The Book of Wonders Read online

  THE

  BOOK

  OF

  WONDERS

  JASMINE

  RICHARDS

  DEDICATION

  For David Nasralla,

  slayer of beasts,

  traverser of battlements,

  corrector of commas,

  and bona fide hero

  MAP

  CONTENTS

  Cover

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Map

  PART 1 Home

  ONE

  The Storyteller

  TWO

  Widow Reaper

  THREE

  The Impatient Seed

  FOUR

  The Praisemaker

  FIVE

  Zardi’s Choice

  SIX

  Our Very Own Quest

  PART 2 Voyages

  SEVEN

  The Marsh

  EIGHT

  Captured

  NINE

  The Pirate Ship

  TEN

  Through the Eye of the Needle

  ELEVEN

  The Medicine Woman

  TWELVE

  Visions of Home

  THIRTEEN

  The Captain’s Revenge

  FOURTEEN

  Flight of the Falcon

  FIFTEEN

  Worm on a Splinter of Wood

  SIXTEEN

  Answers

  SEVENTEEN

  The Brass Rider

  EIGHTEEN

  A Truth Revealed

  NINETEEN

  The Roc

  PART 3 Prisons

  TWENTY

  The Emerald’s Secret

  TWENTY-ONE

  The Valley of Diamonds

  TWENTY-TWO

  Slither

  TWENTY-THREE

  What Lies Beneath

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Cyclops This Way

  TWENTY-FIVE

  The Djinni’s Price

  TWENTY-SIX

  The Riddle

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  The Windrose

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  To the Future

  TWENTY-NINE

  Spelltrap

  PART 4 Reckonings

  THIRTY

  The Flying Machine

  THIRTY-ONE

  The Sorcerer’s Creation

  THIRTY-TWO

  The Sleeping Sailor

  THIRTY-THREE

  The Falcon’s Cry

  THIRTY-FOUR

  Plan B

  THIRTY-FIVE

  The Graveyard

  THIRTY-SIX

  The Hunt

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  The Farewell

  About the Author

  Credits

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  PART ONE

  Home

  1

  The Storyteller

  “I heard the noise first. A howl, which sounded like all the djinnis in the world were crying out as one.”

  The sailor stared out at his audience, green eyes sparkling. “I looked up to see the scaled underbelly of a beast—the width of a leathery wing—and knew at once that it was—”

  “A dragon!” Zardi shouted.

  The sailor frowned. “Yes, a dragon. The great dragon, Thuban, in fact and—”

  “Was it big?” Zardi asked eagerly.

  The sailor’s chiseled face darkened with annoyance. “Well, yes, as big as the sultan’s grandest ship. Thuban’s tail alone was as long as—”

  “But could he breathe fire?” Zardi queried.

  “Will you be quiet?” someone behind her snapped. “Stop interrupting the story.”

  Zardi turned round to see the exasperated faces among the crowd that stood with her on the docks. “Sorry,” she mumbled, her cheeks warming with embarrassment. But she needn’t have worried; she was already forgotten. Everyone was looking past her at the ship’s captain, who was telling the story.

  “Thuban was here to do battle,” the seafarer declared, leaping up onto his moored vessel, “and I would not disappoint him.” He strode over to the boat’s falcon-shaped figurehead, his jewel-bright clothing a rippling flag in the breeze. He turned to face the crowd. “I wrapped my hand in a roughly woven cloth, took a red-hot spit from the cook’s fire, and climbed the mast.” The sailor looked up to the sky and bared his teeth as if he could see the dragon circling above his head. “Thuban lunged at me with a roar and I swung out, thrusting the glowing spit into the beast’s eyeball.” He smiled grimly. “It exploded with a sizzle and a pop, and then with a shriek, the dragon crashed into the sea.” The captain’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction. “My dear listeners, Thuban was dead, but my adventure was not over yet.”

  Zardi found herself leaning in closer as the seafarer’s voice became low and smoky, and for a moment imagined that she too was a member of the captain’s crew, ready to start the next part of the quest. “A map drawn by the ancient wizard Eria guided me to the caves of Kadrijt. Even the knowledge that a beast far worse than the dragon I’d just faced guarded the magical treasures hidden there could not stop me.” He thrust his shoulders back and tilted his head proudly. “I am Sinbad the sailor. When someone joins my crew I promise them adventure and, by my soul, adventure I will give them!”

  A few in the audience whooped at this, while others clapped in approval. Several of the female onlookers smoothed down the pretty silk scarves pinned in their hair and shot admiring glances at Sinbad.

  A grin split the captain’s sun-kissed face. He bowed gallantly in the ladies’ direction and continued his tale, but Zardi found it impossible to hear him over the clapping and whistling. She scowled. It wasn’t fair that she got told off for interrupting the story when everyone else was now making such a racket. Listening was made even more difficult by the loud huffing noises that Rhidan was making at her side. She knew her father’s ward would rather remove his toenails than listen to tales like this. He was only here because she had begged him to stop and listen to the captain’s story for a while before they went on to the market.

