He guides her across a floor with wobbly boards and gently pushes down on her shoulders until her bottom meets the hard seat of a chair. Vague light flickers through the blindfold.
“I'm going to wait outside,” Shadi whispers near her ear. “My mother will be with you soon.”
Soonturns out to be long enough for Shay to perceive the temperature around her drop, an indication the sun is setting. A cool breeze brushes herskin, she assumes from an open window. It carries in the ongoing insect chorus, now swelling to a raucous volume.
“You can take the blindfold off,” the Morchidat says. Shay heard no one enter the room.
She reaches behind her head and unties the fabric.
The only light is the soft glow of a candle, but even that leaves her blinking as her eyes readjust. The space is cramped and utilitarian, obviously designed for temporary accommodations. Opaque curtains cover a single window, but when the wind ruffles them, Shay glimpses dark stretches of greenish water, the gray bark of trees. Trees that appear to be growinginthe water. A swampland?
“Tea?” The Morchidat sits opposite Shay across a square table.
It takes Shay a moment to decide which sister is which. Yara, sitting on her mother's right, isn't smiling the way she did at their first meeting. Her eyes are red and weary. Shay thinks she may have cried recently. Over Khawla, or Walid, or something else, Shay can only speculate. Marjan sits to her mother's left and glares at Shay accusingly.
She gratefully accepts the warm glass she's offered, letting the minty steam waft into her face. It soothes away some of her disorientation.
“What news do you have to report about the hjabats?” the Morchidat asks, getting right into it. “Has Hind provided useful information?”
“Not yet, Sayeda,” Shay says meekly. “Her state is fragile. She is with child and deep in the throes of withdrawal.”
“So you haven't asked,” the Morchidat says flatly.
Shay sips her tea, thinking there's no good way for her to respond. The Morchidat certainly doesn't want to hear about her issues with Hind. And it's no excuse, is it? She should have been more direct instead of waiting for the right moment to broach the topic. Of course, it would have been difficult to ask her anything when she was at her most ill. But she was well enough to talk earlier today.
Well enough to pull the lynchpin of Shay's world with a few well-timed words.
The Morchidat sighs. “Yassine tells me you wish to join the Sisterhood.”
It takes Shay a moment to remember she's referring to Shadi. She sets her tea glass down, nodding. “Yes. I want to do whatever I can to help bring Khawla back. I've already been inside the kasbah once; I can do it again.”
The Morchidat is quiet, sipping her tea while regarding Shay over the rim of the glass. Lowering it, she says, “It's your fault she was taken. You owe me a fighter.”
She states it without accusation, as though it is a point of data to be calculated.
Marjan crosses her arms over her chest. “Khawla is worth ten fighters.”
Shay's throat burns, and not from the hot tea. She nods again, firmly. “I'll get her out of there.”
“No.” The Morchidat wags a finger. “Khawla can take care of herself. Yassine tells me we have someone on the inside who will assist her. You will take Khawla's place until she returns, and as a new recruit, you must perform a task to prove your worth.”
“S-sayeda …” Shay stammers, confused. If not for Khawla, wouldn't the Morchidat want to send a team in to save her son? “I believe the women held in the kasbah are being abused. It is dangerous for Khawla to remain there.”
Shay sees Yara biting down on her lip in a struggle to maintain her composure. Her eyes glisten, but no tears fall. If the Morchidat notices her daughter's distress, she ignores it.
“Khawlawill have to wait.” The Morchidat's tone brooks no argument. She flattens her hands on the table and takes an even breath. “Our astronomers have predicted that in one moon's time, there will be a portentous meteor shower, the likes of which have ushered in many historic events. They say the success of our mission hinges upon having all the hjabats in our possession at the time of this celestial occurrence.”
Shay's body flashes with sudden cold—it tightens her chest and turns bitter in her stomach. She sips her tea, concentrating on the warmth as it glides over her tongue and down her throat. It seems like the Morchidat is saying all available teams are being directed to concentrate on their primary mission before this meteor shower. That doesn't meanshecan't help Khawla on her own.
“You will bring me the other three hjabats,” The Morchidat clarifies. She finishes her glass of tea and smacks her lips in satisfaction. “You have one moon to do so.”
“I …” Shay can't believe her ears. She thought Shadi said his mother would ask her to do something hard, not something impossible. “Respectfully, we should rescue Khawla first; she has the affinity for finding things. Her gift as a hizoura is exactly what is needed for the mission you have proposed.”
The Morchidat raises a sleek eyebrow. “Are you changing your mind about your allegiance already?”
“What?” Shay backpedals. “No, absolutely not. I don't take this decision lightly at all, Sayeda.”
“Then I suggest you think about how the gift you possess may be of aid in your task.” The Morchidat reaches into a satchel belted around her waist. Shay is relieved when she doesn't withdraw another blade, at least until she sees the hjabat sparkling on the flat of her palm. “Put this on.”
