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.
Khayzuran's eyes peeled open with the slowness of a flower blooming. When she opened her mouth to speak, a cough came in place of words. Her throat was dry as sand.
A figure rushed to her side, kneeling beside her bed.
"Khaya?" It was her mother.
Khayzuran managed a nod, trying to brace her palms against the ground to sit up. Her shoulder ached with every breath.
"Water," she croaked, licking her lips for the third time.
Khayzuran's mother gave her water to drink, then left the room to call Salsal and Ghatrif. Khayzuran leaned against the wall and sighed, sipping the water slowly. Her stomach was twisting with hunger. When she looked down at herself she saw that she was no longer in her qamis. Her shoulders were bare, only a binder around her chest to keep her modesty. How long had she been asleep? Hours? Days? She let her hand hover to her shoulder, which had been freshly bandaged. The air in her room was cool but musty. It smelled like herbs.
"Khayzuran!" Salsal exclaimed, rushing to her sister's side. Ghatrif hung by the door for a moment before deciding to join her.
"How are you feeling?" Salsal asked, taking Khayzuran's hand in hers and squeezing it. "We were so afraid. We thought you would never wake up." Her tone was light but Khayzuran could feel the underlying fear. They had really thought she would die. So had she.
"How long was I asleep?"
Salsal counted on her fingers. "Three days."
"No wonder I'm starving. Go get me something, Salsal."
Salsal obeyed without complaint, leaving the two of them alone in the room.
After a moment of silence, Khayzuran spoke. "Ghatrif, are you okay?" Khayzuran was a little surprised at herself for asking, but she did.
Ghatrif didn't hide the look of confusion on his face. "You got bit and you're asking me if I'm fine?" He let out a breathy laugh. He didn't think he would ever understand his sister. "I am. Thanks for asking."
"What about Qadi?"
Ghatrif's eyes widened, then fell.
"He's dead. We buried him."
Khayzuran nodded, her face placid. Qadi had probably lost too much blood. Or the poison had been too potent for his gangly body.
Salsal entered with their mother, interrupting her thoughts. She was carrying a plate filled with fruits and slices of sweet meat – a true luxury. Khayzuran's mouth watered at the sight of it.
"How are you feeling?" her mother asked.
Khayzuran reached for a date and bit into it urgently. The sweetness flooded her mouth, relieving the sandpaper sensation at the back of her throat.
"I'm fine. My shoulder just hurts," she said through a full mouth. Salsal laughed silently, while Ghatrif smiled.
"How did you find a cure for the poison?"
Khayzuran's mother hesitated. "A Bedouin who had some knowledge of poisons was staying in Jorash for a few days. We asked him for help. He bandaged and cleaned your wound."
Khayzuran's look of curiosity turned to one of horror. A stranger had entered her house, her room, had seen her exposed and helpless, vulnerable and unarmed. Blood rushed to her cheeks. She felt ashamed and wronged.
"But he said you wouldn't survive. I can't wait to see the look on his face when we show him that you have," Salsal said, a note of triumph in her voice. Khayzuran felt repulsed. Despite the delicious food laid out before her, she had lost her appetite.
"Where did you bury Qadi?"
"Over the little hill, under an acacia," her mother replied softly. "We all prayed for him."
"Good," was all Khayzuran had the strength to say. Exhaustion seemed to wash over her in waves.
"In the evening I will see him," she managed to mumble. "Can you get me a qamis? I feel naked."
Ghatrif took that as his cue to leave. When he closed the curtain behind him a gargantuan weight lifted off his shoulders. Khayzuran was alive – better than alive, she was herself. That was the most he could have wished for.
Ж
After bathing with Salsal's help Khayzuran felt renewed. The hot water had soothed her aching muscles and crushed spirit. Though she didn't show it, she was reeling from the loss of Qadi. Salsal couldn't tell, mainly because she didn't look for signs of discord in other people, but Khayzuran knew her mother could. She hated being read so easily by her.
The four of them did afternoon prayer together, like always. Since Khayzuran was injured she was not obligated to pray, but she did anyway. It hurt to bend over, but she did anyway. She uttered no sounds of complaint or discomfort.
With her forehead pressed to the ground, Khayzuran felt most herself. It was her moment with God, one that no one could take from her.
After prayer Khayzuran went back to her room to rest, while Ghatrif, Salsal, and their mother went back to the market. There was still the day's work to be done.
Ж
The Bedouin was waiting for them by the entrance to the ink shop. He approached them with slight hesitation.
"I came to offer condolences, sahiba," he began in the standard dialect somewhat awkwardly. "I kept your daughter in my prayers these past three days. I am sorry I could not help."
Khayzuran's mother smiled, tilting her head to the side. She was overcome with joy, but it was hidden by the scarf covering her face.
