“I cannot promise not to fight or test her,” he said immediately. “She doesn’t understand what Ahiranya should be. She doesn’t care.”
“You’re in no position to bargain, Ashok,” she said.
A rattling cough escaped him. He wiped water and blood from his lips, then said, “My followers—they’ll have a future? As leaders?”
“Yes,” Priya said, and hoped desperately that she was not making an error.
“Alongside you and Bhumika?”
Priya was not sure she wanted her own name mentioned alongside leadership, but said, “Yes.”
“Then I accept,” said Ashok. “Get me to the waters, save me and mine, and I’ll serve Bhumika. For Ahiranya’s sake, we all will.”
Priya nodded, relief pouring through her. “Can I trust you? Truly?”
“We’re still family, Priya,” he said. “There’s no one in the world exactly like us. Who knows what we know, or has suffered as we have.”
“That isn’t a yes, Ashok.” She squeezed her eyes shut. Opened them again. “But it will do. I need one more thing from you.”
“Tell me.”
“Your Kritika has a boy as her hostage,” she said. “Rukh. I want him back. Or there is no deal between us. This is our business, Ashok. Our family. We don’t need to involve anyone else. I’ll speak to Bhumika, and once she agrees to our deal, I’ll return with her.”
“Fine,” he said.
She thought of standing and leaving him there. Their deal was done, after all. There was nothing more to be said.
Instead, she leaned forward and touched her forehead to his, smelling the sweat and sickness and home of him. She was still so vulnerable to him and to love and to the strange, broken family that had shaped them into… whatever it was they were.
“I’ll be waiting,” he murmured.
You don’t have any other choice, she thought.
She bit her lip and nodded, then pulled back.
“Kritika,” he called.
The pilgrim entered at once.
“Let the boy go,” he said. “My sister and I have come to an agreement. She’ll return to us soon enough.”
The camp was no longer quiet when Rukh and Priya returned. There was a great deal of noise from the other women, and Khalida emerged from the tent, white-faced and furious over Priya’s absence. She was still berating Priya when the tent flap was pushed back, and Sima peered out. She caught Priya’s eye. Beckoned.
“Lady Bhumika wants you,” she said, as Priya extricated herself from Khalida’s wrath and walked over. “Come. See for yourself.”
Someone had burned sweet incense to improve the smell of the tent. Bhumika was half sitting up, face sweaty and flushed. And there was a squirming bundle, squeaking like a newborn kitten, in her arms.
“It’s…”
“A baby,” Bhumika said. “A girl, apparently. I suppose that’s good. Will you hold her?”
The baby was small and did not smell pleasant, and when she was placed in Priya’s arms, Priya felt something overpowering—a kind of terror and wonder at the revolting beauty of life, that made her want to hand away this small human as quickly as possible, and also hold on to her forever.
“She smells,” said Priya, staring down into the baby’s tiny face.
“The first words the poor thing gets to hear, and that’s what you offer her,” Bhumika said. “Give her back to me.”
Priya did. “If we were still in the temple, you’d consult star charts to choose the right letters and syllables for a name, as we did for the babies of pilgrims.”
