Page 48 of The Maiden and Her Monster

“As you’ve come to learn, not all is as peaceful between the religions in Valón as the stories might say.

Years ago, as Valón grew more popular with the Yahad fleeing from persecution in other kingdoms, the Yahadi Quarter began to grow and thrive.

Even Ozmins settled here, able to own their own houses, as well as their neighbor’s.

But with Yahadi prosperity came Ozmini fear, and tensions thickened.

Desperate to remove their competition, they began to contrive ways to beat the Yahad down.

Ozmini peasants would dig up their own children from graves and hide them in the attics of Yahadi households.

There was no trial with evidence as clear as that, and the Yahad were jailed.

“It is for this reason I was created. The Maharal birthed me from stone and clay to be a protector—to fight injustice with just violence. The Ozmini peasants began to fear me and the magic I wielded, how I would shape the earth together to fight against oppression. I would patrol the streets at night in his shadow, and together we would look out for the Yahad in Valón.”

“It sounds like you were a force for good,” Malka said. It was what she had surmised from Nimrah’s last story, how her existence brought a lull to Yahadi blood curse accusations. “Until Kefesh corrupted you.”

Nimrah shook her head. “You still don’t understand.

I was a force for good. Until the Maharal left.

He was called away to consult with the religious council in Lei for some issues related to the papacy.

He untied my shadow for the first time cautiously, said I should keep to myself while he was gone.

“And I did, for a while. He knew that tensions in the Yahadi Quarter were high, and misuse of me would end in trouble.

I lived in the attic of the shul Bachta, and I stayed there.

I watched the sun rise and fall from the hazy window and paced across the floor with the low rumble of services down below.

“One night, I heard a grueling scream from the street outside. I paced, counting the creaking panels under my feet. It was the first time I debated disobeying the Maharal’s orders.

You don’t understand what it was like, to teeter on the edge of betraying your master to fulfill the sole duty for which you were created—to break the faith of the one who granted you life.

But this need to help… it tore at my skin.

Made me dig my nails into the wooden beams until they bled. I was not made to be a bystander.”

Nimrah’s voice was as jagged as belladonna leaves, and Malka gripped the pendant around her neck, turning each point into her thumb.

“Heart ruling over my head, I rushed out through the window, breaking the glass. I used the ivy wrapped around the stone as a ladder. It was the day before the Sabbath, and the streets were busy with preparations.

“Even among the busy streets, I was noticed. Stares would heat my back, eyes would dart when I looked, children would gape and hide behind their parent’s legs. I was a weapon—something both used for protection and violence.

“A small group of people were huddled by a house in the center of the Yahadi Quarter. As I approached, I recognized the home as Basám’s, one of the Yahadi economic advisors to King Valski, where he lived with his small family.

“‘What is happening here?’ I asked.

“It was a small girl who answered, no more than eight or nine. She said, ‘Three knights stormed in.’

“‘Rode their horses down the path with enough fervor for battle,’ the girl’s mother continued. ‘They said Basám has stolen from the treasury! Can you believe such a claim? That man would not keep a penny more than was his due.’

“I bent down to the girl, whose eyes widened. ‘Was it you who screamed?’

“The little girl blushed. ‘I could not help it. Their horses were so frightening, and they were yelling.’

“I pinched her cheek. ‘Do not worry, I will do as I am made to do.’

“That was my saying, how I would drench fears until they sizzled out, how I would be the light in a dark room for them to follow. It only took saying those words, and people would relax.

“And as I said those words, the woman’s clenched shoulders eased, and relief softened the girl’s face. A fat raindrop had fallen, landing like a tear on her cheek. She wiped it away with the back of her fist.

“The clouds had flushed deep. Rain was coming.

“‘Stay beneath the awning,’ I said to them. ‘It is about to pour.’

“With that, I went into the house. As you know, they’re small and cramped in the Yahadi Quarter, like the gap between piled stones.

Two or more families live in each building, dividing the space by floors.

I knew Basám had lived on the top floor, for he played the flute terribly from the second story window facing the street.

“The ceiling creaked above me, and I leaned near the stairs to catch the sound of their voices.

“‘Count them again,’ I had heard, the voice strong and resolute.

“‘I have counted them three times, Ctihodny. ’ It was Basám who spoke, voice wobbly.

“‘And you will count them four.’

“I crept up the stairs, my hand trailing against the wall. The clay stretched and sighed, awakening under my touch.

“‘This matter does not concern my children,’ Basám said. ‘I will count the coins again for you, but I implore you to let them return to their room.’

