From his new location, As’ad practiced playing the pipe as quietly as he could. The texture of this new environment provided a unique challenge until his eyes got used to seeing the color variations of what he was looking at. He created a rock shelter over Rahma’s location, focusing on the intent of making it transparent from the inside. When he finished the tune, she disappeared from his sight. Since he didn’t hear squawks of protest, he figured she was still able to see. Next, he played a tune to do the same for himself, remembering this time to anchor it to his person and not his location. Then he crept forward and quietly called Rahma’s name.
“Where are you?” she hissed.
“My disguise is working,” he replied quietly. “One moment, I want to check something. I’ll be right back.”
Confident that he wouldn’t be seen from the house, he walked as silently as he could down the gravel-strewn path, past Rahma’s hiding place. When he turned around to check on her, he couldn’t see anything but the rock he had created. As he returned to her side, he patted himself on the back. It blended in seamlessly.
“I made an illusion of more rocks where you are,” he said when he rejoined her. “I tried to make it opaque from the outside and transparent from the inside. It looks like it worked.”
“Of course it did! You thought of it and you are incredibly smart.”
Before he could do more than invisibly preen at her praise, she continued.
“Now get back there and work on the hard one.”
A sigh that sounded too much like defeat to his ears oozed out. “Right,” he agreed, stumbling back to his earlier position.
The “hard one” referred to the process of creating and maintaining people. As’ad could focus and recreate an image of Rahma without issue. He could even make it move and speak like the real thing. But when he tried to emulate someone else, the apparitions never looked quite right. Either he messed up on the details he couldn’t remember or the illusions moved awkwardly, like mechanical puppets.
The problem frustrated him, as he couldn’t understand why the rats and Rahma were so simple to replicate, yet everyone else looked like a parody of humanity. As he stewed, a thought occurred. He hadn’t tried to conjure multiple rats until after he had spent months with his beloved pets. Everything about the way they moved and looked was very familiar to him. And as he had recently admitted to himself, everything about Rahma fascinated him. Her appearance, the way she moved, the words she used, and her every hand motion were etched permanently into his brain. That likely had a lot to do with his ability to recreate an accurate image of her.
But when he tried to mimic someone like Hadia—who he was less familiar with but who could be a useful illusion in this scenario—his lack of detailed knowledge tripped him up. He wondered if an illusion of a random human would work better. When he imagined the river of rats that made up his con, he let his intention fill in the gaps and didn’t worry so much about the specifics.
To test this theory, As’ad piped a melody while focusing on the idea of a little girl kicking a ball in the open space behind one of the empty buildings. He paid more attention to the intent behind the illusion and worried less about things like the color of her dress or what her shoes looked like. As he finished the last note, he felt a surge of confidence.
His faith was not misplaced. A little girl in a light blue-green dress pranced around the flat area, kicking her brown ball whenever she got close. As he watched his illusion, he examined it for flaws or unnatural movements. He found none. By trusting his innate knowledge of how a small child would interact with the space and a toy, his subconscious had supplied the necessary details. The fake girl looked like any one of the hundreds of little girls he had met or seen over the years. Her hair, he noticed, did bear a striking resemblance to Rahma’s unruly locks, and he recalled that her tunic this morning had been the same color. But all in all, neither of those things were deal-breakers. The illusion was sound.
As’ad returned to Rahma, still wearing his camouflage. He opened his mouth to explain his breakthrough, then saw the undisguised handcart and hurried back out of range to play a tune to fix that.
When he returned a second time, he excitedly told Rahma what he had learned. She was appropriately thrilled for him, and the pair spent some time figuring out how such an illusion could be useful today. Rahma asked if he had included speech, and he had to admit he had forgotten that aspect. The difficulties of planning for every possible answer to any question that might be asked of an illusion were soon deemed impractical for the moment, if not impossible altogether. With enough time and effort, As’ad felt sure he could create a false person that could interact on the most basic level. But it would only work in scenarios that more or less followed a script. So while there was potential for a dramatic act or a singing group, he dropped the idea for now.
Rahma sent him away to practice having his illusion say something simple. They might have need of a child or young person running away and yelling for help. No official or solid plan had been established, since they still didn’t know exactly what they were up against, but both agreed that a distraction would likely be necessary at some point. By the time As’ad felt safe producing a human that could repeat a short phrase as often as necessary, the sun was nearly behind the mountains.
Still impatient to be up and doing something, Rahma did agree that waiting to see if anyone was even in the house made sense. They had followed the enigmatic woman on a hunch. Her motives were a complete mystery. Fortunately for everyone’s peace of mind, a light appeared on the second floor soon after. As they watched the window, a willowy figure moved past it.
“That was Suha! I know it,” Rahma whispered fiercely.
As’ad didn’t want to dampen her spirits, but he had to point out the obvious. “That was only a silhouette; we can’t be sure it was her.”
When she inhaled to argue, he set a hand on her arm.
“It is certainly something to confirm. But we need to keep our heads.”
She took a long, slow breath, and then another. “You are correct. Rushing about won’t help anybody.”
“If it is Suha, we need a way to signal her.”
“Without alerting the wrong people,” Rahma added. She tugged on her braid as she thought, then looked at the house again. “This place is too old to have a modern sort of privy inside, so where do they relieve themselves?”
That question was answered almost as soon as they carefully rounded the derelict dwelling. Somehow, Rahma’s preoccupation with base bodily functions had led her to the answer. Again.
After the briefest wait, a side door of the house opened to let out a slim figure. As’ad could feel Rahma quivering beside him and didn’t need her hand suddenly cutting off the circulation in his arm to understand that it was Suha. His companion showed admirable restraint and didn’t alert the girl until she had opened the wooden door of the privy shack, which blocked their sightline to the house door.
“Suha!” she hissed. “It’s me!”
Suha’s posture didn’t change, but her eyes scanned the rocks and general emptiness behind the shack. As’ad remembered that their camouflage was still in place and quickly remedied that with a single, low note. Suha stiffened when she saw the pair, then threw the door open harder so she could slip around the shack while the door was closing.
As’ad played as quietly as he could while still being considered playing to set up a large rock segment to block the three of them from the house. The girls’ reunion was as joyous as it was silent. Rahma attacked the smaller girl with a smothering hug and rocked her back and forth. Suha sent a worried glance toward the house, then settled into the hug when As’ad assured her that they were essentially invisible.
