The Book of Wonders Read Free Page A

and pulled her up beside him.
    With a glance Zardi saw that Sinbad’s ship was coming swiftly to the widow reaper, its multicolored sails swelling with the wind. She surveyed the columns ahead, each one sitting a bit higher than the last, huge rocky steps rising upward.
    All we need to do is reach the middle . She looked down at the river and the spiky clusters of rocks that stabbed out of the water within the shadow of the arch. And not fall off …
    Zardi took a deep breath and leaped for the second column. She landed safely, and after a moment Rhidan appeared beside her. Without pausing, she jumped for the next column of stone and then the one after that. The river wind buffeted them fiercely, doing its best to bully them off the edge of the arch, but they gave it no quarter.
    They climbed higher, their pace slowing as the columns began to get narrower. Zardi took the lead but found that she had to be even surer of her leaps, her footwork more controlled. Mid-jump, a strong gust tore the silk scarf from her head and pulled some of her hair from its long braid. The strands blinded Zardi for a moment, forcing her to use instinct rather than sight to land safely.
    She watched her silk scarf dance away on the breeze. On the same wind, from the tallest watchtower of Taraket, she could hear the sultan’s praisemaker reciting the rules of Arribitha in a high, pure voice:
    Subjects will think not, know not magic .
    Subjects will report any that seek to undermine the sultan’s will .
    Subjects will not walk the streets after dusk .
    Sultan Shahryār shall be respected at all times—for even with his eyes closed he can see .
    All will praise him. Praise him all .
    There was a sharp blow of a horn and then came the daily call of names of those who had disobeyed the sultan’s rules. Names of those who’d been executed that morning.
    â€œMaysa Amari… Aida Kalil… Jamal Temiz… Salam Nas—” The praisemaker’s voice faltered on the last name, as if the horror of all these deaths flowing and tumbling over each other had stolen her ability to speak.
    Zardi turned to stare at the watchtower. She could see the silhouette of the praisemaker standing on the ledge of the window, the shadow of a guard looming behind her. The wind that came off the river made the girl’s dress flap around her like an angry bird, and her shoulders were hunched as if she was trying to fold into herself.
    A blade of anger slipped beneath Zardi’s ribs, making her gasp. She hated that the praisemaker had no choice but to be in that tower. She hated that the names of the executed had already faded on the air, never to be spoken again. She would honor them by her actions. The sultan could not be defeated, but with every step she took on the widow reaper she was rebelling against his orders. Feeling braver, she tucked her hair back into its braid and leaped faster toward the middle of the arch. As the Falcon began to pass under the widow reaper she found herself standing directly above the ship. They’d made it! The thought of jumping aboard a real ship made Zardi’s heart pound like a stonemason’s mallet.
    Over her shoulder, she saw that Rhidan was still a few columns behind. “Hurry!” she called. “The Falcon’s coming through!”
    Zardi felt a surge of pride as she watched her friend grit his teeth and leap for the next stone pillar. He landed awkwardly—arms spinning like windmills. Springing forward onto the column closest to her friend, Zardi reached out and steadied him.
    â€œThanks.” Rhidan’s hands were shaking.
    They both looked out at the water. His stumble had cost them dearly. The Falcon was now on the other side of the arch and in full flight.
    â€œHe’s gone.” Rhidan’s voice was flat, but Zardi felt the ache of his disappointment.
    He did not move a muscle as he watched the Falcon sail away with the answers he’d been seeking