Chapter 34

Dalia is not well. She has a high fever and won’t eat or drink. Tirad is taking care of her and sailing the boat. The rain has stopped since that afternoon, even though the sky is still cloudy. Tirad stares ahead at the dark horizon; he should be able to see the Parsana lights from here, unless he has sailed in the wrong direction. But he can’t see any lights ahead. He is not sure if they are lost or he hasn’t estimated the distance correctly. Dalia knows these things better, but she has gotten worst and is a bit delirious right now. Tirad had sailed faster since the sky cleared and the rains stopped to get help for Dalia from the Parsana healers. He is worried and doesn’t know what to do to save Dalia and her baby. The more he stares ahead, the more afraid he becomes. What if he has sailed in a wrong direction and has to go back? Dalia won’t survive with this high temperature. He turns off the engine and goes to the cabin. Dalia mistakes him with her mother and talks gibberish in Atlan language. Tirad puts some moist cloth on her forehead and cheeks and kisses her dried lips. Dalia looks at him strangely as if she has just noticed his presence. She says in a weak voice, “Take me to my mother…please!” Tirad kisses her again and wants her not to talk. He gently puts the moist cloth on Dalia’s belly. The baby starts kicking. He keeps his hand there to feel the embryo moving in Dalia’s body. Last year as the dry season started, he never imagined that the next dry season, he would become a father. All he cared for back then was to enter the Circle and please Hurmaz. But he hadn’t finished his missions and had only proved himself to be naïve and a coward. He didn’t think Hurmaz wouldn’t live to see another dry season. If he had, he would blame him for his continuous failures. But he needs to prove himself differently, for the sake of the baby, moving smoothly under his hand. Many years later, when he grows up, Dalia would tell him about his father who had sacrificed his life and honour to end the war and stop the bloodshed. His son would be proud of him and would quarrel with his friends that want to condemn his father as a criminal. Dalia opens her eyes and takes his arm.

“Promise me…please!” she says. Tirad caresses her head.

“I will promise…” he says gently.

“Promise me you’ll take me to my mother…” she says and falls asleep, moaning. Tirad promises her even though she probably can’t hear him anymore. He promises to ask Armina to send her and the baby to Asin’s island. Dalia’s lips are dry. Tirad pours some drinking water from a jar into her mouth, but the water slides down her lips. Tirad feels so hopeless. He can’t even take care of another person. He doesn’t know how to tend to her and make her live through the illness. He wants to shout out loud, from the bottom of his voice, but he feels his throat is blocked. He feels suffocated and sits right there, putting his head between his knees, crying. His back won’t straighten and his legs can’t carry his weight. He feels heavier than a corpse, as if all the dead bodies of the Oxan harbour, Hurmaz, Lealy and Narivan are on one of his shoulders and the heavy weight of the loneliness he feels in this vast, endless sea is pressing on his other shoulder.