Second Archon War: Sapientia Oromasdis 1 (Patreon)

Sapientia Oromasdis 1 - It was her Birthday

Author's Note: This is an updated rerelease of Nahida's preview chapter. There have been a few small tweaks, but overall this is the same thing. 

Beta'd and edited by: The Grand Cogitator, Dr_Feelgood, Philosophysics, October_Day, and Desert Chocolate.

It was my birthday. When I woke up, I was riding in a flower carriage. I'd just had a dream... I dreamed it was my birthday. In the dream, the Knight of Flowers and his retainers found me. "Oh Archon, we've finally found you. The people can't wait to meet you." The Sabzeruz Festival began, and everyone smiled as they gathered around me. Finally, I got back on the carriage and waved goodbye.

Nahida twitched in her dream, writhing uncomfortably. How many times had she dreamed this? She tried to make her dreams pleasant, tried to make them the wholesome wish that her heart begged for.

But she knew the reality behind the fairy tale.

The flower carriage had been a wagon with barred windows and straw on the floor.

The Knight of Flowers had been a stern-faced sage who had never smiled at her once.

They had called her the Archon. They hadn’t been kind about it. They had recognized her Gnosis, but had taken her, locked her away in this chamber.

It was my birthday.

It was her birthday today. She was 505 years old. She dreamed of friends, of candy, and made a little girl-sized table with cakes and tea, and of course, flowers. It wasn’t real though. Just pretend.

Just a dream.

When I woke up…

Something changed. Nahida started, and opened her eyes, then let out a cry as she bounced and jostled around. She fell over, and stared up at a clear blue sky.

I was riding in a flower carriage.

All around her were rough sacks, of a fabric Nahida didn’t recognize. She rubbed the fabric between her fingers, even as she bounced again amidst the sacks. There were strong smells and loud sounds everywhere, and this was not the Sanctuary of Surasthana! In fact… she felt something was missing, that something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

Peeking into the sacks, Nahida found that they contained radishes. She smiled to herself for a moment, and despite her terror and confusion, let out a nervous giggle. She was a little radish, wasn’t she? Kept hidden away, growing in the dark, where no one could see her.

Propping herself up despite the rattling of the vehicle she was in, Nahida looked around her, and her jaw dropped in amazement. All around her were buildings, made of what looked like white or light gray stone or bricks. But they were unlike buildings she had seen before! Many of them had colorful signs on them, in a language she had never seen before. She looked around excitedly and was soon able to comprehend it. Arabic. This was Arabic. She just knew it! A new language of Man.

Clapping her hands in delight, Nahida lifted her head up further, peering over the side of the… wagon? No, not a wagon. It was a vehicle unlike anything she’d ever seen, or read about, or even dreamed of! It moved on four wheels and was bouncing over a somewhat broken road. This wagon was red under its scuffs and stains, with a compartment up front with a man driving. There were more vehicles in so many different colors all around her, some standing still, others moving with no visible means of locomotion. How did they do that? It had to be some sort of elemental energy. She dearly wanted to take one apart to see how it worked, but she kept her head down nervously and watched the people going by her.

They were…people. Not the people of Sumeru City, more like the Eremites of the desert. Some were lighter, others dark and swarthy, but their clothes! Their clothes were so fascinating! There were so many fabrics and colors, so many styles and shapes! There were robes and dresses she was familiar with, but also tunics, blouses, shirts, trousers, jackets…a penelope of new garments!

But who were they? They had dreams, and they spoke Arabic, which was much like the language of the Eremites, but different, as though it had diverged hundreds or thousands of years ago. Nahida could sense them, and they felt…right. Like they were her people, though they didn’t know it yet. But then again, the people of Sumeru City were much the same way: they were hers, but not. That thought made Nahida feel miserable, so she crouched down in the bed of the not-wagon and sniffled, bouncing along the road.

Suddenly, the not-wagon came to a sudden halt. Nahida looked up, her eyes growing wide as she realized the man driving the wagon had seen her in the bed. He got out, slamming the door behind him, his face red with fury as he pointed out her.

“THIEF! You little thief! Stealing the radishes right out of my truck! Allah curse you, what are you doing you little rat?!”

Cringing, Nahida tried to hide under a sack, even though she knew it was useless. The sack was soon pulled off of her, and the man grabbed her by her dress roughly, pulling her out of the bed and tossing her on the pavement. It was hot, and burned Nahida’s bare skin, causing her to cry out in pain even as she mended her own wounds. She lay there on her back, staring up in terror at the man. It was silly perhaps, but she’d always been intimidated by those bigger than her, and there was a deeper, more primal fear.

What if she lost control? What if she killed a mortal who had done nothing wrong save to be disappointed in a worthless Archon?

“Who are you, what are you doing among my- wait! You are one of them! A cursed devil!” he looked suddenly frightened, and Nahida tried to scramble away on the pavement of the road, but she flinched, the black stuff was so burning hot!

