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Sisters
Posted: 13 May 2007 11:55 PM |
((The cliffnotes to the Kobai Lore are available as a guide to this story. Browse the stuff written by Mykal.))
Two sisters born in the Kobai, Saana first, followed three years later by Aisha. Their parents, Zuhayr and Magda, love each other, a rarity amongst the tribes, and are thus doomed from the start. But in the beginning, their father's skill as a glazier earns them the space a family needs. He makes beautiful glass lanterns, highly prized as houses for the holy souls of the immortal undead. Each star in the sky is believed to be a lantern burning with their brilliant life force.
Saana recognizes something special about her little sister right away. Aisha is born during a meteor shower. Shortly after her birth, Saana asks her mother, "Mama. Is she a fallen star?"
Magda replies without hesitation, "Yes. Yes, she is."
And so Saana thereafter thinks of her sister as one of the brilliant immortal souls returned to them from the darkness of the night sky.
SCORPION PIT
The men huddled in a circle around a shallow pit in the sand, their drab, desert robes painted yellow by a chain of lamps hanging overhead. Saana restrained her little sister at the threshold to the small adobe abode. Although not quite two years old, little Aisha was insistent that they see what the men were doing. She held a stick in her right hand and tugged Saana with the left.
"Ana, I wanna see korpions," she pleaded.
Saana quickly shushed her, and cast a fearful look over her shoulder. Although three years Aisha's senior, Saana often felt at her mercy. Her fierce curiosity always seemed to get them in trouble. They shouldn't be here. Mom could not find out about this. Saana scanned the cliffside trail behind them to ensure that no one was watching. The coast was clear. A cold night, most of the tribe was sleeping indoors. Before anyone had a chance to spot them, she pushed her little sister inside, and followed quickly after.
The men paid the two children no notice. They were fixated upon the action between them. A raucous round of shouts rang out. "Come on. Come on." "Yes. Yes." "Go!" And "Noooooo!" Then the shouting subsided, and money exchanged hands. Aisha looked on eagerly, curious to see what they were watching. Saana gripped her by the shoulders and slowly walked behind her. Even when they reached the side of the pit, none of the men showed any concern.
The edge of the pit was ringed with a sparse picket of scimitars stuck point down in the sand. In the ring to one side, rested a small black box, open side face down. Another box was produced by a sharp eyed man named Muciph. He set it down adjacent the other with a showman's flourish. The bargaining began. Each man placed his bets. Then the boxes were removed. Two scorpions remained to square off one against the other.
The shouting resumed. Each man cheered on his favorite. Saana was overwhelmed by the noise. The two scorpions warily sidled back and forth, face to face, pincers up, tails poised to strike. She could feel the poison building up behind their barbs. The room, the men, the ring, all were brutal and terrifying to her. She pulled her hands to her mouth, and cast about the room, searching the faces of the men, to understand. Their teeth flashed in the gloom, sallow eyes darted to and fro, hands grasped in the air shaking. In that moment, she lost track of her little sister.
Aisha took the opportunity to slip squeeze through the standing blades for a closer look. On the way in, she caught her foot, tripped, and tumbled forward halfway into the scorpion pit. The scorpions scattered back out of her way, and the men gave a shout of surprise. Saana snapped her head around and squealed in horror. Aisha lay flat on her stomach, head momentarily down with a nose full of sand.
"Get her out of there," Muciph protested.
"The match is ruined," another complained while motioning to Saana, now wailing in tears.
"No. Look. The fight is on. I put two coin on the brat."
While Saana cried, Aisha had regained her feet. The men watched her flick sand at the scorpions with the stick. No one bothered to pull her out. A new round of wagers circled the room. Saana was beside herself in anguish moaning, "Aisha" over and over again.
"Would someone shut the other one up?" someone asked. The nearest male struck blindly with the back of his hand across Saana's face. She tumbled over, end over end, the snot from her nose gathering goblets of dirt off the floor as she rolled towards the door. She went silent more out of surprise than pain. Unlike other children of the tribe, Saana had never been struck before. She sat up at the open entry, hand to her cheek.
Saana's father appeared before her out of the gloom. He kneeled and looked her over with some concern, cleaning her face with a rag. She looked back at him unable to make a sound. He kissed her on the forehead and picked her up as he stepped into the room. Saana clung to him for dear life.
Zuhayr was a compact man, of quiet movements. None of the other men noticed him enter. He scanned the room for his other daughter. In a moment, his eyes reached the focus of everyone's attention, Aisha in the scorpion pit with a stick and two scorpions. He strode to the edge and snatched her up. As he pulled her free, the men of the room once again groaned in frustration.
Muciph turned on Saana's father, spitting out, "What is the meaning of this?"
He ignored the question and faced the whole group asking, "Who put Aisha in the scorpion pit?"
They merely laughed at him.
"She has no sense," Muciph answered. "The stupid girl crawled into the pit on her own."
"Better to leave her there," said another still laughing.
Murder crossed his mind for the briefest of moments, but with a girl in each arm there was little he could do. "This is true?" he asked of them. The group nodded in agreement. He could see it was true. The men were not lying. "Then we shall not disturb you any longer."
The rest of the men turned back to the pit. Muciph turned as well, calling out loudly, "Next!"
"But Muciph. Keep it down. The Devoured are sleeping."
The group was shamed into silence.
Muciph bowed his head reverently. "Of course," he said putting his hands together in a gesture of prayer.
"May The Holy reward you for your piety." With the last word on the matter settled and each of his girls safely in his arms, Zuhayr left to join their mother in his tent.
The men around the snake pit continued in hushed tones.
"Zuhayr still sleeps with the mother of the girls?"
"Yes. And sleeps with no other women."
"That isn't right."
"What does the Warden say?"
"He turns a blind eye to Zuhayr's strange ways."
Another nodded in agreement, "Best glass blower in the tribe. The Warden wants Zuhayr to make his lantern."
Annoyed, Muciph produced another box, "Are we going to wager or wag our tongues all night?"
The men hunkered down once more around the scorpion pit placing bets in low tones beneath the chain of glass lamps. |
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Sisters
Posted: 16 May 2007 01:47 AM |
RITES OF PASSAGE
With the long light of a summer evening on their faces, Saana and Haroun sat together spinning their youthful stories back and forth across the clifftop ruins. They dangled their feet carelessly over the edge of a tumbled wall into the dreamy vastness of the desert. The stones radiated heat into their young skin. A cool breeze licked the remains of perspiration from their hair. Life seemed full of endless possibilities.
Below them, Aisha perched herself on the last step of a broken stair to watch the lions on the Kobai plains. From this height, the great cats appeared as small as mice. She was fascinated by their stillness. They resembled the figurines her father carved from amber. Shutting one eye, Aisha reached out with her left hand, pretending to scratch the tip of a lion's ear.
The lion turned its head to look right back at her. She sucked in her breath, and held it, her eyes wide open. The lion was looking at her. A wave of realization shivered down her spine. She resumed breathing. The lion lazily raised itself up, arched its back, then yawned. She yawned back, then giggled. The lion seemed to blink both its eyes and look away. They were connected the two of them. She was sure of it.
Aisha turned to get Saana's attention, but she and Haroun were still chattering away like a couple of baboons. She wished he would just leave them alone. Saana however clearly liked the boy's company. When Aisha looked back at the lion, it was already pushing it's way into a thicket. None of the other lions bothered to look at her. She continued to sit and watch them anyway, as Haroun al-Ghani yammered on.
