But they could not stay here, and the prospect of being whisked to Ta Ntry, to the richly lush coast his mother had spun bedtime stories about, to a place where Ali might find family and safety, was tantalizing.
Almost as tantalizing as facing off against his brother’s murderer.
Do not be reckless. Ali rose to his feet. Nahri felt too light, her skin covered in blood and mud, her dress torn. He trembled with the knowledge of how close he’d come to losing her.
He swallowed the lump rising in his throat. “May I request an … exchange?” he asked, his pulse jumping.
The marid gazed at him. “Speak.”
“She had a black bag with her, filled with medical tools. Metal things. I do not see it floating—”
Before Ali could finish the request, Nahri’s bag was being held incongruously in the marid’s webbed hands. It was dripping water but otherwise looked fine. “This?”
Ali nodded, trying to hide his fear. “And your price?”
Sobek tilted his head, considering. “Information. You will speak to me while we journey. I will have questions. You will answer them truthfully.”
Answers you couldn’t find digging through my head? But Ali didn’t say that. He just nodded grimly and took the bag. He could do this for the friend who’d saved him so many times.
“Understood,” he said, looping the strap through his weapons belt, still thankfully secure at his waist.
“Then let us go.” Sobek turned back around.
Ali took a deep breath and followed the marid into the Nile.
the water was at his chest when the world turned over. Ali stumbled as starlight and black water vaulted overhead as though he were rolling down a hill. His next step was on firm, wet earth, the smell of rich vegetation—of life—so heavy in the air it made him dizzy. He glanced up and gasped.
Gone was the dark, muddy river. Or if not gone, transformed. The water arched around him like a tunnel, marshy roots and submerged trees stretching to hold up a glittering canopy of refracted celestial light, glimmering droplets, and dappled green lily pads. Fish and turtles swam past, the silvery whites of their bellies flickering like candles.
Ali stared in wonder at the extraordinary sight. “Beautiful” didn’t come close to capturing the magic of the world around him. He might have been in a temple to the Nile itself, an illuminated mosque of water and stars. A long, narrow path stretched into the distance, warm, silty earth pebbled with shining river rocks and flecks of gold and white stone. And though he was breathing air, gentle currents of invisible mist teased his waist, billowing under his arms. Ali felt as though he could close his eyes and catch them, drift in peace along the languid Nile as it wound through desert villages and lush mountains …
Sobek’s heavy hand clasped his shoulder. “Take care. If your mind wanders here, you will go with it.”
Ali nodded, still bewitched. He gazed at the river path again, the glimmer of gold and silver-white tugging at his mind. “The river of salt and gold,” he said, remembering. “You—you’re the marid of the river of salt and gold. You’re the one whose memory I saw in my dream, of Anahid raising the island and—”
Sobek released his shoulder so fast that Ali tripped. “Yes,” he said in a blunt way that left no space for questions. “You can breathe and swim in our manner?”
Thrown by the change in topic, Ali stammered an answer. “Yes. I mean, I cannot drown if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Then it would be easiest if we swam.” The marid’s eyes flashed to Nahri. “I could turn her into a fish, and she could accompany us.”
Ali instantly stepped back, hugging Nahri closer. “I don’t want you to turn her into a fish.”
Sobek’s head swiveled on his neck. Again, Ali would swear he saw a hint of a long snout and serrated teeth.
“You fear I shall harm her.” It wasn’t a question.
“I saw your memory,” Ali replied, trembling. “You swore vengeance against Anahid.”
“She is not only Anahid’s,” Sobek countered, pointing at Nahri. The webbing between his fingers looked like an armored glove. “She is also born of the people of this land—my land, my waters—and my bond with them stretches back long before that daeva demoness set foot in our lake.”
“Nahri’s human family was from Egypt?” Ali suspected that would bring her comfort. When the marid nodded, he ventured further. “Does she have any relatives still here?”
“They are dead.” The marid turned, the movement jerky; Ali half expected to see a crocodile tail hit the sand. “Come, if you insist on walking. These paths are meant to be swum and they are difficult to maintain in this manner.”
Adjusting Nahri in his arms, Ali followed the marid. The marid. After all this time, it seemed impossible he should be at the side of one of the creatures. A hundred questions hovered on his lips, and yet Ali—who’d been desperate for answers about his possession, who was normally never one to turn away a source of information—found himself almost afraid to speak.
Sobek wasn’t. “How many of you are left?”
Ali didn’t understand the question. “It’s just us,” he said. “Nahri and I—”
The marid clicked his teeth in irritation. “How many of your kin? I have seen your sister spin water in your mind, and your mother keeps our tradition. How many others are there?”
New apprehension rose through Ali. “Why do you want to know about my family?”
“Because you requested a favor, and I granted it. Now answer me.”
Lying in the powerful marid’s realm with an unconscious Nahid in his arms seemed unwise, but Ali still skirted the question. “I’m not certain. I grew up in Daevabad and don’t know my mother’s relatives well.”
“Have they always lived in Ta Ntry?”
“Yes,” Ali answered before realizing that wasn’t quite true. There was a reason his mother was queen, after all, her family well connected politically. “I mean, mostly. My mother told me our ancestors frequently traveled back and forth between Ta
