Jin-Li recognized Eva, having seen her eyes, and nodded to her. Asa went to stand beside the girl at the sink. “This is Ritsa,” he said. “And you’ve met Eva, her mother. These others are their friends. This is their home, all of them together.”
Jin-Li touched hand to heart. No one returned the greeting. Asa’s gentle features were grim. “What is it you want, kir?”
Jin-Li asked, “Is Zahra here?”
“Why do you want to know?”
Jin-Li gave him a hard look. “Asa, do you think I would betray Zahra?” Asa’s usually mild voice was like iron. “You must forgive me, kir. This is life or death.”
Jin-Li lifted one shoulder. “Nothing to forgive, my friend. But I assure you, you can trust me.”
“You’re Port Force,” Asa said bluntly. The women at the table were suddenly very still. Every eye was on Jin-Li.
Jin-Li said quietly, “No more, Asa. As of today, no more.”
A familiar voice said, “But why? What’s happened?”
Jin-Li whirled to see Zahra standing halfway down the long room. She was in the same dress she had worn two nights before. It looked as if she had not taken it off since. Her feet, and her head and face, were bare. Her eyes were hollowed and her cheeks thin. Jin-Li wanted to run to her, embrace her, but stood still, saying only, “Onani left me no choice.”
Zahra stepped closer, her eyes dark and glittering. “Tell me,” she said. “Tell me what he said.” She stopped an arm’s length away.
Jin-Li said, “It doesn’t matter. I want to be here, with you. On Irustan.” One of the women at the table rose. “Who can blame him, Medicant?” she said sourly. “Irustan is a great world for men!”
Zahra looked at the woman, at Asa. She said bluntly, “Jin-Li Chung is not a man. Jin-Li is a woman. Like you. Like me.”
The woman gasped. “O Prophet—do you know what they’ll do to you if they catch you in men’s clothes? That’s a capital crime! They’ll put you in the cells!”
“I know,” Jin-Li said. She turned to Asa, whose eyes had gone wide with shock. “I’m sorry, Asa. I couldn’t tell you. No one knew, except Zahra.”
Asa shook his head in confusion. “Why, then?” he demanded. “Why stay on Irustan?”
Jin-Li spread her hands. “Irustan, Hong Kong—it’s all the same. I thought when I left Earth I would have my freedom, but it seems our troubles follow us. I never made a difference on Earth. Maybe on Irustan I can.” “Jin-Li.” Zahra’s voice was low, intense. Jin-Li turned slowly, her heart constricting. “Tell me what happened,” Zahra said. “What Onani said.”
“He said to find you, or he’d turn me in. Send me back.”
“What else?” Zahra’s eyes burned into Jin-Li’s.
“The rest doesn’t matter,” Jin-Li said. “We can’t do anything about it.”
“It’s Qadir, isn’t it?” Zahra’s voice rose slightly.
“Zahra,” Asa said, hobbling to her. “Sit down. Be calm.”
Zahra submitted to Asa’s urging, and sat in the chair he held for her, but her eyes never left Jin-Li’s. “Tell me, tell me now,” she commanded.
Jin-Li sat down across from her. She put her hand out across the scarred table, but Zahra’s hands were wound tightly in her lap. Asa put one arm protectively on the back of her chair. “Jin-Li is right,” he said tightly. “There’s nothing we can do.”
“Tell me anyway,” Zahra said.
Still Jin-Li hesitated, watching Zahra’s tormented eyes, but she could see no way to spare her this pain. “I’m sorry. It’s true. It’s Qadir. They convicted him this morning.”
Zahra slapped both her hands on the worn table, an angry blow that rang in the room and must have stung her palms. She stood up, and the chair fell to the floor with a crash. “Damn them!” she cried. She strode away, heedless of the broken floor and her bare feet. She paced down the room and out the door.
Jin-Li rose to follow her, but Asa said, “Let her go. She will suffer over this. We can’t help her.”
Reluctantly, Jin-Li sat down again. The young woman, Ritsa, put a cup of coffee on the table before her. They sat, the five of them, in an uncomfortable silence. Jin-Li felt the suspicious eyes of the women on her, on her men’s clothes and short brush of hair, her heavy-lidded eyes. Asa averted his gaze as if her appearance were somehow shameful. Jin-Li clenched her teeth. She would just have to endure. It was necessary, if she were to be here, with Zahra. Perhaps, slowly, acceptance would come.