“Some hunters found my brother last week.”
Saana shook her head in disbelief, “Nu-uh!”
“Yu-huh!" He nodded emphatically in contradiction. "I saw him! He's sleeping in my father's basement.”
“Huh? Sleeping?”
He nodded again. “He survived the Rites. You'll probably see him next.”
Saana screwed up her mouth with distaste, to which Haroun cast her a sharp look. She immediately looked away, embarrassed, blurting out, “Sorry.”
“Those are Holy marks of the Devoured, Saana. He's likely to be one of the Blessed before long,” Haroun puffed up with pride when he talked about his brother. So absorbed was he with his brother's glory that he did not notice how subdued Saana had become.
“Devoured...,” she whispered to herself, privately struggling with her nightmares. The Rites of the Devoured had haunted her dreams these past months. Last night she dreamed the ghouls tied her across a stone table in the dark. She could not move, could not see, but felt the jagged remains of the ghoul's broken teeth splintering into her flesh. She had woken gasping for air in the dark unsure where she was. She felt the phantom splinters until the sun rose.
He prattled on, “...and when my time comes, I won't make a sound either.” Seeing Saana's silence he asked, “Don't you want me to live forever, Saana?”
She flashed her winningest smile and slapped the bottom of her foot against his shin, “Who doesn't?”
At that Aisha appeared. “Mom's calling.”
Saana's head whipped around to scan the high terrain. Aisha merely pointed to a black speck moving towards them along the trail from the village.
Haroun stood up to leave. “See you later,” he said. As usual he simply walked off without awaiting a response.
“See you,” Saana called, waving after him fondly. Aisha tugged her away, and they ran holding hands toward their mother.
Magda was covered head to foot in the black robes of a Kobai woman with little more than her eyes exposed. Her stern look spoke volumes to them. “It is late!” she scolded.
“But mom, we always stay out this late,” pleaded Saana.
“Don't 'But Mom' me,” she said spearing the air with a finger. ”I told you supper was early. Now hurry up. We have a lot to do.”
Aisha reached for her mother's hand. Magda took it and the two turned toward home. Saana fell in line behind. A creeping dread numbed her to the world as she realized what was in store for her that night. The sun set behind them taking with it life's prior offer of endless possibilities. In the growing dark, Saana felt trapped by destiny.
Supper passed uneventfully. Saana was uncharacteristically silent. Aisha offered her the last helping of pumpkin mincemeat to cheer her up. She welcomed the morsel, and managed a weak smile. Father noticed and cast Magda a questioning look.
“Saana?” she began sweetly, “What is the matter?”
Saana refused to look up.
Magda narrowed her eyes suspiciously, “Is it that boy?”
“No, mama.” She could barely hear her own voice. Everyone else at the table seemed at a great distance.
“What then?”
Zuhayr feigned disinterest in the conversation. Aisha's eyes teared and she gently reached for her sister's hand under the table. Saana squeezed back, welcoming the lifeline extended her.
“Saana?” Magda stretched the second syllable, insisting on an answer.
Saana looked up, her eyes like those of a hunted animal. “Mama,” she croaked. Her throat closed on her, and she started to cry. Magda utterly bewildered looked to her husband for support then back to her daughters. Before she could speak, Saana burst out again, “I don't want to go!”
Magda realized immediately what her daughter was talking about. Tonight they were required to clean the Devoured in the al-Ghani house. She did not want to go either. Their smell and the rot repulsed her, especially when a Devoured's wounds had gone untreated for so long. The black ichor would be seeping from his flesh now. No one expected him to last much longer, but the women were still required to wash his wounds. They had no choice.
“Saana,” she began gently again, “You are nine now...”
Zuhayr now grasped the problem and cleared his throat as he squared his shoulders to the table. Saana faced him with a practiced look of endangered innocence, “daddy's little girl”. Although there was compassion in his eyes, she dreaded what he was about to say. She tried to voice an appeal, but he raised the palm of his hand to silence her. “Saana,” he said, “You will do this.”
Discussion was over.
After supper, Aisha cleared the table. Magda gathered the wraps, and medicines. Saana did her best to follow her mother's lead. Zuhayr helped his youngest clean the dishes. Other than the clatter of crockery, the house was silent.
Zuhayr stopped them at the door on their way out. He embraced them both, each in turn, starting with Saana. As he kissed Magda, Aisha slipped a small bundle into her sister's hand. She looked up at her big sister, smiled, then reached around her waist for a hug. “Wear it,” she whispered. “Everything will be ok.” They disengaged. Zuhayr handed his wife a glass lantern then opened the door. Magda and Saana passed outside. Aisha and Zuhayr watched them go. A handful of lights crept across the network of cliffside trails toward a single destination.
The al-Ghani house was the largest in the village. All of the village's women filed into the building's basement strewing their lanterns about the chamber. Magda paused for a breath before crossing the threshold. Saana lagged behind to unwrap Aisha's bundle. Saana found the copper necklace there and almost cried. Saana had stolen this necklace from her sister last winter when she left for the Rites of the Devoured. Aisha was too young to go. Saana had been scared. The nightmares had begun. She needed a piece of home for comfort. This necklace was Aisha's favorite. When Saana wore it, she felt close to her.
Saana clasped the copper necklace around her throat, took a deep breath, and joined her mother inside. Upon a stone table in the center of the room, a young man lay, his breath shallow, his hair white. In addition to the horrific bites covering his body, his skin was blistered by the sun. The pungent reek of death oozed from his pores. An old woman closed the door, sealing them within the stifling chamber. The women took up their buckets and rags, and washed the body. The action roused him. He reached upwards to the nearest woman, and pulled her face to his. Another woman grinned lasciviously and removed her clothes.
Magda pulled Saana briefly aside, and whispered, “Keep your head down. Don't let him touch you. We can endure.” |
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Sisters
Posted: 02 Jul 2007 12:55 AM |
THE NIGHT VISITOR
“I don't want her here!” Magda's voice carried throughout the earthen house from the common room to the girls' room in the back. Saana sat up from her sleeping matt startled by the sound and glanced at Aisha also stirring. Three candles spread a murky glow about the cave-like room. A slow, steady drumbeat pulsed through the walls from the gathering of men outside. Saana stood and walked to the doorway tilting her head to listen to her parents. The sound of the drums had masked their argument until now.
Zuhayr's response to Magda was barely audible. He did not like to be overheard. Saana strained to hear, craning her neck to catch his words with her sharp ears. “We don't ... that choice,” he said.
“We?” Magda burst. “Or me?”
“Magda,” he began before a keening wail from outside drowned his voice. After it passed, Saana heard, “...not the one-”
“Who then?” Magda interrupted, her voice further raised. “Who decides for us? Them?” Saana imagined the fierce challenge in her mother's expression, chin thrust forward, eyes as hard as glass.
“Please, Magda. Quietly.”
Saana held her breath, listening. The funeral rhythm of drums and chants filled the space of mother's silence. Unable to hear them, she took a step out into the hall. Aisha restrained her. Grasping one of Saana's hands with both of her own, she tried to pull her back into their room. Saana resisted, slipping free with a sharp look at her little sister.
“It isn't you,” Aisha whispered.
