A Thousand Glass Flowers (The Chronicles of Eirie 3) (16 page)

‘Effendi is better?’
Ibn’s face with its grave eyes appeared around the doorjamb.

‘Yes. Thank you.
Can I have a moment more?’

‘T
ake your time.
It is rare to have someone
afford the private room here.
If they have money they go to the Jahal Hammam on the rich
side of Fahsi past the souks.’
He salaamed and left soundlessly, a waft of steam closing over him as if he had never been.

If they care for no reason then perhaps one should care back.
Finnian recalled the sadness in Ibn’s eyes as he talked of his brother.
He loved his brother as I could have loved mine – the
brother I never knew and who was murdered by one of the Cantrips of Unlife.
Instantly the lassitude left him, to be replaced by poisonous hatred and by the purpose that had become lost in the opium dens.

He wanted the charms for himself so that he could stand in front of Isolde and us
e the Earth charm to kill her.
And to watch her eyes as they clouded and as he said to her, ‘
I’ve beaten you, Isolde.’

It had all become clearer than a mountain stream.
Moonlady?
Wherever you are, I have made my choice; I will find the charms and the only reason I do this is to stop my grandmother, to
pay her back once and for all. Purely revenge.
Not for you nor the world out there, but for me.
‘Ibn, Ibn, where are you?’
He stood at the doorway as the tellak hurried up, the young bath-boy by his side.

‘What is it?
Are you ill?’

‘No, I’ll survive this tim
e but I need you to direct me.
I’ve heard there is an antiquarian in the souks, a seller of all things
useful from past and present.
I must find him quickly.’

‘Ah, effendi mean
s Curiosa, the antique dealer.
I’ll have the boy take you if you think you are strong enough although I can’t imagine why you would want to do business with
that
shady infidel.
He deals in odd curios, hence his name, an
d his background is a mystery.
It is known he came from Veniche but the tales change w
ith the teller.
I have heard he is a nobleman fallen foul of his famil
y and the Venichese judiciary.
It’s a good en
ough provenance and it serves.
You are well enough?’

Finnian nodded.
Curiosa.
‘I shall feel stronger if I see the sun and breathe some fresh air and I think I might need a coffee.’

Ibn laughed, a mellow sound, the antit
hesis of his habitual gravity.
‘There
is a coffeehouse near Curiosa.
Sit and drink before you do business with the man, sir, for you are still quite weak and you know what the
y say, more haste, less speed.
Curiosa is a cunning merchant who has lived in the souks long enough to understa
nd the ways of the Raji world.
I don’t believe he is an honest man and A
ine knows he is a wealthy one.
Sometimes I think wealth and dishonesty go hand in hand.’

‘You sound almost jaded about life, Ibn.’
Perhaps you are like me… a cynic.

‘Not jaded but certainly realistic because I have seen
all sorts in here, my friend.
Besides, one has to be realistic when one’s brother seeks the Mado
nna’s arms.
It ch
anges one’s whole perspective.
But,’ his voice rose cheerfully, ‘it also teaches you to val
ue every second you are given.
I say a prayer of gratitude daily for my own good fortune.’

‘Then Ibn, one can only assume that there is good fortune in your life for which you
can
be thankful.
As you say, there are people like your brother and many o
thers who aren’t so fortunate.
I wish I had more time as I would like to ask you if you think y
ou make your own good fortune.
Or is it purely the dice falling one way for one person or
another way for someone-else?’
He reached for Ibn’s hand and tipped gelt into it and then swiftly walked out, the boy hurrying behind as Ibn called after him.

‘It is some of both sir, luck and effort.  Take care.’

Luck and effort.
But Ibn’s words faded in the light that dazzled him
as he stepped into the street.
He brought
up a hand to shield his eyes.
The boy tugged at his kurta and he turned to follow, the dus
t and noise more bearable now.
A sense of need began to fill his bones and he chafed
the boy to quicken their pace.
He must
keep his lead ahead of Isolde.
He had wasted time in an obscene indulgence and it ha
d done nothing but weaken him.
He reached to his pocket for the small affirming square of parchment and stopped, the urgency of the moment freezing.

