Magic Under Stone

“I do believe you just want some sense that you’re your own man. I can’t blame you for that. And you’re right-you still wouldn’t really be free, but it would be a gesture of trust on my part. Can I trust you? Or are the myths about your people true?”

“Are the myths about your people true?” Ifra said, barely breathing. “I do mean it.”

“I believe you,” Luka said. He put a hand on his son’s shoulder before he could protest. “I’d rather earn loyalty than force it, but with times being as they are, know that I won’t tolerate tricks.”

“I won’t disappoint you, Master Luka.”

Luka made a faint nod, and Ifra felt the tension drain from him-at least for now.

Luka turned to his son. “You’ve done very well.”

Belin looked slightly impatient, but he lowered his head deferentially. “Thank you, Father.”

“Now, jinn, if you’ll follow me, I’m eager to find out what you’re capable of.” Luka moved toward heavy wooden doors carved with trees and animals. A waiting guard dressed in black and scarlet opened them to reveal a garden.

Just outside waited two other young men who bore a strong resemblance to Belin. One had a young woman hanging on his arm. The other man was grinning, but Ifra detected aggression in his eyes.

“What, no greeting for your brothers, Belin?” the grinning man said.

“I came straight to Father,” Belin said, glaring.

“Who’s this?” Belin’s brother was staring at the golden cuffs at Ifra’s wrists. The smile was gone now.

“Whoever he is, he’s beautiful,” said the woman, looking at Ifra with open interest.

Belin paused, then replied, “He belongs to Father now, and he is Father’s to introduce.”

Ifra fought back a sick feeling in his gut, hearing himself referred to as a possession. Somehow, granting three wishes and then departing never felt like this. Or had it? His memory of his first few masters was already fading.

“It’s quite obvious, I think,” Luka said, stepping forward. “Belin has brought me a jinn. Jinn, these are my other sons, Tamin and Ilsin, and Ilsin’s wife, Elsana.”

Tamin’s eyes narrowed slightly. “A jinn, eh? I’m surprised you made it out of the ruins alive, Belin.”

“Well, I did,” Belin said with cool hostility. Luka gave him a sharp look, and he bowed quickly. “Father, I shall leave you to enjoy your gift.”

“Thank you, Belin.” Luka smiled almost apologetically at Tamin. “Big risks must be rewarded, you know.”

Tamin’s nostrils flared. He didn’t say anything; he merely tapped Ilsin on the shoulder and both of them left. Only Elsana said good-bye.

Luka resumed his stroll through the gardens. Vegetables grew alongside flower bushes. A young woman in a plain lilac dress walked the edge with a watering can. Vines, some of them as thick as a wrist with age, climbed the surrounding walls on all sides.

“Is Belin your youngest son?” Ifra asked, not entirely understanding the exchange he had just seen. Ifra imagined he must be the youngest, to be allowed to travel to the vast ruins, full of caved-in corridors, narrow tunnels, and traps, where all jinn dwelt until they were freed or permanently enslaved. Once a jinn finished his or her service, his or her lamp or vessel reappeared in the depths of the ruins. Over time, a city had built up around them, an entire tourist trade catering to intrepid adventurers and desperate men who wanted three wishes. Thousands of people braved the ruins, so while some jinn still slept for decades, waiting to be found, most jinn were awakened every few years. Ifra hadn’t gone six months without a new master.

“By some minutes, yes. The boys are triplets.”

“What fortune!” said Ifra. With the ranks of jinn ever dwindling, news of twins born to a jinn mother might travel for hundreds of miles.

Luka grunted. “It killed their mother. She was already dead when the midwife took Belin from her womb. And it hasn’t made things easy for me. Who do I give the kingdom to when I’m gone? That’s why I told them each to go forth and bring me back a gift, just like in the old days. Whoever’s gift was the greatest treasure would inherit. It’ll go to Belin, now. His brothers returned a good year or two before him, one with a very fine antique sword and one with a sacred wine cup that never runs dry. But I’d say a jinn beats them both. Swords and wine, I have.”

