Page 19 of The Lustrous Dark
Shay's voice freezes in her throat. Time stops, the question hanging between them like a breath cloud on a cold day. Her mind slowly whirs, repeating the barkeep's revelations. She doesn't know whether to jump up and scream for joy that her mother is alive or break down and weep for the condition she's in. Maybe she'd know the correct reaction if she could get past the feeling that none of this seems real.
“It's true, then,” she finally whispers, but inside her ears, her voice is a shout. Could Ghita have made a mistake? Did the midwife leave her mother for dead by accident? No, Ghita is much too thorough. She'd never be so negligent. Besides, she told Shay there was a grave …
“Drink some tea, habibti,” the woman murmurs. “We have a lot to talk about.”
Shay's hand seems to lift the glass to her lips by itself. The tea is good, though the mint is not as fresh as that which she's used to. The warmth of the beverage steadies her. It clears her head a bit.
“Khalti,” she starts, then sips more tea to avoid continuing.
“La,” the touched one corrects her. “Mmi.”
If a heart had ears, Shay's would perk like a cat hearing the lid peeled back on a tin of preserved fish. But the word, and all it implies, is sacred. If she never bestowed such a title upon the midwife, whom she lived and worked with and learned from, how can she apply it to a stranger? Someone she knows nothing about other than that she's an addict? “It's a bit soon for that.”
“Hind, then. You can call meHind.”
“Hind,” Shay starts again. “I … I'm sorry.”
Hind's forehead creases, adding about a hundred cycles to her age. “Why?”
“If I really am … If you really are …” Shay widens her eyes and clamps her teeth, not wishing to cry and embarrass herself more than she did by trying to resuscitate the woman. “I would have come sooner, if I'd known. I would have offered to help you.”
“What makes you think I need help?” the touched one scoffs.
“I didn't mean to imply—”
“We both know what you meant.” Hind waves a skeletal hand. “You can judge me if you want. I just …” She covers her mouth as she smiles, the gaps between her spindly fingers exposing the sorry state of her teeth. “You're real, aren't you? You're not a ghost …”
Shay raises her arm and inspects it as though she herself isn't sure whether it's made of flesh or spirit. “I could ask you the same question. Ghita told me you died.”
“Ghita!” The touched one scowls, her lips pulling so tight that they almost disappear. She takes a long sip of tea before she speaks again. “She told me the same about you.”
Shay shakes her head as stubborn loyalty rears inside her. There must be more to the story. There has to be. “Why would she do that?”
“S'pose she wanted you for herself.” Hind shrugs one pointy shoulder, her sullen expression burnished in an orange palette by the light of the small fire. “The way I hear it, her own daughter died tragically.”
Shock falls over Shay's mind like a blanket, making shapeless lumps of every thought. “Ghita had a daughter?”
“So they say.” The touched one chews her bottom lip. “But they say a lot of things.”
The idea of Ghita's betrayal doesn't provoke the anger Shay would expect. Neither does she feel hurt, at least not yet. Either of those emotions would be something concrete, a thread she could hold on to and make sense of. All she feels is confusion, her equilibrium thrown headlong into a senseless rift. More than anything, she wants to understand. “Tell me what happened.”
The touched one arches a thin white eyebrow. “Everything?”
Shay takes a bracing sip of tea. “Everything.”
7
The Legend of Illi and Udad
Once upon a time, two tribes lived on mountain villages that faced each other, separated by a lake. A shepherd named Udad would always spy a maiden named Illi from across the water when he'd bring his flock to drink and she'd come to the opposite shoreline to do her family's washing. Smiles and glances turned to waves and gestures and soon they developed a secret code that allowed them to communicate daily across the distance. They fell in love. Alas, they were forbidden to marry outside of their tribes. As they pined for each other, their sadness grew, until one day Illi signed a most heartbreaking message to her beloved. Her father had promised her hand in a marriage set to be performed after the passing of one moon. The pair began to cry.
So great were their tears, they fell into the lake and the waters rose and rose and overflowed. The ensuing flood wiped away both their mountains. As the waters kept rising, Illi and Udad swam toward each other. They are said to have drowned in each other's arms. To this day, claims persist of their benevolent spirits being sighted, and locals believe that if a new bride and groom swim the waters of Barhira Kabira, their marriage will be blessed.
Hind sighs, a low, hollow sound. Her brown eyes glisten with a faraway cast. “When I was about your age, a Hazmaggi caravan was passing through Nezjar during Jou Boulka. I was at the festival, and well, do you believe in love at first sight, Shuika?”
Shay is taken aback by the use of her given name, by how different it feelscoming from her mother. She considers the question and foolishly thinks of Shadi. Is it possible to meet the person you're meant to be with, only to find they may belong to the very group that wants you dead? “I don't know, khalti—Hind.”
“Well, I fell in love with a Hazmaggi man.”
