Draped in Shadow

Ayah

She stumbled down the steps, choking on smoke, eyes stinging, ears ringing from the chaos; guests pouring out of the doors, the raging fire burning its way through the building, lighting up the inside with a golden glow, thick black smoke curling towards the glittering night sky.

She followed her family to the street, and stood with them, trembling, watching helplessly as the last few guests ran out of the hotel, as the shurta tried to keep everyone calm, as carriages from the hospital drew up to carry away the unlucky that had collapsed soon after escaping. Her brother stood stock still, face white as sheet; her mother sobbing into her father's shoulder, who watched the scene unfold with fear in his eyes.

A guard with a piece of paper came, took their names, then passed to the next huddle of people.

Ayah shivered. They were making sure that no one had been left inside.

Just then, there was a gasp from the crowd as the fire reached the outermost pillars of the hotel, slithering up the great columns, eating away at the marble, crawling up the front façade in great leaps until it reached the roof – which collapsed in on itself with a great crash, just as a lone figure flung out of the door and descended the steps, fire right on its heels.

There were gasps and shrieks. Kaasim buried his head in her stomach. Ayah gripped her father's arm.

'What kind of fire burns through marble?', her father whispered.

At his words, her hands dropped to her sides.

What? No.

Her shell-shocked brain creaked onto a train of thought that would haunt her for the rest of the night.

There was casibe stored in Varana. That's where the university got its supply from.

A casibe – fueled fire burnt through stone.

She'd discovered that.

Someone had used it to their advantage.

Her hands trembled. She felt sick.

The same guard who had come round now stood on a crate in the centre of the crowd. One by one, people fell silent, the crackling of the fire the only sound as the hotel was consumed.

'The state of Kizdir apologises deeply for this', he said, mopping his forehead with a handkerchief, 'we are still investigating the cause of the fire, but we are very grateful that everyone has survived this terrible catastrophe, and...'

'Not. Everyone'.

Everyone turned as the crowd of Parjuri delegates parted, and a young woman strode forward, her blue silk ensemble in shreds, her long hair singed, trails of black smudging her cheeks where mascara had run away with her tears. Hennaed hands clenched into fists, she tilted up her chin.

'I was the last person to escape, and my brother died in front of my eyes'.

A massive crash followed as a part of the façade of Varana fell into the dying fire.

The guard turned to face her, wiping one hand on his trouser, peering at the sheet of paper in his hand. He frowned.

'What was your brother's name?'

'He won't be on the list. Because he wasn't a guest. He made this event'.

'Ma'am, I don't know know what'... he looked up, then pointed at a suited man at the back who Ayah recognised as the mayor, who was talking to a Shurta in a low voice', 'I am responsible for the guests, and he is the event manager, so if you need help please'...

'I don't care who's responsible', snapped the girl, and as Ayah watched the delegates behind her, the way they looked at the girl with deference, the way she held her head high, the diamonds weaved into her hair, she realised something even before the girl spoke the words, 'My brother is the Crown Prince of Parjur, and he has died in that fire, but seems that Aviserey isn't bothered about it at all'. Her voice cracked.

There was a shocked silence. Then the guests began to whisper. The mayor of Parjur finished his conversation with the chief of police and hurried to the Parjuri delegates.

'Baba', said Ayah, choking on his name, touching his shoulder, 'Let's go'.

Her father jerked out of his daze. He nodded placed a hand on Kassim's shoulder, and began to guide them down the street.

But the shurta who had been talking to the mayor blocked Ayah's path, flanked by two other guards, his long face set like stone.

'Ayah Davan, you are under arrest for alleged arson. Your interrogation will take place tomorrow morning. Now, kindly follow me'.

'What?'

He held up a piece of paper – her notepaper. How the rukh had it got in his hands?

'This morning you, young lady, were conducting licensed experimentation on casibe, in which you discovered that a fire fueled by the mineral could burn through stone. We have come to know that there was a large casibe supply in Varana. Earlier during the event, your brother was found with poison-tipped knife in his possession...', his voice was growing louder every minute; she closed her eyes and shook her head. She could feel the heat of everyone's gaze on her. This was insane.

'...therefore we must keep you under custody until matters are resolved'.

As her arms were cuffed behind her back, and she was led into the dark carriage, she didn't know who sobbed the chief of police's name pleadingly or started screaming at the Ruhani, who had apparently been in the crowd all along, to do something. When she was seated inside the carriage, arms straining from the metal cuffs that dug into her wrists, flanked by two guards, she watched as the mayor sat on the cushioned seat across from her, hands folded in his lap.

'May I ask you a question?'

He looked at her in surprise. What was he thinking? That she would let loose a string of colourful curses?

To be honest, that was exactly what she was tempted to do.

'You may'.

'How did my notes end up with you?'

He looked out of the window set in the door of the carriage as the horse began to trot forward, moving the carriage joltingly along with it.

'I can't tell you'.

'Sir', she sighed, 'I, a student of Kizdir, have just been arrested on the basis of notes that your colleague handed to you this afternoon, without any consideration of the fact that any other individual or group could have stolen the discovery I made, acted upon it, and handed you what I had written to frame me.'

The three men stared at her, wide – eyed.

'Ms. Davan', said the shurta in what he thought was a parental tone, 'We are taking into consideration all other factors. We are not saying you committed the crime, but we have to take our precautions, especially as your brother turned up with a...'

'My brother', she snapped, 'Is nine years old and eats bananas for breakfast. Does it occur to you that anyone could have slipped it on him as a prank?', the man opened his mouth to say something. She almost snarled the next few words. 'Don't bring my family into this, officer. My mother is already quite unwell. It's a wonder she didn't faint tonight'.

She was fuming. He shut his mouth and looked out window, muttering something about her not being afraid and gentle like most girls and it was a wonder that she hadn't started - crying like a girl?

That was it. Her tongue was loose.

'Oh, I am absolutely afraid, sir. I'm terrified. I almost died tonight, and I face the possibility of living in a cell for the rest of my years. But I am not afraid to talk my mind. And if you want me to cry, I very much will, except when I start crying like a girl, I am very loud, and I don't stop.'

She leaned back into her seat.

The rest of the ride was in silence.