Chronicles of the Overworld Book 1 — Nihal of the Land of the Wind (33 page)

Eleusi looked relieved. “So, you were on your way to your family when Jona found you.”

“No,” Nihal responded calmly. “I don’t have a family.”

There was a moment of silence. Nihal looked Eleusi in the eyes.
I have to tell her. I have to
.

“There’s something else you should know.” Nihal gathered up her courage. “I’m a half-elf.”

Eleusi stared at her for a moment, incredulous. “I thought … that is, I was sure that half-elves didn’t exist. At least, not anymore. They say they’re all …” She stopped, not sure how to continue.

“Dead.” Nihal was blunt. “They are. All except for one: me. My people were annihilated by the Tyrant. I’m the last half-elf in the Overworld. That’s why I want to leave here as soon as possible, because I don’t want my fate to cause problems for others.”

Eleusi sensed all of Nihal’s sadness, all her solitude. A part of her said she should let the girl leave, and soon. But another voice inside her said she couldn’t abandon this poor lost girl. “Why don’t you stay here for a while? You can recover properly and keep Jona company. He’s so fond of you, you know? And we’re quite far from the village. If you want, you can hide. No one has to see you.”

Nihal interrupted her. “No, Eleusi. I think it’s best for me to resume my journey next week.”

Eleusi nodded, disappointed. She’d grown accustomed to having Nihal around. Now she realized she would be sorry to see her leave. “Where are you going to go?”

“I don’t know.”

“You must have a friend, a loved one—someone who’s waiting for you.”

“No one’s waiting for me. My plan is to travel. That’s it.”

This made no sense to Eleusi. “Come now, Nihal! Stay here. Jona and I would be happy to have you with us. And you can help me with my weaving and chop wood. It would be so nice.”

Nihal smiled. “Thank you, Eleusi, but …”

Eleusi took Nihal’s hand and pressed it. “Promise me you’ll think about it.”

Nihal pressed back. “I promise.”

The next day, Eleusi found Nihal sitting near the fireplace. She’d removed the bandages from her leg and was resting a hand on the wound. A weak, pinkish light came from the girl’s open palm.

“What are you doing?” Eleusi’s voice held a note of alarm.

Nihal gave a start and pulled her hand from her leg. “Nothing. I was just checking on the wound.” She began to wind the bandages back around it.

But Eleusi had noticed that the wound was much better. “You’re a sorceress,” she whispered.

“No, I’m really not. I know a few simple spells. It can be useful for a warrior, so …”

Nihal became aware of the sudden chill in Eleusi’s manner. Ever since the Tyrant had come to power, sorcerers had become the object of prejudice.

Eleusi insisted on checking the wound. There was no longer any need for the stitches. As she cut through the thread and pulled it out, she cast furtive glances at Nihal, unsure as to whether or not she should worry about this latest revelation. By the time she’d completed the operation, she seemed to have made up her mind. She looked at Nihal with a smile. “You know what you need? A nice hot bath. I’m going to go get it ready for you now.”

A hot bath?
Nihal had always washed with a bucketful of freezing water.

Eleusi started bustling around. She went out of the house and came back a little while later with an enormous copper basin, which she pushed into her own room. Then she busied herself at the hearth with a series of brimming pans of water.

When it was all ready, she dragged Nihal into the bedroom. “Now, now, why that long face? Believe me, you’ll feel like a queen afterward!”

Nihal took off her clothes before the mirror. When she was a little girl, there’d been a moment when mirrors had sparked great curiosity. She would look at herself and try to understand whether the girl she saw on the other side of the thin silvery layer was really her, and not some sprite trying to trick her.

She observed herself with the probing gaze of someone who was seeing herself for the first time. She studied the compact muscles in her legs, her flat stomach and strong arms—the fruit of hours of training. She was astonished at how quickly her body had grown. Almost without her knowing it, she’d been transformed into a woman, with curves and what was, perhaps, a slightly too-prosperous bosom, but nicely shaped. She moved closer to see her reflected face.
My eyes are too big
. But she liked the color, deep and intense. She tried to smile, but there was a note of sadness in the depths of her gaze.

