The hall of private audience was bathed in soft dawn light when the four men gathered around the ashwood table. Sharan was the only one of them who felt the need to sit, his fingers curled around a steaming cup of tea.
Firaz blinked the bleariness from his eyes and cleared his throat. He looked like he had not slept in days. "We worked through the night to clear most of the burned bridges from the aqueduct, Sayyidi, but it will still be days before we can safely bring clean water."
"What of the ministers' men?" said Sharan.
"They will come today, but I am still worried. The wells are almost bled dry from yesterday's hysteria."
Rehan paced the room, considering his response. "Do what you can, Firaz. Encourage people to help each other if the water runs too low."
Sharan nodded his agreement. "The people must band together as one while under siege. Infighting will do us no good." He paused to take a sip of tea. "What is the status of the flags?"
"The white ones have been removed," said Firaz, "Ours are almost ready, but the shortage of men has slowed things down." He bowed his head slightly, as if it were his fault they had fallen into this predicament.
Rehan paused his pacing at the centre of the room. "Good. I want to formally address the people once we hoist the flags."
Yahya pursed his lips. "I still think it is too dangerous to alert everyone."
"It will fill them with hope to know I am here, fighting for them," countered Rehan. "And it will make them less likely to aid the rebels."
Yahya's silence prompted them to move on to the next point of discussion.
"Did you find anything regarding the runner?" asked Sharan.
Rehan shook his head. "No sign of him, the archers saw nothing of note either."
"So it's a dead end."
Yahya looked at Rehan, then at the governor. "This may sound odd, but do you know if there were any tunnels built under Rey?"
The question seemed to shock the old man, but before he could answer, Sharan cut in. "Rey has no tunnels, nothing big enough for a man to fit in if that's what you're implying."
Rehan's brows drew together in confusion. "Did you see something I didn't, Yahya? What are you talking about?"
There was a gleam in the governor's eye, as if he had been invigorated with new light. "There are tunnels," he declared, "A huge network of passages under the city, built long before Al-Saffah took the throne, when my father's father ruled Rey."
Sharan's mouth fell open in disbelief. "Impossible... I was here for six years, I would have heard some whisper, some rumour of such a thing."
Firaz stepped away from the table and went to a cabinet set against the wall. He unlocked it with the key hanging from his neck to reveal a set of oblong shelves filled with long, tightly rolled papers.
He rummaged in the darkness of the cabinet to procure a tattered scroll. He gently tapped it against the cabinet door to slough off the thick layer of dust before returning to the ashwood table.
With utmost care he unrolled the ancient map. The labels were hardly more than smudges and the frayed edges had turned brown, but enough of it had been preserved for them to see the complex labyrinth sketched upon it.
"These tunnels were sealed off by my father, well before any of you came to Rey,"said Firaz. "No one alive knows of their existence apart from me, and now you three."
Rehan's face was wide with awe and fear. "These were built before my uncle took the throne, you said."
Firaz nodded gravely. Sharan finally rose from his seat and leaned over the table, shoulders tense with the horrible realisation.
"The Umayyads must know of it. That is how they have been appearing and escaping like wind." He looked sideways at Yahya. "How did you know?"
Yahya shrugged, avoiding his uncle's eye. "It was the only logical explanation, so I chanced a guess."
Firaz's mouth had grown dry. "But how could they know? This map is the only one that reveals the entrances, and only I have access to it."
"Unless they have someone who was there before the labyrinth was sealed," said Rehan.
Firaz shook his head. "They would have to be at least seventy years old, Sayyidi. I was but a child when my father sealed every last entrance to those tunnels, and of his men only a handful were ever sent down there."
"They could have their own map," said Yahya. "Passed down from parent to child as this one was."
"None of that matters now," Rehan hissed. "We have to get down there and see if Yahya's theory is correct."
Sharan nodded, his expression of concern turning to one of confidence. "Scout, then plan an ambush."
"Sharan, gather a small group of men, trustworthy and good with a sword," said Rehan, "Yahya and I will pore over this map and find the best place to enter from. Firaz, continue with all your efforts to get the aqueduct running again."
His eyes were aglow with a fire usually reserved for the battlefield. Slowly, carefully, they would prepare their counterattack.
And in stillness they would strike.
X

By midday Sharan had seven men lined up in the grand atrium of Firaz's house, standing stiffly at attention before their Prince. Rehan looked each one up and down briefly and nodded his approval to Sharan. They would do.
