Chapter 33 #2
“Dreams are where we process memories of experiences that took place while we were awake.” Yara picks up the thread, her eyes flicking once to Shay before settling in front of her. “So, if anyone is thinking about the hjabat while they sleep, the night hags will be able to tune in to that.”
“Which makes them the perfect spies,” Marjan concludes, ending with a smile that looks more like a muscle spasm.
It gives Shay the distinct feeling that there's something Shadi's sisters aren't saying. Something they don't want to say. “Do these night hags usually grant their assistance to humans who request it?”
“She's smarter than she looks.” Marjan smirks.
Yara blanches. “Why are you this way, Marj?”
“It was a compliment,” her sister insists.
“They usually take something in return …” Shadi says, a crease rearranging his brow.
Of course they do. Despite feeling like she might throw up, Shay nods, encouraging any one of them to explain in further detail.
“To enter the dreamscape, the night hags need a conduit,” Marjan says. She slides a hesitant eye first toward Yara, then Shadi.
“One human must volunteer to be their entry point,” Yara adds, “through which they can access the wider dreamscape.”
It doesn't take a scholar to deduce that since Shay is the one who has been tasked with gathering the hjabats, she'll be the one doing the “volunteering.” A chill roots into her bones.
Shay sips her tea—which really is remarkably good. “What will they do to me?”
“We haven't decided who—” Yara is cut off by Marjan's lethal stare.
“They take a little piece of you while they're in there.” Marjan taps a finger to her temple.
“They could choose anything. A talent. A specific memory.
A person. The ability to feel a certain emotion.
It'll be gone, just like that.” She splays the fingers of her hands like exploding bamboo bangers. “Poof.”
Shay immediately thinks of how awful it felt when Tarik tethered himself to her mind, but this sounds worse. What's worse than losing a piece of yourself? Not even being aware it's gone.
Yara releases a worried breath, seeming attuned to Shay's distress. “We could draw straws or—”
“I'll do it,” Shadi says. “Shay has done enough already. She's lost enough. Already.”
“No,” Marjan says, her voice a whisper that carries the strength of a shout. “It can't be one of us. Not after what happened to Mmi.”
Shay gulps. “The Morchidat has done this before?”
“Yes,” Yara says timidly. “A long time ago, and whatever happened, she's never done it again. We don't know for sure what they took, but Marjan, Shadi, and I … we have a theory that it was her fear.”
Shay can see how that might be true. It also doesn't seem like the worst possible outcome. “Is that so bad?”
Marjan narrows her eyes to withering slits. “Fear is pretty essential to survival, Shay.”
“What Marj is trying to say,” Yara amends, “is that we worry about her constantly now.”
Shay understands. They love their mother and don't want to lose her, and if the configurations of scars the Morchidat wears with pride are any indication, she may have had more than a few close calls with mortality.
Shay thinks, one by one, of all the feelings, all the memories, all the people she doesn't want to lose.
She hits a sore spot when she comes to Khawla. She imagines them then, the thoughts she's held back all this time on the thinnest of leashes, thoughts of Khawla being abused, being forced to use Snow, becoming an unwilling tool in the hands of the enemy. Being made into an addict.
Shay can't let that happen.
She has to do something.
She extends her spine, like an animal trying to make itself look bigger. It can't be all that bad. Maybe the hags will feel generous and take some of her pain. She certainly has enough of that to spare. “Where do we go to find these night hags?”
“Shay—” Shadi starts to protest, but Shay turns to him, planting a finger firmly to his lips.
“It's fine.” She quickly peeks into Najla's basket on the table, then leans over, removes her finger, and kisses him. Suddenly. Urgently. Pulling back when they both are breathless, and his sisters have had a thorough inspection of the floorboards. “It's fine.”
She knows she should come up with a better argument than those two woefully inadequate words, but he seems to understand what she isn't saying.
That she needs to do this. Because while Jawad may ultimately be responsible for what happened to Hind, and Ghita, and Khawla, Shay still blames herself.
Still feels like she needs to atone. And maybe if she does this one big thing, she will be able to finally forgive herself for every costly mistake she's made along the way.
“We can go to the dream caves tonight,” Marjan says, regarding Shay with a glint of newfound respect. “They're just inside the boundary of the forest.”
Shay nods. “I'll pack up Najla's things.”
Yara gasps, then sputters, “Y-you can't take a baby there.”
