“Does that mean we can eat it?”
“No, it means you can get me another before I start getting a feel for my instruments on you.”
Ali rolled his eyes but headed back toward their boat, water streaming down his legs. Ever prim, Ali kept a dry shawl within arm’s reach of the river when he swam, but he was still soaked to the bone, the glistening water droplets clinging to his bare skin twinkling in the sun.
“There are no more pomegranates,” he called back, rooting through the basket where they kept their fruit. “Will an orange do?”
Nahri didn’t respond right away. The shawl had slipped from Ali’s back while he searched, creating a rather distracting effect. The waist cloth he wore when swimming was tied tight around his hips. Very tight. And it too was still wet, leaving perhaps less to the imagination than its wearer intended.
Well, aren’t you looking fully recovered? Nahri forced herself to look away, self-aware enough to know staring at Ali’s backside was of little diagnostic value. “What?” she asked distractedly.
He turned around, holding up two oranges. “An acceptable offering?”
“Sure.”
Ali rejoined her. “I’m sorry for startling you.” He stretched his neck, rolling one shoulder. “It feels good to swim, though. I was so weak after taking the seal. I think a child could have beat me up.”
Nahri gave him an incredulous look, taking in his overly lithe form as he dropped to the ground. Forget where her thoughts had been a minute ago; even now Ali might have passed for some sort of fabled river spirit, a guardian of the water trickling down his arms. “You’re out of your mind. God knows I saw enough of you when you were sick, and you looked fine then too.”
Ali froze, the orange dangling from his fingertips. “What do you mean, you saw enough of me?”
“I mean …” Heat rushed into her cheeks. “You were unconscious for a couple of days. Who do you think took care of you? Yaqub? The man could barely see you.”
Horror swept his face. “But I had been bathed. I had been changed.”
Nahri tried to calm him. “Listen, it’s a very normal part of my job—” When Ali only appeared more panic-stricken, his eyes going very wide, her patience vanished. “Creator, why do you always make things so awkward? I’m a healer, I see people—men!—all the time. And it’s not like you have anything to be embarrassed about!”
Ali opened and closed his mouth. “Why don’t I have anything to be embarrassed about?”
Nahri was very much not expecting that question. Before she could stop herself, her mind flashed back to his wet waist cloth, and it was her turn to grow flustered. “You’re a warrior. You’ve clearly spent a lot of time training, and you’re, you know …” She fought for an appropriate word, cursing the embarrassed heat in her cheeks. “… well-formed.”
It was not an appropriate word.
Nahri swore she heard an insect sneeze in the excruciating silence that sprawled between them.
“I think that was a compliment,” Ali said finally, his gaze firmly on the ground. “So thank you. I’m going to change the subject now, yes?”
“I beg you.”
When he looked up again, his expression was politely blank. “These ruins,” he started. “All the carvings, they’re interesting, aren’t they?”
Nahri jumped into the topic with enthusiasm. “They’re fascinating!” They were, actually, an easy topic for two overly curious djinn to get distracted by. She nodded toward the larger pictograms dominating the fallen structure, the majority depicting a muscled man with the head of a crocodile. Faded paint still clung to it in pieces. “Considering half of them are carved with crocodiles though, maybe you should rethink all the swimming.”
“I’ll be careful.” Ali tossed her one of the oranges and set to peeling the other. “Do you know anything about the people who built these places?”
“Not really. I spent most of my childhood breaking laws, not learning history.” Nahri traced the figure of a woman carrying a platter of grain. “Maybe this was a temple. They’d have to be offering people paradise to spend all this time carving rocks.”
“You are aware there are similarly grand carvings of your ancestors on the walls surrounding Daevabad?”
“I’m very aware. Why do you think I used my religious clout to convince people to build a hospital? At least it’s useful.”
That brought a more genuine smile to Ali’s face, relaxing the mood. “Don’t you sound like quite the revolutionary? People would call me a fanatic if I said that.”
“To be fair, people call you a fanatic for a lot of reasons.”
“One should not concern oneself with gossip.” Ali handed her half the peeled orange. “Do you know that if you try to chisel down the Nahid reliefs, you dissolve into a puddle of brass?”
“You what?”
“Do you really think my ancestors would otherwise have left them up?”
Nahri groaned. “Tell me again why we’re not settling into peaceful lives in Cairo?”
“It’s the right thing to do?”
“It’s the life-shortening thing to do.”
“One step at a time,” Ali assured her. “First Ta Ntry.”
“Ah, yes, another mysterious magical court where I’ll arrive powerless with nothing but the clothes on my back and an assortment of people who want me dead.” Nahri shuddered. “What do you think would be worse: everyone’s magic failing the moment we get close with the seal, or their abilities already being gone?”
“I don’t imagine either option leaves us popular. But if my mother is back, we should be okay.” His face fell. “I wonder if they’ve heard any news by now. She might think I’m dead.”
We would probably be safest if everyone thought us dead.
“Put down the fruit,” Nahri said, coming to a decision and setting aside her own tools. “We’re practicing with the seal.”
Ali sighed. “We’ve not had any luck, Nahri. I think it’s clear Suleiman’s seal ring wasn’t meant to leave Daevabad. For all we know, we broke
