Chapter 27
My research indicates that when the Lallat ruled, the monsters of Ard Al-Ghul rarely crossed the boundary into the human world.
They steered clear of the populated medinas, where the anxieties and fears they prey upon were in scarce supply because citizens felt safe and happy.
This forced them to seek out those in vulnerable situations, hiding in abandoned, uninhabited places, where they would patiently lie in wait for the solitary traveler or explorers in search of a fear-inducing thrill.
My findings also show that the monsters were less organized then, less human in their attributes.
More terrifying, existing in their most primitive and eldritch forms. Of the three ghoul clans, the night hags have changed the least over time and are said, by those who have survived an encounter with one, to have retained a most significant portion of their true nature.
—from the historical journals of the Morchidat
Shay floats in silver clouds. Tingles travel over her body. Odd, considering she isn't sure where her body is. Sparkles dance around her like a field of shimmering stars. She watches them glom together, the specks growing larger and more defined until four distinct shapes surround her.
One shines green, one silver, one blue, and one red. Four tall, glowing pillars that look more like the stalagmites in Shadi's cave than women.
“Lallat?” Shay tries to reach out and touch one, which proves impossible when she can't locate her hand.
A voice like crystal chimes flows from the silver pillar. “What do you need, kbida?”
“Who are you?” Shay asks uncertainly.
“My name is Iman,” the silver pillar says.
“I'm Rasha,” says the blue one.
“I'm Rabia,” says the green.
“And I'm Noor,” says the red.
“We are the Lallat,” they say in unison. “We are the past, and you, oh, bnt, are the heart and hands of the future. It is our pleasure to assist you.”
“I …” Apprehension flashes through Shay's mind.
Something about this feels too simple. Too easy to be true.
But deep down, Shay knows she isn't going to be able to convince the Morchidat to rescue Khawla unless she first completes the task—the entire task—she's been given.
Time is precious as gold, and every moment, as costly.
“I need to know where the other hjabats are hidden.”
“One, a necklace, is locked within a chest, deep inside the underwater cave of Chefrika, off the shores of Lahat,” says Iman.
“Another, a pair of earrings, is hidden in a box under the bed of a Marabout who lives at the Holy Institute of Umm Chanala,” says Rasha.
“And the last, a bracelet, is worn around the wrist of Muktar Asim, who currently resides at the Grand Palace in Kiddah,” says Rabia.
Shay's heart grows heavy. She has never been to any of those places, and none of them are less than a moon quarter's journey.
It would be almost impossible to gather them all in time, even if Shay didn't have to care for Hind.
“Wakha. Thank you. While I'm here, do you have any advice as to how I might travel to these places, collect all three pieces, and return before a moon cycle has passed?”
Noor says something, but her words are running together, distorting, becoming difficult to understand. The clouds begin to part, reality teasing at Shay's thoughts, the pillars drifting farther away. Shay focuses harder, holding tight to their image.
“… keep chipping away at us, we'll soon be less rocks and more pebbles,” Noor finishes, her voice resolving.
“Do you have to be so dramatic?” Rasha asks. “The kid is doing the best she can.”
“Look, it's a new generation, sis. I hear they're pressure-motivated.”
“Shuika, pay attention.” Iman's voice again, commanding but kind.
“The sleep spell on the hjabat is wearing off. Without it acting as a conduit, even your sensitivity will not be enough to breach the veil unless you come to us. To revive our spirits, you must bring all four hjabats and three other—”
The pillars rapidly blur together into a mass of colors. Iman's voice shrinks to a faint echo. Shay feels her consciousness being pulled along a steady track, like a fish hooked on an angler's line. The clear-gloss surface of reality looms ahead.
“Where do I bring them?” Shay asks, panicked, but her lashes are already flickering. The image of the pillars alternate with slices of Shadi hanging over her, his nostrils slightly flared at this angle.
“We're losing her.”
Those are the last words Shay hears before her body springs into a sitting position of its own volition, her eyes wide open, the connection severed. No, no, no. Iman was telling her something important.
“Are you well?” Shadi looks pale.
“Yes. I learned where the hjabats are. I just …” Shay closes her eyes, trying to reestablish the connection, but it's to no avail.
