Page 45 of The Wishless Ones
“Ah, I might have done some sleuthing,” Jafar said, stopping to face Iago in the eerily still palace hall. Moonlight slipped through the latticed wall, spotting Iago’s red coat in vibrance, the rest of him in the shadows of his unknown past.
“There are spells by which a human can be transformed into an animal, anything from tigers and elephants to creatures as small as mice,” Jafar began.
Iago was quiet for a moment. Jafar tried to imagine how it would feel to learn, without warning, that he was once a different species entirely. Seeing the shredded pieces of his scholarship was painful enough.
“Even parrots,” Iago said slowly.
“Even parrots,” Jafar said with a nod.
“So I wasn’t always like this,” Iago said, quieter than Jafar had ever heard him.
“It’s quite possible,” Jafar said. “That said, the spell is dark and no easy task to complete. It requires materials from vastly different terrains as well as something dear to the person being transformed. Certain spells take their toll on the caster. There’s no telling how it affected the one who did this to you.”
Iago shifted uneasily, and his silhouette stretched ahead of him as tall as a man’s. “So what you’re saying is whoever did this to me was dedicated.”
“Indeed,” Jafar replied. “Are you sure you don’t remember anything from before the bazaar?”
Iago shook his head, beak glinting. “I’ve tried, Jafar. I really have. Does that—does it mean—”
“Yes,” Jafar said softly, surprised by how much sympathy he felt for the bird. “It is permanent.”
Iago dropped his head and then immediately fluffed his feathers, flying up beside him. “Well, that was fun. Don’t we have some rubies to retrieve?”
Jafar didn’t move. The desert was quiet, the night calm. It reminded him of nights in Baba’s house, when Rohan and Jafar would speak freely, when the moon in the sky meant emotions weren’t bottled so tight.
“It’s all right to mourn what you once were,” Jafar said.
“Can’t mourn what I can’t remember,” Iago said, eyeing him.
He pushed on Iago’s little head until he sat back on the windowsill, talons scraping the stone. Jafar wasn’t used to praise—neither receiving it nor offering it—and so it took him a moment to piece together what he wanted to say. Iago had proven to be a better ally than Jafar ever anticipated, and in this place where allies were few and far between, Jafar did not want to lose him.
“And there’s nothing wrong with being a parrot,” Jafar said. “And a princely one at that. You’re still a worthy opponent to your foes and, well, a fine partner to have.”
The words simmered between them before Iago squinted up at him.
“Are you commending me, Jafar?”
“Seems as though I am,” Jafar said.
“I like you, too,” Iago said, and with a squawk, he hopped to Jafar’s shoulder. “To the prisoner, then? Wait, we don’t even know where the prisoner is. Are we going to try the finding spell one more time?”
He shook his head. The finding spell was so lackluster that Jafar had decided to never use it again. He had a better way in mind. He glanced back down the empty hall to where his and Rohan’s rooms were.
“We’ll know where he is soon enough,” Jafar said, and the shadows swallowed them whole.
Rohan couldn’t stay still. His leg kept wanting to twitch in irritation and impatience and annoyance. He hadn’t wanted Jafar to leave. He didn’t know what he wanted, but he certainly didn’t want Jafar going out and finding that prisoner.
Because that was what Jafar would do. Caution? He didn’t know it.
Rohan had been so eager to hurt Jafar that he hadn’t thought of anything else. He tried sinking deeper into the bed, hoping the lush sheets and feathery cushions would hold him captive and lull him to sleep. He tried listening to the night, facing the open window and the breeze rustling the curtains.
With a growl, he threw off the covers, pulled on his shirt and then his robes, and slipped into his sandals by the door. The guard was nowhere to be seen. A palace at night was a lot like any other place at night. Dark, quiet, lonely. Lit sconces were few, and the moon could slip in through only so many windows.
Rohan retraced his steps with care, and after several detours because it was sometimes too dark to see where he was going, he found the corridor where he’d seen the attendant girl hand the guard the food and medical kit.
He didn’t know what lay through the corridor. His teeth were on edge, his limbs even more restless now. What if Jafar was in trouble? Rohan took a careful breath, wishing he had thought to bring a lantern from their rooms.
And then he froze. A hand clamped down on his shoulder, and his soul nearly left his body. A long silhouette stretched in the dark. Shadows painted his face gaunt and the parrot on his shoulder in black.
