The Final Strife

“Mother,” Uka said through clenched teeth. “Let us speak of this another day.”

They reached the dining hall where the table was laid out with fried plantains and rice, stuffed tomatoes with goat’s cheese, roasted sweet roots, and in the center of it all, a whole roast lamb.

The Abosom was large, swaddled in reams of white fabric, his lips glistening with the oil of the food he had clearly started eating while he waited. His prayer mat was laid out beneath him, pointing toward the joba tree, the conduit to Anyme.

Anoor chose the farthest seat from the window. Uka and Yona sat side by side opposite her.

“Please, bless this meal. I’m hungry.” Yona waved her hand toward the food.

The Abosom bowed over the prayer mat. Either his knees buckled or he let his body guide him to the floor. After a deep breath he spoke.

“Anyme, we thank thee for what you give us. We praise thee for where you lead us.”

Yona yawned, and Anoor’s laugh caught in her throat at Uka’s deadly stare.

Anoor wondered how her real family celebrated Ardae, if they celebrated at all. Would they have been proud of her achievements in the Aktibar? A Duster as a warden; did they even let themselves hope?

Anoor glanced at Uka and shuddered, thinking of all the rippings the woman authorized. Hope was all Anoor had. She needed to end the cycle of oppression that fueled the empire.

The Abosom droned on: “On this sacred day, we thank Anyme for their guidance in the sky. We celebrate the light you give to guide us. We petition you to watch over us in your realm of beauty and chaos, of sunlight and rain, and protect the Elsari family. Guide them in the way of wisdom and knowing. Teach them to lead and to follow. Set a seat for them in the sky, for they pray one day to be worthy. The blood, the power, the life.”

“The blood, the power, the life,” they all murmured as one, though Anoor thought she heard Yona say something like “the brood, the flower, the kite.”

Yona’s dark eyes glimmered above the roast lamb that separated them.

“Shall we eat?” Yona said.

“Mother, we need to thank the Abosom,” Uka scolded her, and for a second Anoor felt the echo of a normal family.

The Abosom was sweating, and he dabbed his jowls with his robe.

“Warden, it is no worry. I thank you for the honor of blessing your table. I will take my leave.”

He rolled up his prayer mat, which took longer than it should have, and left the dining hall.

“Finally. Let’s eat,” Yona said.

Uka rubbed her brows, and it reminded Anoor of Sylah’s exasperated expression. “You know the Abosom will report how you treated him to Pura. I’m going to get it in the neck from him tomorrow.”

“Pura’s an idiot. Yams?”

Anoor jumped at being addressed yet again.

“Yes, thank you.” She had already added them to her plate, but she piled on another spoonful. This was the most conversation she’d had with her grandmother in years.

“Tell me, Anoor, what do you think of the guild of truth?” Yona asked.

Anoor’s eyes darted to her mother then away again.

“I think the Abosom have a lot of jurisdiction…”

“Ha. The girl speaks truth.”

“Mother, I cannot start a coup against one of my own just because you don’t like him,” Uka hissed, though her venom appeared to be directed at Anoor.

“A coup? No one’s suggesting a coup, you silly girl.”

Anoor tried not to laugh as she committed the insult to memory. Her grandmother calling her mother a silly girl was the best Ardae gift anyone could ask for.

“Have him killed, that’s what we used to do when I was in charge.” Yona winked at Anoor.

Was she being serious? Anoor couldn’t tell.

“Mother, can we please talk about anything else.”

“Indeed, how about the sleeping sickness epidemic? Seems like we’re losing more and more Ghostings each day. How are you handling that?”

Uka growled into her food.

Anoor allowed herself a small smile. This was the best Ardae she’d ever had.