Page 49

ANNANI

A nnani had Ogidu prepare the living room for her young visitor, like she usually did in preparation for her grandchildren's visits.

A couple of soft cushions on the floor, a low table with paper and crayons, and a selection of toys that might appeal to a child who was far older in soul than her physical years suggested.

When the doorbell chimed, Ogidu walked over to open the way for Yasmin and Cyra, and Annani rose from her chair to welcome them.

Yasmin dipped her head. "Thank you for inviting us, Clan Mother."

The child partially hid behind her mother's skirts, but her dark eyes were fixed on Annani with an intensity that belied her shy posture. There was a little wariness in that gaze, but mostly curiosity and excitement.

The girl knew by now that they were going to have fun together.

"Hello, sweet girl." Annani crouched down to Cyra's level. "I see you brought a friend." She looked at the rabbit the child was clutching under her arm. "What is his name?"

"Mr. Ears," Cyra said proudly.

"Would Mr. Ears like some tea? I have an extra cup for him." She motioned toward the child-sized tea set. "And he can sit on the floor pillow next to you."

That earned her a smile, and Cyra stepped out from behind her mother's skirt.

"I'll return in an hour as usual, Clan Mother." Yasmin looked reluctant to leave.

"Cyra and I will have a lot of fun together," Annani said for the mother's benefit as well as the child's. "Right, sweetness?"

The girl nodded and offered her little hand to Annani.

She had gradually built trust with the girl, so she was no longer fearful to see her mother go.

Annani had not given the child the transfusion yet, even though she was older than most other girls were when they received it from her, for the simple reason that appearances needed to be maintained. It would have seemed as if Cyra's transition to immortality happened too fast.

After all, it was supposed to be a gradual process, induced by Annani's mere proximity. Today would not be that day either. Weeks needed to pass before the time was right, but in the meantime, she enjoyed spending time with the young child who seemed to house an old soul.

After Yasmin departed, Annani led Cyra to the cushioned area she had prepared. "Would you like to color while we have our tea?" She gestured at the art supplies.

Cyra nodded, settling cross-legged on a cushion with Mr. Ears placed carefully beside her. She selected a blue crayon with the deliberation of an artist choosing a brush.

Annani busied herself with the miniature tea set, filling tiny porcelain cups with apple juice while observing the child from the corner of her eye.

Cyra was a curious mixture of a child who had seen too much and was still processing her trauma, and the resilience that only children seemed to possess—the ability to get fully absorbed in whatever they were doing because it was all new and exciting to them.

"Maman says that you are very old." Cyra did not look up from her drawing. "But she said it's not nice to tell you that she said that, but I don't know why. You are so very beautiful." The girl looked at her from under lowered lashes. "You don't look like other old ladies."

"That is true." Annani settled across from her and offered her a cup. "Does that confuse you?"

"No." Cyra accepted the tiny cup with both hands. "You are not like those other old ladies. You are different." She took a small sip of the apple juice. "Our neighbor, Mrs. Darvish, had good stories to tell. But then she went to sleep and didn't wake up and took her stories to heaven."

The matter-of-fact way in which she spoke of death was both heartbreaking and mature for a child that young, but perhaps she was just repeating what her mother had told her.

"What kinds of stories did Mrs. Darvish tell you?" Annani asked.

Cyra sipped her juice-tea thoughtfully. "All kinds of stories. Sometimes they were things that didn't happen yet, like a storm about to come, or someone having a baby." She paused. "I have stories like that, too, sometimes."

Annani's pulse quickened, but she kept her voice calm. "What are they about?"

Instead of answering directly, Cyra returned to her drawing. Annani waited patiently, understanding that children often communicated better through action than words. The scratch of a crayon on paper was soothing, almost meditative.

After several minutes, Cyra pushed the paper toward her. "For you."

Annani studied the drawing, her breath catching. It showed a horizontal stick figure surrounded by golden swirls that seemed to indicate either waves or sand dunes.

"Is this the doll man you have dreamt about?" Annani asked.

Cyra nodded. "But I drew it wrong." She pulled the paper back and added more stick figures around the first. "I don't know how to make him look pretty, and he is not alone. I forgot to draw the others."

Khiann had had immortal guards with him, escorting the caravan. If he was buried in the sand in stasis, perhaps they were as well.

"Are they also doll men?" Annani asked.