The boy turned.
‘Effendi?’

‘My clothes. The dirty ones… they had things…
’

‘Oh yes, sir. I forgot. Here.
Ibn took them from your pocket and gave them to me to place with your clean garments.’ He held out
a small linen wrapped bundle.

Finnian took it, opening it with care, noticing the clean kerchief, cleaner t
han the one that had been his.
The parchment lay inside and on top was a river stone, a piece of smooth white quartz with a hole worri
ed through its middle.
‘This,’ he said to the boy, holding up the stone between his fingers, ‘is not mine.’

‘It is, sir.
Ibn has a sm
all collection of such stones.
He gives them t
o people he has a feeling for.
He says it is a talisman blessed by the ri
ver djinns.
He has only ever given a tiny handful of such stones
since I have worked with him. That is two years. You are fortunate.
It is an honour.’

And Ibn thinks
I
am an honourable man?
T
hen he is deluded, for I am not.
‘You must thank him for me.’

‘I shall, sir. But see there? That is Curiosa’s. And there is the coffeehouse.
Shall you manage now?’

Finnian nodded and passed the boy some swiftly mesmered gelt, watching as the fellow hurried back i
n the direction of the hammam.
He rubbed at the white stone.
A talisman for the fey?
How quaint. But then perhaps not.
He realise
d it was a mark of friendship.
In Ibn’s language a mark of
faith perhaps.
He raised his eyebrows and shoved the stone in his pocket and recalled whispered words –
‘Curios, curiosa, curiosity.’
The Moonlady began to appear so much more than a drug-crazed dream and he could scarce believe it as he gazed across to the entrance of the antiquarian’s premises.

Lalita and Finnian.

Chapter Thirteen

Lalita dreamed.
She floated through gauze clouds in the midni
ght sky
lulled like a baby, dipping and diving along the milky pathway of mist that was the Celestine
Way.
Thoughts of her brother and his child drifted through her mind.  She recalled him in detail – tall, his smooth hair curling at his neck as
he bent to check Mogu’s legs.
In her habitually dour way, his camel showed her teeth but rubbed her head again
st him.
He stood up laughing, his dark eyes glinting and Lalita knew Adelina would have found him more than attractive.

As she dreamed, she could see him holding the golden woman and reciting one of the many poems that had always taken his fancy, for he would learn them if he enjoyed them or he
would write the verse himself.
Oh yes, she would love him, of that there was no doubt.

And they had a child, Isabella – a beautiful babe the djinn had said, and she might
grow up to look like her aunt.
Curiosity burned inside Lalita – to find her niece, to find her brother’s
lover and to see for herself.
To see what it was that had led her brother on his fatal journey.

In her slumber, she flew along the celestial byways, past stars and galaxies, until she lay on a clo
ud beneath a pale silver moon.
Kholi’s voice chanted softly as the child Lalita curled up in bed trying to sleep
.

‘
The Lady Moon came
down one night,

She did, you shouldn’t doubt it,

A lovely lady dressed in blue,

I’ll tell you all about it.
’

For Lalita, the Lady Moon had been a friend in the night, someone who looked over her and smiled at her
as she looked up to the stars.
As a child, she always imagined she was a kind spirit, the Lady Moon, and as she looked at her now in her peregrinations through the heavens, she fancied the woman he
ld a cat draped over her arms.
A cat with pale eyes and a tail that swung like a pendulum, marking time.
A cat, how curious.
A cat in the sky.
Curiosity killed the cat,
she heard the words as she began to move away from the moon,
bu
t satisfaction brought it back. Curious, curiosity…

Then she was winging away again, paperweights swirling around her like meteors.
Millefiori
glistened in some,
like a thousand glass flowers.
Coloured
filligrana
or
zanfirico
canes sparkled in others.
A smaller paperweight fell into her lap and she held it in her fingers, looking into the glass-contained midnight sky, where lay two star
s and an elegant quarter moon.
She held tight as she whirled away, paperweight after paperweight filled
with tissue thin strips
of
paper whizzing past and then she had to let the night
t
ime paperweight go because she needed both hands to try and catch those with the strips.  She knew they meant the difference between life and death.

