Nazirah thinks of the monkey, nameless, life shrouded in mystery. With scarred and blackened hands he called her daughter. The monkey strayed from the path but somehow returned to it. Is it in Nazirah to deny Adamek that same chance?
Is it in her to give it to him?
“Speaking of kin,” Taj says, “There’s the kinsa here, a ways down.”
“Kinsa?” asks Lumi.
“A sacred Oseni shrine,” he answers. “Basically a circle of trees around some stones. It’s how the Oseni honor their loved ones. It’s pretty interesting. You might want to check it out before we leave tomorrow.”
Nazirah rises, stretching her arms. “That’s brilliant, Taj.” She smiles. “My father was from Valestream, did you know? Kasimir loved the pebbles I collected from my walks on the beach, said they reminded him of the kinsa from his childhood. It’s the main reason my mother put them all over our cottage … like we were bringing a little piece of Osen to Rafu.”
Taj and Lumi stare at Nazirah oddly. In all the time they’ve known her, she has never spoken so freely about her parents. “Do you want to go now?” he asks, shooting Lumi another glance.
Nazirah sighs. “No, I should probably go check in with Aldrik and Morgen. We’re meeting with some Oseni tomorrow morning, so I’m sure they want my head by now. I’ll go later, though.”
“Irri,” Taj says, “don’t miss the loggers’ bonfire tonight. You can show your face and appease Aldrik. It’ll be a good time … a final hurrah, yeah?”
“Yeah,” she agrees, smiling. “I’ll see you both later.”
Nazirah waves goodbye, lazily humming an Oseni melody. She turns, walking towards the building Aldrik and Adamek entered. Back facing Lumi and Taj, Nazirah doesn’t see their bewildered expressions, their exchange of pointed looks. She doesn’t witness Lumi’s self-satisfied smirk. She doesn’t notice Taj reaching reluctantly into his pocket, returning the money he won and then some.
#
Nazirah interacts with various Oseni at the bonfire, hearing them recount their struggles. She wants to meet them, these men and women who resemble Kasimir in shape and spirit. And they, shockingly, want to meet her too. Countless intermix and Oseni approach Nazirah, wishing to shake her hand, touch her, thank her. Grum shoots Nazirah scathing looks. He and Aldrik eventually leave, heading brusquely for the nearest canopy tavern. Adamek doesn’t make an appearance.
An hour or two pass. Nazirah spends the remaining time with Lumi and Taj, drinking hot cider around the fire. The Oseni sing about their homeland, deep voices resounding through the forest, steins clanking and overflowing with mead. Nazirah follows along, off-key. Their voices bring tears to her eyes, spilling love and regret. Tomorrow afternoon, the campaign will finally return to Krush, to whatever fate awaits it there. And Nazirah gets the distinct, unsettling feeling that her hourglass is nearly spent.
The Oseni disperse as the fire dies, sloughing off the grease of the day, trekking towards slumber and higher ground. Lumi and Taj rise, calling it a night. “Irri, you coming?” he asks.
Nazirah gets up as well. “I’m actually going to find that kinsa.”
“Do you want company?”
“Thanks, Lumi, but I’d rather go by myself.”
“See you tomorrow, Irri,” Taj says kindly, taking Lumi’s hand.
Nazirah quirks an eyebrow, smiles. “Goodnight, guys.”
Nazirah treks down a worn dirt path in the direction Taj points out. There’s cloaked darkness, but patches of moonbeams guiding her way. Yet even in the shadows, Nazirah doesn’t feel alone. Even the quiet here isn’t quiet. The forest breathes life, especially in this latest hour.
As she walks, Nazirah notices that her sight is improving, as though the trees themselves emanate light. They become thicker, older, leaves disappearing. The branches knot, twist, and bend shape. The bark peels, lightening from mahogany to ash to silver. Nazirah touches the lustrous, sterling trunks. These trees must be sacred for the Oseni to not cut them down. The Medis would kill for something so beautiful.
