As he looked at Zarek who sat watching, expressionless, he pulled out a dagger. He held it before her. Its glistening blade, the length of his forearm, boasted an extremely sharp edge.
“May I?” the boy asked, stepping up and reaching for the weapon.
He pulled back and stared at the child. Slowly, his lips turned up into a smile. “Next time—I promise,” he said, before turning back to the woman. “So, here is all the help that you will get from me, Mother.” And with that, he thrust his blade.
Chapter Thirty-One
Desert sands surrounded her. They glistened orange-brown in the blazing sun. Granules stuck in her nostrils and to her parched lips. She could even feel them on the roof of her mouth.
After readjusting the cloth that bound one of the babes to her frontside, she grabbed the handle of the basket in which the other rested.
Her eyes burned. She closed them to cut off the glare—but just for a second or two. She dared not fall victim to a desert predator.
She dragged one foot out of the sand and stepped forward. Then came another. Over and over again, she repeated the procedure. Soon, her muscles burned.
She reached for her canteen and shook it, but then recalled that she’d emptied it earlier.
Glancing up, once again, she found a pool of water ahead. Its glistening aqua stood out against the color of the sand, mimicking that of the cloud-clear sky above her.
She picked up her pace. She’d fill her canteen there.
For some time, the pool seemed to recede and grow thinner with each step and then, quite suddenly, it disappeared.
At that very moment, a hissing sound met her ears.
She looked down to find a snake, its red, brown and white scaly skin, standing out from its surroundings. It slithered along the sand in zigzagging motions before coming to a sudden halt an arm’s length away.
She grabbed her blade and threw it, cutting the serpent in two.
She stepped forward, retrieved her blade from out of the sand, and then, relieved, closed her eyes.
Opening them again a second later, she found before her, two buzzards. Choking back a cry, she pulled her basket up closer, even as one of the flying predators jumped toward her.
Once more, she threw her blade. When it found its target, the beast disappeared.
She rushed ahead, took up her weapon from the desert floor, and then aimed for the other buzzard. It, too, vanished on contact.
She retrieved her blade as before, and then—
A grut, just ahead, advanced.
She stared at it even as a howl came from her right. She spun that direction to find another such beast. Then, when yet another yipping sounded out, she spun another quarter turn, to find another.
With one more sound, and one more turn, came one more beast.
They all advanced.
She was doomed. She couldn’t save them. She couldn’t even save herself.
She opened the blanket that covered the infant in the basket and gulped back a cry upon sight of the little one wasting away. She had to hurry. She had to beat back the threat. She had to find water. She had to find refuge.
At that moment, the beasts attacked.
Mara awakened with a start.
She cried out. Then realizing where she was, she took in a deep breath of relief.
The stench that surrounded her nearly choked her. She drew her filthy hand to her mouth. Unable to control herself, she gagged when her stomach lurched. A sour bile rose up the back of her throat.
“Mara, are you all right?” Eden asked.
In the dark of night, the only light came from a single half-moon currently peeking in through her barred window. Catching her breath, Mara glanced at the bug-infested straw at her side just as a rustling came from beneath it.
“Mara?”
She grabbed the strap of her canteen and whipped it out.
A fat brown rat, skittered out. It ran toward her, but then, suddenly, it shifted direction. It slinked its way against the far wall. Then it stopped, its usual twitching nose momentarily stilled, and its beady eyes staring.
“Mara? What is it? What’s going on?”
“Just another rat.” She exhaled audibly. “How is it that they don’t bother you two over there?”
Left unguarded during the late hours, seeking time to speak freely, Mara and the twins often stayed awake through the nighttime, choosing instead to sleep during the day. Besides, that way Mara could better keep the vermin that continually assaulted her, at bay, given that they were particularly active after evenfall.
“Oddly, so long as we stay huddled up together and covered with Mother’s shawl, they stay away,” Reigna said. “Anyway, we thought maybe you were sick.” The clicking of her heels on the floor sounded out as she approached the bars of her shared cell.
