usha (u-sha) noun

Foreigner; someone from another land who comes to another not their own; an outsider; a stranger

***

They only met on four occasions: first when she was five and he was eight, second on their engagement day when she was ten and he was thirteen, and third on their wedding day when she was sixteen. And that day of the ritual when her father declared her as the next Oracle.

It was not a rare thing. It was only common for a woman to marry at sixteen and only get to know her husband on her twenty-first rain when they could finally be live together and build their own family. Nearly everyone in her village had gone through the same, but Nascha was not sure if they experienced the same strange feeling. She could not grasp the reality that she was tied to a man she barely knew. Much more so to someone like Kalesch Djozeh. He was too... high. He had always been. As scholars, their family was the most respected in their village. Kalesch mastered Tomera before the other children his age could even properly yell sateh—stop. He went wherever his father went, carried his scrolls, read them during formal ceremonies, and was writing his own before he turned ten. It was not a surprise when King Amatif personally selected him to be Prince Laku's advisor.

And being an advisor to the prince of the Umoji Empire placed him higher than anyone in Pareysha, even the other villages in Tomesh. So why was he married to the youngest daughter of a scribe?

But after that short and awkward meeting at the House of Djozeh, after Kalesch strongly suggested that they keep the Oracle discovery a secret until they came up with a plan, Nascha finally realized why Kairo Djozeh chose her to marry his son. And it was not because she was pretty (although in her mother's opinion she's a pretty girl, and she agreed to some extent). She looked like every other girl in the village, except for the times when she would sometimes sneak out and hide somewhere to do nothing during certain ceremonies, or even during normal days. She was normal.

So it sparked such a huge curiosity when she was told she'd be marrying the son of the Great Scholar. No, that was not what her father told her. He had said that Kairo Djozeh chose her. What did he see in her?

Now, many years later, she knew the answer. They believed she was the next Oracle. Kairo Djozeh had guessed that the next Oracle would be from the Yakine family. Nascha was actually disappointed that the Great Scholar would even make guesses. He was a scholar for a reason. So how did he make the guess? Had they, the scholars, come upon some ancient texts that said so? Did they have knowledge from the previous Oracle that they did not share with everyone? That must be it, she thought, because surely scholars did not just guess. Kairo Djozeh's guess must have been a calculative one. Otherwise, she would hate to disappoint them if she did not turn out to be what they guessed.

Her father forbade her to tell anyone, even her mother. He was elated, of course, but she couldn't even feel the same. She had her own internal problems to deal with. Karei, the woman accused of witchcraft, was undergoing trial and Nascha could not let the woman die. It would be too much for her conscience.

She had to do something to stop it. Stop everything. And as soon as she thought about everything, she began to panic again. She jumped out of bed, giving up on sleep. Through her open window, the moonlight was blue, slicing through her room. Her parents were next door, sound asleep. Looking out the window, she could see the silhouette of the butte—there, right in the center of the frame was the tall rock mountain that held the king's tomb.

She rubbed her face in frustration, froze with a thought, and hesitated for a tiny moment. Kalesch Djozeh told them to wait. But how could she? She was not sleeping tonight and she had nothing to do but fret over what she had done. And waiting was never her best talent. The children, Peru and her siblings, could tell anyone anytime. Turning, Nascha grabbed her thickest and darkest wrap and sneaked out of the house.

And so it was that she was later somewhere else, hidden in the shadows of a large rock, sitting on the cold hard ground watching the two people standing before the rock door of the tomb. Her father had carved Tomera prayers on its surface. Enchantments to make the tombs impenetrable. And so far in Tomesh history, no tomb had ever been broken into. None.

Maybe because no one tried, Nascha thought. Sometimes, she disliked herself for doubting the beliefs of her people. Why did they give Tomera too much regard? Yes, it was an ancient language, and yes, it was supposed to be gifted to them by the sand god. But who could prove that? The ancient writings? But those writings could have been written by someone like her centuries ago. Someone who had the same fantasy as her.

What if we are believing a lie? A fantasy? Just like what I wrote in that arnucc?

