Anyone got a plan yet?
Warda didn’t know what to say. She was caught between thoughts of her parents and the fact she was clearly sat between two very touched beings. She cringed that she knew some things that Sammi evidently didn’t, or perhaps she did, but didn’t want anyone else to know. And she knew she was special too, and that she had to speak up, otherwise they were just going to go back to being silent and cross with each other.
She missed her chance, however, because just then a sleek black cat came in at the window, jumped to the floor, and then Ibakafir was stood there, as usual, looking pleased with himself.
“Well, I see we’re all friends again,” he said, before coming to lean heavily on the back of Warda’s chair, which gave her something else to add to the muddle in her mind. “Hayaman, is there some fish left for me? Running the length and breadth of the city is hungry work!”
“What did you find out?” Warda said, tipping her head back to look at him. He touched her forehead with two fingers and said, “better eat first. You may not have a stomach for it afterwards.”
This, of course, gave Warda no will to eat at all, even though the fish were very fresh and had fried so long the skins were crisp and curling away from the steaming white flesh. The others ate with either the resolve or the desperation of those who know bad news is coming and they don’t know when they’ll eat next. Only Ibakafir seemed to really enjoy his, standing with his plate, as there were no chairs, gnawing the meat off the bone without ceremony and tossing the remains out the window. When she couldn’t be persuaded to eat more than a few flakes, Ibakafir saw Warda’s plate was clean, too, before he began his tale.
“I went first to Warda’s house. The bridge was quite clear and the riverside bustling with the usual hawkers and donkeys and Warders. Didn’t seem like anything big was going on. Warda’s apartment was dark, so I was worried. I went up the stairs and in at an unshuttered window. I’d not been in before, so I don’t know how much had changed. The rooms were all furnished in an outlandish fashion, like the Shari of all the cycles past had gone through and installed their favourite decoration with no thought for what had gone before. All but one room, at the far end, which was quite bare and shuttered up; the room I used to see you sighing from, ‘tena. As I walked out of that room, the two returned. They seemed happy enough, quiet, all limbs intact. I slipped past as they were lighting the candles.”
Warda knew two things from this; her parents had suffered something, as they were many things but never quiet, not if they’d been out; and that either they had found out she was involved in something bad or someone had searched the room; bad memories, bad energy for the house, was one of very few reasons why her mother would have thrown away any of her gaudy decorations.
“So next I went via the Lunaria, to see if our friends the Priestesses were up to anything. The doors were open for evening service, but we are at the ebb of the cycle, so it was mostly souls who had missed the Mourning Eid, making a few last minute offerings. It’s never too late, as they say. None of those on duty seemed to be behaving out of the ordinary, no guards placed anywhere, not sudden purchase of gryphons at the door, so whatever they are up to cannot be seen from any gallery a cat can access, and I ran all the way to the prayer chamber, the door to the Depths and everywhere! Being a holy animal has its advantages.”
He paused to give a smug look around the room, but as he hadn’t said anything interesting, no one was inclined to give him a wink or a nod, so he continued;
“And so at last I came to the gates of the great house of Asadina. I had to scale the wall, of course. Inside it is somewhat gloomy. There is a room on which the scrolls of prophecy, myth and blind hope have been scattered about. There is writing on them in modern paints, as though someone is trying to write the answer over all of them at once. In another room, a powerfully-built man with neatly combed, grey hair and military robes sits at a desk. As I passed by the window he thumped the desk and threw an object across the room, then continued to drink from a glass goblet. I saw no other living soul downstairs, and the sills of the upper floor were too high even for I. Even the servants had made themselves scarce. A boy was grooming the horses at the far end of the garden, but I could see no way to safely ask after Salma. No way that would not result in my being reported. It seemed to me your father is greatly angered by something. I wonder what that could be?”
Warda wanted to hit Ibakafir for his cruel humour. It seemed he couldn’t help but be full of himself, even now.
“Were you able to see any of the scrolls?” asked Sammi, “do you know any more about what we are supposed to do?”
“Alas,” he said, opening his hands out to show how empty they were, “I think the best that we can do is to trust to prophecy. Wouldn’t you agree, Warda?”
Warda sat up suddenly and felt herself go very red. Sammi looked at her with interest. “Well, go on,” she said, “what do you think, Warda?”
Warda took a deep breath, “I think we should trust to prophecy, like Ibakafir says, because, I think I’m in it. Deemalasri-ten explained that the demi-gods left bits of themselves behind, although I don’t really know what she meant by some of the reasons. She said I have part of Haymutah-teni in me, and it’s attracting all the stray magic that’s in the world. I’m filling up, and sometimes, when I really concentrate, I can let it back out again and use it. Like I did with the Temple doors.” Warda started praying for the sandy banks of the river to open up and drag her away, but Sammi didn’t seem too angry, so she continued.
“The ewer in your vision,” she said, “I think it’s me. I have to go with you to the Depths of Forever. Perhaps I’m supposed to use my magic there, to help open some sort of door we can’t see. Or if that place really is a link to Vistara in her other place, perhaps I’m to give her the power to come back. Either way, if I’m there and you’re there, something’s bound to happen, isn’t it?”
“It’s probably best we move sooner rather than later,” said Ibakafir, “They are stagnant now, but I’d stake my existence on there being agents of the Temple and of the House Asadina watching and waiting for your return, ladies.”
“I’m not sure,” said Utaba, “it all seems a little convenient that we might be able to stroll in like any traveller making offerings and restore Vistara to her position.”
“Then what do you suggest?” said Sammi, who was becoming excited and hopeful again, so ready to move as soon as possible.
“I don’t know,” he sighed.
“My brother is probably afeared that Mother dearest will be angry at him for not restoring her sooner,” mocked Ibakafir, “do not worry, Son of Shadows, she of all creatures knows that everything has it’s time.”
Utaba shouted, “Show some respect!” and stalked out of the room, slamming the front door.
Warda asked, “why did you call him “Son of Shadows”?”
Ibakafir shrugged, “It was an old, rude name for our kind. Djinn were made of fire and wind, there are the souls of the river said to save or drown Hayamen, but we were seen as spies and sneaks. Cats emerge from shadows. That’s what people said we were made from.”
“And what are you made from?” Warda asked.
“How should I know?” said Ibakafir. He walked across the room and leaned on table and chair, putting his face very close to hers, “When you restore Vistara, you can ask her!” he flicked his wrist again, then landed on Warda’s lap, head-butting her upraised, surprised hand before bounding off out of the window again.
“Not a house cat, then,” she said. Sammi yawned. “Akharman,” continued Warda, “what do you think?”
“I think you read the signs the Gods send you,” he said, puffing on his pipe, “You say Sammi saw the pair of you up in the Temple of Vistara. That’s as may be. Sometimes doesn’t pay to take these things too literal, but then I don’t know as there’s many places holier in this city, save Haymutah-teni herself. This is higher stuff than I know about, Warda-ten. You want to go to the Lunarium, I’ll take you up onto the Farmlands on the far side. You’ll be comin’ in opposite from where you left then. That’s about the best I can do for you. That and give you somewhere to sleep, of course.”
He got up and began putting down blankets for everyone, even though Warda didn’t expect Ibakafir to come back that night. Sammi was fighting it, but already her exuberance had given way to fatigue and she once again had her head on the table. Warda gently touched her arm as she passed.
“I’m just going to see that Utaba-tab is alright,” she said as she left.