The Book of Wonders Read online

  The sage cackled again. “You’re in Sabra now. Things that are hidden in other places will be revealed here. You just have to know where to look.”

  Zardi stared at the sage. His words seemed loaded with meaning. Maybe he knew where the Varish were? But how could she ask him with Sinbad right beside her?

  “Come on,” the captain urged. “Let’s keep moving.”

  As they continued to walk, Zardi kept careful track of their route. Once she and Rhidan had escaped Sinbad, she wanted to find the old sage and ask him some questions.

  They passed herbalists promising potions that would bring wealth and health and snake charmers who made their serpents dance for eager audiences. It took a moment, but Zardi finally put her finger on the real difference between Sabra and her home. Sabra was a city that breathed, whereas Taraket held its breath. Magic did not hide its face so much here. But then this city didn’t have Sultan Shahryār squatting at its center like a large, poisonous toad.

  “This way.” Sinbad turned down a narrow alleyway and toward a small stone-white villa. The doorway was covered with gauzy slips of brightly colored material, which the captain easily swept aside. Sinbad smiled. “In we go!” And the three of them crossed the threshold and entered the house.

  11

  The medicine Woman

  The house was much larger than it looked on the outside. Cavernous chambers led off from one another and hundreds of candles lit the way. They walked deeper into the house, leaving the outside world far behind. The smell of incense hung heavily in the air, and Zardi’s eyelids drooped as she breathed it in deeply. The edges of everything became softer.

  “Hey, which way did he go?” Rhidan asked.

  Zardi opened her eyes to see Rhidan squinting in the low light. “No idea.” She pointed over to the first chamber. “I guess we should look in there.”

  They walked into the room calling Sinbad’s name, but there was no reply. Sitting by one wall of the chamber was a tall dresser, and above it were wooden shelves lined with glass jars. Many were filled with familiar spices like saffron, sumac, and star anise. But inside some were much more unusual things: pear-shaped blue stones that glowed with icy brightness, preserved butterflies that hung motionless in their containers, and something she could only compare to lightning that flashed, fizzled, and flashed again.

  “What in all of Arribitha is this stuff?” Rhidan murmured as they stepped right up to the shelves.

  Zardi felt her stomach knot in excitement. “Magic,” she whispered. “Maybe Sinbad’s mother can do magic!”

  “But how did she escape Shahryār?” Rhidan asked. “He executed so many with magic when he came to power.” He reached out to touch a jar full of burnished bird feathers. “Ow!” He snatched his hand away. “It’s hot!” He sucked his fingers, staring at the jar indignantly.

  “Don’t touch anything else.” Zardi’s gaze wandered over again to the jar filled with the blue jewels. She could feel herself being drawn toward them. As she leaned in even closer, her world shifted like a sand dune during a storm. The jar next to the jewels contained a miniature girl, no bigger than a little finger. She floated in water, suspended, her hair drifting all about her face. Zardi swallowed hard.

  “Come away from there,” came a woman’s lilting voice from behind her. “That Snolot will suck the life right out of you if she wakes up and catches you staring.”

  Zardi whipped round to face a tall woman with floor-length white hair.

  “I am Sula.” The woman bowed her head in greeting. “Sinbad will be along shortly; he is just freshening up. Scheherazade and Rhidan, you are both welcome. I have been waiting for a long time.”

  “How do you know my full name?” Zardi asked in amazement. “I never told Sinbad.”

  “Neither did I,” Rhidan said, looking at Sula hard.

  “All in good time, my children.” The white-haired woman stepped forward and took Zardi’s hands into her own. Any questions vanished from Zardi’s mind as a thick mantle of peace settled over her.

  Sula’s hands were as smooth as marble, just like her face, which was without blemish or wrinkle. Only the wisdom and experience that shone from her eyes and her long white hair told Zardi that this lady had lived a long time.

  The medicine woman let go of her hands and turned to Rhidan, taking his burned fingers into her grasp and examining them closely. “You are lucky that these burns have not blistered. That can happen with phoenix feathers. Don’t worry, I have something that will heal them.”

