The Kingdom of Copper (The Daevabad Trilogy #2) - S. A. Chakraborty Page 0,81

a marid, wasn’t it? A marid did this.”

He didn’t miss the way her gold eyes flickered around the pavilion before she replied—that she did so for this and not while discussing treason was telling. And not reassuring. “Yes.” She let go of his hands. “What happened after you gave your name?”

Ali swallowed. “It took over me. Muntadhir said it looked like I was possessed, that I was speaking a strange language.” He bit his lip. “It used me to kill Darayavahoush, but I don’t remember anything between giving my name and waking up in the infirmary.”

“The infirmary?” His mother’s voice was sharp. “Does that Nahid girl know—”

“No.” The danger in the question and a tug of old loyalty pushed the lie from his lips. “She wasn’t there. Only Abba and Muntadhir know what happened.”

Hatset’s eyes narrowed. “Your father knew the marid did all this to you and still he sent you to Am Gezira?”

Ali grimaced but could not deny the relief coursing through him. It felt so good to finally talk about all this with someone who knew more, someone who could help him. “I’m not sure I would have survived Am Gezira if the marid hadn’t possessed me.”

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

He looked at her in surprise. “My abilities, Amma. You must realize that’s what’s behind my irrigation work.”

Too late, he recognized the horror crossing her face. “Your abilities?” she repeated.

His heart raced at the shock in her voice. “My … my abilities with water. Abba said the Ayaanle had a relationship with the marid. You recognized their marks …” Desperate hope clawed up in Ali’s chest. “That means this happens to djinn back in Ta Ntry, doesn’t it?”

“No, baba …” Hatset took his hands in hers again. “Not like this. We find …” She cleared her throat. “We find bodies, love. Bodies with marks like yours. Djinn fishermen who stay out past sundown, human children lured to the riverbank. They’re murdered, drowned, and drained.”

Ali reeled. Bodies? “But I thought …” He choked on the words. “Didn’t our ancestors revere the marid?”

Hatset shook her head. “I don’t know what was between our ancestors, but the marid have been a terror as long as I’ve been alive. We keep it to ourselves; we’d rather handle our own business than invite foreign soldiers into Ta Ntry. And the attacks are rare. We’ve learned to avoid the places they like.”

Ali was struggling to comprehend what he was hearing. “Then how did I survive?”

His mother—his always savvy mother—looked equally at a loss. “I don’t know.”

A door hinge creaked, and Ali yanked his robe back on so fast he heard some of the stitches tear. By the time a pair of servants joined them, Hatset’s face was calm; but he didn’t miss the grief with which she’d watched him move.

She offered a small smile to the servants as they set down a tray of covered silver platters. “Thank you.”

They removed the tops, and Ali’s heart and stomach gave a leap at the familiar smells of the Ntaran dishes he’d loved as a child. Fried plaintains and anise-spiced rice, fish steamed in banana leaf with ginger and grated coconut, and syrupy dumplings.

“I remember your favorites,” Hatset said softly when they were alone again. “A mother doesn’t forget something like that.”

Ali didn’t respond. He didn’t know what to say. The answers he’d wanted for years about the marid had left worse questions and more mysteries in their wake. What happened to him wasn’t something that happened to other Ayaanle. The marid were a terror in Ta Ntry, monsters to be feared.

Monsters who had saved him. Ali shifted, completely on edge. The possession in the lake had been vicious, but his abilities after had felt … calming. The solace when he ran his hands through a canal, the near playfulness with which new springs bubbled beneath his feet. What was that all supposed to mean?

His mother touched his wrist. “Alu, it’s okay,” she said, breaking the silence. “You’re alive. That’s all that matters now. Whatever the marid did to you … it’s over.”

“That’s just it, Amma … it’s not over,” Ali said softly. “It’s getting worse. Ever since I came back to Daevabad … I feel like these things are inside me, slipping over my skin, whispering in my head … and if I lose control …” He shivered. “People used to kill djinn they suspected of cavorting with the marid.”

“That’s not going to happen,” she declared firmly. “Not to you. I’ll take care of this.”

Ali