Fear and rage radiated off the man, making Nahida wince and feel even more miserable at her failure as a god. She looked up, studying the man, trying to figure out who he was, for he was surely not from Sumeru City. His hair was dark, as were his eyes, his skin the dark brown of Karmaphala bark, with lines and wrinkles from long days in the sun, and his soul felt as though he were about four decades old. He wore blue pants of a durable-looking fabric, with shoes made of an odd rubber-like substance, and a shirt in a red and blue cross pattern with a belt.

“Devil! Get away from-”

“Hey there! What seems to be the problem?” a chipper woman’s voice said.

With tears in her eyes, Nahida looked around to see a woman twirling a spear in her hands stepping towards them. She was dressed…well, to Nahida it looked exotic, but compared to everyone else, there was something very odd about the woman. Her clothes were black, with red butterflies stitched into the hem of her garment, a long jacket paired with a dress that came down to her ankles. On her head perched a black hat with a short brim, red flowers tucked into the band, and more scarlet butterflies embroidered on it. Her eyes were red, with odd-looking pupils that looked like more red butterflies.

“Y-you! S-stay back!” the man stammered, going pale as he stepped towards his truck. “You’re another of them!”

“Me? Oh, no no! I’m licensed by our Glorious Leader and the Ba’ath Party as an Official Cape, see?” she pointed to a badge of a flag on her bosom, which had a red triangle on the left, with a black, white, and green line on it. She doffed her hat and swept a bow. “Farasha, at your service! What seems to be the problem, my dear citizen?”

“She is like you! She was stealing my radishes! She’s a thief!” the man declared, pointing again at Nahida as he tried to get away, towards the door of his wagon.

Farasha turned curious eyes on Nahida, who wilted further. The woman stank of Death. Her very aura was sick and twisted, and made Nahida’s stomach tie itself in knots. She felt like she was going to throw up. But… but the eyes were kind, and she seemed to pity Nahida.

No. Grownups couldn’t be trusted. They might seem kind, but that was only ever so they could trick Nahida into doing what they wanted. Like the Sages. She tried to be good, tried to help them, tried to be a Great Archon like Greater Lord Rukkhadevata, but she never lived up to the dreams mortals had of her.

“Well, I’ll just take her then! Thanks for your report, Citizen!” Farasha declared. Then, to Nahida’s shock, she bent and swept Nahida up in her arms, slinging her spear on her back. As she did so, she dropped her voice, “Where are you from, kid? Where are your parents?”

Nahida could barely speak, she was so overwhelmed by the smell of death, but she managed, “I-I don’t have p-parents…”

Wincing, Farasha nodded. “Yeah, I guess I should have known that. Here, I keep this for when I run across a strict imam. Wrap it around your head, hide those ears and that hair.”

Nahida took the black length of fabric, and looked up at Farasha, who was smiling at her. She felt like… grief. Sadness. Empathy. As if she knew what Nahida had gone through, was going through, and wanted to help. If this Imam… a holy man? If a holy man saw Nahida with her head uncovered and her face bare, if people saw her pointed ears and silver-white hair… there would be trouble. Hastily, Nahida wrapped the scarf around her head, so that only her eyes and nose were visible. Despite the feeling of death in Farasha’s spirit, Nahida clung to her chest as she was born away.

“No parents, huh. I can relate, unfortunately… Where are you from, sweetie? What’s your name?”

Nahida realized the error here. Farasha thought that Nahida’s parents were dead, as she was also apparently an orphan. However, Nahida had no parents in the truest sense: she had been born of a concept, the embodiment of an Aspect of Reality. In her case, she was the Wisdom of Irminsul, manifested on Teyvat.

What a cruel joke: the god of wisdom, and yet she was only a child. She could appreciate the irony at times.

However, Nahida did not correct Farasha. For one thing, grownups did not like it when you openly corrected them. For another, she was beginning to realize that Farasha, and the man from before, had no idea who Nahida was. And, actually, Nahida realized she probably wasn’t in Sumeru. How should she answer this question? It was important to be truthful, Nahida knew that, but often people did not like to hear plain truth.

So, as she was Wisdom, Nahida chose her words carefully.

“From the desert. I don’t know the name of the little town where I’m from… I… I remember being lost, then there was… the radishes. I hid in them. I didn’t know where they were going, but…”

That skipped over a great deal and was barely true, but it did satisfy Farasha. She brushed away the tears from Nahida’s eyes with her fingers and smiled her sad smile. “Shhh, it’s OK, I have you now. Can you tell me your name?”

Her name. Nahida had so many names. Dendro Archon. Buer. Lesser Lord Kusanali. The God of Wisdom.

But she decided to give none of those.

“Call me Nahida.”