  “Phoenix feathers,” Rhidan repeated dumbly as Sula dropped his hand and reached into the folds of her dress to produce a small vial filled with an amber liquid. “There are no phoenixes in Arribitha. Shahryār killed them all.”

  The ageless lady gave a trill of laughter. “Oh, he tried, but he did not succeed. Phoenixes are still with us. They’re just a little bit disguised with magic. We would be quite lost without them.” She pulled the stopper out of the vial and poured a drop of the liquid into her hand. “Of course, it does not surprise me that you went straight for the feathers. After all, power always attracts power.” She reached for his fingers.

  Rhidan’s mouth hung open.

  He’s speechless, Zardi thought, smiling in spite of herself. That has to be a first. “What is that stuff?” she asked, pointing to the amber liquid in Sula’s palm.

  “It is many things.” The medicine woman rubbed the liquid onto Rhidan’s scalded skin. “A salve for burns, a cough medicine, drops for earache.” She examined Rhidan’s fingers. “Give it a moment or two to work.”

  He sniffed his fingers. “It smells of sesame.”

  “The medicine’s main ingredient is sesame oil.” Sula smiled. “Sesame seeds are one of nature’s dearest gifts to us. They cure many ailments.” The medicine woman put the vial in her pocket. “Speaking of gifts, Zardi, I have a present for you.”

  Sula walked over to the wooden shelves, reached for the jar of blue stones, and plucked one out.

  Zardi’s heart began to pound. She didn’t know why, but she wanted this stone desperately.

  The medicine woman opened the top drawer of the dresser and took out a gossamer-thin length of thread that glinted in the low light. Hanging from the center of it was a tiny spiderweb. Sula placed the pear-shaped blue jewel into the web’s center, and Zardi gasped as the thin strands started to twine around the stone, seemingly of their own accord. In no time at all the blue gem was securely enclosed in the web’s grasp.

  Zardi could only watch as Sula walked over to her and placed the newly made necklace around her neck. Looking down at it, she could see that the stone shone more brightly as it touched her skin.

  Sula looked happy. “See that light? It means the stone is pleased. It has accepted you as its owner.”

  Zardi reached to untie the necklace. “I can’t take this. It’s far too valuable.”

  “You are a guest in my house, Scheherazade Lion-born. I’ll be offended if you do not accept it. Just promise to take good care of it.”

  “I will,” Zardi said as the gem settled in the groove at the base of her neck. Somehow, it felt as if it had always been there, and Zardi knew she would not be without it.

  The medicine woman smiled. “Good. These stones are incredibly rare. A gift of the stone’s own choosing will be given to its wearer—at a time of its own choosing.”

  “Is it magic?” Zardi asked. Saying these forbidden words, she could almost feel the executioner’s blade on her neck.

  “Yes. I think you may require the stone’s power one day.”

  “So, what power will it give me?” Zardi asked, stroking the stone.

  Sula laughed. “So impatient, just as I always imagined you to be. The stone does not have the kind of magic that moves mountains, but it can grant a helpful magic.”

  Sinbad appeared in the doorway. “Ah, there you are, and I see you’ve met my mother.” The captain grinned. “By the looks on your faces, she has made quite an impression. Come on, I thin
k you need to sit down.”

  “Yes, do come through. I’ve cooked us all some lunch.” Sula bustled past Sinbad and led them through to the next room.

  A familiar smell filled the room.

  The captain shook his head. “Mother always knows when guests are coming. It is really rather extraordinary.”

  “I suppose extraordinary is one way of putting it,” Zardi heard Rhidan mutter under his breath.

  A roughly hewn table stood in the center of the room, and a large pot was bubbling away on a grate over the fire.

  Sula gave the air a sniff. “Mmm, I think it’s ready.” She glided over to the bubbling pot and tasted its contents.

  “You’re cooking chorba soup, aren’t you?” Rhidan asked.

  Sula turned around to look at Rhidan. “Well, it’s your favorite, is it not?”

  Rhidan’s eyes were wide and he gripped his amulet nervously. “Um, yes it is.”

