My latest book in The Leather Book Tales fantasy series, Daughter of Earth, has just been published.
Ali
I woke just now, not sure why, kept my
eyes closed because I still felt sleepy and didn’t want to get out of bed yet.
Images in my mind – rosy sand dunes at sunset, rippling shadows over sand, a
long caravan of camels – fragments of a dream or memories? I’ve seen all those
things at one time or another. Wind touches my face, maybe that’s what woke me.
I must have left the window open; the nights have been hot lately, almost
unbearable at times. I wake often when its like this, drink from the ceramic
jug that keeps water cool.
Brightness
penetrates. When I finally open my eyes, for a moment I’m not sure where I am.
Not in my room, and it’s night though a lantern gleams beside me. There’s a
tree at my back, leaves rustling above. I’m in our courtyard by the fig tree.
How did I end up out here under the stars, dressed in my night shift? I’ve
never walked in my sleep before. There are no lights shining from any of the
windows of our house, no sound of voices; the others must all be deep in dreams.
The air is warm but not as bad as it’s been.
I’m sitting
tailor-fashion, the way my friend Samel always sits. When I glance down, I see
the black stone he gave me, gleaming in my cupped hands, have no idea how I
ended up holding it. I look at the sky, find the familiar grouping of stars we
call The Chariot, a bond to reality. And yet, I could be dreaming all this,
dreams within dreams.
For some reason I
recall night festivals when the gates of the city are left open, watch fires
are built, and people walk out into the desert. Those times often feel
dreamlike, enchanted. Itinerant costumed performers dance, drum and sing.
Hawkers call out their wares, while the aroma of cooked meat, pastries and
other foods wafts from booths set up here and there. Samel and I would stroll
together with our families, chatting, and laughing.
Where is Samel now?
There was so much I should have said to him before he left for the mountains,
but the time never seemed right, and I couldn’t find the words. We didn’t see
much of each other toward the end, and when we did, we argued. I should have
tried harder.
The black stone,
smoothed by time, perhaps wind and water, sits warmly in my hands. Samel gave me this piece of obsidian just
before he left, a quick good-bye. Maybe it was a sort of apology. I should have
found the words then.
I
stare into the shiny darkness of the stone, think of my friend’s dark eyes when
he smiles, the gold flecks in the brown irises. Is there a glimmer of fire in
the depths of the stone? Obsidian comes from fire mountains. A shiver trembles
across my shoulders. I blink and look again at the night sky where stars
flicker. We do occasionally have earthquake tremors here, but that didn’t feel
like one. I do and don’t want to believe that the stone has powers. Samel found
it in the dungeon of the old sorcerer who held Samel, his father, and sister
prisoner for a while last year.
“Think of me when
you hold it,” Samel said, “and I’ll think of you. Maybe just before we go to
sleep each night. It will be a way to keep connected while I’m away.”
I asked him if he
meant that we could see and talk to each other the way he and his sister do
using their magical silver bracelets. He said that we could try. He couldn’t
have been too annoyed with me if he wanted that.
I wish I could see
Samel right now, talk to him.
The stone feels
heavier in my hands and my eyes are drawn to its darkness. I see no light
anywhere; has the lantern gone out, have the stars been covered by clouds? I
blink, try to look away from the stone, but nothing changes. What if I can’t
get away from this? Sweat runs down my face, I’m finding it hard to breath.
Gradually I’m aware
of a shimmer, like heat rising in the desert, faint at first, like the
beginning of sunrise, and then gradually brighter and brighter. I squint
against the light. A dark shape forms, familiar. Samel hovers in front of me,
his feet not touching the ground.
“Ali, how did I get
here?” he asks. “I went to bed in the tower room of Grandfather Frog’s house.”
“I
think it’s the stone,” I say. “The piece of obsidian you gave me.”
“But
how can I be with you? Is the stone like the bracelets?”
“Maybe.
A dream. A vision. We saw each other once before, briefly, right? I didn’t
think I imagined that. I’ve been thinking about you, wondering how you are,
where you are. I put the stone under my pillow last night.”
“And
you’re not really in your garden either?”
“Perhaps
not. Remember how I dreamt about you and your sister before you found her? I
hoped I could dream about you.”
“We’re
in Schönspitze. It’s strange here, but interesting. Cousin Thea’s grandfather
who disappeared a long time ago, and everyone thought was dead, is actually
alive. And he has this huge house. I haven’t had time yet to explore the town.
The trip was good. Thea changed my camel into a horse. I met an eagle.”
“Sounds
like you’ve had an interesting time.” What a stupid, banal thing to say! I wish
I could have been with you I think, but don’t say. “I know about the eagle. It
came with your message at the celebrations for the opening of the arts school.”
“Ali,
I’m sorry I was so grumpy to you.”
A
sigh escapes me. “It happens. I miss you.”
“I
miss you, too. Oh, what do you know about gemstones?”
“What
kind?”
“Um
amethyst, lapis, ruby.”
“Oh,
lapis lazuli is lovely, though expensive. You can make an amazing blue paint
from it. Did you find some?”
“A rock collection.”
