The Serpent's Veil

Last Sunset

Salsal sat with her arms wrapped around her knees, huddled in the corner of the room with a scarf over her head. There was a dim flame in the hearth, and Salsal could see the embers glowing when a breeze passed through the open window. Ghatrif sat against the opposite wall, looking down at his hands. From the other room – the room she shared with Khayzuran – she could hear hushed voices.

The afterglow of the sun lit up the sky with a pale golden colour. Ghatrif couldn't stand to look at it. It reminded him too much of the snake. He curled his fingers into fists in his lap, then opened them. After carrying his sister into her bedroom, he hadn't stopped to think about bandaging her wound, or check if she was still breathing. The singular thought running through his mind was, Mother. Mother will fix it.

It hadn't taken long for his mother to spring into action. She didn't even bat an eye when Ghatrif informed her that her eldest daughter had been bitten by a most likely poisonous snake. She simply got up from her table, gave Salsal to Ghatrif to take home, and headed off in the opposite direction.

She returned in fifteen minutes with a stranger neither Ghatrif nor Salsal had ever laid eyes on. He spoke in a strange, incomprehensible dialect, but with enough gesturing and a few broken sentences their mother was able to make herself understood. Soon enough they had removed Khayzuran's bloodied qamis and cleaned up her wound.

Now the two of them sat in the room, watching Khayzuran's twitching face. Her forehead was soaked with sweat, and her breaths were shaky. The four puncture wounds from the snake's fangs were small, making it all the more easier to patch up cleanly. The poison was another matter entirely.

Ж

The Bedouin watched the girl pensively, the wrinkles on his forehead growing all the more pronounced. The shadows in the hollows of his eyes were especially dark, dimly lit as the room was.

"I do not know if she will survive the night," he said.

Khayzuran's mother remained silent.

"You still do not know what did this?"

"My son said it was a golden snake. Big, and strong enough to suffocate her," she said, keeping her eyes fixed on Khayzuran's face. Her mouth was pulled into a grim line. She had always been sure of Khayzuran, if not of her other two children. Khayzuran could take care of herself, and of others if necessary. Now, her mother inwardly trembled at the thought of her daughter being in such a state. It seemed too surreal to be happening.

The Bedouin wiped his forehead with a handkerchief, though he wasn't sweating. The girl's face was tensed and drenched in sweat, and she was shivering slightly, but all the Bedouin could see was her striking face. His travels had led him to countless cities, but nowhere had he laid eyes upon such arresting features. It was a pity she would be dead soon. A girl like her would fetch a magnificent price at the Suq Almaki.

He glanced sideways at the girl's mother and was surprised to see a passive expression on her face. She seemed completely unaffected by the fact that the girl was on the verge of death. The Bedouin cleared his throat and stood up noisily, as if to stir the woman from her trance-like silence.

"If her fever breaks by tomorrow morning, she may have a chance," he said, turning towards the door.

Khayzuran's mother sat where she was, unmoving. She breathed in the musty air and closed her eyes. She had never had much faith in prayer, though she was fastidious with her Salat, but now none of that seemed to matter.

Before opening her eyes she muttered, "You silly girl, wake up."

Ж

A, dull pulsing sound gradually gave way to bubbling water. A monotonous hiss began to take the shape of far off whispering. There was a thud, no, a footstep.