“That’s a pretty name, Nahida. I’m going to take you somewhere safe, OK? Just a moment.” Farasha approached a line of clothes drying in the warm sun, and grabbed a length of white cloth. “Thank you for your donation to the Ba’ath Party, Citizen! I’ll bring it back later, never fear!”

A frightened woman who had been about to yell caught sight of Farasha. She must have sensed the Death as well, and she shrank back, hiding in her home.

Taking the cloth, Farasha hastily wrapped it about Nahida like a dress, obscuring her own clothes. “Where ever did you get those clothes? They’re very stylish, but I’m afraid they draw the eyes. Not what a young lady wants to do in Baghdad, especially not a freshly triggered parahuman. Ayah! Allah must be testing us again, hmm?”

Allah. A god? Cautiously, Nahida felt out with her spirit. Was she in the realm of another of the Seven? She didn’t sense the presence of another Archon, not in this city, or even this land. If there was a god here, they were too distant for Nahida to feel them.

She didn’t respond, instead resting her head on Farasha’s shoulder. She was so exhausted, she was even able to ignore the Death about the woman. She nearly stuck her thumb in her mouth, but didn’t. She might be a child, but that was too far. Unbecoming of a god. Though sometimes, she woke up from nightmares sucking her thumb. She always felt horribly embarrassed when she did. Even if no one ever saw.

“I know just where to take you, Nahida! Don’t worry, we won’t be going to see our Glorious Leader or my masters in the Party! No, I’ll take you to see a friend. He looks after lost little girls like you and me. There will be friends there for you to play with, would you like that?”

At the mention of ‘friends’ Nahida jerked her head up, her eyes wide. Play? Oh, how badly Nahida wanted to play! If there was one thing she wanted more than anything else in the entire world, it was friends to play with! Other children! To run, barefoot on the grass, playing games, singing, and holding hands together!

But she couldn’t. The sages never let her leave the Sanctuary, and certainly never let another child into her presence. Most days, someone simply brought her food and water, and occasionally gave her a bath. The attendants rarely even spoke to her, beyond what was strictly required. They were always so dour…

However… This was not Sumeru City. Or even Sumeru at all. Maybe not even Teyvat, for Arabic hadn’t been in any of the manuscripts in the Akademiya, and if the Sages didn’t know of a country, could it be there? That meant Nahida had a chance. It was a silly thing, but… maybe, just for once… she could be a child, and find people who loved her. But she would have to be very careful not to spoil it.

So, she smiled nervously and tried to look innocent.

“Oh-ho! You like the sound of that, don’t you?” Farasha asked, smiling with less sadness than she usually did.

Nahida nodded cautiously, looking around her. They were walking through streets that seemed magical and alien…but they were run down. There were cracks in the mortar, peeling paint, potholes in the road that had caused all that jostling, and clothes on that were stained and mended many times. The people looked downtrodden, and frightened, staying away from Farasha, even going so far as to cross the narrow street to get away from her, or ducking into buildings.

It was too bad. Farasha did feel like Death, but she was also… compassionate. Cheerful. Nahida was almost surprised the woman didn’t have a Pyro Vision. Did she lack ambition? It didn’t seem like it.

“Well, my friend is a Doctor, his name is Bashir Saeed. He’s a very kind man, who looks after certain lost children, just like you! He treats many sick children in his clinic, and was even trained far, far away, in Britain! Have you heard of Britain?”

Nahida shook her head, still watching the people around her. Some looked at her with curiosity, others with pity, a few with animosity. But mostly, they looked at her with dull, uncaring eyes. A look she was all too familiar with.

Farasha chattered away as she walked, a swing in her step and a smile on her face, but sadness in her heart. Her soul felt… wounded. Empty. There was something else there. A demon. Hiding in her spirit. But Farasha smiled anyway and laughed at a joke she told Nahida. It was actually a very funny joke, and Nahida giggled and covered her mouth with her hands. She’d have to remember that one.

It wasn’t too long before they came to a building in what Nahida had determined to be a slum, a horrible thought to her for Sumeru City had no slums, with a sign out front that read ‘Doctor Bashir Saeed, Pediatrics and Obstetrics.’ There was a short mud brick wall that was carefully whitewashed around the clinic, and a wooden gate. There was another of those wagons parked on the paved path near the building, this one white with a red crescent painted on the side and no bed. More of a carriage then? Nahida wasn’t sure.

The yard was mostly dirt and some dying grass, though there were two date palms and a small garden in the shade of the building that grew vegetables. A young girl who looked to be about six worked in the garden, wrapped in a blue shawl, and with a blue veil over her face. She looked up when Farasha approached holding Nahida, and stood there with a watering can clutched in her eyes, looking up with icy blue eyes, her expression vacant.

“Hello, Qiqi!” Farasha said brightly, kneeling down and setting Nahida on her feet on the cool bricks of the path. She reached out and rubbed Qiqi’s head. “I’ve brought you a new friend!”

