big hands around her upper arm. With her free hand, Maaret tried to pull her thin clothing close, but the wind insisted on plucking it from her.
'What's going on?' Ajza asked.
The woman at the window didn't answer for a moment, then she said, 'Zamira got foolish tonight.'
Zamira was the other woman in the building. Ajza doubted she'd even seen seventeen yet. Her husband had died only months after their wedding. She was young and pretty, and Taburova's men used her harshly.
'She could take no more rough handling,' the woman said. 'Tonight, after the men brought her back, she tried to escape.'
'The men caught her?'
'No.' The woman shook her head. 'It was Maaret who discovered her sneaking out of the building like a thief. Zamira would not listen to Maaret. Maaret told her she would call for the men.' The woman shrugged. 'I guess Zamira did not believe Maaret would do such a thing. But Maaret did. And now Zamira will pay for her foolishness. Or perhaps she no longer cares.'
One of the men swung his light and yelled to the others. The white beam illuminated the young woman in the darkness as she tried to take cover behind a tree. Helplessness twisted her features. Plucked from hiding, Zamira turned and ran through the brush.
Ajza watched and her stomach roiled, because she knew the young woman had no chance.
The man nearest Zamira unleashed his dog. The animal took off, racing across the night-black mountainside with feral surefootedness. Too quickly, the dog reached Zamira, then leaped up and caught her forearm. Holding on viciously, the beast pulled the young woman to the ground. Her screams ripped through the night and echoed across the mountain as she fought the growling dog.
Then the screams stopped and she lay still, even though the dog continued to savage her.
Two men dragged Zamira's body back up the mountain and threw it into the middle of the camp like a side of beef. Ripped and broken, covered in blood, the dead woman looked like something from a butcher's shop.
The men drove all the women out of the buildings to view the body. The cold wind and their fear caused the women to shiver as they stood in huddled groups. A few of them bore bruises from earlier that same night.
Maaret remained held by the big man. Her gaze caught Ajza's for a moment, then she looked away. Tears glittered on her cheeks. Ajza wondered if Maaret's tears were for the dead woman or for herself.
Saleh strode over to Zamira's corpse and kicked her. Then he spat on her and cursed her parentage and stupidity. Finished, he turned his attention back to the women.
'You are Chechen women,' he snarled. 'You have lost your husbands and your families. You are worthless in the eyes of God until you redeem yourselves. We are offering you a chance to redeem yourselves and find a better life after this one.' He looked back at the corpse. 'This woman will find no peace after her death. She will know only torment and fear. Do you want to be like her?' His gaze challenged the women.
Most of them answered negatively, their voices hushed and fearful.
'You stand there and look accusingly at Maaret because she warned us of this one's attempt at escape,' Saleh said. 'Some of you will condemn her — the foolish among you. But Maaret saved lives tonight. If this cow had escaped, one of your children would have died.'
The mothers all pulled their children close. Whispered prayers rode the wind through the huddled women. Ajza felt the fear in them like an electric current.
'Do not hurt Maaret,' Saleh said. 'If you do, you will pay for doing so. She is strong enough to do God's work even when you are not.'
Ajza knew that his words would only make things worse for the young woman. The baby shifted a little in Ajza's arms. She pulled the blanket more tightly around him.
'Get back to sleep,' Saleh commanded. 'Pray to God to give you honorable deaths.' He gestured to two of the men, then at the corpse. 'Find a hole to dump this in.'
The man holding Maaret released her. She walked to Ajza immediately. 'Give me my child.'
'Of course.' Ajza passed the baby over. Even in that brief contact, she felt the heat coming off Maaret and knew the fever had not broken.
Without another word, Maaret turned and walked back toward the building where they lived. She walked carefully, as if she didn't trust her balance.
Ajza felt torn. She despised Maaret for what she had done. The young woman was as guilty of causing Zamira's death as the men and the dog. Yet Ajza understood why she had acted as she had.
'You cannot trust that one,' a woman whispered to Ajza.
Ajza turned her face into the wind and studied the other woman. She was one of the few in camp who was older than she was. A jagged scar split her left eyebrow.
'Even if you get on her good side, you cannot trust that one,' the woman said. 'She has bad luck, and that baby is cursed. Better it should die.'
The harsh tone made Ajza angry. She couldn't imagine anyone willingly hurting a child, but she knew they existed.
'He's just a baby,' Ajza said.
'He is made from bad luck. His father betrayed Taburova, and Taburova killed him. Exploded him in Moscow. It was supposed to be Maaret who died when she was pregnant with her traitorous husband's child. Instead, her husband foolishly tried to rescue her. When he died, Taburova brought Maaret back and let her birth her child. She has been his puppet since that time.'
A chill that wasn't due to the cold ghosted through Ajza. 'Her husband was blown up?'
'Yes.' The woman nodded.
'When?'
'December. Only a month before the baby was born.'
For a moment Ajza thought she might be sick. Ilyas had died in December, blown up by a bomb. Only lately she'd discovered that he'd died in Moscow and that he'd been tracking Taburova. It couldn't be a coincidence.
Ajza hadn't seen her brother for a year before his death. Their parents thought he was working at a new job and couldn't get away. Ajza had known Ilyas was undercover somewhere.
A wave of sickness passed over her again as she remembered her brother's blond hair and blue eyes. Now that she thought of it, in his baby pictures, he'd looked a lot like Maaret's child.
Without a word, Ajza walked back toward the building.
'Remember what I said,' the woman called after her. 'She is bad luck, that one. Bad luck.'
Ilyas has a son. The realization kept cycling through Ajza's mind. Ilyas has a son.
49
Unable to stop herself, Ajza went to Maaret's private space and lifted the sheet. She knew the woman was still awake because a tallow candle burned on the other side of the sheet.
Maaret cupped her free hand over the candle to absorb the heat. She was shivering. In the near-darkness with the candle's glow on her, she looked paler than ever. She held the baby in her other arm, letting him nurse at her breast.
'What do you want?' Maaret demanded suspiciously. She wiped tears from her face.
'Only to make certain that you're well,' Ajza replied.
'I am fine.'
'You're sick.' Ajza stepped into the area and let the sheet fall behind her. The room was cold and drafty.
'I will be fine.'
'What if you give your sickness to your son?' What if you give your sickness to Ilyas's son? Ajza thought, and that possibility filled her with dread. Looking at the baby now, she believed she could see her brother in him. She didn't know how she had missed it before.
'What do you care?'
'I don't wish to see any harm come to the baby.'