“I am. Or—I was.”
“You have to eat, Mara,” Reigna said, her hands on the bars before her. She hung her head. “The food is disgusting, I know, but it will keep you alive.”
Mara groaned.
“Don’t you think?”
“I suppose you’re right, but I can’t keep that gruel down.”
“Just eat the bread then. It’s stale and hard, but . . .”
“Yes, I know, you’re right,” Mara said, still watching the rat as it chose that particular moment to dash toward the bars and then run away down the hall.
Slumping back against the wall, her chain rattled.
Reigna sighed. “Still no luck with the locks?”
Mara closed her eyes as a rush of guilt came over her. How could I have let this happen?
“No, none. They’re unlike any lock I’ve ever seen. There are no tumblers within them, to move.”
“There have to be,” Eden said. “You’ll figure it out.” Then she addressed her sister. “I’m going to sleep for a bit.”
“Fine, but make sure you cover with the shawl so the rats don’t get you,” Reigna said.
She turned her attention back to their Oathtaker. “In any case, Mara, it’s not like we’d know how to get out of this building if you freed us anyway.” She sighed. “You know, maybe you should ask Lucy to send someone for us after all. I mean, how long do—”
“I’ve considered it,” Mara interrupted, “but— Oh, I don’t know. I feel so . . .”
“Stop it. There’s no way you could have anticipated that someone would be at Aliza’s place.” Reigna pondered. “You know, I’d sure like to know how that happened though. I mean, like we discussed earlier, it was incredible timing.”
“Agreed.”
Just then, the sound of stomping filled the air.
“What now?”
“Another rat,” Mara said as, having frightened the pest, it ran away.
“Oh. Well anyway, maybe you should send Lucy a message. You know, to test this idea.”
“That there’s a traitor in the midst?”
“Yes.”
“What have you got in mind?”
“Well . . . maybe she could tell the others that Liam and Rafal reported that they would be at a specific place, at a predetermined time. Then she could wait there, to see if someone shows up.”
“And have Liam and Rafal caught up in this? I don’t think so.” Mara pulled her knees up. She crossed her arms above them, then rested her head on them.
“No, they wouldn’t go. Lucy would go—to spy things out. Then if someone turned up there with the intention of interrupting Liam and Rafal’s supposed plans, Lucy would know that there’s a leak.”
Mara closed her eyes, thinking over the plan. “That could work.”
“What do you think, Eden?” Reigna turned toward her sister. “Eden? Eden!” she cried.
Mara jumped to her feet. “What is it?”
“Eden!”
“What’s happened?” Mara cried.
“Wh— Wh—” Reigna stammered.
Mara bit her lip, waiting for more.
“What is it?” Eden cried. “What’s wrong?”
“Oh, gracious Ehyeh!” Reigna exclaimed. “Oh, dear Good One!”
Mara pulled on her chain. As usual, it gave nothing. Stopped dead in her tracks, she strained as far forward as possible, causing the band at her wrist to bite into her flesh. She winced from the pain of it.
“What is it?” she cried. “What’s wrong?”
Reigna breathed heavily. “It’s all right.” Then, “Wooooo,” she exhaled slowly.
“What happened?”
“It’s all right. It’s all right,” she repeated.
“What is all the fuss?” Eden asked.
Her twin pursed her lips. The moonlight sparkled in her eyes as she held her sister’s gaze.
“What is it?” Eden asked again. “I was sleeping.”
“You— You disappeared.”
“Wh— What?”
Again, Mara pulled at her chain. “What’s happening?”
Reigna turned back toward the bars. “Mara,” she whispered, “Eden disappeared.”
“I most certainly did not,” her twin said.
Turning back again, Reigna grabbed her wrist. “You did. You disappeared.”
Eden stared at her. “What are you talking about? I curled up, covered myself with the shawl to keep the rats off—like you said—and then was drifting off to sleep when, suddenly, you yelled for me.”