“‘Ah, Basám, I think it’s a good lesson for them to see what happens when you embezzle from the king.’

“‘Perhaps it is an even more thoughtful lesson to learn when a man is innocent,’ I said, finally entering the room.

“Basám sat at a small table, a knight leaning close. His wife and kids huddled against a corner on the opposite side of the room by the front window, guarded by another knight.

“‘So, the golem appears,’ the knight closest to Basám said, ‘just as the songs say.’ His eyes were soaked with repulsive scrutiny. ‘The stories we tell in the barracks do not do you justice. You are truly more of an abomination than I could have imagined.’

“‘What is your business here, Ctihodny ?’

“‘The king paid for new textiles from the Balkisk Kingdom to celebrate Prince Ev ? en’s coming of age celebration. He had only discussed the trade among his advisors, given the delicacy of Valón and Balkisk’s relations.

’ The knight turned toward Basám. ‘So, you can imagine the shock when the Balkisk King sent back half-finished tapestries to Valón, citing that if his kingdom is only being paid for half the work, Valón should be happy with half the product.’

“‘And you are questioning all of King Valski’s advisors?’ I stepped closer.

‘Tell me, Ctihodny, will you question the runner boys who carried their correspondence, as well? How about the treasurers who counted out the coin? Or perhaps the noble who carried the payment in his pouch on the journey there?’

“‘We will question who needs to be questioned, and that is up for the king to decide.’

“‘So, the king is aware you’re questioning his trusted advisors? Or tell me, is Basám the only advisor you are questioning? And it is only coincidence, of course, that he is the king’s only Yahadi advisor.’

“The knight clenched his fists. ‘Remember your place, golem. Leave now with your insubordinate tongue and let us carry on with our business.’

“They always underestimated me. The Maharal had once said he created me to look like a woman because he knew men would misjudge what I could do, and I’d always have the upper hand.

“‘I will leave when you admit your bias,’ I said to him.

“‘Enough,’ the knight said.

“‘Yes, enough of this, Ctihodny. ’ I bent down, holding my hand against the floor paneling. The wood creaked as it stretched, bending to my touch. At my command, the wood undulated toward the knight, rattling him from his feet. The knight’s trained footwork was not enough to keep him upright, and he landed hard against the ground, metal hitting wood in a clanking thud.

But planks of wood… they are not as effortlessly controlled as vines or branches straight from the earth. They are bulky, unbending.”

Nimrah traced her finger along her stone cheek. Her eyes were far away. She was lost in the story.

“The wood also shook the chair on which Basám sat, and the ground under which his children and wife stood. They, too, fell to the ground. Basám hit his head hard against the wood, and his children fell in a heap on top of each other.

“I could not risk commanding the wood any longer, so instead I called a vine from outside to cut the children loose from their rope bindings.

It burst through the window, and shards of glass flew through the air like snowflakes.

The vines sliced through the rope and freed all his children, except for the youngest. He was merely six and swatted at the vine as it came toward him, and as hard as I tried, I could not pull it loose.

It had caught on the rope around his wrists, and he had tangled it around his neck in an attempt to escape.

“He stumbled back, until he tipped himself through the broken window. Dragged down by his weight, the vine became a noose. Gasps and screams echoed outside, and I knew I had killed him.

“He mimicked a rag doll, hanging there. A child. A Yahadi child. I was meant to protect them and instead I…” she drifted off, clenching her fists.

“I will never forget the looks the Yahadi people gave me that night.

Dread, horror, and disgust. The last thing I saw before I turned away was Basám falling to his knees in front of the house, hands covering his eyes.

Through the same window he had played his flute, I made him see his child hanged.

“I did not leave the temple attic for days after that. Not until the Maharal returned. He could not look at me, and I couldn’t blame him. That’s when he brought me into the woods and told me my job was done.”

Nimrah’s throat bobbed as her story finished. She cast down her eyes until the shadow of the lantern swallowed the stone of her face into darkness, and she looked distinctly and invariably human.

Malka trembled.

Nimrah’s story was not the same as the ones she had been told. In them, Basám’s son did not die on accident. Nimrah did not go to the house to save anyone. She went to kill.

“Why would you tell me this?”

“I know I will always be the monster you hate. But if you’re going to hate me, you might as well hate me knowing the truth. Choose to believe it, or not, it doesn’t matter. Now you know.”

She waited for the chant in her head to come. Monster. Murderer. Monster. Murderer.

But her mind was cursedly, undeniably silent.