“Friend?” Qiqi asked, her tone dull and listless, her gaze touching Nahida, but not seeing her.

“Say hello,” Farasha urged, gently nudging Nahida.

“H-hello. I’m Nahida.” She extended a hand in greeting, though she winced. There was also something wrong with Qiqi. Her spirit also had a demon feeding up on it. She sensed pain, so much pain, from Qiqi. So much so that the other little girl had shut herself up in her own mind, and was hiding from it, terrified to ever come out.

Qiqi looked at her blankly, until Farasha gently took her hand, and guided it to Nahida’s. “Say hello, Qiqi.”

“Hello, Qiqi.”

Farasha sighed, the pain coming off her almost too much to bear.

So, Nahida thought about it. Quickly of course, far more quickly than a mortal could. “Hello, Nahida.”

At that, Qiqi smiled faintly and took Nahida’s hand. Her touch was chilly, as if her blood didn’t circulate properly, but Nahida shook it anyway.

Farasha laughed, and much of the pain vanished from her eyes, at least for a moment. She hugged both Nahida and Qiqi tightly, kissing them on their foreheads. “You’ll be perfect for one another…”

“Qiqi? Is someone there?” a deep male voice called, and a man stepped out of the door of the clinic.

Doctor Bashir was younger than Nahida had expected, no more than thirty. His dark beard was neatly trimmed, and a mustache covered his lips as well. The rest of Bashir’s hair was close-cropped, but cut in a way Nahida surmised was fashionable and well groomed. The make of his clothes was excellent and of good materials, but not ones that Nahida had seen before. His jacket was cream colored, and a green necktie was about his neck, while his waistcoat was tan, as were his neatly pressed pants. So well shined were his shoes that they seemed to glow in the light, even with the dust and sand everywhere.

“Ah, Farasha, and who’s this?” the doctor said, stepping forward and carefully kneeling on the well-swept path, avoiding the wet patch from Qiqi’s sloppy watering of the garden.

Despite herself, Nahida felt shy and nervous, and hid behind Farasha, clutching the woman’s dress in her hand. Farasha might stink of Death, but she had been far kinder to Nahida than any grownup she’d met in… well. A very long time. Maybe ever.

“It’s OK, little one. This is Doctor Bashir, the man I told you about.”

“H-hello,” Nahida stammered, peeking out with only one eye. A doctor. A man of learning. Had he been to the Akademiya? No, no, Farasha said he’d been schooled somewhere called Britain. Besides, this world… it didn’t feel like Teyvat. Still. Nahida didn’t trust scholars. She’d had too much experience that told her not to.

Taking off his glasses and tucking them into his jacket pocket, Bashir gave Nahida a warm, kind smile, though he had to squint. He was clearly very near-sighted. “Hello. I’m Doctor Bashir. Are you sick, my friend? I help children who are ill.”

Nahida shook her head hastily. She wasn’t sick, she knew that much. Just lost.

“Nahida, introduce yourself,” Farasha encouraged, twisting around to gently guide Nahida forward.

“I… I’m Nahida,” she said, feeling foolish and oh so much like a child. When would she ever grow up? Would she ever grow up?

“Peace be upon you, Nahida,” the doctor said, putting a gentle but strong hand on Nahida’s shoulder. “Please, come inside. Qiqi, leave the watering for now. I have some popsicles in the freezer. Do you like popsicles, Nahida?”

“I don’t know,” Nahida admitted. “But I promise I’m not a picky eater. I-I am hungry, though.”

It turned out that Nahida LOVED popsicles. She picked one that was green, and it tasted of fruit and sweet sugar! She sucked on it and licked it happily, delighted to enjoy the treat. She was on her third lick when she blushed and looked up. “Um, thank you very much, Doctor Bashir. It’s good.”

He smiled at her gently as he handed Qiqi a popsicle of her own, then helped her sit down in a chair. To Nahida’s surprise, the chairs she and Qiqi sat in were sized for children, not grownups. There were grown-up chairs, Farasha was sitting in one and enjoying a red popsicle, which she was biting instead of just licking. Nahida tried a nibble, and gasped at how cold it was! How wonderful.

“Qiqi eat popsicle? Qiqi good?” the other little girl asked.

“Yes, my dear. Always,” Doctor Bashir said gently, stroking Qiqi’s head.

She nodded and began to slowly lick the popsicle. After a moment, a drop fell on her clothes. She looked down, her eyes suddenly focusing and widening in horror. “Sorry! Qiqi sorry!”

“There, there, it’s alright, dear,” Bashir said, his tone still mild and gentle as he used a cloth napkin to dab at the stain. “Just enjoy your popsicle, alright?”

Tears in her eyes, Qiqi nodded, and began slowly licking her treat once more.

