Chapter Four
The Shadows
Lira held her chador close to her face as she scurried through the city’s streets towards the palace. The city’s streets at night were dangerous for women to pass through alone. The veil of religiosity sunk down with the sun, the night sky casting shadows on the vagrancies unfolding on the streets. There was a reason most windows had shutters and locks on them, and many were sealed shut for the night already.
She’d been mugged once by a bandit, after she’d used two years of saved money to purchase a silver bangle for herself. She’d been silly, hadn’t watched her back and had gone to the bazaar alone. The scar that ran up her arm reminded her of the knife the man had used to immobilize her before stealing all that was on her body. She’d been fourteen. Apa had been unsympathetic, and had told her not to go out again until she was ready to learn how the streets worked.
The heroin and opium addicts frequented the rivers, enjoying the privacy that bridges provided them; the sex traffickers patrolled the night bazaars, finding solace in the crowds; the gamblers haunted downtown streets; but the bandits were the ones Lira feared most. They lurked everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Once they decided that you were their next hit, they’d find a way to make sure you were alone, cornered and vulnerable.
For that reason, Lira had made sure to dress as unimpressively as was possible. Her shalwar kameez, chador and chappal were a dirty grey, meant to fade into the background with everything else that was unimportant. She made eye contact with no one, keeping her gaze focused on the ground in front of her, her arms crossed and her body rigid. She hoped she looked like one of the many homeless kids in the city; it would help her pass unnoticed.
The Azaan for the evening prayers had finished, and she scurried past restaurants that were opening for their dinner patrons, the smells of ghee and meat filling the streets around her. She disappeared in the crowd, taking the shortcuts she knew of to reach the Royal Mosque.
The Royal Mosque, known for its tall minaret, gold trimmings, and blue walls, was one of the busiest mosques in the city. Made of stone, it was nestled in the royal palace, and was open to everyone regardless of class or status. It was one of the few remaining structures that the ancient humans had made and was revered to be one of the holiest sites in the region, dating back nearly three thousand years. For that reason, it was almost always filled with visitors who had come from near and far to worship on its grounds. Embellished with ancient relics and ruins, it was heavily guarded, and protected.
It was also the only way into the palace that Lira knew of. Those who could pay the admission fee were allowed to view the gardens for an hour at a time, and pay a leisurely visit at the apothecary.
She slowed down as she neared the Mosque’s stairs, evaluating the surroundings. Latecomers for the evening’s prayers were trickling through the front arches, as those done with their prayers were lazing around the Mosque gardens outside. Despite the value of the relics held inside, the guards outside were at ease. The punishment for stealing was so great that nobody attempted it.
Lira kept her eyes down as she walked into the mosque, the hush and quiet of the worshippers echoing off the marble walls around her. The women’s prayer room was siphoned off from the men’s, and she made her way to the archway leading into the main prayer hall.
A dozen or so women were still bent in prayer on the red carpet, their eyes closed, and attention diverted. One guard stood by the only other door in the room; the door that led into the palace gardens.
Lira kept herself calm as she slowly took off her slippers, as was custom to do when entering the prayer hall. Everybody knew the royal apothecary was in the palace gardens, also known as the city’s healing gardens. Wanderers would come from far away cities to see if they could find some comfort in the healing properties of the palace’s botanica. Rich wanderers, she should say. It cost a fair dime to gain admittance, money that nobody around her had.
A woman bustled past her, and Lira avoided eye contact. She wanted to be as invisible as possible. Looking around to make sure nobody was paying her any attention, she slowly slipped her hand inside her chador and pulled out her weapon. A slingshot.
Rida had shown her how to use it a few weeks ago when they were lazing about in the garden, and Lira had become a fair shot. They had practiced on glass bottled perched on the fence, and Lira had managed to successfully target three of the five bottles. Now, however, her palms were beginning to feel clammy, and her breath shook as she surreptitiously slipped a small rock in the crevice of the launchpad.
“What are you doing?!”
Lira froze, her heart pounding at the voice.
“A man stole my shoes,” a voice replied, and Lira immediately relaxed. “I thought they might be here.”
“This is the woman’s area, turn around.”
“But my shoes -.”
“Consider them a donation to the mosque.”
Keeping her slingshot ready in her hands, yet hidden within her chador, Lira made her way barefoot into the prayer hall and sat down in a corner tucked away in the back. Her eyes were focused on the ceramic, blue and white vase perched front and center in the room. Apparently used by a prophet to pour water into the mouths of the thirsty, it was the most valuable item in the room.
God, you’ll understand why I did this, she muttered to herself as she fished inside her shalwar for the other item she had brought along. It had been straining against the pouch she’d wrapped around her thigh, and it was time to set it free.
The wriggling rat squirmed in her hand, and she immediately let it loose on the floor.
The response was instant. A woman screamed as she saw it, alerting the other women who shrieked at the sight. The commotion was immediate. Patrons were scurrying away, flinching, yelling at the sight of the helpless rodent scurrying in circles. The guard at the door immediately left the post, yelling obscenities as he pulled out a baton to hit it.
Lira didn’t wait to see the commotion unfold. The audible screams in the room were proof enough that the distraction had worked. Using the chaos as her signal, she scurried over the door, snuck a glance to make sure nobody was looking her way, and confirming that they weren’t, slipped into the gardens and ran.
She had only made it around the corner when she found herself staring down the length of a six foot long spear, the steel tip of which grazed her throat. Her heart deflated as quickly as it had filled.
The tip of another spear pushed against the back of her neck and she slowly raised her hands in amnesty.
Shit.
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