The Rise of Rebellion

Preview

"They say you are dead. They do. They say you are dead. I know different." Inni bent over the shrouded form and laid one hand over Niala’s heart. "I have tried to tell them. I have. No one listens. They think I am mad and will not listen. But I do not care because I know the truth."

Her voice dropped to a whisper that scarcely echoed in the cavern. "It is our secret, eh, Niala Aaminah Zahava? Our secret. "

Inni cupped a palm around her ear, listened intently and then chuckled. "I know, I should not call you Zahava, but you will always be my teacher. My sister. My savior. Without you, I would be lost."

Slowly and with great tenderness, Inni folded the sheet down to Niala’s shoulders and placed a kiss on the cold forehead. "Today I must comb out your hair for it has become matted and untidy. How you do it, I do not know. Do you get up and play while I am gone? That must be it, you sly one! You trick me and lie sleeping when I am with you, but when I turn my back, off you go."

Inni tied a leather lace around her own straggling gray locks before she set about undoing the long coil of auburn braid. Settling onto a low stool, she took the thick, heavy hair in her hands and buried her face in it.

"Do you like the rose water I bathed you in?" Inni asked. "You still smell of it, though it is fading. I have some nice, fresh lemongrass for next week. I know how you love lemongrass."

The herbs used to cleanse Niala’s body before interment had included lemongrass, just because she loved the scent. "We did not bury you, though, now did we?" Inni said, smiling. "We told them we would, but we did not. I would not let them, Niala. I would not let them put you underground. I know you are not dead."

Sectioning the strands, Inni began to work the comb through the tangles. Every once in awhile, the teeth caught and pulled a small clump of hair loose. Inni carefully gathered every tuft and placed them in her pocket They would go into the wooden box already filled with shed locks that Inni kept.

Once every strand lay soft and shining, Inni deftly pulled it back into a neat braid and curled it up beside Niala’s body.

"There, Niala. Is that not much better? You look beautiful! And people say you are dead. They have not seen you, have they? No, they have not. I tell them, but they do not look." Her voice lowered. "Of course, I say nothing to them, for they would surely destroy you if they knew. I do not tell Pallin either. She is too busy with her children. I want to tell Jahmed, but she throws her hands up and does not want to hear my tale. It is their loss, is it not?"

Sighing, Inni smoothed a stray curl from Niala’s cheek. "Someday they will see. Someday I will show them. Someday."

"Not dead…not dead…not dead…" Chanting the words tunelessly, Inni pulled the shroud over Niala’s face and patted her cheek. "Until tomorrow, beloved."