Page 59 of A ?Sky Beyond the Storm

But I have seen it since, I realize, staring down at the glittering chains binding me.

No blade forged by human or efrit, wight or ghul or wraith, nor any object of this world may kill us.

Jinn-forged then. Created out of a metal only they can access.

Or perhaps the sickle has no special properties. Perhaps the Nightbringer used a weapon to stab Shaeva, but magic to kill her.

But no—at the very least, these chains suppress my magic, and I am a mere human. What would they do to jinn, who are born of magic?

I am so consumed with thoughts of the sickle that I do not notice the storm has passed until the jinn kicks me and orders me to my feet.

It is early evening when I spot the strange dark splotch on the horizon. It looks to be a large lake of some kind, its currents flashing silver in the fading light. Then the wind carries the sound of horses, the smell of leather and steel. And I understand that it is not a lake but an army, that the flashes are not waves but weapons.

The city of Aish is under attack.

The jinn gives Novius orders to lead us toward the city before putting boot to flank and ranging ahead. A moment later, a whisper tickles my ear.

“Laia.” Rehmat does not appear, but it sounds as if it is right next to me. “Let us get you free of those damnable chains.”

“I thought you could not help,” I whisper back.

“Khuri goes to speak with her kin. We have a few moments. First, you need your weapon—”

“How do you know her name?”

“I know many things you do not, child. Novius has your blade. Once you are invisible you can take it from him. Now—these chains. I think you can—”

“The Nightbringer”—I cut Rehmat off—“used a sickle to kill Shaeva. Do you know anything of it?”

“I know what lives in your memories.”

I flush, thinking about the other things it’s probably seen in my memory, but then push my embarrassment aside. Rehmat’s answer was... careful. Too careful.

“Did Shaeva die because of the blade?” I ask. “Or the Nightbringer’s magic?”

“The blade.”

The Mask glances over and I realize I probably look mad, gabbling to myself. I lower my voice. “If all you know of the blade is what’s in my memory, how do you know it can kill jinn? And why the skies did you not tell me about it?”

“The weapon will be impossible to take from the Nightbringer, Laia,” Rehmat says. “And it is not guaranteed to destroy him.”

“But the sickle can killotherjinn.” I want to shout, but settle for a furious whisper. “The ones rampaging across the Tribal desert, leaving death and terror in their wake. The ones out there.” I nod toward Aish and the army inching ever closer to it.

“Laia.” Rehmat flickers in agitation and I wonder if the creature is not an “it” but a “he,” for there is something irritatingly male about its obduracy. “We need to understand the Nightbringer’s weaknesses if we wish to stop him. We need his story. Your plan to find the TribalKehanniswas a wise one. But to carry it out, you must escape. That is a war you ride toward.”

“It is indeed,” I say, and the idea that comes to me is one Afya would approve of, as it is utterly mad.

“Come, child. Do not be a fool—”

“Why are you afraid?” Until now, Rehmat has seemed wise if a bit high-handed. I have never sensed its alarm, like I do now. “Because you think the Nightbringer will discover you? Destroy you?”

“Yes,” Rehmat says after a long hesitation. “That is what I fear.”

No, it is not. I know this immediately. The creature lies. Conceals. This is the first time I’ve felt it for certain, and an odd pang goes through me. Rehmat is like no one I have ever met or even heard of, but I have grown to trust it. I thought it was my ally.

“Let me help you, Laia.” Rehmat modulates its tone at the last instant so it sounds calm and level-headed, instead of like an overlord. “You must not fall into the Nightbringer’s hands in the midst of a war—”

“Falling into his hands in the midst of a war,” I tell the creature, “is exactly what I have to do.”

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