Saana flinched, knitting her brows. “What?” she mouthed.
“They aren't talking about you.”
The argument in the common room resumed in lower tones. Saana half turned away to listen. Unable to discern the words, she turned back, motioned Aisha back in the room, then crept down the length of the hall toward her parents. Aisha stayed behind watching, a look of concern on her face framed between the door and the jamb.
Saana stopped where the hall entered the common room. Candles burned dripping pools of tallow throughout the chamber. Magda and Zuhayr stood on the other side of the space by the pair of entry doors. Some resolution seemed to be reached between them. Magda stood with her eyes closed, hand to forehead. Zuhayr waited, eyes on Magda, his hand on the bolt across the doors. He was dressed in white for the gathering outside. A pigeon fluttered its wings in the skylight vault. At last Magda wiped her hand away and with a deep breath opened her eyes. She straightened her clothes, then nodded. Zuhayr pulled open the doors.
A woman looked up from where she waited behind the doors in the entry vestibule. Zuhayr ushered her in. Saana bit her lip. The woman walked into the room proudly at her full height. She wore dark traveling robes without a veil and her hood thrown back. Her face was as dark as the night sky. She looked once around the room, pausing briefly on Saana in the corner, then faced Magda, lowering her head in respect. Saana dashed out of sight.
“Magda, thank you for accepting me into your home. I am called Umm Saad,” she heard the woman say.
Aisha widened the gap in the doorway. Saana slipped through, gently pushing Aisha away. She closed the door herself, timed with the beat of the drum.
“You're right,” she whispered at last.
Aisha smiled up at her big sister proud of the affirmation. Saana turned back to the door.
“Ma 'n Da talked about her yesterday.”
“Hmmm?”
“The new woman out there. They talked about her yesterday.”
Saana pivoted on her heel to look at Aisha. She looked at her a long moment wondering how the girl always seemed one step ahead of her. “Get in bed,” she said.
Aisha crawled back beneath her blanket, and Saana tucked her in.
“Who is she?” she asked kneeling at her side.
Aisha shrugged. “She came from somewhere else.”
Saana looked again toward their door listening. She rest her hand upon the blanket protective of her sister.
Aisha continued in a whisper. “Da says the elders want us to live like the others.”
Saana nodded. “Ma doesn't like that.”
“Da neither.”
She was about to ask why when she heard the house's doors close. She shushed Aisha, lifting a finger between them. Aisha put both hands to her mouth and fought a sudden case of the giggles. Saana looked down at her and shook her head, but Aisha's eyes gleamed with so much laughter that she could not help but smile. She started to laugh silently through her nose. Her cheeks burned, and chest started to spasm.
“Stop it!” she hissed grinning.
Aisha put both hands to her face and rolled over to stifle her laughing fit in the blankets.
“You'll be staying with the girls,” came their mother's voice from the hall.
“That is fine.”
Saana whisked away to her own sleeping pallet. Mother knocked on their door.
“Girls,” she said pushing the door open. A rich yellow light spilled in with her from a glass lantern. Aisha sat up wiping away feigned sleep, yet sporting an irrepressible grin. Saana simply squinted into the light and yawned. Magda gave her youngest a curious glance while stepping into the room. “Wake up,” she said, “We have a guest.”
Both girls looked toward their mother then Aisha stole a glance to the stranger in the hall.
“She'll be staying with you.” Magda motioned Umm Saad into the room. “This is Umm Saad. Saana, get her a sleeping pallet.”
Saana dutifully stood. “Welcome,” she said and hustled off to find her some bedding.
Umm nodded to her once then turned to her sister. When Aisha met Umm's tawny eyes, she momentarily forgot where she was. Time slipped sideways. She recalled lions bathing in the sunset.
“Say hello, Aisha,” Magda urged.
Aisha snapped to, and waved a greeting to Umm who smiled. “Hi.”
“I'll be fine here, Magda. You have raised good girls.”
Magda stared at her with her head pulled back. She seemed about to ask a question then relaxed into a smile of her own. “Thank you,” she said and looked fondly upon Aisha. “It is not easy, you know.”
Saana returned with a bundle of blankets.
“Yes, I know.” Umm nodded then made a gesture generally toward the tightly shuttered clerestory window. The drumming and chanting carried on louder than before. “I know.”
The two women looked at each other. An understanding passed silently between them. Magda visibly relaxed. “You must have some stories to tell,” she said with sudden frankness.
Saana finished preparing Umm's bed. “All ready for you, lady ... uh ... Umm,” she said.
“Good,” she said, and took a seat brushing past Saana.
Saana discretely sniffed her scent as she passed. She smelled of leather, the desert, animals, and incense, an unusual combination in a woman. The woman smelled like a hunter, but no women were allowed to hunt. Saana backpedalled away in surprise.
“Alright, Saana?” Magda asked.
“Yes, ma,” she nodded. “Just tired.”
“Me too,” piped Aisha who appeared wide awake and excited.
Magda bent to kiss her. “Then lie back, dear,” she said. She then stood to go, but lingered at the door. Her room would be empty. She hated these nights most of all. The drumming and chanting were bearable. She could even tolerate being shut in as the men congregated outside, but to wait it out without Zuhayr was tortuous. Almost all of the other women she knew would slip outside wearing nothing but a mask when the chanting stopped. They gave themselves like animals, she thought, for nothing in return. She shuddered to think of any of her girls doing the same. Saana was coming of age now. She had seen the men looking at her.
“You too, Saana,” she said turning around to look at her older daughter from the door. Both Saana and Aisha however remained sitting up. All four of them looked at each other. They each knew that sleep tonight would be restless.
“I do have a story,” Umm said breaking the impasse. “Please sit with us, Magda. It will help pass the time.”
“I would like that,” mother said and prepared a place to sit.
Once they had each settled themselves and given her their attention, Umm Saad took a deep breath and began. |
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Sisters
Posted: 20 Nov 2007 08:23 PM |
HABRA AL-HARARAT
“An old woman once told me to trust the story before the storyteller. She sat with me as I now sit with you on a night like this. We were surrounded by mud brick walls like these with the chants of men on the other side,” Umm laid her hand upon the wall for emphasis. A ritual chant drifted in from outside to fill her pause. She then set her satchel down on the floor between them and continued. “This old storyteller had a bag like mine filled with the old things that old women carry. Who knows what old women carry? I didn't, but I wanted to know what was in that bag. I stared at her bag fiercely as if I could burn a hole in the leather just by squinting. I looked from all angles.” Umm cocked her head theatrically from side to side. “Could that be a book? No. What woman reads?” She winked conspiratorially. “Could it be a needle and thread? Likely, I thought, for all women can mend.” Umm Saad paused as if thinking then asked, “What do you think was in there?” Her right hand unfurled beckoning her listeners for answers like a bloom calling bees to nectar.
Saana brightened at the opportunity to be the first to answer, “Bread. A piece of bread.”
Aisha stared at their guest's satchel puzzling quietly at the mystery of its contents.
Magda watched her daughters and smiled to herself. “A bit of cloth? Some lint?” she asked.
“A knife, and a shrunken head!” Saana laughed, enjoying the game.
“No, I think the book is in there,” Aisha said quietly.
“No,” Saana said, “no, it was full of beetles, and a rat named Zed.”
“Saana, really...,” chuckled mother.
