Rasia watched Kiba-ta burn. She stood so close to the pyre that the smoke burned her eyes and the heat stung her cheeks. A white shroud covered Kiba-ta’s face, the only time her tah had worn a white shroud since her coming of age. Kiba-ta preferred to carry a red embroidered one at her waist that Shamai-ta had gifted her. It burned at her waist now, too. They burned her with her spear and her armor, and the namesakes from her kulani: necklaces, bracelets, earrings, and weapons that no others could claim. Jasmine flower bouquets decorated the pyre, representing death, bones, and the color of dragons when they die.
The burning was a public affair, but because Rasia had been disowned, she was barred from the bone internment afterward, which was a ceremony meant only for the family. Her tajihs had also threatened her from attending the deathpour and the scattering of ashes that traditionally happened atop the Spine. The sudden passing of the family’s triarch had come as a shock to the entire family, a shock that most blamed Rasia for. Apparently, signing Kai’s name had brought bad luck or some shit. Whatever. Fuck them all. She planned on going anyway.
She still had moments of disbelief sometimes. If someone had told Rasia that her tah would one day die in a public blood price match against Nico, she would have laughed until they apologized for fucking around.
The body continued to burn, and no amount of burning incense could cover up the smell. Ysai grabbed her hand in his. “Are you okay?” he asked.
Rasia felt . . . aimless. She had been gearing up for war and felt oddly bitter that the battle had been denied to her. No doubt it would have been a bloody and costly one—but oh, how glorious the clash would have been. She didn’t know what to do with herself now. All the petty arguments had been cut short. All the obstacles paved over. All the vendettas burned atop a pyre.
Gone.
Dead.
Deceased.
Real life sometimes felt like a bad story—with all the best plotlines cut too soon.
She asked, “What am I supposed to do now?”
Ysai’s grip tightened around her closed fist.
“We live.”
“That was a fucking shitshow,” Rasia spat an angry wad of spit over the edge of Kai’s roof. It landed an audible brush atop the snarling vines that shaded the veranda.
“What happened at the bone internment?” Kai asked. He sat beside her on the rooftop and dutifully filled her gourd the moment she emptied it.
“It went about as well as you could expect,” Ysai said and handed over his gourd for Kai to refill. Ysai drank and turned toward the orange glow of the oil lamps where a bruise bloomed on his cheek.
“Evidently, none of the family believe in the ‘leave-your-weapons-at-the-temple-door,’ rule,” Rasia said nastily. “Tajih pulled a knife on me when I showed up, and the scribes kicked us all out of the temple before they could seal the urn. They blame that on me, too.”
“Then Rasia showed up to disperse the ashes,” Ysai added, “but I had to step in before they threw her off the Spine.”
“I’d have liked to see them try.”
Rasia stuck out her cup, and Kai refilled it with the fancy grape wine Ysai wasted a whole paycheck on. After getting kicked out of various ceremonies by their own family, Ysai and Rasia decided to have their own deathpour, of which Kai and Nico offered to host on the roof of their home. They decorated the rooftop with jasmine and burned incense for the occasion. An impressive collection of alcohol had been gathered, provided from the stores of both households: grape wine, palm wine, date wine, a particularly memorable one made from fermented camel milk, and lots of beer, which was always cheap and readily available.
Rasia barely remembered Shamai-ta’s deathpour. Not because of the alcohol (usually, the family allowed the children one ceremonial drink on such an occasion), but because she had been numbed from the shock of the death, and it all had been an emotional blur.
Behind them, Nico and Jilah sat in an enclave of pillows and blankets. Although rainy season now, Nico made certain the sky remained clear. It was a cool and hauntingly beautiful night, and the stars multiplied in Rasia’s vision.
She pushed hands against the pebbled rooftop, butt in the air first, and wobbled to her feet. Kai steadied her as she punched her gourd into the air and toasted, “Peace, Kiba-ta. Your kulani is waiting for you. Now you can leave us the fuck alone.”
Her tah was wind now.
“Oi-yo,” Ysai slurred, then lolled his head onto Kai’s shoulder. Kai looked a little overwhelmed between them, caught between clenching tightly onto her pants so she didn’t fall, and rubbing circles into Ysai’s back. She puffed out a breath of hot air. She was not that drunk. The stars tipped overhead, and Kai decisively tugged her down into his lap.