She stretched out a leg to test the water. It was pleasantly warm. She stepped into the tub and surrendered to the feeling of warmth that slowly surrounded her. Then she put her head under, too. Her blue hair swayed around her face. Maybe this was life.

Eleusi was astonished by Nihal’s request. “Lend you a dress? Of course. But your things are clean, if you want them.”

Nihal blushed to the points of her ears. “I’d like to try some women’s clothes.”

Eleusi flashed an enthusiastic smile. “Of course! A dress!”

She took one of her best dresses from the trunk, the one she wore when she went with her husband to village festivals. Then she helped Nihal put it on. On her own, Nihal would not even have managed to lace up the corset. The uniform she’d worn until then was much simpler—all she had to do was position the leather bodice and lace up the sides of the pants and she was done. Eleusi’s dress had a corset, a slip, a skirt, and a pinafore. It felt like there was no end to the stuff she had to put on.

Nihal felt strange looking in the mirror. She didn’t know whether she liked what she saw or not.

“So?” Eleusi asked, satisfied.

“My legs are kind of cold. And this skirt is so heavy! I can barely move!”

Eleusi burst out laughing. “It’s just habit, Nihal. You get used to it.”

Nihal wanted to play with Jona.

They sat on the bench outside the house with their backs against the wall and enjoyed the pale winter sunshine. Nihal showed him a few little magic tricks she’d learned as a girl. She created some colored rays of light, lit a dry branch with a snap of her fingers, and, as a grand finale, created a sphere of light, which she held in the palm of her hand and passed to the child.

“Oh, it’s so beautiful! It’s so beautiful,” he kept saying, beside himself with joy.

As she played with Jona, Nihal felt an aching longing for Sennar. He would tease her so much if he could see her now, dressed as a girl, playing with a child. But he’d have been happy. She prayed with all her heart for him to come back safe and sound. Now that he was completely out of touch, she realized how much she missed him.

That night, after Jona went to bed, Nihal and Eleusi sat together by the fire, Nihal on the floor looking at the flames, Eleusi on the rocking chair, sewing.

Eleusi broke the silence. “Have you decided what to do?”

“Yes,” Nihal said. She smoothed the folds of her dress, caressing the soft material, so light compared to her leather uniform.

“And?” asked Eleusi, hesitant.

“I’ll stay for a while.”

Eleusi set down her embroidery with a smile and hugged Nihal close.

Thanks to Eleusi’s ministrations and her own healing spells, Nihal recovered quickly. She tried to make herself useful right away. A hard winter was settling in and she didn’t want to be a burden. She insisted that Eleusi find her some chores, but she soon realized she didn’t know how to do anything.

Eleusi decided to teach her to knead bread.

“You’ll do it yourself. I’ll just tell you what to do,” she said, and set the ingredients on the table.

It was an utter disaster. Nihal managed to cover herself with flour and spill a pitcher of water on the ground. The bread was lumpy and failed to rise properly.

Eleusi convinced her to put it in the oven all the same. The result was a hard flat loaf that tasted disgustingly of yeast, but it had been great fun to make it. The two women were good companions. Nihal was getting a taste of the normality she’d never known, and Eleusi was no longer alone.

One morning, they decided to go to the market together, Nihal, Eleusi, and Jona. Nihal insisted on disguising herself. She borrowed a shawl and wrapped it around her head so that not even a lock of hair was visible. She pulled it tight to hide her ears from view. Then she looked at herself in the mirror.
Not bad, Nihal. Not bad.
Since the day of her bath, she’d come to enjoy studying herself in the mirror. She found that she frequently peered at herself in an attempt to determine just how feminine the clothes made her look.

The little party set out through the snow. Jona was excited. For him, market day was always a reason to celebrate, even though commerce had been severely limited since the start of the war.

“When I was a little girl,” Eleusi said, “the market was really wonderful. There were merchants from other lands and the air of the village filled with the smell of spices. Even in winter there was a world of goods to choose from: cloth, fruit, vegetables, little animals in cages. I’m sorry you only get to see it now.” She sighed.

Nihal didn’t answer. Tense, she moved forward with bowed head.

“What’s wrong?” her friend asked.

“No, nothing. Maybe it would have been better for me to stay home.”

Eleusi tried to reassure her. “Don’t worry. Have fun! No one will notice you.”