Aisha remained quiet, her eyes on the storyteller.
“Old skins, seeds and the remains of the dead!”
Umm swiftly raised her hand. “Perhaps so,” she resumed, “but as I stared at that bag of things dreaming about its imagined contents the storyteller clapped-” SLAP! “-her hand over the bag like a raptor on its prey.” Umm gripped and shook the satchel once. “She said, 'To hear the truth, girl, you have to pay attention. You won't find the truth in a sack.'”
Saana startled upright then laughed. Aisha nodded. Magda narrowed her eyes and smiled at the lesson.
“'Truth is in the telling,' that old woman said to me. She was full of lessons. I would ask her where she had learned them, and she would say to me in her crackly voice, 'From the Book of Life.'
“'The Book of Life?' I asked.
“'The Book of Life,' she answered. But she said nothing more.
“I imagined a large tome full of secrets, and I wanted to see inside it. Although I hadn't yet learned to read, I suspected it was full of pictures. So I looked for that book starting with the old woman's things. She caught me, and when she found out why I was searching through her belongings she laughed. Again I asked her where the book was hidden.
“She wagged a finger before her nose, and said, 'Have you heard a word I have said? I can't tell you where to find the Book of Life, girl, but if you seek wisdom you'll find it, I assure you.'
“I huffed. 'I bet there is no such thing.'
“'That attitude won't help you at all,' she said.
“'Can you at least give me a hint then?' I asked.
“That old woman was amused by my persistence. She leaned back against the wall, and looked at me through her smile, a playful, teasing smile, the kind of smile that says, 'How much more fun can I get out of this?' She sat there smiling, testing my patience. Then when I could wait no longer she leaned forward.” Umm leaned forward, spreading her palms wide like the old woman in the story before continuing. “'OK,' she said, 'I'll tell you a story about someone like you, someone seeking answers.'
Umm then leaned back, and said, “This is the same story I will tell you tonight, the story of Habra al-Hararat.”
Umm drew a deep breath slowly through half pursed lips. Her hands returned to her like spiders floating on a breeze. Magda felt awash in a wave of nostalgia. Umm's gestures, the cadence of her voice, her intensity, they reminded Magda of her youth listening to the old storyteller in her father's harem. She had forgotten how much she missed those stories, and was surprised that this woman of all women evoked these old memories. Here before her was the very thing she wished to keep from her house, a rival for her husband's attention, and yet here she found herself enjoying the woman's company. Magda looked about the small room, looked at her daughters' faces in the flicker of candlelight, each intent upon the storyteller. Her girls were happy. This woman had wrapped them all in the spell of her words, and distracted them from the rites outside. Tonight the drumming, and the dead were mere shadows cast aside by a candlelit tale.
Umm finished drawing in her breath to hold it and her hands in stillness. She closed her eyes. Two heart beats measured the moment of quiet expectance between the women. Then at last Umm opened her eyes, set her hands in flight, and began the weaving of the tale:
“Habra al-Hararat lived in the heart of the Kobai, a world as you know of sand, sun, and scorpions and thus one of thirst, heat, and poison. Every morning she gathered water from the camp's well to slake her thirst. Each morning the water tasted worse to her than it had the day before. One day she gagged uncontrollably. Her tongue thick and bitter as if coated in metal.
“'This water is stale,' she said.
“'Silly Girl! Stop drinking it for a day or two,' the others of her tribe answered, 'by the third day nothing will taste as fresh.' They all laughed at her.
“Even the girls in her harem derided her. 'We all must drink the water,' they said. 'Who do you think you are? What is good for us is good for you.'
“'But we have drunk from this well too long. Why are we still here?' she asked remembering that they had once been a nomadic tribe.
“'Be happy that we do not have to wander anymore, Habra. Our lives are easier now.'
“Habra pleaded with them, but no one wanted to listen. When sickness is the norm, no one wants to be told they are ill. Despite them she knew something was wrong with the water. Poison had seeped slowly into their well, so slowly that no one noticed the difference - no one except for Habra. Unless someone brought them sweet water for comparison, the tribe would continue drinking the poison until it killed them all. In her heart, Habra knew this for truth. She spent the afternoon considering her options, then when her mind was made up she fashioned two new water skins. She needed containers unspoiled by the well's taint.
“'When I find sweet water', she thought, 'I will return to share it with my sisters. Everyone will see that the well is poisoned.'
“Habra rose early the next day before dawn and crept quietly from her tent so as not to awaken the harem. First she grabbed some biscuits and put them in her pockets. Then she took a small lantern to tie to the sash at her waist. Finally she slung over her shoulders the two new skins both empty, but also grabbed a third, older skin on her way to the well. She filled the old skin there for her drinking water. Even poisoned water was better than nothing. If she set out without even tainted water to drink, the desert would certainly kill her.
“Before the sky lightened in the east, she crossed the rocky flats to disappear into the dunes north of the camp. She walked north all morning toward the cliffs looming darkly on the horizon. Sweet water springs were said to bloom in their blue shadows. She walked over dune after dune, crest to trough to crest again, over yellow sand, red sand, and all the shades between. From the top of each, she looked out across the vast, rippled erg toward her destination. As always her goal was no closer than the horizon. She pressed on. Midday approached. The sun climbed higher. The heat pressed down. Habra walked to the top of another dune. Still the cliffs seemed remote behind countless shimmering curtains of the sun blasted air. Her determination wavered in the heat. Despair threatened to overwhelm her, but she surrendered no tears. She pressed on.
“Habra descended from the crest into a wide trough spilling out onto a rock studded salt flat sparsely feathered with grasses and aromatic brush. A large boulder of grey-green stone, large enough to cast a generous shadow, stood upright from the flat, sparkling ground of tiny white crystals. She sat in its shade to rest. 'Only for a moment,' she told herself. The shade was deliciously cool. Her eyelids drooped. 'Only for a moment,' she said as she slipped into a dreamless sleep.
“She awoke with a cry despite her dry throat. Something had pinched her leg. No creature was visible. She looked up. The sun had advanced as she slept to melt her shadow. Nothing remained but heat and light. Her head ached and eyes burned. She was thirsty enough to drink the tainted water, but when she reached for the skin, the skin was missing. She patted down her robes. She did not find it. She crawled around the stone. The skin was not behind it. She panicked, and stood too fast. She feinted.
“She awoke a second time to laughter. She looked up from where she had fallen. She saw no one, but the laughter continued.
“'Give m- give me back my water,' she choked.
“'I can not let you drink poison in my house,' the voice replied from the air above her head.
“Habra realized that she was speaking with one of the Jinn, a tribe of invisible beings inhabiting the erg. Some are kind and others wicked, but their invisibility makes it difficult for us to see their nature. All however measure themselves by their honor, and it was to this that Habra hoped to appeal. 'But I will die,' she said.
“The air buzzed momentarily with the voice's laughter. 'Yes,' it said.
“'But my sisters will die if I do not return.'
“'Or even if you do,' said the Jinn laughing again.
“'Please return it to me. I promise not to drink from the skin in your home. I need to retrieve fresh water for my people. They have camped by a poisoned well, and have no pure water to drink,' she pleaded.
“'I do not trust you. Anyone willing to drink poison can not be trusted. Two skins of water will not slake the thirst of your people. Your people should move to another well.'
