Page 46 of The Gilded Ones

I blink, startled at this casual acknowledgment after all my weeks of skulking about. “You knew my mother?”

She nods. “She was four years my junior. An admirable Shadow. Ferocious, determined. A pity what happened to her. She could have been a legend among us, but then she got with child. You, I presume?”

I nod, then glance up at her. “So that’s why she left? Because of me?”

She nods. “It was quite the scandal. Shadows are not allowed to marry, so an execution order was sent out. Luckily, she had some noble as a benefactor who protected her. Got her away in time. I can’t imagine how she did it, running away in the last week of rainy season, flooding everywhere. I’m grateful she survived. How is she?”

“Dead,” I reply, in a daze now. “The red pox.”

Karmoko Thandiwe blinks before she nods again. Then: “Did she live a good life?”

“She was happy till the end.” I look at her. “I have a question. Was she like me? Did she have any…abnormalities?”

“As far as I could tell, she was perfectly human.” Karmoko Thandiwe looks down at me, her eyes piercing mine. “Truth be told, of all the alaki I’ve met in the two years since the emperor’s mandate, I’ve met none like you.”

“None other—” I stop mid-sentence when a familiar whistling pierces my ears. It’s coming from the top of the stairs, where an open door leads to a small private garden beside the courtyard. “White Hands?”

“Is that what you call the Lady of the Equus?” Karmoko Thandiwe’s eyebrows rise. She steps to the side, clearing space for me on the stairs. “She’s waiting for you.”

Gasping, I rush past her up the stairs and out into the garden, where White Hands sits on a mound of pillows. A feast is spread out before her, and the equus twins are curled at her side, stuffing themselves. The hazy-sweet scent from her water pipe curls around the garden, mingling with the warm evening air.

“The Lady of the Equus!” I gasp, hurrying over. “Braima, Masaima, you’re all here!”

The twins look up from their meal of yellow apples and other exotic fruit. “Hello, Quiet One.” Masaima grins fondly.

“Have you missed us?” Braima adds, rising.

I rush over, joyfully petting them, and then waiting as they nuzzle me. Masaima begins nibbling my hair, but I don’t even mind it. “I’ve missed you both so much!” I say, hugging them. How long it has been since I last saw them both, sweet-talking their way into eating all the apples in the wagon? I hug them even tighter, grinning when they hug me back.

“The world is so much more beautiful when we’re around, is that not true?” Braima muses with a flick of his black-striped tail.

“Surely so, Brother,” Masaima agrees. “We make all things better.”

I blink to push back the tears burning my eyes. “Well, you’ve both certainly made my day better,” I say, releasing them.

Then I turn to White Hands, nervous. If it wasn’t for her, I’d still be in Irfut, still be in that cellar. And now she’s here. Why is she here?

“Lady of the Equus,” I say respectfully, walking over.

“White Hands will do,” she replies with a wave of her hand. “I’m quite fond of that name, actually.”

When I stop just short of her, uncertain of what to do next, she looks up at me, amused. “Tell me, is this awkward little approach how they teach you to greet your elders at the Warthu Bera nowadays?” she asks, taking an idle puff of her water pipe and blowing little smoke rings into the air.

“No.” I dip a knee to the ground in the formal greeting the karmokos prefer outside of lessons. “Evening greetings, White Hands,” I say.

“Evening greetings, Deka.” She looks me up and down, then adds, “You’ve certainly become more exuberant these past days. The Warthu Bera must be good for you.”

I shrug. “Somewhat,” I say, thinking of Katya. “My thanks for sending Britta and me here.”

I know now that had it not been for her intervention, we would have probably been separated and sent to lesser training grounds, as so many alaki are. She’s the one who decided that we were worthy of the Warthu Bera. And it was a good thing that she did. I have to blink away thoughts of what Karmoko Thandiwe told me about Mother. Something about what she said is still niggling at me, though I’m not exactly sure what.

“And how is our ever-cheerful Britta?” she asks.

I smile. “Even more cheerful, now that she’s tossing boys across the sandpits.”

“Exuberance must be in the air.” White Hands puts down her water pipe, then nibbles delicately on a fruit. “Imagine my surprise when I hear that you of all people are now bleeding yourself and calling yourself demon. You, the alaki who nearly dissolved in a puddle of shame every time I said the words ‘cursed gold’. I take it you’re no longer unsure of the truth of my words.”

My blush heats me all the way to the roots of my hair. I didn’t know she knew I doubted the promises she used to lure me here. “No, I am not,” I say truthfully. “The Warthu Bera is exactly as you promised. I am…no longer ashamed of what I am,” I say. “No matter my origins, there is worth in what I am.”

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