Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 84026 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84026 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
“Find people like us?” Ahmad supplied.
People like us. I knew we were different, but I didn’t know how . . . unusual. The ones who watched were sometimes fat, and sometimes hairy, with beady eyes or bulbous noses or red pitted scars marring their cheeks. But I’d never seen one who was a small person, or one who had arms and legs too long for his body, or a boy and girl who looked like two halves of the same star. “Yes,” I murmured. “People like us.” I swallowed and my ribs felt tight.
Ahmad shrugged. “He’d have to, I guess.”
Bibi climbed up Ahmad’s arm when he offered it to him, the monkey yawning widely. I smiled. “He’s tired.”
“We both are.”
“Well,” I said brightly, “you’ll sleep well tonight. Haziq said you won’t be performing yet.”
Ahmad looked troubled as we turned and headed out of the building. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
“The boy, the one who looks like you, he’s your . . . partner?”
I smiled. “Yes.” He wasn’t just my partner, he was my everything.
“So . . . you only perform with him?”
“That’s right.” I belonged to Zakai and only him. I didn’t tell him we were two halves of a broken star. I didn’t know why, but I kept that to myself. “Let me show you to the showers,” I said. “And then I’ll show you where you’ll sleep. I think you’ll find it . . . tantalizing.”
Ahmad shot me a glance, a short laugh turning into a clearing of his throat. “I’m sure I will,” he said.
After leaving Ahmad and Bibi, I began walking toward the courtyard once again, but when I heard Zakai’s voice coming from the back side of the main building where Haziq lived, I turned in that direction instead.
The windows were still open there, the white coverings billowing in the hot, dry wind. Just like Haziq had said, a sandstorm was approaching.
“But we’ve been performing for four years!” Zakai was saying. “We’ve more than earned our way off Sundara.”
“Zakai,” Haziq said. His tone was both weary and annoyed and though I couldn’t see him, I pictured him stroking his fingers over his thick, black mustache as he often did. “We’ve gone over this many times before. Have I not been good to you? Did I not rescue you from the streets, from starvation and disease, from degradation of which you do not have the capacity or knowledge to imagine? You owe me a great debt, and it has not yet been repaid in full. I’ve told you, if you refuse to accept offers from customers, your wage is small.”
“No one else touches her,” Zakai growled.
“There is sometimes an offer for you. Mostly it is for the both of you together.”
“Never,” Zakai spit out, my eyes widening from the other side of the window at the venom in his tone.
“Very well, but you only get older by the year. Unlike the others here, your value is in your beauty and all beauty fades. If you were wise, you would capitalize on it.”
“How much longer?” Zakai demanded, ignoring Haziq’s statement. “How much longer until our debt is paid in full? Until you’ll fly us out of this desert?”
“Well, the math is complicated. Here, let me show you the tallies. I could explain it all to you, line by line, if you understood the numbers.”
I heard the sound of a piece of paper ripping and Haziq’s burst of laughter. “Or not,” he said, a chuckle remaining in his voice.
“Explain what we owe you in time,” Zakai said.
“I cannot do that without knowing the price each of your performances will bring in the future. The guests pay accordingly. Sometimes they are impressed . . . interested and excited, and sometimes they are not. Think of Karys. She’s a happy girl. She loves her home. Would you expose her to hunger and suffering? You remember what that feels like, don’t you, boy?”
“She’s naïve,” he said, and I drew back in hurt. Zakai sighed as if he’d felt the wound he’d inflicted on me even from the other side of a wall, and despite not knowing of my presence. “Karys is . . . Karys.” What did that mean? I wasn’t certain but the words hurt me all the same. I didn’t like the feeling that Zakai kept secrets from me. I leaned in as he murmured something that ended with, “. . . more by the day.”
“There is nothing else for you other than Sundara,” Haziq said, his voice clearer as the wind died down momentarily. “You were once nothing but a lice-ridden sewer rat. Take what I give you and be grateful for it. If you care for Karys, if you want to keep her safe, you will heed my words.”
I pressed farther toward the window, but the wind had kicked up, sand beginning to circle and whirl, and their words were beginning to be snatched by the quickening gusts.