Page 39 of The Lustrous Dark
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
11 cups water, divided
3 tablespoons tomato paste
1 cup flour
chopped fresh parsley, for garnish
1/2 pound lamb, beef, or chicken
1 large onion, grated
3/4 cup dried chickpeas, soaked overnight and peeled
1/4 cup finely chopped fresh cilantro leaves
1 tablespoon ground ginger
11/2 teaspoons freshly ground black pepper
1/2 teaspoon ground turmeric
3 tablespoons dried lentils
2 tablespoons vermicelli
2 cups water
Steps
Cut meat into tiny pieces. In a pressure pot, heat oil and sauté parsley, cilantro, celery, and onion together with the meat until the vegetables are soft and the meat is browned. Add three cups of water, tomatoes, smen, spices, and chickpeas. Cover and cook at high pressure for 30 beakers. Release pressure, and add eight cups of water, lentils, vermicelli, and tomato paste. Cook at high pressure for an additional 15 beakers. Release pressure. To thicken harira, start with two teaspoons of flour and add desired amount of water.Mix well and add to soup, stirring until combined. Repeat as needed according to your preference for a thicker or thinner soup. Season with salt and pepper to taste, and garnish with additional parsley for serving.
Shay's harira isn't on par with Ghita's. She used the same ingredients: lamb, chickpeas, lentils, cilantro, parsley, tomato, and thin strips of pasta. But Shay wasn't able to replicate the thick and silky quality the midwife's always has. Hers came out light and zesty instead, which the brothers seem to find tasty enough, unaccustomed to human food as they are.
Despite her hunger, Shay herself is unable to get much down. Aidi tells her the queasiness and lack of appetite she's experiencing are consistent with the symptoms of a bloodsucker's bite. He brings her a mug filled with a thick, steaming beverage that looks like mud. Concerningly, he sets a wooden pail beside her chair. The brew smells worse than her moon pepper tea ever did. She'd almost prefer Deebi's previous offerings of raw meat and moldy bread.
She raises the mug halfway, andnope. Her stomach revolts, her body aching with the memory of the illness she bore for so long, the slow poisoning of her body. She sets it back down. “Do I have to drink it all?”
“It's best to get it over with,” says Aidi—whom Shay has mentally dubbed Aidi the Aging. He refuses to remove his reed hat, even at the table, and that creepy cane rests across his lap. “Tarik is one of the oldest bloodsuckers in Ard Al-Ghul. His venom holds much power.”
Shay's hand drifts unconsciously to her neck, which throbs as if in confirmation of the bone-eater's words. Last night's dream flashes through her, less the images and more the feelings. Of being invaded. Of having something private, something vital, torn away without consent.
She stares down at the bubbling liquid. A white shape bobs on the surface. It looks disturbingly like a tooth. With a shudder, she hoists the mug to her lips. She tilts her head back and chugs the antidote. It goes down smoother than she expects, coating her throat with the aftertaste of licorice.
Her stomach cramps almost immediately, which is a diplomatic way to say she doubles over, falls from her chair, and rolls around on the floor, blinded by pain. Someone sits her up, supporting her from behind the way Shay has supported many a laboring woman. Someone else shoves the bucket in front of her. And not a moment too soon.
Her stomach empties with a volume and force the tiny bucket is ill-equipped to receive. The substance that erupts from her in a geyser is dark and gelatinous. When she thinks she's empty, that there can't be anything else left in her body, she retches again and throws up bloody bits she doesn't want to think may be pieces of vital organs.
Finally, she slumps back against the bone-eater behind her … Dasri—the Deerlike, in tribute to his great antlers. She swipes a string of slime from her chin. It splats on the floor, where it proceeds to pulse and undulate, sliding across the tiles like a slug. Bono—the Bad-Tempered in Shay's mental index—stomps it underfoot. Shay hears what sounds like a small yelp.
“You're well now,” Dasri assures her. He helps her stand and leads her to the salon, where Deebi hands her a glass of cool water. It's clean and drinkable this time, by God's mercy.
Aidi and his cane sit closest to her. She wonders if he sleeps with the thing, the way Al-Mukhtar force Moulays in training to sleep, and even bathe, with their muskets. He studies her as though deciding whether she has passed some test. That look reminds her so much of Ghita, she aches. “How do you feel?”
Shay considers the question. Her gullet is sore, like she overexerted herself but on the inside. Probing deeper, she identifies another feeling. One of being emptied out. Cleaned. Unlike the way the moon pepper seems to be clearing her system bit by bit since she stopped taking it, this is a sudden draining. Intense but, she hopes, complete. She never thought she'd be so grateful for vomiting. “Better, I think.”
She slowly notices all the brothers have quietly gathered on the wraparound seddari, a development that is either touching or worrisome.
