Shadow Scale: A Companion to Seraphina(79)

A hush fell the moment I appeared, two dozen pairs of dark, inquisitive eyes staring unabashedly at me. Finally, a woman who shared Naia’s round cheeks and short stature spoke slowly enough for me to understand: “What is this foreigner doing here?”

Naia elbowed her way to my side and began introducing everyone—Aunt Mili, Uncle Marus, Cousin Mnesias—in such rapid succession that I felt certain she didn’t intend me to remember any of them. They each nodded tersely, looking lightly affronted by my gall at popping out of nowhere. Naia’s father, Tython, smiled at me, but we were off to the next cousin before I could even smile back. We worked our way across the apartment and then out to the stairwell, where nieces and nephews sat on the steps, passing a bowl of dates.

When we reached the lower landing, Naia whispered, “I told one of my sisters that I was worried about Abdo, so now the entire family descends on us. We’ll figure out how to help him, don’t worry.”

She didn’t say so, but from the way she was patting my shoulder, I deduced that the family would find my presence extraneous. I was being dismissed.

“I know how to help Abdo,” I said. “Another ityasaari has invaded his mind, and she’s hurting him. I’d hoped to take him to the temple this morning.”

And given how badly Paulos Pende had reacted when I’d mentioned Abdo, I thought it might be better for Abdo’s family to take him.

Naia frowned skeptically. “Abdo wouldn’t want to go to the temple.”

“Last night he agreed to go,” I said, hoping his resolution still held this morning. “He needs to go as soon as possible so Paulos Pende can remove this invasive ityasaari from Abdo’s mind before she takes over completely. She could make Abdo do anything, against his will. She could make him kill Paulos Pende, or himself.”

Naia glanced back over her shoulder; the sound of arguing filtered down from her apartment. “My family has a complicated history with Chakhon,” she said, “but I will convince them this is urgent, even if I have to carry Abdo to the temple myself.”

She retreated up the stairs, not looking back. Her nieces and nephews watched me, wide-eyed. I decided they needed to know their cousin was in trouble; surely the more people that knew, the better. “Abdo needs a temple of Chakhon like … like as if he flames with fire,” I said in Porphyrian, hoping the sentiment, at least, made sense to them. The children nodded solemnly, their mouths puckered as if they were saving their laughter for later.

I heard it before I reached the bottom of the stairs.



I stepped out into the sunshine, thoroughly preoccupied. I needed something to do, or I’d spend the whole day fretting about Abdo. Luckily, I had an uncle and five more ityasaari to locate—without Paulos Pende’s help and, I suspected, against his wishes.

I was contemplating where to start when I realized my name was being called. I turned and saw a pimply-faced youth in a pointed red cap standing near the door of Naia’s building; I’d walked right past him when I came out. The lad flashed a grin and then spoke with exaggerated slowness, sticking his lips out like a horse’s. “Are you the foreigner who’s staying with Naia?” he asked. “Seraphina?”


“Yes, it is I, yes, Seraphina,” I managed. He gave a curious bow, like an awkward paraphrase of Southlander courtesy, and handed me a hinged metal box the size of a small book. I turned it in my hands, uncertain what to do with it. The messenger pointed out an ornate latch, which opened the thing. The two flat interior surfaces were covered in smooth wax, and carved into the wax were words in Goreddi:

Seraphina, this letter greets you and begs your attention.

Ingar is sleeping at last. I kept him awake most of the night, asking him about himself, making him remember. The key is to fortify him so he doesn’t believe he needs her, and to exhaust him so he sleeps. It is common to relapse, but we must guard against it. Pende will hardly be pleased to unhook Jannoula a second time.

I understand he left his luggage at Naia’s, and that it was mostly books. He will be in dire need of occupation—Gods know I can’t stay awake forever. Would you kindly gather his books and bring them to me at House Perdixis? It would be a great blessing.

Camba



The red-capped messenger grinned when I looked up. Was I supposed to pay him? It seemed he only wanted the box back. “Any reply?” he asked. I shook my head.

Ingar’s belongings were all upstairs, of course, but I did not care to face Abdo’s extended family again, not right after I’d been so unceremoniously ejected.

However, I knew where there was another book—a difficult, ciphered book—that might keep Ingar occupied for a while. I would fetch it from Orma’s stash at the Bibliagathon, deliver it to Camba, learn where the other ityasaari could be found (for surely Camba knew), and start searching in earnest.

I stopped in the Zokalaa on the way to the library, found an everything-on-a-stick vendor, and bought two skewers of eggplant for breakfast. The sky was clear, and the breeze carried whiffs of charcoal smoke, fish, and unfamiliar flowers. A nuncio announced news from a pedestal in the Zokalaa at intervals each day; he was a portly gentleman whose booming voice made Josquin’s sound like a feeble squeak. I stood and listened to him while I ate my eggplant, and was pleased with how much I understood. It helped that he spoke slowly and clearly. I walked on, smiling at shopkeepers stacking fruit into tidy pyramids and children skipping up the steep streets as if the slope were no obstacle.