  She turned to him. “Stop that, will you?”

  Rhidan’s violet eyes were mutinous. “We need to get the ingredients for tonight’s feast. Don’t you want to celebrate your birthday?”

  Zardi glared at her friend, noticing for a moment how silver his spiky hair looked amid the sea of ebony tresses that surrounded him—like a star exploding in the night. “We’ll go in a minute. I just want to see how the story ends.”

  “Fine, let’s stay.” Rhidan’s lips became a thin line. “I mean, it’s not as if mentioning wizards or magic is forbidden in Arribitha or we could get arrested by the sultan’s guard for even listening to this nonsense.” He snorted and pulled anxiously on the silver amulet that hung around his neck. “Oh, wait, all those things are true.”

  Zardi’s gaze caught on the two engraved snakes that bordered Rhidan’s silver talisman. Their sinewy length twisted around a plum-colored stone, their mouths open as if ready to bite. She shuddered. The snakes made her flesh creep, but she would never dare tell Rhidan that. The amulet was his only connection to his past, the only clue to the origins of the violet-eyed baby boy left on the shores of the Tigress River twelve years ago. According to her father, Rhidan’s tiny hand could not be pried from the amulet when he was found. He only released it once he was brought to live with Zardi’s family as decreed by Sultan Shahryār.

  “A mightier monster had never been seen,” Sinbad’s voice suddenly boomed, and Zardi found herself sucked back into the captain’s story.

  “It had three heads, teeth as sharp as sabers, and claws made to slice and dice.” With a flourish, Sinbad released his sword from its leather scabbard an
d made to parry and thrust, right there on the deck of his ship. “We battled the beast from dawn until dusk and finally it began to tire.” Sinbad stabbed his weapon forward with a cry. “My blade found its belly, and the rest, as they say, is history.” He sheathed his sword nonchalantly. “The beast was slain, my men and I entered the cave, and our fortunes were made.”

  Applause built like a wave and Zardi couldn’t help herself—she began to clap wildly along with everyone else. She knew she’d never get to meet a wizard like Eria or duel a vicious beast. Still, she loved hearing stories about them.

  “It is, my dear friends of Taraket, an embarrassment of riches.” The captain waved his hand toward the wooden chests that his crewmen were stacking on the riverbank. “We have so many magical talismans and trinkets that it weighs down our ship and we cannot continue on our adventures.” He looked out at the crowd earnestly. “We need your help. We need you to take some of these charms off our hands. I have everything: amulets that will protect you from the evil eye, tablets that will capture curses, even pendants that will bring you luck and love.”

  Sinbad flashed a smile at his listeners, but Zardi noticed that it didn’t quite reach his eyes—they remained watchful. “It has been too long. Let magic come into your lives again.” The captain’s voice was soft and melodic. “Remember its taste and brightness. Here is your one chance to possess some bona fide magical treasure—any charm for thirty dirhams.”

  As the words left his mouth the crowd surged forward, trapping Zardi and Rhidan in their midst. She exchanged a resigned look with her friend and they allowed themselves to be swept along by the eager buyers. Better to go with them than be trampled to death.

  Sinbad raised a hand. “Form a line, please. My crew will pass down the queue with the charms—I ask that you have your money ready, please.” There was some shuffling but no line actually appeared. Sinbad didn’t bother to press the point. “And for those of you waiting to purchase something, I am happy to sign autographs.”

  “But we have no ink,” a voice piped up from the crowd.

  Sinbad flashed his teeth again. “Do not fear.” He took a slender golden tube from the folds of his loose-fitting trousers. “This is an invention I picked up on my travels. It’s called a pen. There is no need for a reed and inkpot. The ink is already in the cylinder.”

  One of Sinbad’s crewmen produced a piece of parchment and Sinbad signed his name with a flourish. The crowd gave a collective gasp as they saw the pen form the curving characters.

  “Now that is pretty impressive.” Rhidan stood on tiptoe. “I wonder how it works.”

  Zardi shook her head. “I can’t believe you’re more excited about a writing instrument than a tale about a quest, a monster, and a wizard. You’re so weird sometimes.”

  Rhidan ignored her.

  “So, which lucky soul should get this autograph?” Sinbad called out. Forty hands went up at once. “Ha! It is impossible to decide,” he cried, and threw the parchment into the crowd.

  The audience watched, mesmerized, as the paper floated down toward them. A woman well past her sixtieth year broke ranks first and leaped upward, snatching the autograph out of the air. Zardi winced as another woman dived at the old lady’s legs, taking her to the ground. Within seconds several other people had piled on top of them. The old lady was not down for long, though. A few well-placed blows with her elbows, and she was free, scarpering off down the riverbank with her prize.

  Zardi winked at Rhidan. “That lady’s as determined as my grandmother.”

  “True,” Rhidan agreed, as the crowd finally started to form a line, “but Nonna would never be pulled in by this charlatan.”

  Zardi grimaced. Why does he always have to use such big words? she wondered with annoyance. And why must he always ruin things with logic? “How do you know he’s a charlatan?” she challenged. “Maybe he has defeated a vicious beast with three heads and been in a cave full of magical treasures.”