Zahra did not return in the next hour, or the next. Dusk gathered outside the grimy windows of the tenement. The children came in, and the women laid the table with plates and bowls. Asa hobbled about, helping Ritsa as she stirred soup and sliced bread. Ritsa spent some time cutting rotten spots from pieces of fruit. Jin-Li supposed the fruit was gleaned from someone’s discards. Her own mother, in Hong Kong, had done the same.
At last Jin-Li could bear the idleness no longer. She stood up. “Excuse me,” she said. “Are you going to let me stay here?”
The women, and Asa, looked at her in silence. At length Asa said, “I think it’s all right, Eva. We’ve known Jin-Li for some time. And if he—she—meant to turn Zahra over to Pi Team, it would already be done.”
Eva nodded. “All right,” she said. “You can stay. For Zahra’s sake. Ritsa, find Jin-Li a room, would you?”
Ritsa left the stove and led Jin-Li, with a gesture, out the long room and up two flights of stairs. At the top landing she said, “Most of the rooms are taken, but there’s a small one here, right by the bathroom.” She pushed open the door and Jin-Li looked inside. The room was small, indeed, and the bed only a mattress on the floor. “I’ll get you some blankets and things somewhere,” Ritsa said apologetically. “We don’t have much.”
“It’s fine,” Jin-Li said. “Thanks.”
“Zahra’s room is just there,” Ritsa said, pointing.
Jin-Li followed her pointing finger. The door she indicated stood ajar. No sound came from within. Moving quietly so as not to disturb Zahra if she were sleeping, Jin-Li walked to the room and looked in. Her heart thudded in her chest, and her mouth went suddenly dry.
“Ritsa,” she said in a raw .voice. “Zahra’s not here.”
“She must have gone down, then,” Ritsa said. “For dinner.”
Jin-Li headed for the stairs at a trot, and Ritsa ran behind her. They rushed down the two flights of stairs, Jin-Li jumping two at a time, her shoes banging on the bare treads. She ran to the door of the cavernous dining room and flung it open.
Inside, the same women were still seated with Asa at the table. Several children sat together, spooning soup, squabbling. Zahra wasn’t there. “Have you seen Zahra?” Jin-Li cried. Everyone froze, staring at her but not answering.
“She’s gone,” Jin-Li said, to no one in particular. Then to Asa, miserably, “Zahra’s gone.”
* * *
Jin-Li ran through the streets of the Medah until her calves cramped and her breath burned in her lungs. She walked until she recovered her breath, then ran again. The market square was roughly seven kilometers from the Doma, a distance Jin-Li could run easily under normal circumstances. But it was dark, and the streets of the Medah were rough and slanting, and her Irustani shoes were not meant for running. It was like running in a nightmare, her legs heavy, her feet unwilling. There was no way to know how long Zahra had been gone.
As she ran, Jin-Li worried that Zahra would have already reached the Doma, or that Pi Team had caught her. It gave her a bit of comfort to see that no Pi Team squads were patrolling the streets. A few cars and a number of cycles passed. Jin-Li dodged pedestrians, paused at street corners, and pushed the pace as fast as she was able. Heads turned as she raced past.
In the Akros, no people were about. Occasionally a car wheeled past, but mostly the broad, smooth streets were empty. When the circular roof of the Doma came in sight, Jin-Li slowed to a walk, sobbing for breath.
She came around the last corner and looked up at the broad
steps and the great double doors. Zahra, fully veiled, was mounting the stairs with slow, deliberate steps. Her back was straight, her head high. She didn’t see Jin-Li’s approach. Jin-Li forced another burst of strength from her trembling legs, and dashed to catch Zahra before she reached the doors.
Zahra gasped when Jin-Li seized her arm. “Jin-Li! What are you doing here? Your clothes—you mustn’t get caught like that!”
Jin-Li barely had breath to speak. “Zahra, don’t go in there. Don’t give in to them!”
Zahra’s eyes were calm through the gauze of her veil. “I must,” she said coolly. “No one, most certainly not Qadir, is going to suffer for my sins.”
