I picked up my pace. I needed to find Sendo. Where was he?
The aroma of Mama’s porridge was back. It wafted across the shop, sending pangs of hunger to my stomach. I followed the smell toward the weaving room, but Finlei waved me away from the looms.
“Maia,” he called. “Let’s go to the marketplace.”
I whirled to face my oldest brother. “Now?”
“Of course now. Seize the wind, Maia! There’s a new shipment of wool from Samaran that’s supposed to be softer than a camel’s foot. If we go early, we can buy some before our competitors beat us to it.” His jaw squared into a protective brotherly look. “And you can point out that ruffian who Keton says always bothers you by the temple.”
I chuckled. “I can take care of myself, Finlei.” Tempted as I was to go with him, I drew back. “You’re just eager to leave the shop. Go ahead, I’ll join you after I greet everyone.”
I pushed past a rosewood screen, past a room of workers at their spinning wheels, into the kitchen. Keton was there, his hair longer than I remembered. Then again, why would he have cut it? He’d never gone to war. He was washing dishes—no doubt it was a punishment for something he’d done this morning—and a stalk of sugarcane stuck out of his back pocket. I was tempted to tell him to put it away before Mama saw—she didn’t like it when he indulged his sweet tooth. But he didn’t turn around to greet me, so I left him alone.
And continued deeper into the kitchen.
“Mama,” I breathed.
“Lunch will be ready soon,” she said, wiping her hands on her apron. Behind her, a large pot boiled. I inhaled, savoring the smells of chicken with cabbage and salted fish.
“Do you need help?” I asked.
“No, no,” Mama replied, pouring rice wine into the pot and covering it. “I’ve the maids. They’re outside with the oven now, baking coconut buns and taro puffs. Your favorite.” She started frying pork with cabbage and cracked a salted egg into the pan. Oil splattered, and the fumes wafted to my nose. I inhaled greedily.
“Are you hungry?”
My stomach rumbled. “Famished.”
“Good,” Mama said over the crackling meat. “Make sure Baba eats. He’s been working so hard he forgets his meals.” She chuckled; then she turned.
Why did it feel like it’d been years since I’d last seen her face? I almost didn’t recognize her—the soft freckles on her nose and cheeks, the gentle curl of her black hair, her round, smiling eyes. She took a step toward me, her arms open for an embrace.
I wanted to hug her more than anything, yet for some reason I held back. “Do you know where Sendo is?”
“He’s upstairs,” Mama said.
Was there a staircase in Baba’s shop? “Upstairs?”
Mama pretended not to hear me. She dipped a ladle into the pot, stirred, and offered me a taste. “Come, Maia. Try this.”
“Later, Mama.” I shook my head, still puzzling over this mysterious staircase. But as I left the kitchen, there it was. The stairs were steep and uneven, and I clutched the rail as I ascended. There were many more steps than there ought to have been. They wound up and out of the shop, so high I could no longer smell Mama’s cooking.
My legs grew heavy, and my breath grew short. But the sound of someone singing and the soft strumming of a lute lured me to the top, promising that my search wouldn’t be in vain.
“East of the sun, the sapphire seas gleam. Dance with me, sing with me…”
I hummed along. I knew the melody, but I always forgot the words.
Like Edan. I shook my head.Who in the Nine Heavens is Edan?
The song grew louder as I finally reached the top of the stairs. There a narrow hallway awaited me. This was familiar, yes. My parents’ bedroom was to the right. Which meant Sendo’s was—
I turned left, and my hand pressed against the door to slide it open.
The singing stopped; my heart gave a lurch.
There was Sendo. Alive. Breathing. Whole.
Relief bloomed in me. Then the relief grew into wonder, so that whatever string tethered me to the earth snapped and I floated up and up with joy.
