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A wave of pain slammed Sirsha in the stomach so hard that at first, she grappled for her knife. Why was Quil looking at her in horror, instead of at whoever punched her?R’zwana.Had her sister discovered a way to become invisible? Sirsha wanted to shout at them all that they were under attack.
But the pain doubled her over and she couldn’t speak through her gasps. She caught a glimpse of something enormous—something that blocked out the sun. The world exploded in a burst of red.
She tried to grab for Quil, Arelia. Anything. But the last thing she heard was a voice out of her past, soft and paper-thin, creased with sadness and worry. Loli Temba.
“Sirsha, child, I told you not to return. Do you know what you have brought with you?”
25
Aiz
Aiz did not expect a ten-year-old child to teach her anything of the world. But over the next three weeks, after Quil left with Tas, it was Ruh who dulled the sharp longing for Kegar and Cero and the cloister.
The Tribe trundled its way northwest toward Nur, dropping off Elias’s students or picking up new ones, trading for goods and collecting news, swapping tales around the fire at the end of the day.
Ruh taught her Sadhese, ate with her, kept her company on watch, and regaled her with stories. His favorites were about Duranis. “Chaos storytellers,” he whispered to her one morning as the wind howled around his family’s wagon. “They tell lies and pass them off as truth, seeding chaos wherever they go.”
A fortnight after Quil left, Aiz sat with the child at the edge of camp, the steaming meat pies in their hands doing little to ward off the cold. Aiz had reread Tiral’s book again last night, hoping for anything she could tell Laia, some snippet to jog the Kehanni’s memory. But though Aiz had shared the story with Laia again, the woman still claimed not to remember it.
Aiz stared moodily out at the swiftly disappearing sun, only half listening to Ruh’s story. The wind moaned and her neck prickled. She sat up.
There was something out in the sands. Something watching them.
“Ruh—” She put herself between him and the desert. “I don’t think we’re alone out here—”
“It’s only the jinn.” He smiled up at Aiz. “They watch me, sometimes.Have for as long as I can remember. But don’t worry. They won’t hurt you.”
“Jinn!” Aiz said. “The fire creatures, yes? How did you know they were there?”
Ruh shrugged, eager to get on with his tale, but an idea bloomed in Aiz’s mind.
“Ruh,” she said. “Could you help me with the story I seek? You hear things others don’t. See things.”
“I can try?” The boy sat up tall. “But you’ll have to tell me what you’re looking for.”
“If I do tell you,” Aiz said, “it has to be a secret.”
Ruh hesitated. Aiz was certain he’d been told by his parents that anyone who asked you to keep secrets from them wasn’t worth trusting.
“Your ama already knows most of this, Ruh,” she said. “But she’s busy and—and I think to help me, you’ll need to know more than I told your ama. You’ll need to know the stories that are special to my people. But they aren’t shared with just anyone.”
“I am not anyone!” Ruh said. “I’m your friend and the future Kehanni of Tribe Saif. I know how to keep a secret.”
He fixed his silver gaze on her, his small chin set stubbornly, and he looked so much like Hani that Aiz’s heart twinged. She wondered if Ruhyan and Hani would like each other. If in some world, they would ever be friends.
Aiz waited a moment to see if Mother Div would object. She did not.
“All right,” Aiz said. “Gather, gather and listen well…”
Preaching the Sacred Tales again was a balm to Aiz’s soul. Over the many days it took to tell the stories, her worry faded, overwhelmed by the resounding truth of her words. Ruh’s questions and comments only deepened her faith, making her appreciate the Sacred Tales in ways she hadn’t before.
One evening, a week after Aiz began sharing the Sacred Tales, shecompleted the Eighth Tale while she and Ruh walked a circuit around the Saif encampment.
“So, the Ninth Tale,” Ruh said. “That’s what you’re looking for?”
Aiz nodded. “The Ninth Tale will tell me how to free Mother Div. I think your ama knows it, but for some reason, she doesn’t remember.”
Ruh scratched his chin, looking like a tiny, baby-faced old man considering a philosophical problem. “I’ll check her story scrolls,” he said. “Sometimes, she keeps notes there on tales she hasn’t finished.”
