Aftermath - Ann Aguirre [106]
As I turn to leave the market, an old woman catches me by the arm. “Your shadow troubles you.”
I expect to find a fortune-teller soliciting me, reading cards or bones or peering into a cup to glimpse my future in sodden leaves. But this woman is simply garbed in black; she might be a cook or a housekeeper, certainly someone’s grandmother, for her back is bent and her face withered.
“My shadow’s fine,” I reply with a frown.
“She is not,” the stranger insists. “She has gone away and dreams another dream. You shift what lives inside your skin until she does not know you. And without her, I do not know how you will face this destiny hanging on you. So many ghosts walk behind you, so many ghosts . . .” She shakes her head and sighs. “I will light a candle for you at Mary’s shrine.”
At that she releases my arm, and I expect her to ask me to pay for her blessing or insight, but she merely wraps her black shawl around her head and hurries on, as if she’s tarried too long.
This feels as if things have come full circle. In guilt over what happened to Baby-Z, I fled to Gehenna to seek my own path, and now, here Zeeka stands, gazing around at all the marvels. Aliens are common enough in the dome that he’s not drawing undue attention. I suspect people don’t realize he’s the first Mareq to travel thus, or he’d be bombarded with attention from the paparazzi.
Then I realize why I’ve got that old woman in my head; she’s watching me from across the market. She’s even more stooped and wizened than she was when she accosted me, a black shawl wound around her slight body. I murmur an excuse and cut across to meet her. She stands patiently, as if she expected me.
“Good day,” I say, for that’s the accepted greeting on Gehenna, where there are neither nights nor mornings. “Do you remember me?”
“Should I?” Maybe my mind’s playing tricks on me. I mutter an apology and turn, but her voice stops me. “You found your shadow, and you faced your destiny, and came out stronger on the other side. But at what cost, Sirantha Jax? At what cost? Yet you are nearly to the end of your road, so have no fear.”
Nearly at the end of my road. What does that mean? I wonder if she’s saying I’m going to die soon. It would almost be a respite at this point. I don’t know if I’m ready, but I am so fragging tired.
I spin to question her, but there’s only a vendor selling lovely, hand-painted fans. She raises a brow at me, but I shake my head and return to the others. After chiding me for wandering off, Hit finds us a berth for the night, a hostel with a club attached; their musicians are paid to provide an appealing background, not make conversation impossible. Mikhail’s is a sophisticated establishment, known for good food, expensive wine, and quiet entertainment, making it a rarity in Gehenna; dark faux-wood and wine red upholstery adds to the upscale ambience.
In the warm amber light, I study my companions. Hit shows the least signs of aging; her dark skin looks much the same, her features strong and elegant. I realize I have no idea how old she is. Argus, too, has changed since I saw him on New Terra; he’s a man now, not an eager boy. His shoulders are broad, and he’s lost the hint of gangly youth. From what he said on the way from the port, he spent the last five turns working with Dina and Hit as their navigator, and he wears that experience in the form of a little swagger in his stride that makes women turn as he passes.
“Is there anyone special?” I ask him, over drinks.
Argus shakes his head. “Not since Esme.”
He’s not as carefree as he seems, then. The memory of the girl he lost haunts him still. First love can hit you like that, though for me it’s the loves who came after Sebastian that have caused me the most pain.
For the first time, I understand something of what it must be like for Vel, watching everything change around you while you remain the same. It isn’t a blessing as some people would imply; it’s a curse. Anyone who wished for immortality is out of his head, as it means constant loss.
“So you just vanished,” Dina says eventually.