Bashir sighed, and shared a long look with Farasha, who looked heartbroken as well. Then he seated himself in a chair by Nahida, a child-sized chair, despite the adult ones. Why?

He’s trying to put himself on my level, to not be intimidating. He’s making it appear we’re equals, and treating me with respect. He doesn’t even know I’m the Dendro Archon. He did the same for Qiqi, and outside, even though he got his knee dirty. He brushed it off, but there’s still dust. So he values the feelings of children more than his expensive clothes. I wonder why? I think… I think I can trust this man.

Nahida smiled nervously at Bashir, setting aside her popsicle.

“No, no, finish it, please. It will melt,” Bashir said, shaking his head and smiling.

“No melting,” Qiqi said, and pointed at Nahida’s popsicle.

Nahida dropped it in horror as cold flowed out of Qiqi’s demon and onto the popsicle.

No Vision. Not a god. How? This was impossible! The heat had been sucked away by the demon as if it had been eaten; there was no Cryo energy at all. This was unnatural.

“It’s alright, Nahida. Qiqi didn’t mean to hurt you,” Bashir said, picking up the popsicle. He tossed it into a trash bin, then stood and got another popsicle, handing it to Nahida. “Qiqi, please, no powers right now.”

“Qiqi good. No powers,” the little girl agreed. She looked down at the ground. “Qiqi bad. Qiqi sorry.”

“It’s alright, Qiqi. You just… scared me. You don’t… do you have a Vision?” Nahida asked uncertainly.

Bashir’s eyebrows shot up. “You have heard of Visions? Most in Iraq do not yet recognize the subtle distinction between parahumans and Vision holders. Where did you hear of Visions, Nahida?”

In response, Nahida reached into her robes and pulled out a mock Vision. She made it even as she reached for it, transforming a leaf she grew into one. There was so much she did not know or understand, including what a Parahuman was. That seemed very important. But she did know what a Vision looked like, even if she didn’t have one. It seemed wise not to appear to be a parahuman, or a god right now. She could just be Nahida, a little girl with a Vision. It would be unusual for a child of the age she appeared to be, but not impossible.

“Remarkable,” Bashir breathed and reached for the Vision. He paused, his fingers only inches from it, and looked at Nahida. “May I?”

She nodded, deciding she could definitely trust Doctor Bashir. He asked instead of taking. Even from a child he thought was in his power. He wasn’t like the sages at all.

He took the Vision and held it up, studying it. “Truly remarkable. It doesn’t look like any Visions I’ve seen before. Not an electrical or wind based one at all.”

“Electro or Anemo?” Nahida asked, curious. “Do you know where Visions come from?”

The Doctor’s eyes sparkled, and he grinned. “I don’t think anyone does, Nahida. Some say they are the gifts of Allah to the Faithful, to guard against the devilish parahumans. Others say they are more wicked tricks, to tempt mankind away from the path of righteousness.”

Nahida nodded, considering. “But what do you think, doctor?”

He laughed and handed the Vision back to Nahida. “I think that perhaps we are all fools sometimes. Where Visions come from, only Allah knows. Certainly not I. Where do you think Visions come from, Nahida? You have one, not I.”

She considered her answer carefully, and answered the question with a question. “Well, what does the word Vision mean?”

Bashir considered that, frowning thoughtfully. “It can mean sight, or what one sees. Or, it can mean a plan or goal. What Vision do you have, Nahida?”

That was a good question. What was her Vision? What goals or plans did she have? She had dreams, of course, of being free, of being free, of being a good Archon, but right now…

“To be at peace, and to live in peace,” Nahida said, looking down at her popsicle.

“A good vision. As is this. Keep it safe, and Allah willing, your Vision will come to pass, Nahida.” He handed her the Vision, looking pleased with her answer. “But do not show your Vision to others. Many in this city believe that Allah curses those who have Visions, and would harm you for having it.”

Nahida nodded, thoughtfully licking her popsicle as she tucked the false Vision away. She felt guilty about tricking Bashir, but she didn’t want to tell him she was a god. It seemed that this Allah was a jealous deity, and his followers could be dangerous if they thought you had wronged him. She would keep certain thoughts to herself.

It was too bad, she would have to return to Sumeru, somehow. It wasn’t safe here. But, then again… did they even want her there? Wouldn’t they be better off without her? Perhaps she could stay, just a little longer. At least long enough to have another popsicle.

“She said her parents are dead,” Farasha said, licking her fingers with the little wooden stick from the popsicle stuck in her mouth. “I was certain she had Triggered. She looks more like a parahuman.”

“Does she?” Bashir turned back to Nahida, frowning. “I might need to examine you, Nahida. Do not worry; I am a doctor, it is my job.”

She nodded, uncertain. That was something it was natural to tell an embarrassed child, but… there was something else. An implication? Nahida wasn’t sure.

She took off her headwrap and makeshift dress, and Bashir sucked in a breath.

