The Book of Wonders (17 page)

She looked up again. The third bird in the formation had just peeled off and was flying toward them with yet another boulder. She couldn't let these birds hurt the sailors. She had to stop them.

Zardi stepped forward, touching the blue stone. It had helped her understand the birds. Would it help the birds understand her? Throwing her head back, she spoke as loudly as she could.

“Forgive us. We're sorry that we took your egg. Please let us give it back.” The blue jewel was warm against her chest, and even though she formed the words in her head in her own language, a squawking sound came from her throat.

Falling back into a V formation. The massive winged creatures looked down at Zardi, their heads cocked to one side, listening. The leader gave a short, sharp screech that Zardi didn't quite catch and glided downward on outstretched wings. The bird landed a few arm spans away, and Zardi saw that it looked slightly different from its companions, with a beak the color of indigo night and a bright golden crest of feathers.

“We are sorry we stole your kin,” Zardi said to the birds' leader, trying to sound calm. “My friends were looking for food. They should never have taken the egg.”

“You do not belong here,” the bird said, towering above her.

“We won't be here for long,” Zardi explained. “We're trying to get home.”

The bird stared at her, unblinking. “That would be wise. Our enemy, the Queen of the Serpents, has ordered her army of snakes to kill almost everything on this island. She'll kill you if given the chance.”

“The Queen of the Serpents?” Zardi repeated. Desolation Island was just like one of Nonna's pastries: far more layers than first met the eye with a surprise lying at its heart.

The great bird dipped her head. “How is it, featherless one, that you speak our language?”

“This stone, I think.” Zardi showed her jewel to the bird. “It makes it possible for me to understand you.”

The bird made a deep chirruping sound, beckoning the other four birds, and they fell in line behind her. “I am Lina, leader of the Roc,” the bird said. “We are a peaceful race but will not abide the theft or murder of our kin. Violence will be met with violence. Do you understand?”

“I understand.”

“Then let this be a token of our treaty, and we will not seek retribution.” The bird plucked a feather from her golden crest and let it float downward.

“Thank you.” Zardi caught the feather. It was a deep molten gold, and for a moment Zardi was reminded of the gold in her sister's eyes and her chest felt tight. She placed the feather in her tunic pocket and lifted her head. “My name is Zardi, and I vow that no one else in my camp will ever do anything to harm the Roc or their young.”

“So be it for now and always. Please excuse me, I must recover my child.” Lina stalked over to the speckled egg by the fire. Rhidan and Sinbad's men stood very still as the bird took the egg into her talons.

Lina soared into the air. The Rocs followed her ascent, their massive wings stirring up a storm of sand.

“Until next time, featherless one, keep safe,” Lina called.

Zardi waved her hand in farewell. She liked this proud bird and realized it had been Lina's desperate thoughts she'd heard beneath the war cries. As soon as the birds were out of sight, Tariq charged out of the trees with Syed close behind him. He stopped in front of her, two spots of color riding high on the blade of his cheekbones. “I don't know what you said or how you said it, but thank you.”

“You saved our lives,” Rhidan said, looking at her proudly.

Mo scratched at his turban. “This island is full of danger. Even things that seem innocent are not.”

“Maybe we should stick to fruit,” Ali murmured. “It'll be a whole lot safer.”

Zardi met Nadeem's eyes. He was glaring at her. Instead of making things better she'd made him hate her all the more.

“I'm sorry about Dabis,” she said softly, remembering his angry words from earlier.

“Not as sorry as me,” he replied and limped away.

Z
ardi stood at the seashore and gazed out at the water, waiting for that rush of joy she felt when she first viewed the sea in Sabra. Nothing. All she could think of was Zubeyda and how the crew of the
Falcon
had been trapped on the island for nineteen days.

After almost three weeks on Desolation Island, the silvery-blue shore was dotted with shelters, as well as two roofed platforms for the food stores.

At the farthest end of the beach, the
Falcon
stood perched on stilts. Zardi rubbed her face wearily. It would still be weeks before they had enough coconut rope. She looked at the cracks that crisscrossed her palms—proof of the multitude of coconuts she'd already smashed open to pluck out their fibrous hearts.

