“We must follow the guidelines of the rabisus and not cheat the rules of the under realm, or we will be expulsed.”
He does not explain what our expulsion would involve. I trust it would be unpleasant.
Ever so steadily, like a sunrise, the sky changes from bitter midnight to glum gray. A strange, directionless wind combats our every step to the coastline. The Sea of Desolation fulfills its lonely name. A dreary expanse of water stretches beneath a stormy sky. Thunder grumbles overhead from a lightningless storm.
A two-passenger skiff is wedged into the rocky shore. Pieces of ivory, like shells, are mixed in with the rocks. My mouth turns sour. They are shards of bones.
Enlil and I haul the skiff and oars against the wind down to the lapping sea. Each wave grasps at the pebbles and slinks away. Unlike a sea in the mortal realm, this one has no briny scent. The smell of iron carries off the waves, diffused by the strident winds.
“Climb in and do not let the sea touch you.”
I get in the skiff, and Enlil pushes the bow into the waters. The murky liquid is thicker than water and clots in spots. High winds howl, their tenor eerily mortal, and break the surface into choppy ridges. The skiff undulates against the pulling tide.
“Can we not walk?” I ask.
“We must cross the sea to reach the mortal man.”
“You mean Deven.”
Enlil ignores my correction and wades into the sea. Once the skiff floats, he jumps in across from me, the two of us knee to knee. The water staining his legs is crimson.
“Is that blood?”
He wipes off his shins with his hands and picks up the oars. “A millennium ago, the spirits of the fallen attempted to escape the Void. The demon Kur’s high queen, Irkalla, would not part with a single soul. Thus, she crafted the seven obstructions with their adjoining gates and formed the rabisus from a drop of her venom to serve as their guardians. The fallen souls still tried to run, so Irkalla set a plague upon the under realm and cursed the sea, turning the water to blood.” A large bone floats past the skiff. My stomach pitches on the mango I ate. “The lowest trenches of the Sea of Souls in the mortal world empty into the Sea of Desolation. Do not fall in or you will be lost between the realms.”
I scoot into the center of the bench. Enlil rows us farther into the swells, the grim waves extending to the horizon.
“How do you know which way to go?”
“In the under realm, the correct direction will be the most treacherous.”
He maintains his rhythmic labor, paddling into the upsurges. Red droplets splash against the hull. I must think of something beyond the gore holding us afloat. One of Enlil’s earlier comments circles back to me.
“When you said my loved ones are in my memories, who did you mean?”
He hesitates on the next stroke and then compensates with more vigor. “It is easier to show you.”
Something bangs against the trapdoor far down inside me. Whatever is locked away desires the acceptance of Enlil’s offer. “Never mind. I was only curious.”
“Mortals are inquisitive by nature. I can select a memory with Jaya.”
All my senses hang upon his words. “You know about her?”
“The gods know every soul, now and through all generations.” Enlil rests an oar in his lap and lifts his hand. I cannot shift away without tipping the skiff. He presses his thumb to my temple. “Shut your eyes.”
To see Jaya again, I forget his bossiness and do as he says.
My soul-fire shines behind my eyelids, a star in my private sky. A blinding glare overtakes my inner vision, and my mind spins into a vortex of noises and sounds.
All goes quiet.
I reopen my eyes and the skiff is gone. Enlil sits beside me, grasping my knee. Both of us wear the finest silks and softest leather sandals. We lounge on satin pillows beneath an opulent canopy. People fill the hall before us, dancing and dining at tables brimming with dishes of food. Women wait in a line before me. They approach our dais one at a time and lay precious tokens of adoration at my feet. Perfumes, veils, lotions, spices, finely crafted weapons . . .
In the shiny blade of a khanda, I view my reflection. The woman I see wears a gold-and-crimson sari—bridal attire. Our features, hair, and physique are identical, save that she has her right hand. Swirling henna trails up her arms.
I am the woman in the bridal sari with matrimonial markings. I feel her heartbeat. Taste the wine on her lips. Smell her jasmine perfume. Detect the heavy rubies around her neck.
How . . . ? I review the banquet hall for answers. Several dancers twist their wrists and shimmy their ankles, rattling their anklets and bracelets to the drumming. Servants refill wine chalices amid the tables where attendees kneel. One of the servants stands out.
“Jaya,” I gasp.
Her shorter frame has a powerful stance, her body a proportional measure of muscle. I adored sketching her; she is not flashy like a peacock but lovely as a dove. I leave the dais, and Enlil grabs my wrist.
“This is a memory, Kalinda. You cannot change what was.”
“I don’t care.” I wrench from him and weave through the tables to my friend. Next to her, I nearly burst from gladness. “Jaya?”
She refills a patron’s dish and continues down the long table.
“I’m so sorry.” Tears wobble my voice. “I’ve missed you.”
Jaya turns around, and her stare goes through me. I try for contact, but my tap passes through her. I return to the dais in a daze, pained by her blunt disregard. Enlil comes to my side.
“She’s . . . she’s forgotten me,” I say.
He guides me back to my floor cushion. “She is a servant in your parents’ household. You are her master, and she knows her place.”
Her place is with me. I kneel behind the pile of gifts and look out over the grand dining hall. “You said this is my parents’ household?”
Enlil points to a couple greeting guests in the center of the room. The woman’s silky hair shines under the lamplight, and the man wears a trim beard and mustache. They are dressed impeccably in fine silks and leather. Their elbows are linked in a casual manner. Though I have never seen them in the flesh, they look just as Chief Naresh described.
“Mother! Father!” I shout.
They are close enough to hear me, but neither responds.
“You cannot speak to them,” Enlil says. “This is a memory. It cannot be altered.”
I rise to go to my parents, but he blocks my path. “Why did you bring me here? This is torment!”
Enlil encircles me in his arms. “That will suffice for now. Wake, Kalinda.”
“Don’t make me lose them again. Let me stay.” I writhe against him, but his hold is unbreakable. He shushes me and presses his lips to my temple. The banquet hall starts to fade. “Please don’t take them from me. Please.”
A flash blinds me, and a vortex sweeps me off-center. I spin, all strength from my limbs draining out.
I wake in the bottom of the skiff. Enlil stands in the knee-deep water and pushes it to shore. Cries embed in my breastbone. I scramble out and brace against the side of the boat, waiting out my unsteady legs. Enlil tries to support me. I wave him back and toughen my voice as much as I dare.
“That memory wasn’t mine. Unless you can show me something that will help me find Deven, leave my past alone.”
“This Void will root out the less appealing parts of your soul’s progression,” Enlil answers sympathetically. “You are better off to remember your past lives through me.”
Far inside my center, a pounding sensation ricochets through my chest cavity. I cast him a direct glare. “I don’t need you interfering with my head.”
Enlil draws up to his full height, his toned abdomen tucked in. “As you desire.”
I set off ahead of him toward the cliffs. The pounding inside me quiets to raps.
“The second gate is ahead,” Enlil says, his footfalls behind mine. “Beyond it lies the Valley of Mirrors.”
“Sounds less ominous than the Sea of Desolation.”