The trial of mind is a difficult one, arguably the hardest of all. As wardens we have the responsibility to bear the burden of an empire, therefore strength of mind is paramount. This Aktibar I have suggested a trial that challenges our basest instincts.
—The journal of Uka Elsari, year 421
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The sound woke Sylah with a start. She’d fallen asleep in Anoor’s bed again, the journals scattered around them. Sylah had shown Anoor the sentence she’d found, and together they went back through all the other volumes to no avail. The tidewind was so loud and raged for much longer than they were used to, and it was difficult to fall asleep.
They both shot out of bed and began hiding the leather-bound books.
“Come in, Gorn.”
Sylah muffled her laugh as she saw Gorn’s suspicious face.
“Anoor, may I have a word?”
“Yes, sure, what is it?”
Gorn’s eyes flickered to Sylah’s and away. “I’ve been informed that your mother is on her way.”
Anoor stepped back as if someone had punched her in the stomach. “When?”
“One of the servants in the kitchens overheard Rasa saying that she was going to drop by.”
As if summoned by the horror in Anoor’s face, the front door rattled with the strength of a sharp rap.
Sylah took Anoor’s hand. “It’s fine, don’t worry. I’m sure she’s just checking in on you.”
Anoor nodded, but Sylah could tell she wasn’t listening. Her hands were shaking.
“I’ll answer it. Go into the living room, Anoor.” Even Gorn looked more agitated than usual.
Anoor stood rooted to the spot.
“Anoor, you’ve got to go meet Uka in the living room,” Sylah said.
She looked at Sylah, her eyes glassy. “My mother?”
“Yes, she’s in the living room.”
“Will you come with me?” She looked so small.
“Come with you? To see your mother?”
Anoor came alive and grabbed Sylah’s hand. “Oh, yes please, having you there will help me stand up to her.”
“If you say so. Come on, let’s go.”
—
Uka Elsari. Anoor’s mother. Her mother, a handspan away. While Anoor quivered on the outside, Sylah shook within.
She was talking to Gorn, coffee beans stewing on a metal tray in front of them. The gooey plate of kunafa wasn’t enough to distract Anoor.
“I assume that’s her.” Uka’s voice scraped along the wall toward them. “Unless she’s gone and hired another maid without telling me.”
“Yes, Warden, it’s her.” Gorn’s breathing was shallow, as if Uka had sucked all of her breath. She must have, because Sylah couldn’t breathe. Would she remember Sylah from outside the library? Would she recognize her child this time?
“Anoor.” Uka was perched on the edge of the sofa, her combat boots firmly planted on the ground.