Chapter 71
It seems to me more important
Actually to share someone's distress
Than to use smooth words about it.
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—Dietrich Bonhoeffer
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MIKHAIL
“Mikhail?" Pareesa calls into the tent. "Nusrat wants to speak with you.”
I look up from the pile of machetes we've spent the morning wrapping in strips of goat-hide. We shall break camp after the sun passes the midday apex.
I follow Pareesa to where the Halifians have lifted up the sides of a tent to turn it into a gigantic canopy. Early this morning a Sata’anic shuttle flew directly overhead. I suspect it was just on a supply run because it didn't turn around.
“Winged one?” Nusrat says in broken, but understandable Ubaid. He holds out a rough, brown robe. “This belonged to my brother Lubaid. Zahid,” he spits upon the ground, “beheade
