Written in the Ashes by K. Hollan Van Zandt Page A

be an omen,” he said. “She will be well again, Cardea willing. We must pray.” And so they each bowed their heads and prayed in a circle around the bed where Naomi lay. Hannah hoped Jemir was right, that the butterfly was an omen. She felt that if Naomi recovered it meant that everything else would be well also, that her father was alive and that they would be reunited, and the Parabolani would forget the incident in the market.

    Later that day a visitor came to the house. When the bell rang, everyone stopped breathing. The servants of Alizar’s house flinched at every odd sound in the walls, dreading the coming of the Parabolani. Jemir was the brave one who went to the door to see who it was.
    “Hannah, there is a visitor for you.” Jemir stood in the doorway of Naomi’s bedroom leaning against a pillar, holding a tray of sweet cakes. His heart was heavy for the girl, poor desert child sold into slavery, and now this. She had not spoken a word of what happened that day in the market. Sorrow had tipped the ballast of her heart, and she was sinking. He fussed over her, baking his concern into special cakes to revive her happiness, to no avail. There was no music left in her for Alizar’s house.
    “I am coming.” Hannah gathered the blanket around her body, picked up her cane and found her way downstairs to the atrium. There in the hall, a tall gentleman in a long, wine-red robe stood serenely. Even with his back to the entrance, Hannah knew who it was at once.
    “Synesius.” Hannah’s lips faltered upward toward a smile. His constant stoic expression that always seemed so cold, in that moment, warmed her like the desert sun. She was glad to see him.
    Tarek had just come in from the stable and heard voices, so he hid behind a pillar in the hall, watching Hannah. As Tarek saw her face come to life at the sight of her tutor, he stiffened. With a clenched jaw, he curled his fingers into his palms.
    Synesius tilted his head, regarding Hannah’s bandaged ankle. “What has happened to you?”
    Hannah took a step backward. “We can go into the courtyard to speak. Please.”
    They stepped into the bright sun of noonday and followed a stone path that led down a slight slope to a lion’s head fountain set in a low wall that poured a cool stream of water into a catch basin filled with blue lotus blossoms. Alizar’s horses grazed in a pen just beyond it.
    Hannah sat on the edge of the wall beside the pond. “Sy, I am sorry I missed my lessons.”
    Synesius glanced at her leg.
    Hannah bit her lower lip and looked down at the bandage. “It was in the market. I slipped.”
    He studied Hannah’s face. “And who were you running from?”
    Hannah looked up and met his discerning eyes. Perhaps he already knew. “The Parabolani.”
    “I thought as much.”
    “We were in the market and they dragged this young girl out in front of everyone and made horrible accusations. Then they…well, they killed her.” Hannah teared up. “I was so foolish, taken over by my anger. I actually thought I could stop them.”
    The flicker in Synesius’s eyes showed that her tutor was familiar with the Parabolani and their tactics. “Alexandria contains the greatest extremes, Hannah. This city, like Alexander her patron king, knows only the pendulum’s swing. Her center stands for an instant, then shifts. Such is life.”
    “Do you mean we should ignore what the Parabolani are doing?” Hannah narrowed her eyes.
    “We have no choice.”
    “No choice?”
    “The battle is over our heads.”
    “But surely something can be done.”
    Synesius sighed and took a seat on the low wall. “Hannah, do you know who Theodosius the Second is?”
    “The emperor.”
    “Yes, the emperor, a boy of eight years old.”
    “A child?”
    “Yes. Most of the rumors we hear from court say his elder sister, Pulcheria, holds the influence of the Eastern Empire, as she is in charge of his education and interests. Emperor Honorius, the western emperor,