It was not that Nascha did not believe in magic. In fact, she liked magic and she wished they existed. She just wanted reasons. Why was Tomera so sacred they could not use it elsewhere? Why—

Well, now that she asked the question, she thought she had the answer. Maybe her people were right after all. Maybe there was a reason they could not use Tomera just anywhere.

Because it really has magic.

She groaned and closed her eyes against the view of the two motionless priests, burying her face in her hands, sliding it up to fist her hair and tug in frustration and helplessness. She was too frail to even move that rock. And what would happen to her if she entered the tomb? The king's journey in afterlife might be disrupted. Worse, she would be inside a dark chamber with a dead man—a charred one at that.

"What are you doing here?"

She jumped in surprise, scrambling to her knees, and stopped, stupefied.

Kalesch.

She tore her eyes off him and found Alika Phyrah walking toward her two companions, wearing her white priestess dress, the gold band around her head and arms and hair catching the moonlight. From afar, she looked like some kind of a desert deity who would punish a girl planning to trespass a king's tomb. Or even kill the same girl for a selfish reason like stealing the man she loved. Nascha's eyes flew to her husband. "Were you with her?"

"I asked first," he said, looking down at her. He was in a blue and gold wrap, his dark hair gently moving with the wind except for the locks with tiny gold rings in the end—just like hers, only that hers were a total mess. He was not handsome. His nose was too high, his lips too full. But he had a well-sculpted jaw, one she would love to carve on a stone just because it had a sharp angle. His deep-set eyes sparked an uncomfortable feeling within her. Or it may be the way his long, thick brows dipped down in an eternal frown that made Nascha wish she was not married to him. She could also think of other good reasons, but since they were already married, it was too late for that. If she lived to her twenty-first rain, she would have to live with this man who frowned and who liked someone else.

"I couldn't sleep," she said, looking at the hand he extended. Around his wrist was a wide gold band, and she saw her reflection there. She looked stupid and scared. Her long black hair could house an egg or two. Clearing her throat, she stood without taking his help. It was too early in their marriage to touch each other. "What are you doing here?"

His eyes were on her—specifically her hair, which she did not bother to fix because attempting to do so would only make it worse if she did not remove the gold rings. "I had to discuss some plans with the priests." He started to turn, then stopped to wait for her. "I'll walk you home."

She did not argue. She was lucky enough to get caught doing nothing. He was not following her. And why would he follow her? He was here to talk with the priests. Or rather, just one priestess.

She had never spoken to him directly before this day, nor had she shared a walk with him. Was this how her sisters felt when they had to finally get together with their husbands? Did it also feel like they were walking over pockets of air hidden underneath the dunes? Everyone in their village had always been baffled why the Djozeh family chose her. They had assumed, even Nascha, that they would ask Alika Phyrah, the priestess. She had spent more time with Kalesch since they were young. It had always been that way in their village. The scholars were above all, the priests above the rest. But things were so as they were because of a guess Kairo Djozeh made. No one may ever discover why she was chosen until Kalesch could prove she was indeed the one.

"You don't believe I'm it, right?" she asked, stealing him a glance. His eyes were on the road ahead of them. They had just entered the village, now walking on a stone pavement, each one perfectly laid out better than Nascha's current state of mind. The stone houses were built close together, with narrow paths in every block that led to more houses. The entire village sloped up the hill to loom over the foot of the village.

"We need to verify," he said. His voice was just like any normal Tomesh man, but it lacked soul. Character. He could very well sound like the king if the man could talk inside that tomb. "There is a process."

There is?

"But it can be not true, right?" she asked hopefully.

His eyes moved sideways, landing on her. She blinked away and looked at the inclining road ahead, feeling her tangled hair and the weight of the rings attached to them. "It can also be true," he said.

The hairs on her arms stood. Oh, she could think of many great things if she turned out to be the Oracle. But she could also think of many terrible things. Such as sitting in a chamber full of men talking about politics, or having guards around her all the time. They would constantly ask her if she saw the distant future of the empire. If the stories of the previous Oracle were ever true, then she would have the same life as him. She would be bound to the royal family as their most important advisor. There would be no time for herself or the things she enjoyed doing—which was nothing.

"You believe it then?" she asked.