  Sinbad grinned. “Don’t worry, young ones. You’ll get used to it. Mother has a way of knowing things. That’s what makes her the greatest medicine woman in all of Arribitha.” He walked over and kissed his mother on the forehead.

  Sula smiled up at him, and Zardi wondered if, for all of the medicine woman’s knowingness, she had any idea what her son truly did for a living.

  “Enjoy your lunch,” Sinbad said. “I’ve got to get to the docks and look for the captain who will take you to Mandar.” He opened the roughly woven sack and looked over at Zardi. “Before I go, I want to give you something.”

  “This hardly seems fair,” Rhidan said jokingly. “Why is she getting all the gifts today?”

  Sula placed two bowls of steaming soup on the table. “Don’t worry, Rhidan, your turn will come. Gifts come in all shapes and sizes, and knowledge is the greatest gift of all.”

  Zardi watched as Sinbad reached into the sack and pulled out her archer’s belt. The sight of it made her catch her breath.

  “This is yours, I believe?” He grimaced slightly as he handed it over to her, and she smiled to herself. This act of selflessness clearly pained the captain.

  “Thank you,” she said, fastening the belt around her waist. Welcoming the weight of the quiver against her hip, her fingers lovingly traced the lion embossed onto the leather.

  Sinbad flushed with embarrassment and pleasure. “I’ll see you later then. Who knows? By the end of the day you may be off to a land afar!” He lowered his voice so that Sula couldn’t overhear. “I’ll have you out of town before Assam arrives.”

  Zardi felt her stomach twist. She couldn’t bear the idea of seeing Assam again. What must he think of them? She felt eyes upon her and looked over to see Sula gazing at her sympathetically. She shuddered—it was like this woman could see straight into her soul.

  Sinbad bade them farewell, and Zardi and Rhidan sat down to eat their soup. Zardi took her first mouthful and was instantly transported home. Once again she was in the kitchen with Nonna, chopping onions. There was no arguing with her taste buds—the soup was a perfect match with Nonna’s. Rhidan obviously agreed; he finished his soup even more quickly than she did.

  “Any more?” Sula inquired.

  “Not for me,” Zardi replied, feeling pleasantly full. “But thank you. It was lovely.”

  “As good as Nonna’s?” Sula asked with a secret smile.

  Rhidan slammed his spoon down on the wooden table. “Enough! You have magic, that is clear, but what do you want with us?”

  “What do you mean?” Sula leaned back in her chair casually.

  Zardi frowned. The medicine woman was enjoying this. “You said you have been waiting for us for a long time. Why?”

  “And what did you mean when you said that I’d be attracted to the phoenix feathers—that power attracts power?” Rhidan demanded.

  “So many questions.” The mischievous glint left Sula’s eyes. “But are you truly ready for the answers?”

  12

  Visions of Home

  Zardi met Sula’s gaze full-on. “Try us.” Sula cleared the bowls from the table before sitting down. “Let us start at the beginning,” she said. “My mother spun flax into thread and my father is a djinni. Do you know what a djinni is?”

  “My grandmother told me that a djinni is a rare being that can grant any wish except the command to kill another person.” Zardi fell silent for a moment, remembering how she, Rhidan, and Zubeyda would sit by the fire and listen to Nonna’s stories about Arribitha before Shahryār came to power and how you could find magic around every corner. Zubeyda and Rhidan were always nervous when Nonna spoke about things that were forbidden, but Zardi had always urged Nonna onward. “Nonna said that years ago some of the richer families in Taraket even had their own djinnis. They were found in lamps, bottles, or rings that you had to rub to summon them.”

  Sula smiled. “Zardi, your description is a good one. You are right, once upon a time djinnis could be seen in Taraket. Even the sultan that Shahryār deposed had one. She’d served the royal family for many generations.” Sula made an arch with her fingers. “You are also correct that djinnis bound to an object like a lamp or ring cannot kill human beings, but you should understand that not all djinnis are tethered like this. Those that sided with Eria, the great wizard, during the Battle of Akkad many eons ago are free beings, while those that did not were cursed to become the servants of mortals and were each shackled to a physical object. I am half djinni, but that is only of interest insofar as my djinni blood has given me certain skills.”

