***
The Diviners, the priestesses who understood Teeqoh’s Word better than any Man Ang’Gal, told us how important the seven-week journey of a recently released spirit. Prayers from the deceased’s loved ones would guide the soul to Paradise, while at the same time, ease the pain of those left behind.
They couldn’t be more wrong.
Five weeks had passed since Izkeh’s death, and yet, I still felt the pain like that dull ache in my foot. The wound throbbed ever so often beneath the medicinal herbs, making it harder for me to walk than it did when the sliver was still lodged in my flesh.
Losing my brother was the same.
When will it become better, Izkeh?
“Doolei,” Mama Oojeen called from the kitchen. “We have a visitor.”
I faced the wall and covered my head with the blood-stained blanket, pretending not to hear Mama Oojeen as she spoke my name once more. I buried deeper into my pillow, feeling the smooth texture of the Isle worm silk on my cheeks.
“No need to wake her, Diviner,” a familiar female voice assured my aunt. “I won’t be long.”
“My apologies, L’seela. Izkeh’s passing had been hard on us. Doolei spent most of her time in her hole for the past few days,” Mama Oojeen explained. “We are fortunate the Trader who picks up her stonework turns a blind eye. She had not been meeting quota regularly lately. I am surprised she even manages to light the daily candle for Izkeh.”
“Let her grieve,” L’seela said. “She pines for her brother, as do the rest of us.”
Mama Oojeen sighed. “Yes, she does. Her recovery is taking longer than it did when my sister and her husband passed away, but she’s getting there,” she said. To my surprise, my aunt let out a small chuckle. “Still the understanding dame, I see. Oh, L’seela. You would have made a great wife for my conservative but well-meaning Izkeh.”
I had to agree with Mama Oojeen. L’seela, the pretty Man Ang’Gal who used to live in our Comb, would have been good for my brother. We grew up with her, and I had seen her stand up to Izkeh. L’seela did not allow my brother to order her around, and for that, he respected her. If they had married, I would have had gained a wonderful sister.
I don’t even have a brother now, do I?
L’seela laughed, but I could not feel the mirth. “He wasn’t that bad,” she said. “Izkeh was as straight as an arrow, but he would do everything he could for a friend even if he didn’t like it. He would rather lie than get us in trouble.”
“The boy was loyal to his family and friends,” Mama Oojeen agreed.
Except for me. Izkeh was loyal to everyone but me.
And my brother lying? No, that wasn’t him. Izkeh’s honesty was more potent than those truth potions the Watchers used for interrogating prisoners.
Izkeh would never lie, even for a friend.
I shifted closer to the mouth of the hole so I could hear them better.
“But his horrible jokes,” L’seela recalled fondly. “I must admit I would not miss them!”
It was Mama Oojeen’s turn to chuckle. “The boy did have a strange sense of humor.”
Izkeh wasn’t funny. My brother always laughed at my jokes, but I never recalled him making one himself.
Mama Oojeen and L’seela continued to talk, moving on to business, discussing the plans for the celebration on the last day of Izkeh’s seven weeks. I tuned them out.
My brother was boring. He was a no-nonsense soldier, following the Queen’s every whim. “Do your duty!” he always ordered. Duty and Obligation above all else, even above his sister. Izkeh might have been a good friend, a dutiful warrior, and a responsible nephew, but he failed miserably as an older brother. He was so distant from me that I could not help but question if he even cared.
They could not be talking about the same Izkeh. Unless… I didn’t know my brother as much as I thought I did.
Did you even try to get to know him? I asked myself.
No, I did not.
I felt betrayed when Izkeh left to join the Watchers. He promised he would never leave me like Father and Mother did, but still, he abandoned me. So whenever he came to visit, I shut myself in my hole, avoiding him.
To his credit, he never stopped reaching out. But still, I turned my back on him.
Maybe I should have forgiven Izkeh. Tried to understand. Became the sister I was supposed to be.
It’s too late, Doolei. Too late.
Izkeh was now far away, gone to a place I could not follow. I missed my chance, and there was no turning back.
I allowed a small tear to fall on my cheek. Just one, and I shut my eyes to sleep.
Diversity Is Coming Page 7