I did what Mama said, and put the salts under Naji’s nose. Still he slept on. Queen Saida sent in a physician and then a wizard. The physician showed me how to drip water into his mouth so he wouldn’t die of thirst, and the wizard told me it wasn’t necessary.
“The magic’s keeping him alive now,” he said.
“That don’t make sense.”
“Of course not,” he said. “It’s magic.” He sighed and pressed his hand against the scar on Naji’s chest, the scar that covered his heart.
I stared at him, my face blank, still not understanding.
“Magic is tied to the human body. Some people have a little, some people have a lot.”
“Some people have none at all,” I said.
The wizard smiled. “Fewer than you would expect.” He sighed. “The stones make the magic inside us swell up, multiply. It chokes out everything else, all the light of life.” He paused. “Your friend is quite strong. Most blood-magicians are. But even so, his survival is… unusual.”
“Will he ever get better?” My voice quivered like I was about to start crying but I told myself: no, no you will not cry in front of strangers. In front of anyone.
“I don’t know, sweetness.” The wizard leaned forward and looked at me real close. He was old and wrinkled, but his eyes were bright and kind. “I’ll read through my books, and see if I can find anything, alright?”
I nodded, even though I knew he wouldn’t find anything.
After a while I took to laying my hand on Naji’s heart the way the magician did, so I could feel it beating faint and far away. I sang old Confederation songs to the beat of his heart. The song for lost love. The song for strength and for health. The song to stave off death.
For seven days, I didn’t leave the garden house. Marjani brought me food and sat by my side, unspeaking. Queen Saida paid her visits and offered condolences. The magician returned with books and scrolls, none of them with any information to help.
Jeric yi Niru came on the fourth day, stepping into the garden house without knocking. I mistook him for Marjani at first, confused by worry and sleeplessness and the fuzzy sunlight pouring in through the curtains.
“The hell do you want?” I said when I realized my mistake.
“To come see,” Jeric said. “I spoke with the palace magician. In all my studies, I never heard–”
“Get out!” I hurled a leftover breakfast plate at him. My aim was off. It banged against the wall and clattered to the floor. “He ain’t some experiment for you to poke and prod.”
Jeric yi Niru lifted his hands in the air. “I never thought a pirate would let her emotions get in the way–”
I sent a coffee cup flying through the air. This one shattered across the floor into pieces.
“Get out,” I shouted.
“Don’t you understand?” Jeric asked. “The starstones were my treasure. I studied them for years at the courts, long before you were even born. The magic in them – the power – if the assassin was able to survive their touch, I may be able to–”
I was on my feet, my knife in my hand, my hand at his throat. Jeric yi Niru stopped talking, just stared down at me.
“You want to stop this line of thinking,” I said.
Jeric yi Niru didn’t say anything even though I could tell from the expression on his face that he wanted to.
“I ain’t interested in helping develop Empire weapons, which I’m assuming is what you’re after–”
Jeric sneered. “I don’t care about the Empire. Why is that so hard for you to understand? The Empire banished me to service on the sea. I don’t want to help them. I only wish to examine Naji to help myself.”
I glowered at him and dug my knife a little deeper into the skin of his neck. Three drops of blood appeared, and Naji’s magic suddenly flooded through me. I hadn’t felt any connection with Naji since he fell, but now there was a rush of coldness in my thoughts, a black-glass desert, a song in a language like dying roses, calling out for help.
I dropped the knife and stumbled backward across the room. Jeric laughed at me, but when I fixed my glare on him his laugh dried up like saltwater in the sun.
“I’m not letting you touch him,” I said, shaky.
“I can see that.” Jeric lifted his hands like he was surrendering. “I only thought I’d ask.”
“The answer is no. Now get out.”
He didn’t. He just watched me from across the room. I forced my concentration on Jeric, trying to ignore the terrifying, icy rush of Naji’s thoughts.
“When you’re older,” he said, slowly and carefully, “you’ll understand what it is to have a life’s devotion.”
I stared at him, taking deep breaths.
“You were right, by the way.” He gave a short nod. “I was sent to sea because of the stones. There’s a Qilari merchant who made his home in Lisirra. He owned a pair. I befriended him just so I could study those starstones. But studying wasn’t enough. I wanted to own them.”
“They really were your treasure,” I snapped. “Thief.”
“You have no room to talk, Ananna of the Nadir. No room at all.”
He was right about that. I took a deep breath, bracing myself against Naji’s thoughts, wishing Jeric would just leave.
“But you’re right. I did steal them. It didn’t take long before the authorities captured me.” He sighed, wistful. “I was sentenced, and here we are. I never once touched the stones directly. I was too afraid. And I never thought I’d have the chance again, until I heard you and the captain speaking about them after you captured my ship. That’s the entire reason I joined with your crew in the first place.”
I stared at him. For once he didn’t look mocking or smug.
“That’s mad,” I said. “Look at Naji! Look at him.” I jabbed my finger at his body, unmoving on the bed. Jeric gazed at him without expression. “You want that to happen, go chase down the Tanarau. I’m surely they’ll be happy to oblige a snakeheart in his suicide attempt.”
“I don’t want that,” Jeric said.
I glared at him. But he didn’t say anything more, just turned and left.
I closed my eyes, relieved to be alone except for Naji. Even though Jeric’s fresh blood was gone, Naji’s thoughts still swirled up with mine, cold and shadowy. I could feel him, distant, indistinct. But alive. Alive.
I curled up beside him on the bed until the thoughts bled away.
On the seventh day, the assassins came.
There were three of them, all dressed the way Naji had been when I first saw him in Lisirra. Black robes, carved armor, swords glittering at their sides. They didn’t cover their faces, though.
“Who are you?” one of them asked in Empire when they walked into the garden house.
“Who the hell are you?” I shot back, even though I recognized their clothes. Still, I grabbed Naji’s cold hand and squeezed it tight.
The first assassin narrowed his eyes at me. He was from the desertlands, like Naji, though he didn’t look like Naji at all. Older and not as handsome and no scar. The other two looked Qilari.
“You aren’t saving him, keeping him here,” the desertlands assassin said. “He needs our magic.”
“And you shouldn’t care if he lives or dies,” one of his companions added.
I didn’t let go.
The desertlands assassin stepped up to me. My breath caught in my throat, and I kept my eye on his sword even though I knew if he wanted to use it I wouldn’t be able to get away. But he didn’t attack me. He kept his movement slow and steady, and put a hand on my forehead like he was feeling for a fever. I jerked away at his touch, but he grabbed me by the arm with his other hand and held me in place.
“You’re scared of me? I’m no different from him.” He leaned in close, looking me in the eye. I didn’t turn away. I bet he could hear my heart.
He dropped his hand, pulled out a knife. I jerked out my own knife and pressed myself against the wall. One of the Qilari assassins laughed.