Jin-Li’s blood chilled in her veins. “Zahra, what good will it do? What point will it serve?” She still held Zahra’s slender arm, and she squeezed it tightly, unwilling to let go. Zahra didn’t try to pull free.
“Jin-Li,” she said patiently. “If Qadir had been punished in my place, I would have died of shame. Of guilt. Of a broken heart. And that would mean nothing, say nothing.”
“But we’ll make this a revolution! A rebellion!”
“I hope so,” Zahra said, almost offhandedly. “Then I will be its martyr.” She turned her face toward the huge doors, as if only waiting for Jin-Li to let go of her arm.
“Zahra,” Jin-Li said again, and was shocked to find tears on her cheeks. She dashed them away with a rough hand. “Don’t do this. I can’t bear it.”
Zahra looked back at Jin-Li. With her free hand, she unbuttoned her rill. Her eyes were a clear violet, her brows level. “This has been inevitable from the beginning. I’ve done what I’ve done, and I’ll pay the price. Only the Maker will judge me in the end.”
Jin-Li shook her head, wordless, lost.
“Jin-Li,” Zahra said gently. “Go back to Port Force. Onani won’t bother you now.”
Jin-Li burst out, “Zahra—change your mind! Let’s go—we’ll go somewhere, anywhere. Don’t go in there!”
With firm fingers, Zahra pried Jin-Li’s hand from her arm. She leaned close, pressed her cheek to Jin-Li’s. “Don’t cry anymore, dear friend,” she murmured. “It doesn’t do any good.”
Jin-Li hung her head, mute, defeated, and when she looked up again, Zahra was gone.
forty-three
* * *
Above all things, love your Maker.
—Twenty-seventh Homily, The Book of the Second Prophet
Zahra struggled to pull one of the doors open enough to allow her to enter. The interior of the Doma was dimly lighted by a few wall sconces, and smelled faintly of the incense used at the last service. Very far away, at the other end, four figures made a hazy tableau. She moved toward them on silent feet.
As she came closer, the figures resolved into men. Two thick-bodied Pi Team members stood with arms crossed, rifles ready. The Simah knelt on a mat with Qadir across from him. Whispered prayers echoed in the vast space, only slightly louder than the whisper of Zahra’s borrowed sandals on the tiles.
At Zahra’s approach the Pi Team men lifted their rifles. The Simah and Qadir looked up, their prayers interrupted. The look on the Simah’s face was one of astonishment at the unprecedented intrusion of a woman on their private devotions, but Qadir stared at her veiled figure, and then, with a look of great sadness, he held out his hand to her. She went to him, took his hand, knelt beside him.
“Zahra. You shouldn’t have come,” he said hoarsely. “You should have stayed wherever you were, stayed safe.”
“Of course I had to come, Qadir,” she said quietly. “This is my penance. My vigil. You can’t keep it for me.”
He pressed her fingers to his lips with a trembling hand, and she saw how aged he was, how thin and worn and damaged. It was this that brought the tears to her eyes, tears that fell before she knew they were there, the first she had shed in years. He saw them, and whispered, “Don’t, my dear. Don’t be afraid.”
She shook her head. “I’m not afraid, Qadir. I’m just so very, very sorry to have hurt you.”
The Simah found his voice. “Zahra IbSada! Have you come to your senses? Have you come to pray for forgiveness?”
Zahra’s tears dried as suddenly as they came. She stood up, and folded her arms, looking down at the Simah.
“Either I am forgiven, or I am not,” she said. “And neither you nor I know which it is to be.” She glanced at the Pi Team men and laughed. “It appears I will know before you do.”
“Kneel, daughter, and pray!” the Simah intoned.
“I’m not your daughter, Simah. I don’t belong to anyone.”
“You belong to this man, to Qadir IbSada!”
Qadir struggled to his feet, shakily. Zahra helped him, holding his arm, and he stood beside her. “I don’t think she does anymore, Simah,” he said weakly. “I did think so, but I no longer do. Zahra IbSada is my wife, but she is her own person.”
The Simah gestured to one of the Pi Team members. The man tugged on Zahra’s arms to make her kneel. When she resisted, he struck a sudden blow on the tops of her shoulders with both of his meaty fists. Her knees struck the tiled floor with a force that jarred her teeth and ripped her already ragged dress. She made no sound, but Qadir cried out.
