I watched from the top of the wall, the hot wind blowing my hair and whipping my white tunic around my calves. The sound of the wind mixed with the cawing of the birds taking refuge in the foliage of the sole juniper tree as far as the eye could see. Sometimes I wondered how that bent and sparsely-leaved tree had ended up all by itself. Perhaps it was lonely, but I hoped instead, the creatures who took great comfort from its protection, whispered it their gratitude. I squinted against the glare of the sun on metal as the door of the plane opened, lowering to the ground, a child appearing in the doorway. A child? That was odd. There were no children on Sundara. Zakai and I had been young when we arrived, but we were the only ones before or since. Why, I didn’t know. But now . . . Haziq had changed his mind? My stomach clenched at the idea of a child living here. I liked my home, but this was no place for one. It had been tolerable for me and Zakai because we had each other but this child was alone. My stomach twisted in some unfamiliar way.
I squinted as he waddled down the stairs, his short legs barely long enough to take the steps one at a time. There was something different about his shape that confused me and piqued my curiosity. Haziq walked toward him and obscured his form as they traveled up the stairs at the side of the large plot of land that was Sundara, its massive white adobe structures shining under the cloudless blue sky, emerald-green grass and palm trees spread around it.
I jumped from the wall, hurried across the lawn, and ran to the courtyard where the steps ended. Bertha was there, sitting under the shade of the wide, white awning, sweat dripping down the sides of her face and pooling in the dip above her enormous bosom. “Someone just arrived,” I announced. “I think it’s a child.”
Bertha sat up. “A child?” Her face first registered shock, then concern laced with what I recognized as fear. She struggled to stand and I hurried to her, holding out my arm to help her up. But Bertha clicked her tongue. “Move aside. I’ll just take you down with me if I fall, and crush you like a skinny kumquat.” She hefted herself forward, sweat dripping from the rolls of her neck. The desert climate was no friend to someone as obese as Bertha. A waft of tangy sweat and rose water met my nose. She walked to the edge of the steps that Haziq and the child were still ascending and peered over. When she turned, she shook her head. “I forget how sheltered you are, despite . . . well, despite. That’s a dwarf, not a child.”
I peered over the side where she’d just looked. I could see the top of Haziq’s thick, curly hair, and the lighter hair of the . . . dwarf. They were on the final flight, almost having reached the top. “A dwarf?” I repeated.
“A small person.”
A small person. “An adult who is made . . . small?”
“That’s right. Does anything here really surprise you anymore?”
Surprise? No. Interest? Most definitely. But not because the person was different in some way I hadn’t encountered. Who was he? How had he come to be here? What was his story? My mind raced with excitement as it did every time someone new arrived.
We both turned as Haziq and the small person turned the corner to where we both stood. The little man’s clothes were practically threadbare, and his hair long and dirty. I smelled him before he’d even come very close. He had several bruises on his face, and a healing cut on his lip. He had a basket strapped to his side that seemed far too large for his stature, though I supposed anything would. His expression was both defeated and curious. He wore no chains, though he was not free. As was the same for us all. Chains were unnecessary on Sundara however. There was nowhere to run.
The man’s dirt-smeared cheeks were flushed with exertion, but Haziq, as usual, looked cool and unaffected, as though he’d just been relaxing in the shade of a palm, rather than climbing seven flights of steps that twisted and turned under the desert sun. “Ah,” Haziq said. “The welcome committee has already arrived. Karys, Bertha, meet Ahmad.”
The little man eyed us both, turning his attention to Bertha, his gaze narrowing. “Have I been sentenced to death after all?”
Bertha made a sound of annoyance. “I have a partner, half pint.”
Ahmad turned to me but before he could say anything, the top to the basket he was carrying opened and a tiny head peeked out. I gasped, looking closer at the strange creature with the round brown eyes and funny little face. “What is it?” I asked in wonder.