“Habra was certain that she had run across one of the wicked Jinn. She was reluctant to ask the Jinn for help in anticipation that this evil creature would demand an evil deed of her in return, but her choices were dwindling.
“She tried shame: 'You will let your guest die in your house?'
“To which the Jinn replied: 'I do not have power over life and death.'
“Next she tried righteous authority: 'I demand you return what you have taken from me!'
“But the Jinn retorted: 'I answer to no one.'
“And so at last she put herself at the Jinn's mercy: 'I am sorry. Please, forgive me. May I have a drink of water?'
“To Habra's surprise, the Jinn agreed. 'Of course,' it said though it did not return her water skin. She waited nervously uncertain of what to expect. She first heard a grinding sound. The large boulder of grey-green stone began to rock to and fro. Around the stone, the air swirled with grist. Habra pulled her robes close and backed away to protect herself. Watching through a layer of muslin, she discerned a monstrous shape within the cloud, perhaps several times the size of a man. After much rocking, the stone rose clear of the earth, floated a short distance in the air, then landed with a resounding thud. The ground shook. Habra was knocked from her feet. Sand scattered down the face of neighboring dunes.
“'Come,' the Jinn said gently grabbing her arm and helping her stand. She let it guide her towards the hole from which the boulder had been removed. Her ears rang and her feet were unsteady. The air rapidly cleared of dust as if whisked away by a soundless wind. At the hole, Habra looked into the earth and at the bottom of the tunnel saw a rippled reflection of the sky. She felt a moist breeze rising out of the ground, and heard a sound like wind through a curtain of glass beads. She was disoriented until she realized she was looking at flowing water. The Jinn dipped with its hand and drew from the underground river a watery globe. It set the sphere in her hands, and said, 'Drink from the top.' She was too thirsty to marvel at how she could be holding water in her hands. She merely sipped from the top as instructed and was content.
“'Thank you,' she said at last.
“'It is nothing,' said the Jinn.
“She wet a cloth in the water and laid it over her forehead. Then she drank again. Eventually she was ready to resume her journey. She nestled the now half sphere of water on the ground and slowly stood. When she did, the Jinn took the water and restored it to the river beneath the desert. She watched it fly back from where it came realizing as she did that she would likely need more.
“'Lord,' she blurted, 'if I may be-'
“The Jinn immediately interrupted her. 'I am no lord,' it said.
“'Well, ok,' she stammered, 'but, well....' Habra faltered when she heard the impatient tapping of an invisible foot.
“'MmmmHmmmmmm?'
“Her heart raced but she swallowed and asked, 'May I fill both my skins here?'
“'No,' the Jinn answered firmly.
“'But my people-'
“'Two skins will make no difference.'
“'Then what am I to do?' she asked.
“'Your tribe needs to find a pure source of water.'
“Habra shook her head in frustration. 'Yes, but they refuse to believe anything is wrong.'
“The Jinn simply grunted then commanded, 'Move away from the hole.' Habra stood dumbly in place until the boulder was lofted overhead at which point the realization struck that it could fall on her and so she fled up the side of the nearest dune. The Jinn promptly jammed the stone back in the hole like a cork in a bottle. The earth shook. Once the dust settled, and Habra picked herself out of a small avalanche of sand, the Jinn said, 'See how simple it is?'
“'Simple?' she asked in confusion before grasping the Jinn's lesson. 'Simple for you! I can not lift the well like a stone to threaten the village into moving.'
“The Jinn grunted impatiently again. 'Your kind makes everything more complicated than it needs to be,' it complained. 'I do not understand how any of you accomplish anything. In your case, you will have to speak with Lord Jaguar. Will you do this?' The air vibrated like a gong struck by the Jinn's words.
“Without a thought to what she said, Habra agreed. 'Oh yes. Yes, of course I will,' she said.
“The vibration in the air turned to a pulsing hiss like waves of dry sand sliding over dry sand. The Jinn was laughing. 'Good, good,' it said. 'I will help you with the simplest task, the task of crossing the desert. You must negotiate with Lord Jaguar.'
“'What does Lord Jaguar have for me?' Habra asked.
“'Let us find out,' it replied.
“The Jinn enwrapped her in a blanket of winds and bore her over the desert. The dry lands passed beneath them at great speed, and birds came to fly along with them. They tried to warn Habra of the treachery of the Jinn, but she did not understand their language. The desert falcon was fierce and proud and cynical, but he did not fly with them long for he is a solitary hunter. A pair of shrouded vultures joined them while returning to their nest atop a pinnacle of rock. The vultures exchanged hoarsely buzzed calls with the Jinn briefly before settling home to roost. Later where the desert kissed the sea, a raucous caucus of sandy gulls, and blue pelicans chattered to Habra like gossips warning her of her association with an invisible being. The Jinn intervened which stirred them up even further. The birds circled their heads screeching a barrage of insults before wheeling away to resume their play in the surf. Had Habra known the languages of the birds who knows what she would have learned. Though vain and proud creatures, birds see much while flying over the world, and the wind speaks to them, revealing to them her secrets. Habra however paid their screeching little mind for she knew nothing about the kingdom of the birds.
“When they reached the northern edge of the beach along the Kobai shoreline, the Jinn dissolved Habra's blanket of winds. She fell roughly to her hands and knees in the wet sand, tendrils of white mist drifting up from her robes to join with the salty air. Habra heard the Jinn's buzzing laughter fading with the mist. She looked about her in a panic, and saw nothing but the surf, sand, wind sculpted trees, and auburn grasses, their pendulous seed heads nodding in the breeze.
“She heard the Jinn tell her from a distance, 'Lord Jaguar lives in the jungle on this coast. Go and find him.'
“'Do not leave me,' she cried.
“The Jinn's voice was just barely audible above the susurrus of the sea. 'My part in your journey is over,' it said.
“'You haven't told me yet what I am looking for,' she pleaded.
“'No one can do that for you,' said the Jinn.
“Habra was angered by the spirit's evasiveness with her questions, but she knew she did not have time to argue. She felt the Jinn's presence fading away. 'What dangers will I face in the jungle?' she asked.
“'You already know everything you need to know,' it said.
“Habra called to the Jinn a few more times but received no answer. She was alone with the birds on the sea shore. She felt lost and worried about her fate. Fear began to gnaw at her mind, but most of all she was hungry and thirsty. The windy flight from the desert had dried and chapped her skin.
“Habra gathered herself up to walk amongst the twisted trees above the beach where she heard the rush of water. She followed the sound to a swiftly moving stream. She cupped water from the creek with her hand and tasted it. It was sweet. She drank. When she had her fill of water, she ate a biscuit she brought from home. While she chewed on the tough bread, the breeze shifted to bear a succulent, sweet odor toward her. The scent was sweeter than dates, and more succulent than cut aloe. Habra turned her head to find the source, and saw on the opposite bank of the stream a low, green mat of small, three parted leaves. Nestled amongst them as red and bright as cut rubies was a wealth of numerous strawberries. She waded the stream and picked her fill of the fruit. They were tart and delicious. Many more of the berries remained but she left them for breakfast.
“The day was waning, and Habra was exhausted from her journey. Yawning and stretching she looked for a place to pass the night. At last she laid down in a sheltered thicket by the stream and fell asleep in all her clothes, too tired to make a fire.
