Shewasa tribeswoman, he didn’t doubt that. But it had been a long time since he’d crossed paths with a member of another clan, and he didn’t know how to feel at the sight of her.
Her eyes searched his face with equal unease.
“I’m looking for a clan,” she said finally. “They used to pass through this area. A clan led by a Tara named Ruhi. Do you know where I can find them?”
Kamal kept his mouth shut. The woman stood and began to approach him slowly. With the sun above her, he could see her far more clearly. She was beautiful, dark-skinned and long-haired, but she was painfully thin, great shadows carved beneath her eyes.
“The clan was led, before, by a Tara named Rukhsar. Her mother.” The woman frowned faintly. “Ruhi may have passed on. If so, the new Tara won’t be of her blood, I expect. Do you know of the clan?”
“Where is your clan?” he managed to ask.
“Long gone,” she said. “I left Irinah a long time ago. I’ve had no choice but to return.”
Ah. She was one of those who had left Irinah and tried to begin again elsewhere. Once, Kamal had wanted to be like her. He’d hungered to see the world. But he’d loved his clan too much to leave them, and he’d been afraid if he went into the world beyond even for a short time, he’d come back and find them dead or gone, and never be able to find out what had become of them. The thought alone gutted him.
“Why have you come back to Irinah?”
“Oh, the usual reasons.” She shrugged, a faint ghost of a smile gracing her lips. “Furious noblemen, desperate to cleanse the Empire of the scourge of our blood. I left before they could punish me and drive me out here themselves. It seemed … wiser.”
Kamal swallowed.
“Have you had food?” he asked. “Water?”
“Some,” said the woman. Her voice cracked with exhaustion. “A little. An Irin woman assisted me. But since then I’ve struggled. I find life on the desert … difficult. Far more difficult than I remember.” She shook her head, then said, “Just tell me if you know where I can find the clan. Please.”
It was in Kamal’s nature to be suspicious. Distrust had saved his life numerous times. But this woman was Amrithi, gaunt and still, and she knew his Tara’s name. He thought of the villager, her threat, the child flinging its rock and laughing. He handed her his water container. “Drink,” he said.
She drank.
“My name is Kamal,” he said. “And yours?”
“Lalita.”
“That isn’t an Amrithi name,” he said.
“I gave up my Amrithi name long ago.”
She took another swig of water.
Gods save him, he couldn’t allow a fellow tribeswoman to perish out alone upon the Salt. He didn’t have it in him to lie.
“Ruhi is my clan’s Tara,” he said, when the woman lowered the container. “You must be blessed with good fortune, to have found me.”
The woman laughed. Her laughter sounded perilously close to weeping.
“Yes, I must be blessed,” she said. She pressed a hand over her face. “Ah. Thank the Gods.”
She lowered her hand. “Please,” she said. “Take me to your Tara.”
“Walk with me,” he said. “We’ll see what the Tara says.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Afrustrating morning was followed by more prayers—Gods save her—and another thinly apportioned flatbread flecked through with vegetable to stretch the meager serving of grain. They returned to the hall where Amun continued to encourage her onward with growing impatience. But Mehr couldn’t do as he asked, and they were soon sick of the sight of each other.
For two days they followed the same pattern of snatched food and knee-aching prayers and careful breathing that was supposed to lead Mehr away from her own skin and failed to lead her anywhere but to frustration. Her only respite on both evenings was the presence of Hema and the other women, who sat with her and shared their food and their laughter.
Mehr told herself that spending time with the women was a pragmatic decision. Hema and her women did not have seniority within the temple, but they possessed a different kind of power. Working in the kitchens meant they controlled all the food and water in the temple. If Mehr ever hoped to escape—and she did hope, despite what her good sense told her—she would need to be able to visit the kitchens without causing concern.
