Flustered, Ali tried to explain. “They’re not baubles. They’re books. Precious ones we thought might honor you. Knowledge and stories and history. Entertainment,” he blurted out, remembering Sobek’s earlier advice.
Tiamat leered closer. Then perhaps I shall spare you and it, and make you both part of my court. Drag you out to read, to entertain us all when the whim strikes. One of her tentacles reached out, stroking the new patch of reptilian skin on his shoulder. Down here, you should last a millennium or so if we keep replacing parts.
Ali tried not to shudder. “I—”
The marid mother didn’t let him finish. The tentacle slapped him roughly, and then her laughter boomed again, cruel and mocking. But that is not what you want, Alizayd al Qahtani. You want to go home to your people and be a great hero. To grow old with your daeva family and the Nahid you love without ever thinking of the marid again.
There was no denial he could make. Tiamat had seen into his mind, and Ali didn’t think she’d appreciate him lying.
“Yes,” he confessed.
A spray of water destroyed the chest of books, striking it so violently that pages and bindings went flying, their ink instantly coloring the water. The liquid rushed to him, winding up his legs.
So why have you not mentioned your most worthy offering?
Ali trembled, watching the ruined pages float away. The abrupt annihilation of something so priceless shook him to his core. “I have nothing else.”
But you do.
And there, with another burst of water, was Fiza.
The shafit captain was unconscious, her braids and clothing in disarray. A nasty gash split her cheek, and one eye was blackened. But she was alive, her chest rising and falling with her breath.
Ali lunged forward. “Fiza!”
Give her to me in our way, Tiamat urged. Cut her throat in my name, and she’ll be reborn as one of my fighters, she said, gesturing to the stone army. Once a century I grant one freedom when we gather to watch them battle. A woman with a touch of daeva blood should be a fascinating addition.
Ali recoiled. “Never.”
Then perhaps I shall let the sea crush her and give you to my fighters. Though it hardly seems fair—a man with the power of fire and water against poor, bewitched humans.
There was a cruel eagerness in the way she said the words that sent apprehension dancing down his spine. Tiamat had seen inside his head. She knew Ali was not going to murder an innocent friend, let alone do it while chanting some sea demon’s name.
So what was she after?
“Do it,” Sobek warned. “You have nothing else to give her.”
“I don’t need your opinion on murder,” Ali snapped back, struggling to keep the emotion from his voice. He had a sudden, almost violent need to have Nahri at his side. She would have been able to figure out what Tiamat wanted. Cutting a deal was what she had begged him to do.
Tiamat was laughing. So ungrateful to your progenitor.
Ali swallowed hard. “There must be some way we can help each other. I am allied with the Banu Nahida. Perhaps we can negotiate the return of the lake—”
Tiamat chuckled and then dropped to his level so fast that Ali jumped. Her gleaming skull was the size of a hill, her jagged teeth longer than he was tall.
Beyond, more marid were coming. They’d pressed forward at the mention of the lake, bright eyes flashing.
Tiamat didn’t seem as intrigued. Why barter with daeva over an old lake when I have the entire ocean? No, mortal, I was awakened to deal with you and Sobek, and so I shall. You wish to preserve the life of yourself and your friend and travel the currents to save your home. Sobek, you are alone, yearning to rejoin us. What if there was a way to settle all of this?
At Ali’s side, Sobek stilled. “You said my exile was permanent. That if I communed with another, you would stop the waters that feed my river and make me watch my land die.”
And now I offer you a chance at forgiveness, to prove your affection for these creatures has faded.
“His affection?” Ali repeated. “He lured generations of my ancestors astray, and when they refused to betray their people, he devoured them!”
Tiamat grinned. See what your spawn thinks of you, Sobek? They will never be grateful, never loyal.
Sobek glared, perhaps his own temper catching. A marid whose natural form was a crocodile likely had a short one. “I warned you to run,” he growled to Ali. “I might have carved that seal from your heart. I might have let the marid of the monsoon drive you insane.”
Tiamat was licking her teeth. Chaos, she craved. Entertainment.
Surely in an age where the humans have forgotten us, we only need one lord of the river of salt and gold. Tiamat moved back from the arguing pair, knocking over the top level of a ziggurat to lounge upon the drowned city. She gazed at them with her ghastly eyes. May the victor be rewarded with my grace.
The victor. Ali glanced again at the field of stone soldiers. At the arena. Surely she wasn’t suggesting …
Don’t be reckless, Nahri had warned.
Ali made a motion of peace. “Wait, let’s just—”
Sobek lunged at him.
ANY HOPES ALI MIGHT HAVE ENTERTAINED OF SOBEK’S mercy vanished the moment the Nile marid smashed into his chest. They fell to the ground, and Ali threw up his arms to protect his face. Sobek raked them with his claws, and then went for Ali’s throat.
Tiamat was indeed going to get her entertainment.
He thrust his shoulder into the underside of Sobek’s snout—the Nile marid was all crocodile now, and three times bigger than his unfortunate descendant—just as Sobek’s jagged teeth grazed his neck. Ali reached out, seizing his jaws and fighting with both hands to keep the marid’s mouth shut.
“Oh, you’re angry?” Ali accused as they wrestled. “Bastard.” He grunted. “Do you know how hard it is