She let her arms fall to her sides. She should be working, she knew that, but—

There's no point. You're not getting off this island. You're its prisoner
.

That voice again, that dark secret voice from inside. She'd heard it every day, for the last nineteen days, ever since she had landed on the island. It often whispered but sometimes screamed when she refused to listen to it.

Zubeyda has been a praisemaker for twenty-eight days
.

She only has sixty-two days to live
.

You can't save her
.

Baba will be killed
.

You can't save him
.

But you saved yourself
.

“Shut up, shut up,” Zardi said aloud. But the voice would not be quieted.

You never found the Windrose. You failed them all
.

She kicked at the wet sand. She needed to do something, needed to run from the voice that robbed her of hope. She scanned the beach searching for Rhidan.

Nowhere to be seen. No surprise there, then
. Irritation scraped at her again and she grabbed onto the feeling eagerly.

Over the last couple of days Rhidan had become increasingly secretive, often going off on his own for long walks. However hard she tried, she couldn't get him to tell her what he was up to. She walked toward the white pyramid at the end of the beach. From the top she'd have a good view of the whole south side of the island. As she got closer to the boulders, she saw Mo and Ali taking turns cartwheeling down the shore.

Mo grinned at her, his turban slightly askew. “I've just done fifteen in a row. Think you can beat it?”

“Of course,” she replied. “But it'll have to be another time. Have you seen Rhidan?”

Ali wiped a hand across his sweaty brow and shook his head. “Maybe he's off trying to conjure up some of that purple magic.”

Zardi shot them a warning look. “There's no more magic. He's told you that.”

Ali grinned cheekily. “No harm in hoping.” His gaze traveled over her shoulder and his face suddenly fell.

She turned to see Musty standing there.

The shipmaster glared at Mo and Ali. “I thought you two were going to help me gather more coconuts today.”

The twins blushed.

“We were going to help,” Mo began.

Ali shot a look of horror at his brother. “He means we
are
going to help.”

“So why are you wasting time here?” Musty crossed his arms. “Don't you want to get home?”

“Of course we do,” Mo said. “B-but you said you wanted to try harvesting in a new part of the island because there are no more coconuts around here.” He uttered the last words almost accusingly and a faint tremor went through him.

Ali put a hand on his brother's shoulder. “He thinks he heard the roaring again last night.”

The shipmaster went still, and every sinew in Zardi's body tightened. The roaring came every night; her skin prickled with sweat as she remembered the sound.

“I heard it as well,” Zardi said. “It came from the east side of the island again.”

A nerve jumped in Mo's cheek. “There's something out there, and I'm not going anywhere near it.”

“It's probably that brass horse galloping about,” Musty said brusquely.

Zardi frowned. She remembered the horse's metallic whinny, the sound of its brass hooves striking the ground. Neither of these noises was anything like the roaring she heard at night. She met Mo's and Ali's eyes. They looked as unconvinced as she felt.

“Besides,” Musty went on reassuringly, “we're not going near the east side of the island.” He took a roughly hand-drawn map from his pocket and tapped one corner of it. “We're going west.”

The twins looked somewhat mollified. “All right, we'll go with you,” they both said at the same time.

“Me too,” Zardi said. “And Rhidan. I'll go find him.”

“All right.” Musty paused for a moment. “But will Rhidan want to join us? He seems to prefer his own company of late.”

“Don't worry, Musty, he'll come with us, I'm sure.”

“Come where?” asked Nadeem, striding up to them with Tariq and Zain at his side.

“We're going coconut harvesting on the west side of the island,” Ali explained.

“Count me in,” Nadeem said.

Zardi ground her teeth together. Why did he have to come? All he ever did was scowl and make her feel guilty. What a shame that his ankle was all healed up now.

“We're in as well,” Zain and Tariq said.

Musty looked pleased. “Let's meet by the octopus tree. You'll need something sharp and a sack. Bring gloves if you have them. Be quick.”