“O merciful Allah, shelter your daughter in this time,” he muttered, though his heart wasn’t in the prayer. They were just words to him. He seemed shocked at her appearance though. Interesting. Were there no elves in this land? He seemed a learned man, and while a yokel might be surprised to see an elf, a scholar should not be.

He let Nahida finish the popsicle, then took her to a room with a bed on it, and various tools for examination. He looked at Nahida thoroughly, even giving her something called an ‘x-ray’ that bombarded her with strange energy, but apparently let him see her bones. He drew some blood as well, and Nahida was embarrassed to admit she cried and flinched, even though he was very quick, as well as gentle and kind. It was more the thought of it than anything else, even though the amount of blood he took wouldn’t have been harmful to even a mortal child, let alone a god who could regenerate the blood even before it was gone.

“You definitely appear to be a parahuman, though I don’t have the tools fine enough to locate a corona pollentia,” Bashir told her. “That’s a development in the brain that indicates a parahuman over a Vision holder. Very interesting. This is a new type of Vision though, not… what did you say? Ah, Electro or Anemo. I have heard these terms before.”

“It’s Dendro,” Nahida told him. “The elemental energy of life.”

That was more than perhaps was strictly wise to say, but she felt guilty about lying earlier, and she really did like and trust Bashir.

“Is it? Fascinating,” Bashir murmured, not contradicting Nahida though she sensed some doubt in him. “I would like to study its effects… but…”

It was growing dark outside, and Nahida was curious herself. “Can people see the garden? From the street?”

“Hmm? No, but it’s almost time for evening prayers,” Bashir told her. “We should go to the mosque. Then perhaps a little gardening.”

Bashir had Nahida wrap her head again and put on a dress that covered her more completely, leaving only her arms bare. She resisted at first when he gave her a pair of Qiqi’s shoes to wear, always preferring to go barefoot. She relented when he insisted sternly, warning her that she would burn her feet on the, he called it asphalt? She thought it was the dark road, and that little girls should wear shoes.

“I’ll come with you,” Farasha said, coming out with Qiqi in her arms. She had put on a headscarf herself and was wearing a dark dress with red flowers embroidered on it instead of her other outfit.

Bashir smiled at her. “I would like that. It would be good for you to be seen at a mosque for prayers.”

“Well, I promise to at least move my lips,” Farasha teased, which made Bashir sigh, and Nahida suppressed a giggle. They seemed to like one another a lot. She did tend to think of open displays of affection as gross, like most children did, but she was also curious and fascinated by them, and tried to be mature about it.

The temple they went to had a dome-shaped top and a tall spire, and Farasha took Qiqi and Nahida to a different opening from Bashir, where only men and older boys were entering. The women went around to the side, to a separate chamber. The other women stayed away from Farasha and Qiqi, and Nahida by extension since she was with them, keeping their children away from the three.

“Sorry, Nahida. Looks like you’re a weirdo like Qiqi and me,” Farasha said, laying out the rug that she’d carried from the clinic. Nahida laid her own rug down, as did Qiqi, and both girls copied the motions of the others as they all faced a wall and said prayers to Allah.

Nahida didn’t pray, so much as try to reach out to the other god and get his attention. She sensed …something. What, she wasn’t sure, but she didn’t try too hard, being worried about drawing this stern deity's attention. Was he like Celestia or the Sustainer of Heavenly Principles? Nahida had done her best not to attract their attention and didn’t intend to change that. So she kept her spiritual voice quiet when she asked politely if anyone was home, and got no response. It was something of a relief, but also a mystery.

If a foreign god had cried out like this in Sumeru City, Nahida would certainly have heard them and answered.

After, Farasha left right away, and Nahida held Qiqi’s hand and led her long. They found Bashir talking with a man in a white turban with dark robes on. He too had on glasses and had a neatly trimmed beard, and was about Bashir’s age. By the way they stood so closely and how they touched one another as they walked, they were obviously very close. Nahida didn’t see any features that would indicate they were blood relatives, but that wasn’t always a certain thing.

“Ah, this must be the new lost one you have found, my brother,” the robed man said. He had a sense about him that he was a holy man, and Nahida surmised he was the imam.

She bowed to him, saying, “Peace be unto you, Imam.”

“And also with you, child,” the Imam said, a smile in his voice as he nodded his head to her. He turned to Bashir. “This one can speak, at least. You had me worried, Saeed.”

“There is no reason to worry, Taher. I make more than enough to care for one more mouth,” Bashir said with a smile of his own. He went over and put a hand on both Nahida and Qiqi’s heads, and it was… nice. A gesture of fatherly affection and love. Nahida subconsciously grabbed Bashir’s pant leg with her fingers and realized that Qiqi was doing the same, though she was looking ahead at nothing in particular.