"Your prayers were well received, sahib. My daughter awoke earlier today. She was well enough to join us for Asr."
The Bedouin's eyes widened in shock, his mouth hanging open. Khayzuran's mother bowed her head slightly and gestured for Salsal and Ghatrif to go inside.
"Thank you for your help and your prayers, sahib. May you be blessed with good fortune on your travels."
She left the Bedouin standing alone in the dusty street, confused and pondering. His eyebrows creased as thoughts ran through his mind. Within a few hours it would be time for the evening prayer, then he would depart from Jorash towards Mecca. His horses were already saddled and ready at the inn he was staying at. All he needed was some food for the journey, which would be easy to barter for with the array of remedies he carried with him.
There would be enough time.
Ж
In a dream Khayzuran faced the snake, its thick, muscular body twisting and squeezing. Its glassy eyes reflected Khayzuran's. They were in the desert, a sea of darkness, but the stars overhead illuminated the sky. Khayzuran couldn't tell if they were in Jorash. The sky looked the same everywhere.
The snake shifted, and its golden scales appeared greyish under the starlight. Its forked tongue flicked in and out periodically as it regarded Khayzuran with the same unblinking stare.
Then, a voice.
The words sounded familiar, but when Khayzuran focused she found them incomprehensible. She spun around, looking for the source of the voice, but there was no one in sight. For a moment she forgot all about the snake. Soon the voice turned into voices, and their whispering grew louder and more urgent until it was all Khayzuran could hear. The snake remained unmoving.
"What is it? What do you want!?" Khayzuran yelled into the expanse, her voice swallowed by the night.
The snake began to uncoil itself.
Khayzuran fell silent, frozen in place by fear. She curled her fingers into tight fists to stop them from shaking. The snake lowered its head to the ground till it touched the sand, and slowly but surely, its scales began to fall away, leaving behind gold dust. The voices stopped as the last of the snake dissolved. It had become one with the sand. Left in its place were two glass crystals, its eyes. Khayzuran waited for something to happen, but the air was still and the desert was silent. She approached the patch of sand where the snake had been, and bent down to pick up the crystals. At her touch they melted into water, which disappeared into the parched sand. When Khayzuran looked up, the first rays of the sun were peeking over the horizon with the promise of dawn.
Khayzuran woke up to Salsal tapping her shoulder.
"It's time for Maghrib," she whispered into the darkness.
The candle in the corner of the room had been snuffed out a while back. There was a faint light shining through the curtain, and outside the sun was beginning its slow descent. They performed the dusk prayer outside, where the air was cool and pleasant against their faces. Khayzuran felt more sore now than she had during Asr. Her arms were stiff and her breaths short, but she went through all three Rakats with no complaint.
"Can I go see Qadi now?" Khayzuran asked once they had finished putting away their mats.
Salsal led her through the narrow allies to a small hill on the outskirts of the town, where a few sparse bushes grew around an old acacia tree. It was one of the trees that had remained untouched by Ghatrif's axe. Their mother had written friend with ink on a smooth grey stone and placed it at the base of the tree. Ghatrif must have shown her how to write it. The earth was still loosely packed beneath Khayzuran's sandals. When she glanced past the acacia tree she could see the endless desert, sprawling for miles.
"You can go. I'll find my way back." Khayzuran waved her sister away with a flick of her wrist. Salsal knew better than to argue, so she left without a word.
It was just her and Qadi now.
Khayzuran sighed and flopped onto the ground in front of the stone. Her headscarf flapped in the gentle breeze. From the moment she had heard the news from Ghatrif, she expected a wave of tears to consume her. Now, looking at what was left of her precious friend, she waited for the lump to form in her throat, for her eyes to pulse beneath their lids, but nothing happened. Instead a profound sadness pressed against her from all sides, slowly sucking the breath from her lungs. It was much worse than simple tears and sobs and trembling limbs, because it hurt where no cure could reach.
She shifted onto the balls of her feet and kneeled before the stone. As she had done so every day for the past nine years, she pressed her forehead into the ground and prayed. Despite the pain of losing a friend, she was grateful that she had somehow been spared. That she had not been taken away from her family, by the grace of God.
A ways off the Bedouin stood with his back facing the setting sun, making him appear shadowy and dark. His brow was creased and his mouth set in a firm, grim line. He saw the girl rise, her palms by her sides. He would have folded them.
Ж
Khayzuran touched the cool stone with the tips of her fingers and closed her eyes.
"I'll see you later, Qadi," she whispered, her words immediately stolen by the expanse of the sand beyond. She wished spoken words had some permanence. Something to make them stay.
As she rose a shadow fell over Qadi's grave marker. Khayzuran frowned and turned. She tilted her chin up, and the sky disappeared behind a shroud of darkness.
The hill was silent.