Ysai looked at her with the same palm wood brown of Kiba-ta’s eyes. “What’s going to happen when Jilah and I have a kid? She’s not going to be there. Tah is going to miss it.”
Rasia patted his warm cheek. His skin was a tone lighter than hers, and his cheeks got an amusing flush when he drank alcohol. She told him, “We don’t need her. We never needed her. I’ll take care of jipoh. I’ll teach them how to fight. I’ll teach them how to sail a windship. Oh,” she hopped up, with a bright idea. “We should go live in the Desert. You, me, and Kai.”
“And Jilah.”
“And Jilah!”
“What are they talking about?” Jilah murmured distantly from behind them. “I have no idea,” Nico said.
“No,” Rasia said with another sudden inspiration. She slapped at Ysai’s shoulder. “We should go beyond the Desert! We should explore the world! You, me, and Kai.”
“And Jilah.”
“And Jilah!”
“But Rasia,” Ysai pouted, “You almost died last time. Shamai-ta is gone. Kiba-ta is gone. I can’t lose you, too.” His voice cracked, and tears streamed ugly down his face. “Don’t leave me all alone.”
She patted Ysai’s sticky warm cheek. “Of course, I’ll never leave you. You and me and Kai and Jilah together forever.”
He smiled, content. Then his face twisted, and Kai had a clay pot at the ready. They call them jasmine pots at the market because you grow flowers in them once their initial use had been realized. Ysai tossed his head in and vomited. The sound triggered a sudden nauseousness, and Rasia soon followed. Kai very helpfully produced Rasia her own pot.
She clung to the clay edges and vomited into its hollowed base, fulfilling the final requirements of a deathpour, the last part that symbolized letting go. She released the grief, the anger, and the sorrow—puking it out of her with the rest of her insides.
She rested on her cheek and stared at the banded designs at the neck of the pot, images of dragons and jasmines, then she vomited again. Might have been a little bit of anger still left.
She messily wiped her mouth when she finished, and then closed her eyes for a little while to listen to the cicadas. Kai checked on her briefly, and she bobbed her head to assure him that she was fine. Still, he kissed her on the temple and dabbed at her lips with a wet cloth, cleaning her up. She breathed in the scented smoke of the pistacia resin.
“Looks like it’s time for us to go home,” Jilah said.
“Nonsense,” Nico said. “That’s a long walk home at this time of night. I’ll prepare one of the guest rooms.”
A sudden clang made Rasia jump. Ysai had accidentally knocked over his pot. Jilah, Kai, and Nico all rushed over to help.
Rasia was feeling a lot better, but now she really had to pass water. While the others were busy, she made her way to the stairs. She stuck her leg into the open roof-hatch. Then she stuck in another leg. She crawled down, feet first, like a toddler testing the stairs for the first time. She made it to the bottom with a successful wobble and swayed around the corners.
She found the wet room and plopped her butt onto the limestone shelf, which had a spherical hole carved into the center. She held her head in her hands as she urinated into the litter box of sand. Kai and Nico’s house had one of those fancy pumps usually found in the public bathhouses that sprayed out water and cleaned your butt for you. It was nice.
Rasia didn’t remember getting off the toilet. She found herself wandering through the maze and jolted when she hit a dead-end.
She whipped around, confused, not knowing her location. She raced forward, turned a corner, and she hit another dead-end. Trapped. Her heart thudded fast. She turned and broke into another sweaty run. The walls blurred, all looking the same. Another dead end.
She screamed.
“Rasia?”
She turned toward Kai’s voice coming to save her and didn’t hesitate to cling to him when he reached her. She pulled him to her mouth and begged him to take her away into the clouds, but to her immense disappointment, he only carried her as far as their bed.
She stared at the ceiling, the latticed windows, and the walls. She didn’t understand this continued racing of her heart, this anxious fear of an animal springing to flee building in her chest, overwhelming her like the shadow of some great storm-cloud. She always thought this feeling would leave her once Kiba-ta died. She always thought she’d finally be free.
But it was another dead-end.