“Habra awoke at dawn. A platinum sun rose from the azure sea into a sapphire sky strewn with white fluffy clouds. Small birds sang and danced in her thicket by the creek. Habra wandered back to the bed of strawberries, ate more of them with her biscuits, drank from the stream, washed her face, then filled both of her specially made water skins.
“Habra realized with the skins full that she had what she had come for, sweet water. She considered returning to her village, then recalled the Jinn's words. Two skins would not slake her village's thirst. What if the sweet water was not enough to convince her tribe to move?
“'I have come all this way,' she thought, 'I should see what the Lord Jaguar has to offer.'
“The mere thought of the jungle cat frightened her. She knew, if she turned back now, that she would never have the courage to return. For the love of her family and her tribe, Habra determined that she would find the Lord Jaguar and ask for his help. Before setting out however, she gathered as many strawberries as she could carry and wrapped them in a Catalpa leaf. 'For later,' she told herself.
“Habra followed the creek away from the sea. The vegetation grew taller and thicker forcing her closer and closer to the stream bank as she walked. Vines and branches wove together overhead to obscure the sky. Before long Habra was hunched over half crawling, half swimming through the water surrounded by a tangled, green tunnel of vegetation. She struggled forward. Her hands and face were lashed by branches and pricked by thorns but she did not turn back.
“The creatures of the stream watched her passing with amusement. The fish darted out of her way to nibble at her feet. The serpents slithered effortlessly beside her through the vines. A turtle looked up from his slumber to see her bleeding face and was thankful for his shell. Each of these creatures gossiped with the others about the passing of this stranger, their voices spreading the news of her arrival to their world like ripples through water. The indifferent creatures paid her no mind. The shy ones fled from her approach, and the curious ones crept toward her to spy her as closely as they dared.
“Habra eventually emerged from the stream's tangled thicket into the vast emerald gloom of the forest. Even covered in mud, scratched and bruised, her first thoughts in seeing the forest were of her ancestor's stories of paradise. Luminous white flowers spread their petals in whorls as wide as her arm was long. The fluted trunks of the trees rose beyond her sight spreading limbs to support a mottled green canopy neither ceiling nor sky. Vines hung from these limbs laden with lantern sized fruit of brilliant colors. Life and sustenance existed in abundance here, and in so much abundance that Habra was nearly overwhelmed. The noise of bird calls, and animal cries drowned out all sounds of the ocean or of wind in the tree tops. She stood for several long moments orienting herself to this symphony of life. She did not hear the hunter stalking her stealthily from the tree tops.
“Uncertain of the gloom, Habra lit her lantern. Yellow light blossomed behind the glass and spread into the forest around her. No path revealed itself to her so she continued to follow the creek. The little creek diminished to the size of a braided sash and meandered widely amongst the roots of the trees. She wandered with it until she lost it. A moment of panic took her. She stood in place holding the lantern high frantically looking all around her. Without the creek, she might not find her way out of the jungle again. As Habra searched, the light from her lamp attracted a curious bird down from the high branches of the trees.
“The bird was a corallax, a jungle bird with luminous orange and red feathers like tongues of flame. The corallax sleeps at the top of the jungle canopy to absorb the rays of the sun in her feathers. When she has had her fill of the sun, she flies into the jungle's verdant gloom. She glows with the sun's rays like a flame herself, like a fallen star, like your father's lanterns. She is a vessel of light, and when threatened she releases a scintillating, shimmering blast of every color you can imagine into her enemy's eyes.
“This corallax was insatiably curious for her kind. She saw the flame of Habra's lantern and wanted to know what sort of bird had entered her world. She flew to a branch nearest the lantern and perched. Habra did not notice the corallax until the bird pecked the lantern's glass.
“Habra was startled and jumped back. The corallax also seemed to notice Habra for the first time, and fluttered up to a higher branch from where she could get a better look at her. She tilted her head so that one eye looked down at Habra while the other kept a look out for snakes and cats. The cat hunting them kept still and out of sight.
“'Hello,' Habra said.
“The corallax did not understand and so only bobbed her head tracking back and forth from Habra to the lantern and back again.
“'Are you hungry?' she asked.
“The bird looked at her even more curiously, but remained silent.
“'Here,' Habra said pulling out her bundle of strawberries, 'I have something good to eat.'
“The corallax resisted as long as she could, but Habra persisted to wave the delicious berries in her direction and draw her to the lower branch. Still she refused to eat from Habra's hand, so the girl set the leaf full of fruit like a platter upon a tree root and stepped away. The corallax fluttered down scattering sparks from her wings. She gave Habra one more wary look then turned her attention to the berries.
“With his quarry's attention elsewhere, the jaguar pounced. Unfortunately for him, he mistook the lantern for another corallax. The jaguar crushed the lantern with his jaws wrenching Habra's arm out of joint in the process. She fell in a bed of ferns too surprised to feel the pain. The real corallax darted away from danger. The jaguar twisted to left and right trying to spit the fire and glass from his mouth. Habra looked at him in horror. He coughed menacingly at her and the burning oil rekindled, a rippling inferno spreading across his tongue. Again he backed off to escape the flames, clamping shut his jaws, shaking his head violently.
“Habra scrambled up and away. Without daring to look back, she ran. She ran blindly into the forest. As she ran, the pain in her shoulder caught up with her. When the pain was too strong, she slumped against a tree, hiding in a crevice of the trunk. She considered leaving her water skins behind.
“As she vacillated, the burned jaguar approached. Though his sense of smell had been burned away by the lantern, his ears were still sharp. He heard her breathing. She did not hear his paws on the soft earth. He slowly circled from the opposite side of the tree. At last she heard his rumbling purr, and startled from her hiding place. The jaguar tensed to pounce when he saw her. Habra turned to face him.
“The corallax released a ray of sunshine over Habra's shoulder into the jaguar's eyes. He was stunned oblivious by the colorful light. The bird saved her.
“'Thank you,' she said and fled, both water skins still slung over her shoulders. The corallax flew with her hoping for more strawberries. Though they escaped the burned jaguar, they did not find more strawberries.
“Lord Jaguar positioned himself in their path. 'Stop!' he commanded, and they stopped. 'Silence!' he ordered and they were silent. His words were beyond language. His presence demanded obedience.
“Lord Jaguar sat, calmly licking a paw. His sleek coat glimmered like a white web over innumerable, intricate black spots. Habra was entranced by the pattern. 'Like the calligraphy of a forgotten language or a map of the stars in the sky,' she thought. The corallax humbly lowered its head not daring to look.
“'Tell me,' he purred. 'Tell me why I should not eat you, you who disturb my peace, you who do not know your place in the forest.'
“Habra's mind raced but she could not find an answer. She did not realize that Lord Jaguar was directing his demands first at the corallax. The bird struggled to find her song, but Lord Jaguar silenced her sniveling with a rapid series of booming coughs - which are his roar.
“'Go from here,' he commanded. 'You are too small for me to bother with.'
“The corallax flew up toward the safety of the forest canopy, and the sun.
“'And you, fallen of the Dila'maan, wretched mortal girl, tell me why I should not eat you for you are large enough to make a tasty morsel, and you will bring me more peace in my stomach than alive.'
“'I am sorry Lord Jaguar for disturbing your realm. Please forgive me,' Habra began.
“Lord Jaguar licked his lips.