“Give me that thing.” Reigna took the cashmere shawl from her sister. She turned it over in her hands. “Don’t you find it interesting,” she said, frowning, “that everything in this cell is utterly . . . filthy, yet this,” she shook the shawl in her hand, “is as white as the driven snow?”
“Uhhh . . . So?”
Reigna turned back toward the bars. “Mara, can you remember the verse that Lucy shared with us about Mother’s shawl?”
Mara, stunned at the inquiry, shook her head. “Ahhh . . . Let me think . . .” Her hands to her face, she rubbed it. “Ahhh . . . I think it was something like ‘Come one. Come two. Come illusion . . .’” She paused, concentrating.
“‘Come true.’” Eden said.
“Yes!” Reigna exclaimed. “That’s right. But there was more.”
“You’re right,” Mara said. “The next line was . . . ahhh . . . ahhh . . . ‘Bear me now. Bear me then . . .’” She patted her forehead. “I’m thinking.”
“It was something about sensing,” Eden suggested.
“Right!” Mara exclaimed. “‘Dare to sense me even when.’”
“Oh, gracious Good One!” Reigna exclaimed. “I understand.” She draped the shawl over her sister’s shoulders.
“What are you doing?” her twin asked.
“Now cover your head,” she said.
Her eyes narrowed, Eden pulled back.
“Put it over your head. Let me see if I can ‘sense you even when.’”
“All right.” Eden took a handful of the shawl at each side, then slowly pulled it over the top of her head.
“Ahhh!” Reigna’s hands flew to her mouth. “You’re . . . gone!”
She removed the shawl. “What?”
“All right then, let me try.”
“Are you saying what I think you’re saying, Reigna?” Mara asked.
Once again, Reigna approached the bars. “Mara, Eden disappeared. I swear it.” She turned back to her sister as she took the shawl and put it over her own shoulders. “You see me now?” she asked.
“Yes,” Eden said.
As she pulled it over her head, she asked, “And now?”
Eden gasped.
“What is it?” Mara called out.
Reigna uncovered herself. She and her sister stood, staring at one another.
“It’s true, Mara,” Eden said. “When one of us puts the shawl over her head, she . . . disappears.”
Mara’s mouth gaped open in surprise. “Girls,” she said, “you must use care. Do not do that when anyone else is around. That shawl could be your way out of here.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Cold, the twins huddled in the corner as the woman overseeing them, and who they now knew as Yasmin, stepped to the bars. She untied something that hung around her neck, then dropped it in their cell. Once done, she headed Mara’s way. There, she repeated the procedure.
“You gave them some food,” the girl who accompanied her whispered. “Good for you. I just wish we could help them more.”
“Hush, Clementine,” Yasmin admonished as she turned back toward the sisters’ cell. “You’ve been warned—and you know what Broden said.”
Reigna’s head jerked up at the sound of her cousin’s name. She elbowed Eden and then, after catching her eye, inched toward the bars. She picked up the item that Yasmin had dropped there—a kerchief wrapped around something. Uncovering it, she discovered fresh bread.
“Who is this Broden of whom you speak?” she asked as she handed it to her sister. “I thought we were Zarek’s prisoners.”
“He’s his son,” Clementine said.
“Hush!” Yasmin scolded the girl again.
“His son?” Reigna said. “What’s his role here? He wasn’t with those who captured us.”
Yasmin scowled at her. Then, “He’s in charge of Zarek’s prison for women, if you must know,” she said through gritted teeth. “Now, silence!”
At that moment, the click-clacking of footsteps, making their way closer, sounded out.
A man neared Yasmin. “You’ve been warned not to speak to the prisoners.”
“I didn’t, sir,” she said. “I just told them they’d best eat their provisions before the rats do.”
As he looked into the cell, Eden slowly moved the bread under the shawl over her shoulders. After staring at her for a long minute, the guard finally retreated.
