) - S. A. Chakraborty Page 0,56

murdered your acolyte and set aflame your holy waters. Smash him to bits with another ship. Drown him.” The ifrit stepped closer, ignoring the glare Dara threw at him. “But you can’t, can you? It’s being whispered all around. Your people broke the rules …” His tongue darted across his lips, hungry anticipation on his fiery face. “He could burn the world’s waters and you could do nothing.”

The marid hesitated. “An error was made in taking the boy,” it finally said.

“An error?” Fire burst from Dara’s hands. “You slaughtered me in cold blood and taking Alizayd was the error?”

The marid made an angry clicking sound, and a thick fog rose from the water. “Blame your Nahid,” it hissed, glaring at Manizheh with hate in the glittering depths of its eyes. “She who was warned, she who seeks to upend what was wrought in blood!” The unnatural fog slid over his skin like a snake and Dara shivered. “If you could see the destruction you portend, Darayavahoush e-Afshin, you would throw yourself in the sea.”

Shock froze Dara’s tongue, but Aeshma waved a dismissive hand. “Ignore it. The marid like to pretend at prophecy, but they are demented fools whose wits are as scattered as their waters.” His bright golden eyes filled with scorn. “A millennium or two ago, I remember these shores being lined with shining temples, a ceaseless horde of humans willing to throw themselves in your waters and declare you their gods. Your kind laughed as Suleiman punished my people.” His face was dark with anger. “I am glad I have lived to see the same done to you.”

The marid hissed again. “This creature is no Suleiman.” Its oily eyes narrowed on Dara. “He is nothing but a blood-soaked pawn.”

“And yet you owe him a debt.” Manizheh’s cool voice cut through the charged air like a knife. “A debt you would presumably like to be free of. So perhaps we could have a conversation instead of arguing over old wars.”

The marid tilted its head, considering them. The water at its feet contracted and surged out, as if the creature was taking a breath. “Speak,” it finally replied.

“We wish to return to Daevabad.” Manizheh pointed at Dara. “My Afshin can no longer cross the mountain threshold, but there are legends that my ancestors had another way. That they could slip into the lake as though it were a doorway and reemerge in whichever waters were on their minds, in any place in the world their hearts most desired.”

“That was magic never meant for daevas. The lake was ours. It was sacred.” Hurt crept into the creature’s voice. “It was the birthplace of Tiamat. She enchanted it so that we could pay homage to her from any water.”

“Tiamat?” Dara repeated, confused. “As in Bet il Tiamat? The southern ocean?”

“Not precisely,” Aeshma replied. “Tiamat was one of their gods, their mother. A giant sea monster born in the chaos of creation with a penchant for destroying whatever dirt-blood civilizations provoked her ire.” He grinned. “She hated daevas.”

“She had cause to hate daevas,” the marid hissed. “Anahid stole her lake. We removed the enchantment when Anahid’s descendants grew too weak to control us. They deserved to be torn apart for daring to enter our waters.” It turned on Manizheh, snapping its teeth. “And it is not just Daevabad you seek, daughter of Anahid. Do not think us so easily fooled. You are after Suleiman’s seal.”

Manizheh shrugged, unruffled as ever. “I am after what belongs to me. Daevabad was granted to the Nahids by the Creator, as was Suleiman’s seal. Their return is equally ordained.” She gestured to Dara. “Why would our greatest warrior be given back to us with such extraordinary abilities if it was not the will of the Creator?”

The marid gestured to its murdered human husk. “This is not the will of the Creator. It is the ill-fated scheme of a power-hungry woman.” Its gaze flickered to Dara. “And you are worse. Twice undead and with the blood of thousands on your hands … and still you serve those who made you into this abomination.”

The sudden charge took Dara aback and then it cut him deep, striking the darkest part of his heart, a shadowed part he dared not touch.

There is a city called Qui-zi.

The calm with which those words had been spoken, by an authority Dara was raised never to doubt. The screams of the people who lived there, the shafit that the Nahid Council had assured him were soulless