“It's too dangerous,” Marjan agrees.
“But I'm breastfeeding her,” Shay argues, assuming that will settle the matter.
“Can't you squeeze out some milk or something?” Marjan asks.
“She's not a cow!” Yara argues.
“Marjan's not wrong,” Shay says thoughtfully. “I could express milk and leave Najla with Shadi. He's so good with her. I just worry I won't be able to express enough. Or that she won't take it from a glass or spoon.”
“I can help with part of that,” Yara says. “My affinity as a hizoura revolves around remedies. Teas mostly, but everything from tinctures to soups. I could make a fortifying drink that will increase your milk flow, and you'll be able to leave enough to last Najla until your return.”
“I can help as well,” Marjan says, more quietly.
Shay turns toward the other sister, waiting for her to explain.
She clears her throat. “I, um, have some experience with sewing prosthetic breasts. If you have a bit of goat skin and a few other materials available, I can make a feeder that Shadi could strap onto his chest. It would simulate a real nipple. At least, I think it will be close enough to work in your absence.”
Shay sees it now. What Shadi was saying about Marjan having a golden heart. She smiles. “Thank you. I love that idea.” Then she turns to Shadi. “And will you fare well alone with the baby?”
“Of course,” he says, without hesitation. “Will you? Fare well leaving her?”
Shay turns to the wide-eyed infant. So small. So helpless. So utterly dependent.
Part of her is saddened by the thought of being away from her.
But part of her is relieved.
And Shay hates how much.
She's also wise enough to know her relief is simply a feeling. A symptom of being overwhelmed, saddled with a new responsibility she was unprepared for.
It does not mean she loves her sister any less.
Or that she won't continue to take good care of her.
It will just be good to get away, only for one night—or maybe two if they succeed in locating the last hjabat.
Even if she is going to the dream caves to open her mind to the mercy of creatures who scry dreams and steal fear.
She has to assume they won't be cute and cuddly to look upon either.
“I have to sleep in there?” Shay stares down the dark gullet of the dream caves, the lantern she holds up of little avail. Instead of casting a forward glow, the light seems to cringe away. The shadows are so deep and still and solid, they've grown a skim of dust.
Her mother's face flashes in her mind. There's a feeling in the air here or, more accurately, an absence of feeling. A void. A heaviness that isn't heavy and a coldness that isn't cold. A feeling Shay is starting to recognize as death.
“We'll be with you,” Yara says empathetically.
“And don't worry about not being able to fall asleep.” Marjan's voice is calm, but the deep caves give it a distorted ring. The lantern makes her eyes flicker and flash. “They aren't called the dream caves for nothing.”
“Is there anything I have to do?” Shay asks warily.
“They won't force their way into your mind,” Yara says. “You have to accept them in.”
Marjan visibly shivers. “No matter how terrifying they appear.”
The opening here is much larger than Shadi's cave.
Nothing about this place is hidden or secret or hard to find.
The broadness itself feels like a trap. But as they make their way inside, multiple paths branch off, winding and narrowing.
The sisters tell Shay there is no wrong choice.
In the dream caves, all paths lead to the central cavern, the dreamer's sanctum.
“What is your affinity?” Shay asks Marjan, to make conversation.
The drink Yara prepared for Shay worked as she promised, allowing her to leave Shadi enough milk for a couple of days.
Enough time for them to secure the last hjabat and take it along with the others to Shadi's cave before the meteor shower.
Marjan's feeding device came out perfectly, too, though that was more ingenuity, less magic.
“I have really good aim.” Marjan mimes pulling an arrow from the quiver at her shoulder, drawing the string of an air bow, and releasing it.
“I think you meant to say unerring marksmanship. Don't be so modest, Marj,” Yara says. “Tell her about the time you shot an arrow through that apple on Mmi's head at fifty paces when you were three cycles old!”
Shay marvels at the fact she's met not one but three other hizouras now.
She used to think she was alone. That magic was something to be subdued at any cost, even her health.
She marvels, too, that Najla won't have to feel that way in the likely case she's also a hizoura.
She'll have Shay and two khalat to guide her. Three if Khawla comes back.
When Khawla comes back.
As they walk, a calm falls over her. A not-unpleasant sense of tiredness. She hears a sound. Not water, not wind, but something in between. A low, soothing hum that gets louder as they go along. The tunnel ends, opening to an expansive circular space.