Page 28 of The Wishless Ones
“I did it,” he blurted out on the rooftop. The sun was dropping lower, burning a line of red along the horizon.
Jafar tilted his head at him. “Did what?”
“I killed Baba,” Rohan whispered. “And before him, Mama. I’m cursed, can’t you see?”
Jafar narrowed his eyes, considering him. “You killed Mama when you were six years old? You made her sick enough to cough up blood? Where is this coming from?”
He said nothing about Baba, but then again, Jafar didn’t care much for Baba. Iago settled on Jafar’s shoulder, quietly watching the exchange.
“I— She told us about the genie,” Rohan stuttered, “and then I made wishes, and they came true years later, but—but don’t you understand?Shewas the cost.”
Jafar smiled. The desert breeze rustled his hair. They were free here, above the world, and Rohan’s emotions felt different, almost outside of him. “You always did like looking for signs. There’s nothing wrong with that, but at some point, you’ll begin creating signs yourself.”
“It’s true,” Iago piped up, and for once, Rohan didn’t immediately sour at his voice.
“So no, you didn’t kill Mama,” Jafar said, crossing the rooftop over to the ladder at the end. “Besides, Mama was too strong to die by a measly six-year-old’s hand.”
Rohan lightened at Jafar’s teasing tone. “Yes. She was.”
“Then there you have it,” Jafar replied. “You’re not cursed.”
Jafar’s words loosened a knot in Rohan’s lungs, but he still didn’t think it was that simple. He felt as if his emotions had trapped him in a maze with no way out. He didn’t know if Jafar was simply placating him, or if he truly believed Rohan had no hand in Mama’s death. It had been so sudden, so immediate, how could Jafar know for certain?
“But what about Baba? The same happened to him,” Rohan ventured.
“The same?” Jafar asked, pausing at the edge of the rooftop.
“I wasn’t there for your mama’s death, but it sounds to me like your baba died a lot more violently,” Iago piped up.
Rohan didn’t know how that was supposed to make him feel better. He hadn’t mentioned specifics when he’d made his wish. He’d been desperate, hurting. As he was now—always.
“Violent, indeed,” Jafar said, and when he faced him, Rohan wished the sun weren’t to his back, stretching shadows over his face, darkening the pools of his eyes. “There are deaths, and there are punishments, Rohan. Now come, we have a big day tomorrow.”
Rohan followed, pretending Jafar’s words hadn’t chilled him to the bone.
Jafar woke to aching bones after tossing and turning on a thin mattress all night. His dreams were tormented fragments, from stepping into a golden mansion of knowledge to seeing it aflame. From finding comfort in Mama’s voice to cowering from Baba’s scorn. He was glad when dawn crested the horizon.
If Jafar were to sit with Mama right now, he would have much to tell her.
Your stories didn’t inspire only Rohan, Mama. I’m here in Maghriz, so close to the House of Wisdom, like all great men.Despite Baba’s attempts to stop him. Despite years of Baba’s acting as if he might have cared enough to let him go, giving Jafar tiny morsels of hope to keep the starvation at bay.Rohan thinks he killed you and Baba.As wrong as it felt to refuse Rohan a concrete answer and leave him wondering if he’d had something to do with Baba’s death, Jafar needed Rohan compliant, and that uncertainty and regret would help.Baba can’t bother me anymore.He was dead. Gone. Violently, as Iago had said, but it was also fitting.
Jafar didn’t even feel bad.
Death was an end, and if one had nothing more to offer the world, then death was all they deserved. Mama’s face, and the faces of their servants, materialized in his mind, as if asking if the words applied to them, too, but he pressed his eyes closed and made them disappear.
He smoothed out the qamis over his chest and knotted the salwar around his waist. They were a tad too large for him but still fit well. He tugged on the robes, running his fingers over the fine gold embroidery, and stood before the room’s mottled mirror beside Rohan. His brother’s robes were dove gray and vibrant with accents in jewel-toned teal. The color matched the wide grin on his face and brightened the grief that was a constant in his eyes.
“You look good, brother,” Jafar said.
“And you look regal,” Rohan commented.
Jafar smiled. He did look regal. He lookedreadyfor the new life he was making for himself. He could almost feel the rubies weighing deliciously in his pocket. Control just within reach. He could almost smell the ink of the secrets etched for eternity within the archive’s walls. Knowledge just within reach.
“Shall we?” he asked.Shall we venture to the House of Wisdom, where I’ll distract you?
“I suppose so,” Rohan replied.
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll just fly in naked, I guess!” Iago groused, and flapped after them.
