She rested her hand on her sword and spat in the grass. “So Bashir moved on and I went to work. Over the years, I moved around the city, reinventing myself to avoid suspicion. I built schools and hospitals, and I trained other nuns. And I looked for the answers to Bashir’s questions. But then there would be a war, or a plague, or a fire. Sooner or later, everything I built was destroyed. My hospitals were looted. My schools were torn down. My students and friends died. Over and over again. Over, and over, and over.
“For five hundred miserable years, I stayed the course. I built and I taught and I studied, trying to find some answers, trying to understand the aether, trying to find God. But after five centuries of watching everything die and crumble into dust, after watching every stupid person make every stupid mistake again and again, after all those years of trying to save humanity from the darkness…I just couldn’t take it anymore.”
Asha continued grinding her seeds. She didn’t look up.
“So I quit, little sister,” Nadira said. “I quit all of it.”
“You gave up on humanity?” Priya whispered.
The Damascena snorted. “Humanity gave up on itself. I just stopped caring. For a while I did nothing at all. I slept all day in the slums and wandered all night through the streets. And somewhere along the way, I picked up a sword and started killing the rats. Murderers, rapists, thieves. I don’t know why, really. I guess since I couldn’t ever make anything good, I wanted to try to destroy something evil instead.”
Nadira leaned back with her hands behind her head, staring up at the stars. “At first I killed them in their sleep, but eventually I learned to fight and I started killing them when they were awake. And for a while, I was happy. I was saving people. I was making a difference.” She chuckled softly. “Until one day I stood over the body of a murderer and I recognized him. Twenty years earlier I’d saved his life, when he was just a little boy. And that’s when I realized I still wasn’t making any difference at all.”
“That’s awful. I’m so sorry,” Priya said. “But obviously you didn’t give up the sword.”
“No. I left the city. I went to war. I cut my hair and dressed as a man, followed the soldiers at a distance, and then rushed onto the battlefield when no one would notice me.” Nadira gazed up at the moon. “I thought that maybe I could change the course of some battle, save a good prince’s life, or kill a bad one. Then maybe I could change the world. And I was right. From time to time, one soldier can change the course of history. I killed generals and messengers and princes and food tasters. And sometimes it would make Damascus a slightly better place.”
Priya nodded slowly. “Killing for gain or passion is a terrible evil. But killing can also be a solemn duty when it is done solely for the good of others, and not for one’s self. It’s a very hard path, but that’s a worthy calling too.”
Nadira scratched at her nose. “It’s less of a calling for me. More of a hobby, I’d say.”
“Oh.” Priya hesitated. “Well, I hope that one day you find what you’re looking for. Or at least, a better way to make a difference. Violence is not a path to peace or enlightenment.”
“Violence is the only path to peace, little sister,” Nadira said. “And that’s the only enlightenment I’ve ever found.”
6
The sun rose small and bright white in a pale blue sky streaked with pink and yellow clouds. The three women sat in the grass against the rock beside the cave and stared out over the valley. The trees shivered in the wind and the grass rippled as though it were a single living creature just beginning to stretch and wake up. Asha looked over at Nadira, seeing her clearly for the first time. She wore the same padded armor and blue tunic as the men who had ridden out the day before to face the dragon, and she held the same turbaned helmet in her lap.
Her thin black hair had been chopped short and it fluttered in the breeze around the edges of her face. Her eyes were dark and lidded, her mouth rested in a slight frown, and she slouched back against the rock with her legs splayed out crookedly in front of her. But she had long lashes and full lips and a graceful neck, and somewhere beneath all the dirt and the scowling Asha thought she could almost see the pretty young girl that the woman had once been. Almost.
Asha looked sharply to the west. “It’s coming.”
Nadira stood and drew her saber. The blade shone like silver in the morning light and Asha saw the fine lines swirling across the face of the steel like rippling water or spider silk twisting in the wind. A distant roar brought her gaze back to the far ridge and a dark undulating shape climbed into view. The dragon’s head rose up, framed by the fiery circle of the rising sun. It hissed, and then it dove down the slope to cross the valley.
“You might want to hide now, little sister,” Nadira muttered. Priya nodded and vanished into the dark hole in the earth.
“Here.” Asha scooped up her fresh opium paste with a flat wooden stick and smeared it liberally down both sides of the sword. “All right. This should do. Just cut it as deep as you can, and then get away from it. If we’re lucky, the dragon will collapse in a minute or so.”
“A minute can be a very long time on the battlefield,” Nadira said. “I’d rather not learn what it means to be disemboweled by a dragon, since it would be a memory I’d have to live with for a very long time.”
Asha nodded slowly. “That’s a good point. So, uhm, be careful, and good luck.”
“When the beast is down, then what?” Nadira asked.
“Then I’ll kill it.”
“With what? You have some poison? Some other sort of weapon?”
Asha stared at the monster slithering across the valley toward them. “I have something.” And then she knelt down and crawled backward into the tunnel, backing into the darkness just far enough to be well out of sight, but still able to see some portion of the field outside.
Nadira stood in front of the cave, her sword hanging at her side. “Hey, healer. Are you afraid of dying?” she asked.
“Sometimes,” Asha said, her voice echoing in the narrow cave. “Are you?”
“Always. Every day of my life.”
“Even after two thousand years? But you know you can’t die. Why be afraid?”
Nadira looked back over her shoulder. There was a nervous grin on her lips that flickered and died, and her mouth shook. Her eyes shivered and she said, “Because if I ever do die, then I’ll have to answer for everything I’ve done, for the sins of two thousand years. Tell me something. Do you believe in hell? Torment in the afterlife? Punishment after death?”
“No.”
Nadira’s lip trembled. “I do.” She blinked and swallowed, and managed a smile. Then she cleared her throat very loudly and squared her shoulders to face the beast. “Now, let’s see if I can slay a dragon. That’s something I’ve never killed before.”
Asha stared at the woman’s back, wondering what she could possibly say in response. And she was still staring when the golden dragon erupted up the hillside and blotted out the sky. The beast roared as it crashed down onto its scarlet claws and it snapped its whiskered jaws at the armored woman, but it pulled back before it made contact. It hovered over her, sniffing and snorting.
Nadira crouched, waiting.
The dragon swiped a set of claws at her and she leapt aside. It swung again and she leapt back. A third time the claws slashed at the woman and she raised her sword to meet the blow. The impact sent her to her knees and Asha saw Nadira sinking into the soft earth as the dragon bore down on her, but the saber did not break and neither did the woman.