Shay studies Hind's tattoos, the delicate symmetry of the designs against the crumbling planes of her face. “So, you're not Hazmaggi, then?”
“Not technically.” Hind shakes her head, her white hair swaying around her shoulders. “When my family wouldn't accept my lover, I ran away to live with the nomads. I married into their tribe, took their markings onto my skin. Even when my husband was taken by sudden illness and died, the tribe still considered me one of their own.”
“Was your husband … my father?”
“No.” Hind holds up a finger as she drinks from her glass. “I got depressed after my husband died. The tribe tried convincing me to remarry, but I couldn't bear the idea of replacing my first love. The next time we passed through the festival, I tried Snow for the first time. I did it to fill the empty hole that felt like it was consuming me from the inside out. I just wanted to feel something, and at the same time, I didn't want to feel anything.”
Shay always assumed women tried Snow out of curiosity about their Shawafa. Out of a desire to access magic, despite it being forbidden. It never occurred to her that someone might use the drug as a means of escaping their pain.
“It didn't take long for me to become an addict. I tried hiding it from the tribe. But when a little boy fell off a camel and was injured, I couldn't stop myself from using Shawafa to heal him. And still, the tribe tried to help me get purged. Then valuables began to go missing, and they rightly suspected me of stealing them to sell for drug money. I was banished.” Hind's voice dips low with either shame or remorse, or a combination of the two.
In Hind's story, the Hazmaggi did all they could for her, showing her the same grace and care as their own people, until she crossed a line. While in the cover story Shay has so often repeated, the tribe seems unsympathetic, willingto leave behind a woman whose only offense was being sick. It's a detail that never sat right with her, though she couldn't work out why until now.
“I returned to Nezjar, but my family didn't want me back. A widow and an addict. I used my Shawafa to earn what coin I could, but customers became scarce when the hangings started.”
Shay notices that Hind hasn't mentioned anything about working for Al-Mukhtar, but that isn't her most burning question. “If it's alright, may I ask about my father?”
The touched one sets her empty tea glass on the makeshift floor and picks the grime under her nails. “I had to earn coin somehow, so I sold my body. Back then, I had a body worth selling. That's why I'm sorry to say I don't know who your father is.”
Shay has seen women in similar situations come to Ghita for herbal solutions. She might consider it a brave thing, taking on the task of motherhood alone, except no child should be exposed to Snow.
“Once I knew I was pregnant, I stopped using,” Hind says, as though Shay has been thinking her thoughts too loudly. “I swear I did.”
Shay stares into the fire, afraid Hind's eyes may not lie as well as her tongue. Or is she afraid the words are true? That she has no real need of the moon pepper Ghita has been so insistent that she faithfully ingest? It just seems improbable to her that anyone could overcome such an addiction without help.
Her thoughts turn to Sami, whom Ghita took in for his own protection. She can't imagine any reason why the midwife would have taken Shay as a baby, other than the same. Even if she accepts the possibility that Ghita wasn't fully honest, she still believes her to be a good person.
“But after the midwife told me you died …” Hind's voice unravels. “I couldn't overcome another loss like that. I went straight back to Snow, and I've been using ever since.”
Shay struggles to bring her thoughts into focus. She was shocked to learn touched ones can carry to term and sometimes even deliver healthy babies. But how could someone who used Snow for so many cycles survive despite its deadly side effects, the rapid aging it inflicts? “How old are you?”
Although it's a question one doesn't normally ask a woman, the touched one doesn't flinch. “I think what you really want to know is, how am I still alive?”
Shay silently nods.
“An understandable question. Most touched ones who start young as I did don't make it to the age of thirty,” the touched one concedes. “It's the Shawafa of Shifamin. I'm able to apply my healing magic to myself, which mitigates some of the deterioration Snow causes. I may still die before reaching forty, though.”
Not if I can help it, Shay thinks. Now that she has found her mother alive, she desperately wants her to stay that way. “All this time, all you've been through, you had no one. But you can get purged now, if that's something you want.”
The touched one puckers her lips and shivers as though a cold draft has passed through the room. “I don't know if I'm strong enough.”
“I can help.” Shay grabs Hind's hand and startles at the paper-thin feel of her skin. She adjusts her grip for fear of snapping the woman's bony fingers. “You don't have to do it alone. We can be strong enough together.”
“I …” Hind looks anxiously into Shay's eyes, as if their gaze might burn. The tide of her face turns from fear to hope to something Shay can't read. Guilt or … regret? “I can try.”
“Yes!” Shay exclaims. She's been waiting all her life to feel the connection that only a mother and daughter can share. It hardly matters if she's the one doing the nurturing. But what about her new position in Kiddah? Shay's excitement fizzles.
She awoke this morning thinking a chapter of her life was closing, that she'd successfully completed the training she'd worked so long and hard for. She couldn't have imagined she'd find a new reason to stay in Nezjar.
The touched one gazes toward the fire, scratching a scab on her arm, her idle rhythm like that of the women from the alley. Shay's not naïve enough to think purging will be a magic carpet ride … Surely, Ghita will know which herbs are best suited to curbing cravings and lessening the symptoms of withdrawal. Shay should talk to her before she makes any decision. And the midwife must be getting worried. Shay has been gone half the day.
“Hind?”
The touched one turns to face her, and Shay immediately sees it. A cloud of want that gathers at the edges of her expression. Like a snake coiled in wait, it's only a matter of time before the hunger for more Snow unleashes its venomous bite.
“Is it safe for you to stay here alone for a time? I couldn't help but notice that some of your neighbors are affiliated with the Naturalists. Has anyone ever threatened you?”
“We don't bother our neighbors here. On the contrary, we look out for one another.” The touched one wraps her arms around her torso, looking small. “Are you leaving? You just got here.”
