The Wrath and the Dawn(23)
Shahrzad paused for effect.
“And then . . . the boat started to creak. Briny water began seeping into the seams. Aghast, Agib discovered the brass bolts were cracking at the edges, allowing the sea to flow in through the joints. In a panic, he tried to bail the water out of the boat with his bare hands. When he realized the futility of his efforts, he grabbed the chalice and rubbed its surface. The genie appeared and sat calmly on the boat’s listing bow. ‘We are sinking!’ Agib shouted at the genie. ‘You assured me I would reach my homeland without any harm befalling my person!’ The genie merely stared at Agib, without a seeming care in the world. ‘You may ask me a question, Master,’ he replied. Agib glanced about frantically, wondering if now was the time to use his last, and most precious, question. Just then on the horizon, Agib saw the mast of another boat—a much larger vessel. He stood up and waved his hands, shouting for its attention. When it shifted in his direction, Agib yelled with triumph, and the genie smirked before vanishing back into his chalice. Agib boarded the vessel, trembling with gratitude, his clothes tattered and his sun-stained face hidden beneath a scraggly beard. But, lo . . .”
The caliph’s eyebrows lifted.
“When the owner of the vessel emerged from belowdecks, Agib was horrified to discover it was none other than the emir . . . the very man whose soldiers had chased him out of Baghdad and driven him to take this wretched voyage in the first place. For an instant, Agib considered plunging headfirst into the sea, but, when the emir smiled warmly at him and welcomed him aboard the ship, Agib realized his disheveled appearance made him all but unrecognizable. So he broke bread at the emir’s table, sharing in his food and drink as though he were unaware of his patron’s identity. The elder gentleman was a consummate host, refilling Agib’s cup with his own hand and regaling him with tales of his many seafaring adventures. As the evening wore on, Agib learned the emir had set sail several weeks ago in search of an island with a mysterious mountain at its center. Hidden on this island was a chalice with the mystical power to answer any question in the world—past, present, and future.”
The caliph leaned back on his elbow, his eyes warm.
“At this news, Agib stilled. For, of course, the emir could be speaking of none other than the very chalice lying in Agib’s pouch. Feigning complete ignorance, Agib asked the emir why he had decided to take on such a dangerous mission, especially in the twilight years of his life. The emir’s eyes saddened. He confessed there was one reason, and one reason alone, for him to take to the sea in search of the black mountain and its hidden chalice. Several weeks ago, something very precious had been stolen from him—a ring that had belonged to his dead wife. It was all that remained of her, and he considered it his most prized possession. In the streets of Baghdad, a gifted thief had slipped the trinket from the emir’s own hand and disappeared into the crowd with the stealth of a shadow. Ever since that afternoon, the emir had been haunted at night by the ghost of his dead wife, and he knew he had to recover that ring, whatever the cost. If he could ask the chalice where it was, he could appease his wife’s spirit and restore honor to the memory of their love.”
“So his question to an all-knowing genie would be about a mere trinket of love?” the caliph interjected.
“A mere trinket? Love is a force unto itself, sayyidi. For love, people consider the unthinkable . . . and often achieve the impossible. I would not sneer at its power.”
The caliph held her gaze. “I am not sneering at its power. I am lamenting its role in this story.”
“You are saddened by love’s importance in the emir’s life?”
He paused. “I am frustrated by its importance in all our lives.”
Shahrzad’s lips formed a sad smile. “That’s understandable. If a bit predictable.”
He inclined his head. “Again, you presume to know a great deal for a day and two nights, my queen.”
Shahrzad averted her eyes and toyed with the corner of the red pillow in her arms. She felt a flush in her cheeks.
My queen?
At her silence, he stirred with discomfort.
“You’re right,” Shahrzad murmured. “I should not have said that.”
He inhaled through his nose.
An odd stillness seemed to stretch over the room.
“And I should not have interrupted you. I’m sorry,” he whispered.
Shahrzad wound the scarlet fringe of the pillow tight between her fingers.