But
then she began to fall…

‘Lalita, Desert Flower. Lady, wake, I have you.’
Rajeeb’s arms encircled her as her chest heaved.

‘I dreamed I was falling and I had lost everything.  The paperweights, everything.’

‘A dream, Lalita, a dream.’

‘No, Rajeeb.
It wasn’t a dream.
I
have to find the paperweights. I have to.
If I don’t, then eve
rything in Eirie will be gone. Isabella, everything.
If Kholi is not alive to protect his child then I mu
st try – I must do it for him. Is it morning?’
She struggled to stand, pulling the thin silk garment around her.

‘Yes.  It is early morning.’

‘Then I must go.
T
ime passes and I have no time.
The cat said.’

‘The cat? Lalita, it was a dream.
Sit for a moment.’

‘No.
I mean yes it was a dream, but the curiosity cat marked the time with its tail and then as I left it behind, there were paperwei
ghts and I have to find them.’
She paused, realizing immediately ju
st how disjointed she sounded.
But in
her
mind things made sen
se and that was what mattered.
‘Rajeeb
, don’t you see? The charms are deadly. You have said so.
At any time they could be found and used and my one living family member, an inno
cent infant, could be killed.’ She grabbed Rajeeb’s arm.
‘I’ve lost all those I hold to my heart.
Every
single
one.
And even though I have never yet seen my niece, I
owe her a life for my brother.
He would do the same if it were
my
child he needed to protect.
I
must
find the charms, fi
nd a means of destroying them.
You say it is Fate that I have one in my posse
ssion already.
Is it not Fate then
, that I must seek the others?
Please say you understand.’

Rajeeb looked down at her.
‘W
ell, yes Flower, I think I do.
As I have already said, Fate
has brought you to this point.
But tell me, in this moment of strange illumination, do you also feel that you
can forgive Isabella’s mother.
That you must not blame her for your brother’s death?’

Lalita sat.
She had barely thought of forgiveness or otherwis
e after this sudden awakening. ‘I don’t know. I suppose.
You are right when you say Kholi would have acted without thought for himself, only for those dear to him.’

‘Liam of the Færan was a friend of his, Lalita.’

‘As you say.
And being what my brother was, he would have stood up to
the contessa to the death. For the sake of his friend.’
The rock hard lump was back again and a pain in her chest,
a heart-pain, grief unabated.
‘Perhaps there is nothing to
forgive Isabella’s mother for.
But even so, I reserve my judgement until I meet her.’

‘Good.
That is entirely fair and would have been
a waste of emotions otherwise.
But to return to the
business at hand, Lalita…
you must accomplish your quest to find the charms without myself or the afrit and for that, I worry.’

Lalita twisted her hair into a loose rope a
nd flung it over her shoulder.
‘I am a naturally wary person, Rajeeb, wit
h a degree of intelligence.
Besides, Kholi taught me a littl
e of self-defence in his time.
If I have a dagger, I can fight back.’

‘You can fight against mortals, Lalita, but you could n
ever fight Others. Unless…
’ he tapped his finger against his c
hin and then continued.
‘And
where is it that you would go? To the Fahsi souks?
Lalita, be under no illusions, this is a dangerous
mission you have set yourself.
The charms reek of power of the worst kind and there will be others, mortal and eldritch, who crave them obsessively and if they have any inkling that you possess even just that one strip, your life is forfeit.’

