A Sky Beyond the Storm (An Ember in the Ashes #4) - Sabaa Tahir Page 0,15

power came from an efrit then I’m a jinn. Silence, now. Let me work.”

The old woman drags my stare to hers again, and my mind seems to bend and strain—a slow, torturous pulling, as if some part of me was immersed in a thousand-year-old swamp and is finally clawing its way into the light. When it emerges, I find I have been nudged into a back room of my own head.

“Peace be upon thee, Rehmat.” D’arju’s voice trembles, and I know instantly that while she might be looking at me, she is not speaking to me. “Thy servants are here. Our vow is fulfilled.”

“Peace be upon thee, Jaduna. Thy duty is complete. I discharge thee from thy vow.”

The words come out of my mouth. It is my lips that move. But the low voice is not mine. I have never used the word thee in my life. Besides which, the voice sounds nothing like me. It is not human. It is more like what a sandstorm would sound like, if a sandstorm spoke archaic Serran.

“So this is our warrior,” Rehmat says, no longer so formal. “The final manifestation of your long-ago sacrifice.”

“It was no sacrifice to nest you within our people, great one,” D’arju says.

“A hundred Jaduna accepted my power into their very bones, child.” Rehmat’s deep growl brooks no disagreement. “It was a great sacrifice. You did not know how it would affect your children, or theirs. But it is done. I live now in thousands upon thousands.”

“I confess, great one,” D’arju says, “I did not think Laia of Serra would be the one to wake you. The Blood Shrike might have been a more fitting champion, or the Beekeeper. The smith Darin, perhaps.”

“Even Avitas Harper,” another of the Jaduna says. “Or the young demon killer Tas.”

“But they did not defy the Nightbringer. Laia did. Rejoice,” Rehmat says, “For the path is set. Now our young warrior must walk it. But if she is to defy the Meherya, I cannot live within her mind.”

Meherya. The Nightbringer.

D’arju shakes her head vehemently. “She must be one with you—”

“She must choose me. If a falcon refuses to fly, can she be one with the aether?”

Now A’vni speaks up, clasping her hands together so they do not tremble. “But—but no vessel can hold you, great one.”

“I need no vessel, child. Only a conduit.”

Oh skies. That doesn’t sound promising. I fight for control of my own mind, my body. But they both remain firmly in control of this voice. Rehmat. A strange name—one I have never heard of.

“Will it hurt her?” A’vni asks, and if she had not helped kidnap me, I might have been thankful for her concern.

“I live in her blood.” Rehmat sounds almost sad. “Yes. It will hurt. Hold her.”

“What in the skies—” For a brief moment, I return to myself and thrash against the Jaduna. A’vni winces, but pins me down with the others.

When Rehmat speaks again, it is only to me: I am sorry for this, young warrior.

Fire tears through me, up and down every limb, as if my nerves are being ripped from my skin and salted. If I could scream, I would never stop. But the Jaduna have gagged me, and I strain against them, wondering what I have done to deserve this. For surely, this is my end.

A vaguely human figure emerges from my body. It reminds me a little of when the ghuls took my brother’s form to frighten me long ago in Serra, at Spiro Teluman’s forge. But where ghul-spawned simulacrums are bits of night, this creature is a slice of the sun.

My muscles turn to jelly. All I can do is squint against the brightness, trying to make out details of the shape, but it is not a she or he or they, and it is neither young nor old. With one last flare, its glow dulls until it is bearable.

D’arju drops to her knees in front of the apparition. When it offers the Jaduna a glowing hand, D’arju’s fingers pass right through it. Whatever Rehmat is, it is not corporeal.

“Rise, D’arju,” Rehmat says in that same deep voice. “Take thy kin and go. A human approaches.”

I try to sit up and fail. What human? I try to say, but it just sounds like “Whhffff.”

The Jaduna file out silently, all but A’vni. “Can we not aid her?” she says. “It is a lonely battle she must fight, Rehmat.”

“Your kindness does you credit, A’vni,” Rehmat says. “Fear not. Our young warrior is not alone.