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Chapter Two
“My lady! My lady!”
Hands prodded her, shook her. Bree groaned and tried to cover her ears, curling into a tighter ball. But the high-pitched voice that accompanied the pummeling of her body was like a persistent buzzing insect, impossible to ignore.
She opened her eyes to glaring sunlight and a bolt of pain in her head so sharp she nearly threw up. Closing her eyes again, she lay still and took a deep breath, fighting back waves of nausea.
A strident cry rang out. “Praise be to all the gods. She lives!”
The voice was a jackhammer in her brain. “Please, please, be quiet for a minute,” Bree croaked. Her voice was hoarse, her throat so dry she could barely form the words.
Soft arms enveloped her. Cool water touched her lips. She drank greedily then sagged back as fingers probed her head, bringing on another stab of pain.
“You journeyed to the Land of the Dead, my lady,” the shrill voice declared. “So long was your soul gone, I feared the gods would never allow you to leave them. I will burn a thousand offerings in thanks for their mercy in returning you to our midst.”
I must have a concussion. I don’t know whose voice this is or what she’s talking about.Shading her face from the sun, Bree opened one eye, just a slit.
Green. Bright green. Everywhere. Bree closed her eye. “Obviously, I’m having some sort of psychotic episode brought on by my head injury,” she said out loud. “We’re in the Arabian desert, not the Illinois cornfields. There’s nothing green here.”
“What is this Illinois of which you speak, my lady?” The voice sounded confused. “Is it a place you visited while in the Land of the Dead?”
Cautiously Bree opened one eye again. Her skull felt like it had been cleaved in two by an axe, but this time she was prepared for it. She breathed through the pain shallowly, like a woman in the throes of labor, while struggling to make sense of the sea of green around her.
She opened her other eye and nearly shrieked. A wrinkled face with deeply tanned skin grinned at her, inches away from her nose. Piercing brown eyes peered out from below a black headscarf, and the unmistakable smell of alcohol wafted from the creature’s mouth with every ear-piercing syllable.
“Did my lady have many adventures in the Land of the Dead? Did you see Balek or Uncle Assim there?”
“What are you talking about? Who are you?” Bree muttered, her head throbbing. Would the old hag never shut up?
The wrinkled face crumpled. A high wailing sound came out of her mouth.
“Aiiieee! The gods of the Underworld have kept your soul and sent only your body back to us! Do you not know me? I am Shiraza, your abbayah and your mother’s before you. Curses on the evil djinn who took you from us and cursed be those who stole your soul!” The old woman turned her head and spat on the ground three times.
Bree took another shallow breath. The air was heavy with the perfume of herbs and flowers all around her – clumps of mint and rosemary, tiny yellow daisies, lilies, and wildly colored flowers she couldn’t even identify. Huge date palms studded the space. She heard the tinkling of a fountain somewhere nearby.
“Where am I?” Bree asked, then winced as the high wailing started up again.
“Aiiieee! We must sacrifice a hoopoe bird that he may journey to the Land of the Dead and bring back your soul.”
The eyes in the wrinkled face narrowed, and Shiraza’s strident voice dropped to a whisper. “Be mindful, my lady. Your enemies will jump at the chance to declare you unfit to rule. They lie in wait for the moment they can usurp your power. You must let no one know your mind is gone until we can wrestle it back from the evil djinns. I will inform your attendants that you are resting and praying in preparation for tonight’s ceremony. No one can come near you until you are yourself again.”
The old woman rose unsteadily from her knees, wincing in pain. “I will fetch Raheem to carry you back to your chambers, my lady. He can be trusted with our secret. Do not fear. I will protect you…as I have done since the day your mother put you into my arms as a squalling babe.” The woman who called herself Shiraza hobbled away, swathed head to toe in long black robes like the Muslim women Bree had seen everywhere in the Middle East.
Bree sat up gingerly. The pain in her head had settled into a rhythmic pounding that kept time with the beating of her heart.
She looked down and groaned. She was definitely having a hallucination. Instead of khaki pants, cotton shirt, and sensible boots, she seemed to be wearing a sleeveless flowing garment made of silky fabric in a shade of deep lavender. Her legs were bare, her feet clad in delicate leather sandals trimmed in a gold-colored metal. Shiny rings set with colorful jewels adorned her toes, and her toenails were painted deep red. At least my brain came up with a hallucination where I look good. I could have been the old lady.
Putting aside the pain, Bree tried to concentrate. She remembered the campfire, the dust storm, the rock hitting her in the head. That had been late at night, probably close to midnight. The sun was high in the sky, so she must have been unconscious for at least twelve hours.
She realized something else. She was thinking in English, but the words spoken by Shiraza had been in another language – a dialect Bree couldn’t name, although she could understand it.
Maybe I’m like the guy who got hit in the head and woke up knowing how to play the piano. Somehow I’ve activated a part of my brain that creates elaborate hallucinations, complete with their own language.
Shiraza bustled into view, trailed by a giant of a man dressed like a character from theArabian Nights. He wore baggy knee-length white trousers. An open vest woven from strips of colorful cloth showed off the impressive girth of his chest. His dark skin glistened in the sun, and his head was covered by a black turban. Shiraza was chattering away, but the man ignored her.
He knelt in front of Bree, a look of concern in his deep-brown eyes. “Your Highness,” he said, bowing his head.
“I told Raheem how you slipped and fell, bumping your head on the stone pavement,” Shiraza declared. “You need rest and quiet and a strong cup of mint tea…with a bit of my special medicine.”
