The Hour of the Crow

Chapter 28: The Wrath of the Djinns

The merlord's eyes darkened. "Then what can we do?"

"LET MANKIND DO WHAT THEY DO BEST: TO BE INVENTIVE." The column of smoke whirled faster and two silver orbs, bright as miniature moons, turned to Inna and Arran. A thrill jolted through Inna's veins. "IT WAS A MAN WHO CURSED US. IT WILL BE MAN WHO FREES US."

There's always a loophole, Inna mouthed. Ezahar's eyes blinked in agreement.

"So we're supposed to trust the humans," Lord Trizidad's bitter voice cut in. "Again."

Onshra's deep chuckle rolled across the lagoon, sending ripples through the water. A shudder involuntarily crept down Inna's spine. "AS LONG AS YOU DO NOT GROW LEGS TO WALK ON LAND, THERE ISN'T MUCH YOU CAN DO, MERLORD."

"I SENT SERAFINA AND ARRAN TO YOU FOR GUIDANCE," Ezahar said. Her tone held no accusation, yet the Waterlord still cringed like a beaten dog. "SO THAT THEY WOULD UNDERSTAND WHAT IS REALLY AT STAKE."

Naturally, Ezahar had known that the merfolk would not be welcoming Inna and Arran's questions about holy customs and World Artifacts. Her ultimate goal had been to show them the severity of the situation all along, to provide them with another perspective on both present and history. The slumbering distrust between two races. The omens of a third Magical War, one that involved an elusive enemy. Inna felt the weight of a new, almost unbearable responsibility descend onto her shoulders.

This was bigger than Primsharah alone. Driving the Cult out of her city and restoring her father's mind might be her first priority now, but what would come after? So many people counted on them, even if they didn't know it. Could she be their hero? Could Arran?

"IT IS TIME TO MEND BROKEN BONDS," Ezahar mused. "IF WE ALLOW HATRED TO FESTER, THIS WAR WILL NEVER KNOW ITS END."

Lord Trizidad scoffed, but he refrained from spitting further protests. A soft breeze ruffled his hair. The merfolk relaxed as Ezahar unhooked her talons from their mind, although they kept their gazes cast downward. At the sight of it, the Waterlord's chest caved with a sigh of relief.

He glanced at Inna and Arran. "I would be a fool not to trust my goddess's judgment. Therefore, I will not stand in your way if you choose to keep the godly souls for yourselves when you leave the Lagoon. Nevertheless"—the edge of a threat sharpened his tone—"if you betray the gods again, you'd better steer clear of the seas and rivers, for the merfolk does not have mercy on traitors."

"I don't think this is what your goddess meant when she called for reconciliation," Arran mumbled. Inna dug her nails into his thighs.

Dusting the sand off her clothes, she walked to the shoreline until she stood face to face with the merlord. "I understand. But please bear in mind that most of humanity still worships the gods and they would be appalled if they knew the truth. Those are the people that we wish to protect. Aren't there similar struggles among the merfolk? Do you all pursue the same ideals, share the same ideas on which forms of magic to explore and which not?" His face was stoic, yet one of his long, clawed fingers tapped restlessly against his bicep, a sign of a reluctant admission. Inna smiled. "Let us start over with a clean slate, Lord Trizidad." She held out her hand, steady and resolute.

For a moment, he stared at it as if she was offering him a rotten fish. The gods didn't interfere, nor did the mermen and mermaids still in the water. Silent witnesses of a turning point in history, whether the Waterlord accepted or refused her.

Then he reached out with his left arm instead of his right and clasped her forearm. It was a symbolic gesture, a bridge between two people, and by extension, between two species. The coldness of his moist skin penetrated her flesh all the way to the bones underneath.

"Just so you know, it was never my plan to kill both of you," he murmured, biting his lip like that would stop the confession. His fingers were still curled around her arm. "He might be disposable"—he gave Arran a toothy smile—"but I wouldn't risk a diplomatic war with the Shah of Primsharah by killing his crown princess on top of what's already going on."

She ignored the choking, indignant sounds coming from where she had left Arran on the beach. "How very considerate of you. Fortunately, this princess was inventive enough to find the faults in that plan. And I'd rather you didn't threaten Arran again if you want this peace to last longer than five minutes."

His nostrils flared, although the corners of his mouth twitched. As he finally let go of her, his eyes shone with a new brilliance. For now, she had earned his respect. "You are welcome to stay at my Lagoon for the night. I will make sure my sons and daughters leave you alone, as well as any other sea creature, for that matter." He cast a wry glance at the dead crabs.

She inclined her head. "Thank you."

He nodded once. With a single flick of his wrist, all present members of his tribe dove toward the bottom of the lagoon. Lord Trizidad hesitated for a second longer, his back taut, but then he followed them down.

When the tides had smoothed out the ripples in the water where he had disappeared, Inna let out a whistling breath and turned to the djinns. Both Ezahar and Onshra watched her with the infinite patience of those blessed with immortality. "I suppose I should thank you both for your intervention. Though, I'll admit I'm starting to get headaches from playing your games." That last remark had been aimed at Ezahar.

The goddess of wisdom didn't seem offended in the slightest. "THEN START PLAYING YOUR OWN, SERAFINA. IN ALL YOUR LIFE, YOU HAVE ONLY ACTED ON BEHALF OF OTHERS. NOT ONCE IN THIS JOURNEY OF YOURS HAVE YOU DECIDED THE NEXT DIRECTION OF YOUR COURSE, ALWAYS FOLLOWING THE CLUES LEFT BY ANOTHER. YOU KNOW WHO I AM TALKING ABOUT."

Rabyatt. Inna scowled. Arran sauntered over to them, his hands stuffed in his pockets, searching her gaze with expectantly raised eyebrows. She swallowed.

"IF YOU WANT CONTROL OVER YOUR ACTIONS, ALL YOU HAVE TO DO IS TO TAKE THE REINS," Ezahar concluded. She phrased it like it was the simplest thing in the world to do. Perhaps it was. Perhaps Inna should just stop talking about a better world and start making it. And to do that, she would have to return to her home and face the foes waiting for her there.

She spun on her heel, her nose nearly bumping against Arran's chest. Craning her neck, she looked him straight in the eye. "I'm ready to go back," she said. "Are you?"

He nodded. "I am. But how will we get into the city without alarming the Cult? Or stay hidden from them while we work out a plan?"

A knowing smirk curled around her lips. "You're a burglar, Arran. I think you know a trick or two to enter a place unseen, even one as massive as the whole of Primsharah."

He grinned. "You're right. In fact, I might have an idea."