The girl with the white rose stared directly at me just before she disappeared from view, whispering two words. Then she nodded toward the door leading backstage, not ten feet from where I sat.
I turned immediately to see if Opari was watching. She was. “Did you hear that?”
“Hear what? I heard nothing but the music, then the clapping and shouting.”
“Did you see her nod toward the door?”
“Yes.”
“Well, before she did that she whispered something to me. I guess she was aware no one but me would hear it. But how would she know that?”
“Z, what did she whisper?”
“She said the ancient words of greeting, the formal ones—
Opari fell silent for several moments. Then I noticed Nova quietly take a seat next to mine. She leaned forward, anxious to hear what we had to say. Across the table, Geaxi was talking with Carolina while still paying close attention to everything and everyone.
“What does it signify?” I asked. “That is the Meq’s most secret exchange, isn’t it?”
“It means the message comes from an old one, a truly old one. Only an old one would know of this. My guess could be but one—Mowsel. The greeting was used in the Time of Ice when the element of ‘time’ was involved and complete trust was required. A Giza was always used to deliver the message. By telling the messenger to utter our oldest exchange of greeting and farewell, the sender is ensuring the truth of the message and the messenger. The ritual is called the
“I saw something, I…felt something,” Nova said suddenly. There was fear in her voice. “I felt something coming from the stage…from the girl. I don’t know what it is.”
I glanced at Opari. She shrugged her shoulders and nodded toward the stage door the girl had indicated. I looked around the room. No one seemed to be paying much attention to us. I rose out of my chair and walked to the door and slipped inside.
The girl was standing alone on the top step of a small stairwell. She’d taken off her mask and was leaning against the brick wall. Above and behind her, a single red light burned over the backstage exit to the street. I couldn’t see her face completely, but she seemed to be in her early twenties with distinctive dark eyes and straight dark hair, cut at the shoulder. There was a small scar high on her left cheek. She was pretty, and she was Basque, I was sure of it. Between long, slender fingers, she held the white rose. I could see the veins standing out on the back of her hand. I took a few steps toward the stairwell and stopped in front of her.
“You were looking for me?” I asked.
“Yes, senor. I apologize for this drama and mystery. Mowsel said it was a necessity.”
That proved Opari was right. It was Trumoi-Meq. “What is your name?” I asked.
“I apologize again, senor.” For the first time, she turned and looked behind her. There were a few dimly lit dressing rooms in the distance. I could hear conversation inside one of them, but no one was visible. She turned back and continued. Her accent was slight and she spoke clearly. “My name is Arrosa Arginzoniz and I was sent by Mowsel to give you a message and a warning. There are three who are in danger, three of you. One is the one who wears the star sapphire on his forefinger. Mowsel said you would know who this is.”
“I do. Go on.”
But before she could I heard someone slip through the door behind me. It was Opari. She saw the girl and the rose, then walked over and took my hand in hers.
“You are Opari, no?” the girl asked.
“Yes,” Opari answered and glanced at me.
“Mowsel has told me your name. My name is Arrosa Arginzoniz. I am the last of the tribe of Caristies, protectors of the Stone of Silence.” She paused.
“Unai,” Opari whispered. “That was Unai’s Stone. Now it is carried by Nova Gaztelu.”
“Yes,” the girl said.
I turned to Opari. “Arrosa was telling me she has a message and a warning from Mowsel. She says three of us are in danger. One you know well, as did your sister.”
“Ah, yes,” Opari said, knowing I meant Sailor.
“Who are the other two?” I asked Arrosa.
“Unai and Usoa,” she answered without hesitation.
I stared up at her for a full three seconds, then eased closer so I could see her eyes.
“You know them well, don’t you, Arrosa?”
“Yes, senor. They are also my godparents. My father was Aita. He…” Suddenly she let out a long sigh and the white rose dropped to the floor.
“This sounds complicated,” I said, “and you look tired.” I glanced at Opari and she understood. “Would you be able to leave this dance troupe now, Arrosa? And I really mean now. Can you gather your things and go with us? Stay with us while you tell us everything? Also, there is someone who needs to meet you and you her. I think she has already sensed your presence anyway. Can you come with us?”
She took a deep breath and seemed to be relieved of a great burden. “Thank you, senor. I will welcome the rest and I have much to say, much to ask.” She peeked behind her. “Give me one minute,” she said.
She was back and carrying a single suitcase in less than a minute, more like thirty seconds. She smiled down at both of us. “Thank you again. It is my honor.”
“And ours,” Opari said.
We turned to leave, and from somewhere in the semidarkness, I heard Mitch’s voice and a girl’s voice coming toward the backstage exit. “Go ahead,” I told Opari. “I’ll catch up. I want to thank Mitch for the evening.” Opari agreed, saying she would tell Owen of the change in plans. I turned back to wait for Mitch.
Mitch’s voice was calm, yet he seemed to be almost scolding the girl, not like an employee or dancer, but like a daughter. The girl was whining and begging him to let her stay. The two of them finally got to the stage door and stood under the red light.
“You can’t be hidin’ in here anymore. I told you a hundred times already,” Mitch said as he started to open the door. I was only twelve feet away, but neither he nor the girl had seen me yet.
“But how else will I learn? I got to learn the steps,” the girl complained.
“Not yet, you don’t. And not in my place.” Mitch opened the door. “You got to go. I mean now, right now.”
She started to leave, then spun around and leaned back into the light. That’s when she and I made eye contact. She was just a kid, maybe thirteen or slightly older, and she smiled at me—a genuine, ear-to-ear grin that radiated mischief and joy. I smiled back. Mitch noticed me and gently pushed her out the door.
Without ever mentioning the girl, he walked over and asked how everything went and I told him the “white rose” was coming home with us for a few days. He then asked how I liked the club, the sound of the band, and the tribute. I told him it was a great and glorious evening and all of us appreciated his generosity. I waited for him to volunteer some information about what I had just seen, then realized he was not going to offer any, but I was too curious.
“Who was the girl, Mitch?”
“Aw, just some girl from around here. She won’t stay out of my club, and I can’t allow it, Z.”
“What’s her name?”
“I call her ‘Tumpy,’” Mitch said, “but her name is Josephine.” He went on to tell me she was a good kid who had probably seen too much too soon and wanted out of her home and out of St. Louis. He was trying to help her, but she was anxious and he was worried she wouldn’t wait.
Fifteen minutes later we were in the Packards and on our way to Carolina’s. I was riding in the same car with Carolina and Arrosa. Carolina had readily accepted and welcomed Arrosa into her home, and she was in deep discussion with her about the new music the band had been playing. What did she think of the improvisations? What was it called, or did it even have a name? Arrosa answered with a word I had never heard before. She called it “jazz.”
Nova rode in the other car on purpose. She had acted nervous when Opari and I introduced the girl to everyone at the table, then I watched her consciously wait for Arrosa to step into our Packard before she scurried
