Page 38 of The Wishless Ones
He could not wait to return, once he’d picked the Sultana’s pockets and secured the rubies. He didn’t know how, exactly, he’d overcome the Sultana’s desire to keep them here, but that was a problem for future him.
“I feel the same. We are nothing without the written word,” the Sultana agreed, giving him a smile that said she appreciated his attempt at being civil.
“You say that with sadness,” Jafar observed. Trepidation crept into his heart. He could only hope the House of Wisdom’s collection hadn’t been promised to another kingdom in some political struggle. He’d only just arrived, and their wing on alchemy was large.
“Did you know that the process of making paper is a secret that could put us all at war?” the Sultana asked.
Rohan looked confused. “I thought paper came from the South.”
“That’s papyrus,” Jafar replied before she could. Rohan’s jaw flickered in annoyance, and he wasn’t certain why.
The Sultana looked impressed. “Indeed so. And there is only so much one can do with papyrus in this day and age. The people of a kingdom far east are the only ones who know how to make paper, and they hold the world in a vise because of it.” She laughed. “Can you imagine? We bow to them because of paper. Something we don’t even see as necessary to live.” Her gaze darkened. “But no secret can be kept forever. I’m close, I know it.”
It seemed like information she wanted them to be aware of, but Jafar didn’t understand how any of this pertained to either him or Rohan.
“Close to uncovering the secret?” Jafar asked.
She nodded and leaned toward them, lowering her voice with a lopsided smile. “I have a prisoner, and he’ll break soon enough.”
The words sent a chill down Jafar’s spine. She smiled and spoke and behaved like she could do no harm. She acted, in every respect, like a doting mother.
One who was ready to “break” a man.
“Is he from the East?” Jafar asked. He’d never met anyone from so far away.
The Sultana shook her head. “A Maghrizi traveler, if you can believe that. We’re under the assumption that he picked up the secret during his voyage.”
“Why are you doing this?” Rohan asked, harsh and sudden. “Giving us rooms; letting us walk about like we live here—why?”
Jafar went still as the Sultana turned to his brother.
“You do live here now,” the Sultana said, tilting her head. She paused a moment, as if contemplating her answer. “Maghriz isn’t short on bright minds, but ambition is harder to come by. You two came from so far away for the knowledge the House of Wisdom holds. It would be a disservice to my kingdom tonotallow you to stay here.”
Something about the Sultana’s words struck Jafar as strange. As if she was trying to butter them up with praise. Jafar loved to question everything—why the sky was said to be blue, why water was a commodity, why their father was so cunning and hateful—so not having answers was gnawing at his soul.
Get the rubies and you’ll be free.Then he could even get her to stop talking in circles and tell them what she really wanted with him and Rohan. When the rubies were in his hand, he could simply ask, and people would answer. Truthfully. He could tell them to walk into the river, and they would.
“There is one condition, however,” the Sultana said.
Rohan made a sound in his throat. Jafar braced himself.
“You are to shed your identities,” she said.
For a moment, neither Jafar nor Rohan knew how to respond to the strange request.
“With respect, Sultana,youdo not even know who we are,” Jafar said.
“And so it will remain,” the Sultana said. “If you are asked, you are neither your name nor your birthplace.”
Jafar didn’t know what to say to that. He had no ties to his past, not even to his name, but he was hesitant to make any promises to the Sultana. Not without knowing her motive.
He waited, hopeful she would leave and allow them to settle in. As much as he wanted to return to the House of Wisdom, standing within reach of a bed with fresh linens and cozy cushions was making his limbs lethargic, his mind slow.
The Sultana didn’t press for an answer. “I’ll leave you to rest, but don’t forget: tell no one your names. We will talk again.”
With that, she exited, instructing the guards at their door to escort them when required and to tend to their needs as if they were her sons and not a pair of waifs she had pulled from the shadows of the House of Wisdom.
Rohan whirled to Jafar. “How are you all right with this?”
