Worldsoul

was a child again, excited about the zoo and seeing all the animals.

“Can we see the tiger?”

“Yes, and the marmosets. You like those, don’t you? We’ve got all afternoon. We can see whatever you like.”

Shadow, happy, walked with her aunt along the track and they came to the first of the pens. A stout spotted hyena basked in the afternoon sunshine, fast asleep. Shadow did not like hyenas very much-they smelled-so they did not linger.

“Look! Do you see the camels?”

The pens were large and spacious, with plenty of room for the animals to roam. This one was the size of a field, with troughs for the camels to feed. Each had one hump, and their sandy coats made them blend into the earth.

“Aren’t they funny?” her aunt said.

Then one of the camels turned and looked directly at Shadow, who stopped in alarm. The camel’s coat was black and so were its eyes, with a flicker of scarlet within. Its lips drew back, displaying sharp, pointed teeth.

“Look!” Aunt Behamiah said again. “Isn’t he funny?”

It was evident that she could not see what Shadow saw. From a long way away, the adult Shadow realised what was happening: the fleeing spirit was taking refuge in her memories, hiding out at a day at the zoo. She remembered this day, now: it had been a happy one, with no peculiar incidents. The camel was Gremory. The beasts-a figure of strangeness to Europeans-were linked to the moon and to certain demons. Gremory, as camel, winked a black-red eye at Shadow and took a graceful leap over the barrier. Aunt Behamiah did not appear to notice. Shadow watched as the camel raced down the sandy track, and she could see something running now, flickering in and out of the trees. She let go of her aunt’s hand and sped after it, glancing over her shoulder to see Behamiah standing in complacent ignorance.

“Hey!” Shadow shouted at the fleeing dark shape. “Leave my memory alone!” She was outraged that the nice day at the zoo was being hijacked by this demon-and-ifrit show. “Not so smug now, are you?”

But as she came around a thicket of flowering oleander, the camel stood alone.

“Lost him,” Gremory said. It sounded odd, coming out of a camel’s jaws. She worked her mouth and spat sideways into the bushes. “Sod it.”

Shadow had a splitting headache. The ifrit had gone to ground, hiding deep within. Occasionally she felt a twitch, like a nervous tic, and it made her jump, but she wasn’t sure whether this was the spirit resurfacing or her own nerves.

Gremory perched on the arm of the divan. It looked unbalanced: a human would have toppled it, but the demon appeared to have no weight. Shadow filed that away for future reference.

“Sorry.” The demon sounded remarkably sincere. “Nearly had him but he gave me the slip.” She raised a long, elegant hand and Shadow saw a wisp of smoke emanating from the tip of her taloned forefinger. There was the smell of sandalwood; Gremory inhaled.

“Do you know what he wants?”

“He’s a prince of the air. Do you know what that is?”

“I’ve done my studies,” Shadow answered, irritably. “In fact, it’s what the Shah told me to ask the ifrit in the first place-that was the ruse to get it to talk to us. I suppose he did that because if this thing is also a prince, it would be bound to know, and it was probably interested. They’re true spirits-ifrits, not demons or angels-neither good enough for Heaven nor bad enough for Hell. So they wander, in groups. They have ships.” The Barquess came suddenly to mind: not much difference, perhaps.

“This one is either a renegade, or he’s lost. I say a ‘prince.’ He might be lower in the hierarchy than that-in fact, he almost certainly is. He’s possibly a duke, or something: someone who’s fallen out with the Prince himself and who’s had to go on the run. The Shah found him, trapped him, called you in and now he’s-”

“-in me.”

“Unfortunately, yes.” The demon touched her smouldering talon to her lips. “He’s going to be difficult to dislodge. Knows a lot of tricks. I do know someone who could help, bu-”

“But?”

“He’s out in the Great Desert. The Khaureg.”

After a moment, Shadow said, “Oh.”

“You’ve been beyond the city?”

“Yes, once. My knife comes from the desert.”

For the first time, the demon looked genuinely intrigued. “Does it? That means you won it.”

“Yes. I killed someone for it.”

“Who?”

“No one important.”

“Everyone’s important to someone,” the demon said. “I’m wondering if your knife is connected to the spirit that’s possessing you now.”

“If this is some elaborate plot, then the Shah could just have taken it, couldn’t he?”

“I don’t think it’s a plot. I think it’s a fortuitous incident.”

“Well,” Shadow said. “I won once. And I’ll win again.”

Interlude

There was a burning tree outside the open window. The Duke leaned on the sill and looked out into its smouldering branches. There was fruit among the blazing leaves, globes of glowing gold. The Duke was almost tempted to reach out and pluck one of them, but she did not think Astaroth would approve. Beyond the tree, the metal walls of the city rose up in concentric rings towards the molten sky.

“She’s ready to see you now.”

The Duke’s boots rang out along the floor as she made her way into the audience chamber. Astaroth was standing by the window, staring down at a document. At least, the Duke thought, her own life was not constrained by paperwork, whatever other problems she might currently be encountering.

“Gremory.”

“My prince.” The Duke bowed.

“How is it going?”

This required delicate handling. “Well,” Gremory began.

“You haven’t found it, have you?”

“Not exactly. But I have found the thief.”

This got Astaroth’s full attention.

“Have you, indeed? Where is he?”

“He was captured by Shah Suleiman of Worldsoul, and is now residing in the body of an alchemist, one Shadow.”

“How very original!”

The Duke sighed.

“A bit too original.”

“So why have you not extracted him?”

“It became-complicated. I chased him, but he has taken refuge in the woman’s memories. It’s not within my power to retrieve him.” Gremory paused. “He’s very skilled at evasion.”

“He would be,” Astaroth said. “He was well trained.”

Gremory knew better than to ask leading questions, but the Prince said, “He is a spy.”

“I see.”

“That which he has stolen is information.”

“I had surmised as much. What course of action do you want me to pursue now?”

“Am I to understand that killing the woman would achieve nothing?”

“I had considered it,” the Duke said, “but it could simply provide our quarry with another escape route. The