  “Now, that’s extremely doubtful.” Rhidan dismissed the idea with a wave of his milk-white hand. “He has no knowledge of real magic. He’s just a smart sailor who can spin a superior yarn. I guarantee the only thing he is selling today is junk and dreams.” Rhidan looked round at the jostling crowd. “He’s a good salesman, though, I’ll give him that. Somehow, he’s convinced everyone here to forget that it’s a crime to think about magic in Arribitha, let alone try to buy a piece of it.”

  She was just about to reply when Sinbad sidled up to them.

  “Greetings, my young friends. Can I interest you in an autograph?”

  Zardi disguised her laugh at the look on Rhidan’s face with a cough. Suddenly, she was struck with a rather brilliant way to get back at her friend for being so grumpy. “I have no paper, I’m afraid,” she told Sinbad. “But I’d love to hear more about your adventures.”

  Rhidan narrowed his eyes at her, not impressed with the game she was playing.

  “Ah, a young lady with a taste for thrilling quests and breathtaking escapades,” Sinbad said. “Let me see if I can think of a new story.” He rubbed his chin. “You know, it’s a shame you’re of the fairer sex, otherwise you could join us on the Falcon. We’re always looking for new recruits.”

  A dull ache pooled in Zardi’s chest. Sinbad could not know it, but she’d spent countless hours at the docks, watching the ships sail down the mighty Tigress River, envy making her throat close up until it was reed-thin. Her future was already written. She’d stay here in the city of Taraket, as certainly as the river rolled across the land and out toward the ocean that lapped Arribitha’s south coast.

  Yet despite this, the world beyond the riverbank called to her, making it impossible to be at peace with her fate. More than anything, she wanted to be a part of a ship’s crew, to sail on the open sea. But such a thing was unheard of for a girl, much less for the daughter of the sultan’s vizier.

  “Don’t look so sad, my lady.” Sinbad rummaged in his pocket and took out a small wooden carving of a proud-looking bird. He folded it into Zardi’s hand. “If you can’t come to the Falcon, then let it come to you. You know, a falcon is the most loyal of birds. Her cry fills grown men with fear, for they understand that she’ll fight for her master until her last breath.” He winked at her. “The falcon will look after you.”

  Zardi smiled up sadly at the tall captain as she thanked him. For the first time, she noticed a tiny, crescent-shaped scar near his left eye. She wondered what had made the mark. A sword? The claw of a beast…?

  Sinbad turned to Rhidan. “Pale one, maybe you would you like to join me? After all, you are far from home. Strange, I didn’t think your people left the Black Isle.”

  Rhidan made a sound as though he’d been punched in the stomach. “Y-you’ve seen people who look like me before?”

  Zardi met her friend’s surprised look with one of her own. No one had ever been able to identify Rhidan’s origins. He didn’t mention it often, but his need to know why his parents had abandoned him—where he came from—was as much a part of him as the dimples in his cheeks.

  Sinbad chuckled. “With hair and eyes like yours, how could I mistake you? You have classic Ilian features. It’s just a shame that—”

  A member of the Falcon’s crew suddenly dashed up to them. “Capt’n, we’ve got to move. Now!” The sailor’s mouselike face was ashen. “Sultan Shahryār’s guards are coming this way and—” He faltered and then swallowed hard. “It’ll be our heads if they find out we’ve been selling these fake charms and telling stories about wizards.”

  “No, don’t go!” Rhidan’s plea was hoarse. “The Black Isle. Please, tell me about the Black Isle.”

  “Mirzani, you imbecile, keep your voice down!” Sinbad glowered at the crewman, oblivious to Rhidan and Zardi. “Must all of Arribitha know our business? Start to pack away the goods and lift the anchors. I’ll tell Musty we’re moving out.”

  “But—” Zardi began.

  The captain interrupted her. “I’m sorry, young o
nes. Our time is up. And if you have any sense, you’ll get out of here before the sultan’s guards arrive.” With a final nod, Sinbad and his companion threw themselves into the crowd and were instantly swallowed up.

  2

  Widow Reaper

  “Sinbad!” Rhidan dived after the sailor. “Wait! Please!” Rhidan turned to Zardi, his eyes wild. “I’ve got to speak to him.”

  Pain and want was scored into her friend’s face, and in that split second Zardi remembered all the times Rhidan had walked up and down the riverside docks, showing sailors and merchants his amulet—asking if they recognized it, or whether they could tell him where he was from. There was no way she was going to leave him without answers, not when they were so close. “Don’t worry,” she said. “We’re not finished with Sinbad yet. Come on.”

  They tried to follow the captain, but the swarm of people in front of them was impossible to penetrate. Word of the sultan’s guards had reached the crowd, and fear spread like a sickness, making the citizens of Taraket whimper and shake. Many tried to flee the approaching menace, but the crush of bodies made it difficult to move. All around her, Zardi could hear the whispered predictions of what would happen to those caught by the sultan’s men, of the blood that would be spilled on the executioner’s block.