Nazirah enters a clearing, a ring of pure white trees before her. She recognizes them instantly, immortalized in the tattoo that marked Kasimir’s arm. She squeezes through, running her fingers over the glittering ivory bark that radiates starlight. The trees house the kinsa, a shallow circular pool filled with thousands of black pebbles and stones. Kasimir spoke often about it, had hoped to take Nazirah and Nikolaus there one day. All Oseni travel to Valestream in their lifetimes to visit the kinsa and offer names to the gods of honor and protection.
Nazirah walks to the edge of the pool, its fluorescent water glowing in the dark. She always thought the electric blue water was one of Kasimir’s tall tales, but it really does exist.
Nazirah glances across the pool, finds she is not alone. He stands a few yards away, barefoot, jeans rolled at the ankle. His eyes are closed, head bent in prayer. “It’s rude to stare, Nation,” Adamek says plainly, looking up.
“How did you know it was me?” she asks.
“How could I not?”
“Did you offer any names?”
“What do you mean?”
Nazirah bends down, unlacing her boots and pulling them off. She rolls up her jeans. Retrieving the dagger from her back pocket, she scrapes some bark off a nearby tree. Returning the knife, Nazirah steps into the kinsa and wades over to him, water splashing her calves.
“Give me your hands,” she says. Adamek slowly holds them out, black scratches visible in the blue light. Nazirah turns them over gently. “This side,” she whispers. Nazirah rubs the ivory bark over his palms, diamond dust on skin. Then she does it to herself.
“How do you know to do this?”
“Kasimir,” she replies simply. From her jacket, Nazirah pulls out four black stones she took from the mason jar before the bonfire. She places one in his hand, keeping the rest.
“What do I do with it?”
“You’re curious today,” Nazirah says pointedly. She turns the three rocks in her hands. Crumbled white bark meets black stone. Nazirah picks one up. “Aneira,” she says, before gently skipping it across the pool. It makes a soft splash when it finally sinks. Nazirah closes her fist around the remaining stones. She kisses her knuckles twice, two teardrops fall. “Riva, Kasimir,” she says softly, skipping them as well.
The waters below dance across the planes of Adamek’s face. He turns the final stone in his hand. “Is this for her?” he asks.
“I thought maybe you would want to say goodbye.”
He shuts his eyes, closing his fist. Kissing his hand, he whispers the name before skipping the stone. He watches it sink to its final resting place. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I loved her.”
“I know.”
“My father may have pulled the trigger,” he says, “but I sealed her fate. It was my karma, for thinking I could play God with no consequences. It seems He isn’t so forgiving after all.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Would it matter if I said no?”
“Yes.”
“Fine, then.”
“How do you deal with the guilt?”
He laughs bitterly. “Isn’t it obvious, Nation? I don’t.”
“Then what do you pray for?”
Adamek seems conflicted, unsure. Nazirah is reminded of how young he is, only nineteen. He is still a teenager, a kid forced to grow up too soon.
Like her.
“Salvation,” he says candidly. “Redemption, forgiveness.” He shakes his head. “Take your pick.”
“And you think you deserve these things?”
“I pray for them,” he answers, “despite what I think.”
“But you have the dusza,” she says. “It shouldn’t matter.”
“There are many ways to break the soul.”
She hesitates. “Do you regret any of it?”
He looks at her, steady. “I regret all of it.”
It is the answer she has been seeking for months, since she first met him in the prison, since before that. Nazirah believes every word, but feels absolutely no different. She whispers, “I think I knew that already.”
Nazirah has kept something locked away deep inside. She never planned on letting it see the light. But it has turned from dull itch to insatiable thirst. And since their argument last night, Nazirah knows she needs it to move forward. She’s sprinting towards the edge of the cliff, but it’s the only way off this plateau. She grabs his hands again, flipping them around and tracing the scratches. Adamek tenses like he knows what’s coming. “Don’t say it.”