Page 20 of 1000 of You
She nolonger cared to pretend she belonged in this time and place. It no longermattered what others would think if her actions made them suspicious of her.Even if they chose to confront her, there wouldn’t be enough time for them todo anything to her, or against her.
She glancedaround. “Where am I, old woman?’
“Oldwoman?”
Govalooked back at her. “Where am I? What is the name ofthis place?”
The elderlywoman narrowed her eyes. “Tushef.”
“Where isthat?”
“Near theSea ofAsphaltites.”
Govagave a little humorlesslaugh. “That still does not tell anything.You called me Minna. From theway you addressed me, I am going to assume we are either related, or goodfriends. Which is it?”
“I am yourgrandmother.”
“What isyourname? What do I call you?”
“My name isFoca. You call me TauFoca.”
To hersurprise, the old woman didn’t challenge her. Instead,Focawalked over and laid a withered hand onGova’shead.“And what isyourname?”
“Gova.”
A smallsmile came over the woman’s face. “How many lives have you lived,Govaof the past?”
“Over ahundred. I have lost count.”
Focatook a seat next to her. “How many have you beencondemned to live?”
“Athousand.” The confession felt wonderful. To be able to tell this womaneverything without fear of retribution was one bright spot she would alwaysremember.
“Was it acurse, or destiny?”
“A curse.”
“Ah.”Focafolded her hands in her lap. “Tell me about it.”
“I do nothave enough time. OnceMuamand I find each other,our deaths follow soon thereafter.”
Focareached out and took her by the chin. Strong fingersturned her face to where they could look eye to eye. The woman studiedGova’sfeatures, then released her. “You are a sorceress?”
“I was. Ihave not been able to use my abilities for…a very long time.”
“When wasthe last time you tried to use them?”
Thequestion madeGovapause. She searched her memories, butshe could not recall trying to conjure up something since her first death. “Ido not think… I have not tried.” Leaning over, she pinched a tiny amount ofdirt and rolled it between her fingers. She concentrated on converting the soilinto gold dust, the same way she had changed it in order to paintMuam’sarms and fingers, but it soon became clear she nolonger had that power. Sighing, she wiped her hand on her skirt. “It is gone.”
Focatucked a few loose strands of hair behindGova’sear. “Tell me about it. Who isMuam?”
“He is myhu—” She stopped as the realization came to her.
“He is yourhusband?”Focafinished for her.
“No.” Sheshook her head. “No, he isn’t. We were to be married. We were taking our vowswhen we were…”Govatook a deep breath. The memorieswere coming back to her, every little detail as fresh as if it had happenedyesterday. “The shaman never got to pronounce us as husband and wife before wewere killed. And cursed.”
Focagave her a warm smile. “You said you would die againonce you met up with him. Does he search for you, or do you search for him?”