For a while, they walked in silence. After some time, Nihal heard muffled laughter behind her and turned. Eleusi quickly assumed a serious expression, but the shadow of a smile played on her red lips. Nihal looked questioningly at her.

“I’m sorry. It’s just that … you really do walk like a man.”

Nihal stopped. “In what way?”

“Well, you’re practically marching, for starters.”

Nihal did not take this well. “Everyone walks like that in the army.”

“Of course. I’m not criticizing you. It’s just funny.”

Nihal let the others walk ahead of her. She studied how Eleusi walked. She didn’t see anything different. What was she supposed to be doing?

“Eleusi! Wait! Can you explain? What’s so funny about how I walk?”

“You move so assertively and take such big steps. And your hips don’t sway one bit. Didn’t your mother tell you that’s what boys like?”

Nihal’s face darkened. “I never knew my mother. I was raised by an armorer.”

Eleusi silently chastised herself and resumed walking.

Nihal panicked when they got to the village.

There were people everywhere. Her head was spinning. It felt like she was in Salazar back when chaos reigned over the tower and it was filled with the echoes of voices, shouts, and laughter. A wave of homesickness suddenly washed over her. In that anonymous crowd it was as if she were seeing the faces of her own city—neighbors, the kids she played with as a child, shopkeepers. She almost thought she saw Sennar, his tunic flapping about him, his cheek still unscathed. She closed her eyes to block out the din.

“Why don’t you two go for a walk while I sell my cloth? We can meet at my stall in an hour. It’s at the end of the street.” Eleusi handed Nihal some money in case they saw something they wanted to buy. “Nihal, don’t lose sight of Jona!”

Nihal followed instructions, clutching Jona’s hand.

Jona tugged at her arm. “Come on, let’s go get some sweets. Huh? What do you think?”

“I don’t know. What would your mother say?”

“She usually gets me something sweet,” he said slyly.

What harm is there, even if he is lying?
Nihal humored him.

They went to a stall where an old woman was selling a few cookies and candied apples. She was happy to have customers and gratefully handed over their purchases.

Nihal looked around. Other stalls also had few wares to sell. These people were doing their best to live normally. They dressed for market day, walked around, stopped to haggle over prices. But poverty was growing and war was making its way here, too.

All of a sudden, she heard a chorus of voices in her head.
You don’t belong here. Take up your sword! We want revenge!

Nihal stopped, shook her head and closed her eyes to chase the thoughts away. When she opened them again, Jona was looking at her with concern. “Are you OK?” Sugar from the candied apple he was holding was dribbling down his fingers.

“Yes, everything’s OK. Just a little dizzy, that’s all.”

Jona handed her the packet of sweets. “Maybe you’re hungry. Have a cookie!”

They were simple, but Nihal liked the homemade taste.

She and Jona moved from stall to stall, stopping to look at freshwater fish darting around in buckets of water, huge apples in a wicker basket, and colorful lengths of fabric hanging from a tent.

Nihal discovered how beautiful the world could be when filtered through little Jona’s eyes. Everything was new, everything a discovery. Jona was lively. He took everything in and never stopped chattering.

After they’d crisscrossed the market, they stopped to rest on a little stair. They brushed off the snow and sat down to share the last cookie.

“Are you really a soldier?” Jona asked out of the blue.

It hit her like a slap in the face. She had grown accustomed to the idea that no one knew who she was. “Yes,” she answered carelessly.

Jona stared at her admiringly. “My father is a soldier, too. Did you know that? Mamma said not to ask you questions, because it would make you sad, but I saw your sword, so I knew.”

Nihal continued chewing as if she hadn’t heard him.

Jona went on, undeterred. “Have you killed a lot of enemies?”

“A few.”

“What about the Fammin? Are they really as horrible as people say?”

“Even worse,” Nihal said brusquely.

Jona paused before resuming the onslaught. “Listen, Nihal …”

“Yes?”

“Some day, when you’re better, will you teach me dueling?”

Nihal couldn’t help but smile. “‘Dueling?’ I don’t think it would be such a good idea. War is terrible. Peace is much better.”

“I want to be just like my Daddy. If I learn to be a warrior, I can go with him. Then we’ll make this war end really fast and he can come back home to Mamma.”