Page 69 of The Silent

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“NotNiran?”

“Sura,” Bun Ma said. “AlwaystellSura.”

Intira ran up, a length of fabric folded in her hands. “Give this to Prija to bringherhome.”

Kyra took the fabric. It was a handwoven length of cloth, designed to be hung on a wall or pieced into a jacket. “Intira, this is beautiful. Did you make this?” Kyra knew Bun Ma had been teaching the girl how to weave as part of her meditation practice, but she had no idea her weaving was soadvanced.

“Yes.” Intira jumped up and down. “Give it to Prija and she’llcomehome.”

Kyra looked at the fabric. Clusters of knots were worked into colored lines that ran the length of the fabric. At first she thought they were stars, but then she realized it was far more regular than stars. This was a system or code ofsomekind.

“Intira, what is this?” Kyra looked at Bun Ma and Kanchana, but both of them looked as mystified asshewas.

The girl was still jumping up and down. “Prija will know. She’ll know, Kyra. Just show it to her. Tell her I figured it out, but she has to come back so I canfinish.”

Only half the fabric was knotted. While the bottom half of the piece was beautifully woven, it lacked the knots on the top half. Kyra had so many questions, but she knew Intira loved her surprises, and she’d never tell before she wasready.

“She’ll know what this is?” Kyra asked, holding out theweaving.

“Mm-hmm!” Intira nodded. “She’llknow.”

“Okay.” She carefully folded the woven panel. “I’ll give ittoher.”

“And tell her I’monlygoing to finish if shecomesback.”

“I’ll tell her,” Kyra said. She opened her arms, and Intira ran to her, giving her a swift hug before she ran back to the forest, her ever-present brothers joggingbehindher.

“That girl is spoiled,”Kanchanasaid.

“That girl is precious.” Bun Ma held out her hands. “Let meseeit?”

Kyra handed Bun Ma theweaving.

“This is very good,” Bun Ma said. “But so different from anything I make. She’ll progress past me within a fewyears.”

“She’s too bright to keep here,” Kanchana said. “But where wouldshego?”

“If she had more magic,” Kyra said, “she could go anywhere. Anywhereatall.”

PrijaIII

She satin the back of a windowless van. Her captors were not intelligent, but they were stronger than her. They tried to torment her by forcing skin contact—no doubt thinking it would have a detrimental effect on her psyche—but Prija didn’t react. She stared straight ahead and tried to give every appearance of beingunaware.

Silent.

She was good at beingsilent.

But of course she was aware. She was aware ofeverything.

They were in Myanmar now. She could hear the language change when they stopped for petrol. Feel the roads grow rougher. They spent one night at a Grigori outpost, but the men there wanted nothing to do with these combative sons of Arindam and the Irin scribe who skulked in thebackground.

“We don’t traffic in our own,” one said. “They areuntouchable.”

Prija smiled when she heard that.Untouchable. She liked thelabel.

“That’s not what we want her for,” her captor said. “That’s not why our father wants her. She’s somethingdifferent.”

“Then we really don’twanther.”