Shahrzad’s face fell, the bleakness taking hold.
“But I might be able to do more for your father,” Musa continued. “Especially with regard to the book he keeps with him. You said he has many burns on his hands? That this book gives off an unusual amount of heat?”
“Yes, it nearly burned me when I came near it the other day.” Shahrzad’s mouth thinned as she recalled the peculiar wave of heat she’d felt whenever she’d drawn close to the tome in her father’s arms.
“And he spoke in an unfamiliar language when you found him on the hill outside Rey?”
Shahrzad nodded.
Musa pressed a forefinger to his lips in momentary contemplation. “I know you are averse to involving anyone else in these matters, but I do feel as though we need to consult with another individual.”
“Is there someone you know who might be able to help?” A thread of hope tugged at Shahrzad’s heart.
“Perhaps. There is someone here who may know more than I. If my suspicions are correct, he would, at the very least, be able to answer questions about this book, though it may prove to be an . . . interesting task gathering answers from him.”
Shahrzad shifted uncomfortably, her palms resting against the cool stone beside her. “Can I—can we—trust him? Save you, I have told no one about the curse, and I do not wish to tell anyone else. Such information would be dangerous in the wrong hands.”
“Trust is an interesting matter when it comes to Artan. He will not give it to those who do not offer it first. In any case, I leave the decision to you.” Bemusement washed across his features for an instant, then vanished in a burst of certitude. “But regardless of your choice, he will not betray you, of that I am sure.” He rose from the steps and reached out a hand to her. “Come with me, my lady.”
Shahrzad trailed after Musa as he made his way down the steps, past the rectangular pool of water. Though she remained doubtful, she continued following the magus as he walked toward the edge of the promontory.
When he made a sharp turn near the brink of the cliff, another set of stairs emerged before them, descending into utter darkness. Carved straight from rock, they were jagged and precarious. Without a railing. Without any handholds to speak of. She assumed they led to the stretch of sand below, but she could not see exactly where, as the trail vanished in another sharp turn a stone’s throw away.
A staircase that gave new meaning to faith.
One would think they’d have a torch nearby.
Especially at a Fire Temple.
Unperturbed, Musa smiled back at her. “Would you rather use the magic carpet?”
“Or why not a bridge made of moonbeams?” she grumbled.
He laughed heartily and held out his hand for hers. Without a word, she let him lead her down the perilous stone steps into the cavernous void below.
The sound of crashing waves grew louder as they neared the shoreline.
At first, Shahrzad could not fathom why they were crossing a dark beach in the dead of night. The shafts of moonlight dancing off the waves did not indicate the presence of any other besides her and the colorfully robed magus before her.
But as they crossed the ripples of sand, Shahrzad noticed a small outcropping of rocks jutting into the sea.
Stretched across a flat stone in its center was the lone figure of a young man.
A small wave struck the base of the stone, bursting white spray into the air, drudging seawater onto his trowsers. Yet the young man did not stir from his spot.
Musa came to stand near the edge of the lapping water, a few paces from the boy. The magus proceeded to wait, assuming a stance of serene silence.
After a time, Shahrzad grew impatient. The boy on the rocks was being quite rude to Musa-effendi. For he had to know they were there. The half-moon behind them cast their shadows onto his face, long and lean and unmistakably present.
She coughed twice.
Still, the boy did not move a muscle, save to blink. And to sigh.
Which, of course, meant he was not dead.
Scapegrace.
Musa took in a great breath of briny air. “Artan?”
The boy propped a foot on one knee and placed a hand beneath his head. Then he yawned loudly. Prodigiously.
“Artan Temujin,” Musa tried again. It was not a forceful entreaty. Clearly, the magus had the patience of twenty men. And the serenity of many enlightened souls.
By contrast, Shahrzad was tempted to shove the boy off the rock. To watch the waves toss him about for a while.
But there was a possibility she would need his help.
What happened next all but caused Shahrzad to fall face-first into the waves herself.
The boy lifted a hand into the air above his chest. He twisted his fingers, and a spinning ball of fire the size of a fist appeared above his open palm. He flicked the rapidly rolling blaze higher, so as to see Shahrzad in a better light. Then he tossed the fireball into the waves with a flip of his wrist. It fizzled in the sea before disappearing in a whorl of white smoke.