  Zardi braced herself, almost as if she was on the Falcon and it was skirting the edge of a whirlpool. Her whole life, magic was something forbidden. Now here it was right in front of her.

  “If you have magical abilities, why didn’t Shahryār have you killed, like he killed everyone else?” Rhidan asked shortly. “How do we know you’re telling the truth?”

  Sula’s eyes flashed angrily. “I live because I hid. Because for years, I denied who I was. I still hide. Not even my son knows the whole truth about me. It is safer for everyone that way.”

  “So why are you telling us?” Zardi asked.

  “Because I have been waiting for you. An important destiny awaits you both, though it is still shadowy in my mind.” Sula looked resolute. “My dreams have told me that I am the only one who can set you on your path, and so that is what I will do. You must follow your destinies, even if it means that the two of you will have to be parted.”

  “Zardi, let’s get out of here.” Rhidan was on his feet. “We have our destiny already. Zardi’s father and sister are in trouble and we’re going to save them together.”

  Sula stood slowly, and Zardi was struck by just how tall she was. Her presence filled the whole room, almost as if the very sense of her was expanding right in front of them. The medicine woman stared straight at Rhidan. “You have been looking for answers your whole life,” she said. “Are you really going to walk away when you are so close to finding what you seek?”

  Zardi touched Rhidan’s arm. It was quivering with rage and something else—fear, maybe. “Sit down. We have to let her finish.”

  “Fine.” Rhidan threw himself into the chair. “Pray tell, Sula, what answers can you give me?”

  “I think it will be easier to show you,” Sula replied. She walked over to one of the chamber’s walls and plucked a glass bottle off a shelf. Arriving at the table, she pulled out the bottle’s stopper and tipped the vessel upside down. Three thick silver drops fell onto the tabletop. The globules instantly gathered together and then spread until the entire surface of the table was a shiny sheet.

  “Show him,” Sula said, waving her palm over the reflective surface.

  Zardi gasped as an image of a barren strip of land edged with high cliffs of black onyx appeared on the silver tabletop. An imposing fortress made out of the same shiny black stone rose out of the center of the isle and slashed the stormy sky like a blade. The fortress was all angles and sharp edges and had no apparent entrance. Surrounded by dark and torrid wa
ter the color of steel, this strange island was awesomely cold and dismal.

  “What is this place?” Rhidan questioned.

  “Your home,” Sula replied. “The Black Isle.”

  Rhidan’s violet eyes seemed to fill his whole face. “B-but… Sinbad said that this place didn’t exist,” he stammered.

  “My son thinks of my stories as fables and fairy tales.” Sula leaned in close, her face soft with kindness. “His instincts were right when he identified you as an Ilian. He just didn’t know it.”

  “How do we get there?” Rhidan asked, not taking his eyes from the table’s surface.

  The medicine woman shook her head. “The Black Isle is far away and has a powerful dissembling spell,” she said. “That means it can disguise itself, become invisible, or move at will. You’ll be driven crazy trying to chase it.”

  Zardi’s stomach churned. A moving island, a dissembling spell? “Why is it disguised?” she asked. “Are the people on it hiding?”

  Sula gave an elegant shrug. “The sorcerers of the Black Isle are extremely powerful, but they have not been seen here in Arribitha since Shahryār came to the throne. They have many enemies who have long tried to steal their magic. Perhaps they are just trying to protect themselves.”

  Rhidan was making little puffing sounds as though he was short of breath. “If I come from the Black Isle, does that mean I’m a sorcerer? That I can do magic?”

  “There is no doubt you are of sorcering stock.” Sula studied him. “Whether you can do magic is an entirely different matter.” She sat down at the table and stared at the two keenly, as if challenging them to keep up. “There are different types of magic in this world. Sorcerers have Kanate magic. They absorb the natural magic that exists all around us, from every object, from every drop of water. But it is no easy feat; it takes much stamina. You’ll need to discover for yourself whether this is something that you can do and, what’s more, whether this is something you can control.”