“I’ll take care of it,” I say, picking up a lamp. I go into the corridor and start for the stairway. My injured knee aches, and I could use a long nap, but I cannot wait to see the only person left at the temple who I consider my friend.
I take the long route to the infirmary to bypass Jaya’s and my former bedchamber. I cannot bear to view our place of happiness or confront those memories. By now, two different wards are dwelling in our haven, replacing us as though our friendship never was. But the ghost of Jaya entwines with the sandalwood incense burning in the halls. She is everywhere: in the walls, in the floors, in my heart. Running from her is pointless, so I allow the loss of stolen wishes to fester. My longing for her is deeper than any other ache or pain I carry.
The door to the infirmary stands open. I enter and survey the vacant cots. The strong aroma of medicinal chamomile unburies a landslide of memories. Most of my childhood was spent in this chamber, endless days lying in a sickbed with raging fevers.
Healer Baka jots in her patient log at her desk. Her spectacles have slid down her nose, perched on the end. When she lifts her quill to dab on more ink, my shadow pulls her attention upward. She inclines back in her chair on a whispered prayer. “Thank Anu.”
Old, held-in anger charges out of me. “Did you ask Anu to send you a Burner?” Healer Baka concealed the truth of my bhuta heritage to protect me from Tarek’s hatred for my kind. Though her justifications were well founded, I have yet to recover from her deception.
“Brother Shaan wrote me to say you’re full into your powers.” Her voice brims with pride. “Let me have a look at you.” She comes and turns me into the light.
“I haven’t changed much. I’m still thin as bamboo.”
“Haven’t changed? You’re a rani!” She skims her palm up my cheek, her eyes shining. “You’ve become the woman the gods intended.”
I tug her hand away. “Jaya—” My voice shreds to a rasp, and before I can stop them, tears pour down my cheeks. “Jaya’s dead.”
Healer Baka enfolds me in her arms. No one else knew Jaya as well as I did, except for Baka. When Jaya died, I had no one to mourn her with, no one who fathomed my bereavement. “She’s well, Kali. Jaya was good and pure. She’ll have a new life in her new form, and her loving spirit will continue to bless others. You may miss her, but do not mourn her. You will meet her again.”
I hold Baka tighter, clinging to her sentiments. “You truly think so?”
“Time is relative in the Beyond. Jaya will be born again, and you will reunite with her in another life.” My crying lessens to quiet hiccups. Healer Baka goes to close the door most of the way for privacy. Passersby would find it suspicious to find the infirmary sealed off. “Brother Shaan hasn’t written since your wedding. I began to worry.”
“A lot has changed since I left.” I set aside my grief to deliver the news. “Brother Shaan passed away.”
Healer Baka draws into herself. She and Shaan had a long-distance friendship that began in Vanhi years ago. They trusted each other implicitly. “I’ve missed more than I realized,” she says.
“Why don’t I tell you everything over a hot drink?” I am cold, and Healer Baka keeps the most delicious herbal tea mixes.
While she prepares the tea, I relay all that has happened. Unloading the burden of my loss for Jaya opens a floodgate of confessions: falling in love with Deven, murdering Tarek, my expansion of Burner powers, and Ashwin unleashing the Voider. The only part I omit is Healer Mego’s prognosis of my condition. Baka listens, interrupting only once for clarification about the Voider returning in the physical form of Tarek. Long after we sip the last of our tea, I finish my summary and await her reaction.
“I’m . . . I’m at a loss,” she says. “You and Natesa are friends?”
“Out of everything I told you, that surprises you most?”
“You forget that I helped raise you. I’ve seen stray cats get along better than you two.”
I chirp a laugh. “Well, it wasn’t without effort.”