I wondered if they were a deepname-orphan, one of these children whose mothers could not take care of them after their deepnames were stripped off by force. In the city, giving up one’s magic was a rite of passage for those non-Khana women who possessed it, much celebrated as an act of distinction. Most women continued their lives after such an event, but some of them, once bereft of their deepname or deepnames, went flat and indifferent. Most got better, but some never recovered. Their children ran wild and barefoot through the city; the mothers could find no solace or reason to continue, the loss of magic more bitter than the veils of death.
And everything in it was made from death.
I left the city seeking change, but now that I found it, it wasn’t death but hope that I sought. I had to find a physicker for Uiziya. For her sake, too, I had promised to seek yet again the carpet of hope I had given away forty years ago, attempting to pay for another life.
“I will weave for you from song,” Benesret told me once, forty years ago. “The third mystery of the everchanging desert: to weave from the colors of rainbow where no rain has fallen on these desiccated sands; for this thread had been spun out of Bird’s own feathers, and so I will weave from it, weave in all the desolate places where only silence and despair had been. And look, this weave is hope: the third of the Four Profound Weaves and the greatest treasure ever woven. I will give it to you so that you can trade the Collector for your lover, for Bashri-nai-Divrah, for her life.”
But Bashri-nai-Divrah was already dead. The Ruler of Iyar had killed her, just like Benesret had already killed Uiziya. It was hopeless. But I did not know what else I could do.
“If you give me a coin, I will tell you.”
The orphan was still there, and their words brought me out of my reverie.
“Tell me what?” In the desert a child like this could be called by the headmaster’s music to journey southeast and join the School of Assassins. But this child did not seem to have that tell-tale look of blankness. “What would you tell me?”
“What happened to her.”
“I know what happened to her.” But something stirred in me, and I dipped my hand into the pocket for a coin.
The child took it and tested it against their tongue. A coin of silver, a thin coin from the Surun’ encampment, with its three stamped serpents and smoothed ridges. The child’s face was curious as they tasted the silver, and licked the heads of the snakes. Satisfied, the child hid the coin in their shirt.
“He brought the rod. And it sucked all the life from Juma, so he was withered. Withered all over, not just one limb, like hers.”
I tried to understand, but this tale did not seem to have a beginning. “What are you talking about?”
“When Juma’s father came. A month or so ago, now. He was all bent and sad. And he was clean and well-dressed and he smelled of roses, and he said, I do it because I love you.”
“I do not understand,” I said.
“And all the faces in the rod were leering. His father touched him with the rod, and Juma fell to the ground. I looked at the rod and saw his face there, too. A small one. His mouth opened and closed, but no sound came.” The child took a step away from me. “Is this what happened to your sister?”
“No.” But wave after wave of coldness ran down my back. “What happened then?”
“The others ran away. But I didn’t. I was afraid, but I wanted to know what happened to Juma. I shook and shook him, but he was already in the rod. I thought his father would kill me. But he just looked sad.”
I had paid for the child to speak, but their words made no sense to me. “Do you know who can heal this wound? She is not in a rod. There was no rod. She is still alive.”
The child circled closer again. “Maybe. Maybe she is too big to go into the rod.” But their face was dubious. “Maybe only her leg went.”
“That’s not what happened.” I felt angry for Uiziya’s body to be judged, but I also felt at a loss. “Do you know who can heal this?”
“I heard that a physicker comes to the inn at Three Roses. Ask for the special one, from the palace. But you have to have coin.”
I gave the child another coin. They wanted to show me the way to Three Roses, but I refused. Alone with Uiziya’s body, I tried to push the strange conversation out of my head.
I had always walked veiled on the streets of Iyar, for our women with magical power were not permitted outside of the Khana quarter unless they were properly veiled. Only Khana women and foreign ones would be permitted deepnames at all; it was illegal for Iyari women to do so, and those who resisted were rebels. As a man or a woman of the Khana, I should be veiled in these streets. My naked face bothered me, the feel of that city air and people’s furtive glances made me feel exposed. Then I began to notice how people gave way to me.
Was it because I was Khana, and without a veil? But they likely thought me a person from the desert. I wore Surun’ clothing and had called myself Surun’ at the gate. Then why did they give me way? I wondered next if it was out of respect for my burden, but some even bowed.
I asked an Iyari woman for directions, surprised by how my own words sounded. Among the Surun’ and with Benesret I did not pay much attention to how the changes in my voice affected others. It was just another aspect of my transformation; my friends and even my grandchildren did not remark upon it. Here, in Iyar, my voice rang hoarse and hollow. The woman gave me directions bashfully, lowering her eyes from my gaze, even though I was old.
Yes, this was the reason. That I was a man, and three-named strong. In Iyar, where women were not allowed deepnames and were taught to always speak softly, it mattered.
At the hostel, a lie and a bribe took care of us once again. Uiziya was my sister, as I said at the gate, in need of a physicker. We were both snake-Surun’, trader and weaver, hoping for a miracle of healing.
The room we got was of stone, rough-hewn and laid thickly with carpets. They were of poor quality, loosely woven, garish with green and chapa-diluted madder, which made the color look more pink than red. The designs of the carpets were rough, too—diamonds and circles piled on without rhythm or meaning. If I were still trading, I would refuse this offering. I could have afforded better rooms, but this got us closer to the Rainbow-Tiered Court of the Ruler of Iyar.
I made Uiziya comfortable on a low bed piled with these badly made weaves. I paced until my legs ached so much that I could pace no more. I ordered food without either meat or fish; a desert custom, I said. I’d made it up on the spot. My people would eat fish but not meat; if I asked for fish, it could reveal me as Khana, and my people were not welcome in Iyar outside of our quarter, unless in possession of papers. I had never before concealed being Khana.
Secrets. Always secrets. I was weary of secrets, and wanted to go home, wherever it was. Perhaps I just needed to be alone.
A physicker came, and I paid him, but he told me nothing I had not already known. Uiziya did not wake, and I felt rotten to have shown the physicker her body, for he had shuddered at the sight of Uiziya’s leg, but gave us no aid. What healing did I seek anyway? What repair could be had for a wound that was woven from death?
Why had I come here? For hope, but I did not know what hope meant anymore. A carpet. A life. Whose life? Mine, or Uiziya’s? I no longer knew. But I was stubborn, and did not want to give up.