She reviews all that the Lallat told her, in case she missed something that will make her task easier than it appears, such as how to be in multiple places at once, for starters.
One detail does stand out. She swallows and locks eyes excitedly with Shadi.
“I think … I think the Lallat want us to reawaken them.
If we can gather all the hjabats, they'll come back and fight Al-Mukhtar with us.”
“That's incredible news.” Shadi smiles, his color returning. “Mmi will be pleased when I report back to her.”
“What?” Shay looks around the outpost, realizing they are there alone. She blinks a few times and rubs her eyes to test what she's seeing. “They left?”
“Um, yeah.” Shadi scratches the back of his neck.
“She's … a busy woman. Always attending meetings and studying old scrolls, and fighting—mostly practice, but you get the point,” he says, and Shay wonders if she imagines that hint of sadness in his voice.
“But she instructed me to give her the rundown of what you learned at her earliest availability.”
Shay pulls the hjabat off her finger. “What about this?”
“She said for you to hold on to it, for now.”
Disappointment deflates her. Shay realizes she was eager to see the Morchidat's reaction. Proud to have discovered something of use. And more hopeful than she had any right to be that providing the hjabat's locations might convince the Morchidat to help her with obtaining them.
“The hjabats are scattered far and wide, Shadi.” She locks eyes with him again, this time in desperation. “Surely, she has the resources to send multiple retrieval teams at once. I'm just one girl.”
He tilts his head, a slight curl playing at the corner of his lips that she might imagine kissing if she weren't so distraught. “She wouldn't have asked you to do it if she didn't think you could. She may be callous at times, but never careless.”
Shay shakes her head slowly, still not daydreaming about his lips. Not admiring their shape. And definitely not wondering how they would fit against hers. How the feel of them might smooth away her ever-growing number of problems, if only for a moment in time.
She clears her throat. “Do you? Think I can do this? Honestly?”
“No.” His eyes flick over her face, pausing at her lips, as if he's possessed by the same distractions as she. “I know you can.”
He's sitting near enough that she feels the heat of his body. His breath stirs her hair, a soft flutter against her cheek that sends a delectable chill down her spine. Silver moonbeams reflect in his eyes.
Moonbeams? Shay straightens, snapping to her senses. She has left Hind unattended for far too long. What if she needs something and the brothers don't know what to do? What if she takes a turn for the worse? “I must get back.”
“Of course.” Shadi gives his cheeks a brisk rub. He stands and offers his hand. “By the way, Yara wanted you to know she thinks it's brave, how you're helping your mother.”
Shay gets to her feet, forcing a smile. She wishes she had a mother whose love didn't require bravery. A relationship that came easy instead of leaving scars. “At least one of the twins doesn't hate me, then.”
“First, no one hates you.” He squeezes her hand before letting it go. “And my sisters look alike, but ironically, they aren't twins. They were born to separate families in different regions of the realm. Mmi adopted them after their parents and other family members were martyred.”
“Oh.” Shay's struck by the notion that there's something she meant to ask him, but she can't remember what it was. “I still think Marjan takes after your mother. In personality, at least.”
“I'm sure she'd take that as a compliment.” Shadi chuckles, his eyes soft with fondness.
He uses the candle to light a lantern before snuffing it, shadows dancing to life around them.
“I know she has a tough exterior, but there's a heart of gold underneath it all. You'll see when you get to know her.”
They make their way to the door and step into the night air, which has cooled considerably. Mufeed brays softly, as if to say, It's about time.
A faintly sour smell on the air nudges Shay's memory into place. “The moon pepper! I've been meaning to ask you about it. Do your sisters still take it?”
“Funny you should ask,” Shadi says, but he looks more perplexed than amused. “It was Mmi who told me to harvest it. But then Marjan refused to take it. Which I get. She's immensely proud of being a hizoura. It's validating to her as a mutahawil.”
Shay nods in understanding. Shawafa belongs to all women, regardless of what body part she has between her legs.
“And then Yara also refused, more in solidarity than anything.”
Shay finds it hard to imagine anyone going against the Morchidat's directives, especially after putting Shadi through the trouble of harvesting it.
But more than that, it doesn't make sense that the leader of the Sisterhood, a group that advocates for the return of magic, would desire to suppress it in her daughters.
“Why did she want them to take it in the first place?”