“'I have come far to see you,' Habra rushed on hoping her efforts thus far would appeal to him. 'I braved the desert, the sea, and now the jungle. A Jinn told me you could help me. I need your help, Lord Jaguar.'
“'Thank you for coming so far. Now please come a little closer to my mouth. I shall enjoy eating you far more than listening to your requests,' he said.
“Habra took a step forward against her will. 'I need your help in lifting a curse upon my tribe,' she pleaded.
“Lord Jaguar purred behind his glistening teeth.
“Habra at last seized upon a means to dissuade him. 'Everyday I have drunk from a poisoned well just as every member of my tribe has done,' she said. 'All of my tribe are sick, but only I seem to notice. So despite my pleas they refuse to move on, and so day after day the poison thickens in our veins as we drink from the well.'
“'Poison you say?' Lord Jaguar interrupted her.
“'Yes, Lord,' she replied.
“The thought of her poisoned flesh killed his appetite, and he changed his mind. 'Perhaps I can help you,' he said.
“Relief washed over Habra.
“'Follow me,' he said, 'if you will.'
“Lord Jaguar padded off into the forest. He moved effortlessly and quickly, his passing over the ground barely a whisper. Habra followed, but the pain in her shoulder was so great that she paused every ten or twenty steps. Gradually she lost ground. He disappeared in the gloom ahead of her. She looked at the forest floor for his tracks, but the Lord Jaguar left none. She listened. He gave no sound.
“The corallax descended from the canopy, and indicated with her beak for Habra to follow her. Habra at first did not understand. When the bird made tentative flights in the direction that Lord Jaguar disappeared, the girl followed, and so she found her way. Before arriving at their destination, the corallax took her leave of Habra. She gave a little bow and flew away.
“Lord Jaguar looked neither pleased nor displeased to see her when Habra joined him by his pool. He merely sat regally at the edge of the water facing her with half lidded eyes.
“'You need the Flower of Life,' he said. 'I guard this flower from the desecrating hands of your wretched kind, but I think it right this once that I make an exception. It is wrong for any kind whether wretched or blessed to poison their flesh. We are all blessed with life, and our lives deserve respect. Your well needs refreshment. Do as I say and I will spare you.'
“'Yes, Lord,' she said.
“'You may not take the flower itself. Take only the seed and plant it at the bottom of your village well. Take anything more and the plant will die. If the plant dies, all of your people will die beginning with you,' he growled. 'Do you agree to this?'
“'Yes, I agree, Lord.'
“'The flower roots at the bottom of the pool,' Lord Jaguar said, then locked his gaze upon her. Unable to face his yellow-green eyes more than a moment, Habra lowered her own. He leapt to a large lower limb of a nearby tree, and sprawled out lazily to watch her. Habra turned her attention to the pool.
“The pool's waters were murky green, and half covered with various large floating leaves. She could not fathom the pool's depths. Where the flower grew or even how deep, she did not know.
“'How am I to complete this task?' she wondered, but she had come too far to turn back now.
“Habra set aside her belongings, and removed her shoes before entering the pool. An idea came to her as she waded in the water. Habra grabbed one of the skins and emptied it. She then pulled at its sides so that it refilled with air. Finally she placed the skin to her lips, and descended.
“The pool was too dark to see anything but the vaguest shapes. Habra crawled along the bottom amongst the muck, blind crayfish, and decaying tree limbs. Numerous little fish schooled around her curiously. In several places she felt the stems of the leaves rooting in the slime, but she found no flowers or at least did not recognize them if she did. Eventually she ran out of air, and swam to the surface.
“Once out of the pool, Habra considered another plunge. Surprisingly her shoulder no longer hurt. The pool had healed her. She certainly seemed to be in the right place, but how would she recognize what she was looking for? 'I am probably making this task more difficult than it needs to be,' she thought recalling the Jinn's admonishment from the day before.
“Habra looked at the pool again, taking it all in at once. The large leaves danced gently where she had disturbed the water. The only plants she had found rooted in the pool's bottom had been these. She waded amongst the floating leaves to examine them more closely. Floating amongst the leaves was a flower radiating perhaps a thousand yellow-green petals, and at its center a green bowl filled with tufts of white and yellow hairs.
“Realization struck Habra like a bolt of lightning. She had discovered the Flower of Life. Instinctually she reached for it, but stayed her hand just before grasping the flower's base. She looked up. Lord Jaguar watched her with his inscrutable eyes. She reconsidered.
“'Just the seed,' she thought and returned to the bank empty handed.
“On the bank she found the seed pod, an inverted dome, dried white, the flat, circular surface honeycombed with black seeds. Habra was immediately reminded of the spots of Lord Jaguar. She picked up the pod and looked up into the tree to show him her find. Instead she found Lord Jaguar sitting on the ground facing her.
“'You are no longer poisoned,' he said.
“Habra's heart skipped a beat. She swallowed and mustered her courage. 'You promised that you would spare me,' she said.
“'And my promises are kept,' Lord Jaguar assured her. 'Neither will my subjects harm you. Go with my blessing, daughter of Dila'maan.'
“Habra left the Lord Jaguar's jungle after refilling her skins at the pool. The water sustained her on the journey home. In her village well, she planted the seeds from the Flower of Life. The poison was cured, and her tribe saved.”
Umm Saad reposed silently against the wall after her long telling. Magda and her two girls also sat in silence marveling at the story.
“Is it true?” Aisha asked breaking the silence.
Umm looked at her and smiled. “Not yet,” she said.
Saana frowned at that. “I suppose we shouldn't trust you then,” she laughed.
“Saana!” chided her mother.
“Quite alright, Lady al-Risani,” Umm answered. “That is what I said. Just trust the story, Saana, and all will be fine.” She smiled to the girl.
Saana laughed, “Thats a deal.”
“That was an unusual story, Lady Saad,” Magda said. “I thank you for sharing it, but please who was the storyteller who taught it to you?”
Umm regarded Magda warily a moment. “The old woman. She is long dead now.”
The drumming rolled to a stop outside.
Magda did not press for more of an answer. “Time for sleep, girls,” she said. “Goodnight.”
“'night.”
“G'night, mom.”
“Goodnight, and thank you, Magda. Sleep well.” |
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Sisters
Posted: 02 Apr 2008 11:02 AM |
SHATTERED VESSEL
One by one stars of pain pierced the veil of her consciousness. Burning in empty space, isolated from any earthly body, they swirled in her mind, stirring up memory. She wakened retching and voiceless. To spit the sand from her mouth, she distended her jaw, popping it free of her ears. A thread of pain wove from bone to tooth to ear, binding them together in a constellation. She coughed, struggled to suck in air. Her throat immediately clamped down. Though they now lay lifeless beside her, she still felt his hands around her neck, and the pain of that lost moment danced on in the black emptiness of her mind's eye. Seeking escape, to forget, she slid back beneath the veil.
Aisha had calmed the Kobai rat with the merest touch. Smiling infectiously, she turned to their teacher for approval. Umm Saad smiled back, her midnight skin split by a lightening flash of teeth. Umm favored Aisha, little sister, whose mind seemed as boundless as her enthusiasm to learn everything. Though she loved her little sister, she was jealous of her. On her first try, Aisha had calmed the rat. She then greeted it in its own language as she had been taught. They seemed to talk, but to her ear it sounded as unintelligible as any animal cry. How could her little sister have learned so much, so quickly? How could she have learned so little?
