The Stardust Thief (The Sandsea Trilogy, #1)
Chelsea Abdullah
For my mother, who fostered my love of words and writing.
My father, who taught me the power of remembered tales.
And my sister, who always asked for one more story.
This one’s for you.
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The Tale of the Jinn
Neither here nor there, but long ago…
Our world belonged to the jinn, those doomed creatures who roam our desert like lost spirits. Unlike us humans, who were created from the earth, the gods crafted the jinn from an ancient flame that allowed them to live for hundreds of years and gave them the power to use magic. This is why some jinn can change shape and others can breathe fire or travel the world in the blink of an eye.
For a time, the jinn did as the gods commanded: they loved and nurtured the world they were given, and there was peace. But while most jinn were grateful to the gods, there were seven jinn kings who were dissatisfied with their meager magic, and they expressed their discontent by destroying the land. They created winds so wild they blew the water from lakes and oceans, and flames so hot they burned away fields of grass, leaving behind nothing but sand.
When the gods saw the havoc the kings had wreaked, they decided to punish them. They gave them what they desired most—they made their magic more powerful, but at the cost of it being uncontrollable. The magic was so strong it burned holes in the sand, sinking the jinn cities and causing the jinn to vanish from this world.
In the wake of their disappearance, the gods created us humans. Magicless and mortal we may be, but we are the gods’ faithful servants.
There are some who believe we must use our faith to restore life to this barren world. They say the only reason we have any nature left is because there are hunters who capture escaped jinn and sacrifice them to the gods. They claim that a jinn’s silver blood is filled with life—that it can turn sand to water and make trees and flowers bloom.
But our faith need not be so twisted.
Remember, Layla, not all jinn are evil.
Loulie had buried many things since her mother last told her that story.
Her name. Her past. Her parents.
But the story, she had never forgotten.
1
LOULIE
When Loulie al-Nazari was told by the One-Eyed Merchant to meet on a small and humble dhow, she expected, quite reasonably, a small and humble dhow. But the dhow was not small, and it was not humble. It was, in fact, quite the opposite.
The Aysham was a behemoth of a ship, with full sails, a spacious deck, an impressive assortment of rooms, and a lofty crow’s nest. It was, by any measure, a very nice ship. Had she been here as a passenger, she would have enjoyed exploring it.
But Loulie was not here as a passenger. She was here as the Midnight Merchant, an esteemed magic seller, and she had come to meet with a client who was keeping her waiting long past their scheduled meeting time. I will call for you the first hour of moonrise, his message had said. Only, the hour had come and gone, and Loulie was still waiting for him on deck, dressed in the star-patterned merchant’s robe that made her stick out like a sore thumb.
She turned her back on the gawking, well-dressed passengers and focused on the horizon. There were no familiar constellations in the sky, and the night was dark and gloomy, which hardly helped her mood. For what was probably the dozenth time that hour, she sighed.
“I wish you were in your lizard shape,” she said to the man standing beside her.
He angled his head to look at her. Though his stony expression barely shifted, Loulie perceived a very slight height difference between his brows. He was most certainly raising one at her. “And what good would that do us in this situation?”
“You could sneak belowdecks and find our client’s room. You’re useless in your man shape.”
The umber-skinned man said nothing, but his silence was easy to decipher. Loulie had known him for nine years—long enough to understand all his mannerisms and magics. She was no longer surprised by his shapeshifting or by the fire that danced in his eyes when he grew emotional. Right now, he was quiet because he knew she would not like what he had to say.
“We’re offering the man magic,” Loulie said. “The least he can do is be on time for a meeting he proposed.”
“Don’t think too hard on it. What will be will be.”
“Sage advice, oh mighty jinn,” she mumbled beneath her breath.
Qadir’s lips twitched into a brief smile. He enjoyed toying with her—he was the only one who got away with it.
Loulie was considering breaking into the ship’s interior when she heard approaching footsteps and turned to see a man in a white thobe.
“Midnight Merchant.” He bowed. “I have been sent by Rasul al-Jasheen to bring you to the designated meeting place.”
She and Qadir exchanged a look. His deadpan expression said, I told you not to worry.
“It’s about time.” She gestured to Qadir. “This man is my bodyguard. He shall accompany me.”
The messenger nodded before leading them through crowds of colorfully dressed nobles to an obscure back door on the other side of the ship. He rapped on the door in a specific fashion until it was opened by a burly man, who guided them down a dimly lit corridor. At the end of the hallway, the man rapped on a different door in a different pattern. There was the sound of a lock and a key, then the messenger opened the door and beckoned them inside.
Loulie looked at Qadir. After you, his silence said. She smiled before ducking inside.
The first thing she noticed upon her entry was that there were mercenaries—three of them, each positioned in a different corner of the small room. Unlike the nobles on deck wearing brilliant robes, these men were dressed mostly in weapons.
Her mind filled with images of bloodshed and murder. Of her mother, waving frantically at an empty jar, telling her to hide. Of her father, lying in a pool of his own blood.
She took a deep, steadying breath and looked to the center of the room, where a merchant dressed in hues of green sat on a cushion behind a low-rising table. True to his title, Rasul al-Jasheen had only one muddy-brown eye. The other was a glossy white orb half-hidden beneath layers of scarred skin. He had a nose that looked as if it had been broken and reset many times, and a forehead that was at once impressive and unfortunate in size. He was vaguely familiar, and Loulie wondered if maybe she’d passed his stall in some souk before.
The merchant’s lips parted to reveal a shining smile composed of gold, bronze, and white teeth. “Midnight Merchant. What a pleasure to see you in the flesh. I apologize for the late summons. I was entertaining important guests.” His eyes roved over her.
She imagined what he was seeing: a short, seemingly fragile woman dressed in layers of blue velvet shawls dusted with soft white. Stardust, she called the pattern. Appropriate, for it had belonged to her tribe. The Najima tribe. The Night Dwellers.
As was usual, the merchant stared at her half-covered face longer than at her robes. Most of the men in this business tried to intimidate her by looking right into her eyes.
It never worked.
“Please.” He gestured to the cushion on the other side of the table. “Have a seat.”
She glanced over her shoulder at Qadir, who had not budged from his spot by the door. Though the merchant had not acknowledged him, the mercenaries eyed him warily. Qadir showed no sign of being perturbed. But then, he rarely did.
Loulie sat.
The merchant offered his hand. “Rasul al-Jasheen. It is an honor.”
She clasped it. “Loulie al-Nazari.” She pulled her hand away quickly, wary of the way his eyes lingered on her iron rings.
“I must confess, I was not expecting you to be so… young.”
Ah yes. Because twenty is so young.