Shay tells her then, about being reunited with her birth mother only to discover the woman was in debt. As she speaks, a pressure she didn't know she held inside her deflates, like a cooking pot releasing steam. She talks about how she was tricked into wearing the hjabat, lost consciousness, and awakened in the forest. About how she stumbled upon the bloodsucker's house and was rescued by the bone-eaters. About the posters the brothers described to her after seeing them in the medina.
Everything but the fact that her mother is an addict, that her own blood is tainted with magic. That she has the ability to … what exactly? To form a mental connection with animals, she thinks.
Khawla touches Shay's shoulder. “You've been through a lot.”
Shay prickles unexpectedly, though the words are kind. She wants Khawla to see her as an equal who could be her friend, not as someone she should pity. “I'm sure others have had it much worse.”
“That's true. Many others, in fact.” Khawla drops her hand to her lap. Hesitation flickers in her eyes, and then they bloom with something more intense. “What if I told you there was a way to ease the pain of so many who suffer needlessly? And that the talisman you possess might be the key to returning the world to the state of peace and justice that once existed?”
“Didn't you hear anything I said?” Shay squeezes the ring in frustration, its sharp facets digging into her skin. “The ring is dangerous. Even if it did whatever it was supposed to do, I could still be hanged for having it. And all it did do was make me have a nonsensical dream about some strange women.”
“Nowthatis interesting.” Khawla taps a finger to her lips, which twitch with the promise of a smile. “How much do you remember about this dream, Shay? Can you describe the women?”
“I don't know.” Shay opens her fist and peers at the hjabat, trying to remember. She convinced herself the vision was a hallucination brought on by hunger or disorientation or the forest itself, but Khawla's current expression causes her to question this conclusion. “There were four of them. I couldn't see them at all, but their voices were what I can only describe as … otherworldly.”
Khawla releases the full breadth of her smile. “I know who they are, Shay, and they are our last and greatest hope.”
As much as Shay wants to know what exactly Khawla knows that she doesn't, she's slightly more concerned withhowshe knows it. Bracing herself, she asks the question she's been dreading the answer to. “What are you really doing here, Khawla? And don't tell me you're a maid. I've watched you walk right over piles of dirty clothes on multiple occasions, and only yesterday I found unwashed glasses tucked inside the cupboard.”
“That's fair.” Khawla chews her lower lip. She runs her palms down her thighs. “I'm Khawla El Fessi, and I think you may already suspect this, but I'm part of the rebellion.”
Shay's shoulders slump. But she knew this was coming. Knew how ridiculous it was to hope she was wrong. At least she had the foresight to be selective about which parts of her history she revealed. “You're a Naturalist.”
“What?” Khawla blinks rapidly. “No. Not them. CNM see the truth about Al-Mukhtar and are more than justified in wanting to overthrow them, but their ideology is deeply misguided. They can't entirely be blamed for that. So much history has been rewritten, but my faction has preserved many original texts that would otherwise be lost.”
Shay's brow pinches. She swallows, her throat dry. “Your faction?”
“Yes.” Khawla puffs her chest, a gleam of pride evident in her eyes. “The Sisterhood of the Keepers.”
Shay sets the ring on her thigh. She smooths her fingers over her cheeks, remembering to breathe. The world was already complicated, truth and lies hard enough to separate, five beakers ago when, to her knowledge, this conflict had only two sides. “Wakha. And what does this have to do with me? With the hjabat? The bone-eaters?”
“Everything,” Khawla says, and the excitement on her face would surely be contagious if Shay weren't far too tired to engage in it. “The truth is, I've had dealings with the bone-eaters for a while. Mostly buying jewelry off Hammu. I usually clean and resell it, but it's also one way for me to keep my eye out for a talisman like this one. I did think it was strange when they first asked me to pretend to be their maid, but they told me about you, explained how they felt you needed a companion, and offered me some heirloom pieces that could feed my family for moons.
“Being we don't get many human newcomers this side of the forest, I'll admit I may also have wanted to meet you and make sure you weren't a spy for the establishment—just erring on the side of caution.”
Shay should be offended at the insinuation, but the false pretense irks her more. “You were hired tospend time with me?”
Khawla winces. She shakes her head insistently. “It's not like that. The bone-eaters care for you, which is, honestly, a strange phenomenon forbone-eaters, but once I met you, I understood. You have a presence of light and warmth about you that is quite impossible to dislike.”
Shay shrugs. She's too unused to such direct compliments to know how to accept one, and she's quite sure Khawla would be less generous if she knew everything there is to know about her. “I'm an outcast.”
“Or maybe you simply haven't found your kindred people yet,” Khawla says soothingly. “Shay, I think you connected with the spirits of the Lallat when you put on the hjabat, and the outrageous thing is you act like you don't even know how amazing that is.”
“The Lallat?” Shay's chest stirs despite her staunch commitment to apathy.
“They were our rulers, back when all women had magic.”
“Right.” Shay shrinks at the mention of magic. She tugs her sleeves down, as if to cover her hands. As if they might start glowing the way the touched ones’ do. “Before magic died out, which God allowed to happen because those with Shawafa failed to use it wisely.”
“That's simply not true,” Khawla insists. “The Lallat had a system of laws in place to ensure magic was used for the benefit of the community and never for personal gain or to inflict harm. Magic didn't die out. It was stolen by men who were jealous because they weren't gifted the same strengths.”
Shay can't deny that it makes a certain sense. After all, if Al-Mukhtar were really against magic, they would take more definitive action to stop Snow from being produced. “The Naturalists think we should all be equal. As in no one being allowed to have magic at all, in any form.”
A stillness comes over Khawla, her face a picture of neutrality. “What do you think?”
“Me?” Shay rubs the silver crystal. Even now she can sense the ants that crawl through the cracks of tile in the floor, leaving a scent trail to guide their colony to a new food source. The pregnant mouse in the wall that has just woken up and is collecting materials for her nest. And the hungry spider on the ceiling, gliding rung to rung across its web, descending upon its prey. It can be overwhelming, a constant buzz of awareness she's not sure what she's supposed to do with. “I think maybe prayer is the only magic we really need.”
“So, let's say someone is born with a natural talent for painting: Should they use that gift and glorify their Lord by sharing the beautiful pieces of art they create? Or should they deem their gift forbidden, and deprive the world of their talent, believing God alone has the right to create objects of beauty?”
