Page 14 of The Lustrous Dark
God is then said to have separated Nezjar from Kiddah by creating the Umm Chanala Mountains. He prescribed that those who are able should make a pilgrimage at least once in their lifetime, traveling to the frigid mountains and spending a quarter there with theMarabouts at the holy institute. Seven days devoted to spiritual learning and drawing close to their Creator.
Time passed, and people were sent to explore the desert and determine if it had any end, and though no end was found, some preferred the desert life. And so, the first Hazmaggi tribe was born. Likewise, more people set out on boats to explore the Cerabbi, and these became a tribe of sea nomads, the B'hamu. And so, the realm of Mekchaouen was divided into five unique regions, its people connected as one human family.
As daylight crowns the horizon with a white lip of promise, Shay dresses in a comfortable djellaba, evaded by sleep. She brings along the caravan ticket, her pocketknife, and a burning need for answers as she slips through the narrow bends of Sultan's Alley. Three days is no time at all to prepare for her life to be upheaved, and the foraging landscape in Kiddah is foreign to her. It is crucial she harvest enough moon pepper to last until she's able to grow her own.
In the twilight shadows that hang between the blue facades of buildings, stall owners roll ware-laden carts over the cobblestones. The rich aroma of woodsmoke billows from the communal ovens warming up. Steam infused with eucalyptus drifts from the bathhouse. Passing the tannery, Shay crushes a handful of mint. She presses the fragrant leaves to her nose, veiling the noxious odor of curing hides.
Will she carry the imprint of these sights and sounds with her to Kiddah? Or will they be replaced by the new wonders awaiting her in the holy city? The air grows tight as she approaches Al-Ghaba Mayita. Dipping into the tree line of tall pines, Shay feels the scrape of hungry eyes. She whispers a blessing to ward off whatever might be watching through the thin skin of morning mist.
Hind.In the quiet of the woodland, she meditates on the name that has possessed her thoughts since it was issued from the midwife's lips. She cradles it in her mind like a fragile egg, tracing each letter as though she could stitch them into the fabric of her soul.
For the first time in her life, Shay allows herself to indulge in a waking dream, inventing an alternate set of circumstances. One where her motherlived, where instead of being a midwife's apprentice, she learned some other trade. Perhaps she'd be whipping up delicious treats in a confectionary or sewing fine garments in a boutique.
The moon pepper patch is easier to reach than most of the spots Shay frequents, and at this season of earth's cycle, the plants should yield a sufficient amount of the suppressant for her needs. At least, that's what she expects.
Instead, she finds that the stems of the entire patch have been stripped bare of leaves down to their roots. Shay gapes at the ravaged plot, unable to make sense of it. A sinking dread, mixed with the smallest touch of relief, creeps over her.
The culprits could be rabbits or deer, and yet, for her life, Shay can't remember the last time she saw a rabbit or a deer in the forest. At times she's heardsomethingmoving through the underbrush, and she once spotted a creature that could have been a monkey or a goat munching bean fruits in the branches of a rune tree. But she's certainly never crossed paths with another human, and what would anyone else want with moon pepper? It tastes like the devil's piss and has only one redeemable value.
Panic makes it hard to breathe. Shay doesn't know how long it would take for her latent powers to manifest, what those powers would look like, or how difficult they'd make it for her to continue hiding her hizoura status. She stares at her hands in the splintery light through the thatched branches as if they might start glowing any moment. When they fail to do so, she scours the patch, double-checking that no leaves were left behind.
“Ouch!”
Shay's gaze snaps to the empty thicket. Her heart blooms into her throat, beating slow and heavy. “Who's there?”
Shrubs rustle and shake. Fingers come twisting through vines, and the hands attached to them part the heavy stalks. Shay tenses, her spine wooden. A body emerges from the shadows and brambles, stumbling out as though the forest has birthed him. The familiar boy swats frantically at the legs and sleeves of his servant uniform.
This production goes on for a few moments before he looks up sheepishly and grins. Shay exhales in delayed relief. Then her eyebrows tug together. She doesn't grin back, her lips leveling into a severe line. Why ishehere?
He walks toward her, thrusting one arm out ahead of him as he shoves his sleeve up to his elbow. “I've been bitten. By a fiddler ant, I think.”
The white blister ringed in angry red that protrudes from his wrist would suggest his hypothesis is correct. It does not explain why he's here, but the green stain tinging the skin around his fingernails is a big enough clue that Shay's mouth goes dry when she sees it. She knows that stain well. Knows that even with frequent scrubbing, it takes several days after harvesting moon pepper for it to fully wash away.
“What are you doing out in these woods in the first place”—she pauses, swallowing past a nest of nerves as she rummages through her recent memory for his name—”Shadi?”
She smiles now, if only to cover for the fear she hears in her own voice, and quickly looks away from his hands. Her mind has already dismissed the idea that he might be a hizoura, might be here for the same reason as her. The whole patch is gone. Shadi carries no satchel, and his pockets are certainly not deep enough to hold such a large number of leaves.
No, Shay has already formed her own explanation. If the rebels have realized moon pepper suppresses hizoura magic, they might have destroyed the patch to prevent those who wish to hide their identity from doing so. Hizouras would then be easier to pick out and “eradicate.” What better way to determine who to keep a closer eye on than spying on this location and keeping track of who comes around?
“I … umm …” Shadi peers into the darkness that furls like drapes in the hollows between the trees. “I like to slip away in nature sometimes. To clear my head.”
Shay scoffs, though inwardly. There isn't a citizen in Nezjar who slips away to the forest for leisure. Besides, Shadi doesn't seem to have a thought in his head to clear it from. For a Naturalist, he doesn't come across as very cunning. Unless it's an act to lower her guard, which would be cunning indeed.
She nods toward his swelling wrist. “Well, my advice is to find a banana peel to rub on that. And the next time you feel the urge to spend time in the woods, chew on a raw clove of garlic first. It won't taste great, but the fiddler ants will go out of their way to avoid you.”
“Really?” Shadi smiles gratefully as he folds his sleeve carefully down over the bite. “Thanks!”
Shay shakes her head, finding it difficult to see Shadi as any kind of threat. Perhaps she is simply a poor judge of character.
“Can I walk you home?” he asks.
Shay stiffens. Notably, he hasn't asked her whyshe'shere in the forest. A normal person would ask. But, if her theory is correct, he wouldalready know. The rumors must have put him on her scent. In fact, he probably only told her about them so he could assess her reaction. And now he's trying to find out where she lives. Oh, he'sgood.
“I'm not going home.” She has somewhere else she needs to go. Something else she absolutely must do before she can leave her medina behind. “Besides, you really should get that bite taken care of before the swelling gets worse. You wouldn't want to lose a finger.”
Panic flashes in his eyes, and Shay has to restrain a laugh.Did he really fall for that?
“It was nice running into you again, Shay,” he calls out as she rushes away, provoking her to glance back. He's rolled his sleeve up again. His gaze shifts from looking down at the insect bite with comical concern to looking up at Shay with an expression she can't read. Is it worry? Embarrassment?
