Free Hammer of Witches by Shana Mlawski Page B

killed genies a bunch of times. But Allah — praised be His name — gave them magic swords to do it, so that made things easier for them.”
    With difficulty I choked down the piece of bread I was chewing on. Allah? Wasn’t he the Moorish god? And he sent warriors to slaughter genies — innocent little girls like this one? The Moorish horse riders of my nightmares returned to me then, their features growing grotesque as they rattled their curved blades. And with them, Amir al-Katib rode across Granada, cutting down Spaniards in the name of his vengeful god.
    “But those genies were evil,” Jinniyah continued dismissively. “Anyway, I can heal, and I can fly a little, and I can change shape if I want to. Not into objects or anything like that. And not animals — ick, so dirty. But I can make myself look like a human if I need to! Not a specific human, of course, but human enough.”
    Skeptical, I munched on my bread. “I guess that sounds helpful.”
    “It is! Why? What can you do, Baltasar ?”
    I laughed as I brushed the crumbs off my tunic. “Not much. My Uncle Diego’s been teaching me to make books.” Suddenly I fell quiet. “I mean, he was teaching me to make books . . .”
    I trailed off, unable to speak of the man any longer.
    “What happened to him?” Jinniyah said in small, sad voice. “What happened to you ?”
    I shook my head, unable to say a word. But I supposed it was my duty to tell her everything I knew. We were in this thing together now, whatever it was. So, unsure of where to start, I told her about the eyes at the window, the golem and the capture, Diego’s story, and the gift of the necklace. And when I reached the part where I had to leave my aunt and uncle behind, I plunged through as if it were a fable, a myth — a fairy tale that had happened to someone else and not to me. And Jinniyah, who had been so talkative before, fell mute as tears fizzled down her face.
    “Did David really say that Amir left my necklace for your protection?” the girl said after a time.
    It took me a moment to place the name. “You mean Diego. Yes, that’s what he said.”
    A huge, fang-toothed grin broke out in Jinniyah’s tear-burned face. “Baltasar! Do you know what this means? Amir didn’t abandon me after all! He left me to protect you, to help you!” The girl knocked herself in the head with a tiny fist asthe tear-burns faded from her cheeks. “Stupid, stupid Jinniyah! I should have known he had a good reason! Amir is the best person. The very best person in the world!”
    “So I take it you don’t hate him anymore?” I said, dubious.
    “Hate Amir? Never!”
    I tried to smile, but there was little joy in it. If only I could forgive as easily as Jinniyah could. Maybe if you’re near-immortal, being abandoned for fourteen years isn’t a big deal in the scheme of things. But I was fourteen years old, and I could never forgive Amir al-Katib.
    Done with her bread, Jinniyah patted the crumbs from her hands, planted her bare feet on the floor, and pushed herself up to face me. “Well, that settles it! We have to find him. Right now.”
    Find Amir? I swallowed my last bit of soup with difficulty. “Uncle Diego said that too. But —”
    Jinniyah jumped up in the air and stayed there. “But nothing! He’s your father !”
    I shrugged, not willing to agree with that one.
    “And he’s in trouble!” Jinniyah went on. “Why else would he come to your house the other night? He must need you for something — something important!”
    I placed my empty bowl of soup on the dresser, took the girl by the shoulders, and pushed her gently to the ground. “Even if that were true, how are we supposed to find him? Even the Malleus Maleficarum can’t figure out where he is. For allwe know the man’s in Africa by now.”
    I was glad to see that my question had Jinniyah stumped. Unfortunately she was only stumped for three seconds. “That’s easy!” the girl said with a grin. “We’ll ask