“Never mind, Qadir,” she muttered. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Zahra, my Zahra,” he said brokenly, weakly.
“Simah,” she said swiftly, looking up. “I will pray with you, if you let my husband go home!”
“No!” Qadir cried. He fell to his knees again. “No, I’m staying with you. To pray or not, I don’t care. I’m staying.”
* * *
Through the long night Zahra and Qadir knelt together, and when they could no longer kneel, they sat side by side on the mat. The Simah went on intoning prayers, apparently indefatigable. The Pi Team guards stood at attention, faces turned into the shadows as if they were blind and deaf.
Still, Zahra felt no fear. She only craved peace, and release. As the night wore on, she felt increasingly distant from all that bound her to life. Everything around her, the Simah, Pi Team, the mosaics and sculptures, seemed illusory, fleeting apparitions, the stuff of dreams. Only her worry for Qadir and concern for Ishi were real.
When dawn began to flicker outside the Doma, the Simah concluded his prayers and rose stiffly to his feet. He looked at Qadir over his folded hands. “Chief Director,” he said. “You were sentenced in this woman’s place. You are now released.”
Qadir shook his head. “No, Simah,” he said calmly. “I will go with her.”
Zahra flinched as if he had struck her. “No, Qadir!” she said sharply. “This is my sin, and my punishment.”
“This woman is right,” the Simah said. “She has confessed, and accepted judgement.”
Qadir got to his feet, and pulled Zahra up with him.
“Zahra, I have no life ahead of me,” he said simply. “Without you, without my work—what will I do?” There was no pathos in his voice or his face, only a sort of resignation. Zahra recognized it, because she had felt it herself for several days now. But there was more at stake than simply Qadir’s life.
“Qadir,” she said softly, for his ears alone. “There is Ishi. She will need you. Who will protect her?”
Qadir looked more grieved at that moment than at any time since Zahra had come to the Doma. He had really, truly, intended to die with her, Zahra thought, and she was moved to the depths of her being. But she knew she had to do this alone. She felt a brief shiver of fear at the thought of what was to come, but she thrust it away. She had sent men to their deaths, not without compunction, but certainly without mercy. She would atone for those deaths. And she would face her own death with all the courage the Maker had given her.
“Qadir,” she said. “Go home. Comfort Ishi. Tell her—”
Qadir gripped her hands as if he were falling. “No,” he whispered.
She smiled at him, and leaned to kiss his cheek. “Yes, my dear,” she said. “Tell Ishi that I loved her from the f
irst moment I saw her. Tell her to be a fine medicant. And find her the best, the kindest, the gentlest husband you can. For me.”
Qadir tried to speak, but couldn’t. He struggled, throat working, and then he gave up. He took Zahra in his arms and held her, very gently, for a long time. His body trembled against hers, and she supported him.
* * *
For Zahra the public progress to the cells passed in a hot blur. She was only dimly aware of the open truck she rode in, of the blaze of the star on her veiled head, of the hundreds of people that lined the road. Many of those who jeered as she passed were veiled, but she ignored them. She concentrated on standing straight, holding her head high, keeping her eyes fixed on the hills and the small white prison awaiting her. Only once did she look into the crowd lining the road out of the city.
A flash of long, heavy-lidded dark eyes caught her attention, and her heart fluttered in her throat. Surely that was Jin-Li, still in Irustani clothing! She grieved for her friend, wondered what would become of her. But that, too, was now in the past, out of her hands, like all the others she had borne for so long. Ishi, Rabi, Maya. Out of her hands. She looked forward again, yearning for the end of her journey.
The ceremony was short. Zahra heard not a word of it. She stared at the cells until she was lifted down from the truck. Pi Team made as if to haul her bodily up the slope, but she shook herself free of their heavy hands and walked up the hill with a strong and eager step. Pi Team surrounded her, as if at the last moment she might make a run for it. But nothing, not anything in heaven or hell, could have been further from Zahra IbSada’s mind.
The inside of the cell glared white, baking with the relentless heat of the star. It smelled of hot stone and dry dirt. It was just wide enough to allow a person to sit, but not to lie down. The door was shut with some final formalities. At the sound of the lock falling into place, Zahra tore off her veil and turned her face up to the pale and cloudless sky.
The Terrorists of Irustan Page 37