Read Online Magic Under Stone by Jaclyn Dolamore - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jaclyn Dolamore
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saw a man sleeping by the faint glow of a banked fire, his arm slung affectionately over his dog.
Ifra had been raised by his tutor—a free jinn—along with five other jinn children whose parents were still enslaved. Free jinn always helped enslaved jinn, but his tutor was not affectionate. Like many free jinn, he believed the only way to truly find happiness was to maintain no worldly attachment to anyone or anything, and to prepare for a life of servitude. Ifra and the other children were sent many miles away during the growing season to work on neighboring farms, with no compensation besides food and shelter.
But the farmers Ifra boarded with were kind to him—so kindthat he had to hide it from his tutor, or Ifra knew he wouldn’t be sent there again. Arkat and Hami had no children, and every year they looked forward to having him, treating him like a son. Hami told Ifra stories while her calloused hands ground seeds with her mortar and pestle. Arkat let Ifra name one of the horses and call it his own. He had learned to love and trust and miss them, just as he was not supposed to do. The growing season was a golden time; the colder months a shadow, where play was discouraged, and education only allowed to further one’s spiritual growth and to cultivate one’s sense of detachment. They lived in a rocky, barren valley surrounded by mountains on which nothing grew but scrub. Winters were harsh and food was meager, but jinn could go for a week without any food at all.
Ifra had never seen country like this—lush forest turning the colors of flame; lakes too wide to see across; deer and little striped rodents and sly-faced red foxes with slender black limbs. Ifra could feel the harmony of so much life packed together, and he longed to be a part of it and not just an observer, so he stopped peering in windows and began to knock on doors and ask for a place to sleep.
One late afternoon, he led his horse to a log house. A little girl sat in the doorway, shelling nuts, and he sensed two more inside. The girl called into the house as soon as she spotted him; a woman joined her, her dark red curls like a reflection of the autumn leaves all around them. Her mouth was set, her eyes staring, as she took in the sight of him and the horse. Luka had given Ifra one of the beautiful white fairy horses, so different from Ifra’s stocky brown horse back home. But any horse Ifra rode could go for days without food or water.
Ifra lifted his empty hands in greeting. “Good evening. I’m passing by on a mission for King Luka, and—”
“We have no room. There’s another house, down the road, three miles.”
Ifra wondered if she was a supporter of Erris Tanharrow. Everyone else had freely opened their doors when he mentioned the king.
He was honest with her. She wouldn’t remember him anyway. “Please. I’m a jinn. I’m merely a servant, not a supporter.”
“A jinn? King Luka has a jinn?”
“That would be me. Yes.”
“Come in,” the woman said, looking grim. He slid off the horse and patted its side. Don’t stray far .
The cabin had one room, warmed by a brick stove with a little opening like a mouth. Another woman, this one dark-haired and willowy, was slicing onions and tossing them into an iron pot, but she paused to look at Ifra with suspicion. The little girl went to her side wordlessly and left the shelled nuts on the table by the onions. Ifra looked around at the neatly made bed, the table and chairs, the kitchen tools, and the rafters painted with trees, birds, and snakes—not unlike the designs embroidered on the women’s bodices—and felt like an intruder.
The red-haired woman spoke into the ear of the dark-haired one.
“How did he manage to find a jinn?” the dark-haired one said. “His circle must be more loyal than we supposed—Sery, don’t touch those now, they’re for the stew.” The woman was cutting the shelled nuts in half as she spoke, staying the girl’s hand when she reached for
Ifra had been raised by his tutor—a free jinn—along with five other jinn children whose parents were still enslaved. Free jinn always helped enslaved jinn, but his tutor was not affectionate. Like many free jinn, he believed the only way to truly find happiness was to maintain no worldly attachment to anyone or anything, and to prepare for a life of servitude. Ifra and the other children were sent many miles away during the growing season to work on neighboring farms, with no compensation besides food and shelter.
But the farmers Ifra boarded with were kind to him—so kindthat he had to hide it from his tutor, or Ifra knew he wouldn’t be sent there again. Arkat and Hami had no children, and every year they looked forward to having him, treating him like a son. Hami told Ifra stories while her calloused hands ground seeds with her mortar and pestle. Arkat let Ifra name one of the horses and call it his own. He had learned to love and trust and miss them, just as he was not supposed to do. The growing season was a golden time; the colder months a shadow, where play was discouraged, and education only allowed to further one’s spiritual growth and to cultivate one’s sense of detachment. They lived in a rocky, barren valley surrounded by mountains on which nothing grew but scrub. Winters were harsh and food was meager, but jinn could go for a week without any food at all.
Ifra had never seen country like this—lush forest turning the colors of flame; lakes too wide to see across; deer and little striped rodents and sly-faced red foxes with slender black limbs. Ifra could feel the harmony of so much life packed together, and he longed to be a part of it and not just an observer, so he stopped peering in windows and began to knock on doors and ask for a place to sleep.
One late afternoon, he led his horse to a log house. A little girl sat in the doorway, shelling nuts, and he sensed two more inside. The girl called into the house as soon as she spotted him; a woman joined her, her dark red curls like a reflection of the autumn leaves all around them. Her mouth was set, her eyes staring, as she took in the sight of him and the horse. Luka had given Ifra one of the beautiful white fairy horses, so different from Ifra’s stocky brown horse back home. But any horse Ifra rode could go for days without food or water.
Ifra lifted his empty hands in greeting. “Good evening. I’m passing by on a mission for King Luka, and—”
“We have no room. There’s another house, down the road, three miles.”
Ifra wondered if she was a supporter of Erris Tanharrow. Everyone else had freely opened their doors when he mentioned the king.
He was honest with her. She wouldn’t remember him anyway. “Please. I’m a jinn. I’m merely a servant, not a supporter.”
“A jinn? King Luka has a jinn?”
“That would be me. Yes.”
“Come in,” the woman said, looking grim. He slid off the horse and patted its side. Don’t stray far .
The cabin had one room, warmed by a brick stove with a little opening like a mouth. Another woman, this one dark-haired and willowy, was slicing onions and tossing them into an iron pot, but she paused to look at Ifra with suspicion. The little girl went to her side wordlessly and left the shelled nuts on the table by the onions. Ifra looked around at the neatly made bed, the table and chairs, the kitchen tools, and the rafters painted with trees, birds, and snakes—not unlike the designs embroidered on the women’s bodices—and felt like an intruder.
The red-haired woman spoke into the ear of the dark-haired one.
“How did he manage to find a jinn?” the dark-haired one said. “His circle must be more loyal than we supposed—Sery, don’t touch those now, they’re for the stew.” The woman was cutting the shelled nuts in half as she spoke, staying the girl’s hand when she reached for
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