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to come with us?
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Freedom sSisters
My answer still stands. I think you re as mad as any sorceress. I turned to
look at her, and she gave me a wry smile. I know what you were. I have eyes
and I know what to look for.
Then you know why I don t understand.
I am not abused here in fact, I am well protected. I have enough to eat. I
live comfortably.
But you re a slave. Things could change. You could be sold.
She laughed. You could be executed.
There wasn t much I could say to that, so I thanked her and went back up to my
room.
Did she know another name? Alibek asked.
I shook my head.
So now what?
I lay down, thinking about what she d said about friendships, rather than
self-interest. It s possible to send messages to sorceresses through the
Temple of Athena, I said. I ll go tomorrow.
Who are you going to send a message to?
I closed my eyes, reminding myself that she was a friend. Zivar, I said.
The sorceress Lauria and I stayed with last winter.
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Freedom sSisters
CHAPTER EIGHT
L
AURIA
E
ven with my mother s care, I was sick for days. Despite my fears, she didn t
get sick as the servants had. I had fever dreams and black sleep, but no more
trips to the borderland. When I was awake, my head and back ached terribly,
and I threw up most of what I ate or drank, though at least a little must have
stayed down because I
stayed alive.
What would happen if I died of this would the gate within me stay open, as the
magia fears?
I
wondered one day, lying in bed.
Perhaps I should try to let myself die; surely if the gate stayed open, that
would be a miserable problem for the Weavers. But then I wouldn t be able to
free the rivers&
I had plenty of time to think about what I had seen in the Weavers library
that night, though my headache made thinking difficult. It was clear that they
had been talking about me and wanted me kept alive, at least for now, because
of the danger I posed.
So if I try to escape, the guards probably have orders to stop me, but not to
kill me. Not that it would be difficult to stop me. Right now, I can barely
rise from my bed.
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But sorceresses on the other side of the borderland a sorcerous djinn might be
responsible for my ability to free djinni?
If I was chosen somehow, why me? Why now? And if they could turn me into a
gate, why not everyone? Every Alashi shaman, every Danibeki slave? Surely that
would make things even more inconvenient for the Weavers.
I began to recover, finally. One day the headache and backache were mostly
gone, and the next day I could drink without vomiting my tea back up. Then I
could eat again, and my headache and backache were gone completely.
I was terribly weak, and had lost a great deal of weight; I felt like a good
stiff breeze would carry me right over the wall and away from the Koryphe. If
the magia wanted me healthy enough to survive the winter, she needed to let me
out of my room to walk around a bit. And someone would need to help me walk.
Kyros, it seemed, had the same thought. The magia who sent you to the pit
took to her bed again while you were ill, he said when he came to visit later
that day. You are at liberty to walk around again. Andromeda your mother, I
mean can assist you. He beamed at my mother, who gave him an affectionate
smile back.
Thank you for bringing my mother here to nurse me, I said.
You re welcome. He rose. She ll help you walk down to the garden later
today.
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Freedom sSisters
I could not remember ever having been quite so ill. I was unsteady when I rose
and tried to walk; I clung to my mother s arm as we made our way down the
stairs. But the nausea was completely gone and the headache did not return. My
mother settled me outside, in the shade. The day was hot. Let me get you
something to drink, she said, and went back inside.
No sooner was she gone than Xanthe stepped close to me. If my mother ran
away if she s free then why didn t she come back for me? she hissed.
I d asked Janiya that question, and remembered her response. She d been a
slave for six years.
You had not been accused of anything you had your whole life ahead of you. She
knew that you would have been told that she was a criminal, a traitor,
disgraced.
Or maybe she really was a criminal and feared to come back.
Whether she committed her crime or not, the danger would have been the same,
I said. What did they say that she d done? She never told me.
None of your business, Xanthe said, and stepped away as my mother came back
through the doorway.
Here we are, my mother said, brightly. She had a silver tray with two cups
and a pitcher; she sat down and poured a drink for me, then herself. The cup
was earthenware and cool. The drink was sweet and a little tart, and it wasn t
until I saw the deep ruby color that I identified the taste as pomegranate,
sweetened with honey.
Thank you, I said. When I finished my cup, my mother poured more.
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