His tone when he asked, "You don't?" gave her the image of him frowning. She shrugged and said nothing. That's all she could do if her opinions disagreed with Tomesh beliefs. "You don't want to be one?"

Nascha just realized she was having a conversation with her husband. Her rayeshka. She shivered at the word. The word felt surreal. It felt... big. And so ambitious. She, a scribe, married to a scholar.

"Nascha," he said, stopping. She did too, because he just called her by her name for the first time. This was their first walk, their first conversation. She was hoping to sneak into a tomb tonight, not walk down the road with a man as if they were...well, they were married. Perhaps that's the only thing that was real tonight and even that did not feel right. "If you are who your father hopes you are, you will have to accept it."

She was already shaking her head before he finished, and he frowned, his eyes narrowing with curiosity. "I don't think I'm the..." she leaned closer and murmured, "Oracle," and leaned back to meet his intimidating gaze. "I think I'm something else."

"What do you mean?"

Could she trust this man? She moistened her lips and looked around. If she told him, he may think she's crazy. Or a witch. Or he may believe her and think of her a murderer.

"Nascha," he said again, voice curious and low.

She stepped back. She knew something they did not. She knew her story. "I think I'm something else."

"What do you mean?"

"I did not foresee the king's death. I wrote it," she said. "I carved it inside the arnucc."

He remained motionless, but his eyes started to understand what she was trying to say.

"Months ago—and it happened just as how I carved it."

"You are saying you killed the king."

"Well, I did not light the fire that charred him. You know that. I was here in Tomesh," she said with a flicker of annoyance in her eyes. "I did it with a chisel and a hammer inside a tomb and I didn't even mean it." And I there's also Karei who will die in the desert if I don't stop it.

He looked scandalized, as anyone would if they believed her story. "You used Tomera to carve a story—"

"And that's the only rule I broke." As he opened his mouth to speak, she held up her hand. "If you're going to drag me before anyone to accuse me of murder, you need to know something important first." Kalesch paused and waited. He was a patient man, Nascha realized. But his patience was a different kind. It was silent, but it was also demanding. "The things on that piece of paper are just the start of my stories."

He stiffened. "What else did you carve, Nascha?" he asked.

She bit her lip. "But first, promise me you will not turn me in."

He shook his head in disbelief. "I don't even think I believe you."

"Supposing that you do, promise me."

"Supposing that I do, I will not drag you anywhere to turn you in because you're my..." he faltered, looked around, not saying the word. Maybe she wasn't the only one uncomfortable with the word. "Turning you in will bring trouble to both our families."

She blinked in surprise realization. "Of course," she said, lifting her chin as if she had always thought of that.

He stepped closer, and she held her breath. "What else did you carve in the arnucc?"

She cleared her throat and took a step back. "Actually, I don't remember everything. There were too many stories."

"Stories."

She nodded and bit her lower lip. "Do you think you can talk to Alika? Ask her to let us sneak in the arnucc?"

He looked like she just told him their world was ending. "Impossible."

"Why?"

"Because the tomb is sealed, Nascha."

"Not if we open it."

"We can't. It's sealed by a powerful enchantment."

She blinked at him in disbelief. "Don't tell me you believe they work."

His frown deepened. "And don't tell me you don't believe they do."

The scoff that escaped her must have given him the answer, and he just shook his head.

"I really need to get into that tomb, Kalesch," she said, calling him by his name for the first time.

He searched her face, his own filled with incredulity. "Why?"

"Because I really need to destroy my carvings."

He shook his head again, his lips in a tight smile that did not look like a smile. "What I'd actually do is wait for what will happen next for more proof."

Ah, so that's the kind of wait he was talking about. Not an excellent plan.

"Was the rain not enough?"

"The rain is nothing but—"

"A coincidence?" she asked, brows arched high.

His jaw tightened.

"There is not such thing as coincidences in Tomesh, right?" Before he could utter a reply, she added, "If you know what I carved in there, you will be as desperate as me to not wait."

"And what else did you carve?"

"Your death." This time, Kalesch looked genuinely alarmed that she almost did not add what she said next. "And Prince Laku's death and the destruction of the empire."