“If this—Broden—is in charge of the prison,” Eden whispered to Yasmin, “why haven’t we seen him in here?”
“He’s—” Clementine murmured.
“Hush!” Yasmin scolded her, yet again. Then she reached beneath the wrap she wore and removed two canteens. Walking past the cells nonchalantly, she dropped one inside each, tossing the one for Mara far enough to land softly on the bed of mildewed straw within.
Mara’s chain jangled as she retrieved the item. “Yasmin, come here,” she whispered.
“I can’t,” she muttered.
“Come here, or I’ll make a fuss and attract the guard’s attention.”
Tentatively, Yasmin approached. “What do you want?” she mumbled through gritted teeth, careful to keep her lips from moving.
“Why did you bring us this food and water?”
Bowing her head so as to remain discreet, she whispered, “Because what they leave for us to give to you is unfit.”
“And you have a heart.”
Yasmin glared at the prisoner. “I’m just like you.”
“I see.” Mara pulled on her chain. “We have to get out of here,” she said.
“There’s no way out.”
“Maybe you could help us.”
“I can’t.”
Mara nodded. “Yasmin, what can you tell us about Zarek’s son?”
Just then, the guard returned. “Hey!” he shouted. “Back away.”
Surprised, Yasmin jumped.
“I see I was wrong about you. You’re not to be trusted after all,” he said.
“No! I—”
He grabbed Yasmin’s wrist with one hand, and Clementine’s with the other. “You’ve been warned,” he seethed.
“It wasn’t us. I swear,” Yasmin said. “It was the prisoner who spoke.”
He looked in at Mara, then back at his captives. “Well, it won’t happen again,” he said.
When the guard entered his office, towing Yasmin and Clementine along, Broden jumped to his feet.
“What is it?” he demanded to know.
“They’ve been warned—repeatedly,” the man growled, “not to speak with the prisoners. But this one,” he added, jerking on Yasmin’s wrist, “has continued to do so anyway.”
> Broden’s eyes flashed from her, to Clementine, then back. “I see,” he said. “Well, leave them here with me then.”
“Zarek ordered no contact. Since she can’t be trusted,” he pushed Yasmin away, “I’ll take her.” He gestured toward Carlie.
Her eyes opened wide in fear.
He approached the guard. Then standing before him, his arms crossed, he said, “That one was my father’s gift to me. She only goes if I say so.”
“Fine. I’ll take that one then,” he suggested, designating Farida with a pointed finger.
Biting his lip, Broden glanced at Carlie. He wanted her to go, in the event she might recognize Zarek’s prisoners.
She closed her eyes slowly. With a sigh, she nodded, almost imperceptibly.
“Never mind,” he said. “Go ahead. Take her.” He tipped his head Carlie’s way. “I have need of the other one’s assistance. I’m preparing a caravan of prisoners to send out today.”
“Fine by me.” The guard turned to Carlie. “Empty your pockets,” he ordered.
Having seen the guards do the same with Yasmin and Clementine, the order didn’t surprise her. She complied, setting out the items from there—a tie for her hair, and a dirty handkerchief—on the table before her.
“Let’s go then.”
When she stepped his way, he removed a bundle of black cloth from under his arm. “Put this on,” he ordered.
She opened the item to discover a shroud, without slits for her eyes. She draped it over her head. “I can’t see.”
He grabbed her arm “Never mind. This way.”
As he dragged her along, she fought her rising panic. She hadn’t felt so vulnerable since she’d been nabbed from the compound. Shaking with fear, she concentrated on where her feet were going, willing herself not to trip.
They made one right turn, then another. The patterns of the floorboards beneath her steps changed, but nothing more. Then she thought back to something Yasmin had mentioned about Zarek’s special prison, early on. She’d thought she’d been taken there via a circuitous route.
Just then, they rounded yet another right turn. Was this just another entrance into the same prison where she worked with Broden every day?
Ephemeral and Fleeting Page 25