Umm turned to her. "Saana," she said, "now you practice the Mother's hand."
Saana watched herself stoop to touch the rat, watched it bite her, watched her reflexively draw the knife and stab. The knife pierced the spine the first time.
Saana waked again, feeling this time the haft of His knife in her hand. Tightening her grip on the weapon, she opened her mouth in voiceless pain. Her forearms ached, fractured earlier by the rain of blows she had vainly tried to avoid. A weight lay over her, His weight, a corpse's weight, a merciless and mindless weight like the sun on the Kobai Plains. She struggled to open her eyes. Heart throbbing in each puffy lid, each as heavy as a door, she forced the left one open, and eventually came to focus upon her hand with a bloodied knife in its grasp.
"Haroun," she whispered. The knife was his given to him by his brother. The blood was his too. "Haroun. Haroun," she crooned sadly as she clawed her way free of his body.
Haroun had been looking for her when Saana found him near the broken stairs at the cliffs' top. Embarrassed by her failure with the rat after her sister's success, she had fled the lessons, comparing along the way her own merits with those of her little sister. Her little sister did not have everything, she concluded. Aisha was still young while Saana as far as the men were concerned was a woman. Eager to prover her own power, she flirted with Haroun. In moments she had him kissing her convinced that it had been his idea all along. When he pushed for more, she slipped from his grasp.
Haroun's face hardened. "Tease," he protested, then looking aside he spit the word "Bitch" in frustration.
She was surprised by the response from her childhood friend, but quickly retorted, "And you think that will get you what you want?"
That might have been it had the two hunters not approached. As Haroun balked, a hunter chided him with a mocking tone, "That's not how you treat a woman."
Saana stared in disbelief, thinking Witch hunters.... here?
By the time she had worked it out well enough to accept their presence, they were on top of her. "This is how you treat a woman," the hunter said. When she tried to wriggle free, they beat her into submission. They had then taken her to the ruin, did with her as they wished, then left her with Haroun in the room where she now lay. He had done nothing to rescue her.
Saana looked now at his lifeless body. He had come at her, face twisted by a confused, yet angry passion. Like with the rat, it had been self-defense. He wrestled clumsily with her and himself, flinging his clothes aside and the knife within her reach. She missed his spine, but it was enough. The small of her friend's back was now black with blood. Wincing, she turned away, but could not evade her last vision of him, bleeding to death, both hands at her throat wringing, pulling, coaxing desperately for one last kiss. At last she let his knife fall from her fingers as she, overtaken by sobs, surrendered whatever it was she had left inside herself to that dry air. She cried into oblivion devoured by the desert night.
Naked in the dark and shivering with cold, she awoke to a human cry smothered by growling. Numbly she felt for the knife. Every movement a deep pain, she soon gave it up, attempting to regain her feet instead. The sounds came from outside the ruin walls. She should hide, but where? As she stood, a dry heave bent her double. Between heaves she heard the rapid thump thump of someone running in the sand, coming closer.
Leading with a torch, the hunter burst into the room. Saana melted out of sight behind a tumbled stone. Spearing the sand with the butt of the torch to free his hands, he drew a blade and etched a circle about Haroun's body. Then he kneeled over the corpse speaking, "Eternal one, I have found the Mahai, grant me immortality so that I may bear this message to my brothers." With that he plunged his knife into his belly, spilling his blood over the boy's corpse. The torch flickered. Haroun stirred.
At the sight of his revival, Saana betrayed her hiding place with a gasp. Haroun turned toward the sound, eyes lolling lazily in his skull. Those eyes could not have seen anything, but still she had their attention, and his corpse ambled erratically toward her as if following their lack luster direction. A groan left his lips. Every ghoulish nightmare that had haunted Saana's dreams returned then to torment her. At last convinced, she believed life was futile, and death, perfection.
"Haroun," she rasped too weak to stand. "You finally got your wish."
The walking corpse paused at her words. The cant of its head, and the gesture of its hands reminded her of conversations with Haroun. Even now he seemed to be listening. She wanted to say more, at the least to apologize, but could not bring herself to speak. After a brief impasse, the zombie shambled forward again, hungry. Resigned to devourment, Saana struggled upright to meet her fate. The first blow hammered her back to the ground, ears ringing. Before the next fell, his arm disintegrated in a blast of daylight.
Saana turned to witness Umm charge into the room, arms wreathed in flame. Like a falling star, the black woman glowered with ferocity, beating the zombie into smoldering pieces with a rain of firey fists. The witch hunter lurched to his feet, guts spilling from his self-inflicted wound, and stabbed through her chest. Seemingly unaffected, she grabbed him, and held him until he too burst into flames. This violence passed quickly and soundlessly to Saana unlike her own ordeal and so seemed more dream than reality.
Umm spoke over her, but she could not make out the words. Then the woman healed her with a touch. With one touch all the physical pain vanished, and yet still Saana felt broken. Though she could now hear, Umm's words of comfort passed right over her. Receiving no response, the woman gathered up the girl's things from where they had been scattered about the room, and then returned to dress her. Saana passively accepted these ministrations.
"Can you walk?" Umm asked.
Saana stood and nodded.
Together they walked out of the ruin. Saana set a brisk but erratic pace. Umm followed albeit steadily. The woman seemed to have the world in her possession, taking in their surroundings with a glance, reassuring her with a smile, exuding confidence, and so for the moment Saana felt safe. When at the door to her father's house, she faced Umm.
"Thank you," she said.
"You're welcome, Saana. Go on in. Your parents are still out, but should return soon."
"Out?" Her mother never went out at night.
"We were looking for you," Umm answered. "But Aisha stayed behind to wait for you."
The door opened to the vestibule revealing a soft werelight dancing in the darkness.
"Saana!" cried Aisha rushing out to hug her sister. "You're back!" Then with less enthusiasm and a great deal of concern at the sight of the blood on her, "You're hurt."
Saana said nothing eyes on the magic light. With a snap of her fingers Umm snuffed it out, and ushered the two inside, closing the doors behind them. Sternly she demanded from the younger girl, "What did I say about magic, Aisha?"
"Not in the open, mistress. But...."
The woman waved Aisha's excuses away. "Aisha, heat a bath for your sister." The girl opened her mouth to protest, but looking between the two of them thought the better of it, and complied. "Saana, come with me. Your parents will be home soon." Strangely to Saana those words brought a palpable dread.
"What will happen now?" she asked.
At the side of the tub, Umm pulled some foul smelling herbs from her satchel and placed them in the water, but did not yet answer. Aisha watched her teacher expectantly.
"Get in," she said.
Saana complied. The water was already warm. Everything worked differently than expected when this woman was involved. The skunky aroma of the herbs followed the steam into her flesh flowing into her as if she was made of holes. She quickly fell into a daze.
Umm looked at both of them. "Your parents and I will talk," she began. Aisha was disappointed in what she thought at first to be an evasion. "We will decide that we must leave the village."
Aisha burst with questions. Saana was oblivious to all but the narcotic.
"I'll take care of your sister. You, pack your things." |
Famous last words:
Mykal> it's my new wireless router.
* > Mykal has quit (Ping timeout)
Vulpina> Hey!! IRC didn't boot m.....
* > Vulpina has quit (Exit: DarkMyst WebChat) |
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