Cyra nodded. "They are all sleeping in the golden sand. Like Sleeping Beauty."

"Do you know the story of Sleeping Beauty?"

The girl nodded. "I saw the movie." She looked up from her drawing and smiled. "The prince gave Sleeping Beauty a kiss, and she woke up. It was nice." Cyra selected a yellow crayon and began adding more swirls. "Sometimes the sleeping men flicker."

"Flicker?" Annani kept her voice gentle. "What do you mean, sweetheart?"

Cyra's small face scrunched in concentration. "Like... like candles when there is wind. I worry when they do that."

"Why does it worry you?"

"Because I don't know what's happening." Cyra looked up, her dark eyes troubled. "Are they trying to wake up? Are they trying to tell me something, but I'm too little to understand?"

Annani reached across the low table and took the child's small hand. The fingers were so tiny, so delicate, but she could feel the potential thrumming beneath the skin. This child was special.

"You understand more than you know. These dreams are gifts, even when they are confusing."

"Maman says I shouldn't talk about them. She says people will think I'm strange."

"Your mother wants to protect you, which is what good mothers do. But here, with me, you can speak of anything you see. I will never think you are strange."

Cyra studied her with that too-wise gaze of hers. "Do you have dreams too?"

Annani nodded. "Different kinds of dreams, but yes. Sometimes I can close my eyes and see what someone I care about is doing, or where they are, just like you do."

Annani had a gift of far viewing, but it was limited.

"Can you see the pretty man?"

Annani swallowed the lump in her throat. "I lost a very pretty man a long time ago, a man I loved more than life itself. But I was not blessed with dreams of him. I only have a deep yearning to find him."

Cyra nodded. "If he's sleeping, like Sleeping Beauty, you can wake him up with a kiss. You are a princess, so you can do that."

Annani smiled, though it carried millennia of sadness. "I guess I could, but I need to find him first. I do not know where he sleeps."

Cyra returned to her drawing, adding black and orange shapes above the sand that made no sense. They were probably decorations.

"What are these?" Annani pointed.

"Dragons," Cyra said in a tone that indicated she thought Annani should have known that.

"What are they doing in the desert?"

Cyra shrugged. "I don't know. I just thought it would be cool. Maybe the dragons can help wake up the sleeping men. There are four more in the sand."

"Dragons or men?"

Cyra gave Annani an incredulous look. "Men." She pointed at the dragons she drew. "There are only three dragons. Two black and one gold."

"I see." Annani pretended to examine the drawing more closely. "Do all the men look the same?"

Cyra shook her head. "No, but they are all waiting." She paused, crayon hovering over the paper. "The sand sings to them."

"What does it sing?"

Cyra hummed a few notes, a melody that seemed hauntingly familiar, though Annani could not place it.

"That is beautiful," she said when the child stopped. "Where did you hear it?"

"In the dream. The sand sings where they are sleeping." Cyra selected a brown crayon and started to draw what looked like big rocks.

"Do you see these rocks in your dreams?"

The girl shook her head. "No, but maybe there are big rocks. I just see sand." She sounded despondent.

"That is alright, dear one. You have already helped me more than you know."

Cyra nodded, looking relieved, and went on adding details to her drawing. "They want to join the party."

She was probably talking about the welcoming party for Esag and the others, wishing for a brighter topic to talk about. She was just a little girl, and it was time to lighten the mood.

"When we find them, we will have an even bigger party than what we had last week. Do you like parties?"

The girl nodded eagerly. "I like the music and the dancing." She squirmed on her cushion. "I like to dance."

Evidently, Cyra had reached her limit of sitting in one place.

"Would you like to take a walk in my garden?" Annani offered.

The child brightened immediately. "Yes, please!"

They walked hand in hand through Annani's backyard, with Cyra exclaiming over flowers and then dropping Annani's hand to chase butterflies. She seemed more childlike here, giggling when the butterflies evaded her reach.

It warmed Annani's heart.

"The pretty man dreams too," Cyra suddenly said. "He dreams of you."

Annani's throat tightened. "Does he?"

Cyra nodded enthusiastically, and Annani appreciated the child's effort to lift her mood.

"He wants to wake up, but the sand song is too strong."

"Perhaps," Annani said.

"Can I take one flower for Maman?" Cyra asked.

"Of course." Annani walked over to the flower bed. "Let me get it for you so you do not hurt your fingers."