‘I know, Rajeeb.
But I was saved by the grace of A
ine and your own good offices.
I have a second chance and I must not waste it.’
I have family now.
‘On my broth
er’s life I must not waste it.
Thus I go to Fahsi.’

‘What? You go where?’
The afrit bustled into the observatory.

‘She goes to Fahsi, afrit. To the souks.
And if her dreams are to be read right, she goes to Curiosa, the antique dealer.’

Curiosa.
Curiosity killed the cat.

‘
She does? Why?
On the vague assumption that if one paperweight held a charm and it came from Curios
a then another might be there?
A thin argument surely.’

‘Perhaps.
But there is more that is reason
able in the argument than not.
In any case there
is
no other argument as to their whereabouts and this one must be taken seriously.’

The afrit’s tone darkened.
‘But t
his could be life threatening.
Why would she?’

I am here in front of you.
Don’t s
peak as if I am not.
‘It’s life threatening if I go or not, a
frit, as long as I have this.’
She waved th
e paper strip in front of him.
‘And regardless, it
is my new family that matters.
I say again
to you what I said to Rajeeb.
I thought I had no fami
ly.
Now I find I have a niece, my brother’s babe,
and I owe this to my brother.
He was much older than me, almost eighteen years, and he cared for me as if I
were his own child as I grew.
If I can repay that debt of family in my lifetime then I shall.’

‘H
mm,’ the afrit seemed unmoved.
‘You would threaten yourself
over a child you’ve never met?
A child wh
o could be as obnoxious as…
’

‘As
yourself maybe, little afrit?
And look how
much I have grown to like you. Yes, I would do that.
It’s called loyalty.’

The afrit seemed hellbent on the last word as Lalita knew he would be and she let him
prattle on.
‘Loyalty is over-rated if one’s life is a
t risk in the process, Lalita.
Especially for obnoxious
mortal
children.
But I suppose I can see your rat
ionale.
One thing however,’ he reached for a pinch of the lay
ers of Lalita’s silk clothing. ‘You go like this?
In sheer silks and looking like a hourie?

‘No,’ Rajeeb said. ‘Not like that. Obviously not. She shall go like this.’
He magicked the silks away and when Lalita looked down, she wore a trader’s grey
shalwar kameez
,
her hair plaited down her back.
‘And this,’ the djinn pointed to a
little pendant on the table, ‘i
s for you
to keep the washi strip safe. Open it and see.’

She flipped a tiny latch and
the round case split into two.

‘It is a lover’s case,’ Rajeeb added, ‘ostensibly for hair but the
washi
strip will fit perfectly.
I ca
n’t touch the necklet, Lalita. Nor can the afrit.
You know
silver is an Other’s anathema.
You shall have to put it on yourself.’

Lalita laid the folded paper inside and closed the case with a snap, reaching behind her neck to attach the clasp beneath
the weight of her black plait. ‘Thank you, Rajeeb. And you, afrit.
I owe you so much.’

Rajeeb shook his head
.
‘Flower, I think it is actually us who will owe you in the end as
the Cantrips threaten us all.
But what sh
all you do when you find them?
They are
rumoured to be indestructible.
May a thousand curses lie on the shade of the woman who found them.’

‘She deserved her de
ath, Rajeeb, I can’t deny it.’
Lalita could barely think of her brot
her’s murderer and pressed on.
‘But you ask what I shall
do with them if I find them?’ She clicked her tongue. ‘I’m not sure, I haven’t thought that far.
Is there not an Other who might help me?’

‘There is Jasper of the Færan.
He destroyed the soul-syphon,’ Rajeeb replied.

‘Could he destroy the rest of the charms?’

‘W
ho knows,’ the djinn shrugged. ‘Maybe, maybe not.
But you need to remember that he actually destro
yed a solid object.
Not the charm itself.’

The
afrit pulled at Lalita’s arm. ‘Damsel, you watch your back.
You
have a little history of… ouch, what!’
He leaped back as Rajeeb swept a palm over his head.