He’s the one who breaks the silence. “You should go attend to the goddess.”
“She’s alright. I needed something to do with my hands.”
“Isn’t she magnificent?” He sets down the knife and sighs.
“She’s not so bad,” I say and keep chopping.
“Don’t ever tell Brethren, but I had begun to give up hope she would ever arrive.”
I know right away which brethren he is referring to.
“What’s he got over you all anyway?” I ask, genuinely curious how this all came about.
“The brethren are all equa?—”
“Don’t start with all that ‘we are all equal’ bullshit. You and I both know he’s the one in charge, and none of you are doing a damn thing about it.”
He looks at me, confusion all over his face. Now I can see why Bri is struggling to make any headway on her mission.
“Whatever. It’s not my job to convince you to want better,” I say, repeating something I’ve heard before. The Westgate Orbital station manager said those exact words to me. It took years to understand what he meant. I needed to want it for myself, and I deserved something better.
“We have everything we could ever desire now that the goddess has blessed us with her presence.”
“What about the ‘Others’? Do they expect her to rule over them as well?” It’s not the smoothest transition to where I want the conversation to go, but I need information.
“The Others? Oh no, they are not brethren.”
“Who are they?”
Before he can answer me, Boss steps into the tent. Baby Face clams up and goes back to chopping. That’s my cue to leave.
“Have a good night, Brethren,” I tell Baby Face as I step out of the light and back into the shadows.
I go straight back to Bri’s tent and quietly open the flap. It's completely dark inside. Bri softly breathes from her bed in the corner. The attraction I was trying to hide from earlier comes roaring back to life.
What would it be like if she invited me to her bed?
I would never want to leave.
TWENTY-TWO
Bri
“The maiden had been wandering in the desert for days when her glass vessel was nearly empty. She held it up to the sky to see only a splash left, not nearly enough to get through the miles of desert in front of and behind her. She sank down into the sand on her knees. She had given up all hope and was prepared to welcome death when a warrior stepped over the dune and tumbled toward her. He was lost and confused, mumbling about eternal life and cool waters. He fell at her feet on the brink of death.”
The Brethren pauses for dramatic effect.
“Although she was frightened, she offered the last of her water to the warrior. First, the water came out in a trickle, barely wetting his lips. Then it poured out faster than he could drink it. It soaked his clothing, then the sand, and filled the valley, making the beautiful Wahadi we will see today.”
Another dramatic pause.
“The warrior was no ordinary warrior. He was a demigod who was banished to Sabaak. To reward her act of kindness, he gave herthe gift of eternal life as long as she stayed in the Wahadi with him.” Hot-Breath brings his story to a close.
“That’s a beautiful story. Well, except the part where she’s stuck in the Wahadi with someone who, for all we know, could have been a total asshole,” I tell him.
The most hostile environments always have the most fascinating mythologies. I notice he doesn’t seem bothered by the part of the story where the maiden is essentially held captive for eternity.
“A beautiful story, for a beautiful goddess. When we discovered this Wahadi after our arrival, we knew it was the place of your birth in our holy texts,” Friar Tuck says, directing his h’axom to be next to mine. His long, white robe flits in the wind behind him. The brethren have all changed from their usual brown rough robes to lightweight gauzy white ones, tied off in the middle with their signature bell.