The entrance to the labyrinth that Rehan and Yahya had chosen was in the underbelly of a tearoom in the western quarter frequented by the elite of Rey, including several Emirs, which meant that Rehan would be easily recognised. The solution, devised by Yahya, was to pay off the tearoom staff and slip in through the servants' entrance in disguise.
A simple enough plan, but they still did not know where the sealed entrance was, nor how to open it once found. Not even Firaz knew what method his father had used to seal the tunnels.
But Yahya knew someone who did.
After the men had been sufficiently armed, he and Rehan split them into two groups and led them out by different routes. By the doors Yahya had chosen stood a short, hooded figure carrying a menacing looking sabre. Yahya approached and took the sword, then looked over his shoulder at the men.
"My squire," he explained, gesturing to Khayzuran.
She bowed deeply, though these men were not of noble standing, then joined the ranks a step behind Yahya. Her hair had been tied tightly and wrapped in a turban in case her hood was pulled off, and an opaque veil covered the lower half of her face.
None present questioned her, and Yahya let out a loose breath of relief. He barely had a moment to excuse himself from Rehan's presence and relay his orders to her in a quiet alcove, praying that she would hear them from her room by the stables. It was a useful skill, being able to speak to her while she was out of sight, though there was never a guarantee she was listening.
Luckily, this time she had been.
"You were right about the tunnels, Firaz has a map of them," he murmured. "Rehan wants to get down there through one of the hidden entrances. When we regroup, stay close to me and do not speak to him."
Khaya tilted her chin down imperceptibly, and they carried on in silence. They had fallen into a familiar rhythm since arriving in Rey, or perhaps it had always been there, and Yahya was only noticing it now.
Soon they turned into a square centred around a beautiful blooming peach tree. Children scampered about the bough, gathering any fallen fruits and taunting each other with their finds. Across the square, a pair of guards manned the ornate double doors of a large pillared building. They briefly cast their gazes over Yahya and his group, but drew their attention away when the doors opened and a patron emerged.
It was unmistakably the tearoom.
According to Rehan's perusal of the map, the servants' entrance was down the left side of the building. Yahya quietly instructed the three men to wait by an alcove on the opposite side of the square while he and Khayzuran made their way down the narrow cobbled street adjacent to the tearoom proper. The strong scent of mint and cloves flooded Yahya's senses as they walked past the empty carts and barrels strewn about.
"Someone's coming," said Khaya, tilting her chin towards the door at the far end of the street.
Moments later the door swung open and a stout boy emerged, rolling out an empty barrel. He set it upright and dusted off his robes before he noticed them.
Something akin to fear held him in place when his gaze fell to the sword at Yahya's hip.
"The entrance is around the corner, sahib." The boy's voice cracked.
Yahya softened his expression into a smile. "Indeed it is." He folded his hands behind his back and took a few short steps towards the boy. Their eyes locked, and Yahya let a tendril of his magic reach out.
Some minds were difficult to penetrate, their outer layer hewn from thick marble slabs requiring patience and effort to breach. But others gave way with the ease of a ripe fruit releasing its juices when squeezed.
This boy's mind was a leaf. As Yahya inhaled he grasped it, as he exhaled, he tore it apart. The force of Yahya's will took hold, and the boy's eyes grew unfocused. He manoeuvred the barrel against the wall beside several others and made his way back into the tea room.
Khaya looked at Yahya with a puzzled expression. "Was that supposed to happen?"
"He left it open," he said, and went up to the door.
As he knew it would, the knob gave way and the door swung open soundlessly. "Can I trust you to bring the others? I need to clear the way for us."
Khaya frowned at him, affronted that he even had to ask. Still, her going near the men, let alone ordering them around, was risky. Anyone could discover she was a girl, and Yahya did not know how he would explain that away to the Reyans, leave alone Rehan himself. He dare not entertain the thought.
As Khaya skulked away he entered the tearoom silently, careful to keep the latch unlocked. The anteroom he had stepped into was stocked with a plethora of spices, teas, and herbs, filling the air with an invigorating scent. Yahya followed the passage leading out of the room into a larger hallway, where he came upon several servants milling about their tasks. Before they could startle and question him, he threw out his hands and pushed their minds down into submission. Like the boy, they were pliable, and stood docile as lambs within a few moments.
Yahya pulled one of them to the side, a slender boy with large green eyes. "A group of people will come in through that door," he pointed back the way he came, "Take them to the basement quietly."
The boy's eyes grew glassy, and he went back towards the hallway to receive the men.
