Kushiel's Avatar

Days, nights ... time was meaningless, in the zenana . Drucilla claimed to remember autumn, but she could not name the date. Time; a long time. She measured it by the healing tissue of her finger-stumps. It was as good a calendar as any, a fit one for Daršanga. I watched Imriel prowl the zenana , restless, drawn to the boarded garden-entrance, glancing over his shoulder for Nariman. One would know the season, I thought, in the garden, barren or no.
    “Why?” It was Kaneka who stood before me, limbs akimbo, exasperated. Distracted, I’d not heard her rise from her couch. I swallowed, realizing that my voice had risen, still echoing their conversation.
    “Yequit’a, Fedabin,” I said politely. “I did not mean to disturb you.”
    “ Amon-Re !” She said the god’s name like a curse; a Menekhetan god, I thought. Strange, how the Jebeans had adopted the very customs and faith that the Menekhetans had abandoned. Kaneka looked at me, showing the whites of her eyes. “You see? Why, here , do you persist? Jeb’ez! Why do you seek to learn Jeb’ez?”
    The Jebeans and Nubians were watching, whispering and laughing; I ignored them. Kaneka did not jest. It unnerved her. “Fedabin,” I said in zenyan, looking up at her. I answered truthfully, clinging to the hope that lay within my words. “I want to learn Jeb’ez so I can seek the descendants of Makeda and Melek al’Hakim.”
    “You what ?” There was disbelief in her tone.
    Lifting my chin, I thought of Hyacinthe, framing my reply. “There is a man, Fedabin, under a terrible curse. He is my friend, my oldest friend.” I told her, then, in Jeb’ez and zenyan, searching for words, laying out the story of Hyacinthe and the Master of the Straits, Rahab’s Curse. And degree by slow degree, Kaneka’s irate stance relaxed until she lowered herself to sit opposite me and listen with a bemused expression.
    There was a good deal I left out-most of the Skaldic invasion, and the whole of my part in it. It didn’t matter. It was Hyacinthe’s story I told. It was enough. I was a bit player in it; an old friend, onetime lover, pursuing hope beyond reason, a key found in a Jebean scroll.
    And yes, I left out Melisande, too. She was Imriel’s story, now. If we lived, he would learn it. Not here, not the whole of it. There was only so much the boy could endure.
    When I was done, Kaneka laughed.
    It was not like before, harshly; this was deep and unfettered, and somehow wholly her own. She doubled over with it, tears of laughter gleaming like bronze against her dark skin. “Ah, little one! A face, moving on the waters; a whirlpool that speaks! And this man, with storms in his eyes, growing old without dying. It is a good story, truly.”
    “It is true,” I said in a tone of offended dignity.
    “Perhaps it is.” Kaneka wiped her eyes. “Perhaps it is. So you seek the Melehakim? “ I stiffened at the word, sending her into further peals. “Ah, my grandmother would enjoy you, little one! I would not have guessed it so. You tell a story as well as she.”
    “You know them,” I said. “The descendants of the Queen of Saba.”
    “How not?” she asked, pragmatic. “My grandmother kept the stories for the village of Debeho. Well, then, little one, Death’s Whore, if that is your quest, I will allow it. Eavesdrop if you will, and learn Jeb’ez. I will not dissuade you.”
    “Thank you,” I said, inclining my head.
    Kaneka looked at me strangely, fingering the pouch that held her dice. “You believe in this story, this curse.”
    “Yes, Fedabin.” Show no weakness , Audine Davul had told us, speaking of the Jebeans. Give every courtesy, and never reveal fear . “If you do not believe ...” I nodded at the zenana , “... ask the Aragonians and the Carthaginians here if it is not true that the Straits have been opened for the first time in eight hundred years, freeing traffic to Alba. They may not know why, but they know it is so. I know why. I was there.”
    “If you were there ,” Kaneka said, “and what you seek lies in Jebe-Barkal, why are you here , little one?”
    Her tone made it clear she thought the question unanswerable. I held her gaze unblinking. It was not an easy thing to do, for she was an imposing woman and held the will of the zenana in her power, such as it was. “You are the only one here who claims her gods still answer when she speaks to them. Ask them, Fedabin Kaneka. If they answer, we will both know.”
    “Ah.” A harsh smile