“Hmm. But you do not take in lambs that are not lame.” Imam Taher turned to Farasha, and this time he scowled. “Peace be unto you, Hutah. It is good to see you in the house of Allah.”

“Oh, no need to play nice, Mohamad. We both know you’ll scrub the floors extra hard after my filthy self set foot in here,” Farasha said in chipper tones that dripped venom. Nahida hadn’t realized it had been possible to sound so polite and happy and yet be so acidic and hateful at the same time.

The Imam sighed and raised a hand towards Farahsa. “Blessings upon you, Hutah. Not every Imam thinks parahumans are a curse sent by Allah.”

She smiled, then skipped off, going to wait out in the street. An open space in the stream of people formed around her, and people subconsciously shied away even when they obviously didn’t consciously realize Farasha was there. Was Hutah a first name? Surname? Farasha seemed offended by it.

“That woman… must you bring her here, Bashir? I trust you, and have known you all my life, but…”

“As you said. All are welcome in the house of Allah. Even such as these,” Bashir said, nodding to the girls beside him.

The Imam looked down, and gave a sad smile. “Yes. Though she feels… well. I trust your judgment. You would not allow a dangerous person near Qiqi. Peace be with you this evening.”

The Imam went off to talk with other men, and Bashir guided Nahida and Qiqi through the crowd. Many other men came to speak with Bashir, and Nahida noted they were all fathers with daughters between the ages of sixteen and twenty-four. The young girls stayed with their mothers over by the women, but by the way they batted their eyes at Bashir and how the fathers all mentioned how much Bashir needed a wife, or how delicious their daughters' cooking was, she gathered this as some sort of courtship ritual.

Bashir, however, didn’t seem interested. He seemed, well, not oblivious, but politely ignored the efforts, even the invites to meals that the young women would be delighted to cook for him. At last they were out in the street with Farasha, who fell into step with Bashir.

“Qiqi tired,” the other girl said, tugging on Bashir’s pant leg.

He smiled and lifted Qiqi into his arms, where she looked at least a little more content than usual.

Someone suddenly grabbed Nahida and tickled her, making her gasp in delight before she found herself swung up onto Farasha’s shoulders. She laughed and spread her arms wide, utterly delighted as they made their way down the road, back to the clinic.

There was a small set of apartments above the clinic, where Bashir prepared a meal while Farasha took Nahida and Qiqi to clean up for dinner.

“You’ll probably sleep in the same room as Qiqi, hope you don’t mind that, Radish!” Farasha said, gesturing to the room. It was painted sky blue, and had images of red and blue butterflies drawn in glorious colors on the walls. There was a corner where someone, definitely Qiqi, had scribbled with wax pencils on the wall, and no effort had been made to remove it. There was a dresser with neatly folded clothes that fit Nahida and Qiqi well, they were about the same size, and bins of toys. Real toys!

Dolls and figures with clothes, brushes, and even a small house to live in! Animals with soft skin or hard bodies of a substance Nahida didn’t know, and species she didn’t recognize at all! Books in Arabic and another language with very different angular letters, though they all had bright pictures. More wax pens and books with black and white drawings meant for coloring! Wagons and carriages with moving wheels, and something else.

A book, hidden in the dresser, with an image of a smiling girl with a dragon hovering by her shoulder, a sword in her hands, and an aura of power about her. But behind her…behind her was…

“Beelzebul,” Nahida whispered.

“Hmm? Oh! You found the book I got for Qiqi!” Farasha said brightly, coming over to point at the cover. “It’s about a little girl with powers, like you two! She’s-”

“Lightning Princess Ami,” Nahida said absently, flipping through the book and reading it. She paused, then went back and started from the rear. Apparently, you read it backward. So absorbed was she that she didn’t notice Farasha gawking at her until she’d read several pages. Then she blushed and looked up. “Um, I like it. Is it alright for me to read it?”

“Where did you learn to read? Let alone English,” Farasha asked, totally mystified.

Realizing her error, Nahida blushed and lowered the book. “Um, I like the pictures?”

“I guess so,” Farashaw said, taking the book. She examined it, then pointed to one of the bubbles that had speaking in it. “What’s this say?”

For a brief moment, Nahdia considered feigning ignorance, but she decided against it. “<‘Ugh, I can’t believe Uncle Mushu grounded us, Jessica. We could totally help in the battle against Heartbreaker!’>”

Farashaw frowned and flipped the book over, her eyes scanning the page. “Fuck me if I can read this shit.”

Nahida gasped, her hands flying to her mouth, her eyes growing wide. She turned to look at Qiqi, who was standing there, half-dressed, not looking at much of anything again. Good. Maybe she hadn’t heard the Bad Words.

“Oh! Sorry!” Farashaw blushed bright red, and put a finger to her lips. “Don’t tell the Doc I said that, OK? I mean, what you said sounded like English to me. Oh! Come on, Qiqi, pull on your clothes.”

