As for the pilgrims, they’d begun arriving that same day.
Slowly at first, then in droves, they asked for neither water nor shelter. They wanted nothing but space – and the Diviners had opened their vast grounds to them, where they’d gathered together in tightly arranged bouquets, the overflow spilling into the streets, the parks, the hills and mountains. They slept where they sat, no matter the weather.
In response to the many requests to see her, the Diviners had issued a single word, in an exceptionally rare statement:
Patience.
And so, the Jinn waited.
Cyrus studied them every day. He watched their numbers grow, watched them become restless and angry and ultimately subdued, only to repeat the cycle. In a short time they’d appointed a leader: a small, elderly woman who, after days of taking it upon herself to break up fights and settle arguments, became their intermediary. Her name was Dija, of Sorral.
Cyrus watched her now.
Her wizened face curtained by thinning sheets of milk-white hair, Dija stood on a high bough of a towering magnolia tree, her frame so slight she nearly blew away in the wind.Her body feeble, her spirit ferocious, she’d grasped a nearby branch for support, and from her post, she conducted the chorus of voices. With her eyes shut, Dija placed her free hand atop her head as she cried out –
For the land that once was ours
For the millions who were slain
For the rivers red with blood
For the centuries of pain
Justice!
Justice!
For our parents in the ground
For the coffins that we built
For the tiny hands and quiet hearts
of the children who were killed
Justice!
Justice!
The mass followed her lead, hands placed atop their heads, eyes closed as they sang. Their voices had begun to haunt him throughout the day. Where once the heaving crush of the crowd had been a source of concern, now he felt nothing but astonishment. For her.
It was all forher.
And yet, she would not open her eyes.
In the general course of things, Cyrus was not one to steep in his sorrows.But he’d been allowed to occupy this space at the edge of the Diviners’ property precisely because his bouts of mawkish emotion were so pitiable. So long as his feet never touched the hallowed ground, he’d been granted permission to sit here and watch her from afar. During this time – precisely one hour – he brined in his own gloom.
It was a behavior so unlike him he’d come to resent it.
He shifted slightly then, lifting his head to look once more upon the masses, when a locust materialized as if from nowhere, a bright spark of green landing lightly on his hand. The insect settled its wings and stared up at him with its uncanny eyes.
Hello, friend, Cyrus said silently.
The locust jumped up in response, landing on his shoulder. They were fascinating creatures, known for listening deeply and saying little in response.
Have you seen her?Cyrus prompted.
The locust only adjusted its legs, twitched its head.