“Ah…” Now Ifra understood the hostility from Tamin. “I’m sorry about your wife.”

“Probably better for her,” Luka answered. “They were certainly a trio of little scamps, and they all wanted the throne like they want everything, but if something isn’t done, none of them will have it.”

They had crossed the covered path cutting through the garden’s center, and now entered a common hall. While the throne room had been hushed and ancient, this equally vast room bustled with life-a crackling hearth, gentlemen playing cards, ladies in gowns of trailing silk strolling past the carved wooden support columns in close conversation, a harpist in the corner providing gentle music, even a palm reader tracing the lines of a girl’s hand. Even here, small trees and flowers sprung from breaks in the tiled floors.

“How do the trees grow indoors?” Ifra asked, still curious about the throne room.

“Oh, the trees in the Hall of Oak and Ash have an ancient lineage. When we came across the ocean five hundred years ago, fleeing the humans, we had to leave the old trees behind, but we brought saplings. Those trees grew from the saplings. As long as anyone can remember, the throne of our people has been protected by the sacred trees. The king’s trees. They don’t need light or water to grow, only the presence of their king, and they lend him wisdom to assure that the king always acts for the good of his people-if he’s not too stubborn to listen. The last Tanharrow king…” Luka scoffed.

“What did he do?”

“Well, you must understand, we were on this continent first. The humans in the old world were running us out of the forests for the lumber and the animals, so we came here. We had almost two hundred peaceful years before human greed and human ships caught up to us. They’ve driven us out of the eastern ports over the years, and then thirty years ago, we went to war and lost our trade route up the Great Serpent River. Now all we have is the southern passage. The Tanharrow family was working toward a truce when the humans wiped them out. But the humans don’t really want peace and neither do I. It’s us or them. My sons will inherit a conflict that won’t end until we wipe them off the continent.”

Ifra had followed Luka down a hall to a smaller chamber. Now Luka drew keys from his pocket and unlocked the door to an office. A map was spread across a table, and a desk was strewn with papers.

“Which brings me to you,” Luka said.

“What do you ask of me?”

Luka crossed the room, opening a drawer. He rummaged there a moment, then drew a nearby chair underneath him to sit while he continued his search.

“For five hundred years on this continent and beyond,” Luka said, “this kingdom passed from father to son-or sometimes daughter-an unbroken chain of Tanharrows. Remarkable, isn’t it?

“But the Tanharrow clan-every last one of them-died in the war. Or so everyone supposed. The soul of Erris Tanharrow, the ninth son, was trapped in the body of a clockwork man. He has recently been found and the clockwork given gruesome animation. But it’s not really life. He could hardly be fit to rule. He was five years younger than me when he was trapped, so he’s never had a chance to grow beyond the seventeen-year-old dandy I remember. Besides that, I doubt he has the strength of character to hold up under trying circumstances.”

Seventeen… and trapped. I know what that feels like. Ifra, like all jinn, had gone into his vessel to begin granting wishes on his seventeenth birthday. Now he aged only while he was granting wishes. If he continued to live a month here and a month there, hundreds of years might pass before he died of old age, and it would be a life without attachments, without family. While Luka spoke, Ifra gazed out the window, at a view of gently sloped land covered in forest. A young couple walked hand in hand on a sun-dappled path woven through the woods.

“Still,” Luka continued, “those who disagree with the way I’ve handled things think the restoration of the Tanharrows would solve all our problems. My first request of you is to bring Erris Tanharrow to me, intact and unharmed, without alerting anyone to your mission. Can you do that?”

Ifra turned from the window-and briefly started when he saw not Luka, but a man with pallid skin clinging to delicate bones, his red hair cropped to his skull and peppered with white. And then it was gone, a trick of the eye.

Ifra remembered to answer. “I-I should be able to manage it. Does Erris Tanharrow have any magic I should be