The Kingdom of Copper (The Daevabad Trilogy #2) - S. A. Chakraborty Page 0,99

that to a number of shafit caught in a riot his father had engineered to provoke the Tanzeem. “No,” he said quickly. “Absolutely not.”

“He’s right,” Nahri said. “I only wanted to meet you. I came across one of your patients recently. A man with a hole in his skull, like someone had cut—”

“Drilled.” Nahri blinked and the doctor pressed on, her voice cold. “It is called a trepanation. If you believe yourself a healer, you should use the correct terms.”

Ali felt Nahri tense slightly at his side, but her voice stayed calm. “Drilled, then. He claimed you were a physician, and I wanted to see if that was true.”

“Did you?” The doctor’s brows knit together in incredulity. “Is the little girl who makes potions for good luck and tickles away bad humors with a simurgh feather here to assess my training?”

Ali’s mouth went dry.

Nahri bristled. “I’d daresay what I do is a bit more advanced than that.”

The doctor lifted her chin. “Go on, then, make your examination. You’ve already intruded, and I don’t suppose we can protest.” She jerked her head at Ali. “That’s why you brought your prince, no?”

“I’m not her prince,” Ali corrected swiftly, glaring when Nahri threw him an annoyed look. “I said I’d take you to Sukariyya Street,” he said, defending himself. “Not sneak you into some doctor’s house by pretending that we … that you …” Very unhelpfully, the memory of Nahri’s gold dress appeared again in his mind, and mortified heat stole over his face. “Never mind,” he stammered.

“Traitor,” Nahri said, her tone withering as she added something even less kind in Arabic. But it was clear neither Ali’s desertion nor the doctor’s hostility would stop her. She rose to her feet, crossing to the bookshelf.

“This is an impressive collection …,” she remarked, longing in her voice. She pulled two volumes loose. “Ibn Sina, al Razi … where did you get all this?”

“My father was a physician in the human world.” The doctor gestured to her pointed ears. “Unlike me, he could pass, and so he did. He traveled and studied wherever he liked. Delhi, Istanbul, Cairo, Marrakesh. He was two hundred and fifty when some loathsome Sahrayn bounty hunter found him in Mauritania and dragged him to Daevabad.” Her eyes lingered on the books. “He brought everything he could.”

Nahri looked even more awed. “Your father spent two hundred years studying medicine in the human world?” When the doctor nodded, she pressed on. “Where is he now?”

The doctor swallowed hard before responding. “He died last year. A stroke.”

The eagerness faded from Nahri’s face. She carefully put the book back. “I’m sorry.”

“As am I. It was a loss for my community.” There was no self-pity in the doctor’s voice. “He trained a few of us. My husband and I are the best.”

Parimal shook his head. “I’m a glorified bonesetter. Subha is the best.” There was affectionate pride in his voice. “Even her father said so, and that man did not compliment easily.”

“Do the other doctors he trained practice here as well?” Nahri asked.

“No. It’s not worth the risk. Purebloods would rather we die from coughs than live to procreate.” Subha’s grip on her baby tightened. “The Royal Guard comes in here and any number of my instruments could land me in prison under the weapons ban.” She scowled. “Nor are the shafit entirely innocent. These are desperate times, and there are people who believe we’re rich. I had a talented surgeon from Mombasa working here until a band of thieves kidnapped his daughter. He sold everything he owned to ransom her back and then fled. They were going to try and smuggle themselves out of the city.” Her face fell. “I’ve heard nothing since. Many of the boats don’t make it.”

The boats? Ali stilled. Daevabad wasn’t an easy place to escape. The courage—the desperation—it must take to load one’s family onto a rickety smuggler’s boat and pray it made it across the murderous waters …

We have failed them. We have utterly failed them. He took in the little family before him, remembering the shafit his mother had saved. There were thousands more like them in Daevabad, men and women and children whose potential and prospects had been coldly curtailed to suit the political needs of the city in which they had no choice but to live.

Lost in his thoughts, Ali only noticed Nahri reaching for a cabinet door when Parimal lunged forward.

“Wait, Banu Nahida, don’t—”

But she’d already opened it. Ali heard her breath catch. “I