After getting Qiqi dressed and Nahida changed into evening clothes, they went and had dinner with the doctor. Nahida ate ravenously, asking for and getting thirds and even fourths of falafel balls, kebab meat, and vegetables from the garden. Qiqi ate quietly and only at Farashaw’s or Bashir urged her.

“Someone’s hungry,” Bashir said, shaking his head. “I should have fed you more than a popsicle earlier. I apologize, Nahida.”

She paused, carefully wiping her mouth with a napkin. “No, no, it’s just, I rarely have such wonderful food! Thank you, I was very hungry!”

“Hey, doc, by the way, what does this say,” Farashaw said, holding up Lightning Princess Ami, Volume 17, for him to read, to the same page that she’d shown Nahida.

He glanced at it, then said, “Ami is protesting that Mushu has grounded her and Jessica, and they can’t help Raiden against Heartbreaker.”

“No, in English. Say it in English,” Farashaw urged, and Nahida felt sick, and tried to hide under the table. She had ruined it. These wonderful people, and they were going to label her as an aberration, and reject her, just like she’d been rejected so many times before!

Bashir looked puzzled, but read, “<‘Ugh, I can’t believe Uncle Mushu grounded us, Jessica. We could totally help in the battle against Heart Breaker!’> Nahida, why are you hiding? Is something wrong? Did you give yourself an upset stomach?”

“Straight truth, she said exactly the same thing when she read the book,” Farashaw said, pointing to Nahida, who by now was crouching under the table and trembling with her arms wrapped around her knees.

Bashir’s chair scraped back, and he asked, “Really?” A moment later, his head appeared under the table, proffering the book to Nahida. “Can you read this?”

She debated internally for only an instant, before biting her lip nervously and nodding. “Yes.”

“Truly?” Bashir crawled under the table, though he was now dressed in robes instead of his nice clothes, so it was probably alright. Bashir lay down, scooting next to Nahida and pointing to the book. “Can you read this for me?”

Nahida nodded, and looked down, then hesitated. “Um, in English, or Arabic?”

“Can you do both?” he asked, clearly surprised.

“Yes…”

“Then by all means! Please do so!”

His enthusiasm was obvious, and as Nahida began to read, Qiqi crawled down next to her, looking at the pages of the book. Farasha joined them, and Nahida read several pages, first in the original English, then translating to Arabic on the fly. It was easy for her, of course, but both adults were clearly stunned at her display of linguistic skill.

After reading for a bit, Nahida looked up, nervous, and Bashir shook his head slowly. “Nahida, how old are you?”

That took some serious thinking. Hedging, Nahida asked, “What’s today’s date?”

“October the 27th, 2003,” Bashir asked, his brow furrowing.

“Then…” she swallowed. She figured out that this was the tenth month, though what the years meant was beyond her limited understanding right now. “It’s my birthday…I’m five…

“Remarkable,” Bashir gasped, speaking quickly enough that he interrupted Nahida before she could add the “hundred and five” part. She felt grateful, but that same lingering sense of guilt. A lie of omission was still a lie.

“You’re a little smarty pants, aren’t you, Radish?” Farashaw laughed, and ruffled Nahida’s hair.

She smiled hesitantly, looking at Bashir to see his reaction. He looked astonished, and sat up, banging his head on the table. “Ah!” Rubbing his head, he winced and gave Nahida a sheepish smile. “Well, I wish I had known! I would have made a cake.”

“Cake?” Nahida gasped. A cake, for her birthday? A real cake?! She’d always dreamed of one!

“Cake!” Farasha declared. “Sorry kid, we’ll make one tomorrow.”

It was all too much. Nahida broke down crying. An instant later, cold arms wrapped themselves around here.

“Don’t be sad,” Qiqi said.

Nahida clung to the other girl and wept, even as two sets of warm arms wrapped themselves around her.

“Happy birthday, Nahida,” Bashir said gently. “Welcome home.”

“Let’s sing!” Farasha declared, and the adults broke into song.

Happy Birthday to you

Happy Birthday to you

Happy Birthday Nahida

Happy Birthday to you.

“You smell like a radish, and you look like one too!” Farashaw added at the end, then tickled Nahida so hard she stopped crying and started giggling hysterically.

After that, Nahida was exhausted and started to fall asleep. She and Qiqi were put to bed by Farashaw and Bashir, where the two girls curled up next to one another. Before long, Nahida drifted off to sleep.

It was her best birthday, ever.

Author's Note: 

Please welcome Desert Chocolate, who has agreed to be my cultural consultant for all things related to arabic culture and Islam. It's important to get these details right, and while I have basic knowledge of Japanese and European culture by sheer osmosis if nothing else, it was important to me to find someone who could help me not only get the little details right, but ensure that this was respectful to Islam and the arabic world too.

Even if they are about to get adopted by a radish.