The Winds of Khalakovo by Bradley P. Beaulieu Page B

learn from it, but for now she pushed the thoughts away and gave all her concentration to the task at hand.
    Ashan bowed his head, smiling a wide, crooked smile. “I am Ashan Kida al Ahrumea.”
    “My name is Rehada Ulan al Shineshka, and you are known to me.”
    “I see you have met my young charge, Nasim.”
    Rehada was surprised that he used his real name, but then again, he was arqesh, and would find it difficult to lie. Plus, no one on the island, except perhaps her, would know anything about Nasim. It was the unfortunate nature of the Aramahn and their ceaseless travels that so many of them were strangers to one another, even if they did have long memories.
    “I can’t say that I’ve truly met him,” she replied. “He seems like a contemplative boy.”
    Ashan chuckled. “I’ve heard him called many things before, but contemplative hasn’t been one of them.”
    “What would you call him, then?”
    “I would call him lost.”
    “Lost.”
    “Lost within the confines of his mind, constantly trying to find his way out.”
    Rehada looked down at the boy and considered this. He continued to study the mosaics above. His lips moved, but she could hear no sound.
    “And you’re helping him to find it?”
    He shrugged. “As I can, though the path has been difficult.”
    “If you’ve come to the island to learn, then perhaps I could help. I’ve been living here for nearly seven years.”
    Ashan smiled that same crooked smile, as if he knew something Rehada did not. She should be grateful for any words she spoke with such a man, but she had to admit that the gesture was starting to annoy her.
    “What is it you find so amusing?”
    “I am not amused, daughter of Shineshka, but surprised. Your mother, in all her years, never stopped in one place for more than a season.”
    “You knew her?”
    “At one time I knew her well, though we lost touch shortly before you were born.”
    “How did you know her?”
    He raised his eyebrows. “She came to me often, and we discussed the ways of the world. We traveled together for a time, but then she met your father, far on the northern edge of Yrstanla. It was a cold and barren place, and I suppose at the time she wished for warmth more than she did learning.”
    “She died, you know.”
    “I heard. May she return to us brighter than before.”
    Despite herself, Rehada smiled. She had left her mother when she was fifteen, nearly twelve years ago now, but she had always remembered her mother as a bright soul. It had been and was still a source of pride—one of the few that remained—coming from a woman such as her.
    “You didn’t answer my question,” Rehada said as a new group of Aramahn entered the celestia and began seating themselves.
    “I wasn’t aware that you had asked one.” That smile again.
    “Would you like me to come, to guide Nasim around the island?”
    He shook his head. “Were Nasim a boy of normal qualities, I would gladly accept, but unfortunately he is not. He would not hear you, and you , despite all your best intentions, would not hear him . Better if you leave him to me.” He motioned with one hand toward the small crowd that had settled themselves. “If you care to, I’m giving a talk about my most recent travels.”
    It was a tempting thing, but as she had already been reminded, she was not welcome in Iramanshah, and there were those that she wished to steer wide of as much as she could.
    “Thank you for the offer, but I had better be heading home.” She bowed her head and turned to leave, but stopped as Ashan spoke.
    “Rehada?”
    She turned back to find him looking at her expectantly.
    “ Yeh ?”
    “I’m afraid you never answered my question.”
    She tried to smile as he had. “I wasn’t aware that you had asked one.”
    He chuckled and bowed his head in kind. “What would your mother think if she saw her daughter staying in one place for so long?”
    Rehada felt her face flush. Did he know? Did he know about her ties?
    He