Zardi bid farewell to the shipmaster and scrabbled to the top of the white pyramid.

She spotted Rhidan straightaway. He was looking down at his feet, his figure casting a lonely shadow on the sandy ground.

Zardi expertly slipped her fingers and toes into the grooves of the outcrop's rock face before dropping to the ground.

She strode up to him. “Rhidan!” Her friend was concentrating so hard on his feet that he didn't seem to hear her. “Rhidan,” she repeated. “Snap out of it. What is wrong with you?”

His head jerked up and he looked at her in bewilderment. “Nothing, I'm fine.”

“Don't lie to me.” She took a breath and tried to soften her tone. “For the last two days, you've spent every second on your own. And when you are with people you look at your feet like you can't bear to be with them.” She crossed her arms. “I'm not moving until you tell me what's going on.”

Rhidan gave a low growl. “Why are you so impatient?” he asked, sounding exasperated. “I'm looking for something.” He rummaged in his pocket and took out a green emerald. It easily filled the palm of his hand. “The other one of these, in fact.”

Zardi felt her face pucker with confusion. It was one of the brass rider's eyes.

“Why?” she asked. “Is it for your memory box?”

“Ha, very funny, Zardi. You know I don't have a memory box. I stopped keeping one after you buried it in the garden and forgot where you put it.”

“Oh yeah.” She felt a stab of happiness at the memory of home. “Your amulet was in there. We had to uproot the whole orchard to find it again.” She laughed. “I thought Nonna was going to have me on washing duties for life.”

Rhidan ran his hand through his hair, and she noticed how much lighter it had become. The sun and salt air had turned it from silver to almost white. He looked torn. “I wasn't going to tell you,” he said. “Not until I'd found the other emerald.”

“Tell me what?”

Rhidan put a finger to his lips and led her out of sight beneath the overhang of the outcrop. He then rubbed the emerald between his hands. “The first time I did this, I was trying to get the sand off it.” The jewel started to give off a deep green light.

The light bent and twisted. It grew arms and then legs, and Zardi gasped as a figure flickered into life beside her. It was a man who looked as if he were made out of green-tinted glass. He wore spectacles and had a neat, curling mustache and was no taller than her knee. A breath lodged in her throat.
Could it be? Is he a djinni?

“You rubbed?” the man said in a dour voice, hovering up to eye level.

“Yes, I did.” Rhidan pointed at Zardi. “Tell her everything you told me the first time I made you appear.”

The emerald man sighed and turned to Zardi. “Right. Before you ask, no, I'm not a djinni. I am a herald; I am activated when you rub the emerald. I will take he who possesses this emerald to the chamber of imprisonment.”

“And tell her about the brass rider,” Rhidan insisted.

The herald jabbed his spectacles up his nose. “The brass rider, who you have obviously defeated because you have the eye, was a guard made for this island.” He pursed his lips disapprovingly. “He was designed to stop meddlers and strangers like you from finding the chamber.”

“So you built the brass rider?” Zardi asked excitedly.

The herald scowled at her. “Did I say that I'd created the brass rider? No, I did not! I am merely a guide. Created to take him who holds this emerald to the volcano where the djinni is imprisoned. No more and no less.”

“Djinni?” Zardi could practically hear the crackling of her own excitement. “Did you just say djinni?”

The herald nodded once.

Her eyes met Rhidan's. “A djinni will be able to tell us where the Windrose guardian is!”

He grinned at her. “I know, but our green friend here can only show us the way to the prison. The other emerald eye is the key needed to open the door and—”

“And that's what you've been looking for,” Zardi finished.

“Absolutely everywhere.”

Zardi turned to the herald. “Is there no other way into the djinni's prison?”

“Another way in?” The herald shoved his glasses up his nose again. “Do you think my master, who went to the trouble of hiding a djinni and the ring that tethers her in a volcano, on an island that's almost impossible to land on, and created a man out of brass to guard the prison, would provide another way in?” He crossed his arms. “You're not supposed to find this djinni. She's dangerous.” He spoke slowly as if they were very stupid. “May I leave now?”