The din of the patrons in the tearoom proper drifted towards Yahya as he went deeper into the maze of servants' passages. Finally he came upon a thick curtain, beyond which was the main hall. He peeled the curtain to the side by a fraction and drew his gaze across the room.
There stood Sharan, in animated conversation with another man by a high table. A server appeared from behind a wooden pillar with a gleaming metal pot of tea and two glasses, then melted back into the shadows.
All was as it should have been. Yahya went back the way he came, just in time to see the line of Reyan guards being led to the basement by the dutiful green-eyed boy. Khaya was at the back of the pack, head down and silent as a shadow.
The servant stopped in front of a rickety door which looked like it had not been opened in years. The hinges creaked as he pushed it open, and they descended the narrow staircase into a dark, damp room. The boy lit the solitary torch by the entrance, and left them to their devices.
Most of the room was still shrouded in darkness, but it was larger than Yahya thought. He traced his fingers along the wall - cool stone, unlike the wood of the tearoom above. It was barren, save for a few discarded crates and barrels, clearly not well used by the tearoom. He took the torch from the wall and shone it around the rest of the room, corner to corner.
There appeared to be no other door or entrance.
Khaya sidled up to him. "At the square, the tunnel entrance was hidden in the wall. Like the passage to the library solar. It must be the same here," she said, careful to keep her voice low.
Yahya turned to the men. "We are looking for an entrance that leads to the tunnels. It is likely hidden, so keep your wits about you. Look for irregularities in the walls, things that shouldn't be there. We will share the light."
They muttered their understanding and took up positions along each wall, following Yahya's motions as he drew his hands over the stone.
"Rehan is almost here," Khaya whispered when he was by her side.
Her eyes were dark as obsidian when she looked up at him in the dim light. Yahya's chest suddenly tightened in fear. Even in darkness, even with her face shrouded, Rehan would know those eyes.
"Have you found anything?" He raised his voice so the group could hear, though his question was pointed at Khayzuran.
The men around her scratched their heads, some shrugged and mumbled that it would be easier with more light, but Yahya was not paying attention to them. Khaya swivelled her head and slowed her breathing, then turned and repeated the action.
She walked over to the other side of the room and pressed her ear to the wall. Yahya looked away, focused on someone else as shadows blotted out the faint light from the open doorway.
He was here.
The four Reyans descended and fanned out in a phalanx as Rehan stepped into the basement. The sliver of light from above outlined him in muted gold, the darkness bending around his brightness.
"All well?"
"Yes, the entranceâ"
The sound of stone scraping stone echoed from behind them, and the Reyans startled as a powerful wind whipped at the torchlight. When Yahya turned he saw part of the wall had peeled inward, leading to a void of darkness.
The Reyans looked at each other, trying to pick out who'd discovered the door, but Khayzuran had slinked along the shadowed walls until she was just out of the stairwell's light. Yahya dared not look to acknowledge her for opening the tunnel entrance, but he whispered his thanks beneath his breath, sure she would hear it.
"Ah good, you found it," said Rehan. He gestured to the men he had brought with him and said, "Let's have more light, brothers."
They pulled out torch sticks and passed them around to the others, and one by one went to the entrance to ignite them. Soon the basement was aglow with warm firelight.
There was nowhere for Khayzuran to hide.
She drew her gaze down, shrinking into herself so as to avoid Rehan's attention. Yahya tugged Rehan away from the group to get a closer look at the entrance, and he followed without hesitation. They peered into the darkness, but the whip of their flames scarcely illuminated anything beyond a few paces of clean, rough stone.
"How far do you think it runs?" asked Yahya.
"From here it splits two ways, one north and one south. The southern passage circles into itself but the north splits again, to the east and then out of the city towards the coast."
Yahya looked at him as if he had spoken in a foreign tongue, and the Prince laughed. His ability to memorise routes with the ease of cracking a knuckle or turning the pages of a book never failed to fill Yahya with awe. It was akin to his family's own gifts, like the desert bestowed Rehan a different set of eyes each time he opened a map, with which he could see the beating heart of a city, a country, and remember it forever.
"You're not the only one with tricks up your sleeve," quipped Rehan, brushing him on the shoulder. He turned back to the waiting men and seamlessly gestured them into their two groups.
"Ghasan, Farhad, Nadir, I want you in the front with one torch; Amin, please stay here and make sure we aren't followed. The rest of you at the rear with one torch as well. We don't need anyone seeing the light from leagues off."
As one, they nodded sharply, their torches moving in synchrony. Despite not knowing the Reyans as intimately as before, Sharan had been able to pick a strong group, one where each individual was unremarkable as a single raindrop, but together, powerful as a torrent.
The leaders took a careful step inside, the sharp breeze masking the echo of their footfalls. Rehan and Yahya followed, and behind them the four remaining men. Among them, petite frame still masked by shadow, was Khayzuran.
And the labyrinth stretched onward, dark and cold and lifeless.
X
Khaya swallowed dry air for what seemed the tenth time. The two pinpricks of torchlight haloed Rehan and Yahya in red-gold, the rest of the men mere shadows. Their steps were too loud, breaths too heavy in her ears to listen to what lay beyond.
She hated this place, she decided. Not the darkness, for now she could draw the world in sound, but the narrow, suffocating walls. The only path being forward or back, trapped where she could not freely speak for fear of being found out.
And what would he do if he found out?
"You haven't seen him angry," Yahya had said.
The Prince's back was to her, soft curls gleaming in the low light, the muscles of his shoulders tensing with every step they took into the darkness. His head turned briefly, half his face fallen into stark shadow, and their eyes met.
Suddenly she was falling, the solid stone floor a crumbling dream as her heart lurched and clawed at her ribs. She pressed a hand to her chest and clutched at the fabric, but in the sluggish seconds Rehan had already turned away, as if what she saw had never been.
She had not felt like this before, when they were both out in the open of the square washed in warm afternoon light and close enough to touch. This new fear was visceral, powerful and deep enough to wrap around her bones and squeeze her throat closed.
The darkness seemed to press them closer together, and soon Khaya was half a step behind Yahya. She was useless in this position, barely able to discern the footsteps of each man, let alone what lay ahead. She needed to get in front of the leaders, feel the cutting air as it carried the faraway sounds to her.
She did not even know how long they had been walking when they came upon the first fork in the tunnel.
One going north, the other south.
A sharp breeze whipped the flames up into a scorching blaze. Phantom shadows flickered across their skin like forgotten ghosts as Khaya squeezed past the men on the flanks into the ink blackness of the southern tunnel.
The air seemed to thin the further she got from their light, and she sucked in a long, cool breath. The wind moaned here, low and rich and echoing like strings being plucked on an oud, and Khaya's eyes fluttered closed as her breathing settled into a slow rhythm.
Rehan had said this path was a dead end, but still she listened, if only to get a brief reprieve from the effects of this wretched place. The darkness peeled away as the wind revealed the shape of the tunnel to her. It twisted and wound every which way, as if they were inside the belly of an enormous serpent, before suddenly stopping against a slab of stone. A wall?
But how could the crosswind be so strong here without two sources?
"We go north," Rehan's voice was a muffle behind her as her focus moved forward, searching for cracks, entrances, something.
Her eyes snapped open, and she spun on her heel, catching the fabric of Yahya's tunic from behind. He slowed his pace until he too fell into shadow, then inclined his face to hers.
Khaya felt ridiculous lowering her voice to appear male, but she could not let up the ruse yet. "We need to douse the lights, now. There's someone behind us," she said gruffly.
As soon as the words left her mouth Yahya straightened, the flames illuminating his eyes a silver-grey. He stepped forward and snatched the torch from the rear guard, tossed it onto the floor and threw his cloak over it to stifle the flame.
"Yahya, whatâ" Rehan hissed.
"We aren't alone," he said, jerking his chin back towards the southern tunnel. The leader with the second torchâFarhad, his name wasâsucked in a sharp breath, looking to his Prince for orders.
Khaya could hear Rehan's heart beating faster and faster with each breath, though his face was still as stone. He nodded, and Farhad flung the torch onto the ground and stamped out the flame beneath his heavy boots.
Steel sang as the last embers died out and the men unsheathed their weapons against the waiting dark. A hand closed around Khaya's wrist, and Yahya gently pulled her behind him. She had no weapon save for a small dagger, and even that she did not know how to use. She could not fight, not truly, not in any way that mattered now.
She would die here.
She would die here in the dark and her family would never know.
The thought seized her with an iron grip, and a new terror bloomed within her. Why was she thinking of them now?
Yahya's grip on her wrist loosened, but she clutched his hand in her own, twining their fingers together and squeezing. She didn't care what he thought, whether he pulled away.
He didn't, instead squeezing back.
Their breaths held in their chests and time pulled itself taut like a bowstring as complete, utter silence filled the tunnel.
And there, small as a distant star in the night sky.
A glowing light.